#and then I want to shower them with all my love

[junkieito]

Nobody asked but I decided to give some context, the whole country is mad bc that badly spoken, zero researched movie about a serious topic that features only one Mexican person is being awarded while having music that could have been written by a middle schooler.

In the beginning they talk about France showcasing places that are obviously not France while a spin-off voice narrates in horrible French.

The first musical number is a cumbia-like song that says "welcome to la france" featuring "the cheese I eat smells better than I do but my perfume makes up for it" (French people are know in LATAM for not exactly prioritizing bathing) plus some random french words

My favorite part is "VIVAN LOS PASTELES" (Pastel = cake) So, France occupied Mexico twice, the first time it was done under the pretext that french businessmen and artisans had suffered various forms of economic loss, one of them a baker that reportedly had been taken advantage of by general Santa Anna (I'm unsure if he was the president at the moment), who consumed cakes and never paid for them, which is why it became know as The Cake's war.

So basically we have the Sacreblus who run a baguette company and the Ratatouiles who run a croissant company, they are both rejected by their families for being trans but are promised the family's enterprise if they win a race and honor the family's heritage.

The scene with the Ratatouiles features:

(The dad does not favor Aghtugo because he is trans and 'doesn't have a penis' so he says any of his brothers would be a good option as well and he starts shading on them + aghtugo is how the franch would often pronounce the name arthur in spanish)

- But, Hugo is not over his "artist" phase and is addicted to paint thinner.

- Aee don onlee in'aile thinnegh, the zhelou pein gueevs mee 'appinezz

- Mario Hugo? Good luck having a twangy french man

. (Speaks actual french)

- It's impossible to understand you!

Amd

- It's not that we don't love you, it's just that we're ashamed of being related to you (:

Next scene Johanne is meeting her friend Emily... in Paris lol. They have an exchange and they mock the fact she's privileged and comes from a wealthy family and has no real problems but winning the race. The "french waiter" comes and then this exchange happens-

- Is that it or would you like anything else?

- That's it.

-Yes that's it... or maybe I'd also like to or-

- You said that was it. (Takes menu away) You must learn to abide by your word! (Rudely)

- Hey, what a great customer service!

- I know! The best in all of France!

We are mentioned for the second time that Johanne was sent to Mexico and she says she now does not understand some french things like the lack of kindness, animal cruelty practices and hatred of muslims. Then a sequence ensues where she just says "have you ever thought what we do is wrong?" and her friend magically agrees drowning birds in cognac is a cruel practice

- I feel so dirty now! I even want to take a shower!

- I knew I wasn't just crazy!

- I just never thought what we did was wrong somehow, I always though those minimum wage skin colored people liked how we treated them!

We learn that Johanne was sent to Mexico because she has hallucinations of Marie Antoinette which she denies saying it is the real ghost of her. Then she appears saying racist stuff about Emily.

- Don't listen to her! She has the fashion sense of a guatemalan (derogative)

Then ladybug is presenting the race and the first one is won by Johanne (they celebrate by throwing rats at her ). There is a number imitating "Soy Emilia Pereeez una mujer mexicanaaa que merece respetoooo" in black and white about "The trash man", after that we see Aghturo and Johanne are trying to solve their differences and Aghtugo ends up convincing Johanne to let him win the second part of the race so it is even and nobody wins.

- Baguette may only be bread but croissants are France itself! It's in our veins, in our wine, in the air we breathe!

Afterwards Aghtugo says to Johanne:

A: You only say that because you've been outside of France for too long, you're now but a Chimichanga* lover!

J: (Visibly offended) ?Cinco de mayo!

A: How dare you! (Slaps her)

*mexican dish

Ok this is because cinco de mayo commemorates La batalla de Puebla which was a battle we won against the french during the Second French Intervention. Sppiler alert we lost the war and they put an Habsburg as Emperor backed by Napoleon III.|

So in the end the competition is even but the french overlords say it an't be even, there must me a baguette battle-to-death.

* What is that?

* A battle where they fight each other to death... with baguettes!

* (Fake surprise)

Another scene ensues where Aghtugo magically thinks some practices are bad after Johannes says so literally.

By this point Johanne convinces Aghtugo of not fighting to death but an evil ambassador appears and hurts Aghtugo and tells them they must fight to death, it is discovered he acted like that bc he was controlled by a rat and he is defeated somehow (didn't get that part). The Johanne is being interviewed (her description reads "bored millionaire" )

This final part features the dialogue:

"Being controlled by a rat! The worst nightmare of any french-man!"

And then she says that to end the interview her mexican friends told her to gift them something specal which turns out to be a cake and the final scene shows her about to throw it into the guy's face.

Obscure reference but the thinner guy very ad hoc smells a rat at some point which is a reference to an obscure urban tale in mexico called la rata con thinner, which i don't wanna explain you don't wanna look up

Ithe filming credits reads "directed by: someone with adhd'

Et la voilà, c'est la fin.

Merci de ne jamais faire un autre truc comme ça svp

wait a bunch of ppl ( in mexico i belive) got togheter and made a mini movie where everyone is poorly pretending to be french in retaliation for the dogshit emilia perez musical this is awesome tjhey all have little mustaches drawn on with sharpie and are spealing the worst french ever

[starmocha]

ok so I know we're all taken in by colonel caleb and his complexity and i'm enjoying all the smut (🙏🏻💕) but i'm looking at him and thinking about how he'd react if mc got pregnant 'cause in ny head he'd react like I think sylus would as in he'd shower her in kisses while crying but imagine him being scared of holding the baby because of his arm, terrified of hurting that tiny being but the second he holds them the fear goes away and he's planting kisses on the top of the baby's head 🥹😭

CRYING. SOBBING. YEARNING. Anon, if you've been around my blog long enough, I have mentioned numerous times how my 3-part Caleb breeding kink (and pregnancy) series will happen. With the recent revelation about his arm, I was reflecting on how to tackle this series with regards to Caleb's character. I hope his future memories will also deal with this more, so we can get a better understanding of the changes and his own mental state regarding it.

omg ok we all probably know by now I am weak to the Caleb thoughts, so...so...just a little snippet. Just a tiny short snippet...

Sweet Little You

She was safe. They were safe.

Caleb watched with relief as you slept peacefully, exhausted after the grueling 34 hours of labor. He had dedicated his whole life to keeping you safe, protect you from dangers and prevent you from ever feeling pain, but in those long, slow hours, he had felt so utterly helpless as he watched you braved through the tribulations of motherhood.

He knew you were strong, knew that you were more than capable, but it did not deter his innate desire to shelter you.

It had only been a few hours since the baby was born, he realized, as his large hand rested on your head, gently smoothing your hair. He could still see your tears, heard you crying as you poured all of your strength into delivering his baby. You had gripped his hand so tightly, and though that right hand of his could no longer feel anything, his heart still did, torn apart at every scream, every sob that passed your lips. He did his best to encourage you, reassured you that everything was going well, that soon you both would meet your little one.

He wasn’t sure if what he had said helped or not, but you had still held his hand, holding tight to him just like long ago when you two were little. Maybe you still needed him, still wanting to lean on him like you used to.

He bent down and placed a soft kiss on your temple. “Thank you, my darling.”

Caleb’s ears perked up, hearing the sudden quiet fussing of his newborn. He looked to the hospital bassinet placed close to your bed. The baby was starting to stir, waking up from a peaceful slumber.

He quickly moved closer, his paternal instinct kicking in. He bent down lower, his voice softer than normal. “Hey, hey there, little one,” he said, about to reach down for the baby, but he paused, worried.

The baby’s face scrunched up, its cries still soft, but steadily growing just a bit louder. Panic briefly passed Caleb’s features, suddenly unsure of his own ability as a father. He could hear you stirring behind him, but he didn’t want you to wake yet, knowing you still needed more rest. He pushed down his own feeling of anxiety, and he bent down again, gently scooping the baby up.

The baby was so small, he couldn’t help but think, being able to hold the baby within his two hands. He readjusted his hold, cradling the baby within his arms, and his heart felt like it was slowing in time, his breathing almost stilling entirely as it finally seemed to clicked in his mind that he was holding his baby. This little baby, conceived from the love between you and him, was now here, in his arms, and he could barely stifle the sob that almost wanted to escape, his heart suddenly overwhelmed with so many different emotions ranging from disbelief to amazement and finally profound, unconditional love.

The baby’s cries ceased, replaced by soft cooing, and Caleb let out a breathless laughter, his earlier anxiety slowly receding. He still wondered about his capability, but more than that, he wondered how it was possible to love someone you had just met. When his eyes drifted up, settling over your sleeping form, he almost laughed again, realizing he had never found the answer to that question, having always been a willing victim of “love at first sight.”

He shifted his gaze back down to the tiny baby in his arms, his lips resting over the infant’s forehead, the sweet scent of the newborn filling his nostrils, and a warmth unlike anything he had ever felt before filled his chest.

“Welcome to the world, my little one,” he whispered, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

[sim0nril3y]

Oml I love your weighting style so much!!!!!

I have no idea if you’ve already done something’s like this but I think a cute little fluffy moment where reader is at the shop and one of Simon’s men run into her, they don’t know she’s daiting Simon and start flirting but soon realizes she’s Simon’s gf when he like calls or something!

Feel free not to do it but just putting it out there ❤️💗

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Note: This was such a fun request, thank you so much for requesting it! Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), canon-typical swearing.

Your eyes lingered on the wall of spices and ingredients before you. Now, what was it that Simon had said to get? Was it ground cardamom or cardamom pods? Bugger, why hadn’t you been listening? Maybe it was because you were thoroughly distracted because Simon had just gotten out of the shower, standing there in all his nude glory, water trickling down his big burlychest…

Concentrate.

Now, he had said… oh, which one was it? Think. Think… think about his strong chest and broad shoulders… his tummy and that wonderful happy trail… the way his hair was all ruffled and wet. Fuck, you were so damn lucky-

“Is there a reason that you’re looking at that spice rack like you’re about to tackle it to the ground?” A charming tone came from beside you, glancing over to see a young man standing with basket in hand, handsome smile on his face, eyes filled with humour. “Do you find spices that offensive?” He quizzed.

“What? Oh, no…” A laugh sprung from your lips then, shaking your head. This man was unreasonably pretty, tall and an intense but welcoming gaze. “No, no… I’m just trying to remember what I need…” Then your eyes wandered back to that wall of spices again.

The man hummed and then said. “Ah, so you didn’t write it down?” He quizzed, stepping forward to be beside you. “Now, that is a problem cause… I mean, there are quite a few aren’t there…” The heavy dose of sarcasm to his tone made a laugh spring from your lips. “Luckily for you I am an absolute genius when it comes to spices, so I can help you out.” The way he grinned was bordering on cocky.

“Oh, my hero~” You replied back resisting the urge to roll your eyes, but he simply chuckled and returned back. “Well, some people call me that, but you call me-”

A curt tone came from behind you. “Private Stone.” You saw the fear that shocked through him then, clearly recognising the sound of Simon’s voice with far less affection that you did. “Lt. Riley.” He hiccupped back, standing a little straighter, face far less charmingly smiley now.

Just as Simon moved to be standing by your side his arm wrapped around your waist and the message was very clear to the young man. “I’m surprise to see you swanning around off base when you have you re-test tomorrow morning. I would have thought passing that might be more crucial than chatting up birds at the supermarket.” He watched the way the Private shook his head all too quickly and held up a firm hand in his direction. “I don’t want to hear it. You better make yourself scarce.”

It was only a moment later that the Private went rushing off down the aisle away from the two of them and Simon chuckled to himself as he stepped forward to pick up the cardamom pops from the row of spices, glancing over his shoulder at you. “What?” “You had far too much fun with that.” You smirked back to him.

“Maybe.” Simon answered, stepping over to wrapped his strong arms around you, forcing his hand into the back of your jean pocket and squeezing in a tender way. “I know a way we can have more fun. C’mon, we should get home.”

Masterlist | Ask | 30-01-2025

[myjklei]

"You had a bad day, and your boyfriend did his best to cheer you up."

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Genre: Established relationship

Warnings: Cigarettes, she burns him with the cig once, vaginal fingering, hair pulling(m!receiving), nipple sucking(f!receiving), riding, choking and face slapping(m!receiving), unprotected sex but they are clean and in birth control!!! He cums inside her. Cuddlesss :(

Wordcount: 2,7k

a/n: That's one of my favorite lives of him, and he cheered me up that day when i was feeling terrible, so why not?

You close the door of your apartment, take off your shoes and coat and leave them lying around, then go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Your boyfriend is sitting on the sofa with his cell phone in his hand, following you with his eyes.

"Hey my love, you arrived late, I was already going to call you. How was your day?"

You sip your water and set the glass down on the counter, letting out a tired sigh. He turns off his cell phone, puts it on the coffee table, and then walks over to you.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Nothing much happened... just a couple of coworkers who made the atmosphere in the company bad and delayed everyone's work, that's why I arrived much later than normal, also I didn't wake up in the best of moods this morning."

He gives you a worried look, and you give him a small smile.

"I'm fine, my dear, really. I'm just really tired, and my whole body aches. But I'm going to take a long cold shower and come back to you brand new."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, my love, I am"

"Then go take your bath, relax, I'll wait for you"

He's incredibly beautiful in your eyes right now. He's wearing a basic black shirt with sweatpants and wearing his prescription glasses, smelling like a freshly-taken bath. You gave him another smile and a kiss, then headed to the bathroom. You spend a significant amount of time in there, as you said you were going to take a long shower, you really needed it.

You do your skincare, put on a pair of boxer panties and a shirt, which happens to be Jungkook's, and when you get to the living room, you're confronted with a scene that warmed your heart. He turned off all the main lights, leaving only the lamp next to the sofa on, prepared some snacks and beer, and there's music playing on the TV. All this as a plan to take your mind off anything that wasn't him. And that worked perfectly.

"Oh hey darling, feeling better?" He looks at you opening a beer.

"Yes, thank you... what's all this?"

"You were tired, so I thought i could cheer you up. Here are the snacks you like, I've turned on the TV and... Is the lighting okay for you?" He stares at you in a child standing position, and you let out a hearty laugh.

"It's perfect, my love."

"Come over here," now sitting on the sofa, he taps the empty spot on the sofa next to him, "sit here with me."

You go over and pick up the other open beer on the coffee table and sit down next to him. "You didn't need to prepare all that stuff for me Ggukie"

"Of course I did, you've had a bad day, I can't stand seeing you like this. If I could I'd have all your bad days for you."

"You're so sweet"

He smiles and looks down, sniffing the mouth of the bottle. "Is the playlist good? Or do you want me to change it?"

The playlist that's playing on the TV was created by the two of you, with the name Nights together ♡ and it was made especially for moments like this, or for when the two of you couldn't sleep and ended up staying up all night chatting and making out until you got tired.

"No you don't have to, it's good"

"Hmmm... but what about your coworkers?"

"Oh, they're husband and wife, at least they used to be. The wife caught her husband with someone else, someone else who works with them, the other woman almost had her hair pulled out"

"A couple who work together in the same job? And the guy still does this, basically to his wife's face?"

You nod, taking a sip of your beer.

"The atmosphere there got awful, the wife started crying and everyone took her in, I just hid in my computer and carried on working, I am less late than the rest of the people, but still, I was supposed to finish everything today."

“You were smart” he puts his mouth on the bottle.

“I still came off as the heartless one, and I'm not even close to her, even I've been a cuckold and I didn't suffer like that” Jungkook laughs and holds back from spitting out the sip of beer he was about to swallow. “You can laugh. She was yelling... Why did he do that to me? I got him this job! How ungrateful!” You imitate the wife. “And everyone was smooching her, comforting her, I can't stand it. She treated him so badly every day, he couldn't do anything wrong and she'd yell at him, that he was worthless, that she didn't know what she was thinking when she married him.” You eat some of the snacks.

“Maybe that's why he cheated on her”

“That's what I thought, but as I said, I'm not close to her, he could be a scumbag at home.”

“I'd never cheat on you, you know?” You giggle shyly and look down at the bottle in your hand, ”I mean it.”

You look up again and find him staring at you with his eyes shining.

“I missed you today”

“Just today?”

“Every day” his smile appears.

“Do you want to watch a movie while we cuddle?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing”

“Do I choose or do you choose?”

And there you are, late at night, watching your second movie. You're lying on his bare chest, and he's stroking your hair, you're paying more attention to the sound of his heart beating than to the movie, which is pretty boring by the way, but you don't care as long as Jungkook is with you. The door to the balcony is half open, and the chill air from outside comes in softly and spreads through the room with the smoke coming from the ashtray on the coffee table. Jungkook takes the cigarette from his fingers to his mouth, and you look closely at his arm, the veins popping out, pale skin, waiting to be marked. He blows out the smoke.

“This movie is so predictable”

“Huh?”

“Everyone knows that when he walks in there the door will close behind him” he offers you the cigarette, and you accept it looking at the screen, ”I told you, they don't make good horror movies anymore, they're all copies of each other”

You blow the smoke out of your mouth and sniff it back in through your nose, looking at him while he still insists on watching the movie. His glasses disappeared along with his shirt when the first movie ended, his hair is slicked back, he's lightly biting the piercing in the corner of his mouth and you have a perfect view of his neck. You snap out of your trance when you feel the cigarette starting to burn your fingers, and you reach out to put it out in the ashtray, but now all you can think about is the hand he has placed on your waist to prevent you from falling off the sofa.

“The idiot still tries to talk to the entity. These characters are so easy to kill”

You kiss his sternum trying to get his attention, “what a bad movie, I don't think I know how to choose movies anymore”.

“You say it's bad, but you can't take your eyes off the screen”

He looks at you, “I'm sorry, baby, I wanted to see how far the bullshit would go”

“Why don't we do something more interesting?” he puts his arm behind his head, using it as a support to see you better.

“Something on your mind?”

You stretch again, but this time, to get a new cigarette straight from the box, you also pick up the heater and sit on the lap of the dark-haired man below you. You light the cigarette, take a drag, and blow it in his face, who closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, you turn the tip of the cigarette in his direction, and he gets the message, leaning on his arms to sit on the sofa and get face to face with you.

You put the cigarette in his mouth, and he puts his hands on your waist, helping you to get comfortable on his lap. He looks away as the smoke comes out of his mouth. The cigarette goes back in your mouth, and Jungkook is already looking at you with big eyes again.

“Blow in my face again... please”

You do what he asks, and you feel him shudder and squeeze your waist, “I don't even think about the movie anymore”.

A smirk comes over your face, and you run your hand through his hair, “You've been so nice today, organizing everything to spend time with me, helping me relax... I want to thank you for that”

He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin between your breasts.

“My bunny... I've been keeping an eye on you since I got home"

“You can take your frustration out on me whenever you want”

“Would you do that for me?”

“Anything for you”

“Even if it means I'm going to be mean?” You wrap your fingers in his hair and pull it back slowly.

“Yes... I can be your personal punching bag if you please”

“Are you sure?” You say as you stub out your cigarette on his arm, staring into his eyes.

“Yes I am” he keeps his gaze glued to yours, tightening his arms around you. You drop the cigarette on the floor and attack his mouth.

He moves his hands up to your shoulders and back down to your waist. You rub yourself against him, looking for some kind of friction, and he pulls your waist closer in an attempt to do the same action.

“Lean your back against the sofa, it'll be better” you stand up, leaving his lap missing you, and he does what you said, being able to get a better view of you taking off your panties.

“Close your mouth, or you'll drool,” you say, smiling and getting back on top of him, ”I'll leave the shirt for you since it's yours.”

He laughs, you raise your arms, and he removes his shirt from your body, which he does with pleasure, then kisses his way down your neck.

“I've wanted to do that for a while”

“Then why didn't you do it before? You preferred to waste your time with that awful movie”

“I'm sorry, punish me for that” he says into your ear

You laugh, “you naughty boy”

He brings one of his hands down to your pussy, and runs his middle and ring fingers over it, “you're so wet”

“I've been wet since you took your shirt off, like an hour ago”

“Can I put them in?”

“Have at it, before I do it myself”

He puts his fingers inside you, looking at you as you close your eyes and arch your back. “You're so beautiful” you squeeze his shoulders, leaving your fingernails almost bruising him.

“Curl them” you ignore his compliment and give the order, he moves his fingers with ease, offering his thumb on your clit as a treat.

He puts his mouth on one of your breasts and licks his way to the nipple without taking his eyes off you. You pull his hair and call his name as he sucks your nipple and curls his fingers again. His other hand is on your waist, squeezing lightly. “I can't take my eyes off you, my sweetheart"

You growl and throw your head back, not giving a damn about the pain you're causing him by scratching his back like a wild animal, because that's how he makes you feel and that's how he asked to be treated.

He licks you from your nipple to your neck and nibbles on your earlobe, causing you to shiver.

“Jungkook stop.���

He pulls his fingers out of you, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just don't want to cum on your fingers, I want to cum on your cock” he sighs shakily, ”pull down your pants”

He lowers his sweatpants along with his underpants as much as this position allows him, and you put one of your hands on each of his shoulders, fitting your entrance to his tip.

You both moan in unison, feeling your bodies fit together perfectly, and you lower your hands from his shoulders to his chest. You move at a faster pace, and he grabs your ass, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. He lets out a whimper that was supposed to be your name.

“Look at me,” you order, squeezing his neck.

Your bouncing gets harder, his hands roam desperately over your body in a clumsy way, tears start to form in his eyes, and he coughs, obediently waiting for you to release his neck.

“Hit me”

“What?”

“Hit me, my love, please”

You stop pressing your hand to his neck without taking it away. He takes a deep breath, and you slam your hand on his cheek, marking your territory.

“You're so beautiful,” you slap him again. “I love you,” another slap. “My goddess,” and another slap. “I'd never cheat on you. You can treat me like shit every day, but I'll still love you and worship you, I'll do anything for you. You're my muse. I need you."

Your head is spinning, the cold wind coming from the balcony is chilling you, his mouth is seeking yours, and you connect them by wrapping your arms around his neck. You would be trapped for hours, days, even years in this moment, in what he, only he, causes you. In the way he, only he, loves you.

“Fuck, baby, I'm close”

“Let go, my love, I'll be here to hold you”

His words were like a trigger for your high to come. You scream his name and tremble around him. He kisses your neck in a sloppy way. Now he's moving his own waist, hunting his own orgasm.

“Baby, I'm sensitive, baby”

“I'm almost there, baby. Just hold on a little longer, please. I know I asked you to be mean, but don't do this to me.” You laugh and kiss him, moving your waist again.

He squeezes your waist and whines into your mouth.

“Love?” he breaks the kiss and looks deep into your eyes.

“It's okay, go on, I want you to,” you stroke the hair on the back of his neck.

And he allows himself to, sinking his head into the crook of your neck, hugging you as if someone wants to steal you away from him. The two of you hug in silence, and you can hear his breathing and his heart beating again, the TV already showing the typical Are you still watching? line.

He looks at you, with his hair messed up, his mouth red and wet from kissing, and droopy eyes.

"I love you so much. If you left me, it would break me, I don't know how I could live without you by my side. You're my life."

"I'll never leave you."

"I know, I know." You caress his face, and he closes his eyes, seeking your touch like a magnet. You lean his head against you and hug him like a child in need of comfort.

"I love you so much, my bunny"

"I love you... I love you..."

"Thank you."

He looks at you again, "Thank you for today. You were very sweet for doing all this"

"Baby, you deserve so much more than this. This was a little treat. You deserve the world, and I feel guilty for not being able to give it to you"

You kiss him passionately and lean your forehead against his, "You're already my world, my love." He smiles with his eyes closed, and your breaths synchronize.

"Baby, I love that we're cuddling like this, but I really need to get cleaned up"

"I know, me too, take a shower with me, and then we'll watch another movie, or play a game, before bed"

"I'd love to."

"But if it's a movie, it has to be a good one," you smile.

"Then you choose this time."

He'll always make you happy, you don't need anything else, he'll always be your dopamine.

[sanscee]

alright im here........ and i have an emotional support drink and plushie. let's go.

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.) 

already off to a great start. never mind the fact that our relationship with jeonghan is so so fragile………………. ‘i always have time for you’ like ok. Ow,

“I ask that question every day,” Jihoon replies, glancing at Jeonghan as if to say Women, right?, save for the fact that the both of them have exactly zero game.

snort count: one

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

hid my face in my hands dear god please end my mortal suffering 

“Yeah, it’s been okay.” You look around. There's a decent amount of mediocre acoustic guitars on the back wall, more than enough to scratch the itch of someone too afraid to defile something more honorable. “Hey, don’t wait up for me. I think i might buy something.” 

STOP is this what i think it is. lily please have mercy on me you can make me envision him in a Damp White Tee and then throw sentimental gift giving right after. lily fifth member of aespa giving people whiplash

There sits Joshua, cross-legged on the bed. Between his legs, the guitar you bought him. It must have finally shipped. He’s tied the gift ribbon it came with to the guitar strap, a woven linen with an offensively bright jacquard pattern.  A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air.

and so we cried, whatever. i want to kiss him until we both bruise sorry SORRY sorry i’ll move on SORRY

“Have you ever been in love before?”  [ … ]  And somehow, almost by magic, the fountain song and the phantom photographers, the parents and the press, the world and everything in it, finally draw quiet.

world fuckig stop. LILY. after all the bickering and heartless jabs that weren’t really heartless, just protective of their own heart in their own devastatingly human way… we finally have This. and honestly i dont know how to put into words how i had to stare at the wall for a long time after this. of course you would be guarded about your heart you’ve never felt the pull of being genuinely in love with someone. and of course he would be guarded with his heart he’s already been in love and had to break her heart because of his position in life. ‘because it would mean that it didnt end in vain’ i swear we were all just thinking about joshua in a Damp White Tee. these are not tears its the perspiration from the steamy bathroom shut up

“Hm.” He picks up the pistol again, stares down its iron sights. “Somi need anything for her birthday?” “She needs a new man,” you reply, and Jihoon laughs.  Bang. Bang. 

snort count: two

Sometime between the third and the tenth time your tongue found its way into Joshua’s mouth, Jihoon removed himself from the situation—he was always good at that part. Two wandering hands later, your palm skimmed over the front of Joshua’s slacks. No big deal, except he was half-hard and he moaned in your mouth like he was doing the ad-libs in a Cupcakke song. 

ohhmymjfhhyyyygioooddddddddimgonnedieeniebwekam,l[br,b;.,3420332-0p2l3;.

Stupid, stupid boy, you think. 

knees: weak. head: spinning. throat: ridiculously emptysOrrySORRy

“You,” you manage after clearing your throat. “You don’t have to sacrifice your pocket square.” 

head so good the prince forewent his precious pocket square…….. new aspiration in life. are you even giving good head if he doesn't sacrifice his pocket square

“For old times sake?” He then holds your own helmet up by the straps, and whatever twinge of annoyance you had felt earlier makes way for something softer, more forgiving. “Everything's set up outside.” 

oh this is about to get so sad 

“Don’t get married, then.” You don’t respond, so he says it again. “You don’t have to go through with it. Not for my sake, at least.” 

eberyone fucking stop oh my gof get out. bc we didnt even have a choice until the person we are doing this for presents the opportunity of choice. we were merely collateral bc we wanted to have normal experiences any other twenty-something would have had. fuck our parents btw for tossing the arranged marriage as a means of kicking us to the curb! reader is better than me and this is why this is call fanfiction instead of realstory <3

“I couldn’t tell,” he says, grinning something foolish. “You don’t look a day over fifty.” Then he offers you his hand, which you take, and he easily pulls you from the bench. 

this is what i mean when i say u just get me like. only he would say stupid corny shit like this. the banter is always like you’ve been married for thirty six years. did i say i would give him heirs already

“Me?!” Perfectly timed, your sock-clad feet collide (yours, striped and fuzzy, his, plain white). “Impossible.” 

only you could make me emotional over socks god i am getting old 

You think the worst thing you’ve ever woken up to was the Crazy Frog ringtone of one of the guys you had slept with during university. 

snort count: three, but also like is this a real experience wfbeuifbejkfnj rhis is too specific i laughed out loud

“I…I disagree.” You freeze. “She's my fiancée. I made a commitment to her, and I'm not going to walk away.” 

WORLD FUCKINIFSNJ STP OMG

Instead: “I am being honest. Since when was it illegal to go to your best friend’s birthday party? I don't care what the rest of the world has to say. She’s not who they, or you, think she is.” Through the door-gap, you watch the pursed, resolute draw of Joshua’s lips. “You didn’t even invite her here to talk about her own engagement. You never once gave her a chance.” 

just let out a sound akin to a dying animal this is no big deal this is fine this is completely fine like its not like hes letting himself stand up for the love he grew to genuinely appreciate despite the differences like ‘i wont like you take another girl i love away from me. not again.’ SJUT THE FUCK UP GO AWAY IM AO SAD

“Maybe they finally learned to stop giving a shit. You looked hot, you had a good time, end of story. It’s not like anyone died.” 

everyone needs a yunjin in their life ive decided. where’s my Emotional Support Yunjin.

He tilts his head in that way he does, and his gaze softens. Damn you, you think. Trying to distract me with those horrible, pretty eyes.  

anyway.

At once, the world spins off-axis. You feel the anxious flutter of Joshua’s heart under your palm, and your own stomach flips in its cage. The L word coming out of your mouth seems ten-thousand times more ridiculous than anything he could say, probably because you can’t remember the last time you actually said it and it came out all wrong. 

totally fine and normal and sane about this. this is Fine

“Do you think I was lying back there? Or now?” 

giggleskegeguejeueheueeiieehrehohmygofjrhegevw

“You’re uptight, judgmental, and you make the worst jokes. But I…I think I might be falling for you too.” 

alexa play falling for you from the teen beach movie soundtrack 😭🤍

The walk back to your bedroom is a blur. All you remember are hands—hands on the small of your back, hands riding up the length of your thigh, hands in your hair, pulling at your roots. You remember hands, and the taste of Joshua’s mouth. 

OH MGRY GOD ITS HAPPENDINF EVERYBODY STAY CALM

"Don't tempt me." Joshua kneels, bending down to undo your heels. You feel him press his lips to the back of your knee, your thigh. “Friday. Dinner?” 

there is something so intimate abt a man on his knees made even more hot by him taking of your shoes idk what it is but i eat it up every single time

“Oh? So you like when I'm a little mean?” 

bitch shut up i just shrieked GET AWAY FROM MEAND THEN THE ‘legs apart, darling’ CAN I LIVE GWT OUT OF MY HEAD 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“There you go,” he murmurs. His hand slows, letting you ride out your high, before he pulls out. “Wanted to do this ever since I kissed you that night.” 

i am going to be ohhsicslly ill

"K-keep going,” you babble. Fuck, he barely fit in your mouth and now he’s stuffing your cunt. You wrench your eyes shut, listening to him talk you through it (—Look at you taking me so well. Feels good, huh? You’re so beautiful. Honestly, it’s a miracle Joshua’s ex never had a royal baby with how much they must have fucked.) 

spread it open and flick the beansORRY SORRY

Your second orgasm comes quickly, not long after Joshua bottoms out. He groans right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and it’s the best noise you think you’ve heard in your life. 

I AN GLITNG TO BE PHSGICALLY ILLLLLRKEKW

“Want you to touch yourself,” he tells you, voice low.

speaking from beyond now. i’ve died.

“You’re so good at listening to me, you should do it all the time,” he murmurs. “There you go. Take it, take it, just like that. This must be what I have to do to get you to be nice, hm?” 

banging my head against the wall in 4K ultra HD

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.” 

im going to crh oh my god

Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.” 

AND YOU SAY YES 😭😭😭 FOR THE BERY FORST TIME 😭😭😭😭😭 genuinely don’t even know how to even move on like. their relationship growing from seemingly despising each other to deeply understanding each other’s feelings and personalities and the content of their hearts ☹��☹️☹️

title: royally screwed [m]

pairing: joshua x f!reader

wc: 30.8k in total; part 1: 15.4k, part 2: 15.4k summary: between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible.   notes: romcom + smut (part 2), modern royalty!au in which yn is the princess of cotria/joshua the prince of acros (both fictional), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, quarterlife crisis/coming of age, very very slow burn. lots of swearing, lots of alcohol, lots of feelings. smut tags: oral (m!receiving), mirror shenanigans, unprotected sex, softdom!shua, mating press, idk. they're in love your honor. [read part 1 here!] (please)

You decide June looks good on Acros. Unlike in Cotria, now sure to be perspiring with tourists, the downtown here is comfortable, inviting, even. At home, you’d be shoulder-to-shoulder with three other people right now. 

This is one of the things you like about this country: it seems to be intentionally idyllic. It’s becoming more clear to you that Joshua’s parents weren’t actually in need of anything from you other than a status boost. You suppose they’re learning the hard way what exactly that comes with.

Jeonghan’s car, or rather, the car Jeonghan happens to be in (he couldn’t drive his way out of a paper bag, try as he might), pulls up to the curb. He’s fresh off a stint of good press, meaning months of speeches, ribbon cutting, and run-ins with parliament and journalists and business moguls all vying for a bite of a future king. You’d add yourself to that list, but you know you’re at the back of the line—you practically live there now, but you’re not sure if things could have happened any other way. 

You watch him step out of the van, never windblown even though he likely just got off a flight. Always with a smile, too, one tired but recognizable, so different from the plasticky ones he wears on TV. 

The first thing he does when he gets out is throw his arms open for a bear hug. “Hey, cricket,” he says, voice wrought with jet-lag. “Missed you.” 

“Glad you had time for one more stop,” you murmur, squeezed into the million-thread count of his shirt. 

“I always have time for you,” he replies, which is decidedly untrue, but you don’t have it in you to say that. All you do lately is get into arguments, and you’re not looking to add your brother to your hit list. 

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.) 

The second thing he does is push the brim of your baseball cap down.

“The paps,” he warns, as if they were the boogeyman.  

“If they can’t recognize us, they need to get better at their job.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, Jeonghan, we’re all wearing matching hats.” 

No, you are not kidding. Jeonghan, blue, you, red, and Jihoon, green, a la The Powerpuff Girls, which was a joke you made about six years ago and could not let go of. 

“Whatever,” he laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around? This is your domain now.” 

“Don’t get excited. I just got here.” 

“What do you need to go shopping for, anyway?” he asks, now walking side-by-side with you. 

“I ask that question every day,” Jihoon replies, glancing at Jeonghan as if to say Women, right?, save for the fact that the both of them have exactly zero game. 

“Somi’s birthday!” you exclaim, two ticks too loudly. “Stuff, I dunno. Just trying to get used to this place.” 

“This isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive, you know.” 

That, Jeonghan is right about. You’re sure there must be a shopping district somewhere in Acros, but definitely not here. Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings. 

An elderly couple passes you. They smile and wave, visible even under the shade of their parasol, either blissfully unaware of your status or too wise to care. 

“I know,” you waver. “Whatever. I'll just get Yunjin to find me something for the party.” 

Your eye wanders to the jaunty facade of a music store. The sign flaunts handmade, cursive letters with a curly treble clef in the lacquer of old paint. In Cotria, the same sign would be neon, Hollywood-esque, vain. 

“Party?” 

“Let's go there,” you interrupt, hoping to run your big mouth over with some more talking. Of course Jeonghan wouldn’t be cool with any party, nonetheless the one Somi was planning on throwing, but, either by habit or wishful thinking, the news just tumbled right out of you. 

“Party?” Jeonghan repeats. He trails close after you, hoping to grab the door before you can. Such is what he had been taught, after all, which came more naturally than navigating big-brotherhood. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon shrugs, and opens the door before the both of you get there. You’ve trained him well. 

“It’s a small thing,” you tell him. “Close friends only.” It’s not technically a lie—small is relative, and it’s not your fault Somi has two hundred-some close friends.

Inside, you notice the shop is bigger than it looks from the outside. In the front, their nicest pianos: the glossy Yamahas, the baby grands. a lone drum set, on sale, the hi-hat sparkling under the LED lights. And finally, guitars hung from the wall like posters, some lime green and child-sized, others sanded down so the mahogany glows. 

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Jeonghan says, the lilt of his voice verging on not-so-casual. 

“Then don’t say it,” you reply flatly. “You went to those parties too, by the way.” 

“Used to, but—” Jeonghan sighs because he’s beat, and he knows it. 

You absentmindedly flip through a book of sheet music—Alfred's Essentials of Music Theory. behind it, 40 Taylor Swift Songs for Piano. 

“You’ve been good, I hope?” you cut in. “Not too tired?” 

“No,” Jeonghan says.  “I've been great. You?” 

You can’t read his expression. Old Jeonghan would tell you that he’s ready for a nap, that he hates sleeping on airplanes, that his hands still get sweaty when he gets in front of a crowd and the camera flash hurts his eyes. New Jeonghan never complains, either because of some drastic change in his character or because he feels like he can no longer complain to you. Both hurt your feelings in equal measures.

“I called, you know.” 

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.” 

“You mean my arranged marriage?” The words feel stiff in your mouth. 

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get? 

You avoid Jihoon’s tentative glare to look at your noodled reflection in the polish of a red Fender. You think of Joshua, of a corny rendition of Here Comes The Sun and a pick between his teeth, cradling a guitar held by a linty, ten dollar strap. 

Then you think of what he said on that piano bench—that somehow he could have prevented this. Actually, this might have been all your fault. One too many shots, and you ended up setting feminism back five centuries. 

“Y-yeah.” You watch Jeonghan’s silhouette appear behind yours. “Has it been okay, at least?” 

Okay is a complicated word to use. It’s hard to say, even for you. 

It would certainly be TMI to tell Jeonghan that you’ve been kissing a lot more often. First it was under the flimsy guise of practice—We have to be ready for our dinner tomorrow, Joshua had said, to which you readily agreed. You couldn’t be the unwilling victim of another headline like KISS OR MISS! It would be terrible for your ego, even more so than your public image. 

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

You really only liked each other past 9 PM—you still couldn’t quite manage to get through a conversation like normal people. At this point, you had a 50/50 split in terms of who would cast the first terrible stone of petty disagreement. The only thing we have going for us is a dubious physical attraction, seemed like way more of a mouthful than okay, though. 

“Yeah, it’s been okay.” You look around. There's a decent amount of mediocre acoustic guitars on the back wall, more than enough to scratch the itch of someone too afraid to defile something more honorable. “Hey, don’t wait up for me. I think i might buy something.” 

—

[august 10, 2:57 pm; a dress fitting. 

In the ten-foot mirror of the boutique dressing room, you watch Yunjin yank the ties of your corset into a punishing knot. Your mother watches behind you, perched on the chaise. 

“Regal and radiant,” she reads aloud, the shiny cover of a magazine between her hands. “Finally, some good news.” 

“About you and Joshua?” Yunjin asks. 

“Ye–ow!” you wince. “Yeah. We went out to dinner yesterday.” 

The dinner: an exhausting, stuffy affair at an Italian restaurant with two Michelin stars. You came in a nice dress, Joshua in slacks and his best button-up. Smile, wave, a kiss on the cheek. You fed him a spoonful of dessert, a stiff, too-sweet panna cotta. It was either raspberry or strawberry—you were too distracted to really notice. Instead, you’d been practicing the steps, the motions of a true love. 

Should we hold hands over the table? Joshua had asked. 

I don't think we have to. Your hand had curled over the napkin on your lap, as if the thought of his touch physically stung. 

“This is a nice color,” your mother interrupts. She pinches the fabric of the skirt up at your waist, watching the way it bunches over your hips. “It's suitable.” 

Suitable. Right. The dress for your engagement ball, suitable. Just like you, newly suited for the engagement. 

You watch your image in the mirror. It’s taller, more regal, likely the product of Yunjin squeezing all the air out of you, Or worse, the penetrating gaze of your mother over the top of the tabloid.

You blink hard; you waver. ]

[august 20, 10:13 pm; a quiet return to acros after a day at the beach with somi and soonyoung. 

The castle sleeps, warm under the soft glow of candlelight on marble. You pad through the halls, carefully, as to avoid waking the entire country with the thwacks of your still-wet sandals. Hopefully Joshua is sleeping. He'd certainly ask questions, either about if bikini tops really need all that padding or what the SPF of your sunscreen was. 

You approach your room, where the lamplight from the cracked door oozes into the hallway. There's a determined rustling noise coming from the interior. Incriminating. Holding your breath, you cast a long glance into the thin slice of bedroom you can see from where you’re standing. 

There sits Joshua, cross-legged on the bed. Between his legs, the guitar you bought him. It must have finally shipped. He’s tied the gift ribbon it came with to the guitar strap, a woven linen with an offensively bright jacquard pattern. 

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air. 

God, what a dork, you think. But you don’t walk away.] 

– 

From the garden, the Acrosian moon renders the city blue, like ink from a spilled well. 

It’s quiet out here, you notice. The forest spills into the sky, and the scent of roses lies heavy on your skin. You’re seated on the bench beneath the sculpted gazebo, a worthy centerpiece, and you revel in the coolness of the granite, the bated still of the air. You like this garden better than the one at home, although it’s entirely possible that you’ve been conditioned into hating all topiaries, no thanks to your parents. 

It's only when you hear the quiet click of footsteps behind you that you realize you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been outside. You’re now able to tell them apart–these, Joshua’s, steady and purposeful, sound like they have a heartbeat. 

You don’t turn around to greet him. “So you finally had enough, huh?” you ask instead, sliding to the left so he can sit beside you. 

“How'd you know?” he chuckles. 

“I'd like to think I know at least a little about you.” 

“I appreciate it,” is his reply, surprisingly warm.

Just a few hours earlier, your parents had come to visit. They cooed and giggled and connived alongside Joshua’s parents before launching into a very long, very serious discussion about your engagement ball. You’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff, the small stuff being the color of the napkins, the members of the string quartet, the hors d'oeuvres. But then it got weird: the symbolism of the color of your nail polish, which journalists were allowed to watch you make out, when and how Jeonghan was supposed to announce his presence during all of this. 

Then things got critical, which really sucked. No one was safe this time, not even Joshua. You lasted about an hour, Joshua about forty-five minutes more. You wonder what his breaking point was. Maybe it was his mother finally telling him off for having more than three buttons undone whenever he wore a dress shirt. 

In the silence, you feel an inexplicable peace. Maybe this is the only time you can get along; underneath the same moon, the same stars, the divide doesn’t feel quite as wide. You let your mind clear, first, past the fog of Somi’s birthday bash, glittery and blinding in your mind’s eye, past Jeonghan’s tired shoulders in the music store, past all the magazine covers and photo ops. The heavy reality feels heavier in your stomach, but you’re no longer as scared, although resignation looks like acceptance when you whittle it close enough to the bone. 

“Have you ever been in love before?” 

Joshua’s voice is so low, it takes you by surprise. You look to your side and see his eyes, shaded by the long curl of his lashes, trained on the sky, his expression unreadable. There’s a piercing sincerity to it, one you haven’t seen before. 

“No,” you reply, the answer coming to you faster than any regret ever could. “How could i?” 

“So all the boyfriends before, just…?” he trails off. He's referencing the magazines, all the covers with full size photos of you and the model of the month holding hands by the riviera, sharing a martini, kissing outside a nightclub. There are too many to remember, but you’re surprised he’s aware of any at all. 

“It was just stupid fun. I dunno. We hung out, had sex, whatever. It was never serious. I didn't tell them about anything at all; I was okay with them not really knowing me, at least, not as anything other than a party girl, the runaway princess, etcetera. We didn’t owe each other anything.” 

“Sounds lonely.” 

“Sometimes,” you answer. “But it was fun. I don't regret it. I just never saw room for them in all of this.” 

Joshua hums, low and deep. 

“And you?” you ask, incredulous. “In love?” 

“In university,” he says after a brief pause. “There was a girl. I think I loved her more than I had ever loved anything else before.” 

“What? Who?” you interrupt. “Do I know her?” 

“No.” Then, a quiet chuckle. “No one did. She was a civilian, a normal girl. She wanted to be a biologist, I think. it was either that, or a nurse. We snuck around a lot. Probably more than you did.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” 

“I told her I'd marry her. I thought if I wanted it enough, it would happen. I'd go to my parents, profess my love, and all our rules would fall away somehow. Just like that.” 

Suddenly, it feels like there is a gaping wound in your chest. Every new word seems to draw the bloody edges of your skin further apart. 

“Well, they didn’t,” Joshua continues. “I broke her heart. and I learned that all of this would never go away. Not for love, not for anything.” 

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl. 

“And that’s why you’re…you know.” You pause. The words all feel stuck to the roof of your mouth. “You like the rules.” 

“Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.” 

“You don’t want to mess up again. I get it.” 

“Yeah.” 

You notice your arms are touching, that they have been touching. Somehow, you don’t want to move away. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask.

“Not sure.” Joshua sighs, having fully abandoned the filter he normally speaks to you through. “I don't think we’re so different. I don't know. It feels good to tell someone.” 

“Do you still love her?” 

“No. I don't think I can.” 

“I'm sorry,” you swallow, feeling the familiar lump in your throat. 

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons. 

“No really,” you insist. “I'm sorry. I gave you a hard time—no, I've been giving you a hard time. I didn't know.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“What?” 

“Be nice to me. No one’s watching.” 

“I know,” you say, a foolish conviction rising in your stomach. You almost feel silly, juvenile, for never really baring your heart like how he had. You’re not sure which was worse. 

You turn to look at him, really look at him. He's framed by the haze of the violets, the gentle curtain of the willows. 

“Says the real you?” Joshua asks.

“Yup,” you laugh. “Usually is. You probably get the worst of it, to be honest.” 

“She’s not so bad.” He returns your gaze; it’s honest, unsearching. “According to the real me, by the way.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

There are no words left. In fact, nothing quite says more than the way you now sit together, hands close enough to touch, without quarrel, complaint, or a yearning to prove yourself to some invisible standard. Instead, you enjoy the quiet calm, the way it drapes itself across the garden, the city, the quick of your heart. Now that you think about it, it’s the first time you’ve been able to do this without feeling like you were putting on a show.

This time, you think it’s real when you lean against his shoulder, and he leans back, chasing your warmth.

And it certainly seems to stay real when your hands find each other. You realize he does it the same way every time—the gentle skim of his fingertips down your hand before your palms meet, gently, forthright. 

And it’s here, in the uncertain glow of the summer moon, where you think you’re the closest to ever knowing just what Joshua had been talking about earlier. 

His hand curls around your cheek, holding you, wanting to see you clearer still, and he kisses you. It's not the practiced motion of an ill-conceived love, nor a hungry, blind stumble in your unlit bedroom. No, this time, it's as if you are being drawn back, wonderfully, slowly. Joshua kisses you as if it's the first time, as if to undo all the other times.

And somehow, almost by magic, the fountain song and the phantom photographers, the parents and the press, the world and everything in it, finally draw quiet. 

–

“So,” Jihoon says, reloading his pistol. “You ok? Don’t you hate the range?” 

You push your earmuffs aside to hear him better. “What?” 

“I said, don’t you hate the range?” 

“Well,” you balk. Jihoon puts the gun down and leans against the booth, looking at you from behind the glare of his safety glasses. Behind him is the paper target of a man with five bullet holes through his head. “I think I've gotten used to it.” 

This is all true—you did hate the range, but it’s where you can always count on finding Jihoon on a Sunday afternoon. Better people went to church, but Jihoon preferred to terrorize the poor center circle of a bullseye. 

“Hm.” He picks up the pistol again, stares down its iron sights. “Somi need anything for her birthday?” 

“She needs a new man,” you reply, and Jihoon laughs. 

Bang. Bang. 

“But, no, I'm getting her that vintage Cartier watch she’s been wanting forever. They were auctioning it off in Paris.” 

“Right, since it’s time for her to get a new boyfriend,” Jihoon deadpans, although he can’t quite get it out before he chuckles. “What about Soonyoung?” 

“They cannot get together. You’re just being messy.” 

“Sure, I'm the messy one. Didn’t they sleep together?” 

“That was, like, two years ago. Drunk.” 

Bang. Then a click–the clip’s empty. “By the way—you decided if you’re going to Cotria this weekend? Jeonghan will be back again, you know.” 

You pause, watching Jihoon reload the magazine, shiny bullet by bullet. You definitely know Jeonghan’s coming home—minus all the time you spend on Find My Friends, you were always acutely aware of when he was in town. The real question is if you wanted to see him again. Usually, you’d count down the days, make plans at all your favorite restaurants, buy a bottle of cheap wine to split over a shitty Godzilla movie. That was when you still talked. 

The last time you saw him was when he visited you in Acros. After the music store, you milled around a couple shops, walked through an art gallery. (Remember when you got lost at the Prado? he had asked. You were staring at that painting with all the butts. 

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.) 

“I dunno,” is what you land on. “I'm busy.” 

“Well, Jeonghan asked me.” Jihoon takes down his old target and sets up a fresh one, another formless, black silhouette. 

“Asked you what?”

“If I could ask you to come.” 

“Does Josh know?” 

“He actually already helped with arrangements for you to go back,” Jihoon replies, palming the gun again. “He said only if you wanted to, though.” 

The tightness in your chest seems to coil over itself once more. Joshua had asked you about Jeonghan over breakfast one morning, before handing you a coffee and a croissant to soften the blow. You had been talking a lot more lately, which, somehow, you didn’t mind. If he wasn’t making fun of you, he was actually a decent listener. 

You watch Jihoon steady his arms. 

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

–

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car. 

Surprising, maybe. Accidental? Never. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, though. It really started earlier tonight, at the charity event you attended with Joshua. 

Lesser beings would blame the wine, a cheap chardonnay only fit for sorority girls on a Friday night. Naturally, you and Joshua were responsible for downing about half the bottle—a fun amount, you’d like to say, although you admit you were surprised at your date’s ability to hold his alcohol. 

You, however, can peg the real culprit: a reasonably slutty dress, removed from the annals of Somi’s closet, back when she was less of a Paris Hilton and more of a Princess Diana. 

The evidence: damning. As you were getting ready—Can you zip me up? you had asked Joshua, fiddling with the rollers in your hair, already a generous ten minutes late. Then the slow, lingering skim of his touch, molasses up the hollow of your spine. At dinner, a warm hand on your knee. You didn’t hang around much longer after that, but walking to the car was a wondrous excuse for the flat of his palm to find the small of your back, fondly, comfortably, as if you had known each other for years.��

Since you had spoken in the garden, certainly you had acted like more of a couple. It came more naturally, likely due to the fact that you had no idea if you were actually a couple or not. You suppose it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Well—sort of.

Now, you’re just being obtuse. What you’re really trying to do is explain how your hand found its way down Joshua’s pants in the back of your limousine. And still, found is too generous of a word. But you digress. 

The short version: you kissed Joshua. Jihoon parked the car out back, you had gotten tired of Joshua glancing at you through the side of his eyes, and you kissed him. Regrettably, this hasn’t gotten boring yet. You enjoy the way he searches for your touch, the part of his soft lips. 

Sometime between the third and the tenth time your tongue found its way into Joshua’s mouth, Jihoon removed himself from the situation—he was always good at that part. Two wandering hands later, your palm skimmed over the front of Joshua’s slacks. No big deal, except he was half-hard and he moaned in your mouth like he was doing the ad-libs in a Cupcakke song. 

“Whoops,” you had babbled. This whole night, you’d been searching for the brakes on the clown car winding through the horny fog of your horrible, vexed mind. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Joshua replied just as quickly, the words seeming to slip back down his throat. 

Then you had stared at each other and blinked, hard, as if that would erase the fact that, one, the prince of Acros had just cursed approximately half an centimeter from your face, and two, you’d now crossed a bridge that could not be uncrossed. 

You could no longer lie to yourself about the fact that you are hopelessly attracted to Joshua. You don’t even know if you want to lie anymore. You still thought of the time you ran into him, birthday suit and all, all those weeks ago in the bathroom. And, yes, you had wondered how big he was, although you blame Somi for planting that evil idea in you. 

Hence, with God as your witness (since Jihoon was no longer there), you had said, “I can help, you know. If you want.” 

You didn’t expect Joshua to nod so quickly. Then again, you now know yourself to be a poor judge of most things, especially ones relating to whatever this is. 

“Do you want to?” he had asked, eyes fogged over. 

“Yes. really.” Then you stopped. “Is this your first—”

“No. Does it really seem like it?” 

Okay. You’ll have to unpack that later. 

So, finally, here you are. Somewhere along the line, your shame had fallen to the wayside, and a new desire now rocks you. 

“Could’ve just asked earlier,” you tease, thumbing the buckle of Joshua’s belt. 

“Should’ve known you’re not one for subtlety,” he laughs softly, his eyes fixed on how you undo the clasp. It’s a silly comment, but all the blood still rushes to your cheeks at the idea of him wanting you not just now, but all night. “Next time.” 

“Really now.” The button at his waistband proves difficult with your new nails, so you instead sit your hand on the tent in his pants, palm him over the fabric. “You’d let me do this in the washroom of a charity ball?”

Delightfully, you watch him squirm. He doesn’t fight you, instead, uses his hands to bring you closer so you can feel his voice on your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he replies. 

“His highness,” you say before returning to the wretched button, “Fooling around at a formal event? Scandalous.” 

“Says the walking scandal,” Joshua laughs again, nipping at your earlobe. Then a sigh, breathy and tortured, as you finally peel back his slacks. 

“Isn’t this about the time where you be quiet and let me do my thing?”

“Is that an order?” 

“Yeah, since you seem to like them so much.” 

He opens his mouth to complain, but you’ve beaten him to the punch. Skin meets skin; you watch his eyes flutter shut, the slow fall of his shoulders as he exhales. 

Fuck, you think to yourself. If that’s all it takes for him to get hard— you force the thought back to where it came from. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Already, you’re reveling in the lewd image before you: the nation’s darling prince, legs spread and slack-jawed in the back of a limo, dizzy at the thought of a pretty girl playing with his cock. 

Your hand wraps around his length, pulls it out of his briefs. Feeling the weight, heavy and warm on your palm, makes your skin prickle. He is big, but even if he wasn’t, the way he gasps into your ear when you start pumping him is enough to satisfy. 

You start slow, just to be a little mean. He's longer than you expected, you realize. A turn of the wrist at the base, a little more pressure, and you hear him groan, loudly, shamelessly, as he tips his head back. 

“Feels good?” you ask, voice lower than a whisper. You know it does—you’re not inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination, but something about turning the prince into putty makes the months of horrible foreplay worth it. 

“Yeah,” he says, part sigh. “Really good.” 

“Good.” Then you hold out your palm in front of his mouth. You tell yourself it’s a litmus test for his freak-o-meter, but there’s a part of you that wants to make this the best handjob of his short, unexciting life. 

First, he looks at you, wide eyes unblinking. There's already a flush, pretty and pink, across his cheeks, the column of his neck. Then, it clicks. He spits into your hand, and you watch it trail down the plush curve of his lips, his chin, the ridge of his adam’s apple. The color spreads to his ears; his mouth twists shyly. Oh, he looks perfect, maybe even more than perfect like this. 

As if drawn by a magnet, you kiss him, and your hand finds his cock again. The friction alone draws out a low whine from Joshua’s chest, enough for you to feel the sound on your own tongue. Emboldened, you pump faster, harder, loving the way his hips kick up to meet your touch. 

Still, he gives no indication that he’s close. Something tells you he has more stamina than you think, which surprises you. Thirty minutes ago, you thought he was a virgin. 

“Josh?” you murmur, your lips brushing over his. “Wanna taste you.” 

He meets your gaze, expression unreadable. You think maybe you’re moving too fast, that you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, until you feel the shadow of his hand move, first on your waist, then up the back of your neck. He gathers your hair in one hand, easily, as if he’s done this many a time before, and you get the message. 

You wet your lips, swollen at this point, and bow your head. You’re running on something crazier than adrenaline at this point—even seeing the bead of precum at his tip is making your jaw feel heavy. 

The first taste, always thrilling, sends sparks to your cunt. You seal your lips around his cockhead, feeling its weight on your greedy tongue, and he pulls your hair just enough to make you moan. 

“Were you thinking about doing this all night?” Joshua asks, voice deceptively innocent. 

You can’t answer. You don’t want to. He tastes good, he even fucking smells good, and you want him bad. Instead, you take him to the base, feel him bump against your palate as you try not to gag. You can’t fit him all the way, so your hands make up the slack. He's even bigger fully hard, and already, you feel the ache in your cheeks, your temples. 

“Fuck, you must have been.” A groan, low and slutty. “Doing so good for me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if this is his version of dirty talk, but it’s working. His hand is gentle, restrained behind you, letting you lead. The worse part of you wonders what it would take for him to break, but that’s a project for another time. 

Honestly, he doesn’t need to do much—again and again, you chase the feeling of his cock deep in your throat, enough to bruise. You don’t even care if you gag around him; when you do, he pulls your hair back, just enough to make your scalp prickle wonderfully, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you like it. 

You feel heady with arousal. You start to wonder how he is in bed, if he’d hold your hair like that, run his mouth like he is now. He's vocal, more than anyone else you’ve been with, and every little noise goes straight to your core, makes your thighs squeeze together pathetically. By now, you’re sure you’ve ruined this set of panties. 

“ ‘m close,” he says between breaths. “You don’t have to—” 

Stupid, stupid boy, you think. You don’t think you’ve wanted to do anything more. So instead of answering, you look up at him, eyes big and watery, and you suck hard. with your tongue nestled underneath his cockhead, right by the vein, it’s almost too easy. 

He groans, loud, satisfied, and you feel his release fill your mouth. Even after swallowing, it’s enough to run down your chin, get your makeup all smudged, and you like it. If you weren’t in trouble already, you are now. 

“Ah, I made you a mess,” Joshua says, gravelly and intimate. With one hand, he takes the handkerchief out of his suit jacket and cradles your jaw with the other. “Hold still.” 

“You,” you manage after clearing your throat. “You don’t have to sacrifice your pocket square.” 

“Yes, I do,” he chuckles. He wipes the corners of your mouth, your aching chin, and it almost makes you cry. “You literally gave me head in the back of a car. The pocket square can go.” 

He draws you up to his chest so you can rest your head on him. There’s a warm, melty feeling between your ribs, minus what you had just swallowed. Inexplicably, even as the horny fog clears from your brain, you still want to be close, closer than close and then closer still. 

“Head? I don’t like hearing you use normal people slang.” You pout, and you feel his laugh radiate from beneath his skin. “Good head, at least?” 

“Oh, please. Better than good,” he answers. “You’re perfect. perfect.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you start. Then he shuts you up with his mouth over yours, and you forget to think about liking him, loving him, or marrying him—this, you think you can do. 

—

“We’re in Barcelona!” 

You’re greeted by a pocket sized Somi and Soonyoung as they grin at you from your phone screen. They look to be on the balcony of a hotel suite, both wearing their matching silk robes. 

“Wow,” you reply. “And where was my invite?” 

“We did invite you, bitch,” Somi says, pulling down her sunglasses to look at you. “You said you were busy.” 

“Well, I mean…” you uncap a bottle of nail polish. “That's not untrue.”

“The ocean needs you,” Soonyoung whines, clutching his chest. “We need you.” 

“I'm sorry! Josh and I have been doing engagement stuff.” 

“Josh? Since when were you on a nickname basis?” 

“Whatever,” you interrupt. “What are you guys gonna do today?” 

“Beach,” Soonyoung responds brightly, with Somi’s Don’t let her change the subject! loud in the background. 

To be honest, you don’t even know the answer to her question. It just sort of happened, which seems to be the new normal for you. You’re also trying to pull apart last night–the freak-o-meter test came back inconclusive, and, for some reason, Joshua fell asleep with his arm over your middle. (Actually, you can think of a few reasons why he did that, but you’re not really sure how to feel about any of them.) 

“Ugh, I miss you guys.” You wipe at your pinkie toe, having smudged the polish beyond repair. “Drink a little extra sangria for me. And by little, I mean a lot.”  

“You’re still coming to Somi’s birthday, right?” Soonyoung asks.

“Yes, of course she is,” Somi replies. “Unless you can’t. Which I totally understand.”

“I still can,” you lie. “It just has to be more low-key than usual.” 

“No paparazzi,” Somi says. “And I'll tell everyone to keep you on the down low. Super duper down low.” 

“No way.” Damn, you curse to yourself—you keep screwing up painting your big toe. “Seriously?”

“Anything for my queen,” she giggles. “Pitbull is also confirmed, by the way. Secret Pitbull now.” 

“Good, because that’s the only reason I’m coming.” 

“Boo, you whore.” Somi wrinkles her nose at you playfully. (Is she being serious? Soonyoung asks in the background.) “Also, I'm still waiting for my update on the whole prince thing. I've been very patient.”

“No updates. Nothing to report,” you insist. Frustratingly, your cheeks are hot, like you’re in secondary school all over again. 

“You fucked him, huh?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Halfway. Maybe.” 

The combined sound of Somi and Soonyoung’s gasps rips apart your phone speakers, and you draw in a big breath. I did it for the plot doesn’t quite seem like the right justification, not like it used to be. The plot never used to involve the M word, love, or any sort of feelings at all. Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

“So you do like him,” Soonyoung says, saucer eyes sparkly on-screen.

“I don't know,” you answer. It’s true, you don’t. To you, like was flirting over text and french kissing. Paradoxically, you had told Joshua all of that, and he still decided to do whatever he did to you on the ledge of the fountain all those days ago. It felt like he ate the heart right out of your chest. Then you had to go and suck his dick, which never made anything less complicated. 

“Oh please. Look at you,” Somi laughs. “Yeah, you do.” 

Fuck. You’ve smudged all the polish off your big toe again. 

– 

Not much surprises you these days, but you can’t say you were expecting to see your riding boots to be the first thing you see when you arrive home in Cotria. 

The second thing you see is Jeonghan, smiling at you in his big, stupid riding helmet, camo-printed because he bought it when he was 15 and his head never grew much bigger since. 

“For old times sake?” He then holds your own helmet up by the straps, and whatever twinge of annoyance you had felt earlier makes way for something softer, more forgiving. “Everything's set up outside.” 

It doesn’t take you much time to take him up on the offer. If anything, a long ride usually solves all your problems, and you definitely have problems that need solving. 

You saddle up in the stables, wordlessly, moved by habit. It seems to be the same for Jeonghan, too. Even Peanut acts like it hasn’t been years since he’s seen him, and he noses at the box of sugar cubes like he always does. Then again, horses don’t hold grudges, at least, not like you do. Even Joshua seemed more optimistic about this encounter than you did. 

“So you're back back,” you say, hooking your feet in the stirrups. “Or do you have more jet-setting to do?” 

“Back back,” Jeonghan replies. “Missed home too much.” 

He cocks his head towards the old riding trail, the one that loops the long way through the woods. The gesture is but a formality—it’s the only path you ever take. Still, you follow behind his horse, watching the beige swoosh of Peanut’s tail the same way you did when you were a little girl and things were far simpler than they are now. 

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today. 

Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side. 

“Hey, cricket?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I…” Jeonghan clears his throat and pauses, quite unlike him. “I wanted to come out here to talk.” 

“Everything ok?” 

“Yeah, I…” Another pause. “I know things haven’t felt normal between us. For me, at least.” 

You almost drop the reins. A strange, floating feeling is set off in your body, like a flare. 

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was kinda hoping you would say that.” 

“I'm sorry.” A hard swallow. “I haven't really been the best brother, have I?” 

“Well, not…not really.” Quickly, frenetically, words bob up in the back of your mouth like you’re playing whack-a-mole. You had been waiting for this conversation to happen for so long, you realized you hadn’t planned much further than that. “It felt like you’d changed. A lot.” 

The wind feels like ribbons around you. You sway back and forth on Astrid, as if on a boat. 

“Was it the birthday party thing?” you ask. “I didn’t mean for it to…you know.” 

“Actually, that was my fault.” Jeonghan smiles bitterly. “I shouldn't have let Mom and Dad run me over like that. You should’ve been there. It was never really the same without you.” 

“Well, I should've come,” you admit. “So we both fucked up.” 

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.” 

You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life. 

“You didn’t even look back.” 

“I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.” 

“Jeonghan, you’re not really making sense right now,” you say, flattened, and he laughs. 

“I don't even know what I'm saying. I think I'm trying to say that I just want you to be happy. And that I'm sorry.” 

You bite your lip, as if to distract yourself from the strange pressure in your throat. You think you want to cry, but you’re not sure.

“But are you happy?” you ask. “With the coronation and everything? Did you even want this?” 

“I am, believe it or not. I know you don’t, but I'm not lying. Somewhere along the line, I started liking all of the talking, the traveling, the interviews. I like that I can help people. Some of it sucks, but not all of it.” He laughs, finally one that sounds like something you can remember. “Not everything you have to do is bad.” 

“Jeonghan, I'm getting married because of you. Because of this,” you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I don't know how to do this. Any of this, not like you, not like Mom, or anyone.” 

This, in fact, does make Jeonghan stop. He stills and falls silent. At once, it seems the forest goes quiet too. 

“Don’t get married, then.” You don’t respond, so he says it again. “You don’t have to go through with it. Not for my sake, at least.” 

“What?” 

“I've been thinking about it ever since it happened. I can talk to everyone. You’d rather not be with the guy, right?”

Your tongue freezes in your mouth. You thought you had an answer, but it refuses to come out. 

“I have a duty to protect you, too. I’ll be fine with or without the press.” 

“Jeonghan,” you say quietly. Many moons ago, you would have laughed at the word duty, but instead, your stomach turns over and over and over. “You don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” is his simple answer. “I want to because I care about you. We can figure out the rest.” 

Something in your bones feels heavy. You’d also been waiting to hear those words, but it didn’t feel as freeing as you thought it would. You think about Joshua, his books and his perfectly placed bookmarks, his dumb dad jokes, the way he reaches for your hand, fingertips before palm. 

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course. The engagement ball is probably happening either way, but it’s no big deal. Bigger engagements have been called off in far worse circumstances.” 

You’re having trouble believing him, but you have no other choice. Your life would certainly get a lot easier if everything were to just end. No more press releases, scripts, or awkward pictures. And no more worrying about if you could go out on the weekends or just how much of yourself to give up to make things work. 

“There's no rush.” He turns to look at you with the same wild shine in his eyes that you’d grown to miss so much. “Truce?”

That, somehow, you’re much happier to hear. You thought you’d be angrier than this, feel the usual metal-red of your gut, but all that’s left is a sobering feeling of relief, of home. At last, things feel close to normal. 

“Truce.” 

So you ride and ride, but a decision doesn’t come to you as easily as you thought. The sunset breaks; the word duty clings to you, unshakable, unrelenting. 

—

Somehow, you have gone full circle: at the end of a long day, you find yourself back at the piano, much like you did when you were seven, and the only thing you could do right was play Hot Cross Buns. 

Joshua had bought an unreasonable amount of music books, half guitar for him, half piano for you. You’d forgotten just how much you had liked playing until that night, many nights ago, when you and he had first muddled through that duet. 

Yesterday, you and your parents had tea at the waterfront before you had left the country. You were still undecided on the engagement; frustratingly, the needle hadn’t moved much in either direction since Jeonghan had raised his proposal to you. 

Congratulations, your mother had told you, right over her cup of oolong. 

For what? 

You’ve risen to the occasion. You’ve grown up. 

To you, this was not a compliment. You didn’t know what it was. You had twisted the ring on your finger, back and forth, a habit you picked up after all the time you spent wearing it. You wondered if somewhere, you had become exactly like Jeonghan, molded and spun into someone unrecognizable. Maybe that was why Joshua finally seemed to like you.

Have you practiced for your first dance? your father asked, and you no longer had time to worry about the state of your personality—you had other fires to put out. 

Really, that’s why you’re at the piano today. You thought you could play the damn tune and somehow remember all the ballroom dancing lessons you had taken when you were younger. Unsurprisingly, it hasn’t worked yet. 

There’s a knock at the doorframe. “Come in,” you say, already knowing that it’s Joshua. No one else does that; Jihoon barges in and just starts talking, and you can hear Joshua’s parents from a mile away because of all the jewelry they have on. 

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” Joshua says. He leans against the frame of the piano, already dressed down for the night. 

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just magically hoping that I remember how to ballroom dance.” 

“Well, first things first, you can’t dance sitting down.” He chuckles, and you pull your lips tight. 

“I'm serious, Josh,” you whine. 

“You really don’t remember?” He gives you one of those looks, one that you’re quite used to now, with the judgmental wrinkle of the brow. “Didn’t you take lessons?” 

“Yeah, like…fifty million years ago.” 

“I couldn’t tell,” he says, grinning something foolish. “You don’t look a day over fifty.” Then he offers you his hand, which you take, and he easily pulls you from the bench. 

“Flattered,” you say, unable to push down the corners of your smile. “You gonna teach this senior citizen a few moves?” 

“Perhaps, as my good deed for the day.” He holds your hand, still firmly in his, and slides it up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Left hand here,” he tells you. 

“Are you flirting with me?” 

“Not yet,” Joshua laughs. “The ballroom hold ring a bell?” His other hand finds your free one, and you interlace fingers simply, easily. Then, the warmth of a hand between your shoulder blades, one that draws you to his chest. 

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.” 

Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly. 

“I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases. 

“And country’s already seen it all.” 

“They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.” 

“Fine,” you pout, noticing that familiar warmth in your stomach. 

Joshua begins to count your steps off (one, two, three—ow, that’s my foot! —sorry!). He’s patient with you, more patient than you think you deserve. His hand seems to slot perfectly into the curve of your back; his gaze settles onto you in a way that makes your chest feel heavy, molten. 

“For someone who goes out so much, you have a terrible sense of rhythm,” Joshua says, teasing. 

“Hey,” you object. “Maybe I just have a bad teacher.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” 

“Well, I'm not about to blame Britney Spears.” 

Joshua laughs, and the sound is so close to you, you can feel it on your skin. 

“I still think it’s the student’s fault.” 

“Me?!” Perfectly timed, your sock-clad feet collide (yours, striped and fuzzy, his, plain white). “Impossible.” 

“Too distracting,” he murmurs, and you notice how unfairly pretty his eyes are. “You bump into me, criticize me, you look at me like that…”

You feel dizzy. You don’t know what Joshua’s doing to you, but it’s mean. Your face is warm, and normally you’d blame it all on the alcohol but you haven’t had any. Worst of all, the soft part of you, the lizard-brained, impulsive part, can’t stop thinking about his lips and how they would feel on yours.

It’s a thought you don’t let linger, much like all of the other half-thoughts you have, and you kiss him, as if it was a reprieve from the terrible, horrible way he’s making you feel. (It isn’t.) 

“You talk too much,” you tell Joshua, right against his lips. “Not enough teaching.” 

“I'm putting you in remediation.” 

“Devastating.” 

“And giving you homework.” 

“Whatever shall I do?” 

Joshua answers that question for you. He kisses you, once, twice, still not enough, and, somehow, things feel more simple than they ever had before. 

—

Jihoon’s eyes are dark, dagger-sharp in the rearview mirror. 

“We’re coming up,” he says. “A few minutes out.” 

“I know,” you answer. Yunjin was successful, almost too successful, in her task of finding you an appropriately revealing dress for a newly engaged twenty-something at the party of the year. The filmy silk stretches around your thighs; the cowl neck flirts with the neckline of the bikini top you have on underneath. 

You look good, probably better than how you’ve looked in months. And yet, for some reason, you don’t feel good, at least, not how you’d thought you’d feel on the way to the only event you’d been looking forward to this year.

Somi’s gift rattles in your lap. It’s covered in this loud, hot pink wrapping paper unbecoming of something you had spent years tracking down on the antiques circuit. Normally, you’d have a laugh with Jihoon about it, maybe take some selfies in the car, but instead, you find yourself spinning your ring around your finger like you always seem to do these days.

You think of Jeonghan, of Joshua. Of course, what you do or don’t do on your best friend’s birthday is none of their business (although, very inconveniently, Jeonghan did have some event this weekend, and Joshua was traveling). But still, you think of the boldface headlines, the whispering gossip forums, the washed-out image of you in your little dress on the cover of a cheap magazine. This wasn’t exactly a tame party, and things weren’t just about you anymore, not like they used to be. 

Marking your arrival isn’t the GPS nor Jihoon, rather, it’s the firefly buzz of the cameras outside your limo as it’s forced to come to a stop. You squint, trying to see past the tint of your windows, and see Somi, radiant in her birthday tiara, as she pushes through the crowd. Behind her is the villa she rented, illuminated by pink and gold strobe lights. 

You crack open the car door and are met with a stifling deluge of camera flashes. Music pulses through the air, enough to feel beneath your heels. 

“Who's my favorite princess?” Somi exclaims, throwing her arms open. “You made it! you look hot.” 

“Not as hot as the birthday girl,” you reply, and you let her squeeze the air out of you in a wonderful, bone-crushing hug. “What's with all the cameras?” 

“Professional photographers. Just wanted something to remember the night by, because we are blacking out.” She giggles, already tipsy. “Come, come, we’re doing shots inside.” 

“Without me?” 

“We’ll catch you up.” 

Somi drags you by the hand through the sea of people, and you watch the cameras follow as they always do. She leads you up the stairs, underneath the towering balloon display, and into the foyer, already darkened, lit only by a disco ball chandelier and the neon backlights. 

You spot Soonyoung by a champagne tower that seems twice his size, as promised. He's in a leather jacket, no shirt under, and you watch his eyes light up as they meet yours. 

“A shot for her highness,” he shouts over the music. 

“I thought this was champagne.” 

“Tequila's close enough.” He laughs, eyes upturned, bright like gemstones. 

The first shot goes down easy. It always does. So does the second, unsurprisingly. Around the third is when Somi tells you that the strippers are coming in an hour. (—Strippers?! —Not everyone has a fiancé, you know.) 

And, just like that, you’re back to the beginning. It’s hard to think over the ridiculously good Kesha mix the DJ is playing, but, terribly, you think you’re starting to understand what Jeonghan was talking about. You’re still not sure how you feel about duty, responsibility, sacrifice, those heavy words that feel impossibly heavier in your mouth, but all you know is that, as much fun as you’re having now, it comes at a fair price. 

Somi told you nothing, no compromising pictures, no drama, would reach the press, but, as hard as she may try, you feel like enough people have laid eyes on you already that someone was bound to hear something. If not now, then definitely in a few hours when everyone’s on at least two and a half substances, and all bets are off.

Briefly, you recall your appearance at the derby, the memory like a shard of glass. You had stood guileless next to Joshua, tripping over your words because you hadn’t cared enough to read the damn briefing, and he had covered it up with a dad joke or two. Coming up with those abominations must have been hard enough for someone whose first book was the Oxford Dictionary, but you don’t even think God and all his angels could cover up this. More than that, the thought of everyone having to try anyway makes your gut twist. 

Someone tells you to smile for a selfie. You recognize her, but you don’t remember her name (Amelia or Alicia, one of Somi’s friend of a friends. On second glance, there are definitely more than 200 people here). Let's dance! another voice shouts in your ear. 

Your head hurts. You hate the idea that Jeonghan might be a little right, but you hate even more that you’re starting to agree with him. Maybe you need another shot. 

“Your gift,” you say, fighting over the chorus of Your Love Is My Drug. “Somi!” 

“Oh my god, you did not!” she squeals. She clasps her hands over yours, wrapped around the box, and draws them to her. “Let me take it to the table. I’ll meet you by the pool—oh, oh, there’s a hot dog stand out there too!”

“Actually,” you start. You’re not that drunk, not yet, but now you think you can feel the ground start to sway under you. It wouldn’t be too far a stretch to say that in half an hour, after a little time at the bar, you’d probably be spending the night, no question. “I think I have to run.”

“Aw, really?” Somi tilts her head and squints, as if trying to read your mind. 

“I am so sorry,” you tell her, as sincerely as one can over a pop song from the 2000s. “Swear I'll make it up to you.” 

“Life stuff, right?” 

“Yeah.”  

“It's ok,” she says. “Really really. Go home, figure your shit out, and we can have our own party.” 

She holds your joined hands to her heart. Whatever look you gave her, she believed. That, or she knows you better than you think. 

So you leave. The car ride home is silent. Jihoon doesn’t ask questions, and you can still hear the sound of the music ringing in your ears, on and on and on. 

—

You think the worst thing you’ve ever woken up to was the Crazy Frog ringtone of one of the guys you had slept with during university. 

The second worst has got to be five voice memos and three consecutive missed Facetime calls from Somi, which is the first thing you see upon opening your eyes. 

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, still coming to. Your bed is empty, but you see Joshua's suitcase in the corner of the room. He must have come home early this morning, while you were still sleeping. 

You crack open your text messages. 

–OH MY GOD.

–I AM SO SO SORRY. 

–someone must have gotten paid off for last night’s pictures…i had no idea i swear 

Then a voice memo. Then another voice memo. then a PopCrave Twitter screenshot: YOU CAN TAKE THE PRINCESS OUT OF THE PARTY–OR CAN YOU? followed by the worst, most incriminating photo of you and Soonyoung, arms linked, throwing back a shot. 

“No, no, no, no.” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the stone-cold drop of your heart to your feet. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

Shit. You have to find Joshua and make it right. 

Somehow, you thought it wouldn’t matter, that you didn’t care what did or didn’t get out as long as you were able to have a good time—you desperately search for that same feeling, knowing that it’s long, long gone. You don’t even think you truly ever believed that. 

You race down the palace hallways, ones that feel far more familiar than the rigid bastions they were when you first got here, but it’s Joshua who finds you before you find him. Or rather, it’s his voice you hear, trickling out from behind the library door. 

Suddenly, you’re five again, and you’re spying on Jeonghan talking to your parents. You peek through the crack of the doorframe. As Somi would say, nightmare blunt rotation: there stands Joshua, surrounded by both sets of parents, and no one looks happy. 

“We knew it,” another voice says—your mother. “We’re sorry, but we said this would happen.” 

“It’s no matter. There’s nothing left to do but call the engagement off.” 

The room goes quiet. You notice your hands are shaking. Your face feels numb.  

“You’re right. I don't think anyone’s getting what they want out of this, anyway.” 

“We’ll cancel the ball. There’s no way around it. Likely a relief, right, Joshua?” 

The moment seems to squirm, suspended in time. This is what you were waiting for, right? Your parents were right—no one wanted this anyway. You certainly didn’t, and now you get your get out of jail free card. On top of that, you get to hear what you’d been expecting all along—that Joshua never liked you, that this was fun and all, but he’s ready to stop playing pretend. 

“I…I disagree.” You freeze. “She's my fiancée. I made a commitment to her, and I'm not going to walk away.” 

“Joshua, my dear, this arrangement was never going to work. You can be honest.” 

This is the part where Joshua nods, does his perfectly symmetric smile, and agrees. This is what he does, what he’s been doing since forever. The story always ends the same way. That was the point. 

Instead: “I am being honest. Since when was it illegal to go to your best friend’s birthday party? I don't care what the rest of the world has to say. She’s not who they, or you, think she is.” Through the door-gap, you watch the pursed, resolute draw of Joshua’s lips. “You didn’t even invite her here to talk about her own engagement. You never once gave her a chance.” 

A stunned silence falls over the room. 

 “I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.” 

Your hand flies over your mouth, and something twists deep in you, like you’re drowning from the inside out. You can’t, won’t, believe what you just heard. That somehow, beyond all the fighting, the quiet nights, the snide remarks and the fake smiles, that Joshua loved you? Loved? Enough to say all that to the people that ruled his life with an iron fist? None of this made sense, but nothing’s made sense since you got here. 

The room erupts into noise, peals of voices all colliding into each other, and you do what you do best—you leave. 

—

No one talks about that morning. You don’t even think anyone knows you were there—part of you wishes that you actually weren’t, so you didn’t have all this on your mind. (Joshua, later that day: I got you something from Seoul. From his suitcase, a bottle of soju. Just kidding. Then a jade bracelet, so vibrant it looked like the ocean.) No one talked about Somi, and no one talked about the party. 

In fact, everyone had just rolled on as usual, all the way to the end of the week, the day of your engagement ball. Even you did. The word love felt so big, so burdensome, when Joshua had said it to his parents, but you didn't mind it on you.

The lingering touches, late night talks, tea made the way you like—nothing really had changed much since shit hit the fan, but now you knew that was the label. You guess that when you told Joshua you had never been in love before, you were really telling the truth. Either that, or he was just saying whatever the hell he needed to stop your engagement from imploding. 

Still, you found yourself still reaching for him. There was an unfamiliar comfort about his nearness. You woke up this morning cradled to his side, and, for once, it wasn’t a scene you wanted to erase. 

Now, your hairstylist hoses your blowout down with hairspray. You’d spent the better part of this morning sitting in different chairs, hair, makeup, nails. A part of you waits for the other shoe to drop: Joshua’s mother would waltz in and tell you, Surprise! You’re a single woman again, just as you should be. 

It never happens. You’re wrapped in various mists and creams and powders, all the while fielding all the same questions about the ball (—Excited for tonight? Yeah, of course. —How does it feel being the surprise couple of the year? Surprising.)

It’s not until Yunjin comes in, wheeling in your giant, sparkly engagement gown, all Italian lace and satin brocade, that things feel real. 

The dress itself is beautiful, a pale champagne number, gathered at the waist with a smattering of crystals down the train. Earlier, when you’d first tried it on, it looked like a costume fit for the girl playing wife. It was another smothering thing that hung on you, just like everything else in your life. 

Today, you watch your form tall in the mirror. You meet her eyes, her uncertain mouth. It’s you, for sure, but there’s a stillness about you that you can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe Joshua’s demeanor was contagious. 

Yunjin laces your bodice up, careful eyelet by eyelet—“You’re nervous, huh?” 

“Is it really that obvious?” 

She laughs. “Breathe. You’re not getting married. Not yet, at least.”

“Yunjin, isn’t it weird that no one has talked to me about Somi’s birthday? Everyone on the planet saw the leaks.” 

“Maybe they finally learned to stop giving a shit. You looked hot, you had a good time, end of story. It’s not like anyone died.” 

True. She grabs your shoulders and looks at you through the reflection of the mirror. 

“Smile. Enjoy yourself. You look so, so beautiful.” You take a deep, soaking breath. You think about Joshua and all the sharp edges of his voice when he said he loved you. You had argued with him a lot, and you had never heard him like that. “You want this, right?” 

Well, when she puts it like that? Yeah, you do. You think you really do. 

—

The Great Hall is unrecognizable when you stand before it; the pink and white zinnias have been replaced by bouquets of calla lily and eucalyptus, the arched ceilings, once cold and imposing, now are bathed in the buttery, warm glow of candlelight. And the too-big space, usually empty, is now filled with partygoers, radiant in their best dress. 

You stand at the top of the grand staircase. A thrill, anxious and skittering, runs up your bones. You’re reminded of your last big public showing at the derby, of the sea of microphones and the eye of the camera and the crowd, all staring you down. 

You run through the cruel motions. First, a curtesy, so slow you think the audience can see you tremble. Then you take the first step down the stairs, and you watch them turn to you like the tanned halo-faces of sunflowers. 

There, in the center of the crowd stands Joshua, unwavering. He's wearing a deep blue tuxedo, unfairly flattering (though, the lone curl of hair falling into his eyes is strong competition). Meeting his gaze, you watch the corners of his mouth fold up in a way that reminds you to breathe. In, out. You’ve got this. 

Every step, you feel like you’re learning to walk for the first time, like you've lost your sea legs. Amongst the guests, you spot Jeonghan, next to him Jihoon. Then back to Joshua, like your eyes can’t stay away. He shoots you a covert thumbs up—you’d expect nothing less from the corniest man on Earth—but, nonetheless, it makes the long walk to the center of the room feel much shorter, despite the torture devices on your feet (Louboutins, not broken in).

One, two steps, and you’re face to face with your fiancé. Your heart is still racing, thrumming against the cage of your bodice like it's trying to escape. You’re sure the whole congregation could hear it if not for the quartet that’s come to life, now playing the opening notes of Blue Danube. 

Yes, that’s right, you tell yourself. You still have to dance in front of the whole fucking country. 

Before you crash out and make this a national emergency, you feel the warmth of Joshua’s touch. Fingertips before palm, always the same, he finds your hand, like he manages to do every single time. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, low enough for only you to hear. And for the first time, you believe him. 

—

Really, you could have gotten away with saying nothing. It would be much easier, to be honest. 

The ball had gone off without a hitch so far. The music was good, the food even better, and your parents were somehow silenced, instead opting to dance among the crowd like they were young again. Still, you can’t seem to put your mind at ease. With everything that had happened this week, Jeonghan’s offer only seemed to weigh heavier, more urgently upon you. And of course, there was the matter of Joshua choosing to opt into your engagement, against all odds. 

You realize you had gotten quite good at running away from things—your family, your responsibilities, the media, even Joshua—not knowing how to bear the weight of an impossible duty. Actually, you thought it was a royal failing until you had seen Joshua in the library that morning, jaw set, unbending. 

“Hey, Josh?” you ask, with a few bats of the eyelashes to soften the blow. 

He tilts his head in that way he does, and his gaze softens. Damn you, you think. Trying to distract me with those horrible, pretty eyes.  

“Can we talk about Sunday?” 

“What about Sunday?” He still looks confused, and you know the look well enough at this point to know he’s not faking it. 

“Um…Sunday morning. After the party,” you say slowly, as if giving yourself time to back out, just in case. “I heard you talking with our parents.” 

In an instant, his expression changes, and his eyebrows roll into their usual furrow. You feel his hand falter behind your shoulder blades. 

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice drops. “That.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, realizing all you do is apologize. “It was supposed to be a small thing, no cameras, I barely even stayed—.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Joshua interrupts. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” 

“I-I know,” you fib. The thing about pretending is that you’ve both become so good at it that you have trouble believing him. “It’s just that I also heard what…what you said.” 

Somehow, the wrinkle between his brows grows deeper. 

“I said a lot of things that morning.” 

You press your lips thin, feeling what you’re about to say ball up on your tongue. Easily, you could change the subject; you didn’t have to know anything, really, you could stay silent and let the world work around you, just as you had been taught. But you watch the soft twist of Joshua’s gaze, how he studies your expression, and you know you can’t go back to how things used to be. 

“You said you…” You take a hard swallow. All the blood in your body only wants to exist in the apples of your cheeks, away from your brain where you need it most. “You loved me.” 

At once, the world spins off-axis. You feel the anxious flutter of Joshua’s heart under your palm, and your own stomach flips in its cage. The L word coming out of your mouth seems ten-thousand times more ridiculous than anything he could say, probably because you can’t remember the last time you actually said it and it came out all wrong. 

He must feel the same way. For once, he can’t meet your eyes. His mouth opens and then closes, as if hoping to delete what you had just said. Maybe you would just keep dancing, beat by beat, and this would all go away.

Silly girl, you think, traitorously. Pick a damn side. Either he likes you or he doesn’t. The problem is that, somehow, both options hurt your feelings. 

“I mean, I totally get it if you just said it to keep up the act,” you cut in. “There are a lot of reasons why this is a good idea.” 

“The act?” 

“Well, yeah,” you reply. “Isn’t that what this is? Haven’t we just been lying to everyone? To ourselves?” 

Joshua’s hand at your waist stiffens before he draws you closer to him. You expect him to roll his eyes, do one of those exaggerated sighs that he does when you’re being difficult. 

Instead he leans in, close enough for you to feel his voice against your skin. 

“Do you think I was lying back there? Or now?” 

Your heart lurches. 

“I—no, but.” You pause. Every single coherent thought you’ve ever had scatters to the wind. “Well.” 

“Because I’m not,” Joshua says, this time, more softly. “Not about this. Or us.” 

“But how? Why?” You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your chest swell in a way it never has before. “You’re perfect, and I'm…I’m me.” 

“That’s why,” he answers, simply. “You’re smart, funny, honest—sometimes too honest, even. You reminded me there was a better version of me that I had left behind. One that wasn’t perfect, but was happy.” 

He holds you in his gaze the same way he did in the garden, carved by moonlight. An impossible warmth fills your skin; at once, it feels like, in your vision, there is only him, like you're in a cartoon. 

“At the same time, I understand if—” Joshua starts. 

“I feel the same,” you blurt out. “I…I don’t know what this is, and I don’t think I ever really did, but I want to try.” 

You watch the surprise write itself all over his doe eyes, his unfairly rounded cheeks. From by the hors d'oeuvres, nosy Jeonghan peeks over the shoulder of another guest, already familiar with your lack of volume control. You watch him grin something stupid, triumphant. 

“You’re uptight, judgmental, and you make the worst jokes. But I…I think I might be falling for you too.” 

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.  

“I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes. 

“Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss. 

—

The walk back to your bedroom is a blur. All you remember are hands—hands on the small of your back, hands riding up the length of your thigh, hands in your hair, pulling at your roots. You remember hands, and the taste of Joshua’s mouth. 

It’s a walk you are not proud of, one that you’re glad happened in the dark, with all the guests gone home. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” Joshua says, pressed to the hollow of your neck as you fumble with the handle of the door to your room. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.” 

Then his lips on yours, before you finally remember how to open a door. 

“Fuck, Josh,” you breathe between kisses, stumbling backwards until your back hits the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad.” 

He bites your lip, lets you sigh into his mouth. 

“Dress, off,” you tell him, and you lean forward on the table. Obediently, Joshua gets to work. His touch feels fiery, electric on your skin. 

In the mirror, you’re able to see the damage: your lipstick, smudged beyond repair, your blown-out pupils under your heavy lashes. There’s a hickey on your collarbone. 

“Now you have me wishing you'd wear one of those party dresses,” Joshua murmurs, still working at the lacing at your waist. “Far easier to take off.” 

“Really. The same ones that got me in big trouble with you lot?"

"For what it's worth," he replies, before kissing the back of your neck, then the ticklish space under your ear to make you laugh. "I always liked you in those. Even before we met." 

"No way." He’s finished with the lacing; your dress falls to your feet in a glorious heap of silk and lace, leaving you in your slip. Another kiss to your jaw, your cheek. "You hated them." 

"I almost bought a copy of Insider, the one with the cover of you in the black dress with the long sleeves." 

"Shut up," you laugh again, somewhere in between kisses. He’s talking about Soonyoung's New Year’s Eve party, a few years back. You were getting out the back of a cab, alcohol-flushed and on a phone call with God knows who. "I still have it, you know. I could wear it for you one of these days." 

"Don't tempt me." Joshua kneels, bending down to undo your heels. You feel him press his lips to the back of your knee, your thigh. “Friday. Dinner?” 

“Done.” 

Then he stands back to full height and leans into you, just so you can feel him. Like clockwork, your skin prickles wonderfully even just thinking about blowing him in the back of the limo, that night he had held you down on his cock. 

Joshua must see how you squeeze your legs together. He pushes your slip up over the curve of your ass; you feel the rough of his hands over your skin, over the flimsy lace you have on for underwear. Then, before you can say a word, he pulls the waistband back, meanly, enough to tug on the hood of your clit, and lets it snap back against your skin. 

“Oh, fuck,” you keen. You had no idea you were so sensitive, but Joshua’s foreplay game was way better than you thought. “Please, Shua.” 

“Oh? So you like when I'm a little mean?” 

You watch your face in the mirror flush pink, your bitten lips fall open in surprise. He pulls tight on your panties again, loving how your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Maybe.” You pause, humiliated. Fuck it, the cat’s already out of the bag. “Yeah.” 

Joshua’s hands are warm, so warm, when they peel the fabric down your trembling thighs. 

“Legs apart, darling,” he tells you, mouth pressed to your shoulder. “So you like to boss me around the castle, but now you want me to tell you what to do? Is that so?” 

Before you can answer, you feel a finger along the seam of your cunt. You can’t see Joshua’s face in the mirror, but you can sure see yours, and you hate how even the smallest of touches has you drooling. Then a touch to your swollen clit, just rough enough to draw a gasp from you. 

 “I-it’s different,” you protest. Two fingers now, both rolling your clit under them. A whimper tumbles out of your chest, and your hips seem to be moving on their own accord. “Didn’t know you had…experience.” 

“Still not sure what made you think otherwise.” A quiet chuckle, then the slow, agonizing push of one of his fingers inside you. “Fuck, you love that, huh? Soaking my hand.”

“Yeah…” The vanity table suddenly feels too crowded to support the weight of your body, especially like this, as Joshua continues to work your clit with his other digit. Feeling your body surge again with heat, you push aside your makeup bag, all your stupid little bottles, so you can prop yourself up on your arms.

Another finger, and your legs are shaking. Quickly, he seems to have figured out how to hit your g-spot every time, every pump of his hand knocking into you just the way you like.  

“I think it was how annoying you were that did you in,” you finally answer, trying your best to put up a fair fight. “Kinda detracts from your sex appeal.” 

“Annoying?” Joshua asks, right up against the shell of your ear. Like this, you can see him in the mirror, and it almost sends you over. The dark hair in his face, the insatiable look in his eyes. Then a third finger, and your eyes roll back. “Am I annoying you? Doesn’t really seem like it.” 

Your body answers for you. You feel yourself tighten around his fingers, fuck, you’re so close, you feel your head start to spin. You watch your reflection shake her head, glassy-eyed and dumb. 

He laughs cruelly. His free hand reaches up to find your tits, and, over the slip, he grabs one, rough like he’s a meaner man, like he’s slutting you out. 

At once, you feel the lightning heat of your release. You cry out, airy and high-pitched, and feel your body rock against Joshua’s as he pins you between himself and the vanity. 

“There you go,” he murmurs. His hand slows, letting you ride out your high, before he pulls out. “Wanted to do this ever since I kissed you that night.” 

“Which night?” you ask, catching your breath. A kiss to your shoulder blade, the nape of your neck. 

“The night you taught me to kiss. Or rather, tried to.” 

Ah, yes. The night you told him what Shark Tale was, and the night you made out for so long, you felt it on your lips in the morning. Dumb fucking Joshua, stupid and in love. The affection that surges through your body makes you mad. 

“You needed lessons.” 

“Not really, don’t you think?” 

“Bed. You’re talking too much,” you insist, turning around to see him. “Also, you’re wearing too much.” 

“Back to arguing with me, I see. Can’t stay away.” Joshua’s shit-eating grin prompts you to yank his tie impatiently, shutting him up. It comes off easily, just as his belt and the waistband of his slacks. (You weren’t about to let them best you a second time).

“Maybe ‘cause you find a way to be difficult about everything.” You wrinkle your nose, and Joshua’s grin only grows wider. “Don’t make me give you another order,” you warn, fully aware that since you guys got here, it’d been him doing the orders. 

You pull your slip over your head, now only in your bra, and lay back in the bed. You think of all the sleepless nights, then the ones spent talking, the ones in his arms. To think they would all culminate to this, to you now watching Joshua undo button by button with a desire unlike any other you’ve felt—it would almost be unbelievable if you weren’t doing it right now.

Like a striptease, you watch his chest peek out between the linen of his shirt. He's wearing a necklace today, one that settles meanly between his pecs. As he moves lower, you can’t help but notice the outline of his cock in his briefs, the spot of precum on the fabric. 

Traitorously, you feel your mouth water. The shirt comes off, and your lungs fill with another shaky breath. 

You know you’re both letting your freak flag fly (one of you more surprising than the other) but it’s in this moment, caught in the lamplight, that you realize how much things have really changed. Still, you’re not able to tell Joshua that this is the first time you’re sleeping with someone you might be in the L word with, but you think he sees it too, or at least, reads the look on your face. 

You feel the dip of the bed underneath as he joins you.

“Are you ok? That wasn’t too much, right?” 

“No, it was…it was good. really good,” you admit, feeling your face heat up again. “I just…I dunno. I like you a lot, that’s all.” 

“Hm?” 

“I—” you stutter, and your mouth freezes up again. “I said I like you a lot.” 

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear you say it twice.” He sees the dismay on your face and smiles. “Hm…I like you an adequate amount. On a good day.” 

Against your will, you crack the fattest smile you think your body is capable of. “You are the worst. The absolute worst, and I still want you to fuck me.” 

Upon hearing this, Joshua does not waste time. That he does—it isn’t long before he has your knees hiked to your chest, cock between your pussy lips. 

“Say you want it,” he whispers. You feel the cold kiss of his chain on your chest, the slick rock of his length between your legs. He's so hard, so big, your cunt already aches at the thought of it. 

“Want it.” Your voice comes out small, breathy. You would fight back, but you’re realizing you quite like this side of him. “Please.” 

When the head of his cock presses into you, there is no hiding. Already, you moan, sweet and loud, feeling the familiar pressure in your gut. 

“K-keep going,” you babble. Fuck, he barely fit in your mouth and now he’s stuffing your cunt. You wrench your eyes shut, listening to him talk you through it (—Look at you taking me so well. Feels good, huh? You’re so beautiful. Honestly, it’s a miracle Joshua’s ex never had a royal baby with how much they must have fucked.) 

Your second orgasm comes quickly, not long after Joshua bottoms out. He groans right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and it’s the best noise you think you’ve heard in your life. 

The third comes slowly, more intensely. With your knees to your chest, you think you can feel Joshua all the way in your stomach. Every stroke fucks the sound out of you, his cockhead right up against your sweet spot as he fills you again and again. Sometime between orgasm two and three, he’s pulled your tits out from your bra, left marks across your chest. 

“Want you to touch yourself,” he tells you, voice low.

Mindlessly, you listen. One hand finds your nipple, the other your clit, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling. 

“F-feels good, Shua.” He enters you again, all the way, and the pleasure is white-hot. “O-oh, fuck,” you warble. 

“You’re so good at listening to me, you should do it all the time,” he murmurs. “There you go. Take it, take it, just like that. This must be what I have to do to get you to be nice, hm?” 

All you can do is stare up at him, positively fucked dumb, and take it, just as he told you to. One, two strokes, and you feel yourself get impossibly tight; “Fill me, need it, need it,” you whine, delirious. Everything from the look in his eyes, the flushed sweat over his brow, his collarbones to the way his expression responds with every word you say, makes you wonder why you wasted time fucking anyone else.

When he comes, he bites your shoulder, hard, and it’s what you need to follow soon after. You feel so fucking full, so satisfied, you think you could die happy here. 

Joshua flops down on the bed next to you, boneless. You think he’s about to say something akin to that you should have put a towel down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls your body to him, lets you feel the warmth of his skin play against yours. 

He’s murmuring wonderful things to you, which you would gladly reciprocate if words weren’t coming to you one letter a minute. It’s not your fault though—you need to recover physically, emotionally, spiritually after getting the soul fucked out of you.

Then, “Me or you shower first?”

You groan as a response. 

“I’m serious.” 

“Together?” you offer weakly. 

“Fair chance we won’t just be showering then.” 

“Oh nooo.” 

That’s all Joshua needs to whisk you to the bathroom, where, indeed, he seems to be right yet again. 

—

The spring morning washes over Acros like a second skin. The birdsong rouses you; through the curtains comes sunlight from the garden, spackled on the wall as if spots on a doe. 

It’s been almost a year since your parents had told you that you were marrying Joshua Hong, prince of Acros. Six months since he had told you he had loved you. Two months since you and Jeonghan had pulled off your first joint production at the youth theater (a roaring success). One month since you were fully, fully moved in, Astrid and Jihoon included. 

After your engagement ball, you and Joshua had agreed to take it slow, as slow as two people who had very publicly announced their wedding could. But still, somehow your parents, both sets, could tolerate the two of you wanting to do things the right way. Perhaps they were still shocked things worked out as well as they did. 

“Morning,” you call out. The bed beside you is cold. “Josh?” 

You’re surprised he’s up. Last night, he went out with you, Somi, and Soonyoung. Somehow, he had drunk enough to get up and solo karaoke a Whitney Houston song, although you’re suspecting the alcohol was just a cover for his true intentions. 

Then you look out the window. You spot Joshua, seated on the bench overlooking the garden. This time of year, the roses are in full bloom, their bright heads reaching for the sky in brilliant red and gold. 

When you go to join him outside, he’s no longer at the bench. You actually don’t know where the fuck he went, but it’s no matter. Here, you’re able to appreciate the beauty of the season, the rolling green of the country you’re now calling home. 

It was also here where you had your first real conversation with Joshua without fighting, funnily enough. Now, you’d say the both of you were more agreeable, but that’d be a lie—somehow, you think you actually enjoy bickering with him, but that’s a conversation for another day. 

Behind you, someone (Joshua) clears his throat. 

“Now, what are you—” you say, spinning around. It was too damn early for games, but Joshua had no shortage of bad ideas. 

It’s then that you see Joshua behind you, on one knee. His smile tells you everything you have to know, and every thought in your mind freezes in an instant. 

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.” 

You stand there, immovable. Of course you had to be in your pajamas (his shirt and boxers, really), no makeup, hair untouched. And yet, you can’t imagine anything more perfect. 

“You drive me crazy,” Joshua continues. “In every way possible. I can't imagine life without your laugh, or your thinking face, or how you always need to have an answer for everything.” 

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful.

Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.” 

And you say yes, for the very first time.

[END]

[byhees]

when you get a piercing

heeseung would be gawking at you in full-blown adoration— he simply can’t help but to admire just how breathtaking you look; definitely the type to shower you in heaps of compliments, pretty words slipping past his lips with such ease and naturalness. “woah, baby.. you look beyond stunning”, he’d coo, before pressing a long kiss onto your lips, pulling away with a love-tinted gaze…

jay would be speechless, the definition of ‘at loss for words’; he’d have his jaw slightly agape, eyes slightly widened in light surprise— “oh my gosh.. you look..” and his words would trails off, his arms stretching out to engulf you in a hug; would simply admire you in soft silence, not knowing the right words to describe just how pretty you look…

jake would notice the difference right away— you wouldn’t even have to tell him about your new ear piercings; would abruptly pause in his sentence, his attention fully devoted on you. “i.. you.. is that..” he’d mumble, eyes lightly widening as you approach him with a small smile, lightly showing off the piece of jewellery; the way he’d admire you the whole day, not wanting to leave your side— bonus would be because he gets to see your pretty earrings, and your even prettier side-profile…

sunghoon would be beyond gobsmacked; sure, he knew that you were breathtaking, pretty, surreal— but this would definitely be the cherry on top; a hand would immediately fly up to cover his agape jaw, a soft “woah” falling past his lips— the way all his words would fly right out of the window, adoration-laced silence settling in the air; doesn’t stop mentioning just how beautiful you look, even more with your new piercings, throughout the day…

sunoo would let out the loudest gasp, his voice bouncing off the walls of the room; the moment he’d set his eyes on your new ear piercings, he’d be beyond just starstruck— “you look amazing, love”, he’d sing, an endearing smile glued onto his lips as he’d embrace you in a little hug; definitely the type to be so adorably willing to help you pick out matching earrings for your outfits…

jungwon would be so endearing; would gaze at you with such adoration, it’d be as though he’d have heart-shaped pupils— notices your pretty earrings in a mere millisecond, jaw dropping in pure surprise. “you’re so pretty”, would seamlessly slip past his lips, a hand shyly finding recluse at the nape of his neck; and when you’d prettily show off the new pieces of jewellery, he’d find the swell of his cheeks flushed with a light pink hue, heart thumping against his chest…

riki would, unknowingly, look past them; wouldn’t even realise until he’s engulfed you in a hug, the pretty glint of your earrings catching his attention; a soft “eh?” would fall from his mouth, all thoughts flying right out of his head; the only thing circling his mind would be— ‘gosh, you’re gorgeous’; so gorgeous, in fact, it feels as though he’s lost all the right words to tell you. definitely the type to purchase couple earrings, wanting to match with you, now that he’s given the opportunity to…

[in-hos-wife]

The surprise.

In-ho x pregnant! Wife! Reader

Summery: While in-ho is away at the games reader finds out she’s expecting, her head is spinning while try to figure out how to tell in-ho a man who’s lost so much so we decided to make telling him the news big

Word count: 918

Tw: mention of death and child death, age gap (readers is 28 in-ho is 49), I don’t think he act at all cannon but I could be wrong, this is my first fanfic so it most likely cringe (p.s: feel free to tell me what I can do better but please be nice)

In-ho has been away for 5 days, You know his works make him leave for around a week this time of year and abruptly for a few day every now and then but you don’t mind much you’ve got used to it you’ve been together for 2 years married for 1. do you miss him yes but he always finds ways to make it up to you for being gone. Date nights, shopping trips, even cooking your favorite food and watching your favorite show or movie while cuddling, And he’s ok that when he’s gone you have your friends over for a slumber party as long as the house isn’t a mess when he gets home, even though if it was he wouldn’t care it would show you had fun and that all he wants.

This time was going the same as normal you kissed him goodbye got set up to have some friends over and put a movie on. Then your friend was scrolling though social media when they saw this trend called pregnancy rulait where you all take a test and put it in a bowl or a hat and mix them then pick one out of it. Sense you have all been in long term relationships you and your friends went to the store and bought some boxes, you were sure the cashier gave you guys a wierd look but who cares. You all took the and put them in your old baseball cap and shook it then waited a few minutes.

After you all waited you guys, one by one pulled a test out of the hat the one negative then another the three more the there was….a positive followed by two more negative we all looked at eachother and then all took another and held onto them. When the three minutes were over you all checked and you’d was the positive brain was spiraling, in-ho just left and how would he even react you guys have talked about kids and you both want them but did you guys want them now? How would you tell him? Is he gonna take it well? You know what happened with his wife and he’s already makes sure your safe but makes sure he doesn’t get to protect he lets you go out along as he knows we’re and you keep him updated but you being pregnant might be a different story of course you can’t go out with your friends like you used to but for all you know he’ll put you in a bubble rap ball for 9 months, all you know is you’ll figure it out but you want to surprise him with it.

The past few day you’ve thought of everything balloons, just giving it to him and telling him that way, bakeing a cake all of it. You sit there looking at the date when you realize he comes home tomorrow and you still haven’t decided how your gonna tell him. You thought of a idea didn’t like it thought of a new one didn’t like that one it was the the same thing over and over, you wanted it to be perfect then you thought of it, so you got to work going to store making sure you know what dinner gonna be that night (his favorite) and slow calming music

The night he came home you were cooking dinner and had the table set very romantic when you heard the door opened you smiled “hello my love!” You said so he knew you were in the kitchen. When he got in the kitchen he was surprised to see you dressed up but he smelt what you were cooking and smiled “my love you know I like to treat you when I come home” he hold you by your waist as you cook. Your smile up at him and say “I know but I wanted to cook for you, you should go get washed up” he smiles kissing you on the cheek as he goes to shower. By the time he gets back you put dinner on plates and poured him a glass of whiskey and you some water. He sit down across from you making small talk while you both eat, when you finish eating you wait for him to also finish eating, when he does you smile at him “I have a gift for you” you say grabbing a box you hide under your chair “a gift? But i didn’t get you anything” you chuckle “you alway get me something it’s my turn now open” you hand him the box and he opens it revealing a tiny onesie with the words ‘daddy’s mini me’ on it and under the onesie is your positive pregnancy test. He takes the onesie out and reads it then looked at you confused till you point to the box again and he sees the test and a million thoughts run through his head he waits a bit before he starts speaking “when did you find out?” You answer him and he nods he looks at you and smiles “we’re gonna be parents together…us” you smile at him and you go over and hug him “your gonna be an amazing father” you say as you look up at him, he looks down at you and smiles “and your gonna be an amazing mother” as he say that you both share a quick kiss and go cuddle on the couch leave the dishes till tomorrow.

[hellsenthero]

You Call Him Daddy

DBF!Joel X Fem!Reader

How were you supposed to know that your much older boyfriend was your dad's best friend?

MASTERLIST

*****

You didn't know who Joel really was when you met him. You hadn't realized that your dad's buddy from work was the same man you were seeing privately.

Joel didn't realize that the girl he was seeing, that he was fucking, was his best friends daughter. He hasn't known that when he joked about how good your mouth is, he was joking about it with your father.

Your poor father hadn't known that he wasn't the only man you called daddy.

But now it was all out in the open.

Both you and Joel lay together in bed, silent save for your heavy breathing. The thin sheet had been kicked down to the end of the bed. The blankets were lost somewhere on the floor. Sweat clung to your body, your face, and your neck. Joel threw an arm across your torso, and you groaned at the sticky heat of him.

"Joel," you grumbled as he tried to pull you into him.

"Come closer," Joel ordered with a mumble. His face was pressed into his pillow, muffling his voice.

"'S too hot, I need to shower."

"Shower later, cuddle now." You laughed at your boyfriend's little pout.

"I hate you," you said as you rolled into his embrace.

"'S not what you were sayin' a few minutes ago, darlin'."

If Joel heard the response you grumbled under your breath, he didn't let on.

The late afternoon sun shone golden rays through Joel's bedroom window. This late in August, you could already see a few red tipped leaves outside, an early sign of autumn's approach. It was pretty, but it was also a reminder to you that Joel's two week long summer vacation was coming to an end.

"Two more days of your vacation left." You said as you turned to look into Joel's dark eyes.

"Fuck, don't remind me."

"I wish you didn't have to go out this afternoon."

"I know, I'm sorry, but I promised my buddy I'd go to his place for a barbecue ages ago." Joel paused, taking the moment to wiggle in closer to your body. "You could always come and meet my friends from work."

"Do you really want to introduce your friends to your much younger girlfriend on such a large scale?"

"If it means showing you off, yeah." Joel answered.

"Well," you said as you trailed a finger up Joel's naked chest. "As much as I love showing off, I think I'd rather do it on a smaller scale."

"You can text me if you change your mind."

"I know," you answered with a quick kiss. "I think I'll visit my parents' place tonight, I'm getting low on toilet paper so I think I'll steal some from them."

Joel's grin was as bright as the sun shining in through his window. "My little thief. I can buy you toilet paper if you need it."

You shook your head. "I know, I could easily buy it myself too. But it's not as fun as stealing it from my parents' supply closet."

"Well," Joel said with a yawn as he stretched. "I'm glad you'll be amusing yourself when I'm out."

"You'll come by my place after your barbecue?" You asked as you slipped out of Joel's embrace.

"Of course, darlin'." Joel answered as you slipped your underwear back on.

"Good." You leaned over Joel and gave him a quick kiss before spinning away to throw the rest of your clothes on.

---

You were surprised to find the gate to your parents backyard wide open.

After leaving Joel, you ran a few errands before driving to your parents' place. You almost thought you had the wrong house when you heard such a commotion coming from the open backyard. Music, laughter and the smell of barbecue accosted you.

Your dad yelled your name as he saw you appear around the corner of the gate.

"Hey there sweetheart," your father greeted.

"Hey," you answered as you gave your dad a quick hug. "What's going on?"

"Your mother and I are throwing a little barbecue get-together with the guys from my work." Alarm bells began ringing in the back of your mind. "I didn't think you'd want to hang around my buddy's much. Otherwise, I would've invited you."

"Oh, that's okay."

"But now you can stay for the meal and I'll introduce you to some of my friends."

Before you could answer, a pair of arms slid around your waist. You knew who they belonged to, and you knew what was coming, but everything happened too fast for you to stop. You were spun around to meet a giddy Joel who was quick to lean down and kiss you.

Right in front of your dad.

"So glad you made it," Joel said as he pulled away from your lips. "How'd you get the address?"

"Joel," you gasped. You looked between your father and Joel with wide eyes.

"Miller," your father spoke with an edge. "Whatcha doin'" He asked all too casually.

"This is be girl I've been tellin' you about." Joel said all to proudly. It wasn't until he finally looked away from you and at your father's fuming gaze that he realized he was missing something.

"You mean to tell me that the girl you've been seeing, the one you've been sleeping with, is my daughter?"

"Dad," you gasped as all the colour drained from Joel's face. "It's, we uh-" you stammered, unsure what you could say that wouldn't make the situation even worse. "We didn't know." You said. Your gaze flit between Joel, your father, and the other party goers, wondering if any of them had clued into the absolute shit show that was happening in the middle of the backyard.

"She's half your age!" Your father hissed at Joel. His hand gesturing between the two of you.

"I know, but listen-"

"Listen?" Your father cried. You could see out of the corner of your vision that a few people were picking up on what was happening now. "You want me to listen to how you seduced my daughter into your bed, Miller? About how my daughter, who's half your fuckin' age, has been fooling around with one of my best buddies from work? Is that it? Is that what you want me to fucking listen to?"

"Listen daddy-" you tried. Both sets of eyes landed on you.

"I got it,"

"Absolutely not!" Joel and your father said at the same time.

"Oh my god," you cried, your hands flew to your face in shame, absolutely mortified. "I'm, I'm going," you said before hastily turning around and rushing from the backyard. Two sets of voices called your name, but you didn't turn around, instead moving faster out of the backyard and towards your car. You could feel the onslot of tears coming. Your vision grew blurry as you yanked your car door open and threw yourself behind the wheel. You blinked back the tears as you grabbed for your seat belt, determined to race out of there and possibly never return. You were stopped from pulling out of the driveway by your passenger side door opening up.

Joel slid into the passenger seat with a great commotion. "Baby," he began as he leaned towards you, hid hand reaching out for your own.

"Stop," You pulled your hand from his reach and grabbed the steering wheel. "I need to leave, Joel. Now!"

"Drive then," he ordered.

You didn't bother arguing with him about leaving his car behind before you pulled out of your parents' driveway.

"I'm fucked," you said about five minutes into your drive home. "Absolutely fucked, Joel!"

"No-"

"Yes!" You cried. As you came to a red light, you took the chance to rub at your eyes like a sleepy infant.

"My dad knows we're together! He knows we're sleeping together!"

"I know," Joel answered calmly.

"He thinks you seduced me!"

"I know."

"Why aren't you upset?" You cried. A few more intersections to drive through, and you'd be turning onto your street.

"I am, but not in the way you are, darlin'."

"What?"

"Just drive," Joel said, pointing to the lights up a head. You were almost home. "We can sit and talk once we get inside, yeah?"

"I don't think I can sit still right now." You answered honestly. "I'm, I'm like buzzing," you explained weakly.

"I'm sure you're anxious and stressed, darling. Look," Joel said as you pulled into your driveway. "Let's get inside,"

You practically raced inside, determined to sort through the days absolute shit show. "He's gonna make us break up," you said as you paced across your living room carpet. "That or my parents are going to disown me."

"They won't-"

"Then they'll make us break up!"

"They can't make us do anything." Joel answered.

"Oh my god," you moaned in utter mortification. "Everyone from your work saw that today! They all heard how you're dating the slut that's your best friends daughter!"

"Hey!" Joel interrupted harshly. "You're not a slut, and it fucking pisses me off that your father would insinuate something like that to you. You're a grown adult," Joel's hands came up to cup your face. "We're in an adult relationship, one where we're both happy and consenting. We haven't done anything wrong."

"I know," you answered. "And it never felt like that before, like what we were doing was wrong. But now, with my dad's reaction," you trailed off. Unsure if you really wanted to voice how your father had you doubting your relationship.

"I know. But do you really want to let others control our relationship?"

"No."

"We can talk to your parents, yeah? Explain that this isn't some fling between us. That we really care for each other."

You paused, taking a moment to look into Joels dark eyes. "Not a fling, huh?" You asked, some of your spark returning.

"Not a fling, darling."

"You really care for me?" You asked as you settled yourself on Joel's lap. His arms circled around your back.

"More than you know." Joel answered. You met in the middle for a kiss, your body going lax in his arms. But just as Joel deepened the kiss, your phone rang out. You turned around to see a call from your dad coming through. You leaned over, picking it up from the coffee table to show Joel. "Let it go," Joel told you. "We can talk to him later."

"Not now?"

"No," Joel answered as he maneuvered you to lay across the couch. "He needs time to cool off. And you, darling," he said with a smirk, his head tilted down so he could press a soft kiss to the side of your neck. "You need a distraction."

You tossed your phone somewhere on the carpet. Moving to your hands underneath Joel's shirt, trailing along the muscles in his back. "Okay," you answered. But Joel gave you a look that you knew all too well, one that had you correcting yourself. "Okay, daddy."

[imsofreakingtired]

i need more sevika and masc reader now🙏 you got me giggling like a school girl

ur so real i need more too jdhdhshs

Sevika x masc!reader pt. 2

pt. 1 is here !

her big mama muscles and your baby muscles. she trains you in calisthenics: "one more baby you can do it." "you're doing so well, up up!"

she shadowboxes in the living room at six in the morning and you hear her panting and whispering "one, two" while you brush your teeth

you decide to get a midriff tattoo and she worships it i tell you "if it weren't winter i'd ask you to wear crop tops every day."

she's never more in love with you than when you're wandering around sleepily in boy shorts and a tank top early in the morning, half asleep and ready to swing at anyone who talks to you before you had your caffeine (except sevi ofc)

cursing out all the heteronormative propaganda in old movies (but still watching them because they make nice background noise while you have sex)

smoking weed together on the fire escape of your apartment and stoned sevika ends up emotionally telling you she wishes she were yours but she thinks she's not your type because she's a butch and she thinks you like femmes and she also thinks you're really handsome and if you just gave her one chance,,, ...and you're just staring at her in disbelief thinking "yes...this is the idiot i am in love with,,,this is the beautiful idiot i chose"

sevika comforting you on days when you're just fucked over by gender dysphoria and body image - but the way she does it is so silly you forget to even be sad - words of affirmation are not her strong suit so she just puts on your funky tinted sunglasses and says "look...these glasses make everyone look like the most perfect version of themselves...and you haven't changed one bit"

sevika asking you to cut her hair and you panic and watch like 5 hours of yt tutorials only for her to be like "babe. i just wanted a trim"

you're obsessed with her neck. like the back of it, the buzzcut hair, the muscles, my god you could just write pages of poetry about the way she looks when she chugs a protein smoothie after a workout

(you did write the poems, she found and read them, and teased you for days after) "how does my NECK look from this angle babe :)" "sevika i will murder you in cold blood"

the two of you aren't big on pet names. she calls you "babe" or "baby" if she's feeling soft. you call her "sevi" or just her name but then one day she's spooning you in bed and you just say "you are my mitten." "what" "because you always keep me warm <3" "stop."

but she's now "mitten" to you. to counter, she calls you Thing. and refuses to elaborate.

you're both touch starved but you're also both too embarrassed to admit it so when one of you DOES initiate a cuddle session neither heaven nor hell could break you apart - um but maybe getting hungry can

speaking of, once a month you can never agree on what to eat for dinner because you both sync up periods and also always crave exactly the opposite things "why. why pad thai of all things right now." "i need NOODLES IN MY MOUTH SEVIKA" "you wanna know what I need in my mouth?"

"sevika" "mm" "gender is a bitch :(" "put that bitch on its ass"

a conservative relative at the family reunion said they couldn't tell if you were a girl or a boy. you tell sevika this later on and she high fives you

fighting over who carries the heaviest bag on vacations "let me carry it for you sevi, you might strain your back 🤪" "i KNOW you did NOT just call me old."

she plays jazz in the mornings while brewing coffee for the both of you, you blast alt rock in the shower

you being ready to fight a bitch in the bar when she tries to flirt with sevika and sevika having to hold you back

...she turns around and sucker punches a man that same night because he catcalled you

it's all fun and games fearless butch x fearless masc enby until you find an enormous roach in the kitchen and it takes the two of you to fight it

one time you had to go on a trip for work and she wore the hoodie you left behind all week because it smelled like you and she missed you

"is that another iced americano???" "sevika you know me. you know i can't live without three iced coffees a day" "but it's 16 degrees." note: this possessed me oh my god. the brainrot is brainrotting a bit too hard rn @mascdom thanks for feeding my obsession 😭

[multific]

Undercover Sweethearts

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You were never one for undercover work, but with a partner like the handsome Dr Reid, you had no problem playing your part.

The case was unlike any the BAU had seen.

A killer targeting couples.

Stalking them, studying them, and ultimately murdering them in their homes.

The unsub was careful, leaving no traces except for one chilling detail: each couple had recently attended a romantic retreat, a place meant to renew love but now tainted by death.

Hotch’s solution had you blinking in disbelief and gasping for air.

“Reid and Y/N will go undercover as a couple at the retreat.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I agree with Hotch,” Morgan chimed in with a grin. “You and Reid are the least expected pair, and that’s exactly why it’ll work.”

Spencer’s eyes widened as he fumbled with his watch.

“Uh, w-wait. Why us? I mean, there are more... seasoned agents for this.”

Hotch’s tone was final. “You’ll blend in the best. And you know the profile. You two are the best for this.”

Your stomach flipped, not from fear but anticipation.

You’d had a crush on Spencer for months.

Working with him was both a privilege and a curse; his awkward charm and brilliant mind made him irresistible.

Pretending to be his lover, his wife?

It felt like a dream come true and a nightmare at the same time.

The retreat was a small lodge nestled in a forest, designed to encourage intimacy with its cosy fireplaces and heart-shaped bathtubs. A bit too much for your taste but hey, at least it was for free.

You and Spencer arrived late, you were greeted by a cheerful coordinator who handed you a single key.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reid,” she said warmly. “We hope this weekend brings you closer together.”

Why must you use his real name? Not even Hotch could answer with a serious face.

And his face is always serious.

The title of wife and husband sent a chill down your spine, but Spencer’s face turned crimson.

Just like that, the genius turned into a fool.

“Uh, thanks. We’re, uh—”

Slipping your hand into his, you played your part and rescued your husband. “Looking forward to it. Aren’t we, Honey?”

Spencer’s lips parted as if to protest, but he nodded quickly.

“Yes. Very... forward.”

You almost wanted to laugh at his nervousness. But you knew, you just hid yours better.

In your cabin, you threw your bag onto the bed, turning to find Spencer standing awkwardly near the door.

“Relax, Dr. Reid,” you teased, leaning against the bedpost. “You’re supposed to act like you love me, not like you’ve been trapped in a room with a bomb.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, offering you a shy smile. “Sorry. It’s just... this is new territory for me.”

“Good thing I’m here to help you,” you joked, crossing the room to straighten his tie.

You couldn’t resist brushing your fingers against his chest.

His eyes moved to yours, wide and uncertain, and for a moment, you forgot this was an act.

But you offered him a smile.

The retreat’s activities were tailored to strengthen bonds.

Consisting of trust exercises, tandem kayaking, and even a “love languages” workshop.

Whatever that was.

You leaned into the role with ease, finding every opportunity to hold Spencer’s hand or tease him with playful whispers.

During a group dinner, you fed him a bite of dessert, laughing when his ears turned red.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” you said loud enough for others to hear.

Spencer stuttered, “I-I’m not flustered. Just... surprised.”

Later, in private, he sighed as he sank into the couch. “You’re really committed to this role.”

You sat beside him, close enough that your knees touched.

“Isn’t that the point? We have to be convincing.”

“You’re... very convincing.”

"Undercover is not my strongest suit. I might be overcompensating."

"No. You are doing... too good." you shrugged your shoulders at his words before heading to the shower.

Maybe you were having too much fun. If he began to notice, you might become obvious that this is not all an act.

On the third day, the tension thickened.

You felt eyes on you during a group hike, and Spencer confirmed your suspicion.

“We’re being watched,” he whispered, his grip tightening on your hand.

The unsub had a pattern, choosing couples who oozed happiness.

Your exaggerated affection had likely drawn their attention. Much like how you planned. Hoping your happiness might bring him out sooner than his previous kills.

That evening, you and Spencer staged a romantic moment by the lake, knowing it might bait the killer.

“You’ve been amazing,” Spencer said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. “I don’t know how you make this seem so effortless.”

You smirked, leaning in. “Maybe it’s not entirely an act.”

Before he could respond, movement in the shadows caught your attention. Your eyes spanned to the bushes.

The unsub emerged, a knife in his hand. Just as you predicted, a white male in his early thirties.

The attack was quick.

The unsub lunged, and Spencer shielded you, wrestling with the attacker.

You grabbed a heavy branch, swinging it to knock the knife from his hand.

Spencer subdued him, his strength surprising you, until backup arrived to take the unsub into custody.

As the chaos settled, and the police took the man away, you sat by the lake, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Spencer was beside you, his shirt torn, and there was a small cut on his temple.

“You’re okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your hands were shaking. “Thanks to you.”

He smiled faintly. “You’re braver than I gave you credit for.”

You turned to him, your heart pounding but you couldn't handle it any longer. “Spence, I wasn’t lying earlier. About this not being an act.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” You hesitated before forcing the words out. “I’ve had feelings for you, for a while. Pretending to love you wasn’t hard. Pretending it was fake was.”

Spencer’s gaze softened, and he reached for your hand.

“You should’ve told me. I...” He trailed off, then leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was tender and perhaps a bit sloppy.

But it was also perfect.

Absolutely perfect. Like him.

When you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Maybe we don’t have to pretend anymore and it can be real.”

You smiled at his words. It was a promise of something far greater than you could have ever imagined.

Now, you just have to run it by Hotch, but you were pretty certain he chose the two of you for this mission for a reason.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[leighsartworks216]

My Pretty Bird

Sylus x gn!Reader

Soooo I got this idea suddenly and I HAD to write it. In my head I imagine you have a shapeshifting Evol that lets you turn into a crow and Ever ran experiments on you that basically mechanized you. Sylus found you and you've been partners ever since. But build whatever backstory you want lol

Warnings: silly, fluff, established relationship, shapeshifting, kissing, nudity, casual nudity, references to Midnight Stealth (Bond)

Word Count: 914

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Sylus smirks as he approaches you, all too amused with the hijinks Miss Hunter is getting up to.

You are decidedly less amused. Your feathers are all in disarray - some lay sadly on the floor, some are crumpled. You’re working desperately to straighten them out with your beak. Gentle fingers join in the work, caressing and flattening the feathers on your head and neck.

“What did she do to you, hm?”

Once your feathers are all smooth and settled, you hop up onto his shoulder, still bare from his shower and a little damp. He walks over to the bed. He outstretches an arm toward it, which you use as a bridge, stepping down from his wrist to the comforter. He busies himself with gathering clothes.

The familiar sound of shifting metal comes from behind. It’s not grating; softened over years of this happening.

“She shook me!” you cry out. The bed sinks under your weight, now in the shape and form of a human. The familiar red eyes of your bird form stare at his back. “I know you like her, but she’s really pissing me off. Who shakes a bird?!”

He chuckles, ruffling your feathers even more as you glare at him. His towel is tossed carelessly aside as he gets dressed. Rippling muscles are soon hidden with sleepwear and a robe. “She shook you?”

You huff. “Don’t say it like I’m stupid. You know I have it recorded.”

“I know. And I’m sure you’ll make sure she gets hers, soon enough.”

“You got that right.”

The towel is picked up on strands of energy and carried away to the hamper. You watch them as they go. You’ve always enjoyed the way it looks. Like rubies and ash. An unobtainable shiny object.

His hand glides along your jaw, rough calluses rubbing just under your chin. You automatically tilt your head back, eyes drooping in pleasure. “Just a few more days, I promise. You can handle that can’t you?” Damn him and that low timbre voice. On top of the scratches, you’re a goner.

You sigh. His fingers slow to a stop to grab your chin. When you open your eyes, he’s right there, looking at you with a deep fondness.

“Fine…”

He grins as he leans down to capture your lips. He tastes so warm and familiar. A soothing balm to all the stress you’ve been under lately, chasing after Miss Hunter and making sure she’s not being tracked by anyone else. A fitting reward for putting up with her.

When he pulls away, you shoot him a look. “But if she gets near me again like that, I’m pecking her eyes out.”

He chuckles warmly. “I’ll make sure she knows. I can’t have her upsetting my pretty bird like that again so soon.”

“I’d prefer ‘ever again’, but…”

“You’ll find something else to be annoyed about with her.”

“I already have a list.”

“Just a few more days.” His eyes close as he presses a kiss to your cheek. Then he rubs his nose against yours. It makes a fluttering sound of contentment slip free from your chest. And he looks all too smug about it. “Can you do that for me?”

You reach up, fingers slipping into soft white locks. He leans into your touch with his own appreciative grunt. “I can, but only if you call me your pretty bird a few more times.”

It’s the easiest deal he’s ever made. He’s more than happy to provide as he brushes his nose along your cheek, kissing lightly as he goes. “My pretty bird,” he hums lowly as he kisses just behind your ear.

You sink into his attention like always. You expose more of your neck to him without hesitation, giving him full access to kiss and nip at the skin there.

He grazes his teeth along your artificial pulse. “My pretty bird.”

Every mark, every peck is pure reverence. He sighs at the junction of your shoulder. He bites down harder here, hot tongue soothing over the indents of his teeth. “My pretty bird.”

The slightest twitch of your fingers in his hair is enough to draw him back up. His mouth finds yours with ease, kissing you deeply and in absolutely no rush. The cool air of the room chills the patches of his saliva left behind on your skin. It sends a chill down your spine.

You’re loath to pull away, but you can feel the exhaustion that slows his movements. It’s so faint - even Miss Hunter wouldn’t notice it. But you do. You always notice everything when it comes to Sylus.

You give him one last peck. His eyes, half-lidded and beautiful, watch you with unbridled care. “It’s a deal.”

Before his eyes, metal shifts and shrinks, until there are no fingers in his hair and he’s scratching under the chin of a mechanical crow. He smiles. “Goodnight, pretty bird.”

You hop away and fly off to your perch. He watches as you go right back to preening your feathers, as though being up there again has reminded you of Miss Hunter’s cruel acts against you.

He straightens back up with a sigh. Ever will pay for the cruel methods of their research. For everything they’ve done. For everything they did to you. It’s only a matter of time now. And it will be done. All he needs now is for Miss Hunter to find the brooch, tucked safely under the lapel of his robe.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[tkwrites]

Photo from pinterest

The idea for this blurb came to me last night, and I just had to get it down. I decided to just put it out on its own rather than wait to work it into a future snapshot. Hope you enjoy.

Quinn walked into the bedroom and stopped short. Sarah was there, which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was the fact that she was wearing her aquarium polo and no pants. She had on a little pair of shorts that could have been women’s volleyball shorts, except they had sharks and stars printed all over them. 

Also, she was bent over the foot of the bed, looking at her phone. 

By way of greeting, he walked up behind her and gently thrust his hips against her bum. “Hey.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she greeted him with a smile before turning back to the phone. It was then that he realized she was on FaceTime.

“Oh,” he felt his face grow hot, “hey, Beth.” 

“Hi Quinn,” she said, smiling like she was holding back laughter.

Feeling flustered, and a little like he'd just been caught red-handed, he backed away. “Well, I’ll leave you ladies to it,” he said before practically racing to the bathroom. 

He was in the shower when Sarah followed him a few minutes later. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, shooting her a self deprecating look through the steamy glass. 

“It’s okay, Beth thought it was cute.”

He rinsed and flipped the water off before walking out and reaching for a towel. “She did, did she?” 

“Yeah, I did, too.” 

“Really?” he asked, quirking his brows as he wrapped the towel around his waist. 

“Yeah. I mean, I was the one bent over the bed in my underwear.” 

 “Speaking of, why were you doing that?” 

She was still in the same outfit: red polo, little navy shorts printed with whale sharks. She looked adorable, and he always loved anything that had her thighs out on display like this. 

“I’ve been on my feet all day, so I was stretching my back,” she said. 

“And you just happened to not be wearing pants?” 

“Oh, you know, it’s a best friend thing.”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he realized she was joking. 

She laughed. “I was sick of them, that's all.” 

“Well,” he said, walking closer and slipping his hand around her hip to cradle her bum, “these are cute.”

“Aren’t they? This was the first time I’ve worn them. They’re really comfy, too.” 

"Oh, good," he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her. 

“Welcome home,” she said when they pulled away.

“Thanks. Wanna take my pre-game nap with me?” 

She pretended to ponder it for a moment, and he pouted.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said with a big, teasing smile. 

He rolled his eyes. “Alright Ms. Sassy pants,” he said, pulling her against him and chuffing a breath onto her neck.

She squirmed and giggled, hands scrabbling over his damp, muscular back as he guided them to the bed.

Want more Quinn and Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist.

[eddiesvixen]

Anytime

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 (𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝘀) 𝗠𝗗𝗡𝗜 𝟭𝟴+, 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲 (𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹’𝘀 𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝘂𝗰𝗲), 𝘃𝗶𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 (𝗮 𝗳𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁, 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱)

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗻𝘁: 𝟰.𝟳𝗸

the fifth chapter of Open Til Midnight

Friday’s.

In your 23 years of living nothing has come close to the feeling of waking up on a friday. The bedsheets under your skin, the calming breeze of May, the pleasure you feel between your legs as Eddie slowly rolls his hips, his cock nestling deep into you. After you blew his mind last night, he wanted to make sure you’d go to work today with the biggest smile on your face.

“How’s this, baby?” He asks you over gritted teeth.

You look up at him. His cheeks tinged pink, his muscles tightening and those messy dark untamed curls draped over you. “So good, Eddie.”

He grin and laces his fingers with yours, kissing your knuckles. “You’re perfect.”

You roll your hips to match his slow pace. “Feels so good, you’re so deep baby.”

He blushes at the name. He’d told you he liked any name really, as if the name would be what he’s focused on when he can have you like this. Spread out beneath him, your tits slowly bouncing with every thrust.

“Yeah? Tell me what you need princess i’m right here.” He rolls his hips with a bit more force, a strangled moan falling from his lips.

“Want you to fuck me harder.” You said it so softly, and yet it flips that switch in his head to something feral. He caresses your hips before gripping and lifting you, fucking into you at the new angle at a quicker pace. He moans from the sounds of your prettier ones.

“Fuck, Eddie ‘s so good-“

He really was. Eddie fucks you like nothing you’ve ever had before. He caresses your body and kisses you gently, yet his grip is possessive and hungry, bruising your skin. When his eyes aren’t shut from pleasure, he’s looking at you. At your body and your face, paying attention to what gets you closer and what makes you moan the most because fuck does he love hearing you moan for him.

And the sounds he makes for you gets you even hotter. The way he moans your name when he’s leaning over your body, fucking into you as he kisses your cheek. The distinct sound of a whimper he lets out when you tug his hair. The way he moans louder and grips you as tightly as you hold him when you both come.

He pants and pulls you close to lay his head on your chest. He kisses between your breasts.

“Sweetheart, you take my breath away.” He grins, still slightly out of breath.

You look at him. How pretty he is after being so intimate. His cheeks tinged with pink, his eyes glazed with love and comfort. That’s all you feel in this moment with Eddie. He laces his fingers with yours and kisses your knuckles.

“Oh, I am weak princess.” He flops his head dramatically onto your tummy, causing you to laugh.

“You’re so dramatic.” You grin and caress his curls.

He lets out a small hum and murmurs against your tummy. “Charismatic, sweetheart. An entertainer if you will.”

You sigh and look at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s almost ten.” Almost time for work.

He groans. “You really know how to pick your timing sweetheart.”

You laugh softly, threading your fingers through his curls again. "Not my fault you're such a distraction."

Eddie lifts his head, resting his chin on your stomach. "You could call in sick, you know. Say you've got a fever. Symptoms along the lines of excessive grinning, weak knees, and an insatiable craving for more of me."

You laugh. “Come on. It’s friday. Big day, Eddie.”

Today’s the last day to round in cash. With the few summer rain showers you all had been getting, what better way to earn cash than to have a car wash.

Eddie chuckles and stands as he pulls you to the restroom. “It’ll be worth it. To see Harrington’s hairy chest chase away all of the hot girls.”

“And you want them to approach you?” You raise a brow, feigning offense.

He smirks and bumps his hip with yours as you ther toothbrushes with toothpaste. You bump yours back at his.

“There’s only one hot girl on my mind, princess.”

You smile and bump his hip back. “Good, because I don’t plan on sharing.”

~~~~

You don’t know how to feel as you stand in front of the mirror. The dark bikini top on as you adjust it on your chest. You fix your hair as you think, and you think hard. Today’s the day. It has to be the day. With Jonathan selling some of his cold cameras and Eddie selling yet another amp, everyone is pitching in to add to the cash you’ll bring in from the car wash.

Robin knocks on the door. “You finish up in there? I gotta pee..” You open the door and she smiles at you.

“Hey,” you raise your brows, “Where’s your swim suit?”

She snorts. “Think i’d be caught seen in that? No thank you.”

You roll your eyes, stepping aside to let her into the bathroom. "Come on, Rob. It's for the store, remember? Sacrifices have to be made if you even wanna use this same restroom next week."

Robin mutters something under her breath about dignity and grabs a tube of sunscreen off the counter. "I'll be the one holding the sign, thank you very much. Someone's gotta direct the traffic."

"Uh-huh," you reply, leaning against the doorframe.

"And it has nothing to do with avoiding water altogether?"

Robin gives you a pointed look, squeezing a glob of sunscreen onto her palm. "Let's not forget the time you convinced me to cannonball into Lover’s Lake only for me to come up with leeches on my legs. That kind of trauma sticks with a girl."

You laugh, pushing off the doorframe. "Fair enough. Just make sure the sign is big enough to get attention."

"It'll be neon," Robin promises with a sly smirk. "Like

burn your retinas neon. Trust me."

As you leave the bathroom you hear the faint hum of Eddie's voice coming from outside. You glance toward the window, spotting him in the driveway leaning against the van and fiddling with a box of supplies for the car wash. Even from here, you can tell he's already been in the sun too long, the tips of his ears are turning red and his curls are sticking to his forehead same as they were this morning.

You sigh, grabbing your sunglasses off the coffee table and a bottle of water for Eddie before stepping outside.

Eddie looks up as you approach, his face breaking into an easy grin.

"Finally," he holds up a sponge dramatically. "I thought I was gonna have to wash every single car myself."

“Now that’s a show i’d pay to see.” You giggle and take the sponge as he takes the water bottle. “You'd manage to break your back halfway through the first one."

He gasps in mock offense. "I'll have you know these guns are made for scrubbing." He flexes his arms and back, though the effect is somewhat ruined when Robin strolls out and snorts loudly.

"Yeah, okay Schwarzenegger," she teases, holding up her neon pink sign. "Just try not to scare off the customers with those guns."

“No promises.” He smirks at her, his eyes traveling to you as his eyes look over you.

You grin. “What?”

“Are you trying to kill me? Look at you.” He smirks and steps closer to you. “You are.. a gem. The most beautiful woman.”

“And you’re a sap. A simp.” You giggle at his dramatic gasp as he clutches his chest.

“But this morning I was hot and in your own words,” he grabs your hips and pulls you in closer by your denim shorts, “an animal.”

You laugh and speak low enough for only him to hear. “You are psychotic.”

“If loving you makes me crazy then I will gladly spend however many days in a ward for you.” He cups your face, his callouses brush against your jaw and it feels like home. Part of you still can’t believe your best friend is more than your best friend.

“Well then we’ll go together.” You grin and cup the back of his neck.

“I’d like that.” He leans in and kisses you. Soft and still so passionate. When he feels you smiling against his lips he lets his hands wander lower.

“Oh.. dude. Come on man.” Steve cringes as he walks out of the backroom.

Eddie kisses you one last time before pulling back and laughing as he looks at Steve, shaking his head at the both of you.

“Could say the same thing about you, Harrington.” He mocks Steve’s cringed emotions as he looks over his hairy chest.

“Whatever, at least I can grow hair.”

“I grow hair! Babe, tell him I grow hair.” Eddie looks at you.

"Oh you definitely grow hair Eddie," you tease, running your fingers through the wild curls framing his face. "Plenty of it. Just... not in the Steve Harrington man sweater way."

Steve scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Man sweater? It's called masculinity. You wouldn't understand."

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to you, smirking as he wraps an arm around your waist. "You hear that? He's just jealous because my hair gets all the compliments, babe."

"Right. That must be it," Steve deadpans, heading to grab his sponge and a bucket. "Can you two at least keep your makeout sessions away from the store? Some of us have jobs to do."

As if on cue you hear a car horn from the lot aside of the store. “Duty calls.” Eddie kisses you one last time before pulling away.

“Let’s make some cash.”

~~~~

Hours pass and the car wash is going fine. It’s super hot given a day in May in New Jersey, but you all found ways to keep cool. Eddie had a stash in which you all partake in, hiding it whenever Hopper comes out for a cig. Jonathan and Chrissy stay in the store helping with sales and keeping business going.

You wash this older guy’s buick as he tells you some stories about his wife. It’s moments like this with customers that make you enjoy your job so much. Whether it’s selling records, washing their cars or well.. looking at polaroids of their wives from their wallets, you find joy in making their day.

As you take the cash the man smiles at you. “You remind me of my daughter. Just as giving and kind as you.”

“That’s very sweet sir, thank you.” You pocket the cash and grin. “Make sure to stop by tomorrow for a sale on our vinyls.”

“There is no sale sir but I can assure you a good experience is still guaranteed here.”

The dreadful, insufferable sound of Larry’s voice makes your blood boil. You nod at the old man to have a good day and turn to face him.

Larry has that pompous look on his face. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“What are you doing here?” You say as less of a question and more of a ‘you don’t belong here.’

“Here to sign, little lady. That’s part of our deal.” He pops his collar, trying and failing to be cool.

“You’re not signing anything, the first is tomorrow.”

Steve hears you and Larry and immediately sighs and looks over at Eddie. “That asshole’s back a day early.”

Eddie tenses immediately at the mention of Larry. "Of course he is," Eddie mutters, setting down his bucket and pushing off the hood of the chevy he’s cleaning. "Can't miss an opportunity to show off."

"Dude don't, come on," Steve warns, grabbing Eddie's arm. "It's not worth it."

"I'm not gonna fight him, Steve," Eddie says with a forced smile. "I'm just gonna remind him where he stands."

Eddie heads toward Larry. Steve decides he wont stop him, partly because he knows Eddie well enough to trust he'll keep it together… right?

"Larry." Eddie says, his voice dripping with mock cheer. "You're early. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Larry turns to Eddie, smirking. "Just making sure everything's good to go for tomorrow. Don't want any surprises."

"Funny," Eddie says, folding his arms. "That's exactly what we were thinking when we agreed you'd sign tomorrow. No one said anything about you showing up today."

You place a hand on Eddie’s chest. “Larry wants a signature, is Hop around?”

“I’ll get him.” Steve says, frantically running off because Eddie has that look in his eyes.

The same look he’d give Jason Carver when he’d pick on his hellfire boys. The same look he gave Higgins after graduation, flipping him off. The same look he gave that customer days ago when he’d gotten rude with you.

“Sweetheart, go handle that Chevy while me and Larry wait for our signature.”

“No need for any conflict, mister….” He waits for a name but Eddie doesn’t give it. “I’m just here on business.”

"Or maybe you're just a pain in the ass," Eddie shoots back, his tone sharper now. He looks like he’s gonna pop any minute so you grab his hand.

“Guys, this is still a business. In or outside of that building, things have to stay professional for the customers.” You look at both of them.

Larry holds up his hands, feigning innocence. "Relax, I'm just here to hang out."

Eddie steps closer, his jaw tightening. "Hang out? Right. Because you're so much fun to be around, Larry." His voice drips with sarcasm and you tighten your grip on his hand trying to ground him.

Larry's smirk widens, clearly enjoying riling Eddie up. "What can I say? People love me." He looks at you briefly and the insinuation in his gaze makes your stomach twist.

Eddie sees it too. That's when he snaps.

Eddie lunges forward and punches Larry square in the jaw, the sound of the hit echoing louder than you expected. Larry stumbles back, holding his face in shock.

"Eddie!" you shout, your voice a mix of surprise and panic.

Larry straightens up with his hand still on his jaw and spits blood onto the pavement. "Jesus, so that’s it huh?! That how you treat all your customers at this shithole?" he snarls, though the glint in his eye tells you he's more amused than angry.

“You get the hell out of here!” Eddie lunges at him, hit after hit as you wail for him to stop.

It hurts you even more when Larry lands a few hits on Eddie. Robin runs inside to get Steve and Hopper and they quickly run out and pull Eddie off of Larry.

“That’s enough!” Hopper yells and points at Eddie. It’s less of anger and more of a fatherly warning before turning back to Larry.

He huffs and straightens up his suit. "Temper, temper. You better keep your little attack dog on a leash." He points at Eddie but looks at you. "You've got your hands full with this one, sweetheart."

Before Eddie can react again, you step in front of him, pressing your palms against his chest.

"Eddie, don't," you plead, your voice trembling as you feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath your hands, his heart racing. His eyes burn with fury as they remain locked on Larry, but your touch keeps him grounded, just barely. "He's not worth it."

Eddie clenches his jaw, his fists still curled tightly at his sides. "He doesn't get to talk to you like that," he growls, his voice low but trembling with restrained rage.

Larry smirks, wiping a bit of blood from the corner of his lip. "Go ahead sweetheart keep defending him. Let's see how long this little hero act lasts." He adjusts his suit, clearly reveling in the chaos he's caused.

"Larry, you need to leave. Now," Hopper says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument as he steps between Larry and Eddie, his imposing figure adding weight to the warning.

Larry shrugs, glancing around at the small crowd that's gathered. "Oh i’m leaving. But i’ll make sure this little scene doesn't go unnoticed." He gives one last sneer in Eddie's direction before sauntering off, leaning against the building and holding his jaw.

Just as you're about to speak the sound of sirens pierces the air. Your heart sinks as the red and blue lights flash against the building, and two police cars pull up to the curb.

"Shit," Steve mutters, stepping closer to you. He places a supportive hand on your shoulder as Robin and the others get the customers inside.

Two officers step out of the vehicles, one of them immediately approaching Hopper. "We got a call about an altercation," the officer says, glancing between Hopper and Eddie.

Hopper sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's under control. Just a little scuffle."

The officers look over Eddie. The blood dripping from his nose, his face already bruising up from the few hits Larry got on him. They prepare to question Eddie but Larry's voice cuts through the tension.

"Oh, it was more than that, Officer. That man,” he points dramatically at Eddie, "attacked me, completely unprovoked."

"That's a damn lie!" Eddie snaps, taking a step forward. You grab his arm trying to hold him back but the officers are already moving toward him.

"Sir, we need you to calm down," one of the officers says, his hand hovering near his belt.

"Eddie just breath alright? Everyone let’s just calm down, yeah?" Hopper raises his hands, stepping protectively closer to Eddie.

Eddie glares at Larry, then at the officers. "You're taking his side? After everything he's done-"

"We'll sort it out at the station," the officer interrupts. "Sir, turn around."

"No!" you protest, stepping in front of Eddie again. "He was just defending himself, that asshole shouldn’t even be here!"

"Ma'am please step aside," the other officer says firmly.

You look at Eddie, your heart breaking as the realization sinks in. You can’t fight. Not this time. When Hopper pulls you aside your eyes water as they take Eddie into the cuffs. Why couldn’t he just walk away? Why couldn’t he ignore Larry?

As they cuff him, Eddie glances over his shoulder at you. "I'm alright sweetheart," he says softly, trying to reassure you even as his voice wavers. "Not the first time.” And that aches your heart even more.

Tears prick your eyes as you watch the officers lead him into the car. Hopper tries to reason with the officers, but it's clear they're not going to let Eddie walk away.

You glare at Larry as he leaves the envelope for his signature of ownership. He walks off and gets into his car, not looking back once.

Hopper picks up the envelope and opens it, reading the paper as Steve walks up to you, giving you a hug as you cry in his arms.

“It’s okay, it’s Eddie. He always finds a way, yeah?” He rubs your back despite his own sadness.

“Son of a bitch.” Hopper says as he reads the paper.

You look at him and wipe your eyes. You see the paper in his hands.

“Hop, what is it?” Steve still holds you as you both look at him.

“Staff meeting. Right now.” He walks into the store. You and Steve look at each other. What could have Hop more upset than Eddie getting arrested?

~~~~~

“Incomplete certificate, what the hell does that mean?” Jonathan passes the paper to Chrissy.

“It means we’re fucked.” Steve sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

“Elaborate?” Robin raises a brow as she leans over to read with Chrissy on the very crowded sofa of the break room.

Hopper sighs. “In order to even own a company you need all of your licenses and certificates. Otherwise the property belongs to it’s predecessor.”

Chrissy frowns. “So Empire..”

“Is not ours. Never was.”

The room falls into silence, the weight of Hopper's words pressing on everyone like a heavy blanket. Larry tricked him. He tricked you all. All of the hard work in the past week, the time in the past years you’ve spent here. Just to find out it was never yours.

You sit in Eddie’s listening booth, the envelope and box of cash in your lap as you count the money you all totaled up for the store. If there’s gonna be no store, then maybe, just maybe you could use the cash for Eddie’s bailout.

You remember when you and Eddie sat in here together. The way he spoke to you.

‘Just.. stay here for a bit? I don't wanna be in my head anymore.’

You shake off the rest of the tears as you count the cash. You count and count until you hear a knock on the door.

“Come in.” You sniffle from your side of the bench, forcing a grin when Jonathan comes in with a paper bag and a fountain drink.

“Thought i’d bring you some lunch, my treat.” He forces a grin as well.

“I’m not really hungry. Save it for me?”

“Sure.” He sighs and looks at you then the cash. “How much?”

“Seven thousand and fourty nine.” You sigh. “I have a twenty in my locker.”

He nods and pulls some bills from his pocket. “Sorry it’s not much.”

You take the bills. “Guess anything’s worth it.”

Jonathan frowns, hating to see you so defeated. He holds a hand out. “Let me do this. You take the food and go with Hop to the station.”

You look up at him from the bench. “Are you sure?”

He sits down and nods. “If he wants to see anyone right now, it’s you.”

You hand him the bills and share a hug. “Thanks Jonathan.”

“No… thank you. I mean without you this place would’ve never made it as far as it has.” He squeezes your shoulder. “Now go. And please both of you eat.”

You nod and leave the booth, heading into the lot to ride with Hopper. You had changed into one of the tees Eddie keeps in his locker and grabbed your walkman.

You get into Hopper’s truck as he drives you both to the station. He rides in silence as you listen to the Journey tape Jonathan gave you.

Hopper speaks up. “There’s something I want you to have.”

You look at him. “Yeah?”

“Check in the glove compartment.” He focuses on the road, turning on his lights as the sun’s setting.

You open the glove compartment and grab a small box. “This one?”

“That’s the one.” He sighs. “It was gonna be yours tomorrow.”

You look at Hop before you open the box and you get chills. Your name is the best engraving, the title underneath it makes your skin warm.

assistant manager

You look at him and he speaks up seeing you’re speechless. “You are the heart of Empire, kid. Everyday I see you give it your all. And I know how much the place means to you.”

It felt bittersweet. The position you earned, despite going through so much in this crazy week, Hopper knew maybe it might cheer you up.

Your eyes water. “Hop.. this is,” you sigh and look at the name tag. “Can I still keep it?”

“You earned it. Empire or no Empire.”

It hurts him to say it just as much as it hurts you to hear it. You tuck the tag into your pocket along with something small for Eddie.

Once you get to the station they ask you to empty your pockets. So much for Jonathan’s lunch reaching Eddie. As you and Hopper walk back to see Eddie, he turns around.

You raise a brow. “You okay?”

His jaw tightens. “I was the chief of police. You sit with Eddie, i’m gonna see what I can do.”

You shake your head. “What if we upset them?”

He grips your shoulders. “I need you to trust me and stay calm okay?”

You hesitate but you nod. “Please be careful.”

“Go on.” He nods for you to get to the visiting room. You sit at the table in the quiet room. The lighting makes your eyes hurt a bit but it all goes away as Eddie comes in. The officer holds his arms, his hands cuffed in front of him.

“Miss we’ll be right outside.” Says the officer. He walks out and stands at the door.

Eddie takes a seat across from you, his face a mixture of shame and remorse. His dark eyes meet yours and for a moment the weight of the situation hangs heavy between you both. The metal cuffs around his wrists clink softly as he shifts in his chair, leaning forward slightly.

“See you’re wearing my shirt.”

You nod. “Mines got wet during the wash earlier.”

“Anthrax looks good on you sweetheart.”

You grin. A real grin, seeing as Eddie can still give small compliments despite his situation. He’s always looking for the upside even if he’s at rock bottom.

“We’re counting the money for your bail.”

He shakes his head. “That’s for the store.”

It’s best not to tell Eddie about the store and the certificates while he’s cuffed with a bandage over his nose so you decide not to.

“They take care of you?” You nod at his nose.

“Yeah. Im good baby, Larry hits like the middle aged old fart he is.” He grins and you both share a small laugh. “Besides, the nurse was pretty chill. Think she hates it here too.”

You can’t help but to huff out a laugh. "You always find a way to make friends in the worst places, huh?"

Eddie shrugs, his grin softening just a bit. "What can I say? I've got charm. Even in jail."

You roll your eyes but there's a flicker of warmth in your chest. This is Eddie. The Eddie who jokes even when he's bruised and battered. The Eddie who makes you laugh when you really shouldn't.

"Did they tell you when you're getting out?"

His smile fades slightly and he tilts his head back, the harsh light catching the edge of the bruise forming along his jaw. "Not yet. Might be a while if Larry wants to press charges."

“He can’t.”

Eddie raises a brow. “Did you miss what happened in that parking lot? The cops are clearly on his side, they’re probably even on his payroll.”

“Eddie.” You look at the door to see the officer isn’t looking so you place your hand over his. “Listen. I need to tell you something but you have to promise me you won’t freak out and cause a scene.”

He nods and looks into your eyes. Clearly his emotions are frazzled but your touch keeps him grounded this time. “Okay.”

You sigh. “The money we earned this week for Empire is your bail.”

His brows furrow. “Sweetheart that’s the store fund you know this.”

You shake your head. “Everyone agrees Eddie. We need you out of here.”

“But we need Empire more. We’re so close. Just sell a few more amps. Sell my van, I don’t care okay? We can’t let that asshole take our store-“

“It’s not our store.”

Eddie freezes. “What?”

You sigh and it hurts you to repeat what you saw on that paper. “Our certificates and licenses, every tape, every record we sold was signed by vendors who all work under Bassinger co.”

You frown and look into his eyes. “Empire is Larry’s.”

Eddie stares at you. For a moment it seems like he didn't hear you, like the words didn't register. But then his jaw clenches and you feel his hands curl into fists.

"No," he mutters, his voice low. "That's not possible."

“That’s why he wanted the signature today. It’s not for ownership it’s for rebranding.”

“Can’t we just give him the money we earned? Give him the ten thousand.”

You frown. “Eddie we don’t even have eight, you’re lucky we have the seven thousand for this.”

He sighs. “So we just let him win?”

You rub his knuckles. “I don’t know.. but I need you to let me be here for you Eddie. Like old times, yeah?”

He nods and his cuffs clink as he gently caresses your hands in return. “Like old times.”

taglist: @pupwrites @sheneedsrocknroll92 @koshkahhh @kthomps914 @definitionwanderlust @veravee-blog @losingmygrasponreality

author’s note: this chapter took me so long omg. thank you all for your patience and please enjoy im so sorry

[ryemackerel]

“I’ll stop the world and melt with you!”

January 2025 redraw of something from March 2024! An almost 1 year difference, with a bit of an “in-between” redraw from Autumn 2024 in the mix. :-)

Bacon Cola forever remains one of my biggest favorite duos of all time. Of course I sure as hell stand as a TomMatt truther to this day NEVER LIVING THAT DOWN! But TordEdd is genuinely such a cute duo. I love em with all my heart so damn much.

I see them as a very lighthearted silly duo who play off each other a lot. :-] In WAYS they’re opposites: You have Tord being the introverted, yet very loud, ambitious, sometimes aggressive guy, and you have Edd who is very easy-going, mellow, and lighthearted. However many many ways, they share a lot of similarities with each other.

Edd is that one guy Tord feels extremely comfortable around, and Edd loves showering Tord with love and affection, as awkward as Tord can be receiving it haha! I wanted to really show that intimacy through this redraw, which I adore about the new version.

Technically a part one of this redraw thing? I wanted to post the TordEdd and TomMatt redraw pieces separately, since working on a completely new rendered piece would’ve taken ages to post these guys.

I keep forgetting whether or not I already talked about their dynamic. I probably HAVE already?? But I genuinely forgot LOL. This is prime autism in the way I could go on for hours talking about everything I love about these guys.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Trying

steddie, omegaverse, mpreg, cw: vomit, cw: miscarriage, angst with a happy ending

Steve knows better than to get his hopes up when he and Eddie start trying for a baby. He knows it can take time. That it isn’t just about throwing out his birth control and getting dicked down three times a week—anything more than that leads to diminishing returns: lower sperm count, less ejaculate. He’s already on prenatal vitamins and he’s eating better; he’s cut alcohol and coffee from his diet.

But it’s not like he expects it to happen right away.

Then he starts puking.

At anything. Weird smells, weird tastes, eating too late in the morning or too early, drinking water too fast. So, he pulls a test out of the bathroom cupboard, pees, waits the five minutes.

Eddie finds him crying in the bathroom twenty minutes later. Steve cried so hard he threw up. But the test has two blue lines, confirmation of the life growing inside him.

Sinking to the floor, Eddie gets his arms around his omega, kisses his temple and pets his hair, and whispers his love and excitement into the skin of Steve’s neck.

They can’t believe it’s happened so fast.

They don’t tell anyone, not even Robin—not even Wayne—because Steve is too nervous, too superstitious.

It doesn’t stop the blood from coming three days before his first prenatal appointment. He calls the office in a panic, and when the nurse says, “Some spotting is normal, even enough to look like a light period, how much blood have you-”

“A lot. I’m already on my third overnight pad today.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry, honey.” After that, she tells him to call again if the bleeding gets worse, or if he faints. That it’s early enough he should be fine managing it at home.

She keeps his appointment slot, so his doctor can do blood work, give him a full physical.

Eddie offers to go with him, but Steve needs a little time alone. Needs a little privacy.

He’s sitting on the exam table, paper under his bare ass, wearing a soft pink hospital gown. “Was it my fault?” He can’t help crying as he asks, explaining about the morning sickness, how he was afraid to eat half the time for fear it would come right back up.

Dr. Greene holds his hand, in both of hers. “No, Steve. This early it usually means something’s wrong with the embryo. Genetic non-viability.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t think the morning sickness helped, but it didn’t cause this. It’s just what happened. And it’s quite common. There’s a reason we say not to announce a pregnancy until the second trimester.”

Steve nods, grateful even if he can’t stop his tears. “Thank you,” he whispers, relieved.

Dr. Greene just squeezes his hand, and walks him through all the tests and checks she wants to do. Steve leaves his appointment with a half-dozen pamphlets, including one with tips for fighting morning sickness.

He spends the afternoon reading, and stocks up on ginger candy in preparation.

Eddie is cautious for the next week, always offering Steve comfort, holding him close and kissing him sweetly. Steve is the one to get back to business, jumping Eddies bones as soon as he has the go-ahead.

It takes two months for them to get pregnant again, and Steve’s morning sickness comes back.

The ginger candy helps, and the ginger ale. Sometimes he does a cold compress on his chest, and it’s enough to stop the urge to vomit. He’ll pinch the skin between his thumb and forefinger, and that helps most of the time.

But not always. Usually, when he first wakes up, or when he gets out of the shower it will hit him hard and fast.

He makes it to ten weeks this time, before the spotting and the cramping. Steve’s at work when it starts and he tells his boss he’s sick, drives straight to the OBGYN office, hoping they can do something.

But he’s already passed a clot, the bleeding worse.

A nurse finds him an empty exam room so he can clean up. Compose himself a little. He calls Eddie at work and tells him the bad news.

“I’m coming, baby, just give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there,” Eddie promises, ready to care for his mate.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll see you at home.”

“Steve!”

“You shouldn’t leave work for this. I’m just gonna go home and lie down.”

Steve hangs up. He feels like a failure.

When Eddie gets home that night, he finds Steve on the couch eating butterscotch ice cream. He plops down next to him, gets an arm around his shoulder, and just lets Steve melt against him. “It’ll be okay, baby. These things take time.”

“I know,” Steve whispers. “I was just really excited this time…”

“As soon as you’re ready, we’ll start trying again.” He pulls Steve into his lap, not even caring that the mostly empty ice cream carton is being squished to his chest. “And no matter what, I will always love you.”

“I love you so much,” Steve murmurs back, pressing his tears to Eddie’s neck.

💔💔💔

Over the next year and a half, Steve loses three more pregnancies before the end if the first trimester. His morning sickness is better by the last one, but it doesn’t seem to matter.

They have another appointment with Dr. Greene, this time to go over their options, and do a bit more testing, but the night before, Steve is distraught. “I can’t do it again,” he whimpers. “I can’t fall in love with another baby that I don’t get to meet. Eddie, I can’t!”

Eddie can’t either. But it’s not his body. He doesn’t feel that same connection Steve does, doesn’t bear the same burden. But he still loved each and every one.

He also can’t stand the thought of Steve suffering again. His mate has been through more than enough.

Then the tests come back, and Dr. Greene smiles kindly. “Steve, there’s nothing in your blood work or health history that should be contributing to this. But the ovum is a robust little cell. In fact, research indicates that problems frequently boil down to sperm count… And quality.”

Eddie freezes. He knows he eats better than he did when he met Steve—Steve feeds him after all—but he has… Bad habits. “How bad is it?” he asks, cringing internally as he thinks about how proud he was to fill his sample cup past the halfway point that afternoon. Pointless alpha preening.

“Your sperm count is actually in the normal range for an alpha your age, which is a good sign, especially knowing you’re a smoker, Eddie. But your motility is low, which means even fewer sperm make it far enough to reach the egg. It means odds of a healthy sperm fertilizing the egg are lowered.”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand in apology. “So, it’s my fault,” he says, keeping his voice even.

“This isn’t about placing blame,” Dr. Greene starts.

At the same time, Steve murmurs, “Eddie, no…”

“No,” Eddie says clearly, forcing a smile. “If there’s something I can do, I will.”

He quits smoking cold-turkey, needing the nicotine out of his system. Eddie knows too many guys who traded their pack a day smoking habit for a pack a day of nicotine gum. Every time he even thinks about smoking he snaps a rubber band on his wrist, and remembers how many times he’s found Steve crying over the past two years.

He gets more vegetables in his diet, leafy greens that taste bitter as hell, but he still eats every salad Steve packs fir his lunch.

In the end, the hardest part is exercising. Eddie hates running. He hates it. Even going for a morning run with Steve doesn’t help because Steve does 5K no problem, and Eddie feels like he’s dying after six blocks.

They stop running together, but Eddie keeps running. He goes to a weekly yoga class and starts swimming laps at the Y.

He and Steve take a break from sex. Then, when they do have sex, they use protection. Steve won’t risk it. Not yet.

They wait neatly a year, Eddie asking to have his sperm checked at his annual physical. There’s no pride this time in how much he managed to jizz in the sample cup, only the relief at being told, “Your sperm count is on the high end of average, with good motility. Overall, everything looks healthy, but if you’d like a referral to a specialist, I can give you one.”

Eddie calls Steve with the good news, promising that they can wait as long as Steve wants before they start trying again, that the lifestyle changes are sticking around.

Steve tells Eddie to get his ass home. Right away.

Eddie finds Steve in the bedroom, wearing lingerie for the first time in a couple years. He’s seated on their bed in the prettiest lilac silk, and he stands as soon as Eddie’s through the door, pouncing on him. “I love you, Eddie,” he mumbles between kisses.

“Love you so much, baby,” Eddie murmurs back, ready to celebrate their small victory. He guides Steve back to the bed, ready to worship his beautiful tits as soon as he’s unwrapped them.

He touches Steve everywhere. Kisses him everywhere. Holds him close once they are both naked and sweaty. He reaches for the bedside table, but Steve stops him. “No condom,” he whines. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“Eddie, you’ve spent the past year getting healthy for this, for us. It sounds like it worked.” Steve reaches down, takes Eddie’s hard cock in hand, stroking him roughly, the way he likes. “Let’s try again,” Steve says with finality. “Let’s make a baby.”

💕💕💕

A year later, Steve is seven months pregnant and glowing. He had some morning sickness this time, but it went away before the second trimester. Now, he has to pee. All the time. And he’s always hungry.

Eddie dotes on him, making sure even his wildest craving are satisfied, which includes an astounding amount of pickled jalapeños and tapioca pudding. But he’s right on track, everything routine, perfectly healthy.

It’s all worth it. Soon, they’ll get to meet their little girl.

[ghosty-writes-23]

Kneeling Before Her. - Leon S Kennedy Pt. 2

Ghosty's Notes: Sorry this one is a little rushed and might not be my best work but, I am currently working on the threesome one and the valentines day one, so I hope you do enjoy it, also if you want to be put on my tag list for any of my new and up and coming stories please comment below so I can add you to the list.

Summary: Sometimes even the strongest people need some reassurance and love.

NSFW Tags: Smutty Content, Handjob, Reassurance, Shower Sex, No Protection (Don't be like them.) Sub!Leon, Slight Angst, Riding, Creampie, Sweet Ending.

Used Pet Names: Darling, Sweetheart, My Wife.

!Unedited!

Word Count: 1.3k

| Part One Here. |

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Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

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As Leon left to go into the bathroom, Y/n laid back in their bed, even though she had just came she still felt a little needy and a little guilty, so before she second guested herself Y/n got up from the bed and headed into the bathroom where she could hear to soft pitter patter of the shower water hitting the floor and the walls, and Leon groan and grunts as he 'takes care' of himself.

Y/n closed the door behind her softly and made her way over to the shower. "Need some help." she asked and she heard Leon curse under his breath before he stopped. "darling its ok, just go back to bed, I'll be there in a minute." Leon says as he was breathing heavily.

Shaking her head Y/n stripped off her clothing and stepped into the shower behind Leon, going up on her tippy toes she placed a gentle kiss on scarred shoulder. "Let me help you." Y/n says softly as she looked up at him through her lashes. Her hand trailed down his sides feeling every ridge, curve and scar, she could feel him shivering under his touch.

"Y/n." Leon groaned softly but Y/n just smiled and placed another kiss on his shoulder before she gently took his cock into her hand, before she started to gently stroke it was warm but firm in her hand, she could tell Leon was pent up but also holding back.

"I don't deserve this." Leon grunted out as if he was trying to resist her touch, this left Y/n a little confused as she kept going, peppering soft kisses around his neck and shoulder as she worked him with her hand. "Why don't you deserve this." Y/n asked softy as she placed a soft kiss just under Leon's ear, she was grateful for Leon being taller then her so he shielded her mostly from the water.

"I've been a terrible husband, I have treated you horribly." Leon whimpered out as he leaned against bathroom wall on his arm, his breathing was shaking as his body trembled ever so slightly. His dark hair was sticking to his face and forehead, his face decorated with a light stubble.

"I won't disagree with you have treated me badly, but that doesn't mean you can't make it up to me." Y/n says as she pressed her chest against his back, she could tell he was close as she saw one of his fists balling. "I can't forgive myself for how I treated you." Leon tried to argue but Y/n smiled at him and used her free hand to gently tilt his chin then softly pressed her lips against his.

He instantly melted and relaxed as she spilled into her hand with a couple jolts of his hips, with a soft grunt like whine as he kissed her back. Y/n smiled against his lips before she pulled away ever so slightly and looked at him with a look of warmth and affection. "I love you Leon, yes you made some mistakes and your actions have hurt people, but you have the chance to make things right." Y/n told him as he pressed her forehead against hers.

"I love you so much." Leon spoke causing Y/n heart to flutter at the affection words, it had been so long since she had heard those three special words. "I love you too." Y/n told him and she saw Leon's body relax and the tense muscles in his body relax.

As the warm water cascaded over them Y/n pulled away slightly only for Leon to gently grab her chin and pull her face to his and captured her lips in a soft kiss, she can taste the toothpaste he used to brush his teeth on his tongue, she melted into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Soft noises left her lips as she felt Leon move backwards to sit on the shower bench but he didn't break the kiss once, He lifted her onto his lap with ease, Y/n could feel Leon's cock against her stomach, he was hard again. She pulled back slightly breaking the kiss. "Please Y/n." Leon softly whined, she had never seen him also submissive before.

"Beg." Y/n says with a teasing tone not thinking Leon actually would. "Please Y/n I know I don't deserve it, I've been a terrible husband, let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good." Leon begged and as much as she felt herself clench she couldn't help the aching feeling in her chest.

"Leon." Y/n started by Leon shook his head, as he rested his head on her shoulder. "I want to feel good enough to be your husband again, I want to show you I can make you feel good, that I deserve your love and attention." Leon says his voice cracking slightly, Y/n reached down and cupped his face bringing it to hers.

in that moment she didn't see Leon, the harden DSO agent or government weapon, but her Leon the same Leon she used to have food fights with every time she baked something, or when she used to rest against him as he cleaned his weapons after a mission, the same Leon that reminder her of a tried puppy coming home and curling up by her side soaking up her affection like a sponge, in that moment she knew what he needed.

"You are good enough Leon, yes you messed up but that doesn't make you a bad person, it doesn't make you undeserving of love, I love you and only you will always be my husband." Y/n says looking down at Leon, to which he gave her a small smile, but inside his heart had jumped at her words.

"I need you Y/n." Leon spoke and Y/n nodded her head biting her lip, she raised her hips slightly and Leon angled his cock tip at the entrance after he applied some spit for lube on it, slowly and carefully Y/n began to sink down, his cock stretching her slick walls causing a soft moan to leave her lips as she buried her face in his neck.

She could feel every bump, ridge and vein reminding her truly how long it had been since they where truly this intimate. Once she sank down fully she felt Leon's arms wrap around her waist holding her closely to his body, no space left between them, she could feel him trailing kisses down her neck as if to distract her from the slightly uncomfortable adjusting.

"Don't push yourself to much sweetheart." Leon groaned softly as Y/ started to move her hips in a slow space, soft mew where leaving her lips as a warm and fuzzy feeling ran through her body, she did slowly start to sped up ever so slightly when she finally fully adjusted. "Fuck Leon." she cursed under her breath causing Leon to chuckle but it was choked back by a groan of pleasure.

"That its doll, use my cock however you like, its yours." Leon grunted softly as her silk walls clamped around him, Y/n clenched at his words as she started to pick up the pace, Leon moved with her and she placed her hand on the wall just above Leon's head to stabilize herself, she was close and she knew it.

Y/n melted in the feeling of being so filled by Leon's cock that stretched her open so deliciously, her sharp nails clawing down his back leave little red lines she knows will be there in the morning, when Leon began to meet her thrusts she was a gonna as she came with a cry of his name as her body trembled, Leon soon followed as he was close himself, he knew he should have pulled out but it felt too good.

The water soon went cold and that was their cue to leave, after catching their breaths, Leon cleaned Y/n up and wrapped a towel around her, even stealing a few cheeky kisses before taking her to bed, Y/n rested her head against Leon's bare wet chest as he walked down the hallway holding her bridal style.

"I love you Leon." Y/n said almost sleepy, Leon looked at her and smiled softly. "I love you too, my wife".....

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(Bathroom inspiration for this scene.)

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2025. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.