#it’s like. What do i even Do. Make personal little summaries of everything I read?

[creamflix]

UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 4/5]

summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!

content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [added over the course of this series], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)

notes: series is coming to a close and all i can say time and time again is thank you <3 this has been such a blast to write and reading all your comments and tagged reblogs makes me beyond grateful. i was going to make this chapter longer but i exceeded the tumblr word break count, so the much awaited smut chapter & epilogue will be next :pensive: anyways, please enjoy!! and let me know if you're a fein for more....ifykyk :3

read on ao3! ● series masterlist

➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]

the day of your book launch arrived like a storm of excitement and celebration, the entire event carefully and extravagantly crafted by gojo-sonic. true to his word, satoru had given shoko a “no limits” budget, and she’d taken full advantage. 

every detail screamed luxury and grandeur, from the sprawling hall draped in velvet and illuminated by chandeliers, to the massive screens flashing animations of your book cover as if it were the latest blockbuster. booths lined the entrance, stocked with merch inspired by mating the dragon king — everything from small trinkets to collector’s editions of the book. readers, critics, and fans alike were buzzing with excitement, filling the air with an electric anticipation.

you took it all in with awe, hardly able to believe the spectacle was for your work. a lump formed in your throat as you realized this was satoru and shoko’s way of supporting you, a grand gesture of friendship and admiration when words alone weren’t enough. 

shoko, dressed to the nines, approached you with a smug grin, handing you a glass of wine, graciously sponsored by persephone wines. 

“told you we’d go all out, didn’t i?” she chuckled, clinking her glass against yours.

“shoko, i don’t even know what to say. this is… i mean, look at all this,” you said, gesturing around you, a little overwhelmed by it all.

“just say you’ll dedicate the next one to us,” she teased, winking. “this was nothing. i didn’t even blow through the whole budget satoru gave me.”

“don’t worry, i’ll get my credit,” satoru’s familiar voice cut in as he joined you, flashing his trademark grin. “i told shoko: if we’re sponsoring the best writer i know, she deserves the best launch.”

“you two are ridiculous,” you laughed, but your heart was full. “thank you. really.”

“hey, you worked for this,” satoru shrugged, his eyes softening. “we just put a spotlight on the star.”

before you could respond, suguru’s voice came crackling through a tablet satoru was holding. he was miles away but, in true fashion, wouldn’t miss the opportunity to chime in. 

along with having persephone wines sponsor the drinks, he’d also sent over an exquisitely tailored gown, just for the night, joking that it was the “least he could do” from afar.

“i may not be there in person,” he quipped through the video call, his voice warm, “but i’ll be damned if i don’t make sure you look like the queen you are tonight. the gown suits you.”

you felt yourself flush at his words, smoothing the luxurious fabric of the gown as you glanced at yourself in one of the mirrors. “you outdid yourself, suguru. thank you.”

“you’re welcome,” he smiled, a soft glint of pride in his eyes. “now go show them why you’re the best.”

the event itself was a whirlwind of praise and conversation, with critics and fans alike coming up to you. several of them took the time to express their admiration for the novel’s heartfelt evolution. 

“the relationship between the dragon king and the princess felt so raw, so beautifully authentic in this sequel,” one of them remarked. “you managed to capture this intense romance in a way that’s rare to see in fantasy. it wasn’t just lust, but something deeply emotional, and it resonated.”

another critic leaned in, smiling knowingly. “and the rivalry turned camaraderie between the dragon king and the knight? you’ve managed to make them compelling foils — layered and nuanced. it’s been a long time since i’ve read such rich dynamics.”

you accepted their words graciously, nodding and smiling, but your mind kept drifting back to toji. 

all the subtle emotional depth in the book — the raw, consuming, and vulnerable aspects of love — it was impossible to ignore his influence on the way you wrote this time. he’d pulled you into a realm of understanding that went beyond mere words, and you’d poured that revelation into every chapter, every exchange between characters.

shoko caught your gaze and sidled up next to you. “sooo, thinkin’ about someone special?” she teased, raising her brow.

you tried to play it off with a shrug. 

“maybe. it’s just… i’m realizing how far i’ve come. a few years ago, i could never have written like this, could never have understood these feelings so deeply. now… i feel like i’ve finally become the writer i always wanted to be.”

she nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “well, you’ve grown. and you’ve let someone in. that changes things. makes them real.”

as you moved through the event, mingling with guests and listening to the feedback, you allowed yourself a rare moment of pride. you’d worked so hard to get here, navigating the ups and downs of an author’s journey. the countless late nights, the rejections, the criticisms — they all seemed worth it now. 

this was more than just a book launch; it was a testament to how much you’d evolved, both as a writer and as a person.

when you found a quiet corner to catch your breath, you couldn’t resist pulling out your phone, typing out a quick message to toji.

you [7:36 pm]: i owe a lot of this night to you, you know. couldn’t have written this without your… "help." 😌

a moment later, your phone buzzed with his reply.

toji [7:40 pm]: my pleasure, princess. make sure to give me a private reading of that sequel soon ;)

you laughed softly to yourself, tucking your phone away, feeling a rush of warmth that settled comfortably in your chest. 

tonight was a night of celebration, but as you looked out at the gathering of supporters and friends, you knew that the most profound reward was waiting for you at home, ready to be there in ways that went beyond just words on a page.

“daddy, come on! we’re gonna be late!” megumi’s voice rang out through the small house, his small hands balled into impatient fists as he watched his dad struggle with his tie.

“alright, alright, relax, will ya?” toji grumbled, pulling the knot loose for the third time and starting over. his nerves weren’t exactly helping him get ready any faster, and megumi’s impatience wasn’t making things easier.

the babysitter mix-up had thrown a wrench into his plans. 

tonight was supposed to be simple — show up, support you at your big launch, and, if he could work up the courage, propose. 

that was already hard enough without a certain eight-year-old demanding he speed things up. 

he glanced over at his son, who looked like a mini version of himself, decked out in a tiny suit, his hair combed neatly for once. megumi was practically vibrating with excitement.

“you ready for this, buddy?” toji asked, finally getting his tie straight and adjusting his collar.

megumi gave him a big grin, nodding eagerly. “i get to see y/n tonight! and everyone will say i look cool,” he added, puffing out his chest proudly. “do you think she’ll like it?”

toji smiled, his heart doing a weird flip at the thought of you seeing megumi like this. “she’ll love it. you look like a little heartbreaker,” he teased, ruffling his son’s hair before catching himself. 

“but hey, don’t tell her that i messed up my tie like five times, alright? let’s keep it between us.”

megumi snickered, looking up at his dad with mischievous eyes. “only if you promise to hurry up! she’ll be there already! she’ll think we forgot her!”

toji let out a chuckle but felt a swell of something deeper. tonight was big — not just for you, but for him, for megumi, for the family he hoped to make official. he’d been so certain when he got the ring, so sure he’d just hand it over with some smooth line. 

but now, standing here, he realized how real this was. 

he’d spent most of his life with only his son by his side, and suddenly, you had filled in so many empty spaces he hadn’t even known were there.

“you think she’ll say yes?” he muttered to himself, not realizing he’d said it out loud until he saw megumi’s puzzled face.

“say yes to what?” megumi asked, head tilted as he studied his dad. “you didn’t ask her anything yet.”

toji’s heart leapt, but he just shrugged. “oh, just… if she’ll like the flowers, or the dress — uh, the way you’re dressed, i mean.” he rubbed the back of his neck, knowing full well his son wasn’t buying it.

“she’s gonna say yes to everything, daddy,” megumi said confidently, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “everyone loves her. i love her!”

toji’s chest tightened. he didn’t need to ask megumi if he’d be okay with you becoming a permanent part of their family; the kid practically glowed every time you walked into the room.

“alright, alright. let’s get outta here before she thinks we’re ditching her big night,” he said, scooping up his keys and nudging megumi toward the door.

as they drove to the venue, toji’s mind raced. 

he thought about all the times you’d laughed with him, stayed late to watch silly movies with megumi, made dinners feel like more than just a chore. 

you weren’t just good for him; you’d made him want more, to be better. and for megumi, you were the safe place he hadn’t even known he’d been missing.

“daddy, are you gonna kiss her tonight?” megumi piped up suddenly, pulling toji from his thoughts.

toji nearly choked. “uh, maybe, kid. depends on how things go.”

“good,” megumi replied, nodding solemnly. “you should. she likes you. she told me once.”

toji chuckled, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “yeah? and what’d she say?”

“she said you’re stubborn and don’t listen, but that you’re good at cooking,” megumi recited, looking pleased with himself. “and that she thinks you’re cute.”

toji’s heart soared. the kid had no idea what tonight meant, not really. but he could feel his own nerves steady, knowing he wasn’t alone in wanting this. 

it wasn’t just him and megumi anymore — it was the three of them, and he wanted that, needed that, more than he’d let himself admit.

pulling up to the venue, he took a deep breath, looking over at megumi with a grin. “alright, bud. let’s go make her night unforgettable.”

you were mid-sentence with one of the editors when you heard it — your name, shouted in the unmistakable pitch of a child. whipping around, you barely had a moment to react before megumi, clutching a massive bouquet that nearly swallowed him whole, came barreling toward you.

“megs!” you gasped, and without thinking twice, you scooped him up into your arms, letting out a laugh that was half-surprise, half-joy. the flowers brushed against your face, petals tickling your nose as you held him tight, savoring the moment.

“oh my gosh, you’re here! and look at these!” you pulled back just enough to look at the bouquet, then at megumi, who was grinning up at you with all the pride in the world. “did you pick these out yourself, mister?”

“yep!” he beamed, holding the bouquet up higher, like he wanted to make sure you got a good look. “daddy said we could get the biggest one they had because tonight’s really special.”

before you could respond, toji appeared beside you, keeping his arm low and offering a subtle, one-armed hug — a gentle squeeze at your waist, just enough for you to feel him there. the touch, as small as it was, sent a warmth through you that the room full of people couldn’t rival.

“thought we’d surprise you,” toji murmured, his voice just for you as he pulled back a bit, casting a wary glance around. you knew he was trying to keep a low profile, aware of the eyes everywhere. 

not many people knew about his personal life — let alone that he had a son — and you understood, appreciating the lengths he’d gone to just to bring megumi here tonight.

“you both did a perfect job,” you said, looking from toji to megumi with a soft smile. “you have no idea how happy i am right now.”

megumi’s eyes sparkled, as if he knew exactly how much his presence meant. “i told daddy we couldn’t miss it! i mean, it’s your biggest book ever, right?” he asked, bouncing a little in your arms, oblivious to the attention his enthusiasm was drawing.

“it is,” you nodded, smoothing a hand through his hair, “and you made it so much better just by being here.”

“oh!” megumi perked up, his voice loud enough to turn a few heads. “did you know i brought my special iron-man pen so i can sign books too?”

you laughed, nodding along. “well, with a pen like that, you’ll be the best co-author here.” you glanced up at toji, sharing a knowing look. 

“thank you for bringing him. i know it… wasn’t easy.”

toji shrugged, his expression softening just for a moment. “hey, it’s your night. thought he might make it even better.” his words were casual, but the sincerity in his eyes was undeniable. 

it was like he wanted to tell you so much more, but knew it wasn’t the time or place.

a nearby critic approached, clearing his throat as he smiled at you. “i hope we aren’t interrupting a family moment,” he said kindly, glancing at megumi with a smile. “but i’d like to congratulate you on your incredible work — it’s rare to see such depth in a romance series, truly.”

you flushed, offering him a grateful smile as you shifted megumi in your arms. “thank you so much. that means the world to me,” you replied, feeling megumi wiggle with excitement.

toji, standing just behind you, kept his hand resting gently at your back, his presence grounding you as you navigated the crowd. despite his careful distance, you could feel his pride, his quiet support, and it felt like a shield, like a promise he was making, even in silence. 

you knew how much it took for him to be here, to show this side of himself to the world, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

as you shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and posed for photos, toji stayed close, always within reach. each time you turned to look at him, he was there with a soft, steady gaze, giving you that silent encouragement he seemed to master so well. with every glance, every small exchange, you could see the admiration in his eyes, like he was seeing you all over again and falling deeper.

megumi, oblivious to the significance of the moment, tugged at your sleeve. “are we gonna eat soon? daddy said there’s cake.”

you smiled, leaning close to him. “oh, definitely. i hear it’s the best cake in the whole city.”

“see, told you we’d get cake,” toji muttered under his breath, ruffling megumi’s hair. you couldn’t help but laugh, seeing the way his gaze softened as he looked at you both. there was so much affection there — unspoken, but understood.

for a brief second, you imagined this was your life every day. not just events and fleeting moments, but nights together, little family moments like this. 

the thought made your heart swell, and for a second, you allowed yourself to imagine the possibility of it becoming real, wondering if maybe, just maybe, toji wanted it as much as you did.

toji leaned back against the wall, his eyes following the two of you as you knelt down to point out the different treats on the table for megumi, who was practically bouncing with excitement. 

the critic’s words kept circling in his mind, replaying over and over, making his chest feel tight: family. family moment. 

the idea of it hung in the air, clinging to him in a way he couldn’t shake off. watching you with megumi like this, it was a glimpse of something he’d never dared to imagine, and yet here it was, right in front of him.

his fingers brushed the small box in his pocket, feeling the outline of the ring he’d agonized over for weeks. it had seemed crazy when he’d first bought it — almost reckless. 

me, proposing? he’d thought, laughing at himself. but now, with you and megumi just a few feet away, it didn’t feel crazy. 

it felt like the most real, most obvious thing in the world.

"daddy! look!" megumi called out, waving a small pastry in the air. “she said i can try whatever i want! even the tiny cake things!”

“the petit fours,” you corrected with a smile, ruffling his hair. “you have great taste, kiddo.”

toji chuckled, crossing his arms as he walked over to you both. “better take it easy, megumi. don’t want you passing out before the cake,” he teased, slipping an arm around your waist without even thinking about it. the gesture was small, casual, but it felt right.

“i’m not gonna pass out! i can eat everything,” megumi declared with a determined nod, his cheeks already stuffed with a piece of macaron.

you both laughed, and toji glanced at you, his smile lingering just a little longer than usual. his heart thudded with a strange, warm ache. 

he could see it now — the life he’d always convinced himself he didn’t need, didn’t deserve. he could see it so clearly: late nights, family meals, hearing megumi’s laughter echo through your home. 

and you… you beside him, every step of the way.

his hand found yours and squeezed it, his voice dropping low, soft, “you’re really something, you know that?”

you tilted your head up at him, a bit of surprise mixed with warmth in your eyes. “what’s got you so sentimental all of a sudden?” you teased, nudging him playfully.

he chuckled, shaking his head. “maybe just… realizing how lucky i am.”

before you could respond, a familiar voice rang out, entirely too loud for the occasion.

“well, well, well, look who finally made it!” satoru announced, strutting over with shoko at his side, her expression mildly amused. “thought you’d skip your own lady’s event, huh, toji?”

toji rolled his eyes but gave satoru a smirk. “yeah, figured i’d let you take all the credit.”

satoru scoffed, nudging toji’s arm. “as if. this isn’t my night, it’s hers.” 

he turned to you with a broad grin. “you’re killing it tonight, seriously. it’s about time everyone realized how much of a genius you are.”

“here, here,” shoko added, raising an invisible glass in toast, her eyes gleaming with that usual mix of admiration and mischief. “you deserve all of this, every bit of it.”

you smiled, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “thank you, both of you. really. none of this would’ve happened without you two backing me up from day one.”

satoru scoffed, waving you off. “please, you would’ve gotten here on your own. we just sped things up a little.”

toji watched as satoru and shoko chatted with you, keeping one hand wrapped around yours. satoru and shoko had no idea, of course, that tonight was the night he planned on asking you to be part of his life permanently. 

it was almost funny, seeing them so oblivious, all while toji stood here with a ring in his pocket, ready to turn his life upside down.

“you okay?” shoko asked, raising a brow at him as she noticed his quiet, distant expression. “you look like you’re planning something big. which, if you are, you should probably warn her first.” her voice held a teasing edge, but there was something knowing in her eyes.

he gave a small shrug, trying to play it off. 

“just… feeling lucky,” he said again, and he meant it more now than ever.

the moment megumi’s eyes landed on the enormous dragon hanging from the ceiling, his mouth fell open in awe, and he pointed up with such force it was almost as if he was about to fly off the ground. 

his little voice pierced through the chatter of the room as he shrieked, “look! look! a real dragon!”

everyone turned their heads in unison, drawn to the oversized, intricate dragon decoration that swirled and curled down from the ceiling, its glittering scales catching the light and its wings spread wide like it was ready to take flight.

“woah, that thing’s massive,” satoru said, clearly impressed, even though his voice had the usual playful edge. “didn’t know you were into dragons, megumi.”

megumi, not even listening to satoru’s question, continued to point excitedly, his eyes wide with the kind of childlike wonder that made his enthusiasm contagious. 

“it’s the dragon king!” he announced, as though he were revealing a hidden treasure. “he’s gonna — he’s gonna —”

“he’s gonna swoop down and eat us all up!” toji finished with a grin, playing along as he leaned in to mess with megumi’s hair. “better watch out, kiddo.”

megumi gasped, taking a step back dramatically as if the dragon could really eat him. 

“nooooo!” he screamed, his tiny voice making everyone in the vicinity laugh. “i don’t wanna be eaten!”

“you’ll be fine,” you said, leaning down and pulling him into your side for a protective hug. “but if you’re not careful, the dragon might just come and steal your cookies.”

megumi narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, crossing his arms. “that’s what he wants? cookies?!” he asked incredulously, his voice loud enough for the entire room to hear. “i can take him! i’m iron man!”

everyone laughed again, and even toji chuckled under his breath, watching his son’s antics with affection.

“you’d better be quick then, iron man,” toji teased, a hand sliding around your waist. “i think the dragon’s looking at your cookies.”

megumi immediately perked up at that, his eyes darting back to the dragon above them. “no! that’s my cookie! he better stay away!” he shouted, before running off toward the table with treats, waving his arms like he was preparing for battle. “you better not mess with my cookies, dragon!”

“he’s serious about those cookies,” satoru said with a grin, chuckling as he shook his head. “maybe we should let megumi take on the dragon first, then we can all get some cookies in peace.”

toji couldn't stop smiling at the sight of megumi racing toward the table. he hadn't seen the kid this excited in a while. it was as if his joy was a burst of energy that spread throughout the room. the love, the laughter — it all felt like a dream to him.

“what about you?” shoko asked with a teasing smirk, looking at you. “are you joining in the battle too?”

you grinned, your gaze flicking to toji for a brief moment before your eyes softened. “yeah, we’ve got to make sure the cookies are safe, right?”

toji’s heart thudded in his chest. he knew that this — these moments with you and megumi — was what he wanted. it wasn’t just about him or about megumi. it was about you three, together, as a family. 

even if no one else knew it yet, it was real in his heart.

“we are the cookie protectors,” you said, straightening up. “and the dragon better stay away from us.”

megumi, now holding a cookie in each hand, jumped up and down. “yeah! take that, dragon!” he shouted, looking back at you for approval. his small face was so determined, so full of confidence, that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“that’s my boy,” toji muttered under his breath, watching the small scene unfold. he didn’t know how it had happened, but somewhere along the way, his heart had found a place with you and megumi — his family. 

and no dragon, real or not, could take that from him.

you looked up at him, and for a brief second, the entire world felt like it slowed down. "we’re really doing this, huh?" you said softly, and toji’s lips curved into a warm, affectionate smile.

“yeah,” he replied, his voice steady. “we really are.”

as the last guests trickled out, toji gave a subtle nod to gojo and shoko, who shared a knowing look. gojo’s grin stretched ear to ear, and he waggled his eyebrows at toji.

“ohhhh, i see what’s going on,” he drawled dramatically, casting a wink your way. “don’t worry, big guy. we’ll keep the little one entertained.”

“so you two can, you know… have a moment,” shoko added, giving you both a half-smile as she nudged megumi’s shoulder. “come on, kid, let’s go see if there’s any cake left in the back.”

megumi’s eyes lit up. “cake? there’s more cake?”

“as much as you want,” gojo said, patting his head. he leaned down and stage-whispered, “besides, your dad probably needs all the help he can get to keep up with his favorite author.”

toji shot gojo a glare as gojo strutted away, dragging megumi with him. but there was a small, grateful smile tucked under the tough exterior as he turned back to you.

“they’re so extra,” you laughed, shaking your head as toji led you out onto the balcony, where twinkling lights and a clear view of the moon made everything feel softer, more intimate.

“think that’s what friends are for,” toji mumbled, scratching his neck, clearly trying to shake off a bit of nervousness. he looked so out of place in a suit but wore it well, in that rugged, casual way that made you feel like you were with him — not some polished version of him. you gave his arm a gentle squeeze as you both settled onto the bench.

“honestly, i still can’t believe how well tonight went,” you murmured, staring out at the moonlit view. “it feels surreal.”

toji chuckled. “yeah, you handled it like a pro. i don’t know how you keep it together with all those people throwing compliments and criticism at you.”

you laughed softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “oh, like you’re one to talk, mr. mysterious voice actor.”

he rolled his eyes, but there was a small, proud grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “voice actor, huh? kinda takes the mystery out of it.”

“please, i see how they look at you when you talk,” you teased, leaning your head against his shoulder. “if they only knew half the things you say to me, the mystery would be gone in a second.”

toji huffed, his cheeks slightly pink as he wrapped his arm around you. “maybe i like keeping a few secrets,” he said, tone low and soft, like he was letting you in on one right then.

you stayed like that, just nestled against him, and a comfortable silence settled between you. after a moment, you stood and walked to the ledge to snap a picture of the full moon, your phone’s flash catching on something small — a tiny charm dangling from your phone. toji’s eyes drifted to it, and he felt a sudden rush of warmth at the sight: the little origami paper ring he’d made for you months ago, in a moment that felt playful and silly then, but seeing it still there now…

he took a deep breath, fingers brushing over the ring box in his pocket. 

it’s now or never, huh?

“hey,” he called softly.

you turned, your face softly illuminated by the moonlight. there was a kind, patient look in your eyes — the look that he swore could stop his heart — and his own heart hammered as he took a step closer.

“so, um…” he cleared his throat, trying not to let his nerves show. “you remember that first night we met? at the bar?”

“oh yeah,” you said with a little smile. “you were the one looking all grumpy in the corner.”

he chuckled. “yeah, i… guess i thought i was too good for everyone there.” he smirked, shaking his head. “then you sat down and completely threw me off. got me talking more in one night than i’d talked all year.”

you laughed, taking his hand and giving it a small squeeze. “you didn’t seem like the talking type.”

“i wasn’t,” he said, softer now, “until you.”

you tilted your head, brows lifting in surprise as he went on.

“i tried not to make a big deal out of it,” he said, a little embarrassed, “but i fell hard that night. i kept telling myself it was nothing, but then… every time i saw you with megumi, every time i watched you do what you love…” his voice grew softer. “hell, every time you’d hum “dancing queen,” i’d get this stupid grin on my face and just think, ‘yeah, this is it.’”

you couldn’t help but laugh at that, even as your heart beat faster. “dancing queen? really?”

“yeah, laugh all you want,” he teased, shaking his head, “but it’s true.”

then, with a steadying breath, he pulled out the ring box and flipped it open, revealing a delicate ring, the exact same shade of blue as the paper ring on your charm. 

“so… will you let me make this official? be my wife? let me be there for you and megumi, as more than… you know, whatever we’ve been calling this?”

your eyes filled with tears as you stared at the ring, then up at him. without hesitation, you flung your arms around him, hugging him tight as you whispered, “yes. yes, toji, a thousand times yes.”

he exhaled in relief, wrapping his arms around you as if he was afraid to let go. “about time,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “thought you’d never give in.”

you leaned back, laughing as you swiped at your tears. “oh, shut up, you were the one dragging your feet!”

“i’m just thorough,” he said with a smirk, slipping the ring onto your finger. he glanced down at it, a proud smile on his face. “looks good on you.”

you admired the ring, then met his gaze with a grin. “it’s perfect. but, uh… i hope you’re ready for a lifetime of dancing queen.”

toji groaned playfully, though his eyes sparkled with happiness. “guess i can handle that… as long as i’ve got you.”

as you stood there, feeling the weight of the ring on your finger and the warmth of toji’s arms around you, the realization washed over you like a tidal wave — you, the anonymous smut writer extraordinaire, the queen of dodging wholesome romance in favor of spicy plots, were now officially engaged. 

engaged, as in, someone actually wanted to put a ring on it.

and that someone just happened to be toji fushiguro, who, at this very moment, had the audacity to be looking at you with that amused glint in his eye, watching your face morph from shock to excitement to full-on teary bawling.

“oh my god,” you croaked, barely able to contain the laugh-sobs that bubbled up. 

“i’m engaged. like, wedding bells and not trolling in the comments sections engaged.”

toji raised a brow, pulling you closer as he chuckled. “i mean, considering half the stuff you write about, that’s a hell of a transition. but hey, you’re handling it… sorta.”

“sorta?” you sniffled, then glared at him through watery eyes. “i’m having a life-altering epiphany, thank you very much.”

he smirked, swiping a thumb under your eye to catch a stray tear. “awwww, poor baby. reality setting in?”

you scoffed, trying to stifle the way your laugh broke into another sob. “look, i just… never thought i’d actually be here, you know? from hidden smut scenes and faceless profiles to… this.”

“hey, hey,” he murmured, squeezing your hand. “if it makes you feel better, i’m here for all of it. the trolls, the, uh… ‘intense fan engagement,’ and whatever’s next. and i gotta say, i think it’s pretty hot my girl’s a smut connoisseur.”

you smacked his arm, laughing through your tears. “you just like that i write things that would make a nun pass out.”

“absolutely,” he grinned. “it’s impressive. educational, even.”

you let out a snort-laugh, wiping your cheeks. “oh my god, toji, please. this is already too much. i’m literally having a moment, and you’re still finding a way to bring up my career in porn literacy.”

he chuckled, pulling you close and leaning his forehead against yours. “is it really a moment if i don’t remind you what a legend you are?”

you blinked up at him, overwhelmed by a mix of hilarity and emotion, the tears slipping down despite yourself. “i… i guess not.”

“see?” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek again. “you’re one of a kind, y’know that? and i’ve loved you since day one — trolls, sarcasm, emotional breakdowns, and all.”

you sniffled, biting back a laugh that still sounded half like a sob. “since day one? you mean since i saw you brooding in a bar and puked on your shoes?”

“yeah, yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “since that night. you took me out of my head, put me right in yours. and now… i don’t think i’d want to be anywhere else.”

that did it; a fresh wave of tears slipped down, and you let out a groan, barely holding back a laugh. “great, now i’m really crying. and it’s all your fault for saying something so sweet.”

toji’s lips curved into a smirk as he gently thumbed away your tears. “i’ll take the blame,” he murmured, then pulled you close again. “so long as i get to see that pretty face of yours every day.”

“ugh,” you muttered, but your voice wobbled, giving you away. “you’re such a jerk. you know that?”

“only for you, babe,” he said, squeezing you. “only for you.”

toji grinned, watching the emotional storm brewing in your eyes. just as you took a shaky breath to speak, he cleared his throat dramatically, adopting a voice dripping with fake sincerity, and intoned, “my love for you burns brighter than the eternal flames of the dragon king’s wrath…”

your jaw dropped, equal parts horror and laughter bubbling up. “oh my god, toji. no. you didn’t just quote one of my lines. that line.”

he smirked, utterly unbothered, shrugging casually. “what can i say? they had those fancy signed copies lying around… thought i’d see what all the fuss was about.”

you were torn between laughing and punching him. “so, you thought you’d quote the cheesiest line in the whole book? i swear, that scene was a joke between me and shoko —”

“hey, don’t knock it,” he said with a smirk, throwing an arm around you. “personally, i think it’s beautiful. poetic, even. you’d make any dragon proud, babe.”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “i’m so embarrassed right now.”

“oh, c’mon,” he nudged, pulling your hands away so he could see your face. “if it makes you feel any better, it got me here, didn’t it? my heart’s already caught fire.”

“stop it,” you laughed, finally relenting and pressing your forehead to his chest, a half-hearted punch to his shoulder. “you’re such a jerk.”

he chuckled, wrapping you in his arms. “yeah, but i’m your jerk. and i gotta say, i think we’d make a pretty good team. i mean, after all, the dragon king always finds his queen…”

“i will actually murder you,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the way your laughter softened, clinging to him just a little tighter.

“that’s my girl,” he murmured, planting a kiss on the top of your head, a warm, knowing smile on his face.

the morning after the book launch, toji was on high alert as he sat megumi down at the kitchen table. the little guy was still bleary-eyed, hair a mess, pajamas slightly askew, but when he spotted his dad’s unusually serious expression, he perked up, looking from toji to the unopened box of cereal on the table.

“what’s up, daddy?” he asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

toji cleared his throat. “listen, kiddo… i’ve got some big news.”

megumi’s eyes widened. “big news?” he asked, already intrigued. “like… big like when we found out that the dragon yesterday was a real dragon?”

toji scratched his head, trying not to laugh. “well, maybe not that big. but it’s important. you know how much i love y/n, right?”

megumi nodded with an exaggerated seriousness that only an eight-year-old could muster. “of course! you guys are always looking at each other, and you smile even when she makes fun of you.”

“oh, she makes fun of me?” toji chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah, dad. i heard her say you look like a ‘tough marshmallow’ once,” megumi said, and then giggled at the memory.

toji rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips. “well, anyway… i’ve decided to ask her to marry me. and guess what? she said yes.”

megumi’s eyes grew as big as saucers, and he sat straight up in his seat. “wait, like… she’s gonna be my mama?”

toji nodded, grinning. “yeah, just like that. you and me — we’re gonna be a team with her.”

megumi stared at him in stunned silence, and then, all at once, he exploded with excitement. 

“YES! that’s so awesome!” he yelled, fist-pumping the air. “we’re gonna be a real family, with, like… dinners, and vacations, and… wait, does that mean i can tell my friends i have a mama now?”

toji chuckled. “you sure can, kid.”

“oh man,” megumi squealed, his hands up in the air as he looked around the kitchen as if needing to celebrate immediately. “this is amazing! we need to have a party or something!”

he practically bounced up, reaching for his favorite cereal with such enthusiasm that his elbow knocked a bottle of milk right off the counter, sending it crashing to the floor. they both froze, looking at the mess.

megumi winced. “uh… oops?”

toji just laughed, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “we’ll clean it up together. ‘cause that’s what families do, right?”

megumi beamed up at him, the pure joy in his little face melting every last bit of toji’s tough exterior. “right! and i’ll do it fast, ‘cause i’m excited. i can’t believe this. i’m so lucky, daddy!”

toji ruffled his hair. “nah, kid. i’m the lucky one. and trust me, it’s about to get even better.”

it's barely dawn when your phone buzzes, dragging you out of a warm, blissful sleep. squinting at the screen, you see toji’s name flashing. a sleepy smile forms on your face, but before you can even say hello, a very familiar, very excited young voice explodes into your ear.

“y/n!!! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!!” megumi practically yells, his voice hitting decibels that feel criminally loud this early in the morning.

you jolt, holding the phone a little farther from your ear. “megumi?” you mumble, still half-asleep and trying to process the level of energy he’s throwing at you. “why are you up so early, buddy? did something happen?”

“something HUGE happened! guess what, guess what, guess what!” he shouts, each “guess what” somehow louder than the last.

blinking against the early light creeping into your room, you stifle a yawn. “hmm… did someone find a real-life dragon in our backyard?” you play along, rubbing your eyes.

“even BETTER!” he declares triumphantly. “you’re gonna be my mama!!”

you pause, biting back a laugh, because of course you already know this. but hearing the excitement in his voice, you can’t help but let yourself get a little carried away, too. 

“oh, wow! really? that’s incredible, ‘gumi! i had no idea,” you say, matching his enthusiasm with a gasp.

“i know! isn’t it soo cool?! i told daddy that this means we get to have family dinners and stuff, and now i get to tell my friends that i have a mama,” he babbles, his words running together in his excitement.

toji’s voice, faint in the background, mutters, “megs, let her breathe.”

but megumi, undeterred, barrels on. “and guess what else! i’m gonna help pick out the wedding cake. i already told daddy i want one with dragons on it, so we’ll be like, the coolest family ever.”

you laugh, absolutely charmed by his excitement. “well, i think that’s an amazing idea. a dragon cake sounds perfect.”

“right?! and can we have swords, too? i think it should be like one of those fights, where you and dad have to fight, and whoever wins gets the cake.” he’s practically bouncing off the walls at this point, each suggestion wilder than the last.

“swords and dragons? that might be a tall order, but we can see what we can do,” you reply, stifling another laugh.

toji’s voice cuts in, sounding both amused and exasperated. “alright, kiddo, you’re supposed to let her sleep. remember? that was the deal if i let you call her this early.”

there’s a dramatic pause, and then megumi whispers loudly into the phone, “oops.”

you chuckle. “it’s okay, mumi. i’m really glad you called. now i’m just as excited as you are.”

“good!” he cheers, before pausing. “but, uh… you can still sleep if you want. i can call you again in five minutes if that helps?”

“five minutes, huh?” you glance at the clock, pretending to think it over. “you know what, i’ll take that extra sleep. i’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“okay!” he chirps, clearly pleased with himself for being so “understanding” about your need for sleep.

you hear toji laugh softly in the background, and he takes the phone back. “go back to sleep, sweetheart. i’ll make sure megumi doesn’t actually call you in five.”

“i appreciate it,” you murmur, smiling. “good luck keeping him in one place today.”

“thanks. i’m gonna need it,” toji chuckles. “get some rest. we’ll see you soon, future mrs. fushiguro.”

a warmth blooms in your chest, making it even harder to hang up. “can’t wait. love you both.”

as you finally close your eyes again, megumi’s ecstatic little voice echoes in your mind. it’s the kind of wake-up call you could get used to, even if it means sacrificing a few hours of sleep.

toji grumbled as he held up his phone, squinting against the light from the window. it wasn’t every day he voluntarily subjected himself to a facetime call with those two, but after everything that’d happened last night, he supposed he owed them the news firsthand. as the phone rang, he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable chaos that was about to unfold.

the call finally connected, but there was nothing but… dead silence. neither gojo nor suguru had their cameras on, which was weird because gojo’s face was usually plastered in the frame within seconds, whether he was ready or not.

“uh… you two there, or is my phone broken?” toji asked, furrowing his brow, wondering if it was some kind of network issue.

another moment passed before gojo’s voice finally came through, quiet and almost suspicious. 

“so, toji. you call us this early, just for what? a chat?”

“what, i’m not allowed to check in?” toji countered, unable to keep a smirk off his face. “and hey, it’s not that early.”

“toji, it’s barely eight!” gojo’s voice was dramatic, and toji could practically feel suguru rolling his eyes in the background.

“yeah, yeah, well… it’s important,” toji finally muttered. he knew it was going to sound weird to them, especially coming from him, but he had to bite the bullet. 

“look, i got engaged last night.”

a beat of absolute silence. 

toji even pulled the phone away from his face to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. then, suddenly, he heard a choking noise on the other end, and gojo’s voice came back with a trembling, “what did you just say?”

“yeah. i asked her to marry me. it’s real.” toji’s voice was nonchalant, as if he was just talking about his usual dinner plans, but his grip on the phone tightened. he didn’t know what to expect from them. jokes? a snide comment? but… nothing. 

dead silence again.

“alright, what the hell? you guys hear me, or what?” toji demanded, brow knitting in confusion. were they that shocked, or was the signal just terrible?

and then, from the other end, he heard a frantic scramble, some muffled curses, and then… nothing. his screen stayed black.

just as he was starting to think the call had dropped, there was a loud knock on the door of his house, followed by the unmistakable sound of fists pounding against the wood.

“toji! open up!” gojo’s voice was shrill with excitement, and suguru’s calm, collected voice was barely audible under gojo’s babbling. “we’re coming in!”

toji groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, but he couldn’t stop the grin creeping up on him. he opened the door, and immediately gojo shoved past him, eyes wide and… were those tears?

“toji! no. you did not just get engaged.” gojo looked between him and the empty house as if expecting some kind of confirmation. he grabbed toji by the shoulders, eyes glistening, voice a little thick with emotion. “you… you’re serious? i swear, if you’re messing with us —”

“satoru,” suguru interrupted, leaning casually in the doorway, looking far more composed but with a smirk tugging at his lips. “give the man some space.”

“no! he’s been holding out on us this entire time! and now he’s engaged?” gojo sniffled dramatically, then pulled back and looked around, eyes narrowing. 

“wait. where’s she? she has to confirm this. i don’t believe it otherwise.”

toji rolled his eyes, half-exasperated, half-amused. “she’s not here, genius. she’s at her place. i didn’t drag her along for this circus.”

“circus?! toji, this is a historic moment!” gojo looked as if he was going to cry all over again. 

“you, of all people, settling down with someone — i just — i knew you had it in you! i just thought it would take a lot more time. i mean, do you even know what to do now that you’re —” he waggled his fingers, unable to contain his excitement, “ — engaged?”

toji snorted, feeling a weird warmth settle in his chest. “well, obviously. i got this covered. don’t act like you know everything, gojo.”

suguru chuckled from his spot, crossing his arms and giving toji an approving nod. “i’m honestly impressed. never thought i’d see the day.”

“oh, please.” gojo scoffed, reaching up to dab his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “don’t look at me like that. you’re crying too.”

suguru raised an eyebrow, unaffected. “i’m… not crying, satoru.”

gojo shot him a glare, but then turned back to toji, his face softening. “all joking aside, man, i’m really happy for you. i knew you’d find someone who could handle all… this.” he gestured broadly to toji, grinning. “and that she’d actually make you a better person.”

“yeah, yeah. thanks for the pep talk,” toji muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he scratched the back of his neck. “didn’t think i’d be hearing this from you two clowns.”

“hey,” suguru said with a smirk, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “that’s what friends are for, right? to be there when you make stupid decisions… or, in this case, when you make one of the best decisions of your life.”

toji rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny the swell of gratitude in his chest. he’d known these two idiots for years, and hearing them actually cheer him on — well, it was something.

gojo sniffled again, clearly still emotional, then let out a bark of laughter. “so, tell us, what’s the plan now, mr. engaged man?”

“plan?” toji raised an eyebrow. “uh, i dunno, man. probably marry her?”

“don’t be sarcastic, toji!” gojo waved a hand. “i mean the details. are you doing it here? is there gonna be a fancy wedding? can i give a speech?”

toji pinched the bridge of his nose. “i’m pretty sure giving you a mic is gonna be the worst decision of my life.”

“that’s what you said about proposing,” suguru chimed in with a grin.

“touche,” toji muttered, though his smirk betrayed his amusement.

gojo, however, was unrelenting. “so, can i give a speech? come on, toji. i can make it classy. well, sorta. at least i’ll keep it pg — ish.”

“we’ll see, alright?” toji finally conceded, shaking his head as gojo cheered like he’d just won a prize. “but don’t make me regret it.”

“you won’t!” gojo promised, practically vibrating with excitement. “i swear, this is gonna be epic.”

as they continued to tease and joke, the weight of the whole thing started to settle in for toji. 

he was actually… engaged. 

and having these two idiots with him, sharing the moment in their ridiculous way, made it feel real.

“seriously though,” suguru said softly, giving him a sincere look. “we’re happy for you, man. she’s good for you. and you’re gonna be an even better man with her by your side.”

toji took a deep breath, nodding. “yeah… i think so too.”

they shared a rare, quiet moment, before gojo predictably ruined it with a loud sniff. “okay, enough of the mushy stuff. let’s celebrate! someone find a cake!”

toji let out a laugh, shaking his head. he’d never admit it, but right then, with gojo’s exaggerated tears and suguru’s approving grin, he realized he had everything he needed — and he wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

after the chaotic call with toji and, mostly, megumi, there was no way you were going back to sleep. megumi’s squealing declaration of, “you’re gonna be my mama!” had left you lying there, wide awake, in a sort of dazed disbelief. 

and really, who else would you call at an hour like this but shoko?

you dialed her number, tapping your foot against the floor as it rang, and it didn’t take long for her to pick up.

“it’s eight in the morning, this better be good,” she mumbled, her voice groggy but laced with intrigue.

“oh, trust me, it is,” you said, and just like that, all the excitement came rushing back. 

“toji proposed last night.”

there was silence on the other end. just as you started to wonder if she’d fallen asleep, she finally responded with a very eloquent, “wait, what?”

“yeah. proposed. last night. officially engaged,” you replied, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. you were still riding that high, and the fact that shoko, who was usually so cool and unflappable, sounded actually stunned was a bonus.

“no way.” you could hear her sitting up, probably rubbing her eyes in disbelief. “toji proposed? the same toji who spent half his life avoiding commitment like it was a death sentence?”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “yeeeppp, that’s the one.”

“oh my god,” she muttered, and you could practically see her shaking her head. “i knew you two were close, but… this is major. i never thought i’d live to see the day toji fushiguro actually put a ring on someone.”

“honestly, neither did i,” you admitted, smiling. “but here we are.”

“here we are,” she echoed, sounding just as baffled as you felt. 

“man, this is going to throw satoru into a complete meltdown. you know he’s going to act like he’s the one getting married. brace yourself.”

you snickered, knowing she was absolutely right. “oh, i already know. i’m guessing he’ll throw himself a one-man wedding just to feel involved.”

shoko let out a bark of laughter, fully awake now. “and suguru? he’ll pretend he doesn’t care, but deep down, he’s probably lowkey emotional. i mean, it’s toji we’re talking about.”

“oh, i’m sure,” you said, grinning. “they’re probably off somewhere right now, grappling with the news, questioning how this could even happen.”

“please tell me you’re doing something to celebrate?” shoko asked, sounding genuinely excited now.

“well, i haven’t had much time to think about it,” you admitted. “toji’s with megumi at their place, and i’ve been mostly lying here, trying to wrap my head around it. but yeah, we’ll have to plan something.”

“good,” she replied, her tone a mix of fondness and exasperation. “you’re really going through with this, huh?”

“guess so,” you said, letting out a soft sigh. “i mean, the man wore me down with sheer persistence and probably some kind of magic spell.”

“hey, if anyone’s capable of luring you into marriage with his questionable charm, it’s toji,” she quipped. “alright, just promise you’ll let me know when i can start making sarcastic toasts about your love life.”

you laughed, feeling a bit of warmth in your chest. “deal. just, uh… don’t go too hard on him?”

“can’t make any promises,” she said, and you could hear her smile through the phone. “but seriously, congrats. i’m happy for you.”

“thanks, shoko,” you murmured, feeling a little teary-eyed again.

“don’t get all mushy on me now,” she grumbled playfully. “anyway, go get some sleep. you’ll need it to survive gojo’s emotional rollercoaster later.”

“noted. thanks for… you know, being there and everything.”

“anytime,” she replied, voice softer. “and hey, if you need help dealing with him, i’ll bring earplugs and champagne. we’ll get through it together.”

you hung up, a smile lingering on your face as you finally felt yourself relaxing, her warmth and dry wit making everything feel real. there were wild days ahead, but with people like shoko — and, admittedly, even satoru and suguru — in your corner, you figured you could handle whatever this wild journey with toji brought your way.

the planning was barely underway, but with gojo involved, it was already spinning wildly out of control.

“i’m telling you, the whole thing’s on me!” gojo announced, practically vibrating with excitement. he looked at you and toji with a glint in his eye that screamed no room for negotiation. “no expenses spared, no corners cut.”

you exchanged a look with toji, and he rolled his eyes. “we’re not celebrities, gojo. we don’t need you to go full kardashian here.”

gojo waved a hand dismissively. “nonsense! it’s your wedding. our wedding,” he corrected, gesturing grandly to include everyone. “i want nothing but the best for our girl and toji — even if he does look like he’s heading to a funeral half the time.”

toji snorted. “you’d look like this too if you had to put up with you on a daily basis.”

gojo gasped dramatically. “how dare you! i’m delightful!”

suguru, who was sitting back watching the chaos with his usual serene expression, piped up, “you know, he’s technically sponsoring it, so he’s not wrong. though i am begging you to leave the smoke machines and laser lights out of it.”

gojo gave suguru a mock-offended look. “oh, come on! think of the ambiance!”

“i’m thinking of it, alright,” suguru said dryly. “and it’s giving me a headache.”

“how about we go traditional?” you suggested, trying to bring some order to the conversation. “nothing too flashy. simple, elegant, you know?”

“but, mama,” megumi piped up, looking up from the sketches he’d been doodling. “we have to have the dragon fountain!”

toji raised an eyebrow. “dragon fountain?”

megumi nodded, eyes wide with excitement. “a chocolate fountain! but, like, huge and with dragon heads spouting chocolate!”

gojo slapped his knee, eyes gleaming. “genius idea, kiddo! a dragon fountain it is! we could even do white, milk, and dark chocolate heads. maybe throw in a caramel one, too!”

you shook your head, laughing. “and who’s going to eat all this chocolate? because i’m not sure megumi’s digestive system can handle that much sugar.”

“we’ll make it work,” shoko chimed in, flipping through a wedding planner book that she clearly swiped off some poor, unsuspecting bride-to-be. “if gojo’s footing the bill, might as well go all out. i’ll take care of managing his ambitions.”

“exactly! shoko gets it,” gojo beamed, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “and don’t worry, i’ll make sure to throw in an open bar. suguru, back me up on this — no wedding’s complete without one.”

“only if we don’t make it a neon glow theme,” suguru deadpanned. “or i’ll skip town on the day.”

gojo smirked. “okay, fine, we’ll tone it down. maybe we can go with a tasteful theme. you know, candles and chandeliers…”

toji eyed him suspiciously. “you better not pull any of those ‘tasteful’ surprises where everyone suddenly has glow sticks halfway through the reception.”

gojo crossed his heart. “scout’s honor. only sophisticated, adult fun.”

you leaned back with a sigh, sharing an exasperated smile with toji. “honestly, i was picturing something small and simple. i mean, it’s our wedding, not some movie premiere.”

“but that’s so boring,” gojo whined, flopping onto the couch with a pout. “it’s the event of the century! my best friend’s wedding!”

“we’re not giving you a starring role in it, satoru,” you replied, but you couldn’t help laughing. “it’s not the same as one of your campaigns.”

“pfft,” he waved it off, clearly ignoring you. “oh, and i’m bringing in a string quartet. suguru, thoughts?”

“a quartet’s fine,” suguru replied. “as long as you’re not personally conducting them.”

toji raised a brow. “wait, how many musicians do we need? i thought it was just a dj.”

“absolutely not!” gojo interjected. “this is a high-class affair, we need a live band for the ambiance. and maybe — just maybe — a marching band as we enter the reception. what do you think?”

“i think you need to sit down,” toji said, chuckling. “keep it up, and you’ll be banned from your own wedding planning.”

“and i’ll be running the whole show,” shoko added, smirking. “trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

“fine, fine,” gojo sighed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “but you can’t deny that i have style.”

you glanced over at toji, trying to suppress your laughter. “so we’re really doing this?”

he shrugged, grinning. “apparently. might as well enjoy the circus. just remember, all i need is you, okay?”

gojo pretended to gag. “gross, i think i just tasted actual romance.”

“you’re just jealous, gojo,” shoko teased. “let the man have his moment.”

suguru smirked, patting gojo’s shoulder. “come on, let’s go look into the dragon fountain, yeah?”

gojo lit up, giving you and toji a thumbs-up. “this is gonna be the best day of your lives!”

you shook your head, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth as you watched them all bicker and plan in their chaotic way. 

sure, maybe you didn’t need the dragon fountain or the live band or any of gojo’s grand ideas, but looking at everyone around you, you knew this was exactly the kind of crazy family you’d never trade for anything.

it was a whirlwind few months of planning, but in the end, everything started coming together…even if it took a little extra wrangling to keep gojo’s more eccentric ideas at bay.

first, there was the venue selection. 

gojo initially wanted a “renaissance castle, with a giant moat and a drawbridge,” which, he claimed, would make a “stunning entrance.” 

shoko quickly vetoed that. “this isn’t a medieval fair, satoru. we’re going for elegance here.”

then came the color scheme. 

gojo suggested “electric blue and neon green,” which he swore was “super chic,” but after he received enough horrified stares, he reluctantly gave in. 

the final choice? 

muted blues and creams, which, as shoko put it, “won’t make the guests feel like they’re trapped in a laser tag arena.”

then there was the music situation. 

“how about we have fien by travis scott for when you walk down the aisle?” gojo suggested with a grin, only half-joking.

“you want travis scott at the wedding?” you stared at him, incredulous.

toji looked equally appalled. “how about we play something that doesn’t have bass drops? we’re not clubbing.”

in the end, they settled on something classier — an instrumental piece by a local string quartet, though toji muttered about how the only reason he was going along with it was because it would make you happy. gojo had to be dragged out before he suggested sicko mode as the first dance song.

despite gojo’s quirks, megumi was probably the most eager of the group. every day at school, he proudly informed his teachers and classmates of the “big wedding coming up.” 

and his absolute favorite title for you?

“oh, my mama’ll be here soon,” he announced one afternoon, shocking his teacher, who had only ever known him as the kid with a hot, single dad.

“your…mom?” she asked, blinking in confusion.

“yeah, she’s coming today.” he said it so matter-of-factly that by the time you actually arrived, half the class was already convinced you’d been hiding in the shadows for years.

and when you walked into the classroom, every pair of eyes turned toward you, wide and incredulous.

“uh, hi,” you greeted, awkwardly waving as megumi bounded up to you, gripping your hand with a proud grin. “this your class, megs?”

“mhm! this is my mama, everybody.” he announced it loud enough for everyone to hear, looking back at his teacher. “see? if you need anything, just talk to her!”

you exchanged an amused look with toji later that day. “our son,” you chuckled, “may or may not have given his teachers a heart attack.”

“good,” toji grinned, ruffling megumi’s hair. “let ’em wonder.”

the pre-wedding festivities were somehow even wilder. 

gojo had gotten it into his head that he should coordinate the bachelor and bachelorette parties, because “who else could bring the flair?” to everyone’s surprise, he actually managed a tasteful, elegant evening — though he did keep his ‘last-minute party favors’ a surprise until the last second.

“here, just a little souvenir.” he handed out tiny, almost suspiciously pristine boxes. 

inside? custom bobbleheads of you, toji, and yes — even megumi, wearing a tiny tuxedo.

toji, upon seeing his, just stared blankly. “satoru, why do i look like a discount action figure?”

“it’s a memento, buddy,” gojo laughed. “something you’ll cherish forever.”

“you’ll cherish it in your nightmares,” shoko muttered, chuckling as she pocketed hers.

then, finally, the day of the wedding arrived, a surprisingly classy affair thanks to shoko’s firm guidance and gojo’s slight restraint. and as you walked down the aisle with the string quartet playing softly, you looked out at everyone — megumi’s wide-eyed excitement, shoko’s small smile, suguru’s approving nod…and gojo, wiping a “single sassy tear” away as he mouthed, “this could’ve been fein.”

and as you met toji at the altar, his smile a mix of amusement and affection, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the beautiful chaos that had led you here.

the ceremony had a cozy warmth to it, one that settled in everyone’s chests as you and toji stood before each other, eyes locked, hands intertwined. but all of it nearly paled in comparison to the pride beaming from megumi’s little face. he stood off to the side, clutching the ring pillow with a mix of fierce concentration and excitement. his little hands gripped the pillow as if it were the most sacred artifact on earth.

“okay, megs,” toji whispered to him, giving a little nod. “it’s your moment, champ.”

megumi straightened up, lifting the pillow and marching toward you with all the poise of a seasoned soldier, chin up and shoulders squared. when he reached you, he stopped and gave an exaggerated bow, then held up the pillow with both hands. 

“tall, just like i promised,” he whispered, looking up at toji with an earnest pride in his eyes. “i drank milk two times a day for this.”

you stifled a laugh as you took the ring from the pillow, smiling down at him. “all that milk’s paying off, huh?”

“mhm!” he beamed. “i think i’m taller already.” he gave a firm nod, looking satisfied with his growth, then shuffled back to stand with gojo and shoko, still watching the two of you intently.

toji grinned at him and turned back to you, holding your hands as he spoke his vows. his voice was steady, but you could see the faintest flicker of nerves — the soft, vulnerable side he only ever showed you.

“so,” he started, a little sheepishly. “i never thought i’d be the type to stand here, saying vows. but then i met you. first night we met, i figured you were just another person at a bar, and i’d never see you again. but then…you became everything. every single moment i’ve had since then, it’s all been better because you were there.”

you felt your heart clench as he continued, his voice soft but filled with a rare tenderness.

“i love you when you’re writing all those silly stories, when you’re with megumi, when you’re just…being you. and yeah, maybe ‘dancing queen’ playing in my head every time you walk in the room is cheesy, but… i’m a sucker for it.” he shrugged, his smile widening. “you make me a better man, even if i’m just a little rough around the edges.”

you couldn’t help the tear that slipped down your cheek as he finished, a gentle squeeze of his hands grounding you. it was your turn, and you took a shaky breath before starting, your voice full of affection.

“toji, i never thought…i’d be here, either. i spent my life writing about love, imagining it, but never really believing it was something i’d have for myself. and then you showed up.” you laughed softly, remembering the times you’d found yourself scribbling little details about him into your stories. “and now…i can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

toji’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as you continued.

“you taught me to be brave, to open up. you showed me what it means to love someone and be loved in return. you and megumi — you two are my family, and i’m so grateful to be a part of yours.” you paused, swallowing down the emotion in your throat. “and i promise, every day, to be there for you, to love you, and…to keep dancing with you, even when we’re old and gray.”

his grin widened, and he let out a small chuckle. “gray, huh? guess that’s something to look forward to.”

with the vows said, it was time for the rings. toji slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands a little shaky, and you did the same for him, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your chest.

and then, as you leaned in for the kiss, just as your lips met his, the opening notes of dancing queen began to play. you pulled back, eyes widening in disbelief, while toji stifled a laugh.

“oh, come on,” he whispered, trying to hide his amusement. “did you…did you plan this?”

“me?” you shook your head, glancing around as you caught gojo giving you a thumbs-up from the crowd, a wide grin on his face. he’d clearly orchestrated it somehow, probably having the dj on standby.

“you can dance, you can jive…” the music continued, filling the room with a cheerful, infectious energy that made you laugh as you hugged toji tightly.

“guess it’s our song now,” toji murmured, his forehead resting against yours as he held you close.

“always has been,” you whispered back, squeezing his hand.

and as the music played on, megumi sprinted over to you two, tugging on your hands. “dance! we’re supposed to dance now!”

toji scooped him up, holding him between you as the three of you swayed to the song, laughing as megumi did his best eight-year-old version of dancing, wiggling in toji’s arms with unabashed excitement.

“i think i did a good job as ring bearer, don’t you think?” he grinned, looking up at you both with pure pride.

“you did amazing, mumi,” you said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“best ring bearer ever,” toji agreed, ruffling his hair. “all that milk really paid off.”

and as the night continued, filled with laughter, love, and a whole lot of dancing queen, you felt an overwhelming sense of joy that this was your family, your life, and the beginning of a lifetime of moments just like this one.

as you and toji stand together on the dance floor, the lights dimmed just enough to give it that perfect, romantic glow, everything felt like it was about to hit a new, sentimental level. the music was supposed to be soft, maybe perfect for a couple's dance — something wholesome and family-friendly to fit the moment. but then —

fein by travis scott. blaring.

you froze, eyes widening as the heavy bass dropped like a wrecking ball to your senses. this was not the song you had in mind for your first dance as a married couple. 

your gaze shot toward gojo, who looked… guilty but also way too pleased with himself as he fumbled with his phone.

“oh, shit!” gojo muttered, his wide grin faltering as he scrambled to fix his mistake, his fingers slipping all over his phone’s screen. “uh, my bad! wrong song, sorry — just — uh — lemme —”

before he could finish, you heard a loud “FUCK!” from across the room, followed by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. suguru, looking oddly alarmed, had clearly noticed too. you had to hand it to him, though, gojo at least looked mildly embarrassed for the first time that night.

satoru’s hands flew over his phone with the sort of intensity one might reserve for disarming a bomb. “wait, wait, i got this. i’ll fix it — i’m so sorry — one second —”

as if the universe was playing along with your horror, gojo accidentally hit play on fein again, the heavy, thumping beat continuing in the background as you and toji both exchanged a bewildered glance. you could feel the burning heat creeping into your cheeks.

“that’s the one?” you whispered to toji, your voice barely audible over the beat.

toji tried to stifle a laugh, clearly more amused than shocked. “well, it’s something.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath, your head turning toward megumi, who was looking at you with wide eyes. “what’s his excuse?” you asked with a sarcastic eyebrow raise, pointing at the very loud song still playing.

megumi, standing off to the side with a cocktail of confusion and excitement, crossed his arms and gave you a very serious look. “uncle gojo played this song,” he announced with pride, causing everyone to stop and stare. 

“you know, at the bachel-her party.”

the room went silent for a brief, awkward second as the realization hit everyone. a few chuckles broke out, with a mix of surprised snickers and a couple of “well, that explains things.”

you could barely suppress a laugh. you were so not ready for that bombshell.

toji’s face went from amused to fully amused, his lips curling into an undeniable grin. “yup,” he said loud enough for everyone to hear, giving a shrug. “that’s our song, apparently.”

gojo, finally managing to switch the song, looked over with actual concern now. “oh god, oh god, i’m so sorry — i swear, i didn’t mean for fein to be — ugh.” he slapped his hand to his forehead. 

“okay, okay, i’m fixing it —”

there was another flurry of frantic finger taps as gojo went into full damage control mode. finally, as the last few beats of fein faded out, gojo hit play on iris by the goo goo dolls, the gentle, familiar melody washing over the room like a sigh of relief.

you and toji exchanged a knowing glance, now suddenly locked in a much calmer atmosphere. the song that toji had actually requested was finally playing, and as he pulled you closer, your heart settled.

“better?” toji asked, pulling you into the rhythm of the song.

“much better,” you whispered with a sigh, your lips brushing against his.

meanwhile, megumi, clearly thrilled by his earlier announcement, grinned ear-to-ear. “this is the song! mama and daddy kissed to this song!”

and at that, you could only chuckle. what a night, you thought to yourself, completely unsure if you’d ever get used to the chaos that surrounded you, but not really minding it one bit.

as the soft notes of iris continue to play, toji pulls you close, his hand resting warm and steady at the small of your back. you sway together, feeling every beat, every strum of the guitar wrapping around the both of you like the sweetest memory.

“so,” toji murmurs, a little smirk tugging at his lips as he looks down at you, “do i still get to be a heartthrob now that we’re hitched?”

you chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully. “only if i still get to be the girl with the cringe smut,” you say, barely holding back a laugh as you remember the early days of your writing. 

“you’ve made peace with the fact that your wife has a, uh… let’s just say colorful bibliography?”

toji’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “you kidding? i brag about it. ‘you know my girl? bestseller, faceless author, author of all those spicy scenes.’ you think it’s cringe; i think it’s hot.”

you snort. “you’re impossible. i still remember you giving me the most unimpressed look when you found out what i actually wrote about.”

“hey, i was surprised,” he defends, grinning as he twirls you out and back into his arms. “who knew the girl who pukes on people’s shoes was writing, uh, dragon-king-mating scenes?”

“oh, hush,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat. “i told you, it’s a metaphor for forbidden love and courage in the face of adversity.”

“yeah, sure, it’s all about the ‘courage,’” he teases, leaning in close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath on your forehead. “all i’m saying is, those scenes of yours? they’re, uh, kinda what won me over.”

you hide your face in his shoulder, feeling a happy flush spread across your cheeks as you sway together under the soft glow of the lights. “guess it’s too late to be embarrassed, huh?”

he tilts your chin up with a gentle finger, his gaze softer than you’ve ever seen it. “it’s what made you you. wouldn’t change a thing about it.”

the song swells around you, and as the lyrics hit their most tender line, toji leans down, brushing his lips against yours, a sweet, slow kiss that feels like the first all over again. when you part, he grins, shaking his head. “damn… still can’t believe i got lucky enough to make you mine.”

“only took a few months, a few trolls, and a lot of questionable genre choices,” you say, snickering.

“and one too many ‘dancing queen’ sing-alongs,” he adds, laughing softly.

as the song fades, the two of you stand there for a moment longer, gazing at each other, just happy, laughing, and a little teary-eyed.

the night is winding down, and as you and toji make your rounds to say goodbye, a familiar cluster of chaos catches your attention. gojo, shoko, and geto have managed to gather near the dragon-shaped chocolate fountain, each of them clearly feeling the effects of the open bar in different ways. 

megumi is standing with them, arms crossed, his small face set in a dead-serious expression that would have been almost intimidating… if he wasn’t standing beside a towering chocolate dragon, looking very much like a tiny mob boss supervising his drunk henchmen.

“ahem.” gojo clears his throat, squinting dramatically up at the chocolate dragon, hand pressed to his heart. “‘and so, the beast gazed upon the fair maiden, his molten eyes devouring her with a hunger so fierce, the very heavens trembled —’”

you choke back a laugh as toji groans under his breath, muttering, “for the love of god, not this.”

“that’s one of your lines, isn’t it?” shoko says, smirking as she precariously holds her cigarette in one hand and a half-empty wine glass in the other. “gojo’s been quoting it all night.”

“that’s from the mating scene!” megumi exclaims, clearly unaware of the implications. “that’s where the dragon’s supposed to eat —”

“aaaannd let’s maybe not finish that line, huh?” toji interrupts quickly, clapping a hand over his son’s mouth.

gojo winks, wagging a finger. “hey, let the kid express himself! it’s culture, toji. classic literature!”

“uh, yeah. classic,” you say, trying not to snort as gojo raises his glass to the dragon fountain like he’s toasting it.

geto, meanwhile, is slumped against the fountain, head lolling to the side. he’s still upright — barely — but he looks like he might be one sip away from face-planting into the chocolate. 

“persephone wines, my beloved…” he mutters, raising his empty glass before letting it drop with a sigh. “sweet nectar of the gods.”

shoko snickers, jabbing him in the shoulder. “lightweight.”

“am not,” geto mumbles, eyes half-closed. “i’m… selectively conscious.”

“selectively conscious?” toji repeats, eyebrows raised.

“he means he’s out cold but doesn’t want to admit it,” shoko says, shrugging as she lifts her cigarette to her lips, only to nearly dip it in her wine glass instead.

“don’t mix your drink with your smokes, shoko,” gojo warns, chuckling. “unless you’re going for that extra flavor.”

“yeah, yeah,” she grumbles, carefully balancing the cigarette away from the wine glass. “why does this fountain look like it’s judging me?”

“because it’s a dragon, and dragons don’t approve of your vices,” gojo says, patting her shoulder with exaggerated sympathy. “they are noble, chaste beasts.”

“then why’d it drink all the wine?” shoko deadpans, gesturing to the near-empty fountain where the wine had been topped off earlier.

meanwhile, megumi, still solemn, looks up at toji with wide eyes. “daddy, i don’t think uncle geto’s feeling well.”

“nah, kid, he’s… he’s just really appreciating the art of, uh, selective consciousness,” toji says, ruffling megumi’s hair.

gojo swoops down, putting his hands on megumi’s shoulders. “you’re absolutely right, young megumi. you know, you have a strong sense of observation. very wise of you.”

“thanks,” megumi says, puffing his chest up, as if the compliment has suddenly made him five years older. he looks over at geto. 

“uncle geto, are you gonna fall asleep now?”

geto waves a lazy hand in the air. “nah, i’m just… uh… recharging.” he attempts to give a thumbs up, but it’s more of a half-hearted flop.

toji sighs, looking at you with a smirk. “we’ve gotta start taking megumi to different family gatherings.”

you grin back, watching as megumi, with utmost seriousness, turns to shoko. “don’t let your cigarette fall in your wine, auntie shoko. it’ll taste funny.”

shoko salutes him, barely holding in a laugh. “don’t worry, kid. i got it handled.”

just then, gojo raises his glass to the chocolate dragon again. “to the majestic beast, who has blessed us with chocolate and a fountain! long may it reign!”

“it’s a fountain, not a king,” megumi says, frowning. “and it’s chocolate, not magic.”

“ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, my young padawan,” gojo says with mock seriousness, kneeling down to megumi’s height. “tonight, everything is magic.” he waves a hand around as if he’s casting a spell, and megumi’s eyes widen, half-believing him, even as he tries to stay serious.

toji rolls his eyes, laughing. “all right, let’s wrap this up before someone thinks you’re actually casting spells on my kid, gojo.”

as you lead megumi back, he tugs on your hand, whispering, “mama, are they always this… funny?”

“always,” you whisper back, grinning. “but don’t tell them that. we’ll just let them think they’re profound.”

“okay,” megumi whispers, stifling a giggle as he steals one last glance at the chocolate dragon.

the night’s finally winding down, and somehow, all of you have ended up sprawled in the open venue like you’re camping under the stars. shoko’s leaning back in her chair, taking a deep drag of her cigarette, but she keeps glancing at megumi, who’s sitting between you and toji and nodding off in your lap, his little head bobbing up and down.

“you know, i’m not trying to be a bad influence,” shoko mutters, trying to angle her cigarette away. “but it’s hard being an icon.”

toji smirks, watching her struggle. “yeah, we all know you’re a real role model, shoko. a true beacon of health and wellness.”

“hey, i’ll have you know i haven’t let this thing drop once tonight,” she says, demonstrating by carefully holding it at a ridiculous angle. “takes precision.”

meanwhile, geto’s leaning against the chocolate fountain — completely passed out, slumped over like he’s waiting for the chocolate to baptize him. you can already see a smear on his collar where it’s dripped, and it’s only a matter of time before it’s all over him.

“is he just gonna… sleep there?” you ask, stifling a laugh as you glance at geto’s chocolate-streaked suit.

gojo, lying on the grass like he’s sunbathing, starts belting out, “she thought it was the ocean, it’s just the pool —”

“oh god,” toji groans, “don’t tell me you’re singing sicko mode right now, gojo.”

“don’t disrespect a banger, toji,” gojo says, eyes closed, waving his hands around like he’s conducting an invisible orchestra. “this is the music of our generation.”

shoko snorts, blowing smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “what generation is that? ‘trashy late twenties’?”

“more like ‘perpetual adolescence,’” you add, trying not to laugh too loud, lest you wake megumi.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” gojo mumbles, now onto the next verse and fully invested. “i am the culture.”

toji raises his eyebrows, giving you a look. “i don’t remember ‘culture’ looking this drunk.”

“or this dramatic,” you reply, glancing over at geto. “do you think he’ll wake up covered in chocolate?”

“oh, definitely,” toji says, nodding with mock seriousness. “he’ll be sticky for days.”

“wonder what he’ll tell people when they ask about it,” you say, grinning.

“just gotta tell them it’s part of the, uh, life experience,” shoko says, flicking ash off her cigarette. “you know — ‘don’t go to weddings with chocolate fountains.’”

“or uncles with questionable song choices,” toji adds, glancing at gojo.

“excuse me,” gojo slurs, sitting up to squint at you both. “my taste is immaculate.”

megumi stirs, blinking up at you with sleepy eyes. “why’s uncle gojo yelling?”

“he’s not yelling, sweetheart,” you say, petting his hair as he leans back against you. “he’s just… expressing himself.”

“in a way that makes us all wish we were deaf,” toji adds under his breath.

gojo points a finger, swaying slightly. “hey, the kid gets it. you get it, right, megumi?”

megumi yawns, nodding seriously. “i get it, uncle gojo.”

“see?” gojo says, looking triumphant as he turns back to you all, gesturing like he’s just won an argument. “my number one fan.”

shoko rolls her eyes, snubbing her cigarette out and pulling out another. “well, congrats on your massive fanbase.”

megumi glances at you, then at gojo sprawled out on the grass. “is uncle geto gonna be okay?”

you look over at geto, still fast asleep, chocolate slowly trickling down his sleeve. “yeah, honey, he’s fine. just a little… messy.”

“very messy,” toji agrees, chuckling. “just… don’t touch his suit when he wakes up. he might, uh, have some sticky spots.”

megumi nods sagely, as if absorbing some profound wisdom. “got it, daddy.”

gojo squints up at the sky, suddenly philosophical. “you know, someday, this kid is gonna be sitting here with us, yelling sicko mode with his whole heart.”

toji raises an eyebrow. “oh, over my dead body.”

“and shoko will still be lecturing us about cigarette angles,” you add.

shoko raises her glass. “as long as this fountain keeps flowing, i’m here, people.”

you and toji exchange a glance, each of you feeling a little warmth at the ridiculous, messy sight in front of you: shoko trying not to ash on megumi, gojo doing terrible karaoke on the grass, and geto about to wake up covered in chocolate.

“found family, huh?” you murmur, nudging toji.

“the best kind,” he says, slinging an arm around you and giving you a soft smile. “drunk as they may be.”

the hour finally ticks to a close, and as much as you’re all reluctant to end the night, it’s time to gather your things — and your people. the first challenge: waking up suguru, who, by this point, is practically glued to the chocolate fountain.

“alright, gojo,” toji says, clapping him on the shoulder, “time to work that charm of yours and wake him up.”

gojo, slightly wobbly himself, crouches down beside suguru and starts lightly patting his face. “rise and shine, buddy,” he says, voice soft but persistent. “time to say goodbye to your chocolate fountain dreams.”

suguru stirs, eyes fluttering open, and as he groggily lifts his arm, he finally notices the chocolate smeared from his shoulder to his wrist. his eyes widen in absolute horror.

“wha… why am i covered in —”

“chooccoolate!” gojo singsongs, smirking. 

and then, in a flash of inspiration (or tipsy madness), he starts singing, “i get those goosebumps every time —”

suguru visibly cringes, letting out a low groan as he struggles to stand. “i swear, satoru, if you keep singing travis scott, i’m never inviting you to another wedding.”

“but you’re never getting married, suguru,” shoko points out dryly, lighting her cigarette with a sly grin.

toji and you exchange a look as suguru desperately tries to wipe chocolate off his shirt with the tiniest napkin available. meanwhile, gojo’s at his side, still humming “goosebumps,” ignoring every glare suguru shoots his way.

“satoru, i’m going to kill you,” suguru mumbles, half-heartedly, as he inspects the damage.

gojo just shrugs, beaming. “c’mmoonn, sugu boo. who else can say they’ve bathed in chocolate at a wedding?”

suguru gives a low growl, eyeing gojo’s still-grinning face. “considering how close you are to me right now, it might be your last experience.”

“oh, lighten up, chocolate boy,” gojo teases, attempting to wipe some of the chocolate off suguru’s cheek with his sleeve. “besides, what’s a wedding without a little mess?”

megumi, watching this exchange with wide eyes, tugs on your sleeve. “mama, do all weddings end like this?”

you chuckle, ruffling his hair. “only the good ones, sweetheart.”

as you finally start herding everyone out, suguru’s still muttering darkly about chocolate-stained suits and “inappropriate” song choices, while gojo is just barely resisting the urge to belt out the next verse of goosebumps.

“you guys are a mess,” toji says, shaking his head with a smile, his arm around you. “but i guess i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“same here,” you reply, smiling back. “same here.”

all of you pile into the limo, grateful for suguru’s one stroke of foresight, booking this ride while everyone was still sober. as you maneuver your wedding dress inside, megumi insists on climbing onto your lap, declaring with all the authority of an eight-year-old, “mama knows how to hold me right.” he gives toji a pointed look, as if his dad’s lap-sitting skills just aren’t up to par.

“excuse me, kid,” toji grumbles, adjusting his position to give you both more space. “i think i know a thing or two about carrying you. who else makes you pancakes every sunday?”

megumi shrugs, completely unfazed. “pancakes are great, daddy, but mama gives better cuddles.”

you stifle a laugh, giving toji a look of faux pity. “don’t take it personally,” you say with a grin. “he’s right, after all.”

suguru, meanwhile, is eyeing your dress with near-maniacal caution, inching away as if any move might accidentally graze you with chocolate. “i swear,” he mutters, inspecting his own suit for stray smudges, “if this dress ends up looking like a chocolate fountain threw up on it, i’m sending blondie the dry-cleaning bill.”

“hey!” gojo’s leaning halfway out of his seat, one arm slung dramatically around shoko, who looks five seconds away from needing a cigarette fix. “don’t bring me into this! i’m innocent in all things chocolate.”

“satoru, you literally shoved my face into it,” suguru deadpans, “and serenaded me while you did it.”

gojo waves this off, now onto more important matters as he leans in and rambles, “you know, what’s really baffling is political and economical state of the world right now. that’s the real travesty here. and i’m telling you, if they’d just let me —”

shoko groans, pressing her head against the window. “does anyone have a cigarette? please? my kingdom for a cigarette.”

“sorry, shoko,” you say, chuckling. “think of it as part of the wedding cleanse experience.”

as the limo cruises through the city streets, carrying your chaotic found family toward your new home — the fushiguro household, now your household — you lean back, looking around at everyone. suguru, still chocolate-stained but pretending he’s fine; gojo in full-on philosophical mode about everything from global warming to city planning; shoko, pressing her hands together in mock-prayer for a nicotine miracle; and megumi, snug and content in your lap, his eyelids growing heavy as he fights off sleep.

toji catches your eye and reaches over, intertwining his hand with yours, a soft smile gracing his face. “ready to make this house our home?” he murmurs.

you squeeze his hand, taking in the laughter, the exhaustion, and the overwhelming happiness filling the limo. “more than ready,” you say, your heart swelling as you look around at this motley crew you wouldn’t trade for anything.

it’s a mad, loud family, but it’s yours.

as everyone practically spills out of the limo, gojo’s in full swing with the limo driver, pressing a crumpled wad of cash into the poor man’s hand. 

“no, no, you don’t get it, dude,” gojo slurs, with a look of utmost sincerity. “this — this is not just money. this is… appreciation. this is the currency of human kindness.” he pats the driver on the shoulder, swaying a bit as he leans closer. “use it wisely… maybe buy yourself a castle. or a yacht. or a little… dog. something that’s life-changing.”

the driver gives an awkward thumbs-up, flashing a quick glance at the rest of you, clearly wondering if he needs to call someone to get gojo home safely.

meanwhile, toji’s already wrangling everyone toward the door, shoko dashing past him the moment the suite door opens. “please tell me you still keep an emergency stash,” she says, practically sprinting toward the mini bar. “for my sanity.”

“yeah, yeah, knock yourself out,” toji mutters, eyeing the chaos that’s just ambled into his home. as he does, megumi somehow finds himself perched on gojo’s shoulder, practically screeching as gojo does a wobbly loop around the living room, giggling, “it’s cuddle time! everyone needs to embrace the love!”

“uncle gojo, put me down!” megumi’s half-exasperated, half-amused as he tries to wriggle free. “i don’t need cuddles, okay?”

gojo gasps as if megumi’s words are a personal affront. “excuse me? everyone needs cuddles! it’s essential for growth! and happiness! don’t deny yourself, little one.”

suguru slumps onto the sofa, still blinking himself awake from his chocolate coma. but unfortunately, his landing spot is also where a chunk of melted chocolate has found its new home. 

he sighs in defeat, barely lifting his hand to wave at toji. “i swear i didn’t bring the chocolate here. it… it followed me.”

toji’s had just about enough. “alright, everybody, listen up.” he points at gojo, megumi, and suguru, who all look up like chastened kids caught stealing from the cookie jar. 

“before any of you touch anything else in my suite — or each other — go change. now.”

“but i am changed,” gojo protests, arms flailing out as if to display his wrinkled suit as high fashion. 

“changed by the power of love. and a little bit of persephone wines, which, by the way —”

“clothes, satoru,” toji says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he ushers everyone down the hall. “as in, ones that aren’t covered in alcohol, chocolate, or other questionable substances.”

megumi looks up at you, tugging on your dress. “do i have to change too? ‘cause i’m fine just like this.”

you smile down at him, patting his messy little head. “just pajamas, okay? then we can all cuddle up on the big bed. sound good?”

“okay, mama!” he says, darting off to grab his pjs, excitement back at full force. “hurry up, everyone! daddy said so!”

as you and toji finally manage to herd everyone toward the bedrooms and out of their various states of disaster, you can’t help but laugh. this, somehow, is the perfect end to your wedding night — a makeshift family piled up in a cozy heap, as unconventional and chaotic as ever, but perfectly yours.

in megumi’s room, you and shoko finally get a chance to breathe, away from the chaos. you pull out one of toji’s oversized shirts and a pair of shorts, feeling instantly cozy as the familiar scent of him settles around you. 

meanwhile, shoko slips into a t-shirt of yours and some spare leggings you’d left for nights just like this — megumi’s last-minute “you have to stay!” pleas that always won you over.

as shoko pulls the t-shirt down, smoothing it over her frame, she gives you a little smirk. “well, don’t we look like a couple of sleepover queens?”

“only the best for auntie shoko,” you say, giving her a playful nudge.

shoko rolls her eyes, leaning back against megumi’s wall. “speaking of… i was thinking.” she pauses, letting out a sigh, her fingers absently running through her hair. 

“maybe i could… y’know, try and cut down on the smokes. for megumi. last thing i want is him being a passive smoker every time ’m around.”

you smile at her, feeling a swell of warmth at the thought. “oh, shoko. you don’t have to change anything for him — he already adores you just the way you are.”

“yeah, but…” she shrugs, looking down at her hands, uncharacteristically shy. “i wanna be around. y’know? like, really around. and if that means giving up a little bit of my precious nicotine, then…” she huffs, as if the idea is both noble and annoying. “then i’ll do it. for him. but only because he’s the cutest kid i know.”

“you’re really going soft on me here,” you tease, watching her with a grin.

she laughs, nudging your shoulder. “don’t get used to it. i’ll still talk trash about satoru and his ‘save the world’ speeches every chance i get. but…” she pauses, catching your eye with a slight smirk. 

“i don’t know, this whole… you and toji thing, it’s made me think a little differently. like, maybe i could be the cool aunt without corrupting the kid entirely.”

you chuckle, nodding. “hey, a little bit of corruption isn’t the worst thing. but i know what you mean. it’s nice, isn’t it? having this… makeshift family?”

“nice? it’s downright ridiculous,” shoko scoffs, but her eyes are soft. “i mean, i spent the last hour watching suguru melt into a chocolate-covered mess and satoru wax poetic to the limo driver, all while toji was trying to keep from strangling the lot of us. and now here we are, pretending to be responsible adults.”

“that’s the beauty of it, though,” you laugh. “none of us really knows what we’re doing, but somehow it just… works.”

shoko smiles at that, a real, genuine smile, her usual sarcasm melting away for just a moment. “well, whatever it is, i’m in. auntie shoko, reporting for duty. megumi’s gonna be spoiled out of his mind, and if anyone tries to mess with him, they’ll have to go through me first.”

you laugh, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. “he’s lucky to have you.”

“nope,” she says, leaning in and bumping her forehead against yours. “we’re all lucky to have each other.”

there’s a comfortable silence, the two of you just sharing the moment in a quiet way that doesn’t need any more words. a kind of unspoken understanding hangs in the air, one that only comes from years of friendship and late-night heart-to-hearts like this.

and as you both start to head out, you catch her glancing back at megumi’s room with a soft expression, the tiniest hint of a smile lingering on her lips.

down in toji’s room, it was another brand of chaos entirely. gojo was sprawled across the bed, bouncing his leg impatiently as he kept knocking — more like pounding — on the bathroom door.

“yo, ruru! you still smell like a candy shop in there, or are you finally coming out as a functioning human?” gojo called, knocking for what felt like the tenth time.

inside the bathroom, suguru groaned, scrubbing furiously at his arms. “if you knock one more time, satoru, i swear, i will dunk you in a vat of chocolate and make you regret the day you were born.”

gojo cackled, delighted. “you’d have to catch me first, chocolate boy.”

meanwhile, toji was across the room with megumi, helping him into his little pajamas. megumi stood still as his dad tugged his pajama top over his head, looking up with big eyes.

“daddy?” he asked, his voice soft and a little curious.

toji glanced down, smiling. “yeah, kiddo?”

megumi fidgeted with the hem of his pajamas. “does mama get to stay forever now?”

toji’s face softened, and he crouched down to look megumi in the eye, his hand gently ruffling his son’s dark hair. “yeah, bud. she’s with us now. part of our family for good.”

megumi’s eyes lit up, and he tried to stand even taller — he was growing, after all. “so she’ll be here when i wake up every day?”

toji chuckled, nodding. “every day. and every night too, so you don’t have to worry about anything. she’s with us.”

megumi nodded seriously, like he was processing the weight of it all. “i gotta make sure i don’t mess up then.”

toji raised an eyebrow, surprised. “mess up? why do you think you’d mess up?”

“well… i wanna make her happy too,” megumi admitted, glancing down. “like you do.”

toji’s heart melted a little as he hugged his son tightly. “listen, kid. you being you? that’s more than enough to make her happy. trust me.”

megumi looked up, reassured. “okay. i’ll be the best son ever, promise.”

“you already are,” toji said, smiling.

right then, gojo’s voice cut through the father-son moment as he yelled through the bathroom door yet again. “suguurruu! come on, we’re all waiting! we’re a family, we’ve got things to discuss, like who’s picking the next karaoke song, and why it absolutely has to be ‘freak on a leash.’”

suguru yelled back, voice echoing through the bathroom, “for the last time, i’m not doing karaoke, satoru! and if you don’t let me scrub off this chocolate smell in peace, you’re gonna be next!”

toji sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at megumi. “and that,” he said with a smirk, “is the family you’re stuck with now, kid.”

megumi grinned. “good. i think they’re funny.”

“funny’s one word for it.”

the morning after the wedding was supposed to be calm and slow, but the second megumi padded down the hall, any hopes of quiet went straight out the window.

"mama, dad, i gotta go to school!" he said, trying to sound all responsible but still rubbing sleep from his eyes. he even brought his backpack to your room, a whole mini-adult, as if that would magically make everyone get out of bed faster.

toji groaned, wrapping an arm around you to keep you in bed. "can’t he just... skip?" he muttered into his pillow, half-asleep.

before you could answer, an all-too-loud, way-too-enthusiastic voice boomed from the hall. 

"time to shine, future valedictorian!" gojo practically sung, bursting through the door in last night’s slightly wrinkled suit, sunglasses on, and his smile at full wattage.

behind him, shoko and geto shuffled in, looking equally disheveled and far too awake for this hour. shoko held up her coffee like it was a badge of honor, and geto just nodded, bleary-eyed, clearly not yet regretting his life choices.

"so," shoko said, pointing to megumi with her coffee mug, "we’re taking the kid to school. it’s what, like, a fifteen-minute trip?"

“yeah,” you mumbled, not even fully awake yet. "are... are you guys seriously doing this?"

megumi's face lit up like christmas. “really? in the limo?” he looked over at his dad with big, excited eyes. "i’ve only ever been dropped off by daddy before, mama.”

toji mumbled something that sounded like, "don't tell your teachers i’m lazy," and rolled back over, pretending to go back to sleep.

"don’t worry," gojo said, waving it off. "cool uncle 1, cool uncle 2, and cool aunty got this."

megumi was practically vibrating with excitement as he tugged shoko’s hand. “can we leave now? pleeeaseeee?"

shoko raised an eyebrow at you and toji. “guess that’s a ‘no’ on you two getting up?”

toji waved them off, still face-planted in his pillow. “take him. we trust you… mostly.”

the limo looked ridiculous in front of the modest little school building.

every teacher on duty stared as gojo stepped out in yesterday’s clothes, still wearing his sunglasses, dramatically opening the door for megumi like he was some hollywood star.

geto leaned out of the window, waving. “our megumi, ladies and gents! future ceo, dragon whisperer, and… what is he into now? legos?”

“legos and iron man,” shoko supplied from the backseat, sipping her coffee and grinning like this was the most fun she’d had in weeks.

megumi hopped out, beaming, as if this was the normal way eight-year-olds arrived at school. "see ya later, cool uncles and aunty!" he called, and waved back at them as he headed up the steps.

one of the teachers, looking absolutely bewildered, approached gojo. "uh, sir? are you megumi’s… guardian?"

gojo held a hand over his heart, like he was moved. "oh, i’m his honorary uncle. the honored one. very honored. super honored. we’re just doing our part as responsible adults, you know?”

shoko snorted from the car. “yeah, responsible adults. let’s not tell his dad about the chocolate fountain incident from last night.”

“or the fact that geto’s gonna have to reupholster his couch,” geto muttered, barely holding back a laugh.

meanwhile, megumi turned back one last time and yelled, “tell mama and daddy i said bye!”

gojo saluted. “will do, young sir! now go conquer the day!”

they all watched him walk in, looking like a pint-sized executive in his little backpack. as soon as the doors closed behind him, shoko sighed. “alright, now who’s up for coffee? because i’m still running on fumes.”

"coffee?" geto asked, deadpan. "we’re gonna need a gallon of it if we’re keeping up with that kid."

as the limo pulled away, gojo turned to them with a grin. “you know, i think we make an excellent drop-off crew.”

“mmhm,” shoko said dryly, shaking her head. “i’m sure the teachers would totally agree.”

as the limo pulled away from the school, gojo, shoko, and geto leaned back in their seats, stretching out like they’d just wrapped up a grueling mission.

“alriiight,” gojo said, kicking his feet up, “where are we headed for breakfast, my esteemed colleagues in chaos?”

“anywhere that’s not serving chicken nuggets or juice boxes,” shoko muttered, eyes barely open behind her sunglasses. “and somewhere with unlimited coffee, because if i have to function at nine in the morning, i need caffeine by the gallon.”

geto chuckled, shaking his head. “how is it that we’re the ones going out for breakfast after crashing their wedding?” he looked at gojo, grinning. “and how are they the ones staying home?”

gojo smirked, crossing his legs. “we’re giving them the gift of peace and quiet. i bet toji’s loving the chance to stay in bed with his lovely wife, all cozy and uninterrupted.”

shoko snorted, leaning over with a conspiratorial grin. “give them fifteen minutes max before they realize we took the limo and left them stranded.”

“oh, toji’s probably still asleep,” geto said, waving her off. “and if not, he’s probably thinking we’re doing him a favor. don’t forget, we’re the ‘cool’ uncles and aunty. we’re just out here, uh…” he paused, raising a brow, “fulfilling our responsibilities.”

gojo cackled. “yeah, we’re absolutely winning the ‘best support system’ award this year.” he held up an imaginary award plaque. “and the winner for best, most responsible friends goes to… the limo crew!”

shoko took a sip of her coffee, laughing. “you’re just mad you didn’t get to be the one carrying y/n in her dress down the aisle yesterday.”

“hey!” gojo gasped, mock-offended. “i was ready, okay? i would’ve been the perfect escort. i even practiced the, you know —“ he mimed holding someone dramatically in his arms. “but no, she insisted on doing it herself.”

geto rolled his eyes, grinning. “it’s her wedding, satoru.”

“yeah, yeah, i know,” gojo said, waving it off. “but it was cute seeing him get all sentimental.” he put on a comically deep voice, imitating toji. “‘come on, baby, we’re gonna go build our life together,’” he said, making exaggerated romantic gestures. “like, okay, toji, way to set the bar high for the rest of us.”

shoko grinned, nudging geto. “hey, suguru, you taking notes? maybe one day you’ll be saying those sappy lines to your wife.”

geto laughed, blushing a bit. “hey, let’s keep the heat on toji, alright? no need to make me the topic of conversation here.”

gojo raised a hand dramatically. “oh, don’t worry, we’ll keep it on toji. like how he’s always acting like mr. tough guy, but the second y/n looks at him with those puppy eyes, he’s suddenly mr. marshmallow.”

“he’s such a marshmallow,” shoko agreed, laughing. “he’ll deny it till the end, but you know he’d do anything for her. i mean, the man threatened a chocolate fountain for her yesterday.”

“let’s not forget he almost punched the caterer over the dessert display,” geto added, grinning. “and that was after he demanded only the best for the ‘mother of his child.’”

gojo clasped his hands together, putting on a dreamy look. “ugh, true love. what an inspiration.”

they all shared a laugh, shaking their heads at the image of toji as the world’s biggest softie for you, his new bride. the limo pulled up to a cute little cafe, and gojo leaned out of the window, calling, “table for the three most responsible adults in town, please!”

as they piled out, geto chuckled. “we are absolutely going to milk this ‘responsible adult’ title all morning.”

“oh, absolutely,” shoko said, walking in. “and i’ll need a bottomless coffee just to keep it going.”

they slid into a booth, ordering way too much coffee and breakfast, ready to dig into a morning full of laughter, snarky jokes, and ridiculous stories.

“to toji and y/n,” gojo toasted, holding up his coffee mug. “may they never know the horrors we’ve saved them from.”

“cheers to that,” shoko said, grinning.

tag: @elysian-chaos @lemonlimecrystal-blog @crunchyholo @cheesecakebroom @inthedarkshadows000 @amayaaaxx @sweetsformysoul @vitoshi @qyuin @mypashionisforfashion @crocodilethesir @starmapz @kyokoyya @lauuriiiz @ciexuvia @blubearxy @coffee-and-geto @lveegsoi @yuminako @cipher-needs-2-sleep

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[p0ckykiss]

to the moon and back - choi soobin

summary -> who is sending you these letters….they certainly know everything about you, more than you expected. perhaps a stalker?

warnings -> stalker soobin x female reader, yandere

the crinkling of the perfectly sealed envelope and the unfolding of the delicate paper with the most intricate handwriting. swoops and swerves and strokes marked with the darkest ink.

a secret admirer? you smirked to yourself. it sure was such a flattering thought to think you had a secret admirer. you began reading the beautifully crafted words.

dear y/n.

your beauty simply astonishes me. i want to run my fingertips along your smooth bare face and breathe in the scent of your lavender perfume. you’re running low on it, have you noticed? make sure to buy more. it’s simply my favorite scent in the world. the lasagna you made last night looked scrumptious. would you save a piece for me? you’re the most beautiful girl i have ever come across. love you to the moon and back.

a gasp. what in god’s name..? that certainly did not live up to your high expectations. the paper floated to the pavement like a snowflake falling from the sky. your shoes smacked against your long driveway as you bounded up to the front door.

the click of the lock and the shuffle of curtains closing all around the empty house. you grabbed your perfume bottle and threw it down. the glass pieces scattered across the dark hardwood floor, reflections from the sunlight cascading off of the tiny fractures.

lavender isn’t your scent any longer. not after some creep told you it was his favorite. were you being watched? what a creep. an actual stalker. just the thought sent a shiver down your aching spine.

days passed. nothing out of the ordinary seemed to make it’s presence known. no unwanted letters or mysterious envelopes with a pearly white lace trim. you actually allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. you should’ve known to hold your breath

dearest y/n

oh how i’ve missed that sweet perfume of yours. are you sure you got all of the shards? they were quite plentiful. has that cut healed yet? i’d be more than willing to aid you back to good health. i know you keep the bandages under your bathroom sink. do you know i’m always thinking of you? that black dress you tried on looked magnificently ravishing. no date to homecoming though. let me know if you need a plus one. after all, i’m always watching. i love you to the moon and back.

a high-pitched, shrilling, terrible cry left your vocal cards and pierced through the frostbitten coldness of the afternoon sun. what kind of sick person would go to such lengths? your home, now a place you no longer feel safe in. a shame that is. it really is a beautiful house.

letter after letter after letter. the sender iust wouldn’t quit. the harassment continued and ebbed and flowed like curves in a river. a display of different emotions. happy letters, creepy letters, sad letters. and, your least favorite.

angry letters.

dear y/n,

aren’t you going to write me back? are you not the least bit curious as to who i am? such a shame, really. think you and i would really hit it off. you were getting close to beomgyu yesterday. just friends, you are? hm. it doesn’t seem so. the flirtatious touch of a boy and a girl, and all in front of me? you dare hold his hand in front of me? and to think i really liked you. well, i won’t stop so easily. i’ve got my eyes on you, my love. i love you to the moon and back. -s

a clue! a sign of the quote on quote secret admirer that’s been occupying your mailbox with stacks of words as tall as the highest mountain range. but just a letter. one singular syllable. s. s? s could mean a myriad of things.

another letter followed by a scoff. this guy really has the nerve. he doesn’t scare you anymore. you tore through the envelope, not even trying to be careful this time.

dear y/n,

you betrayed me. what did i say about beomgyu? now you’re taking him to homecoming? what about little ol’ me? you smile when you text him. ive noticed you never smile while you read my letters. is that because you’re not aware of my identity? it’s not like i hide it. you should know by now. i thought you were smarter than that. you’re wearing a new scent lately. lilac, was it? it soothes the nose. but i certainly miss the lavender. i cant wait to see you in your dress tomorrow night. i love you to the moon and back.

your head shot up from your burned gaze on the tear stained paper. he was watching you this whole time? was he watching right then? right now? how incredulous: you need to get out of here. your safety is on its last lifeline.

one more envelope. one more beautifully scripted letter. one last word vomit of all of the things he wanted to say. needed to get off his heavy chest and share with you.

dear y/n;

you’re not going to accept my love, are you? that kiss you shared the other night was a sight for sore eyes. you had to stand on your tiptoes to reach, even in your heels. i guess that’s your type. why isn’t it me? well, i suppose i should give up. he’s won. i don’t want you to feel threatened, so i won’t watch anymore. unlock your doors and leave your curtains undrawn. you’ll be just fine. but still, i love you to the moon and back. -soobin

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

i love having you home - Cole Caufield

Word Count - 2.9k

Author's Note - Thank you as always for reading and being patient with me as I get back into writing on a semi more regular basis.

Warnings - smut with very little plot, mentions of masturbation, male receiving.

Summary - Cole comes home from a very long and disappointing roadie, and he finds his girlfriend asleep on the coach. He decides to wake her up, to tell her that he's home, but what happens when in her groggy sleepy state she admits something she normally never would.

Slowly Cole made his way out of his car and up the driveway to his house. It had been a rough roadie, and it was hitting him hard because he felt like he was leaving everything out on the ice and yet his team was not winning despite his best efforts. Cole knew he couldn’t do everything, that they were a team, but somehow despite being a young team, he was finding himself annoyed with himself, asking himself what more he could do so that they could start winning again. But all of his thoughts were pushed behind him as he stepped into his house, he left his hockey duffle and shoes by the door, he could see a soft light glowing from the kitchen. Y/N he thought to himself, he found himself smiling for the first time that day at the thought of her being awake. 

Cole walked further into the home, he sighed deeply when he realized she must have kept the light on. Even though he knows she does this on purpose because she hates coming home to a dark house, and she never wants Cole to either despite it not bothering him.Somehow when he first saw the soft glow of the kitchen light he forgot this fact, and suddenly was slightly pouting that Y/N was in fact asleep. As he passes the family room on the way to the staircase that leads to upstairs and his bedroom he stops abruptly. Cole notices a lump on the couch and it makes him feel something warm in his chest at the idea of her falling asleep on the couch while waiting for him. Originally his plane was supposed to land at 11 at night, but something was wrong with the plane so they had to switch planes and he didn’t land in Montreal until closer to 3 AM. Cole slowly turned his body to come to the family room as quiet as possible, he debated with himself if he should just carry her to bed rather than wake her up. But ultimately he missed Y/N too much not to at least attempt to wake her despite knowing that was sort of selfish of him. 

He squatted down and rested his weight on the balls of his feet, as rested his arm on the coach for support, the other going to pet her hair. “Baby imm home.” he softly spoke as his hand made it down to her bicep shaking her attempting to wake her up. “baby.” He spoke a little louder this time as he softly shook her again, he stopped when he watched the crinkle of her nose knowing she was at least not completely asleep anymore. She attempted to pull the blanket up and snuggle back into the coach further, and Cole couldn’t help but chuckle, his girl was probably the one person he knew who loved sleep more than anyone else he knew. “Sweet girl.” he spoke again, and his grin turned into a smile as she snapped her head towards his voice. “Do ya not wanna come to bed wit- me?” he asked. 

“Cole?” she asked except due to the sleep in her voice, it came out more as coley rather than cole. 

“Im home baby.” he answered her as she finally opened her eyes. “I’m sorry it’s so late but I needed to hear your voice so I woke you. “ he admits looking down suddenly being shy, and Y/N smiled at him, as she reached for him in a bone crushing hug pulling him from the floor and onto the coach. 

“Missed ya-.” she mumbled into his neck as she's practically laying on top of him. Cole finds himself closing his eyes, getting lost in the smell of her conditioner that he hasn’t smelt in a week. Before Cole could respond that he missed her too, Y/N continued talking,“Especially when you dropped that thirst trap on your story.” she mumbled it still in that state of half asleep and half awake. 

All Cole could do is smirk as he tried to crank his neck to look down to her. “Oh yeah.” The cockiness was clear in his voice. All Y/N could do was nod her head along, as he dragged his hands up and down her back, teasingly at the hem of the bottom of her shirt, Y/N lightly moaned as one hand slipped on the shirt and the other slipped down to her ass and kneaded it. Continuing to edge her on he teased her with his words “You missed me eh?” 

“Hmm.” she mumbled, as she bit her lip softly as she felt Cole’s hands on her. “My fingers just aren't the same, Coley.” she admitted. It was obvious in her confession, that she didn’t realize what she had said as she tried to snuggle deeper into Cole’s side fully content with Cole’s soft touches loaring her back to sleep.But suddenly any tiredness that Cole had felt had vanished as all his mind could think of was Y/N being so horny while he was away that she had to rub one out. Not to mention that she only got horny because of a photoshoot he had to do for a brand deal over a month ago.While Y/N was practically back to sleep, all Cole could focus on was the image of Y/N moaning for him while she looked at a fucking picture from an Instagram post.

He was able to shift them so he was on top of them as he kissed her exposed neck, finally she was waking up fully at his words, his voice much deeper than before. “Oh yeah baby, you missed my cock.” 

Y/N snapped her eyes open as Cole continued his attack on her neck, spending extra time on that one sensitive spot below her jaw, even nipping at it with his teeth gently. Y/N’s hands found Cole’s dark blonde curls, not sure if tugging on them was more to keep herself grounded or to hear those pretty little grunts that Cole makes. She tried saying his name but couldn’t finish as he started to kiss in the valley of her breasts as much as he could despite the button up silk pajama shirt. She arched her back, as Cole sucked on a sensitive spot on the top of her breast. Y/N found herself begging as she clutched her legs around Cole bringing him closer trying to get some relief.  

“Ccole.” she gasped, hoping he would take pity on her. He slowly unbuttoned her silk pajama shirt, but still left it on. Cole took his tongue, looking up at her through his lashes as he dragged his tongue over her chest and under her boob, finally stopping by lightly sucking her left nipple. He took his hand and played with the other one, Y/N couldn’t make eye-contact and tried to throw her head back but Cole stopped as she did. Immediately she snapped her head back, eyes wide as she stared at Cole above her, his silver chain lightly dangling in front of her face. “Babe, please,” she whined, trying to show him how much she needed him. 

Cole moved back further resting on his feet between her legs. He took his hand, lightly caressed his fingertips onto the soft skin of her stomach right above her waistband. She lightly pouted at him, her eyes silently begging to give her some relief. His fingers lightly slipped under her waistband but stayed her stomach, she whined in response. “You know what I think?” he asked her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to form words he continued. “I think, since you were so horny,” he raises his eyebrows and a soft smirk is on his lips as he continues. “While I was away that you didn’t even think to call me as you rubbed one out that maybe I should leave you like this.” he threatens. 

“Na na no. please, please don’t.” she begs. “I only used my fingers cause you weren’t here.” she cries out as he slips his hand out from under her waistband and goes to tease the exposed skin on her inner thighs from her sleep shorts. 

“Hmm.” he says. “Still I wanna see what it looks like when you’re so despite that you need to use your hand. Were you too horny to grab your vibrator?” he taunts, she mumbles a response but he can’t hear her, so he takes his thumb and puts pressure on her clit through her shorts. She cries out, as asks again “what was that baby?” 

“It -” she gasps trying to answer him, despite how her legs starting to tighten she felt like she was seconds away from cumming but she knew it was just because of Cole’s edging her on that she felt like this. “It was ta- too far.” she gasped, hoping that was enough of an answer to please him. 

He frowned his eyebrows in confusion, “but it’s kept in the nightstand.” Y/N glances at him wincing, watching as if a lightbulb goes off when he realizes. “Oh my lil’ slut, where were ya if you weren’t in bed?” he asks, a full blown smile on display as she feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He bends down to her ear, as he rubs light circles on her hip bone, she can feel the heat from his mouth as he says “tell me baby. Where. Were. You.” As he sucks on that sensitive spot behind her ear she moans as a response. 

“Here.” she practically yelps, louder than she needs to. “Here. I was here.” she repeats. 

“Oh yeah now you definitely have to show me,” he says as he leans back smiling as she twitches beneath him. 

“Cole.” she whines in embarrassment trying to take her hands and cover her face as she blushes at his words. 

“Nope, you want my help you gotta show me what you looked like when you imagined I was fucking with you but all you had was your little fingers.” sounding as cocky as ever.

Y/N bites her lips and lets out a small whine as Cole leans back to rest on his heels again as he looks down at Y/N as shimmy out of her silk pajama shorts and underwear. He has a smirk on his face, as he watches Y/N use one hand to tease her boob and the other going on lightly touching her inner thighs. Cole can’t help himself from palming himself over his sweats as he watches Y/N arch her back and close her eyes as she continues to tease herself. 

Cole grunts as he watches her hand that was teasing the sensitive skin on her thighs lightly touching her outer lips finally stopping at teasing her hole. Cole’s voice is deeper than normal when he asks “Fuck pretty girl is this what you were doing while I was away?” Y/N's only response is a little moan, as she opens her eyes just in time to watch Cole as he pushes his sweats and boxers down just enough to slip his hard cock out of his boxers. She can’t help but let out a little moan as she watches Cole spitting on his hand so he can lazily stroke his cock. 

“Answer me, pretty girl.” he demands. “What were you thinking about as you fucked yourself with your fingers?” 

“Ya- you,” she gasps. “It’s always you.” as she finally inserts two fingers, lightly pumping out of her center. Cole watches with hooded eyes as dark as the night sky, as she tries to reach with her thumb to rub little circles on her clit. But due to the angle that she is laying down on the coach she can’t and she just becomes frustrated with herself. Cole notices that she almost looks like she was in tears mad at herself for not being able to reach. 

“Baby you can do it.” He encourages her and she whines begging him for help but all she’s met with is Cole shaking his head ‘no’. Finally, she somehow cramps her hand and lightly creases her clit teasingly, causing her to arch her back more and gasp from pleasure, as she feels herself being pushed even closer to a release. Removing her hand that was kneading her boob she starts to make small steady circles on her clit as she pumps her fingers at a faster pace out of her cunt. Cole has to stop himself from nutting right there as she cries his name as she cums, he talks her through her high. Cole even takes over rubbing her clit, when she can't because she’s too lost in the pleasure from her cuming. “There ya go baby.” he coos at her, as she’s trying to control her breathing again. 

“I think that was the hottest thing you’ve ever fucking done.” he claims with a wide smile on his face. Y/N smiles up at Cole, a warm feeling spreading in her stomach at his compliment. 

She looks down and notices his tip is still bright red and the vein looks a little more strained than normal, suddenly Y/N has a very deep sense overcome her as he wants nothing more than to lick the vein of his dick. Y/N slowly sits up shifting towards her boyfriend as she crawls off the coach and onto her knees, but before Cole can even question her. She is blinking up at him saying in a soft voice “I wanna a taste, please.” Her mouth is now dangerously close to the tip of his cock, blinking up at him with her eyes the size of saucers. 

“fuck.” he whispers to one in particular. Cole slowly nods his head as a ‘yes.’ Y/N wastes no time in starting from the base of Cole’s dick and licking the she wanted, ending with his tip in her mouth. Cole grunts, one going to her hair, grabbing it tightly as he guides her in and out of his dick. The other tightening in a fist as he tries to grab onto something as if he needs it ground him. One of her hands is helping her balance on his thigh, leaving little half moons from her nails, her other hand going to play with his balls. 

Cole wants to watch her as he fucks her face, he loves when she blinks up at him while he’s controlling the pace. But as she goes deeper and faster he grunts, throwing his head on the back of the coach in an attempt to make him last longer. “Fuck baby, I, I’m close.” he gasps, at his words she somehow even quickens the pace. “Can I make a painting, pretty girl?” he asks, which is his cheesy way of asking to cum on her face, he knows it’s always a yes for him but he still insists on asking every time because consent is important. As soon as his brian registers, she’s nodding your head, he pulls out and he cums immediately as he watches her close her eyes, tongue sticking out waiting for his load. Y/N closes her mouth and swallows immediately, opening her mouth again to show Y/N she swallowed. 

Slowly he takes his thumb and collects some of his seed that was on her cheek and chin, dragging slowly towards her mouth. Cole has to bite his lip as she opens her mouth again welcoming his thumb and sucking hard, swallowing her tongue around his thumb as if it was nothing. He removes his thumb and she whimpers a little, as if she needs something of him in her at all times to keep her content. “Always such a good girl fa’ me.” he whispers, pulling her up to his level to kiss her. she crawls in his lap to deepen the kiss as his tongue slips into her mouth and she moans into the kiss. 

Finally, both of them pull away, gasping for air. “I’m happy you’re home.” she mumbles, wrapping herself around him like a koala bear. 

“Me too.” he answers her softly. “I’m happy to have a stretch of home games.” Y/N perks up, at his words softly lifting his head to get a better look at her. 

“Oh yeah. Me too. I love having you home.” she shyly adds.

“Yeah I know cause I’m better than your fingers.” he chirps at her, laughing lightly.

“I take it back, you can go on another roadie.” Y/N pouts at him, finally getting up from his lap turning as if she’s heading for the stairs. But she doesn’t make it every far, as Cole pulls her back to him landing on his again. 

He takes his hands and softly holds her face, making her look into his eyes so she knows he’s not lying when he says. “Hey I was kidding, baby. You know I hate being gone just as much as you do.” He dips his head to her ear, lightly kissing right under it, she gasps at the attention to her sensitive skin. “”Cause I can promise you, my hand isn’t as good as you are, baby. At his words she feels his cock lightly poking her upper thigh. “Let me make it up to you, show you how much I missed you.” he jokes, a big smile on his face as she blushes at his words.And in that moment Y/N knows it’s going to be a long night. 

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Mine - Part 5

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Word Count: 4235

Chapter Summary: Steve struggles with trust issues until a friendly face stops by. He knows he has to start somewhere so why not something that will mean everything to you? Steve and you discover that you will soon be having a child together. Will this news break you down or will it give you the future you always wanted?

Warnings: Some angst, fluff moments, learning to trust, smut, fingering, brief hand job, multiple orgasms & pregnancy kink.

A/N: This chapter isn’t dark like the other ones. This is the final chapter but there will be an epilogue later on.

A/N 2: header by @fictional-affairs and thank you to my beta reader @lfnr-blog-blog-blog

To catch up on the series read here: Mine - Series Masterlist

Reblogs & Comments are welcomed and encouraged. Even if you leave an emoji you will make my day. 😊💜

I do NOT consent to translating or reposting my work on any social media platform, app, or third-party site. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

It’s been a week since you both decided to start over again. Building trust was important to both of you and being honest, whether one wanted to hear the truth or not, was just as important. You and Steve were able to start this unconventional relationship by talking about anything and everything.

Of course, Steve wanted to talk about your future and what you both wanted or saw in the next five years. His answer was simple: he wanted to be married and have kids. He wanted everything he had ever dreamt of and he saw that future with you.

Yours you hesitated on at first. Yes, you wanted to get married in a small intimate wedding and eventually wanted to start a family. You also desired a little freedom to be able to do all of this one day as you wanted to shed the rocky start you both had. It was important to also be able to get your super soldier strength back as you wanted to feel normal again and not this frail human being he reduced you to. Steve told you he would think about that one and that you needed to earn it.

The sex was also amazing between the two of you. It was as if you were a newly married couple on their honeymoon as many times as you did it throughout the day. The pleasure you would pull out of one another drove the cravings to new heights. This had to be the highlight of your days spent with him. However, you did worry about the lack of birth control not being used.

Though as amazing as that was, a part of you deep down inside still felt trapped and wanted to escape. The other part argued that you have one of the best setups in your life and you could finally be with the one man you always had feelings for. You had the house you wanted, the man you wanted, and this could be the life you always dreamt of. Maybe it didn’t start like you thought but you deserved to have this dream come true even if Steve was still controlling and watching you like a hawk at every moment.

Your days seem to become repetitive as well and that starts weighing you down. Something was missing in your life and you knew just what it was, friends. You missed hanging out with Natasha. You missed the gossip, the laughs, and especially the training with her. Is this something that Steve would allow you to have again? This was a conversation you will need to have with him.

For now, you stayed curled up on the couch reading your favorite book while Steve was on the phone with Tony just outside the door. He watched you with curious eyes, making sure you didn’t run like you had in the past. Though he told himself this was a new start and he had to learn to trust you to do the right thing. The call wasn’t long and it was mainly catching up. Steve also placed an order for food and supplies they would need for the month. Steve was sure to give a list of things you asked for that would make your stay comfortable. When he was done he hung up the phone and walked into the house.

You looked up from your book and met his deep blue eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at the man you loved. Patting the seat on the couch next to you, Steve took the hint and sat down. Your hand held his momentarily as he got comfy next to you. Taking a breath you worked up the courage to ask him a question.

“Steve, what would you say to me reaching out to Natasha? I mean she was my best friend after all and I miss her dearly. I miss the talks with her and the support she gave me. I need to have someone to talk with besides you.”

You bit your lower lip and worried maybe you stepped over the line. But Steve gave you a reassuring smile as his hand tightened around yours.

“I think we can work that out. I know Nat has been bugging me since you came here. She really misses you as well. Just know she won’t try to help you escape. She will just be your friend only.”

Steve stared at you as he watched his words sink in. You nodded your head in agreement knowing full well that Nat wouldn’t help you since Steve had hinted at that before. You had a feeling that all the Avengers were in on this which broke your heart initially. Little did you know that they each were out for a partner to call their own? For now, you continued to make the best of your situation despite all your mixed feelings.

Steve was a man of his word and Natasha came to visit you both a week later. He was outside talking to her while you waited patiently in the living room. You wondered what Steve was saying to her. Was he placing down rules for the visit or having a friendly chat? Your nerves were starting to get the best of you until you heard the door open and shut. Looking over your shoulder you saw Nat and Steve walking into the room smiling. Nat practically ran to you as you stood up from the couch. Her arms wrapped around you and you smiled hugging her back.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Nat whispered into your ear.

Tears formed in your eyes as you whispered the same thing to her. “I’ve missed you too.”

Steve watched as you both embraced and he could see the smiles on both of your faces. If this is what you needed to make you more comfortable and trusting around him, then that needed to be. Steve cleared his throat to get both of their attention.

“I hope you two have a wonderful time catching up. If you need me I will be outside.”

As he turned on his heel to leave you called out for him, “Steve?”

He turned to look at you.

“Thank you for this. I appreciate it.”

Steve nodded and headed outside to get some work done.

When you both were alone you sat on the couch facing each other. Nat smiled at you as she took in your appearance. She was good at always reading you.

“So how are you doing? This is me asking as your friend, not Steve’s spy.”

“I’m doing well. I mean what’s there really to say? I was forced here by Steve, the man I have loved for years, to become some housewife or sex object to him. Don’t get me wrong I enjoy the sex now but everything started so badly between us.”

“Well, I’m happy to hear you at least love him. I get how things started out was rocky for you but are you pleased with him now?” Nat inquired.

You sighed and nodded your head. “I’m as happy as I can be in my situation. I’m still mad he won’t let me have my super soldier powers back. He said I had to earn it. I don’t even know where to start Nat with that. He may never give me that back and I’m tired of feeling frail all the time. I mean even now as we speak I’m not well. I started throwing up a few mornings ago and I feel like death. I’m tired and I just can’t keep up with him.”

Nat looked at you up and down taking in your features. A soft smile played on her lips. “When was the last time you had your cycle?”

You started to think of the last time you had it. “I think the last time was before Steve brought me here. You don’t think I’m pregnant do you?”

“How often do you have unprotected sex?” She questioned.

It was at the moment your stomach felt ill again. “I-we have it daily. Like several times a day.”

Nat grinned at you. “I have to say you’re glowing. I just so happened to bring some tests with me as Steve asked me to. Here let me get you one.”

Nat walked over to the dining room table and opened a bag she had with her. Taking the test she handed it to you. “Go and take it. I will wait for you here.”

You grabbed the test from her and practically ran to the bathroom on the first floor. Quickly, you took the test and sat it on the counter. The test felt like it was taking forever to give you results. You were thinking how you just told Steve over a week ago that you wanted to wait. What would you do if this came back positive? Heck, you did want a child one day but not now while you’re trying to figure this relationship out.

A knock on the door had you panicking as you looked down to see the result was indeed positive. A gasp left your mouth as another knock and Nat’s voice filled the air. You opened the door with tears streaming down your face. Nat looked at you and hugged you instantly knowing what the result was.

“I’m not ready Nat. Not now while we are working through everything.”

Nat just held you running soft soothing circles on your back. “You’re ready my friend. This is what you have always wanted with the person you’re with. It may be a shock now but let it sink in over the next few weeks. I know Steve is going to be very excited to hear the news.”

As if the news wasn’t shocking enough the door closed behind Steve as he entered the room. “What news?” he asked as he took in your distressed look and tears.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” Steve takes a few steps toward you and Nat. His voice is laced with concern.

You let go of Nat and take a few steps back, trying to put distance between the two of you. Honestly, you weren’t sure how to feel. Everything was starting to feel rushed instead of flowing naturally between you and Steve. The room started to get warm and your vision started to tunnel.

“Hun you don’t look okay. Why don’t you sit down.” Nat asked as you stumbled in the living room.

The room felt like it was spinning and you felt sick to your stomach. This is all a bad dream you were telling yourself. You started to hyperventilate which caused Steve to move quicker so he was now by your side holding your shoulders.

“Sweetheart, what do you need? You’re starting to scare me.” He stated, taking in your features.

“I’m gonna be sick.” You exclaimed, pushing him away and running to the bathroom. You emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet as Steve stood outside the door.

“Nat, I’m worried. She’s been throwing up a lot lately. I’m thinking we need a doctor to see why she is so sick.”

Nat shook her head. “Steve, can't you see she’s not sick like a cold, she’s pregnant. All those mornings being sick to her stomach and she hasn’t had her cycle since before you brought her here. You both are gonna have a baby.”

Steve stood there shocked by what his friend was saying. He did it. He finally did what he set out to accomplish. This child was going to bind them together forever. Now he just needed to get married to her to make it official.

“I-I’m going to be a dad?” Tears filled his eyes as he watched you flush the toilet and sit up against the wall.

Steve knelt next to you and gently hugged you. You weren’t feeling all that great but let Steve do as he pleased. He held you close as he whispered how much he loved you.

“We’re gonna be a family sweetheart. Can’t you just picture how perfect our lives are gonna be?” Steve went to kiss your forehead but you pushed him back causing him to land on his butt.

“No Steve this is not perfect, nothing about this is perfect. What we needed was time together to work on us. I still needed time to adjust to this life you threw on me. Now I have to focus on a baby instead who is gonna grow up with a psychopath for a dad.”

Steve stood up, towering over you. “I’m not a psychopath. I’m not the bad guy here. Remember it takes two people to make a baby. You never complained once while we made love. I get that you’re scared but I would watch your tone with me.”

You stood up from the floor and stared angrily into his dark blue eyes. “I never asked this in my life. Remember I’m the victim here. Now bringing a baby into the equation they will be a victim as well. Where are they supposed to make friends in the middle of nowhere? Go to school? They will wonder why I can’t go anywhere.” Tears started to fall from your eyes. “I feel suffocated being in this house all the time and having no freedom. Right now you are ruining the one time I could see a friendly face. I just can’t handle this anymore.”

Nat walked in between the two of you and held you while you cried. Steve stared at the two women and was about to say something when Nat shook her head no. Angry with how this took a turn for the worse Steve headed for the door and left slamming the door behind him.

“Come on dear, let's go sit down. The stress isn’t good for a baby.” Walking to the couch you both sit down, not saying anything for several minutes.

“Nat, what am I supposed to do?” You whispered.

“Do you love Steve?” She asked.

You gave her a weird look. “Why does that matter?”

Nat chuckled, “Don’t be difficult 'cause you're mad it’s a simple answer. Do you love him?”

Taking a deep breath in and out you nodded. “Of course I do. I always have despite everything that has happened between us.”

Nat smiled at you. “That’s great. Now do you regret getting pregnant?”

“No, I don’t. I’m just shocked that it happened so fast. I just feel alone in this.” You looked down at your hands in your lap.

“Breathe hun. First off you aren’t alone. You have Steve and me to help you out. You will have the best doctor who will help you through all this. Plus Bucky and his wife are about due any day now with their baby. Bucky doesn’t live that far from here and you know the guys will want to raise the kids together. So you don’t have to worry about your child being alone. I promise you everything is going to work out.”

You think about everything Nat just said and determine she has a point. Maybe things won’t be as bad as you think. Steve was starting to trust you around the house more and now with a baby on the way maybe he would start giving you more freedom. It’s not like you could run anyway, especially while pregnant. Steve would hunt you down in a heartbeat and make your life hell again. You decide to make things work for the sake of the baby. There was love and hope between the two of you. Steve was old-fashioned and no doubt was planning to propose to you now. You decided no more whining, no more doubt, that today going forward you were going to embrace your new life.

You headed upstairs to relax as Nat was leaving the house. She ran into Steve and told him about the conversation you just had together. Nat reassured Steve that you weren’t gonna run away and that you just needed time to wrap your brain around the news. Nat explained how you came out and confessed your love toward him. That she thought this was good enough to keep you together.

This made Steve happy to hear. He wished you would have expressed this to him but was grateful that you had Nat to talk with. Steve had put up all the food and supplies that Nat brought with her and she was about to leave.

“One more thing Steve. You have to give her back her super soldier powers again. She will need it during her pregnancy but will give her even more reason to trust you. This will be the right decision for you both.”

“Nat, are you sure she just won’t take off with the baby? I would be devastated to lose them both.” Steve stared at Nat with his hands on his hips trying to assess her.

“I swear to you as your friend and future aunt to your baby that she won’t run. You need to give her room to breathe.”

Steve let out a sigh. “Okay, I will do this for her.”

Nat hugged Steve and headed for her quinjet. She took off and headed back to New York.

Steve headed inside to look for you. Climbing the stairs he found you on the bed relaxing and talking to your stomach.

“I love you so much, my peanut. I can’t wait to meet you and hold you close to me. You’re gonna be your mama and daddy’s perfect little angel when you arrive.” You rubbed your stomach a couple of times before Steve interrupted you with him clearing his throat. You rolled over to see him walk into the bedroom and sit down next to you.

“Hey sweetheart, I’m sorry for getting upset earlier at you. When you called me a psychopath that hurt me. I’ve never shown you anything but love.”

You sat up on the bed next to him and took a breath. “I’m sorry for calling you that. I was just stressed and a little angry at the time. I know you have always shown me love and attention. So please accept my apology.”

Steve leaned in and wrapped an arm around you to hug you. “I forgive you. Also, I wanted to show you that I trust you by doing this.”

His fingers gently grabbed your wrist where the bracelet was and he put his thumbprint on it. The bracelet blinked a couple of times and then opened. He took the bracelet off you. Within moments you could feel your body tingle and then it stopped.

“I don’t want to control you anymore so now you’re super soldier serum should be working once again. I want us to be equals in this relationship. I want you to be able to trust me and vice versa. We are going to become a family and I want this to work between us.” Steve rubbed the back of his head and just continued to gaze at you.

You couldn’t believe what he just did. This meant so much to you that you got teary-eyed. “Steve, I don't even know where to begin to thank you. To know you trust me enough to take that bracelet off means the world to me. I want you to know I’m with you until the end of the line.”

Steve hugged you tight, kissing you on the forehead.

“God, I love you so much. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to watch our kids grow and I want to grow old with you. You bring out the best of me sweetheart and I know I can do the same with you. What I’m trying to get at is will you be mine forever by marrying me?”

Steve got down on one knee and pulled a black velvet box out of his pants pocket. As he opened it your mouth dropped open in shock as you stared at a beautiful diamond ring that was shining back at you.

“Yes! Yes, I will.”

You threw yourself at Steve who caught you easily. Your lips planted on his as you both started to kiss. Steve’s tongue caressed yours as you moaned into the kiss. Your fingers ran through his hair causing a groan from him. Steve pulled back briefly and started to take the ring out of the box, slipping it onto your ring finger. Steve lifted you with ease and gently placed you onto the bed.

“I want you sweetheart. I need to be inside you. What do you say? Will you be mine?” He huskily asked.

You nodded your head and started to pull clothes off one another. Clothes were flying around the room until you were both naked. The both of you were knelt on the bed when Steve’s fingers moved swiftly to your pussy and felt that you were already aroused. Pushing his fingers into you, you let out a gasp as he started to thrust them into you. Every thrust inside you had you moaning over and over again. Your forehead rested against his shoulder as he continued to pull you apart piece by piece. Steve made a come hither motion with his fingers against that spongy spot inside you. Within seconds you were cumming on his fingers and groaning his name. As he pulled his fingers out of you, you shoved him onto his back and straddled him.

“Sorry Stevie but I need you.”

You wrap your hand around his hard cock and start to stroke him. Your hand starts slow and steady finding a nice rhythm that has him softly cussing at how good it feels. When you see precum spilling down his tip you speed up a little making him a panting mess as you continue to play with him. But you suddenly stop and rub his cock in between your folds as you adjust above him. His cock is right at your cunt and you start to sink down on him slowly causing him to whisper out “fuck”. Slowly you start to ride him. Up and down, up and down you ride him like your life depends on it. Steve grabs your hips as he thrusts up into you. Your hands are on his chest as you circle your hips to keep up your pace with him. You both are groaning and moaning at the sensation you both bring to the other.

Steve loves seeing you on top of him like this watching you ride his cock while purring out his name. Your breathy pants and the way you take him is the sexiest thing he has ever witnessed. His right hand slides to your stomach and he gently rubs his hand there. Knowing he was the one to get you pregnant makes him feel accomplished and proud. He would keep you pregnant as much as he could. Steve longed to see the changes your body would make from your wider hips to your breasts. He would worship you every day in bed for as long as he lived. His hand moves slowly down your stomach and finds his prize, your clit. Steve’s thumb lightly starts to rub circles around it making you moan more as you speed up riding him. He knows you’re close, and can feel your walls hugging his cock tight. He fucks up into you harder and has you cumming undone for him above him.

“Oh, Steve…” You shout above him as he continues to fuck you through your high. Your fingernails scratch down his chest causing him to hiss out in pleasure and pain.

Quickly Steve rolls you to your back and starts plunging into you over and over. All you can do is hold onto his shoulders as he takes you apart again. His hips are ruthless as they thrust into you at a punishing pace. Steve knows he's hit your spot when your eyes close and you choke out a moan. Your legs wrap tight around his slim waist as you let him take you higher and higher.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. I need you to cum for me again.” He whispers down at you.

Harder and faster Steve continues to fuck you until your walls are tightening around him. You scream his name to the heavens cumming once more as he chases his end and cums deep inside you with a shout. Steve is panting above you as he pulls himself out of you and falls next to you on the bed. You're trying to catch your breath when you look over at him smiling as he kisses your shoulder.

“That was perfect Steve. Now that I have my super soldier strength back I can go several more rounds with you like before.” You wink at him and Steve lets out a growl.

“I’m going to fuck you into this mattress and have you begging for me to stop. But trust me I’m gonna be so thorough you won’t be able to get out of bed for the next few days. I’m gonna fuck this pussy every way I can imagine and make you mine again and again.

“Steve, I love when you talk like that. Now take me again…”

“My pleasure,” Steve smirked at you and kept his promise to destroy you.

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[peterman-spideyparker]

The Great War (Babe Part 2) (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! At the risk of forgetting to post part two, I'm doing it now! Like I mentioned in the first post, it's only a part two if you want it to be--you can just have read Babe and leave it at that, but this is just more idea to go with it that I couldn't stop my brain from working on. Enjoy! :)

Summary: It's been almost a month since you left Matt. Everything hurts, and you're doing what you can to get through. Foggy calls, and it turns out Matt's not doing much better. For the first time, you have no idea what your future with Matt Murdock looks like.

Listening rec: The Great War by Taylor Swift

Warnings: ANGST, Matt and reader are separated (Matt cheated), they’re both heartbroken at the situation, swearing, fighting/shouting/anger, throwing, Matt grabs reader (NO VIOLENCE, but the Devil of Hell's Kitchen pokes out), depression (mention of the word "borderline suicidal" in reference to season three Matt), Matt being reckless, lots of crying, drinking

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 2,820

Before you can even say a feeble hello, Foggy is already speaking. “Matt’s devastated,” he breathes. 

You’re hurt. Offended, even. You left because of what he did in California, and he has the audacity to feel sorry for himself? “And I’m not?” you say, probably with more venom than appropriate. “Goodbye, Foggy.”

“Wait, hold on!” You don’t know why you don’t hang up, but you stay on the line. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the right way to start this. How have you been?”

“I’m awful, Foggy. My marriage is done, my heart hurts, I’ve lost the man I love . . . I’ve never been worse.”

“(Y/N) . . . I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Fog. All this is between me and Matt. It’s why you called, I’m guessing? Get all the answers for what exactly happened between us?”

“That’s between you guys. It’s none of my business or anyone’s. I’ve already ripped Matt a new one for doing what he did, and so did Karen and Frank, but he’s . . .” He stops and lets out a sigh. “Do you remember hearing from Maggie what Matt was like after Midland Circle? Despondent, depressed, borderline suicidal?”

Of course you remember, how could you ever forget? You’ve never seen him like that in your life. But the term “borderline suicidal” makes a pit grow in your stomach as you straighten up.

“He hasn’t tried to—?” you start to ask. 

“No, no, that was shitty wording on my part. But Matt’s not himself. It’s like watching a hollow corpse with a temper move about. He either doesn’t care at all, or a little thing will set him off. He’s being reckless on patrol, he’s drinking more than he usually does. I’ve been covering for him at the office, but . . . You need to talk to him.”

You close your eyes, tears rolling down your cheek. “I can’t, Foggy.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“He broke my heart, and I broke his in return. I stomped on it. I love him and I hurt him. If I talked to him . . . That’s salt on the wound for both of us.” More tears stream down your face as you think about it. “We both vowed not to hurt one another. H-He hurt me, but he wanted to fix it. I hurt him and don’t have that same courage to try.”

“Try now,” Foggy pleads. “Try now, help one another. Even if it’s for the last time.”

“O-Okay,” you say before you can realize it.

Foggy breathes a sign of relief. “Come to the loft.”

The loft. The scene of the crime.

You breathe a quiet confirmation before you hang up, taking time to mentally prepare yourself before you grab your purse and leave your sister’s place to talk Matt off whatever ledge he’s currently perched on. 

It’s a short trip, and Foggy meets you in the lobby of Matt’s building. He pulls you in for a long hug, and you actively tell yourself not to cry. 

“He’s that bad, huh?” you sniffle.

“Yeah,” Foggy sighs. “I’ve never been for him like this before. It’s like he’s not the same person.”

“I know what you mean,” you say quietly. “I haven’t felt like myself since that day.”

Foggy looks at you with a crestfallen expression, and you give him one more hug before you make your way up to the loft. 

Your key still works—you’re afraid if you knock, he won’t let you in. Hell, he probably heard you turn the block on your way here and wouldn’t answer out of anger or annoyance. Your stomach churns when you see Matt sitting in the chair. He’s in sweats, his posture is curved, his hair is disheveled, and he’s growing a thick beard. Beer bottles are on the table in front of him mixed with trash.

“Matt?” you breathe, but he remains unmoved. As you move closer toward him, he sits there like a statue, not caring to look your way. “Matt, it’s me.” Still, he doesn’t gaze your way. 

Putting your purse in its usual spot, you make your way over to him in the chair, gently cupping his face in your hands to tilt him up toward you. You suck in a small breath when you see the bruises and cuts on his cheeks, nose, and chin. If this is what his face looks like, you can only imagine the other injuries that his clothes are hiding.

“Matt,” you breathe. “What happened?”

He just closes his eyes in shame, starting to turn. You don’t let him, though, bringing his face back to center.

“Matty,” you plea. “Matt, talk to me, sweetheart.”

“You’re not my sweetheart anymore,” he finally says, and it burns like acid. You deserve it—you gave it just as good to him when he came back from California. “And I’m not yours.”

“We didn’t sign any papers yet,” you breathe, trying to lighten the mood as you hold back your own tears. “So, legally, I am.”

Matt peels back from my touch like he’s getting out of an itchy sweater. Okay, you deserve it. You deserve all of it.

“Matt—.”

“You left,” he spits. “You left just like everyone else, even when you swore you wouldn’t.”

You sit back on your heels. It hurts, but it’s the truth. “I did.” He turns back toward you like he’s shocked you actually admitted it. “I didn’t try to hear you out, and I’m sorry. I should’ve. It was . . .”

He turns toward you, ice in his blind gaze. You’ve never seen Matt like, this, and as he starts to slowly rise from his chair, it’s the first time you can say that you’ve ever been afraid of him. 

You spring to your feet as well, trying to at least keep things on the same level posture wise. 

“Now you’re trying to make things better?” he growls low. “You’re the one that tore it up in front of us. I wanted to stop the breakage, but you readied the wrecking ball. This shit is your mess. It’s like this because of you.”

Now you start to get mad. “Oh, just me? Any breakage that was the breakage that you started. Those images and videos were circulating for two whole days before you came home. I didn’t hear a single word from you—a ‘good morning’ or ‘I’m boarding my plane’ or otherwise. You just showed up here expecting it to all be fine—.”

“You don’t get to assume in this,” he grits, the space between you dangerously nonexistent as one of his hands tightly grab on to your wrist.

“Yes, I can. There’s two people in this mess. I’m saying what it seemed like on my end,” you say, your heart thundering in your chest. Matt wouldn’t hurt you—he’d never do that. But with how his hand is on your arm and the mood he seems to have been in since you left, you’re not entirely confident in that statement anymore.

“You never really knew a damn thing about me, did you?” he frowns. “You just kept a version of Matt Murdock in your head and lived with it this entire time, huh?”

“Maybe I did. Because this isn’t the Matt Murdock I came over to talk to. This is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. So, if you’re gonna let the Devil out, let him out on me, Murdock. Do your worst.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” he threatens, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he clenches his teeth. 

“No. I came here to talk, and that’s what we’re gonna—.”

Before you know it, his hand is off your wrist, wrapping around the neck of a beer bottle before he whizzes it past your head like a threat. You flinch, moving to cover your head before the bottle leaves his hand, and you remain curled as the glass hits something behind you, knocking it over as they both crash to the ground. You slowly turn to see what was caught in the crosshairs—the beer bottle had hit a picture frame, knocking it down off the side table and breaking it. You can tell by the shifts in his body language he immediately regrets it, his shoulders slumping as tears start to sting your eyes. You notice he starts to take a step toward you out of the corner of your eye, but you’re on the move toward the broken picture frame. One of the pictures from our wedding.

Huh, you think. How fitting. 

You lower yourself to your knees, carefully picking it up and looking at how your faces were beaming with nothing but joy, how you held onto one another with love . . . and now how it’s the opposite. How you’re broken. You wouldn’t look at him the day you left, and he won’t look at you know. You curl over the photo, freely weeping on the pile of glass. You just want it things to go back to normal.

You hear Matt pad softly over to you, squatting as if he wants to put a hand on your back to soothe you, but he backs away to let you cry. Tears pour out of you like a geyser, a constant flow down your cheeks as you sit alone in the living room. Maybe it was an accident that he hit the picture, but his senses are so sharp . . . maybe he did want to hit it. Maybe he was trying to prove a point. Maybe he wanted to show you that by you leaving, you were the one who put the final nail in the coffin of your marriage.

Maybe he really doesn’t want you anymore. Maybe he stopped wanting you before he went to Los Angeles. Maybe he stopped wanting you a long time ago.

You’re still crying when you hear Matt come back over toward you. Through your limited vision, you watch him clean up the broken glass from the bottle and the frame. It takes him a few trips, but it’s eventually all cleaned up. He leaves again before walking back toward you, holding out a box of tissues. With a shaking hand, you grab one and wipe at your nose, desperately trying to calm yourself. 

“This is my favorite picture of us from our wedding,” you sniffle. “This is what I would grab if I could only take one thing from the loft in an emergency. This would be it. And now . . .”

You can’t finish your sentence, just weeping uncontrollably in your little ball on the floor over your two deepest treasures—this photo and your marriage. Shattered. 

“Angel . . .” Matt says so softly, so tenderly, you almost forget that your life has essentially imploded.

“This is all my fault,” you cry, spiraling, trying to trace it all back to you, your actions. The big explosive things all seem to have their root in something you can place back to yourself. Matt slept with someone else, but it goes back to something you did— you had a short attention span and a bit of a short fuse before he left because a bunch of shit at work that kept piling up, and you knew he was frustrated . . . how much he hates planes. You egged him on. You did nothing to help, and when he left to go to California, he found someone who understood him in a way you couldn’t. You need an answer for this, and that seems to be it.

“This is my favorite picture of us, and it’s all my fault,” you sniffle, repeating what you said earlier, your chest burning from the tears and hyperventilation. 

“It’s just a picture—,” he starts to say softly.

“It’s not just a picture,” you weep. “This, us, it’s all my fault. We’re broken because of me. This is all my fault.”

You hear Matt pad softly over to you, squatting down and taking the picture from your hands, putting it on the arm of a nearby chair before pulling you in for a hug. All you can do is sob against his shoulder as he holds onto you. 

“This isn’t because of you,” he tries to soothe, sounding like he’s about to cry as well. “It . . . It was my poor judgement, it was my shortcomings that did this. You’re in the flaming wreckage, and it’s not fair.”

“I just want things how they were,” you sniffle. “I want to come home. I want us to be okay.”

Matt’s silence is terrifying. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt rage like that. Darkness like that,” he says softly. You feel a tear fall from his cheek to the top of you head. “Shit, I grabbed you . . . Fuck, I’m so sorry. I-I would never—(Y/N), please—.”

“I . . . I,” you start. He’d never hurt you. For all his anger, for all his strength, Matt would never hurt you. But when you’re facing off with the man that patrols the streets? The man that brought down Wilson Fisk not once, but twice? You just didn't know. 

“I scared you.” Tears are flowing down his cheek. “I could hear your heart race . . . I knew you were scared and for a moment, and I didn’t care. It’s like I wanted you to be scared, and I liked it. I was glad you were scared of me.” He sounds disgusted with himself. “You really thought I was going to hit you.”

“I did. For a moment,” you admit. It catches in your throat, but there’s no use in lying if you’re trying to fix this. 

Is that what you came over to do? To fix this? 

He lets out a long breath, slumping to the floor. “What happened to us?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” you say. And it’s the truth. You don’t really know how you got to this point. Yes, you know why you walked out, but it’s like there were the small hairline fractures in glass—so fine that you couldn’t see them—and then a hammer came down on it and a million little pieces was left in its wake. But how he sounds . . . you know that tone. When it’s been a rough night on patrol, it coats his words like sap—he’s going into a dark headspace, and when he gets too far in, it’s hard to get him out, and you need to get him out. You move around to carefully sit next to Matt, putting a hand on his forearm. You can feel a thick bandage on his arm before you can process that he winces, so you move to slide your hand in his. 

“I know you’d never hurt me,” you breathe. “I know you’d never lay a hand on me like that.”

“But I did, though. If I added more pressure, I could’ve snapped your worst. It would have been easy for me to do.” You see him swallow the lump forming in his throat, his own self-hatred inflating at a dangerous rate. “I was full of rage. You were scared of me.”

“I’m scared of all of this,” you admit, your voice small. “What’s happening to us. How it’s effecting you and me. We’re . . . We’re not ourselves. I-I don’t recognize either of us. I don’t like it. I want things back how they were.”

“But they can’t go back.” He sounds broken, hollow—just how you feel. 

“Are . . . Are we too far gone?” you ask just above a whisper, terrified of the answer. 

“I don’t want us to be.”

You hang your head. “I haven’t been sleeping,” you admit. “It doesn’t feel right without you, your arms around me.”

He places a gently hand on your chin, lifting your face up and wiping tears off of your cheeks before pulling you in for a hug. It feels like warmth. Like love. “I can’t sleep in the bed. It smells like you, and with you gone . . . I just patrol all night.”

It’s like when you think your heart can’t break any more, it does. “I still feel so upset, but, I feel hollow more than anything. Like part of me is missing.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I-I’m so sorry.” He kisses the top of your head. “I should’ve listened, I shouldn’t have left like that, but I was just so upset. I couldn’t be around you without feeling like screaming or crying or both.”

“We . . . We can get through this. Can’t we?”

You think about it. Is this something you can do? You’ve been through worse— you’ve seen him near death more times than you would like, you’ve seen how the toll of Daredevil and the stress of being an attorney wear him down. Even the debate on how we should bring up our children should you choose to have them strained you both. But your happiness, your life together, it’s bigger than your low points. It has to be.

It has to be. 

Right?

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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters  @loves0phelia

[jorvikzelda]

reading is… frustrating. I first read this thing when I was in an all too foggy state, I’ll think, so I didn’t really absorb it all too well — I’d best read it again and really make sure to take it all in. And so I do, and I really do take it all in! Except then I’ll be all too foggy to read for a few days, and when I get back to it and continue on to the next chapter I’ll just have. Completely forgotten what happened in the last. Makes you feel rather defenceless to the fog

[etfrin]

⤷❝Mine To Love | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, mentions of caging/locking you up (doesn't do it though), hair pulling, breath play if you squint, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), pinv sex, blowjob, male masterbation, cunnilingus, mating press, mentions of Lucy Gray, no spoilers | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Snow realizing his feelings for you, being fucked up about it and fucks you!

⇢☾A/N: don't romanticize, it's dark romance so y'all are warned! This is set in the same au as The Study (you don't have to read it beforehand but it's recommended)

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > <tag list>

It started slowly, so slow that Snow didn't even realize it. It started with that night in the study after he had you. He didn't touch you again, denying himself of you. You, his wife, a little bird stuck in a cage. The First Lady of Panem was nothing but a doll, a showcase piece for the country.

You played the role well enough, but you weren't a doll at all. You brought life in what was otherwise a stone-cold mannor. The workers cook your favorite, making sure you're the most well-accommodated. Like a Queen. How their shoulders relax and the smile that springs up when they do the tasks that you assigned them. You earned their respect and their loyalty.

You were dangerous yet harmless. It baffled Coriolanus to no end. It started slow. He coincidentally met you in the hallways more and more. After that night, you couldn't make eye contact with him, no longer did you greet him with an awkward hello or a shy smile.

You look down at the floor whenever he passes you by, your body flushing from the mere second of proximity. So obvious and adorable. He loved how easy you were to read, how open you were. Whatever your lips hide, your eyes show. Whatever your soul hides, your body shows.

It started slow. The monthly dinners with the First Lady turned weekly. Every Sunday now he had you sit across him for dinner and he would ask you about your day. Just to be polite, mind you, don't look into it. He would be annoyed by those one-word answers but would never show it. His fingers subtly grasped the glass of wine tighter than he should, his heart pricking his brain into paranoia. ‘What else?’ he wanted to ask, ‘Stop saying it was good. Tell me what made it good.’

Instead of uttering those words, cameras were placed on every inch of the manner with the audio functions so everything is recorded for his and only his view. He watched you walking through the library, your fingertips touching the spines of the books you already read (which was most of them), you didn't even realize new books were added to the collection, all similar to the ones you liked. He watched you stroll the gardens, your face in a frown at the neverending white roses. A red rose and several other flowers were added the next day.

It started slow. He began to talk about his day more and more trying to fill a silence. He started asking for your opinion and oh, how that lighted your eyes up that you were finally doing what you were meant to do. Supporting him not as a doll but as a wife. You begin to talk about your days more, trusting him with your day-to-day activities. You tell him about friends and family, something he wasn't interested in (he has files on every single person you mentioned).

The nights that were dedicated to his needed sleep turned into the witching hours in which he would stroke his cock over the memory of you. His mouth biting into the pillow to stop his groans, hearing them would mean admitting his need for you and he rejected that notion. His cock was oversensitive because he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop fucking into his fist, again and again thinking about you. Not just your pussy but you. Your desperate moans, your lips marking his neck, your slick walls, and everything of you. Your tears, your head on his chest when he had fucked you. Everything.

He wanted to pin you against a wall. He wanted to bend over during dinner. He wanted you on his lap in his study. He wanted to push you to the bed and fuck you until the bed breaks. He wanted you!

The realization made him spill onto his bed sheets for the nth time. A gasp escaped his lips as he realized how deeply you are rooted in him now. He needed to kill you. He can't afford this again. Whatever this is. Obsession? Love? Was there ever a difference? He needed this to end.

‘You don't deserve to be loved,’ he thinks, you were no Lucy Gray after all, you were different. You could never compare to his first and only (not anymore) love. But he had caged you, he had you and knew your every move. The rumors that spread of cheating were seized along with the man who flirted with you. True to your words, you hadn't fallen to the temptations of the Capitol, rejecting their offers politely rather than basking in their attention like before.

‘Good,’ he thought, he had killed everyone who had touched you and it was hard to hide the evidence. “I am so much better than her,” he muttered, “I could do so much better.” He asked himself, ‘Why? After all the promises I made to myself of never repeating the mistake.’

He didn't get a reply but he dreamt of you.

Breakfast had passed, lunch too, he hadn't seen you once today. A quick peek at his monitors showed that you were sleeping in your room. He clenched his jaw, a part of him hating you for sleeping in because it deprived him of seeing you. A part of his heart warmed because your hair was a mess, the shirt you were wearing while sleeping was his, and you looked so darn pretty.

Coriolanus convinced himself that he was going to your room to wake you up. Nobody should sleep this late into the day. It wasn't healthy, and he needed the First Lady to remain healthy. That was all.

He stepped into the room, his footsteps quiet so he didn't alert you. He sits down on the bed, your sleeping figure beside him. Your mouth had dried drool on the corners which made him disgusted but amusement all the same. His hand went to your cheek, he couldn't control the action of his thumb stroking your cheek.

“I should lock you up forever,” he whispered as softly as possible, almost inaudible. “In this room, so no one can see you but me.”

He knew by now his thoughts weren't normal and it would never be. That's him and he had accepted himself. He leaned in closer, his lips inches away from yours. He stopped right before he closed the gap. He takes a deep breath, taking in your scent before pulling back.

His hand goes to your shoulder, he shakes you. “Wake up, bird,” he said, his eyes softening when he saw you wake up and peer at him with confused eyes. You yawn, and sit up, your eyes wide when you look at him. You rub them with your hand and blink.

“Is there anything wrong, Coryo?” You asked softly, “Anything I can do to help.” “You should shower and eat first,” he said instead, “and next time don't sleep in. I don't like indiscipline.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, “I was finishing a book.” Your eyes flicker to him, “It's nice by the way! I will tell you about it during dinner.” He wanted to hear about it now, he wanted to pull you closer and kiss your lips, he wanted to push you into the mattress and breed you. He wanted to clean you up after and feed you every kind of feed.

He clenched his jaw, trying to get rid of such thoughts. “We'll see,” he said before walking out of the room, accidentally slamming the door. The first sign of Snow losing control.

The second sign of Coriolanus losing control was how his breath hitched when he saw you during dinner. You are wearing yet another one of his shirts (how do you even get your hands on them) and that's it. A white shirt that reached your knees, you had forgone pants and opted for shorts that couldn't even be seen. Your legs were in complete view, the same legs he wanted wrapped around his waist.

He didn't say a single comment even when it was clear you were waiting for one. ‘Were you trying to seduce him?’ he thinks, ‘Or something else.’ He felt paranoid about you wearing his shirt. Did you want him? Want him to bend you over, press your face onto the table and fuck you like you were an animal?

He felt his pants getting tighter from his thoughts, flashes of what he could do to you, what he had done to you. He couldn't focus as you talked during dinner, he made a mental note to watch the cameras later to know the words you had blessed him with.

It hits him like a wave when dinner ends and you come to him with a book. Tabs were spilling out and it was a hardcover of an old classic that he had to read during the academy.

“You once told me that you liked this book, I spent last night annotating it! I did a few finishing touches before dinner…”

That explains your attire, you were busy formatting this gift for him. He took the book from your hand, he wanted to throw it across the room, he wanted to set it on fire. It was now his most precious treasure, more important than Panem itself.

The truth he denied washes over him. Making him take a sharp breath and your eyebrows etch together in concern. He had once a girl dedicate songs for him, now he had a wife dedicating booms for him. ‘It would be a mistake,’ he told himself, ‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past.’

The desires he shoved at the back of his mind sprang forward and he made a decision. The third sign of Coriolanus surrendering to himself was that he had everyone including the guards leave the dining room. Making your eyes widen from the sudden instruction.

“Is there anything wrong-” you begin to ask before Snow interrupts you. “Here is what's going to happen now. You're gonna be on your knees, you'll take my cock in your mouth and you'll make me cum. Then I will take you to our room and I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name.”

You blink once, twice just staring into his eyes that revealed nothing before you went closer to him and got down on your knees for him. “Like this?” You asked, breathless, your cheeks flushed. He smirked, “Exactly like this, pet.”

“Now part those pretty lips for me,” he said as he unzipped his pants and set his hard cock free. He lets out a chuckle as he sees you eyeing his cock like a long-lost lover. Guess he wasn't the only one thinking about that time.

You part your mouth wide enough for him as he pushes his cock in slowly. No matter how desperate he was a gentleman for his wife. He knew better than to gag you. He stopped when his cock had completely disappeared, his length engulfed into your wet, hot mouth.

He throws back his head as his dick hits the back of your throat. He relishes the sound of your choking around his length. He lets out his groan, trying his hardest not to cum down your throat so soon. His hand is in your hair, keeping you in place like an obedient pet.

You try your best to take in a deep breath as your tongue swirls around his length as much as possible. You weren't the best at blowjobs, but you knew the sloppier the better. Saliva ran down your cheek as you tried your best to focus on his cock underside, your tongue dragging itself across a pulsing vein that reached his cockhead.

You moan around his length as the taste of pre-cum bursts in your mouth. You close your eyes and try your best, bopping your head up and down. You clenched your fist, trying your best not to gag when his cock gets deeper into your throat.

Meanwhile, Snow was a wreck of a man, the heat of your mouth ruining his capability of having coherent thoughts. You were sucking his soul through his dick it seemed to him. His fingers tangled in your locks, gripping your hair tighter as a way to anchor himself to reality.

His blue eyes dilated to almost black as he looks at you taking his cock so well. Like you were made for it. Made for his cock. Made for him. Meant to be his wife, his bird, his pet, and his love. It's destiny, he decided as he pulls you off his cock and uses his suit sleeves to wipe your mouth and chin.

‘Everything leads to this,’ he thought, as he pulled you onto his lap and pressed a kiss to your lips. The saltiness of his taste in your mouth does not deter his tongue from tasting you.

“Go to my- our room,” he whispered to you as he broke the kiss. “I'll be there soon,” he promises as he nuzzles into your neck, his lips kissing your skin. You nod and get off his lap. Your feet drag you into his room.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus takes a deep breath, trying to maintain whatever pathetic excuse of sanity he had held. It didn't work. His cock was hard enough to hurt and his brain made him think. He thinks of removing you, he thinks of keeping you. He thinks of plans to protect you, backup plans to make sure you remain untouched while still maintaining the image of the First Lady. His true possessiveness and obsession flares up in his mind.

‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past,’ he told himself, repeating that line to his head.

He takes a deep breath, a glance at the cameras shows workers and guards kept the halls clear and you were in his room and on his bed waiting for him. Waiting for him to ravish you as you kept playing with the buttons of the shirt, and your underwear on the floor. Your face was crimson but your lower lip was in a darker shade of red with how much you bitten it because of nervousness.

He lets out a huff of air before adjusting himself accordingly. Coriolanus Snow was many things, gentlemen included and gentlemen don't keep their ladies waiting.

You freeze as he enters the room. You swallow nervously, your fingers pausing on the shirt button you were playing with. He glances at the panties that were on the floor and he gives you a little smirk. “Take it all off, my wife,” he said as his hands worked to undress him. His suit was on the floor, his shirt joining it soon enough.

You have to press your thighs together as you see his skin again, a whimper escaping your lips at the sight. He was so beautiful, craved by the angels, breathed to life by the devil. Soon, his pants and boxers were getting ridden off.

You check him out, your gaze hungry. Your fingers shake with desire as you take off your (his) shirt. You let it fall, exposing yourself completely to him, like he did for you. His eyes rack you up, causing a flush to every visible inch of your skin.

“Open your legs,” he said, as he walked closer and got down on his knees for you. “I am hungry,” he said, while his lips pressed to your knee and his lustful eyes bewitched you. You had to bite your tongue to not let a moan from his mere words. You spread your legs wide, letting your cunt come into his view.

Your folds that were glistening with your arousal and your slit which was the cause of your juices fluttered around nothing from his gaze. “Exquisite,” he had whispered, the praise warming you up and making your pussy clench harder. “Eager too,” he chuckles, looking up at you but you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Have your meal,” you mumbled, embarrassed. He pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, making your breath hitch from the contact. A sharp moan escapes when he bites, his teeth digging into the flesh and your hand falls onto his hair. Your fingers grip the blonde locks but you don't try to push him away. Your legs tried to close around him, but his hands made sure to keep them spread as he liked it.

He pulled away, admiring the mark before he pressed another wet kiss to it. His fingers grip your thighs, they hold tight enough to leave marks too.

He takes in a deep breath, nuzzling into your thigh. Your primal scent makes him go wild, his nail digging into your skin as he brings his lips closer to your pussy. One swipe of his tongue onto your folds and he groans louder than you have ever heard him to do so.

“You taste like fucking candy,” he lets out, as his nose bumps into your clit, his tongue messily swirling around your folds, gathering as much of your juices as possible. Your legs were all on his shoulders now as he all but pressed his face, burying himself in your cunt. He takes in a deep breath through his mouth before he begins to ravish you properly.

His mouth taking in your entire pussy and sucking it with such devotion it made you see stars. He laps at your pussy, his tongue never stopping to devour you. You pulled him even closer, your thighs closing around his head. The action only made him. You couldn't see it, but his eyes rolled back from the lack of air and your taste that quickly became his favorite.

His teeth pulled at the outer lips of your pussy, making you cry out and gush more juices. He licks it all up. Before his attention goes to your little bud, his mouth kisses it at first. Then he takes your clit into his mouth to suck without any mercy.

It makes you cry out, the soles of your feet digging into his back as your hips begin to rut against his face. You have no control over your actions. You were gripping his hair so tight you were afraid that you tore away a few strands. Overwhelming pleasure attacked all of your senses as he didn't stop his merciless actions.

You arch your back, your lips moaning his name as heat begins to gather in your body. You cry out, “Close! Coryo! Fuck!” Pleads begin to leave your mouth as your hips grind faster, your clit nudged his nose as his tongue is now inside your walls, fucking you with his tongue.

Your eyes widen, and you let out a silent scream when his teeth nip your swollen clit. You lay on the bed, panting as your pussy cums on his face. Your arousal makes a mess on his face which makes you even more slick when he pulls back and gets on top of you.

You looked into his eyes, his cold blue eyes that were nearly black now. He was panting, both of your breaths mixing into the air. With whatever senses you have left, you use your palm to clean up some of the mess on his face.

As soon as you finish up, he holds your hand. His mouth on your palm with broad strokes of his tongue he licks the remaining of your juices clean. “Can't let it go to waste, my bird,” he whispered to you as he leaned down. His body caging yours or were you caging him down with your legs around his waist? He pressed a kiss to your cheek. Sweet and gentle, and so unlike him but you don't dare question his affections. May it be sweet or savory, you accept it with your arms wide open.

“Want you,” you whispered to him. “You'll have me when I see fit,” he replied, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck before they reached the flesh of your breasts. One of his hands squeezed your breast and his thumb rubbed circles on your nipple. His lips paid attention to the underside of it, licking the skin around the round flesh before his teeth sank in making you gasp. He sucks harshly, his hold on your breast getting rougher as he forms the mark on your skin. When he's assured that a hickey will be formed, his lips pull back and he presses a kiss to the mark.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin before he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks just as harshly as before. You moan, “Yours, Snow!” Your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. His fingers play and squeeze your other breast while he continues to suck your bud. Your cunt despite having a previous earthsharing orgasm begins to pulse with need. You whimper, “Corio, please!”

Coryo pulls away, his eyebrows etched in annoyance, as much as he likes to hear you beg, he would rather focus on his task of marking you up. He leans up and presses his lips to you. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue. Your fingers tangling themselves into his curls bringing him even closer to you. He breaks the kiss, “I'll teach you to be obedient later, my pet.”

You let out a whimper when he pressed a hard kiss against your lips. His hands travel down to your hips. “Get ready,” he whispered to you, “I meant my words.” I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name. Remembering his earlier words, you whine loudly, “Please!”

His hand grips your hip tightly as his other hand holds his hard cock and guides it to your entrance. Just to be a little tease, he swipes his mushroom tip all over your cunt, his cockhead bumping your swollen clit making you arch your back and your nails dig into his flesh harder, making him moan as well.

He finally pressed his tip into your slit, his cock gliding in smoothly because of how wet you were. He groans as his dick gets sucked into warmth. His head is between the space of your shoulder. He was panting, his hot breath hitting your skin as he pushed in inch by inch. Your hands are on his back, your legs around his waist as you encourage him to go deeper into you with your soft moans.

His teeth sink into your neck to stop a groan, as his cock reaches your deepest spot. While your nails drag themselves across his back to create red lines. Both of you finding ways to anchor yourself to reality, to not go insane with the pleasure you find in each other.

“Move,” you plead, “Please, Coryo, need you to fuck me. Need you!” Snow decided to have mercy on you both, his hips began to move shallowly, and he refused to completely pull back. He refused the concept of depriving his dick of your sweet, wet pussy. “Faster,” you beg, his deep thrust hits at your every spot, some you didn't even know existed. It fried at your senses, your mind going haywire, your body getting desperate for another release.

“No,” he barks near your ear, his mouth biting your earlobe before he begins to kiss your jaw and then to your collarbone. His lips suck purple and blue bruises on your skin while his hips grind into you. Making you go dizzy and insane with how his cockhead kept grazing your g-spot.

“Please, please,” you babble, “You're fucking me so good, Coryo! I can't take it, please! Fuck me harder, love!” His hips had stopped moving as he heard your words. His head leaned up to you, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “What did you say?”

You looked straight into his eyes, not hiding the love you had for him, letting it flow through your words and your body. “Love,” you whispered, your lips pressing a delicate kiss that could shatter everything you had built with Snow. “I love you,” you whispered. One of your hands moves to his cheek, caressing him. “You don't have to do anything in return, just know that I love you.” You smile at him, knowing it's more likely that he won't ever return your feelings.

You prepared yourself for a harsh rejection but instead, his hips begin to move again. Harder, faster than before, his cockhead kissing your cervix with his thrusts, his fingers digging into your hips marking it. You won't be able to walk later but that didn't matter.

What mattered was how perfect Coriolanus had begun to fuck you. No, it wasn't a fuck. This was something more. Something changed with your confession, something changed and will remain changed for the rest of both of your lives.

One of his hands reached upward, his fingers snaking around your throat. He pressed it in, not enough to block your breathing but enough to make you lightheaded. Your pussy which was already tight, clenched around him further making him groan right against your ear.

“Lover indeed,” he whispered, his words that you nearly missed, your heart understood what he meant. You gasp, “Kiss me.” You knew that even without him saying those words, he could love you all the same.

Snow complies, his lips clashing with yours. His hips rutting into you as his hands guide your legs into the mating press position, making you cry out into the kiss as his cock reaches even deeper than before causing a small bump into your stomach that neither of you notices.

The kiss got open-mouthed, desperate with how his tongue tangled with yours. It was filth filled with the pathetic, insanity of love you both felt for each other. His thrusts got faster, and sloppier as he was close to his end. Your cunt pulsating around his length as you too were close to shattering again.

What it took for both of you to reach the end was him breaking the kiss to whisper, “I should kill you. I should kill you for making me a lovesick fool again.”

The words even when you know can mean your doom makes you cum like nothing else. Your lips cry out as your walls begin to milk his cock for what it's worth. He groans into your mouth, letting himself feel your fluttering cunt before he thrusts into you once, twice, and finds his release. His cock spilling into you, his cum painting your insides white, marking you.

He pulls out, his back covered with scratches, his curls clinging to his forehead and his lips swollen from the kisses. You looked just as much of a mess as he did, with marks all over your body.

He thinks to himself as he lies beside you. He wasn't going to kill you now. Not in ten years or fifty but your end would only be when he decides.

He loves you after all, in his twisted way.

tags : @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @justacaliforniandreamer

[aperrywilliams]

That Wasn't Fake (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Request: Can you write a Spencer fic where the reader is kind of quiet and shy when she begins working at the BAU, and Spencer has a crush on her, and then they have a case, and she has to like to seduce the unsub lowkey and everyone kind of like...how is she going to do this shes not very outgoing but when she does shes really good at it, and everyone is surprised and impressed.

Summary:  You're shy and reserved. Spencer has a crush on you, and unbeknown to him, you have a crush on him. Maybe the cat can get out of the bag when you have to step aside of your comfort zone to catch an elusive unsub.

Word Count: 4.2k (no self control here)

Warnings: Words like 'fuck' and 'bitch'. A rant about self-doubt. Typical CM stuff: unsubs, killings, etc.

A/N: Another request I loved! It should have been a little shorter, but I'm having a hard time getting to the point these days. Please keep sending requests!

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Spencer knows it is inappropriate, but he can't help it. You're coworkers, and that itself sets a boundary, so he shouldn't be thinking of trespassing.

But the crush he has on you seems to grow every day.

He doesn't know if it is your beautiful smile, the kindness you show in everything you do, or the enthusiasm you put into every task you are committed to. Since the moment he saw you pass the bullpen glass doors, Spencer knew he was damned.

From that moment, Spencer knew he wanted to know you and learn everything about you. About what you liked, what you hated, and what your fears and dreams were. Everything.

But not much after that revelation in his mind, he understood it wasn't going to be easy to get to you.

You were extremely shy and reserved.

In fact, your first interaction - when Emily introduced you both - consisted of a wave of your hand and a timid 'nice to meet you.'

He thought as time went by, you would loosen and become less bashful and quiet. And in part, he was right. As the months passed, you began to feel more comfortable within the team. You laughed at Luke's jokes, you commented on Rossi's stories, and you could even - when the stars aligned - crack a joke yourself to Tara or Matt.

But beyond that, no one knew much about your life outside of the BAU, unlike JJ, who always talks about her kids and her husband, or Matt, who talks about his kids, too. Or Tara, who recounts her failed dates. Or the same Luke who always shows photos of Roxy.

You, on the other hand, seemed to be an enigma. But Spencer Reid loved decoding enigmas.

At first, he turned his interest in you out of mere scientific curiosity. However, internally, he knew it wasn't just that.

It started with small random questions about the times you worked together: Is this coffee okay? What was the last book you read? Do you think we should buy some donuts for the team?

If you were honest, it picked your interest why, from all people, Dr. Spencer Reid was so adamant in making conversation with you.

From what you knew and from what the team said, Spencer was not a person very interested in things other than work or books. But suddenly, out of nowhere, he asked you what the last movie you saw was or something like that.

You always answered his questions; however, you would have liked to be much more talkative and engage in longer conversations, but your nature stopped you.

'What if I don't have anything more interesting for him to say?'

'Does he just talk to me because he feels sorry for me?'

And that was the big issue: you have never had problems with the way you live your life. You're pretty satisfied with what you do in your job and out of it, too. But you have always thought you are too 'simple' to entertain people's interest.

And to be honest, being surrounded by people with so much experience and big things happening in their lives still intimidates you a bit. So, you usually refrain from talking too much about yourself or anything for that matter.

But with Spencer, things are a bit different. He's always checking on you but respects your boundaries. He has learned that sometimes you just don't want to talk, and he doesn't push.

Despite his interest beyond the professional, Spencer would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. Being able to share time with you will have to be enough for him.

In a way, he has become your protector. He is your backup during interrogations or in situations where you can feel awkward, like the times when some police officers tried to flirt with you and got too close. Sure, you know how to turn them down, but sometimes guys don't get the memo and keep pushing. You're too shy to yell or be aggressive about it.

The team also understands the way you are, and they know it does not make you any less professional. However, they have always been careful not to take you too much out of your comfort zone.

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A whole two weeks and five murders later, the team is stuck trying to catch an unsub who has preferences for killing women after club nights. The profile says he is not interested in just any woman but in those between 25-30 years old who like to flirt with several men in the clubs. But it is not just any type of flirting; it is the type that is initiated and dominated by them. In short, he likes to kill women who are the opposite of submissive. He sees them as predators on a hunting ground.

Another finding in victimology is that the women he kills, in addition to having a specific age range, have very similar physical characteristics. And similar to you.

All his victims have your build, eye color, hair color, and height. It gets to be creepy to a certain point. And it's something difficult to ignore.

Bouncing information and possible strategies, the team agrees they need to be proactive to get him to show up before another killing happens.

"Okay, what options do we have?" Emily asks.

"The witnesses haven't gotten us anywhere," Luke complains.

"Although we've narrowed down his hunting grounds," Rossi shrugs.

"Yeah, we know the clubs where he likes to hunt," JJ backs Rossi.

"But although the profile, we have yet to learn about what to look for there. I mean, we know what the unsub wants, but not how he looks like." This time, it's Tara who speaks.

You've rarely seen Emily bite her tongue when she wants to say something, but it's clear that she has something on her mind, and she doesn't know how to put it, or maybe the problem is something else. You look at her out of the corner of your eye, and she looks back at you; what do those eyes say? They look like they're even apologetic.

It's a fraction of the time before she comes back to behave like herself.

"We need to lurk him. It's the only way," she says. And everyone's eyes - yours included - are on her immediately.

"Lurk him?" Matt repeats.

"Yes. And all we know who should be the one going undercover to do that," Emily adds, looking at you this time.

That's it—the elephant in the room.

Of course, you're the ideal candidate. Well, you're perfect in the physical aspect because if we talk about the victim's personality and yours...

There's silence in the room, and you can feel like the team's eyes are all on you.

Do they expect you to say no? To refuse? From your perspective, it's not a question; it's more like the option you all have to catch the guy.

"It's true (Y/N) would be the closest to the unsub type, but there are a lot of things to take into account," Matt says. And you know perfectly well what's behind his words, even if he doesn't say it directly.

And that's okay; it's perfectly plausible they have their doubts. It is not enough to look like the victims for the operation to work.

But if there is one thing you are sure of, it's that you will always give your all to your job, even if that means becoming a completely different person.

"I can do it," you mumbled so quietly that if the AC weren't in the lower setting, people wouldn't have heard you.

"But (Y/N), you know about this guy. It's dangerous," Matt points, a frown on his face.

"Not to mention he likes rough interactions," Luke adds.

"You don't have to do it if you feel uncomfortable." This time, it is JJ who voices her opinion. And you know, that's the closest reason to the team's main concern.

And the fact you can blow up the entire plan.

Spencer stays in silence. Internally he's freaking out thinking of you having to lurk on the unsub, but he knows you are a professional. And he feels a kind of deja vu.

When he was younger, the team would have said the same about him doing something like that. Spencer knows what it's like when people baby you, making you feel insecure. Sure, he hasn't had to worry about that anymore. Spencer is almost forty, and no one would dare to tell him he can't do something. Not after all the things he has been through.

"JJ is right, Bella. You don't have to do it. We can think of another way," Rossi backs JJ.

That's when Spencer notices the slight frown on your face. It's invisible to everyone but him. He knows it's there.

You stay collected, even when everyone on the team has something to say about how bad the idea of you going undercover to lurk the unsub is.

Emily is who stops everyone's rant.

"Guys, hey. If (Y/N) is telling us she can do it, we're going to do it. Of course, we'll be there to back up her and catch this unsub."

And this is how the discussion is settled.

Emily sends everyone out with a task to prepare for the night. Today is Friday, and the unsub will surely be stalking some new victim. The chances are high.

When it's just you and Spencer in the room, he still looks at you in silence.

"Do you also think I'll not be able to pull off this mission and I'm going to ruin everything?"

You downcast your gaze, exhaling deeply.

"No. I don't think that," Spencer clarifies, and you raise your gaze to meet his eyes. "You are more than capable, (Y/N). The team is worried because you'll be out of your comfort zone in a dangerous situation."

"The team? Not you?" You narrow your eyes to him.

You try not to sound accusatory, but if you're as scared as everyone, you also are fed up with the other's doubts.

Spencer closes the distance between you both but doesn't invade your personal space.

"Of course, I'm worried too! I don't want anything bad to happen to you. But I trust you and your judgment."

Your heart does flip-flops, and you're not sure if it's because Spencer is worried or because, despite that, he trusts you—or both.

"You do?" You ask, not so convinced.

Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And we'll be there when you catch the guy."

If that is the reassurance you need, you don't mention it. Instead, you grin at Spencer as a promise you'll do your job just how you are supposed to.

---------------

You insist on getting ready in your hotel room. The only assistant you ask for is Emily. She was the one who trusted you first in this, so you'll take every piece of advice she can give you before this night starts.

Everyone has a role in the plan.

Rossi will be the chauffeur who will drive you to the club.

Luke and Spencer would be in the club, mingling with the patrons. JJ, Matt, and Emily would be in the van monitoring the whole situation with cameras and earpieces. Rossi would keep his facade as a driver so he could be at one of the entrances. Tara would be at the club, too, eyeing nothing suspicious going on in the bar because there is a chance the unsub is getting help from the bartender.

When you are in front of the mirror applying the last touch of makeup, Emily is looking at you with a stare you can't decipher.

"What?" you ask, and Emily chuckles.

"Please, don't take this in a bad way, but I never thought I would live the day of seeing you using clothing like this. And Jesus, you look so hot!"

Your cheeks redens.

"It's a little bit odd coming from my boss, don't you think?" you muse, smoothing the fabric of your dress.

"Point taken," Emily raises her hands in defense. "Although I know someone who is going to run out of breath after seeing you."

You let out a scoff. It's not a surprise for you. The BAU girls - boss included - have been trying to set you up with Spencer since forever. You don't entertain the idea only because you don't think it's possible and not because you don't like the concept.

"Come on, don't say that. You are not helping to my nerves."

"Sorry, I'll shut up. We should go, though," Emily says, checking her watch.

One of the SUVs drives you to the van parking point. You needed to review the operation details.

At the back of the van - or commander point - JJ, Luke, Tara, Rossi, Matt, and Spencer see you come up with Emily.

For the best US profilers, they're not doing a good job hiding that they are gawking at you. Surely, no one imagined seeing you in such a revealing outfit. Outfit that, without a doubt, suits you extremely well, highlighting all your body attributes.

Spencer feels like he died and was resurrected after seeing you.

"Okay, guys, we need to check the details again," Emily announces.

The plan is in motion, and everyone is in position.

As expected, you arrive with Rossi at the club, who opens the door for you and helps you descend from the car. Rossi gives you a reassuring smile before letting you go.

Like a switch, you are no longer the shy SSA (Y/L/N). Now you are the woman who is going to take what she wants and attract the unsub attention doing that.

Your walk is determined, and your eyes send out flames of confidence to those who look at you. The music is very loud, something that would usually bother you, but not now. This needs to feel like your environment. That's how you like it, you tell yourself.

Almost instantly, you start to attract the looks of men who are eager for a woman like you.

You exude determination, and you don't go unnoticed.

Walking into the club, you make brief eye contact with Luke, who is on the dance floor. You see Spencer perched in a booth, nursing a beer.

At the same time, Tara is stationed at the bar.

"Remember (Y/N); the unsub expects the woman to approach men. The flirt needs to come from you," Emily reminds you by the earpiece hidden in one of the earrings you're wearing.

"Show time," you mumble to yourself.

You walk seductively to the dance floor, where a young man is dancing with a blonde. You approach and whisper something in his ear. That makes the boy completely lose interest in the blonde and start dancing with you. You smile and cling to the man's body, who wastes no time and takes your hips as if they were his possessions.

That dance certainly has nothing innocent about it. You continue whispering things in the boy's ear, and he looks more and more excited. Once you consider it a reasonable amount of time to have attracted attention, you leave the boy alone and head to the bar. Just a few meters away from Tara, a suspicious man is staring at you. You see him out of the corner of your eye as you order a drink. When the bartender passes it to you, you make subtle eye contact with Tara, who nods, indicating that the drink is clean.

You look next to you and see another man not so subtly looking at you. You know the unsub's profile, and you can't be intimidated or dominated by another man. You are the one who calls the shots. Otherwise, this will not work.

Before the man makes his attempt to seduce you, you turn to him, and with a penetrating look and disdainful voice, you stop him.

"Sorry, honey. Don't waste your time. You're not my type," and with that, you leave to move to the opposite side of the club. The guy huffs, and you're almost sure hearing him call you 'bitch' under his breath.

JJ, who's following the cameras inside the club, sees someone who looks suspect.

"Hey, this guy has been peeking at (Y/N) the entire time, and look, he clenched his fists when (Y/N) turned down that guy at the bar."

Emily confirms JJ's observation before giving you the next instructions.

"(Y/N), you're doing great. We have a possible target. So we need to raise the bet."

You know exactly what Emily means. You both had talked about the strategy to follow, having more details about what you should do than the rest of the team.

Matt and JJ look confused at each other but say nothing.

Your next step is to find another dude to seduce before delivering the coup de grace.

Luke and Spencer keep an eye on you. And while Luke is pleasantly surprised by your audacity, Spencer can't help but feel his stomach tighten. He tells himself it's because he is afraid something bad could happen to you, but inside of him, it's that and the fact of seeing you flirt with other men.

Just like you did with the guy on the dance floor, you attract the attention of another man; this time, you take his hand and pull him to the dance floor.

JJ and Matt's jaws drop to the floor. If Tara, Luke, and Spencer could do the same without giving themselves away, they would have done it, too.

As if it were your second nature, you laugh and move to the music. The man seems to enjoy the moment so much that he takes a bold step by leaning in to kiss you. You let him get closer until his lips are almost on yours. But before touching each other, you pull back with a malicious smile.

"Naughty boy. I'm who says if you can kiss or no," you pout, faking disappointment. Dizzed, the guy cocks his head and sees you walk away.

Matt chirps now. "It's him. Look boss," he tells Prentiss, pointing to the same guy JJ saw before.

There is no longer any doubt that it is him. Now you just have to catch him red-handed.

"(Y/N), we got him. It's time for the last play," Emily tells you.

With Emily's instruction, you go to the bar for another drink before heading over to where Spencer is sitting.

He tries to play it off, but he has no idea why you're approaching him.

"Is this seat taken, handsome?" You ask, with your drink in hand.

"N- no. Please," Spencer gestures to the booth on his front, but you opt to perch to his side. Spencer thinks he never has been this close to you. He looks at your eyes, and it's like you are a totally different person. It's a little bit contradictory for him, to be honest. He already likes you just as you are, but this version of you? It's driving him insane.

Some resemblance of your true self looks with a kind of curiosity the nervousness on Spencer. You don't think much about it; you assume he's playing the nervous guy who is baffled by you.

The thing is, Spencer isn't playing. He's definitely baffled by you.

"Are you okay?" You ask him, masking your question with a seductive smile.

"Yeah. Are - are you?" Spencer stutters a bit—something that is perfect for the plan but embarrassing for him.

You get closer to him to speak in his ear.

"This was Emily's idea," you tell him before kissing his ear and gently biting his lobe.

Spencer's breath hitches in his throat, and he thinks he's going to pass out any second. You're not doing it better: your heart is also pumping hard from the adrenaline. Of course, you had imagined something like that with Spencer, but only in your erotic dreams. You wouldn't dare do this on any given day.

You keep teasing Spencer, who, despite the nervousness, tries to play along. If this is the closest he will ever have you, he wants to engrave this in his memory.

"Just a little push, (Y/N). We almost have him," Emily instructs by the earpiece.

You swallow as subtly as possible as you wrap your arm around Spencer's neck, pulling him closer to you.

It's only a second between that action and the fact that you're kissing Spencer like it's your last meal.

Spencer doesn't know how to respond, and you were counting on that; it was enough time for the unsub to notice that you were the one who chose her last prey.

When Spencer is about to reciprocate the kiss, you murmur a 'sorry' into his lips and quickly pull away, giving him a disdainful look—which you hope he understands is fake—before getting up and walking toward the back exit door.

As expected, the unsub follows you towards the back door, and while your back is turned, he believes he has the advantage to attack you. What he doesn't know is that Matt and Luke are ready to lunge at him the moment he tries to touch you.

Everything that happens after is too fast.

The unsub is detained and taken to a patrol car while the team gathers around you, congratulating you on the successful operation. They all apologize to you for their previous apprehensions. You tell them that you understand and that there is no need to apologize. And it's like the switch has been flipped again since you came out of the femme fatale role.

But something is wrong. Spencer is not in the group. You see him a little further away, near the exit door of the club. Emily notices the looks between you both, and she sends the team on different tasks to close the case, leaving you and Spencer there.

There's something in his eyes that you can't decipher. You think it's resentment for using him without warning him what you were going to do.

You shyly approach him.

"It's me again," you tell him, pulling a face. You don't know what to say to make the situation better. Spencer nods.

"Yeah. You did it great, by the way," he compliments you. But it doesn't feel good like Spencer's compliments usually do.

"Look, about the kiss back there-" you start. He needs an explanation as a bare minimum.

"I know. It was fake," Spencer cuts you off.

Those words shouldn't hurt you as they do now. But isn't that the most reasonable thing to believe? The you in the club weren't you, so all you did inside was pretend.

Everything except that kiss.

If it's true you couldn't enjoy it the way you would have liked, you will never forget his lips on yours.

A tense silence takes over the moment. This is not okay.

You can't afford to lie to one of the most important people in your life, even if telling the truth takes you out of your comfort zone.

What the hell! Tonight has already been a total of 180 from a usual day for you.

"It wasn't," you mumble, and you see his eyes flicking to yours in a second.

"What?" Spencer asks, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Everything was fake, but not the kiss," you say with a stadied voice this time.

Spencer's heart races again. If you say you didn't fake it, then what he felt on your part at that moment was real?

"It wasn't fake?" He asks for clarification. You nod.

A smirk forms on Spencer's lips, seeing your cheeks redden.

There you are. The girl he had fallen for in the past two years.

"Well, you know that I am a man of science, right?" he tells you, and you frown because you have no idea where this is going.

"I know," you say with some hesitation.

"And as a man of science, I need evidence of things, you know?"

Now, you are the one who smirks at him.

"Evidence, huh?"

"Yep," he says, emphasizing the 'p' and swaying his body on his feet. You hum.

"I believe I can provide the necessary evidence if you need them," you concede, and Spencer's eyes sparkle with excitement.

Now, he is the one who reaches out and cups your cheeks. Your breathing quickens, but that doesn't stop you from standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips with his.

This time, there is no unsub, no curious eyes are looking at you, there is no rush, there is no femme fatale role, and above all, this is not fake; it's as real as the fact that your heart beats for him, and his for you.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 off limits ¡

pairing brother's best friend¡nicholas chavez x fem¡reader

summary thinking you were messaging your friend, you accidentally sent your brother's best friend a thirsty paragraph about him, with Nicholas opening it before you get a chance to delete it. what you were not expecting was the leading conversation, causing realization to wash over you as he hints your desire is not one-sided after all.

contains suggestive, sexual tension, a bit of dirty talking, a brief kiss, flustered reader, cocky nic, hes also very freaky (uhh???)

a/n this is the silliest thing ive ever written i was giggling the whole time while writing it. likes and reblogs are v much appreciated!!!

word count 1.7k

You: the amount of self control i have is insane because why do i not have this mans dick in my mouth rn please i need nic so fucking bad its not even funny anymore he is everything i want in life id let him use me any day morning afternoon n night im available ugh i dont even get the ick when its him he was acting like a dad earlier yelling at us to grill the meat right and it was so adorable ill call you daddy u want me to call u sir i dont kink shame im down for whatever king omg stop he got hurt earlier and he GROANED???? i almost fell to my knees YAHOOO he definitely whimpers #needthat 10/10 i just know its thick ooh tip pink shade #d97e77 thats insane till my knees are bruised and my throats scratched my panties fell tears are rolling down my thighs OMG PLS can you feel my pain hes so bodangshis how does my brother look at him and not wanna fuck him id be all over him if that was my friend gahhhd!!! hes actually so sweet he kept speaking to me earlier so i dont feel left out of the conversation and i find that adorable do u think he slaps it before he cums oh my his girlfriends so lucky im ab to put her in a headlock ahaha this is gross no man should have this much of an impact on u unless their dick is big and the sex is absolutely amazing yooo what he probably knows how to please a lady id be hard if i had a dick rn STOPP he has a happy trail im gonna lose it hahah lets find out where it leads i dont wanna think ab that im going crazy literally pulling my hair out that should be u baby GIVE ME A CHANCE?!!!! thinking ab him makes me so nervous this is getting a little too srs ahaha okay im sorry hows life?!? i miss u :(

Sending that message, you were anything but expecting the response you got in return, not from the man himself, that’s for sure.

nic: oh?

nic: i think you got the wrong person

You audibly gasp, realization washing over you as you read over the message. That was, in fact, not for Nicholas, nor was it for anyone but your friend to see.

You panic, putting your phone down to process what happened, needing a moment before responding. Right, you needed to do that.

But why did he see it so fast? He didn't even give you time to comprehend your message, the text switching to read in an instant.

Hell, it was midnight, and it’s been a long, tiring day for the both of you, having been out the whole afternoon, merely to come back to the hotel and spend more time with your other friends.

Everyone decided to end the night off early; early being a bit before midnight, with you heading to your room afterwards. Your brother and his best friend shared the room taking place next to yours, making it easy to reach out to him.

And for that, you were grateful since Nicholas was with him; meaning you got to see more of him throughout this trip.

You’ve had a crush on Nicholas for god knows how long, with it starting the moment your brother befriended him. You’ve technically gone through all the phases he experienced, hell, you saw him more than your own parents.

He was sweet, a little too sweet, perhaps it bothered you. Nicholas was very known among women, he knew how to attract a lady, showering her with praises until he eventually got what he wanted.

That made you extremely jealous, knowing you couldn't have him. He was forbidden, off-limits, someone you could only admire from afar.

And that stupid crush of yours led to this conversation, one you didn't want to discuss.

You: i didnt mean to send that to you

The text switched from delivered to read right away, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

nic: clearly

nic: i dont have a gf btw

Why did he feel the need to clarify that, and why were you relieved over hearing it?

You buried your face in your pillow, feeling heat reduce from your body. You’ve never been this embarrassed before, not around Nicholas. While you were weird sometimes, it was never this bad.

He wasn't supposed to know about this, nor discover it the way he did.

You: cover your eyes pls

You: this wasn't for u

nic: you sure?

nic: are there any other nics in your life?

Your stomach twisted at the message, hand coming up to cover your mouth as an audible gasp escaped your throat. How could he say that?

You felt all sorts of emotions wash over you, unable to process each one of them as you read the message over and over again.

You: what if there is

The question was risky, it could either end with him telling your brother, or him teasing you over it and brushing it off. Either way, you couldn't have him, so why not just fuck it and go with the flow?

nic: then that would be disappointing.

Your breath caught in your throat, vision going blurry as Nicholas’ bubble kept appearing and disappearing.

nic: id really hate that you feel this way about someone else

Oh my god, were you dreaming?

You could not believe your eyes. You turned off your phone, letting the dimness of the room seep through for a moment before you unlocked your device once again, heart skipping a beat when you realized it was real.

Nicholas, your brother’s best friend, might have been flirting with you, but that’s just in your head, right…?

You: ??? wdym

nic: you first

nic: was this about me, doll?

The pet name made you weak to your core, spiraling you over the edge as you put your phone down for a second. You took a deep breath, feeling your face heat up at how suggestive the boy sounded.

He sounded so desperate, you weren't sure if it was the tiredness, or him being genuine. Either way, you’re fucked, because you’re willing to do anything for him, even if it means breaking your heart.

You: what if it was

You: what will you do ab it

You felt nauseous as you waited for a response, groaning when the boy disappeared for a minute. Did you say something wrong? Why did he suddenly leave?

nic: then id risk it all

Speechless. Your mouth hung open, chest filling with lust as a breath heaved out of you.

You: are you saying this because you’re tired

nic: no

nic: god no

There was no ounce of self control in your body left. You almost screamed, overwhelmed by a new sense of emotions.

Is this how it felt? Because fucking hell.

You: it is

nic: it is what?

You: this is so embarrassing

You: why are you making me admit it you know exactly what im talking about

nic: baby

nic: jus tell me

You: no you suck im going to sleep

nic: WAIT no come here youre so cute

You blushed at the message, unable to suppress the smile forming on your lips. God, he’s such an idiot. And you were totally swooned for him.

You: i literally just sent you a message talking ab how much i wanna suck your dick what about that is cute

nic: oh? so you do admit it

You: …

You felt nervous, realizing how serious this has gotten. From a silly message turned into you contemplating whether this was a good idea. The last thing you were anticipating while typing that message was a confrontation, one from Nicholas; at that.

nic: you couldve told me yk

You: do you hear yourself

nic: ? what

You: nic you know this is wrong

You: youre gonna wake up tmr and forget all ab it

nic: you knkw

nic: yoirw so fucjinf hot

You came to a halt, noticing the amount of mistakes the boy was making. Your mind wandered somewhere else, feeling heat crawl past your neck, all the way to your face.

You: what are you saying

nic: fucking hell

nic: take the hint baby

You froze in your spot, tongue coming out to wet your lips, suddenly feeling heat travel to in between your legs. Don’t give in, don't give in, don’t give in.

You: what

nic: you couldve asked me if you were curious

nic: i wouldve happily showed you

That sent you over the edge. Your mind went fuzzy, unable to process the last few texts you received from Nicholas. He was being serious, dead serious, you were sure of that.

The texts you exchanged always revolved around your brother; usually Nicholas asking whether he was home or not. However, this one was different.

He was hinting something, something very risky that you were unable to resist.

You: dont say that

nic: what, you don't believe me?

You: nic

nic: give me five

You stared at the message on the screen, confused on what he meant. Your eyebrows furrowed with puzzlement, awaiting a message, merely to get nothing in return.

As you were about to shut your phone and go to sleep, it pinged, the notification startling you awake. You clicked on it immediately, mind going hazy as you read the message over and over again.

nic: open the door

nic: im outside your room

You didn’t hesitate as you got up, swiftly walking your way to the door. You unlocked it with haste, vision going blurry as you caught sight of Nicholas, who was standing inches away from you now.

He looked just as desperate as you were, maybe even more. And that was it, it was all you needed to pull him by the collar and cease the distance between you two.

The moment his lips collided with yours, you realized that maybe it’s worth ending up with a broken heart, because Nicholas tastes fucking addicting, and you found every way to make good use out of that obsession.

The possession of knowing he’s off limits, yet here he was, eagerly kissing you numb.

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

[highvern]

When in Rome

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, cheating, nudity, mentions of drug use, explicit sexual acts (unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral, swallowing)

Length: ~24k

Note: excited to have this for the @svthub world tour collab! thank u to @gyuswhore for helping, @wonuvs for fact checking my shitty italian, @the-boy-meets-evil for making sure i actually finished this fic bc i live to torture her and everyone else who contributed to this over the months it took me to finally write it!

this is from cheol's pov which was a new challenge but i loved it (i will never do it again). i'll be out of town when this goes up but can't wait to read everyone's feed back!!!

Summary: After months of no contact, Seungcheol isn't sure what to expect when he sees you again at Jeonghan's wedding. He's prepared to apologize, to grovel, to bear the weight of a cold shoulder. Whatever it takes to have you back, his best friend since diapers; or whatever will ensure the last third of your trio has the best day of his life. But when he overhears the most recent development in your relationship, he must come to terms with something he was never prepared for, or risk losing you for good.

m.list

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

There are fewer places Seungcheol hates more than airports. Dentist offices, his grandparents’ house during the holidays when they ask about grandkids, and even the time he ran into his elementary school science teacher the first time he was buying condoms at the pharmacy, all were more favorable than the hustle and bustle of an international airport. 

Seungcheol likes to be straightforward and direct. Something that becomes seemingly at odds with the average person traveling because at the one place everyone has somewhere to be, they act as if they have all the time in the world.

But the simple thought that it's all temporary, that his personal ninth circle of hell is the only thing standing between him and a week in Italy is enough to grin and bear it. 

On the other side of the terminal, his best friends are waiting for him. It’s not as if they haven’t seen each other for long; Jeonghan and Sofie were at bar trivia last week as their last hurrah before tying the knot. As usual they wiped the floor with everyone, rousing several allegations of cheating that Jeonghan deserved. But Seungcheol is about to watch them get married and it makes him a little misty around the eyes because he loves his friends more than anything. 

The only concern, which is less of a concern and more of a titanic size anchor sinking in his gut, is that you’re one of Sofie’s bridesmaids. And you haven’t spoken to him since New Years when you revealed you were moving to New York with your boyfriend, Johnny.

Another place Seungcheol dreads, right next to the airport, is anywhere Johnny happens to be. He’s everything you aren’t: abrasive, arrogant, catty, disorganized. And those are just the traits at the front of the alphabet. 

You had a plan. A list of criteria he had to listen to over and over again after each failed date. Even the guys Seungcheol set you up with after carefully vetting didn’t seem to make the mark. It was respectable, commendable. You wouldn’t settle for anything less than “perfect.” Whatever that meant to you. 

At a bar, three years ago, Johnny approached you. Seungcheol watched from across the table as you mentally ran over your checklist. Johnny met the physical ones: tall, good hygiene, well kept appearance. The other things would need more investigation. What did he do for work? Was he close with his family? Kids? Opinions on cheating at bar trivia?

The more Seungcheol learned about Johnny after your detailed debrief from a few dates the more confused he became. Johnny worked in banking. You hated finance bros and called them scum of the dating pool. He was an only child and only talked to his parents on holidays and birthdays. You had grand dreams of close grandparents and houses full of cousins. He didn’t want kids. You did. He didn’t think bar trivia was that serious. Seungcheol watched you threaten Jeonghan’s life on more than one occasion over the use of Shazam during the music round. Johnny was everything you said you didn’t want. 

And then you followed him across the country after two years of dating cut with three breakups. 

It didn’t make sense. 

When Seungcheol pulled you aside after you announced you’d be moving, trying to figure why you thought living with the man who once asked if you really needed to wash bath towels if you only use them when you’re already clean, you told him to mind his business. Later that night, after enough drinks to make everything blurry, you two got into a screaming match on the sidewalk with your shared friends attempting to play referee. It was the last time you two spoke. 

In over twenty five years of friendship, founded on the backs of elementary school shenanigans under a reign of terror of one Jeonghan Yoon, you and Seungcheol’s real fights can be counted on one hand. 

The sixth grade field trip where you and Jeonghan left him out, senior year of highschool when the girl Seungcheol took to prom argued about his parents taking more pictures with you than her, and junior year of college when Seungcheol caught you making out with his frat brother after ditching him under the guise of having a stomach bug. That was it. Three fights, all of which were resolved within a week because as stubborn as you both are, you’re best friends. 

Five and a half months of not speaking, except when you called Seungcheol in the middle of the night without leaving a message and when he tried calling you back in the morning you didn’t answer. Not until a month later when he finally swallowed his pride and texted a half hearted apology to which you responded with a quarter of forgiveness. That was it. 

But Seungcheol won’t dwell. He refuses to make things awkward for Jeonghan and Sofie during the most special week of their lives. Knowing you, you’ve probably already come to the same resolution. The only person you’re closer to than Seungcheol is Jeonghan with Sofie a close second. If there is anyone you two will agree to put aside an argument for, it's them.

The sun has already begun setting when he makes it through customs and out towards the Arrivals, painting everything in buttery yellow. 

“SEUNGCHEOOOOOOOOOLLLLLL!” Sofie screams, hands cupped around her mouth.

She’s half outside the cherry red sports car. An Intermeccanica Italia Spyder because Seungcheol knows three things in life: expensive watches, expensive whiskey, and expensive cars. Sofie’s family happened to have plenty of the last and Seungcheol assumed the first two as well.

When Sofie became his study partner in law school she ended up following him on Instagram. He assumed from the way she carried herself, perfect posture with tailored clothes and an ‘air of society’ as you called it, that she was well off. But then, during a late night gossip session, you and he did a deep dive and found out Sofie wasn’t just well off. Her family had more money than God. 

But everything on the surface was a contrast to who Sofie really was. Heiress to a fortune but studied more than anyone in their class just to graduate second. Perfect posture and tailored clothes are a stark contrast to her favorite bar where she’d outdrink anyone, and cheer when the prize for trivia was cheap plastic margarita glasses.

Or right now, where she belts Seungcheol’s name again like some drunk frat boy while sitting in a car worth more than his life.

Seungcheol jogs to where she waits, already smiling. 

“I would have brought a ‘Welcome back from rehab’ sign but my mom thought you’d be embarrassed,” Sofie says as she hugs him over the console. 

“At least make it ‘welcome home from prison’ so people won’t walk in my way.”

“I’ll make sure Jeonghan remembers you have a preference,” she calls over the wind. 

Technically, the house (which is really a mansion) is almost an hour from the airport. With Sofie’s driving it only takes twenty minutes in which Seungcheol thinks he might need to start going to church. 

The pebbled driveway crunches underneath the tires as they approach the imposing building he’d call home for the weekend.

In the evening light, the house is more daunting. An imposing stone facade rises from the ground, akin to a small castle than an actual home. Smooth stone with detailed carvings, windows with huge shutters, and on the top floor, a balcony, fenced with wrought iron, juts out.

Even after years of seeing pictures, Seungcheol still can’t believe his friend grew up here. He can’t believe it actually exists and isn’t some set from a historical drama.

Sofie throws the car in park right in front of the door before jumping out. 

“By the way, there were some issues with one of the rooms.” Sofie drops her voice, “My aunt and uncle are fighting again, so I hope you don’t mind sharing?”

Seungcheol knows most of the guys coming to the wedding. Worst case scenario he’s stuck in a twin size bunk bed with a weird cousin. And with how busy he’ll be as best man, his room will be for sleep and not much else. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Perfect! Just leave your stuff, everyones out back.” Sofie pushes him as hard as she can manage which isn’t much at all given she’s five foot nothing. 

The garden is filled with bodies upon bodies crowded together, some old, some young. Seungcheol recognizes a few faces in the mix: Soonyoung, Joshua, Seungkwan. More friends from law school. Jeonghan’s sister waves from across the way. Everyone seems to be paying attention to whatever is happening at the iron garden table. 

And then, like a scene in a movie, everyone parts for a second and time freezes. 

Seungcheol would recognize you anywhere. Even if he can’t see your face, he knows it's you. The curve of your shoulders, the tilt of your head. The bark of laughter as your chin drops forward. He knows it's you and the weight in his stomach lightens and leadens in an odd cycle.

He missed you.

Then everything comes back into real time. Wine and cards. Then he sees the chips on the table, your stack to the side significantly higher than anyone else's. 

Months of ruminating over what he’d do when reunited fly out the window. Seungcheol doesn’t waste a minute as he approaches, hand on the back of your chair as he peeks over your head to sneak a glance at your hand.

“Who let you talk them into poker?”

You’re already smiling when you tilt back to look at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Oh, how he missed you.

“She said she didn’t know how to play,” an old man grumbles from the side. 

Seungcheol doesn’t recognize him but he’s got the same expression as all the people you’ve sharked before: mildly impressed and slightly murderous. Two other guys sit at the table, one old enough to be his grandfather looks almost proud. Seokmin fills that last seat, head in his hands at being swindled so easily. 

“I said,” you start, throwing your gaze to him. “I hadn’t played in a while.” 

You look back up at Seungcheol for some kind of support. Eyes round and innocent in a way you both know you’re not. Pool, cards, darts, any game a man a few drinks in could beat you at was easy fodder for your con. Usually it ended with free drinks, sometimes money, but mostly it’s Seungcheol playing referee for the disillusioned guys you swindled while wearing a bright grin. 

Tossing a few chips towards the three men at table with a smart ‘don’t spend it all in one place,’ you rise and throw your arms around Seungcheol like everything is normal. 

“Hi,” you whisper into his neck.

Seungcheol’s hands are already curled around your waist, pulling you in tight. “Hi.”

“I missed you.”

Seungcheol doesn’t think to question the sudden rush of familiarity after months of silence. Every fight in your long friendship ended this way; you both stew and stew until one day things snap back to normal. It’s how it’s always been.

“I see that you can’t even greet your best friend.” Jeonghan coughs from the side.

Seungcheol squeezes you tighter at the jab. It’s Jeonghan’s wedding but Seungcheol saw him last week when dropping the couple off at the airport to come here. He’s far more interested in dragging out his reunion with you as long as possible. “I’m in the middle of that actually.”

He scoffs in response, walking away. “Whatever, I see too much of you anyway.” 

There’s glasses of wine waiting when you break apart. Seungcheol keeps closeby, not that you seem eager to go anywhere. His staring is obvious but he doesn’t care. You’re really here and the cold shoulder he expected to find is nowhere to be found.

Another two hours of celebrating, filled with drunken toasts and more card games with Sofie’s family that only end with you digging into their pockets even deeper, fly by before the exhaustion of a day starting in one continent and ending in another catches up to him. You’re too busy arguing over if Jeonghan cheated in the last round to notice Seungcheol slipping away from the table and towards the door leading inside.

Sofie is in the kitchen just beyond, another bottle of wine sloshing in hand as she talks animatedly on the phone. “Okay, look. I am on vacation. I’m about to get married. I literally left notes for everything I'm not working on during my wedding week. Figure it out. Bye.”

She hangs up without response, tossing her phone on the counter before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Good?” Seungcheol asks.

“Oh, you know, just the usual. I leave and suddenly no one knows how to do their job.” Sofie rolls her eyes. “What’s up? Need another glass?”

She raises the same bottle and the thought of more wine nearly turns his stomach.  

Seungcheol brushes her off, moving to the sink and rinsing his glass with finality. “I think I’m gonna crash for the night.”

“Really?” she asks. “But the party just started!”

“For you maybe, some of us have been cramped on a plane all day.” He feels it. In his back and knees. The cramp in his neck from passing out halfway through and waking up bent at ninety degrees. And the hours he spent agonizing through emails with the inflight WiFi because even on vacation he can’t sit still for more than one minute. But now it’s a ticking time bomb before he curls up in a chair and passes out until morning.

Sofie snatches his glass before shooing him away from the sink and taking his place. “I forgot you’re an old man now.”

“You’re the same age as me?”

“Anyway,” she sings. “I know we promised you’d have your own room but—”

“That’s fine. I really don’t mind rooming with one of the guys.”

“Well… you and Y/N were the only ones not sharing and she said she wouldn’t mind for the weekend.”

“Huh?”

“I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal! Seokmin and Kwan agreed to share and room with Josh so things are pretty tight but I can see if we can switch things around and—”

“No, if she’s okay with it then it's fine.” Seungcheol says. “We just haven’t talked since, you know?”

Sofie seems to soften at that. “I know. But it looked like everything was fine outside.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol sighs. “I missed her.” 

“I know she missed you too.”

“She said that?”

“Oh please, neither of you have to say anything, you’re both pathetic,” she says while pouring another glass. “But I think this weekend will be good for you guys! Like old times.”

Old times. Before the fight. Before you moved away.

“Yeah, just like old times… At least we aren’t sharing a bed, right?” He jokes. 

“Actually,” Sofie grimaces. 

The one solace Seungcheol is gifted is the bed is massive. Almost the entire room is dominated by the plush mattress, a dresser, and a chair in the corner. He considers sleeping in that instead for all of a minute before realizing you probably wouldn’t let him and the absolute torture it’ll do to his neck. 

At least the forced proximity won’t be awkward since you’ve silently agreed to leave the past behind you. He can’t imagine Sofie would consider this solution if you were still mad at him, even if it was her wedding week. The realization lightens the weight on his shoulders an ounce more.

Seungcheol throws his bag down at the foot of the bed. It’s no big deal; sharing a room with you. Childhood sleepovers had been the norm, a few nights in college you’d shared a clunky old twin bed when you both were too drunk to find your ways home separately. Your first apartment together, when you two had to share a mattress on the floor for the first weeks because all your money went into paying rent, flash in his head. Old times.

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and in clean clothes, Seungcheol heads back downstairs for a glass of water before bed.

He remembers where the kitchen is after Sofie’s short tour, trapezing through the huge house easily. Behind different closed doors he catches glimpses of pre-sleep conversations: couples spitting harsh whispers to each other, a few cartoonish voices reading bedtime stories to an audience of childish giggles. But when he reaches the threshold of his destination Seungcheol stumbles into an entirely different atmosphere.

“You haven’t told him yet?”

“No. I didn’t feel like the kind of thing to say over text,” you whisper.

“Well you could have called him!”

“And say what? ‘Hey Cheol, I know we haven’t talked in months because we got into a huge fight about my boyfriend but Johnny and I–’”

Seungcheol strains his ears to hear the rest of your sentence but fails to decipher anything before Jeonghan’s voice cuts in. Whatever ‘it’ is, you seem keen on keeping it a secret.

“Just tell him.” Jeonghan says through a mouthful of something. “I’m sure he’ll be happy.”

His mind races with a million possibilities, all related to Johnny, all things you wouldn’t have told your best friend of over twenty years because of some stupid fight. Something you don’t know how to tell him over the phone, something you need to tell in person.

The realization strikes like lightning.

You and Johnny are engaged.

Thirst forgotten, Seungcheol turns back the way he came. He thinks through the new information as he stumbles up the stairs.

How could you not tell him? How could he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him? How long have you been hiding this? And why did Jeonghan and Sofie know before he did? Was everyone in on the secret and he was the odd man out?

You and Johnny weren’t even that serious when you moved away; or, that's what Seungcheol thought. In all honesty he fully believed it was some joke when you told him. A drunken practical joke taken too far but you didn’t laugh when he did. There was no punchline to share. The boxes were packed away and then the moving truck came and you left with it. 

Everything else hits him in the seclusion of the bedroom. Your shared room. He doesn’t even have the luxury of coming to terms with your latest surprise in private. 

Seungcheol isn’t happy. He is, but because you’re you, argument aside. The past few months are the longest you’ve ever gone without each other and seeing you again lifted a weight off his chest he’d come accustomed to in months of silence. 

It’s an easy decision. If Johnny makes you happy enough to tie your lives together then Seungcheol can bite his tongue. You’re his best friend and by default he’d never think anyone was good enough for you but if you loved Johnny, if you were this serious about him, then Seungcheol would support you.

Even if it meant there would always be a Johnny sized ravine between you.

Seungcheol wakes far before the sun breaches the horizon. The room still washed in the shadows of early dawn grants him some peace to think over his own conflicts with the news, your quiet snores a backing track from across the bed.

On your side facing him, Seungcheol gets the first good look at you in what feels like forever. Even with the size of the bed barely a foot of space separates your bodies. You hand twisted in the hem of his shirt like even in your sleep you can’t stand to be apart more than necessary.

You look ridiculous; hair a mess and limbs splayed. But your face is soft in sleep, eyelashes fanned on your cheeks and lips in a pout. 

There’s an odd flutter in his stomach. He wasn't lying when he said he missed you. But now things are complicated. 

He hadn’t slept at all last night; mind constantly replaying the conversation he heard in the kitchen, formulating his reaction when you finally let him in on the ‘surprise.’

Perhaps under different circumstances he wouldn’t struggle with news. Seungcheol wants you to be happy. Johnny is the problem in the scenario. They never got along, barely spoke outside of the few times forced circumstances required them to. Seungcheol was polite. Johnny was polite. 

Seungcheol wanted to kill him and he’s certain Johnny felt the same.

Relationships naturally take priority over time but Johnny seemed to creep in and choke Seungcheol out of all the places he’d been firmly planted for years. Another reason he isn’t happy.

Monday night Bachelor? Canceled, because Johnny plays beer league softball with his friends and you started going to that.

No more sleepovers at Seungcheol’s after a night out because ‘it makes Johnny uncomfortable.’ Fair complaint. Seungcheol wouldn’t appreciate his girlfriend sleeping over at a guy's house after drinking if the roles were reversed. But Seungcheol isn’t some guy and you were his best friend before you were Johnny’s girlfriend.

Traditions at Christmas felt hollow without you. The first one you spent meeting Johnny’s family in Minnesota you texted Seungcheol the entire time about how cold it was, how they were a 5k on a holiday type family despite the fact there was three feet of snow outside. 

All small details that mean everything to Seungcheol, never meant as much to you. 

And that’s why he doesn’t like Johnny. Because he made Seungcheol realize that.

It’s not that you and Johnny didn’t work. Seungcheol just couldn’t wrap his head around why you wanted to overlook all the glaring differences to make it work.

But pointing that out left him with a cold shoulder lasting six months so he plans to keep his mouth shut.

You tried talking to him before bed but gave up when he pretended to be asleep. It took everything he had not to give in and talk into the early morning. Six months was more than enough ground to cover for you two to catch up; he was promoted, you had an entirely new life in another city that he wanted to hear all about. His insane neighbor from across the hall, who you both are sure sells drugs, is actually a preschool teacher (mysteries of the universe). And he knows you probably have kooky neighbors of your own in New York.

But, in all honesty, he didn’t want to hear stories with Johnny’s name attached. Wasn’t ready to hear you say you’re engaged. It’s one thing to know it. But the second the words leave your lips then it’s real. Then Johnny is here to stay and it's only a matter of time before you two are arguing again.

Especially when everything said months ago was still fresh in his mind. Words he’d stand by no matter what. But Seungcheol has figured out that there are conversations he’s allowed to have with you and ones that should never see the light of day if your friendship is to survive. Johnny is one, the other is a memory from college that remains vivid no matter how hard he tries to forget.

But this weekend wasn’t about you and him, it's about Sofie and Jeonghan. If Seungcheol can dive into focusing on them, maybe he’ll survive.

Today is the one day reserved for sightseeing before ‘the inevitably disorganized shit show of an Italian wedding’ as Sofie puts it. 

Seungcheol has already seen some of the big things thanks to his study abroad in undergrad: the Colosseum, the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon. So for today, he'll stick by whatever you want to do. You’re the building nerd architect.

When he finally finds the willpower to roll away, carefully extracting your grip on him before ducking from the sheets, you stir enough to release a sleepy whine in protest before burying back under the blanket. 

It’s odd but he notices you’re not wearing a ring. Seungcheol looked closely if you took it off before bed but nothing stands out in the bathroom or on the dresser. He assumes you took it off to make the weekend about Sofie and Jeonghan rather than yourself. It’s something you would do. Or maybe it’s at the jeweler’s for repairs. Maybe Johnny had gaudy taste and bought a ring so flashy you refused to wear it. 

Seungcheol doesn’t know but it strikes him as strange.

The kitchen is already bustling with life even at such an early hour. Family and friends trickle in one by one, joining Seungcheol at the table with cups of coffee and munching on fruit and biscuits as their hangovers ebb. Quickly, the peace he preserved in the early quiet melts into loud laughter and a million buzzing conversations.

You melt into the chair beside him, eyes barely open as you snag his cup and scowl after finding it already drained.

“Coffee?” you mumble.

Seungcheol pushes his plate of unfinished fruit and a half finished pastry you way. “Sofie’s mom is brewing more. But it’s strong.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” you say around a mouthful of jam and dough. “I drank a full cup the first day I got here and felt like Sonic.”

“That’s how you know it’s good.”

“You’re insane.”

“What are your plans for today?”

“So there's this church, the Santa Maria Sopra della Minerva. It’s near the Pantheon!” you ramble, peeling another orange. “It’s just beautiful and it's got a statue by Michelangelo next to the altar and the design is incredible.”

Seungcheol can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm. A city filled with ancient buildings and history is right up your alley. 

He remembers how you pouted when he came back from his trip in college after yours to Venice was canceled due to ‘not enough student interest.’ The only thing that managed to quell your anger was all the pictures Seungcheol took with you in mind. Close ups of the tiniest details about ancient designs tour guides pointed out to disinterested business majors but he knew you’d care if you’d been there. If you were there then you’d probably be leading the tour yourself whether the guide liked it or not.

“Mind if I come with?” he asks over his fresh cup of coffee.

“Duh,” you roll your eyes with a smile. “I waited for you to get here to go.”

Sofie’s uncle, the one not under threat of murder by his wife, agrees to drive you both out. He drives at full speed from the second he hits the gas pedal. With the windows down. The breeze is as nice as a wind tunnel and cuts off everything Zio Berto tries to point out except for his screams at other drivers. 

On the other side of the back seat, you’re turning green. Seungcheol is glad the window is already down because if you get sick, he will too. And Sofie would refuse any payment for the cleaning fee, Seungcheol is morally opposed to ruining such a nice car with vomit.

The city whips past outside the windows, cobblestone streets slowly growing more crowded as the car edges closer to the center city. Berto finally slows down to avoid pedestrians and mopeds but only by a fraction. He doesn’t seem to share Seungcheol’s concern about body fluids clashing with the car design.

Finally, after what feels like a century, the car jerks to a stop. You don’t even pretend to be polite and exit immediately, hands on your knees while dry heaving for air.

“I’ll be around. Have fun!” Berto calls from the driver's seat. “Call me when you’re ready to head back.”

Seungcheol waves him off and when he turns back where you were standing, you’re already gone; circling the elephant obelisk in the center of the cobblestone courtyard.

“Isn’t it so cool?” You gush, snapping photos.

The exterior of the building is unassuming. Flat sandstone brick without much detail but you see the things that are important. In a few minutes you’ll be in tour guide mode, pointing out the smallest crack no one would see unless they already studied the church's history in depth.

“Soooo cool,” he jests. He appraises the statue with you, turning his head this way and that. 

You slap his shoulder, “Don’t be a jerk!”

“Okay, okay. Give me the tour.”

“It was built on the ruins of a temple of Isis.”

“Okay, and why the elephant?”

“The obelisk was taken from the Church of San Stefano del Cacco down that way,” you point. “It's originally from Sais in Egypt but got moved all the way here. The elephant was commissioned by the pope to display it based on a book that was popular at the time.”

“Interesting.” 

You point at the inscription on the plinth before continuing, “that’s from the book.”

Sapientis Aegypti insculptas obelisco figuras ab elephanto, belluarum fortissima, gestari quisquis hic vides, documentum intellege robustae mentis esse solidam sapientiam sustinere.

“Whoever you are, who sees here the figures of the Egyptian wise man carved on the obelisk carried by the elephant, the strongest of wild animals, understand the symbolism to be that a strong mind supports firm wisdom,” you translate. 

“I didn’t know you read latin.”

“I don’t. It’s in English on the other side,” you laugh. “But I do know, the guy who designed the statue made it look like it's farting because the pope told him to change the design from what he originally wanted.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He said having it stand on four legs was dangerous so the sculptor added the saddle and a cube at the base, but he also made its butt face the convent so the friars would have to see its ass every time they came out.”

“Wow.”

Seungcheol circles the statue and sure enough the tail is angled to look like it's blowing wind.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a lie but I’d like to think people were that petty hundreds of years ago. Now all people do is subtweet and post vague Instagram stories. I want someone to hate me so much they design an entire statue just to minorly inconvenience me each morning.”

You’re fully of facts Seungcheol would never know. It’s one of the best parts of visiting places with you. It’s not just some building or some random statue. You give the architecture a new life.

Seungcheol’s mind flashes back to the first time he accompanied you and Johnny to a monument back home. In the five minutes you’d been there, he realized Johnny truly did not care about your interests.

The look on your face that day told him you realized Johnny didn’t care either.

It’s the same pact everyone that moves to D.C. makes to visit all the museums and monuments and landmarks. Good intentions with zero realistic goals. Except you’re stubborn and the drive to say you did something means Seungcheol has tagged along to thirty out of the one hundred and fifteen on your list. Johnny missed most either from work trips or some other excuse and the one Seungcheol missed had been the only one Johnny came to because of the flu.

Safe to say the first time visiting together was a shit show. Johnny didn’t pretend to evaluate the ‘important’ parts, didn’t ask questions or bother reading the placards detailing events of significance, raced through the entire thing to leave you and Seungcheol behind. It’s not like you or Seungcheol were overwhelmed with beauty and needed hours but Johnny finished his round after less than thirty minutes and told you to text him when you were done. 

So Seungcheol did the only thing he could to get back at Johnny without upsetting you: walked as slow as possible, pointing out things he knew you’d know more about, and dragging things out so Johnny was stuck waiting in the frigid winter wind outside to suffer.

You knew what he was doing, obvious from the way you hook your arm through his and give an affection squeeze. Your smile didn’t reach your eyes but you both pushed through.

Thank whatever powers be that Johnny wasn’t here now.

“See the windows?” you ask, pointing to the three different sized circular windows hanging over the main doorways. 

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Well you can’t tell from here but they’re rose tinted.”

Seungcheol tries to see what you’re talking about but the windows are dark and covered in some kind of lacquer that makes them look gray and dusty rather than pink.

“And why is that important, Professor Y/L/N?”

“Because it’s the only medieval church in Rome like that!” 

You continue rambling off facts, talking a mile a minute as your point at different things and walk Seungcheol around the exterior. A few other people's ears perk up as you go on about how the details had been done over and over; first Romanesque, then Gothic then, some guy named Carlo Maderno added Baroque designs inside, and friars who put in stained glass windows.

By the time you take a breath, the crowd has taken a closer interest in the windows and the elephant statue due to your brief history. A few look at the flood plaques which are some of the best preserved records the city has.

Seungcheol hangs onto every word. He doesn’t care about the old church, it’s an interesting bit of history sure but he could be outside any church in Rome and have the same reaction. He cares about the church because you care. And your passion about old windows and flood markers make it the most interesting place in the world right now.

“Go stand on the steps so I can take your picture,” you demand.

“Do I have to?” Seungcheol jokingly complains.

“Just go.”

Seungcheol poses as you direct, flashing a few silly poses you laugh at. He manages to wrangle you into taking a few photos as well. Ones that will probably be sent to your mom and never see the light of day other than her Facebook. Your Instagram is reserved for, in order: buildings, animals, food, and the rare picture of you with friends at some sort of occasion (wedding, graduation, the time Jeonghan broke his leg drunk on a city scooter and ended up in the ER). 

You’re in the middle of pretending to hold the Leaning Tower of Pisa when someone approaches Seungcheol.

“Would you like us to take your photo?” an elderly woman asks. She is a quintessential tourist: fanny pack, camera around her neck, sun burnt around the ears. A man in a matching shirt approaches with her, donning the same gear and pink tinge. Seungcheol recognizes them from a few minutes prior when you gave your lecture about elephant butts and petty sculptors.

“Sure, thank you.”

He hands over his phone and joins you on the steps. You both pose like normal adults, smiles plastered on your face while Seungcheol gives you bunny ears and you pull his hair.

“Beautiful couple!”

“Oh, we’re not…” You both object.

“We’re on our second honeymoon.” The man croons at his wife, chuffed when she rolls her eyes and focuses on the camera screen. “You two?”

“We’re here for a wedding.”

“Wow! Married in Rome,” the wife gasps. “How romantic.”

It isn’t the first time you two have been mistaken for a couple. Anytime you’re with him or Jeonghan someone assumes you’re dating. Occasionally, you’d play it up, make an entire story about how you met, how long you’ve been together, biting your tongues the entire time as each detail is more ludicrous than the last.

Jeonghan takes the cake as the most ridiculous. Two tornado chasers that ran into each other ten years ago and never let go. Him and Seungcheol, not you. Which really threw the waitress off. Never mind the fact you all were sophomores in college, high as kites and stuffing yourselves full of hashbrowns in a greasy spoon diner for Seungcheol’s birthday.

“Did you two meet here?” the husband asks.

“Oh no, we actually met in a competitive bowling league,” you fib, wrapping your arm through Seungcheol’s.

What the hell?

“Romantic!” The wife belts like she actually believes nothing could inspire love like sharing shoes with countless strangers and cheap beer.

Seungcheol would take the piss under any other circumstances. Except this time you’re actually engaged and the last time you two pretend to be a couple was when you fake proposed to him in a fancy restaurant to score free champagne and dessert to celebrate the end of law school.

“Would you mind taking a few of us?” the man asks.

You snap a few pictures on the wife’s phone and after more coos of ‘romantic!’ and a few thank yous they melt into the crowd.

“Alright, let's go inside.”

“Lead the way.” Seungcheol feels more awkward than before, cheeks red but not from the sun beating down

Upon entering the church, he discovers the inside is much more interesting than the outside. Holy water stoups are held up by marble. Two statues flank the entrance. There’s more things to see than Seungcheol’s brain can handle but he follows behind you, mind lingering on the scene outside.

“‘My husband’?” Seungcheol asks.

“What? We won’t see them again. Who cares?”

Probably your own fiancé but just as Seungcheol opens his mouth a priest silences him with a sharp, “SHH!”

Passing through a high stone archway, you enter the nave. The ceiling, cobalt and gold with motifs of  biblical figures and cherubs, rises high above. 

“Look!” you whisper. “Isn’t it cool?”

Your point at a marble Jesus wearing a bronze loin cloth.

Cool isn’t the word he’d choose but he goes with it.

“Michelangelo started it but two other people had to finish it for him.”

“Oh.”

“But people still call it Michelangelo’s statue because it’s more impressive. Besides, he did most of it before his apprentice took over.”

He observes the paintings and statues, the stone work that bulges from the walls like they’re trying to come alive and escape their immortal capture. There’s even a tomb and shrine with incredible detail. 

It takes two hours to see everything and another thirty minutes to make your way out of the church because you both keep catching missed signs or there's some tiny piece of the ceiling with an odd detail.

He missed this.

Outside, you open your phone and look at the message from Sofie. She made the recommendation to come down here and gave an extensive list of everything else to be done in the area. There’s so many options it would take at least a week to see half of them.

“This hotel has a rooftop restaurant that’s supposed to have a good view of St. Peters,” you say.

The restaurant would have a great view of the city, if it wasn’t shut down for renovations. The staff don’t even let you near the elevator before you’re both swept outside and back on the street.

“Well…” Seungcheol starts.

“Should we call Berto?”

He doesn’t want to. Partially because Berto’s driving might kill him and also because he doesn’t want to end his time with you just yet. One of the things he missed about you living in the same city was weekends in museums for hours. Now that he has it again, he hesitates to cut the time short.

“Wait, I think we’re near one of the parks we visited when I came in college.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp sarcastically. “Did you study abroad? I never knew!”

“Shut up.”

Seungcheol pulls out his phone and dials Berto’s number. “Hey, Berto. No, we're good, everything is fine. But I was wondering how far away is Villa Borghese from us? Oh really? Would you be able to come drop us off? Awesome. Thanks man.”

“Well?”

“He’ll be here in five.”

Five minutes turns into fifteen and in that time Seungcheol burns out. Jetlag and the dull thrums of city streets make him sleepy. You sit in front of him on a bench outside the church. He thought he was better at hiding it but he’s pretty sure if he sits down, he’ll fall asleep.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask once Berto arrives. “We can go back to the house if you want.”

There’s an unofficial official itinerary for today.

Anything before four is fair game. After that there is a welcome cocktail party at a fancy restaurant in the city one of the De Luca’s family friends own.

If Seungcheol doesn’t go home now then it’ll be a close call to nap and shower in time. Not that Sofie is exceptionally punctual about things like that but Seungcheol is.

“I don’t want you not to see stuff just because I’m tired.”

“Cheol, I’ve been here all week with Sofie and Han. I promise this was the only thing left on my list of stuff to do. Anything else would have been a bonus.”

“Only if you're sure.”

“We can always come back again. I’m pretty sure Sofie’s mom is decorating a room for me.”

Yeah, because most men are fine with their fiancée taking international trips with another man. Not that you’d listen or Johnny has the balls to say something about it. But Seungcheol knows the chances of coming back here together, like this, are slim to nonexistent.

“Alright. But you can’t bring it up in an argument.”

“I can and I will.” The corner of you mouth twitches as your head shakes before opening the back seat for him. “Now get in the car, old-timer.” 

Seungcheol falls asleep on your shoulder in a blink. Berto is quiet (or the open windows drown him out enough that Seungcheol can pretend) and the heat of your body next to his lulls his heart. It’s not a peaceful rest and his neck is killing him by the time Berto pulls into the driveway, but it’s nice.

Seungcheol beelines for the bathroom while you slip into the kitchen. Something about centerpieces or napkins or tablecloths; he isn’t really sure but Sofie’s mom says it's urgent so he goes upstairs alone, showers in record time, and dives under the covers.

His dreams are filled with blue and gold elephants, He wakes to the sound of your voice blended with the sound of water.

You’re singing. More so humming some off key melody that bounces off the shower tiles and echoes straight into his brain. It drags him in that liminal space between waking and dreaming where anything is possible. Maybe he’s still dreaming. Of you and him, back when you shared an apartment and things weren’t so complicated. When there weren’t secrets and omissions and he didn’t have to bite his tongue.

His eyes stay closed, refusing to budge until the last minute.

The shower turns off but the humming continues, louder now that you’re out of the bathroom and collecting your things.

You must think Seungcheol is still asleep because when his eyes slit open, only enough to decipher your hazy silhouette, you’re in nothing but a towel. A very very tiny towel that hides nothing but the necessary bits and even then only barely. 

He can’t wake up now. Not when you bend over to look in your suitcase for Seungcheol closed his eyes just in time. But it doesn’t stop his brain from latching on to every sound in the quiet of the room; the humming tickling across your lips, the wet thump! of your towel on the ground. Oh god, now you’re not even wearing a towel. 

Seungcheol won’t be that friend. He never has. Or has always tried not to be. But teenage hormones make a young boy’s brain untamable so it’d be a lie to say he’s never thought of you like that. But despite his feelings, Seungcheol has made sure they never became a factor in your friendship.

Even though there is a peace of his soul that will always belong to you.

So he pretends to be asleep, forcibly controlling his breathing while you shuffle around the room none the wiser to his rising predicament.

Finally, you disappear back into the bathroom to change and Seungcheol’s lungs stretch with air until they burn.

You look pretty. Objectively. You glow in the late afternoon sun pouring in from the window, a ditsy floral print dress of orange and cream that hugging your figure; delicate collar bones on display under the flimsy straps and the column of your neck bare save for the necklace you’ve worn everyday since your parents bought it for your sixteenth birthday.

“C’mon sleepy head,” you whisper.

Seungcheol is thrilled his gawking is easily disguised as jetlag.

He changes in the bathroom. Taking a moment to grip the sink, his reflection stares back in the mirror. It’s the exhaustion and dehydration making his brain muddle. Nothing to do with you or him.

It’s fine. Everything is perfectly fine.

The downstairs foyer is in complete chaos but Sofie commands the room like she always does from the top of the stairway.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Are you ready?” She yells like a WWE announcer.

Cheers rise up from the gaggle of adults. Cousins, friends, parents, aunts and uncles. Most of them Seungcheol has never seen before and is pretty sure neither have Jeonghan or Sofie but it’s fine. The more the merrier.

Except when different cars end up filled to the brim and you end up sitting on Seungcheol’s lap instead of a seat.

His heart leaps with every bump, yo

ur hair flying into his face and leaving the sweet smell of perfume to flood his senses. Seungcheol can’t even think about that because Sofie’s Zia Linda puts her husband's driving to shame.

At some point you nearly fly out the open window–Why does no one believe in keeping the windows up?– and Seungcheol is forced to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you from ending up a part of the cobblestone road.

“Sorry,” you say. The squeeze at his arm tells him your thankful at least something is stopping you from becoming roadkill.

“It’s fine.”

If you notice his strained breath, you don’t say anything.

The rooftop restaurant is gigantic but with everyone it feels small and crowded. Below, all of Rome spreads out. Lights twinkle in the distance and the moon is heavy overhead, ready for a night of revelry. It’s a welcome party so things are casual, finger foods and drinks flow heavily while everyone mingles.

Sofie and Jeonghan laugh at their own table, holding court with family and friends that flood in and out with congratulations. They’re good at it. Jeonghan ventures on the more introverted side but Sofie could have a meaningful conversation with a pile of rocks. 

You're off at another table, talking with Soonyoung and Seungkwan, a second glass of wine in hand. Laughter rings out and he feels drawn to it like a siren call. It was foolish to worry that the scar from Johnny wouldn’t heal over eventually. All you two needed was time.

Seungcheol barely leaves your side during the party. You dance and drink and dance some more until you’re both left in a heap at the same table by the dance floor. Soonyoung and Seokmin provide ample distraction, taking to the floor to do���something Seungcheol hesitates to call dancing because it resembles a child's idea of a circus. 

Dancing, food, and wine leave him feeling loose and sleepy. You’re not much better, head on his shoulder and hand tangled with his across your knees.

“Cheol?”

“Yeah?”

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

His shirt is unbuttoned, sleeves rolled high. In the back of the car on the ride home, you trace the muscle of his forearms draped over your waist until it lulls him to sleep.

Back at the house, you, Sofie, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol throw out sleepy goodnights and I love you’s before retreating to your separate corners of the house. Jeonghan is technically staying in a room in the same wing as you two (Sofie’s house is big enough to have an east and west wing which still shocks him). Something about family tradition and bad luck for the wedding but Jeonghan follows his fiancée like a shadow to her room at the opposite end of the house without theatrics.

And then there’s just you two.

You lean on each other the entire walk up, like you need the other support or you’ll crumble to the floor and sleep there. Honestly, it’s not a bad idea. Seungcheol has slept in worse places.

The stairs present their own challenges. You go first, Seungcheol right behind in case you fall backwards which has happened enough times that it’s become a habit to walk this way when alcohol is involved. But it doesn’t solve the issue of you tripping up.

Which you do with an effortless lack of grace on the last step.

“Oh, shit!” you giggle.

Seungcheol laughs so hard his knees buckle and he flops on the floor next to you like a dying fish.

“Shhh!” you slur, finger pressed to his lips. “People are sleeping.”

But you're cackling now and he can’t breathe from the painful quaking laughter rooting in his belly. He’s on his back, and you prop up on your arm to loom over him. Twin smiles breaking your faces, eyes watering with drunken mirth.

You go silent first, tracing his features silently like they must be committed to memory. Seungcheol does the same. You’re exactly the same as the day you left. Except for the vacation glow from being here for the past week. He recognizes all the parts of you he’s known for a lifetime. The silver scar on your chin from learning to ride a bike and crashing into a tree. The color of your eyes. The blush of your mouth.

The finger pressed to his lips traces along the plump flesh, then his chin, then it circles the back of his head and you’re ducking down.

Alarms go off in Seungcheol’s head screaming: 

DANGER! DANGER! THIS IS NOT WHAT FRIENDS DO! DANGER!

“Wow, it’s late,” he laughs horsley as he rolls away and to his feet. 

You jump away, dazed for a second before laughing as well. “Yeah, let’s um…let’s go to bed.”

He can’t quite read your expression. Several  emotions swirl across your face but Seungcheol can barely look at you without feeling his face heat so he doesn’t linger. 

Seungcheol takes the bathroom after you finish, rushing through his night time routine in sober silence. 

You're drunk. That’s the only reason you’re trying to kiss him. Or he had something on his mouth and you can’t find the words to tell him. It was a mistake. A momentary lapse of judgment that didn’t mean anything.

It wasn’t even a fraction of an almost kiss. Your noses barely touched, it doesn’t count.

When he comes back into the room, you’re curled up on the bed in your pajamas asleep.

Seungcheol circles to the other side, slipping under the covers and getting comfortable. The room feels smaller after what just happened. But it wasn’t a big deal. Nothing happened. You both were drunk and missed each other. You never would have kissed him.

Despite the fact the first, and only, time you two kissed was in very similar circumstances.

Rolling over, you find him and cuddle into his chest. Seungcheol opens his arms for you on instinct. 

“Did you have fun today?” you ask into his collarbone. The vibration of your voice tickles but it’s dulled from Seungcheol’s heart thudding wildly.

“Yeah.”

His hand smooths the back of your hair, down your back. You readjust, throwing a leg over his own and pulling him in tight.

“Good,” you say around a yawn. “Me too.”

Seungcheol tamps down the piece of him that wants to indulge in this. Just holding you, pretending things outside the door don’t exist and it’s just you and him and no one else. 

But he can’t do that.

“You know,” he starts. “I’m happy for you no matter what, right? You and Johnny…I’m happy for you.”

Seungcheol waits for a response that will never come because you’re out cold, snoring against his chest.

You’re still asleep when Seungcheol wakes around noon. Sometime in the night you shifted to the far side of the bed, taking the blanket with you. He doesn’t try to wake you, still confused at exactly what happened last night.

Seungcheol isn’t naive. He knows what women look like when they want to be kissed, when they're thinking about how his mouth will feel against theirs. Usually he revels in it; loves the flare to his ego, the chance to tease before giving in.

But to see the expression on your face sent him into a panic. He’s seen it once before, indulged in it, and it ruined his life for the better part of college. Lips parted, eyes glassy as you stared. All the telltale signs were there: the lift of your chin, hands twisted in his shirt, eyes drooped low.

And the worst part was you did all that despite having a fiance waiting back home none the wiser. Even if Seungcheol couldn’t stand Johnny, he’d never do that. Never allow you to do that. 

Even if he wanted nothing more than to feel your lips on his.

He heads as far away as he can. Turns out it’s down stairs for breakfast. Sofie is at the kitchen table, typing on her laptop.

“Morning,” Seungcheol croaks.

“You look like shit. Wild night?”

“Just some old timers thinking they’re twenty one again.”

“What assholes.” She laughs. “How's Y/N?”

Seungcheol freezes like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Sofie couldn’t know what almost but certainly didn’t happen in the hallway last night. “She’ll probably need an exorcism but she’ll survive.”

“By the way, I meant to give her this last night but everything was crazy. Can you pass it off? Jeonghan and I have to take my grandma to lunch and she’s already called twice sooooo…”

“Yeah, go. Have fun.”

Sofie is up and out before he can blink, a tiny piece of cardstock left in her place.

Kira Long

Artisan Jeweler

Her social media and number are at the bottom but Seungcheol doesn’t need more information.

He hides around the villa most of the day. Catching up with the guys around the pool, feigning fatigue when you come out to join. The gardens are big enough for him to disappear into for a few hours before he needs to go and get ready.

Unfortunately, that also means you are getting ready. 

A leg.

That’s all Seungcheol sees when he opens the door.

Your leg specifically, propped on the dresser while you apply lotion in nothing but that damn skimpy towel designed to torture him.

“AH!” you shriek, shocked by his sudden entrance. 

“I’m sorry!” he shouts.

The fabric unravels around your chest and suddenly you're naked and Seungcheol is not looking. 

“What the fuck? Have you ever heard of knocking?”

He’s not.

“Why are you naked?”

The ceiling is very interesting. 

“Because I wanted to scare you.” you scream sarcastically. The door to the hallway is still open. Seungcheol either stays in with you or goes back out because it can’t stay open much longer. He makes the fatal mistake of locking himself inside with you. “Because I thought you’d knock, you fucker! Jesus fucking Christ, turn around.”

Seungcheol saw you naked. 

He hides in the bathroom like a wimp until it’s time to leave.

—

It’s a short walk to the church down the street for the rehearsal ceremony. It’s all a blur given the million and one things flying through his brain; most of them you. You in your towel. The fact you’re engaged. You looking at him like you’re dying to be kissed. The fact you’re engaged. How everyone has assumed you’re a couple this entire weekend and you’ve played along. The fact you are engaged to a man that isn’t him and Seungcheol can’t help but feel bitter about it for a completely different reason than he ever thought he would be. 

Luckily, the ceremony is only planned to last less than an hour. He knows he isn’t subtle but he tries to grin and bear it for his friends. He can see the same sentiment in you. Your smile doesn’t quite fit but Seungcheol can’t think about what it could be about. 

“Do you take this man…”

Was it his rejection? It wouldn’t make sense if it was. You’re his best friend but not even that dictates cheating. You weren’t the type; in your own words cheating was more pathetic than ghosting someone as a form of break up. 

He doesn’t get it.

“I always love you even though you sleep like a princess, my love,” Sofie gushes.

“And I’ll forgive you for snoring like an old man, love of my life.” Jeonghan fires back.

They’re saving their real vows, the one Seungcheol helped Jeonghan with, for the ceremony. Even with all the confusion swirling in his head, he can’t wait for Sofie to hear what Jeonghan has in store.

The priest is less than impressed but moves forward like he can’t wait to have them out of his congregation as fast as possible.

“Okay, and you two leave and the wedding party follows…”

Seungcheol offers his arm to the Maid of Honor, Maria, guiding her back down the aisle where Jeonghan and Sofie bicker. You follow with Seokmin, break away the second it's polite with some excuse about needing the bathroom before you dissolve into the crowd.

The dinner is back at the house. The outside is lined with chairs crowded around tables covered in exploding bouquets and candles. Family members and friends weave to and fro, drinks and food flowing heavily.

You’re talking to Seokmin in the corner of the courtyard, a glass of wine already in your hand as you laugh along to whatever the other man said. 

“So Sofie said you’re a lawyer?” Maria asks. 

“Yeah, that’s how we became friends. I actually was the one who introduced her and Jeonghan.”

“Wow, so you’re a lawyer and a matchmaker.” 

Seungcheol laughs at the compliment. Introducing Sofie and Jeonghan had been a complete accident with unintended consequences. “I wouldn’t say that. I thought Sofie would strangle him the first time they met.”

“Oh, I heard all about that. When Sofie told me they started dating I thought she must’ve meant a different Jeonghan.”

Maria makes good company through the first rounds of drinks before dinner is served. She takes his focus away from you, how your leg presses against his under the table. She grew up down the road, went to school with Sofie all the way through undergrad. Her boyfriend, Jihoon, is a surgeon back in Seattle while she works in marketing. Unfortunately getting time off for a second year resident verges on impossible so he couldn’t come to the wedding.

“You two are so cute together, how long have you been dating?” Maria asks before taking a swig of her drink.

“Oh we’re not together,” Seungcheol corrects swiftly.

You give a tense nod of agreement. 

“Really?”

“Yep. We grew up together. She’s like my sister.” 

He sounds like an asshole. The words are bile but there can be no room for incorrect interpretations. This weekend had been nothing but confusing so far. Seungcheol needs to set himself straight on where he stands with you.

“Oh,” Maria nods. “Okay. So Y/N, are you dating anyone?”

“Actually I—”

Your response fizzles out because Jeonghan’s dad rises from his seat for a speech.

“I want to take a moment to express my deepest appreciation to everyone here this weekend to celebrate Sofie and Jeonghan. I remember the first time he told us about her, how happy he was and thought ‘oh this poor girl doesn’t know what she’s gotten herself into’.” There’s a smatter of laughter throughout the room. Sofie leans into Jeonghan’s shoulder and he places a kiss on her temple. “But then I met Sofie and I can say, without a doubt, there are very few people more perfect for each other than those two. Sofie, welcome to our family.”

Dinner passes, course after course and more wine until Seungcheol physically can’t have any more. You and Maria hit it off, rambling about Jihoon’s two cats and the abandoned kitten that hangs out around his work he’s trying to bribe into coming home. You barely look at him during the conversation but he prefers it.

Dessert comes with coffee and then everyone dissolves. Some stay around the tables to chat and drink and laugh, others help clean up. But Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and the groom's party head for the back gardens, Seungkwan already queueing up the song for one last practice.

It’s tradition, in southern Italy at least, for the groom to serenade his bride-to-be the night before their wedding. Seungcheol couldn’t believe Jeonghan was planning to go through with such tradition but he’s seen the man do more for Sofie than he thought he was capable of so it shouldn’t come as a shock.

The warm summer air does good for his mood, as does laughing with the guys when Soonyoung and Seungkwan get into a wrestling match after debating if they step-shuffle for three or four counts. But they all agree with four because it’s easier to remember.

The top floor balcony at the front of the house turns out to be Sofie’s room. The light floods out of the open doors, and two sets of giggles pour down to where they stand.

Jeonghan cups his hands around his mouth and calls, “Juliet, Juliet! Let down your hair!” 

“That’s not the saying.” Seungcheol corrects. 

“Shut up, I’m talking to my wife.”

“That’s not the saying!” Sofie laughs from above. 

You and Sofie peek over the side of the iron terrace, grins already splitting your faces. You knew what was happening. It’s why you whisked Sofie away with whatever distraction you could think of while the men gathered outside for a quick last minute dry run. Something about broken heels and needing to borrow a pair of shoes.

“Sofie Cosima De Luca, you are the love of my life.” Jeonghan yells. He’s drunk on love (and a lot of champagne). “I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow. I just hope after this you still want to marry me. Hit it!”

The obscenely large speaker Seungcheol carried out starts humming the instrumental to Sofie and Jeonghan’s song. The very one Jeonghan drunkenly serenaded her with in a dingy bar, back when she didn’t believe he could handle a serious relationship and he was hopelessly wrapped around her finger.

“I’ve got sunshineeeeeeee on a cloudy day…” Jeonghan croons.

“Oh my god,” Sofie cackles.

Everyone else joins in, harmonizing in the back along with the choreo Seungkwan and Soonyoung came up with. A simple side step with occasional jazz hands (much to Soonyoung’s tipsy dismay). “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way?” 

“MY GIRL,” Jeonghan belts his line, smiling dumbly.

You’re watching the shenanigans unfold, smiling as well. But while you're looking at everyone else, the only person Seungcheol can look at is you; the way your eyes gleam in the moonlight, your chin tipping back to laugh when Jeonghan’s voice cracks. You’re breathtaking. For a brief moment, barely a passing thought in the roaring river of his brain focused on his cue to sing and side step when needed, Seungcheol imagines what it would be like if you two were the only ones around.

Chalking it up to the moment, Seungcheol thinks about anything else as they finish the performance.

The music dwindles away and all that's left is Jeonghan staring up at his future wife as the rest of the group takes exaggerated bows. Other guest peek from windows or the edge of the drive way, cheering loudly.

“Bravi! Bravissimi!” Sofie cries as you both clap. “Can I make a request?”

Jeonghan nods like an eager puppy in response.

“Sing the Thong Song!” you both request through giggles.

“That's for after the wedding.” Jeonghan winks.

Time for Seungcheol to do his best man duties and prevent Jeonghan from making a complete ass of himself. "Alright Casanova, let’s go.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Jeonghan calls over his shoulder, fighting against everyone ushering him away.

“Don’t be late!” Sofie demands.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

After returning Jeonghan to his room for the night, Seungcheol heads back to his completely unprepared to see you again. Too many feelings swirl in his head. Feelings he thought he finally left back in college.

He remembers only a few key events of his early childhood. When he lost his first tooth, when he broke his arm for the first time, and his soccer game at four years old when Jeonghan and he rubbed dirt in each other's faces and rolled in the grass instead of playing. But other than that, his life has been distinctly divided into two parts: before you, and after you. He remembers when you marched into the first day of second grade with a sparkly blue bookbag much too big for your little body. You went to the front of the class, introduced yourself loud and proud, and then looked around the room like you were daring anyone to say something back. 

And like any other childhood friendship is made, you sat at Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s table and asked if they wanted to be your friend. Without even considering the options, they both agreed. From then on out you’d always been Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and YN. Friends in elementary school, all through middle school, and even into the far reaches of highschool when Seungcheol played sports all year while you and Jeonghan did theater. It never occurred to any of you to be apart. Until Jeonghan stayed home to attend university in your hometown. And then it was Seungcheol and YN. Jeonghan came to visit when he could and vice versa. But at university it was you two against the world.

The first time Seungcheol realized he liked you was in third grade after you dumped chocolate milk on Jeonghan’s head because he put a bug in your lunchbox. He married you on the playground and made mud pies to celebrate. And then in high school when Seungcheol realized you weren’t just a girl but a pretty girl and the hormones of his teenage body latched onto that fact and plagued his dreams with the information. 

And he never did anything about that crush because he knew it wasn’t worth losing you to act on those silly notions. They passed just like he thought, melted away as time went on and you both dated other people. 

But that night freshman year of college…

It doesn’t matter. 

Because you have a fiancé and Seungcheol is happy for you.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom as Seungcheol enters your shared room. At least it delays the inevitable awkwardness. 

Or he thought it would.

“Hey, Cheol?” you call from the door.

“Yeah?”

“I forgot my clothes. Can you bring them to me?”

“Ugh, yeah.” Seungcheol scrambles for the pile of clean pajamas at the corner of the bed, snatching them up and stepping closer to the door that separates you. “Here.”

Mind caught on other things – like not remember that he caught a glimpse of you make last night, barely a second, no real detail except creamy skin and details his brained filled in on its own accord to his own chagrin – Seungcheol trips over his own feet and slams into the piece of wood head first.

The only thing stopping the door from flying straight into the wall is you.

“Shit!” you exclaim following a ricocheting ‘thump.’ “What the fuck, Cheol?”

Clutching his forehead, Seungcheol is oblivious to the tangle of limbs you’ve both collapsed into. 

“Fuck, sorry.” He blinks against the stark brightness of the overhead light. You’re clutching at your face, hands cupped around your nose and eyes filled with tears. “Here let me see.”

Your eyes crack open enough to glare at him, narrow and rimmed red. As if he didn’t feel awful enough.

Without a second thought, he strokes across the curve of your knee soothingly. “I won’t touch it, I just wanna make sure it isn’t broken.”

A hand shakenly falls away to unveil your perfectly fine nose. Seungcheol tips your chin up, moving in for a closer look just in case. But everything is fine. You’re not even bleeding, just a runny nose that definitely hurts worse than it looks. 

The initial rush of panic ebbs only to be replaced with awareness. Seungcheol is kneeling between your legs, your towel is definitely too short, and the beads of water caught on your collarbone are down right taunting him. He needs to get away.

Now.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, moving back.

Your face morphs into horror at his tone. “What?”

“You’ve got a huge bat in the cave.” Seungcheol rises to his feet, offering you a hand up while ignoring the way your chest struggles against the tie of the towel as you come to your feet as well.

“Fuck you,” you laugh, pushing him away. “Give me my clothes and get the fuck out.”

Seungcheol does just that. As the lock latches back he’s left alone with nothing but thoughts of you.

He remembers. That night you two have never spoken about. And probably would never discuss even under the threat of life and limb. A drunk kiss, in the stuffy bar that didn’t care if your IDs were fake as long as you had money.

Seungcheol remembers the way you felt in his lap, the taste of your mouth, the breathy whine against his lips when he first pulled away from the kiss. Maybe that last detail was a hallucination but it felt real. The heat of your body haunted Seungcheol for the week after it happened. 

Not even Jeonghan knew about it. 

And he’d rather die than open that can of worms. The first time Seungcheol had a crush on you in high school, he swallowed those feelings and never let them see the light of day. Because you’re his best friend, his longest friend, and if it was between the risk of losing you from his feelings (that he was certain would fade eventually despite the fact they never have) or keeping you in his life, then he’d stay silent if it killed him.

It’s your turn to disappear the next morning. You’re side of the bed is long cooled by the time Seungcheol’s alarm goes off, a piece of him gone with it. 

His dreams hadn’t helped. A faceless woman, not even sounds or sights or tangible things he could identify. But he knows the feeling. That alluring warmth of a body firm against his own, the kind that leaves him aching when he wants up. Seungcheol knows it's you. It’s the same images that have plagued his subconscious since adolescence when he’d wake up to messy boxers and the inability to look you in the face for days after.

Feelings he’s long suppressed came out last night. Seeing you in the window, in the bathroom, it’s all too much. And now it chases him into sleep; the one place he thought he might have peace.

Luckily your absence means there's no awkward explanation of why he’s hard. The trip to the bathroom is more of dejected desperation than eager need. Seungcheol hops into the shower and takes care of it, careful to keep his thought as abstract as possible or risk you popping up in his fantasy. Dreaming about you is damning enough. He doesn’t need to add to the guilt weighing on his conscience.

The rhythm of the water lulls his brain into a cycle. He can’t do this. He can’t go another minute 

He can’t even survive Jeonghan’s wedding. How he will sit through yours with a grin will be a true test of his acting ability.

But that is future Seungcheol’s problem. Right now he needs to get through today and then tomorrow and after that he’ll be on a plane back home where he can ruminate in the isolated confines of his apartment. 

He just needs to focus on one thing at a time. 

Right now, it’s getting downstairs in the next ten minutes or risk losing tee time with Jeonghan and the other groomsmen. 

There’s only two people he’d ever turn to in a time like this, except he can’t talk to either of them because one is the problem and the other is getting married in a few hours. The last thing Jeonghan needs is to hear about an issue between his two best friends.

Which is why he’s the first to pick up Seungcheol’s mood. 

“You look like shit,” Jeonghan greets. 

The other mill about the kitchen, snagging leftover pastries and fruit. Usually Seungcheol is the first to show up, not the last. But Soonyoung still seems to be missing.

“Thanks.” 

“Rough night?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Well if you’re tired you can always join the girls at the spa.” Jeonghan offers. “Sofie said they’re doing mud baths.”

The wedding isn’t until this afternoon leaving the entire morning free. So the boys play golf while the girls go soak in mud.

“That sounds…horrible.”

“I know,” Jeonghan nods. “Alright gentlemen, let's head out.”

Seungcheol eats shit the entire morning. He usually scores around seventy five but he’s destined to break well over a hundred today and even Jeonghan pretends he doesn’t notice. 

“Do you ever think about why nothing happened between you and Y/N?” Jeonghan asks right as Seungcheol prepares to swing.

Kicking a man when he’s down is more of a guideline for his best friend rather than something to avoid.

Seungcheol’s shot flies wide, straight into a fairway bunker a good thirty yards behind everyone else’s ball. He watches for another solid minute, deflating.  “No.” 

“If you’re gonna lie, at least make it believable.” Jeonghan chides, setting up his own tee.

“I’m not lying.”

“Humor me. It’s my wedding day and I’m trying not to freak out.” 

“You’re freaked out?” 

“Dude, of course I’m freaked out. We’ve never gone more than a few hours without talking since we started dating and I haven’t seen her since last night. So just let me focus on something else,” Jeonghan sighs.

Seungcheol thinks about his next words wisely. Jeonghan can smell bullshit a thousand miles away, and playing mind games right now feels a little unfair. “I don’t wonder why nothing happened anymore.” 

“Lying again but whatever.”  Jeonghan grabs for his drive and lines up the shot.

“Why are you asking?” 

“I don’t know. Everyone thought you two would end up together eventually and then you didn’t. I’ve got a lot of people asking and I wanted an official response because you’re not exactly subtle and she isn’t stupid.”

Jeonghan’s shot lands square on the first cut, fifty yards ahead of Seungcheol’s ball. 

“Yeah, well.” Seungcheol huffs. “If she noticed, she never said anything.”

“Okay but did you ever say anything?” 

Jeonghan hands his club over to his catty before they start towards their respective zones. Seungcheol and his friend trailing behind.

Seungcheol argues. “You just said I wasn’t subtle?”

“You aren’t,” Jeonghan snorts. “But Y/N is about as impressionable as rock.”

“Did you think something was gonna happen?”

Seungcheol reaches his ball first. All the other guys are further ahead but Jeonghan sticks by.

“No.” Jeonghan says. “But I know you kissed her.”

Seungcheol turns to the other man, mouth gaped in shock. “How the fuck did you know that? Did she tell you?”

“I KNEW IT.” Jeonghan points at him like a little kid tattling on his friend. “ I fucking knew it! Sofie owes me fifty bucks.”

“What?”

“Y/N is a better liar than you, I’ll give her that but I knew something was off that first week I came to visit. I knew you didn’t have the balls to sleep with her so I must have been something else.”

Jeonghan asked you if you remember the kiss. Jeonghan and Sofie know you kissed. You remember the kiss. But you never said anything. If that doesn’t solidify Seungcheol firmly in the friendzone then nothing else would.

“You made a bet with your fiancée on whether your best friends kissed or not?” Seungcheol shakes his head in disbelief.

“You’ll understand when you have a successful relationship.” Jeonghan touts.

The catty hands over Seungcheol’s driver. He looks about Seungcheol’s age, maybe younger, and by the look on his face he’s trying very hard to pretend he isn’t listening to the unfolding drama. 

Another person to witness how hopeless he is. Great.

“It doesn’t matter. It was a mistake.”

“You never know,”  Jeonghan shrugs, following his catty further up the fairway and ending the conversation.

Back at the house, you’re nowhere to be seen while Seungcheol showers and changes. It’s for the best. No sleep, a horrible golf game, and now all the feelings that returned over the weekend have left him with nothing but a foul mood. 

Every step is dragged out so he doesn’t have to pretend you two are fine. He can’t afford another blow out right now because today is meant to be for Jeonghan and Sofie. Even if Jeonghan thought he should talk about it, Seungcheol couldn’t do it anymore. He wouldn’t do it anymore. But the time it takes leaves his head spinning out of control.

You’re pretending nothing is wrong. Cuddling up to him, calling him your husband. You nearly kissed him. You would’ve if he didn’t stop you. You always said cheating was worse than heartbreak but now here you are, capitalizing on his feelings for whatever satisfaction you selfishly crave; using Seungcheol to hurt your fiancé in secret. Who you seem dedicated to pretending doesn’t exist. 

It’s a nasty cycle. Feeling used, disbelief of who you’ve turned into in months away, that piece of him that always craved something more with you flowering only to wilt because it’s not real. 

You don’t want Seungcheol.

You never have.

The wedding party gathers outside the church. Sofie is tucked away in a private room until her grand entrance. She wanted everyone to be surprised, leaving her bridesmaids to mingle with the groomsmen until it was time to for the ceremony to start.

The lavender bridesmaid dress is nothing special. A tie at the top keeps the entire thing up, the front void of any details. The open back adds a flash of skin but other than that there isn’t much to it. But you’re wearing it and Seungcheol can feel his heart jerk as the fabric flows around your curves. The universe is taunting him with what he’ll never have.

He doesn’t stare despite the fact that every time he blinks his gaze automatically searches for you. It’s hard to ignore the only person he sees in a crowded room. Even if he’s pissed at you.

You excuse yourself from Seokmin, creeping over to where Seungcheol stands with a grin. “You clean up nice.”

“Thanks,” he nods.

“Is something wrong?’ 

A shot of annoyance flashes through him. Now is not the place. Last time he felt like this, you two got in a screaming match on a snowy sidewalk. “No.”

You shake your head, hand coming to rest on his arm in an act of comfort. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been acting weird.”

Betrayed by his own body. Half of him wants to get on the next flight home and block your number so he can forget all of this. It wouldn’t work. The times tried anything remotely of the sort only leave him in circling thoughts day and night.

The other half of him wants to wrap you in his arms and take whatever you're willing to give him. The half that could act like Johnny didn’t exist, at least not in this little bubble where nothing else exists but you and him. Because he's selfish and he’s been in love with you for years and he would never expect something in return for his feelings but he can’t take it any more.

But he can’t pretend anymore.

Pretending he’s never been jealous of your boyfriends, and that the night in college when you kissed meant nothing. That it didn’t flood his brain everytime he looked at you; that it didn’t leave more questions than answers. He’s been pretending everything has been fine, that seeing you asleep on his chest doesn’t make his heart hurt, and that he was stronger than the temptation to kiss you last night.

He remembers that night with clarity despite how drunk he was. Thought it meant you felt the same way he had for years.

“Cheers to finally being adults!” you scream, tequila shot raised over head.

Seungcheol laughs. Nothing is that funny but he’s nineteen and drunk in a dingy college bar with his best friend . “Adults!”

Someone passes by and knocks you forward, straight into Seungcheol's chest where you keep laughing as you look up at him.

You’re close. Closer than ever before. He could count all your eyelashes if there weren’t four of you floating in his vision. But Seungcheol doesn’t need to see clearly. Not when you’re already kissing him.

He’s kissing you.

It’s sloppy and drunk but his brain doesn’t think in big picture. It’s all feeling. Your hand in his shirt, a sweet sigh against his chin when you break away for a second just to come right back. Your mouth tastes like alcohol and lime and he’s never had anything better sweep across his tongue.

Thank god for the booth because you’re in his lap now, grinding against the seam of his jeans until he’s hard and when you finally realize you say his name.

And then Seungcheol pulls away, turns his head, and vomits before blacking out.

He hates that he thinks about it. He thinks about it all the time. What if? But there’s no more what ifs. There's only right now. Just you and him and the widening space in between that's become unnavigable. 

“I’m acting weird? I’m not the one rubbing herself all over me, calling me her husband to strangers, and trying to kiss me.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I can’t believe you would do something like this. Why would you put me in this position? Do you think it’s funny?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m happy for you, really. I just think it’s best if we don’t talk for a while. I think you need to sort things out with your fiance.”

Now that seems to get your attention. “Seungcheol, what—”

The music swells from the organ inside, cueing the ceremony and effectively silencing your questions. 

Good. It’s better that way. Seungcheol is weak for you in all the ways that matter and he knows if he had to stand there for another minute then your hurt expression is all it would take for him to fold and pretend he never said anything.

You join the other bridesmaids and Seungcheol ducks inside the church after the wedding planner opens the doors. One by one the other groomsmen walk in: Joshua, Seungkwan, Soonyoung, and finally Seokmin. Each line up further down Jeonghan’s side. Then the bridesmaids follow. 

Sofie’s cousin, who Seungcheol met once, glides down the aisle followed by another taller cousin who looks nearly identical. Then it’s Sofie’s roommate from college, Mona who Josh had been trying to get with all weekend.

You walk up the aisle, a smile plastered on your face but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You won’t look in his direction. 

Everything is slipping through his fingers and you both have to pretend they aren’t.

Everyone turns to watch Maria, and then Sofie. But the only person Seungcheol is paying attention to is you. 

The ceremony flies by. Sofie cries, Jeonghan cries. 

Sofie cries even harder when Jeonghan recites his vows in Italian. It’s odd, watching his two friends who usually are the couple laughing in the corner, be so vulnerable. Declaring their love for each other in front of a few hundred people.

“Sofie, sin dal primo momento in cui ti ho incontrata, sapevo che ti avrei voluta nella mia vita per sempre. Che tu mi amassi o odiassi, per me andava bene, perché significava che avresti pensato a me tanto quanto io pensavo a te. Mi hai dato il privilegio di chiamarti mia, e non posso aspettare di farlo per il resto delle nostre vite.”

Six months of using Seungcheol as practice, along with Sofie’s cousin, and he sounds decent. Jeonghan wouldn’t win any awards for his language skills but everyone’s faces melt around the room. Even the people that don’t know a word of what he’s say can feel the earnest dedication he has to Sofie. Even Seungcheol gets misty eyed.

“Io, Jeonghan, prendo te, Sofie, come mia sposa e prometto di esserti fedele sempre, nella gioia e nel dolore, nella salute e nella malattia, e di amarti e onorarti tutti i giorni della mia vita.”

“I, Sofie, take you, Jeonghan, as my husband and promise to be faithful to you always, in joy and in pain, in health and in sickness, and to love you and every day honor you, for the rest of my life.”

Then they kiss and Sofie screams something along the lines of “we’re married, bitches!” much to the priest demise before exiting the church. 

From there it’s chaos. 

The entire wedding party is corralled for endless pictures while everyone else heads back to the villa for the reception. You don’t look at him and Seungcheol refuses to acknowledge you until your parents are forcing you two together for awkward pictures like its high school prom.

By the time it’s over and he gets to the reception, the party is in full swing and the sun is setting.

Dinner is a blur. He makes his toast, short and sweet like Jeonghan told him to. The night progresses and people flood the cleared area serving as a makeshift dance floor in the center of the courtyard.

Seungcheol sips his wine. Three glasses in an hour because he isn’t sure what to do with his hands when his obligatory dance with Maria is over and he’s avoided being dragged on the floor by one of Sofie’s more zealous aunts because she herself demands a dance.

“How does it feel to be Mrs. Yoon?”

Sofie turns to watch Jeonghan twirls her great grandmother. Or more like Nonna Cosima leads him. She’s surprisingly spry for someone pushing triple digits. “I think he’s gonna be a great first husband.”

His gaze settles on you, Seokmin leading you across the floor in a ridiculous fashion. The younger man is trying hard to make you laugh and it seems to be working.

“She thinks you’re mad at her,” Sofie says.

“Maybe I am.”

“Care to share with the class?” She prods but Seungcheol doesn’t break, using the ending of the song to find a table at the edge of the makeshift dance floor. “Fine, but I feel like if you’re gonna pout at my wedding I should at least know why. Especially because I owe Han fifty bucks because you can’t lie to save your life.”

Seungcheol is mad. But mostly at himself. For tricking himself into thinking maybe, just maybe, there could be something more. That in all the improbable universes you returned his feelings, this would be one. 

And he did all that knowing you’re dedicated to someone else who is so entirely wrong for you.

“What did she tell you?” Seungcheol asks. 

“That’s not how this works. No pay, no play.”

He studies Sofie for a minute. She’s good at keeping her cards close but she knows about you and Johnny. It wouldn’t be a far leep to assume she knows about everything else.

“God, you sound like Jeonghan.”

“Have you and Y/N talked? Like, really talked, since you got here?” There's a weight at the end of that sentence but Sofie doesn’t elaborate. 

“Care to be more specific?” he asks, grabbing for another glass.

“I’ll take that as a no then.” Sofie takes the seat beside him.

His chest tightens. This is it. 

“About her and Johnny?”

“So she did say something…” Sofie fishes.

“No she didn’t. But I heard you guys in the kitchen the night I got in.”

“You did?” she gasps. “And you didn’t say anything to her about it?”

His jaw ticks in annoyance. “What’s there to say? ‘Congrats on your engagement, you’re too good for him’? I don’t think that's what she’d wa—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Sofie throws her hands up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. All around the party continues. “You think Y/N is engaged? To who?”

“Johnny! Who else?”

Her drink sloshes over the sides of her wine glass, narrowly missing the white gown and falling to the cobblestone. “Oh my god, you’re an idiot!”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s not engaged, you dipshit,” she goes on. “Oh my god, you’re both so stupid. I told Han, I told him we should’ve said something.”

“What?” he says quietly.

Sofie continues as if Seungcheol hasn’t spoken at all, “I can’t believe she hasn’t told you.”

“Told me what?”

“She broke up with him!”

She broke up with him. She (you) broke up with him (Johnny). You and Johnny are done. It’s like he’s hearing the news from underwater.

“She broke up with him.” He repeats dumbly.

Someone cheers and then applause follows but Seungcheol is lost in his mind. You and Johnny aren’t engaged. You two aren’t even dating. Haven’t been. 

“When?”

Sofie’s face softens. She knows. The first time he introduced you to Sofie she assumed you two were dating. She didn’t like Johnny for a lot of the same reasons Seungcheol did, but also because she thought you two were meant to be together. “A week after she moved.”

That phone call the week after you moved. It must’ve been something to do with you and Johnny. But why didn’t you answer messages the next morning? Why would you break up with Johnny and then refuse to tell him? Why would you let Seungcheol think he was being used as the other man?

“So this entire week…”

“She was supposed to tell you. I told her to tell you months ago but does she listen to me? Nope.”

“Do you know why?”

“Now that is something she needs to tell you.” Seungcheol looks where you're dancing with Seokmin. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes but you laugh when the man dips you almost to the floor and struggles to lift you back up. “But first you need to apologize.”

“Is it that bad?”

“When I imagined someone crying at my wedding it wasn’t because of you.”

Seungcheol winces, “She cried?”

“Yep. You owe me a nice ass wedding gift for that one.”

“Sofie, I’m sorry I—” he tries to apologize. 

“Cheol, don’t worry about it.” She pats his arm. “It was actually a nice distraction from the insanity this week.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“It really is.” Sofie rises from the table, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing tray. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my husband owes me a dance. And Cheol?”

“Yeah?”

“You should tell her how you feel.”

Seungcheol takes his chance at Sofie’s departure. With the change in music Seokmin bows out and you're left on the dance floor alone. Cast in the soft glow of garden lights and candles, you’re tragically beautiful. Soft around the edges in a dreamy haze. Seungcheol feels like he’s intruding by approaching you but he needs to apologize before you both return to your separate corners of the country tomorrow night.

“Hey,” he greets.

You look at him apprehensively, eyes dark, before speaking. “Hi.”

You’re just as petty as Seungcheol so he knows if you’re speaking to him then there's some kind of hope he hasn’t completely ruined your friendship. But it could also mean you’re about to rip him a new one in front of everyone for not the first time in his life.

Hopefully, it’s the former.

“Mind a walk?”

“We’re at a wedding.”

Jeonghan and Sofie curl tightly around each other at the center of the courtyard. It’s clear from the way both their faces soften, lax grins reaching their ears, that the world has stopped spinning just for them.

“I’m pretty sure we could light them on fire right now and they wouldn’t notice. Besides, Sofie gave me her blessing,” he jokes but you don’t laugh.

“Fine,” you say before stalking towards one of the paths leading to more secluded parts of the house.

People drape across different parts of the villa as you two walk in silence to find some privacy. The gardens are full of chatting elders, kids running around in the dark or falling asleep in some adults' holds. After ten minutes with no luck at seclusion, Seungcheol has half a mind to go back to your room and talk it out but he doesn’t. The idea itself freezes his blood.

It’s not until you're deeper into the maze of shrubs and bushes that the voices and music fade. The silence is so tense he might shatter under the pressure.

You whip around to face him, still five paces ahead. 

“What did you want to talk about?” you deadpan.

Seungcheol thought through every thing he wanted to say, all the questions and whys and what ifs he’d collected during this trip but they abandoned him now that they have the chance to be answered. Instead, all that comes out of him is a shaky,  “I’m sorry.”

You wait for him to elaborate but he doesn’t. He’s apologizing for more than he could put in words and he’d list them off until the sun comes up if he starts now.

“Okay. Is that all?” you ask.

“Sofie told me about Johnny.”

You blanche. “She did?”

“Yeah, she did.”

“What did she tell you?” your arms draw tightly around your center. Like you’re holding your heart from spilling out your chest. 

Seungcheol regurgitates the limited facts Sofie shared, which is that Johnny hasn’t been in the picture for months and you never deemed him worthy of that information.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I tried. But you didn’t answer your phone and I felt so stupid afterwards and… I just couldn’t do it.”

It hits a nerve deep in his heart. How could it have been easier to spend months pretending he didn’t exist then tell him your relationship ended? More anger slips through. The nasty kind that makes him say things he doesn’t mean but Seungcheol tries to reign it in.

“So you just ignored me and thought that’d solve all our problems?” 

“No!’

“Then why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I moved cities for a guy I didn’t even like that much! I changed my entire life for him just to prove a point. Because you were right about him and I was wrong and only took a fucking week to realize that after I screwed everything up. I should have listened to you but—”

“So you lied to me because you didn't want me to say ‘I told you so’?” Seungcheol fumes. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t lie to you!” you object.

“Yes you did! You stopped talking to me for months! Months. I can’t even remember we went a week without talking but you dropped off the face of the planet,” he rants. “I thought you were happy in New York with Johnny but apparently I’m the last to know anything. If you had just told me I wouldn’t have said anything. I would have gone up there and moved you back home myself.”

“I don’t want you to fix my mistakes!”

“Then what do you want? Because from where I’m standing I have no idea. All week you’ve been acting weird and because you didn’t tell me I thought you were using me to cheat on your boyfriend. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I didn’t mean to. Things just kept happening and I got swept up before I could tell you.”

Seungcheol was nothing more than a meaningless distraction, a rebound.

“So it didn’t mean anything to you?” he asks.

“No!” you cry. “I was just distracted.”

“Distracted? Are you serious?”

“You know what? Forget it. You don’t want to listen to me, you just want to be mad and yell.”

You’re right. Seungcheol does want to be mad and yell and pull his own hair out because what you’re saying isn’t helping untangle the knotted mess of his brain. It’s making it worse. Your confessions are watering that seed of hope in his chest despite the fact he knows nothing will ever happen. Even with Johnny out of the picture.

“Why did you break up with Johnny?”

“I—” Your eyes close. Pulled tight like you’re finding the courage to tell Seungcheol some dark secret. “He…” you swallow. “I broke up with him because…”

Seungcheol tenses, prepared for the absolute worst. You moved your entire life for the guy and broke up with him a handful of days later. There had to be a reason. “Because why? Did he do something?”

“No!” you correct. “I wish he did, I probably wouldn’t have felt like such a bitch but he didn’t do anything at all. I just realized we didn’t work.”

“You didn’t ‘work’?”

I told you so, indeed.

“Yeah. It’s kinda difficult to be with someone when you're in love with someone else,” you reply.

Suddenly, Seungcheol wishes he never brought it up. Another guy. One that isn’t him. Again. He’s the other man. Those gut feelings, the nagging voice at the back of his head that reminded him time and time again you couldn’t feel the same has its own ‘I told you so’ moment.

But that’s not what makes him feel horrible. He’d suffer from overthinking as long as needed just so you wouldn’t look so ashamed. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Seugncheol waits for you to elaborate. More silence except for the crunch of your shoes across the stone walkway. A bench comes into view and you slip into one of the spots before speaking again.

“I…I always wondered why those dates never worked out. Like, I would like someone but then they didn’t want the same things or they’d want the same things but I didn’t want them. And I guess Johnny was my last ditch effort because maybe if I knew from the beginning things weren’t gonna work out then I’d never be disappointed.”

Seungcheol isn’t sure what to say so he stays quiet.

“And I thought I could just live with it. Knowing I didn’t have what Jeonghan and Sofie have. Like who actually gets that in their life? But…”

“But?”

“But then I realized that there was only one guy my whole life that’s actually been everything I wanted and I was comparing everyone to him.”

“Who?”

“You.”

Him. You’ve compared every guy you’ve dated to him. He’s the person you want, the man you’ve measured everyone up to and found them wanting.

You’re in love with Seungcheol. You broke up with your boyfriend for Seungcheol.

You love him back.

“It’s fine, if you don’t feel that way about me. I’m okay with it. I wasn’t planning to tell you because I expected anything. I just… part of the reason I didn’t say anything is I know you don’t think about me like that but this week I thought— I don’t know what I thought. But I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.”

“You…what?”

“Let’s just agree to pretend this never happened, okay? We should get back to the party.” You move to rush past him but Seungcheol hooks an arm around your torso, light enough you could break through if you really wanted to but you stop all the same.

There is no way in hell you drop that bomb on him and leave him to deal with the aftermath alone.

His voice is unrecognizable to his own ears. “You broke up with Johnny because of me?”

“Yeah,” you swallow. You refuse to look at him, focusing on the neatly clipped grass your heels sink into.

“Because you’re in love with me.” 

You flounder. It isn’t a question. It’s a fact.

“How long?” Seungcheol presses.

“What?”

“How long have you been in love with me?”

“It's always been you.”

Seungcheol’s heart detonates into a million pieces.

“You?” His pulse is sprinting. You’re in love with him. Have been. Maybe as long as he’s been in love with. Impossible for it to be longer because there's no moment in time when Seungcheol didn’t carry his feelings for you like an old friend. “You didn’t say anything.”

Your eyes are wet again, more tears he wants to brush away but he can’t do anything but stare. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“You wouldn’t have,” he whispers back.

“What's supposed to mean?”

Your nose brushes along his, eyes soft as you glance at his mouth. 

Seungcheol won’t let himself kiss you yet. He can’t. The first time he feels your lips on his in years has to be in private because he shakes at the idea of it, a part of him chips away from just imagining even the most chaste brush. But mostly because he’s terrified that once he starts, he knows he won’t be able to stop.

“Do you remember that night in college?” he asks. You’re stunned speechless by the abrupt shift in topic but the words fall out of his mouth before he can think of a better way to say what needs to be said. He continues, “when we did a million shots and you kissed me?”

You snap back, slapping a hand on his chest and nearly teetering to the ground. “You bitch! You kissed me!”

“So you do remember!”

“Of course I remember,” you declare. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

You remember. You remember how his mouth tasted, how you ground into his lap, the feeling of his hands on your ass. All of it sticks with you like it stuck to him.

“Trust me, I remember.”

“Well, why didn’t you say anything?” you huff.

“I was going to but you told me you started dating whatever-his-name before I could.”

“Because I thought you didn’t like me back!”

“I’ve liked you since the first day I met you.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“You should’ve said something.” The admonishment means nothing. Not with the way you smile at him. It makes his heart soar, hope bursting at the seams. 

“I didn’t even know you realized I was a dude until college, why would I say something?”

“Trust me, I knew you were a guy way before college.”

“And we’re back to the original question: why didn’t you say anything?”

It's ridiculous. Utterly comical and unimportant of who said what when because they’re being said now and Seungcheol never has to pretend he isn’t hopelessly in love with you ever again.

You cozy up into his chest, fingers tracing the collar of his shirt. “Wow, barely five minutes we’re already fighting.”

“We’re not fighting.” His lips burn the word into your hairline, arms wrapping around your frame so his fingers can finally, finally, trace the bared skin of your back.

“Oh really?” You laugh. “Then what are we doing, oh wise one?”

“We’re having a spirited conversation over the fact you kissed me and never said anything.”

“And now we’re fighting over whether or not we’re fighting.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“You’re exhausting.” Your eyes roll. He can’t see it, not with how you duck into his neck, but he knows you did it. Because Seungcheol knows you better than anyone else.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“And you kissed me.”

“Well then there's only one way to settle this.”

“Which is?”

Seungcheol doesn’t answer. If Jeonghan could be lit on fire and not think of anyone but his wife, then the world could fall to dust and the only thing on Seungcheol’s mind is the way your mouth feels against his.

It’s light at first. Airy because you’re both still laughing over arguing if you’re fighting or not. But then Seungcheol loses his balance and you help by curling a hand around his shoulder but refuse to stop kissing him and the world blinks out of existence for a second.

All the cliches start making sense. Two halves of a whole, puzzle pieces slipping together, all the things poets could say in a million more eloquent ways than him.

But Seungcheol feels at home for the first time in his life.

It’s not easy maneuvering a full grown woman up and into his lap. It’s especially not easy because you’re you and you’re more stubborn than anyone he’s met in his life which means you object to every step, huff and puff at a brief second of broken contact, but the second he spins you around and drags over his lap you melt.

Your tongue glides along his, sending a tsunami of want through his bones. You whimper. Or maybe he does. Seungcheol can’t tell what's up and what's down right now. He finds the open back of your dress and relishes in the arch of your spine, the choppy breath he can feel beneath his palms.

The silk bow holding your dress up teases his hand as Seungcheol traces the notches of your spine. No one would see. No one except him and the moon and the stars who’ve all stopped to watch. He wants to. God, he wants to but he doesn’t.

You tug at his hair and your name floods his tongue like a curse. 

Draped across his lap in nothing but thin satin, you can feel all of him. How his cock hardens against the back of your thighs, shaky breathes in his lungs wrecking into your own chest. You're not wearing a bra. None of that tape or the sticky thing you’d leave hanging in the bathroom when you lived together. Seungcheol knows because he thumbs over the soft swell of your chest and you respond with a rock of hips that leaves his mouth watering.

The last time he kissed you, that fateful night freshman year of college, Seungcheol thought about it every night for months. He thought about it in the shower, in his bed. His mind would wander towards the memory during class and when he walked around campus.

Now he’ll think about this for the rest of his life.

A shrieking laugh almost sends you to the ground in haste to break away, but Seungcheol catches you in time. 

“Um…” you choke. Your lips are swollen, eyes a little dazed.

“We should go back inside.”

“Yeah.”

“Just, give me a minute.”

“Why?” Your smile grows steadily as you press more firmly into his predicament.

“I have an issue right now.”

“What kind of issue, Cheolie?” you stare at him through your lashes, finger tracing down the front of his shirt until you reach the button of his pants.

“Oh God,” he grunts as the heel of your hand rocks into him. “You’re actually evil.”

Your lips trace over his jaw, sucking and nipping at the lobe of his ear until he shudders. “Don’t you want me?” 

“I do,” he breaths. “Shit.”

His hand squeezes across your ass, your breasts, mindful of how much freedom you’re giving him. To feel you like this, to touch you the way he’s wanted to for years. 

“Then have me,” you moan. 

“Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to fuck you right here.”

“But I do want you to fuck me.” Your hand is in his pants. “Right.” A tight squeeze on his cock. “Here.” He ruts into the next one.

His insides spark with a hot kind of electricity at the idea of you jerking him off where anyone could see. But he wants to touch you. And that he doesn’t want anyone else to even imagine. He’s shared you enough with the world. 

Seungcheol wants a piece of you that's just for him right now.

“Fuck, okay. Stop.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re going back inside.”

“Oh?”

Seungcheol doesn’t give into your obvious goading. It’ll just waste more time. Give you another chance to wring him out to dry and he knows if you get his pants down far enough it’s game over for the both of you. 

He rushes you through the garden, all but dragging you behind him in his haste to get you somewhere secluded. He’d settle for a broom closet at this point. Anywhere he can have you alone.

But you won’t go down without a fight.

You slow to a near stop, whining, “My feet hurt.”

Seungcheol leads you back over another stone bench, immediately kneeling and grabbing your ankle. The pebbles of the path dig into his knee but the slit of silk revealing your bare legs is a good distraction.

“Alright, Cinderella. Let’s get these off,” he jokes. The buckle is delicate and keeps slipping from between his fingers no thanks to your help.

“I can do it myself!”

You try to kick him off but Seungcheol catches your calf easily. Instead of focusing on the teasing stretch of skin, he watches the way your nose wrinkles indignantly after thwarting your attempt to catch him off guard. You’re cute. Probably because he’s in love with you and the rush from knowing you love him back has him feeling a million miles tall.

“Cheol?”

“Yeah?”

Pulling your foot into his lap, Seungcheol brushed his fingers against the knob of your ankle. The tiny buckle that refuses to come undone. Your shaking doesn’t help much.

“Cold?” he asks.

You nod furiously. Warmth hangs in the air but Seungcheol won’t assume your comfort; the silk you're wrapped in doesn’t provide much coverage against the elements. It doesn’t provide him any protection from a wild imagination fueled from years of pining. Without a thought, he shakes off his jacket and hands it to you before moving back to your shoe.

Looming over him, Seungcheol feels your breath hit his forehead. He wants to look up but you’re too close. Too tempting. 

He finally undoes one shoe, then the other. But you don’t say anything and neither does he from his spot between your legs. It’d be easy. So easy to bunch your skirt around your waist, part your legs, and make you cum on his finger. Then his mouth. Then his cock.

You’re thinking the same thing. A hiccup of breath rustling the hair on his forehead, your hands stroking the muscles of his neck give you away. 

But when he starts, he knows he won’t be able to start. He’ll want nothing less than all of you. Give all of himself to you. If you’ll have him.

But a hard stone bench isn’t the place to worship your body the way you deserve. He’d be a gentleman. Even if it killed him to wait any longer. You were worth waiting for. Seungcheol would wait a million more lifetimes if he got to feel like this again.

No shoes means he’s carrying you the rest of the way. He’s done it before and you’re not that heavy but he’s been drinking. And then there's the matter of all the blood in his body heading south, so he struggles more than usual.

“You’re sure you’ve got it?” you cling on for dear life when he nearly stumbles under the first step.

“Sorry, I haven’t been carrying a lot of full grown women around lately.”

“I thought you were looking a little small,” you goad.

“Small?” he objects.

“Yeah, small.” You squeeze over his biceps and his chest like you two aren’t sneaking around a packed mansion where anyone could stumble by. His resolve slips further out of reach at the dig of your nails. “Been skipping the gym lately?”

He feigns dropping you, laughing when you scramble for hold under threat of falling flat on your ass.

“Asshole!” you laugh.

Things fizzle back to comfortable silence. Your companions are far off laughs and the loud music from the courtyard. The garden is all but abandoned, not a single soul in sight. It makes it all too tempting to find another bench and take up what was interrupted earlier. The heat of your breath against his ear with each giggled whisper didn’t help. Neither did the warm weight of your thighs in his hold or the firm press of your chest against his back. 

It’s a mistake to look over his shoulder. Your eyes shine in the moonlight as you stare back, a smile lifting the corner of your lips.

Seungcheol focuses back on the hallway, double checking for any passersby. There’s nothing indecent about a man giving a woman a tipsy piggy back ride. 

But there is something entirely inappropriate about how hard he is while doing so.

And Seungcheol knows you know. Or if you don’t then the universe has a personal investment in his suffering. Every step is more difficult than the last because your thighs squeeze around his torso, and your hands find their way down his chest, and then there’s the giggling every time he back tracks because a drunken guest stumbles by on the way to their own room.

You’re sneaking around like two idiot teenagers and it might kill him from lack of blood to his brain.

But Seungcheol wouldn’t have it any other way.

He pauses at the last staircase to catch his breath. There’s no reason you’re still on his back other than the fact he doesn’t want to let you go and the position is the only reason he hasn’t found a dark corner to do whatever you please yet.

“Awww poor Seungcheol, tired already,” you coo. 

Your teasing tone makes his blood boil, worse how you readjust your hold with more squeeze and stretching that leaves him with nothing but horribly inappropriate thoughts of what you’ll do after he gets up the stairs.

Finally, the hallway housing your room appears and he can’t get through the door fast enough. 

You're pressed flat between the door and his body in a blink, fully at Seungcheol’s mercy as he kisses you again. 

“Wait,” you mutter.

Seungcheol sucks along your bottom lip. You pull him closer, arching into his chest. Your stomach is soft against the gentle grinds of his cock. He doesn’t want to wait anymore.

“We—hmmm,” you sigh. “Need to talk about this.” 

Seungcheol pulls away from your mouth, trailing scorching kisses down your neck that leave you shivering. “What about it? I love you, you love me. Feels like that's all there is to it.” 

The second he says it, Seungcheol knows he’s wrong. But he doesn’t want to think about the fine details. He’s never done long distance but you’re only a train ride away. 

“Cheol.” You prod a finger into his collarbone until he dips back.

“I mean it’ll suck being in different cities but it’s not forever right? We’ll figure it out.”

You dip your chin. “I’m not staying in New York.”

“Oh. That’s—” he cups your cheek, pulling your gaze to his. “I’ll go wherever you need me.”

You smile up at him and everything goes blank. In that moment, he vows to do anything you ever ask if it means you’ll keep looking at him like that.

“I’m moving back to D.C.” You kiss the words into his palm, eyes never leaving his.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You smile. “Sofie’s friend needed a roommate and my job agreed to let me go remote so…”

“When do you move back?”

“Two months. They want to wait until the busy season is over.”

“But then you’re back. For good?”

“For good.”

It feels like you're promising a whole lot more.. 

You have Seungcheol for good too. As long as you want him, he’s yours. Probably for long after too. 

He’s so happy, it burns across his skin. It can’t be contained. This is all real. He fights the urge to pinch himself because not even in the wildest of his dreams did he think this was possible. 

"When you come back home.” Home he thinks. Home with him. Where you belong. “We're going on a date. And you're going to let me pay, and woo you, and take care of you because I love you. Okay?”

Your hands twine around his shoulders before you respond with a nod, “Okay.”

In the privacy of your room, you’re the one that tugs the knot holding your dress up. The silk slips down your chest revealing inch after inch of what he’s only dreamed off. When it pools around your waist, Seungcheol almost falls to his knees.

You shiver in the cool bedroom air. His eyes drink in the way your nipples peek under his gaze. Every inhale shakes in your lungs and he thinks this might just be enough for him to die peacefully. The silk trickles like water down your figure until you're left standing in nothing but skimpy panties.

“Fuck,” he curses.

Your hands flash to cover your chest, “What?”

“No, don’t,” Seungcheol reassures. His hands find yours, tracing along your thumb. “You’re just…”

“Just?” you ask.

“Wow.”

“I’m wow?” you laugh. 

Seungcheol takes another step into your space. And then another and another, your dress crumbling to the floor and leaving behind nothing but the thin band of your underwear for him to remove. Your knees hit the mattress and he follows you down into the cushion.

You're soft and warm like afternoon sunlight on a winter day under his wandering hands.

“You’re wow,” he responds, angling your chin so your mouth can meet his, noses grazing against one another.

You don’t have the patience to hear Seungcheol ramble about how perfect you are. Instead, you drag him into a desperate kiss, tongue teasing his. He’ll wax poetically later. Right now he wants to give you whatever you demand.

More kissing, the prickle of your teeth along his lip, and Seungcheol is pretty sure he’s never been harder in his life. It’s humbling and exhilarating all at once. Ready to crumble into nothing from some light petting.

He takes his revenge on the curve of your shoulder and it turns out to be extra sensitive. Every nip and suck along your collarbone leaves you panting, hands scratching up his back for some relief. He wonders what else is sensitive.

He laves against your nipple in maddening slowness. You torture him as well, ankles locking at the base of his spine while you grind against him and make more noises he’ll commit to memory forever.

 “God,” you whine when Seungcheol finally breaks and rocks down into the tempting heat of your core.

He needs more. 

“Do you think about this?” he grunts with another torturous press. He could come like this. You could come from this. Two adults, reduced to dry humping like horny teenagers.

“I think about you all the time,” you gasp.

“What do you think about?”

“You.”

Seungcheol snickers, “More specific.”

“Touching me, kissing me. Anywhere. Everywhere.”

A swell of neanderthal pride blooms in his heart. The image of you, touching yourself with his name on your lips breaks another piece of his self control that wants to savor this.

“Here?” he kisses the swell of your breast, waiting for a nod to move on. 

“Here?” A suck on your nipple again until the bed sheets threaten to rip from your hold.

“Here?” A bite at your hip bone.

His fingers part your core, wet at first contact even over your panties. “What about here?”

“Everywhere. I’ve thought about you touching me everywhere.” You sound like you might start crying if he doesn’t fulfill that fantasy soon. 

But he’s dying to know every little thought you’ve ever had about him. If you think about him a fraction as much as he thinks about you. Not just like this, but when he sees a building he’d never think twice about and know you’d have something to say about the construction of the window arches, or when he walks through the park and sees two dogs meeting for the first time and can hear your voice whisper ‘best friends!’ like you’re right beside him. You’re in everything. Every part of who he is.

Your panties come off and he licks between your legs slowly, savoring every part he can while you twitch and curl beneath him. 

“Cheol,” you whine.

There's no need to elaborate. He feels it too.

Your back bows under his touch, and Seungcheol watches you touch yourself with rapt attention. You grab your breasts and squeeze, nipples visible between fingers. 

He sucks your clit, tongue lashing at the sensitive nub. A million times Seungcheol thought about doing this and never did his brain imagine the sounds you’d make, the way you taste, the rough tub at his hair. You're hot and wet under his mouth and all Seungcheol wants is more, more, more.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“So good—fuck—it’s so good,” you gasps as he fucks your opening with his tongue, collection your flavor.

His finger wedges inside your tight walls. You angle your hips, sinking them deeper. Seungcheol pauses for only a moment before giving you a second one. The sting across his scalp from your frantic tugging leaves him straining against the zipper of his slacks.

He cups your ass, dragging you closer to the edge of the bed where he kneels. Your legs spread wider to grant him the space to  savor the pink of your folds under his tongue without obstruction.

Your pitch rises, moaning through a third finger joining the mix and a rough lap of his tongue that has you kicking the sheets.. He can feel it; your end just over the hill. A few vulgar flicks of his tongue and its release in long waves that make you keen his name horsley. 

You melt into a boneless heap. Occasional twitches of muscles flooding with pleasure the only sign of life.

Seungcheol mouths up your stomach, sucking a nipple between his teeth for a second before moving on to your mouth. If all you want to do tonight is kiss and let Seungcheol worship your pussy, then he’ll oblige. But the way pull at his clothes hints at what you want. He draws you back into his lap, your body hot against his, mouth coaxing yours open. 

“Good?”

You giggle against his mouth. “I can’t feel my toes.”

He can’t stop touching you. Probably won’t ever stop now that he knows what it means to call you his. To know your body. You’re no better. Your hands rake through his hair, goosebumps erupting as you tug him exactly where you want.

The soft lines of your throat, the intoxicating taste of sweat and perfume flooding his tongue. It’s better than anything his sorry excuse for an imagination could come up with.

You tug at his shirt, up and up until it’s forgotten on the floor. Your bare chest against his lights an inferno of want. Seungcheol pushes apart your limp thighs, making space for himself to grind against your sensitive core through his own trousers. 

Seungcheol remembers a crucial fact as you slip a hand in his pants and tease his leaking cock.

“Wait,” he mutters into your jaw.

You don’t stop, slowly jerking him off, teeth cutting into the vein on his neck. “What?’

Seungcheol savors your touch before responding, thrusting through your first with blind want. “I don’t have condoms.”

“Oh.”

“I can go and try to find some but I—” he rambles. 

“Cheol.”

“—everyone is probably still at the party so—”

You shut him up with a hand over his mouth, “I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Oh.”

Oh. Seungcheol’s brain swims with lewd imagination; you stuffed with his cum, pussy stretched and worn from his cock. Feeling you raw, again and again until your helpless sweaty messes. 

“Unless you want to use them then that's fine!” you hastily supply.

He cups your face, smiling as you ramble about how okay you are with using condoms. Your face is warm, eyes avoidant while you enthusiastically declare you want to do whatever makes him comfortable. Which is an entirely new problem because if your goal is to make him comfortable, then neither of you will be leaving this bed for the foreseeable future and at some point people will start looking for you.

Seungcheol rolls over. You take advantage of the opportunity for free command of his lap, forcing his pants down until he’s as bare as you. He preens under your wide eye stare, ego flaring under your wide eye stare. Leaning back on his palms, he grows cocky from your silence.

“Like what you see?” Seungcheol goads.

Your gaze cuts to his, eyebrows arched in your own challenge. A flare of fear zaps up his spine. 

He loves it.

Seungcheol is accustomed to taking the lead in bed. Some girls want him to be domineering, others prefer to sit back while he naturally takes the reins. 

But you’ve butt heads with him in every aspect of life, hopefully this would be no different. He’s hoping you might even try telling him exactly how you want him.

“You’re so hard for me,” you whisper. Your hand reaches out, thumbing at the leaking head of his cock with seductive confidence. 

Seungcheol nods in agreement at a loss of words under your touch.

Your head cocks to the side curiously, empty hand slipping between your thighs, making space for the head of his cock to nudge against your clit. “Do you wanna fuck me?” 

He nods again.

“Good,” you smile. You hide in his neck, nosing along the tense muscles straining to break out from his skin. “I thought about you fucking me like this. When we were in high school. I thought—I wanted you to be the first.”

“Really?” he asked dazedly. 

Your first. Not Stoner Ricky from Calculus. But him. You wanted Seungcheol to have you first, possible be the only one for each other. It’s a lie if he didn’t think of you in the back of his mom’s car while Tiffany Something took his virginity. Your lips, your voice instead of her nasally pornographic sounds, when he came it was only because he closed his eyes and thought of you. 

He tells you that and earns a deep bite on his shoulder. 

You continue, “I’d watch porn or read those smut books, and I always pictured it was you.”

“God.”

You sink on his cock, pussy stretched on his length, stars flaring across your vision. There's not enough air in the room to breathe through the tight squeeze wrecking your guts. You’re in the position of control but Seungcheol can already see submission gaining control. You won’t admit you can handle his cock but pride warms his veins at how much energy it takes for your stunted rhythm. 

“Fuck,” you curse.

 “Yeah? Feels good having your pussy stuff with my cock?” Your nails bite into his chest in response. Pink lines flare in their wake, one he hopes are still there tomorrow. 

Seungcheol drags you into a kiss, a dirty culmination of teeth and tongue and your satisfied sighs and his needy grunts. You suck at his lips, focused on that rather than riding him. 

“Taping out already?” 

You ignore the dig. It takes the barest twinge of his arm and you’re rolling on your back, legs spread in invitation. He sinks into the space reserved just for him, sliding deeper than before. Now he’s the one that needs a moment. Squeezed to death between your walls is the sweet torture he’s ever experienced, the wet sloppy drag of your cunt, bare for him and him alone. 

It’s an act of bravery to pull out for the sake of thrusting back in. If he was confident enough you could get off without his hips sinking deeper then he’d never do it, content to keep his cock wedge inside you and play with your clit and tits until you cry from the pleasure. But he really wants to fuck you. 

“God, feels so good.” You break. He keeps his pace steady, building you up until you muster a way to squeeze him tighter and his skins on fire. 

He hoists your leg up, a deeper stretch that leaves him muttering about how good you feel. The wet slap of your cunt grows louder, sloppy clashes of his pelvis against yours.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, stomach caving. The urge to cum is nipping at his heels but Seungcheol is better than that. Better than a quick fuck, at least for this first time. He wants to hear more of your sounds, fold you in every position he can imagine.

“More,” you grunt. “Fuck me harder, baby.”

He gives you what you ask for; plowing you into the mattress until the headboard slaps against the wall. “You like that?”

“Love it—shit. I love it.” You prop yourself up, shoving a hand between your bodies to swipe messy strokes across your clit. Seungcheol collects more sounds from the back of your throat, rough growls and stuttered squeaks. His cock is heavy in your guts, soaked with your arousal and his cum.

Your mouth finds his. Panting breath and loose tangles of lips. It’s a race against time with his vision bleached white. Your stomach caves with effort to meet each stroke with one of your own. 

“I love you,” he groans. 

You clench at his words, growing wetter if possible. Flailing against the bed, he hooks your other knee under his elbow and presses flat, pinning you down under his mercy. “I love you,” you whine back. “I-I—”

Your orgasm floods your veins, brain fuzzy and disconnected from anything beyond Seungcheol. He takes over the circles around your clit. Calloused fingers providing sick friction until you can’t take anymore.

“Wanna feel you come, Cheolie. Please,” you beg.

Something snaps and he’s rushing to pull out, jerking off over your stomach with your hand to help.

Rope after rope shines in the dim moonlight. He can’t even try to pretend the thrill of cumming inside isn’t on the forefront of his mind as the drips of his spend stare back at him. But you look like a fantasy come true cover in his cum, skinned flushed, eyes glazed and chest heaving. His own Venus come to life.

He pushes back in, spent cock sensitive to the squeeze of your cunt. Seungcheol doesn't want to be anywhere else. Now that he has you, he can't imagine a moment without you.

Sinking the weight of his hips, your legs lock him in. A combination of cum, sweat, arousal, and a few tears sticks between your sweltering bodies. Neither of you care, too enamored with cataloguing every bare inch of skin with in reach of your mouths.

‘Ugh,'' you groan. “I need a shower.” 

In the bathroom, where so many horrible dangerous thoughts have plagued Seungcheol since the start of this trip, it’s peaceful. The thrum of the shower drowns out any sound beyond your sleepy huffs and his hums of content. 

As the water heats you press him into the edge of the sink, kissing him as if there's all the time in the world to do just that. That seed of need that has been growing steadily in his gut since he kissed you in the garden comes alive again. You seem to ignore the prod at your thigh though so Seungcheol ignores it too and shepherds you into the stall.

He washes your back with soapy hands and you coif his hair into a shampoo mohawk and it’s feel right no matter how ridiculous he probably looks. You twist every time he touches your waist, shrieking in laughter because you hate being tickled.

Seungcheol is happy. It floods his veins, shoots through the tips of his fingers tracing your hip, forcing a content grin on his lips despite the fatigue of the day. He rests his forehead against your own and takes his first deep breath since New Years.

“I don’t want this to change anything."

“What?” you pull away.

“No!” Seugncehol shouts, wincing at the voluming. “Not—I didn’t mean that I just meant…I-I want you to feel like you can tell me anything. No more secrets. Okay? No matter what changes between us you're still my best friend. If I'm acting like an ass I want you to tell me. If you change your mind then-"

You watch him, features softening. “I won't."

You distract him with your own touches; it’s nice at first. Then it’s nothing short of blissful agony. Teasing nails across his stomach and sides, firm against his body in a way that leaves him weak and wanting. His heart thuds sporadically under your lips as his cock swells against your stomach.

“Y/N,” he sighs.

You kneel in front of him, smirking at how easy he is. You rub his cock with a slick grip. Your mouth comes into play slowly; kissing his hip, then his thigh, your tongue drags up the side until you suck the head between your lips and Seungcheol almost collapses.

You hold his thighs, guiding him further down your throat until there's no more space and you gag. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands but it doesn’t matter because he’s cumming. Fast.

Without missing a beat, you swallow everything he gives you. 

“Oh god—fuck.”

“Good?” you ask, still licking against the head of his cock.

Rather than answer the obvious, he pulls you to your feet with a gentle kiss to your forehead. He’ll make it up to you back in bed. For right now, you curl into his chest, tracing shapes into his collarbone as the water slowly turns cold. 

He pats you dry, ruffling your hair in the humid bathroom with all the time in the world before dragging you back to bed. You snuggle under the covers, still naked. Seungcheol joins immediately, rolling on top of you and caging his arms on either side of your head.

“Hi,” you smile from underneath him.

He can’t help but grin back. “Hi.”

You make love slowly this time. Your back to his chest, Seungcheol curled around you like a second skin, whispering his adoration in your ear until you lurch and cum with a cry. Then he does it again. And one more time because nothing is better than the taste of his name on your tongue.

This time, when Seungcheol finishes, it’s inside you. And when he tries to pull out, you protest with a sleepy threat before slipping into the land of dreams.

“Well, well, well,” Jeonghan tsks from the foot of the bed. “What do we have here?”

You’re still curled in Seungcheol’s arms, bare skin on bare skin only obscured by the blanket he had half a mind to drag over your two in the early hours of the morning. He’s still inside you for Christ Sake. 

And yet Jeonghan and Sofie stand like two cats who caught the canary; unperturbed by the state of things. More like they’re delighted.

It might go down as the shortest honeymoon in history because Seungcheol is going to murder them.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a boat in Greece somewhere?” Seungcheol croaks, pulling you closer and forcing the blanket overhead. Maybe if he ignores them long enough they’ll go away.

“We were just leaving and wanted to say goodbye since some people decided to ditch our wedding. Now I see why.”

“Jeonghan,” you croak.

Jeonghan preens smugly. “Yes, whore?” 

 “Get out or I’ll show Sofie that video of you from Halloween.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“What video from Halloween?” Sofie asks.

“Jeonghan,” you warn. You’ll do it. The video of Jeonghan sobbing in a party city wig about how much he liked Sofie before they started dating is one of the few pieces of blackmail against him. 

“Fine. But when I’m back next month I want an explanation.”

“What video from Halloween?” She asks again as Jeonghan pushes her out the door.

“I hate him,” you say.

Seungcheol hums his agreement against your shoulder, tracing the skin with his lips until you shiver. “Me too.”

“Now, are you gonna do something about that,” you rock back into his pelvis, a tight squeeze around his cock he bucks into. “Or can I get up?”

“Roll over.”

Seungcheol fucks you for the nth time in so few hours. You whine and whimper and melt into the mattress under his weight, face buried in the pillows in an effort to stay quiet. He doesn’t care that the sun is heavy in the sky and half the house must be able to hear the way he groans around the syllables of your name. 

He doesn’t care one bit.

Seungcheol has seen you in plenty of relationships, been in several of his own, but he’s never been in a relationship with you.

Turns out all the daydreaming and what-ifs couldn't come close to reality.

It’s better.

Most things are still the same. You two still bicker about everything. He finds your hair all over his apartment. His clothes magically disappear from his closet only to turn up at your place. You call him a stubborn jackass and he calls you a drama queen (both in regards to how he loads the dishwasher).

And he loves that even while dating you two refuse to change. 

But Seungcheol also loves all the new things. The firsts you get to share.

The first time you visit home as a couple, your mom spots him kissing along your knuckles as you approach the house and she starts crying. Loudly. He spots his dad hand his mom twenty bucks but not before your dad hands over another ten.

Apparently, everyone was waiting for this to happen. 

His dad claps him on the shoulder and your dad shakes his hand and suddenly he’s no longer Seungcheol, childhood best friend who lived down the street. He is Seungcheol, boyfriend. He’s known your parents since he was in elementary school and his mom texts you more frequently than her own son.

But none that matters because, at the ripe age of thirty, you two are banned from sleeping over during the visit for the first time in your lives.

He’s got a suspicion it’s because none of them know how to handle their kids finally dating. You and Seungcheol have never been normal but they’re trying. 

Even if he sneaks out like he’s a teenager and climbs into your window in the dead of night. Now that's a fantasy come to life.

Back in the city Seungcheol discovers more ways things have changed.

You spend almost every night at Seungcheol’s apartment. When your sublease ends after four months there isn’t a big production about moving in with him. You had a key since he moved into the place years ago. Your stuff ends up in his spare room, which becomes ‘your’ room but you both call it the guest room and it's a new level of domesticity he’s never had.

In the mornings, you find him in the bathroom if he forgot to drop a good morning kiss on your forehead (something he’s started doing on purpose because you totter in with your eyes still closed and pajamas wrinkled, diving straight into his chest and grumbling incoherently until he gives in). It’s enough to make his heart squeeze even after the hundredth time). 

Or how you constantly find a reason to touch him. Curled around his back while he makes dinner, shimmying under his arm when he’s reading case files on the couch. A hand through his hair while you cuddle in bed. Your shared bed, in your shared apartment. Which he is embarrassingly giddy about but you are too and that makes him feel better. You meet for lunch, at either of your offices, and he can see the instinct to drop into his lap making your fingers twitch but only because his own flex with the urge to pull you in first.

The first time you go to a baseball game together and end up on the kiss cam and he doesn’t have to pretend to not notice or awkwardly wait for the cameraman to catch the hint, because you’re kissing him until his ears grow hot and the crowd hoots wildly.

In the best way possible it’s weird. He doesn’t know how to date someone he’s been in love with for as long as he can remember. A lot of it feels like being friends. Like whatever was there before is the bones and all the new things filled in the empty space between.

There isn’t really a guide or set timeline but you’re figuring it out. 

And Jeonghan helps. In his own Jeonghan way.

“You guys have been softcore dating since highschool. Just think of it like dogs. You’ve dated for a year now, right? That's like seven years for your guys.”

Seungcheol will tell you later tonight, after you’ve said yes, how the last part of your trio gave his blessing. How Sofie helped him pick the ring (which was really Seungcheol picking the ring and her providing moral support via muzzling her husband).

But for right now, he watches you across the table, laughing at something the waiter said, the weight of the velvet box burning a hole in his pocket.

And he knows the next first you have together will be the best one yet.

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

[xitsensunmoon]

My first ever comic con! And first cosplay too. Of course it's gonna be my boy :] Ramblings about the process are under the cut(Let me know if?? You would want me to elaborate with process images for any of the steps?)

The costume took me forever to make, as I've never done any machine sewing, sculpting, fabric dying or spray painting before but learning all of these was so fucking fun!! I never realised just how many different skills go into making a cosplay but it was so worth it!!!

Almost all of the clothes(except the hat) were purchased first as bases, but all of the detailing was added by me. All of the fabric used was originally just scraps that I was given for free so I needed to learn how to dye and dye all of the stars, they were originally white.

The sewing machine was its own beast that brought me tons of frustration from the lack of skill and knowledge (it was devastating to find out that 95% of fuck ups were my fault and not the machine's lmao). But as a result, a hat sewn from scratch, all of the fur trims, embroidery on the corset, stars and the collar(which is very hard to see on the pictures unfortunately) was all added manually. The stars and the stripes(on the back of the cape) were attached using heat-and-bond adhesive (I WISH I knew about such thing just when I started working on this. It would save me so much time and nerves.)

Then I found out about polymorph(mouldable plastic) and it has become the next thing I wanted to learn, to sculpt the claws and the fangs(yes, they're handmade jfksjs). The claws I then primed and painted in trillion coats because I wasn't satisfied with the colour of the spray paint. The fangs I moulded to my own teeth and then stained with tea to match the colour of my teeth :)c

As for makeup, I used Mehron Paradise water activated paints. At first I wanted to try to save money and bought myself Snazaroo instead, which unfortunately turned out to be a waste. Snazaroo didn't hold on my face for longer than 2 hours, cracking and peeling awfully. Mehron on the other hand survived 11 hours of me smiling, talking, emoting and such and didn't even crease at the smile lines(I'm actually shocked about that). It obviously works like any other makeup which means your skin texture and wrinkles won't go anywhere but Mehron's elasticity pleasantly surprised me. It did obviously smear from sweat and saliva(if you're eating and licking your lips) but if you don't touch the skin it just dries again, self setting. But if it's dry it's fully smear-proof. Highly recommend!

And last but not least, I've decided against painting my hands as it was very risky that I will stain everything I touch at the smallest hint of sweat. So instead I got myself gloves-tights(? Not sure how they're called but it's made from the same fabric as tights) and painted them with normal acrylic paint(did you know you could dye fabric with acrylic paint? I personally didn't), then heat set with an iron and voilà, they're reusable, my hands are not stained after an exhausting day and I don't stain everything I touch. It worked wonderfully which honestly was a surprise as I was really sceptical that acrylic paint will somehow stay in place.

I think this whole thing took me minimum of 6 months with big-big breaks for my school and life in general. But I'm really proud! This project taught me so many new skills and I couldn't have been happier about learning new knowledge, even if it sucked to fail in the meantime.

Everyone at the con was really nice and gave me a large confidence boost even tho it was my first time and I had no idea what I was doing. Taking photos with other people was really awkward/new for me as I hate cameras so I really had no idea how to pose/behave in front of one. But that's okay I think. This whole experience definitely made me want to do this again, so I think that will come with experience. Thank you for reading this far, hope you enjoyed this little summary :)

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Softer, Softest ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!boss!san x stripper!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A fun night of stripping takes a turn when an encounter with a particularly unpleasant customer leaves you in tears, running to your boss seeking comfort and protection. Both things he’s more than willing to give.

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: explores themes of body insecurities, reader has her arm grabbed (nothing violent but brutal violence against the person who grabbed it), mentions of blood/injuries (not yours, babes), kissing, heavy body worship, san’s obsessed with you, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), clit sucking, nipple pinching, a lil manhandling, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, low key mirror sex, pet names (baby, pretty).

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this little fic for any of my chubby darlings out there who might not know or might need reminding that their bodies are gorgeous, worth loving, and desirable. I also really love myself a hot criminal and who better than San? K, let me shut up now. Just know I love you. Your body’s amazing. Never forget that ❤️

Midnight. Friday. The back alley of a strip club. The best in town. The strip club, not the alley. It’s a dark, starless night. The smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, the aftermath of a sudden downpour that left the ground slick with rain. Music from inside the club bleeds through the cracks of a heavy steel door. A neon red EXIT sign hangs overhead. The door creaks on its hinges as it swings open, sending the music blaring out into the night and with it comes a body. The blur of one at first, flying through the air, and then the weight of it. The heavy thud of bruised flesh and cracked bone colliding with the asphalt. 

The man on the ground is unremarkable, nothing about him worth noting except the mangled nose that gushes blood down his face, leaking into the cavernous gash that is his busted lip. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now he can’t speak at all, only mumble. A brushed leather Dolce and Gabbana shoe collides with his cheek. His blood splashes scarlet against the pitch black soles, a horrible crack emitting from his jaw as more pressure’s applied. Now this man? He’s remarkable. He’s muscular, defined in every way so that, even through his black dress shirt, you can read the broadness of his shoulders. His features are sharp and intense. The kind you either fall for or fall victim to. There’s no in between. He’s a handsome devil but a devil all the same. 

“You look like shit” San sighs, effortlessly kicking the man onto his back. He rolls his sleeves up, kneeling beside the man like a hunter inspecting its fallen prey. He stares down at him, emotionless, void of anything close to that thing we call remorse.  

The man heaves in a breath of air before coughing it back out. “Mmm s-s-sorry” he croaks, “I didn’t know she was anyone fucking special.” 

San grips the man’s face, grinning in a way that isn’t the least bit friendly. He squeezes tightly, forcing jagged teeth to press into the soft flesh of the man’s cheeks. “Well now you do.”

This is your boss and you, tucked away safe and warm in his office, are something special. But a part of you knew this already. You downplay it when the other girls point it out. You pretend not to notice the clear signs of favoritism but they’re there in even the smallest interaction between the two of you. Since day one San’s been your protector, your admirer. You’ve denied it a million times, convincing yourself you’re simply making more of things than what’s there. Still, after everything happened you couldn’t fathom running into the arms of anyone else. 

You were dancing like any other night—working your section and getting your tips—when some asshole grabbed you by the arm, demanding your presence in one of the private rooms. Usually you could count on security to drag him out but on weekends the club gets packed and things slip through the cracks. Sadly tonight you were one of them so, like a proper lady, you told him to kiss your ass and sent the tip of your stiletto crashing into his balls. You might be a stripper but that doesn’t mean you’re some thing that men can treat however they wish. It’s a lesson he had to learn the hard way and you were happy to teach it to him. Two shots past drunk and embarrassed by your rejection he snapped, spewing the most vile things you’ve ever heard about yourself—about your body. 

It isn’t news to you that you’re one of the bigger girls here. San says that’s what makes you special, why customers come in to blow a check on you and you alone. He’s right, your bank account says so. The customers love you, they eat up every inch of your plush body. By all means you should feel like the baddest bitch in this building, simply because you are, but in that moment his words had reduced you to nothing. A few seconds ago you were twirling around the pole like a goddess now you found yourself scurrying back to the dressing room with tears in your eyes. 

At least that’s where you intended to go. Somewhere along the way you changed course, riding the velvet lined elevator to the third floor where San’s office sits at the end of a long hallway. At the time you hadn’t considered how much this might escalate the situation because, quite honestly, you didn’t care. More than feeling hurt, you were pissed the fuck off. Your tears were of anger and, whether you felt it at the time or not, you wanted that motherfucker to pay for it. 

This place you work at. There’s more to it than what’s on the surface. It’s easy to get so distracted by the luxury and the lights and the pretty girls dancing that you miss the truth of it all. In fact, that’s the point, but you know a mafia front when you see one. You aren’t oblivious. You know what this is, who San is, and maybe that’s exactly why you were tapping at his door. A damsel in distress in black lace lingerie.

San’s heart dropped when he saw his favorite girl in tears. He stopped everything, sending his men away so he could place all of his focus on you. Resting his jacket over your shoulders, he gently cradled your cheeks, brushing the tears away to ask quite simply, “Who did it?” 

You explained everything, how that asshole grabbed you and the things he said, and San’s anger grew quietly, simmering beneath a surface of calm. He took a seat at his desk, setting you down comfortably in his lap, and pulled up the security cameras. “Tell me when you see him, okay, baby?” he instructed sweetly, his palm massaging the smoothness of your thigh.

You nodded, struggling to focus on the screen with his hand on your thigh and him calling you “baby”. San touching you wasn’t a rare occasion but it was always something light. A hand on the small of your back or fingertips grazing your arm. Never this purposeful—this intimate. You couldn’t help imagining how it might feel if he gripped a little harder, moved a little higher. You felt your heart begin to race, your temperature rising the longer you sat there in his lap.

“That’s him” you sniffled, spotting that familiar face on the screen. San studied the screen a moment before turning back to you. “I’ll take care of it” he promised, his hand riding your thigh and coming to rest at the gentle curve of your hip. “And no more crying, baby. You’re too pretty to cry.” Too pretty to cry? Oh, but you were crying, absolutely weeping, only between your thighs this time. 

San disappeared from the office, leaving you too lost in the lingering haze of his touch to even think about your insecurities, but that only lasted so long. Alone in the quiet of his office, the self doubt began to creep back in. You tried to distract yourself by exploring your surroundings—the impressive collection of vintage whiskey, the gorgeously framed art hanging from the walls—but nothing could distract you from how uncomfortable you’d become in your own skin. It didn’t help that the office was lined with mirrors, reflecting glimpses of your figure with every turn.

At last out of distractions, you turn to face the mirrored image of yourself, letting San’s jacket slip to the floor. You strike a pose, a half hearted copy of something cute you might do on stage, and watch the way the fat of your body squishes together here or there. You strike another then another then another but they’re there in every pose. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs. Your weight shows in all of them. Pinching your lower belly you think of how the other girls have had work done. Maybe if you got some done yourself…

“I left him out back. Clean him up before someone sees” San says, pushing through the door, his phone pressed to his ear. 

You jump a bit at his arrival, scrambling to grab the jacket, but San slips in behind you, closing his arms around your waist before you can retrieve your safety blanket. You tense at first but find yourself settling into his embrace as if it’s the most natural place for you to be. 

“So, what was that?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he inhales your perfume and the sweet scent of honey and jasmine fills his lungs. You smell as beautiful as you are, as beautiful as everything about you is. 

“How’d everything go?” you press, quick to change the subject. Noticing a series of tiny red scrapes on the knuckles of his right hand, you carefully take it into yours, assessing the damage. 

San shrugs it off like it’s nothing. It still stings but it’s far from the worst pain he’s ever felt. “I said I’d take care of it. It’s been taken care of.” 

You giggle at the contrast of something so menacing being spoken by someone so regal. “San, you make it sound like you killed him.” 

He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin on their way up to your ear. You shiver at the contact and his hold on you tightens, your bodies pressed flush against each other so that you can feel his bulge pressed into the plush of your ass. 

“Killed him? Almost” he whispers, “I answered your question so it’s only fair you answer mine, isn’t it? What were you doing? I came in and you were…” San pinches your belly, his fingertips planting adoration where there was once doubt. 

“I…uh…I was…” you stutter, searching your brain for a believable lie but you can’t find a single one.“There’s this doctor, a few of the girls have gone to him to get some work done, and I was just thinking, I don’t know, maybe...why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and anyway, it’s silly.”

“It is silly” he agrees, notes of that quiet, controlled anger you witnessed earlier resurfacing, “But you’re wrong to say that I don’t care. I care about how you feel about yourself, I care about you. You must know that.”

“I mean, I know you care about me. You care about all of the girls” you say, hesitant to accept this as a profession of anything in particular. 

San spins you around, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the cool mahogany of the desk. “I don’t care for any other woman the way I do you.” 

There it is, a profession of something very particular. He’d hoped that you’d seen it by now. He wonders if he didn’t do a good enough job of showing you. It’s been so long before you, years even, that he had feelings like this for anyone. The world he operates in doesn’t allow for soft spots. Soft spots are how you make mistakes and when mistakes are life or death you can’t afford to make them but he couldn’t help himself with you. You caught his eye the day you walked in for your audition and you’re all he’s been able to see since. You’re so delicate, so beautiful, a perfect contrast to the toughness of his life. It’s why he protects you—why he always will. 

“Your body…” he says, his palms racing up and down your curves, “It’s perfect. There’s nothing about it that needs fixing. If you let that doctor touch you I’ll break both of his hands.” San’s gaze is heavy with lust, months of longing just begging to be satisfied. It burns him up inside, sets fire to his very being, and being kissed by the flames of that need is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

“Is that the way you romance women? With threats of violence?” you tease, draping your arms across his shoulders.

“Sometimes but usually it’s like this” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue parts your lips, twining around yours to deepen the kiss. His movements are careful and deliberate. The kiss intoxicatingly slow. 

San grabs you by the hips, lifting you onto the desk and you let out a little squeak of surprise as he sets you down. “You’re so fucking cute” he grins, spreading your thighs to fit perfectly between them. 

“You think so?” you say so innocently it only makes him want to ravage you more. 

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he tilts your head to look back at the mirror, “Don’t you?” 

An unexpected wetness soaks the lace of your panties at the sight of your shared reflection. Nothing has changed about your body. It’s the same one you were picking apart, the same one you were doubting, and San loves everything about it. He praises it with his hands, with his fingertips, with whispered confessions of everything your body needs to hear. 

”I watch you sometimes when you’re dancing” he says, effortlessly doing away with your bra, “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself when you look the way you do. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me. My little witch.”

San captures one of your breasts, kneading the plump flesh in the palm of his hand. He pinches your bud between his fingers, tugging at it just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

“But I don’t have any magic” you whimper, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. They pop open one by one, revealing a body that had to be sculpted by some divine feminine deity. You push the fabric away, your fingertips delighting in the perfection of her creation. 

San’s free hand reaches between you, stroking your clit through your panties. He groans at how soaked you are, your juices leaking through the lace to coat his fingers in your juices. “You do have magic, baby” he whispers, tucking your panties to the side, “It’s right here.”

“Aah, Sannie” you moan, your hands sliding down his abs as his fingers stretch you open. 

Your body falls back, a sharp chill coursing through you as your bare back hits the desk. San sinks his fingers deeper into your core, his cock stiffening at the sight of your body moving as hypnotically as it does on the pole. Only now it’s for him and only him. This is how San likes it, how he’s always wanted it to be. Him with his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your pussy, your walls greedily clenching around them, and you spread out across his desk, your gorgeous body on full display and your lips spilling out moans meant for his ears alone. 

Kneeling between your legs he pulls your panties aside harder this time, nearly tearing the fabric as he knots it in his fist. He brings his thumb to your clit, toying with it just to see how your body twitches with every touch. “How can a girl be this perfect?” he says, nearly salivating, “Even your pussy’s gorgeous.” There’s an audible wet sound, another sweet whimper escaping your throat, as his fingers slip out of your core and his tongue takes its place.

“San, wait…” you beg, grabbing at his hair, but you’re too late. Your attempt at pacing yourself is useless. His tongue’s already filling the space between your walls, wiggling and curling against your sweet spot. His dark hair knots around your fingers, your hips raising to ride every wave his tongue sends washing over you. 

San drags his tongue up through your petal soft folds, swirling it around your clit before diving into you again. He suckles at your clit, gently at first then faster, more ravenous. His gaze flicks up to you, taking in the way your belly jiggles and your breasts bounce. He’s drunk on your juices, already addicted to the way you coat his tongue. You taste like heaven and look like it too. It takes all of the self control he has to pry his mouth free of your pussy, snatching your panties down as he does. 

Standing back up, he grips your thighs, spreading you open to watch the arousal drip from your pussy, leaving pretty little drops on his desk. Your eyes are glued to him as he unzips his pants, letting his cock fall right between your legs. The swollen tip throbs against your lower belly, leaking precum, warm and sticky, on your skin. You rock your hips, clenching around air, craving friction from that deliciously veiny cock of his. 

“You want it, baby?” San teases, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. His length slips between your folds. They’re so smooth, so slick. Toying with your pussy’s like splashing in a lake. You’re wet enough to drown in.

“I want it, Sannie, aah, fuck…” you moan, your eyes widening at the realization that his tip’s pressed to your entrance now, stretching you the faintest bit. 

“Then tell me how perfect your body is. Tell me you love it.” He pushes in an inch more, stopping to leave your hole spread wide around his cock, still needy and deprived. 

The stretch has the room spinning, a single taste of him already making you want more. “My body’s, mmph, beautiful” you manage as he gradually feeds you more of him, “I love it.”

“Don’t stop. Keep telling me. Make me believe you” San demands, thrusting into you so hard that he bottoms out. 

You cry out at the force of the thrust, your lashes fluttering away tears, “I love, aah, my body. I love my body. It’s beautiful. It’s…it’s…”

Tucking his hands behind your knees, San pushes them to your chest, snapping his hips against you hard enough that your thighs jiggle around him. All of you does. Every stroke of his cock makes you tremble and he’s hardly able to keep still himself. You’re so tightly wound around his cock that he can feel all the finer details of your walls. They’re glued to him, sucking him in every time he even thinks about pulling back. 

Through heavy lids you watch the man you’ve only ever known to be a mountain crumble to pieces all because of you. San’s muscles are slick with sweat and a glossy haze dances over his eyes. His fingers are digging into your thighs, completely devouring them. He does what he can to swallow his moans but it’s impossible when you’re making him feel like his entire soul’s being snatched from his body. 

“You feel so fucking good” he grunts, planting breathless kisses up your leg, “Come here.”

San props your ankles up on his shoulders, hooking an arm around you and sitting you up so that you’re close enough to kiss. He grinds against your sweet spot, forcing his tongue down your throat so that every moan you set free echoes between his cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck, he slams into you, harder, faster, forcing your body to give into him. He fucks you until your eyes are rolling back, your mind too blank to recall anything that happened before this moment. There’s no thought of the incident, no thought of your insecurities. High on euphoria, your body feels beautiful, every inch of it. 

“S-San…” you whine, a familiar pressure building behind your belly. Your fingers begin to tingle as they cling to his muscles, searching for any stability they can reach. 

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he coos, not letting up on you, not even for a second.

Pulling his arm away he lets you fall back on the desk. With one hand cupping your breast and the other circling your clit, he watches you fall apart in the palms of his hands. For so long he’s had to watch you from afar, pretending that he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you, but now you’re all his. His pretty, moaning, teary eyed girl pouring your cum down his cock while you repeat his name like it’s the only word you know. He’s so singularly focused on watching you hit your high that his own takes him by surprise. 

Grabbing him by the wrist, you lock eyes, a weak smile forming on your lips. “Fill me up, Sannie” you whisper, your voice sexy even in its brokenness.

San’s body shudders and you feel a new fullness inside of you. The warmth pools deep within you at first, cascading down your walls the more he empties himself into you. “Fuck, baby” he pants, catching himself before his body doubles over. He came so hard his ears are ringing and holding onto you is all he can do not to fall. You sit up to stroke his cheek and he kisses your wrist lovingly. You stare into each other’s eyes for a minute that lasts an eternity, letting yourselves get lost in one another’s gaze. 

San breaks the trance with a kiss, holding you like one would the most precious thing they own. “Tell me, baby, how do you feel now?” 

You contemplate his question, your attention drifting back to the reflection in the mirror. It’s all there. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs, and San looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You turn back to him with a smile, “Beautiful.”

[writersblockiskillingme]

So I saw you wanted request for the rise of red and I'm here to deliver lol. So Captin Hook right? Can I get something like we are also friends with Bridget (or we are like Bridget) and they like run into each other and stuff I'm bad at doing requests and stuff sorry lol

Happy Little Accidents | Captain Hook

Pairing: Captain Hook x fem!reader

Summary: Hook and you always run into each other and he hates it.

Warning/s: fluff, short fic, Morgie's teasing, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: You did amazing with the request, don't worry, hun. I did my best, hope this is what you wanted, enjoy!!

You had a reputation for being, what the VK's would call, a goody two shoes. A person that always follows the rules, never rebels against anyone or anything, is always good, always kind. Even if someone was so incredibly rude to you, you would still have a smile planted onto your face and a thought filled with kindness in your head.

All in all, your personality perfectly matched the one that Bridget from Wonderland had. That is one of the many reasons the two of you were practically inseparable.

No matter what, you always saw good in everyone and everything. Some people loved you for it. Some people found themselves despising you for that personality trait that you possessed.

You usually kept to yourself when you were not hanging out with Bridget or Ella, just trying to stay out of anyone's way.

Bridget always gave her best to make as many friends as possible, simply always going out of her way to make sure she made friends. You were not like that really.

You had Bridget and Ella. You had two friends. That was enough for you. It's not like you didn't want to give people a chance to be your friends. No way! You simply preferred it like that.

And even though you always stayed out of other people's ways, somehow one VK kept running into you.

The one with the smirk that seemed like it never left his face.

The one with the hook on his right hand.

The one who was a part of Uliana's crew.

Captain James Hook.

No matter how hard you tried to avoid each other, you just simply kept running into each other no matter what.

Whether you were just rushing to get to class in time or you were taking a walk or just reading or doing schoolwork on the courtyard, Hook was always there. However, it's not like he wanted to run into you all the time.

He infact hated it.

Constantly running into you. You with your bubbly personality and your kindness and your generosity and your willingness to help others even when they are mean to you and your perfect face and your gorgeous smile and your amazing hair and... and the panic he felt every time the two of you ran into each other.

The panic that appeared every time he realized over and over again just how amazing you truly are. Not that he would admit that to anyone.

Until Morgie noticed.

That's exactly how he ended up leaning against the tree in the courtyard of the Merlin's Academy as Morgie was siting down on the ground not too far away from him, listening as Hook was spilling nonsense at him.

"I just can't do it anymore," Hook groaned as Morgie rolled his eyes once again after God knows how many times. "I constantly run into her, it's crazy."

"Mhm..."

"She's just so annoying."

"Sure."

"I mean," Hook scoffed, basically ignoring Morgie who now had his head resting on his arms, sitting with his legs crossed in the grass. "Who can possibly be so happy all the time?"

"She can."

"It's so infuriating!" Hook groaned, throwing his head back, waving his hook around to emphasize his point. "That stupid, goody goody."

"Just admit that you like her already." Morgie rolled his eyes and Hook got silent all of a sudden.

"I don't-I-," he found himself stuttering and Morgie started to smirk as he saw his friend slowly starting to blush. "I don't like anyone! Especially not someone like her!"

"Mhm," Morgie hummed, unconvinced. "Sure you don't. You just notice every single thing about her and you've been 'complaining' about her kindness and generosity and perfection for almost half and hour. Just admit it to yourself."

"I don't like-"

"Please," Morgie said, once again, no surprise there, rolling his eyes as he looked at Hook. "I'm pretty sure Uliana noticed it, too."

"I-"

"Maleficent did for sure," he chuckled. "She's been looking at you a bit weirdly since few days ago when you started blushing when your little crush touched you accidentally while trying to escape Uliana and save Bridget like usual."

"I DID NOT BLUSH-!" Hook looked mortified and Morgie found himself laughing.

"Oh, please," he said, "Don't be so surprised, of course I noticed it."

Hook looked out into the distance and could have sworn that he saw that familiar hair color at the other side of the school. Morgie looked at him and sighed as he stood up, placing his hand on Hook's shoulder.

"Look, ask her out before someone else does because I've heard that Snow White's son has a thing for her, too." Morgie said and Hook's gaze snapped to Morgie's.

"I just thought that you should know." Morgie said in sing-song voice before he walked away with his arms behind his back, smirking, so pleased with himself.

As his gaze left Morgie's he realized, oh, he's not gonna have that.

TAGLIST:

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@xoxo-h3arts @i-am-fork @a-homosexual-homosapien @snixx2088 @heartsfromcoco @ariaroseloklover @isafran1125 @gayfrog29 @mystic-mae

[thelostconsultant]

Invisible string

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Red Bull Racing has a new sponsor. You host a party as the head of that company to celebrate this agreement. Max has no choice but to attend, but the evening ends with a pleasant surprise after he meets you in person. Maybe he was wrong about you all along.

note: I'm everything but a scientist. If you are one, please, ignore the amount of inaccuracies. There must be a lot.

part two

“You're insane,” Robert told you for the hundredth time that day when he arrived at your place, although every time there was a little laugh accompanying the comment.

Maybe he was right. Deciding to spend over three hundred million dollars on sponsoring an F1 team did sound insane, but he did agree to do it, and you signed the contract together. Sure, sixty percent of the company was yours, it was mainly your call, but he was still your mentor.

But he didn't stand in your way, he knew how passionate you were about this sport, and your biotech company could use the PR and marketing opportunities that came with this partnership. And let's not forget about the political aspect, because there were lots of important people who loved the sport and supported a top team like Red Bull Racing.

Your assistant came up to you to ask a few questions, but once she was gone, you folded your arms and stuck out your tongue at Robert. “You’re just jealous because it was my idea. Jokes aside, it's a good thing. F1 comes to the US so many times these years, it's good to be a big sponsor of a top team. Have you seen what kind of people attend the races? Exactly who we need to charm.”

“You never had an issue with charming people without such a big investment,” he noted with a sigh.

You bit your lower lip and turned away to look out into the backyard that was by now full of party decorations. You wanted to celebrate the announcement with an elegant party at your place, and you invited board members, top employees, some important people to schmooze with, and people from the newly sponsored F1 team.

“We need some legislation changes to kickstart the new project, you know that,” you told him eventually when you turned back to him. “I wish we could afford to be patient, but we need to launch it as soon as we can.”

Robert put a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it. “You stress too much about that. Take it easy,” he said.

Easier said than done, but you didn't want to continue this conversation. “I need to get rid of my yoga pants and change into something red, so make yourself at home as usual,” you told him with a smile before rushing away.

“Oh, so you're still a Ferrari fan, aren't you?” he called after you, bringing up the elephant in the room.

With a laugh, you came to a halt and spinned on your heels to face him again. “Yeah, and my favorite team is a joke at the moment. This was purely a business decision.”

Max did his research. Well, it was mostly the team handing out dossiers about the host and her business partner, along with a couple of other important people who were expected to attend the party, but he did read every single page and memorized each and every one of them.

When he reached the gate of his destination, he found armed guards outside, and he let out a frustrated groan at the sight. It was ridiculous. He didn't even want to be here. But he had to be a good boy and attend to act as the poster boy of the team. Hopefully he just says hi, maybe says a few words about how great this partnership will be, exchanges a few sentences with a few people and that would be it.

“Loosen up a bit, you look terribly tense,” Adrian told him from the passenger seat.

Easy for him, at least he would have a funny story to tell at the party. The car he wanted to come with had been stolen from the hotel’s garage, and no one knew how anyone could take it. This gave him the ammunition to keep up conversations. Lucky bastard.

Meanwhile, what was he supposed to talk about? Driving? He talks about that all the time. His hobbies? These people probably weren't the target audience. “I’m not in the mood for this,” he eventually replied with a sigh.

“No one is, but sometimes we just have to play nice and schmooze with our sponsors. This is the first time they support an F1 team, I guess they're just excited.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Max replied with a roll of his eyes. “I just… I don't know, with all the things I've heard about our host, it sounds like she is some real life female Tony Stark. She already built such a huge company, she's responsible for big innovations, and she was on Forbes' 30 under 30 list… I mean, come on.”

Adrian watched him with a deep frown. “Does it have anything to do with the fact she's a woman?”

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. “God, no, it's because of her age. This isn't some app you can make in a college dorm, then sell for a lot of money. Building that company must have taken a lot of work, she couldn't have done it alone, yet every article the team cherry-picked for us failed to mention how she did it.”

“Well, from what I've read elsewhere, her partner really did help her with the administrative part of the project, but they talked to investors together. She's smart, and nice, and I one hundred percent believe she's capable of achieving this at her age. Might I add she's only a year younger than you? You don't seem to be in such a bad situation at your age either.”

Max took a deep breath to calm himself, but in the end he couldn’t hold back the painful grunt that's been waiting to come out. “I'm miserable,” he noted sadly as he parked the car.

But Adrian wasn't in the mood for this. “You're just whining now,” he pointed out patiently.

“Whatever.”

They got out of the car and walked up to the main entrance, passing by some people who looked like boring businessmen and their airhead partners. Maybe there was a politician among them too, at least one with a big voice sure made him believe that.

Inside the two of them separated, and Max took his time to take a look around. The house was impressive; four stories as he counted outside, modern, clean design, combined with a huge backyard that ended in a lake. It must have been peaceful when there was no crowd around.

After a while he went back inside but was soon intercepted by Christian. Crap, so much for a peaceful evening. “Oh, and here's Max,” he said happily as he put a hand on his shoulder and guided him over to their little group.

“Hi,” was all Max managed to come up with.

“Welcome,” you said with a warm smile. “And good luck for this year.”

“Thanks.”

You turned to his boss with a curious look. “And where's Checo? I thought he would be coming as well.”

Christian seemed a little uneasy, but he managed to explain the absence of the team's other driver. “He has a family emergency,” he replied curtly.

Max bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep back a comment. He didn't want to attend this stupid party either, but for some reason he didn't have a choice. He never had a choice.

To his surprise, you began to laugh at this, then took a sip of your champagne with a mischievous look in your eyes. “Oh, the real get out of jail free card,” you noted.

Max snorted at this, and there was no way he could hide the huge grin that wanted to break out. All right, you got a brownie point for this comment, that's for sure.

“I'm sure he would love to be here,” Christian assured you.

“Sure.” You remained silent for a while, but just when Max was beginning to assume an awkward break would settle into the conversation, you spoke up again. “Well, I'm glad you're all here. Thank you for taking the time. Please, just make yourselves at home, and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

At one point Adrian joined the little group and decided to become a part of the conversation with one last question. “Where's Mr. Hartford?” he asked.

You let out a thoughtful hum as you looked around. “I don't know, last time I saw him he was talking to a board member. But I'm sure he'll find and greet you too. Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to say hello to a few more people. Have fun.”

The three of them watched as you walked away, and Max couldn't help but appreciate the view. That red jumpsuit you wore tonight hugged your figure so perfectly it almost made him drool. Almost. He could easily push that stupid part of his mind to the side for now. He couldn't let himself be fooled into believing you really were oh so perfect, there had to be something that was wrong with you.

“Did it kill you?” he heard Adrian's voice, and when he turned to him, he saw a knowing smile on his face.

Meanwhile Christian looked a little confused. “Did what kill him?”

“Talking to her.”

“What, you had an issue with that?”

“No,” Max protested, sending a disapproving look to the engineer who only laughed at him.

“Sure? You sounded kin–” he began, but was quickly interrupted.

“You two are insufferable, you know that, right?” Max asked them with a sigh, then rolled his eyes and left without waiting for their answer. All he wanted was a quiet corner and another glass of champagne, maybe a few bites of those delicious sliders a waiter offered him not long ago.

“Are you planning to come up with something that can race against Neuralink?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this again. But you forced a polite smile on your face and took a deep breath. “It's easy to come up with new, flashy innovations, but let's not forget that the root of the problem is always a bioethical one. Let's take them and their animal testing procedures for example. Whether you like it or not, euthanizing so many animals does raise ethical questions.”

“But it's for a greater good,” another man noted, earning a few nods from the people around him.

“I don't know, I believe we need to find a way to test new technologies without hurting anything or anyone first. That's one of the things we're working on at the moment. Also there's another bioethical aspect, and that's the fact these things would be expensive. The general availability is highly questionable, it would only help the rich.”

That one politician you had no choice but to invite despite every cell in your body protesting against it began to laugh at this. “And what's wrong with that as long as they pay?”

Oh, you son of a bitch, how could you be so dense? You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself, but it was really hard at the moment. Luckily, Robert realized that this was a touchy subject, so he put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

“What she's trying to say is that it should be more than just a discussion about profit,” he began to explain. “Sure, that's important to finance our research, but science is supposed to help people.”

The man gave him a condescending look, as if he was disappointed that you would both choose to help people instead of earning a lot of money. What he didn't understand was the fact your company had highly profitable solutions, which gave you the opportunity to work on things that weren't as successful financially.

“For us,” you suddenly began, your finger moving in a circle as a sign that you were talking about the members of this little group, “going to a private hospital to get treatment and paying for our prescribed medication is normal. But let's not forget that almost 8 percent of the US population is uninsured. That's 26 million people. Let's say they start coughing. What do they do? They turn to home remedies because they can't afford the medical bill. Then things get worse as it turns into pneumonia and if they're lucky, they can go to a free clinic where they're prescribed meds. But can they pay for them?”

Robert nodded, then went on to add, “And it can be anything, really, even something contagious.” Clever. That guy was known for being a germaphobe, if anything, that could surely get his attention.

But he remained silent and a woman jumped in to drive the conversation instead of him. “What about different cybernetic implants? I mean, those are pretty impressive in movies, but how close are we to actually having them?”

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

A painful half an hour later you and Robert went outside, walking all the way out to the lake to build a little distance from the guests. “Thanks for backing me up there,” you told him before taking a sip of your cocktail.

“Anytime,” he said as he clinked his glass with yours.

Before he could say anything else, though, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. The both of you turned around and saw Max stand there with his hands in his pockets, watching you with a polite smile.

“You have a second?” he asked.

“Sure,” you replied as you took a few steps closer to him.

“I have to go, I just wanted to thank you for the invitation and say goodbye.”

You weren't used to guests you didn't really know coming over to say goodbye before they left. Most people usually just got in their cars and drove off without a word, but honestly, you were honestly grateful for that. But this goodbye was flattering, after all you could see it on his face that under the polite smile he just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

With a nod, you held out your hand, and he took it without thinking. “Thanks for coming. I hope you could enjoy yourself a little bit. I know it's not a fun kind of party.”

“It was okay. Well, except for that woman who was raging about people who want to replace real meat with artificial meat,” he added with a laugh.

You froze and your eyes slowly narrowed at him. “Wait a second.”

Max looked genuinely confused, and his hand was still holding yours without either of you realizing it. “What?” he asked you.

“You're a genius! Excuse me.”

As you dropped his hand and began to walk away, he turned to Robert with a confused look on his face. “What did I say?” No response, only a shrug. “Where are you going?” he called after you.

“To the lab,” you finally told him without looking back.

Once again, Max turned back to the other man. “She's leaving her own party?”

“She has a lab in the basement,” you called back to answer his question.

Robert’s lips curled into an understanding smile. “Send me a text if it's something worth looking into,” he said, then turned back to Max and held up his hands. “Usually it's better not to ask.”

Despite Robert's warning, Max was now way too curious to simply ignore your strange behavior. He wanted to know what was going on in your head, so he followed you to the lab inside the house. He first arrived in an office, but through the huge windows he could see the actual lab.

“Is everything okay?” he asked after he softly knocked on the open door.

“Hmm?” You turned around with a questioning look, but once you realized it was him, you nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure. What are you doing here?”

Max walked inside, feeling completely out of place. “You ran away so abruptly that I wanted to know what's going on.”

“You gave me an idea, that's what's going on.”

“Oookay… And what was the idea?” he asked as he watched you sit behind the desk and enter your password to unlock the laptop that was connected to several monitors.

“Using something artificial instead of the real thing. That way we can bypass a barrier that's been blocking us,” you replied without looking at him.

“You lost me.”

A sweet little laugh left your lips, a sound that drew him closer as if it was a siren’s song. “All right, can you promise to keep your mouth shut about what I'm about to tell you?” Max nodded, so you grabbed the chair next to you, then pulled it closer and pointed at it to make him sit down. “Good. So one of the issues with bioprinting is that we can't be sure whether or not the cells we're working with are damaged, meaning if there's a possibility of cancer showing up later on for example.”

You were so enthusiastic, but he was so damn lost. It was the result of an unfamiliar territory, and the fact his mind could mostly focus on the way your lips moved instead of the words that left them. “Wait, what's bioprinting exactly?” he asked, unsure if he had the right idea.

Nodding, you clicked on something and it brought up a video feed. “For example, this,” you said with a proud smile.

It looked like a 3D printer, that much he knew, but what it was printing was a mystery at the moment. “What's that?”

“A 3D printed heart that's being made from my own cells,” you replied with a wide grin. “Give it another few days and it'll be ready.”

“Is that real?”

“Yep. Although, and that's what I've just mentioned, I can't guarantee it doesn't have cancerous cells. But theoretically speaking, someone awaiting transplant could get it.”

Max let out a thoughtful hum as he looked back at you. “So what does it have to do with artificial things?”

“That's how we bypass the damaged cell issue. We just need to create artificial cells that we can then turn into whatever we want them to be.”

“You think it could work?”

After thinking about it for a short while, you eventually shrugged. “Maybe,” you said quietly as you leaned back in your swivel chair. “I need to put a team together and discuss our options, then we'll see. As of now it's just a wild idea.”

“Interesting.”

To be honest, he could spend the whole night doing nothing but listening to you talk about your work. Meeting you in person changed the way he had thought about you before arriving here, and now he wanted to use this opportunity to get to know you better.

He did a quick search after first talking to you, and he read an article from the end of the last year that stated you were single. That was two months ago, maybe that hadn't changed since then. But something told him you were way too in love with your career to worry about romantic relationships, so if he wanted to get your attention, he probably had to work hard for it.

Your phone's screen lit up on the desk and he didn't miss the wallpaper. It was one of those prayer circle memes with Charles’ photo on it, which made him realize something. “You're a Ferrari and Charles fan?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep, already getting ready for prayer circles as you can see,” you replied with a laugh as you showed him the screen. “That's their only hope, I swear.”

“Then why are you sponsoring us?” he asked.

“A business decision in its purest form.”

Was he disappointed? Maybe a little bit. In his head he was already making up scenarios, like the first time you went to a race to support him–yes, he was getting ahead of himself, so what–and now it felt like a bomb had been dropped on his plans. Sure, as a sponsor or his girlfriend you'd physically be in their garage, but your heart would be with the Italians.

Max let out a sigh as he nodded. “And here I was, thinking you just wanted to see your company's logo on a fast car. Didn't know you were actually watching the races.” He tried to keep a casual tone to make it sound like it didn't hurt him, but he had a feeling his disappointment was seeping through the cracks.

Because you remained silent for a while, and when you finally spoke up, your voice was soft and quiet. “Maybe there are a lot of things you don't know.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he responded as he rolled closer to you.

The sadness he felt slipped away as soon as it came, because it was like he got under your spell the moment he got close enough to you. Your pretty eyes were following his every move, carefully watching him as you waited for whatever was to come.

It only took him a minute to make up his mind, to take a risk and see if you were willing to play this little game with him. So he raised his hand and curled his index finger to signal you to move over to him with a playful smile on his lips. “C’mere,” he said quietly.

To his surprise, you didn't hesitate to do as you were told, you stood up and sat in his lap with your arms around his neck, meeting him halfway for a kiss. The need for something more grew inside him as the kiss deepened, and a small part of his mind shifted its focus to your jumpsuit, trying to figure out the fastest way to get you out of it.

“I'm going home on Sunday. Come with me,” he suddenly spoke up, pulling away a little to look you in the eye. “Stay for a few days. Or a week or two,” he tried with a cheeky grin.

You leaned back to reach for your phone that you left on the desk, but he had his hands firmly on your bottom to keep you in place. “I can't reach my phone,” you said with a pout. “I can't tell you if I can go without it.”

With a sigh, he rolled the two of you closer to the desk so you could get it, but he didn't take his hands off of you. As you checked your calendar, humming every now and then, he couldn't help but start and place kisses in the crook of your neck.

“How about the week after that?” you asked him as you lowered your phone. “We have meetings with the CFO, an important meeting with a certain someone that I can't delay or skip, and I want to put together the team to test my new idea. Next week's pretty crowded.”

Max cupped your cheek and made you look at him. “If there's one thing we learned from Covid is that you can do these things online. Come on, I have fast and stable connection back home,” he tried with a smile.

“But you'll let me work,” you told him sternly, to which he only responded with a laugh before kissing you again. “I hate you.”

“You don't, and you know it.”

[pomefioredove]

could you perchance do a part two to the yuu getting sold to the highest bidder? like how would that characters treat them if they actually get them? sorry if this doesnt make sence!! but thank uu!! ^_^

more than happy to! <3 I'm writing this as a follow up/pt. 2 to this post but if you'd like something different don't be shy! I love getting requests

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms (for some). a proper ending to this type of post: short fics characters: trey, cater, leona, rook, idia, lilia, malleus additional info: yuu is gender neutral, rook is weird, both fem and masc french words are used during rook's part but reader is still gn, I need to replay book 2 to get leona's voice down, Idia being fun to write, maybe a little ooc

If you thought it was bad before, the news that Malleus intended to marry you made everything about twenty times more chaotic. Bids were upped to insurmountable sums, rumors were spread like the plague, fights were raging through campus as the deadline to donate approached. Even Crowley was starting to feel a little antsy, despite all of the brand new amenities he had already ordered for his office.

Finally, the day came. The announcement was held in the courtyard, where just about any student who had stakes in the matter had shirked whatever after-school responsibilities they had to gather. The prefect themselves was nowhere to be found, though only few noticed their absence.

"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.

"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.

You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"

Crowley clears his throat, pulling a thin, delicate envelope out of his coat pocket while the crowd eagerly watches on. He takes his sweet time opening it, much to everyone's utter dismay, and when he finally withdraws the contents the entire courtyard falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

"And our winner is..."

Trey and Cater's Ending

"Cater Diamond and Trey Clover!"

Everyone stops dead and turns to the back of the crowd. There's a certain sense of unity that, for a brief moment, everyone can feel in the form of a single thought: Them, of all people?

Cater, ever the people-person, can already tell what's on everyone's minds. "What can I say? I run a mean social media campaign. I had some sick infographics,"

Trey can only smile and shrug at the growing disdain coming from the other students, most of which from his own housewarden, who is s currently turning a lovely shade of crimson.

"...Right. Well, the prefect will be ready for you shortly," Crowley says, folding the envelope and setting it back in his pocket. "I trust your housewarden will help you sort out the details."

Riddle looks more like he's about to start throttling them.

"Nah, it's cool. We got this," Cater smiles, though he's only half paying attention as he posts an update to Magicam. "The prefect is in great hands. Right, guys?"

Ace and Deuce shrug. Not the best outcome, not the worst, and either way it's still their friend coming to stay with them. Riddle is gritting his teeth so hard you could practically hear them grinding from Ramshackle.

"Was anyone going to tell me you two had pitched in, as well? Or was it a surprise?"

Trey smiles, almost nervously. "Well-"

"We were only giving the dorm a better chance. It's basic statistics- more Heartslabyul names in the hat, more of a chance one of us will be drawn, y'know?" Cater beams. "No disrespect, of course."

"None whatsoever," Riddle hisses back.

---

"And you're sure he's not really mad?" you ask, trailing behind the two third years.

It had been almost an hour since you'd updated your Magicam feed and read the announcement firsthand, but the shock is still wearing off.

Cater scoffs. "Whaaaat? No, he's totally cool about it,"

"Well. Now he is, anyway," Trey murmurs back. "But he certainly won't kick you out. As long as you're in the dorm uniform, you're one of us. He's just upset we went behind his back."

"...Understandable,"

Cater holds the door open for you, letting you inside to see a precariously placed mannequin with a dorm uniform in your size already on it. You hate to admit it, but it's lovely.

"Riddle had one ready. You know, just in case," Trey says, gesturing you forward. "And don't worry, we'll all be taking it easy on you while you adjust."

You run your fingers down the durable fabric. "Hm. Thanks,"

"You should get changed, I need a post to commemorate the moment," Cater says, beaming. "And I kindaaaa want to rub it in for everyone else who lost out on the best giveaway ever."

Leona's Ending

"Leona Kingscholar! Please... be responsible. Ruggie, I hope you'll keep an eye out for the prefect,"

Ruggie rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything. Leona, who had been absent-mindedly picking his teeth before the big announcement, flashes a big smirk to the audience while swaggering to the front of it.

"Well, well. Look who's come in first place, after all. What, didn't think I'd bother to try?"

Vil grimaces, crossing his arms. "Is there a point to this?"

"Obviously. I'm showing off," he rolls his eyes. "I guess I'll be seeing the rest of you lot around my territory a lot more, then?"

He snickers and then disappears back inside the building. Ruggie can only shrug at the disgruntled crowd before tailing after him.

---

"Well, that felt nice," Leona sighs, stretching out on one of the lounge chairs. "Pity that I couldn't see the lizard's reaction, but I'm sure we'll get to that eventually."

You're sitting at the table across from him, playing cards with a very invested Ruggie. You raise an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Malleus," Ruggie mutters, shuffling his cards around in his hand.

"It's never a party without him, right? He was probably off cowering somewhere with his tail behind his legs," Leona chuckles, picking his teeth again. "But everyone else's faces just about made up for it."

"Whatever," Ruggie grumbles. "I'm all in."

Though you're not exactly invested in the game anymore. You set down your cards, much to Ruggie's dismay, and stand over Leona with your hands on your hips.

"I hope you know that I won't be one of your errand runners for you. I've done enough of that with Crowley,"

He pauses, sharp eyes scanning you over. "You certainly know how to rain on someone's parade,"

"This is not a parade. This is my sanity we're talking about,"

"Tch. And what're you gonna do? Run away?" Leona rolls his eyes. "Hide in the jungle? Maybe you can take Ruggie with you and make it a party!"

"Hey, leave me out of this," the aforementioned says, shuffling the deck.

You stand your ground, though you don't know what else to say. Eventually, Leona sighs.

"Fine. I won't make you do anything you don't want to if you're just going to whine about it,"

He pauses, and a small smirk crosses his face. "But you'll at least have to wear the uniform. I need the satisfaction of seeing the look on everyone else's faces."

You smile triumphantly, and sit back down across from Ruggie for another round while Leona watches on, pretending not to care about the game.

It could be better, but it could also be worse.

Plus, something about that smile of his let on more than just a little self-satisfaction.

This could definitely be interesting...

Rook's Ending

"...Ah. Rook Hunt!" Crowley says, folding the paper back in his pocket and leaning down to whisper to Azul in the front row. "Tell the prefect I said good luck."

At the heart of the crowd, Vil turns to Rook, hands on his hips. "Rook..."

"Ah, magnifique! How happy I am, my heart could weep for joy!" he says, completely ignoring whatever disappointed comment Vil was about to unleash. "I must run to my prize at once, there's not a moment to lose!"

Vil grimaces as Rook bounds off into the school, moving so swiftly that he cuts through the crowd of confused (and mildly concerned) students like an arrow.

As always, Rook is genuine with his words- he truly feels as if his own heart is about to leap out of his chest and race him towards Ramshackle.

What a chance, what an opportunity! Not only to be close to someone he has his own private fan club for, but to truly, finally possess beauty in physical form. He would display you on a shelf if it were feasible.

The idea so overwhelms him with joy that you barely had time to ask what was going on before you suddenly found yourself sitting beside him in the Pomefiore lounge as he smooths out the crinkles in your new uniform.

He murmurs under his breath, kneeling before you while inspecting the uniform. "Magnifique, joli, belle, quelle beauté, une rose parfaite..."

...Leaving you in a torn state of embarrassment and shyness. You look across the room to Vil for help, and he rolls his eyes.

"I coulda get used 'ta this!" Grim shouts, lounging on a nearby silk pillow with a mouthfull of pâté. Two freshman are tediously brushing his fur with the nicest set of combs you've ever seen.

"Comfortable?" You ask, only a little sarcastic.

"Uh-huh! Ya know, when I found out the winner was Rook, of all people, I was a little worried. But this is way nicer than collecting dust in Ramshackle!"

You couldn't have said it better yourself.

Rook smiles. "Tsk, tsk. I would never let anyone harm a single hair on your precious head,"

The question is directed to Grim, but he looks straight at you when he says it. "Like a delicate porcelain doll, I will handle you with the utmost care,"

You're not exactly sure what you had been envisioning- maybe he'd release you on a remote island and hunt you for sport?- but this had far exceeded any of your expectations.

Though his gaze is as unsettling as ever, and any hopes of personal space are gone out the ornate glass windows, his usual guarded demeanor had softened just the tiniest bit.

It was unnerving. But nice, in a way.

"Mon trickster, this is just the beginning for us. We have many shining days ahead, and I plan on spending every beautiful breath of them with you. Do you hunt?"

"Oh, sevens," Vil murmurs.

Unfortunately for Vil, Rook's smile is contagious and you can't help encouraging him. Just this once. "Not usually, no,"

"A merveilleuse opportunity! I will teach you all I have learned, then. Ah, this reminds me of a poem I wrote for this exact occasion!"

He may or may not be watching you sleep tonight. Hopefully you're the kind of person who can live with that.

Idia's Ending

LOL. Normies.

Look at them, crowding around like a bunch of sheep. As if anyone has a real chance. SMH.

I knew it was pointless to begin with, but getting into Crowley's banking account and seeing the bids... now I feel lame for even trying at all.

That money could've gone to some new parts. I've been itching to build another PC...

The door flies open, slamming against the wall behind it so loudly that even if Idia wasn't completely absorbed in watching the announcement on his biggest monitor, he would've jumped anyway.

He whirls around in his chair, wide-eyed and shaking like a prey animal, expecting to see some high level boss or classic horror game antag waiting for him.

Instead, it's Ortho. "Idy! You'll never believe-"

"Geez, Ortho, you nearly killed me. And I don't have any extra lives this time," Idia says, spinning back around to face his screen. "Something wrong?"

"Actually, I have some really great news! Wanna guess what it is?"

Idia grumbles, powering off his computer. "Nah, not in the mood,"

Ortho's brow furrows as he catches a fleeting glimpse of the camera feed playing over his brother's screen before it flickers to black. "You've been watching the announcement on the courtyard cam footage?"

"No! I mean- well, I was just curious," Idia says. "I watched for like two minutes. Who even cares about this thing, anyway?"

"Well-"

"I mean, it was a game over from the start. Taking on the highest level bosses at our school with my measly stats? Forget it,"

"But Idia-"

"Who even cares where the prefect ends up, anyway? I doubt they'd wanna be trapped in a basement like this for all eternity,"

"Idia!" Ortho shouts, loud enough to shake his brother from his ensuing pity party. Idia can only stare as he moves to the side, revealing a rather surprised looking you, dressed in the dorm uniform, behind him.

"Idia, you won!"

And then he dies.

That's what he thinks, anyway. Really, Idia goes into a state of complete shock and blacks out so hard that, for a moment, the blinding light shining through his eyelids feels like the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Is he okay?" you ask, tentatively watching as Ortho clicks off the small light he'd been shining in his brother's eyes.

"He's displaying symptoms of a panic attack. Don't worry, he gets them quite frequently,"

A distant groaning pulls the both of you back into the present moment and you watch Idia slowly rise.

"His heart rate has steadied to 70 BPM," Ortho says. You raise an eyebrow. "That's normal. Idia, can you hear us?"

He takes a long moment to respond.

"This isn't real. I'm sleep-deprived from my last speed run and now I'm hallucinating. There's no way,"

You look between the two brothers. This hasn't exactly gotten off to a stellar start.

"Your vitals are normal, although you're lacking Vitamin C. Might I suggest having a fruit cup while we talk?" Ortho asks. Idia shakes his head. "Yuu? Snack?"

"I could go for something,"

Ortho hovers out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You're too nervous (or is he too nervous?) to ask to sit, so you stand over him while he practically rocks back and forth. His face is so red and hot with embarrassment you could cook an egg on it.

"Um..."

He mumbles back. "Just pretend I'm not here. IK you probably wanted one of those epic SSR students to pull you, I don't blame you for being disappointed,"

He talks so fast and quiet it's hard to make out what he's saying... but you get the gist of it.

"Hey, don't put words in my mouth. This is a hell of a lot better than it could have been,"

He seems to genuinely consider your words for a moment before you're interrupted by Ortho coming back with snacks.

Idia is back on high alert the second he's returned. "This doesn't make sense. I got into Crowley's online bank info and saw all the bids, I wasn't even close to the top five. How?"

"Oh, easy!" Ortho chirps. "I simply rewired funds from Crowley's bank account to up your offer!"

"You... took money out of his account and sent it back to him?"

"Clever," you murmur.

Idia grumbles. "I guess that's not technically stealing... fine. But why? I thought I told you not to bother!"

"My user intel indicates that the prefect is very popular amongst the student body. Their top three descriptors are helpful, kind, and friendly! I thought you two might be able to practice your social skills together... Perhaps you could show them around the dorm as a starting point?"

You turn around to look at Idia, who's sheet-white. Nonetheless... he sighs and stands, muttering a quick "Let's get this over with,"

You watch, as still as stone, as he stops in the doorway and turns to look at you from over his shoulder, his face and hair a pleasant shade of pink.

"Well? Are you coming?"

Lilia's Ending

"And our winner... is... hm. I don't even remember seeing this one in the pile," Crowley grumbles, scratching his head under his hat. "Um, Lilia Vanrouge!"

Silver is the first to look at him. "Fa-Lilia, I thought we talked about this,"

Lilia, currently hovering in the shade of one of the courtyard's signature apple trees, simply shrugs. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Oh, we did. I really thought about what you said, about the prefect's freedom, and I decided that you're right! But how could I guarantee their safety from everyone else?"

Silver groans (which turns into a yawn) and Lilia puts on his best cute look as everyone else in the audience turns to him.

Crowley clears his throat. "The prefect will be ready for your-"

"Oh, no need! Thank you, though," he says, and then disappears into the building.

---

You've been distracting yourself by counting cobwebs for far too long, as evident by your headache and the taste of dust on your tongue.

You turn to look at Grim. "Should be over by now. I'm surprised I haven't heard anything yet,"

"Surprised, you say?"

No matter how many times he does that, you're never quite prepared.

You jump, nearly hitting your head against the table you'd been taking refuge under. Grim yowls, clawing into your sleeve (and just barely missing the tender flesh on your arm, thank goodness), and you both stare at the fae ahead of you.

Lilia is sitting on the table, hanging his head upside down and staring right at you. Grim mumbles.

"Don't even tell me. I'm out!"

Lilia waves him goodbye as he makes a swift exit, and then turns back to you.

"I have a secret. Wanna guess?"

You're a little curious (aren't you always when it comes to him?) but that isn't enough to overpower your rising dread.

"No,"

"Aw. Really? I'm sure you'll like it,"

"Definitely not, then,"

He slinks off the table and lies on the floor, cupping his face in his palms and kicking his legs back and forth.

It would be amusing if you weren't so sure of what he's about to say.

"Well, despite your best efforts, I'm not surprised at all. But Malleus couldn't even come here to get me himself?" you sigh.

Lilia tilts his head to the side. "Now, why would he do that?"

There's something written within the margins of his tone that makes your eyes lower at him. Something he's keeping from you.

"...Well... he did win, didn't he?"

"Oh, my. You were hoping for Malleus to win? Now I'm sure we both feel silly,"

You raise an eyebrow. "Hoping is... a strong word. But I was expecting it, yes. So he didn't win?"

"No, dear, Malleus is not the winner,"

"Then... who is?"

Lilia gives you a sweet, self-satisfied grin, his fangs glinting. "You're looking at him,"

Ah.

If there's one thing Lilia Vanrouge is good at, it's surprising you. No matter how stoic you act, no matter how clever you are, he always manages to catch you off guard.

This might take the cake, though.

"I didn't even know-"

"No. Initially, I wasn't going to. But Silver and I... we had a long talk about valuing your freedom and independence, and thus I so valiantly threw myself into the flames to save you from becoming someone's slave," he pauses to smile. "Chivalrous, yes?"

"...Charming," you mutter. "But what was that thing about-"

"Oh, yes. Don't worry, you'll be treated as any other student at Diasomnia. In fact, I'm sure we already have some uniforms in your size!"

"This is... quite the turn of events,"

"Ah, isn't it? I haven't felt this elated in... well... a long time," he grins. "Come along, now. I plan on treating you to a hearty welcome dinner!"

You can only grimace at that.

Malleus' Ending

During all of the confusion, the fighting, the rumors that shook the school, no one, again, had remembered to invite Malleus Draconia to the announcement.

Not that it mattered. Not this time.

One knock at Ramshackle's creaky door and you were suddenly in the depths of the forest around the school, admiring a crumbled stone structure.

"What was it?" you ask, turning to your walking companion.

Malleus smiles slightly. "I believe it was a wall. Fascinating, no? Since you have inhabited Ramshackle, I come here when I want to be alone,"

Ah, right. You'd almost forgotten that you'd made a home out of his ruins of preference.

Ramshackle was in a much better state than this, though. At least you had four walls and a roof over your head.

"Are you alone a lot these days?" you ask, rather absent-mindedly for such a heavy topic.

You're well aware of the answer already. No, of course not. Malleus is constantly surrounded, whether that be his friends, personal guard, mentors...

"Yes,"

Oh.

"I'm... sorry to hear that," it's all you can think to say.

Fae don't seem to know the conventions of human small talk. Or maybe that's just him. Not that you mind. "What about Silver, and Sebek, and Lilia...?"

"Fine companions," he crosses his arms. "I owe them a debt of gratitude. But being physically surrounded does not amount to closeness."

Oddly profound.

You can't help but relate, thinking back to everyone you know. Even with good intentions, they're still out there, bartering over your life.

"I'm glad you came and got me," you say, breaking the tense silence. "I was afraid you'd gone to that... announcement thing."

He raises an eyebrow. "The what?"

"...Never mind. I guess my point was that I've been feeling a little lonely lately, myself,"

Malleus is quiet for a moment, staring directly ahead at the mess of stones and moss that once made up a sturdy wall. Now crumbled, scattered across the ground.

And the, he smiles.

"Well, there is a solution to this trouble of ours. But I'd need your consent,"

What exactly is he getting at? You raise an eyebrow. "Go on,"

"I've been so preoccupied with the formalities that I haven't had the chance to ask you properly, yet. Lilia suggested I might have more success this way,"

He pauses, and then smiles. "I would like us to marry. Does this agree with you?"

You thought you might be stunned. Speechless, even. But the answer comes so naturally.

"Yes, it does,"