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nnight-dances · 10 months

Text

CHERRY-FLAVOURED

PAIRING: choi seungcheol x f!reader (ft. kwon soonyoung & kim mingyu)

GENRE: fluff, angst

TROPES: small town au!, exes to lovers, jealousy, idiots in love, fake dating (w/ soonyoung), you own a small bookstore and i never mention what seungcheol does (but just know he's rich).

RECOMMENDED: reading ADORABLY, YOURS before this, since this is the same seungcheol and i make a few references to what happened there.

"Oh, did you hear? Seungcheol's back in town!" Nayeon calls out with a lopsided smile she thinks is inconspicuous. You think it's obnoxious.

But you don't let her know how much the news bothers you, pretending to instead by absorbed in currently trying to get your hair to sit right in a ponytail. "Sure," you reply, not breaking eye-contact with yourself in the mirror.

Your roommate quickly catches though because she appears by your shoulder in the mirror, eyes narrowing. "Right. And you're fine with it?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" you mutter, devoting every fibre of your being to make your tone stay flat.

"I don't know, the way you've been working on this ponytail for the past fifteen minutes had me thinking otherwise," she shrugs, "And the fact that it still looks like shit from the back."

You scoff in offense, "All my baby hair makes it real hard to do this, okay!" But Nayeon's already making her way back to the kitchen to finish her breakfast with a teasing giggle and you watch her in dismay, wondering if not only your hairstyle but also your acting had really been that bad.

And as you spin around to face your reflection, you figure that the general bad-ness of your life might have something to with Seungcheol's return to town after all. Not that you would ever admit it, for many reasons. But mainly because of the fact that he's your ex-boyfriend.

You liked to think you'd ended things with him on a good note– there hadn't been too many tears or screams and you still would catch up with him whenever you ran into him, an occurrence that was basically inevitable given how small your town was. But ever since he'd left on trip to visit his much-famed best friend, Jeonghan, you'd finally gotten around to thinking about why you were still single despite having left a long-term relationship for over a month.

…Which led to a series of messy first dates with the few tolerable men in town who would otherwise have you cringing at the thought of talking to them. And well, actually going out with them convinced you your first impressions were always right and your intuition was all-knowing.

–

Meet Soonyoung, the man who would almost unmistakably come around asking for gum in your store. Your bookstore.

You couldn't figure out if it was a honest fault of his personality or if he was doing it to annoy you– until one afternoon you found it was something much worse: he was flirting with you.

"Y/N, your hair looks cute today," he's telling you through a grin right now. You look away from the computer screen where you've been logging the new stock of books in, ready to tell him thanks and that you needed to hear that since your beloved roomate insulted you this morning. You don't get around to saying all that because you spot a figure entering the store behind Soonyoung, where he's leaning on the counter with his hands under his chin. He thinks he's slick but you know it's so he can show off his arms.

You've forgotten all about Hoshi and his boyish charms because you notice the new customer is none other than the recent arrival to town, Seungcheol.

You hate the way you can feel your heart skip a beat at the revelation so you quickly turn your head back to your screen. "Thanks, Soonyoung."

Thankfully, Hoshi doesn't seem to notice the stiffness of your clipped response and instead is distracted by a stack of plastic-wrapped books.

"Wow, you sure have a lot of new stock coming in these days, huh?"

You nod, still not looking away from the screen. "Yeah, I've been working on keep the shelves up to date with the new releases. I'm sick of people using the feedback box to curse me out for still placing the classics out front."

You hear a snort then and you immediately recognize it as not Soonyoung's.

"You'd think that's how the feedback works, no?"

Slowly you turn to look at him in the eyes, unsettled by the playful glint you find there. "...Can I help you?" you ask quietly, keeping your tone cordial but not too warm. Hoshi stands up straight with Seungcheol next to him, earning him a glance from the man.

"Oh, did you finally hire a part-timer?" he asks. You consider throwing the stack of new books in your ex's face. And then you remember how much they cost. So instead, you settle on shaking your head.

"No–" Hoshi cuts you off, though, much to your chagrin.

"No, I'm just here giving Y/N company," he's saying and you really wish he wouldn't speak, but he goes on, "She's been pretty stressed out these days and last week–"

"Soonyoung," you look at him warningly, "do you think you could help me double-check if there's a delivery out front? I keep getting tracking updates that it's close."

"Of course!" he responds already reaching for the glass doors, "Be right back, Y/N!"

With Soonyoung gone, Seungcheol finally breaks into the guffaw you know he's been keeping in for the past five minutes. "What's that all about?"

"It's none of your business, Seungcheol," you inform him as you busy yourself with tidying up the stray pieces of gum wrapper Soonyoung had conveniently forgotten.

"Oh, so you do remember who I am, after all?" You hate how much you like listening his voice turn slighly soft at the sound of his name on your lips. And the how your breath's a little uneven when he slides to invade your line of vision, big hands tapping at the counter to get your attention. As if you could possibly be thinking about anything else right now.

"Why are you here, anyway?" you ask him, training your gaze on him. "Because I know, for a fact, you don't read."

"I'm hurt, Y/N," Seungcheol gasps with a hand to his chest. His unbelievably firm chest. "And after I worked so hard to read that boring poem book for you?"

You almost seethe at the way he calls it a poem book but contain it with a grimace. "Can we get to the point here? I have a store to run, dude."

"I'm serious! I came here to find a book. Considering picking that poem book again, figure out what the big deal is for once and for all."

You stay still, unresponsive to his ridiculous excuse. Seungcheol waits a few beats, eyes locked with yours before giving in. "Fine. I was in town and wanted to see how you were doing."

Never mind, you think you preferred to hear the ridiculous lies because the way your ex-boyfriend's gaze drops to your fists by your side has you immediately unfolding your grasp. Stupid Seungcheol and his ability to fuck up a perfectly okay daily routine.

"Ugh," you sigh out after a moment, "Come on. I'll help you find the chapbook. But you have to promise to never call it a poem book ever again. Or I'm blacklisting you."

You don't see it but when you spin around to march into the bookstore, expecting Seungcheol to follow you, he's all smiles, his own fists unravelling at the way your tone lost its cold somewhere along the way of this encounter. He skips behind you with a noise of excitement.

"Okayyyy," you hum as you crouch by the poetry section, fingers expertly running through the spines of the thin books there. Seungcheol crouches by you, a little too close because his arm brushes against you, almost throwing you off-balance.

You're about to tell him off for surprising you but he suddenly smiles, dimples so delicious in the soft glow of the light of the bookstore filtering through the bookshelves. "Your hair looks different," he comments, voice low and his gaze slowly follows the trail of your low ponytail, the thin grey band that holds the strands together clearly very worn-out. "Looks pretty."

And where Seungcheol's wondering when you started wearing your hair up, you're incredibly flustered by his compliment. You stand up too quick, knee joints popping, and you think you must really be growing old when your vision blacks out a little.

You steady yourself with a hand on the shelf, quietly scolding Seungcheol, "You're in the way." He joins you on his feet, making way with an exaggerated wave of his arm, not missing the way your ears are turning redder by the second.

You're gifted a good solid five minutes of peace as you inspect the shelves, wondering how you lost track of the chapbook, when Seungcheol speaks up again. "Um, so seriously, what's the deal with you and Soonyoung? You… seeing him?"

For all his attempts at maintaining an air of nonchalance, Seungcheol can't help how irked he was when he walked into your bookstore to the sight of Soonyoung making conversation to you. Irksome especially more so because he'd heard you say that you hated having people around you while you did the boring but imperative computer-related stuff at work, something about wanting to get the misery out of the way as soon as possible. Yet, there Soonyoung had been, distracting you with all his airhead being.

"I can't seem to locate the book right now for some reason," you start, doing nothing to ease Seungcheol's worries, "And I also can't seem to comprehend why my dating life is a point of discussion between us… anymore."

And wow, does your comment hurt. It hurts Seungcheol but also you, even as you're the one saying it because you can practically feel his mood dampening at your words. But the rational part of you is praising you for doing the right thing and setting your boundaries before you get any more carried away by your ex-boyfriend's ways.

That afternoon Seungcheol leaves your bookstore, very empty-handed and extremely heart-broken, because as he exits, he can already hear Soonyoung asking if you wanted get lunch with him.

–

Speaking of lunch, enter Mingyu because eating out with someone, more often than not, meant making a trip to his humble but bustling restaurant. It was everything right with your small town: a simple menu that remained consistently mind-blowing no matter how many times you visited.

Wish you could say your friendship with Mingyu had maintained the same level of consistency as his culinary competence.

And in your defense, you didn't know how much longer you could've gone ignoring the way Mingyu would take every opportunity to make you extra sides that you didn't order and send you specially curated handmade dinner-sets when he heard you were sick or too busy to eat. You hated it, crossing the friendzone you had so carefully placed him in, but one late night, when he showed up at your door in the rain just so he could deliver your food before it went cold, you caved and invited him in.

So while you legally have no choice but to politely turn down Soonyoung's offer for lunch, you can't help that you find yourself walking to Mingyu's Kitchen on Saturday morning for some brunch because as much as you loved improvising with the two ingredients in your fridge, nothing beat the ramyeon he cooks.

You're still groggy when you enter the cozy shop but the familiar scent iss already warming you up from the chilly air outside. Except you make eye-contact with the man as you step foot into the place.

The man being Seungcheol, of course, because where you could handle fielding Mingyu's puppy eyes on you, a reminder that you hadn't texted him back yet– Seungcheol's intense glare fixed on you has you shaking in your boots. Literally.

"...actually, I think I'll just eat here," you hear him call out as you approach the counter to place your order. Your head hurts already so you don't think too hard about Seungcheol's request to Sakura who nods with a smile.

"Y/N!" Mingyu materializes in front of you with a beam to greet you and you think sunglasses might've been the way to go this morning.

"Hey," you drag out the greeting, flinching at your own hoarse voice, "What's up, Gyu?"

"Nothin' much, just dealing with the usual Saturday morning rush, y'know? Maroon 5 should write a song about that instead of crying over Sunday mornings, don't you think?"

You're busy processing the tall man's chaotic train of thoughts when you hear Seungcheol laughing faintly. You glance at him, frowning when he's standing closer to you than you remember and then look back at Mingyu. "Ha, sorry it's so busy," you mumble.

"You don't sound so good. Did you catch something?" Mingyu inquires, brows furrowing and you genuinely love the man for his observance but dread its consequences nevertheless.

"Ahh, I mean, it's fine. Just a little cold from the wind," you clear your throat in an effort to sound better, "But I'll have a ramyeon for that very reason." You try to punctuate your sentence with a light-hearted chuckle but with your condition, it just kind of sounds like you're dying so you shut yourself up.

"Feeling under the weather?"

You look up from your phone screen, where you've been fixating all your attention so you can ignore the way Seungcheol's seated himself on the table right next to yours. This was the problem with eating out alone. The danger of your ex-boyfriend tailing you. You swear you're dragging Nayeon out after you next time, her fucked-up sleep schedule be damned.

You shrug in response to his question, "I'm fine. Thanks for the concern."

"You're very welcome," comes his teasing reply, "But seriously, you've got to wear more layers than that if you want to make it to winter."

You look down at your long-sleeved top with a frown, "I think this attire is perfectly appropriate for the fall, actually." You tug at the sleeves so they cover your wrists as if to prove a point.

Seungcheol raises a brow, "It would be a perfectly appropriate attire for someone who doesn't have the immune system of a rat."

Gasping, you shoot back, "Rude! I don't see why I have to stand this slander even when we're not together."

There it is. The words slip out your tongue before you have a minute to filter your thoughts and though things between you and Seungcheol are more chill than most former lovers, your sudden comment has the atmosphere turn ever so awkward, with his smile falling and your own turning sour.

You sigh in relief when Sakura brings out a tray to Seungcheol's table that very moment, saving you just a little embarassment. "Enjoy your meal!" she smiles at him and then at you, "Your food will be out soon!"

You nod, swallowing against your dry throat and watch as Seungcheol stares at his food wordlessly. You really had a way with words for someone who sold books for a living. Eventually, you go back to distracting yourself with your phone and he starts eating, suddenly laser-focused on his food.

You're thankful for the space, until you see Mingyu making his way to your table with your tray in his hands. You don't know why he does that, bringing you your food despite being the head chef and owner of the place. Well, you do know why but you didn't have the energy to deal with the reasons today.

Not with Seungcheol sitting right there, eyes on Mingyu's back as he places your food in front of you, grin intact. You're about to thank the man and hopefully, cut any conversation short but he beats you to it.

"Here's your food, Y/N!" his voice borders on cracking but he goes on, "I made you some yuja-cha as well for your throat. And make sure you eat a lot of kimchi, okay? Let me know if you need anything else."

Slowly you nod, thanking him under your breath as he takes off and now it's your turn to stare at your food in silence while Seungcheol's shooting daggers your way.

If he thought he was upset by your thing with Soonyoung, the way Mingyu was just all up in your space with his stupidly sweet gestures has Seungcheol… a lot more upset.

"I thought Mingyu and you were just friends," he's voicing before he can help it.

Your head snaps up in surprise but really, you should've seen this coming. You compose yourself, averting your eyes back to the warm food in your plate. "And I thought I made it clear that my dating life is none of your business."

"It's not my business," Seungcheol says, unconvincing to his own hears, "But it would be a problem if you were, you know, two-timing."

Now you know Seungcheol is trying to get on your nerves because he knows how much you hate dishonesty and to accuse you of being disloyal is a low blow, really. But it works because you finally look back at him with eyes wide, "Of course I'm not. I slept with him like once!"

Where the news has Seungcheol feeling conflicted because where it was good to know that nothing was serious, it was also not fun to hear that you'd slept with him. But while he tried hard to not dwell on Mingyu's impressive physique, you were busy catching up with your own loss of control.

Because even despite your unintended confession that you hope you weren't too loud about, you quickly supply in a quiet voice, "...well, it was technically a date that led to sleeping– but it had nothing to do with Soonyoung— I don't even know why I'm telling you this!"

You spend the rest of your brunch focusing on finishing your food and appropriately thanking Mingyu for the food, a little apologetic for many many reasons, so you can leave the same room as your ex-boyfriend faster.

But he makes it real hard, because just as you step out of the restaurant and take a deep breath of the fresh September air to settle your nerves, you hear his voice calling you out. You stuff your hands into the pockets of your pants to brace yourself as you turn around, already starting to say something about how he needs to leave you alone and forget you said anything.

"You left your phone behind!" he cuts you off, holding out the device for you to see. You curse under your breath, feeling incredibly ridiculous as you reach for it.

"Thanks–"

And then he dodges your grasp, leaving you flailing around like an idiot while he looks on with an amused half-smile. Half a smile because he knows you would kill him and then yourself if he straight-out laughed at you.

"I'll give it back if you unblock me."

Your shoulders slump and a groan leaves your lungs. "Seungcheol."

But his smile only widens because you may be glaring at him but you did just say his name. And a win is a win.

"Seriously? You're holding my phone hostage just so you can blackmail me over something so petty? Come on!"

"I'm sorry, do you know how many seal memes you've been missing out on since you blocked me? This is no laughing matter."

"I'm not the one laughing," you snap and then cross your arms in exasperation, "Don't be a child, dude, and just give me my phone."

"Why did you block me anyway?"

You raise your brows at him as if to say really? but he maintains his smile and you groan again. You hate him for knowing that you hadn't blocked him right after the breakup thanks to someone's insistence on thinking seal memes were funny and that the real resaon you'd blocked him was–

"–Siri kept recommending your contact every single time I would go to make a phone call! Heck, I couldn't even text Nayeon to get me a towel in the shower because the messages app would automatically redirect to you."

Seungcheol watches in awe as he connects the dots in his head and mutters, "You still had me saved as kkmua's dad?" You look away but your silence is enough of an answer.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the reason your phone confused Seungcheol with Nayeon because he was kkuma's dad and she was kookeu's mom– an idea a drunk you had found incredibly hilarous. The similarity in their spelling had your algorithm all fooled every time you typed in one or the other's name in a rush. Still, you wish Seungcheol was a little dumber sometimes.

Now as you look at Seungcheol you can see he's thinking of something. Most likely considering the question: Why didn't you change it?

"I was too lazy to change it back, okay? Blocking you was obviously the easier choice."

"I didn't say anything," he tells you with an easy smile, clearly pleased to see you flushed. "For what it's worth, you're still promising young woman in my contacts. And I didn't even have to block you."

It's probably because you've seen Seungcheol so much more than the past two months in the past two days, but you find yourself moved by his words. They're not that meaningful really, he's just bringing up a past inside joke in that reassuring tone of his. But you can't help but smile.

"I hate you," you breathe out and in the context of the conversation, it makes enough sense. But Seungcheol's dimples deepen because in the context of your history with him, the words are a consolation.

He only becomes certain of it later that night when he's washed up and throws himself into his sheets to find his phone lighting up in the darkness. It's you.

promising young woman sent you a link

promising young woman: rats actually have a great immune system so joke's on u

And that's all it takes for Seungcheol to go back to his lovesick self, squeaking into his pillow as he reads your text over and over until he can comprehend that not only have you unblocked him of your own accord (debatable) but were also texting him first.

–

The next time you run into Seungcheol, it really brings his contact name to life. But before that, enter Soobin, a shy blonde who's recently moved to the town.

"You like Lamp, huh?"

Soobin jumps around, eyes flailing around as if you'd caught him red-handed. And you might as well have, what with how he'd been humming and swaying to the music leaking out of the speakers in your bookstore. You'd enjoyed watching the younger man visit the store more frequently the past few weeks, always in the evening hours when you would finally break open your playlists, a luxury you only allowed near closing time.

"Ha," he nervous laughs, "Y-Yeah… Sorry, I didn't think you were still here."

"I run the place, Soobin. It'd be a bit of a problem if I just took off." You smile at his flustered sigh and move past him to shelf a book you'd taken out to review earlier. "Anyway, we're closing soon. You buying anything today or…?"

Soobin looks at the thick book in his hands and you recognize it as a new arrival but then he flips it around, a little unsure. "Umm, I'm not– this seems cool but also scary so probably not?"

"I'll take it off your hands then?" you offer with an understanding shrug. But he shakes his head eagerly, "No, no, don't worry. I remember where I took this from. I don't want to get in your way."

"...All right," you reply after a pause. Then, brushing your hands against your pants, "Let me know if you need help, anyway."

But Soobin's far from one to bother you as he leaves wordleslly, not without assisting you relocate some heavy boxes to the store before you lock up for the day. You're calling out goodbye after him as he takes off into the night when you hear soft barks closing in on you,

For a beat, you freeze because the sound is excruciatingly nostalgic and you genuinely think you must've time travelled when you turn around to see Seungcheol running toward you with a very excited Kkuma leading the way. You're already dropping to a squat when the dog scurries to your feet, licking at your ankle before you get your hands on her.

You let out an undignified coo at the white ball of fur, "Kkuma, my baby. Aww, baby, you're so sweet. Look at you!" You go on for a little bit, fussing over her as she rolls over for some belly rubs before you come to and become aware of the way Seungcheol stands by, patiently watching.

You slowly rise to your feet with an awkward smile.

"I'm convinced she still loves you more than me," the man starts with a pout, "And it's still so unfair. Kkuma, I'm your dad. I pay for your meals and grooming, you know?"

You laugh at the way he scolds his dog in a small voice as you retort, "Maybe she's in her rebellious years. Let her be."

Seungcheol's soft gaze lands on you with a huffed chuckle. And then he looks at something behind you. "Who was that, by the way? New conquest?"

You throw your hands up in the air. "Come on, man. You can't keep doing this!"

"Doing what?"

"Snooping around in my business! And also making me sound like some kind of a player."

Seungcheol looks down like he's reflecting. Kkuma paws at his leg with a whine and you look between them before letting out a cough.

"That was Soobin. If you must know." You look away as you say this, like it was no big deal, reporting on your customers to your ex-boyfriend because he still got all whiny when he saw you with another man. Neither of you is ready to address the meaning of your actions toward each other quite yet. So you both pretend it's normal when Seungcheol lights up a little when you speak up.

"Soobin…? Haven't hear that name before."

"Yeah, he moved in a few weeks ago. Shy guy but very smart," you say, "And I think he wants to work part-time at the bookstore."

"Woah," Seungcheol's ears perk up, "That's great, Y/N! You could totally use the help."

You turn to face him, arms crossed yet again, with a suspecting look on your face. "Hmm, I guess you could say that. I haven't popped the question yet though so don't go around spreading rumors."

"Aww, you know I would never snitch on you like that! Unless he makes a move on you, of course, because that would be a very different story–"

"Seungcheol."

Nice. That would be three points to Seungcheol if he was keeping count of how many times you'd said in his name in that grave voice of yours, indicating that you were mad but also couldn't cover up the laughter that bled into your tone anyway. And he was.

–

"What about you? You were gone a while."

Seungcheol counts his blessings every minute you spend with him, even if a lot of it was you pushing him away. But you couldn't stay consistent with your cold demeanour for much longer, not with him making sure he ran into you just as you closed your store. With Kkuma scurrying for love and his innocent blush whenever you greeted him, it wasn't long before you were letting your walls down.

So it's no surprise that you find yourself curious of what he'd been upto in the month-long visit he'd paid to his best friend.

Initially, Seungcheol's giddy ove your question, like you were on a first date all over again and not just walking along the dim grass fields like you so often did. "You know how it is with Jeonghannie. I meant to be there for a week but… one thing led to another and I was there for a while."

You fall silent, trying to imagine what it must've been like for him. "He still lives near that college, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. He's a strange fellow."

"Not that strange. College towns are like cities," you chuckle, "but with less crime and cranky people."

"I don't know, college students are pretty cranky too. Maybe even worse than the average city person." You raise a brow at Seungcheol's grimace.

"What, did Jeonghan force you to fraternize with college kids or what?"

Okay, now Seungcheol's getting a little worried when he realizes where this is going. And even though everything's in the past for him, he can't help but hesitate to tell you what exactly he'd been up to.

"...Yeah, I mean, most of his friends are college seniors. He knows them from his time there so it's pretty chill."

A few more questions from you have Seungcheol pulling out his phone to supply you with some visuals for some of the events he's mentioning and the way you softly laugh into his shoulder at the sight of the chaotic night parties has him getting a little careless.

"Wait, wait, who was that?" you stop Seungcheol's now excited swiping with a cold hand to his forearm. He freezes, more because he realizes what you're trying to see than the temperature of your body against his.

"Um, oh–" he watches dumbly as you go back a few photos to a selfie of him and a girl. They're grinning in the photo, teeth on display and cheeks clearly red from intoxication.

"Ohh, is she one of his college friends? She's cute–" You interrupt your own musings over the stranger when you go back another photo in his gallery. This time it's a photo of the girl kissing Seungcheol on the cheek, his eyes closed with a shy smile.

"That's–" Seungcheol barely opens his mouth to explain but trails off when you abruptly pull away from him. "She's– A friend… Um, goes to college in the place and she's–" He stops talking with a groan because great, all his stuttering has you side-eyeing him, no doubt recognizing the guilt swimming in his eyes.

Your voice is so small when you finally speak up, pace increasing. "That's cute," is all you say.

"Wait, Y/N, you don't understand. I know what I sound like but–"

"Just to be clear," you stop your brisk walking to hold up a hand in between you and him as if to symbolize the space there. "You don't have to explain anything to me. It's all cool, Seungcheol."

And the way you murmur his name transports him back a couple months, a similar breezy night. One where you'd pulled him away from a group dinner with your friends and looked down at your feet the whole time but your words had pierced right through his heart anyway. Even back then, you said his name softly, without any malice, but even that might've been merciful. Because what's worse is the way you uttered his name like goodbye, sincere enough to bring tears to his eyes, even now, as he watches your forlorn back disappear into the night.

Zero points to Seungcheol.

–

"Y/N, you in there?"

It takes a good minute of Nayeon repeating her questioning in increasing volume for you to finally hear her knocks over the sound of the music playing through your headphones. You frown as you uncover one ear and call out, "Nayeon? What happened?" The door to your room slowly creaks up, revealing your roommate standing there with her hands occupied, each holding up a bottle of soju invitingly.

"Wanna talk about it?"

You're already tearing up when she asks you that and by the time you've both drunk your way through the bottles, your eyes feel numb. You interrupt your own worrying over how swollen they were bound to be tomorrow when you point a finger at Nayeon and question, "I really needed this today. How'd you know?"

She smiles, "Of course I did. You ignored my text about eating at Mingyu's Kitchen and my offer to pay. Plus, you didn't do the thing you usually do where you come in and complain about your ex."

You pout, "I'm sorry. I must be so annoying."

"You are," Nayeon shrugs, "And I like it. But you know what I would like more? If you would just make up with him already."

"No."

"Is this about that one photo of some girl kissing him on the cheek? You know how petty it is to get jealous over something like that?"

"She was seriously pretty, Nayeon!" you defend yourself, "And I'm not jealous, just– just upset because he didn't tell me earlier. I feel so stupid."

"I'm sorry, babe," she mutters, rubbing your back, "He's an idiot for not just coming clean."

"I know! Even after he went sticking his nose in my business and who I slept with while he was gone!"

You sniffle, "Maybe I should just call him and tell him to never ever talk to me again. And that he's a jerk. And that I still love him."

"Wait a second," Nayeon pulls you back onto your butt on the floor, "Maybe, let's reconsider that last part?"

You're clearly more drunk than you let on because you look genuinely confused by her interjection. "What? About me hating him?"

–

When you drag yourself into work on Monday, you expect a lot of things. You see the headache coming, from last night's drinking and this morning's lack of hot water. You also know it's going to rain the whole day so it's only harder to put one foot after another to move. And where you also expect to pestered by a man: the desperate pleas don't come from Seungcheol like you'd secretly hoped.

"Soonyoung?"

The man, who'd been impatiently pacing by the entrance to your store, stops at the sound of your voice and spins around, nearly slipping over thanks to the wet ground. He throws the daunting hood covering his eyes with a bright smile as you run over and hastily unlock the store.

"Why're you out here in the rain?"

Soonyoung sighs in relief once he's inside brushing his damp pants off with a quick hand. Then, he looks up with a shy expression, "Well, I… need to ask you something."

And given his past mooning over you, when he says that with a nervous laugh, you're stiffening up because you think you know where this is going. But then, Soonyoung defies your expectations for the second time yet again.

Because where you'd expected to have to turn him down with an incompetent attempt at kindness, the next hour finds you grappling with all the information he's throwing at you.

For starters, he does ask you out. But– "It's fake. Dont worry, I'm not actually into you like that," he quickly adds with a dry laugh.

As it turns out, he's asking you to help him make a move on a girl he only recently realized he liked. Her name's Chaewon and the only thing you know about her is that she owns a strawberry farm and can sing on ocassion. So you're easily worried by this proposition, "Soonyoung, why would you pretend to be with someone else? Shouldn't you be asking her out?"

The boy heaves a sigh, "Y/N, I hate it to break it to you but nobody does that anymore. Keep up with the times, won't you? Jealousy is the new I like you."

"I'm pretty sure that's not true," you scoff out, refusing to let Soonyoung peg you as old-fashioned. Your stomach swims at his words anyway, ming wandering to your own… jealousy issues with a certain someone.

"Anyway, there's an open observatory night or something at her farm tonight with complementary dinner after. And I need you to come with me and make her jealous."

"I don't like how serious you are about this," you complain, "And I don't think I want to be a part of this evil scheme."

"Please, Y/N, you're the only one I can rely on! And you're basically a celebrity around here, when it comes to dating."

You frown, finally looking away from the shelf you'd been re-ogranizing, "What do you mean?"

Soonyoung bites his lip, clearly having said something he shouldn't have. You poke at his arm urgently with a glare. He groans, giving in, "Well, it's just… your break-up with Seungcheol was the only thing anyone could talk about last month! And then the gossip only resurfaced when he came back to town."

"What kind of gossip?" you press with narrow eyes.

"I– can't say."

"Soonyoung," you warn him, "Tell me. Or I won't pretend to be your girlfriend."

"Oh, come on! This is blackmail!"

"I thought you really wanted to be with Chaewon, no?" you question with inordinate amounts of innonence in your smile, "Makes you want to paint flowers onto the sky for her, doesn't she?"

"Fine, I'll tell you but only because this side of you is scary," the boy sighs out, "People think the reason you broke up with him was because he cheated on you. And now he's back in town so he can apologize and make up with you… or whatever."

"That's ridiculous!" you cough out, "Who's been spewing this nonsense? I'm gonna have to–"

He holds your arm in an attempt to ground you, "Nobody really thinks it's true though! And remember how you promised to not tell a soul about a word I told you today?"

"I don't because I never said that–!"

"Seungcheol's gonna be there tonight, too, if that helps?"

Soonyoung's clearly much more devious than you last remember him being but when he explains that this could be a win-win situation for both of you– where he makes Chaewon realize her feelings for him, you also make Seungcheol jealous with your little act.

And while you're sure to curse the him out for his assumption that you would want to get back with Seungcheol at all to begin with, the idea does leave an impression on you. Your mind's gears are working really hard, not just because you're trying to figure out a new spread for the monthly display at the front of your bookstore, but also because you keep finding loopholes in Soonyoung's grand plan.

"But is pretending to be together for one dinner really going to convince anyone? I mean, no offense, but nobody I know will believe that."

Soonyoung shrugs, "It's not just for one night. We're obviously going to do other stuff." You scrunch your nose up in disgust. "But think of tonight as the opening night. What we do tonight determines how the rest of our lives will pan out. We could end up lonely and dreadful if one of us messes up."

–

For all of your criticism of Soonyoung's hyperbolic description of a dubious scheme, that evening finds you making double-takes in the front camera of your phone every other minute. Yep, turns out your nose was still on your face.

"Y/N, you look great," Soonyoung calls out finally, having watched you the whole ride to the venue. It was part of his plan, of course, to make things seem more official in his words. "So can you stop?"

"Are you sure you don't like me?"

As it often happens, your own question catches you more off-guard than it does Soonyoung. Your nerves have succesfully taken over your bodily functions.

"I don't, Y/N," he responds with an easy smile, "I don't know why you keep asking me that. Do you like me or something?"

You sigh. "Sorry. It just seemed like that for a while. But I'm glad you don't, it makes things a lot easier."

"Good," he hums and then, after a beat passes, "By the way, when all of this over and both of us are hopefully happily in love with our respective partners–"

"I'm not in love with Seung–"

"And after you're done denying your feelings– Maybe we can be friends?"

You nod with a thoughtful hum, "Sure. That sounds fine. Except I thought we were already friends?"

Conversation with Soonyoung becomes a lot less tiresome when you've both established the purely platonic basis of your relationship. Which is ironic because fifteen minutes later, he's whispering in your ear to smile as he reaches for your hand. But his presence is still comforting and you find yourself wondering why you hadn't always found it this easy to be friends with him. The thought keeps you distracted momentarily and then, you lock eyes with Seungcheol.

You were standing next to Soonyoung when it happened, hand in his as he caught up with friends and purposefully showed off his new relationship. The news was as unexpected to them as it was to you this morning and keeps conversation busy enough to allow you to be completely zoned out. And then you spot Seungcheol across the room, his eyes fixed on you in the distance and his mouth set in an intimidating line.

You look away with a cough, feeling your neck grow warmer. Soonyoung senses the change in your mood and when he asks if you're okay, you lean into his ear and complain, "Fuck, I just made eye-contact with him."

He breaks into a grin at your indirect admission to still liking your ex. If Seungcheol knew the context to your arrangement with Soonyoung, he would find this entire exchange heart-warming, losing it over how shy you've gotten. But he doesn't know.

So in his eyes, it just looks like you've just whispered an inside joke into another man's ear and his chuckles are out of fondness. And that's why attributes your shy flush to Soonyoung's response to you, and not the eye-contact you'd made with him seconds ago.

Seungcheol spends the rest of the night lurking. He skirts your surroundings, his eyes in disbelief every time you don't pull away from Soonyoung's hand on you. He's confused and jealous. The combination has him malfunctioning in a corner when he spots you breaking away from Soonyoung's side for the first time that evening.

He doesn't even spare a thought to his actions when he springs forth, trailing you to the refreshments. You're trying to refill your lemonade even though you don't really have the desire to drink it anymore, mainly because Soonyoung had approached Chaewon and it seemed like his plan was working because you'd never felt so invisible in a conversation before.

You can feel the act tiring you out though because you don't notice it when Seungcheol sneaks up to your side, breathing down your neck and staring seriously even when you spin around and almost spill your drink all over yourself in surprise.

"S-Seungcheol!" you groan out, flustered but relieved your dress didn't have to suffer the consequences of your weakness around him. But your heart certainly did, especially when the man stepped closer, voice few octaves lower than usual.

"What are you doing with him?"

You go silent, knowing that you should feel unsettled by the absence of friendliness in his tone but only feel yourself enjoy the way he's so obvious about his jealousy. You look back at him, trying to seem innocent but immediately hate the way his eyes have reddened. "I'm… helping Soonyoung out."

Seungcheol's expression is a big question mark at that. A big angry question mark followed by an exclamation point, if you will. "...by following him around on his arm all night?"

"Um… yeah," you look over his shoulder to make sure Soonyoung's still occupied by Chaewon and the momentary lack of attention is already pissing your ex-boyfriend even more. You hate lying but you convince yourself that right now, you're simply witholding information from someone.

"I don't get it, Y/N," he says, "Did I lose my chance with you?"

The question catches you completely off-guard, leaving you gaping at Seungcheol. You were used to his short-temper and his incessant questions but this was new: the solemn setting of his lips and his downcast eyes as he asked you if he still stood a chance with you. He was being vulnerable, you realized, in a way that he never was during your relationship. The change is dizzying, it really is, and you can only think of all the other ways Seungcheol's been changed since he returned.

And all the ways he's stayed the same.

You swallow against the lump in your throat, "Come with me."

You lead him to a slightly more secluded part of the observatory, a dimly lit corner that's orchestrated by more crickets and the lack of chatter is a welcome relief to your already crowded senses. "I'm not actually with Soonyoung," you breathe out, the truth weighing heavily on your tongue even though you'd only pretended for the one night, "I'm pretending to, because he asked me to."

Seungcheol's eyes widen, "What? You're fake-dating that guy? Why?"

"He likes Chaewon," you point them out for him over his shoulder but Seungcheol only stares at your face with a serious expression. You retract your pointer with a flushed face, "And they were apparently getting nowhere, despite both liking each other. So he figured he needed some intervention."

You point to yourself this time with a half-smile and then remember the unimpressed look on Seungcheol's face. You watch his face carefully but he remains still for over a minute.

"Well, I'm only telling you because you asked so nicely," you clear your throat, feeling a little stupid now that he's gone mute, "Do with that what you will. I'm gonna go back…"

You pat your dress down and exhale heavily, trying to steel yourself against both the disappointment and the cold night-air. You've already rejoined the noisy crowd, only a few steps away when you pick up on Seungcheol's voice.

"--meant nothing…" is all you can pick up so you turn around to find him at an arm's length, muttering something, too low for it to be audible. You say, "What did you say?"

"I said that the photo you saw that day meant nothing. She's Jeonghan's girlfriend and I slept with her once. I also pretended to be into her but only so I could forget about you."

More than anything, you're shocked by the way he emphasizes you, the word coming out stronger than the rest of his explanation, one that does more to soothe your nerves than you realize. But you also don't know what to with this new information, because your brain can't keep up with how much more context there might be to it– Why did he sleep with her if she's with Jeonghan? And why did he look so happy in the photo if it meant nothing?

But tonight isn't about you, it's about Soonyoung and you've made a promise to him. So you tell Seungcheol, "I've gotta get back, Cheol–" the nickname slips out before you've censored yourself. Your face burns but you turn away quickly. "I- See you later."

The crowd is so close to you, just another step or two and you could be lost in the sea of half-familiar faces and probably get caught up in catching up with someone or the other. But if the crowd is close, then Seungcheol is closer to you.

His hands are on your shoulders, warm heat invading your exposed arms pleasantly when he holds you back with that pained look of his. At this point, you're only partly grounded in your body, floating around when you hear Seungcheol's words to you. "I'm still in love with you, Y/N. Never stopped loving you, to be honest."

That brings you back to earth with a jerk and you blink at him slowly. "I–" you start and then trail off. Then you start again, now that reality's starting to set again. "I feel the same. Obviously. I tried to move on but– ugh, I still love you." You feel Seungcheol's arm slide down to your elbows and then to find your hands, intertwining your fingers with his like he'd imagined doing ever since he got back to town.

"So we're good?" Seungcheol asks you, licking his lips with a small smile.

"Um, well, what do you mean by that because if– I mean, if we're friends–" You're trying to think of a way to state your thoughts in a self-respectful way when he leans in, lips brushing against your with a soft sigh. Your own breath hitches, especially when Seungcheol's hands come up to cup your face with a gentleness you forgot he could muster. He kisses you, sweet and soft, and when you pull away it's with a stupid grin.

He matches your grin, "Does that make things clear? We're not friends. I want to kiss your face and it would be great if you stopped pretending to date other men–"

The mention of fake-dating has you gasping loudly as you push Seungcheol away hastily, "Fuck, I'm supposed to be with–" You turn around and no doubt, everyone rushes to look away but you know the damage has been done when you hear scattered applause and whistles. The sight is heart-warming to you in a universe where you haven't just fucked up a plan.

"I messed up big-time," you tell Seungcheol with an exasperated groan.

The man regards you with thinly-concealed glee, "We kiss and make up but you're complaining because…?"

"Soonyoung! I was supposed to–"

Seungcheol doesn't do anything to help when he leans in to peck your lips again. You scowl at him, "What was that for?"

"Sorry, I just forgot what I was to you for a moment there, what with you going on about another man–"

"Cheol, I just confessed my love to you," you scold him but your ears turn pink, "And you're my boyfriend. So don't forget that. But right now, I need to go find my fake-boyfriend or I'll have blood on my hands–"

You're rushing to spot Soonyoung's head in the crowd when he suddenly appears, much closer than you'd anticipated, probably because he's heading right at you. You start to feel the guilt build up in your throat but then you see the grin he's sporting and the way he's skipping toward you.

"Soonyoung," you call out, "I'm sorry–" you gesture toward Seungcheol vaguely, "I got a little caught up."

"Ahh, don't worry about it!" the boy chuckles lightly and then crosses his arms like he does when he has something to tell you, "I'm– The plan worked!"

"What?! It did? But I thought–?"

"Yeah, well, one part of the plan was to get you and Seungcheol together?" Soonyoung reminds you with a sly smile. You feel Seungcheol's arm around you as he pipes up, "It was???" You ignore how excited he sounds and narrow your eyes at Soonyoung, "Okay, but we clearly just ruined the whole act! What about–"

"Chaewon got jealous. And then when we spotted you and Seungcheol kissing, she was about to be really mad at you but I explained things to her… and then, she was mad at me but then… um, well, we, you know, kissed it out."

"Soonyoung!" you exclaim, clapping your hands together in relief, "That's great! We don't have to date anymore!"

Soonyoung laughs at your phrasing but you're busy being wooed by the smitten smile on Seungcheol's face when squeezes your hand, muttering, "You all mine now?"

–

Cue star-gazing with Seungcheol.

It was his idea, one he'd suggested out loud to you over the dinner that was also his idea, the candle between you flickering with your breathless agreement. You were in love with Seungcheol like you'd been for as long as you remember. The break-up, creeping up into your mind thanks to a combination of a lull in your relationship with him and doubts of whether there might be someone else for both of you, seemed like a faraway event already when you resumed your life with him.

"The stars are pretty, aren't they?"

You hum in agreement to Seungcheol, fiddling with his fingers. His laughter bleeds into your body, "You're not even looking up at the sky, baby."

You shift to lay down next to him. "I was!" you defend, "But then I got scared. The stars just make me feel so insignificant. And temporary." Your voice breaks a little, "I don't want temporary."

Seungcheol wraps around you, bringing your face up to his and watching you blink the tears out of yours. "Oh, doll, you're so precious," he huffs out, running a thumb under your eyes, "I love you. Fuck being temporary, okay? I'm going to be with you forever."

"You can't guarantee that though," you mumble out.

"I know I can't. Because I could die before you or like be abducted by the aliens when they inevitably come colonize us. We all know I'd be their first pick."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Y/N, we're still together, even after we broke up," he kisses your cheek to emphasize your togetherness, "We're in love, despite it all. And that seems solid enough to me, you know? The scariest part of going into a relationship is the possibility of separating. But if we've done it before, how bad can it be?"

"What if we break up again?"

"Then we'll figure something out," Seungcheol says, "I know we will. It might not be the same as always but I promise I'll always be a part of your life for as long as I can."

You sniffle into his shoulder, "I love you. Can you please beg the aliens to take me with you?"

Seungcheol's laughter resounds through you yet again, a hand brushing your hair lovingly. You were finally wearing your hair down again, and it might've something to do with the way he would find a way to slip the hairtie out of its place. It sits around his wrist now, worn-out but incredibly dear to him.

"Of course, love, anything for you."

–

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

the seungcheol brainrot never stops <3 i hope i've done this seungcheol justice, given what he went through in jeonghan's fic lol... anyway, i'm thinking of writing another part where jeongcheol catch up or something?? may be an interesting collision of worlds... we'll see.

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phoward89 · 1 month

Text

Masterlist

Dark!Coryo, Dark!Peacekeeper Coryo, Innocent!Reader, Delulu!Coryo, obsession, manipulation, toxic relationship, drinking, cussing, oral (f receiving), p in v, squirting, creampie, dubcon, breeding kink, degradation, uh that's about it

Chapter 5:

According to the clock tacked up behind the bar it was past midnight. Your brother was still perched at the bar, knocking back moonshine and staring at you and Coryo. He's been watching the two of you all night go back and forth between the dance floor and a wall side table. Seeing you so enchanted by Private Snow along with being introduced to his fellow Peacekeepers pissed him off.

If it wasn't for Ashlie plying him with moonshine and reminding him with harsh whispers that he can't make a scene because she can't afford to lose her job, well, he would've started shit with Coryo. But, since he had booze flowing freely at his beck and call he decided to stay put on his bar stool. Plus, he has to admit, even in his inebriated state, that the family couldn't afford Ashlie to lose her job. Hell, it was bad enough that you lost your job.

And now your brother's starting to think that maybe the Doula running the apothecary shop fired you because she felt uneasy with Private Snow hanging around you. Hey, Rein knows that you had to meet him somewhere; it only makes sense that you met him in town. In the Merchant's Sector while working.

Your brother was over everything. He did his best to raise you, but you seem to be cut from the same cloth as your mother. Rein never liked his stepfather, Colonel Javanis Halvir, and he never told you about him or the truth about how he died. About how both of your parents died.

But if you keep hanging on Private Snow as if the sun shines out of his damn asshole then he might have to tell you the truth. As a scare tactic. A warning to stay away from the pretty boy peacekeeper that's wooing you with twisted words and pretty pearly white smiles.

“Stop staring at that peacekeeper like you want him to drop dead, Rein.” Ashlie ordered her longtime boyfriend in a long, drawn out huff. When her only reply from him was a squint of his Seam grey eyes, she sighed. Looking between your brother and you, as you sat on Coryo's lap sipping on moonshine, Ashlie told your brother, “I'll have a talk with her in the morning about him.” Patting his arm before going over to a customer, she added in, “I'm sure this is just a passing fancy.”

“If she's anything like my mom, well, it ain't just a passing fancy.” Rein slurred, knocking back his shine.

His eyes narrowed disapprovingly as he watched Coriolanus motioning for you to stand up; setting your shine jar down only to stand up after you. He couldn't make out what was being said, but it looks like Coriolanus and you are saying your goodbyes to a couple of his peacekeeper friends.

Goddamnit, he hopes you don't do anything stupid tonight.

You and Coryo walked back to your place from the Hobb side by side. In fact, he had his arm snaked around you; keeping you tightly glued to his hip. The smell of smoke and shine heavily lingered on the two of you. Even in the fresh summer's night air, the stench of the Hobb was heavily stained on you.

“Look, that's the North Star.” You pointed out the star that is used by sailor's and such for navigation. “I read that sailors and military men use it like a compass, if they don't have one, during the dead of night.” You explained, looking at Coriolanus with a smile as he looked up at the bright star shining in the black velvet sky. “It's also known as Polaris.”

“I've never seen it before, darling. The bright lights of the Capitol doesn't make stargazing very easy.”

“We can always lay in the meadow and stargaze sometime if you want.” You offered as you and Coryo continued on your way to your house.

“We'll do it one night, but not tonight.” Coriolanus told you. His breath was hot against your ear as he huskily said, “Tonight I'm going to show you how much I love you.” Pressing his lips to your temple, he crudely promised, “I'm going to fuck you so good tonight, baby.” Giving you a wide, eccentric grin, he added, “And it's all because I love you.”

You felt your heart racing a mile a minute in your chest at the implication of his words, his promise. Were you ready for that? To be fucked. Honestly, you weren't sure.

Coryo was so charming and nice to you. He’s also so devoted despite not being with you that long. And he claims to love you.

So why are you so nervous about his plans for tonight? Is it because you've never done that before or is it something else?

A sloppy wet kiss on your jawline, near your ear, accompanied by a deep husky question of, “You ready for me to make you mine tonight, baby girl?”, shook you out of your mental musings.

Worrying your lip, you slightly pulled away from your platinum blonde peacekeeper and honestly told him in a small nervous voice, “I dunno, Coryo. I've never…you know…been with anyone or been in love before.”

The peacekeeper stopped you both dead in your tracks, only to spin you around and take hold of your face. Squishing your cheeks in his large, calloused hands- his long fingers brushing into your hair, Coriolanus firmly told you with lust in his deep baritone, “I love you, Y/N, and you love me too. I'll always love you; tonight’s time for us to act on our feelings.” Pressing his forehead against yours, he promised, “If you're scared of me fucking you and leaving, don't be. I swear, I'll never leave you. Death itself can't even separate us.”

You still felt nervous, but his romantic words had you giving into his desire. Albeit relentlessly, you agreed to let him make you his tonight in every sense of the word. Your easy cooperation had Coriolanus grinning triumphantly from ear to ear.

Gesturing to your nearby house with a tilt of his head, your boyfriend suggested, “Let's get inside; make ourselves comfortable in your room.”

“Okay.” You simply nodded, although your heart was heavily beating against your ribcage.

You knew that as soon as you walked into your house and entered your room with Coryo that things between the two of you would never be the same again. That things would be serious and binding since he swore to never leave your side once he made love to you.

Well, he said the word fuck, but you'd prefer to say making love since it sounds better. Or at least to you it sounds less crude.

But in time Coryo’ll have you saying fuck too, cause he's not a ‘making love' type of man.

The only light in your small room came from the moonlight streaming in from the window. The silver light cast a glow on your naked body as you lay in bed, chest heaving as you wither under Coryo's touch. His head was between your shaky legs, which were slung haphazardly over his squared shoulders.

The only sound in the room was that of your wet pussy squelching obscenely as he fingered you, faster and faster, while using his tongue to flick and lick your clit.

“Coryo…” You mewled, feeling the coil tighten in your lower belly, as you fisted your faded white sheets.

Resting his head against your inner thigh, while continuing to pump his long fingers in and out of your cunt, he told you, “You're close, baby.” In between placing open mouth kisses along your inner thigh, he asked, “You want me to make you cum? Hmm, darling?”

Of course you want him to make you cum. Your head's spinning and your core’s throbbing. There's an itch inside of you that you desperately need scratched; Coryo's the only one that can do that for you. He's the one that has you teetering at the edge of an intense feeling you've never felt before. Of course you want, no need, him to tip you over the edge into nirvana.

“Yes.” You whine. Nodding your head rapidly, you babble, “Please, Coryo, please make me cum.”

Coriolanus' hot breath fans over the soft skin of your inner thigh as he chuckles, hearty and deep, at your response to his question. It amuses him how he has you, a sweet and innocent girl, squirming and begging under him like a seasoned wanton whore. Only for him tho.

Only for him.

Coriolanus moved his fingers faster inside of your tight wet hole while bringing his lips back to your clit. He sucked hard on the swollen bundle of nerves before using his prominent nose to press against it, hard, while running his tongue sloppily over your folds. He was lewdly eating your cunt with such hunger, such vigor.

Your sweet juices tasted heavenly to him. God, he swears you're the best pussy he's ever tasted; he can't get enough of you. He's literally inhaling you as he laps at your folds, sucking your nectar into his mouth as if it’s a magical elixir to cure everything wrong with him. His nose continues to press into your pearl, making friction that sets your nerves on fire. That paired with the curl of his rough fingers hard and fast against the special spongy spot inside of you and his tongue messily passing thru your puffy petals has you seeing stars.

You cum with his name falling from your lips like a prayer, legs quaking and squeezing around his head. Your head thrashes around on your pillow as he continues to eat your cunt while you ride out your high. Coryo's got his hand, the one that's not stuck inside of your pussy, firmly holding down your lower stomach; preventing you from bucking your hips.

As your breathing steadily evens out, the platinum peacekeeper pulls his fingers out of your cunt and lifts his head. Pressing a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, he tells you, “You've got such a sweet cunt, darling.” Pushing himself up, he raunchily smirks, “Sweeter than honey.”, before sucking your juices off of his fingers.

Your eyes are blown wide by lust and intrigue as you watch Coryo, kneeling between your spread legs in nothing, but his white boxers (which has a wet patch of pre-cum staining them), sucking on two of his long fingers with such erotic fervor. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat and your pussy grew wetter while watching Coryo's eyes flutter as his tongue swirled around his fingers; gathering up all of your juices.

Coriolanus pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a loud, wet pop. Moving off the bed and pulling down his boxers, he smirked, “You're so wet and ready for me, my darling.”

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head as you took in the sight of Coryo's cock. You've never seen one before, but by the looks of it, well, you knew his was big. It had to be at least 8 inches; was thick too with veins running alongside it. His tip was angry and red, leaking precum.

Coriolanus saw you warily eying up his cock as he took his place kneeling on the bed between your spread legs. Using his hand to spread his pre-cum on his length, to use as lube, he began to give himself a few prep pumps. All while darkly smirking, “Gonna split you open with my big cock, baby.”

Since Coryo's the only man you've ever been with, you're not used to dirty talk. It did turn you on, but you do feel a bit- dunno- flustered by it too. Everything felt like it was happening too fast. Yes, everything you're doing with him feels good, but…still…everything seems so rushed.

As if Coryo has to have you. Has to stake his claim on you.

Well, he does have a primal need to possess you; to own you, but you don't need to know that.

No…

All you need to know is that your boyfriend loves you; wants to show you how much by fucking your brains out and taking your virginity.

“Coryo, is this gonna hurt? I've heard it hurts the girl for the first time.” You ask, looking up into icy blue eyes with apprehension in yours; killing the mood for dirty talk.

Seeing you worried about him hurting you was like a dagger to Coriolanus' heart. He'd never hurt you (not intentionally that is) and he really wants you to enjoy sex. He doesn't want you shying away from it. Hell, he wants you to be comfortable with him fucking you 7 ways til Sunday.

Coryo stopped stroking his cock, only to take your wrists in his hands and place them on his shoulders, all the while giving you assurances of, “Y/N, baby, I won't hurt you. I know I'm big, but I prepped you; your wet enough so I'll just slide on in.”

Nodding, you ask, “Can you go slow?”

“Yea. I'll go slow, baby.” Coryo promised with a kiss before teasingly sliding his cockhead up and down your folds; bumping your clit once or twice too. Lining himself up with your tight hole, he said, “Just hold onto me and try not to be too loud. Yea?”

“Okay.” You nod with a timid smile, hands resting on his shoulders, as he holds onto your hip with his free hand.

Coryo pressed a lingering kiss to your lips before pushing his cock into your tight cunt. The feeling of his tip entering you and stretching you out for the first time stung. But it also felt good in a way that you couldn't describe. Your wet hole greedily sucked in his length as he slowly pushed into you.

Damn, does Coriolanus think that your tight cunt feels good around his cock. He wants nothing more than to just snap his hips and bottom out deep inside of your tight, wet canal, but he was holding back- barely- because you asked him to go slow. He'll do anything for you, because he's obsessed to the point where he wants to ball and chain you to him forever.

You feel every vein and very ridge of his hard cock as Coryo continues to push into you. Your hold on his shoulders tighten as you feel his tip press against your barrier. Biting your bottom lip, you brave yourself for the pain of having your barrier broken. But that pain never comes.

No, you just feel a sharp prick; a burning sting, as your cherry's popped. You do let out a strangled whine as Coryo pushes the rest of the way in; bottoming out and causing a large bulge to become visible in your lower stomach.

“You're such a good girl, darling. Taking me so well.” Coryo praised, looking down at where you're joined. “Look, baby.” He instructed. Pressing a hand to the bulge in your stomach; causing you to let out a throaty mewl, he proudly boasted, “Look how deep I am, how I'm in your womb.”

“Oh…” You trailed off, eyes wide with shock, as you listened to your boyfriend and looked down.

True enough, his cock was deep inside of you. You could see it protruding from your lower belly. It shocked you, mostly since you didn't know it was possible for him to be buried so deep inside of you.

“Fuck…” Coryo swore, his baritone heavy and thick with need. “You're cunt's so tight; feels so damn good around my cock.”

He tilted your chin up slightly, only to bend down and give you a kiss. A kiss that was fiery; full of passion and teeth. Pulling away, he grabbed a hold of your leg and hiked it up over his hip, only to slowly drag his cock out of your tight hole and push it back in again- starting the first movements of your fucking.

Coryo's pace was measured, but his thrusts were deep. With every move that he made, you're feeling pleasure start to bubble up inside of you. At some point, in an attempt to get him to go deeper, you hike up your other leg on his hip.

“Does my cock feel good pounding this pussy, baby? Hmm?” Coryo asked, grabbing a hold of your legs and folding them tightly into your chest. “Huh, baby? Am I fucking you good?” He asked, plunging in and out of you at a hard, fast pace.

Coryo knows, even if you don't, by the way your cunt’s twitching and clenching around his cock that you’re gonna be cumming soon. That your pussy’s fluttering cause she needs pounding; needs fucked hard and raw to drool and squirt out an orgasm.

“Yes, Coryo.” You nod, nails digging into his biceps as you feel your core ache with desire. “Yes, you're fucking me so good.”

“Your cunt's so greedy for my cock, baby.” He huskily told you. Leaning his head down, close to your ear, he whispers in a smug, but filthy tone, “Fuck, you're close again. I can feel that pussy clenching my cock, desperate to milk me dry.”

“Yea.” You desperately agree with him. Feeling the coil start to tighten in your lower belly, for the second time tonight, you plead, “Please, Coryo, make me cum again. Please.”

“Fuck, I love it when you beg for my cock like a wanton whore.” Coriolanus admitted, his tone hoarse with lust, as he looked down at you with undying desire in his blown pupils.

The only sounds in the room are your moans, the obscene sound of your wet squelching cunt, skin slapping against skin, and the creaking of your bed’s metal headboard banging against the wall as your boyfriend bends you like a pretzel. Coryo's pistoning in and out of your cunt so fast that his dog tags are starting to bounce between your chests; even smacking you in the face. Feeling bold, you grab his dog tags in your hand and pull him forward by them, only to lean up slightly and capture his lips in a needy kiss.

A kiss that you didn't even know you craved until you planted it on his lush lips.

Coriolanus let out a groan before hungrily kissing you back. Your kiss soon becomes a heated open mouth mess full of spittle trailing down your chins as he plows faster and faster into your cunt. Your lips trace over his, letting out a high pitch moan as you cum hard around his cock.

“Oh, fuck, baby. Fuck, that's so hot.” Coryo moans at the sight of you squirting, soaking his dick, thighs, and the sheets.

Coriolanus has heard of squirting, but has never seen it before. And now that he knows you're a squirter, well he loves you even more than he did before.

“Coryo, please, it's too much.” You begged, starting to feel overstimulation kick in for such an intense orgasm during your first time.

Coryo’s eyes narrowed as he snarled, “I'm not stopping and getting blue balls, Y/N. Just be a good girl and take it til I cum.”

His reaction took you aback. You honestly wasn't expecting it. You really thought that he'd pull out after you told him that it's getting to be too much for you.

“Coryo, I can't take it. It's too much; I’m too sensitive.” You try to reason with him.

But one thing you'll quickly learn is that there's no reasoning with Coryo. And that's a lesson you're learning right now.

Coryo rolled his icy eyes at you and shook his head before pausing his movements and pulling out of you. You thought that it was over, that he'd take care of himself or maybe even have you touch him, but you're wrong about that.

So wrong.

Instead, Coriolanus grabs you and roughly flips you over onto your stomach. Confused, your try to lift yourself up and look at him over your shoulder. “Coryo-” You begin to ask, only to be roughly shoved down into the mattress face first.

“Don't whine, baby.” The platinum blonde peacekeeper gruffly instruction while pulling up your hips. “I told you, Y/N, that you'll just have to take what I give you cause I'm not fucking getting blue balls tonight.” He sneered while roughly entering your oversensitive pussy in one sharp thrust.

You let out a loud cry, one that Coryo's afraid will wake up the entire neighborhood full of scumbags and gutter rats; send them running over to the sorry excuse of a wooden shack you're in. Bending down, causing the cool metal of his dog tags to brush against your bare back, he hisses right into your ear, “Shut up, bitch. We don't wanna get caught, now do we?”

Coryo didn't bother to straighten up his back. No, he just began pounding into you rough, hard, and fast. His cock was throbbing and he needed to cum. Badly. Right now he was pissed that you tried to push him off of you before he got the chance to shoot his load into your perfect, tight cunt and knock you up.

Hell, he knows you're a virgin, but he wasn't expecting you to get all whiny and panicky at overstimulation. Gods, he hopes you learn your lesson tonight when it comes to his dominance in bed- well while fucking in general cause he knows it's not going to be contained to just the bedroom.

You sobbed into your pillow, hair fanning you like a halo, and hands twisting into your sheets as Coryo pistons in and out of you at a brutal pace. You feel the tip of his cock bruising your cervix with every move he makes along with his cum heavy balls slapping against your puffy, swollen clit, making your cunt burn and ache.

“For whining about not being able to take it, your greedy lil tight cunt's clenching around my cock again.” Your boyfriend mockingky grunts in your ear, his fingers digging painfully into your hips. No doubt you'll have bruises marring them in the morning.

“Coryo…please…please…” You cried desperately into your pillow. Honestly, you're not even sure what you're begging for. Maybe some kind of relief from the intense pressure you're feeling? Yes, that has to be it.

You need relief from what you're currently feeling. The intense push-pull inside of you; the electricity coursing thru your core.

“Shut the fuck up. Damn, bitch, you want your brother to bust in here and pull me off ya ‘fore we both cum?” Coryo sneered, his deep timbre rough, heavy, and dripping with sin.

Fearing that you'd get him caught, since he had no idea if your family's home or not, he pulled you up by the nap of your neck and ordered in a whisper hiss, “Hold onto the headboard, now.”

You did as you're told, stretching your arms out and grabbing the metal rails of your headboard. Before you could even register what was going on, one of Coryo's large, calloused hands wrapped around one of yours while his other hand roughly covered your mouth- literally smothering you.

Your eyes are wide at the new position you find yourself in. Your mind’s overloaded by everything as Coryo picks up his fast, punishing pace pounding your pussy.

Everytime you try to whine or moan, your boyfriend clamps his hand down hard, muffling your cries and causing your jaw to ache. Your body's being jolted back and forth rapidly by Coryo's fast paced movements. Oh God, if you weren't bracing yourself by holding onto your bed frame your head would've been driven thru the thin wooden wall by now.

The cool metal of his dog tags dangles against your back as Coryo hunches over you, possessing your body for his pleasure. He's plowing roughly into you from behind, working both of you up to your orgasms.

He's panting and sweat’s beading his brow as he grits out, “I'm gonna cum, baby.” Feeling your cunt clamping and clenching around his cock, he orders, "You better cum too.”

One, two, three more rough thrusts and Coryo's biting into the crook of your neck, causing you to cry out a strangled sob as your final orgasm of the night hits you hard. His hand falls from your mouth and slips down to lightly squeeze your throat, as he shoots thick, hot ropes of cum deep into your cunt.

Instead of pulling out, he languidly snaps his hips; lazily fucking his seed into your womb.

“Shit, baby, think I just knocked you up?” He asks while gently strumming his thumb against the side of your throat while still keeping a loose grip around it. “You're gonna look so sexy, full and swollen with my baby.”

What the hell? He wants a baby?! Oh boy…Oh no…Oh boy…You weren't expecting to hear that. Suddenly you feel like you're sinking, that everything’s too much and you can't keep yourself afloat. Tears start to spill down your cheeks since you feel overwhelmed by everything.

Coryo stops his lazy movements and lets his now softening cock (which is still big) slip out of your abused hole. He smugly smirks as he watches a slight trickle of red tinted cum slowly falling from your cunt. His chest burns with pride as he sees the red smears on your thighs and his cock- the proof that he took your innocence. That you belong to him and only him from this moment forward.

Coriolanus realized that he pushed you too hard for your first time as he watched your body shaking with sobs. Sighing, he pries your hands off of your headboard and positions the two of you to lay on your bed under the thin blanket, your body tucked into his with your head resting on his chest.

“I know, baby. I know, it was a bit intense, but don't cry.” Coryo told you, wiping your tears away with the rough pad of this thumb. Rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back, he lovingly cooed, “You did such a good job taking what I gave, baby girl.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he did some damage control with a half-hearted apology of, “I'm sorry I pushed you so hard, Y/N. I just love you so much; got caught in the moment.” Softly stroking your cheek, he assured you, “I'll never do anything to purposely hurt you, my darling rose. I've just never been with a virgin before; forgot that you needed a softer touch once things got heated.”

You just nod your head and let Coryo calm you down; lull you into a dreamless sleep wrapped up in his arms.

Your brother, Rein, passed out a few feet from the door as soon as he stumbled into the house. He was so drunk on moonshine that it's a miracle he even made it home before passing out on the street. Which he's done a handful of times before.

Ashlie on the other hand was as sober as a judge and made her way to the bedroom she shares with your brother just fine. Only problem is that her bed’s pressed up against the wall that separates your bedrooms. Hell, your bed and her bed are actually against the same wall.

So, while your brother, Rein, was passed out on the floor snoring in a pile of his own drool (and most likely puke) his girlfriend, Ashlie, was stuck lying awake in bed listening to your platinum blonde peacekeeper boyfriend roughly fuck you and degrade you. It made the barmaid uncomfortable; made her feel bad for you. She feels like you deserve someone better than a peacekeeper that just views you as an easy piece of ass. So, she knows that tomorrow morning she needs to confront you about Coryo; make you a cup of bitter herb tea too- cause gods forbid you fall pregnant with Private Snow's bastard.

Except there's just one problem with Ashlie's assumption. Private Coriolanus Snow doesn't view you as an easy piece of ass; instead he views you as his soulmate. As the future mother of his children; the beautiful girl that he's going to marry and make his First Lady Snow.

To Coryo you're his girl and nothing's going to change that. Now that he's popped your cherry he's never letting you go. The devil himself couldn't tear the two of you apart.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @preteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

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bsverryin · 9 months

Text

: ̗̀➛ How Genshin men talks about you as their s/o

Who?

╰┈➤ Diluc, Xiao, Childe, Alhaitham,Kazuha, Zhongli

Situation?

╰┈➤ how would they describe you

✎ HEADCANONS ONLY!! this headcanon is gonna be my way to show my appreciations for all of you and for the people who has the words of affirmation as their love language, I'm really grateful that you guys read my stories <;3 enjoyy

Diluc doesn't like to talk much, but if he hears his friends or customers talking about you, he will listen and correct them if they are wrong. It makes him glad to know he isn't the only one who thinks you're talented and lovely. "How would you describe Y/n? Master Diluc?" A costumer asked, He turned to look at the costumer, It was Diluc's free time. "Y/n?" He giggled right when you came into his mind. "Y/n is lovely, she makes me forget all the things I needed to do as when I'm by her side, it seems as if I've achieved whatever I wanted. No, I'm mistaken; I don't simply like her to want her; I need her. My entire existence revolves entirely on Y/n and only Y/n."

Zhongli was writing while sipping his coffee, He missed writing and you're in front of him waiting for him to finish whatever he was writing, you admired him for a while. "I'm finished, shall we go?" He said. "I thought you're gonna read me the thing that you were writing." He smiled and gave it to you, you opened the note revealing a pretty hand writing and pretty words. "Every time I touch her, I'm caressing a star, every time I speak to her, I'm speaking to a divine. If she ever was a god, worshipping her wouldn't be enough."

Alhaitham is quite different. He talks typically directly most of the time, but when it comes to you, he becomes cautious with his words so he doesn't say something that could hurt you. "How often do you think of Ms Y/n?" An akademian asked, it was for their research. It wasn't hard persuading alhaitham to answer them because he loved talking about you. "There is no day where I don't think of her, I had no idea I was capable of the word love; she encourages me to do better. Every time I look at Y/n, I see a bright future for her, while she is my future."

Kazuha admires you in every way possible and when it comes to talking about you, he'll make you into an art form with his poetry and pick the right words. "What did you feel when you first saw Ms. Y/n?" A kid around inazuma asked. The kid was really impressed with your love story together. "I knew from the moment I met her in a warm bay of sunlight that she was sun, the sun that I sought as I could feel her warmth. I owe every one of my smiles to Y/n."

Xiao is also not a great talker; he prefers to keep everything private, but when he does speak, he has a talent for choosing the proper words for you. "Y/n is really pretty! Right?" A person beside him said. "Right." His tone softened "I was used to darkness till I met Y/n, she didn't want me to be in the dark all the time, she'd offer me light, I hope she knows that she is the light herself."

Childe He loves to hear your name, especially when his other friends mention you and how well you two look together. He always talks about how you complete him and have changed him for the better, childe would never get tired of talking about you expect that it's gonna be cheesy, that's how he express his love. "What is Y/N to you?" A friend of him asked. "Y/n is the person I want to spend my future with; she's an artist herself, and she enjoys showing me her arts. I didn't know someone was capable of making an art while being an art herself."

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archangeldyke-all · 4 months

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Ok, hear me out... Sevika×Stripclub owner

Imagine Sevika got dragged into going to the club with a couple of co-workers one night.

The music is bopping, the lights are moody yet energetic, and there are dancers everywhere. Cigars, snazzy drinks, glitz and glam, just the works. But the only person who caught her eye was the peeved owner talking numbers with an investor over at the bar.

I'm sorry if this is weird. Thank you!!!

gonna change this just a bit and make reader the club mom (basically the person who takes care of the strippers, provides dinner, supplies, makes sure nobody steals their cash while they're working, breaks up fights, helps them with hair/makeup etc. etc.) just because i know more about it than club owning-- i used to watch club mom vlogs lmaooo

men and minors dni

crystal comes running into the back room, a panicked look in her eye. you glance up from cherry's nails to look at her.

"what's goin' on crys?" you ask. crystal runs to her locker.

"silco and his crew just came in! i gotta put on something sexier... these fucks got big fuckin' money!" she explains as she strips out of her bikini top. you raise an eyebrow.

"oh yeah?" you ask, returning your focus to cherry's signature red nails.

"you got any nipple pasties for sale?" she asks. you nod and wave her over.

"blow on these for a sec." you say to cherry. she nods, holding her nails up to her mouth, and you grab your duffel bag, hoisting it up onto the table and rifling through it.

"got some bedazzled ones, a few hearts of different colors, then the normal black and flesh colored ones." you say.

"oooh, sparkles! and i can wear my glittery thong with 'em!" cherry says. you chuckle, pulling out a pair of matching pasties for her and handing them over. "thanks, mom, i'll pay you back tonight!" she says, running back to the mirrors lining the walls to put her new outfit on.

cherry snorts across from you. "what?" you ask her as you return to coating her nails.

"you got no fucking clue who silco is, do you?" she asks. you giggle and shrug.

"it's not my job to care about customers, it's my job to care about you guys." you say. "who is he?" you ask.

"some shimmer dealer. he's gay, he just comes to ogle the bouncers, but he's got a big crew who love the girls-- he brings 'em all in after successful raids and stuff. they're all big spenders. 'specially his number two." cherry explains. you curse as you accidentally get some polish on her skin, reaching for a cotton ball and some remover.

"who's his number two?" you ask as you fix your mistake. cherry reaches into your duffel to grab a piece of gum, and you glare at her. she winks at you.

"sevika." she says around a mouthful. "she's popular at babette's too." cherry says. you nod.

"well, your nails are all done-- ready for sevika." you say. cherry giggles.

"thanks mom." she says, kissing your cheek before she saunters out onto the floor.

you groan, stretching and working the kinks out of your neck before you leave the locker room to do a lap around the club.

it's much more lively than it was thirty minutes ago, and you can easily identify silco sitting at the bar, cringing as three of your girls try to flirt with him to get him to buy a dance. you chuckle, approaching star to whisper in her ear.

"easy on 'im, he doesn't swing your way." you murmur. star snorts, then giggles and repeats your message to candy and shelly.

you watch as they all chuckle awkwardly at silco and wave him goodbye, and he seems beyond relieved to watch them walk away, his gaze wandering over to look at jimmy standing behind the stage, glaring at the patrons who get a little too close to kelli where she swings on the pole. you chuckle, and continue your round.

"how's it goin' mom?" trinity asks from behind the bar. you shrug.

"pretty good, how's it goin' out here?" you ask. trinity sighs.

"silco's goons always drink us dry. good for tips, but i'm gonna be exhausted by the end of the night." she says. you hum.

"did you get some dinner?" you ask. trinity rolls her eyes at you, smiling.

"yes, mom." she says. you nod.

"good. come get me if you need a break, i can take over the bar for a few minutes if you need a second to yourself." you say. trinity smiles.

"thanks mom, love you!" she calls after you.

you chuckle and roll your eyes.

just as you're about to return to your perch in the locker rooms, a scuffle breaks out.

frosty and buttercup are fighting over patron, smacking and pulling at eachother's hair. you groan and run over to get between them, hooking an arm around buttercup's waist and pulling her away from frosty.

"this bitch was takin' my money, mom!" buttercup screams.

"i was not, i was here first!" frosty cries.

the woman on the chair between them holds up her hands in a placating gesture. "i got enough for both of you, relax!" she cries. she goes ignored as buttercup lunges at frosty again.

"she pulled my hair outta my head, and she broke two of my fuckin' nails, she owes me!"

"stupid bitch, we all know those are extensions!"

"oh my fucking god, shut up!" you cry.

the girls both stop yelling, huffing and puffing in anger. you take a second to clear your head, then look at the woman still sitting in the lounge chair beneath you. she looks shocked.

"who was here first?" you ask. she points at frosty. "did you buy a dance from her?" you ask.

"n-no ma'am." she says. you sigh.

"who'd you give money to?" the woman points at buttercup.

"and that bitch tried to steal it from me when i wasn't looking!"

"'cause you keep trying to steal my customers!" frosty cries.

you look at frosty and hold your palm out. "give it." you say.

frosty gasps. "mom, come on!" she cries.

"just give me the fuckin' money frosty." you plea. frosty rolls her eyes then pulls the folded bull from between her tits, smacking it in your open palm. you sigh. "thank you." you say. she just rolls her eyes and turns on her heel, stomping off to find a new customer. you turn to look at buttercup.

"you've gotta stop provoking her." you say. buttercup shrugs.

"she shouldn't've fucked my man." she says. you groan.

"you shouldn't've been with jimmy in the first fuckin' place! you know he's a slut!" you say. buttercup groans.

"am i gettin' my money or what?" she asks. you shake your head.

"no, fuck off. go find someone else." you say. buttercup scoffs and turns on her heel, storming in the opposite direction of frosty. you take a deep breath, then look at the woman sitting in front of you.

"here." you say, handing her her cash. she takes it, blinking up at you with wide eyes. "sorry about that. tell trinity at the bar there that mom says you get free drinks for the night. she'll take care of you." you say to the woman. she looks over her shoulder at the bar and then back at you.

"y-you're her mom?" she asks. you laugh.

"fuck no, shit, do i look that old?" you ask, looking down at yourself.

you're in your usual get up, a bedazzled black velour tracksuit one of the girls gifted you for your birthday and a club t-shirt beneath it. the woman in front of you chuckles and shakes her head.

"no, you look fuckin' amazing, i was gonna be shocked if you said yes. why do they call you mom?" she asks. you laugh.

"i'm the club mom. i take care of the girls, break up fights the bouncers are too scared to get between." you joke. the woman in front of you laughs.

"that makes more sense. i'm sevika." she says, reaching her hand out for you to take. you shake it.

"oooh, i've heard about you. big spender, huh?" you ask. sevika laughs and shrugs again.

"yeah, i... i've been trying to cut back a bit." she says. "thinkin' about settling down." you laugh.

"you're in the wrong place for that." you say. she laughs and nods. "well, have a good night." you say, waving over your shoulder as you walk back to the locker rooms.

trinity takes you up on your offer a few hours later, tapping out for fifteen minutes to lay down in the back while you mix up drinks for her behind the bar.

sevika comes to visit you as you work.

"single mom and a bartender, huh?" she asks. you roll you eyes and snort at her joke.

"what're you having?" you ask. she shrugs.

"whiskey, neat."

you quickly pour her a glass of whiskey from the top shelf. as you hand it to her she grins.

"top shelf, huh?" she asks. you shrug.

"it's an apology for my girls." you say. "hope tonight's scuffle won't affect your impression of the club."

"are you kidding? it was hot as fuck!" she says. you laugh.

"yeah, i guess it was a pretty good show for you huh? tits swinging in your face while they were throwing punches."

"no, fuck no, i wasn't talkin' about them, i was talkin' about you." sevika says. you freeze.

"me?" you ask. sevika grins.

"fuck yes. you jumped right between 'em-- even with their claws flyin'-- threw that one girl halfway across the club too."

you laugh. "i barely moved her a foot." you say. sevika shrugs.

"'m just sayin'. gotta break up a lotta fights at silco's bar, but i've never broken up a catfight. girls are scary when they get the claws out-- they don't fight like guys. they go straight for the weak spots-- hair, eyes, throats. best to leave 'em til they fizzle out. you didn't though. jumped right in-- broke it up in half a minute."

you scoff. "fuck off." you say, shaking your head. sevika smiles at you from across the bar.

"you don't believe me?"

"that you found me, the fully clothed woman, more attractive than the naked girls fighting for your attention? no, i don't." you say, laughing. sevika just smirks.

"i've had plenty of naked girls fighting for my attention." she says. you snort.

"i'm sure."

"never seen a girl with balls like yours, though." she says.

you consider her for a moment. she's grinning, a sparkle in her eye as she looks you up and down, biting her lip between her teeth.

trinity finds you to take over before you can do much more talking with sevika.

it's probably for the best. she's your type, sure, but you doubt she was serious about all that 'settle down' bullshit.

the night goes by relatively smoothly after that. there's a few broken nails you glue back together, a few wardrobe malfunctions, a couple of spats you have to break up, but nothing like buttercup and frosty's.

as you're helping the girls count and band their earnings for the night, cherry finds you again, sitting by your side, resting her head on your shoulder.

"what's wrong with you?" you ask.

"am i gettin' old?" she asks. you look over at her to scoff. cherry's barely a year younger than you.

"you better not be, because that means i'm gettin' old."

cherry laughs. "am i ugly? getting fat?" she asks. you gawk at her.

"fuck is goin' on with you?" you ask your redheaded friend. she shrugs.

"sevika barely looked at me tonight. i'm usually her favorite." she says.

"no shit, really? she didn't buy any dances from me tonight, either." star says from where she's changing into her sweats.

"you guys talkin' about sevika?" shelly asks as she enters the locker room. star nods. "my sister works at babette's. hasn't seen sevika in weeks. asked her about it tonight, she says she's cutting back."

"who sevika?" mandy asks. you all nod. "she didn't spend a fuckin' cent tonight. bitch."

the girls laugh, and you shake your head in faux admonishment.

by the time you're clocking out, you're exhausted. you groan as you step into the back alley, a joint between your lips, patting down your pockets in search for your lighter.

"there you are, mom." sevika says, shrouded in shadow.

you jump and whip around to glare at her. she chuckles. "sorry. need a light?" she offers. you sigh, leaning against the wall as sevika reaches forward and sparks her lighter at the end of your joint, before leaning against the wall beside you.

"you just lurk in alleys for fun?" you ask.

"nah. i asked one of the girls where i could find you after work. wanted to talk to you some more." she says. you chuckle.

"talk about what? how you spent the whole night loitering? not paying my girls?" you ask. sevika chuckles.

"i told you i was trying to cut back."

"why the fuck would you come to a strip club, then?" you ask. she groans.

"silco insists we all come. team bonding, or some shit." she says. you laugh.

"it's common courtesy to tip your favorite girls if you spend the night in the club, even if you didn't buy a dance." you say. she nods.

"i know." she says. "i was planning on it, but kinda got distracted." she says.

"with the fight?" you ask, cringing as you remember the way buttercup and frosty acted earlier in the evening.

"no, with you." she says. your eyes snap up to look at sevika. she shrugs. "you still don't believe me?"

"i-i dunno." you say. she laughs.

"i--" she sighs, looking away from you and rubbing the back of her neck. "fuck this is embarrassing." she mutters. you blink at her as she struggles for her words, and then pass her your joint. "fuck, thank you." she says sincerely as she takes a big hit. she exhales and passes it back to you, then looks at her feet. "i'm-- i had a near death experience a few months ago and it got me thinkin' about my life. i figured i should start-- i dunno, takin' shit more seriously, you know?" she asks. you blink and nod at her.

"sure." you say, nodding.

"so i started cutting back. 'm down to a cigarette a day. try to drink only on weekends. haven't been to babette's in a while. and tonight, i figured i'd let loose a bit-- indulge. it's fucking boring getting your shit together and living healthy and shit. i was really hoping to get wasted and stare at tits all night." she says. you chuckle.

"so why didn't you?" you ask.

sevika blinks at you, a sparkle in her eye. "i met you instead." she says. you raise a skeptical eyebrow at her.

"so?" you ask. she grins.

"so... you're not fuckin' boring at all, are you?" she asks. you laugh.

"i wrangle a buncha girls for a living because i wasn't hot enough to be a stripper myself." you say. sevika chuckles. "when nights are slow, i sit in the back and read. when i'm off work, i sleep and read. i'm boring as shit."

"and yet, for some reason, i wanted to talk to you more than i wanted to stare at tits and get blasted tonight." she says.

you bite your cheek, trying to hold back your smile. sevika grins at you.

"fuck off." you say. she chuckles.

"are you free tomorrow?" she asks. you blink at her.

"for what?"

"a date?" she asks. you blink again.

"you're... serious?" you ask. sevika laughs, reaching up to gently cup your cheek. your stomach flips.

"you're starting to get it." she says, smiling. you blink. "so?" she asks.

"i'm free." you say. sevika grins.

"cool." she says.

"c-cool." you say. sevika's eyes dart down to your lips, and you gulp.

"it would be weird if i tipped you, right?" she asks. you burst into laughter, and sevika's smile widens. "i mean, you were the girl that caught my eye tonight-- it's common courtesy to tip you, right?" she asks, chuckling. you snort, smacking her shoulder.

"fuck off!" you exclaim. sevika giggles.

"so that's a no?" she asks.

"no." you say, shaking your head. "don't tip me."

"hm." sevika pouts. "well... is there any other way i could show you how fucking attractive and alluring i find you before our date?" she asks, her voice husky and low, her eyes pinned to your lips. you stop laughing, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"fuck off." you whisper. sevika smiles, and you slowly, slowly lean forward, until your lips are a breath away from sevika's. she shivers.

"please." she whispers. you smile, and then close the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips against hers. she sighs against you, her free hand coming up to grab your waist, and you shudder, grabbing her shoulders in your hands as you deepen the kiss.

sevika groans against you, stepping closer to you, pinning you to the wall as she runs her tongue over your bottom lip. you gasp, and she hums, and the back door to the club slams open.

"mom, do you know where the extra baby wipes-- oh shit!" cherry exclaims.

sevika clears her throat as she steps away from you, and you roll your eyes.

"top shelf in the closet." you say. cherry giggles.

"shit, get it mom!" she exclaims. you sigh, and sevika chuckles. "oh, the girls are gonna love this! hey candy! guess what?" cherry calls over her shoulder as she turns to enter the club again, a giddy grin on her face.

you groan, rolling your eyes. sevika smiles at you.

"so... tomorrow? she asks.

you sigh, then nod. "tomorrow." you agree.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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secretwritingspot · 4 months

Text

Blurb #2: Handle Yourself

Pairing: Shanks X Reader (OPLA or OG, up to you really)

Rating/Content Warnings: pg-13ish? No actual suggestive content, but there is suggestive language.

Summary: being a barmaid, your career necessitates dealing with creeps. This is one such case- but this time, Shanks and the rest of the Red Force are there as witness.

Disclaimer(s): creepy guy being creepy, reader is stated a woman in this, some suggestive humor. Other than that pretty light.

Empty days ticked on long, but busy nights were longer.

So was the life of a barmaid- sit around busying yourself with maintenance and cleaning in the lonely hours of the day when it was still too early for most to drink, boredom seeping through every pore.

Night brought customers at 6 or 7 and chaos after 8. The kind of chaos that made you miss the mornings, though when the morning really came you knew that would change, too.

Always wanting for the other, never satisfied with this. Greener grass, and all that.

This time, it was a busy night.

Rowdy drunkards, the townsmen no better than the pirates, shouted and sang and tripped over their feet to call you over, sometimes for unsuccessful propositions and other times for more booze. Those were more pleasant, the ones who didn't want anything from you but more booze.

At least they kept to their own. Most didn't.

Most felt the need to grace you with their presence, and very few had one that was actually tolerable. Those few, you cherished.

“Hey, love! Come have a drink with us, rest your feet!”

Speak of the devil, and a red-haired man shall appear with a bafflingly quickly emptied mug and a bright, boyish smile, waving at you as enthusiastically as if you were a passing ship and not a regular person about 4 feet away from him, at most.

You roll your eyes but the rest of your face won't seem to listen to you, lips quirking into a smile.

“Some of us have jobs, Shanks,” you throw back, a dry observation that sounds a little more fond than you meant it to.

You almost wished he would wave you off with a glare or a muttered diatribe about you being a bitch like the majority of the men who came through your bar did when you turned them down. It would be easier to understand.

Instead, he throws his head back and laughs. Pretty. Genuine. Too fucking free for your liking. Jealousy inducing. In a day's time, he could be halfway across the world.

He probably would.

“Aww, c'mon- that's hardly fair!”

“You should know better than to annoy the person serving your drinks.”

Yassop cackles at that as Shanks shakes his head like a dejected puppy. Though he's trying to look upset, he can't hold back his grin for long. It's not even a moment before he's back to laughing again, smacking Lucky Rou’s shoulder.

“Hear that, boys? She's gonna poison me!”

You fight back the smile twitching at your face as you refill their drinks. It doesn't work very well.

“I was implying I'd spit in your drink, actually.”

You know it's a mistake the moment you say it, mischievous glint lighting in his eyes as his grin goes wide, wolfish.

“Well, I don't see why a gift like that should be a threat-”

“Stop talking while you still can.”

And he does, hands up placatingly. The smug look never leaves his face. Bastard.

The moment breaks abruptly when the door slams open and you're back to business mode- standing straighter, customer-service smile on.

“Hi, welcome to Open River! Take a seat if you can find one and pick your poison.”

He looks you up and down slowly, this new man, not budging an inch for the fraction of a second you can see him appraising you. It's hardly noticable, really.

But you notice. You've learned to notice.

He grunts a response and makes his way to the bar and you take a specific kind of breath - a Lord, give me strength kind of breath - before following him back.

Shanks’ eyes never leave you, but they're no longer smiling. His teeth are, but not his eyes. None of the rest of his crew notice the man much, or the way he looks at you, only that Something Is Wrong With The Captain.

This is the other kind of pirate.

“Whiskey.”

He speaks in growls and bare exhalations of breath. Never more than three words at a time.

It is not a question.

You slide the drink over to him and keep the plastic smile on your face - the one you hope says daughter, sister, long-lost dead wife. Someone he could know and maybe, in that different way that men like this do, love. His eyes are dark and blank, though they follow the flick of your hair when your ponytail swishes behind you.

This is good. It means he, too, somehow, can be swayed.

“Leave the bottle.”

He adds, cold and condescending, when you pull back. You do, and he seems sated. For now.

Despite the crawling feeling under your skin, for a while there is peace. The man drinks in relative silence, compared to the rest. The Red-Haired Pirates call you over frequently - at least once every five minutes, you think - but they take the no every time it's given. You get the feeling from the looks on their faces that they know you really would like to join them, but this is a job and this is your shift and shift ends at closing.

You cannot drink with them, but if you spend more time on your feet walking the space by their tables than you do behind the actual bar, it's no one's business but yours.

There's no rule against talking to patrons, after all. Some might even say it made you a good hostess.

The problem is, you let yourself get wrapped up in it.

You don't even notice when the other man empties his bottle. Instead, you go behind the bar for the Red Force’s umpteenth request of a refill, happier to provide it than you're willing to admit.

“In a minute, boys!”

In all honesty, your world had largely narrowed down to that warm bubble of companionship around Shanks and his crew’s table. You didn't even see anyone else, instead hurrying to get them a new bottle with a smile on your face. You only snap back into it when you collide with a wall.

Man. A man, not a wall.

The man from before is not taller than Shanks (and really, since when had he become your go-to comparison?) but he is taller than you.

“I'm all out.”

“Ah- my mistake, sir, I apologize-”

Your words and the accompanying giggle are nervous, as stilted and off-balance as you feel in the present moment.

This, apparently, is not enough. You hand him the bottle in hopes of placating him, and for a moment you think you've done it. Then, after taking it from you with a truly off-putting smile you think is meant to be grateful, he grabs your wrist.

Your heart suddenly feels too loud and the bar too quiet.

You liked him better when he wasn't smiling.

“C'mon, little lady. Drink with me.”

“I'm sorry, but I really can't.”

It's a different kind of rejection than the one you gave Shanks and the rest of the crew. Shanks seems to have noticed, too, from the look he's giving you.

For once, a man looking at you makes you feel safer than you did before.

You try to return his gaze with one that says both ‘I'll be alright’ and ‘please keep watch just in case’.

“Aww, I'm sure you can-”

“She said she's busy, man.”

The interjection is decisive and flat, a not-so-subtle hint of a threat. This time, the bar really does go quiet. For one, short moment, everything is silence. The rest of the crew seems to realize exactly what had Shanks so upset in the first place and you can see them exchanging glances. Exchanging a plan. You glare back.

“I can handle myself, Shanks.”

You turn back to the man, who smiles like this is some sort of victory. You know his face is about to go sour before you see it happen.

“I'd appreciate it if you'd let go of me now.”

The words are terse and cold and exactly what he doesn't want to hear. You see him snarl and his new bottle tip over above your head and in a flash it happens, over far sooner than anyone would expect.

Your hand is in the hair at the back of his neck, wound tight into the strands. Your knee is in his stomach. There's a crack when his forehead hits the bar in a slam as you double him over, and he goes down without the fight you'd expect from a man his size.

He drops like a man who hasn't slept in days.

A few men on the crew whistle, others cheer. It's different when it's coming from them, you decide, and you find yourself grinning at the response.

You wipe the look off your face as quickly as you can and grab a new bottle, heading back to their table like originally intended.

You do not bother stepping over the other pirate.

When you make it to the table their drunken cheering has largely dissolved, but when they take the time to look at you they're quickly in giggles again. You can't place why.

Shanks looks at you with a raised brow as you approach, amused glint in his eyes, something suggestive in his gaze. You can't place exactly what for, but you're sure he'll tell you soon enough.

“So. Handle yourself, can you?”

His eyes go pointedly down to your chest and you squint in confusion, following them with your own. Perhaps this is why the others are giggling, perhaps-

Oh.

Oh, yeah. That.

You hadn't really processed it during the scuffle- the sudden coldness, the damp, sticky feeling that wasn't sweat.

The man with the full bottle that was now suspiciously empty on the floor next to him.

When you look down to find your white shirt soaked with booze, black bra (because of course you'd chosen black today) starkly visible under the now practically transparent, soaked fabric that clung to your skin, you feel a feeling that shouldn't be surprise but is anyway. Your face tinges pink.

When your eyes go back up to meet his, about half of the crew have hands slapped over their mouths to muffle laughter. Shanks’ face is still drawn in a smirk.

“It looks good on you.”

#red-haired shanks #shanks x reader #opla shanks #opla shanks x reader #opla #opla x reader #shanks x you #opla shanks x you #opla x you #one piece #one piece live action #one piece x reader #one piece x you #opla x y/n #opla shanks x y/n #shanks x y/n

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anonymous-dentist · 1 month

Text

Part Three of the Catboy in the Village AU

Part One | Part Two

Cellbit has been in and out of several prisons in his life. He's no stranger to captivity, he knows how it works. He knows how the system works, and he's not expecting the queen to be any better than any of his previous wardens.

...Still. It's kind of nice to be given a cell with an actual bed in it. With bedsheets- silk, probably, they're soft. And a rug on the marble floor to keep the chill away. And bookshelves. With books in them. Interesting-looking books, too: mysteries, judging by the titles, and ones he didn't have access to back home due to Gato Kingdom customs laws.

But, like. Fuck the queen. She kidnapped him and his husband, she's currently working on kidnapping their children, and she doesn't seem keen to give Cellbit and Roier any chance to escape.

The cell- a bedroom, Roier had called it, but, really, it's a cell- doesn't have any windows. The door is unlocked, but there are two guards outside who are apparently supposed to follow Cellbit and-slash-or Roier wherever they go.

There are clothes in the wardrobe that are clearly recycled from some other member of Gato royalty. They're all finer than anything Cellbit has ever known, and he thinks he'd rather die than wear them.

Roier, though? He's not happy about being kidnapped, and he's even less happy about not having anything to protect himself and Cellbit with, but he seems happy enough about the 'lost prince' treatment that Cellbit's getting.

"When we escape, we're bringing the clothes with us," Roier decides on night two of their forced stay in the castle.

They're in bed, Roier wrapped protectively around Cellbit's back and holding him so tightly that Cellbit's ribs hurt. It's close to midnight, but neither of them can sleep, because how can they sleep when their kids are an entire kingdom away?

Cellbit quietly laughs. "Yeah? How?"

"You'll carry them."

"Oh, will I?"

"Yes, obviously. I have to have my arms free for fighting."

Roier's breath ghosts over the back of Cellbit's neck. It's warm, and Roier is warm, and the blankets are warm, and it all feels so cozy and yet so wrong. The bed is too nice. The bed is too big. The room is too big. Roier's clothes are too soft. It's too quiet, where is all the noise?

The entire time that Cellbit has been in the castle, these past two days, he has seen a handful of people: a few guards, a total of two servants, and, of course, the queen. But she's been too busy trying to rebuild her kingdom to bother with the men she's had kidnapped, and Cellbit hasn't seen much of her outside of the meals he and Roier are dragged to twice a day.

The queen is... interesting. She's a total piece of shit and Cellbit kind of hates her more than he can describe, but she refuses to be addressed by any of the usual titles; she keeps correcting her knights when they call her anything but 'Bagi', and she looks two seconds away from murder every time Cellbit calls her 'your highness'. She seems to actually care about her kingdom, which is a marked difference from her parents, and she spends all day locked in her study in the tallest of the castle's towers working on... queen stuff. Whatever it is she does, Cellbit doesn't know. He isn't royalty, he's an alchemist. This is all foreign to him.

"Who says we need to fight?" Cellbit asks. "Maybe they'll just... let us go when they figure out they've got the wrong Cellbit."

"Mm, maybe. Or, hear me out, I knock out a guard, steal their sword, and then I carry you out of here. Easy."

Cellbit imagines it. He smiles as his imaginary Roier spontaneously becomes shirtless mid-escape.

He snuggles back into his real shirtless husband's chest with a happy little trill. His trill becomes a proper purr as one of Roier's hands trails up and into Cellbit's hair, landing at the base of his ears and scratching lightly. His eyes slip shut, and his back arches, and he loves his husband so much! He's so sweet even when he's the victim of a kidnapping, he's literally the perfect man.

"Aww, gatinho," Roier coos. "You are the prince... of my heart."

Gods, that's cheesy.

Cellbit loves him.

"That... doesn't even make... sense..." Cellbit murmurs, voice obscured by his purring.

Roier sighs dramatically: "Fine, you're the king of my heart. Better?"

"Mmmmmmmm."

Roier chuckles fondly. "Mhmm, I see, yes, yes."

Cellbit bats a hand in the vague direction of Roier's face. He doesn't make contact, but that's fine. He'd rather die than hurt Roier, even playfully.

A kiss plants itself between Cellbit's ears. He melts, all thoughts evaporating outside of warm and Roier. Warmoier...

(The room doesn't have a window, so neither of them see the faint green light surrounding the castle.)

He's jerked back into his body as the entire castle shakes and rattles to the point of books falling off of their shelves. He's nearly tossed out of bed, only staying in bed thanks to Roier.

Cellbit immediately tries sitting up, but Roier pulls him back down with a hissed, "Be careful!"

"We'll be safer on the floor," Cellbit huffs. "Come on."

He drags Roier off of the bed and, together, they huddle beneath it clinging to each other.

"This sucks," Roier complains. He grips Cellbit's arm tightly, definitely not worried about the literal earthquake they're stuck in the middle of. "We just got comfortable!"

"We can get comfortable again," Cellbit assures him.

He feels it before he hears it. His entire body recoils upon instinct, his ears pressing down against his head just as an otherworldly wail echoes up from somewhere and burrows into his very bones.

"Are you sure?" Roier asks, wide-eyed. "What the fuck? Is this place haunted?"

The wailing continues. Roier has to let go of Cellbit so he can clap his hands over his ears. Cellbit covers his own ears, but it doesn't stop the chill in his bones, and it doesn't make the sick feeling growing in his stomach go away.

"I hope it is!" Cellbit replies, his voice near a shout from how loud the wailing is. "At least it would be interesting!"

Roier rolls his eyes. "Oh, at least!"

And then, just like that, the shaking stops. The wail cuts itself off with a sob, and then it's gone.

Cellbit looks at Roier. Roier looks at Cellbit.

Slowly, Cellbit lowers his hands from his ears, though his ears don't perk back up.

"You know," he says, "I don't think the queen told us everything when she kidnapped us."

"No shit," Roier grumbles. He moves his hands from his ears to Cellbit's hands, linking their fingers together; their hands are shaking from the adrenaline, but they seem to stabilize as soon as they're holding each other.

"I bet she doesn't even think I'm the prince," Cellbit continues. He looks down at his and Roier's joined hands. "I bet we're some kind of sacrifice to whatever spirit is haunting this castle."

"That's ridiculous," Roier scoffs. "I wouldn't be a sacrifice. You, yes, but me?"

He laughs as Cellbit untangles his fingers from Roier's and crawls out from under the bed. As he does so, Roier calls out to him and grabs his ankle and tries pulling him back under. Cellbit kicks at him, and Roier bites Cellbit's ankle, and Cellbit uses his leg to pull Roier out from under the bed, and they end up pressed against each other on the rug surrounded by fallen books laughing.

Roier, on top for the moment, leans down to kiss Cellbit.

That, of course, is when their cell's door slams open and the guards stationed outside come running in with alarmed expressions on their faces.

Cellbit groans and shoots the guards a dirty look.

"Do you mind?" he snaps.

At least the guards have the decency to look ashamed as they take in Cellbit and Roier's... position.

Roier huffs out a sigh and collapses onto Cellbit's chest, laying his head on its side on Cellbit's chest so he can glare at the guards properly.

"Can we help you?" Roier asks.

"Um," says one guard, clearly blushing and absolutely mortified. "Sorry. The prince has been requested in the queen's study. Uh. Sorry. We'll just..."

She and her fellow guard awkwardly bow, and then they start slowly backing out of the cell.

They aren't alarmed by the scattered books, Cellbit notices. No mention of the earthquake or the wailing, either. This is normal, then.

Hm.

Cellbit feigns a yawn. "Well, tell her majesty that both me and my husband would like to sleep after whatever the hell that was that woke us up. Whatever it is, it can wait until the morning."

The guards freeze. They go pale, look at each other, look back to Cellbit.

Roier lifts a hand and waves it dismissively towards them. "You heard the prince, go away."

Cellbit waits until the guards are gone before pushing Roier off of him and shooting him a halfhearted glare.

"'You heard the prince'?" he asks. "Really?"

Roier shrugs innocently. "It got them to leave. Now, get back here."

He growls playfully before pouncing back onto Cellbit. He frames Cellbit's face with his hands, and then he kisses him roughly. And then he kisses him softer after Cellbit mumbles something against his lips about being tired and wanting to get back into bed.

"You're so weak," Roier teases, lips moving against Cellbit's as he speaks.

"I'm weak... for you."

Cellbit laughs as Roier groans and tears himself away to go mope his way back into the bed. He's soon to follow, and he's immediately snatched back into Roier's arms and held captive once again.

This castle may be a very nice prison, but there's no better one than Roier's arms. It is simply the best, and Cellbit should know; it's the only prison he's never tried to escape from.

______________

To be continued...

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#catboy in the village au #wow who could've guessed that ba gi is hiding things from the audience #including. a ghost? omg i wonder what this could be...#i can't wait to hear your theories in the tags

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moghedien · 2 years

Text

Lupe, Carson, and Gaydar

I've joked about the scene when Carson confronts Lupe in the gay bar constantly. It is maybe my favorite scene in the show, definitely the one I’ve rewatched the most, and it's my motivation for writing this. Because while it is an extremely funny scene, and it's very funny that Lupe seemed to be the only one that didn't realize that Carson was gay, I feel like it reveals a lot about their dynamic up until this point. I've made jokes about Lupe having a busted gaydar, because on the surface, sure, but I feel like its a lot more complicated than that.

Ignoring the scene itself for now, let’s start in the beginning-ish. Carson and Lupe don’t really interact all that much in the first episode. The one significant scene they do have is when all of the Peaches are at the bar (not the gay one), and we get the ending of a conversation they’re having. Lupe has apparently told Carson that her dad didn’t want her going there, but she went anyway. Then Carson says that she kinda ran away too. Lupe asks if that’s why she looks so different now (given her recent haircut from Greta) and Carson says she doesn’t look that different. Lupe says she does and then walks away. It's not an unpleasant conversation. There's not really anything negative going on here, and it honestly seems like Lupe is flirting at the end there. Carson doesn't really pick up on that though, and Lupe just sort of leaves and they don't really have any similar interactions after this.

This scene alone shows that while Lupe might not have straight up known that Carson was gay, she was at least willing to test the waters to see if that was a possibility. But even though their interaction here ends well, she never really attempts to flirt with Carson again. There is probably reason for that.

In the second episode, again there isn’t much in the way of interaction between the two of them. However, this is where you can begin to see that they’re in very different worlds. In fact, they’re both living in very different worlds than the majority of their team. First, let’s address Carson, and to explain Carson’s big divergence from the rest of her team, I think Greta actually explained it best.

During Charm School, it's made apparent that Carson is more or less immune to the danger that a lot of the girls are in here. Not only is she not masculine presenting like some of the girls are, she’s married. She’s not a danger to the team’s image, if anything she’s an asset. Because what better way to prove that they aren’t destroying womanhood than to have women who are not only married, but married to men currently serving in the war. Carson isn’t fucking going anywhere. Lupe on the other hand, is at risk, and she seems to know it.

She is trying to smile and give a good attitude and appearance when she's being judged.

While Jess and Fern (the girl who gets kicked out) are joking with Carson, Lupe is taking this all very seriously. You don't see her often in these scenes, but when you do, she's focused. It's almost bizarre when you notice it for the first time.

And then afterward, when they pass and the surviving Peaches are going out to eat, Lupe isn't visibly uncomfortable in the same way that Jess is. Jess is physically uneasy with herself. Lupe, maybe has some of that too, but she seems more to be trying to mentally snap out of something. As if she had to put herself in a headspace that isn't comfortable or easy for her to get out of.

Lupe isn't the only one uncomfortable after Charm School, but she definitely was one of the ones that was, where again, Carson wasn't. Carson was always safe, and she wouldn't have even realized how unsafe the others were if Greta hadn't been blunt with her about it. They are exceptions within their team, but while Carson's exceptions makes her safer, Lupe's puts her in danger.

So let's jump ahead to their first game.

So the very first game starts for Lupe with racism. Not only are they playing on racist tropes in order to get the "customers" interested in her, but they also also have to lie about her to make her more palatable. Her being Mexican isn't appealing and might actually upset people, so the league has decided to make her Spanish instead. This along with the sexism that all of the other girls received from the announcer, is what she's greeted with on her first game.

Now, maybe Carson received some sexist comments too. I'm sure she did to some extent, but she's again, married to a man currently serving at war. I don't think that she would have gotten nearly as much as the unmarried girls, especially since the announcer seems to feel the need to point out which girls are single. And she definitely didn't get any of the racism that Lupe (and probably Esti, though I don't recall a specific instance of that) got while playing. Not to mention that when the girls get their first pay checks in episode 3, Lupe and Esti are the only ones that Bev feels the need to tell this to:

For some reason they are the only two that Bev feels the need to suggest they be patriotic. I'm sure its nothing.

None of this specifically connects their relationship, but it's important background knowledge to keep in your head when looking at the next few episodes. Because this is the world that Lupe is living in when she really starts to see Carson very differently than her initial flirting.

So episode three is where you really start to see the conflict between Lupe and Carson develop, and for the most part it initially just revolves around them independently trying to deal with Dove. No one on the team seems unaware that Dove is an issue, though it seems on a surface level that Lupe doesn’t notice it, given that she appears to just goes along with everything Dove says without question. Even the other girls think that Lupe is “up Dove’s ass” and would rat them out if she knew they were doing secret practices, so they don’t tell her. They all exclude her. Even Esti. Even Jess. And she knows that she’s being excluded from something because she wakes up for breakfast and nobody is there.

Now, the secret practice itself isn’t entirely Carson’s doing. They all came up with the idea more or less together and went along with it, but Carson is the only other one on the team that is seen trying to deal with the Dove problem (outside of Jo telling him something and him lashing out on her). Her initial attempt was to give him a conversation pie. Now to literally anyone with eyeballs who isn't experiencing this show through Carson's point of view, it would look like Carson is sucking up to him. This is after Greta repeatedly made jokes about Dove being her “daddy,” and making Carson reveal that she and Dove have talked privately. So, Carson looks like she’s sucking up to Dove. Not only that, she made him a fucking pie. Can you get more stereotypically conservative American housewife than making someone a pie and then trying to talk to them about some problems you want them to fix.

Let’s talk about Lupe’s reaction to Dove. Lupe is not comfortable with Dove, but like Charm School, she sees it as something she just has to get through. If you think she likes Dove, let’s look at her initial reaction to when Dove gave her the nickname that sticks with her for the rest of the season.

Dove just says a bunch of racist stuff to her face (after indicating that she would be the keeper of his legacy, of course) and then goes on with the interview. Lupe is visibly upset by this, and looks to the other two authority figures that could stop Dove, and she gets told to keep smiling. So she nods, and continues to smile through the interview while Dove strokes his own ego.

Lupe does not like this man. Lupe tells the reporter that she’s just excited to get some in before Dove interrupts her, and reminds them all that they’re here to talk about him. So it's made clear to Lupe that the way to get through this is with Dove. So Lupe sticks with Dove. Early on, maybe she could have been convinced to go against him some, but why would she go against him later on? When the other girls did so, they specifically left her out.

Lupe injures herself doing Dove’s stupid pitch because she’s not given any other way to make it for herself except through Dove, because her own teammates excluded her. There might have been ways to get through to her if they’d tried, but they didn’t. So now Lupe has to double down and stick with Dove’s plans entirely because its the only one.

Now, let’s think of some of the reasons why Lupe might think she has been left out. She might realize she’s “up Dove’s ass.” Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. But Carson made him a fucking pie to butter him up. She’s looks like she's up Dove's ass too and she went to the secret practices. So what else could there be? She’s not the only Hispanic person in the house who’s whiteness and patriotism is actively questioned. Esti went to the practice. And she’s not the only visibly queer person. She is however, the only one that hits all of these "faults." Others might be different, but Lupe is too different. At least, she is if you're someone who would be bothered by different things.

We the audience know that this isn’t why Lupe was excluded. But why would Lupe know that? Especially when Esti eventually outs Carson as the person behind the practices. Regardless of whether or not it's actually her doing entirely, she’s the one that gets pointed to, and you know what, that would just make sense, wouldn’t it.

Little Miss American housewife with the army husband, from a farm in the country excluding Lupe specifically. When Lupe gets injured, Carson is the one that jumps on benching her. Carson seems to be the one isolating her from the team, and is now trying to get her off it. Unlike that first night in the bar, now Lupe would be well aware that Carson is married with her husband at war. That she’s from a farm (not really but ya know). Lupe doesn’t know about Carson’s internal goings on. She doesn’t know about her getting close to Greta or any of the others that might be queer. Lupe sees her own experiences with Carson and has figured out who Carson is: a typical white conservative housewife from rural America that would turn her ass in the second she had a reason to. Genuinely, why would Lupe think anything else of her at this point? She hasn't been able to see any other side of Carson.

So jumping forward quite a bit to when Dove leaves. Lupe has up until this point been doing everything that she was “supposed” to do and gets rewarded by most of the team picking Carson over her as the coach. Lupe was the one that stuck with Dove like management wanted and Carson was the one that lead the coup against him, yet Carson gets rewarded. Wonder why?

This entire time, tensions between them increase. When they’re playing the night game and trying to call out the cheating, Carson gives some stupid speech about what her soldier husband would want. Lupe actually knows the rules and gets something done about it. Carson is given authority because she’s the token white married woman on the team (except maybe Terri but ignore Terri we have no idea if she’s actually married). She’s the safe one. Lupe ticks too many boxes on why she isn’t acceptable despite doing everything right.

Then, we have Greta making things a bit worse.

Here we have Greta just sticking her beautiful birdlike neck in where it shouldn't be in order to try to stick up for her girlfriend. Lupe doesn’t know they’re together or even that they're gay. She probably doesn’t even know they’re friends because of how discreet they've been trying to be. She just sees Greta confirming that she’s known all along. Carson is the poster girl. Lupe is the one that’s too much. After Greta leaves, she angrily and sarcastically asks “Why’s that?” and then beats her hat against the post when Carson leaves. The woman is at a breaking point.

And then the fight happens.

It’s the fucking hick comment that convinced me, really.

Lupe tells Carson that she hasn’t been able to play because of her, because yeah, from where she’s sitting it does look like Carson��s fault. Carson is the one that didn’t include her in practices. Carson is the one that got her benched. Carson is the one that took the job that she was more qualified for. And every single person has sided with Carson against her. Can we blame Lupe for finally having enough? Because even if she’s missing very important context that would explain things some, she has no way of having that context.

And to cap things off, when she finally just has enough and the fight happens, everyone still sides with Carson against her. Carson becomes the full time coach, everyone blames her for the fight, and the only person that eventually somewhat understands what the problem is, is Jess. Even then, that’s only when Lupe explicitly points out to Jess that she’s dealing with shit Jess doesn’t have to think about. And while Jess eventually gets that, she still has more context than Lupe because she not only was included in all of the things that Lupe wasn’t, she also knows that Carson and Greta are fucking. So she knows that Carson isn’t entirely the impression that Lupe has of her.

And now we get to the scene.

Lupe has been through all of this. She has had to deal with this woman for the entire season. Things are finally calming down. Then one night when she’s at a gay bar, where she is explicitly safe from people like Carson, Carson fucking follows her to the bar.

Now this is terrifying. Because while Carson could only argue and complain before, now she caught Lupe doing something no one is supposed to do, someplace none of them are supposed to be. Like, literally, Carson is now a serious danger to Lupe, a danger to Jess, a danger to Lupe’s date, and a danger to the entire bar. It initially seems to Lupe like Carson knows exactly what is going on and is disgusted by it. And if she said something, people would believe Carson. Because they always have before, and honestly, who wouldn’t believe it if Carson outed Lupe?

See I joke about Lupe’s broken gaydar here, because it is funny. Like, literally every other queer person knew something was up with Carson, but none of them were Lupe. None of them had to deal with things that Lupe had to deal with, and none of them were excluded as much as she was. Lupe’s gaydar is broken with Carson because she never had a chance to have any other impression of Carson. And clearly it wasn’t actually broken, because she tested the waters with Carson the very first night in Rockford. It was everything that happened after that made it seem like that initial impression was very wrong.

This revelation that Carson is not only queer, but sleeping with Greta really flips everything for Lupe. Because what she thought she understood as passive aggressive hostility was clearly just Carson being fucking stupid and clueless. And now she’s not the bigot that is gonna turn her in and ruin her life and dreams of pitching, but she’s a little baby gay who didn’t even know that places like this existed. That didn’t know the Jess and Lupe were gay, or what butch means, or that half of the league is gay. Now Lupe's laughing with Jess as they try to explain queer shit to Carson, and that is the first time she really seems comfortable around Carson. Because this is when Lupe realizes that Carson has been excluded from something this entire time that she didn't even know existed.

It's not just that she hated Carson and so assumed that she was straight, or that she learned that Carson is gay and so suddenly likes her. It’s that she didn’t have any reason to believe anything but the worst about Carson, and now she has the context that makes a lot of things suddenly make some sense. And because now, she’s clearly the authority on things that Carson really wants to learn about. Now they actually know each other’s secrets, and they’re shared secrets and it’s found in a place where they don’t have to hide it. This is the first time that Lupe and Carson are instantly on the same page about something.

After this, there’s no real tension between them. It's not so much that everything is ok and fixed. Lupe is still dealing with stuff, it's just clearly not Carson that's the issue anymore. It's not Carson who seems to be doing these things to her. Carson's now one of the few people that's approachable and who Lupe is willing to loosen up and joke with. Whereas before she might have tried to avoid Carson entirely unless absolutely necessary, now she's pulling Carson in to mess with other people and have fun with their ignorance. It's other people that won't know what's going on now.

Now that they share something, it's almost everyone else on the team (and otherwise) that’s excluded from their fun. Now, they’re both actually understanding each other and can work together for the first time.

Now it's not Lupe excluded from the rest of the team, and it's not Carson thinking that she and Greta are alone in their queerness. Now it's all of the queer Peaches having their own celebration together and not letting anyone else in on it. Because as overdone the metaphor is, now they all know they're on the same team.

So, no, I don't think Lupe's gaydar was broken, no matter how funny that joke is or how many times I make it (and will continue to make it). I just think that there was some very understandable interference preventing her from getting a good reading.

____________________________________

Other ALOTO essays:

Queerness, Contamination, and the Neurosis of Shirley Cohen

Greta Gill: Visibility and Isolation

Max in Oz

#a league of their own #carson shaw #lupe garcia #aloto #aloto analysis

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thisapplepielife · 6 months

Text

Written for the @steddiemas challenge.

King Steve

Prompt Day 12: Hallmark Movie Tropes | Word Count: 9963 | Rating: M | CW: Royal Inaccuracies | Tags: King Ralph AU, Unexpected Royalty, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending, Steve POV

This one is also available right here on AO3.

Loosely based on the 1991 comedy King Ralph, starring John Goodman, but this time make it Steddie.

Steve shoves the key into the lock of the Wienerlicious front door, and jiggles it just so, trying to get the damned thing to open. Robin picked this place as their next place of employment, and he's pretty sure it was just to stick him in another goofy uniform so she could call him dingus more often.

Jokes on her. He looks damn good in lederhosen, way better than she does in the milkmaid getup. So, suck it, Robin.

Even if he's too old for this shit. He's nearly thirty, and they're still bouncing from crappy job to crappy job, aimless.

He needs a purpose, but he just hasn't found it. Not yet.

He flips on the lights, and goes through all the opening procedures on his own. Robin won't be in until later, so he's gonna be on his own through the lunch rush. If there is a lunch rush. Sometimes, that's non-existent in this place.

And it seems like today is gonna be one of those days. He hasn't had a customer in an hour, and he's bored out of his goddamn skull. Just watching the hot dogs turn on the roller grill behind him.

Finally, the door swings open, and in walks three stuffy-looking men in suits. Glancing around the place like they're walking in front of a firing squad instead of into a fast food joint.

"Welcome to Wienerlicious," Steve greets.

"We're looking for Mr. Steven Harrington," the first one says in a British accent, and Steve narrows his eyes. He doesn't think he owes money to anyone. Especially not to anyone British. Robin and him might be scraping by, but they've managed to do it all on their own.

"Who's asking?" Steve asks, putting his hands on his hips.

"I'm Gareth Jones and this is Inspector Goodwin and Inspector Williams," the first man says, like that means anything.

Steve doesn't think he's committed a crime, Pink Panther style, but maybe? He wishes he'd stolen some cash or jewels, but he hasn't, so he's not sure why they've sent two inspectors all the way to the Wienerlicious to talk to him.

"And you're here for…" Steve trails off, moving his hand in a hurry up and spit it out motion. He'd rather get this over with.

"Well, sir, that's a private matter for us to discuss with Mr. Harrington," Inspector Goodwin chimes in, and they are definitely British.

"Then, I guess you're shit outta luck," Steve says, moving back to wiping down the counter. "If you decide you want to order something, you let me know."

He watches them look between each other, clearly debating this offer. But they step up to the counter and study the menu, with a hint of disdain, before ordering three number seven combos. Steve makes them, and puts down the red baskets on a tray. Taking their money, and handing over their change.

They're staring at his name tag. Fuck. He forgot he was wearing it.

"Are you Steven Harrington?" Gareth asks, leaning closer, nearly across the counter.

"And if I am?" Steve asks, taking a step back.

"Then we have an exciting opportunity to share with you," Inspector Williams says, gleefully.

"Listen, I'm not gonna, like, sell Amway or knives or anything. So, just. No, thanks."

They look back and forth, like they don't understand what he's talking about.

Steve sighs, "I have a job. I don't want another, no matter how much money you think I'll be able to make, so thanks. But, no thanks."

Because, yeah, he's in lederhosen, but he's working with Robin and he gets a predictable paycheck. It's a fair trade-off.

"Sir, please, just give us a moment of your time," Gareth pleads, and Steve is annoyed.

"Just arrest me if that's what you're here for," Steve says, nodding towards the two inspectors. Robin will sort it out.

"Oh, no, sir. Not at all. They're here for your protection, for your safety," Gareth says, and Steve wrinkles his forehead at that idea. He's pretty sure he doesn't need protection. "Please, just hear me out, sir."

"Fine, one minute," Steve says, following them to a table, and sitting down, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mr. Harrington-"

"Steve," Steve interrupts.

"Steve," Gareth, the chatty one, says, but it seems physically painful for him to get out of his mouth, "it is my glorious duty to inform you that you're the new King of the United Kingdom, Your Majesty."

"The new King of what now?" Steve asks, because he's been King before. Sure, it was Hawkins High and not the United Kingdom, but he'll pass. He's grown and shit since then.

"Of the United Kingdom, and the entire Commonwealth, Your Majesty."

Steve laughs, because why wouldn't he laugh. That's ridiculous.

Then he remembers seeing the news headline that the entire Royal Family had been electrocuted and killed during a holiday photo session, and that they were searching their records for the next heir in line for the throne.

Steve bets they didn't expect to find him in lederhosen, slinging wieners with sauerkraut.

"But I'm an American," Steve finally says, shaking his head.

"We are unfortunately aware, sir," Gareth answers.

"Then, how am I the next in line? That makes no sense." Steve questions, he's never even been to England.

"On your mother's side. There's no delicate way to say this, but your grandmother had an affair with Prince Richard, and your mother was the product of that affair. So, you're in the line of succession for the throne through the House of Wyndam-Pryce bloodline."

"Okay, go talk to my mother then," Steve says, "she'd love to be a Queen."

"It doesn't work quite like that. See, there's what we call male-preference primogeniture-"

"Well, that's just sexist," Steve says, crossing his arms. He doesn't know what that last word means, but he definitely understands male-preference and can fill in the blanks.

"Yes, well, perhaps that's true," Gareth says, looking flustered, then looking excited, "but you could press to change that! As King. With the help of Parliament. You could work to change it."

"Now, Jones," Inspector Williams says, "you know the law prohibits Monarchs from solving problems."

"Yes, well," Gareth says, backing down a little, "that's a different issue altogether."

"This all seems suspect," Steve says. He wishes Robin were here. She'd know what to ask, what to say to all this. "If I'm not solving world problems, which to be honest, I'm not sure I'd be all that great at anyway, what exactly does this even entail? Is it not like being the President here?"

"No, that's more like the Prime Minister," Inspector Goodwin answers, "not exactly, but closer. You, as King, would be a ceremonial figurehead."

Steve is confused, but that's not exactly new.

"I don't understand," Steve says, because he definitely doesn't.

"You are the new King. It's your birthright, sir."

Steve is pretty sure he's not interested in any birthrights. He's seen Buffy. Kristy Swanson was hot, but he doesn't want any of that shit for himself. No fucking way.

Unless.

"How much does it pay?" Steve asks.

"Well, it doesn't, exactly…" Gareth trails off.

"Then, again. No," Steve says, moving to stand.

"But as the sovereign, it all belongs to you. To the Crown," Gareth says, and Steve starts picturing that and now it doesn't sound so bad at all.

"All of it?"

"All of it, Your Majesty," Gareth confirms.

"So, are you willing to go with us, Your Majesty? To England?"

And maybe he'd make a different decision if Robin were here to talk him out of it, but he nods.

"You can't go be the King," Robin says, pacing around the room, one of his shirts clutched in her hands. He jerks it out of her grasp, and stuffs it into his suitcase.

"Apparently, I can," he says, "and you can come with me."

She scoffs, "And do what? Be your lady-in-waiting?"

"Yes!" Steve says, he doesn't know what that is, but yes, if it gets her to come. Absolutely.

"Steve, no," she says, shaking her head.

"We'll get married really quick and you can be my Queen," he says, nodding his head, "think how fun that'd be? You and me? Ruling a whole country?"

"And the Commonwealth," she says, but shakes her head, snapping out of that idea. "No way, they'd make me have your babies."

"Ew," he says.

"Ew, right back at ya, dingus," she says.

"Then, I'll go first. Scope it out. And you can come later, once I'm settled in."

"This is a bad idea, Steve," Robin says, really talking with her hands.

"Careful, I'm the King," Steve teases.

"Not my King, dingus, you better keep that in mind," she says, and he smiles, pulling her to his chest.

"I wish you'd come," he says.

"I don't even have a passport," she says.

"Well, neither do I. But apparently, as the King, that doesn't really matter much."

"Oh, this isn't going to go well," she says, pacing again, worrying some more.

"Maybe not, but it'll be an adventure, right? C'mon. Come with me," he begs, trying to give her the eyes. But she's immune.

"Maybe later. If this sticks. I'll get a passport, legally, and come make fun of you in your stupid cape or whatever," she says, and he hugs her again.

A day later, Steve steps out of the black town car, and looks up. Jesus. This place is wild. Fucking crazy, it's a palace, like, for real. He still kind of assumed they'd been teasing when they showed up at his place of work, explaining that while he was once 46th in line for the throne, that he'd now been bumped up to number one. Just because the entire extended royal family died in a freak accident during a portrait session for their annual Christmas card.

That's a lot to swallow.

Do they not have a designated survivor? Robin has told him about that, in the US. They should have, it seems like. Most definitely.

Water, metal and electricity did not mix. And snap. They were all gone.

And now he's here.

King.

He's being led inside this freaking mansion, and it's way less funny. He's a freaking American. A bastard, apparently, and he shouldn't even be eligible for the throne. Robin looked it up. Made sure he knew that, as she railed on him for even considering doing this.

But they were desperate. And here he is. Steve Harrington, American. King of England. No, Great Britain? United Kingdom? The Commonwealth? He scratches his head and scrunches up his face. He doesn't remember. They went over this on the plane, but he's already forgotten. Shit.

He's just pretty sure it's not the King of England. Even if that sounds right to his American ear.

There's some old, stuffy British dudes waiting to lead him around, and he follows. But he's starting to think he can't be the King. Not again. He's pretty sure being the King of Hawkins High will be nothing in comparison to this. This is actual insanity.

Actual royalty.

They leave him in his new royal bedroom, and you could fit his and Robin's whole apartment inside this one room. He stands and looks out of the window, and feels homesick. He'd rather be in that tiny apartment with her, than here surrounded by all this opulence. He shouldn't have even agreed to get on the plane, especially not without Robin. They couldn't make him accept this offer, he's pretty sure. Even if they were pretty adamant about it, at the time. It felt like he didn't have a choice, even if he's pretty sure he did. Still does, maybe. He hasn't been, like, crowned or anything. He thinks he can still say no, and probably will.

He'd just been hand stomping lemonade and slinging hot dogs, minding his own business. He was just a little delirious and desperate for something new, anything at all.

He was bored.

And then there these stuffy dudes were, telling him he was the new King.

It all happened so fast.

He should call Robin soon, to let her know he landed. He really wants her to move here to be with him, if he decides to stay. Surely, that's something he could make happen, with all this money and all these resources.

Someone clears their throat behind him, and there's a guy, probably about his age, standing there, hands properly folded behind his back. When Steve looks at him, he bows his head at the neck.

"Hey," Steve says, turning to face him fully, "I'm Steve."

"I'm Edward, your private secretary, Your Majesty."

"What can I do for you, Eddie," Steve says, and he watches as the man cringes at the informality of it all. He just doesn't look like an Edward. He looks like an Eddie. But if he doesn't like that, Steve won't force it on him. At least not to his face. Not yet. He'll wear him down, first.

"Nothing for me, sir. What can I do for you?" Eddie asks, stepping a little further into the room.

"Edward, I think I'd just like to go to bed," Steve says, and Eddie moves towards the bed, drawing down the sheets and fluffing his pillows.

It's overkill. But nice.

"Thanks, you don't have to do that, but I appreciate it," Steve says.

"Your dressing room is over there. I'm sure there's some proper sleeping attire," Eddie suggests, pointing towards the right door. "And if you'd like a bath before bed, I can draw one for you, sir."

A bath doesn't sound half bad, but Steve is pretty sure he can run his own bathwater. He might be the King, and isn't that a stupid thought, but he hasn't forgotten how to do basic things for himself, not yet.

Eddie does it for him anyway, despite Steve's protests, and then shows him the little turtle bell on the marble ledge that he can ding if he needs assistance at any time.

"During my bath?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

And Eddie nods, "Any time at all, sir."

That's weird, Steve thinks, but watches as Eddie closes the big double doors, leaving him alone with his bath. He rings the little turtle bell, and Eddie comes back through the doors.

"Your Majesty?" he asks, hands clasped in front of him.

"Are there bubbles?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks taken aback, but quickly nods and produces a bottle of fancy looking bubble bath from a cabinet.

"Thank you," Steve says, smiling, and Eddie nods at him curtly, before leaving. Again.

Steve wants to ring the turtle, just for shits and giggles, but refrains. He wants Eddie to like him. He's close to his age, and maybe they could be friends. Well, maybe not, he's stuffy like his colleagues, just not as stuffy. That's for sure. Gareth and Inspectors Goodwin and Williams aren't exactly old, but they were a little uptight.

When he's good and pruney, he gets out, and wraps a towel around his waist. When he opens the doors, Eddie is standing there, at the ready.

"You can sit down, you know?" Steve says, walking around the edge of the bed.

"I really can't, Your Majesty," Eddie says.

"Says who?" Steve hollers from the walk-in closet, where he's pulling up a pair of silk pajama bottoms. They're nice, and feel good against his skin. He likes them. He's definitely not wearing the matching long-sleeve shirt though. No way. He can't imagine how uncomfortable that'd be to sleep in.

"Royal protocol, sir."

"Aren't I in charge now? So, if I say you can sit, you can sit," Steve says, coming out of the closet, towel drying his hair.

"That's really not how it works, sir," Eddie says, looking away from him. Clearly trying to get Steve to drop it.

He will, for now. But that man is sitting before this is over with. There's no reason for him to stand around all the time. Steve's worked retail. He knows how much that sucks, and he didn't even have to do it in dress shoes.

"Did you need help finding your top, sir?" Eddie asks, and Steve realizes that's why he's being so weird. Oh.

"Do I have to wear it?" Steve asks, pulling his towel over his chest. Maybe he's being weird, or creepy, right now. Is he sexually harassing his secretary? At home this is fine, normal. It's like a locker room, right? They're in his bedroom. But maybe that's not cool here, he has no idea.

"Well, no, sir," Eddie says, "but it would be proper. But you don't have to, I suppose."

Steve tries to slide in bed without flashing his hairy chest at Eddie again, pulling the sheets up to his neck.

"There, I'm in bed," Steve says.

"Very well, sir," Eddie says, pulling the drapes closed, nodding at Steve, and hitting the lights on the way out, "Goodnight."

"'Night," Steve says back, as the door closes, and then he's gone.

And Steve's all alone.

These sheets are super soft, and so is the bed. Steve closes his eyes, and thinks he'll be asleep in no time.

He wakes up to the sun in his eyes, as Eddie is pulling open the heavy curtains.

"Good morning, Your Majesty. Did you sleep alright?" Eddie asks, bowing his head at Steve, and Steve really needs him to stop doing that. It's unnecessary. Steve sits up in bed and scrubs his hand across his face. He did sleep well.

"Yeah, I think I did, thanks," Steve says, stretching, as Eddie goes into his closet and starts selecting clothes.

"We'll have to get you fitted properly today, but these should do for now," he says, laying out a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. A belt.

"Okay," Steve answers. He can wear that. That's not so bad. "What's on today's schedule?"

And he wishes he hadn't asked, because the list Eddie rattles off is never-ending.

"All that today, huh?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. Then steps out into the hallway so Steve can get dressed.

He stands in front of the mirror, trying to tame his hair. He shouldn't have gone to bed with it wet, now it really won't behave. He might need to wash it again. He looks around, and realizes there is no shower in his bathroom. He's gonna need a bathroom with a shower, the bath was fine, but not for everyday use.

"Edward?" Steve says, opening the door, and Eddie follows him back in.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, standing at attention.

"Is there a bathroom with a shower around here that I'll be able to use? I don't need it this morning, because of the bath, but in the future?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie.

"Yes, of course, sir," Eddie says, "I'll show you where that's at this morning."

"Thanks, also? Can I request some specific hairspray?" Steve asks.

Eddie pulls a little notepad out of his pocket, ready to take notes, "Of course, sir."

"Faberge Organics, the Farrah Fawcett spray," Steve says, and watches as Eddie takes notes. He doesn't even laugh at him. Maybe Steve should tell him it was discontinued, like, a decade ago. But it'll be funny to see how much sway this position actually holds. Maybe he'll send some staff member to find a lone can of it, long forgotten on the dusty bottom shelf of a drugstore.

"Of course, sir," Eddie says, putting the notebook back in his jacket pocket.

Steve steps out inside the hall, and isn't sure what he's supposed to do. Eddie must pick up on that because he holds his arm out, motioning for Steve to walk ahead of him.

"I thought I could give you a more in depth tour this morning, sir, if you're feeling up to that?" Eddie asks, trailing him.

Steve pauses, waiting for him to catch up. They start walking again, and Eddie's behind him again. Steve slows his pace, and Eddie slows his own. He feels like he's having to crane his neck back to even see Eddie as he explains all the rooms, all the antiques. The paintings.

That goes on for the whole tour of this floor, and then Steve waits at the top of the long, winding staircase. Eddie waits behind him.

"You do realize I don't know where we're going, right?" Steve says, holding his arm out, inviting Eddie to lead the way.

"Sir, you are the sovereign, no one walks ahead of you. Especially not your staff," Eddie says, and Steve looks at him like he's crazy, because that's a crazy rule. Steve is only King on a huge technicality. He's just a person.

But when it's clear Eddie is not moving until he does, he walks down the stairs, wishing Eddie would just fall into step beside him, at least.

And Eddie gives him the rest of the tour, from two steps over his shoulder. It's kind of weird and uncomfortable.

After the tour, he's led directly into a room to be fitted for new clothes, and Eddie stands nearby.

"We've prepared a few questions to ascertain your knowledge of English history," Eddie says, as they're measuring Steve for a new suit.

Having your inseam taken is a little distracting, even under regular circumstances. Having three different pairs of hands nudging under your balls, right after you've been declared King, is another level of distracting entirely.

"Okay," Steve says, uneasy. He knows he knows nothing about history, "but I can tell you it's almost zero, right up front."

Eddie looks at him and asks, "When Anne Boleyn failed to give him a son, Henry VIII had her…"

Steve thinks, tries to come up with a logical answer, and settles on, "Adopt?"

Eddie looks exasperated, "No. Beheaded."

"Jesus, that's a bit much," Steve mutters, and he swears he sees Eddie tamp down the barest hint of a smile.

"Please pick a fabric, sir," Goodwin says, draping some swatches over his arm and showing Steve.

They all look the same to Steve. Various shades of dark, most with pinstripes.

"You pick, Edward. I trust your judgment," Steve says, because he does. Eddie is dressed nicely, so surely he can pick the right thing for Steve to not look like he's wearing the curtains.

Eddie nods, quick and sharp, and then hands the chosen swatches over to one of the tailors. Pointing at three of them.

After his fitting, Steve is in jeans and a polo, even if Eddie fought him on it. "Here's a few traditional English dishes, sir, some of which you'll be served tonight. The kitchen chose things they thought you might enjoy, and I thought it might be prudent to make sure you're familiar ahead of time."

Steve nods. Okay. He can do food. He likes food.

"Roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, fish and chips, bangers and mash, and of course, spotted dick."

Steve's eyebrows shoot up as he looks at the bowl full of dicks in front of him that he had assumed were sausages.

He grabs the silver tongs, and picks one up, carefully inspecting it like it might be a bomb, before looking at Eddie.

"Dick of what?" he asks, scared of the answer.

Eddie chuckles, "You're holding a banger. A sausage," he clarifies, pointing to some other dish, "that's the spotted dick, sir. It's a dessert."

Steve looks and can see the raisins. The spots of the spotted name, he assumes. That's more reassuring.

"Please, sir, try it," Eddie says, so Steve lets him serve him a plate, so he can try everything so there's not an embarrassing incident at tonight's dinner.

"Sit, eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie shakes his head.

"No, sir," Eddie says.

"Edward, live a little," Steve coaxes, kicking out a chair leg, an invitation, but Eddie doesn't budge. Just stands at attention, a few feet behind Steve while he eats. It's good. He likes it. Even the spotted dick, which he can't even think about without laughing. How is he going to be able to eat it, or say it, in a public setting? Impossible.

"This is all good, I was scared what you might bring me, to be real honest," Steve says.

Eddie smiles, "Well, we went easy on you. I didn't think you were ready for the black pudding or haggis."

"I don't know what that is," Steve admits.

"For the best," Eddie teases, and Steve smiles at him.

"Tell me about yourself, Edward," Steve says, using his fork and knife to cut into one of the bangers.

"I'm here to serve you, sir," Eddie says, and Steve looks back over his shoulder at him and rolls his eyes.

"No, about you. Not about me in relation to you, just about you."

"Sir, I don't really…" Eddie trails off, like he doesn't know what to say.

Steve won't make him talk, but he sure wishes he would. He'd like to get to know him better.

"If you won't sit, would you at least come over here where I can see you?" Steve asks, and he's happy when Eddie concedes, and comes into his line of sight.

"How long have you worked at the palace?" Steve asks.

"Nearly ten years, sir. I've been a secretary for about two years, though. After my uncle retired, I was chosen to fill his duties."

Steve nods, hoping Eddie will continue and elaborate further. He doesn't.

So, Steve eats while Eddie stands by, quietly.

And it's weeks of meetings, fittings, lessons. Eddie and the rest of the staff are working diligently to get him ready to face the press and public.

Steve's trying. He really is, but it's a lot to comprehend. He doesn't understand all the rules, all the protocols, and he is constantly on the wrong foot. Doing something stupid, saying something stupid. He's never gonna catch on to this.

He flops back on his bed. He's going to make a fool of himself, and the Crown.

Eddie comes in later, and takes one look at him, and starts digging in Steve's walk-in closet. He comes out with an all-white outfit and instructs Steve to put it on.

Steve does. He's stopped fighting. Stopped asking why, a long time ago. It doesn't matter why, none of them care. He's just a small cog, in a big wheel. He's in charge, but he isn't. Not at all. None of his choices are his own. He's not sitting on a throne barking orders. He's following, trying to please the people around him. Trying to please Eddie.

Once he's dressed, Eddie takes him out to the yard of the palace, and gets down and straps big pads to his shins. They look like oversized, shin guards for baseball catchers. But padded. He was a catcher for one season in high school and hated it. It's the hardest job on the field, he's pretty sure. Pitching was easier. He did that in little league for a while.

He's standing there in his padded shin guards, looking at Eddie for guidance. Eddie hands him a paddle. Steve tries to hold it like a baseball bat, and Eddie laughs, while trying to help him correct his grip.

"This is a cricket bat, not a baseball bat, sir," Eddie says with a smile.

"Oh, so more like croquet?" Steve says, lowering the bat in front of him, and Eddie grins.

"You know how to play croquet?" Eddie asks, looking surprised.

"Sure," Steve says, "I might not be royalty, but I do come from a rich family. Back home. We definitely played croquet from time to time."

Eddie smiles, and nods, "It's not like croquet. You want to keep the ball away from your wicket, not aim it towards it," Eddie explains, helping him adjust his grip, again. His instinct is still to draw it up like a bat, twirl it around in his hand. Test its heft. But Eddie tells him to keep it down, in front of him, to protect his wicket, the three stumps and two bails balanced behind him.

Once Steve is in place, Eddie yells, "Bowler!"

And the guy downfield throws the ball at him in a goofy fashion, bouncing it in front of him, and Steve hits it. And it sails up and away. They do it over and over. This is something he's actually picked up on quickly for once, and it's fun. Steve hits the shit out of the next one, and declares it a home run.

Eddie laughs, "A maximum, sir, but yes, the same idea, I suppose. Six runs."

If it bounces to the boundary, it's worth four Eddie declares, and eventually Eddie goes to the other side of the little dirt rectangle, and they teach Steve how to run back and forth to accumulate runs that way, if he doesn't hit it out of the park.

"You can lead with your bat, sir, get it over the crease ahead of you," Eddie says.

"The line? The baseline?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles.

"Yes, sir, that," Eddie grins.

And he runs past Eddie once more, passing in the middle, and he reaches up as they go past each other, offering him his hand, a high five.

Eddie clearly isn't sure about this, but still puts his hand up, and they touch as they run by each other, each headed to the opposite end from where they started.

When they've finished, Steve leans over, his hands on his knees, breathing hard. But he's happy right now.

Once he stands, he looks at Eddie, smiling, and asks, "Do you want to play croquet next?"

And Eddie laughs, honest to god laughs, and it makes Steve smile, big and bright. It's a great sound, and he hopes to hear it more often.

"Sure, Your Majesty, we can play croquet," Eddie says, and sends the pages to go find the equipment.

Pads shucked to the side in the grass, Steve watches as Eddie lines up his shot.

"Don't do it, don't even think about it," Steve says, breathing down Eddie's neck, taunting him as he tries to line up his mallet with the croquet ball.

Eddie laughs, and nudges him backwards with his elbow, and then freezes, like he's realized what he's done. Steve just shoves him back a little, hopefully assuring him that it's fine, that he likes this. That this feels normal, at least almost, and that's fucking priceless. To his sanity, to his heart.

He's homesick for Robin, for America, honestly.

He wants to watch baseball or basketball on TV. He wants to drive his car. He wants a pizza, a burger, or some fried chicken. Anything. He can ask for anything he'd like to eat, and they'll bring it, but it's always a fancy version. They seem to have an aversion to actually just going out and getting him the junk food he's missing.

This has been a huge responsibility to take on, one he doesn't fully understand, with a very steep learning curve. But right now, they are just two guys playing a sport together, for fun.

That he understands, fully.

"This is the most fun I've had since I've gotten here," Steve says, standing next to Eddie as he whacks the ball through the hoop.

"I'm glad to hear that, sir."

Once the game is over, Steve stands there in the grass, happy. He looks at Eddie, "What sport can you teach me next?"

Eddie just laughs, "Polo, I suppose. How do you feel about horses?"

And then it's back to the unfun parts. Steve showers, and throws on the clothes Eddie has laid out for him. And he attends meetings. He has his weekly Audience with the Prime Minister, one-on-one, without Eddie present. They always make him feel nervous that he's going to fuck up.

But it's only twenty minutes. He can do anything for twenty minutes.

Eddie works sports into his tight schedule, and Steve appreciates it. It's not everyday, but it's as often as they can fit it in, and they play and Steve pushes himself. To get better. To have fun.

To impress Eddie, a little, with the one thing he's been good at here.

Steve's having a bad day, and he's had enough, so he pulls a baseball hat over his head, and walks out of the front door. Nobody stops him, but he's pretty sure that's just because they've never had to deal with a Monarch that was trying to escape the way he is. But he's had all of this he can take today.

He doesn't get far down the road, before he realizes he is being followed. He turns and looks, and there's Eddie. So, Steve slows down, stalls, waiting for him to catch up.

"You coming with me, or are you going back to tattle?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles.

"Where are we going, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, falling in step behind him.

"I'm hungry. I want some food, some American food. Something I'm familiar with. No spotted dick, or whatever the fuck that was. Is there something around here that I'll recognize?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods, and then he waits for Steve to start walking again, keeping two paces behind him.

Steve glances back at him, "How did you end up working for the royal family?"

"My family. It's just what we've always done," Eddie says. "My uncle had this position before I did. When he retired, the last King asked for me to step in, to keep with some sort of continuity, I suppose. He'd known me for a long time, since my childhood."

"I'm sorry you lost your friend," Steve says.

Eddie pauses, like nobody has ever said that to him before, "Thank you, sir."

Steve nods, "Well, what would you like to do instead?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him, like he hadn't expected the question.

"Working for the royal family is the highest honor," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.

"Okay, that's bullshit. You don't want to serve people. You don't want to serve me. That's not your dream. What do you want to do? What would make you happy?" Steve presses.

Eddie looks at him, like this might be a trap, even if it really isn't. Steve genuinely wants to know what Eddie likes to do. He wants to know anything Eddie will tell him. Which really, really hasn't been much. He's definitely not very forthcoming about anything personal.

"I like to play music," Eddie finally says.

"That's cool," Steve says, meaning it, "are you any good?"

"Not bad, I don't think. I play with my friends in a little four piece, when I have the time. The palace requires a lot of my time," Eddie says, and then looks embarrassed. "Not that I'm complaining. I'm happy to be at your service, sir."

"Steve," Steve says, "please, just call me Steve."

"King Steve," Eddie says, and smiles at him, just a little. Steve realizes Eddie's teasing him, and it makes Steve happy. Like they might be friends. Or could be, in time. He definitely needs a friend here.

"Well, that's not the first time I've been called that, so it's an improvement. For sure. But try to work it down to just Steve, in the future. At least while we're alone."

Eddie nods, but he doesn't look like that's going to be something he'll ever do.

They walk a little further, and Eddie stops in front of a Kentucky Fried Chicken. Perfect.

Eddie ushers him inside, and into a hidden corner booth, before going up to order. When he comes back, he gently puts down the tray, and acts like he's going to start setting everything up, like this is a state dinner. It's definitely not.

"Just sit. Eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie looks uncomfortable.

"That's really not…"

"Does it look like I care, Eddie? Please?" Steve asks, and he pushes a styrofoam plate in his direction, and starts loading it up.

"Are you a breast, leg or thigh man?" Steve asks, and Eddie blushes a pretty pink.

Steve's pretty sure he's not a breast man, and that's more than okay with him. Maybe he can use that in his favor, someday, hopefully.

"Anything is fine, si-"

"Steve," Steve corrects.

"Steve," Eddie whispers, like he might be caught and reprimanded.

Steve smiles, and puts a couple different pieces on Eddie's plate, then some mashed potatoes. Gravy. A couple biscuits, and looks at Eddie as he pushes it his way.

Eddie is just looking down at it.

Steve reaches down and picks up his thigh with his hands, and takes a bite.

"Finger lickin' good," he says, and Eddie giggles, as he picks up a piece himself, and takes a bite. It looks awkward, and a little dainty, but it thrills Steve that he's playing along. Getting a little more comfortable with him.

He wants to get to know him, Eddie, the man under the suit. Maybe the man, out of the suit.

On the walk back, Steve looks back at Eddie.

"Eddie?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him.

"Yes?"

"Was there really nobody else? Is it me…or nothing?" Steve asks, because he's pretty sure he can't do this. Doesn't want to. At least not long-term. Not for his entire life. He's given it a good go, but he's not feeling it, at all.

"Well," Eddie says, drawing out the word, seemingly unsure if he should keep talking.

"Well, what?" Steve asks, pausing, and pulling Eddie off the sidewalk and into a little hedgerow. They stand there looking at each other.

"There was one other option, but he didn't want to do it, so I kept my mouth shut," Eddie says, looking at the ground.

"So, that guy could say no, but I'm just the schmuck who had to accept this thing? This weight on my shoulders?" Steve asks.

"I didn't know you then. You were just a name, a profile, on paper," Eddie explains, still looking down.

"And you knew the other guy?"

Eddie nods.

"Who is it? Do I know him?"

Eddie looks up, quietly asking Steve if he'll keep this secret, and Steve reluctantly nods.

"My Uncle Wayne," Eddie says, "he's retired, and already he did his duty to the Crown, and didn't want that kind of spotlight trained on him. He just wanted to go on, living his normal life. He didn't ask for it any more than you did."

Steve nods, he understands, even if it doesn't make him feel much better.

"Oh," Steve says, "I understand. I just wish, well, that I'd have been given more of a choice, too. If I said no, they'd have found him, eventually, right?"

Eddie nods, "I'm sorry, sir."

Steve gets it. Unless he wants to make that old, retired man sit on the throne, he's stuck.

"It's okay, Eddie. But I feel alone here, most of the time, so I'd like Robin to move here. Can that happen?"

Eddie shakes his head, looking sad.

"Sir, they're never going to allow you to marry your American girlfriend. It's been a hard enough sell for you."

Steve laughs, pushing his bangs back off of his forehead, "Girlfriend? No way. She's my best friend. Platonic with a capital P, only."

"Oh, well, then, yes. I'm sure we could arrange for that to happen, assuming she'd like to come."

Steve grins, wide. That's the best news he's gotten in weeks.

They start walking again, "Do you live at the palace?" Steve asks.

Eddie chuckles, and shakes his head, "No, sir, I don't live at the palace. It just seems like it."

He's teasing, and it makes Steve smile.

"Where do you live, then?" Steve asks.

"Right around the corner, actually," Eddie says, and Steve stops walking.

"Can we go see it?" Steve asks.

"You want to go to my flat, sir?" Eddie questions.

Steve realizes that was probably rude to invite himself over, "Only if you want me to. You're not obligated, of course."

"I didn't think I was obligated, Steve," Eddie says, "but it might not exactly be tidy. I wasn't expecting a royal to want to visit me at home."

"Do I look like I'm gonna care about that?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles, and redirects them, but still keeps just behind his shoulder.

Eddie's apartment is nice, and not as messy as he'd sold it as. Steve looks around, at the pictures on the walls. At his guitar on a stand by the couch. Eddie is digging in the fridge and brings him a beer, which Steve takes with enthusiasm. He's been offered wine, and liquor, at the palace, but this is just a regular beer. That he'll be allowed to drink out of the bottle, no glass in sight.

It feels like home, and he twists off the cap, sliding it into his shirt pocket.

Eddie sits next to him on the couch, and they drink, and just make small talk. It feels normal. Cozy. Like he's in someone's home, instead of a museum, and he longs for a place like this to call his own again. He took it for granted back home, and now he misses those days. Misses Robin.

They don't stay long, and just walk back to the palace after they've finished their beers, but it's the best night Steve's had since he's gotten to this country.

"I can't move to London," Robin says across the ocean through the phone, and Steve slumps at his desk.

"But, I miss you," Steve says, twisting the cord around his fingers.

"Well, you should have thought of that before you packed your shit and ran away to play King," Robin snarks.

She's teasing, but it's true.

"Will you at least come to visit?" he asks, hoping. Begging.

"Of course," she says, "if you're paying."

"I'm paying. I'm the King, you know. Just be aware you'll have to curtsy to me," he teases.

"Yeah, never gonna happen, dingus."

But she agrees, so he puts Eddie on the case to set it all up through his office.

"I want to go to the movies," Steve declares suddenly, and Eddie looks over at him. They're sitting across from each other at a desk, as Steve's going over paperwork from his red box. Signing what he needs to sign, asking Eddie about what he still doesn't understand.

"The movies?" Eddie questions.

"Yeah, you know, a movie theater?"

"I'll see what I can do, sir," Eddie says, with a smile.

That night, Eddie guides him to a secluded room. And it's a private theater. Right in the palace.

"This has been here all along?" Steve asks.

"Well, yes, sir, but it's really for the staff. But I cleared it tonight, for you."

Steve doesn't even care what they watch, he just wants to have some fun.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, settling into one of the chairs. Patting the one beside him for Eddie to sit, and after Eddie's collected a bucket of already prepared popcorn from a table, he does sit, and hands it over to Steve.

They sit side-by-side, watching a movie, sharing the bucket of popcorn, and it feels normal for a couple hours. He could have been on a date, a regular date back home, tonight.

But it's Eddie, and he can't kiss him at the end of the night, even if he'd like to. This gift from him was more than enough.

Eddie follows him back to his bedroom, and turns down the bed, and Steve stands there, watching him.

"Thanks for tonight, Eddie. I had a lot of fun," Steve says.

"Me too, sir," Eddie answers, "goodnight."

Steve is standing out on the step, bouncing on his feet, nervous. Excited. Robin is on the way, and when they finally pull up with her, she leaps out of the car and runs straight into his arms. Not a curtsy in sight. He catches her and spins her, hugging her tight. He didn't realize it until this very moment, that one of the things he's been missing the most is human touch. None of these people touch him. No friendly hands on a shoulder, or arm.

No reassurance. No checking on his emotional needs. No comforting him. No checking in, at all. He's just supposed to function, as is, all on his own, he supposes.

He's been needing a hug, he realizes, and he buries his face in her neck, and if it's weird, she's going with it.

"I'm so glad you're here. Welcome to my new home," he says, and she grabs his hand, and he lets her pull him into the palace and up the staircase, at a near run. Dodging staffers, who bow to him as he is dragged past them. They clearly disapprove, but he doesn't give a shit. This is the most normal thing he's experienced in weeks.

She pauses at the top of the staircase, but only because she doesn't know where she's going.

He nods to the left, and he's being pulled along again, giving her directions to his bedroom, and once they're inside, she launches herself onto his bed, bouncing.

He smiles, and hops up next to her.

"Holy shit, Steve, look at this place!" she shouts, eyes wide as she looks around.

"I know, right?" he asks, but he's only looking at her. She's the only thing in this whole room that he cares about, that he loves.

That night he wraps his arm over her side, crowding up behind her, and she lets him hold her, "I'm so happy to see you."

"You better not be that kind of happy to see me," she says, contorting to get away from his crotch.

He laughs, laying his head on his pillow, "I'll try to keep it in check."

"You better, dingus."

And dingus sounds like a better, more fitting, title than King ever has, a thousand times over.

He wants to be her dingus, he doesn't want to be the King.

Steve is startled awake in the morning, by Eddie at the foot of his bed.

"Oh, Your Majesty, I do apologize," Eddie says, starting to back away from the bed, "I didn't realize you had company."

Robin looks at him, giving him the once over, "Well, not that kind of company, Jeeves. Let's get that straight."

Steve laughs, and nods, "Definitely not that kind of company, Eddie."

"We're best friends," Robin says.

"Platonic with a capital P," Eddie repeats, "as Your Majesty has said."

"Your Majesty," Robin says with a cackle, rolling towards him, and he slaps her on the arm, and it just makes her laugh harder. "King Dingus."

"He hasn't picked a regnal name yet, so perhaps that could be an option?" Eddie says, and Steve can't believe it. It's the funniest thing Eddie's ever said in Steve's presence, by far.

Steve laughs, throwing his head back, melting into the bed again.

Eddie just looks confused, and a little alarmed. But he still draws back the curtains, and brings Steve and Robin in a wheeled cart full of breakfast and coffee.

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says.

"Sir, madam," Eddie says, and he bows his head at the neck, and then he's gone.

As soon as the door closes, Robin slugs Steve in the arm, "You have a crush on Jeeves!"

Steve doesn't even try to deny it, just smiles, "Yeah, that's Eddie."

Robin stays two weeks, and then she goes back home to their real life. And Steve's agitated. He misses her. He should have gone home with her.

Eddie comes in carrying a large, heavy by the look of it, cardboard box. Great, now what?

"What's that?" Steve asks, standing to go take a look as Eddie places it down on the table.

"Your hairspray, Your Majesty," Eddie says, opening the flaps, "I'm sorry it took so long. I had to convince Unilever to engage in a short, private production run, just for you, sir."

"No fucking way," Steve says, reaching in to pick up a can, and it's really it.

He grabs Eddie and hugs him, shaking him around, and Eddie is just a ragdoll in his arms, but Steve could kiss him, he's so happy.

"Thank you, Eddie, you're now my favorite person. Robin, who?" he teases, immediately taking a can to the bathroom.

Eddie follows, and watches him as he sprays it on his hair and tries to style it, even though it's not wet.

"Just wait until tomorrow, I'll look so damn good," Steve says, and he meets Eddie's eyes in the mirror, and Eddie's blushing.

"I'm sure you will, sir," Eddie says, and Steve can feel it between them. The sexual tension. The attraction. He's not sure how to do anything about it, if he even can.

But he wants to, and it's nice to have that feeling again. About anyone. And he's happy it's Eddie that's making him feel like this, because he really likes him a lot.

"Can we go swimming today?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at the schedule, and nods.

"I think we can fit that in this evening, if you'd like, sir," Eddie answers.

"Yes, please," Steve says.

That evening, they walk down to the private pool and Eddie stands there while Steve strips off his shirt.

"Aren't you coming in?" Steve asks. He's assumed Eddie would. It's a sport, and that's one of the few things they do together, as almost equals.

"Sir?" Eddie questions.

"C'mon, get in!" Steve shouts, laughing, splashing water towards Eddie, which Eddie dodges easily. But Eddie nods. Disappearing into one of the locker rooms.

Steve's taking bets with himself, if Eddie will be in one of those silly old-fashioned, striped swim costumes with shoulder straps when he comes back.

He's not.

He's just wearing a pair of basic black trunks, and Steve can't help it as his eyes rake over Eddie's pale, exposed skin.

Steve's not sure he's even seen Eddie's forearms, let alone is his bare chest. He has a tattoo. More than one, it looks like, and Steve grins. Fully enjoying the view. Maybe he's not as buttoned-up as he appears on the surface.

Eddie comes down the steps and pushes off, and swims towards Steve.

"What now, sir?" Eddie asks, treading water.

"I was thinking about laps, but anything would be good with me," Steve says. As long as he's with Eddie, he's in.

And they fall into lane lines, and Steve breathes to his left so he can see Eddie, and for once, they are side-by-side, equals. They both do a flip-turn and push off, resurfacing together. Steve smiles, and keeps kicking.

He feels normal, here, now. Swimming. His teammate beside him. And Eddie is his teammate, maybe the only one he has in this place. He's surrounded by people, but he feels like Eddie is the only one that ever actually sees him.

And he's happy as they swim, together, until they are both struggling to breathe, clinging to the side of the pool. Steve rests his head on his arms, and feels good. Really, really good.

His happiness doesn't last long.

The next morning, Gareth comes into his office, with four or five other staffers trailing behind him.

"Your Majesty, we'd like to discuss taking the first steps towards the wedding," Gareth says.

"Whose wedding?" Steve asks.

"Yours, sir," Gareth says, and Steve sees red. He knew they were scheming to set him up on dates with various available women, but this is too far. He'll be the King, but marrying a stranger isn't happening.

"I'm not getting married!" Steve snaps as he storms out, turning to hold his hand up, giving the universal motion to stop, demanding that they not follow.

Steve only wants to find Eddie.

Eddie is walking down the hallway, and Steve accosts him.

"This is too far, you can't tell me who to marry, Eddie!" Steve yells, and Eddie quickly grabs him by the arm, and pulls him into Steve's bedroom, and shuts the door behind them. Locking them inside.

"Your Majesty, please, it's for the good of the country. To protect your bloodline, your birthright. You're the last. You need to marry, and produce heirs. That's just how it's done."

"I'm not the last and you know it!" Steve screams.

"Please," Eddie says softly, like he's trying to tame Steve, "please consider doing this. It's the right thing to do."

Steve crosses his arms across his chest, "Absolutely not."

"Sir, please," Eddie says.

"Stop calling me sir, if you're gonna fuck me over, at least use my name, for god's sake."

"Steve," Eddie says, "we aren't doing this to hurt you."

"Well, it sure feels like you are. What about love? What about who I love?" Steve asks, his voice softer.

"Love must be subordinated for the good of the monarchy, Steve," Eddie says, his voice softer now, too.

Eddie has called him Steve, here, and Steve can't even be happy about it.

"No. No way. No, no, no."

"Princess Caroline is a perfectly acceptable choice. You need to do this."

"You're serious?" Steve snaps.

"Yes!" Eddie snaps back.

"I won't, I'm not marrying someone I don't love!" Steve assures loudly, and he means that. They can't make him. "This place is terrible, this job, it's bullshit! It's all bullshit! I'd rather be selling hot dogs, or ice cream, than to be locked up here in this gilded cage! At least at home my choices were my own and I could fuck up my life any damn way I saw fit!" Steve screams.

"Steve," Eddie says, scrubbing his hands over his face and Steve's never seen him this undone, "Why? Why are you fighting this? This is just how things are done."

"You know why," Steve says, crossing the room and closing the space between them.

"I don't…that's not…" Eddie mutters, looking anywhere but at Steve.

"Eddie," Steve says, taking him by the shoulders, "look at me."

Eddie does, reluctantly.

"I can't marry Princess Caroline, because I love you."

Eddie's face falls, like he's just been given terrible news, and Steve's stomach drops. He's miscalculated this, all of this, and immediately lets go of him. They haven't been flirting, they haven't been anything to each other. Steve has misinterpreted their whole thing.

He feels sick.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Steve says, taking a step back, "I shouldn't have said that to you. Please, don't-"

But his words are cut off, when Eddie is suddenly moving towards him, and finally, finally presses his lips to Steve's.

Steve reaches his hand up, and cups the back of Eddie's head. It's better than he'd even fantasized about. He kisses him, over and over, holding him. Finally touching him in all the ways he's longed to, for months.

"Eddie," Steve breathes out, once they've separated, and Eddie just smiles at him and takes him by the hand, leading him towards the truly outlandish bed. He hadn't dreamed this is where the day would end up, even if he'd dared to hope.

Eddie pushes Steve onto his back on the bed, and the dynamic has shifted in a way that Steve loves. Yes, please. More of this. He watches as Eddie pulls off his jacket, his tie, and unbuttons his dress shirt.

It's the best strip tease Steve's witnessed in his whole life.

And when Eddie crawls on top of him, in just his underwear, Steve laughs and wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him close. Pressing kisses to his shoulder, his chest, anywhere he can reach.

After, Steve brushes his hand through Eddie's hair, holding him, as they lay together. Eddie's legs are tangled with his, and they're comfortable here, together.

"I need to quit," Steve says, softly.

"I know you do," Eddie answers, pressing his lips to Steve's chest.

"Will your uncle take over? If I do?" Steve asks.

"I'll talk to him," Eddie assures.

"Will you go with me when I leave? Or will you need to stay with him?" Steve asks.

"At first, I'll feel I'm obligated to stay," Eddie says, "he's my uncle. He raised me. But after he gets settled, perhaps."

Perhaps isn't a no, so Steve takes that as good news, and just pulls him closer while he has the chance.

"Maybe, you'd like to settle in with me here at my flat, for a stretch. Before you go home," Eddie suggests and Steve nods. Absolutely. Yes, to that. Please.

Eddie and his speechwriters help him perfect his abdication speech, and write his Instrument of Abdication letter. Wayne Munson, at his side. Stoic and quiet, but willing now, to accept this responsibility.

Steve signs it, and Eddie, Gareth, Goodwin and Williams all sign as witnesses to his signature.

And it's done, basically.

"You boys do realize I have no children, so this might come right back to you, after I'm gone," Wayne says softly.

And Steve and Eddie both nod. They know. But they appreciate this time Wayne's given them, to live and love. It's a gift, because he loves Eddie and wants him to be happy. Steve knows that, and he won't take it for granted. Not ever.

In a few days time, he's standing before Parliament, something he's never had to do, before now.

"My Lords and Members of the House of Commons, I know it is unusual for a King to address you in this manner, but I have some things I'd like to say, that I'd like for you to hear them in person, from me," he starts, before going on to apologize for being too set in his ways, too American for this duty. But he explains that there is another heir, an English one, also born into the House of Wyndam-Pryce. He tells them that it was discovered after Steve had assumed the throne, but now that he knows, he feels it only right to step down. He introduces Wayne, and turns over the Crown, happily.

As soon as he steps back from the podium, he feels like the weight of the world has left his shoulders. He walks out into the sunshine and smiles, closing his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky.

He's a free man, once again.

Eddie is waiting, and takes his hand, and finally, for once, Eddie steps out ahead of him, leading the way.

There are lots of people standing around watching him pack, and Steve looks around, "Are they scared I'm going to steal something?"

Eddie laughs, "Well, maybe. You can't take anything that belongs to the Crown."

"I only want to take one thing with me," Steve says, smiling.

Eddie grins, lowering his voice, "Me?"

"Okay, well, two things," Steve teases, and Eddie cocks his head, curious.

Steve walks down the staircase, carrying the giant cardboard box of hairspray. Eddie holds the door open for him, and then helps him put it in the trunk. Technically, it belongs to the Crown, but Steve is sure they'll never miss it. If Wayne wants him beheaded for taking it, bring it on. The man hardly has any hair at all left, so he definitely doesn't have a pressing need for hairspray.

"So, how was it to be King?" Eddie asks, settling into the back of the town car beside him.

"Well, I met you and I got a lifetime supply of my favorite hairspray, so pretty good, overall," Steve teases, and reaches over and takes Eddie's hand, looking at the window as the palace grows smaller in the distance behind them.

He's not the King, not anymore.

But he's Eddie's boyfriend, his partner, and he's pretty sure that's a way more important role for him to try and fill.

Notes: This originally started for Steddie Holiday Drabbles, but the length got away from me. And then really got away from me. I couldn't condense this into 1000 words, it seems. So, I did something different for that Royalty AU and used this one here.

Royalty isn't really in my wheelhouse, but King Ralph popped into my head, and made me cackle. Sure, I'll make American Steve an unlikely King. No problem.

I'm sure Eddie had the job of about a dozen men, here. Go with it.

Also? John Goodman is a damn delight. Nobody could deliver the "dick of what?" line better than that, though I had Steve try.

Wienerlicious was from the show Chuck.

House of Wyndam-Pryce is a Buffy joke. That's Wesley's last name, and Wyndham was the fictional name in King Ralph. So it seemed fitting.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!

#steddiemas #hallmark movie tropes #royalty au #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #king steve #platonic stobin #stranger things fic #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemas

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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Customer Service

1.2k, f!reader x homelander. a cathartic and indulgent little gift fic for @irenadel! You work in customer service, and unfortunately, one customer has decided you're the perfect outlet for his consumer rage. What this customer doesn't realize is that that none other than Homelander himself is waiting right outside for you, and he doesn't like what he's hearing.

Another day, another one of these assholes. “Sir, if you’ll listen, I–” You try to reason, but to no avail. You’re interrupted again. “No, no, no! I’ve had enough, your policy is ridiculous!” The man snaps, waving his rolled up form in your face like a newspaper at a misbehaving dog. It’s not even your policy. You just work here, and yet you’re the one forced to take all the abuse. This man has been yelling at you for the better half of ten minutes, but everyone around you is so desensitized, not even the glassiness in your eyes seems to matter. It’s just customer service. It’s normal. “You’re the one who needs to listen! I’ve told you what I want, and your job is to do it, alright? I’m the customer, so unless you’re too fucking stupid to–”

“Whoa, whoahhhhohoh there, champ,” a familiar voice cuts in, followed by a flash of crimson as a gloved hand falls on the man’s shoulder, cutting him short. The man whirls, prepared to maintain his fury, but the words evaporate from his tongue the instant he sees who has intervened. “H-Homelander?” The man stutters, bewildered. Uh oh, you think, but it takes everything in you to not smile. He did say he was going to pick you up today. Your eyes flicker to the clock, and you realize your shift ended five minutes ago. The store is closed, leaving just the three of you and a handful of your coworkers, who evidently would prefer to hide in the back than help you deal with an angry customer. “The one and only,” Homelander confirms, smiling jovially, though you alone recognize the undercurrent to his expression. You see the snarl in his toothy grin. Meanwhile, the man smiles with a dumbstruck kind of awe, a lamb wholly fooled by Homelander’s sheepskin. “What in the world is all this yelling about?”

“Oh, I– uhm,” the man fumbles, gesturing vaguely with his tightly rolled form. The redness from his anger is beginning to drain from his face, and with it he’s beginning to look smaller and smaller, as if he’s just drunk a particularly potent shrinking potion. Homelander often has that effect on people. He makes them seem so… insignificant. You feel your own eyes beginning to dry already. “Just, uh, these policies, you know? They’re so against the consumer, right? And it’s just–it’s ridiculous, you know? Like I pay her fuckin’ salary and she can’t even–” The man begins to point that sinister roll of paper towards you, but Homelander catches him swiftly by the wrist, gripping hard enough that the man drops it with a startled little gasp. “Don’t do that,” Homelander says, voice sharp as the crack of a whip, maintaining that chipper smile. “Y’see, real men don’t yell at pretty little ladies, much less go around waving sticks at them,” he says, the words sounding venomous even in the bright commercial timbre of his voice. “It’s all about having self control. Have you ever been at the mercy of someone stronger than you? Someone who, I don’t know… lost that control?” He asks, tone growing colder with every word. You can hear the threat in his question loud and clear, but you don’t intervene. You find yourself watching with a kind of distant fascination, like you’re watching these events unfold from somewhere outside yourself. No one has ever stepped up for you like this. “I–I–I didn’t–I wasn’t– y-you’re right, I–I lost my cool,” the man sputters, beginning to lean away, attempting to twist slowly out of Homelander’s iron grip. “Listen, I’m just gonna–” “Apologize,” Homelander interjects. His smile never budges, but you think the man is starting to understand just how unfriendly the gesture really is. There’s sweat prickling all along his forehead, rolling down his temple, passing his wide, frightened eyes. “Go on. Tell her you’re sorry.”

Looking back at you, you’re amazed that anyone this pitiful ever had the power to make you cry. “I’m sorry,” he blubbers, looking at you now like you’re his only salvation, his wrist still upheld firmly in Homelander’s gloved hand. “I’m sorry for yelling, and calling you stu–” the man attempts to finish, but the unmistakable crack of his wrist snapping in Homelander’s grasp robs him of anything other than a cry of pain. Immediately, Homelander releases him, and starts to laugh, his first genuine smile emerging as the man screams. “Ohh, golly! Jeeze, that was just so clumsy of me. Oof, that’s a nasty pinch, huh? I’d go get that checked out if I were you,” he says, patting the man so firmly on the chest that he stumbles backwards, clutching his wrist with wide, watery eyes. He looks pathetic, red and weepy, shocked by the turn of events. “You broke my wrist! You broke my fucking wrist! Why would you do that!?” The man asks, voice climbing quickly into hysteria as he stumbles away from Homelander, towards the door. “Well,” Homelander sighs, lifting his hands in a helpless kind of gesture. “I dunno, I guess I just… ‘lost my cool,’ ” he says, making quotation marks around the words with his fingers, watching the man fumble his way out the door. Meanwhile, you stand behind Homelander in a mix of awe and a devious kind of delight mingling in your expression. There was a time you might have felt guilt, or horror. Not anymore. “That was… really bad,” you whisper, hands over your mouth, concealing your smile. Homelander turns around to face you, his arms clasped behind his back. His eyes soften when they land on you, and his smile looks a great deal more boyish than it does that of a wolf. “Mmm, but it felt good, didn’t it?” He asks, leaning in close. He bumps his nose against yours in a quick little nuzzle. “No one talks to my girl like that,” he tells you, bringing his hands up to cup your face. His words sound like a promise. The juxtaposition between this man, who cradles you in tender hands, as though you’re made of glass, and the one who just snapped someone’s wrist on a whim, is a dizzying one, but you’ve grown to really love it. You’ve never been so certain of someone’s love for you.

You get butterflies when he kisses you. Slinging your arms around his neck, you hang off of him just to enjoy the way he makes you feel weightless when he straightens up, bringing you nearly off your feet. “C’mon,” he purrs against your lips, lifting you up properly into his arms. “That moron made us late for our date.” “Okay,” you say softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You inhale deep the minty evergreen scent of him, brushing your fingers along the closely shorn hair of his undercut, savoring the feel of it against your fingers. Everything about him brings you a peace that you didn’t know another person could, filling your senses with warmth, with the thrill of his devotion. You rest your cheek on his shoulder as he carries you out of the building, holding on tight for what you know is to come. Homelander launches straight up into the sky with you, above and beyond all of the problems that felt so big a few moments ago, but now feel so very, very small.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #my writing #what can i say i love me some violent protective homie

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boizandgurlzinthehouse · 11 months

Text

𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐁*𝐓𝐂𝐇 ; 𝐆𝐔𝐍-𝐖𝐎𝐎 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋? 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋.

summary: getting to y/n, the hard part is coming only now. how much can the new girl fit into the trio?

wordcount: 3.209k (seems too short idk)

tw: swearing, y/n is a little bit bitchy (but only if it's needed, we aren't pick mes don't worry girlies), woo-jin is a tease, terrible written chat messages, gun-woo is still a cutie and i love him sooo much.

author's note: i made a spotify playlist for this fanfic, like it and listen to it if you want babies

part 1 playlist link!!

gun-woo tossed and turned after he got into bed, kissing his mother goodnight. turn after turn, sigh after sigh, his eyes constantly returned to the paper that y/n gave him. he wanted to talk to her, to continue their conversation about boxing, martial arts and other things like her job. she seemed so cool with her tattoos, and could absolutely imagine her as she poured drink after drink, mixing cocktails and counting money with that fast, bill-flipping technique, collecting receipts from the counter, shouting at rude customers as the neon lights changed on her skin. she also guessed that he wasn’t a drinker –he wasn’t as cool as woo-jin, yeah… and he also wasn't a man of words. as gun-woo thought these things, he realized that he weighed his chances for y/n. no, he can’t do that! y/n surely has a boyfriend, or many guys who want to be her boyfriend, who can tell jokes… and tell their thoughts about things… damn, again.

turning on his side, grabbing his phone and the paper, he typed in the number. gun-woo hoped that the girl wasn’t giving them a faux number, as they upset her at the beginning. but the words she wrote, that they’re gonna figure out these things… maybe he should just trust his luck. but what to write to y/n?

are you awake?

no, that’s so oblivious that he wants to talk to her.

did you get home safe?

another no… too emotional. looking at y/n, she sure doesn't like guys who drool over her and looking for her safety and needs. gun-woo thought about calling woo-jin to ask him about this, woo-jin seemed like a guy who was experienced, but after the first fiasco in the restaurant, gun-woo came to the decision that woo-jin can’t know about this. and after that, he would scold him for waking him up at midnight.

gun-woo

are you sure about this? that you’re in? it’s gunwoo.

maybe this will do it. gun-woo didn’t think much, he just sent. after seeing the delivered bubble, he instantly knew that this was a bad idea, y/n was surely asleep. and after that, it’s rude to question someone after they made a decision or a promise so heavy like in this situation. gun-woo wanted to delete the message, but before unlocking the phone, he saw that y/n sent him a message. his heartbeat got a little faster, and his pupils narrowed –maybe from her, maybe from the sudden light.

y/n

are you doubting me now, gun-woo?

gun-woo

no, of course not! it’s just dangerous.

y/n

you think i don't know danger? i meet danger every night when i don’t serve the customers who are drunk as skunks.

gun-woo smiled. on the screen he saw that the girl began to type again, but she stopped, and waited when he began to write the answer.

gun-woo

aren’t you tired? working and training all day is surely exhausting.

y/n

only a little. but why aren't you sleeping? i thought i’m the only one who was awake.

he sighed.

gun-woo

just thinking about what’s gonna happen tomorrow.

y/n

be cool, i’m not gonna fight if hyeon-ju is okay.

gun-woo

no, not about that! about catching those men who are behind smile capital. but that’s nice from you.

y/n

oh, yeah. well, don’t worry. i saw your friend on the tv, he’s good, and you’re good too. and not to brag, but i’m good too. really good.

smiling, gun-woo turned on his back. it was more comfortable to type this way. he imagined as y/n laid in bed the same as him. maybe she was smiling too, at least he hoped.

gun-woo

i believe that. otherwise, hyeon-ju wouldn't want to talk to you.

he typed again.

gun-woo

don’t tell this back to woo-jin, but when you went out, he said he felt himself in life danger when you grabbed his wrist.

y/n

hahaha

this one is funny.

i just wanted to be ready for possible harassment. a couple weeks ago, some creep was walking on those streets, a girl who i know called the police but they weren't catched.

gun-woo

i would never hurt people who are weaker than me.

y/n

i don’t even talk about you, dummy. but that’s good to know. i can protect myself if needed.

gun-woo

i know, just in case. you can never know.

y/n

you are nice, gun-woo.

watch out for yourself, people these days are using this for no good.

gun-woo

i’m going to, thanks y/n. my diligence and good heart are my two mainstays.

y/n

it was good talking to you, gun-woo, but now i’m going to sleep. it’s nearly two am.

gun-woo checked the time. damn, it really was that late? he needs to sleep, too. but it was so nice to talk to her. maybe tomorrow, they could talk about it further. he really inquired himself about who y/n was, and what she did, even if they just met today.

gun-woo

you are right, i’m going too.

goodnight, y/n!

y/n

good night to you too, gun-woo.

don’t be late tomorrow!

locking his phone, gun-woo looked out of the window that was beside his bed, and after a couple of moments, he let the idiot smile spread on his lips, just as the warmth under his skin. he didn’t know why it caused him so much giddiness to talk with her. but he sure gotta hide it tomorrow. anyway, yang jae-myeong was still on the streets, stealing IDs and making more and more money to smile capital, and the director of smile capital was still beating off little people with his toy-soldiers, tying roguish loans. they're gonna catch him, and then move onto the next step.

with y/n.

[ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏 ]

tomorrow noon, gun-woo walked to the place they came to an agreement. he didn’t write to y/n, he had to help his mother and didn't want to seem clingy, but he hoped that the girl would be there. seeing woo-jin on the corner, the other also looked across the crossway, but there was no one who seemed like y/n.

“i hope she comes, otherwise we can’t go to hyeon-ju. it would be terrible” woo-jin said instead of saying hello, but gun-woo had to agree with him. on the other hand, she wouldn't chat with her if she wasn’t gonna meet them, would she?

“she sure gonna come, she said to me yesterday that this is a personal business to her.” at his words, woo-jin began to smirk, nudging his shoulder.

“really? and where did she say this? between the bedsheets?” gun-woo rolled his eyes.

“woo-jin, give me a break! there’s nothing between us, why would there be any? we only met yesterday, she’s nice, that’s it.”

“well, you wasn't the one who almost broke your wrist and got beaten up.”

“stop dramatizing, woo. she’s just afraid because there were some creeps on the streets a couple weeks ago.” he replied, looking constantly in every direction.

“yeah, yeah… wait, what? how do you know this?” he asked, and gun-woo suddenly felt exposed.

“it was… it was in the news, you didn’t read it? or… social media, instagram?” gun-woo tried to cover the truth, but woo-jin totally saw through his façade.

“you have her phone number, don’t you? you got it, and used it for yourself too!” he spoke up, louder this time, gun-woo didn't want other people to look at them, like in the restaurant when woo-jin got to know that he is an ex-marine just like the other, and was afraid that y/n accidentally gonna hear it, too.

“no, not! i have her number, but only for hyeon-ju! after all, this was our task too!”

and in the worst possible moment, gun-woo’s phone pinged.

“who is it?” woo-jin asked, tilting his head. warmth began to spread on gun-woo’s neck, as always when he was nervous and flustered. somehow, he knew that woo-jin knew who it was.

“i don't know, maybe hyeon-ju? how would i know?” he responded, searching for his phone in his pocket. his heartbeat increased a little bit. a little bit? i’m not gonna be a liar, gun-woo’s heartbeat increased from sea level to the tokyo tower in one second.

y/n

gonna be there in minutes. my boss is a literal asshole.

gun-woo’s brain had to figure out the last word, because in the next moment woo-jin took away his phone. trying to get it, gun-woo leant for it, but he couldn’t get the phone from his friend as he turned his back. gun-woo got around him to take his phone back.

“you not only seduce the new girl, but you are a liar too!” woo-jin 'tsked with his teeth and slapped his shoulder. gun-woo locked the phone.

“no, i’m not! seriously, woo-jin, just get off from the topic, and–” before he could continue, his friend pointed in front of them. there she was, y/n. wearing baggy jeans and a sweater, she bidded with her hand before she crossed the crosswalk. in the last moments, gun-woo turned to woo-jin, trying to mutter.

“don’t say any word to her about this, okay?”

“about what?” y/n asked, tucking away her earphones. gun-woo looked at him, and then looked at woo-jin.

“about… that we are going to hyeon-ju. so the two of you can talk. is that okay?” he asked, y/n nodded, and waited for them to show the way. woo-jin wiggled his eyebrows, gun-woo rolled his eyes. this is gonna be a long day.

arriving at the library, they rarely talked, but on the threshold of the gates, y/n stopped them. taking off the mask, she looked at the two.

“seriously, before i go in… does hyeon-ju have any obsession or craze?”

“why?” woo-jin asked. y/n sighed, and began to talk.

“because i don’t work with crazy people! my boss is crazy enough, and i won’t gonna die or get seriously injured because somebody gets itchy in its mind!”

“don’t worry, y/n, hyeon-ju doesn’t have any obsession. maybe she’s grumpy, but… only a little bit.”

“not so little bit”, woo-jin murmured, but before y/n could make reservations, gun-woo shook his head.

“i think… you’re gonna get along with her. it’s gonna be fine. please, trust us enough to have a talk with her.”

y/n looked in his eyes, then looked away. breathing in and out, she shrugged her shoulders.

“whatever, i have to see her with my own eyes to make a decision. please, lead me in.”

with much pleasure, gun-woo opened the door.

[ 𝐘/𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ]

strangely, gun-woo’s personality was calming to her. she just got done with her work –listing the drinks they need to drink as she was the so-called little boss of the bar she worked in– when gun-woo wrote to her, but it lit up her night. y/n thought about it, about him at night, from the second she got home, as she underdressed, showered, washed her teeth, removed her makeup, cleaned her face, creamed her tattoos, and got into her pajamas, to the second she got into bed. she had many experiences with guys, and although on the outside, her co-workers always saw her with another guy, in reality, she never did anything with anyone. everybody wanted to be much better than their usual selves on the internet, or for a little while she served them drinks, bragging about cars, chicks and parties, but in the meantime, y/n knew that all of this is a monstrous humbug. for a while, she stopped meeting or dating anyone because of this –disappointed about the people she was working with, but also sad because which good, handsome and good-hearted guy would want a girl who has tattoos, fights in gyms and works in a bar? the guys she wanted to date could never introduce her to their families, and the ones she knew could easily give her away to human traffickers in exchange for some drugs. but, maybe these things were called consequences, isn't it?

she also didn’t know why she told gun-woo about her job and stuff. maybe, it was just good to talk to somebody without bad intentions, with someone who didn’t want to seem more than he already was. when she told him she thought he’s not a drinker, he wasn’t beating the table and calling her out to drink, and when she suggested that he wanted to protect her, he also didn’t want to be a macho man. maybe it was the whole guy’s simplicity that got her –or maybe his cute eyes and the way his eyes scrunched when he smiled.

following the guys, she took off her jacket and mask, looking around. a simple bookstore, nothing else –but at the same time, it was everything that her father told her about. she was interested in hyeon-ju, she worked with girls constantly in the bar, but in a life-danger situation… it’s gonna be different.

“are you two here?” it was surely the other girl, and then y/n saw her: they were almost the same height, showing off two entirely different worlds. hyeon-ju’s hair was cool, actually, but y/n could never imagine herself with a hair short like this; she liked to twirl and style it. hyeon-ju seemed to be clear and determined – y/n liked it.

“yeah, and we brought y/n with ourselves!” woo-jin sang, hyeon-ju sat down, and pointed to the chair across the short table. y/n looked at the guys behind her, then looked at the girl.

“you want me to sit there?” she asked, scratching behind her ear.

“yes, please.” y/n nodded. she won’t do anything without a ‘please’, especially not in the beginning. giving the respect for each part of the deal was the most important deal.

“okay… so, i heard from these two that you are working on dragging smile capital down. i’ll answer everything you ask, but i have questions too.” she began. hyeon-ju nodded.

“i heard about you from my granddad’s phone calls. do you or your family know my grandfather?”

y/n shaked a little bit. that night’s memories were sharp, like she was there again.

“yes, my father. he… knows sir choi. and his friends too.”

“how did your father get into connection with my grandfather?”

“sorry, but i don’t answer personal questions. but i can tell you, that my father is not an enemy, and it isn't about the loans.”

“what is that you can’t tell? did something happen to your father?” y/n furrowed her eyebrows at this question. it made her a little bit uncomfortable.

“why, what did happen to your father if you live with your granddad now?”

hyeon-ju looked at the guys. a pregnant silence fell on the atmosphere of the bookstore.

“i should have asked my granddad about you. maybe he would tell me that you are mocking and taunting people.”

y/n scoffed. brushing the tattoos on her fingers, she looked into the girl’s eyes again. she felt that the guys beside them were nervous, but she didn’t care. gun-woo was fine, woo-jin was okay, but this girl… this girl was bitter.

“i taunt you because i feel cornered. anyway, why does my personal intentions matter if i want to help? my purpose is to kill that fucker who’s behind all of that smile capital shit. if our purposes match, i think we should work together.” y/n leaned forward.

she didn’t want to sell her every secret. why would she need it? it was much deeper than she could just tell it in the beginning. and maybe, if being a little bitch because she doesn’t tell her deepest, darkest memories, then so be it. maybe, another time she’s gonna tell them… if they survive, or if they can make a deal.

hyeon-ju sat in silence, looking at the guys, then looking at y/n. furrowing her brows, the girl sighed.

“if i say that we are going to stalk a man from smile capital tonight, would you come?” she asked. y/n thinked a little bit, scratching her chin with her nails.

“i think so. my tuesdays are always free.”

“okay then, i have to make sure that you’re in, and you're not gonna back out if things get serious.”

“wait, wait, wait, what is the plan? because, i guess the three of you already talked about it. if it’s just stalking and some sneaking, then i’m in. but if it’s some dead-beating or weapon kinda shit, then i’m out.”

“what difference does it make?” woo-jin asked, getting a glare from hyeon-ju. the three looked at y/n, who picked at her nails, shrugging her shoulders again.

“i guess, in the beginning, maybe we couldn’t work out together. and if we get into life-threatening danger immediately, we die right then and there.”

hyeon-ju nodded. maybe they finally agreed on something.

“okay, then it’s just sneaking and following around. there’s a man, yang jae-myeong, who took a loan from my grandfather. i got to follow him, but i want the three of you to go after him. watch what and how they do things, how many they are, if they use weapons, or anything. that’s all. if you’re as good as my grandfather said on the phone, then we can talk about more things later. deal?”

hyeon-ju offered her hand to y/n to shake it. y/n thought about the risks: if they get caught by this yang jae-myeong, then, possibly this girl’s further plans’ gonna unravel. because a girl like this, with dark clothes and leather jacket, she sure has a bigger plan than these hide and seek and tag-games. swallowing, y/n looked at gun-woo. he hadn’t had a mask on, his lips were full, and a massive band aid was on the left side of his face. his eyes had faith and determination.

nevermind. if she can’t avenge what happened to her family, what happened in the past, then at least she’s going to work on a better future.

reaching for hyeon-ju’s hand, she shook it with a little, devilish smile.

“deal.”

[ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏 ]

after the ‘meeting’, woo-jin, gun-woo and y/n went to eat somewhere. woo-jin talked on his phone with someone, while gun-woo and y/n got into a conversation.

“do you think i’m always gonna have a shitty relationship with hyeon-ju ?” y/n asked, lamenting about the conversation. gun-woo looked at her.

“no, hyeon-ju’s just a little bit… harsh. but don’t be angry at her, please.”

the girl shook her head,

“i’m not angry at her, don’t worry. just became a little bit pissed about her questions. you know, the personal ones.”

“is it… really that bad? that bad that sometimes… you don't even want to think about it?” gun-woo asked. y/n looked away, pulling the hem of her sweater on the back of her hands. pulling up her eyebrows, then letting them fall, the right corner of her lips twitched.

“yeah. but… if we get along well together… maybe i’m gonna tell you. but for now, i gotta make it right with hyeon-ju. it wouldn’t be good if we get into a fight in the middle of a fight, isn't it?”

gun-woo laughed. deep inside, he wanted to know what happened to y/n, and wanted to comfort her better than anything. but that’s for later.

“no, that wouldn't be good. remember, no claws, okay?”

now y/n was the one who laughed, as they turned down on the street.

"yeah, i know. only strokes."

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃.

author's note: thanks for the likes on the first part girlies, here's the second part. if work lets me, i'm gonna post every 2-3 days, i think that's okay. and like the spotify playlist!! i often gonna add new songs. bye babes

taglist: @fairyhani @castleninja

(ask for tag in taglist in comment or here)

#bloodhounds kdrama #bloodhounds netflix #bloodhounds imagines #bloodhounds x reader #bloodhounds #gun woo x reader #gun woo imagines #woo jin x reader #woo do hwan #netflix korea

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whumpbby · 9 months

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I love the pics where JC/wangxian get sex-pollened and dual cultivation is the only way out. Love every single of these.

However, an idea struck today xD

Say, the thing happens, sex pollen threatens their lives and they have to fuck and JC agrees to it reluctantly. He doesn't want to die so may as well let the Second Jade fuck him - it's a marginally better option than ungraceful death-_-

Except, the sex is so bad.

So. Bad.

Jiang Cheng lays there, forced to take it, gritting his teeth and questioning his choices. It can be, can it? Lan Zhan has been very openly in a physical relationship with Wei Wuxian for five years now. They apparently fuck all the time, if Lan Xichen's stilted complaints are anything to go by. So how is Wangji so bad at it??? Is it because he hates Jiang Cheng and doesn't care to make it good? Well, fuck him then-_-

But no. Because when Wei Wuxian's turn comes, it's still... not good.

Jiang Cheng sits there, aching and exhausted, and cannot stop looking, because he's concerned. They are going at it like a pair of blind monkeys. Is this what they think sex is??? It looks painful (and it is).

He leaves, full of concern and frustration.

When his father left him in a care of the expensive courtesan right after JC's sixteen birthday, it was completely different. He was nervous and embarrassed, but the jiejie was very patient and inviting, and they've spent a very nice afternoon as she taught him what to do on his wedding night. To his initial mortification, the lesson included *gulp* anal sex.

"In case future Jiang-Furen wishes to take a ride on your pillar without being distracted by possible consequences." She told him with a sneaky wink.

She seemed satisfied with his performance and, well, pleased, throughout. And he found the act quite pleasurable, if a bit scandalous (and doubly exciting because of that).

It cannot be that different when it's men, can it?

Can it?

Wei Wuxian, at least, was an avid reader of Huaisang's spring books, he should know the basics at least!

Except... well, father never took him to the Wisteria House - mother would openly murder both of them if that happened. And, as much as he flirted and chased girls, Jiang Cheng knew his shixiong was too busy with training and pranks, and never actually had a girl.

And Lan Wangji had the personality and charm of a tree stump, and he was famously in love with Wei Wuxian since they were boys.

Could it be that they were both goddamn virgins when they came together? Could it be they didn't know that sex was supposed to be better? Was this as far as their imagination went???

Jiang Cheng himself wasn't a regular customer of brothels and his libido was quite low, but even he knew your ass shouldn't ache for days after (and wasn't that a fun and humiliating experience in trying to heal that part of his body?). Lady Li very patiently explained to him how to ensure his future wife will leave their bed sated and relaxed.

He shouldn't care, really, what business of his was how Wei Wuxian and his husband fucked? He'd rather not think about it.

...But he was thinking about it. And it wasn't giving him peace!

Thus, after two weeks with very little sleep and a lot of punching things, Jiang Cheng found himself in the Wisteria House, asking to see their best male courtesan with the intention of asking some very embarrassing questions.

#headcanon #mdzs #jiang cheng #lol

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allfortzu · 3 months

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the first draft of can we get closer (let's get closer) -- i couldn't bear not posting it, since it is completed :)

(expect similarities, though it's quite different!)

jihyo / tzuyu, 2k. suggestive (basically smut) // MEN DNI

tzuyu has never liked tattoos.

she's never liked the idea of pain leaving a permanent mark, created by someone else, no less.

perhaps if she were a little more artistic, had a little more in way of creative self-expression. perhaps then she would learn to fully appreciate them, like how chaeyoung did.

she liked them on other people, though, enjoyed looking at all of chaeyoung's little works.

but for now, tzuyu is content without any of her own.

confidently so, she's always thought.

yet here she is, eyes fixated on one park jihyo, suddenly intrigued.

jihyo was, by no means, a close friend. a mutual contact at best and one tzuyu has never really thought much past her profession.

but it's this exact thought that has tzuyu hooked, curiosity piqued. what does park jihyo's tattoos look like?

chaeyoung has fallen asleep on the couch by now, their planning session definitely lasting longer than expected, but jihyo hasn't left, and tzuyu is too distracted to want to leave.

she's too distracted by jihyo.

she can't stop looking at the edges of faded black beneath the sleeves of jihyo's tee, can’t stop catching glimpses of carefully lined maroon when jihyo's lifts her arms just so, stretching languidly from sketching too long. the hem of her crop rises slightly to reveal more ink, right around her ribcage.

tzuyu tilts her head subconsciously, entranced.

unfortunately for her, jihyo is perceptive – and bold.

"checking me out?" she chuckles, throwing tzuyu a playful wink. sets her pen down, happy for an excuse to talk to this friend of chaeyoung she's always seen around, but never got the chance to know. it's casual, flirty.

but tzuyu isn't so easily shaken. "yeah, just… curious." they've interacted enough for her to be honest, she thinks.

jihyo smiles, slightly amused, how tzuyu cuts to the chase so quickly. "see anything you like?"

"okay, i'm not checking you out, just curious."

"sorry, sorry," jihyo laughs, somehow enjoying tzuyu's deadpan way of banter. "pretty girls make me say stupid things."

she pushes herself off the ground and joins tzuyu, the leather couch sinking gently under her. "curious about what?"

it's the most they've talked ever; the most she's heard tzuyu talk, so jihyo naturally wants to keep the conversation going, if only to hear tzuyu's voice more.

"your…," tzuyu says, unexpectedly sheepish at the suddenly very real prospect of jihyo flirting.

"um… your tattoos?" she words it as a question, just so it doesn't come off too imposing – also because she'd been snapped out of her thoughts and in that moment, wasn't thinking of anything but is she flirting?

jihyo doesn't seem to mind her uncertainty at all.

"oh, you saw?" she looks down at her exposed abdomen, before lifting her cropped tee just a little more, and tzuyu gets her first taste of what exactly she hasn't seen.

"they're a bit hidden, but i promise i'm not a tattoo artist who hasn't experienced a tattoo before," jihyo says, like tzuyu was a potential customer expressing her worries. "don't worry."

except that wasn't really what tzuyu was asking for, so she bites her tongue.

but it's like jihyo reads her mind, or maybe tzuyu isn't very good at hiding her emotions, because she asks, "wanna see more?"

"really?" tzuyu perks up, brows raising in anticipation. "do you have pictures?"

"no, but i can show you now," jihyo offers, and tzuyu practically beams.

if tzuyu had a tail, jihyo thinks it would definitely be wagging right now, because she nods so quickly that jihyo can't help but let the excitement rub off her.

she thought tzuyu was shy at first, because they'd never talked much; then, a little stoic in the way she spoke –

but now, tzuyu's just cute.

jihyo lifts the hem of her tee, wisps of red and black revealed. tzuyu leans in, and she makes out a fragment of a flame, curving right below the underside of jihyo's chest. it's elegant in its form, less patchwork like chaeyoung’s and more cohesive.

"i have these, another just halfway down my shoulder, and one more on my back," jihyo explains, eager to share. "it's a big one, but not too big."

she takes off her shirt, and tzuyu jolts back in surprise, heart in her throat.

"oh, you– " you don't have to, is what she means to say, but the moment she sees the tattoo on jihyo's back, she forgets.

it's a breathtaking tattoo, brushstroke-like details, similar to the ones on her ribcage. the red and blacks are a constant theme, and they flow down the dip of her spine, spreading over her shoulder blades and fading off in the edges.

"did it hurt?" tzuyu asks, voice softer, like jihyo's delicately drawn tattoos simply warranted something more gentle. she reaches out to touch, a curious moth to a flame; traces her fingers over the lines. "it's beautiful."

jihyo feels goosebumps rise in the wake of tzuyu's touch, but her chest swells with pride at tzuyu's comment. "it hurt, but it was worth it, so they cancel out, yeah?” she reasons. “are you thinking of getting one?"

"definitely worth it," tzuyu agrees. she didn't know she had a preference for tattoos, but she thinks she might have one now. they looked incredibly good on others, namely jihyo. "but no, i don't like pain."

"didn't think you were a scaredy cat," jihyo teases, grin sly.

the jibe is enough to snap tzuyu out of her trance, and she folds her arms back into her chest with a huff. "not liking pain doesn't mean i'm scared of it," she scoffs. "i would just rather not experience it."

jihyo laughs at tzuyu's silly workaround, a light chuckle leaving her lips that, if not for the fact they were the only ones talking, tzuyu would not have heard.

"who says pain has to be bad?" jihyo muses, leaning into where tzuyu had leaned back. "won't know until you try, right?"

at this point, tzuyu isn't sure if jihyo's still joking or not. it's the same laid back expression, the one she had when she'd called tzuyu pretty, but the words here don't feel quite the same.

"what do you mean?" tzuyu asks.

"you know, like how people talk about mixing pain with pleasure," jihyo says, taking tzuyu's hand in hers.

"like how… if i do this – " she tugs hard, and tzuyu falls forward with a yelp. " –the suspense hurts," jihyo giggles. "but then there're also these butterflies in your tummy."

yeah, there're butterflies in her tummy, but she can't say they're from the pain of her hitched breaths – can't say they're not from jihyo's proximity.

tzuyu is suddenly acutely aware that jihyo is topless, and the only reason she isn't all over jihyo is because she's holding herself up.

"this is– this is different," tzuyu denies resolutely, but she sounds a little out of breath. "not the same as… a tattoo."

"it's about the feeling, tzuyu," jihyo says, eyes fleeting down to tzuyu's lips, then back up.

tzuyu's chest tightens, and she doesn't know if it's the butterflies, or whatever it is jihyo is making her feel.

but isn't that how it always goes – flame burning moth the moment they touch.

there's a beat.

a short one, but a thousand thoughts run through tzuyu's mind in that fraction of a second.

jihyo's eyes bore into hers, and all of tzuyu's thoughts condense into a single sentence –

she’s so pretty.

tzuyu stops breathing.

"can i kiss you?"

it's jihyo who asks.

she's quiet.

can i kiss you?

there's the soft exhale of their breaths, anticipation palpable. a tiny spark.

"you’re really pretty," tzuyu whispers.

all the butterflies come back.

the spark bursts like wildfire, the moment jihyo leans in to press her lips into hers.

jihyo tastes warm, so warm it spreads down tzuyu's neck, into her chest, and she hates that they're in this position now, because she wants her hands on jihyo; wants to feel all that warmth in its entirety.

she doesn’t really know how they’ve gotten here, how they’ve moved so quickly, but doesn’t really care.

the only place tzuyu can reach is jihyo's ribcage, so she does just that, thumbs pressing into ink, fingers curving into her sides. "i really like your tattoos," she murmurs in between kisses.

"mhm," jihyo hums, searching for tzuyu's lips again. "i like you.”

she gives tzuyu another peck, and tzuyu can’t really reply, especially not with jihyo nipping. her teeth close gently with tzuyu’s lips in between, tugging until it hurts ever so slightly, enough to make tzuyu suck in a breath.

“unnie– “ tzuyu mewls, tasting copper on her tongue and digging her fingers into jihyo’s sides. the sensation is odd, but jihyo kisses the pain away.

“that hurt,” tzuyu murmurs.

“that was the goal,” jihyo says, nosing the underside of tzuyu’s jaw before placing another kiss there.

she sucks lightly, and tzuyu feels teeth again, probing. she notes jihyo’s penchant for biting, and is about to reprimand her again for the pain, but then jihyo sucks where she’s bitten, and all tzuyu can do is squirm and instinctively cant her head upward, the buzz that crawls down her neck suddenly addicting.

jihyo pulls back then, licking her lips at the sight of the reddening mark under tzuyu’s jaw. “you look so pretty, all marked up.”

tzuyu barely has a second to respond before jihyo dives in again, this time to the base of her neck, right at the edge of her collarbone. she does the same thing over – sucking, biting, licking – painful, but less so now that tzuyu has experienced it, and there’s such a pleasant hum that follows, making her stomach curl deliciously, choking back her whimpers.

“unnie,” tzuyu breathes out, a silent request she can’t find the words for in her current state of mind.

she wants jihyo to touch her properly, to sate that heat in her tummy, maybe mark her up there, and jihyo can see it in the way tzuyu has unconsciously started moving her hips against her thighs too, grinding with evident desperation.

but she can also hear chaeyoung shuffling, the telltale shifting of someone on the verge of waking up, so jihyo licks at tzuyu’s collarbone a final time, and pulls back.

“not now,” jihyo whispers, hands finding purchase on tzuyu’s waist to stop her from getting off completely on jihyo’s thigh. “chaeyoung."

a short, high pitched sound escapes tzuyu’s throat, a meek whine that encapsulates all her frustration perfectly. it's like her entire vocabulary has dwindled down to nothing, and it's embarrassing the way she even thinks of begging. "unnie…"

"you're so cute, tzuyu," jihyo muses. she bites at tzuyu's neck again, and the sting is warm and insistent.

but tzuyu's also uncomfortably wet now, soaked through with nothing to satiate her. "i still… don't like pain," she huffs, just to annoy jihyo.

"hey, i haven’t shown you what that really is yet,” jihyo teases. “give me an answer the next time i come over.”

the promise of next time makes tzuyu’s tummy flutter; those stupid butterflies jihyo keeps giving her.

she doesn’t entertain jihyo with a response, sitting up and untangling their legs. jihyo laughs, tzuyu’s tantrum terribly endearing, and she’s about to tease a little more before chaeyoung lets out an audible groan.

tzuyu’s eyes widen, and jihyo quickly slips on her shirt. they hold their breath when chaeyoung starts rubbing the sleep out her eyes, groaning again. “this fucking couch… i’m moving to my bed.”

she doesn’t even spare them a glance, trudging to her bedroom in muted thuds.

tzuyu and jihyo exchange looks, before they start giggling uncontrollably.

“i think that’s my cue to leave,” jihyo laughs, trying to regain her composure.

she leans in, puckering her lips, as if asking for a goodbye kiss.

tzuyu taps her cheeks lightly. “next time.”

jihyo narrows her eyes. tzuyu smiles slyly.

“fine,” jihyo pouts. “try not to dream about me.”

with a flirtatious wink, she’s out the door.

tzuyu lets it simmer for a bit, burning the memory of jihyo’s tattoos into her mind. red, black, and flowy. the ones on her ribs curve into her sides, another on her shoulders inching down to her collarbones. and then her back, following the dip of her spine, over her shoulder blades.

a trail of red is scattered down tzuyu’s neck, jihyo’s marks etched into her skin.

#twice imagines #jihyo x tzuyu #park jihyo #chou tzuyu #jitzu #twice suggestive #twice fics #happy birthday to all the tzu stans that have maybe a little more than one bday 🤧#this is practically smut now that i reread it

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