#ArrangedMarriage!AU

[s-4pphics]

soul ties. part I (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: a product of brokenness. WORD COUNT: 13.4K WARNINGS: ellie’s a painter/art dealer, heavy angst[oc is suicidal and has dissociative episodes + abusive parents/SEXUAL ABUSE(nothing explicitly written but aluded to) + patriarchy/men being predatory/traditionalist households + mentions of cheating + alcoholism + disordered eating/self-harm(cuticle picking) + thoughts of murder + mommy issues/daddy issues + parental grief + homophobia + more patriarchy but with dykes + unhealthy relationships with sex(coping) + brief mention of masturbation + sexual tension + making out + fondling + slapping + DUBCON + just matching freaks to avoid trauma], miscommunication, just 2 socially inept crash outs lol  A/N: hellloo lol. fixed plot bc im venting… s been a very rough few months. i was convinced i lost my very acute skill so uhhh consider this a test. uhh what else… idk when i’ll be back bc im now a piano player #NEWFOUNDESCAPISM LOL.  suggestion: this technically could b read alone but if u care ab context read this first. then this. that is all LOL byeee :p hi taggies we back: @dyk3ang3l @acidblum @mellifluousgirll @elliesatchel @callmewhenyoukan @natgf123 @elliesstella @spaceforescape @floridaopal @lonelyfooryouonly @ellies-converse @amiorca @darkerstarsstuff

fuck the bitch that made this game.  dont buy his shit.

aid links from my inbox: one, two, three, four

What to do, what to do… 

Ellie is a wreck. An agitated, craving, mess. 

What to do… Love your wife, fuck the daylights out of your wife, kill your wife before she kills you… What to do… 

It can’t be that hard to hide a body. Is it still murder if it’s self-defense? Ellie’s sure the next bath you run for her will either be filled with bleach or result in her being forced underwater until she’s lifeless. There are lots of people willing to get their hands dirty for her if that’s the case. Not a trace of you or her would be left and she’d finally be able to escape with only the clothes on her back. The weightlessness in her pockets wouldn’t move her in any way. Nothing compares to freedom. What a suffocating life she lives. 

The guest room mattress becomes less and less plush every time she lays in it. The sheets are itchier and cold and she’s stuck pondering with each swirl of the ceiling fan, wet hair wrapped in a bath towel; restless, fidgety, and honey-like ache in the pit of her stomach, mind warped with lecherous thoughts of her wife that she despises but not as much, her supposed life partner and fuck, how did you two get here…

Stuck with a tension so thick it permeates your home; if you’d even call it that. You’re both successfully trapped between your own walls; Elegant windows take the place of rusted, metal bars that confine you from the life you both dreamed of before all this; one soft and doting and colorful, one where your light isn’t dulled. 

Why does she feel so guilty, suddenly? You’re not lovers, and neither in love, so why does her chest ache with every glance she steals when you’re unassuming? The pain that’s always etched on your face, and if not, in your eyes — fills her with regret. She would abandon you for days — weeks at a time, not at all concerned about what you might be experiencing to rid herself of shame. And to think that you were merely a younger version of your mother; villainous and cruel and greedy when… when you’ve barely spoken. She finds herself, unfortunately, reminiscing on how bushy-tailed you were after marriage. So eager to please and prick her mind and annoyingly mechanical. You cooked at the same time everyday. Cleaned, did both your laundry, sunbathed, swam in your pool. She hated how rehearsed your lifestyle was; it reminds her of the worst parts of her childhood. When her mother was alive. So, Ellie chose to step out on you the second you took her last name; ravaged other women, released her anger and desires on strangers when she should’ve had you beneath, above, on your knees for her. Where has that craving to harm you gone? For months, she’s ached for your suffering to mirror hers, but now… What’s happening to her? What’s happened to you? 

Ellie believes you’ve lost it, and somehow she’s found herself chasing that unforeseen part of you; unfiltered and angry and wild. This manufactured doll your mother molded you into is shattering at the core and Ellie craves to see more of you. Guilty. As hurt as you were, that night was the most alive she’s seen you be. You shouted and cried and tore at the seams, desperate for someone to hear you, and Ellie did. Loud and clear. She saw you for what you are. Mangled from the inside out, entirely hopeless. Just like she is. An unspeakable link that binds the two of you.

Soul ties. 

She shook and pleaded for you to enter the bathroom and see her battered against the shower wall with a hand between her legs and your name dripping from her lips, but the knob never twisted. Her orgasms were unsatisfactory, and she accepted with irritation that it was because you weren’t there. She ignored the throbbing between her legs and vacated the bathroom. Ellie, with legs that trembled, found you wrapped in satin and snoring. They sounded like whistles. 

She stood for a while, just watching you twitch and wiggle in your rest, eyes glazing to the space beside you that could easily fit another body. The sheets are already warm from where you lay. The two of you have never slept in the same room, let alone bed. 

Her feet carried her out. Silently left the room with an unfamiliar ache in her chest. 

Her mind made an enemy out of you because that’s what you are. When she thought her life couldn’t get any worse, you appeared and destroyed everything in her path. Left her world in ruins. Disrupted her pattern. You’re an enemy and deserve to hurt. 

Aren’t you? Don’t you? 

Everything is unclear. Ellie hasn’t been this conflicted since she was 15. She wishes she could sleep forever so she wouldn’t be forced to think. 

If she had any sense left, she would paint her agony away. In the past, her mind would shut down with every splash of color on a canvas to compensate for the darkness that conjured in her mind. She refrains from that now, though. She’s horny; scared she’ll start imagining what your pussy looks like and sketch it all over the bedroom walls. That’d be too much; a boundary that will remain untouched.

But her brain knows she’s not a good person; she can’t help but imagine how gorgeous your pussy is because you are and she’s known that since the beginning, the second she saw you drenched in white. Drenched in sorrow. 

She clutches your wedding band in her palm. 

What to do… what to do… 

Birds are artists. 

They never fail to sing every morning; sonnets aimed to awaken life as sun rays spill from behind mountains. You've always appreciated their tunes whenever you were pulled from a hollow rest, no longer surrounded by darkness. 

Maybe it was the routine your mother set for you from young. You were 9 when she first coddled your drowsiness as she shook you awake at five in the morning; the early bird catches the worm, a saying you naively assumed as preparation for the day, for your homeschooling. An energy booster, possibly. Motivation. Something to get you through. 

How stupid could a child be? 

You were 12 when your cycle started. You were 12 when you realized that your mother never envisioned actual birds and worms like you had. Your mother has games she plays and she cheats. She’s had you on a leash for the past decade; the scars around your neck are forever a reminder of the hell you’ve endured under her hand. It took no effort on her part to be uncaring of your suffering, and somehow that aches more than anything else. 

Even more than the existence of him. A demon walking.

Animals aren’t like your family. Birds aren’t. The minute specks of sunlight begin, their job starts, and they complete it happily without compensation or praise or the slightest acknowledgment. Everyone wakes, and they fly to anywhere to wake the next. 

But wealth is dirty. Wealth makes people dirty. They swindler and lie and experience life with a vacancy that’ll never be filled with anything but greed. Your mother trained you for years to accept whatever was given as long as you were taken care of. Play your part, she’d say. It took you years to learn her strategy — and unlearn yourself — but you’re here. Married. Successful by association. Rich. Unhappy. Unloved. 

Birds guided you. They never shy from their duty, and you hadn’t either… 

But you’re human. You crack and cry and scream and you hate. You despise so strongly that you lash out and everything in your path becomes victimized. Sometimes it gets to a point where you crave blood. You want to drown in it, drink it until you’re sick. Your soul is dead. Everyones’ should die with yours. 

You don’t know who should go first. Your mother, your stepfather, or your wife. 

You want to swallow Ellie whole—

“Good morning.” 

You’ve never seen Ellie not dolled up. She clearly just awakened with her wrinkled MILFS ONLY shirt and sporadic hair. Timidity doesn’t suit Ellie. You're so used to seeing her exasperated. Her weary eyes don’t meet yours. You should tell her your plans to adopt a hummingbird. Or maybe you shouldn’t. She might laugh at you.

“Hello.” 

“… Hi.” She seems like she wants to say something. You sip your coffee. 

“My dad called.” 

You hum around the rim of your mug. “Woke you up?” 

She merely shrugs. “I uh… did anyone tell you about tomorrow?” 

“Of course not.” 

You don’t expect Ellie to flinch at your tone. You weren’t that sharp, were you?

You might’ve been because she slows her speech. Like she’s approaching a wounded animal, “Dad’s hosting a dinner. Corporate bullshit but we have to go.” 

“Why.” 

She squints at you. “Why what.” 

“Why do we have to go.” Your mug lands on the table harder than expected. 

“To make mommy and daddy look good.” She sneers while approaching her seat, “Did you forget?” 

“I just thought they wouldn’t want two dykes contaminating their spaces anymore.” 

Ellie snorts. “They don’t. Companies do. Gets their cocks hard. Two gay daughters, how progressive!” She mocks and plops on the chair directly across from you, wiping at her eyes. Your throat dries when you notice her wedding band. She hardly ever wears it. You don’t know where you left yours. Since when does she care to wear it? “They’ll do anything they can to get on their good side. They’re… merging organizations or whatever the fuck he said.” 

She swallows. Shrugs uncaringly, “We going?” Her eyes watch your hands squeeze your mug. 

“Are we.” 

She regards your cup with caution. Does she think you’ll throw it? The thought nearly makes you laugh. 

“Yes.” She answers. 

“Okay.” 

Your wife finally looks up and stands, nose upturned, “Okay? That’s all you got?” 

“Yes. Okay.” You sip silently. Your foot taps on hardwood. 

“Excited to see your family? You like ‘em now?” 

Excited is laughable. 

“No, I don’t.” 

The sudden calamity from your wife confuses you. She tugs at the strands that flop on her head in agitation. They look soft as they bounce with her pacing. You’ll never feel them. Or you might later. Who knows with her. Who knows with you. 

Ellie’s still talking. Her arms flail like she’s annoyed by you. You’re not sure why. You’re following. You’re allowing her to guide. To control. That’s the entire point of this. That’s why you’re going to dinner with her. She told you to go and that’s it. 

Play your part play your part play yo—

You don’t remember much of anything; the past, the present, but you recall what Ellie sounds like when she’s angry, whether it’s at you, her father, the woman her father is fucking or married to or whatever. If you’d listen, you’ll discover what ticked her off, but your ears ring too loud. Much louder than her screaming. 

You sip your coffee silently. Ellie leaves you at the dining table with a slam of a door. 

You think it’s the first floor’s guest room. 

The sun sets. Ellie can’t remember the last time she’s been home this long. 

She hates the weekends. The gallery is never open and she can’t drown herself in deals. She hates being home when you are. Why the fuck are you always here? You don’t have friends, a job, a life outside of this goddamn house? There’s a sinking in her stomach at the thought of your isolation, but she ignores it. Tries to ignore it.

… Can’t really ignore it. How pestering. You’re a pest. 

She knows nothing about you, only bits of your past expressed through photographs at your mother’s or outbursts in your bedroom. Your stepfather is fucking creepy and your mother’s glare is killer, but that’s about it. Still, she doesn’t think she can hate your parents more than you. 

You’re so fucking weird. Just like them. Unforgiving and unchaste one day then apathetic the next. How the fuck can one communicate with a person like that? 

That feeling in her chest again. Sharp and annoying. Try try try, it says. Begs from her. 

Try and do what? Do fucking what—

It took Ellie 3 seconds to unlock the guest room door and fly down the stairs when a crash rings from the first floor. Glass clatters and you sound in pain and oh fuck did someone break in

There’s red all over the kitchen floor but it’s not blood it’s red wine. Red wine red wine it’s not blood— 

You’re on the kitchen floor surrounded by green shards and dressed so pretty. Hair coiled and free and your face is done up and you’re wearing flowers. There’s flowers all over and your skin shines and why do you have heels on like a play doll?

Ellie palms at the scattered racing of her heart. Everything’s fine, her brain blares, She tripped, that’s it. Clears her throat. Rustles her hair to appear normal. 

She’s not dead. 

“… You good?” 

An unsteady hand rises to throw her a thumbs up. Your body wobbles when you attempt to stand. Ellie ushers to the counter to slide on her slippers, tells you to stop when your palm nearly plants on a shard. 

“Move back before you hurt yourself.” Ellie takes a quick lap around the kitchen for the broom and dustpan. Finds you just as quickly so you don’t accidentally slice an artery. 

Your lashes flutter and her heart follows suit, taking in the mess. “I think I fucked up.” You croak.

Hearing you curse is always odd. She huffs, “It’s fine. Can you stand?” 

Your head shakes and your bottom lip juts. “My… my shoes…”

You slowly plop onto your bottom and rest your back against the dishwasher. You struggle to grip your buckles to pull and slide the strap and Ellie remembers why she hates heels. She sweeps the glass away from you and realizes she should’ve mopped first because the bristles are soaked and streaking the clean parts of the crystal porcelain. When was the last time she cleaned? The maids always do. Sometimes you help. 

You look stunned when Ellie moves to squat in front of you. Jumps back when she adjusts your ankle. 

Her palms hang in surrender, “I’m gonna help you. Relax. Do your knees hurt?” 

You landed right on them. They should. You don’t disarm, eyes guarded and body locked tight, but you shrug. It’s good enough for Ellie. 

She unravels the buckles around both your ankles and tosses them next to you and you just watch. Ellie’s glances are quick and flitting, but she follows the traces of her hands; the sharp inhales whenever her fingers brush against the skin of your leg. You’re not as close as you were last night but she can smell you. Her chest is throbbing. You look like you’re about to cry but you’re drunk. It’s meaningless. Drunk people cry. 

Try try try try 

“Can you stand now?” She croaks. 

It takes a second for you to register her inquiry, but you shrug, and she sighs. When Ellie stands, both her hands extend out to you, but you don’t accept them; She gets jittery under your scrutinizing gaze after nearly a minute passes. Her throat dries and her face burns when you brush her hands away; standing on your own is an unstable journey, but you do, back against the counter to stabilize yourself. You look ill. Your brain must be jumbled. 

“Can you get upstairs on your own?” 

“You talk a fucking lot. Shut up.”  

The corner of Ellie’s mouth rises, but she says nothing. Gives you space to move. 

You take one step, then two more, then your eyes shut and your throat jumps. Uh oh.

“Oh shit, come—“

Ellie guides you to the garbage can near the front of the counter, away from the glass, and you dry heave. Liquid splatters inside the can and Ellie hates this so fucking much. The sounds are enough to make her own stomach lurch. It’s been a while since she’s been around someone this drunk. 

But she holds your waist so you don’t faceplant into your own vomit. 

“Get it out,” She hums with a grimace, “You’re fine.” An I gotcha almost rolls off her tongue but she catches it. She glides a comforting hand over your curved spine because you’re drunk and you won’t remember such gestures in the morning. She prefers it that way. 

You’re not gagging anymore so Ellie removes herself from you. Until she hears a whimper. And a sob so quiet she assumes you’re trying to mask it. Drunk people cry; she’s seen it countless times. Why does that seering feeling spark in her chest for what felt like the billionth time today? Fucking try, for fucks sake! 

“Let’s… let’s get you—“

“I wish I was dead.” 

Your prayer is hollow. Not even sad despite your tears. So, so empty. Ellie’s seen this before, experienced that nothingness countless times, but despite it all, she never learned how to console. Hell, she barely knows how to self-soothe without falling victim to her dark temptations. Even her paint brushes can’t eliminate the constant ache she feels. She just watches the tremble of your shoulders from behind. 

“I really don’t wanna go tomorrow.” You whisper. 

Ellie sighs. There’s no other choice. You know the stakes; follow your families’ commands or lose everything at the drop of a hat. They’ll leave you both on the streets to rot with no remorse if they please, replace the two of you with two normal children. Het children that won’t deviate. You’re both on thin ice as it is. Mainly because of Ellie. She can’t seem to keep herself out of trouble.

“I…” 

I’ll be with you the entire time. I don’t like being around those cunts either. 

“It’ll go by quickly.” She settles. 

“I hate when p-people look at me.” 

“Me too.” 

“I wish my family loved me.” 

Ellie’s softer now. Only slightly. 

“Yeah…” 

A tug in her ribcage. Try. Please, try. 

“Me too.” 

The pounding beneath your skull wakes you quicker than the birds. You shove your face in the pillow you rest on. 

The devil tells you to check the time so you do. The bedside clock says noon, meaning a new day, meaning it’s Saturday meaning you’ll die. Maybe not physically but mentally. You’re so drained and you’ve barely opened your eyes; the idea of leaving bed alone is enough to exhaust you. Your wrists and legs ache like fucking hell on top of that. 

You make fists with both hands. Repeatedly clench and unclench. The weight is different on your wedding finger. Heavier. You haven’t seen your ring since yesterday… or a few days ago — you’re not really sure. You must’ve found it in your drunken stupor. Just when you hoped to never see it again. 

The universe will always remind you who you are. 

If you stand you’ll vomit but your phone is ringing from the drawer you stuck it in weeks ago. How is it not dead? You know your mom’s calling. You hate that she is… 

The ringing stops and you thank the heavens. 

You curse them when it starts up again. 

The drawer slides open with reluctance. The ringing sounds 20 times louder. You retrieve your device blindly and your throat snaps shut when you speak. 

“You rang.” 

“Did your… partner tell you about tonight.” 

Hard and distant. That’s how she speaks to you. Your heart cracks. 

Your mom already knows Ellie did. She loves to bother you with nonsense. You don’t think she’s ever called Ellie your wife. 

“Yes.” 

“You’re attending.” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

“Is that all.” 

“Your gown was delivered here. Come by well before 8 to get ready.” 

And she hangs up. Just like that. Always. She’s never told you to have a nice day, or to rest well, or that she loves you, at the minimum. And if she had, you don’t remember any of it. There’s a lot you force yourself to forget. 

The selfish part of you disregards the burning of your eyes to stare at your phone — low battery and… no messages. No texts, no phone calls from anyone except your mother, no likes on Instagram because your mom scared you into not making one when you were a teenager. No one cares about you. People care about your wife, though. Maybe because she’s talented; she’s certainly not nice. 

Your darkest memories are always the most prominent. 

Your phone drops to the floor and you don’t reach for it. You just pray to sleep again. 

Tonight will be interesting. 

The ride to your mother’s is silent. 

At least she chauffeured the two of you. Ellie can be scary when she drives. You’ve never been in a car with her, but she did ram into a lamppost on the sidewalk a few nights after your wedding. 

Your wife is already dressed despite the party being hours away. She sits right next to you in all black; in a trenchie and turtleneck and slacks and loafers with fur and gold jewelry. When she descended the staircase, you gawked when she wasn’t looking. So simple, but she had your heart fluttering when she’d asked, ready? You’re still in your sleep shorts, teeth unbrushed and starving. When was the last time you ate? 

What an embarrassment — you’re an embarrassment, but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. If only newly wed you could see herself now. 

You swallow a lump when you feel eyes on the side of your face, but yours remain glued out the window. The closer you get to your mom’s, the faster your mind starts to shut down. Everything passes you by in a blur. 

By the time the gates with your father’s initials come into view, your thoughts go silent, only filled with the calming images of nature and the song of birds. Your only escapism. 

The only way you’ll make it out of here in one piece. 

Ellie! Darling! We’ve missed you! Give us a smile! 

Ellie! Ellie, look this way! 

Ellie, where’s your wife? 

She wishes she knew. You’d barely made it into your mother’s home before getting swept down the hall by 4 other people who poked at your appearance. Ellie didn’t even get to give your mom the passive, spine-chilling hi, mom like old times before another SUV came to whisk her away from that hell hole. Her dad always knows somehow. 

She hates being at your mom’s; it’s stifling and quiet and the aura is dark. Like mother, like house or whatever the fuck. 

She scowls when the bombarding questions redirect to you. Some concerning, some sarcastic, some raunchy — those get under her skin in particular — and she can’t stop fiddling with her ring. Her chest tugs tugs tugs. 

Trouble in paradise? 

You were caught leaving the bar with another woman on your arm a few weeks ago! How’d your wife react to that? 

She doesn’t know. She’s never home to see you break. 

Guilt ate at her when the door of your mother’s mansion shut behind her, but she disregards it now. You shouldn’t be forced to listen to their guised jabs; You get enough of that from everyone in your life. She hopes you’ll go through the back entrance when you arrive. 

When will you get here? 

Ellie’s never made an event appearance without you. You’d pose and fidget and display awkward affection so that they’d buy your love a little bit, then enter the gathering as two separate hearts, riddled and torn, never to cross paths until the bustle is over and it’s time to go home. 

Finally, security moves and barricades her until she gets past the 20 foot gate and treads the steps. The flashing cameras are still blinding from behind. 

The tended garden is the first thing she notices. Wide and green. The daisy and rose bushes are no longer tangled with weeds and surrounded by dead grass and gnats. How could Joelene not see that and be vengeful? Ellie and her dad may not be close anymore, but she knows him; maybe even more than he knows himself. He still misses her mom after everything, and chooses to express it through her favorite hiding spot. Keeps the flowers that bloom and trims the ones that don’t so she lives through them. Ellie hardly remembers a time when her mother wasn’t covered in dirty overalls and sunburnt. 

She manages to hold it together when the large double doors open. The violins suddenly sound like nails on wood. 

Voices fade into nothing. People are outside your car. Light hurts so terribly. 

One second you’re here, the next you’re not. Your mom and her husband sit across with twined arms and the lace from your dress is itchy and you wanna disappear. When you blink, you’re gone. You only exist on this plain if your eyes are open. 

Something hard and leather brushes against your ankle, scratches against your stockings, slow and snake-like. You know what it is, who it is, and you freeze, eyes locked onto your mother. No matter your hopelessness, there’s still a young girl in you that wishes your mother would defend, act on anger, be disgusted at minimum. At least when his crimes are done in secret you can’t blame her for not knowing. 

But you’re here and she’s here and he’s here. A shared secret between the three of you. 

His shoe doesn’t halt on your leg. Your mother never looks at you. 

Birds and songs and sonnets. You’re a bird and you can fly against the strongest winds. Music is your guide and you follow the clouds. 

Your fingers twist together in your lap and the black interior of the car glows red. If only… he’s not the only one with sick intentions. If only. 

You’re flying you’re flying you can fly and there’s someone who’ll love you gently. They’re out there somewhere and you’ll find them and they’ll find you like every trial was worth it. 

Patience. That’s all you need. Just be patient. 

The rest of the car ride is unbeknownst to you. Next thing you know, your door is being opened and two men await your entry at the glass door. 

Champagne is good. Tequila is better. The two mixed is hell. 

Ellie’s throat burns and her mind swirls but she plays it off well enough. Mingles with pensive, old bastards while their daughters’ gawk at her with bright-eyed curiosity and you haven’t arrived yet. 

She lost her dad somewhere in the night. He greeted her briefly upon her arrival, pointed out the important men of the night, called your mother a selfish bitch, then walked off with his mistress by his side. Ellie’s eyes keep meeting the back door from the living room. 

Where are you? 

“Ellie!”

She downs the rest of her chute and guards her agitation with a grin. Shakes the hand of… 

What the fuck was this dude’s name? 

“It’s an honor! Your art is incredible! I’ve truly—“

—Fucking Ronald? Reginald? … Ronald might be it—

“—Your father, ya know, he’s an interesting man, incredibly smart! I’ve never—“

Her dad gave her a run-down of the … merging or whatever the fuck but what the fuck did he say and holy shit, is she sweating? The man’s handshake threw her off, frankly; almost snapped her wrist in two. Fucking old piece of shit. More business jargon that she pretends to understand and care so much about because it’s a show after all. All cheers and stiff laughter. 

“And your wife! By God, what a looker!”

Her jaw clenches. Where are you where are you where are you

“What we’d give, I mean, c’mon!” Men that pass laugh with him and it’s taking everything in Ellie not to smash this glass over his head. One quick swing and it’s over. For him and her. How promising.

“Where is she anyway? You two didn’t come together?” 

“She um, she’s with her parents right now. They’ll be here.” She jerks her chin toward the entrance. 

“How lucky are you. Treat her like the star she is!” It looks like the shithead’s leaving, but not before taunting, “Holler when she arrives, will ya?” 

And just like that, he leaves Ellie to simmer. Three deep breaths. A man in a suit and tray filled with champagne waltzes passed her and she snags two glasses. Downs the first in one thick swallow before another clinks with hers. 

Why does everyone keep fucking with her? 

“Cheers.” 

Ellie doesn’t need to look to know who it is. She scoffs. “Sounds like you’re having fun.” 

Jolene stands next to her, shoulders slouched and dress glowing under the chandelier. She arches a dark brow, “Who wouldn’t? Men are the most entertaining when they’re on ego trips.” 

“Same goes for my dad?” She snips, and Jolene shocks her with a smile. 

“Meh.” 

“Why are you here.” 

“I just told you—“

“No, where are you here.” Ellie gestures between them, “Why’re you talking to me right now?” 

Jolene downs her drink and shrugs, “My attempts at bonding. On a scale of 1 to 10, how shit were they?” 

“900. Leave me the fuck alone.” Before Ellie can run, a hand clamps down on her wrist. 

“I know—“ The woman rushes, “I know we don’t have the best relationship, but I’m not—“

Ellie almost corrects her out of pettiness; They don’t have a relationship, period. There’s no best or worst. But her sudden desperation halts her. 

“—the enemy. There’s not a lot for us in these spaces. I just wanted to try and establish something. Anything. Between us. It can be so lonely without a real support system.”

Ellie hates the direction her heart turns her mind. Suddenly you’re there and you’re crying and clawing at your chest and Ellie just watches like she did that night. So powerless. So empty. 

But Jolene isn’t you. She chooses to be selfish. Yours comes from self preservation and nothing else. 

Ellie snatches her hand back and throws her the deadliest stare. “You don’t know shit about being lonely. You’re the one who gave up everything you had to fuck my dad when my mom wasn’t looking. How much did you care about her loneliness then? Hm?” 

The timing was perfect, really. 15 year old Ellie watched her parents get into one of their most abhorrent arguments; her dad leaves first, then her mom, then only one of them returns, and it was not her mother. Imagine her shock when a news reporter confirmed that her mother’s body had been thrown in a garbage bag and left in a dumpster to rot. It only took two weeks to mourn before he was marrying another woman. 

Nobody cared that her mother had been shot or stabbed or gutted. She was just a woman married to a successor who raised a deviant child. 

Ellie forces herself to not point fingers, though. Anyone could’ve killed her, she always reminds herself; to keep her from going fucking crazy. But timing… 

How telling is time. 

Jolene’s eyes widen and her grip weakens. Ellie takes that as an escape before she has a breakdown in front of the caviar platter. 

She barely takes a step before she collides with a body. 

Funny. 

She bumped right into a star that shines a royal blue. The woman of the hour, for sure. In her mind, at least.

“Sorry.” You whisper.

“You’re fine. All me.” Ellie says lowly as she takes you in, and you do the same to her. Shy, but yearnful glances. Glossed lips tightly sealed and brows tense. Your dress shimmers and holds you snug and she feels guilty for staring at your curvature. She’s suddenly hyper aware of the vultures that disguise themselves as men and she has an instinct to hide you. And your ring is on. The thumping in her chest picks up. Only slightly. 

“It’s great to see you again.” Jolene says shakily from beside Ellie and she almost loses it before a grating voice interrupts. 

“You, as well. And your husband is…?” 

Your mother. And her lap dog wagging his tail beside her. What a bitch. Both of them. 

Your stepdad says something and you inhale sharply and no one notices but Ellie. She studies you carefully. You look like a frightened cat with a frilled tail as he speaks. Claws out, not because you’re ferocious, but so, so scared. She glances at your stepdad; greasy smile while he ogles at Jolene; what a nasty son of a bitch. 

Ellie whispers to you, “Is everything o—“

“Joel! Man of the hour! How are—“

“Where’s the bathroom again?” You whisper back. 

Ellie takes your hand in hers and flees while the family’s distracted, leading you down a hallway that’s way too long with lights too bright. 

She gestures towards the door. “It’s… This is it. One of ‘em at least.” 

“… Thank—“

“What’s the matt—“ 

“I’m fine.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Did that piece of shit say something to you?” Ellie glances to make sure no listeners are hiding in the shadows. 

The widest smile grows on your face as you laugh, hearty and loud with your head thrown back. Ellie stares in confusion. 

“Oh, Ellie! You’re so silly,” She jumps when your hands hold her cheeks. You’re fucking freezing and they tremble. Your eyes are a dark void. 

You lean in closer, lips right against her mouth and they part slightly on instinct. She’s concerned and should ask more questions, but your skin is so soft. Are you gonna kiss her, she wonders? You haven’t kissed since your wedding; your breath hits her mouth and her tongue swipes her lips. Her eyes flutter shut and she aches to touch you—

“Save a seat for me, love? Please?” 

It happens so fast; the frost of you is gone and the bathroom door slams shut while an elderly woman fondly whispers, “young love,” as she walks by. Ellie only nods with a rigid curl of her lips, throat cinched too tightly to swallow. 

You puzzle her. She’s tempted to wait for you, to ensure you make it back safely without bombardment, but then 

“Ellie! Why didn’t you call me! Your wife made it safely, I see!” 

A hand claps on her shoulder while men laugh from the side, boisterous and predatory and so wide their fangs show. Ellie’s sick and a war rages within her. 

“Your father sent me to find you! It’s time to eat!” 

She sends them a weak smile. She rushes away from the door and they follow close behind. 

Anything to lure them away from you. 

Attendees have dwindled, only Ellie and her family and you and yours and some CEOs that are really getting on her fucking nerves. But you’ve eaten, thank God. She can breathe a little. 

Only a bit, though. You’re putting on a fucking show and it’s scaring her; Even her dad seems impressed. Charmed by you. Clinking glasses and telling jokes and smiling. Did your mom hold you at gunpoint before you got here? How much did you drink? Not much from what she’s seen. 

That one fucker from earlier — Raymon or Robert or whatever the fuck — keeps leaning over the table whenever you do. Peeping at your chest, probably. She wishes these steak knives were sharper. 

“So! Our young couple,” says Old Bitch with a Combover and wiggly brows, “When are we getting those heirs?” 

You cough uncomfortably and Ellie squirms in her seat. Your mother scoffs, “Two women can’t have children—“

Said Old Bitch shrugs, “Well, not biologically—“

“My point exactl—“

Ellie’s father cuts in with a tense grin, “When they get to that point, we’ll discuss their options. There’s… many nowadays, evidently.” 

Neither you or Ellie interrupt, but she notices you’ve moved closer to her. Inched your seat a bit. You squeeze your hands so hard in your lap she’s scared they’ll shatter where they lay. You’re not smiling anymore. 

Her dad and your mom are subtle with their blows at one another; snarky with brutal stares, unremarkable to strangers, but you and Ellie know. When dinner ends, you’ll both be caught in their crossfire. 

“There’s no shame in me wanting my grandchildren to be by blood. I shouldn’t have to go shopping for an heir.” Your mother hisses. 

“Sh—“ Joel huffs with disgust, “Shopping for an heir? That’s what you think adoption entails?” 

“Does it not?” Your mother’s tone rises. 

Reggie, Rory, or Russell interjects with a dismissive wave, “C’mon, you too! No need to argue. I’m sure girls like them will be fine with obtaining children! It might be more… complicated, I will say!” 

“May I be excused?” You croak, and Ellie straightens. 

“Why? So you can wallow about dying childless?” 

The table silences. No laughter, no wittiness. Completely still. That wasn’t from your mother. Ellie doesn’t remember the last time she’s heard your stepdad speak so clearly. Her blood thrashes beneath her skin so harshly that her tongue unties. There’s a darkness in her that whispers, “grab that steak knife”. Brutalize him. Just for a second. Do it for you. 

Do it for her. 

“Go fuck yourself.” She spits. 

Your neck almost cracks with the speed you turn to her, eyes wide as the moon. Her father condemns, “Watch your mouth, Ellie.” 

“Or what, you old fuck?” 

Her heart rattles noisily in her chest; her hands shake where they rest on her lap, her cells trembling with the instinct to harm. The gaze of her father is distant and filled with inadequacy for his only line. Nothing unbeknownst to her, but there's a flash of something so deep, so forbidden for them, but she sees it every time they hold contact. Beneath all the loathing and lesions left to drain, there’s longing. An inkling of gratitude that she knows he’ll suppress until he’s buried underground. He’ll never look the same to her, and she imagines the same for him. Too many bridges burned. 

“How’d I do?” Ellie rasps to him, “Hm? The night went how you hoped?” 

Look at what you’ve done, she hopes her eyes say. Tears welt against her will. When was the last time she cried in front of him? She hadn’t even given him that honor at her mother’s funeral years ago. 

Ellie’s stiff stature nearly cracks at the light brush atop her knee. A wind catches in her throat when a pinky turns into three fingers, then five, then a palm that squeezes comfortingly, desperately. Maybe partly to keep her glued to this chair. She gulps the dryness down and a flame lights in the pit of her stomach. 

Her glance to you is brief, barely out of the corner of her eye, but you’re watching her. Intensely, and it scorches her cheeks, all the way down to her neck. Scared cat. Scared cat. Shrilled and cold and frightened to hell and she despises it. 

What changed? She’ll always wonder. That look hardly shook her a week ago and now it makes her teeth ache. 

Suddenly, it’s too warm here. 

“Get up,” Ellie rushes you. Grabs your arm and yanks you from your seat, “Not dealing with this fuckin’ bullshit tonight. We’re leaving.” 

There’s suddenly shouting from all directions of the dinner table with each step Ellie takes for you, but you never drop her hand. She clenches it tighter when you finally reach the back door. 

The door slams shut on the wreckage behind you. 

Consider plan MERGE a bust. 

Ellie’s a thief. You think. Maybe. 

Is it stealing if the car belongs to a family member? Where she snagged the keys from? You don’t remember. One second you’re at dinner, then watching the city pass you by the next. It’s silent in here. 

“Stop.” 

You slam back into your body. Still in the car. You wish you were asleep. 

“Huh?” 

Her eyes watch the road, but a hand rests on both of yours to pry them apart. 

“Stop. I hate that sound.” 

“… Wha—“

“You’re gonna rip your skin off if you don’t stop.” 

… Oh. Yeah. Bloody cuticles. It was all accidental, you swear. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Her eyes shut briefly and she sighs, sounding so worn. Exhaustion is her white flag. “Just stop.” 

“Alright.” 

“Thanks.” 

It’s quiet again. The red from the stop light reflects in the car and you’re instantly reminded of your stepfather. 

“Ellie.” 

“Hm.” 

“We should get a bird.” 

“… And do what with it.” 

You shrug, “Pet it. Feed it, too.” Sing with it, you wanted to add. Ellie would’ve probably laughed at you. 

She snickers dryly, “That’s usually what you do with a pet.” 

“I never had one.” 

The light turns green and the car revs. Your wife hums, “I had a fish once or twice.” 

“Lucky.” 

A small — very, very minuscule grin quirks Ellie’s lips and your heart hollers. For joy? In warning? 

“Not really. They kept dying so I gave up.” She snickers to herself, and you can’t help but stare. She starts talking then. Eyes gone, tension gone. She’s suddenly relaxed. 

“My mom… she, uh… loved water. Was always in it or… watching it on TV or something. She always bought fish from fucking… PetCo—“

“PetCo?” You laugh, then Ellie does. 

“Right? She’d take me and be like, “get one”. And I went home with a new fish every time.” 

“I thought you only went once or twice?” 

“… Times 100,” She giggles, “My mom lived there. She would always talk to the cats through the glass.” 

You don’t hesitate, “I wanna go.” 

“To PetCo?” 

“Yeah.” Why not? 

Everything is almost over. So, why not? 

“… K.” 

“So we’ll go?” 

“Mhm.” 

And the conversation ends. The car is silent. Suddenly tense again when you ask, 

“Do you think we’re cut off?” 

Ellie’s jaw clenches and the car is suddenly tense. Back to square one. “Possibly. Tonight was a shit show. It went by fast, at least.” 

“What’s gonna happen to me?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m…”

Alone. You’re fucking alone and know nothing about life outside of what was built around you. Without it, you’ll spiral and fail and face a dreadful reality. No more rose colored glasses even if they’re browned and wilted as is. You’ll be eaten alive by the creatures in the night without a protective border. 

But the curse will end. You won’t inherit or be forced to lie or play a game that ends in fire. Decades of legacy down the drain just like that, and by your own hand. It fascinates you, that power. A force you’ve been withheld from. 

“I don’t know.”

“Still thinking about divorce?” A void in Ellie’s tone. 

“I don’t know.” 

“They’ll never allow it, you know that, right?” 

“What if I just leave?” 

“And do what?” Her voice raises. 

“Who knows. Who cares.” 

“Please,” Ellie exasperates, “Your mom will get fucking SWAT to bring you back.” 

“What good will a corpse do for her?” 

You’ll be dead but you’ll have a bird. A colorful one. That’ll be your legacy. That’s all you need, really. Ellie doesn’t say anything. Neither do you. 

More buildings flash by and suddenly you’re home. Parked in the garage with Ellie beside you, gazing off into opaque walls. You wonder what she’s thinking. If she sees everything in black and white like you do. Maybe she’s the opposite, vision bright and full of suppressed color. She is a painter after all. 

“What’re your plans?” Ellie suddenly whispers. 

“For?” 

“Life. The future. Anything,” She pries and digs for something, “There has to be something that interests you! That gets you excited! There’s so much shit to do.” 

You shrug. Not much. Not anything. 

“I used to be excited for my wedding,” You mumble, “Like… as a kid. White dress and flowers and everyone’s just excited to be there. For love, and whatever, you know? That’s how it was in movies, at least.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s off your chest. The unhealthy romanticization of the happiest day of your life ended up being just another day to honor the greed of your families. Everyone was so lifeless when they watched you and Ellie kiss. It hadn’t even lasted 3 seconds before she shoved the band on your finger with teary cheeks. Such beautiful scenery was wasted on misery. 

You look over and Ellie’s eyes are roaring, palms squeezing together in her lap while her wedding ring twists around her finger. You watch it cycle. 

“Now I…” You chuckle sadly, “I just want a bird, to be honest.” 

With your heels and purse in hand, the car door opens and you exit, forcing yourself not to peek through the windshield at Ellie again. 

The second floor, your bedroom, your bathroom, are all quiet. Did Ellie not follow you inside? For a while, you envision what it would be like if you weren’t married. If you weren’t born as you, would your world be this still? 

It haunts you in the shower. Wolffish eyes and dry hands grasping at your shoulders and waist but everything’s quiet. 

You wash your face, brush your teeth, wrap your hair alone. You wonder if anyone is actually in the house. Was Ellie a figment of your imagination? Is this one of the nights that proves she doesn’t exist and that your brain is your greatest enemy? You shove your face into the mattress before your thoughts venture. Silence rocks you to sleep, but not forgetting the taunting desire to know 

Is death this quiet? 

Your mom’s calling. 

Vibrations rattle in your bedside dresser. The sun isn’t up yet. The birds are still resting. She never calls this early… or late. Something bad must’ve happened. It takes 17 seconds for your drawer to stop shaking before it starts again. 

You can’t move to answer, though. Your body isn’t yours at the moment. Your soul will reclaim its shell soon enough. Or maybe it won’t. 

Your drawer shakes shakes shakes. Your heartbeat eventually matches the pace of its vibrations. You think it’s been 20 minutes. Maybe longer. When will the birds wake? 

Finally, the calls stop. Your eyes shut again. Instantly taken by darkness. 

You never wear normal clothes. 

Ellie’s only ever seen you in thousand dollar dresses and high heel shoes that scrape your achilles and cloth that squeezes you so tight she thinks she might explode by just looking at you. No matter how fucking good you look in them. 

So what the fuck is that? Moreso, why does she like it so much? Her cheeks are on fucking fire and her heart is trying to flee its enclosing. 

You have a t-shirt on. A simple, non-Gucci white tee that says LAS VEGAS and black shorts and a scarf on your head and socks with squirrels on them. Is this the fucking matrix? 

You never wake up this late, either. It’s 20 till 10. 

“Did my mom call you at all?” 

No… no she didn’t… Why can’t Ellie speak? She’s sitting there gaping like a fish and taking guilty glances at your nipples through your shirt. She shakes her head. You nod yours. 

“I uh…” She mumbles with a cotton mouth when you step into the kitchen, “I made coffee.” 

“I smelled it.” You serve yourself at the counter. 2 Splenda packs, no cream.

“Did your mom call you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What’d she say?” 

“I didn’t answer.” 

… Interesting. Odd. Her calls are never missed by you. 

“I hope it’s something bad.” 

Ellie swallows her sip thickly. “… Damn. Why?” 

“She deserves it.” You say calmly while stirring. “He does, too.” 

“Your dad?” 

“My stepfather,” You hiss and slam your mug on the table. Ellie flinches, “Yes.” 

Her palms raise in surrender, “Sorry.” 

“Where do you go at night?” The chair across from her scrapes on hardwood when you sit. 

Nowhere, recently. Ellie shrugs as nonchalantly as she can, “Anywhere. Wherever I want.” 

“Take me next time.” 

She pauses her sip to ogle. “Hm?” 

“Take me. I wanna see what’s fun for you.” 

Ellie huffs a shocked laugh, “No, you don’t.” 

You squint, “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m asking to see.” 

“It’s not your scene, dude, trust m—“

She jolts where she sits when a hand — your hand, soft and agile and cold, slams down on the table, rattling both your mugs and the vase that holds dead flowers, nearly shattering the glass with an accusatory finger. 

“You dunno know shit about me! I’m fucking going whether you like it or not! Whether she likes it or not, and if I have to do it myself, I fucking will, you fucking psychotic fucking bitch!” 

You rise and stomp to where she sits with a pounding heart and a lecherous swirl in her gut. You look about ready to slice her open with a blunt butter knife. 

“You treat me like fucking trash just like everyone else,” You whisper venomously, and Ellie shakes, “The least you could do is listen for once. Scared to take me to the place you cheat on me at? Don’t want me to see it? That’d be too real, huh?” 

Ellie exhales a shaky breath of your name, but your nails, cut and manicured to perfection, sink into her cheeks so tightly that she winces and blushes and her tummy twists with heat. You don’t flinch when her fingers delicately entangle around your wrist; doesn’t want you to think she’s holding you there even though she is. 

“You’re gonna show me a good time tonight. If it’s as fun as you say, that shouldn’t be an issue, right?” 

Her eyes must read yes, yes, it’s not a problem; Your grin is wild like a hyena; pretty lips swelled around pretty teeth and you always smell good. Caramelized sugar and nectar.  

“Who knows,” You purr and Ellie feels goosebumps forming, “Maybe I can meet one of your little friends.” 

She chokes around a gasp before her lips curl into a conniving grin, cheeks plush around your fingers, “Aren’t you a little hussy.” 

“Fuck you.” You shove her so hard her back collides with the seat but her eyes glow pink. She watches you leave the kitchen and stomp up the steps with a burning chest until a door slams from upstairs. She releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding, wracked and desperate. 

-

-

-

Ellie will never admit — or maybe she will, but she purposefully uses your shared bathroom to catch glimpses at you. She always expects to find you out cold and wrapped in warm blankets, chest fluttering with each twitch of your socked feet that peek from below the blankets. 

What she doesn’t expect to see, though, is your phone shattered to pieces and left to drown in the clogged sink. Right next to a weighted rubber mallet; Where’d you find that? All your pent up emotions were taken out on your device… and the counter, apparently. The marble is chipped. 

She can only laugh in astonishment. Amazement. Fear when she realizes… 

Your mom.

Did you ever answer the phone?

Another day you’ve slept away. Either you were dreaming or someone was holding you suffocatingly tight; you enjoyed it, strangely. The sun is completely gone and there’s rustling and music echoing from the bathroom. Ellie’s in there. 

All the blood rushes to your head with how quickly you sit up, but your feet carry you past your closets until the light from the room sizzles your vision. 

Your wife stands by the mirror, drying her hair with a towel with a cigarette between her fingers. The guitar synths coming from her phone are grinding in your ears. 

Is she really keeping her promise? 

Did she promise to take you? You don’t remember. 

“Hi.” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror and your spine twitches. You say nothing, so she chuffs with a teasing lift of her lips, “Chickenin’ out?”

“No.” 

“K.” 

“What do I wear?” 

She shrugs, “Whatever you want to.” She speaks around smoke and her timbre’s dry. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“Whatever I want to.” 

She must sense your skepticism because she’s suddenly reassuring, voice crackly, “You’re not under any expectations tonight. You wanted me to show you what I do for fun, and I’m gonna. You just have to do your part and enjoy it.” 

Your nails dig into your thighs while you watch her. She has her ring on and her body wash coats the room in cinnamon. With a pounding heart, your hands slowly drag up your sides, fingers dragging at the hem of your shirt. She’s not looking. 

Enjoy it…

“Did you eat today?” 

“No.” 

She gives you a look. Stern. What is she mad about? Your tummy flutters, “There’s leftovers downstairs, you can have ‘em,” She shakes her wet hair and puts on her glasses, checks her watch, checks her phone, hits her cigarette. “We’re kinda behind so you should get read—“

Enjoy it. 

Her eyes meet where your shirt drops to the floor, breasts on display while your hands inch up your legs to drag your shorts down, all while you watch her. And she watches you. It’s overwhelming, your wife as an audience while you undress. But she told you to enjoy it. Enjoy the night. Enjoy the stares. Enjoy the attention. Enjoy her, for once. It all seeps into your pores. You step out of your bottoms and peel your socks off. 

Ellie drinks you in slowly. Says nothing. Simply takes her time memorizing every line, curve, dip, scar of you. You like how ravenous she looks. The sin in her pupils only darkens when your thumbs hook in your underwear to shed them. They dangle from your index finger when you walk; You smile when her throat jumps. 

She watches your filled hand travel to her pant pocket to shove the flimsy cloth in. The muscles in her back twitch when your finger traces her spine. Ellie’s pretty, littered in cute, red and brown spots. 

“I’m gonna shower.” Your lips brush her ear, and goosebumps rise all over her arms. Her eyes flutter in a pleasant blink, nodding in understanding. 

Your wife takes her lighter and reignites your favorite candle while your water warms. How sweet of her to set the mood for you. 

Ellie finishes her cigarette while you lather, watching her through the fogged glass of the shower walls, massaging soapy hands into your breasts and your legs and everywhere. She lights another at some point, bent over the counter while she smokes, ogling you through the mirror shamelessly. You smile when it settles in your chest.

You’re gonna fuck your wife tonight. 

What a fucking oddball you are. It’s cute. A little sexy, too. Only a little, she swears. 

… Fuck. 

She waits for you on the bed, dressed and jewelried, fiddling with her watch out of nerves because what the fuck are you playing at? Whiplash; that’s what she’s had all fucking day because of you. She works in the morning, for fucks sake. 

Still…

Does she deserve this sudden… What the fuck even is this? Certainly not affection; you nearly strangled her at the dining table. Attention, possibly? Seduction? She’s wired to hell, she wants you so bad. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She could act on her attraction, sure. She’s positive you’d allow her to take whatever she wanted because that’s what you’re trained to do; to satisfy your partner — husband, she imagines your mother grating — in any way he desires. But Ellie’s not a man, and she doesn’t want that. She needs you to love it, to crave it as much as she does. To take from her like she dreams of taking from you. Ellie needs you to batter her, and if you’d like, she’ll do the same to you. 

If only you’d give her something tangible. Teasing isn’t enough. She’s desperate to get a grasp on your headspace; she wishes she could prick and prod at your brain for a second. What an experience that would be. 

You enter the bedroom like a ghost; hair still wet and coily, dressed in all black like she is, only decorated with gloss and earrings. No heels either. Just very shimmery looking flip-flops. Ellie bites down a smile. 

“Where are we going?” 

She shrugs at your inquiry, “Somewhere really, really loud.” 

“Will people find us?” Paps, you mean. Ellie denies. 

“Not where I’m taking you.” 

“Must be secretive.” 

She tuts, “Not… well, maybe. It’s fun though. I think you’ll like it.” 

“Okay.” 

Ellie stands with her wallet and keys and kiddingly offers you an arm to hold onto. “M’lady.”

But you don’t accept it; back turned, halfway out of the room towards the stairs.

Pleasant. She doesn’t mean to smile. 

She makes sure to grab the to-go box from earlier before locking the front door behind her. 

It is very loud here. And hot. And raunchy. 

… You like that. Your mom would have a heart attack if she were to ever walk in here. 

The trip to this whatever, wherever place was pretty far. You counted every second of the nearly hour ride, mainly because Ellie’s jittery knee made you nervous. It’s smaller than you assumed, but not quaint. Not at all. There's a ruckus from the entrance to the back exit, people your age and older, screaming and shouting words that you don’t know while people pound on drums and shred on guitar. They sweat through their clothes while their makeup streaks down their faces as they make love to microphone stands. 

… Better than tea time, you suppose. How exhilarating. Your heart’s pounding like crazy.

Not much can be said between you and Ellie. You can’t hear over the bass and rumbles from the floor but she holds your hand and small purse. Guides you to a small section in the back with a bar. She hands the tender her card and… that’s it. Four clear, questionably large shots are poured and slid to her like nothing. You want all of them. 

Ellie seems so at home as she guides you, already a burning shot down, into the crowd. You’re shoved instantly by party goers, but she catches you, holds you strongly. You look at her, puzzled with shock, but she uncaringly lifts her shoulders, downs a shot, and starts thrashing. 

Your jaw slacks and lights beam and flicker at a rapid pace but you’re smiling. Your wife meshes with the scene so nicely. You wanna be like that. So you follow. You drink and jump and flail and scream your head off. 

You and your wife are synched for once. Terrible dancers. No rhythm whatsoever. Who cares who cares who cares.

You wish your mom was here to see you like this. You hope your mom’s dead so she never has to see you like this. A thought so dark shouldn’t bring you this much joy. You laugh and holler at the imagery. Blood all over the marble. Blood all over the doors of your childhood home. Blood blood blood everywhere because they deserve it. Look at what they’ve done to you. Sick evil people.

You wanna kill your stepfather. This music makes you wanna kill your stepfather. It’s gorey in itself, almost. Abborherent verbiage. You think Ellie wants to kill your stepfather, too. You should ask her later. Maybe when you're both sober. Maybe you should make your mom watch you skin him alive. Him dying would damage her more than you ever could. 

When your eyes open, Ellie’s gawking at you, seemingly surprised. Impressed? She holds your cheeks to get your attention, gesturing, asking if you want another drink. You nod and shout in her face and she laughs. Ellie holds you by the waist and guides you to the bar. The bartender must like Ellie. You leave with a full bottle this time. 

You and Ellie pass it between yourselves, the night becoming more and more broken. Touchy. Feely. Ellie rubs all over you while you pour liquor into her mouth. A bit dribbles down the sides but she doesn’t care. You don’t either. So you lick the drops from her neck like a cat with milk. Ellie stops and you stop and everything stops. It’s just the two of you, suddenly; all other patrons evaporate to nothingness. Her eyes are blown and heavy as she searches your face, and they halt their wandering at your lips. She’s thinking about it; You want her to see how bad you crave it. Even if it’s just for a second. She smiles, pleased. You shudder. 

But she doesn’t do it. She spins you so your back is against her chest, lips at your neck while she pushes her hips into your ass. She’s messy, drenching your already sweaty neck in spit. Her nails dig into the fabric of your dress, guiding your hips, swaying you on her. You follow. You follow so blindly because you like her hands on you a little too much. You drink and drink and drink. Everything feels light. Good. 

You think Ellie’s speaking to you. Or singing words in your ear. Or maybe she isn't speaking at all. You’re not sure, but your face is burning hot. She tongues at your ear and you make a noise that you can’t hear but hope she can. You need this. 

Her hands are suddenly slow where they crawl up your sides until they rest on your breasts. Your empty hand lands on one of hers to squeeze so that she can squeeze you. You feel her smiling on your skin when your jaw slacks. 

Your head turns to chase her mouth, but she does you one better. Whisks you once more so your chests smash together. She snatches the bottle from your hand, takes one last swig before passing it to eager, drunk hands that wave from behind. You gasp when her thumb catches your bottom lip, pulls it down to get your mouth open enough for her to dribble liquor into. You moan loud enough for Ellie to hear over those booming drums, swallowing down everything she gives, nails sank into her waist while her hips push into yours. When you swallow the last drops, she kisses you. Messy and hot, tongue and teeth; it gets your heart singing. Her pink muscle swirls inside of your mouth and your arms wrap around her neck, yanking her into you so no space is left. Her hands are everywhere; tangled in your hair, grabbing at your hips, your ass, your thighs. Everywhere everywhere everywhere like she can’t get enough of you. You’re overwhelmed and high out of your mind but you follow her guide. Anywhere she wants you, you are. 

Maybe you’re just as bad as she is. After everything she’s done, you should hate her. You think you do. You hate her for leaving you. You hate her for embarrassing you. Abandonment. Her only gift to you. Maybe that’s why you kiss her with such conviction. 

Her touch is passionate; strong but not forceful. She breathes you in like a rarity, something she treasures, all while she licks and tugs at you like a slut. There’s a pulse deep within you when her lips enclose around your tongue to suck it. Your thighs squeeze and she grins madly, giving you one last innocent peck before she grabs your hand to spin you. You laugh and twirl with her. 

You understand why people fall in love so fast. You hate that you’re one of them. 

Or are you simply as delusional as they come? 

You’re even more enthralling when free of restraint. 

Ellie’s drunk and sweaty and exhausted but she uses every last bit of strength to stare at you. She sits at the bar as the crowd dwindles, artist after artist, established or aspiring, all go on to perform, and you haven’t taken a break once. You simply twirl and spin and mouth incorrect lyrics with the widest smile on your face, all while Ellie brings you her drinks to finish. 

You’ve been here for hours it seems, but Ellie can’t drive. But the night is young. You certainly don’t look ready to go home. 

What more can she show you?

“Thank you all for comin’ out! Tonight was a dream—“

You’re a dream, Her chest screams. You you you you fuck—

You clap like the happiest seal on the planet before spinning around to face Ellie. It happens in flashes: you come closer and closer until you’re in front of her, warm hands on her cheeks, ears tingling when you whisper, 

“I didn’t get to meet your sluts.” 

You sound upset about it. Ellie stumbles about how they didn’t come, how they’re not here. How she doesn’t wanna see them right now and she means it all, but you don’t believe her, and her chest hurts. Guilty guilty guilty. 

“Get up.” You step away and Ellie pains to pull you back, savor the night a second longer. But she signs the receipt before following you towards the exit. The cold air feels so good. She needs water now. 

She gives you a little yank when you start wandering the opposing direction, “Come… come here. This way.” 

You grin and slur, “Where to?” 

Ellie’s brows wiggle playfully, “Gas station. You hungry?”

“…Yes.”

Ellie extends her hand for you to hold, and surprisingly, you accept. Her heart jolts to life. 

The walk is quiet. Your eyes are glued to the sky, wide and innocent; the large moon entrances you, surrounded by glittery stars. You both wobble down the sidewalk, trying to avoid bumping into pedestrians and other drunkards. She thought the rowdiness of nightlife would frighten you, but you seem drawn to the chaos.  

Soon enough, you’re both surrounded by aisles filled with chips and sodas and a fuck ton of candy. Ellie cringes at the fond stares she gives you holding 4 packs of watermelon sour patches. You’re cute as hell right now. Have you never been to a convenience store? What the fuck. 

“El! El, what the fuck! Where ya been!” 

Her sluggish brain is trying — really trying to figure out who the hell just left the staff room and is walking towards the two of you. It’s someone that knows her name or whatever shortened version they’ve created and the closer this person gets the more you shield yourself behind her fuck fuck fuck

Arms latch around her neck in a strong hug. Muscular, nice voice, smells like cherries. 

Abigail Anderson. Shoulda known. Great. 

“Jesus fuck, you smell like my dad’s liquor cabinet! We fucking missed you! We haven’t seen you in…” 

When Abby pulls back, her eyes immediately find you. Ellie steals a glance; eyes wide, soft with curiosity. They darken slightly when they lock onto Abby’s shoulders, all the way down to her arms and Ellie… why the fuck does that annoy her? 

“Who’s that,” Abby whispers suggestively and Ellie sighs. Scratches at her eye in irritation. 

“I’m her wife.” You say causally, and it shocks both of them. Abby moreso. Did Ellie never tell her? She’s sure she did. Everyone knows she’s married… right?

“Wh— wife?” Her eyes shift onto Ellie, “Bitch, you got married? What the fuc— when—“

“3 months ago.” You answer.

“Fucking — holy shit. Congrats? Uhh… sorry! Nice to meet you! You’re gorgeous, by the way,” She stutters to shake your hand, but you accept it, “I’m Abby!” 

“Hi.” You smile in delight and your shoulders relax. Abby smiles just as gently and Ellie thinks it’s time to go because you’re both getting on her nerves. 

“Alright, well, we're gonna pay, so… yeah. I’ll text you tomorrow or something. We’re tired.” 

“Mhmm,” Abby hums cockily, eyes glued to the mess Ellie made of your neck, “Looks like y’all had a great time.” 

“We did,” She confirms with pointed eyes, “See ya.” 

“Byeee.” Abby sing-songs with a chuckle before Ellie leads you towards the service counter to dump your snacks. Ellie gives the cashier a familiar nod. 

“Is she who you fuck?” 

Ellie chokes on her water and the cashier gawks at you from behind their reading glasses. You couldn’t have been any fucking louder in that moment, what the fuck.

“What—“

“Do you fuck Abby? I hope not in that bathroom,” You clumsily point to the gender neutral sign near the entrance. “I heard they’re filthy—“

Ellie whispers even though there’s no point, “Dude, are you fucking crazy—“

“… It's just a question—“

“Have a nice night.” 

The cashier rigidly hands Ellie the stuffed baggie and receipt. She snatches them before snatching you to leave. She drops your hand the second briskness surrounds you, “The fuck was that about?” Her chips are calling her. She needs a stress reliever. 

“What—“

She squeezes the bag and the pop rings like a gunshot, “Why the fuck are you asking if I fucked Abby? What the fuck—“

“She’s hot and you kinda are… to a certain degree, I guess. I just assumed.” 

Ellie’s appalled, but doesn’t have the energy to look offended. “Stop assuming, it’s… that’s fucking weird—“

You simply shove tiny watermelon slices in your mouth and steal her water to chug it. She watches you impatiently before you hand the crumpled, half-empty plastic back to her. She downs the rest and discards it some-fucking-where. 

Her thoughts are clouded. Did she fuck Abby? Are you forreal—

“I don’t care, you know.”

“About what?” 

You shrug, “If you fuck her.” 

“Please be quiet.”

“Okay.” 

You both do for a while, dead grass and Dorritos crunching around you. 

Until Ellie speaks again. 

“You’re quiet.” 

“Mhm.”

“Sleepy?”

“Nmhm.” 

Wide awake, actually. The world passes you by with each step the two of you take, swirling with bright lights and laughter. You follow Ellie closely, handfuls of candy shoved in your mouth while she munches on her chips. You never had those orange triangles before. Neither of you are in a rush to make it back to the car. Can Ellie drive in this state?

“Do you, uh, like places like that? Concerts?” 

“Yes.” You break out in a grin. 

“What else do you like?” 

“I dunno. I haven’t… experienced much.” You shrug, accidentally brushing against your wife’s shoulder. Electricity sparks near the end of your spine where a steadying hand rests. “Your friend… does she go with you? To concerts?” 

“Who?”

“Aaabby.” You tease, mocking the blonde girl from earlier, and Ellie’s expressions flattens. She's unsure why. 

“Oh, uh… yeah,” Her chip bag is suddenly very interesting. “Sometimes. I met her at one a few years back after a showcase I hosted.” 

“I like her.” She’s nice and smells nicer. You regret not shaking her seemingly strong hand a few seconds longer. Strong all over, actually. 

“… Uh huh.” 

Your brow arches at that, “Does that bother you?” 

“Why the fuck would it bother me? You can like whoever.”  

“Exactly how you like whoever, huh?” You sneer lazily, and Ellie goes stoic. And just like that, the conversation dies once more. You’re glad for it; selfishly, you’d rather refrain from telling your wife about how attractive you found her friend. She’s left you guessing under too many circumstances. Consider this a sliver of revenge. 

You both make it back to the parking lot in silence, minus Ellie’s agitated crunching. You lean against the passenger door while you watch her dig around for the keys. 

“Where to?” 

“It's almost 4 in the morning.” She hisses. 

“So?” You came home later than that for weeks. You wanna say it. You should say it. Grind your thumb deeper into that open wound, but you save it. Another day, maybe. Maybe not. 

“So we’re going home. I’m tired.” 

“Well, I’m not.” 

“Okay? Whatever, I’ll drop you off somewhere.” 

“You wouldn’t leave your poor, defenseless wife unattended, would you?” You whisper slowly, and Ellie tenses when you plant a soft hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t acknowledge you, just stares through the window behind you. You scoff and drop it by your side. Cross your arms stubbornly. 

“You’re mad because I like Abby.”

“There’s nothing for you to like! You just met her.” Her voice raises, and annoyance flares in you. 

“Exactly! I just met her, and I like her! The fuck did you think I was gonna do? Flash her right in front of the gummy worms?” 

“I don’t know! Fucking maybe!”

“So you can fuck other people but I can’t?” 

Ellie’s very close to you suddenly. Your heart jumps, “Oh, now you wanna fuck Abby? She’s the first person you’ve interacted with besides me since we got fucking married!” 

“SO?” You holler. 

“SO YOU’RE NOT FUCKING MY FRIEND! ARE YOU INSANE!” Speckles of spit land on your face and it sizzles into your pores. You might be. You fucking are. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Ellie’s forcing herself into your space, so why do you fight? Why are you hungry? 

Your palms crash into her chest and she nearly loses her balance, “I DON’T NEED PERMISSION FROM YOU! WE’LL FINALLY BE EVEN, YOU FUCKING WHORE!” 

“Yeah? Think Imma fucking whore?” Her grin is sinister, and excitement coils in your belly. Gets your fingers twitching from how hard they’re clenched. 

“Maybe I do.” Vehemence scathed your tongue. 

“You know what I think?” 

“I don’t care—“

“I think you do.” She mumbles against your cheek, “I think you’re jealous.” 

You still. Ellie’s eyes pierce through yours, burning and hot, nostrils flared: she looks like she could snap you in half. Your spine tingles with delirium. 

“You’re mad because I get to be. I can exist and fuck and party and come and go as I please and you hate it. You wish you could do what I do.” She stares like you killed her mother yourself. Strangled her with your bare hands. “I don’t have mommy and daddy breathing down my neck every 2 seconds. You want that so bad it makes you sick.” 

“So why stay?” 

It shocks her. You don’t waver; passive as usual. 

“You’re free and can do whatever you want, right? Why are you here? Go and be that. Be whoever you wanna be because you can.”

Everything will be over soon. Might as well. Ellie simply glares through you. 

Curiosity is your worst enemy. Might as well ask. 

“Why’d you defend me at dinner?” 

What does she know what does she know what does she know what

She rubs her eyes stubbornly, “Oh my fucking god, who gives a fuck!” 

“Me! I give a fuck! Why’d you do it! Why! You’ve never done it before!” 

She knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows

“BECAUSE FUCK HIM! FUCK EVERYBODY THAT DID THIS TO US! FUCK YOU, TOO!” 

You might cry, you might not. You’re unsure of everything and you’re angry and hurting. Ellie’s a reflection of you, and vise-versa. You hate her hate her hate her. 

Hatred. It might be the reason why kissing her feels so good. Because it shouldn’t be happening. Ellie shouldn’t have you trapped between her and her car, grinding so harshly into you that your spine bends. You shouldn’t tug at her hair to expose her neck to lick and suck and bite her neck red while she curses in your ear. 

This is the distraction you’ve been desperately searching for. To think you’d find it in your wife after all this time. 

“I’d be a whore for you,” She shamelessly seers against your throat, hands wandering to unbutton her own pants, “You know that, right?” 

… That’s cute. Makes you blush. 

“Yeah?” Her laugh is thick like syrup, “Gets you hot? Knowing how easily I’d give it up for you?” 

That sideways grin makes you tick. Your hand closes tight around her throat and she nearly bloodies her bottom lip with her fangs. Your wife looks pathetic; thumbs hooked into her pants, so ready to drop them for you in the middle of the parking lot. People are wandering about; she’s willing to fuck in front of them? 

How pretty would she look trying to be quiet for you? Nervous eyes searching for privacy, praying no one walks by and sees her on the edge with your hand down her underwear. Hopefully no one recognizes her, pulls out their phone, records the two of you. Blasts you both on social media while Ellie moans in your mouth. What would people think? Your families? How ashamed would they be? Their two girls making a mess of themselves in public. 

The thought makes you smile. Scares you. Makes you choke her harder. Her pained whine vibrates in your palm. 

“Get the fuck in the car.” 

The windows fog with the heat of your bodies; her body trapped beneath yours in the back seat that’s roomier than you anticipated. She rolls your hips on top of her, desperate and eager to rip your fucking clothes off and feel you for real. Your dress rests around your hips, your panties on display and she wishes she could see them. She only has her hands for reference, tracing over each thin seam littered with lace and patterns she tries to memorize. Your tongue belongs in her mouth. You feel so fucking good; you’re not close enough. She needs you closer. 

Her mouth chases yours when you finally separate, only connected by a thin string of saliva, but a stern hand collides with her chest to keep her flat. Her hands tickle your waist. Rests your dress even higher until she can see your belly button. 

“Wanna know a secret?” You whisper down at her, and she smirks. 

“I know you’re a virgin, baby.” She whispers giddily, and your teeth grit. A flame coils in your chest. You ignore her.

“You could’ve had me after our wedding, you know? With my face buried in the pillows and my ass in your face. I would’ve let you do whatever you wanted that night.” 

Your sudden vulgarity stuns her silent. Your wife looks like she’s imagining it; lip bruised from both your and her teeth, mind racing with filth of you in every position she can think of. She wouldn’t have been able to separate from you if that was the case. It’s one of the reasons she kept her distance; those pretty brown eyes rolled back would’ve put her underground. She’d never tell you that. 

“But no,” You say like it aches, “You wanted to go and bend over all those girls that follow you around like fucking dogs. You wanted a bitch, not a wife. Right or wrong?” 

She can barely breathe and your hand pressing on her chest isn’t helping; reduces her to sharp gasps that make her lightheaded. The more ragged they become, the harder you press. Your brow arches when she innocently bares her teeth. 

Her palms squeeze at your ass, “I thought about you the entire time—“

Your hand cracks and her head flies to the side. Right on her left cheek is the already reddening imprint of your hand. The crackles in your palm are numbed by the alcohol and your core burns at the shock on her face. She gawks off to the side, that meddling smile dropped completely, chest ragged with her breaths. 

“Ellie, put your hands down.” You spit, and they drop from you completely, palms flat on the seat beneath her. 

“You had every chance to do right by me and you wasted every single one.” You sound like you’re about to cry; Ellie’s too scared to look at you. Not the good scared that she’s felt around you this entire time, but a hollow scared. The one that freezes you. Her fight or flight is triggered. 

“I think you owe me an apology.” You whisper against her burning face before you kiss it gently. A pained groan escapes her, and you laugh. Loud, in her face. Even louder when she tries to grind her hips up into you. 

“Take us home, wife.” 

[justanothersterekficgirl]

Like Heaven Catching Lighting by weathervaanes

Explicit | 41k | 1/1

Prince Stiles of Cor has always known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he was never truly going to marry for love. Fighting it has only made it worse. Now, presented with a choice between two children of the Hale family of Ignis, Derek and Cora, he must make the decision to determine who will rule by his side. If only it were that simple.

-0-

“Tell me,” he says, taking a drink. “If your sister does accept me as her husband, would you be pleased for her fortune or yours?”

Derek sets down the pitcher and moves further into the room, removing his vest and setting it over a chair. “I don’t believe that’s a fair question. If she finds happiness in your kingdom, by your side, of course I’ll be pleased for her.”

“And relieved, I imagine.”

Derek turns, arms crossed over his chest. “Would you be?”

[writingwhimsey]

Married to The Enemy- Shingen Ch. 32

Chapter 32

Shingen lay on his back on a table that moved back into what seemed like a very small cylindrical space. Somehow the doctors and nurses were able to speak to him through some sort of device in the machine.

They gave him instructions, mostly about needing him to hold his breath and be perfectly still. When the machine was going, it made a loud noise. Of course they had also placed something over his ears and were playing music through these devices…music the likes of which Shingen had never even imagined.

While lying in the machine, Shingen couldn’t help but to let his mind wander as he marveled over this technology and this world. They said that these tests would allow them to see inside of my body without having to cut me open. I had no idea this was even possible! This made him wonder, if they found something that DIDN’T belong inside his body…how would they be getting it out?

It’s amazing that things have changed this much. That these things are even possible. He thought. And to think Ava and Sasuke gave up all of this to stay in a much harsher world. One where these advances are centuries away.

Shingen couldn’t help but to think how special his wife was. She had explained to him that she hadn’t intentionally traveled to his time, but that she had grown to love the time and the people and chosen to stay. And now she was going to go back to live the rest of her life at his side.

She truly is an angel. He thought.

“Alright, Mr. Takahashi, we are done with this test. We’ll get you out of there and get these headphones off.” One of the nurses said through the communication device on his ears.

A few moments later and Shingen was out of the tube and they were taking the headphones as they had called them. “Thank you.” Shingen told them. “Alright, that’s the last of you imagining tests. Dr. Sota wants us to run a few more tests and then we’ll be taking you back to your room.”

“Alright.” Shingen replied. He was getting back into the bed they had him in and they were wheeling him to the next testing area.

Some of the tests weren’t all that great and involved lots of poking and prodding. But if they really could find out what was wrong with him and cure it…anything that would allow him to stay with Ava and have the life he had always dreamed of.

Ava…

I stepped out off the bus I had taken to another area of the city, a slower and more residential area. The buildings in this area were a mixture of apartments and family houses. I walked down the familiar sidewalk until I came to the house I would know no matter what.

“Well, the nameplate is still there.” I muttered as I read the name, Shiba. 

I walked up to the door and took a deep breath as I lifted my hand and knocked. “Coming!” Called the familiar aged voice. A few moments later, the door was sliding open and the familiar wrinkled face was looking back at me. 

Slightly dulled blue eyes looked at me from under beautiful white hair. A smile deepened the wrinkles on her face. “Ava!” She exclaimed before pulling me into a tight hug.

I smiled as I returned her embrace. The familiar scent of cherry blossoms and herbal tea tickled my nose as I breathed in. “Oba-san.” I said, as tears stung my eyes.

Oba-san pulled back after a moment to look at me, lifting a hand to cup my cheek. “My little fashion designer, you have been on an adventure. I can tell.” She said, smiling warmly at me. “Come, come in and let us talk.”

I nodded and followed her inside, taking off my shoes before entering. We entered her kitchen which smelled of fresh baked goods and tea.

“Let me get you a little snack and some tea and we’ll sit down catch up.”

I watched as Oba-san prepared the tea cakes she always made and the tea. She set them on a tray and then carried them over to the table and we both sat down. “You don’t seem like you have been worried.” I commented as I picked up my cup of tea to take a sip.

Oba-san smiled at me. “I know you won’t believe it…but I just…I had this feeling deep in my heart that you were alright.” She told me. “I could feel that you had found a place you felt you belonged.”

I set my teacup down and picked up the teacake to take a bite. I thought carefully as I chewed. That was a strikingly similar thought as to what she had about my mother when she disappeared. 

“Was my intuition correct?”

I nodded. “Yes…I mean I was pretty scared when I first got there, but eventually I found… that I loved my new life and the people in it and I wanted to stay.” I explained.

Oba-san smiled. “So, where is this new life?” She asked me. “And I take it you will be returning there.” This last part wasn’t a question, but I nodded in answer anyway.

“It’s…it’s kind of hard to believe.” I began.

Oba-san smiled. “Try me.”

I laughed a moment. My grandmother…she had always been a bit of an odd one. She marched to the beat of her own drum for sure. But that’s one of the many things I loved about her. “It’s not… not really a where, but a when.” I told her. “You see, I ended up traveling through time and in the Sengoku era.”

I went on to detail what had happened during my initial stay in the Sengoku. How I had saved Nobunaga’s life and earned his favor. How the Oda forces had become like family to me.

“That is amazing.” Oba-san said. “What made you decide to come back? Or was that an accident?”

I shook my head. “No, it was intentional…though we’ll be going back hopefully before too long.”

“We?” Oba-san asked. She was always sharp as a tack.

I nodded. “Yes…so after accepting my role as a princess of the Oda clan…I kinda agreed to an arranged marriage to secure an alliance.”

“So…you’re married?”

I nodded. “Yes and before you ask, my husband is a wonderful man. I hit the jackpot as far as arranged marriages.” I explained. “And well…Oba-san my husband is sick. Very sick. None of the medicine of the Sengoku can cure him, but I think we have the technology here…”

“So, you brought your husband here.” Oba-san stated.

I nodded anyway. “Yes. My friend, Sasuke, that I told you about.”

“The modern day astrophysics student turned Sengiku Era ninja?”

I nodded. “Yes. He continued to study the wormholes and was able to calculate when we’d be able to come back and I got Shingen to agree to come. He’s actually in Kyoto University Hospital now undergoing tests.”

“I see…they tell you you couldn’t be with him during the tests?”

“Yes. So they told me I might as well do something else. Shingen was the one who told me if there was anyone I wanted to see, I should come.”

“Well, I am glad for that, and that you came to see me.” Oba-san replied. “I had a feeling that I would see you again soon.”

“You always trust in your gut.”

Oba-san shook her head. “No. It is my heart.” She said. “I know you don’t believe it when I say this about your mother, but I really do have the feeling that she is alive and well somewhere. Just as I knew you were. I could feel that you were happy where you were.”

It was hard to believe what she was saying…but I could tell she truly meant what she said. And in my case…she had been right. “I…I don’t know what to say about that.”

Oba-san smiled. “You don’t have to say anything.” She said. “How about instead of worrying about all of that, you tell me about this husband of yours, huh? You said you hit the jackpot?”

I giggled. She always had a way of steering the conversation in a direction I was more comfortable with. It didn’t matter to her what I or anyone else thought of her. She knew what she knew and she was who she was. The rest was all confetti.

“I really did, Oba-san. Shingen…he’s just so very amazing.” I explained. “He’s brilliant, kind, caring. He’s never shied away from flirting with me from the beginning. He makes me smile and laugh. He’s affectionate, unabashedly so. Strong and suave…not to mention drop dead sexy.”

“Oh? Tell me more.” Oba-san prodded.

“He’s so tall and has muscles for days. Just…one giant hunk of a man…”

“How is he in bed?” Oba-san asked.

I flushed slightly. “Oba-san…”

“What? You tell me you’re married to a giant hunk of a man and have THAT look on your face and I’m not supposed to ask?”

I laughed. “Well…if you must know, he’s amazing.” I answered. “Easily the best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh?”

I nodded. Though I could be a bit shy, my mother and grandmother had always encouraged me to be open with them. We really could talk as if we were girlfriends and not just family. “Yes. He… he’s so attentive. He takes his time making sure I am enjoying my time…and he had these very large hands that he knows what to do with…and he’s so big that he completely envelops me and I feel so vulnerable yet so safe at the same time…”

“That sounds like a keeper.” Oba-san said. “Will I get to meet him before you go back?”

“I would like to have you meet him.” I replied. “I am sure we will have some time while we are here once he’s out of the hospital.”

Oba-san and I were continuing to chat and catch up, drinking our tea, when there was another knock on her door. “Oh, the time, I bet that’s my delivery.” She said.

The door slid open a bit. “I’m here with your delivery.” Called a male voice.

“Oh, come in, Touji. I’m just in the kitchen!” Oba-san called.

A few moments later a man about my age was coming in, carrying a few bags of groceries. He had blond hair and brown eyes. A smile came to his face as he looked at me. “Ava? Is that you?”

It was then that it hit me…my childhood friend Touji. “Touji? You’re still making the deliveries for your family store?” I asked.

“Well, yes, but now I am the owner.” He replied. “Well, me and my sister. I have her oldest son helping me with the deliveries. I just make sure to still handle the deliveries for my favorite customers.” He was then winking at Oba-san.

She laughed. “Oh, such a charmer you.” She said. “You can just sit those down on the counter there and I’ll get them put away.”

“No you won’t.” I said. “I can handle that for you.” I was then getting up to go and put the groceries away.

“Here, let me help with that Ava.” Touji said.

“Don’t you have other deliveries to make?” I asked.

“No. As the owner I only handle the deliveries I want to now.” Touji answered with a grin.

“Plus he usually stays for dinner.” Oba-san added. “Will you be staying for dinner, Ava?”

I shook my head. “No. I’ll help get these put away and then I’ll need to go.” I answered. “Hopefully they’ll have all the results.”

Oba-san nodded. “Of course.”

Touji helped me put away the groceries, while Oba-san went to take care of some other things. “So, Ava, will you be back again to visit your grandmother?”

“Probably.” I answered. “I’m really glad you’ve been helping Oba-san out while I’ve been gone.”

“She has always been good to me.” Touji replied. “Plus she is the grandmother of one of my favorite people. There’s always the chance I’d catch you on a visit.”

“It’s always good to see one of my best friends.” I replied, giving him a smile.

An awkward smile came to his face. “RIght…so maybe if you’re gonna be around for a bit, we could meet up sometime to catch up?” He suggested.

“Uh, sure maybe.” I replied with a shrug. I was then taking note of the time. “Well, I had better be getting on my way. I don’t want to be late. We’ll talk about that meet up another time, okay?”

Touji nodded. “Yeah, sure. See ya later Ava.”

I gave him a smile and a wave. “Later.” I went to find Oba-san and give her a hug before leaving and taking the bus back to the hospital. I was eager to see Shingen and hopefully we would get the results of his tests back as well. Hopefully, they would know what was wrong and we could finally discuss how to cure him.

Taglist: @limonzu @zulablaise @oda-princess @kisara-16 @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @lucyw260 @selenacosmic

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Arranged Marriage Masterlist

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Convivencia (ao3) - antisocialhood Luke/Asthon M, 4k

Summary: Everyone knows Kingston University is expensive, but Ashton has a plan. There's a rule, a clause, that gives a married couple attending the university a break, just over $50,000, and allows them to live off campus.

Ashton has his eyes set on attending Kingston, and he's willing to cross whatever lines he must to pay his way through. Even if that means marrying a complete stranger and trying not to fall in love.

Enter a freshly graduated boy named Luke that has an unhealthy coffee fixation and his own eyes set on Kingston

~

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Summary:  Prince Luke meets Stable Boy Ashton, his mother informs him that he is betrowthed to be married, he agrees at first but starts to develop an untold amount of feelings for the boy which are later returned, he is faced with the dilemma of what he is expected to do vs what his heart and soul is telling him to do.

Everybody Wants To Rule The World (ao3) - TheRadioactiveWizard Michael/Luke, Luke/Ashton, Calum/Ashton N/R, 9k

Summary: "Since Lucas, King of Scotland, was a child the English have wanted his country and his crown. He is sent to France to wed its next king, to save himself and his people - a bond that should protect him, but there are forces that conspire, forces of darkness, forces of the heart. Long may he reign." 

or King Lucas of Scotland and Prince Michael The II of France are in an arranged marriage and eventually fall in love.

I need you to stay (ao3) - CutesyMe Michael/Calum, Luke/Ashton N/R, 10k

Summary: Apparently his parents have found a ‘perfect’ boy for him now, and apparently they expected him to woo this boy, win his heart over and marry him. Whether he liked him or not. How was that possible? It was the fucking 21st century and he was living in a country where he had rights. How can his parents arrange a marriage for him? This wasn’t Pakistan or India. He couldn’t believe that was happening, especially right after he met that cute red haired guy, and had lost him instantly but that wasn’t the point.

Oh, We Could Be Falling In Love (ao3) - malumqt (bunwuji) Michael/Calum, Luke/Ashton N/R, 9k

Summary: Michael Clifford is only prince of Australia. Calum Hood is the prince of New Zealand. Both are enemy countries and decided to have an arranged marriage to have peace. Michael doesn't want an arranged marriage. He's determined to hate the unfairly adorable New Zealand prince.

Once Upon a Dream (ao3) clamu_hnod  Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum N/R, 9k

Summary: Prince Ashton is promised the hand of the next born Hemming’s child as a result of an agreement made between their fathers. When a tall woman in a dark cape arrives, chaos ensues and plans run a muck.

Princes Among Peasents (ao3) - magicalmadhatter Michael/Luke, Luke/Calum, Calum/Ashton N/R, 4k

Summary: Five years ago Michael escaped his kingdom in the cover of darkness with his friend and advisor Ashton. The pair of them have made a life for themselves in the lower city of the castle in the neighboring kingdom. But what if the past they thought they left behind wasn't so far behind them? Especially after they are uprooted from the life they have made and thrown into the hustle and bustle of what their past life was.

To Our Happiness (ao3) - heavenlytouch Ashton/Calum, Michael/Calum, Ashton/Luke G, 1k

Summary: Calum just know that his parents already planned this wedding before his was born.

under the blanket (ao3) - homoxavier Luke/Ashton T, 2k

Summary: They said it would be better to be married young; you would die longer. At age 21, Ashton had had made his decision. 

"I knew you were the one the moment I looked into your eyes. I made you cry bloody murder." "Oh, you sap."

[haeryna]

the sadness we shared is my clarity ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ↪ fushiguro megumi x reader

summary: it's spring when fushiguro megumi finds you. it's summer when he realizes he loves you. but as the days shorten, and time runs out, megumi realizes you're slipping away.

tw: angst, as per usual. mentions of gore, and sexual tension but nothing explicit or nsfw. you and megumi are both idiots. half of this was churned out in a day so please give the author grace. not proofread. arrangedmarriage!au and friends to enemies to lovers. megumi is Mean. mutual pining, so much that i want to throw up. mmm yummy clan politics

notes: banner by the lovely @/cafekitsune! title taken from txt's deja vu. had this fic rotting in my head and in my drive. dedicated to riko, for being one of the first mooties i ever had. love you @riaki !!

also i'm sorry everyone for vanishing off the face of the earth pls accept this fic as an apology :'))

part one/??

It’s summer, and the air in Kawasaki is miserably hot and oppressive. Tacky skin clings to thick cloth, and Megumi grimaces at the feeling. Gojo had finally decided to send all the first years together on a mission to deal with a group of Grade 3 spirits, deeming his pupils “worthy to finally make their debut!” To celebrate, Nobara had corralled everyone to a small cafe, located near the train station. “Cmon, this place has air conditioning, and Ijichi won’t be here for at least another hour,” she insists, fingers wrapped around the curve of your wrist. Begrudgingly, Megumi follows along, heavy with the knowledge that where you go, he'll follow.

He can’t help but sneak glances over, as you and Nobara fawn over the icy desserts and drinks the cafe has to offer. The soft swoop of your neck is revealed as you lean in closer to peer at the deserts hidden behind the glass. A bead of sweat trickles down into the hollow of your collarbone, and Megumi swallows hard, forcing himself to look away. The flush on his cheeks is from the summer heat, he tells himself. He can’t quite bring himself to believe it. 

“Fushiguro!” you call out, and he forces himself to look at you. “What is it?” 

“Aren’t you going to get a drink?”

Megumi hesitates, before grumbling an affirmative. As the other three move to secure a table, he turns to face the cashier. She seems younger than him by a few years, makeup done even in the hot weather with mascaraed eyelashes batting at him innocently. She misses the proffered bills, running her hand along his, before apologizing a bit breathily. “It’s fine,” Megumi sighs. His thoughts wander as the cashier chatters away mindlessly. You were favoring your right side. Were you injured? Had one of the curses somehow reached you before he could stop them? Your technique had seemed to wane towards the end of the fight. Were you overexerted? Did he have to speak to Gojo about how hard he’d been training you? 

He pulls himself from his thoughts just in time to notice the cashier leaning over the counter, watching him curiously. “Would you like a receipt, sir?” 

“No,” is his curt reply, shoving all of his traitorous thoughts of you deep down inside of himself. The cashier pouts. “If you fill out a survey, you can get five dollars off on your purchase!” 

Megumi can feel himself grimacing. Nobara would kick his ass if he didn’t at least take it and offer it to her. “Fine then.” As he turns back to the table, he scowls at the too-bright smile on Yuuji’s face. “What’s that look for?” 

“Fushiguro, she was totally hitting on you!” 

He swats away the eager high five. “Did the curses fuck with your brain or something?” 

“No, seriously, look at the receipt she gave you!” 

Megumi can feel the heat of your gaze as he unravels the receipt. Under the printed text of “FIVE DOLLARS OFF AFTER SURVEY COMPLETION!” was a line of neatly printed numbers. Scowling, he shoves the offending piece of paper in your direction. “Here. Take it.” 

“I don’t want your leftovers,” you shoot back, eyes blazing, and his traitorous heart wrenches. “It’s not for the number, idiot. Weren’t you and Kugisaki just complaining about spending that much money on drinks? Take the survey and stop whining.” 

He lets himself fall back in the familiar rhythm of bickering with Nobara as she swats at him. He’ll do anything to avoid the way your offended gaze turns thoughtful, how you seem to study his face as he forces himself to continue the lie he’s let himself live. You cannot be his, Megumi thinks desperately, even after the four of you depart the cafe, and after you toss the crumpled up wad of paper into the trash can. Even as you fall asleep in the backseat of the car, head perched onto his shoulder, he fights down the growing panic and nausea. He would rather break his own heart in the process than let you suffer from his affections. 

Cursed, he thinks. There’s a reason his mother passed, his father killed, and his sister stolen away. He’s as cursed as the shadows that seep from his domain with their tendrils that wrap and curl over every inch of light. Megumi has already accepted that the feelings that grow by the day can never be revealed. You, with your sunshine laugh, whose tender hands would always reach for him after a mission. Fushiguro, you’d say, kindly. You’re hurt again. Let me grab the first aid kit. You, with your hands that are soft and gentle, as much as Megumi’s hands are calloused and stained. 

I love you, he finally admits, as he carries you from the car back to your room. Yuuji had an ankle injury, and Nobara couldn’t handle hauling your weight up the stairs leading back to Jujutsu Tech. At least, that’s what he tells himself, as he shifts your weight in his arms, feeling the way you subconsciously pressed yourself closer to him. I love you. Your eyelashes flutter in your sleep, brow crinkling ever so slightly. Gently, Megumi smoothes it over with his thumb. I love you. 

Fushiguro Megumi was by no means a religious man. He’d known that there was no god in the battlefields of a sorcerer, no mercy in the torturous death that only curses could offer. And yet, as he lowers you down to the comfort of your mattress, he finds himself praying. I’ll do anything, he thinks, as he watches you in the depths of your slumber. I’ll give up my body, my soul, my life. Just please let her live. Please let her be happy. 

Please give her someone that could take better care of her than I ever could. 

Fushiguro Megumi found you in the first rainfall of spring. 

You hadn't noticed him, quietly watching the droplets fall on the sakura trees planted near the perimeter of Jujutsu Tech. The edges of your kimono were stained with mud, with a chunk of your haori ripped out on the left side. Megumi frowned. Silk, he noted, and gold. You’re dressed too well to be here, but too oblivious to be a threat. Just to be sure, he let his fingers curl around the handle of one of his tonfas before he spoke. 

“Who are you?” 

Startled, you turned to face him, and his scowl deepened. You were pretty, even with your eyes rounded in shock, and the undignified noise that had escaped you when you realized you weren’t alone. When you told him your name, voice hesitant, Megumi couldn't help but hate the way his heart reacted as you spoke. 

“I’m looking for Gojo Satoru,” you finished, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip as you waited for his response. Megumi swallowed hard.

“A lot of people do.” He kept his tone steady, forced himself not to let the heat in his chest rise to his face. “What’s a Kamo doing here, looking for him?” 

Megumi had heard of you, of course. Gojo had raised him with at least a basic understanding of the three Big Families, and their prominent figures from both the past and present. The half-sister to Noritoshi Kamo, you had been held behind while your elders sent him away to the sister school in Kyoto. Women, Gojo had said, tone playful but eyes cold, are seen as nothing more than breeding stock and political pawns. They’ll probably keep her there until she’s married off. 

Something seems to settle inside you, and Megumi can’t help but watch, ensnared in the web you weave. Your hands smooth over the creases in your kimono as you exhaled, shoulders rounding back. Even covered in grime you radiated elegance, though you were betrayed by the still-skittish look in your eyes. “I’m here to make a deal with him.” 

A few days after the four of you had returned from your assignment in Kawasaki, you realized that Megumi was behaving rather oddly. 

At first, he seemed moody. Tired, you assumed. With promotions coming up, Gojo-sensei had been training the four of you even more rigorously than usual. Your mornings were filled with research, analyzing the few texts that Jujutsu Tech had recovered on cursed techniques that were even remotely similar to your own. The evenings were spent sparring, with thick dust kicked up under the lukewarm breeze, and the faint howls of Megumi’s shikigami in the distance. 

Sighing, you squat down, calling softly into the woods until one of his Divine Dogs trot out, tongue lolling out happily. You can’t help the wistful smile that tugs at your lips as you run your fingers through soft, black fur. They’d taken a liking to you, after you started carrying a few dog treats in your gear to give to them. Megumi had always complained that you spoiled them, babied them too much. You couldn’t help it. You loved his shikigami dearly. 

What did that say about you? The thought makes you lightheaded for a moment. The heat, you think, a bit desperate. It was all the heat. 

“You’re late.” 

You tilt your head backwards, startling at how close he’d gotten to you. He’s dressed for the summer heat, ditching his uniform for something more practical. Linen pants brush by you as he reaches your side, and your heart seems to convulse when you realize you can see the slight ripple of muscle under the fabric of his shirt.  Heat flares in your cheeks and you look away. Stormy eyes study you, a flicker of something predatory passing through them before he turns to his shikigami. 

“And you. Stop running off like that.” 

The Divine Dog whines, and you crinkle your nose, turning back to meet his gaze. “I was calling for it because I couldn’t find you. You weren’t where we normally spar.” 

“Gojo wanted us to use the other fields.” 

“Fine, fine.” Petulant, you reach for his wrist, hoisting yourself up off the ground. Before you can even speak, he’s tearing it from your grasp as though you’ve burnt him. “Hurry up. We’re losing light.” 

You follow after him quietly, ignoring the sting in your hand from the phantom contact. He’s probably overwhelmed with the work we’ve been doing, you remind yourself, yet you can’t help the slight feeling of dread that runs up your spine. His dog noses at your palm, whining softly, as thought it can sense your distress. Its owner however seems none the wiser. 

“Why did you want to spar today? Didn’t Gojo-sensei say we could take today off?”  

“The next mission is the one that the higher-ups are sending us on to see if we should be recommended for a higher grade. That means it’s going to be more dangerous than usual.” 

The trees clear to reveal a clearing, grass matted down from hours of sparring. “I hate when you’re right.” 

Megumi spares you a sharp glance but says nothing else. “Warm up quickly. I want to be back before it gets dark.” 

You stretch out under the waning light, letting your technique run through your body for a few moments. Cheating, Yuuji would insist, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager for a fight. The upcoming mission loomed over you, anxiety building as you thought about the uncertainties of it all. You hadn’t trusted the higher-ups from the beginning, and you especially didn’t trust them in any circumstance where Itadori Yuuji’s life was at risk. You exhale, feeling the familiar buzz of your cursed energy flow as you move. “Okay. I’m ready.” 

Sparring with Megumi feels like a dance, more than anything else. He was your partner long before Yuuji and Nobara had even transferred to Tokyo, and your body has been trained to move as seamlessly with him as possible. Every step forward he takes you step back, and with each swing of the staff, your katana rises up to meet up. You lose yourself in it for a moment, watching the way his jaw clenches in concentration, eyebrows furrowed as you narrowly avoid a pointed elbow. A sharp jab of your blade, and Megumi is suddenly right in front of you. The air leaves your lungs in his presence taking in the scent of his laundry detergent and the slightest tinge of the soap he uses. He takes advantage of your distraction to disarm you, flipping you neatly into a hold. 

“Yield,” he says, pressing his knee down into your stomach a little more firmly. You try your best to ignore the sight of him kneeled between your legs as you try to kick out from under him. His eyes darken at the sight of you, pinned and struggling to free yourself. 

“Yield,” he says, once more, and you do, letting your body rest against the ground as you stare up at him. There’s a bead of sweat trickling down his temple, the veins of his slender hands raised as he holds his staff. You let your hand curl against the wood of it, feeling the pressure of it resting on your throat. 

“I yield,” you say, and in that moment you know that you have. Fushiguro Megumi has stolen your heart from the day you met him. I’d give you everything, you realize, as Megumi helps you to your feet. There are 35 trillion blood cells in the human body, and every single one of them runs for you. You let your fingers intertwine with his for the briefest moment before forcing yourself to pull away. I would do anything to have you. My greatest sin and my holiest salvation wrapped into a single body. 

“That was a good fight,” he tells you, taking your silence for sulking. Maybe I wanted to lose. Maybe I did want to fall for you. Would that be such a sin? 

“Thanks,” is your stilted answer, the setting sun sealing your fate. You’re in love with Fushiguro Megumi. And you don’t quite know what to do about it. 

The mission is simple enough, until it isn’t. An abandoned hospital, Ijitchi had said in the car ride over. Residual curses had been spotted clinging to the interior, feeding off of an unknown source within. Intel had suggested that it was a Grade 2 spirit at most. You watch as Nobara takes a bit too much pleasure in nailing the swarms of weak curses that had greeted you at the entrance, Yuuji laughing at how easily his fists send them to a rather unpleasant demise. Yet, you can’t shake the feeling of unease that settles over you. This is too easy for a promotion mission. What were they hiding? 

Then Megumi opens the doors to what would’ve been the emergency room, and all hell breaks loose. 

Bloodstains, bright red, catch your eye first. They’re splattered all over the room, on the floor, curtains, and on the hospital sheets yellowed with age. You see the bones next. Human; skulls, ribcages, femurs, all picked clean and white enough to shine under the fluorescent lighting. The light flickers. A tumorous mass sits in the center of the room, a conglomeration of hair, teeth, and eyes that blink slowly at you. Your spine stiffens, and immediately, you pull Megumi towards you as a ropelike strand of hair tightens around the spot where he was standing. 

Those fuckers. A Semi-Grade 1? 

“Megumi,” is all you can make out. In the hallway, you can hear something more menacing, something equally as terrible as what sits in the room inside with you. You can hear Nobara’s cry of pain as a nauseating crack rips through the air. They won’t survive without him. “I’m sorry.” 

His eyes widen in understanding a fraction too late as you gather all your energy and shove him back out into the corridor as the curse flings a file cabinet at you. It crashes into the door, and you can hear Megumi calling your name with something that sounds like desperation. The hinges rattle as he throws his weight against it, but the cabinet holds firm. When you turn to face the curse in front of you, the look in its eyes is amused as you draw your blade. A cavernous maw opens, splitting it down the center as misshapen lumps of flesh spill out. Smaller curses, remnants of the innocents it had lured and devoured. A sudden chill goes through your body. 

This isn’t a Semi-Grade. This is a full-fledged Grade 1. 

There’s something vicious in the way you move, tearing through cursed spirits as though they’re paper. Ichor stains the ground around you, as red as the blood you channel through your veins. Dimly, you think you’re screaming. It was a set up, you think desperately. Of course the higher-ups would try to kill Itadori Yuuji at any cost. They didn’t give a fuck about you, or Nobara, or Megumi. Fury fills the cavern of your chest as you lunge for the hulking Grade 1, as it grotesquely pushes out the corpse of one of its victims into something far more sinister. You rip it to shreds without a second thought. 

The sound of steel on flesh makes the hair of your arms rise as you finally manage to cut a nasty gash into the misshapen curse in front of you. It howls in pain, tendrils reaching for your body as you leap away. Instead, the tendrils open the serrated wound a bit further, opening a new pocket for its children to crawl out of. That was the first blow you’d been able to land; ten minutes have passed since you trapped yourself inside a room with it. Will you make it out alive? You shake the thought away angrily.

Gritting your teeth, you increase your blood flow, shooting it down to your legs and the fibers of your muscles. Your blade shines as it cuts down curses, the Grade 1 merely watching with a demeanor that you can only describe as bored. It’s toying with you, you realize, but what pricks your heart isn’t fear, but resignation. Your foot catches on the rubble for only a moment, and the Grade 1 moves, slamming you into the wall with enough force for you to feel your ribs shatter. Blood fills your mouth and you choke, lungs heaving. Punctured, your technique tells you, a liter gone. The air tastes like iron and salt, and you realize with a start that you’re dying. 

You feel oddly calm as the world spins, watching as the ropes of hair approach your prone body. The last thing you see is the door shattering open, and the look in Megumi’s eyes as he sees you. There’s terror in his normally stoic expression, his arm outstretched towards you as Nue dives for you. Nobara and Yuuji are moving, but all you can see is him. His hands are bloodied at the fingertips, as though he’d been clawing at the door with his own hands to pry it open, his lips moving soundlessly. There’s a dull ringing in your ears, the toll of death that signals your end. His hand cups your face, and you allow yourself to lean into it for a moment, reveling in the touch. I could die like this, is your final thought as you succumb to your injuries. I’m happy that you’re holding me, Megumi.

The world around you feels muted, when you finally awaken. Your vision is blurred as you peel your eyelids back, and you wince at the sensation. How long have you been out for? Slowly, the blurred tinges of light start to focus. A lamp, dimly lit to your right on the nightstand next to a pitcher of water and an empty cup. A punctured lung, a liter gone. Your hand drifts to the bandages that wrap your chest, carefully letting your cursed technique scan your body. A few lacerations, but for the most part you were fine. Crisp sheets rustle as you sit up, examining your surroundings. The hospital in the infirmary. Somehow, they managed to bring you back. 

Megumi’s eyes, so desperate and lost as his hand reached for you. 

You try not to think about it, as you carefully test your body. Your limbs ache, but that’s to be expected. Your hair has been neatly pulled away from your face; Nobara’s work, no doubt. Her screams from behind the door, the dread in your chest when you realized they might not survive without Megumi. You watch your fingers shake as you reach for the water, letting it soothe away the pain in your throat. Did she even make it? Did they live? 

The door opens, startling you from your thoughts. Megumi stands in the doorway, hand pushing through his hair. You take a moment to examine him, noting the dark circles under his pale skin, and how his long hair seemed mussed. His eyes scan the room, passing over you before focusing on you with startling clarity. 

“You’re awake.” 

Hesitantly, you nod, as he drops into the seat beside you. “Did…did they…”

He cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence. “Kugisaki and Itadori are fine.” 

You stare down at your hands, letting the silence wash over you. Yet, you’re dimly aware of how suffocating it feels, how your shoulders were unable to relax even with the knowledge that your friends were alive and safe. Megumi continues to watch you, but before you can say something, anything,  his voice fills the air, terse and clipped. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” 

Startled, your eyes meet his. “What?” 

“Did you think I was too weak? That I couldn’t handle it just because you’ve been a Grade 2 longer than I have?” The eyes that normally watched you with a hint of affectionate exasperation were cold, and hard. “You behaved recklessly. Did you even think about how it impacted the rest of us? Because of you, Kugisaki broke her leg, and Itadori almost had his arm cleaved off. You did all of that just for the rest of us to find you half dead in a puddle of your own bones and blood.” 

“Stop it,” you whisper, but Megumi’s voice only twists into something far more cruel. “You thought you were being so brave, sacrificing yourself, only to realize that you weren’t that special. You couldn’t even take down that Grade 1 alone. Kugisaki had to save you, even as she was practically screaming from the pain.” 

“Megumi,” you whisper, and he pauses, clearly unused to his name falling from your lips. “Why are you so angry at me?” Your voice breaks ever so slightly and you bite your lip hard enough to taste blood, ashamed at the wetness in your eyes. “Where is this coming from? I don’t understa-” 

He slams his palm against the wooden surface of your bedside table, rattling the drawers. “Are you really that stupid to ask what you did wrong? You fucked up. I thought you were different, but in reality, you’re no better than the rest of your clan, are you? You’re just another filthy Kamo.” 

Your hands shake as you twist them into the off-white infirmary sheets. “What are you talking about?” 

Megumi laughs, but it’s jaded, sharp. “Congratulations. You’re being promoted to a Semi-Grade 1, all because of your little stunt that landed the rest of us into hospital beds. Even though we all had to help you finish it off, they’re only choosing you. I wonder why.” 

“Megumi.” Your voice rises, as your heart finally shatters. “I did it because I thought you would die, you know that. I don’t give a fuck about the politics of the higher ups, or my clan, or even my grade. I just wanted to protect you all. You know that.” 

He rises from the chair next to your side, expression indifferent to the tears that are rolling down your cheeks. “As if I’d believe you.” 

“Megumi,” you call out, desperately, as he walks away. “Megumi!” 

He doesn’t look back, and you’re left alone in the dark with only the moon to bear company as you sob. I don’t understand, you think, deliriously. Can’t you see that I love you? Can’t you see I’d rather die than watch you break in front of me? 

Megumi barely makes it to the lawn before he retches into the bushes. Bile rises in his throat and he squeezes his eyes shut as he replays the moment over and over and over again. For five days, he’d held vigil at your bed. For five days, he realized that your love for him would get you killed. For five days, he’d wrapped his heart in iron, knowing that what he was about to do would break the both of you. I would’ve only gotten you killed, he thinks, numbly. It’s what landed you here in the first place. 

Yet, Megumi can’t stop recalling the exact moment the relief in your eyes had turned into betrayal, how your lips had trembled and your hands shook. Your voice, desperate and pleading, calling his name as he forced his legs to walk away from you. How he can hear your sobs faintly trailing from the windows above, matching the tears that are trailing down his cheeks. 

You’ll hate him forever, he thinks, dazed, as he forces himself onto his feet. You’ll hate him forever, and by god it’ll be the most painful thing he’s ever experienced, but as long as you’re alive he can bear it. As long as he never has to see you there again, laying in a heap of your own blood, eyes dazed and unseeing, he will carry the sins that it takes to keep you alive and away from him. 

I love you. I love you, and I’m sorry that someone like me ever fell for someone like you. I love you so much that the thought of being without me tears me to shreds. I love how you take care of my shikigami like they're your own. I love how every touch you give me heals something that I didn't know I was missing. I love you, and I need you to live more than I need air to breathe.

I love you, and even though I don't think you'll ever forgive me, I'll always follow wherever you go.

[yuyuwritesss]

Wedding night Simon Riley

ArrangedMarriage!Au

A/N : I could make a part two in the future, I'm still getting used to writing so excuse any mistakes 😭. Hope you enjoy !!

————————————————————————

"Hey...do you think I could get a kiss?"

Hearing you utter these words, from where he had maneuvered you onto all fours on your wedding bed, made Ghost halt all movement, his hold on your hips loosening considerably.

You hadn't said a word when you both walked into the room. Kept silent still when you gave him confirmation with a nod of your head. Your slightly shaky hands moving to take off your hair accessories only for his steady ones to replace yours when it came time to pull down the zipper on your mermaid dress down. Strong arms wrapping around your waist to get it down in one pull, slowly dropping your dress to the ground leaving you in nothing but your, unbeknownst to him, carefully chosen white lace panties.

He had assumed you wanted this to be done and over with as soon as possible, so he was shocked, to say the least, when he heard your sweet quivering voice calling out for a kiss. A pang of guilt shot through his veins, reproaching him for not asking you how you wanted this to go. It was your wedding night after all, and like any other girl, you probably wanted it to be special even if you two got married under unusual circumstances, the marriage being a way out of debt for you and on a whim for him.

You were intensely looking at the mattress beneath you, regretting having spoken up when you suddenly felt thick forearms curl around your waist and thighs and pull you into his warm lap. His length squeezed between the side of your thigh and his stomach. You tried your hardest not to look, your shyness getting the better of you. You still hadn't warmed up to the stranger who answered your post on a military-man-finding forum, subsequently pulling you from under a crumbling future.

"Not like I have much use for the money anyway" he had grumbled.

You were intimated by him the first time you met, but something told you that there was more to him than what meets the eye, and it wasn't just the immense gratitude, you were intrigued and hopeful. Looking forward to pealing back his layers one by one in your own awkward-at-first, relentless way.

You found yourself looking everywhere but at the man, fiddling with your fingers on your lap.

You looked up when his much larger hand englobed both of yours, his other hand squeezing your waist before moving to lift up his mask from neck to nose, revealing a pale column and a prominent Adam's apple. His jaw sharp and littered with blond stubble, his chin strong and sporting a diagonal scar.

Following the scar up the edge of his mouth you were met with a pink tongue wetting his lips, drawing back into his mouth it revealed pale pink lips, slightly smirking. His scar continued up his face but it was cut off where he had set his mask over a crooked nose and lightly flushed cheeks.

You felt his hand settle on your arm before you were gently tugged towards him. You were so close your noses touched and his breath fanned your lower face. Your eyes fluttered shut and your lips slightly parted just in time for him to crash his into them.

His wet mouth felt like warm cotton. The kiss setting a fire in your stomach and sending shills down your spine, his hand moved from your hands to your thigh and yours shot up to cup his face. Your thumbs pressing into his cheeks. His tongue made its way into your mouth and you found yourself at a loss as to what to do with it so you handed all control over to him. He didn't hesitate to shape your mouth to his liking, tongue massaging yours and teeth clashing. You were starting to get dizzy when he finally pulled away, seemingly composed while you, on the other hand, were breathing heavily.

A string of saliva connecting the two of you. His hand brushed your hair back behind your ear and cupped your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your eyes closed contentedly and a small smile pulled at your lips. His thumb gently wiped the corner of your mouth.

He squeezed your body even closer to him and you were reminded of what lay between the two of you, your eyes shooting open.

"What else do you need, sweetheart?"

[oatmilkandcookies]

UNLESS (sanemi x f!reader) Pt 3.

MDNI, 18+ angst, swearing

Pt. 4 >

warnings: arrangedmarriage!au, angst/fluff, MANGA SPOILERS, abuse

nightmare (/ˈnʌɪtmɛː/)

a terrifying dream in which the dreamer experiences feelings of helplessness, extreme anxiety, sorrow, etc.

word count: 4k

Part Three (Newlyweds)

-

There was sobbing, and he can’t see anything. His hands felt sticky as he fumbled around to find his bearings. That voice…

“Sanemi…”

A person collapses into his hands, making him fall to his knees to cradle them.

“M-mom?”

It can’t be…there’s no way. She’s crying into his hands, and he can feel the sharp fangs and claws he had worked hard to supress in the trenches of his memory graze against his hands.

“Are you becoming your father Nemi?” she sniffled as she finally looked up, holding his gaze with her very human-looking eyes.

None of this was making any sense. His father… Sanemi winced as more memories resurfaced, the way his father would drag his mother by the hair and fling her across the room, raining angry punches on her shrinking figure. He remembers the bitter taste of his father’s fists when he had tried intervening before, and he remembers the twist in his gut when his father would threaten to hit the rest of his siblings if he ever stepped in between his parents again.

“I-If you turn into him…she will end up like I did,” his mother’s shaky voice pulls him out of his own head.

His eyes widened as the pieces clicked. No. No way. He swore to himself he would never let it happen again.

“She…She’ll become a demon?”

Why was his voice shaking? He watched, frozen as his mother sat up to face him, wiping her tear-stricken cheeks with a clawed hand. She shook her head as she grinned, all her razor-sharp teeth showing, stained dark red with the blood of his siblings. She grabs his hands, which he’s realising are also covered in someone’s blood, and he doesn’t know whose. He could see the tremors in his fingertips as she places his hands on both sides of her neck.

“She’ll die by your hands”

“No!”

A sickening crack echoes as her hands force his to twist.

-

Sanemi jolted awake, sitting up as his breathing heaved, cold sweat running down his back and chest. It was just a nightmare. A fucking horrible one, but it was just that and only that. He rubbed his face as he left his room, silently opening the door to the bedroom opposite his, and he couldn’t lie, he was relieved to see your sleeping figure, gently rising and falling with each soft breath. He leaned against the door frame as he recalled what happened a week ago.

Kamado Tanjiro had accused him of being an abusive husband, and it had made him see red. He didn’t care if people treated him like he was some brute, but the one thing he had sworn to never become, was the pathetic excuse of a man his father was. It took all the trainees, and a screeching Sorai cawing the news that Y/N had been found unconscious and had been admitted into the care of the Butterfly Estate, to stop him dead in his tracks.

He had sprinted as fast as the winds could carry him, and he was met with a sharp gazed Shinobu before he could burst into every room to find you. She had spoken in a very pointed tone as she revealed that you were beginning to show symptoms of malnourishment. She had also dropped that a diet of only birdseed and water, as well as sleeping outdoors was no way any spouse should be treated and it was a miracle you had survived that way for almost a month.

For the whole week you were unconscious, the sinking feeling of guilt only deepened the more he remained by your side, noticing how frail your figure had become, the way your cheeks were sunken and your wrists bony. He’d take naps in the spare bed next to yours whenever the tiredness of staying awake got to him, and when Obanai and Mitsuri came to visit, he would take their harsh words with his head down.

“You know she came from a mountain clan, right? How could you not know their history with women?” Obanai accused.

“I’m sure you didn’t mean it Sanemi! There’s no way you would treat her this way intentionally, right?”

“Nonsense, Oyakata-sama was very clear in his advice to him, Mitsuri. He has no excuse.”

Oyakata-sama’s advice. Why didn’t he remember it earlier? It felt confusing at the time, and he didn’t keep the words in mind, but it all made sense now that he’s piecing the pieces together.

“Speak clearly and have meals together.”

What the hell kind of marriage advice was that anyways? How was he supposed to know that the food you laid out each day was for him, let alone the fact that him not eating it meant that you wouldn't? Fuck, what kind of twisted upbringing did you have?

But Sanemi was never one to dwell in regret, so he swears to himself to dedicate his all to your recovery. By the time you were finally discharged, he had arranged for the Kakushi to deliver groceries daily and had requested for another week off.

Sanemi had been awkwardly looming around you as you went about your daily chores post-recovery and though there was a tiny weird tension between the two of you, you had learned to ignore it and enjoy his adorable attempt of company instead. The only few moments he would leave you alone were when he would be shuffling about in the kitchen while you were mending his uniforms in the living room, (and mysterious plates of ohagi would appear on the table in front of you after you wake up from your mid-sewing naps) or when you would take your evening sit in the backyard (and you can still hear his soft pacing as he waited for you to come back inside to the safety of your home). It was sweet that he was truly working on being a better husband for you.

It was during this week that he learnt about your past. He swears he didn’t mean to, but it was late, you were out in the backyard longer than you usually were and he’s never been a man of patience. He had slammed the sliding door open, and you squeaked as you dropped the wet cloth you were using to wipe your body to cover yourself with a towel. He was stunned into silence, the flash of bare skin and the sight of the gnarly scars that ran down your spine gone in a blink as your wide doe eyes turned to him.

Realising he was staring and had interrupted your bath, he could feel the heat rushing to his face as he averted his gaze and muttered an apology, scampering back indoors. He was dying inside from embarrassment. Gah, you probably think he’s a pervert now.

He slid down against the thin door, face in his hands as he tried to rub off the heat on his cheeks. He didn’t stay that way for long though, jumping back on his feet when he heard your soft knock, and your shy invite to join you in your evening sit. You’d open the door when there was no response to the sight of his back to you, but he’d let you slip your hand in his and he’d let you guide him back to sit outside.

You sat in a comfortable silence, staring at the moon, pretending you don’t feel his heavy gaze on you. Your hand was still in his, and he made no move to remove it as you absently traced your thumb along the large scar that ran across his knuckles.

“Yours aren’t that bad to be honest,” He finally spoke carefully.

“Oh?” Your eyes locked as you shifted to face him.

“These are from my demon turned mum after she murdered all my siblings,” he gestured casually to his face, pulling your hand to rest on his bare chest and the bigger scars that ran across it, “These when I had to kill her.”

And maybe this was a very subtle way of him showing off his muscles to you, so you indulged him by letting your fingers trace the scars along his chest, internally giggling at how he almost seemed to preen proudly under your touch. You’d look up at him, and the faint smirk on his handsome face made your gut swirl in some type of way.

“Mine’s Muzan. Grabbed my spine like it was a handle and he yeeted me,” you’d state so plainly, that it shocked him when he realised what you said.

“Oh shit, you win,” he’d choke a laugh, which made you playfully push his chest with an “It’s not a competition!”

“Yeah, yeah you just want a reason to keep touching me,” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes mirthfully, but his larger hand kept yours held to his chest, and you’d both sit in silence again as you feel his quick pulse, unaware of his fond gaze as you eyed his heart quizzically.

“Um…shujin?”

“Hm?” He’s too caught up in the moment to realise you were still addressing him like that.

“…Are you having…a heart attack?”

- -

Autumn nears as the heavy monsoons shift to rough gales, that have you pinning the laundry with extra clips (so you wouldn’t have another one of your panicked sheet chasing incidents). You could only pray you’ve bribed Sorai with enough fresh peas that he wouldn’t tell your husband about them.

You’ve moved in to the guest bedroom opposite Sanemi’s room, upon his insistence, and married life has been quaint for the both of you. Your husband had left for the regional patrol again, and he had given you strict instructions to keep yourself well fed while he was gone. He had arranged for the Kakushi to collect a grocery list from you each night and to deliver the fresh produce every morning. He’d warn you to keep all the doors and windows shut at night with a gentle pat to your hair, and your heart skips a beat when you thought he was leaning in to kiss your forehead, but he ends up reaching behind you to grab his coin pouch.

You’d giggle nervously because oh no if you had leaned in it would’ve been so embarrassing, and he’d smirk knowingly as you turned shy from how close you were standing together. You’d send him off with a wave, and immediately slumped at the thought of being alone again in the estate for the week.

The week flies by in a blur of chores to keep yourself busy, and today, you had chanced upon your blood stained haori from the well incident, shoved in a messy bundle in the dark corner of a random wardrobe. So you set it out to soak in a tub by said well itself as you continued your work on reviving the dried wisteria tendrils that line the walls of the estate.

A long afternoon of trimming all the dead vines had absolutely exhausted you and you had completely forgotten about your laundry. You were too excited at the possibility of your husband’s return that night, and may have prepared a slightly bigger dinner spread in the hopes of having his company to share it with.

But alas, you end up storing most of it when midnight came around and there were no signs of Sanemi. You were headed off to bed, and that was when you heard what sounded like…a large dog…lapping water…?

—-

There’s an odd stillness in some nights that leaves one’s senses heightened. The sharpened instinct of a held breath and darting eyes, an anticipation for a movement or sound to break the world from its sudden frozen state. Sanemi has learnt to associate these nights with the ones where demons prowl stealthily in their hunt for blood; so he keeps his footsteps quiet and his hand ready on his new blade.

He’s had a long week, and he hopes this next demon would be a quick kill on his way home. The dead air is broken by the sound of beating wings and the sight of his crow flapping towards him. His guard drops for a second but is immediately replaced with a sinking sense of déjà vu. His crow was coming from his estate. Sanemi pushes the wind beneath his feet, desperate to confirm that you were safe and soundly asleep, even though he knew the creeping stench of demon and human blood only got stronger as he neared his home. He jumps high, slashing through the roof with a reinforced slam of wind to land in the middle of your bedroom.

The demon was ugly, human features twisted into a giant mouth that was sucking desperately on a dripping blood tinted haori. Sanemi’s eyes widen at the sight of the broken half of his old blade, lodged into the side of the creature’s neck. Shit. He spares a quick glance to your quivering bloodied figure crumpled into the opposite corner of the room, sobbing face hidden and shaky hand wildly waving the other half of the katana in front of you in a desperate attempt to put some distance between you and the demon. Even though it had already taken a nasty bite out of your forearm, Sanemi couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest knowing you had almost managed to kill a demon all on your own.

“It’s you, so you’re…him…” the demon slurred, four eyes swirling with delirium and sucking harder on the cloth stuffed in its mouth. Of course.

“Yes, it’s me,” Sanemi grins as he swiftly slashes the back of his hand with his blade, cackling when the effect of his ambrosial Marechi blood was immediate. Saliva pours like a fountain onto the wooden floor when the demon drops the haori in its mouth, stumbling drunkenly towards the source of the irresistible whiff it had been tracking for a month.

And as much as Sanemi would have loved to cut the demon into a thousand pieces and left it to burn a painful death through the rising sun, he settles for a merciful slice to its neck, ignoring its dying gurgles in its own spit to turn his attention to you. You. Fuck, you had passed out.

He’d gingerly remove the blade that had dug into your palm before picking you up to rush over to the Butterfly Estate (again).

——

Fortunately, you had fainted out of shock and not out of blood loss; a quick waft of a medicinal balm and bitter tea being poured into your mouth was enough to rouse you. The gnarly bite on your forearm and the cut on your palm had been swifty disinfected, stitched and bandaged by Shinobu herself. She’d sent you both off with a pouch of wisteria incense sticks to light around the estate.

In the following week after the ordeal, Sanemi would up his patrol rounds, the guilt of his negligence being the reason why you got attacked. You’d barely see your husband around the house but he catches you one night, when he was leaving just before the night was at its darkest.

He had slid his bedroom door open to find your sleeping figure slouched next to it, frowning as he wondered how many days had you been sleeping in this state before he noticed? Ugh, he’s an idiot. Of course you couldn’t sleep in your own room after what happened. Even though the roof had been patched and the interior of your room thoroughly cleaned, you were no member of the corps, and demon trauma wasn’t exactly something you could get over easily.

He picks you up and lays you gently on his bed, lighting one of the incense sticks in his room to soothe your sleep with its calming scent. He shuts the door to his room quietly, a small smile resting on him at the thought of you seeking comfort from him.

He strolls towards the forest near his estate, sword unsheathed as he nicked his wrist then stretching his hands over his head with a yawn. He scoffs as a rustle of movement clearly echoes throughout the silent night. Demons are so stupid.

Sanemi smells the rotting scent of it before it lands with a soft thud behind him. He takes a quick breath, pulling a gale with his sword as he shifts to quickly slice the head off the wretched creature, only to halt an inch before it pierces skin.

Human.

The girl before him was no demon, and the stench he had sniffed before had completely vanished. And though her head was bowed, her uniform was clear: she was a member of the Corps.

Sanemi felt a vein in his temple throb as he's miffed. How did some random girl manage to sneak up on him, a Hashira? He's really losing his A-game and he mentally beats himself up to be harsher on his personal training. There’re no chances to spare when it comes to staying in top condition while demons still roamed the earth.

"My name is Sumiko, great Wind Hashira. I wish to be your Tsuguko and undergo your training," she speaks in a sweet, wispy voice.

She looks up, and if he had not been stunned into how her eyes were the same colour as yours, he would've cut her off already.

"I am here with recommendation from the Love Hashira, who had deemed my ability to manipulate air particles and smells best be refined by the Wind-"

"No."

He stared as her eyes widened in shock at the immediate rejection, and felt irritation bubble as they squint in defiance. It fueled his need to stamp the flickering flame of hope in the young demon slayer.

"I am not looking for a Tsuguko, you can fuck off and tell Mitsuri the same," he scoffed.

He shifts to continue his patrol, pressing down the soles of his shoes onto the earthy forest floor before shooting off to run the rest of his route, leaving behind only a floating leaf and the girl still standing in a sudden daze.

-

Today's the day! Tengen and his wives had sent word that they wanted to visit the Wind Hashira's estate on the way to a famous hot spring nearby. Unbeknownst to both you and your husband, Shinobu had slipped him a crow message with a heavily implied threat if he didn't check in on you and how your husband was treating you.

You had seen the happy bunch in passing at the Ubuyashiki Mansion, only having spoken to the wives once when they were looking for something. And yet, they had treated you like an old friend when you greeted them welcome, immediately dragging you away into the kitchen as the husbands had small talk in the living room.

"Eek, so exciting right? I remember when we got married our newlywed vibes were sooo romantic!" Suma squeals as she admired your wedding ring.

"Suma! Behave yourself!" Makio smacks her hand away, "do you need help with anything?" she graciously...demands?

You politely refuse her, and the three beautiful women trailed behind you as you carried out a tray of onigiri, letting out delighted gasps as you served the group.

A tiny frown creases Hinatsuru's smooth features as you bow politely and retreat back into the kitchen, "Is Y/N not joining us for lunch?" She glanced at Tengen who in turn shoots a look at Sanemi.

"It's not what you're thinking you idiots. It's in her culture that she only eats after me," Sanemi rolls his eyes, picking two of the nicer looking onigiris onto his plate, saving the best one for you later.

"Sounds abit misogynistic," Makio mutters loud enough for Suma to nudge her which starts a small tiff between them until their husband stuffs the halves of a riceball in each of their mouths, making them flush as they chew silently.

Hinatsuru stares patiently till Sanemi sighs, "It's something about making sure the food's not poisoned and whether I decide it's good enough for her".

Suma lets out a sound that sounds similar to an 'awwww' with her mouth full while Makio huffs disgruntledly.

"How's the new intern?" Tengen expertly swerves the conversation topic, his wives letting out an internal sigh of relief as the Wind Hashira gets carried away ranting about Mitsuri and the Demon Slayer Corps.

The quadruple watch as Sanemi gets up, their eyes lingering as he grumbles his way into the kitchen. They hear him pause as he gently sets his plate on the counter, a small grunt of acknowledgement for you to eat before he heads back towards them, immediately picking up where he left off with his rant.

The wives take it as their cue to slip their way back into the kitchen, leaving the husbands to themselves again.

-

"He's such a tsundere," Hinatsuru giggles as you obliviously dig in.

"And he saved the best piece for you too, how romantic," Suma adds with a wiggle of her shoulders.

"So kind, so generous," Makio rolls her eyes, pausing as she catches the look of mischief in Suma's eyes, a small smirk forming on her own face as they both slink nearer to you like Siamese cats.

"How generous is he?" Suma asks, seemingly innocently.

You pause mid-chew to think. Generous? He'd saved your life twice. The infamous ohagis he makes only for himself, yet he shares with you. He'd eaten your cooking everyday since your malnutrition stunt, and he'd save a portion for you neatly, unlike your father who would consider you lucky to get to pluck the rice grains off the floorboards.

He let you sleep in not just his room but his bed, for Kami's sake. You had tried to protest the first time he offered to sleep on the floor instead but he had just turned his back to you pointedly. And you would never tell, but you knew he tucks the blanket back over your shoulders when he gets home just before the sunrise, pats your hair gently before he settles on the ground beside you, joints cracking with a grumble.

Makio lets out a groan as you hum in contemplation, "Is he generous in bed, Y/N?"

...In bed? He gave you his entire bed for Kami's sake, how much more generous can he get? You feel a blush forming as you remember that on colder nights you'd wake up the next morning tucked into his warm side, big arms engulfing you in a comfy hug that has you secretly snuggling. You'd pretend to stay asleep until you feel him tense, the telltale sign Sanemi's awake. It's impressive really, how he'd manage to slowly shift till you're gently laid back in his bed without you feeling a thing until your head hits the pillow. He must be the stealthiest Hashira.

"Um...very..." you finally reply, almost feeling...shy, the three wives began squealing excitedly which made your cheeks grow a few shades darker, Suma gasping as she smacks Makio's arm repeatedly.

You put your hands on your cheeks to cool them down, why were they being so excited? For some reason it felt like you were embarrassed but you don't know why exactly.

You get up as you realised that the dining table hadn't been cleared yet, and you quickly excuse yourself from the ladies. You bow slightly as you collect the plates from the table, not listening to the conversation of the Hashiras. As you turn to carry the pile of dishes, Tengen's loud voice booms,

"This one can really cook! You got yourself a good one, Shinazugawa."

Time stops as he lands a hefty smack on the middle of your back with his wide palm. You tense with a gasp, plates falling to the ground and shattering. Your feet puddle beneath you as you collapse forward, shards of porcelain digging into your palms.

The ensuing chaos is a ring in your ears as your breathing heaves into a panic attack.

----

A/N: A NICE COLD LEMONADE bc i deserve to eat whole lemons for making yall wait this long...

i've had alot of major life changes since the last update (dad died on my brother's bday rip, unemployed twice, back in uni) and i've only recently come back to writing as my escape from reality. (dont worry im fine now, i think)

i rly thank you guys so much esp those who've been here from the start (2 years ago wtf) i cant express how much i appreciate yall sm ya guys are literally the sweetest T.T

i'm following the taglist that i have saved in my notes app from ages ago so if any of yall got new users do lmk!! lord knows that thing needs an update fr

hope this one's worth the wait, i'm looking forward to yall reading it <3

hint for the plot? gotta keep an eye out for selener (Sumiko)

taglist:

@sunaswife @mac-the-oregonian @noelledleapier @therulerofanime @calamitykor @screeeechqueen @a-single-pizza @multilingual-birb @settingmyheartablaze @stressed-lala @behaktaylorgriggs @galaxyfruits @abbylouamanda @dreamsholdpowers

[rosie-rosem]

just married !

❥ pairing: nonidol!niki x fem!reader

❥ genre: arrangedmarriage!au, angst, fluff, highschool!au, unrequited love > requited love

❥ summary: You and Ni-ki are set up in an arranged marriage by your parents and even though you've liked him for the longest time, you're not so happy about the idea of being forced into this, and Ni-ki isn't either (or his girlfriend). How will this go?

❥ warnings: arranged marriage, bullying, grammar mistakes, not proofread!!!, let me know if I forgot something!

---------------------------

WC: 3.8k

A/N: I'm back from my trip, I actually was able to visit Korea and Japan! it was so beautiful! anyway, I know this isn't tweeting hearts but it's been in my drafts so I fixed it up a bit and wanted to post it just so there is something new, so I hope you like it. also, this one is a longer one.

You've always had a crush on Niki. From the first moment you laid eyes on him in your parents' luxurious living room during one of their many business meetings, you fell for him. His longish black hair, striking brown eyes, and charming smile made your heart race. You'd even managed to have a few conversations with him, but you doubted he even remembered your name.

The years passed, and you grew from "childhood friends" into high school students. Your feelings for Niki only intensified. You watched from a distance as he dated other girls, your heart aching with every passing romance. It was clear that Niki wasn't interested in you, and you had resigned yourself to the idea that he might never be.

Meanwhile, Niki's current girlfriend, Yunji, was another source of your frustration. She had somehow discovered your crush on Niki, and she took every opportunity to make your life difficult. She made annoying remarks and spread rumors about you, painting you as the lovelorn girl who would never have a chance with Niki.

High school was already challenging, and the added stress of dealing with Yunji's taunts and Niki's obliviousness was almost too much to bear. But then, things took an unexpected turn. It was right before your eighteenth birthday when your parents approached you with an announcement that left you stunned.

"Y/N," your mother said one evening after dinner with niki and his parents, "We have some news to share with you."

You exchanged glances with your parents, trying to read the expressions on their faces. Their business partnership with Niki's family had always been prosperous, but it seemed like something more significant was happening.

"Your father and I have been in discussions with Niki's parents," your mother continued. "We've decided that the two of you will get married."

The words hung in the air, and you felt like the ground had shifted beneath your feet. Marriage? You were still in high school, and while you had expected an eventual arranged marriage due to your parents' business alliance, you never thought it would happen so soon, or with someone you had such complicated feelings for.

Niki was sitting across from you, and he looked as stunned as you felt. He turned to his parents, shocked by the announcement.

"What?" Niki finally managed to sputter, his eyes locked onto yours.

You could hardly bring yourself to meet his gaze, so you looked down at your plate, your heart pounding in your chest. This was a mess, a complete and utter mess.

"I know it's sudden," your father said, trying to sound reassuring. "But it's in the best interest of both our families. We've known Niki's family for so long, and it's a solid match."

Niki's mother nodded in agreement. "We believe this will strengthen our partnership and ensure a bright future for both of you."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Your parents were making decisions about your life without even consulting you. You looked at Niki, hoping to find some sign of protest in his eyes, but all you saw was resignation. He seemed just as unhappy about the arrangement as you were.

In the weeks that followed, preparations for the upcoming marriage were made in a whirlwind. Both your parents had set a date for the ceremony – just a few days after your eighteenth birthday. You felt like you were living in a nightmare, unable to wake up from this surreal situation.

High school became a place of rumors and gossip. Whispers of your marriage with Niki spread like wildfire. Yunji, who had always enjoyed making your life difficult, seemed to revel in the chaos. She mocked you openly, taking every opportunity to remind you that Niki would never be yours.

One day, as you were leaving school, you heard her voice behind you. "So, Y/N, how does it feel to be Niki's little pawn in this game?"

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore her taunts. You didn't want to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but it was getting increasingly difficult.

Yunji continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'm sure you've been dreaming of this day for years, right? Your fairytale ending with Niki."

You stopped in your tracks, unable to take it anymore. Turning to face her, you forced yourself to speak. "This isn't what I wanted, Yunji. You think you know everything, but you have no idea how complicated this is for me."

Yunji smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Oh, please. You've been following Niki like a lost puppy for years. You practically threw yourself at him, and now you're getting what you wanted."

You shook your head, your voice trembling with frustration. "You're wrong, Yunji. I never wanted this, and I certainly never asked for it. I didn't have a say in any of this, just like Niki."

Yunji's laughter cut through the tension. "Keep telling yourself that, Y/N. Maybe someday Niki will see through your act."

With those words, she walked away, leaving you seething with anger and helplessness. You couldn't deny that you'd had a crush on Niki, but this wasn't how you had ever envisioned being with him. It was a forced marriage, and the pressure from both your parents and your classmates was suffocating.

The days leading up to the wedding were a blur of dress fittings, meetings with the wedding planner, and endless discussions about the future. Niki remained distant throughout the process, his frustration with the situation evident. You had never felt so alone, even as you were surrounded by people making decisions for you.

The night before the wedding, as you lay in bed, you couldn't shake the feeling that your life was spiraling out of control. You needed to talk to someone, and the only person who came to mind was your best friend, Jiwoo.

With trembling hands, you picked up your phone and called Jiwoo. After a few rings, she answered, her voice filled with concern. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you poured out your heart to Jiwoo. You told her about your unrequited love for Niki, the forced marriage, the constant taunts from Yunji, and the overwhelming pressure from your parents. Jiwoo listened intently, offering words of comfort and understanding.

"Y/N," she said, "I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you. But you know that I'll always be here for you, right?"

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you. "I know, Jiwoo. You're the only one who truly understands what I'm going through."

As the night wore on, Jiwoo's words provided some comfort, but they couldn't erase the uncertainty and fear that filled your heart. You couldn't help but wonder how Niki was feeling. Was he as trapped as you were, or had he managed to find a way to escape this unwanted fate?

The wedding day arrived with a mixture of nerves and apprehension. You stood in front of the mirror, your heart racing, as the stylist worked on your hair and makeup. The long white dress your parents had chosen for you was beautiful, but it felt like a prison. It was a reminder of the life you were about to enter, one that you hadn't chosen for yourself.

As you made your way to the venue, you could hear the hushed whispers of the guests and the flash of cameras. The wedding was a grand affair, with both families' business associates and friends in attendance. You felt like a puppet on display, and the weight of expectation pressed down on you.

When you finally reached the altar, Niki was waiting for you. He wore a tailored black suit, looking handsome as ever, but there was an aura of tiredness coming from him. He didn't meet your eyes, and you couldn't blame him. This wasn't the way anyone should start a marriage.

The ceremony began, and the officiant's words were a blur as you struggled to keep your emotions in check. You could feel the eyes of the crowd on you, the whispers and judgments weighing you down. When it came time to exchange vows, Niki finally looked at you.

"I promise to do my best to make this work," he said, his voice strained. It wasn't the declaration of love you had dreamed of, but it was all you were going to get.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you said your vows, promising to support and stand by Niki, even though your heart was heavy with doubt. The exchange of rings followed, and the weight of the commitment settled over you like a shroud.

As the ceremony ended, you and Niki were officially married. The crowd erupted in applause, and you forced a smile for the cameras, all the while feeling like a stranger in your own life. Niki's family and yours congratulated you both, offering well-wishes and advice on marriage, but you couldn't help but feel detached from it all.

The reception that followed was a big affair, with a lot of gourmet food, live music, and dancing. You tried to enjoy the festivities, but the weight of the situation hung over you like a dark cloud. Yunji's presence at the reception only added to your discomfort. She continued to mock you, making rude remarks about your wedding and your future with Niki.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You excused yourself from the table and headed to a quiet corner of the venue, where you could be alone for a moment. The tears you had been holding back finally began to flow, and you buried your face in your hands.

"You, okay?"

The voice was soft and gentle, and you looked up to see Niki standing there. He looked awkward, as if he wasn't sure what to say or do. You wiped away your tears and tried to compose yourself.

"I'm fine," you replied, your voice trembling. "Just needed a moment."

Niki nodded, and for a moment, there was a tense silence between you two. Then, he surprised you by speaking.

"I didn't ask for this either, you know."

His words caught you off guard. "Oh, You didn't?" you said sarcastically.

Niki sadly chuckled, and his eyes held a hint of vulnerability. "I've always felt like my parents had this image of the perfect future for me, and I was just expected to go along with it. But I never wanted any of this, especially not at this age."

As he spoke, you saw a glimmer of the real Niki, the one behind the charming facade. It was a moment of connection, a shared understanding of the unfair situation you both found yourselves in.

"I'm sorry for everything, Y/N," Niki continued. "I know I've been distant, but I didn't know how to handle all of this."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief that he understood your struggle as well. "I'm sorry too, Niki. I never wanted any of this, and it's been really hard."

Niki hesitated for a moment before offering a small, tentative smile. "Maybe we can figure this out together. I don't know what the future holds, but we can make the best of it."

It was a far cry from the passionate love you had once dreamt of, but it was a start. In that moment, you realized that you and Niki were both victims of circumstances beyond your control. Perhaps, in time, you could find a way to make your marriage work, maybe not out of love, but out of a shared determination to reclaim your lives.

The reception continued, and you and Niki reentered the festivities, both with a renewed sense of resolve. The night wore on, and the guests celebrated the union of the two families. For now, you were bound together by a marriage you hadn't chosen, but you were determined to face the future with strength and resilience.

As the weeks turned into months, you and Niki navigated the challenges of your arranged marriage. It wasn't easy, and there were many obstacles to overcome. Niki's relationship with Yunji continued to be a source of tension, and it was clear that she still had resentment toward you. Niki remained oblivious to her true feelings, and it was a constant source of frustration for you.

One evening, as you and Niki sat in your shared living room, you decided it was time to have a conversation about the situation with Yunji. You had reached a breaking point and couldn't continue to endure her hostility.

"Niki," you began, taking a deep breath, "we need to talk about Yunji."

Niki looked at you with a confused expression. "What about her?"

You chose your words carefully. "I know that she's not happy about our marriage, but she's been making things difficult for me. I think it's important for us to address this issue."

Niki's brow furrowed as he considered your words. "I hadn't realized she was causing problems for you. I'll talk to her and try to sort things out."

You appreciated Niki's willingness to address the issue, but you knew that this wasn't a problem that could be solved with a simple conversation. Yunji's resentment ran deep, and you suspected that her anger went beyond just your marriage.

Days later, Niki had a conversation with Yunji, and it didn't go as smoothly as you had hoped. She was defensive and unwilling to admit her true feelings. The tension between Niki and Yunji only seemed to grow, and you couldn't help but feel like a pawn in their complicated dynamic.

As the months passed, you and Niki struggled to find common ground in your marriage. While you had a newfound understanding of each other's feelings about the forced arrangement, you couldn't escape the fact that your marriage lacked love and passion. It was a marriage of convenience, a union formed for the sake of your parents' business partnership.

One evening, as you sat on your shared balcony, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance, you turned to Niki as he suddenly spoke, "Do you ever wonder what our lives would be like if we had the freedom to choose who we wanted to be with?" You looked away from him while slightly frowning at his question.

Niki gazed at the cityscape, deep in thought. "Y-yeah, but that's not our reality." you said slowly.

He nodded, "I know. It's just...sometimes, I can't help but wish for something more." He said. You sighed "I think I'm going to head to bed, I'm tired." You said, avoiding eye contact.

The conversation with Niki left you feeling disheartened. It was clear that he still viewed your marriage as a mere arrangement, devoid of any romantic potential. You couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance for your feelings to ever be reciprocated.

As you lay in bed that night, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. The boy you had loved for so long was just as distant as ever, and the prospect of ever breaking through to his heart felt increasingly impossible. It was a painful realization that you had tried so hard to avoid, but it was becoming undeniable.

In the days that followed, you couldn't help but distance yourself from Niki. You tried to keep your emotions hidden, focusing on your studies and other aspects of your life, but it was difficult when you were living under the same roof with him. Your interactions became increasingly polite but distant, and the emotion between you grew wider.

Niki, too, began to sense the growing divide between you. He couldn't help but wonder if his words had hurt you, even though he had no idea about your long-standing feelings for him. He found himself regretting that night on the balcony, wishing he could take back his words and offer you some comfort.

One evening, Niki decided to make amends. He knocked on your bedroom door and found you sitting at your desk, engrossed in your book. You looked up when he entered, and he could see the weariness in your eyes.

"Y/N, we need to talk," Niki began, his tone earnest.

You closed your book and turned your full attention to him, curiosity mixed with a touch of apprehension. "What is it, Niki?"

Niki took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "I want you to know that I didn't mean to upset you the other night. I've been thinking about it, and I regret saying what I did."

You studied him for a moment, trying to understand his sincerity. "Niki, it's okay. You were just being honest. I appreciate your honesty."

Niki shook his head, a hint of frustration in his voice. "No, you don't understand. I didn't consider how my words might have affected you, and I want you to know that I'm sorry if I offended you."

Your heart ached at his words, but you still held back the truth about your own feelings. "Niki, we're both in this situation, and it's not ideal for either of us. Let's just make the best of it."

Niki couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed something important. He left your room with a heavy heart, realizing that he needed to confront his own emotions and what he truly wanted from this marriage.

Over the following weeks, Niki made an effort to get to know you better. He spent more time with you, engaging in conversations, sharing stories, and learning about your dreams and aspirations. The more he discovered about you, the more he found himself drawn to your kindness, resilience, and intelligence.

As his feelings for you began to evolve, he couldn't help but reflect on his past with Yunji. The intense arguments and the constant friction had taken a toll on their relationship. He realized that the connection he had with you, despite the circumstances, was much more harmonious and genuine.

One evening, as you both sat in the living room, Niki hesitated before finally speaking, "Y/N, I've been doing some thinking."

You turned to him, intrigued. "What's on your mind?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes locked on yours. "I've realized that I enjoy spending time with you. You're a great person, and I want to be a better husband to you."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you maintained your composure. "That's kind of you to say, Niki."

Niki pressed on, determined to be honest with you. "I've also come to see that my relationship with Yunji is not working. We argue all the time, and it's exhausting. I think it's time for us to break up."

You were taken aback by his words, and you couldn't hide the flicker of hope in your eyes. "Niki, are you sure about this?"

Niki nodded. "I've never been surer about anything. I want to be with someone who makes me happy."

The room was charged with unspoken emotions, and you found yourself torn between revealing your feelings for Niki or keeping them hidden. The thought of his breakup with Yunji had ignited a glimmer of hope within you, but you still couldn't be sure if your feelings would be reciprocated.

Niki, his eyes fixed on you, was waiting for a response. He was sincere in his desire to be a better husband to you and his intention to end his tumultuous relationship with Yunji. But you knew that taking a step towards love was a complex journey, especially given the circumstances surrounding your marriage.

You took a deep breath and decided to be honest, up to a point. "Niki, I appreciate your honesty and your willingness to make this marriage work. It means a lot to me that you want to be a better husband."

Niki's eyes shone with gratitude. "I'm glad you understand, Y/N. I want us to have a real chance at happiness."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I believe in giving this marriage a genuine try, Niki. We both deserve that."

As the days turned into weeks, Niki followed through with his decision to end things with Yunji. It was a difficult process, filled with emotional turmoil, but he was determined to move forward. You stood by his side, offering your support and understanding. It was during this challenging period that you both began to build a stronger foundation for your marriage.

With Yunji out of the picture, Niki's focus shifted entirely to you. He made an effort to get to know you on a deeper level, and he couldn't help but marvel at the strength of your character.

Niki found himself drawn to your warmth and kindness, and it wasn't long before he started to experience a shift in his feelings. What began as a reluctant friendship had the potential to blossom into something more. He was falling for you, but he remained oblivious to your hidden feelings.

One evening, you and Niki found yourselves watching a movie together on the couch. Your shoulders were touching, and a warm, comfortable silence filled the room. As the movie played on, Niki couldn't resist the urge to speak his mind.

"Y/N," he began, his voice gentle, "I have to admit that I've been feeling a strong connection between us lately."

You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest. "I've felt it too, Niki. I think our friendship is growing stronger."

Niki's gaze met yours, and he smiled softly. "It's more than that, Y/N. I've realized that I care for you deeply. I never expected this, but I can't deny my feelings anymore."

Your heart soared with hope, but you couldn't help but remain cautious. Niki still had no idea about your long-standing crush on him. "Niki, I value our friendship too, and I'm glad we're getting closer. But there's something I haven't told you."

Niki furrowed his brow, concerned. "What is it, Y/N?"

You took a deep breath, summoning the courage to reveal your secret. "Niki, I've had feelings for you for a long time. Even before this marriage was arranged."

Niki's eyes widened in surprise, and he stared at you in disbelief. "You...you've liked me all this time?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of vulnerability and relief. "Yes, but I never thought you'd feel the same way, so I tried to keep it hidden."

Niki's expression shifted from shock to realization, and a warm smile graced his lips. "Y/N, you have no idea how much this means to me. I've fallen for you too. I'm so glad you told me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and Niki gently wiped them away with his thumb. In that moment, the weight of unspoken emotions lifted, and the connection between you deepened. You had both discovered that sometimes, love can emerge from unexpected circumstances, and that the most profound relationships can be found where you least expect them.

__________________________________________

© rosie-rosem

[bangtangalicious]

nexus (m) part 5

focus: jungkook x reader, seokjin x reader, taehyung x reader | smut: seokjin x reader

summary: a notorious casino conglomerate took you in when you were young. you grew up alongside their sons; inseparable from the oldest, infatuated with the middle, and engaged to the youngest. after a shocking murder, a detective with a vendetta drags you into unraveling a web of dangerous lies that cause you to question who you trust, and who you love

characters: detective!jungkook, ex/bartender!yoongi, bestfriend!seokjin, ceo!namjoon, fiancee!taehyung, model/gangster!hoseok, therapist!jimin

genre: 18+ smut slow burn angst romance thriller mystery eventual yandere casino!au organizedcrime/mafia!au arrangedmarriage!au revenge!au

wordcount: 7.5k

warnings: proceed with caution. soft yandere vibes but nothing too explicit, angst, arguing, pool sex, unprotected sex, pet names (princess), arms dealing mentions, jin has some dom energy i guess, taehyung gives solid yandere vibes tbh, choking, strip tease, masturbation, LOADs of sexual tension, flirting, a sickening amount of making out, taehyung tries to kill you but not really, manipulation, firearms, discussions of mental instability (inaccurate), power dynamics, misogyny, feelings of betrayal, heartbreak, anxiety, fainting, taehyung is cold as ice ice baby, jungkook is angsty, jin is a sexy bitch, character death

taglist: @raynom @gimmythatjib00ty @yoshiure @greezenini @victoryscreech61 @tbzhubrecs @namjooningelsewhere @sugarcoffeemochi @jiminie-08 @jinssexytoe @kooookie @only4sana @pinkcherrybombs @taeslarityy @natalie-rdr @mageprincess7 @hopeonysus @bibbykins @sameifnn @shadowmoon21 @juliemae80-blog @gaeguuliii @dvalitaes @satorinnie @fournia @kassandravictoria @jazmine2904 @marslena @iloverubberduckiez-blog @manchuria @btseverafter7 @jamlessstars @doublebunnykoo @you-are-my-wind@toughbook@mini-euphoria-deactivated202302 @lvrseok @n4mina @imjinvolved @rp171198 @codeinebelle @itsallabouthedetails @btseverafter7 @just-me-and-myselfs @blonde-bummer @hcneybees @babycoffeefire @totallynoanalien @seokjinkismet @itslanaanditssad @rhyperia @sporadicfuryface @azazel-nyx @hani-neko-nee-chan (rest of tags on reblog)

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Your eyes fluttered open. A familiar feeling of unease sweeping over you as your mind calibrates. No longer were you dreaming of Jungkook’s strong arms around you. His fingers exploring the expanse of your skin.

His lips—his eyes, everywhere.

No.

He was a Jeon.

You couldn’t fall in love with a Jeon.

There was a shadow casting over you. At the edge of your vision, an ethereal silhouette standing in your doorway.  Enveloped in a dark silk robe. His open collarbones striking in contrast.

Eyes sharp. Precise. Memorizing you.

“Morning” You rubbed your eyes. He said nothing.

“I said good morning, Taehyung”

“It’s 3 in the afternoon” His voice was ice.

“Well,” You sat up, running your fingers over the expanse of your soft blanket. “I hope you haven’t been waiting for me”

Taehyung scoffed slightly.

“I know better than to waste my time waiting for you”

A knife twisted deep in your heart. His words were so bitter. Tone nonchalant. Running his fingers through his jet-black hair. Taking a better look, you could see the ends of his hair were damp. Beads of water on his neck.

He went to your bedside, pouring a glass of water. His arms—those subtle veins—flexing as he did. He looked up at you. His expression shifted. Glossing with rage.

The glass shattered in his hand.

“Shit” You got up, pulling him away from the shards. Brushing fragments off of his robe “Fuck Tae—”

“I see the hickeys all over your chest.” Your eyes widened.

“Excuse me?”

He reached out shamelessly, fingers tracing along your collarbone. A subtle trail of his blood. Dipping into the sweetheart of your neck. His fingers slid up to your throat, pushing your chin up with his thumb.

“Taehyung—”

His grip tightened. Every single one of his fingers wrapped around you like a vice. You could feel the hate in his touch. The resentment on his skin.

“It would be so easy to send you exactly where you belong.” The edge of his lip quirked. “In hell, with my bastard brother. You two deserve each other”

His dark eyes possessed you. You became hauntingly aware that he could probably just kill you. That 10 years of resentment and isolation would brew all kinds of complicated problems.

He released you. You gasped for air, collapsing over yourself as his menacing eyes remained steady.

“What do you want, huh?” You folded your arms over your chest, “I apologized. I begged for forgiveness. The least you can do is tell me what I’m apologizing for.”

Taehyung was younger than you. But watching the expression around his eyes you could tell he’d been through a lot. He was dark—tortured, hurting inside and all you wanted was to take it all away.

“What the hell did they do to you?” You sat back down on the edge of your bed. Taehyung towered over you. Tongue rolling against his cheek.

“Detective Jeon’s father” Taehyung started, “Killed your mother.”

Oh so we’re just diving straight in. Inhaling sharply, you gave him a nod. “I know”

Of course you knew. It was fueling your latest dilemma. Your mantra every time Jungkook kissed you so deliciously and you had to pull yourself back to the reality that he was, in fact, a Jeon.

“Well, I’m the one who saw it happen” Taehyung began to tremble slightly, sliding onto the barstool with you next to him. You set a hand on his knee. “I told hyung, because I was so fucking scared. I thought he would hurt you next. When hyung gets angry he…”

A small smile spread over your lips. You were no stranger to Jin’s anger. How terrifying he could be in the, albeit rare times he would lose his otherwise charming demeanor.

“He had me point out who killed her. He took me with him and he shot Mr. Jeon. Like a maniac. Then he turned around and told the Chairwoman that I pulled the trigger. And my mother…was furious. I think she may have been having an affair with him”

Not just an affair. You mused. She ordered the fucking kill.

But he didn’t need to know that.

“She was furious at me. I was young, and I allegedly had killed someone. Naturally, she sent me away to get psychiatric help. Jin was her shining star, of course. The first son. She believed him over me”

Taehyung’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. It reminded of you when you’d watch him doze off in your lap. He really did have such beautiful eyelashes.

“That man who was impersonating me, Dr. Park—he was on my care team. He was instructed to give me pills to keep me from being stable enough to leave the facility. Jin orchestrated all of it. He kept me locked up for 10 years, just so he could have you all to himself. I figured it out. Stopped taking meds. I figured out he was trying to impersonate me so I began to lie to him. Hoping that someone I trusted—you, Namjoon—someone would notice he wasn’t me”

You held your hands out. Reluctantly, he placed his palm against yours, letting you squeeze. His eyes flashed. They were starved for affection, you could tell. He must not have had anyone to support him. To touch him. To keep him out of his mind.

“What do you need from me to fix this?” You blinked up at him earnestly. He simply held your gaze. Words apparently caught, as he gulped. “Because I will do anything”

“Time”

Fair.

“You’ve changed” It was meant as an insult. Of course, considering what Taehyung knew of you. A naïve, innocent girl who believed in fantasies. “Do you still play cards?”

Your grip on him tightened excitedly. “I do. Would you like to play?”

He squinted at you. “Later. Detective Jeon called for you” His eyes went back to your bruised chest. You wondered how he was able to figure out so much without any words.

Letting his hand go, you rose to go get changed. Taehyung’s hand brushed against your elbow, stopping you.

“Princess” He breathed shakily.

“Yeah?” You looked back at him.

“Did you and my brother…were you together?”

You smiled. Thinking back to the last night you saw him. The sweet moments before chaos erupted.

“No” Your fingers twisted against the fabric of your tank top. “We did not get together”

Taehyung nodded, heading for your door. He slowed down, for barely a second. Not even looking at you.

Hauntingly soft, he whispered:

“I’ll always know when you’re lying to me, princess”

- The night of the murder -

His plush lips melted against yours. He kissed you like you were a craving he couldn't shake. Like those lips weren't the very same ones spewing the lies that made it impossible for you to trust him. As if he could break through to you through the tug of his teeth against your bottom lip. Or the soft breaths he'd breathe into you.

It was everything. From your fingertips to your head, every inch of you brought to life. You’d never felt anything like it. Dizzy with need, you kissed him back harder, wanting to get lost in him.

He exhaled, barely able to catch his breath. His eyes were so sincere, so in love, you felt your throat get caught. Your chest burning.

“I love you Y/n” He had said it in one fell breath, cursing as his lips continued to move against yours. You could have been flying, you’d never quite felt so high.

“I-I love you too, Jin please”

“Fuck” The growl in his voice had you weak in the knees, “Princess you say my name like that I swear I’ll” He bit into your bottom lip softly, nose tracing yours. His words were caught, and you felt him stiffen.

“So do it” You blinked at him, gripping his shirt so tight it could tear. “Come on, Jin. I won’t tell. You won’t tell.”

His hands circled your hips. Pinching the fabric, tugging at it unconsciously.

“But then what, hm? Princess? I can’t let you go once I’ve had a taste”

“So don’t let me go.” You pleaded. Jin looked away. “You hate that I am getting engaged. You hate when I flirt with your friends. You hate that I have Yoongi. You’re jealous.”

You dropped your volume “Because you want me just as bad”

Jin looked into your eyes and you swore you could see his heart breaking. He was so beautiful, so twisted and yet you adored him.

“Princess…your mother” Jin stroked your waist tenderly, speaking softly. “She didn’t like me. At all. She specifically put in her will that if you and I ever got married you would lose control of her company. Of Nexus. Otherwise”

Jin smiled in defeat, gazing into your starry eyes. “I would have made you mine the second I could”

And just like that. Nothing—nothing was going to keep off of this man.

The safehouse was surrounded by a pine forest. The air was chilly, the stars glimmering in the sky. The back pool was glowing with underlights—the blue marbling reflecting off your face as you sat poolside, legs like a pendulum, kicking against your thoughts.

Jin slowly made his way outside after making the two of you a drink.

He handed your glass to you. Clinking it against his own before you both took a sip. A mutual decision to lose inhibition.

“You okay?” His question was sincere. You stared back into the pool. The edge had a small, sleek fountain. Pouring in more and more—but never overspilling.

You downed your drink. Welcome the burn down your throat. Jin took a seat on the firm cushioned pool chair. Legs spread, resting his elbows on his thighs. Swirling the glass against his wrist as he watched you.

His chest muscles pressing against the fabric of his button-down. He had popped a few buttons open, revealing his smooth chest. The glowing light reflected in his smouldering eyes. Eyes that were on the edge of danger. One word away from snapping.

You set your glass aside. Leaning back on your palms, stretching your neck back.

“You didn’t touch me in the shower this morning”

He took another sip.

“We’re just friends”

You got up, the water dripping down your legs. Facing him. Your dress was already scrunched up, but you looked Jin straight in the eye as you hooked your fingers under the straps, letting it glide down your frame.

“You’re right” You responded. A grin hooked on Jin’s face.

“You really are beautiful, princess” His voice was breathless. His compliments only fueled you. You loved his words like they were silk ribbons against your bare skin.

Next was your panties. Dragging them down your legs—you tossed them towards Jin. Without flinching, he caught them.

He was clearly amused. Intrigued to see what you would do next. Your naked body shivered in the crisp night. Nipples hard and aching to be touched.

“You like playing games with me, right Jin? Making bets”

You jumped into the water. Wading your way to the other end of the pool.

“Sure, princess”

“Then I bet you can’t come into this water and not fuck me”

“What’s in it for me?” He tilted his head, taunting you.

“I win, you take me out of this stupid marriage deal. You win—and I’ll give you Nexus”

His eyes flashed with interest. Thumb running against his jaw and he considered your offer.

Without an answer, Jin finished off his drink. Kicking his shoes off he stepped into the pool—clothes on. Wading towards you.

You could see his chest under his shirt now—the water bleeding through the white. He approached you. Inches away. Not touching.

And then your fingers slipped into your cunt. Without leaving his gaze.

Lips parting, you gasped. You pumped yourself, your other hand falling onto Jin’s neck. His pupils widened when he realized what you were doing.

“You really have no shame”

You let out a soft laugh, but the heat in your core was overbearing. Your fingers trailed up Jin’s neck, cupping his jaw before you pushed your thumb between his lips.

And he sucked it.

Shamelessly.

You surged with wetness.

You floated closer to him still, watching the way his mouth moved, Imagining against your throbbing pussy.

You added another finger to your cunt. Jin’s tongue pushed out your thumb.

“You feel good, princess?” His voice was coarse. You bit your lip, whining as you nodded.

“Yeah” Your voice was embarrassingly whiny. “M’ wanna come”

“What’s that?” Jin taunted, his gaze darkening on you. You could feel the heat radiating off of his skin.

“Wanna come…for you” You slide your mouth against his. He kissed you firmly, his hand reaching down, gripping your wrist hard and pulling you out of yourself. Replacing it with his own two fingers.

He cursed, as you clenched down on his fingers. His thumb rubbing against your clit. Slowly.

Your foreheads pressed together. Mouths open, breathing each other in.

“Wanna come”

“Not yet” Jin growled.

“Please” You whimpered softly. “Let me come”

Jin smirked, his other hand curling around your neck. “You listen to me.” He growled. “You come when I fucking tell you to come. Is that clear?”

How were you not supposed to get more turned on by that? You soaked his fingers and his grip on your throat tightened.

He pulled his fingers out so fast, it made you dizzy. The night thing you knew he was lifting you up, pulling your thighs apart so you could wrap your legs around him. His jaw slacked against your neck, sucking your skin as you cried out into the night.

“Fuck” He hissed, “You’re so hot” He cupped your breast, pushing it up to meet his lips. He sucked on your nipples in tight tugs—before widening his mouth so his tongue could flick at you.

Flipped you around—you back against his chest. The buckle of his belt pressed against the cushion of your ass. His hands fisting your breasts. Lips behind your ear.

You were so overstimulated, you wanted to cry. You could come from these teasing touches alone—and you knew he knew it. Your body was glowing despite the cool water it was submerged in. Every cell alive with desire.

He gripped your throat again, pulling you back to him so he could kiss your neck. His hair brushing against you, making you feral.

And then he unzipped his pants.

Pushed himself inside you.

“Go ahead” He ordered. “Come”

The pressure of him filling you up had you shattering. You screamed as you came all over his cock, squeezing the life out of him as he hissed violently. He didn’t move, just let you spasm with wetness while he felt every bit. You lost your balance, held up only by his fingers on your neck and breast which were still squeezing at you.

He filled you up so painstakingly good. And the fact that he just snapped so suddenly had you twitching all over. You’d never come so hard in your life.

If anyone were to see you right now, they’d see a man dressed in drenched business attire fucking a fully naked woman against a pool wall.

Fuck.

“You lost” You mumbled, reaching back to touch his cheek. You turned your face as much as you could to look into his eyes. “I won”

“I don’t give a fuck” Jin growled. “You’re mine now”

You smiled blissfully as his heavy cock dragged out of your cunt before slamming back inside you. The water in the pool spilling out over the edges. Splashing wildly.

“Jin—yes” You pouted with pleasure. “Oooh fuck, yes”

He took his time. Each thrust harder than the previous. And he watched your expression. The way your eyes rolled back, lips parted almost drooling at how good he was fucking you.

“So fucking tight for me, Princess—fuck” He dug his teeth against your ear. “You know how many times I’ve thought about this—ramming my fat cock into you while you whine and beg for me just like this”

He slid out, turning you to face him. He took a moment to smile, a look of incredulous disbelief in his electric eyes.

“My good girl” He tugged your bottom lip. “My pretty girl” His lips glued to yours. Lingering “You’re mine princess”

You nodded, humming against him. He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit—not leaving your lips for more than a second.

“Why’d you give in?” You asked him.

He slid back into you seamlessly. And you felt right at home. Gazing into his eyes, lips locked, with him inside you.

He rolled his hips, bouncing you up and down on his length. Your fingers scraping against his back. Finally grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging it. Jin hissed, biting at your lips. His hands on your ass, squeezing the flesh, digging his fingers in.

He licked your teeth, then your lips, before pushing his tongue into your mouth.

He gripped your jaw, tilting your chin up.

“Look at me, princess”

You did.

He sheathed himself inside of you. “Come”

And you exploded.

He had you on command. The power he held over you was absurd but you loved it. You loved him.

“Good girl” He stroked your face. The aftershocks consumed you as you whimpered. He coaxed you through it. “There you go, princess, you’re doing so good” Pecking kisses at the edge of your lips as you cursed out.

He slid his hand between your hot bodies, rubbing your clit as you writhed in his hold. He kept you cumming until there were tears in your eyes. And you were begging him—screaming for him to stop.

All the while, he kept digging into you. His pace picking up but his gaze never leaving yours.

And by God the way he looked at you—that was someone in love. So possessed with the flaming adoration and desire that reason flew out the door. He’d kill for you. He’d die for you. You had no doubt in your mind.

And then darkness came knocking into your mind and your high dissipated. You were supposed to kill him tonight.

Your eyes softened at him. A tear rolling down your cheek. Jin slowed his pace, looking at you with concern. He swiped the tear away with his thumb.

“Princess” He whispered, nudging your cheek, “Everything okay?”

The tears began to stream down faster. Jin move your arms so he could hold both your hands, still inside you.

“What’s wrong?” The possessive edge in his voice was evident.

You sniffled.

“I love you so fucking much Jin”

Jin buckled over, digging his nails into your wrists. You could feel the hot pressure burst between your legs.

“Fuck” He cursed loudly, pounding into you at a punishing speed as spurts of cum painted your walls.

He calmed down, pulling you into a tight embrace. Kissing the back of your shoulder.

Facing you again, cupping your face in his palms. He searched your eyes.

“The only way you’re getting engaged tomorrow is over my dead body, princess” He promised. “You’re mine now, forever”

- Present Day -

Jungkook wasn’t sure if you’d even want to see him after how the two of you left things the previous night.

Guilt seized him.

“Why exactly are you putting us in a room together?” Across the room, Park Jimin sat, handcuffed to his chair. The light hanging above illuminated his glimmering eyes. Hair tousled. “You know I can just tell her that it was you. I was Jin’s therapist—I know you two were—”

Footsteps echoed from the hall.

“Shut up.” Jungkook rolled his eyes.

He felt his heart get lighter as you walked into the room.

You. Causal. Jungkook’s cock twitched. Those little shorts that made him want to just grab at you. A long-sleeved hoodie that covered your hands. This version of you, he swore he was obsessed. The version not hiding behind all the Kim’s blood money.

Jungkook knew you were attractive. From the time he lost his breath seeing you at your engagement, until now. But right now. Despite the tiredness in your eyes. He swore you’d never looked hotter.

He reached out for your hand.

The moment you touched; both of your eyes met. Some sense of understanding passed between you.

I’m sorry.

I know. Gazing into your eyes had become such a familiar thing. He couldn’t pinpoint when, but you went from antagonizing him to being a source of comfort.

You were still a brat. And he’d tell you as much.

“Sure, don’t mind me as you eye fuck each other” Jimin’s voice interrupted the tender moment.

Jungkook's fingers intertwined with yours, forming a reassuring grip as he guided you to a seat beside him. The warmth of his touch lingered, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the inside of your wrist—a silent promise that he was there by your side.

"Y/n, Dr. Park. I want to walk through the timeline of the murder with you both to see where your stories diverge. Now, I don’t think either of you did this," Jungkook stated with a calm resolve. “I think it was Jung Hoseok.”

Jungkook felt the tension ripple through you.

He watched as you looked at Jimin. Examining him with distaste. Thoughts running rampant in your mind—he just wanted to climb inside and hear what you were thinking.

“No.” You cleared your throat. “It was me.”

“What?” Both Jungkook and Jimin were startled by the sudden confession.

“I killed Jin. Arrest me”

Jimin’s brows furrowed. Jungkook was simply shocked.

“Y/n this isn’t funny.”

You brushed off his question, pulling your hand out of his grasp. “I hated Jin. I knew about his years of scheming and lies. I knew that he was trying to get hold of my mother’s company after his mother gave everything to Namjoon. And I knew that he wanted me to get married to Taehyung so that he could deem him mentally unstable, send him away again, and steal my shares through the board once we got married”

“Y/n” Jungkook tried to get you to look at him, but you wouldn’t. Your eyes were on Jimin, communicating who knows what to that crazy manipulative bastard. “If you confess, I will actually have to arrest you”

Jimin was quick to interject. “Wait. Hoseok was there that night too, wasn’t he?”

You flinched.

“Y/n. For the love of God just walk us through what else happened that night. Don’t leave anything out. You can trust me” Jungkook urged you.

You pursed your lips. You were playing another game—he could see it in your eyes. Were you lying—why were you lying—and who exactly were you trying to protect?

“Yeah. Fine. Hobi was there. Luckily for me, because Jin and I got into an argument as I figured out what he was up to, and he got so angry that he—” You inhaled sharply “He hit me. So Hobi punched him”

A ringing struck Jungkook’s ears. He hit you. Kim Seokjin laid a hand on you.

A seething rage ran through his veins. He stood up, unable to contain the anger. Needing release.

His fists clenched as he did his best not to punch through the wall.

"That bastard. God, if he wasn't dead, I'd kill him myself,"

Your words from the previous day lingered in Jungkook's mind: "I've grown up around men like that."

For all he knew, Jin had been abusive this whole time.

Jimin smiled, “Funny you say that Detective” Jungkook shot him a look.

"I'm fine, okay. Hoseok and I go way back. He had been setting Namjoon up for months, putting the idea into his head to kill Jin by making Namjoon jealous that I was going to get engaged to Taehyung, and that it was Jin’s fault," you explained.

"Namjoon... and you?" He searched your eyes for an explanation. You avoided him once again. “Well couldn’t you have married him instead, I mean?”

Jimin chuckled, "That was Jin’s doing. Namjoon was totally in love with her. But Jin made sure that she was alienated from him after he assaulted her. He made Namjoon promise it would be Taehyung, convincing him it was what their mom wanted"

“What?” Jungkook’s jaw twitched.

“He did not assault me” You assured him, “He tricked me into giving him my virginity. How’d Jin even know about that?”

“Baby girl,” Jimin spoke steadily, “Jin knew everything about you. I wasn’t lying about the cameras. He monitored you like a hawk”

A disturbed look passed over you.

"Okay. Hoseok came and punched Jin, and then what happened? Did he shoot him? " Jungkook urged you on.

"No. I did”

Jungkook ran his hand through his hair, frustration evident. “You and me. Outside, now”

-

Jungkook directed you to an empty investigation room. Worn out and frustrated as he shut the door behind you.  

He didn’t say a word. Hands finding your hips.

Lips taking your life away.

You craved him. He groaned against your mouth, breath hot and fingers desperate. Lips tangling under a cloud of denial. Searching for a sweet escape.

“Y/n—we do need to talk—” Jungkook hissed in pleasure, forcing himself to part with you. He inhaled you, tracing his nose against your jaw as you arched your back into his touch. Chest heavy with want.

“I missed you” You moaned softly against his mouth.

Jungkook bit back a smile. Eyes ghosting from your eyelids to your lips “I’m sorry” He took on a more serious tone. His thumb running up and down your throat. “About last night”

“Jungkook, I loved last night” You spoke breathlessly. “It was the first good night I’ve had in a while”

Jungkook's fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin as he spoke. The soft glow of a nearby lamp accentuated the contours of his face, casting shadows that danced with the weight of his words.

“Why are you still lying to me, Y/n?”

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and your fingers found solace in the tousled strands of his hair. The scent of his cologne lingered, a familiar comfort amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

“Have I not proved myself to you? You still don’t trust me”

“You don’t trust me either, do you?” you asked, your voice a mere whisper that hung in the charged air between you. “Are you gonna let me go?”

You nudged him with your nose, a silent plea for honesty. “Are you gonna arrest me?”

He held your gaze, a storm brewing in the depths of his eyes.

“I—” Jungkook's voice caught, emotions raw and unfiltered.

“I hate that I’m falling for you.”

Your eyes widened. His confession was wildly uncalled for and sent you into a vortex of your thoughts.

Blush painted his cheeks. Speaking from the heart was evidently new territory for him.

“And I can’t stop.”

Your heart trembled. Fuck. You felt the same. You knew it, despite everything. You didn’t think it was possible to love so soon after Jin. Jungkook wasn’t Jin. He was simple. Exactly who he showed up as. He wasn’t playing games.

You were. And you couldn’t hurt him like this any longer.

“You know this doesn’t end well, Jungkook,” you whispered, fingers tracing the contours of his face. “I have to marry a Kim to get my company back”

The realization hit you. You couldn’t marry Taehyung—Taehyung hated you. He would murder you in his sleep, and you couldn’t have that.

Your plan failed. You couldn’t blame this on Namjoon anymore. You needed him.

"You’d marry someone just for a company?" Jungkook asked, his low voice laced with disbelief and frustration. "I thought you hated the way the Kim’s controlled you. Why would you willingly tie yourself to them?"

Your shoulders tensed, a defensive response bubbling up. "It's not just about them, Jungkook. Nexus is my birthright, and I have responsibilities. It’s all I have. I can't just walk away from it because you don’t like the world it comes from"

You knew he wouldn’t understand. People like you were groomed to take over family businesses. All you wanted was revenge. On a life that robbed you of choice. To do that, you needed power. You needed Nexus.

"Why not?" Jungkook shot back, his eyes searching yours for a glimmer of understanding. "Nexus is dangerous—isn’t that the whole reason Jin was trying to keep you out of it?"

"I don't need you to rescue me, Jungkook"

His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing in a mixture of frustration and hurt. "This isn't about rescuing you! I can't stand the thought of you tying yourself to a family that's suffocating you when I could offer you something better."

"And what is that, Jungkook?" you challenged, your frustration mirroring his. "A life where I’m with the son of the man who murdered my mother in cold blood?”

Pindrop silence.

Aside from the harmony of your haggard breaths.

“What?” Jungkook’s large eyes quivered with shock. Did he really not know?

“You think your dad was killed for no good reason—well there was one. Actually.”

Jungkook looked down, “Y/n.” But you knew there was nothing he could say. He couldn’t change the fact that it happened. That the two of you had history before you’d even met.

A bitter laugh escaped you, "We could never work"

"You think I wanted this?" Jungkook exclaimed. "I despised everything about you. And I tried to resist it because I knew it would be complicated. But, fuck, I want you. You want me. I don’t know why, I don’t know when, but somewhere along the line, I stopped hating you”

Your heart melted at his words.

“And you became everything”

You stared at him. Disbelief. And then you were running into his arms. He was lifting you up into a kiss. The kind of kiss that drowns you. The desperation, the pent-up frustration from your argument—the hopelessness of what you felt for one another—was a beautiful concoction of flames dancing between you.

“Y/n” Jungkook mumbled but you wouldn’t leave his lips. Afraid if you did, the moment would end again. And you didn’t want to think. You wanted to fade away.

Your fingers slid under his shirt. Searching his muscles.

Growling lowly, Jungkook pressed you against the wall again. Eyelashes brushing against one another, his expression softened seeing your swollen lips and desperate eyes. Stay. His eyes called to you. Stay with me.

“I’m sorry” You whispered so softly, your words feathering against his skin. “I’ll go, Jungkook”

He grabbed your wrist.

“No” Jungkook closed in on you, “I’m placing you under arrest”

Hobi’s manicured nails traced along the sleek contours of a pistol. Custom made. In his pocket, he felt the vibration of his phone.

Setting the gun down on the glass table, he placed his phone against his ear.

You have a call from—

“I accept the charges” This should be good.

“He knows your name”

There was no time for greetings with you. You weren’t into the charmed bullshit like Jin was.

Hobi inhaled sharply. Fuck. If the investigation moved in his direction, everything would be at risk. All these years, he had been meticulous and careful. Flying under the radar of any and all authorities. You’d only know his truth if he was in business with you. To the world, he wore a carefully curated mask. A budding model. To explain the money.

Explain his sin-stained wealth.

You paused for a moment, “He knows you and I have known each other. He also knows you dated Jin”

The last comment was an accusation. He heard you loud and clear. He knew you well enough now after the last three years spent plotting this intricate web to recapture Nexus for you. After the Chairwoman died, he approached you. Told you the truth about Jin’s intentions.

“How long? When were you going to tell me—before or after we planned to kill him?”

Kim Seokjin was a good fuck. He talked too much for one thing, but Hobi didn’t really mind. He liked to be in control of the situation. Play both sides, if you will. Dating a man like Seokjin meant letting him think he was in charge, when in fact, the reigns were in his own hands all along. He knew about Jin’s psychotic past. His twisted quest. All of it.

Lying was natural to him. One of the first skills he learned. “I was just doing it to make sure he didn’t know what we were up to”

“But he did know. Before you showed up that night, that’s what we were arguing about. I knew what he was up to. He knew what I was up to. And I think you told him”

“Careful darling” Hobi’s voice was silk, “I’m not someone you want to play against”

“They were going to pin the murder on you but I got them off your scent because if they find out about you—they find out—”

“That your mom was a mobster” Hobi spoke plainly “And that Nexus distributes weapons”

Thus the reason Hobi knew about you. Your mother. His family. They were in business together. You’d grown up as loose family friends who lost touch as life materialized until Hobi decided to make his move. Everything precise. Everything calculated.

“Yeah. So I confessed. It was a bluff. I didn’t think he’d arrest me but”

“You poked the bear, I assume”

“We’re not pinning this on Joon. I need to marry him to get control. I refuse to marry Taehyung—swear to God that kid will kill me in my sleep. Figure something else out, or I will whip that Detective around my finger and get him to blame you for it anyway.”

Hobi felt bored, suddenly. Meaningless threats were of no consequence. He owned the police for all he cared. He was untouchable.

“I’m not sure little unhinged Taehyung will react well to you marrying Namjoon. Perhaps you should consider staying in jail. Considering you did pull the trigger”

He could feel your energy shift through the phone. And what you said next was the only time you’d ever managed to tilt him off of his high-horse.

“I did. But he didn’t die. After we left, I saw him again”

Namjoon was back in his home office, urgently responding to some emails. Even among the chaos—he still had an empire to run.

His phone rang. “What?” His tone snarky.

“Y/n’s been arrested” Hoseok’s amused voice filled his ears, “She confessed to murdering Jin”

Namjoon’s brows furrowed, “Why the hell would she do that? And why do you know about it before me?”

“Namjoon. Someone innocent is going to rot in jail for something we both know you did”

Shit. Namjoon sunk into his ergonomic chair. Hobi was right. But if he went to jail then who the hell would run the company?

“I can watch over things for you until you cut a deal. I’m sure they’ll offer you something” It was as if Hobi could read his mind. “I know you, Joonie. You won’t be able to live knowing she’s in jail because of you”

But the truth was that, Namjoon had doubts. He remembered going to the safehouse. He remembered getting into a fight with Jin—Jin who was already battered up.

He didn’t mean for him to die. He had been drunk out of his mind.

“Namjoon” Hobi was persistent, “Don’t be like Jin. Do the right thing. Confess”

Fine. Namjoon shut his laptop and reached for his keys. He hung up the phone, rushing into the hall.

“Taehyung” He searched for his younger brother. He was still reading in the same position Namjoon had seen him when he returned home. He had to tell him what was going on. You were going to come home to him and he needed to know you’d be safe.

“Y/n’s been arrested for Jin’s murder. She confessed but—” He gulped, “She didn’t do it. It was me. I killed him, because I was jealous. I didn’t want her to get engaged to…well you…and Jin was the one forcing her”

Taehyung sat, soundless. Not a word, not a breath.

“I won’t let her go down for this. I’m going to confess. I may have to serve some time in jail—but I can cut a deal. They want to get to me anyway. She will come back alone, and my friend will be watching the company but” Namjoon panted.

He kneeled in front of Taehyung, palms to his knees. “I want you to know I missed you. I know we were never very close. But I hate what happened to you, I hate our mom for it, I hate Jin for it. You’re adjusting. You’re angry, and I understand. But you need to take care of Y/n. She’s our responsibility”

Taehyung nodded, as Namjoon stood up and rushed towards the door.

“Hyung wait!” Namjoon stilled. Taehyung never called him that before.

He walked up to him, before wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “Come home soon”

Namjoon’s otherwise cold heart was flush with love. He had almost forgotten what it was like to have family who cares. His eyes became teary—but he had not time.

He was going to save you.

“Dr. Park”

You sneered at the smirking face before you. In the shared cell, for the first time you faced him alone since everything went down.

“You’re so interesting, Y/n” Great. Not even here for a minute and he’s already psychoanalyzing me. “We both know you didn’t go through with it”

You sat down in front of him, making sure there was a good amount of space. He tapped against the wall aimlessly. The air was musty—even a little cold. You regretted not wearing leggings. Legs bare against the bench.

Jungkook's confession replayed in your mind like a broken record. His hopeful, big, gorgeous brown eyes turned wounded. He opened up for you. He lay down his vendetta, for you. And you simply couldn’t do the same.

Because this is so much bigger than him.

“You can tell me what’s wrong you know” Jimin said. For once, his voice wasn’t laced with amusement. “I know you don’t trust me, but I am a therapist”

“Why’d you even do this?” You spat, hugging your arms against your stomach. “What was in this for you?”

Jimin smiled. “Jin was unlike any of my other patients. He asked a favor, and honestly I was just so interested to see how this would all play out. It’s a house of cards blowing over. Brick by brick”

You frowned. “What would have happened if we didn’t figure it out? Were you planning on actually marrying me? Living with me for the rest of your life?”

Jimin shook his head. “That was never the plan. He needed someone to show up at the wedding. Jin never let Taehyung out because he was terrified that Taehyung would want revenge. So I was to stand in. Get married to you, and then disappear. After all, Jin wanted you to himself but he didn’t want to share you. He can’t marry you—it ruins his plans. After I’d disappear, Jin would say that Taehyung was back in in-patient treatment to the board and take your shares”

You raised your eyebrows. “My mom ran nexus without a man by her side for years. I don’t understand why I had to get married to get access to them”

Jimin clicked his tongue. “That was Jin’s doing. Chairwoman Kim oversaw your trust while you were in her guardianship. Jin leveraged the threat of Taehyung to get her to add the provision. Jimin grinned widely, “Then he killed her”

Your mouth went dry.

“Slowly—and made it look like cancer. But she also knew it was coming, so she didn’t give him the company. Kim’s will do what they do” Jimin marveled, almost in admiration. It made you sick.

Something in your gut twisted so violently, you wanted to hurl.

“And Hobi” You went on despite your state, “When did that start?”

“Oh that had been going on for a long time” Jimin waved his hand, “On and off. They were a bit toxic.”

“Did Jin know…about Hobi?”

“You mean who his family was? Of course he did. He knew about Hobi and Hobi helped him plot all this out. Later, Hobi said he found out you knew everything—I don’t think Jin knew you two knew each other. But they both stood to gain. If Jin got control of Nexus, Hobi and he would be in business together. Though in my opinion I think Hobi was also planning some sort of seduce, marry, kill type thing to expand his own power”

Was there even a single person in your life who was ever honest with you? A stampede trailblazed over your chest. You were bleeding out on the inside so much that it all began to go quiet. All began to feel numb.

“Why wouldn’t Jin just ask me for Nexus? Why go through all this—he knew I’d do anything for him?”

“Y/n, I’m a doctor. I work with intense patients and sometimes in in-patient facilities. People who see me are truly twisted. You can’t hope to understand why they act the way they do. Besides, your mom had gone to great lengths to make sure that Jin specifically kept his paws off you”

Why? You thought back. If your mother hated Jin why would she have let you spend so much time with him? With his family. The two of you had been inseperable.

“Wanna know something else that’s fun?”

You glared at him.

“Jin truly, genuinely believed that everything he was doing was for you”

Don’t say it. You looked down, blinking back tears.

“He loved you. He wanted to keep you safe. Away from gun dealers and mob life. He just wanted you to have everything you wanted without a care in the world. Jury’s still out on if it’s romantic—or just insane”

Namjoon burst into the precinct. Jungkook was at his desk, staring blankly at the screen in front of him. “It was me. Not her. I killed Jin. There you go. Let her go right fucking now” He went on to corroborate his story. It matched up. Him being drunk, arriving at the safehouse no doubt after you and Hoseok had left. A gun was there. Jin was already down. And Namjoon had oh so much motive.

Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder if all your lies and games had just been to protect Namjoon. You acted so indebted to this family of psychopaths—after what Namjoon did to you you were trying to keep him out of Jail?

He was thrilled suddenly. Namjoon away meant you were free. You wouldn’t be able to marry him, not yet—and he had time to show you that you belonged with him. Away from these freaks.

“Okay” Jungkook said, satisfied with the confession. He motioned to guards to take Namjoon into the cell. You and Jimin both were dragged out in exchange.

“You’re free to leave” Jungkook looked down, pretending to shift around the papers on his desk. He couldn’t look you in the eye—the pain was still too tender. Jimin didn’t need to be told twice. He fled immediately. But you, you stayed.

Jungkook looked up at you, annoyed. “What?” He was back to the spiteful tone with which he spoke to you when the two of you had just met.

“I know you hate me” You said quietly. Jungkook noticed the queasy look in your eyes, “But Jimin just told me—everything. And Taehyung is at home who terrifyies me. I guess what I’m asking is—”

“Thought you can take care of yourself”

There was real, raw hurt in your eyes. Jungkook felt a little guilty. He knew this had all been emotionally traumatic for you. He’d seen you fall apart and put yourself back together again multiple times already.

“Jungkook” You gripped the edge of his desk, losing your balance. Alarms went off in his chest. His pride dissipated as you fainted—he rushed to catch you before you hit the floor.

The light began to filter through your eyelids. Slowly you blinked, trying to understand your surroundings.

There he was. Your shadow.

“You’re awake”

Even lying on a hospital bed, Kim Taehyung didn’t give a flying fuck about you. Great.

“I’m glad”

You struggled to sit up as Taehyung neared you. He gently traced the edge of your face. His fingers were tender. Soft. You leaned into his touch.

“Don’t do that ever again” His voice dropped low. Flattening his palm against your cheek, his thumb brushed against the edge of your lips, “I can’t lose you”

Your lips parted in shock. His face was serious as ever.

“Also, there’s something you should know” He stood up, turning his back to you. Staring intently out the window.

Your chest seized with concern. You wondered what happened to Jungkook—if he was alright. You assumed he was the one who brought you to the hospital.

“Dr. Park was found dead last night” Taehyung paused. “He was murdered”

series navi | join taglist | masterlist | scream in my asks

a/n: its been a while since ive written so! pls let me know what you think!! scream with me!! who are you suspicious of! who are you falling for! i wanna know ;)

thank you for reading <3

[s-4pphics]

errr hi cont to this or whatever combating my depression with horny crazy lesbians with parental trauma goodbye again

—

Guilt festers in Ellie like hornets.

She hardly remembers the last time she’s seen you. The turbulence that roared within you for months had finally reached its peak, and it sent you crashing into a static-filled void — an unsettling tranquility. Whenever she’s home, you don’t say a word to her, fully committed to the bind that reinforces your lack of autonomy. But still, the house stays clean, dinner stays served, and Ellie stays guilty.

She can’t pinpoint for what exactly — her aggression towards you throughout your marriage, her ignorance to your suffering, for leaving you alone to wilt while she goes and lives her life like you don’t exist, like the weight of the band on her finger doesn’t snare whenever they dig inside someone else.

Divorce. Divorce…

If it ever occurs, both families will bury you, then Ellie, then each other, only leaving behind wasteful bundles of inheritance and homes with no name. But death… It has to be better than this crushing burden in her stomach. It has to be.

There’s water running. Right above where Ellie sits on the couch with a bouncing knee, fiddling with her wedding ring. Her heart thumps in her chest when the rush stops. You must be in the bath.

The thought should make Ellie flush and stutter; the image of her beloved wife bare and surrounded by bubbles from the neck down, scented with lavender and incense, soft as ever.

But she can only see you drowning. Breathing water into your lungs as you fight against your own will to survive. Your screams are loud beneath suffocation, battered as you…

Call out to her—

“Ellie.”

She flinches at your presence from behind, heart racing at the sight of you in your robe and dripping hair, somehow disheveled despite your cleanliness. Ellie swallows dryly when water drips down your neck and seeps into your gown’s collar. The tie is synched around your waist and your breasts are pushed together from its tightness and Ellie’s lost her mind because she shouldn’t be gawking like this. Her eyes fly back to the vacant windows that bring such torture.

“I ran your bath.”

You turn to leave without another glance, already up three— five steps before Ellie mutters,

“Thank you.”

She sees your shoulders stiffen, and she shifts uncomfortably where she sits. It might be the first time you’ve heard any verbal appreciation from her. From anyone, matter of fact. Ellie’s heart thrashes in her chest at the look you give over your shoulder: confused… and so, so tired. The emptiness within them sends her stomach into knots, churning up that treacherous feeling that makes her ill whenever she really looks at you.

But then you smile, soft lips curled around pearly teeth. Dark. Empty.

“Anything for my wife.”

The term of endearment is poisonous on your tongue. Small hairs on Ellie’s arms are upright and thrum with fear and embarrassment and… shockingly enough, something else. Something dirty and thoughtless. It’s the maroon robe. It has to be.

“Should I prep you for the bath, as well?”

Your tone is hateful. Mockingly so. Why does Ellie’s face burn? Why do her nails dig into the cushion beneath her? Why is her breathing so shaky? Why is her body so hot? Because of you, of all people, and you’ve barely spoken to each other. You hate her and she hates you so why why why.

Disgusted eyes rake over Ellie’s squirming form, and a smirk grows on your face.

“I’ll be upstairs.” Voice soft as a feather, but your feet are weighted with each stomp up the stairs.

Ellie can’t halt her fear for what waits for her in your bedroom. Fear has never made her thighs rub together this much.

—

Ellie’s in a fever dream.

You put something in her wine from earlier. She’s knocked out cold and this is all a fucked up, sadistic nightmare. The lavender scent that floats through the marble bathroom isn’t real, the candles that burn with cinnamon aren’t real, the last sizzles from the bathbomb melting into the water isn’t real, your hands aren’t… She can’t feel them. They’re definitely not real. Not where they gently massage her shoulders.

But they are. How fucked up is Ellie. It’s been all of two minutes and she’s already memorized your fingerprints through her button up. Nothing but guilt, guilt, guilt and fear and arousal that makes her more guilty. What sick game are you playing at. You’re so fucking sick.

“You’re so tense, wife… You really needed this bath, huh?”

Your nails sink into her shoulders and Ellie can almost feel your venom eating away at her bloodstream. Her toenails scrap against the tile through her socks. She won’t stop fiddling with her wedding ring. A sign of guilt. An act of nerves.

Your hands drag from her neck to her collarbones and she shivers whenever your nails rake through her. They reach the top button of her shirt. Each pop of a button sends aggressive rattles to Ellie’s ribcage.

Before your meddling fingers stop.

Her flushed chest rises with rapid breaths. Your eyes sear and they’re electric. Ellie’s heart stops when she realizes where your attention is.

A blotchy, ruby-red bruise sits right in between her breasts. The bite glows blue where it fades. It taunts you. Ellie can see it where your jaw clenches. Guilt guilt guilt guilt—

“Who gave you that?”

You sound so innocent. Her anxiety will peak in an instant.

“No one.”

Ellie gasps sharply when buttons clatter to the floor, angered hands ripping open her shirt, prying the fabric from her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. She’s stiff as a board, unable to move, forbidding to combat your aggression. Why does she allow you to take?

“Who gave that to you?” You grit before reaching for her Louis Vuitton belt, pulling it from the loops and throwing it behind you. “Huh? A friend of mine? A family member? Someone I know?”

You smile like it excites you to know who wrecked your home. Who your wife abandoned you for, all for a fix — to exist outside of her body and not think about the world she despises. Ellie shakes her head. Why does she wish to appease you all of a sudden? She’s never cared; never hesitated to flaunt her lechery to you in the late hours of the night. Why now?

“How long ago? How gorgeous was she? Did she give you everything you desired—“

“Stop—“

“Maybe you should invite her over,” You suggest painfully, seductively while you treat her slacks with the same violence, “I’m sure our parents wouldn’t mind a third. More money, right? She’s rich, isn’t she?”

Your suggestion sends knives into her throat. Her hands clamp down onto your arms to get you off. To pull you closer. Fuck, fuck —

“Bring all your whores here, matter of fact!” You screech and fight against Ellie’s grip on your wrists. “I’ll let them fuck me with you if you want! I’m sure it’d please you, wife—“

Ellie nearly vomits when slick drips from her at the imagery; you completely engulfed by the pleasure you deserve for being such a good wife, fucked to peak after peak. Hands all over you, bruised to hell, stress-free. She’d give you that. Only she could give you that. No one else, fuck, just her—

She uses all her strength to shove you into the wall near the sink, ripping your hands from her pants and shoving them behind you, holding you still as you thrash and shout obscenities.

Her heart breaks when you release the loudest sobs she’s ever heard from you, and all she can do is apologize. Whisper calming words against your wet cheeks.

“Look at me, look at me, fuck, m’sorry—“

“Why me! What d-did I do to deserve this! Why — why —“

“I know, I’m sorry, I know I know—“

Ellie blows cool air all over your cheeks. Gentle brushes of wind that ice your boiling skin before your hollers turn to devastated whimpers. She watches you self-soothe, blows more air on your face, redirects your attention onto her.

“Look at me.” She says into your skin.

You whimper and shake your head, eyes downcast at her feet.

“Can you do that for me so we can talk?”

“I don’t wanna fucking talk to you.”

Ellie huffs a laugh at your insolence, “Fair, but I need you to calm down. Can we agree on that?”

“I didn’t drown you. That’s as calm as you’re gonna get.”

Ellie smiles sadly, “Also fair.”

“You’re fucking dead to me.”

“… Potty mouth.”

Ellie loosens her grip on your wrists when you shove her off you, head plopping onto the wall as you gaze at her, eyes filled with rage and possessiveness and lust. For once, your eyes mirror hers.

Your robe isn’t as tight after your fighting, a glimpse of a nipple peeking beneath the deep red cloth. She shouldn’t look, not when you're this vulnerable and hurt, but she can’t help it. She can’t explain it, but she wants you to see how hungry she is for you. So much guilt.

She doesn’t know how to love, to be kind, to dote like a wife should. She can’t do that with you. But she stares, gazes at you with territory. What she’d give to be all over you.

Her ogling pauses when you laugh to yourself, cheeks still glistening under the candlelight. Ellie frowns despite the butterflies in her stomach.

“You’re crazy.”

You don’t adjust your scattered dress, pushing yourself off the wall and into Ellie’s chest. You invade her senses like she wants; her body aches and shakes when your breasts touch hers. She can smell you. All you have to do is inch closer. Your noses almost touch. She just needs a bit more from you and you’ll have her. All to yours—

“Enjoy your bath…”

Your lips tickle hers,

“Ellie.”

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip when you vanish into the bedroom. She's never climbed in there with you, but she just might.

-

-

-

Ellie didn’t believe you when you said she was dead in your eyes, but now, she realizes you might’ve actually meant it. She assumed you to be a vessel of patriarchy, of status, of everything she loathes, but you’re unraveling before her eyes, inklings of your true self seeping through the cracks of your parents’ mold.

You might be just as vile as she is. You might even have her beat. You do want her dead.

What else can she think as she sinks lower into her bath to hide her shock, eyes glued to the glass dildo that still drips with your slick at the edge of the tub? Right next to your wedding ring.

How nasty would she be to use your cum as lube while she fucks herself in the shower? How gross would you be if you awoke from your slumber to watch her get off to you?

… Come to think of it, you both never consummated your marriage.

You deserve to wake up to something nice.

[justanothersterekficgirl]

The Gentleman And The Fox by bleep0bleep, Inkforwords

Explicit | 15k | 1/1

Derek doesn't expect much from his arranged marriage. When his inattentive husband, Lord Stiles Stilinski, tells him he's free to look for a lover, he doesn't know where to start, until a dashing bandit named the Red Fox catches his eye. ~ The Fox winks again. “Have a good night, Derek,” he purrs in a sultry tone, and then climbs back on the horse and disappears into the night. Derek walks up the path towards the manor in a daze, and it isn’t until he’s inside when he realizes he never told the Fox his name or where he lived.

[nezuscribe]

Is the arranged marriage au going to be a series of drabbles? I’m so obsessed I’m thoroughly enjoying all the stuff you’re putting out and am now an absolute fein for anything with the arrangedmarriage!gojo tag

i'm working on a fic rn! but it started with drabbles! the fic should be out soon !

[sincerelystranger]

this was in my WIP but it’s basically a snippet of the same universe as this short (which is basically some thoughts about an ArrangedMarriage!AU) 

---

The first thing Wangji notices when he enters the Jiangshi is that the room is cold.

The second thing is that Wei Wuxian is laid in his cot again – the thin, useless thing his uncle had insisted Wei Wuxian sleep on when they first married.

Wei Wuxian turns when he hears Wangji enter. His thin face lighting up with a smile. “Hanguang-jun, you’re back!” he says brightly. He moves to get up and Wangji can see the way his thin arms shake.

The pain in his chest is familiar by now, but it hurts nonetheless.

“No need to stand,” Wangji says, quickly walking over towards the cot.

Wei Wuxian is already sitting up, the thin blanket falling down from his shoulders. He smiles ruefully at Wangji. “Grandmaster Lan will berate me for not giving you a proper welcome,” he says, “but if Hanguang-jun is okay with it, I will welcome you back home from here.”

“You can welcome me back as you please,” Wangji says, kneeling down in front of Wei Wuxian. “I will not let uncle berate you.” He reaches to take a hand into his.

It’s cold.

There’s a slight trembling running through Wei Wuxian’s thin fingers. His skin, red where it’s spread paper thin across his knuckles, is cold to the touch.

“The Jiangshi is cold,” Wangji says, bringing the knuckles to his lips.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry,” Wei Wuxian apologizes, shyly taking back his hand. This action would have been devastating to Wangji a few weeks ago. He would have taken it as a rejection. A sign that his advances were unwanted.

Now…

Well, Wangji knows better now. He knows the fault lies with him and the thousands of things he let be misunderstood.

Wangji takes Wei Wuxian’s hand in his again and rises to sit next to him. Pressing against him so that there is no space left between them. He brings Wei Wuxian’s hand into his lap and holds it. “Don’t apologize,” he says gently, “How could this be your fault? Did the disciples not come by this morning?”

Wei Wuxian stares down at where their hands are joined. The red flush on his cheeks now all the way up to his ears.

“It… it’s wasteful to heat up the entire Jiangshi just for me,” Wei Wuxian says. He turns his head up to look at Wangji, and gives him another bright smile. “Besides, the cold doesn’t bother me much. I’m sure you can call–“

Wangji bumps his head gently against Wei Wuxian’s forehead.

“Who told you it was wasteful?” he asks, his eyes closed in an attempt to control his anger. His anger isn’t meant for Wei Wuxian. He has to be careful not to let it show.

Wei Wuxian is quiet.

Wangji won’t force an answer out of him. He already has a hunch of who might’ve planted this poisonous thought inside of Wei Wuxian anyway.

He holds back a sigh and rises to stand, Wei Wuxian’s hand still firmly in his. “Come,” he says, “Let’s get you to our bed. Why is this cot back in our room? I thought I had gotten rid of it.”

Wei Wuxian gently pulls his hand away from Wangji’s grasp.

“I had it brought back in,” Wei Wuxian says, his eyes on the ground. He’s a poor liar, Wangji’s learned, and he feels a fool for realizing that so late. “What Grandmaster Lan said is correct. I did spend a lot of time in the Burial Mounds and I use demonic cultivation… it could negatively affect you, Wangji. I mean… I don’t think it will, but just to be safe, I think it’s better we use separate—“

Wangji slides his arm under Wei Wuxian’s legs and across his back and lifts Wei Wuxian off his cot.

“Hanguang-jun!” Wei Wuxian exclaims, “What are you doing!?”

“You’re my husband,” Wangji says, “I will not have you sleeping on a cot.”

He sits Wei Wuxian gently against the headboard and brings up the blanket to tuck it around Wei Wuxian’s waist. He walks to the closet to bring out his fur-lined robe and he drapes it across Wei Wuxian’s shoulders.

All the while, Wei Wuxian blinks up at him, as if he doesn’t quite recognize Wangji.

“But…” Wei Wuxian says, “But your uncle…”

It’s a sharp stab of guilt in his gut, the reminder that up until recently, Wangji had blindly followed his uncle’s orders. Believing his uncle’s guidance to be the best course of action for both him and Wei Wuxian.

Never in a million years had he imagined that his uncle could be so… wrong. But Wangji’s limited imagination almost cost him his husband – Wangji wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“My uncle is… wrong,” Wangji says, and the words feel foreign in his mouth. But he has to say them. He must. Wei Wuxian cannot be allowed to believe that Wangji shares his uncle’s opinions – not about his marriage, not about his circumstances, not about Wei Wuxian. He sits next to Wei Wuxian and takes his thin, trembling hand again. “From now on, you must remember this – you are my husband. You are someone I wished to marry.”

“—Yes, I know,” Wei Wuxian interrupts, “You married me because you wished to save the Wens, because you knew what was happening to them was unjust—“

“—No,” Wangji says sharply. “I married you because I wanted to.”

Silence falls between them.

“You are Hanguang-jun,” Wei Wuxian says after a long while, his voice so soft that it only just presses up against the silence.

Wangji hates this.

Hates this quiet, fragile thing Wei Wuxian has become.

And it’s his fault.

It’s all is fault.

And the knowledge that Wei Wuxian willingly let himself be broken down because he thought this was what Wangji wanted burns a hole in Wangji’s chest.

He pulls Wei Wuxian’s fingers to his lips. Presses a soft kiss against his knuckles.

“Husband,” he murmurs against pale fingers. He looks at Wei Wuxian expectantly.

Wei Wuxian keeps his gaze for a moment before tilting his head in question. “…Yes?” he asks.

“Husband,” Wangji says again. “Before I am Hanguang-jun, I am your husband, just as you are mine.”

Wei Wuxian drops his gaze to his lap, where his free hand is anxiously picking at the skin around his nails. They’re chapped and close to bleeding. “But I am the Yiling Patriarch,” Wei Wuxian says softly, his steady voice a stark contrast to his nervous fingers. “Being married to me only brings you pain and dishonor.”

If Wangji could, he would cut his heart out. He would cut his heart out and show Wei Wuxian exactly how much Wangji’s heart bled for him and only him. Show him how the inside of his chest has grown cavernous since meeting Wei Wuxian, constantly growing and rearranging itself to make room to house all the love Wangji has accumulated for this man.

There’s nothing he couldn’t do, if only Wei Wuxian would believe him.

He grabs Wei Wuxian’s free hand in his and pulls so that Wei Wuxian falls forward just a bit – just close enough so that Wangji can press a kiss against his brow.

“I am your husband, just as you are mine,” Wangji repeats softly. There are a million other things he wants to say, but anything he could say in that moment would only bring him to tears or potentially hurt Wei Wuxian, and he wants to do neither.

He presses another kiss against the side of Wei Wuxian’s face before he rises off the bed.

Wei Wuxian stares up at him a little dazedly, a bewildered expression on his face. It was an expression Wangji had seen often as of late. Like Wei Wuxian almost didn’t recognize the man standing in front of him. Like he might be a stranger.

And Wangji understands, even if the expression makes him feel a little embarrassed.

He knows that his attitude and actions towards his husband have changed dramatically in the past couple of weeks. And he’d be lying if he said that this newfound… forwardness of his came naturally to him. But he couldn’t stand one more day of Wei Wuxian believing that Wangji just… endured him. He couldn’t stand one more moment of Wei Wuxian thinking that Wangji didn’t want to be married to him. That Wangji didn’t… love him.

He turns in abrupt embarrassment, suddenly feeling shy about how much he feels for Wei Wuxian. He goes over to the door to pick up the basket he had brought with him.

It steadies him, the basket, and the knowledge of how much love this basket contains. How could he feel shy about his feelings when they couldn’t even compare to simple bowl of soup?

“What is this?” Wei Wuxian asks when Wangji brings the basket over to the bed.

Wangji doesn’t answer. He just places a small tray on Wei Wuxian’s lap.

“Oh, do you have a task for me?” Wei Wuxian asks, “A letter to write? A talisman to make? Let me get off the bed—“

Wangji gently presses down on the tray on Wei Wuxian’s lap to stop him. He taps once on the tray as a sign for Wei Wuxian to stay still, and miraculously, Wei Wuxian nods back in understanding.

It’s almost unfair how easily they understand each other in the little ways, but it gives Wangji faith that someday they’ll also be able to understand each other in the big ways.

The soup is still hot when Wangji opens the lid, curls of steam flying upward into the Jingshi. The aroma falls not far behind. The heavy, savory, warm smell of rich broth and tender meat.

In the moment, he finds he can’t seem to muster up the bravery to look at Wei Wuxian’s face.

He carefully ladles the soup into a bowl, making sure to get plenty of meat and vegetables. Under the guise of carefully placing the soup on the tray, he keeps his gaze down, away from Wei Wuxian’s face.

He’s not quite sure what he’s afraid of.

But this is how it always is with Wei Wuxian. He makes Wangji feel big and small in unimaginable ways. Makes a coward out of him with just a glance and in turns gives him enough strength to stand up to even his own uncle.

Wangji puts the lid back on the soup bowl and stands.

“Eat,” he says, “I’ll go start the fire.”

He turns to leave but the faintest tug at his sleeve stops him in his tracks.

“…Husband,” Wei Wuxian says, his voice small, “Would it be okay if we ate… together?”

Wangji clenches his fists so tightly that they tremble. His eyes burn with unshed tears and his throat aches.

In turns he hates himself – because how quickly could he forget that his husband hates to eat alone? – and in the same moment he’s overcome with gratitude towards his husband.

His husband.

His brave, Wei Wuxian.

So much better and braver than Wangji.

He feels Wei Wuxian’s fingers slip down off his sleeve, obviously taking Wangji’s silence for refusal. Wangji grabs them, before they fall too far and holds them tight.

“Of course,” he says.

He quickly ladles himself a bowl and sits down on the bed, finally – finally – mustering up the courage to gaze upon Wei Wuxian’s face.

What he finds there makes him wonder what he was so frightened of.

Wei Wuxian’s cheeks are tinged with pink. His eyes are bright and happy and there’s a genuine, if not a bit embarrassed, smile on his face that makes Wangji’s chest feel tight.

They begin to eat in silence, and it is Wangji who breaks it first.

“I learned how to make this soup today,” he says stiltedly. “Whenever you want it, tell me. If there are other things you like, tell me as well… I… would like to learn.”

Wei Wuxian is quiet for a long moment, and in every silent second, Wangji feels the pulling tide of embarrassment.

Just as he’s about to be pulled under, Wei Wuxian grabs his hand.

“Thank you,” Wei Wuxian breathes, smiling a smile so big that it threatens to split his face in two. “Lan Zhan, you are my greatest blessing. Thank you.”

The Jingshi is cold.

Wei Wuxian is thin.

Wangji is inadequate.

But in that moment, Wangji burns as hot as the summer sun.

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

SongFic Tag Game

Thank you @warpedlegacy for tagging me 🥰 not gonna do manyyyy cause I just am not good at picking songs LOL but here have a few!

Rules: Pick a song to accompany each of your fics or as many as you like. This might be the fic's inspiration or just pure vibes that you'd like to share with readers. Tag as many people as fics you feature (or do as you please!)

Songs below!

Wolves of the Revolution, Arcadian Wilds for Boundless , my Circle!AU

Still Though We Should Dance, Randor & Lee for The Day the Dread Wolf Wed The Brave Guide, a gift fic for my friend @dreadfutures

Burn the Witch, Shawn James OR In the Woods Somewhere by Hozier for Halla and the Hounds

War of Hearts, Ruelle for my yet unposted Bonds and Accords, the ArrangedMarriage!AU I’m working on (stay tuned)

Tagging @rosella-writes @plisuu @dreadfutures @inquisimer @oxygenforthewicked (and no pressure I’m just tagging peeps to tag them lol)

[hannie-dul-set]

At this rate you should write ricky historical!au where ricky is the king and reader is advisor daughter and ricky wants her so bad so forced!arrangedmarriage kinda vibe lol idk i enjoyed every bit of it ur ricky fic 😭🫢🤫🤭

HSHSHSHS thank u for reading my ricky brainrots 😔😔🤙