#because they KNOW if they get married and don't invite everyone to wedding there will be hell to pay for YEARS

[antianakin]

Zeb brings Rex to Lira San at some point to introduce him to the people there, both the Lasat who had already been there as well as the two Lasat survivors from Lasan. I have to assume that the culture on Lira San is significantly different from the culture that had developed on Lasan. Lira San is literally thought of as a LEGEND on Lasan from what we know which means it has been so long that these two cultures have probably developed in very different directions over time. So while there's probably stuff that Zeb IS familiar with on Lira San, there's going to be so much that he's being introduced to for the first time, as well.

Zeb is so excited to introduce Rex to his people, his culture, but he hasn't really ever spent any time on Lira San himself. He went down quickly to get the other two survivors settled there the first time they arrived and, for security reasons, doesn't go back until after the Empire is defeated. So he's not quite prepared for what it's actually like there. He tries showing Rex things he remembers of his culture, but everything is off or wrong somehow, and he ends up feeling like he doesn't know ANYTHING about these people or this culture and instead of being fun, it's just frustrating and devastating for Zeb, especially since Rex seems genuinely impressed by everything anyway, no matter how wrong it is. Eventually, he just snaps because he can't take it anymore and storms off.

Rex follows and Zeb tries to tell him to leave because he'll never get it and Zeb can't begin to understand. Rex says that Zeb's right, he'll never get it, because his people won't ever have something like this. Rex is never going to find some hidden enclave of the clones somewhere that have been safely and peacefully developing their culture on their own. It's just him and Gregor and Wolffe now, as far as Rex knows and it always will be. So Rex will never understand the pain that Zeb is currently going through by being confronted with a culture that feels like it SHOULD be familiar, but isn't quite. He'll never be confronted with an entire culture that manages to simultaneously bring him so much joy and relief as well as endless pain and devastation.

But this puts him in a unique position of being able to see the Lira San culture through the eyes of an outsider, without the pain it causes Zeb. He offers to show Zeb what HE sees when he looks at Lira San, to let Zeb explore this culture through Rex's eyes instead of his own. Zeb agrees, reluctantly, but it actually works. They go back through the market, the landmarks of this city they're staying in, the surrounding landscapes, the people, the language, the music. And instead of being frustrated at what he CAN'T see, he starts just enjoying being able to listen to what Rex CAN see. He can't always see it himself, he knows that it might take him a while to see it for himself and that sometimes he might NEVER see it, but for now, it's enough that Rex can see it and enjoy it and tell Zeb all about it.

They try a bunch of new foods together, they spar together and practice both the fighting styles they already know as well as try to learn local Lira San styles, they take a lot of trips out across the planet to see its different flora and fauna, they go see performances. Rex and Zeb just... spend a long time experiencing everything Lira San has to offer. And Zeb recognizes the irony in Rex having to sort-of introduce Lasat culture to him instead of the other way around, but he loves Rex so much for giving him this. He already knew how much Rex meant to him, he wouldn't have brought Rex to Lira San otherwise, but this is the moment he realizes he's going to spend the rest of his life with Rex.

In return, Zeb tries to ask Rex about the clones as much as he can. He asks Rex to talk about Wolffe and Gregor, but also about everyone he's lost. He asks about the 501st, and learns about Fives and Echo, about Hardcase and Dogma, about Tup and Jesse and Kix, about Appo and Denal and so many others. He asks about the other captains and commanders and hears about Cody and Fox and Ponds and Bly and Gree and Doom and Monnk. He asks how the clones chose their names and hears so many stories about the different ways clones got their names, some choosing them for themselves and some being given them by other clones, some naming themselves after something they loved and some naming themselves something that sounded cool at the time. He asks about hair and tattoos and learns about whether Rex ever wanted to dye his hair a different color and what everybody's tattoos meant and how the clones learned to tattoo each other when they left Kamino and started to see tattoos on other species.

And Zeb doesn't just ask for these stories so he alone can hear them, he sometimes asks when they're just walking around the marketplace and have picked up a gaggle of little Lasat kids who think they're cool and are perfectly happy to try to follow along with the stories Rex tells about his people. Rex always makes sure those stories are funny or heroic. He saves the sad ones for when he and Zeb are alone.

It turns out that the Lasat also had a tattooing culture of its own. The people of Lasan had had their own styles of course, but the practice itself had been brought there from Lira San, so Zeb asks Rex if he would want to teach the clones' style of tattooing to the tattoo artists on Lira San, so that the style at least could live on even if the clones themselves did not. Rex needs a few minutes to get himself together enough to try to teach anyone anything, but he is more than happy to work with the tattoo artists and pass along what he knows of his people's tattoo culture. Afterwards, Zeb asks if Rex wants to get tattooed with him, something they could share. A piece of both of their cultures, linking them together.

Rex says yes, because this is the moment HE decides he's going to spend the rest of his life with Zeb.

[thepearlyalbatross]

I like to imagine that the supernatural community in London are all just collegively waiting for Panyeland to get married.

Like they're all completely convinced those two boys are dating but because of time period prejudice don't say anything. But everyone is just waiting fir when they announce their engagement.

The witch who owns a flower shop keeps sunflowers, red roses and forget me nots on standby ready to make bouquets at any second.

The ghost costume designer has designs upon designs of their wedding outfits at the ready for then too look over and chose to form in to. (Taking age and period times into account)

The immortal bookshop owner has paper ready for invitations, because the entire supernatural community has been waiting for this.

The seer portrait artist always keeps a few days of each season open as those boys never match with her visions and she wants them to have an image of their wedding day.

The Night Nurse is also completely absorbed in this as well, prepared for when she must give in some solved cases late so they can have a good amount of time for the wedding and honeymoon.

It's somehow a complete shock to Charles and Edwin when they do eventually get married that so many people turned up. All people they knew on the basic surface level but all care for them and want them happy. To know there's people who care about them in their afterlives. It's wild.

[haveateadude]

don't say yes, run away now

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ what happens when you invite Ellie to your wedding, and what would you do if she stands up?

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ i mention sex like,, once but nothing happens. homophobia and some white guy named michael.

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ I LOVED THIS IDEA OMGG AND I FINALLY GOT TO WRITE ITTT

I hear the preacher say, "Speak now or forever hold your peace"

There's the silence, there's my last chance

I stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me

Horrified looks from everyone in the room

But I'm only looking at you

You've wanted to get married for as long as you can remember. You have always dreamed of wearing a white dress, with your arm hooked around your father's while he walks you down the aisle, your whole family and friends sitting on those wooden chairs applauding as you kiss the person you love the most. Except, today is your wedding. And you don't think you want this. A little voice in your head is going: this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong and you don't love him you won't be happy don't do this don't do this you'll be miserable.

Don't do this

Don't do this

Don't do this.

"Don't move," you hear your mother say. You come back to reality as she zips up your dress. It's itchy and uncomfortable and you can't breathe. Is this really what you've been wishing for your whole life? "All done."

You turn around to look at your mother. You chuckle, trying to hide how shitty you're feeling, "This is uncomfortable."

"Oh, shush," She says, smiling. "Bear with it. You only get to do this once in your life—unless you divorce Michael and get married again. Which, you shouldn't because the divorce papers cost a shit ton of money. And he's a good guy, isn't he?"

You nod, "Yeah, mom. He is."

"That's good." She stops for a second, then looks at you: from head to toe. She's still smiling and it's starting to freak you out. "I can't believe this is happening. You look so beautiful, honey. "

"Thank you."

"You know, you scared me for a second. For a while, I thought you were a lesbian when you used to bring that girl back then. What was her name? Ella, Amelia, Bella…"

"Ellie?"

"Right, Ellie. You've invited her, haven't you?"

You nod, "Yeah. She's still a friend."

You don't know if liking each other's Instagram stories counts as being friends. And it might seem cruel, knowing you've dated her secretly in the past, and now you've invited her to your fucking wedding. But it didn’t feel right not to ask her. You've known her since you were in high school.

You take a deep breath, desperately trying to get Ellie off your mind. All you're starting to think about now is kissing under the rain with her, secretly passing notes in the hallway, laughing in between kisses, sitting in between her legs while you read - just quietly existing in each other's presence without having to make it sexual. This is the moment you realize you've never felt this way with Michael. He makes you smile and he kisses you when he comes home from work. But he never laughs during sex, and he never holds your hand except for when you're in public. He never whispers, "It's okay," ever so gently like Ellie when you cry; he never runs his finger through your hair like Ellie used to when you couldn't sleep.

This is the day of your wedding, for fuck's sake. Maybe deciding to marry in church wasn't a good idea.

A part of you knows that you've been longing for Ellie your whole life.

You were wishing she wouldn't come, but as you walk down the aisle you can't help but catch a glimpse of her eyes. It always seemed that you were connected—as if you both had a string attached to your pinkies. If she pulled—if she looked at the back of your head you'd turn around to look at her; if she walked to the room you would be able to feel it—you would fucking feel it. Right now you could feel the string. She was tugging at it. She was tugging and tugging and tugging and she would not leave you alone.

As you stand in front of Micheal you try to smile; he smiles back. Ellie is tugging at the string. She could always tell when you had a fake smile on your face.

The preacher is talking but you're not hearing him.

"Are you okay?" Michael whispers to you.

You nod, still smiling. With teeth and everything. You then whisper, "Yeah, I'm just overwhelmed."

"Me too," he whispers back. "I'm so happy, I can't believe this is happening."

You're about to reply when you hear, "Speak now or forever hold your peace—"

And then someone stands up.

And then your smile drops as you look at her.

Ellie has always been reckless, the little shit. She's always bold and brave and she isn't scared of saying what she thinks but still—this surprises you. You hear an echo of gasps around the place and all eyes are on her as she's standing. But she doesn't say anything. She looks around the room and then looks at you so you look at her. Tug, tug, tug. You can't help but feel like a helpless teenage girl in a secret relationship—this is what you felt when you used to look at her in a party, knowing nobody knew about her and you and also knowing you'll find your ways to meet up later. And then she blinks, and then leaves. Just like that. She walks out.

Michael's eyes are on you. It hits you, suddenly, that you will be married to him. He'll want to have kids and you will agree because that's who you are and then you'll be miserable.

"Woah," He laughs. Like this is funny. Like someone has just told a joke. "Was that Ella? Your mother told me that—"

And then your feet are moving before you can think of the consequences. People gasp again, now they're starting to stand up. You walk out, taking out your veil and heels, and leave them on the floor of the church as you run. You can't help but feel happy, free, proud. Especially proud. Like this isn't your secret anymore—like you could scream at the world how much you like her without being embarrassed or scared. Everyone should know you love her.

"Ellie!" You exclaim as you look at her. She's also running. "Ellie, hold up!"

She stops suddenly, turning around to look at you. Her breath is ragged.

"Did you just—what are you doing here? You're getting married."

"Fuck Michael," You breathe out, hands over your knees, trying to catch your breath. "I think I hate him and I—and I keep thinking about you. And I just—fuck Ellie. I can't marry him."

"You've wanted this your whole life," she says. She knows how much you've wanted to get married, you always talked to her about it. "You've finally got it and—"

And then she's not speaking, because you're kissing her. Her lips feel like home. Ellie chuckles and then you're laughing, too. You press your forehead against hers and you feel like you could cry. Maybe you are. She wraps her arms around you like she just needs to hold you.

"I'm sorry to break this moment," she starts to say as she pulls away, looking behind your shoulder. "But we've got a mad mother running towards us."

You look behind as you see that your mother is running as she screams your full name.

"Run," you tell her. She nods and seconds after you're both running for your lives, Ellie holding your hand gently.

"Thank god I brought my car!" She exclaims as she pulls her keys with her other hand. She unlocks the car doors and as soon as she gets in she starts the engine. You get into the passenger's seat. "I can't believe we just did that."

You laugh as Ellie drives until losing sight of your mother.

You know this will bring a lot of consequences and maybe you'll never talk to your family again. But well—at least you'll live a happy life and will never run out of what to talk about in therapy.

[evilminji]

Okay, as I have mentioned, I'm Ace AF. And you know that plot line in kids cartoons where the alien or foreign Warrior Royalty just sort of *violently kicks down door in full armor* "We Will Marry."? I?? Always said:

"Sure!" (#OhThankFUCK!)

Like what do you mean "No"? The powerful, attractive, monarch that is very into you has travel a great distance JUST to marry you! Now you don't have to date! They seem nice! You can skip the whole "trying to find a life partner" awkwardness.

So, Sudden New Fiancee(tm) how we doing this? Blended customs? Two weddings? One in your peoples traditions, one in mine? Should we invite your family? Tell me more about yourself.

God, this solves just... SO MUCH for me? No having to make small talk. No "do they like me?" Or "am I reading the signs here right?" No failed dates! It's positively ideal! AND they announced why they were qualified, in a VERY impressive show of power and prestige, when they arrived! Good lineage AND accomplished!! Very nice.

Don't get why everyone's so upset.

Sure the "we leave at once" thing that usually follows would have to be discussed, but that's what you DO as spouses. Really guys, it's like you think I'm incapable of common sense here.

And you know who probably agrees with me? Damian Wayne.

Hell is other people, INDEED. You expect him to just... randomly go up to people and try Courting them? What do you MEAN it's "creepy" to compile portfolios on eligible individuals of worthy bloodlines? How ELSE is he supposed to know if they are worth attempting to talk too?!

There are BILLIONS of humans on this gods forsaken rock, Richard! Is he supposed to just GUESS? Gamble and hope for LUCK? This is a MARRIAGE not a "best friends club"!

Then? Danny showes up.

Gotham heard her baby talking. Heard her KING being harassed by clearly plotting Observants and power hungry ghosts MANY times his age. Connected some dots. Formed themselves a new OTP.

Danny says "Fuck It". Worst he can say is No. According to Gotham, he is neither Shy not the meek obedient sort. Is in fact, VERY stabby. So if he's not interested he'll no doubt be BRUTALLY clear about that.

So? Danny gets Fright Knight. Go get him a horse. Someone fetch Cujo some armor. He's been told the guy like weapons and animals.

TIME TO BE IMPRESSIVE.

He goes FULL Regalia. Armor of solid night sky. Cape of frost and stardust. Crown like crack in reality itself, through which the cosmos gleam and shift. He gets a horse from the far frozen. They're wooly and carnivorous. Gets THE most impressive sword he can find to wear.

It's gonna be a gift, since he doesn't need it.

He does the whole "rend the skies open" thing. Fan fair and knights. Every title he's ever been given, no matter how embarrassing he find them in reality. And announces his intentions. Declares that ONLY Damian Wayne, aka. Robin, is WORTHY to Marry Him. And (in the traditional Ghost proposal of "either accept or tell me to fuck off" /w violence) Demands Damian accept his offer of Marriage.

Right there.

IN THE WATCHTOWER.

In front of EVERYBODY. And yes, ESPECIALLY the Bats. Who are making glitching, vaguely threatening DEMONIC NOISES. Because? You... you THREATEN the BABY? Death. Ten thousand years DEATH.

People are :O ing and backing away from the visible heatwave of unadulterated FURY being put off by Batman. Danny is nano-second from every bone his ANCESTORS had being reduced to a fine paste.

Then? Damian consider him... considers the sword being thrust in his direction, still held aloft in a steady and armored hand... contemplates those titles for a second...

And goes: "Acceptable. Very well, but I have demands."

N..... Nani the FUCK? Says local Bat-Dad. No??? You are NOT GETTING MARRIED.

Try to stop him. He very obviously IS, according to Damian, the man brought him a kick ass sword and has a giant green dog. Is the king of an ENTIRE REALITY. Yes, he realizes he probably COULD do better... but frankly? This one's cute. But if it upset you so... extended engagement. There. Happy?

NO! Because the JLA Dark are LOSING THEIR SHIT. Damian is still UNDERAGE. We don't even know how OLD this being is! NO MARRIAGE.

Damian is unimpressed. A whole six months? That he's likely already LIVED thanks to various timeloops, temporal shenanigans, and reality warping bits of fuckery? You're reaching.

Just? Marriage Meet Cute.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe

[reallyromealone]

I need a SMILY FIC! Reader is the male version of Jessica Rabbit, and Smiley is his Rodger Rabbit. But nobody believes Smiley is married to the reader because they think he (the reader) is way out of Smiley's league. But it's Nahoya's sense of humor that won the readers heart.

Title: wifey

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Tokyo revengers ensemble

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: smiley x reader, Draken x Emma, takemichi x Hina, hanma x kisaki

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, fluff, reader is tall, suggestive themes, mentions of threesomes

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Smiley was a surprisingly private individual, he kept his shit to himself and so it was a surprise to everyone that he was not only in a relationship but engaged to one of the hottest person they ever saw.

(Name) Was a bombshell, the wet dreams of wet dreams.

"You are not engaged to him" Baji said simply and nahoya shrugged as he polished a glass at the bar area at the restaurant, him and Souya closing the shop for the day to have old Toman together for lunch "you are literally a gremlin! And he's like-- walking sex!"

"Keep getting bricked up for my fiance and I'm gonna kick your ass" smiley said coldly with a grin and Baji rolled his eyes "oi, Sanzu don't you deal with paranormal shit or whatever it is?"

"Parasocial and all the time, people think they know everything about me" he said simply as he sipped his sparkling water, Mikey nodding in agreement "I got people acting like they know exactly how I act... Real freaks"

"So delulu that he thinks he's with (name)" mitsuya picked up slang from his sister's and loved to use it much to the others groans.

"Keep acting like this and you're not invited to the wedding" smiley didn't have to wait to long though to prove his words true, (name) texting him that hes on his way with some snacks the pink haired man requested.

"Seriously, you're way to deme--"-- baby? They didn't have the chips you wanted so I opted for the second best thing" everyone turned to see (name) step in, the Haitani brothers awe struck and Draken surprisingly was the only one who believed smiley after all, how the fuck did Draken himself land Emma?

"Oh, 'hoya baby you didn't tell me you had company, I could have come at a later time" (name) was a fair bit taller than nahoya, from the looks he stood at the same height as hanma. Curves and an ass that could make a man drop, the married trio of pah, Draken and takemichi chatting amongst each other with no interest in the situation but the others... Smiley was about to break some fingers.

"Everyone, this is my fine as hell fiance! No we won't do threesomes so don't fucking ask!" (Name) Let smiley pull him to his side, the other kissing his cheek while he played with the hair at the nape of the older twins neck and smiled at Angry "I got you some gummy worms" he said calmly as he ignored the oggling from the others "it's a pleasure to meet Nahoyas friends, he's spoken of you all"

"Fondly I'm sure" kazutora said with a flirty grin and (name) tilted his head as he gazed into the others eyes "that's not the word I would use" (name) said simply as he watched the other struggle at (name)s naturally sultry gaze "how the fuck... Is this a thing" Kisaki said incredulously as Hanmas hand rested on the specticalled man's thigh, the boyfriends finding this fascinating yet strange.

Smiley was... Well smiley and (name) was sex incarnation.

"We met at a party and where everyone was trying to flirt... Hoya made me laugh" (name) said simply and nahoya looked SMUG as he let the other hold him close "why don't you head upstairs baby, I'll be up in a minute" Smiley sent (name) upstairs but not without a kiss that left (name)s (lipstick/lipgloss) on the others lips.

"You sure you aren't open to a threesome?" Mikey asked and smiley cracked his neck at that.

"Absolutely fucking not, you're not coming to the wedding"

[theminecraftbee]

Doc's about four beers in by now. It's just enough to loosen his lips, especially with Etho eating most of the pretzels so Doc can't eat them. Compared to almost any other hermit under these circumstances, Doc seems barely tipsy at most, but, well, it's not like Beef needs him drunk to vent his latest frustrations at the world, he just needs him tipsy enough not to notice he's talking.

"--and I just don't understand why people are so surprised, man. You--you all have teased me too much to be surprised!" Doc is saying. "Ren laughed at me. Laughed!"

He also, for the record, seems to need to complain about... apparently his husband? Which is new. Beef had been surprised. He's not going to say so, yet, because this is Doc's very belated NHO bachelor party--can they call it that when it's more "sitting around a TV drinking, eating snacks, and not doing anything because they're all too old to be partying", and when Doc is very clearly not a bachelor?--and that would be rude.

"That dog," Bdubs says loyally. "I can kill him for you. I'm the judge so I wouldn't get arrested and I'd make sure you get all his money as a widow."

"No, you can't kill him, man, I still need him for tax benefits!"

"What taxes?" Etho asks, sounding vaguely panicked.

Everyone stops to consider this.

"Beneficial ones," Doc finally says.

"I don't think that's what--I think you're misunderstanding your English again," Beef says.

"No, I'm always right," Doc says.

They sit in companionable silence for a few moments. Someone shouts on TV. The show is in Swedish. Beef has no idea what's happening. He's honestly just kind of waiting for someone else to notice.

"It's just. I don't get it, man! Why are you all acting so surprised I called Ren my husband? You! You all know me!" Doc says, somewhere between accusing and despairing, and hm, maybe these beers were higher alcohol content than normal, if he's already on despairing? "Ren and I have been--after season eight, making it official, it is only a natural thing, yes? But we had--he's asked to have my puppies. You've heard him say our babies would be beautiful."

"That dog," Bdubs says loyally again, this time in a much more suggestive tone.

"More than once," mutters Etho.

"It's not--I mean, we all knew you and Ren were... how do I put this?" Beef says. "It's not surprising that you two are. Er. Help me out here."

"Boning," Etho says.

"EXCUSE YOU?" Bdubs says, scandalized.

"Yeah. Boning," Beef says. "Doing the horizontal tango. Probably some vertical ones too. I mean, you're definitely into some things--"

"Fighting dragons," Etho dryly adds.

"THAT WAS STILL GROUNDS FOR DIVORCE," Bdubs shouts, apparently over being scandalized and moving straight to offense.

"Two seasons later? Man, you just wanted to wring as much alimony out of me as possible," Doc says immediately.

"And? I'm a judge now, I know these things."

"My point," Beef says, before they can start arguing again, or before Etho can point out that they hadn't ever really been married to get divorced in the first place. "My point. We, uh, all knew you two had a thing. It's just, uh, marriage is... different! It's different, and--"

"You didn't INVITE ME TO THE WEDDING!" Etho says, finally unable to hold it in. "Whyyyyyyyyy? Doc, I thought we were friends! I thought we were friends, Doc! I wanted to go to the wedding!"

"It, it was a little thing," Doc says. "A common law marriage as much as--"

"Hey, wait, why didn't I officiate it, huh?" Bdubs says.

"That's not fair, you can't be mad at me for not inviting you to the wedding, the moon had just exploded!" Doc says.

"It had?" Etho says.

"Yeah, well, I exploded too and I still would have shown up," Bdubs says.

"I don't remember an explosion?" Beef says.

"Wait, the moon did something?" Etho says.

"Focus," Beef says. "Look. Doc. Also, love you man, but I always figured that if anyone was going to propose, it was going to be Ren."

Doc scoffs. "Clearly you don't know my husband, then."

Everyone waits for him to elaborate. Ren, after all, is the one known for dramatic emotional appeals. While Doc is equally dramatic--that's why Beef is throwing a bachelor party for the great fit as opposed to off showing him that Big Salmon can still show someone how to sleep with fishes--he's not exactly great at emotions. Surely, he will elaborate on why Ren would never be the one to propose between the two of them.

He doesn't.

"Anyway, I think it's been obvious for, for years, and you all are morons, and--why is the TV in Swedish?"

"THANK YOU!" Bdubs says. "I thought it would be rude to point out."

"Oh, I like it, though," Etho says as Doc changes the channel to a home improvement show. Yeah, sure. Fits the vibes of this bachelor party as much as anything else. Beef grabs another beer. He pauses.

"Wait, you said a common law marriage. That means you haven't actually had a wedding yet, right?"

"Not really," Doc says.

Beef considers being reasonable, and then he lets it go.

"Dibs on planning it," he says.

"WHAT?" Bdubs says, rounding on Beef.

"I--hey, I didn't agree to this!" Doc says, as Beef begins negotiations with Bdubs. Etho laughs, louder than he normally does, and throws an arm around Doc.

"Let it happen, man. Let it happen."

It's a good party, and a good night.

[uyuforu]

Boda by Signs, Houses, Degrees

Boda (1487) is an asteroid discovered in 1938 by Karl Willhelm Reinmuth in Germany. It was named this way after Karl Boda. Boda in Spanish means "wedding", so it was natural for this asteroid to represent that. Boda is an asteroid we look at when we want to know more about what kind of wedding one will have. The Boda Persona Chart also means the same thing, and it gives more details about one's special day.

This observation is for Natal Charts. You can also check it in Briede, Groom, Juno Persona Charts. For Boda PC, check the Sun & Asteroid Boda.

Boda Aspects

Book a private reading: menus ; Q&A ; rules

Aries, 1H, 1°, 13°, 25°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could happen quite fast. It can be a rushed wedding, meaning you could want to get married very fast after engagements, or it's a wedding that is happening out of the blue like for example, suddenly getting married in a Town Hall. The wedding could happen in Spring time. It can be also a very fast ceremony, and it could also be an indicator of a private wedding, maybe also just the two of you. You could feel a certain competition on your wedding day, maybe try to do better than someone else, or you want to show off you can have the best wedding of the year perhaps. There could be some fights or arguments during your wedding. You could also want to lead a lot during your wedding so you will maybe decide when things are happening. People could be passionate and spontaneous too. You could also want to party with everyone afterwards. A lot of dancing and moving. Because this placement can also indicate having in the 1H, you could feel like the main character during your wedding, the whole attention will be on you.

Taurus, 2H, 2°, 14°, 26°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be well prepared, and you could want to take your time with it. It can also be a spring wedding. This could be a normal or basic wedding, traditional too. You could spend a lot of money, and a contract like a prenup can be signed. The wedding could look very beautiful, romantic, very well designed and organized. People could also look very classy. It could be in nature, or outside, in a beautiful garden for example. People could be very polite during the wedding. The food could taste amazing, and the buffet could be a big part of the wedding's success. The wedding could look expensive, luxurious and just very classy. It can look ethereal too. All your family can be there and your loved ones too. You could really be happy about your day. It can also mean you could share a lot of romance with your spouse together and the vows could be very romantic. Someone could sing at the wedding too, or the first dance will be very romantic.

Gemini, 3H, 3°, 15°, 27°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be very joyful, and people could be smiley and happy. They could also be very much into talking, chatting. This could be a foreign wedding, it could happen in your spouse's country too if you marry a foreigner. Foreigners could attend the wedding. People from different backgrounds too. But you could feel like people don't really care and actually enjoy the conversation. You could prepare speeches, your vows can also be particular. You could also do some games during the wedding party. You could post your wedding on social media too, or people could post it. People could also be into gossips and there could be rumors about your wedding too. This could be a very humorous wedding too, people could make a lot of jokes during speeches. You could also invite your neighbors. This could be a big wedding too, at least because it can mean there are a lot of people. This placement could mean you could marry twice, not with two different people necessarily but for example, once in your homeland, and a second time in your spouse's homeland. Or you could want to renew your wedding vows and marry again later. This could also be a spring or summer wedding.

Cancer, 4H, 4°, 16°, 28°

જ⁀➴ Wedding could be very much familial, a lot of family members attending your wedding. It could happen in your homeland and, for some of you, it could happen in your home actually. It could be a wedding near water, the sea, at the beach perhaps. People will be emotional and cry a lot, maybe more family members, and to be even precise, the mother (your mother or the spouse's too). You could want to follow a traditional wedding, and maybe even let your family decide for you. You could also be pregnant during the wedding (it is a possibility, it doesn't have to necessarily happen). The wedding could also be influences by the moon. Only people you love dearly are there. You could cry too. It could be a religious wedding too. Perhaps a sign to lose your virginity after your marriage (doesn't have to be, don't take it too seriously). Moreover, the wedding could have delicious food, food form your homeland, traditional food, def a lot of food generally. Wedding could happen during Summer season. Could also be a sign of a private wedding. Since it is very traditional, you could also wear something related to your family, for example the dress of your mother, or something from your grandmother. If you are a man, you could also have the ring wedding that is passed from generations.

Leo, 5H, 5°, 17°, 29°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be really shiny, really amazing looking, and just incredible to look at. It could really be with extra details that just let you like wow. Very extra and could be dramatic too. The wedding could look expensive. Famous people could be invited, and the wedding could be famous too. You and your spouse could be the center of attention, and you will make sure that this is your day. The wedding party will be wild, and everyone will have fun. Very creative and joyful wedding. The entertainment is at its highest. It could take place in a place that is considered creative, not common yet amazing. It can be a summer wedding. People could be super happy, and look very joyful at the wedding. You could not stop laughing too and smiling. Nothing will bright shiner than you and your spouse. You will def feel like the main characters. People can remember the wedding like it was such an event not to miss. People will keep talking about it even years later.

Virgo, 6H, 6°, 18°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be very well organized, almost perfect looking. You could hire people to organize your wedding. People could actually compliment you for how good and perfect the wedding is. You could look very neat, clean and very well put together, but people could also feel like you look cold and distant. Guests could look very good too, and respect the theme. You will maybe ask people to dress a certain color to suit the theme perfectly. This could also indicate you could be stressed during your wedding, or really focused on making sure everything is prefect rather than enjoying the big day. You could want to put very healthy food, and maybe also ask guests to raise money for a charity rather than giving actual gifts. You could have a summer wedding. The wedding could also be traditional.

Libra, 7H, 7°, 19°

જ⁀➴ Wedding could be very romantic, very beautiful. The ceremony could be very lovely to watch, and people could cry (or some cringe) at how romantic it will be. The wedding could take place in end of the summer or during fall season. It could be in nature, or around a lot of flowers, somewhere with a very beautiful scenery or place. Well dressed people. A contract can be signed, like a prenup for example, but it could also be another one. Aesthetic will be very important for the wedding, and the groom & bride could ask people to follow a certain theme. Music could be played during the ceremony, such like harp perhaps. People will have fun during the wedding party, at least this will be the vibe you will want. You will have a desire for everything to go well, everything to be in place, everything to feel peaceful, and you will do everything to be a good host, for people to have a good time. But the key to this one is romance at its fullest.

Scorpio, 8H, 8°, 20°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be a private one, it could really be more than private tho. You could really just invite people who are very close to you. The wedding could be even secretive, you could get married and don't tell anyone for example. Just the two of you. You could spend money on the wedding. You could feel an intense connection with your spouse that time, and you could even want to sneak to.. release the tension lol. There could be something spiritual happening during the wedding. You could also discover some secrets during the wedding. Someone could be jealous too. There could be something happening with someone you don't like. The emotions could be intense too. You could cry or not control your emotions. People could also cry but silently. There could be a fight happening too during the wedding. You could be pregnant during the wedding too. The wedding could happen during fall, or it can also happen at night.

Sagittarius, 9H, 9°, 21°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be in foreign lands, or away from where you live. The wedding could be fun, interesting, wild, spontaneous. You could marry suddenly without being prepared. Foreigners could attend the wedding too. If you marry a foreigner, it could be in their country, homeland. You could have a wedding without much preparation, you prefer spontaneity. You want people to be happy. You will perhaps want to include everyone, so some games during the wedding party could happen. You will want people from different backgrounds to meet, it could be a very open-minded wedding too. Wedding could happen during the winter season. You could also have took time to prepare your wedding without any rush. You could have a religious wedding, but this could also mean to have a spiritual wedding. A contract could be signed. You could decide to marry in different countries. You could also decide to not spend much money on the wedding but rather on the honeymoon.

Capricorn, 10H, 10°, 22°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be very elegant, very luxurious looking. You could spend a lot of money on your wedding, you want to make a certain first impression. The wedding could really be astonishing looking. You could ask people to come with very elegant clothing. The wedding will look expensive. You could also invite a lot of coworkers, or important people can be there. Your In-laws could have paid the wedding too. It could also be hosted by your In-Laws. A contract can indeed be signed, and it can also be a prenup. It could also be a wedding to show off money or possession. The wedding could have a certain popularity afterwards. It could also be famous for some reason. Def a wedding people will remember. It can be a bit cold and rigid tho, perhaps not a lot of people will cry or show much of how they feel. Some people could attend just to show themselves. Wedding could happen during Winter season. Your father figure could be important too during the wedding. He could also be the one paying for the wedding.

Aquarius, 11H, 11°, 23°

જ⁀➴ The wedding could be in foreign lands, or just in a place that is not usually taken for weddings. It could be very unusual, and maybe also avant-garde, breaking rules. Revolutionary wedding. It could also be a wedding that is not celebrated the way people consider "normal" in your culture. Since it is also relate to technologies, you could film your wedding, ask people to film your wedding. This placement makes me recall one couple who filmed their wedding The Office style. Quirky yet super original and funny. You could post your wedding photos and videos on the internet, or even make a live of it for people to see it or for the people who couldn't attend. Your wedding could also be posted on the internet as inspirations on Pinterest for example. The wedding could happen during Summer, maybe on Valentine's Day. Because Aquarius is again rules, it can happen during a time usually weddings don't happen, or you could also ask people to dress a certain way that is not "classic" for a wedding.

Pisces, 12H, 12°, 24°

જ⁀➴ Very emotional wedding. People can cry, you can cry, everyone can cry. Could happen around water, mostly the sea or at the beach. Also could be on a boat. Could be happening in foreign lands. Foreigners can attend the wedding. There could also be problems related to alcoholism or anything else. You could find it stressing, strangers could try to sneak in or some troubles could happen. On a good hand, the wedding could be very romantic, music could be played, and there could also be poetry reading. It could be a private wedding. It could feel like destiny, or you could have been predicted about something in your wedding. You could also have dreamed of your wedding. The wedding could happen during Winter season.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[cute-sucker]

oh em geeee im thinking of rafe taking you to weddings as his plus one 😇

i'd like to think he does this when the two of you are engaged??

⌗ . ·🌥⌇⁺.🌷

theres something about that man dragging you to a wedding, your his plus one and he's staring at the diamond on your finger with such vigor you would think he wanted to marry you at that second.

you like it too, the way that he watches you in your shimmery dress as if he can't get his eyes off you. not only that but he kisses you so deeply you can feel it all the way to your heart. there is something about him, the way he gets ready in a dark suit, a firm look on his face after you took hours to get ready.

and he's the type of person you don't want to invite to a wedding, because he'd asking you what you would like. at one point, he's pointing at the roses and the different foods, "yea' baby so which one do you think would look good at our wedding?"

you're blushing, but trying to tell him to stop at the same time, "rafe! you can't talk about our wedding while we're here at-"

he definitely silences you with his kiss, hands coiling around your waist and when he pulls away you're stunned the way you always are. at one point you get so drunk you start sitting on his lap telling him you want to go.

to make matters worse, he's trying to talk to the older couples as well, trying to make small talk by asking how quickly the marriage ended into the honeymoon stage, "so was it 3 days? i mean-listen between you and me, my lady and i would like to go into our honeymoon as soon as possible."

then he would give you a firm pat on the bum before you gasped and whispered your apologies.�� 

the two of you are horrible at weddings, and yet somewhat endearing. everyone knows rafe as the big bad wolf, but standing next to your giggly persona, a sweetness that radiates off you - he looks almost....soft.

people can see the way his eyes continuously linger over you, and how he always manages to weasel his way into the conversations you have. but he doesn't bother what others think of him, rather he stares at your bright smile and feels love grow in his heart.

especially when the heels get too much for you.

"rafe?" you mewled, practically on the floor. he looked shocked staring at your small figure under the table.

"what the hell are you doing down there?" he hisses, as you give him a dazed smile. clearly, you've had something to drink as you bite your lip before giggles escape your mouth. your laughter is a clear sign of how much you've had to drink

you sigh, tugging at the straps of your shoes, "can't get them off?"

he shakes his head, "why did you wanna wear them in the first place."

at this you pout, tilting your head down almost in sadness, "'cause they looked cute." finally, he grunts before his coarse fingers reach down to fix your heels. you let out a sign of relief when the heels unbuckle, and he stares at you with an exaggerated look.

now it's your turn to smile, "lets go home!"

you know what's coming, but you enjoy it anyway. he bundles you up in his arms - bridal style (he's horrible at weddings, yes he is,) hand supporting your back as you shyly wave your friends goodbye.

you're excited to be a mrs. cameron.

[neverfilth]

"Bloberta made Clay drink so-"

OKAY, BUT DO YOU KNOW WHY?

Let me explain

'Help'.

A very important word when describing Bloberta.

First, it is integral to understand that Bloberta feels torturously alone and unwanted. Her friends are all getting married while she has no one.

She isn't clever enough to help Censordoll.

Her own family leaves her out of the family choir. 

And the only crumb of validation she is offered is from her mother.

“Why don't you help me out and… Clean your room?” Note even the slight pause her mother has, as if she doesn't even know what to do with Bloberta.

Next, we see her trudge to her room. And what does she hide under the covers of her bed?

A flask.

She turns to alcohol when she is confronted with how unwanted she is. But where did that draw to alcohol come from?

We know she comes from a home where she is ultimately ignored and seen as valueless by everyone except one person.

Her Father.

I have a lot of thoughts about Bloberta and Raymond's relationship (the one scene where they interact just UGH LIVES IN MY HEAD) but the main thing to get away from it is that she associates the act of drinking with her Father.

A man who, without alcohol, is unable to speak his mind at all. He drinks to better tolerate his situation and his wife, who clearly doesn't value his words or opinions.

But Bloberta is very receptive to her Father, she greatly values his company and his thoughts and she finds comfort in being around him. She feels like someone cares about her and values her even if she knows he can't change anything.

Notice that despite her desperation to speak with her father, to form that connection that would validate her, she can't even touch him because she knows doing so would break the frail connection they have currently. Her Father is so reserved that at this point, any unexpected emotional reach would immediately cause him to shut down and retreat. Demonstrated just by him closing up immediately after she told him she loved him.

So how does this affect Blobertas perception of alcohol?

Well she says it herself.

"I think it helps us to be better people".

This rationality was reinforced by the small acts of kindness her father would show her.

And we don't have any reason to believe she is lying about this because up until the night of the reception, she's experienced nothing that contradicts this belief.

Bloberta's reliance on alcohol can be seen as her reaching for a solution to her need to feel wanted. She knows she's left out, both by friends and family. But if she believes drinking can make you become a better person? Then of course she would drink, because maybe then someone will want her.

What does she say directly after that?

"My Father drinks.”

Further insinuating her belief that he is good and he is the main reason she sees alcohol as a positive force.

She thought it would genuinely help Clay.

There's that word again.

Importantly, notice her clear anxiety and tenseness in her beginning interactions with Clay. From her first question, their conversation began falling apart.

So what happened?

Just after the wedding, she was almost suave in the way she invited Clay to the reception.

Why was she so nervous now?

Well, in her eyes, this was her chance.

After an undisclosed time of having no luck she finally convinces a handsome single man to have some semblance of a date with her.

She NEEDS this to go well.

So she's obviously anxious and stressed, and that's showing, but she figures that some drinks will make it easier for both of them. She's full panicking because she feels it's just so normal to drink, especially socially, and she can't understand why he wouldn't drink. She has no frame of reference for that mindset.

Things are already awkward between them once they settle in, and its not getting better. So of course she is going to fall back on what makes things easier for her.

And initially things are looking up.

Suddenly Clay's more talkative, and more receptive to what she's saying.

He's complimenting her.

He says she helped him.

The one thing she wants more than anything is to feel useful, she wants to be able to fit into that role that everyone expects her to so that she can be of worth to someone.

She isn't worth it to her peers,

she isn't worth it to her family,

but she could be worth it to him.

This only reinforces her resolve. 

This is it.

She is going to finally find her place to fit in, and everyone will welcome her with open arms as she finally finds her place in the role society has chosen for her.

But it's not that simple.

Things go south quickly, Clay doesn't want these things that Bloberta has to have. 

But she needs them.

To Bloberta, those things are proof of your value. The value society, friends, and family place on you.

Who would she be if she couldn't attain that value?

We again recognize that Bloberta has a fixation on being helpful. Helpfulness is the clearest indication of one's value, after all.

After being turned away by Clay, she immediately returns to a default ‘helpful’ act, cleaning. Just like her mother would tell her to do. But this was still her only chance, and Clay had already told her she had helped him. If she could only help him again, then maybe she had a chance at the real value she craved.

Once her anger passes and Clay sobers up, she returns to him and paints herself as ‘helpful’ as possible. She's desperate for that validation again, and if he would agree to her help then everything would certainly be fine.

She is practically begging him, help becomes a plea for him to save her from the pain of her day to day.

She hopes more than anything he will accept her and make all her pain go away.

He does accept, but in exchange, her previous world view is shattered.

Drinks don't help you become a better person.

They just help your true nature come out.

[picklebunbun]

summary; You've had relationship problems with Ratio, even through your wedding preparations. You weren't even sure if you wanted to get married and you ultimately chose to leave him at the alter because you couldn't take it anymore

﹒🪼| ౨ৎ˚₊‧ | ↪ ; cw ; this is supposed to make you cry, implied? cheating?mentions of emotional relationship neglect, Dr. Ratio is upset in this one, everyone is invited except those stupid fucking losers (Jade and Sparkle), even idrilla is there

๋࣭ ⭑ Dr. Ratio x GN Reader, Modern AU, you/yours pronouns, you will be referred to spouse, no AGAB, reader doesn't specifically have a dress or suit but will be implied as a 'bride' { they walk down the aisle and wear white },

{ angel's notes 🪽; I know I've been gone for a long time, I just started freshman year and everything has been piling on, I'll try to make more updates with requests. This took way too long }

lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.

now playing [fish.]

0:26 ———♡——— 3:50

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

italics; thinking | bold; yelling

Silence..

You stare at the stained window, you've been meaning to clean it for a while, but just couldn't find the motivation to do so. The candle by your bedside going out, as you stared at the window for what seems to be hours. Completely empty, eyes growing tired as you continue to patiently wait for your fiance ,

mm,,, no,, that word didn't feel quite right

What else are you supposed to call him anyways? You looked down, of course he did it again, he always does this, what's the point of getting married if you don't have enough time for your partner? If this is what commitment looks like,, then I don't want it

It seemed like the educated man was staying home from work, this always happens, what did you expect? It's not like the relationship was supposed to last this long, you weren't even sure if you wanted to get married in the first place, everything just happened too fast, like everything spiraled in one. Why was it in that moment that you felt so sure that this was the path you wanted to choose? Was it how lonely you were? Veritas wasn't a bad lover, but it would've been preferable if he didn't ignore them most of the time, which was because of work. The thing was , you suspected that there was this co-worker, that Ratio often spent time with, had this crush on him. It was this blonde man, with unbelievably beautiful eyes, flamboyant yet extravagant sense of style, he always smelt like a bakery, vanilla with a hint of floral essence. It definitely made you nervous, it was Aventurine, right?

You brought it up with the Greek man, to which he caressed your back and kissed your panic away. It's not like he's a terrible boyf... err.. fiance. He won't cheat, he's not that type of person. He just has a lot going on, that's why he's at work all the time.. but what if it's to see that shorter man, he could be his type, this is so surreal, I can't feel my face, what do I do? What do I do? I just want to go home..

This deep pit in your stomach became more evident as you..

..held him

Told him that you loved him

Kissed him

You put a hand over their mouth, a jittering feeling over-taking you as you felt more sick. Stop deceiving him like this, he's done so much for you, why can't you see that,

This hollow hole rested in your entire being, nothing had any color. In any moment, there could be an intruder and you wouldn't know, just too distracted by your thoughts swallowing them whole. You grasp for your greasy, unkept hair, been meaning to wash it for days but never got to it. Tears swell up as an air bubble gets lodged in the your throat, gasping for air as you try to get over your anxiety attack, neck feeling sore as you continue soaking in your tears. The room was spinning, it set in on how alone everything was, everything was feeling so uncomfortable now, nothing is correct anymore.

"someone help me.."

a meekly voice erupts,

but no one will hear you

The scenery was beautiful, a vibrant orange and purple sunset cascaded over the venue. It was at a ginormous church, freshly polished ivory walls, decorated with gold linings. The roof was painted with cherubs, faint but noticeable. Golden frames make sure to accentuate the oil painting of Mother Mary. An eccentric church, Dr. Ratio would've pegged it to be a catholic institution, to which, as always, he was correct.

Pillars centering towards the pink blossom archway. Herta was there as well, she just wanted to be there to judge everything rather than being emotional support, you looked at Dr. Ratio inspecting everything, he was always so meticulous about these types of buildings. From what you recalled, Veritas used to think that structures with a maximalist style always had something wrong with the actual structure, he always said that they try to hide something behind all the glamour. It was humiliating just looking at him, the priest and betrothed being exchanged glances as Veritas knocked on the girthy, stained glass. It was art of Jesus Christ with two divine servants at his feet, exquisitely crafted. It was just his way to see how thick and secure it was. The whole church must've taken at least 10 years straight to skillfully complete the entire establishment.

You dove your hands in your pockets. The frost biting at your reddening fingertips, fluffy snow covered the car by now, the weather was not suitable for a warm-welcoming wedding, but it was what Veritas wanted, so that is what he got. To be honest, you didn't really do anything for the planning, Ratio just told you to not worry about preparation and to relax, nothing really interesting these days. you can see the glistering, ivory slush on the exterior of the venue. Veritas' co=workers would think that this would be an immensely magnificent place, being tempted to touch everything.

"Veritas, I think the church is fine"

You sigh out, this was getting too awkward for you.

"Hold on, dear"

The woman in purple robes speaks up, talking to you.

"How much did you spend on this alone?"

"You should ask him, he's been the one doing all the planning"

"How come? You didn't want to be involved?"

"Eh,, it's not that, he just didn't want me to help him I guess"

"Did he not trust you?"

"N...no, it's not that, we just fought a lot about it"

"Is it because of the decorations? Did you not want a wedding?"

You feel throw up come up

"No, no, I do want to get married.."

"Are you sure? If I didn't know any better, I would've assumed that you didn't want to get married"

The porcelain soul giggled, and you gave a half-hearted one. You felt your heart sinking as well, remembering that you did indeed have to marry this man, is it too late to back out? That comment made you stare at the floor, nothing on your mind, it took you aback. You felt your muscles getting heavier with each passing second, it didn't help that every minute you spent at this idiotic place was excruciatingly painful.

You felt your nostrils flare from the rapid heating traveling to your face. The major migraine coming through as you re-play the recent scenarios through your head, flying off the handle. How irritating and bothersome,

Can he just hurry up?

Honestly. How long do I have to wait here for?

The church is completely fine!

Why is he being so dramatic!

This is getting so annoying.

JUST HURRY UP

Your fingers tapped the side of your thigh as your jaw clenches, it would've hurt if your weren't acting like a bear with a sore head. The sole of your shoes aggressively drummed against the polished, marble floors. The ache in your brain was getting worse, god, it was insufferable, just like Ratio's tedious need to check everything in place, it's like you can never win! An exasperated groan escaped your lips.

"Veritas, let's go."

"Hold on, [name]"

Seeming to not pay any mind to your tone, since he was basically measuring the elongated, wooden seats, he responded carelessly.

Oh, he's really in it now.

"Let's go."

"In a minute"

Oh my god?!

"Veritas."

"Just wait-"

you grind your teeth as your anger reaches a boiling point

"DAMN IT! RATIO"

His head whips back, pupils shrink as his eyelids widen. Herta looked at you, judgment coursing through her mind, seems like she wasn't all that surprised, but she still let out a little 'yikes'. You crossed your arms against your chest, you were gripping the sides of your arm sleeves, it felt like they were going to rip off. The echo from your shout faded into obscurity, it was the silence that followed after that seemed to be blaring in your ears. The immense space of the Lord’s house was what made your hollering almost deafening, it would be no surprise if outsiders could’ve heard you. Ratio waits for a second before finally getting up, not wanting to aggravate you even further. You see him dust off any soot that remained stuck on his pants, footsteps approach you, indicating that he’s coming closer, he begins to dubiously suggest to exit, whenever you blew a fuse, it was pretty effortless to lash out.

“Alright, then.. let’s go”

"You two can proceed without me, I'll remain here a while longer"

You lumber to the car, Veritas following behind you. Crunchy, thin layers of snow compressed under your foot. Blusterous winds coming at you, gnawing on your nose and cheeks, your thews were getting numb from the frost. Jesus, how do people live in this weather?! While walking, you took the chance to puff on your stinging hands, the numbness leaving your skin. Oh, how you long to place your hand over a fire, pyro flames crackling from the moisture escaping. Ash would be decorated around the fireplace, it give the comforting feeling that you're back home and never have to leave. The heat would engulf you, hugging you as it protects you from the cold. Not even massaging your upper arms would fully reheat you back, Mother Nature was not gentle this season, attacking outsiders vigorously.

Creased brows adorned Veritas' face, a dip was shown between his eyebrows. His crossed arms and the needless stomping of his feet made it apparent that he was getting exacerbated by the previous predicament. The Greek man's upper half was lunging towards the driver's seat. Ratio used to hold the door for you, it was his way of being polite, you would be lying if you didn't have a soft spot for that tiny habit of his, it'd touch your heart. Although, now, he didn't do it,

The audacity..!

Does he know how he already treats me?

And he's the angry one?

Stop throwing a tantrum Ratio.

Ignoring how you behaved wouldn't make you feel better, but you were just so pent up from Veritas' emotional neglect and the constant worrying about that colleague, especially since he's so flirtatious with him.

Agh! It was so distressing just seeing them together,

I just want to wipe that smug look off his face,

worse part is, Ratio invited him to the wedding,

I told him that he makes me uneasy,

I know he's trying to steal Ratio,

why can't he just listen to me?!

You were getting furious again, the way you slammed the car could've made it obvious enough. You two were truly a match made in heaven to be worked up at the same time. Huffing and puffing in your seats while you two look straight ahead, the scorching temperature in your coat along with the feverishness from your wrathful attitude made it unbearable to stay still, it felt like your skin was being pricked with blazing needles. The tension between you two was so thick that you could cut it with a knife, only god knows how this is going to go down.

" What. Was. That."

You mentally sigh,

"How do you mean?"

"The minor altercation you had esteemed with me at the church—might there be a particular rationale for your current discontent, manifesting in such unseemly volumes directed at me?"

"I.. just wanted to go home"

"Are you so pessimistic as to raise your voice in my presence? I think not."

"Ugh.. I don't want to have this conversation with you.."

"You were quite insistent in having vociferously summoned my attention."

"That's because I didn't feel well and wanted to go home!"

"Might you kindly elucidate the matter that troubles you, or shall you indulge in yet another of your temper tantrums?"

"Why are you this agitated about the fact that I asked if we could go?!"

"Screech not asked."

You shriek in rage, you shuffled in your seat as fire boils up to your cheeks. Sweat beads down your forehead from how overwhelmed you were.

"This epitomizes my point, you have retreated like an infant."

"You keep badgering me expecting an answer but sometimes I just don't want to respond because you have this urge to insult me for how I feel!"

"Such a predicament could have been averted had you communicated with me."

"Ratio! You barely have the time to actually listen, it's like I have to beg you to do it! Even when you do, you NEVER listen You're focused on work and not the wedding, which I originally wanted to help with by the way! You're focused on that slutty, blonde co-worker of yours more than your own future spouse, huh?!"

"Aventurine?! Shall we PERSIST in this discourse? I have conveyed to you that there is no intimate relationship between us. What further assurances do you seek? Am I unable to indulge your desires ?!"

"Why are you acting like it's an issue to comfort me?!"

"It's like I constantly have to console you, it never ends with you!"

"Are you kidding me?! Do you know how Aventurine looks at you, oh my Aeons, Veritas! It's like he's eye-fucking you right in front of me!"

"No he doesn't, this is what you do, you blow everything out of proportion, what is happening with you?!"

"Oh, I'm sure you don't know how I feel because you're too busy spending time with that HOMEWRECKER"

"Stop criticizing him with high-school insults , you're acting like a toddler, [Name]!"

"I can't even believe this, you won't ask why I've been changing but you'll immediately point how how I'm complaining about that blonde bimbo?! Do you even care?!"

"Of course I care, but you insulting my dearest friend won't make you feel better"

dearest friend?!

"Really?! Dearest friend?! HAH! Don't make me laugh!"

"Do you want me to brag about you all the time?! Is that what this is?!"

"You sure as hell don't have a problem talking about Aventurine!"

"DEFENDING him is not the same as complimenting"

"All this time we've been arguing, never ONCE have you mentioned how alone I feel, you've just been focused on that whore!"

"Because I don't know what you want me to say, what more can I do, I can't fix your insecurities for you!"

"I'm not asking you to, I just want you to be there for me!"

" There's always something with you, sometimes it's just draining being with you. I just wish for once you could stop dragging everyone down with you, you've become ill, I can't even recognize you! You just spew ignorance just from this conversation!"

...

Your breath hitches, this sense of betrayal hunches over you. Your voice gets caught in your throat, heart pounding as you could hear it thunderously breaking out of your chest. It's like your consciousness was detached from your whole body, you could feel the water works were coming to you. No control over what your brain decides to do, and you feel pain in your hit you square in the gut, no, he was hitting you in the gut. The utter cruelness you had to reach in order to tell your fiance off because they were discussing their feelings was astounding. Oh, how you wish that you could go back to the espresso scented mornings, and shared baths. Why did everything have to turn out this way,

Why did I have to make it this way

Voice shrill as you accidentally let out a tiny cry. You turn your head to view the car window. The sight was not pleasant, it's an eyesore looking at broken down, rusty cars being trapped in snow. Wore down tires stuck to the road from the frost. and beaten-in dents really accentuated how crappy the car is. The ugliest thing by far were the moldy plazas, the signs were growing mysterious brown stains, it looks like it hasn't cleaned in years.

You could feel Veritas' eyes burning in the back o your skull, the worst feeling is knowing that someone's blue in the face by how your coming off, and the most wretched thing about it is that you know that it's most likely entirely your fault.

Hot teardrops run down your cheeks, trying to simultaneously brush them away with your sleeve. It's not like Ratio would reassure you, whenever you end up crying after an argument, he doesn't. He always said how you brought it upon yourself, that you shouldn't have tried to verbally brawl with him if you were going to end up wailing.

I wish I could call mom right now..

"Are you going to call your mother like you always do?"

He deeply exhales at your foolishness,

You look back at him, a glare goes right for him, your eyes were puffy from how your water blobs overpower your eyes' the drainage system. The hell is wrong with this man?

"None of your business."

"That's what you always do anyways I don't even need to ask."

"To hell with you, it must be nice thinking you've won this dispute, everything is just a competition to you, even your own fiance's feelings."

You breathe out a mini "asshole", the ferocity of your anger was shown from how brutally you shut the car door.

..

This was all a mistake

You weren't supposed to marry him yet

but you can't back out now

what a nasty man...

No no no no no no no no no no no nononononononononono...

It's gone

It's completely gone

I lost it

nonononononononononononononononoNONONONONONO

You were pacing around the room, there was this beautiful golden necklace that disappeared, a thick Singaporean necklace which was plated in diamonds. The center of it all was a beautiful... jade or aventurine gem, You prayed to god that it wasn't an aventurine gem. Despite that, it fit with the jewelry nicely, reflective and a stunning little thing. It was a grim couple of weeks, After that squabble with Veritas, you broke down, it was the late night fretting that really got to you. Fly-aways in your hair became worse, and it was getting really tiring to untangle it every time, it feels like you have to battle with it just to keep it mildly tame.

You placed both your hands on your heartbeat, you couldn't believe this, how did you lose such a treasure in such a short amount of seconds. You've checked EVERYWHERE, under the couch placed in the dressing room, the vanity, the bathroom, behind the potted plants, but nothing. Oh, Aeons, this is the worse, you idiot! how did you lose it this quickly!

Damn it, Ratio is not going to let you hear the end of it

Desperately looking for a sign, something to give you a hint to where it is.

Aeons, please help me..

You've been ready for quite a while, but it was just that one piece that was missing..

AND IT WAS THAT STUPID NECKLACE!

You stumble back, your back calf bumping into the stool seat. You're fingers ravels across your whole face. Is it just you, or is the air getting harder to respire in. Heat flashes overtake you as your blood runs cold. You can hear yourself hyperventilating, wheezes escaping your mouth as you attempt to tranquil yourself. It was hard to exhale in general, each time you felt a puff wander up your esophagus, a sharp, sore pain pricks your nerves. Sweat enclose on your whole body from head to toe, your skin feels extremely sticky, smelling your incredibly slicked hair just from the moisture.

Exceedingly shaky hands try to reach for your ice cold water, contrasting with your heating hands. When the frigid glass met your skin, it startled you, causing you to immediately drop your cup on instinct. Fresh water spilling everywhere, covering decoration pieces and the spotless, clear mirror. You internally curse yourself out before you scream it out,

"SHIT!"

This dramatic gasp was hear, it was you. You try to wipe the water on your expensive outfit, but decided against it. Your enchanting outfit was hand-crafted by Tingyun herself, and she clearly stated that your ivory, platinum attire should not get wet as it would ruin the material. Not really remembering anything after that, all that your brain could muster up was the fox lady making operatic gestures on how absolutely "dangerous" it is to drench the clothing with any fluid.

You can not take that possible risk and ruin the matrimony any longer. This day was just splendid, you have nowhere to wipe your soaked hands, you lost your (almost) husband's vital necklace, and now you're sniffling from the fact that you're about to cry. This day was a mess- no.. maybe it was a sign being wedded was not the ideal situation for your destiny.

I just can't take this anymore,

my makeup is going to get ruined

Aventurine is here

I can't find that damn adornment

I spilt water

I'm just a complete mess..

I.. can't do this anymore..

The trickles of a familiar saline liquid fall down your lashes. Restrained sobs flee from your grasp as you try to stay quiet. Your chest rapidly went up and down, hoping to still your breath, but it didn't work-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

AAAAHHHHHHH WHAT THE FUCK!

You shout

"AH!-"

"[Name]? It's Topaz!"

"Uhm- and Aventurine.."

You grimaced just by the mention of his name,

"Ack! Whatever, are you okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah, we heard you crying"

As if you'd fucking care!

"em.. uh.. yeah.. I'm.. okay.."

It got muted, everything was serene. It gives you a chance to catch your breath and tranquilize your state of mind. You view your trembling hands that wouldn't settle themselves. Perturbed eyes that got more damaged from the high concentration of salt.

"[Name]."

"Yeah..?"

"Please don't lie to me"

...

"Sorry... You guys can come in"

You swiftly swab away your tears, nose sniffling. Your throat felt sticky with the mucus covering it. This uncontrollable throbbing pain was getting more apparent, it was vague but you could still undoubtedly feel it. The blaring illumination from the vanity mirror was just making it worse. It's like a hangover, maddening and agonizing, you have to wait all day until the bothersome migraine flees away.

The door creaks open, this sudden pain shoots through your ears and brain from the mosquito-like noise. Topaz was wearing this beautiful silk dress, flashy but sophisticated, gleaming gold arches on her dress are placed on her rib area. this exquisitely detailed pendant was connected to a shiny, band on her neck. It was all decorated in a French-style.

Topaz had this uneased expression on her face, she rushed her way towards you. The woman didn't have time to pull up a chair, her friend was in distress, and as a bridesmaid, she was determined to drop everything to aid you. Her manicured hand rests on your cheek, it's soft, and strangely comforting.

Aventurine, on the other hand, was standing near the doorway. He had this floral embroidered waistcoat, it was a dusty pink, damn he looked good. Under the vest, a puffy, Ouji dress shirt fit nicely with the rest of the outfit. It was a pristine, pale color, everything about his attire just screamed polished. Reflective, blonde locks were ornamented with blooming hairpieces.

"What happened? Are you nervous about the wedding? Oh, I'm sure Dr. Ratio will think your absolutely gorgeous-"

"-No.. no.. no, it's just that.. I lost this stupid necklace that Veritas gave me. I can't find it anywhere, and I'm scared that he'll get mad at me.."

Topaz and Aventurine exchanged troubled glances.

"Ah... well.. uhm, I'm sure he won't get mad!"

Easy for you to say!

"He'll only get mad if you don't tell him early on"

Oh, I'm sure you'd know, Aventurine.

"Right! We should tell him now!"

..What

"W.. What?! No!"

"Don't worry it'll be fine! If you tell him right now then you won't have to worry after! I'll be back!"

"Wait! Topaz!"

You reach out to pull her back, but her wrist disappears before you can even touch it. Topaz picks a bit of her dress up so her heels wouldn't trap it, it was a floor-length, dark, barbie pink, it was also provided by Tingyun, for free at that.

There was this mortified look on your face, your eyelids were expansive. The world was crumbling right before you, ready to get faced with Veritas' disastrous fury. Lava would be swarming over you if he found out, Aeons, he'd be so inflamed with you.

My life is so over.

Your heart was going up your esophagus, you can feel it pulsing with all it's power. Your organs can feel the impending doom coming up, your stomach was bubbling, your lungs were rapidly gasping for air, your brain was panicking, all these scenarios were running through your head.

Your head was down, you can't even look at him, you'd just turn into a pitiful goop on the floor, stuck to it for eternity. Aventurine was still in the room, unsure of what to do. He had the idea that you did despise the very existence of him, so he wasn't sure if he should even dab your skin with his velvet glove.

You hear heels clacking

she's coming back, and with Ratio, you presume

Oh no

Are you going to vomit or burp

Either way something's coming up

"Topaz, what was so urgent that you had to rush me over to my future spouse's dressing room"

?

huh.. ?

"It's just something important!"

You can hear a snort come up, it seemed to be Aventurine.

What's so funny, Aventurine.

"What's so funny, Aventurine?"

"Just the new 'sunglasses' you have, they really fit you, Doctor~"

He purrs at Dr. Ratio, what the hell is wrong with him?!

He's basically making ou- wait what? Sunglasses?

You pick your head up

what the?!

There it was, Topaz, on her tippy toes, her hands barely reaching his eyebrows. Her whole body was strained just to cover his eyes. It seemed like Ratio had to bend his knees a bit just so she had an easier time.

"Topaz, please uncover my eyes"

"No can do! You can't see them before the wedding, it's bad luck!"

I think this whole ceremony is an indication of bad luck

You hear Veritas sigh

"What's the problem that was so critical for me to hear"

Topaz gestures for you to say it, her eyes beaming bright, and a supportive smile dousing her lips.

uhm..

"Uh.. uhm.."

"Hm?"

"Uhm.."

...

"I might've lost the necklace you gave me..."

"Dear, I can't hear you if you speak so quietly"

"I.. lost the necklace.."

"What?"

"I lost the.. necklace you gave me..:

"."

...

"Excuse me?"

Ouhhh....

"I.. uhm.."

"What is wrong with you?! Do you just lose everything that I give you?!"

Your head immediately perks up to look at him.

"It was just a-"

"[Name], I give you a necklace ESPECIALLY for YOU to wear. How. Do. You. Lose. It."

"I did have it, you don't have to yell at me!"

"CLEARLY, not since you just somehow lost it, how insolent do you have to be"

"ok, Doctor-"

"Not now, Aventurine."

"You make enough money to buy a second one, It's not like I lost it on purpose!"

"It's not that, it's the fact that you're so FORGETFUL that you just misplace ANYTHING I give you. You have to be more responsible I can't KEEP HOLDING YOUR HAND"

"STOP YELLING AT ME"

The Doctor rips Topaz's hands of his face

"Ratio!-"

"It seems that you didn't lose your phone, what? Are you gonna call your mom again?!"

"Why do you keep bringing her up?!"

"Because, you ALWAYS RUN from your problems"

"I DON'T RUN, YOU'RE JUST NEVER THERE"

"THIS AGAIN, HONESTLY, STOP ACTING LIKE A CHILD"

...

"..."

".. I'm going back, get ready."

"..."

You can hear his formal, polish, black leather shoes tromp on the floor, and even louder was the thunderclap following the door slam. You flinched, now hyper-aware of everything, it's like your lungs were feebly inhaling, hands cupped up as they were placed upon your chest. Little sharp coughs release the ache in your throat walls, a corrosive feeling in your eyes weren't as tormenting as the images of Ratio's expressively wrathful face.

Low sobs were getting muffled from the seclusion of your hands. Your back was hunched, legs pressed together tightly, like sardines. It's like someone punched the air right out of you, making it difficult to breathe through your blubbering, messy breakdown.

"Oh, geez, uhm- here, [Name]"

You could hear Topaz's fancy heels making their way towards you. She lifts your head up and leisurely wipes your tears away with a soft, cotton tissue.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's going to be okay. He's just stressed because it's his big day. Before you know it, everything will end up perfect, this is just a little hiccup, you'll be okay"

"Oh, shoot.. make sure their make-up doesn't get ruined.."

Aventurine makes his way over to you, he dabs your cheeks with his finger to fix your blush.

"You look so beautiful, [Name]"

"Yeah, Ratio will realize how pretty you are"

"Hey, do you think the church would know if a cherub figure was missing?"

"Depends on how big it is"

"It's pretty tiny, it so pretty though, I just want to snatch it up!"

muffled

..

Aeons, they're so annoying

Could you just stop talking

Stop touching my face.

Stop touching my hair.

Stop it,

Stop it, stop it,

StopstopstopstopstopstopstopstOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP IT STOP IT I DON'T LIKE THIS

"CAN YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!"

The duo's hands abruptly pause. trembling hands reach your face, feeling your wet cheeks, Your whole body was shuddering from the aggravation coursing through your body. You can feel your entire head tottering uncontrollably, hot flashes coming in and out.

"Wh-"

"I just can't,,,- do this anymore!"

You shove their hands away as you rose up from your seat, your leg bulldozing the seat out of the way, almost tripping on the way to the bathroom.

"Wait! Are-"

SLAM

...

Wedding bells ring, piercing through your ears. This church was aged, the bells were still intact, the workers were taking special care of this long-lived building. It was a truly magnificent venue, as elegant as Dr. Ratio, or, at least his tastes. The perfume of the bouquet was infiltrating your nostrils,

EVERYONE was invited, even idrila, which was who Argenti was looking for, anyone could see that rose-headed knight searching around. His armor was getting noisy, irritating the guests. Topaz was a bridesmaid, and Screwllum was the best man, right by the groom's side. Clara was the most excited, other than Ratio, she was a flower girl. Pink, sparkly, blossoming mini-heels, they weren't the cheap princess ones that toddlers usually get for their birthday party, but instead made of the most intricate crystals. Her dress was completely pink with a blinging gemstone tiara to match her curly up-do.

It was a full house, something that made you nervous. You didn't feel your best, or looked your best, this contagious feeling of suspense was pulling you back. Oh no, this isn't what you wanted, this isn't what you should have.

You found the damned necklace, you should be thrilled that you discovered it. You should be cheerful that you're going to finally marry this man.

You should be..

But you're not.

You were devoid of any happiness, the sight of his face makes you sick. Even worse, the sight of him with that enchantress makes you get more ill. Veritas isn't the right one, you should've said something a long time ago.

Your legs unconsciously move back,

You have to walk the aisle

Oh Aeons, the music's starting

You have to stay

No

You have to move, this isn't how you'll live you're life

You don't deserve this anymore

Move

MOVE

All of a sudden, The carnations and roses got launched on the floor, the petals falling off. Such exquisiteness shouldn't merit such treatment, but neither should you. Your back slouched, like someone gagging over a sink, knees buckled. Sweat beading in your forehead, hands vigorously gripping that stupid necklace.

Diamonds falling everywhere, little thuds appearing on the red carpet.

..

Veritas' huffed out some frustration, fixing his collar. Today was supposed to be perfect, but he ruined it by squalling at his fiance. How stupid could he honestly be, it was really just a necklace, not even a valuable heirloom. He had to confess, he was a little tense from the amount of people present. Ratio was never the uneasy one, it was usually you, he just spewed pride, whether it was his intelligence or his body. Even worse, you were most likely disturbed from how he treated you.

He mentally facepalms himself from how idiotic he was being. The Grecian has noticed your deteriorating psychological state, he shouldn't have triggered it any longer.

The man noticed everyone rubbing their arms, he should've turned on the heater. It was terribly frigid, icicles could form inside the church if they wanted to. Normally, Veritas wouldn't even notice how chilly it was, always setting the thermostat 60 or below. You used to reprimand him, complaining about that he lives with another person and how he should stop changing it to a frosty temperature.

However, he was amazingly stubborn, so he continued doing it. In the winter, it was a nuisance to deal with. It was so fatiguing tackling the heavy snow and dense ice off your tires so your car could move, and it was worse coming home to a house that was the same degree as Antarctica.

Silly bickers would arise from it, but no matter how many disputes you two had, it seemed that the scholar would rather that than even consider raising the thermostat. It's not like it was that alone

Every single time, his hardheadedness got the best of him, and he'd only be left with nobody but himself

Dr. Ratio saw how queasy Topaz and Aventurine were. First of all, the blonde man was rubbing his neck and keep messing with his watch, Topaz eyes darted everywhere, she tapped her foot on the ground rapidly.

Huh, it seems like the ceremony was about to begin

Ratio fixed himself up as much as he could.

,,,

It seemed like you were a little late.

.

..

...

Uh..

Everyone immediately looked at the man.

The worst was true to come.

You weren't there.

He looks at Topaz,

She looks back, a petrified look appears on her face,

He looks at Aventurine,

This surprised look appears on his face.

Oh no,

Ratio finally realized

..

You were gone

and so was your mother.

,,

A few gasps were heard, everyone knew what happened

Veritas rushes behind the marble doors, it was extreme in weight, but no match for Ratio

..

All he saw, was a broken necklace and a destroyed bouquet on the floor.

[theyrealllesbians]

Regulus was manically pacing around his room, playing with the cord at the base of the phone.

"What do you mean there's another one?" He asked in an exasperated tone, rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and fight the annoyed headache he could feel brewing.

"Another wedding invitation has just come for you, from Emmaline Vance? Wait was she the one who was obsessed with Peter and would try to dance with him at every party for like a year?" Sirius said, getting progressively louder and more excited as he carried on.

"Yes." Regulus bit out. He really could not be bothered to go to another wedding. Why did everyone want to get married all of a sudden, it's only been a couple, wait no 7 years, since he left high school. God, how had it been 7 years already? "Surely I don't have to go. I can just RSVP back saying 'thanks, but no thanks' that'll work right?"

Regulus didn't even really understand why he was getting so many invitations. He'd had 5 wedding invites so far, 2 baby showers which he was not going to and 2 reunion dinners. Of course his own brother's wedding invitation was not included in this list of grievances. He's never dare complain about having to watch the happiest day of Sirius's life. Even just hearing him and Remus try and sort out the last few details made his heart warm in a way that he would never dare admit to.

"Come on, you have to!" Sirius exclaimed. "Everyone will want to see you. Besides all of us," 'us' being Sirius, Remus, James, Peter, Lily, Mary, Marlene and Dorcas, "are going and I refuse to spend another evening answering a million questions about you when you could just get over yourself and come!!!!"

Sirius was referring to the last high school reunion that happened 2 years ago that he had refused to go to. Apparently, Sirius spent the whole night getting asked about Regulus's whereabouts and what he was doing, if it was true that he had refused to work in the family business, whether he was gay and if so, was he single?

"Ugh," he groaned, "if I do go, and that's an if! I'll need a date. Where am I supposed to get a date on such short notice." Regulus's head was now beginning to ache as it had threatened to do so at the thought of having to sit through a wedding with someone he barely knew just to show that he wasn't alone and that he was doing well for himself.

"I don't know, do I? I mean you don't have to have a date." Sirius suggested, speaking through a mouth of some form of food.

"I do though don't I, otherwise I'll just get pitying looks the entire night. Or worse, people coming up to me trying to ask me out." He shivered at the thought.

Sirius choked a little, "That's a bit cocky don't you think?"

"No I don't think it is actually, not after I had Gideon touching my knee last month asking if I'd 'be interested in a night to remember', I cannot do that again. I just can't," he whined. He may as well have stomped his feet to go along with the toddler type tantrum he was getting close to. But Regulus did not care, he was being entirely serious when he said he could not do it again.

"Fine then, go with Barty?" Sirius suggested.

"Can't he's already going with Evan." Regulus responded, damning them both because it wouldn't be a half bad idea.

"Act as if you're in a throuple, you could pull it off." Sirius teased.

"Sirius" Regulus whined again, he needed real solutions.

"Pandora?"

"Doesn't really work now that everyone knows I'm gay." Regulus was getting tired now, why did he call his brother again? Oh right he didn't, Sirius called him because Regulus is currently on a work trip and Sirius is watering his plants and clearly snooping through his post.

"Well, I don't have any other ideas. This is why you need more friends." Sirius said matter of factly.

"To have as back up wedding guests?"

"Yes, that's what we do all the time. I don't actually think that anyone really knows who is with who. Oh, you could go with James. I don't think he was planning to go with anyone."

"Yeah, pass." He would not go with James Potter. Not for any particular reason, he just couldn't.

"Right well, I can't help you"

"Apparently so. I'm gonna go" Regulus just needed to lie down and think about what he was gonna do. He still had a month to figure it all out.

"Alright, see you soon, call me if you need anything else." Sirius said, trying to maintain his 'helpful' older brother personality that he had built.

"Yep will do, bye." Regulus hung up.

He really hated wedding season.

Just had this idea, it will be Jegulus. Kinda fake dating/ friends to lovers type deal. I'm actually pretty excited to start writing it and have quite a few ideas already.

[imyourbratzdoll]

I have a request you are up for it. I kind of had this idea where Steve Rogers really screwed the Reader over in their past relationship and cheated on her with Sharon and dumped the reader for her. Even the avengers don't talk to her anymore and made her look like the toxic one in the relationship. two years later it's his and Sharon's wedding day and it was a beautiful and wonderful, however reader returns and decides to kill seek her revenge on Steve and Sharon and the rest of the team. Let's just say she gets it and Steve suffers. (Reader is a witch by the way)😈

hello honey, I hope you like what I've done.

summary - steve cheats on you, causing the team to turn against you to save the world from hating him. years later, you finally seek your revenge.

warning - angst, torture, cheating, dark content, badass female

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

It had been two years since Steve Rogers broke your heart, you thought that would be the worst of it, but the fact the team turned on you and screwed you over by making it seem like you cheated on Captain America, causing the world to hate you, treating you like shit until the point you snapped. If they wanted a bad guy, they’ll get one. 

You sat in a dark room as the tv played, your ex was getting married to the tramp he cheated on you with. Your golden eyes sharpen as you glare at the screen, causing it to explode in sparks. You grin, the whole team would be in that church, making this so much easier for you. 

Your hands glow as you begin to hover, your long black dress falling gracefully around your legs. “Oh, the day that the Avengers fall and all by my hands.” Your laugh echoes throughout the room and you disappear, reappearing in front of the god-awful building. “Oh god, could their taste be any worse?” Your hands face down, levitating toward the church doors and flinging them open with your magic. The whole room falls quiet. “Well, well. Where was my invitation?” 

Your head tilts as Sharon huffs. “You aren’t welcome here!” Your eyes move around the room, connecting with each person. “Hello? Get the fuck out! Didn’t you realise you weren’t welcomed when Steve left you for me?!” 

You smile, your gaze moves back over to hers and you stare. Watching as she shivers under it. “Sharon, Sharon, Sharon. You should know not to mess with a witch, especially a pissed off one.” Your hand flies up, stopping a bullet midair, you slowly tilt your head, looking at the small metal object before your gaze follows where it came from. A grin forms on your face as you connect with Natasha’s. It appears you found something that made the big Black Widow shudder with fear. 

“Y/n, stop this. You are only hurting yourself.” You blink, once, twice, thrice before your laughter fills the room, sending chills up everyone’s spines. “Why are you laughing?! Do you not realise how insane you look right now?!” 

“Sweet, sweet Natasha.” The bullet melts as you direct your hand toward her, lifting her in the air, watching her dangle as she struggles. “I’m not hurting myself, I’ve finally healed from the pain you all put me through. Because, sure I loved Steve and it felt like my heart had been ripped out when he constantly cheated on me with some wannabe tramp. But I could’ve lived through that, what I wasn’t expecting was the heartbreak from the people I considered family.” A growl rumbles within your throat, eyes glowing brighter with each word and emotion. “I can no longer hurt myself when you did a wonderful job of it for me.” You twitch, you can feel the stupid witch trying to enter your mind, her magic feels like something irritating, like a jumper that continues to itch because someone made it out of that horrible fabric.

You continue your hold on Natasha, turning your head, gold meets red. “What are you doing, Little Witch?” You blink, sending her flying across the room, crashing into a row of ugly flowers, causing you to scrunch your nose. “Ew, who chooses weeds for their special day?” You huff, feeling a body slam into you and your other hand reaches out, strangling Vision as he tries to charge again. “What is with you people, don’t you know it’s rude to just attack a person.”

“Y/n stop. That’s enough.” Two years ago, your heart would’ve pounded inside your chest from hearing his voice. But now, your heart lies cold within your body. The rest of the team that you don’t have a hold on, stand, readying for a fight. It felt comedic. “If you don’t leave, we will make you leave.” 

You throw your head back, letting out another chilling laugh before your head falls forward and you glare at your ex. “You make me leave? Do you think you’re stronger than me? You may be Captain America, but deep down you’re just that weak little boy back in the 40s.” You float over to him, black and gold magic building beneath you in a cloud and the anger builds in your veins. Your hands fly back, throwing those you had in your hold against the church walls before you reach in front, releasing all your magic onto the one man, watching him fall to his knees. “You and your team are no match for me, Steve Rogers. You will never be, you will all fall before you even manage to take me with you.” You lower to the ground, standing over him, leaning over, moving your face close enough that it looks as though you are about to kiss. “You will beg me for your life. It may not be today or a year from now, but you will.” You grip his chin between your fingers, forcing him to look into your eyes as you smile. 

Your eyes flash, stopping Tony from approaching, his Iron Man suit begins to slowly enclose on him, squashing him from the inside. “Not so fast, Mr Stark.” Your magic wraps around Steve’s body, keeping him in his position as you turn and face the rest of the Avengers. You look at each and everyone of them, letting your magic explode around you and the room, wrapping around them. “Soon you will all fall, no longer loved, no longer remembered. The world will move on without you and in your demise, you will beg me for help, falling deeper and onto your knees. Sacrificing your beliefs and pride.” You begin to descend from the steps, smirking. “Hm, why don’t I continue to torture you guys some more.” 

With a wave of your hand, all their nightmares come to life. Every single person or thing that they don’t want to face appear in front of them, torturing them, allowing you to sit back and watch with a smile, a glass of wine appears in your hand as you watch them all suffer. A few hours pass and you grow bored, making everything disappear along with yourself. 

While your magic circulated around them, it allowed you to see their future and it gave you many ideas to how you could continue to ruin their lives. Starting with the man who destroyed you. You close your eyes, feeling your spirit escape you and travel back in time, appearing in front of a woman that many looked up to. 

“Peggy Carter.” She spins, looking around for the voice. Your eyes glow and your magic surrounds her. “The love you feel for Steve Rogers will turn into hate, he will appear soon and will want to stay. You will fill his head with every hurtful thing you’ve thought of. You will see who he really is and how much he has changed when he was the smaller version of himself. You will destroy him, rip out his heart and squash it in front of his eyes. He will finally know how it is to feel his heart being broken.” She blinks, walking over to the photo of Steve, staring at it, and wondering why she has it before Peggy grabs the photo and drops it into the bin. 

You smirk, disappearing back into your time and body. Your eyes open with an evil glint, staring right at the readers.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[mariclerc]

Hi girrrl, I liked the "mafia Charles" series I think it's so amazing!! I would like to know if you will do a third part where they meet the reader's father at an event or something like that.

Omg hiii, I love that people like it!! Here is your request!!

Falling for you (pt.3) | cl16

Summary: thanks to a debt owed by your father you have to marry the boss of the mafia.

Warning: angst, mafia au, mentions of blood and gunshots, swearing, 5 years age gap, mafia boss!Charles, murder.

Part 1, part 2, part 4

The casino is a glittering spectacle of lights and sound, you and Charles stand at the entrance, your eyes taking in the extravagant decor. You are back in Monaco because you were invited to an event, and obviously as a good couple, you had to attend even if it meant leaving the villa in Tuscany... Going back to Monaco wasn't the problem, the problem is that you fear seeing your father again since you feel a little more vulnerable due to the confession you made to Charles.

“Are you ready to face the crowds, amore?” he says while smiling. (love)

You smile nervously and nodded. “As ready as I'll ever be.”

He nods. “Okay, just let me know if you are uncomfortable or something like that, okay? So we can leave.” he says and you nodded.

As you enter the casino, you feel a surge of anxiety because of the not so pleasing memories of your childhood, spent in this very place with your father, are bittersweet... But Charles' warm hand on your lower back calms the storm of thoughts in your head a little.

As you make your way through the crowd, you catch a small glimpse of your father. He's standing at a jack black table, surrounded by a group of men and a chill runs down your spine, you hadn't seen him since days before your wedding with Charles.

“Charlie, there he is.” you whispered softly to him.

Charles follows your gaze, his expression hardening. “It's okay, tesoro. We'll just stay away from him.” he says gently. (darling)

You nod, but your heart is pounding on your chest, as you two try to navigate the crowd, your father catches sight of you and Charles and he approaches, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, well, well... Look who's finally decided to show their faces.” he says smugly. “The perfect couple!”

You tense up, feeling a surge of anger and disgust, Charles steps in front of you, protectively.

“Leave us alone, you old man.” he says coldly.

Your father laughs, a cruel, mocking sound. “Or what? Are you going to protect her? Really? This little bitch who thinks she's so above it all?” he says smugly.

Charles' face turns red with rage. “Don't you dare speak to her like that! She's a woman, and deserves respect! Just like everyone else.” he says roaring.

The crowd falls silent, watching the confrontation with a mixture of fascination and horror.

“Oh, But I will continue talking like this... She's a spoiled little brat who thinks she's too good for her own father... Such a little whore, looking for attention. Don't you think, Leclerc?”

A tear rolls down your cheek, but you refuse to let him see your pain. “That's... enough...” you say with a trembling and shy voice.

Your father laughs. “Enough? Oh, no, i'm just getting started little princess.”

He turns to Charles, his eyes filled with a cold, calculating hatred.

“So, you think you can steal my daughter away from me? Well, think again, because she's mine, and I'll do whatever I want with her.”

Charles' eyes narrow, his fists clenching, his face is a mask of fury. “That's fucking enough!”

He grabs your father by the collar, his grip is so tight that your father struggles, but Charles' hold is too strong.

“Let go of me you little maniac! Help!” says your father panicked.

A group of casino security guards rush over, trying to separate Charles and your father. Charles is seething with anger, his eyes filled with a dangerous glint.

“Sir, this is a casino. There will be no violence here.”

Charles lets go of your father, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Your father glares at you, his eyes filled with hatred.

“This isn't over, young lady! You and your little husband will pay for this.”

As your father is escorted out of the casino, you turn to Charles. He's still shaking with anger.

“Charles... Are you okay?” you ask him gently. “Did he hit you or something?” you asked again.

“I'm fine, bébé... Let's just get out of here, okay?” he says while gritting his teeth. (baby)

You and Charles leave the casino, the night air a welcome relief from the tension-filled atmosphere inside. As you walk away, you can hear your father's voice echoing behind you, shouting threats and insults.

“You heard what I said back there, Charles? You hear what I said about her? About your little slutty wife? She's mine. Mine!” he yells with anger in his voice.

Charles stops in his tracks, his fists clenched at his sides. He turns and faces your father, his eyes filled with a cold, calculating hatred.

“I'm warning you, old man... If you ever speak to her like that again or ever touch her, I'll rip your tongue out.” he roars.

Your father's face pales, but he doesn't back down. “Oh, is that so? Well, then I'll just have to find another way to get back at you.”

With that, your father turns and walks away, disappearing into the night. Charles stands there for a moment, his eyes filled with a dangerous glint. Then, he turns to you, his expression filled with concern.

“I know he didn't hurt you, but I can't help but wonder if you are you okay, tesoro?” he asked softly. (darling)

You shake your head, your voice trembling. “No, he didn't hurt me Charles. But… it was awful, I can't believe he would say such things about me... His words are... Macabre, how can he talk about me like that?”

Charles pulls you into a tight embrace, his warmth a comforting shield against the cold of your father's words.

“I know, chérie, I know. But don't let him get to you... He's just a pathetic old man.” he says soothingly and you lean into his chest, your eyes filling with tears. Charles strokes your hair, his touch gentle and tender. “I'll make him pay for what he said about you... I swear it.” he whispers. (honey)

***

Charles pulls up to the grand entrance of the mansion, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over the estate. You turn to him, worry etched on your face.

“Charles, please don’t do this.” you said with trembling voice.

Charles looks at you, his expression a mix of determination and concern. “I have to, amore. He can’t keep getting away with it.” (love)

You reach for his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful... Please.” you say shyly and softly.

He nods as he brings your hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of it, his lips are so warm and soft.

“I promise, darling. Just stay inside and lock the doors, okay? I'll be back soon.”

You reluctantly step out of the car, watching as he drives away, a sense of dread washing over you.

You know that Charles is a man of his word, he has shown it to you on several occasions with actions and words, and you know perfectly that he is not going to stay quiet with this. He knows how much your father has hurt you, whether with his poisonous words or his macabre actions, you know that he is going to make him pay for everything he has done to you during your life.

Charles arrives back at the casino, his heart pounding with adrenaline, but he's not scared at all. He scans the parking lot, spotting your father leaning against a sleek black car, a smug look on his face.

“You're back for more, Leclerc? I thought I scared you off the first time.” your father says with a smirk on his face.

Charles strides forward, fists clenched at his sides.

“You think you can just walk around here and disrespect her? Make her feel uncomfortable? Because I don't think that's what makes you a real fucking father.” says Charles in a low, hoarse voice.

Your father chuckles darkly, unfazed by Charles' anger. “And what are you going to do? You’re just a mafia kid playing with fire, so immature.”

Charles steps closer to him, eyes blazing with fury.

“Oh... you have no idea who you’re dealing with... Not for nothing do they tell me le diable de monte carlo. Or do you want to be the first to know why they call me that?” says Charles in a low and very serious voice.

Suddenly, Charles throws a punch, connecting with your father’s jaw. The impact echoes in the still night air, your father stumbles back, surprised.

“You little punk! You are just as much of a maniac and a son of a bitch as she is.” your father says furiously. “You are made for each other! A match made in hell.”

He lunges at Charles, but he sidesteps and delivers another blow, this time to your father’s stomach. The older man doubles over, gasping for breath while Charles hits him with all the force of his being, his hands are now red and full of blood and some scratches on his knuckles thanks to your father's struggle.

Charles stands over your father, breathing heavily as he grabs him by the collar.

“You’ve tormented her for too long. And that shit ends tonight.” says Charles spitting out the words.

Your father sneers, wiping blood from his mouth. “You think you can take me down? You’re nothing without her!”

Charles' eyes narrow as he pulls out a gun from his jacket pocket—an unexpected move that sends chills down your father’s spine.

“Maybe I am nothing without her… but you made her life a fucking living hell, and I'm going to make you pay for every single time you hurt her.” he tenses his jaw. “You think she's a pawn in your fucking game? Because she's not, you screwed her up so much and I hope that's so damn clear to you.”

He raises the gun, steadying his aim at your father’s chest.

Your father pleads. “Wait! You don’t want to do this!”

Charles' grip tightens on the weapon as memories flash through his mind—your tears, your pain, when you told him about the times your father hurt you, the derogatory words he said to you back at the casino.

The atmosphere is thick with tension as Charles stares into your father’s eyes, searching for any hint of remorse or regret for his actions.

“You think you can just walk away from all the damage you’ve done?” Charles said in a deep voice.

Your father shakes his head, desperation creeping into his voice. “I’m your father-in-law! You can’t do this! We have a fucking deal!”

Charles scoffs, stepping closer.

“You lost the title of father-in-law and title of father the moment you laid your dirty, disgusting and fucking hands on her.” Charles said in a growl. “Besides, the agreement didn't prohibit me from killing you if I found out what you were doing to her and forced her to do, did it? Because I don't remember that shit.”

With a swift motion, Charles pulls the trigger. The sound of gunfire pierces the night air, echoing through the parking lot while he shoots several times. Your father’s eyes widen in shock as he collapses to the ground, blood pouring everywhere out of his head.

Charles stands over him, breathing heavily as silence envelops the scene. He takes a moment to absorb what he’s done—what he had to do.

He glances around, ensuring no one has witnessed the act before slipping the gun back into his jacket and walking away towards his car.

***

Back at the mansion, you sit on the edge of your shared bed, anxiety coursing through you as you wait for Charles to return. The clock ticks loudly in the silence, each second feeling like an eternity.

A sudden noise startles you—a car door slamming outside, you rush to the window, heart racing as you see Charles stepping out of his car.

You run to meet him outside, relief flooding over you as he approaches you.

“Charles! Is everything okay? Are you good?” you asked him a little bit panicked. “I... I was so worried.” you whispered.

He steps closer to you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You can feel that his suit is a little bit sticky from the blood spatter, and his hands with dried blood and scratches on his knuckles.

“It’s done, amore. You are finally safe, we are safe.” He says in a low, soft voice as he hugs you. (love)

You pull back slightly, searching his eyes for answers, although the answer was more than clear. “You did it, didn't you?”

Charles looks away momentarily, guilt flashing across his face before he meets your gaze again.

“I made him pay for everything he did to you, he deserved it.”

Your eyes fill with tears, but none of them are of sadness, not at all, they are tears of relief perhaps.

You sit together on the couch, silence hanging heavily between you. Finally, you break it.

You speak in a low, soft voice. “And how do you feel? Are you okay?”

Charles exhales deeply, running a hand through his messy hair. “To be honest with you, honey... I feel... Satisfied in a way, I mean, he deserved it.” he says in a soft voice.

You nodded. “I know love... Thank you.” you say shyly, he smiled and kissed your cheek.

“It was nothing, my love... For you I would do it as many times as you want and need.” he whispered.

You look at him, his impeccable black suit is dirty with drops of blood, as are his hands which have some scratches, his hair is disheveled and his face is sweaty for the exhausting work he did... But, even after committing a murder, he looks so handsome and so good.

You get up from the couch. “Come on, let's go up to heal those ugly wounds on your hands, okay?” you say in a soft voice and he nods as he takes your hand.

You guide him to the room where you look for the first aid kit and get what you need to treat his wounds, some alcohol, cotton and an antibiotic ointment. You sit on the bed next to him and he extends his hands to you and you can see the dried blood and scratches your father made as an act of defense.

“Okay, this is going to hurt a little bit.” you say as you put some alcohol on a cotton ball and rub it over his knuckles, to which he reacts by closing his eyes and sighing. “You know? For having killed someone a couple of hours ago, you're such a baby for something so normal like this.”

He lets out a little laugh. “Yeah, I'm sorry babe.”

You shake your head. “Don't be sorry, I already told you. Thank you for doing it... I had never thought that someone was going to attack my father or kill him, I always thought that I would stay with him all my life doing whatever he wanted until the end of my days.” you say in a whisper as you continue to heal his knuckles.

“I told you it was nothing, mio cuore. I repeat, if I had to do it again, I would do it without hesitation.” he says while looking into your eyes. (my heart)

After finishing treating his wounds, he takes off his black suit and white button-down shirt and throws it into the laundry basket. Showing off his somewhat muscular and defined torso.

He watches you struggle with your dress. “Oh, let me help you with that, mon chéri.” he says in a whisper as you nod and then proceed to unzip your dress. (my darling)

When he finished, you turn around and look at him shyly, he approaches you and cups your cheeks with his now clean hands and then gives you a kiss on the lips, it's a pretty slow, gentle kiss, but soft enough so that you don't feel the need to use words right in the moment. Perhaps the night took a totally unexpected turn, but it was still inevitable that something like what happened at the casino was going to happen sooner or later.

In that moment of vulnerability, you realize that while darkness has enveloped both of you tonight, there is also an undeniable bond that has formed—a bond forged in love and protection.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stray Kids Reaction || He Throws His Wedding Ring [Maknae Line ] [Mafia Edition]

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of blood, killing, sex trafficking (not involving the reader) murder and fighting.

JISUNG:

"I wasn't flirting with him! I don't know why you're accusing me of such a thing." You grumbled at Jisung who shook his head at you, watching as you walked toward the dressing table in your bedroom and took the earrings from your ears, the earrings he'd paid for and watched you wear as you flirted with other men. His anger was bubbling over as he stared at you,

"I saw the way you were looking at him, Yn, don't play games with me." You started rubbing your temples, getting tired of going through this again and again. Ever since you'd been dragged out of the party he'd been lecturing you about flirting, something you hadn't even done.

"I was being polite. I don't know what you want from me. First, I'm too standoffish, now I'm flirting?!" He'd told you to be nice to everyone at the party, that everyone there was someone who deserved to be treated with respect so that was what you'd been doing. You'd spoken to Dante a little longer than anyone else but you'd been helping pick a necklace for his wife - Vivian. 

"Polite?! It looked to me like you were ready to throw yourself at him. I can't have my wife acting like that, especially in our world." You stared down at the ring on your finger, feeling the weight of his accusation on your shoulders and you tried to hold back the tears.

"Jisung, I married you because I love you. I did not come into this marriage to be accused of things I didn't do." You told him, lifting your head to look at him and he was twisting the ring off his finger and placing it down onto the bed.

"Maybe you should find someone else who will let you flirt with other men," You shuddered a little at the sudden escalation of all of this. You just wanted him to understand that you hadn't done anything.

"I don't want anyone else, Jisung. I want you to trust me." You breathed out but he stormed out of the room leaving you alone you stared down at the ring on the bed, sniffling as you slowly sank down onto your knees,

"I don't think she would want you here," You heard Dante express as you looked up from the book you were reading. After Jisung had walked out on you, you'd packed a bag and headed to Vivian's for a few nights wanting to clear your head.

"Why are you here?" You turned your head to face Jisung who was seething with anger.

"Vivian invited me for a sleepover."

"Who's-" Jisung couldn't finish his question as Vivian came into the room with wine glasses, freezing when she saw Jisung standing there.

"I'm taking my wife home."

"She doesn't want to." You told him as you opened your book and went back to reading.

"She doesn't have a choice," Jisung grumbled as he took your hand and helped you up from the sofa.

"You come willingly or I take you, it's up to you, Sunshine." You hadn't heard him call you that in years and the nickname sent shivers down your spine.

"I can't be with someone who doesn't know how to trust me."

"I know how. I was an arsehole and I never should have said what I did."

"I have to see this," Dante whined but Vivian was quick to walk him to their private bedroom so you and Jisung could finish.

"I'm sorry," He stated, his voice full of concern and sincerity and you knew he meant it.

"I should have trusted you from the start but I just couldn't see past my own blind rage. Dante could take you if he wanted to."

"That would be kidnapping...I'm only interested in one man, Jisung and it's only ever always been you."

"I'm sorry," He whispered as you stepped closer to him, sighing a little as you ran your hands over his cheeks sweeping away the tears.

"Take me home." You told him before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

FELIX:

"You never listen, Felix!" You yelled out with a sharp whine, the two of you were in his office in a heated argument and almost everyone in the house had scattered after hearing you both.

"It's always your business, never a moment about us!" Your voice echoed through the room as Felix sat at his desk with his fist clenching around his glass,

"I provide for you, Yn! What more do you want?!" He finally yelled back, the final straw breaking the camel's back after listening to you yell at him for the last hour and still having no idea why you were fighting with him in the first place.

He'd only come home late and you were jumping down his neck about how he wasn't there for you.

"I want a husband that is there for me! That actually shows up when he's supposed to!" You yelled at him, shaking your head as you thought back on what tonight was supposed to be. A meal between families, your parents and Felix were going to sit down with you both for the first time in months and he hadn't even bothered to show up.

"Is this because I missed that stupid dinner?!" The fact that he was calling it stupid only further fueled your anger with him.

"Stupid? You didn't call it that when you asked your parents to come."

"Look, I'll make it up to you. I'll buy you whatever-"

"I want my fucking husband to show up when he's supposed to!" You cut him off, if you were anyone else in the world Felix would have killed you on the spot for interrupting him and you knew that.

With the argument intensifying Felix impulsively ripped off his gold band and hurled it across the room before it clattered at your feet. You stared down at it, soft sobs leaving your throat as you stared down at the ring that clearly meant nothing to him. 

"I mean that little to you?" You sniffled, turning your head to look at him and Felix was filled with instant regret but before he had a chance to utter an apology you were already fleeing the room.

It didn't take him long to find out where you were hiding and your parents let him in instantly, leaving you alone as you stared down at your wedding album.

"We used to be happy." You muttered to him, turning the pages and looking at what you used to be. Now there were nothing but cracks in your marriage and broken vows on both of your parts.

"We can still be happy..." Felix sunk down onto the floor beside you and you laid your head on his shoulder sighing a little.

"You work too much. You miss too much," You mumbled as he took your hand in his, his ring back on his finger as he stared down at your fingers that were interlocked with one another.

"I'll delegate the work, I'll take a step back." He promised, you'd heard the promises before but there was something behind his words this time that made you believe them.

SEUNGMIN:

You couldn't even believe Seungmin, after promising you that he'd stick to having fun tonight he'd snuck off to do business behind your back and at your party no less.

"What are you doing? Changbin said you were outside, you're supposed to be inside baby." Seungmin placed his hands on your shoulders but you shrugged his touch away from you, everything felt so cold with him later tonight. 

"Sixteen." You told him plainly, watching as a cab pulled up outside of the luxury hotel that Seungmin had hired out for your party tonight.

"Sixteen what?" Seungmin frowned not following along,

"You've broken sixteen promises in the last three months." You clenched the jacket around you tighter and stared at him as a storm brewed inside of you. Tonight was supposed to be special, both of you were dressed up to the nines and ready to party and he'd promised to keep everything fun.

"You promised, Seungmin that tonight was my night and you were off doing business."

"This is how things work, Yn. I needed to do this deal." He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if he couldn't believe you were upset over something so small. It was a business he'd been working on for almost a year now and tonight was the only night the man was willing to close the deal, it was his only chance.

"You promised." You whispered, trying to get him to realise the weight of his actions but it was as though he didn't care at all.

"You knew when you married me things were going to be like this." As if that was any justification for any of this, you shook your head at him and stepped toward the cab opening the door for yourself. 

"Did I? Because the Seungmin I thought I was marrying never broke a single promise to me." The whole nine years before the two of you had gotten married had been the best times of your relationship, it felt as though once he had you he didn't care to try and put in any more effort.

"Then maybe you never should have married me then," The words hung in the air as you both stared at each other, the DJ's music the only buffer between you.

"Maybe." You whispered staring at him, waiting for him to take it back or to at least take you back inside but he just took off his ring and threw it behind the cab. He locked eyes with you as you got into the car and told the driver to drive, anywhere but there and the gravity of his action began to weigh down on him.

"Yn! Wait!" He yelled out but the car was already speeding off leaving him in the aftermath of what he had just done.

"Why am I here?" You questioned Changbin - your personal guard - he'd dragged you out of bed that morning and down to Seungmin's home saying nothing to you.

"This will come as a surprise to many of you but it's come to my attention that I must step down." You stared at Seungmin as he spoke into a crowd of men.

"This isn't something I regret to inform you, in fact, it's something I'm welcoming with open arms." His eyes found yours in the crowd and he smiled warmly, 

"I'm leaving to spend time with my wife and eventually our growing family. I'll still be here but...mostly behind the scenes." With that he stepped away and headed over to you right away, you sniffled a little.

"Who said your wife still wants you?" You teased a little as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you flush with his chest.

"If she doesn't I will spend every single day of my life trying to make her want me back," You smiled weakly before kissing him softly.

JEONGIN:

After the shot rang out you felt the warmth of blood on your face you knew what Jeongin had done and you felt sick as you stared down at the floor to see the man who had just been speaking about you on the floor. 

"W-What the fuck?!" You yelled out as you stared at Jeongin who was calmly making his way over to you and wiping your face with a tissue as if this was the most normal thing in the world for him to do. Which was in his line of work but he'd promised never to do anything like this in front of you, it was one of the conditions you had when you agreed to get married.

"He had it coming, he shouldn't have disrespected you," It was true he shouldn't have but that didn't mean taking the life of a man that neither of you knew.

"What if he had a family and he was their sole earner?!" You yelled at him but he shrugged, bending down and collecting the man's wallet so he could have his men do a background check.

"I'll provide for them. They're better off without the drunken low-life." You began walking away from him,

"That's not the way to the car, Beautiful." You ignored the nickname he had for you as you continued to walk in the opposite direction of him.

"You went too far, Jeongin." You using his full name was never a good sign and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

"I didn't ask you to kill anyone for me." Your voice quivered with anger and fear as you shook your head at him.

"I did it for you. He was disrespecting you and I won't have it." You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him, you couldn't believe that this was the same man you had once fallen in love with.

"So you'll kill anyone that even looks at me wrong?"

"If that's what it takes." He told you plainly, you let out a scoff and threw your hands up in defeat. The frustation finally took over as you stared at him. You needed him to see how wrong all of this was for him,

"You're disgusting. All of this power has gone to your head!"

"I do what needs to be done. This is our life and I won't let anyone or anything threaten it!" He yells at you, his face red with anger as you stare at him breathing heavily.

"I don't want this life anymore, not if it means losing you to the power you hold." You mumbled to him in the heat of the moment but Jeongin smirked at you, taking off his ring and throwing it to the floor. Silence hung in the air as you stared down at the ring in disbelief, the unbreakable bond you'd made together was now thrown to the ground as if it were trash so you walked away.

As it turned out it wasn't as easy as you'd hoped to walk away from Jeongin, you were forced to interact as a couple at events and the same with tonight.

"Will you ever speak to me again?" Jeongin whispered to you, 

"No, while you're a power-hungry weirdo," You mumbled before drinking from your glass, downing it and asking for another which was promptly brought to you.

"I'm stepping down." He told you as he watched you down another drink,

"I've heard that before." You grumbled only for him to place his hand on top of yours.

"Chan is taking over, I shouldn't be in charge," You stared at him and glanced over at Chan who was nervously waiting to speak to the party full of people.

"Is that what tonight is? You're resigning?"

"Stepping down, I'll still work but I won't...be in charge," He admitted as you stared at him,

"Why?"

"Because given the choice between my wife and work? I choose you, every time." He whispered before clapping for Chan along with everyone else in the room.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @xakx @sleepb @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @kpopmenace143 @minhosify @loveforred @b1nn1e-1s-cut3

[timdrakesbussy]

Some of my™ Stardew Valley HCs

TW: mention of miscarriages

Emily listens to all kinds of music but despite not looking like it, she mainly listens to heavy metal. It's one of the thing that brought her and Shane's early friendship together. And because of that, Haley shares a bit of fondness to the genre that she enjoys Sam's band (but don't tell him. this will mess with her rep).

Sam is pretty educated when it comes to literature, and English was always his favorite subject when he was in school. He's the main songwriter of his band and while Sebastian could also write, Sam manages to be witty and clever with his lyrics. Other than storytelling through song, he loves his double and triple entendres. Suffice to say, he could get along pretty well with Elliott and it's one of the reason why Penny loves hanging out with him.

Ever since she was a child, Maru thinks that Sebastian is really cool and she wants to be like him one way or another. Of course, she still wants to be herself but Sebastian is just so damn cool. During her time at school, she made herself learn how to ride a motorcycle using a friend's bike because she knew Sebastian would never lend her his.

Elliott was from an esteemed family from a foreign land (just Stardew's equivalent of Europe tbh) and was a licensed lawyer until he stopped to be a writer. Needless to say, his family are not happy by this sudden decision. Not that he needs their opinion on the matter, he was pushing thirty when he made this decision.

Harvey was an ER doctor in Zuzu City until the incident™. He knew that with his line of job, he can't save everyone. However, he can't help but feel guilty and terrible afterwards. Which is why he has routine check-ups for the villagers, and if they can't visit him, then he will visit them. You cannot escape him because he will find you (affectionate).

Both Haley and Alex believed that at one point, they actually liked each other romantically. But when they had their first kiss together, they realized that they weren't meant to be. They have this deep platonic connection that even Emily doesn't really understand, but she's happy that her baby sister have someone she can rely on and trust for all her life.

Robin takes pride in her name even if her parents weren't supportive over her work at first. She have Sebastian share her last name, and when she married Demetrius, she hyphenated their surnames instead of just taking his.

Demetrius and Sebastian were close when he was a child. Sebastian was an overly curious and precocious boy and Demetrius was happy that he could share something with his stepson, their interest in biology. Although Sebastian was squeamish and even almost cried when he dissected a frog, he managed to calm him down. And even after their mutual parting as Sebastian grew older, he's the only one who knows what Demetrius' favorite animal is: moonlight jellies.

Jodi and Kent were teenagers when they had Sam. Jodi came from a highly conservative and religious family so they forced them to marry after Jodi gave them the news that she was pregnant. As they were teens, Kent took any odd jobs he could get in the city, from a corner-store clerk to a garbage man. Until he got offered into joining the military.

Pam was a trucker before she became a bus driver. In fact, she met Penny's dad in the business. But in her childhood, she was in multiple beauty pageants and even into her adulthood, she knows how to hairdo. She helped Penny with her hair since she was a child and hope that she could still do Penny's hair in her future wedding, whenever that is.

Alex's mom had multiple miscarriages before she have him, and that was into her ten years of marriage. She was beyond ecstatic with his birth that she immediately called her aging parents who also shared her happiness, they then invited her to the Valley a few days after Alex was born so they could celebrate in the Mullners' house. Lewis heard about the news and asked if they wanted to celebrate in the Saloon in which Evelyn denied because Clara wanted a small celebration with just her family.

Abigail is the only marriageable candidate to be born in the Valley. Sebastian moved in not long after Maru was born so he was close to her as he was the only child her age at that time. Penny moved in when she was seven with her parents until her dad left when she was ten. Haley moved in when she was ten years old while Sam moved in a year after. Alex often visited his grandparents but he officially moved in after Clara's death in his pre-teens. The rest moved in as adults.

Similarly to Alex, Shane only ever visited and stayed for a while in the Valley until he needed to take care of Jas. He wasn't close with his parents and they never tried to be anyways, Marnie is always the mother figure he has. So other than Marnie and Jas, the only people he considered as his family was Jas' parents. Her father, whom he met and befriended in college (as he was his roommate, before they mutually dropped out) and her mother whom he wasn't very close to at first until they both find comradery in bullying (affectionate) Jas' father.

[yeyinde]

lavender skies | Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Then suddenly, and all at once, there's a loudness in your head: a hundred whispers echoing in time to the same off-beat rhythm, full of memories and moments shared between you, threads woven throughout the years all buoying to the surface as you realise you're a little bit in love with him.  (And that, maybe, you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

tags: friends to lovers (but the type of friends who are basically already dating and everyone knows except them - until suddenly they do), mutual pining. Slight Kent bashing, oops. Golden Girls as a coping mechanism. warnings: none. very tame, considering who I am as a person. Heavy make-out sess, though. word count: 6,6k notes: This has been sitting in my requests forever (I lost the original, but the gist was: Gaz + pining + idiots in love). You can blame a lot of this on summer rain and 80s city pop. Been going to the pier and listening to it while I wrote this. Not my best, sure, but it was fun.

The Tinder date he warned you not to go on (and seriously, mate, who uses Tinder anymore?) ends like this:

Your date, the biggest gentleman in Kent, as proclaimed in his bio (a red flag in hindsight—there's no such thing as a gentleman from Kent), sneaks his number to the waitress, and then leaves you behind in downtown Manchester to go bar hopping with a group he just met. 

It's not a great loss. All things considered, it's not even the worst date you've ever been on. It was just a spur-of-the-moment whim—equal parts anxiety and megrim: the sudden fear of being single forever (and no, despite what Kyle might say, it has nothing to do with the wedding invitation you'd gotten on Facebook, or the three others that came before it)—and therefore, there isn't much to be upset about. Not really. 

But the world doesn't work on half-hearted lies and shaky truths, and on a dank little corner in Manchester, abandoned by your ride home, your abysmal date who barely looked at you, you can't deny that it hurts. That it's a little bit of a hit to your self-esteem in a way that makes you angrier than you were before, because, honestly—he wasn't even a catch to begin with. 

Stupid. 

You should have listened to Kyle, to his immaculate wisdom and emotional maturity far beyond his years, but you hadn't because—

Well. Sometimes the world should work on little lies. If only to the ones you tell yourself. Ones like:

It's completely fine—really it is—if your friend of nearly eight years is moving on with his life. And it's totally, absolutely okay if your best friend meets some flighty barista in Amsterdam and won't stop talking about her for the meagre three weeks he's been back from his impromptu trip to the Netherlands, then to Mexico. It's fine. It's all fine. 

Because maybe you are, too. 

And maybe that's the reason you went out with David from Kent. 

From Kent? He texted, only hours before your date. (Hours because he'd been busy with this thing for his job—his boss is corrupt and the world is, too, but at least Amsterdam Barista is doing fine). You can do so much better than that, birdy.

You wanted to say, what? Like someone from Amsterdam instead? but you're doing this new thing where you try not to sound as mad as you think you are. Zen, maybe. Internal peace and happiness. So, instead, you say:

He's nice. I like him. 

Words that, of course, have come back to bite you. 

He isn't nice. He wouldn't stop staring at the waitress, and talking over you, or just generally ignoring your existence. He left you downtown, stranded without a way home. You don't like him. You really don't even think you were that interested in him. 

But it makes sense.

Kyle is moving on. Your friends are getting married. 

And where does that leave you? 

Well—

It leaves you stuck downtown with shoes that were intended to be used for aesthetics, the kind that means standing entirely still and immobile, and not walking the fifteen kilometres to your flat because you'd spent all your money on this super flattering outfit and these unfunctional shoes, and can't afford a cab or an Uber. 

Sometimes, you pretend you're a functional adult—one who knows how to navigate everything with ease, and you live in the present, the real world, where time is fluid and unchangeable, and things make sense (maths and geometry and physics) unless they don't (black holes and the vastitude of space and fate)—but moments like these remind you that you don't. That you live, instead, somewhere in the parentheses of both. 

The indigo sky, murky black and void of any stars, seems to grumble along with you as you turn toward the street, readying yourself for the long walk home. Except the groan sounds less commiserating and more ominous. A noise that seems to reverberate through the crowded street, and right into your bones.

Some have the wherewithal to find shelter. A smart move because almost a moment later, the heavens split, and a summer deluge drenches the street. It's unrelenting in its downpour, soaking everything in its path in a shrill roar. 

Caught in the middle of St Peter's Square, there are not many places to duck under for sanctuary, but you find an alcove beside a store, and dart toward it. The non-functional boots are pretty to look at, but with each step, you feel the hard synthetic rubber grind against your heel. Blisters form, break. The burn makes you inhale sharply against the pain, hobbling now on tender feet. 

The wall is slick with condensation, but you lean against it to keep your feet from taking the brunt of your weight. 

It reminds you, quite suddenly, of that night in Cardiff with Kyle. When you'd drank three-dollar margaritas at some downtrodden bar with your friends and ate rather limp-looking fish tacos (a mistake, of course, and Kyle still can't look at corn tortillas the same way), and laughed until your belly hurt at something he'd said—the words lost to alcohol and faded with time—and then leaned over, promptly throwing up in a bush. 

You still can't drink tequila without giggling (and gagging) at nothing, a phantom memory, and the thought presses against a tender spot in your chest in all the wrong ways. 

Time is fluid. An unavoidable truism that you can't escape. 

There are people you've known since you were a child whose faces you can barely remember. Ones you promised the world to, to always be together, who you hardly think of anymore. 

Moving on. Moving forward. 

You think, then, of Kyle. Of the distance that lingers between you both, widening each day. It's nothing you've done, nor he; it's just—

Life. Concurrent. Everpresent. 

It hurts to lose a friend, you'd always think. A small moment of grief, of loss. But not like this. Never like this. 

Stuck in a downpour in the middle of Manchester, you realise you miss him. Have been missing him. 

Huddling under an awning, you fish your phone from your soaked pocket, and pull up the only person you want to be around right now, in this moment of vulnerability. Loneliness. 

You send him a quick text, date was a bust. Stuck downtown. Are you busy?

Kyle's reply comes three breaths later. For you? Never. Send me your location. 

You send him your pin. 

Another message pops up: stay put. I'm on my way. 

You met Kyle Garrick at university. 

It's one of those things in life that just sometimes happens. A happy accident. An eventuality that makes the world feel a little less daunting. A lock and key sliding into place. Sunsets in pretty ochre. 

Someone you knew and someone he knew (two people who are now best man and groom in the upcoming wedding) decided to invite all of their friends out for a night, and it was then, slightly tipsy on cheap ale when you realised the boy in the back—a head taller than everyone else and more befitting inside the glossy pages of a magazine—was different, somehow, from anyone else you'd ever met. 

It started when some stupid kids decided to pick on another. A smaller boy with a blue cap. 

Kyle was the only one who noticed. The only one who seemed to care. 

It was his anger that drew you to him in the first place. Moth to a flame. It's quick—the sizzling flame of a lit match: suddenly burning the wick and nearly uncontrollable. But it's short. A flickering star, burning bright, burning hot, and then being tempered and swallowed down until it's smouldering. Still hot, still dangerous, but—

Managed. 

It was a snap. He was laughing, jovial. Telling jokes, and having fun, but still maintaining that enviable enigmatic persona: reserved but kind. Funny, but mature. And then it crumpled in an instant, folded away into anger. Bright and blistering. He walked to them, eyes blazing, and didn't wait for any excuses when the kids noticed him, just quickly decimated their foundations, and crushed their feeble lies between his teeth. 

"Bullyin'? That's a pretty foul thing to do, innit, mate?" 

And that was that. 

He handed the kid back his hat—the one the others knocked off into the gutter—and told him, clipped, that he was better than them. 

Just keep your chin up, yeah? Fuckin' losers, that lot. Don't go messing about with them anymore. Fucking pricks. That's a nice hat, too. Where'd you get it? Really? Oh, that's mint—

It was that moment when, unprompted and unnoticed, he easily slipped away from the group to help some kid he didn't even know that you realised you were very keen to get to know him. 

"Fancy a kebab, hero?" You asked, smirking up at him. 

A grin broke across his face. Sharp, feral. "I could always go to a lamb kebab."

The rest, really, just came quite naturally. Your best friend. The person you go to for anything—even terrible dates that leave you stranded in the rain. 

You just wish you knew when it all began to change, to fall apart. 

Kyle meets you near St Peter's Square. 

You spot him first from your hiding spot beneath the awning, catching sight of his form moving through the (now) empty streets, hands shoved in the pockets of his denim trousers, the bottoms tucked, sensibly, into his fawn-coloured boots. 

Even with the hood of his windbreaker pulled low over his brow, you can pick him out of a crowd with an ease that is as warming as it is jarring. 

You wave him over when he stops on the mouth of Mount Street, looking in toward the Starbucks on the corner. 

He finds you just as easily. And oh, his expression makes your toes curl in your misshapen boots. 

Anger pinches the corner of his mouth, and hangs off the furrow of his brow, the divot between his eyes. 

"Unbelievable," he huffs when he reaches you in the middle of the street, and sucks his teeth when you open your mouth to protest. 

"It is what it is," you offer, playing the peacekeeper. You fall into step with him, trying not to wince. "I'm over it." 

"Yeah?" The shadows across his brow deepen. "Are you sure? 'Cause… I'll fuck him up for you." 

Setting your friend on a man from Kent feels entirely too vindictive, despite how much of a rush you get at the thought of seeing the man cowed a little bit. You shake your head, playing the part of a reasonable adult. 

"It's okay. I'm just—I'm just, over this, yeah? Can we—"

Kyle stops you with his hand against your shoulder. "You alright?"

"My feet hurt," your smile is strained. "Terrible shoes." 

"Take 'em off."

"Are you crazy—?"

"I brought slides for you. Figured you'd wear something stupid." 

"Okay, fair. But—ouch? We can't all be crazy good-looking Armani models. Some of us have to work for it." 

Kyle snorts. "Just take your shoes off, yeah? Throw 'em in my bag."

You can't deny it feels blissful when you lean against the slick wall outside of a shop, toeing off your tight boots. Aching feet freed from their prison. The sigh you let out makes him glance up at you from the pavement, bent over the rucksack he brought. 

There's disapproval in his gaze—maybe at your choice. Choices. The date he warned you about. The boots. The socks he spots are stained with blood on the knob of your foot. 

He tuts. A soft admonishment that cuts through the silence of the empty square. But it's all he says. He swallows the rest and drops the shoes he grabbed on the pavement in front of you, slowly pushing them forward with the tip of his toe.

You try not to grin when you see them.

Crocs. The ugliest ones you could find in Schuh. You'd bullied him into getting a matching pair with you. Neon yellow adorned with little clips. 

You slip them on as Kyle reaches down to grab your boots. He pauses with them in his hand, eying them with something that taints the air with his disdain. 

"When did you buy these?"

"On Friday." When he was sleeping off his impromptu trip to Chicago. He brought you home deep-dish pizza, frozen, and promised that it tasted much better fresh. "For the date."

"Why?" Is all he asks. 

You shrug. "They're cute…?"

His eyes stray to your shoulders. The wet fabric of your shirt. His chin lowers slightly, but his eyes stay fixed on your flesh, on the goosebumps that bubble to the surface, spreading over your exposed skin. Eyes flicker, catching a droplet of water you can feel running down from behind your ear, falling over the slope of your neck. It breaks against your collarbone. He watches it all. 

There's tension in the air. Static. The pressure builds and reeks of ozone when it presses into you, knuckles digging into the hollow of your throat. It renders you unable to speak—locked in a paradigm where the world beyond the honeycomb of his eyes ceases to matter, to exist almost. Thick honey ensnares you. Molasses. It clots against reason, logic, and makes you feel weightless. Floating, unmoored, in this unfamiliar abyss that closes in around you. 

Except—

It isn’t. 

There’s something aberrant about it, anomalous, that you can’t ignore; but beneath it sits a preternatural sense of familiarity that bends the paradox into knowns. Into tangibles. Concretes. 

This is the same tension that has been simmering—festering, almost—since before he joined the miliary. In Cardiff when he leaned against you in the taxi, boney shoulder digging into your arm, and said, ‘dunno what I'd do without you, y’know? 

It was the hazy smear of neon from the shops perched on the street. An ethereal gold hue streamed in from the window, cutting across the tenebrous in an asymmetrical chiaroscuro. The light was soaked up by him. Warm honey, the perfect compliment to his eyes, to the soft pink of his lips. 

How could you possibly describe the feeling that spumes in the pit of your stomach outside of undiluted comfort? 

Home.

It feels like like in shades; muted. A soft undercurrent that lingers inside something else, something deeper—

Moments in the foyer when he was heading back home for the evening. When he’d linger in the doorway, shoulder balanced against the frame, arms folded over his chest, and warned you not to watch Taskmaster without him. 

He’d know, he said. 

When you asked how, he just said:

“Because I know you.”

It feels like that. Like that and something more. Everything, all of it, coalesces into this. Into this moment where you can’t stop staring into the flecks of mahogany and charred birchwood in his eyes, and he can’t seem to decide where to keep his, vacillating between the slope of your neck and matching your stare. A lurch, a flash of something in your chest when your gazes meet. The deep sfumato of a bare forest in the middle of winter—rich browns, raw topaz, honey and amber in a sea of white. A sleepy hinterland. Solemnent and peaceful. Dreamy. Hypnogogic. 

The world always seems to shudder into a deep slumber whenever he’s around. 

He dips closer, swaying into you. Gravity, maybe. Tidally locked satellites on the same rung. Something bubbles in your chest. Unwinds from its dormant perch between the gaps in your ribs, and climbs up your esophagus. Ready, you think, to be free—

In the distance, tyres squeal against the pavement. 

—and all at once, the moment burst, breaks. Shatters into a million pieces, cosmic dust, and you watch them fall around you, blinking rapidly, as though you’ve just woken. 

It feels like slowly coming down to earth when you quietly gather your things, words now stuck in your throat. In their prison. 

Kyle tears his gaze away from your bare skin, clearing his throat. 

"Hardly." He murmurs after a moment and slips his jacket off his shoulders before wrapping it around yours. It smells of rainwater, wet rubber. Beneath the polymer, you can smell Kyle—vetiver, cypress, jasmine; sweet and heady—and you bury your nose in the hood when he turns back to the empty street. “Well, uh—”

You can’t speak. Not yet. 

He seems to understand. 

"Yeah," he nods, and reaches out, tugging on the end of the drawstring. "Let's get out of here." 

The rain lightens into a muted drizzle, soft droplets that fall, almost rhythmless, on the wet pavement. The town sleeps, the streets bare. Empty. The only sounds come from your slick footfalls, a horn in the distance. 

It’s an easy silence that lapses between you—not at all unlike the lulls before, when things were easy and featherlight and endless; when you could talk to him about everything, anything, and all of the worries in your life were saved for something else. Never him. Never, ever him. 

But it tugs at something in your chest. The same pressure blooms at the edges, lingering in the periphery. You think of the spell you fell under—quiet yearning—and shake your head, desperate now to break it. 

It’s just as easy to slip into familiarity. To tease, and taunt. And so, you do. 

"I'm surprised you haven't said I told you so by now. That's so impressive self-restraint."

His gaze slides over to you. "Well, you know, it's implied."

"Oh, is it, now?"

"Yeah, like when you messaged me and told me about it and I said—"

"Who even uses Tinder?"

"—that he's knobhead, and you're gonna get hurt."

You scoff. "He's from Kent, so."

"Even worse," he makes a face, derision contrasted by the jaundiced lamp spilling over the pavement. "A Tinder date with a guy from Kent? What's next? Moving to Bristol?"

"It's a nice area." 

He rolls his eyes. "Sure. As nice as Essex, maybe." 

"The two are not even comparable—"

"'Dunno why you're rushing into anything, anyway,” he angles his chin toward you. “If this is about Carver's wedding, I said I'd go with you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but…"

"But what?"

"That's sort of—like, you just have your own thing going on. I don't want to get in the way."

"I've always had my own thing going on. So have you. But that's never stopped us before, has it? What's changed."

"What about—" you swallow down something thick, bitter that wells in the back of your throat. "You know. Amsterdam. The Barista, or whatever."

His brow knots together. "And what about David from Kent?"

You sweep your hands out, motioning morosely toward your Crocs, your damp outfit. "This is what happened with David from Kent. Not exactly the fairytale meet cute you have with Amsterdam—" he makes a noise, like he means to interrupt. You cut him off. Bury it. "And besides, you should take her. I'll just—" 

"I want to go with you."

"Why?"

Kyle falls to a stop near the Kebab shop you usually go to whenever he comes back from his missions, when he's craving good, hearty food that will rot his insides and clog his arteries. A small comfort from before, when everything he has now was just a dream, and you were struggling students in university who could barely afford a meal each and would split a lamb dinner over ale and terrible movies from the noughties back at your flat. 

The suddenness of it all makes you blink beside him, slowly angling your chin up at him. A questioning noise wells in the back of your throat, but when you finally turn your gaze to him, it does out. A snuffed flame. 

He brings his hand up, finger scratching at the soft patch of skin on the bridge of his nose where it starts to arch up. The look on his face, hidden, slightly, by the night blanketing overhead, but just illuminated enough by smears of neon and flushed street lamps for you to see it clove into something slightly flustered, hesitant. Sheepish, almost, like he hadn't meant to say what he did, and now doesn't know how to proceed forward. Cards tucked tight to his chest. Does he play his hand or fold? 

You blink. Then blink again. Struggling, almost, to take in the suddenness of his flustered state. 

Because the thing is:

Kyle doesn't get embarrassed or sheepish. 

A running gag in your mutual friend group is that Kyle is twenty-eight going on sixty-five. An old man crammed inside the body of a young adult. He runs hot—passionate about his beliefs, quick to temper when he thinks an injustice is being doled out; a disciple of loose stoicism, but of a new age variety that is half parts stereotypical stoner chillness and ripe maturity—but he rarely is ever caught unawares enough to become embarrassed by something. He just has a perfect gauge of himself and those around him, able to quickly make friends with anybody he meets, and self-aware enough to know when he's in the wrong, when he needs to dial it back. 

Being his friend for so long, you know the nuance of these expressions. His mien is ingrained in your head: known and catalogued. Nothing about Kyle is a mystery to you except the things you're barred from knowing (his second life away from home, you often joke: wholly confidential, entirety draped in secrecy). 

But the look on his face is entirely alien to you. An expression you hadn't thought him capable of making. 

It's jarring. It bludgeons into you with a ferocity that takes your breath away. 

You know the man standing beside you, but this, everything else, is so unearthly. So foreign. 

"Kyle," you hedge, taking a small step closer to him. You're not sure why. Maybe to reacquaint yourself with the man standing before you. Maybe to find something of familiarity within him to comfort the sudden crescendo of your pounding heart because even just the heady scent of his cologne—vetiver, amber—quells the sudden bloom of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. "Are you—?"

"No," he mumbles, then huffs out a soft laugh. It sounds mean, in a self-deprecating way, and your heart lurches for him. "Yeah, no. I'm alright. I just—shit, you know? 'Course I'd wanna go with you. Should be kinda obvious, no?"

Sure, you want to say. Sure, no, totally. Very obvious. And maybe had he not stopped, not made this peculiar expression on his face—like he isn't sure what to do when he always knows what he wants, what he's meant to do—you might have said them. Might let them tumble from your lips, equally self-deprecating and a touch forlorn despite never really knowing why, but that would be a lie, now. 

Because you do. 

The look on his face is upsetting—not because Kyle never makes that expression, or because he's never uncertain about anything, ever, but because you don't know it. It's not something you've ever seen before. And it hurts. 

It's stupid. This whole thing. It shouldn't make you feel some sense of loss when he does something you don't expect. He always does. It's his brand, now—jettisoning across the world to catch bad guys and slap the trite American sense of justice and liberty for all across the faces of anyone who tries to oppose it—and you're very much acclimated to this side of him, the one he hides away from you, giving nothing at all about where he's going, what he's doing, what he's done, until he's back in England, safe and sound, and texting you at six in the morning for an English spread because he missed home. And maybe, maybe he missed you, too. 

Those quiet moments are tucked into a cosm where it's only you and him, and greasy food, and reruns of Golden Girls together with your feet in his lap as you sit on the chaise and pick favourites (his is, of course, Rose) until the sun goes down, and he heads home because he has a debriefing in the morning in Hereford, and you have work. It's bereft of unease, of tension. Time slips through your fingers fluidly, and you hardly notice it's been hours since he first arrived. Comfortable, wholly, in his presence and in your skin. 

Soulmates, everyone used to joke. You just get each other. Near finish each other's sentences. 

Except for lately, where there has been this undeniable tension simmering between the two of you—a sense of fragility that you can't comprehend.

Growing apart, you thought. And then: guess it's time to do the same. 

It made sense to make the first move. To download Tinder—much to his chagrin—and start looking for your—

Your Barista from Amsterdam. 

And oh. 

Oh. 

Maybe it's the way the street light frames the angles and plains of his face, or the shadows that run deep lines of tenebrous across the valleys in his eyes, the sharp slope of his lips, the soft pout. The inscrutable expression that rents a jagged divot between his brow, and an unsure twist of his mouth. Maybe it's everything. Nothing. 

But the only thing you know right now is that you know him. Have known him. Deeply. Intimately. In a way that goes beyond the boundaries of bodies, of flesh and blood. Bones and marrow. You know his soul. His essence. The foundations of who he is cobbled together in a lonely kebab shop over cheap ale, commiserating on an endless stream of papers and assignments; the eventuality of ever after when you hand in the final one. Over beans and toast in the afternoon, a whole day spent lounging in your flat watching reruns of Golden Girls, and petty arguments over Taskmaster that always seem to go a little bit too far, and never far enough. Fights that end two days later when he shows up with Greggs and a complete box set of that show you said you wanted to watch but never had the time for. Bargain shopping in Tottenham on an early Saturday morning because there's this chair, you see, one that you saw on their Instagram page and you simply must have it. 

Soft moments in between, brackets where life doesn't seem to wrap its cold hands around your throat. Time spent in each other's company just for the sake of it. 

Climbing onto your roof—a thatched mess of moss and straw and broken asphalt shingles that will one day give under your weight—and watching the stars, always searching for one that rockets across the sky while he murmurs beside you, quiet in this stillness that falls like snow in the dead of night around you. A hushed whisper as he relays the places he's been—all stars, he rasps, hand brushing wide strokes across the raspberry sky, dusted with light pollution: I'll take you there one day to see. Best fucking beer I'd ever had, too, just don't tell my cousin because he thinks the shitty lager he makes for his bar is good—and you try to picture it amongst the grey clouds. A life on the opposite side of the world. Just the two of you. Always. 

And that's what it's always been, hasn't it? Just you. Just him. 

It's sometime past midnight on a street corner in Manchester. Your feet hurt from walking all night, and your clothes are damp from the rain that caught you off-guard. A summer downpour. It clings to your skin in a way that's both freeing and wholly uncomfortable, but you're not thinking about that. You're not thinking about anything at all, not now. Not really. There's a silence in your head as the world falls into pieces, breaking like the jaundiced light that cuts crevasses and canyons in the tenebrous that colours sharp valleys of his face. He turns, then, a gentle list of his head as he takes you in, breathes your silence and questions the wideness of your eyes, the soft parting of your lips. The movement makes the light spill over the arch of his nose, the slope of his brow. The dawning of a new day. A new world. The untouchable of the moon where no light shines now burning hot under the sun. 

Then suddenly, and all at once, there's a loudness in your head: a hundred whispers echoing in time to the same off-beat rhythm, full of memories and moments shared between you, threads woven throughout the years all buoying to the surface as you realise you're a little bit in love with him. 

(And maybe you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

So, you say it. You whisper all the words that bubble up, impatiently waiting between your teeth, effervescent and burning white-hot as they throw themselves over bone and flesh to be free. 

Confessing goes like this: 

Molten agony in your guts as the secrets you barely understand yourself dissolve into the atmosphere, spoken aloud and born on cobblestone and petrichor. Wide-eyed shock, uncertainty, as a new quiet falls over your shoulders, louder than anything you'd ever heard. Guncotton in your nose. A million detonations in your ears. 

You've never much liked the silence. You break it, then, with your bare hands. 

"...and that's basically it." 

It isn't much. It isn't poetry. You're not even sure the words were real. A figment of your imagination, broken free because of baristas in Amsterdam and losers from Kent, abysmal dates and the unending fear of being wholly alone in a world you're not prepared for, all without the person who makes you feel a little bit better about the nothingness that permeates around you. 

And sure. Sure. You don't need him. If Kyle decided never to speak to you again, you'd cry and you'd hurt, but you wouldn't be less of a person because of his absence. He doesn't complete you in the same way you've read about in thick books with strong-willed protagonists and an abundance of petty misunderstandings, but he compliments you. Elevates the good and stifles the bad. You want to experience things with him—not because there's some grand force at play, red strings knotted around your fingers that lead you back to him—but because you like his company. His thoughts. His mind. His presence. His essence fills you with joy in the same strokes it makes you want to pull your hair out sometimes. Good and bad. You want it all. 

You want it. Want him. 

And he—

He's taking you home a little past midnight where you'll make yourself beans and toast and maybe try and sleep, or turn on the television to watch four women you're intricately connected to eat cheesecake and solve each other's problems. He could be at his own flat right now, playing that video game he said he wanted to try when he got back, or watching that movie he was supposed to with his flatmates, his friends. He could be talking to some barista in Amsterdam. 

But he isn't. 

He's here with you. Still. Still. 

"I just—," you say, or try to. 

But the rest is a muffled gasp against soft lips when he presses his against yours, stealing the words out of your mouth. 

You can feel your heart beating through your lips. Taste him on your tongue when he draws you closer, hands reaching, grasping. Pulling you into him, into his body. You fit against him, tucked safe between the parentheses of his arms. He tastes of cardamom and cornflower. Lavender notes between his molars. Hints of milk on his tongue. You drink him down and know, then, that this is what they mean they talk about love being a feast because you chase this taste for the rest of your life and never be satiated. 

He loops his arm around the small of your back, dragging you closer still. As if any atom between your bodies is an affront. There’s no hesitation in the action, in the way he burrows into your skin. No trepidation. 

And maybe it would be silly for there to be any. You know him—every iota, every inch; secrets whispered at midnight in a shallow breath and dreams uttered at noon. To be known, to know, is a powerful thing. You feel it ghost across your flesh, featherlight, and reach for it with your bare hands. Seeking, searching. You don’t stop until the tips of your fingers meet his warm skin, curling around him. Anchoring yourself to him. Stuck, now, in permanence. 

You find spots that were untouched before. Behind his ears, the dip of his brow, the curve of his nose, and the slope of his jaw. Cupping it in the palm of your hand, a plinth for him to rest his chin. 

Your canvassing makes him groan, makes him tilt down into you as he begins his own exploration, chasing you in a mad pursuit. Sliding over your valleys, your plains. Running over the rugged mountains and the steep cliffs. He scours your topography with eager, nimble fingers. It’s slow, languid. There’s no rush with this, a consensus you both seem to come to rather quickly when he pries open your mouth and tangles his tongue with yours. It’s sweet, soft. His hands mimic his chase, sliding along your body as if he means to commit the entirety of you to memory, searing it in his brain. 

It’s only when he comes to a crossroads at your navel, pushed flush against his body, does he stop. You moan in despair at it, wanting more and more, not ready to give up this taste that curls over your tongue—saccharine sweet, salty—and Kyle echoes the noise with a groan, a quiet plea for air that both of you desperately need but can’t quite make yourself take. 

“Fuck—” he groans again, breath stuttering out in sharp, deep gasps. “Can’t bloody tell you how long I wanted to do this for, fuck—”

His words seem to peel back the dreamy gossamer of a slowly burning sensuality. It ignites in a blaze, not at all unlike the swiftness of his anger. The sharp, sudden strike of a match. The crackle and hiss of flames renting the air. 

The blaze starts at the point where your upper lip touches his, and almost immediately, it consumes you. 

It's frenzied when he kisses you again—feral and wild: all teeth and tongue and nips against your bottom lip but the moment you sink into the fervour, Kyle changes it. Slows down. Chaste pecks to your sore lips amid a sensual onslaught. A languid roll of his tongue, soothing the burn his teeth left behind. 

The way he kisses you feels like a paradox. 

It's organised chaos. Refined madness. A cluttered mess of finesse and deliberate suckles; an artist's masterstroke. 

You can't keep up. His rhythm is fierce and uncatchable. 

Each step seems to stutter. An avartan you can’t keep pace with. Elongated taals, dips. A crescendo of harmony that is matchless, unreproducible. You struggle along with his swift current, his unerring tide that sweeps you away; unmoored, adrift. The tentative exploration ends. He knows you, now. All of you. And this is his summit. His scramble to the top. It’s biting passion; roaring flames. 

You cling to him, holding tight to the liferaft he offers in a slow huff, a gust of mirth across your lips and into your lungs, slowing down to accommodate you. Malleable, now, he lets you lead, lets you take over, and move seamlessly with him. In tandem, parallel. Equilibrium brings you to heel, and you sigh into his mouth—a deep exhale of everything that has been building and building, tipping the scales around you until it was unbalanced and precarious. Teetering on the edge a precipice unknown. 

His hand roams across your known geography—hills and streams, rivers and canyons—until he reaches your hand still bracketed around his cheeks, slowly peeling it away from his flesh to slide his fingers between yours, holding tight, and—

Kissing is immaculate. Bending at an altar, and making an offering to something bigger than yourself. It’s the spark of lightning flashing overhead, static in the air. Magnets drawing closer and closer until they snap together in the middle.

But holding his hand?

It feels like coming home. 

The world tipping back into place. Amber warmth in your veins; the softness of a jasmine petal. You suck in a deep breath at the shock of it all. 

You think of missing puzzles and loose sea ice drifting alone in the vastitude of the ocean. You think of a life where he isn’t in it and find yourself shuddering at the wrongness that emanates from it. 

You want him. Want him—

It’s Kyle who pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours. You blink slowly, eyes catching dark amber, honeycomb. It draws a smile from you, full and deep. Giddy on the taste of him, of this. 

The only thought in your head is finally, finally.

You see his lips curl in response, eyes lidded and heavy. Blooming with want, affection. Adoration. 

"What, ah—," he laughs a little, then, breathless and happy, and the noise anchors itself to your breastbone, pressing into the hollow of your ribs. A place you'll keep it forever. "What now?"

He hands you the starless sky, and places it into the cup of your palm. Breathes laughter in the air, paints the moon with his joy. You think about the places he wants to take you, and the ones he swears you'll never go. You think about aeons from now when the world is gone and the stars all die out, when there's just the hazy lavender of endless abyss you can't make sense of. You think of him, and you think of you, and you wonder when it started to just make sense for there to always be two. 

Maybe that night in Cardiff when he held your shoes and gave you his coat. When he draped his arm around your shoulders, laughing at something stupid you'd said. A year before he joined this task force he makes cheeky remarks about but never goes too deeply into detail. When it was just endless summers spent working and drinking and eating good food. 

He'd asked the same thing, then, half slumped over in the taxi, and three sheets to the wind. It made his eyes darken, endless pits. Black holes. The expanse of the sky is framed by brown lashes, and drooping lids.

And you'd said—

"Beans and toast?" It feels right. It feels good. "We can—"

He huffed, too, just like he does now, and squeezes your hand once, tugging you along. 

"We're not watching Golden Girls."

You watch Golden Girls. Kyle wraps his arm around your neck, keeps you tucked in close to his side. He steals kisses from you when Sophia says something that makes you laugh until you're breathless and trembling. 

When David from Kent texts you, he grins wide, and whispers in your ear, think I've always been a little bit in love with you, you know? 

Yeah, you say, and kiss back until the taste of him is etched into the space between your teeth. Since Cardiff. For you?

"Since Uni for sure." He smiles again, sheepish and a touch flustered. It glitters on his brow and nips the apples of his cheeks. "You stole my heart when you devoured four lamb kebabs and then ate my tabbouleh. Said to myself, yeah, that's the one for me, innit?"

"On second thought, what's that Barista's number? Might try my luck instead."

"Nah, you're smitten," he presses his lips into the hollow of your throat, nips his teeth against your pulse point. "And you're all mine. No take backs."

"Ah, for fuck's sake—"

Ahhhhhhhh. Sappy romcoms are my kryptonite and it shows.

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