#but i get to see my partner today which is exciting!!

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 3

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas.* Shitty family, amazing found family, new friends, supportive friends, Nick Fuckiiiiiiiiiiiin Cage, wedding fluff. Summary: It's time to get married! And that reality is so much sweeter than you ever could have anticipated. Notes: I just...really really love weddings, guys. You all know that by now 🧡🧡 This week, please enjoy a gorgeous view of the Breakers from the ocean!

Friday, April 4, 2025 T-Minus One Hour Until the Wedding

Javi had helped you tote everything back inside Hazelwood House. It's unbelievable that you're actually allowed to be sitting in the room reserved for brides preparing for their special days. It's just one of the house's guest bedrooms but it is outfitted with plenty of non-historical seating and a large vanity for sitting at to do hair and makeup.

Moira had rushed home to change into her favorite purple off-the-shoulder dress and sparkling ballet flats and now the two of you are doing your hair and makeup at that vanity that normally you only see pictures of on the museum's social media accounts afterward.

“Knock, knock.” There’s a polite tap at the door and then two women with huge rolling bags come in. “Hi! I’m Tracy and this is Tandy. We are hair and make-up, so we thought we could come give you a hand? If you want?”

"Oh!" You almost jump even at the gentle intrusion. "Oh my god, really? I—" You glance at Moira but she's already glowing. "I mean, yeah, absolutely. That would be incredible

They both squeal in excitement and come wheeling into the room, careful to close the door behind them. “I looooove soulmate weddings!” Tandy gushes, an exact copy of her twin sister except she has a star tattoo behind her right ear that is visible with her hair put up.

"And this one is going to be gorgeous." Moira declares, practically giggling as she shifts away from the mirror to let you sit directly in front of the vanity.

You are sitting in a dressing gown, which is perfect. Tandy smiles as she stops behind you and examines your hair. “Do you have any ideas for your hair?” She asks.

"Um...Javi picked out a hairpiece," you tell her, severely downplaying the fact that your soulmate chose a literal tiara for you to wear. Instead, you simply take out the box that Cindy had packed it in and open the lid to show the other women.

“Oh my Godddddddddd!” The screeches from all the women are ones of pure joy. Every woman loves a tiara, even if they didn’t want to wear one. And this one is gorgeous.

"The whole look together is fairly spectacular," you admit, your warm cheeks and sheepish expression making you look all the more excited – because you are.

“So obviously, the tiara is the star of the show?” If the headpiece is this beautiful, the dress must be breathtaking. “What about a sleek style that weaves the tiara into your hair?”

"I defer to your expertise," you tell Tandy honestly. Normally you don't do too much to your hair besides take care of it and put it into the same simple style every day. "I just want to look like myself when all is said and done. I guess...today really is the best version of myself I could hope for."

“Natural.” Tracy smile as she moves over to Moira. “I believe in just enhancing your beautiful features with make up.” She promises before she looks at your maid of honor. “May I work on you, gorgeous? You have such beautiful eyes.”

“I guess the look we’re going for is natural.” Moira grins at you and looks back at Tracy. “I do…have a favorite lipstick, though.”

“Oh yeah.” You light up and start nodding. “Clinique Pink Honey. Makes her look like a movie star.” At that, you and your best friend both laugh. “I mean…I guess she’ll just fit in perfectly with the crowd that way.”

“Don’t be too intimidated.” Tandy tells you. “All of them are just as normal as you and me. They just have higher profile jobs.”

"I don't think it's a matter of being intimidated." Which is not what you expected to feel, all things considered. You would have expected that you would feel that way. Maybe it just hasn't really hit you yet. "I'm mostly just surprised."

“It has to be a shock.” Tracy agrees as she starts to pull palettes of colors out of her unzipped bag. Trays and trays of makeup, all nearly organized. “Just suddenly discovering your soulmate by chance.”

"It's a beautiful surprise, but it was definitely a surprise." You and Moria sit up straight in your chairs to let the twins artists set to work. "It's not like I've been checking Mate Marks for matches or anything, ya know? It just...happened."

“Do you know why he wasn’t on Mate Marks?” She asks curiously, pondering over that. She’s never assumed a screenwriter would need anonymity.

"Some people aren't." You shrug slightly, realizing you never even thought to ask. "Some people want to find their soulmate naturally. Out in the wild, if you will."

“Either way, you have found each other and now you are getting married.” She hums. “And it will be beautiful.”

"He's beautiful." A fact which has you practically giggling. "It's been such a whirlwind."

“He is very attractive.” Tandy admits with a smile. “His accent.”

"Is to die for." Another round of giggles ripple through you, and you stand by your opinion wholeheartedly. "I will very happily listen to anything he has to say."

“And he’s so clever.” She adds. “The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent is one of my favorite movies. It the reason I wanted to work on this movie so badly.”

“That was one of his?” Moira’s eyes widen.

“Yep.” The pride on your face is unmistakable. The universe gave you a soulmate you can be truly proud of and you don’t mind having those bragging rights at all. “That was his first movie.”

“What a way to break into Hollywood, huh?” Tandy snorts. “That movie was like number one at the box office for months.”

"It was incredible." Tracy agrees with an air of absolutism. "His characters are gorgeously complex."

“So this is going to be incredible.” Moira hum. “You are marrying a genius.”

"I love that way of thinking about it," you agree with the broadest grin.

Everyone continues to work and giggle, passing snippets of information. The twins efficient and chatty at the same time.

“What do you think of this?” Tracy asks Moira. “Or do you want a little more dramatic touch? Even though it looks dark in person, a heavily coat photographs better.”

"My best friend's wedding?" Moira glances over at you and you grin at her in the mirror. "I think it calls for a touch of drama, don't you?"

“Definitely.” Tandy hums in agreement. “You won’t look like some old matriarch who’s still got her foundation on from 1920, but you’ll look amazing.”

The laughter that comment earns is loud and genuine, so much so that you almost don't hear your phone ringing in the pocket of your robe. When the most important people in your life are all already in this building, you frown slightly – but it's your father's cell phone that pops up on your caller ID. Moira's jaw drops open, but you shake your head at her concern. "I called him from the boutique before we came back, and left him a voicemail. I figured they should at least know."

After all, they're still your family. Which is why you pick up now instead of sending the call to voicemail like you might have otherwise. "Hi Dad."

“Surprised to get your message.” He doesn’t greet you, ask you how you are. It’s just not the way your father does things. Straight to the point and often unavailable, that’s him. “You need money?”

"No, Dad, I don't need money." You roll your eyes at Moira and smother a sigh. "And I'm well, thank you. I only wanted to let you and Mom know that I'm getting married tonight."

"Married?" His voice is shocked, astounded actually, and he clears his throat. "This is a prank, right?" He huffs. "Like that time you said you were going to go to art school?"

Controlling your breathing is a feat of fucking strength right now, but you aren’t going to spoil the night with another argument about how you had to withdraw your acceptance at Parsons because your mother refused to release the small amount of money they had allotted for your education if you threw it away, in her words. “This is not a prank,” you inform your father coolly. “I met my soulmate and we’re getting married. I just thought it was appropriate to let you know.”

He sputters for a moment. "Soulmate? Who is this soulmate?" He sighs and you can imagine that he is rubbing his eyes right now in that condescending manner to was meant to convey frustration and disappointment at whoever he is dealing with. "Please don't tell me that you just met this man?"

“I met him two years ago.” Technically true. “And I didn’t call to ask for permission. Or to ask for anything at all. This is merely information.” Fucking hell, you can’t wait to change your name.

"You planned a wedding without inviting us." He huffs sounding hurt for a moment and then there's the shuffling the phone and he murmurs something that you can't make out. Having a conversation with someone in the background that takes precedence over your call. The shuffling stops and he comes back on the line. "Well, you let us know. We'll send a card." With that, he hangs up the phone.

“And that is why I wouldn’t have told you anyway.” You huff at the phone, tossing it onto the vanity in a flourish of annoyance. “Well, I told them. That’s all they’re entitled to anyway.”

Moira sighs, very familiar with the disappointment that flashes in your eyes and is quickly suppressed. After all the hurt, all the chances you’ve given them, you try to pretend you don’t want the Hallmark happy family you watch on tv. “Some people don’t deserve to be parents.” She reminds you. “You have me and your other friends.” She waves her hand dismissively to make you laugh because she always tells you that she’s the only friend you really need. “And now you have him. Your soulmate.”

“Well…” Sitting back and letting your eyes shut temporarily, you reach over and give Moira’s hand a squeeze. “At least my kids will never have to quiet about being treated equally. No Golden Children in my house. No favorites. Ever.”

“None.” She promises and gives a little laugh. “Black sheep, all of them.”

“Loved no matter who they are.” You insist. That’s the key.

“Babe, you were born to be the best mother.” She agrees. “You will love every quirk and passion they have.”

“Yes. Yes I absolutely will.” There are so many wrongs of your own childhood that you will right with your own children, but the first step to getting there is getting married tonight.

“Now, forget about them.” She could possibly be talking about a bug or some gum on her shoe rather than your parents. She knows if she ever had the misfortune of meeting Cruella de Vil and her husband, she will be giving them the ass chewing of a lifetime.

"You're right." There is no reason to ruin your special night thinking about your awful family, and you're not going to let it happen. "You're absolutely right. Now." You relax back in your seat as Tracy and Tandy switch places. Your tiara is secured into place and it's starting to feel real all over again. "Moira, my love. As maid of honor I think it's wedding law that you have to take somebody home tonight.

“Yes please.” She immediately agrees with a wicked grin. “I’ll take both Jason Grant and Alex Powell home.”

"Somehow I think Alex Powell needs to be the center of attention at all times," you hum, smirking slightly. "Not that I dislike him. He's actually been really nice. But you've had that crush on Jason Grant for ages now."

“He’s hotttttt.” She huffs, slightly embarrassed about it but she can’t help but preen. “Did you see that ass? You could bounce a quarter off it.”

"I'm not saying you're wrong." Laughing right along with Tracy and Tandy, all four of you end up in a giggle fit. "I'm just saying...he's here now. You could actually talk to him. Get to know him. Even make a move?"

“Like he would want me.” She snorts, giving you a horrified look. “And I’m not lucky enough that my soulmate is a hot actor.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m gonna get some fucking CPA.”

"Six hours ago, if you had told me Javi was my soulmate, I would have laughed at you." In fact, you're pretty sure she might have suggested it once and you did laugh. "You never know. That's all I'm saying."

Rolling her eyes, she blows a raspberry. “Now you’re all ‘the sky is blue and the birds are singing.’ She teases. “It must be love.”

"Maybe." The grin on your face grows quickly into something wide and unapologetic. "Maybe it is."

****** Nerves has Javi nearly jittery at the flower covered arched trellis that leads to the informal gardens. That is where your boss said that you had always gotten dreamy eyed when you saw wedding set ups so that’s where she had decided to set up.

“You doin�� okay, Jav?” Nick chuckled under his breath, already knowing the answer as he waits beside his friend in front of the small group of assembled guests.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming.” Javi turns towards Nick with a plea in his eyes. “We aren’t drunk in my pool, plotting and laughing. I’m here. I’m in this moment and I’m marrying my soulmate.”

Nick laughs the way only Nick can, because it is full of boundless affection for his tenderhearted friend. "No, buddy." He assured Javi, shaking his head. "You're not dreaming. This is your fairy tale."

He shivers, his face alight with pure joy and his eyes sparkle. “Do I look okay?” He asks, knowing he looks good, but wanting the reassurance. “Thank you for remembering a belt. It matches the shoes too.” He adds, looking down at his loafers proudly.

“You look fantastic.” Nick assures him. One comforting hand on his shoulder squeezes tightly and Nick’s eyes wander momentarily to where Olivia is sitting with Addy in the front row usually reserved for family. Because they are Javi’s family. Javi is the closest thing to a brother Nick has ever had and he understands the sheer joy of finding your soulmate. Of course he wants that for his brother.

“Have I showed you the ring?” He has, but he’s already pulling it out of his pocket again. Partly to reassure himself that it hasn’t disappeared in the forty-five seconds since he had tapped the pocket to make sure that it’s there.

“It’s beautiful, Jav.” Nick knows he’s proud, and is about to nudge him a little about starting work back up on the house when the music starts.

“Oh god, it’s time.” Javi is shaking as he shoves the ring box back in his jacket and straightens his shoulders. Immediately hearing the commanding voice of his father as he scolds him to stop slouching and look proud. He is a Gutierrez.

You can tell that Moira picked out the music as soon as you step out of the house. I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You pours through the speakers hidden throughout the garden, and your best friend grins at you as she takes her place ahead of you to walk down the aisle.

Of course Nick starts to hum along with the song. One of his earlier movies was playing Elvis and he’s been obsessed ever since. Like Javi had been obsessed with Nick. Javi swallows and shuffles as he sees your friend, itching to get a view of his bride.

With a nod from you, Jason slides into place beside Moira to escort her down the aisle after passing off two beautiful bouquets of fresh and vibrant Gerbera daisies. For Moira the bouquet is petite and playful, for you it is big and bold and beautiful. They're so momentarily distracting that you almost miss the soft, affectionate expression on Alex's face as he steps up next to you.

“You make a beautiful bride.” He has intuition about people, reading them easily. He knows that you and he will be good friends. He’s a serial flirt, a little bit of a playboy, but he’s also a very loyal friend. His suit is immaculate and he offers you his arm proudly. “May I have the honor of escorting you to your soulmate?” He asks seriously, even as he smiles that blinding white toothed smile that melts hearts and panties.

“As a matter of fact?” You take his proffered arm with ease. “I insist upon it.”

“You insist.” He peps up even more at that and rolls his shoulders back to straighten up taller. His hand covers yours protectively. “He’s waiting impatiently, so let’s not keep him waiting longer than he has to.”

Moira and Jason make their way down the aisle and the actor deposits her opposite Javi and melts into the crowd of secondary cast and production crew that have all obviously changed into whatever nice they had on hand and are all sitting happily as if they have known you forever.

The music changes as you and Alex step up to the end of the path that will take you up to Javi. It's surreal in a way you'll never quite be able to describe. From Elvis to Etta James, the music now proclaims that you have found each other as you make your way toward your soulmate under the watchful, joyful eyes of assembled friends. Some are old, some are new, but all of them are watching as Alex brings you up to Javi at the end of the aisle and sets your hands into your soulmate's.

“Hi.” He gushes, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears as his smile lights up his entire being. “You look…una diosa, mi diosa.” He murmurs, tongue tied for a moment. “My goddess.”

"Hi." If you were breathless with excitement before, it is doubled now. "How did you get even more handsome since I left you an hour ago?"

“I changed.” He jokes, making Nick chuckle beside him.

One simple moment of laughter eases some of the nerves that have been holding you tight in your grasp, and you squeeze Javi's hands in yours as Tamara gently clears her throat to get everyone's attention.

“We are gathered here tonight to unite these soulmates in a blessed union.” She smiles as she addresses the crowd.

Tamara’s speech is short and witty, as charming and silly as she is with a reverence for the romance of the moment. If you manage to remember to ask her for a copy of it later — if she even has it written down — you’ll add it to a photo album of beautiful snapshots of tonight.

Javi is practically shaking in excitement and turns towards you as he holds both of your hands. “Ready?” He asks.

“Ready.” And if you make it through your vows without crying, it will be a miracle.

“You are beautiful.” He whispers with a shy smile before he has to look back at Tamara again and nod for her to proceed. “We are ready.”

“For these two soulmates.” Tamara beams, smiling at you and Javi and then out at the crowd. “Love swept in like a fairy tale. A fairy tale that began right here at Hazelwood House with their first meeting and will continue for many endless years to come. As bold and unique as they place they first met, these two soulmates have the potential for an adventurous and boundless life of joy ahead.” There is no questioning, in her mind, how absolutely true that is, and she smiles again. “It doesn’t take more than a few minutes in their presence to know that this is the kind of love that makes the rest of us believe in the true power of soulmates.”

Javi shivers at her eloquent words. He hopes beyond hope that this is that kind of love. Nick reaches out and clasps a hand on his shoulder in steady support. Smiling into your eyes, he feels like he is staring into your soul. His soul.

"Javier." Tamara smiles encouragingly. "We'll have you start the vows."

Javi takes a deep breath, making you smile and giggle slightly. It’s not a heavy sound, it’s nervous. Murmuring your name is accompanied by stroking the back of your hand with his thumbs. “From the moment I saw you, I was drawn to you. To your beauty, your kindness. That sweet smile.” He tells you. “I had to talk myself out of coming back every day for a week so you did not think I was a creep.”

That draws a sweet laugh from the crowd and another giggle from you, but you squeeze his hands back affectionately. "I looked for you," you admit, not minding interrupting him to say so. "Every single day."

“You did?” He perks up even more, happy that you seem just as enchanted with him as he is with you. “That’s good. And I thought of you. At random times, I could not get you out of my mind.”

"Neither could I." A fact which makes tonight so much sweeter. But you'll have your turn to make your vows to him in a moment. This is Javi's time.

“Every time I saw you after that, I became more ravenous for time with you. Hating to leave your side and now, I do not have to.”

An audible aww! comes from the crowd, and you break out into another wide grin when you recognize Tandy's voice. The twins, it seems, are just as involved in this love story as the rest of the cast and crew became today.

Javi glances at the crowd and then right back to you. “I want to be a good soulmate. A good husband.” He vows. “To make you feel special and appreciated every day.”

Tamara nods for you to go next, clearly smothering a watery smile at her microphone.

"Javi, I..." You have to remember to breathe so that you don't cry, but your eyes are watering with happiness before you even begin. "I still feel like I'm dreaming," you admit, and laugh softly when a ripple of coos and chuckles wash through your assembled friends. You're so glad that you talked through what you wanted to say to him with Moira before coming down from your dressing room. "I feel like I must have dreamt you up in a bedtime story that I told myself years ago and brought you to life through wishing. I can't wait to learn with you, and grow with you, and build our future together."

Javi can’t help himself. Lunging forward, he presses his lips quickly to yours before he is pulling away with an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry.”

A ripple of affectionate laughter rolls through the crowd and Tamara’s smile grows wider and softer in response. “Let’s get those rings,” she says, looking to his best man and your maid of honor.

“Rings…..rings.” There’s a moment of pure panic on Javi’s face as he blanks out for a split second on where he put them. Nick steps forward quickly before he can freak out. “Jacket pocket, buddy.” He whispers in Javi’s ear and steps back just as quickly.

Moira has Javi’s wedding band for safe keeping, and she passes it to you along with a lovingly weepy hug. Your best friend has always been a softie, after all.

“Here it is.” Javi pulls out your ring with a flourish. Smiling happily as he stares at it for a moment.

"We exchange rings," Tamara goes on, starting to get a bit choked up. "As a symbol of everlasting love. Once it exists, it never ends, and to have a physical reminder of that love each day can be as soothing for the soul as anything else in the world."

Oh yeah, she is absolutely about to cry, you think but you really can't blame her. You're there yourself.

"Javi, repeat after me as you present your soulmate with her ring." It's so very simple but so beautifully felt. "I present you with this token of my love and devotion. A symbol of our partnership for life." And then, of course, the traditional icing on the cake. "With this ring, I thee wed."

Javi holds your left hand as if it were made of glass and has the ring ready to slip onto your finger. “I present you with this token of my love and devotion.” He says clearly. “A symbol of our partnership for life. With this ring, I thee wed.”

Even though you just bought the beautiful platinum band three hours ago, it still feels like magic when it slips onto your finger perfectly. It doesn’t feel real. Like anything this perfect has to be a dream.

Your fingers grip his tightly for a moment and you blow out a shaky breath before repeating the vow under Tamara’s direction. “I present you with this token of my love and devotion.” The beautiful band you hold at his finger slides on so easily. “A symbol of our partnership for life. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“It fits.” He huffs out happily, like he didn’t just try it on hours ago. He had already shifted his pinky ring to his right hand, wanting his wedding ring to be the only ring on this hand. “I will never take it with the intention of putting our vows aside.” He vows seriously. He will have to remove it at times, but it would never be removed for any nefarious reasons, that he can promise.

“I can promise you the same.” There are a hell of a lot of people in this world who couldn’t — or wouldn’t — say the same and you won’t be one of them. Not when it feels like you’ve been searching for him your entire life.

“Do you take each other,” Tamara definitely sniffles this time. She can’t help it. “To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, for the rest of your lives to come?”

“I do.” Javi’s words are clear, direct. Meant with every fiber of his being. He nods and smiles. “I do.”

“I do.” Your heart pounds with it and sings its tune.

“Then,” Tamara beams, sounding almost as excited as you and Javi. “By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

“It’s allowed this time.” Nick chuckles and that makes Javi start to laugh, pulling you close and dipping you down as he presses his lips to yours like it’s the most romantic of romance movies.

The whirlwind moments that follow – running up the aisle together and back into the house, wrapping your arms around each other in the Great Hall after you've practically scampered through the open doors that let the warm, evening air into the house. There is a table waiting nearby with the paperwork to make your marriage official nearby, and the cameraman that is filming the wedding has followed at a respectful distance to capture the utter joy that is you and Javi kissing each other silly as you wait for your witnesses to join you inside.

“We are married!” He can’t believe it, even as he signs his name. “My middle name is Mateo.” He realizes that he’s never told you that. There’s so much for the two of you to learn about each other. He signs his complete name to the form and smiles up at you.

You tell him your middle name, too. The small things stack up on top of each other as you begin this crazy journey together. Including the second form that Tamara hands you, because Moira told her to make sure there was a copy. It is the form to file for changing your name now that you are married, and you nearly bite your lip as you start to fill it out. "I've...always figured I would take my husband's name," you tell him nervously. Wondering why the hell you're nervous. "Is that okay with you?"

Javi nods eagerly. “Perfect.” He agrees, knowing that the rest of his family legacy might be shameful, but this family he is starting with you will not be. “I— I would love for you to have my last name. Our family name.”

"Our family." You like the sound of that very, very much. It's so much better thinking of the family you'll make together than the one that has never even tried to understand you.

“Our family.” Both of you seem to melt at the idea. Unable to stop simpering as you close the gap between you and kiss again. Aware that you are being a little dramatic, Javi doesn’t even care.

Your friends let you indulge – it's your wedding day after all – but in these first few moments of wedding bliss, you barely have any concept of who is in the room with you. Moira is there, chatting with Tamara, and Javi's best man is interjecting in the conversation as well. It's all a whirl of joy that swirls around you until you finally tune into the conversation a few feet away.

"Um...sweetheart?" You pull back with confusion on your face, looking at Javi with furrowed eyebrows. "Is your best man Nick Fucking Cage?"

Javi looks at you in an equally confused fashion. “Um….yes?” He answers, tilting his head as he hears Nick laugh and starts to smile, looking back at him and then towards you. “You didn’t notice him before now? I called him with you in the car. He brought me my suit.” He reminds you.

"You called your best friend Nick in the car and...you told me separately about having Nick Cage come to your birthday party." Now you're laughing as you see that it should have been obvious. "I just...I didn't put the pieces together! And I was not paying attention to anyone but you just now."

“I see.” He chuckles with you and leans into kiss you. Turning, he guides you over to where Nick is talking with an obviously star-struck Moira. “Nick.” He hums happily. “I’d like to formally introduce you to my wife.” He grins, remembering how shocked Nick had been when he had facilitated his reunion with his own soulmate a few years ago. “Sweetheart, Nick Cage.”

"Hi Nick." In this moment you barely know what to do besides shake his hand, but this is your brand new husband's best friend, so when you end up hugging him it shouldn't really be a surprise.

“Nice to meet you.” Nick replies with a smooth smile and a sparkle to his eyes when he draws back and his own soulmate joins him at his side. “Honest to god, I’m glad to meet you.”

"Considering the circumstances?" You glance over at Javi and beam. "I'm very glad to be met." A shared laugh ripples through the group. "And obviously I'm very glad to meet both of you, too."

“Olivia.” Nick’s wife offers, reaching up and brushing his lapel lovingly. “It was a beautiful ceremony and it reminded me of our own wedding vows.”

"i am really looking forward to getting to know both of you." If you had been told yesterday that this conversation would be happening ever in your life, you would have called bullshit. But here you are, and you're beckoning Moira over to your side in the process. "Moira Whitney. My best friend in the entire world and an absolute angel of a human."

“Hi again.” Moira smiles, almost shyly but she’s still a little awestruck that she had a conversation with Nick Cage about your wedding.

"Why don't we go grab a drink?" Olivia suggests, knowing things like photos have to happen and the other guests will be filing up onto the terrace for cocktail hour.

“Absolutely.” She beams at how nice she is and nods before she looks at you. “Love birds? Would you like a drink?”

"Don't you worry about that." Scott appears with the camera man and your official wedding photographer, as well as Leslie. Your boss a tray of crystal-clear blue and bubbling glasses ready to go. "The caterers had a suggestion for a signature cocktail and I thought you'd like it," she confesses. "They're usually called Tiffany Mimosas, but for tonight, they're called The Something Blue."

Javi can see that you are absolutely over the moon at the idea. Melting and cooing at the light blue drinks. "Something blue?" He asks, tilting his head. "Right. The things a bride needs."

"She's also a sucker for anything Tiffany-themed." Moira tells him with a sly grin. "We threw her a Tiffany tea party for her birthday last year. Not like anything there was Tiffany at all, but we watched Breakfast at Tiffany's and had blue everything and everybody dressed up."

"Tiffany's." He nods seriously, making a note of the famous jeweler.

"Javi, that isn't necessary." You insist, knowing your best friend has just given him a lifetime of ideas. "Let's go and take photos, shall we?"

"Photos." Temporarily distracted, he pulls you close and hums as he presses his lips to yours. "You look so beautiful, you must have all the photos taken of you. To remember tonight. This moment."

"Where would you like to take them?" Leslie asks. An indulgent smile lights up her face that only grows wider when you light up. "Anywhere in the house. I know you both must have favorite rooms."

“The green marble room.” Javi immediately answers. “Where we met.”

"The billiard room. Absolutely." It's a perfect choice, of course, and a romantic one to boot.

"And the library?" Leslie asks, grinning. She knows it's your other favorite part of the house.

"And the cliffs?" Javi turns towards you to see what you think. "Unless you don't want to risk your dress?"

"Why not the bench?" You suggest, remembering that second day you met him with such affection. "We can take some photos out at the bench with the cliffs and the ocean in the background."

"Yes." He lights up. "I would love that." He smiles. "I wanted to ask you to dinner that day. At the bench."

"What stopped you?" The whole group of you start to move over to the billiard room together, and you hold Javi's hand with intertwined fingers as you go.

"I lost my nerve." He admits sheepishly, blushing slightly. "I did not think that you would accept."

It doesn't bear pointing out that you absolutely would have accepted, or that you might have known you were soulmates much sooner if he had gone out onto that limb. There is no use dwelling on what might have been when what lies ahead of you is so bright. "Well," you hum, tapping your sparkling champagne glass against his. "We will have a lifetime of dinners ahead of us."

“Yes.” He chuckles and takes a sip of his champagne. “Dinners and breakfasts. Movie nights. Even premiers.”

"It's all very Disney to me," you admit, and smile when he gives you a slightly confused look. "It's a whole new world."

“Ariel? No, no that is Jasmine.” He corrects himself quickly. “Aladdin.” It has been a long time since he’s seen the movie, but he’s proud of being able to recall it. “You like Disney?”

“Love it.” You’re practically floating at his side as you walk, just talking and holding his hand as you go. “I grew up on Disney and it always just stuck with me.”

“Then why don’t we go tomorrow?” He asks, smiling softly. “Spend our honeymoon at Disneyland? I have never been to one.”

“You wouldn’t think that was silly?” It sounds sweet and fun to you, but you wouldn’t do just about anything with him and it would seem perfect right now.

“No, I don’t think that there is anything I could do with you that would seem silly.” He admits with a small smile.

“Maybe we’ll collect ideas all through the night and decide tomorrow?” You feel positively light about the whole thing, not worrying about the logistics of anything for this night. Just wanting to bask in the glow of being a newlywed. At being with your soulmate.

“Perfect” Javi glows under the knowledge that you just want to be with him. That anything and everything is on the table. “Pictures, sí? For our children? When they ask how we met and married?”

"We will have more pictures than they can stand," you predict. Happily setting your glass down so that the photographer can shuttle you into whatever pose he sees fit.

******

Craft services pulled out every trick up their sleeves. Javi can’t believe all the finger foods and little bites they managed to prepare. And someone had managed to go out and get cases of champagne. He presses another glass into your hand as you are animatedly chatting to Olivia and Nick, wrapping his arm around your waist and pressing his lips to your pulse. “Wife.” He murmurs, inhaling the intoxicating scent of your perfume.

Married is your favourite word right now, and it's no surprise to you that Javi's seems to be wife. "Thank you. husband," you beam at him. Your cheeks are aching from smiling so much tonight. "Olivia and Nick were just inviting us to dinner next week. Dinner and a movie?" Apparently it is a Cage family tradition to do once during the week, and Javi was usually included in that, too. It seemed to make sense that you should start to join them as well.

“Would you mind?” He asks, looking ecstatic that you are considering it. “Nick’s library has grown tremendously over the years and now he will even watch his own movies with us and give us the behind the scenes commentary. Those nights are especially fun.”

"I would love to." If it were nothing more than an invitation from some nice, new friends, you would already be excited to accept. But that these are Javi's best friends? It turns the whole thing around and makes it probably the most important invitation you'll get all night. "But I insist on helping with dinner somehow. It's the least I can do."

“Oh, we normally order in.” Olivia tells you with a grin. “But if you want to help me come up with some themed menus for movies, that could be a lot of fun.”

“Absolutely.” Your eyes light up in delight all over again. These are definitely your kind of people. “I love a themed dinner.”

“Oh shit.” Nick huffs, although there’s an indulgent smile on his face. She has been hinting about wanting to do this for some time and she’s found a partner in crime.

"Your soulmate and I are turning out to have lots in common, Javi." Olivia tells him, enjoying Nick's near-exasperation that she has finally found someone to indulge in these ideas with.

"Oh...hardly." You shake your head and wave off that idea. "You have had an entire career with fashion, Olivia. I have a passing interest."

“Well, passing interest is still interest.” She hums. “And we can make sure that we get some fabulous designers to dress you for red carpet events. Sherry was telling me that Javi needs to attend these things.”

"You...would want me to go with you?" Somehow that thought hadn't yet occurred to you, and your eyebrows raise practically to your hairline in surprise when you look up at your husband.

Javi’s face immediately twists into something that could only be described as a pout. “You would not want to go?” He understands that it might not be your favorite activity, you might normally be more introverted than your job allows you to be when giving tours, but he had hoped to share this with you. He would want his soulmate by his side for everything, good and bad. Sharing the successes and lamenting failures.

"No, I would love to go." He looks so much like a puppy when he pouts like that, it might really be the sweetest thing in the world even though you never want him to be sad. It means you have your arms around his waist in less than a second to reassure him. "It never occurred to me that you would bring me with you. It just....hadn't dawned on me yet."

“You are my wife.” He huffs, almost insulted but placated by the notion you just hadn’t thought of it yet. “My soulmate. I want to have you with me for everything.”

"Then I'll be there for everything." Everything is suddenly a much larger notion to you, but it's still amorphous enough not to be daunting. The most important piece of it is him, after all. "Cross my heart."

“And I want to be there for you.” He promises, leaning in to kiss you passionately. Unable to believe he can do that whenever he wants now. “For everything.”

"I don't think," you giggle softly when he finally pulls back and you remember how to breathe again. "That the museum is going to have anything as big or flashy as a red carpet for you to fuss over."

“Then we should have the red carpet event here.” Javi suggests, lighting up at the idea.

"Oookay buddy." Nick chuckles, clapping Javi on one shoulder. "We don't have to plan another party all in one night, right?"

“Sorry.” He chuckles self-consciously as he shoots you a grin. “We should focus on our wedding before anything else.”

"There's no harm in being excited about the future." Though you see from Nick's handling of it and Javi's sheepish reaction that this may be a recurring reaction from your soulmate. He gets very excited about things and maybe gets carried away.

“See?” Javi grins at Nick, making the other man roll his eyes. “My soulmate likes it.” Nick had oftentimes teased Javi that his soulmate would have to be of the opposite disposition to put up with his somewhat free and spontaneous nature.

"I think getting excited for things is well worth it," you admit. "Maybe because there hasn't been too much to get excited about before, who knows. But a book release is the event of the year for me, usually."

“Book releases are important.” Javi agrees sagely. You must have a nice collection of books and it makes him wish he still had the library in Mallorca. You would have loved it.

"You really are my soulmate," you hum, delighted to hear that he likes to read as well.

“Is there any doubt?” He asks playfully and hums as he pulls you closer. “Should we dance? You look like you should dance.”

"We should definitely dance." It is the easiest thing in the world to be drawn away by him, and you won't apologize for the way it makes your heart take wing in your chest. Tonight really is just a perfect dream and he keeps making it better.

He knows the cameraman is still walking around, filming. Parts of this day will end up being in the bonus scenes and he really doesn’t mind. Sweeping you out to the dance floor, he agrees that your dress is perfect without the train. “Have we missed anything you wanted today?”

"Everything has been perfect." Even the sting of not having your family care about tonight has been soothed away by the appearance of this new family knitting together around you, and you hold him as happily close as possible as you move around the ballroom with him. "What about you? What else would make tonight perfect?"

“I cannot think of a single thing.” He admits softly. “Other than figuring out where we would like to spend tonight.”

The question warms you through and makes his hand on your waist feel all the more weighty and important. “Did you have a special idea? Or a preference?” For a moment you wonder if he, like you, has been living an implacably solo lifestyle. There is no way your little studio will be big enough for two.

“I have a little cottage.” Javi admits. “But maybe we can get a suite at a hotel? Make it special?” He wants you to be comfortable, to feel like you had more than just a rushed experience.

“A cottage?” The idea sounds so sweet to you that you almost sigh. “We could…stay at yours tonight? And plan the rest of the weekend over breakfast tomorrow?”

“Are you sure?” He’s a little shocked that you would want to stay in his little cottage rather than in a four star hotel with round the clock room service.

“Well, I would bring you home with me but there’s no way we would both be comfortable,” you reason, not thinking about the luxury for a second.

“I understand.” He nods, aware that you might not want him in your space. “I was just making sure you did not want room service?”

“Room service is fun.” You’ll never deny that. “But all I care about is walking up next to my soulmate tomorrow morning.”

The smile is slow as it spreads across his face, he’s shocked that his cheeks don’t hurt from how much he’s been smiling today. Just another miracle of finding you, finding his other half. “Okay.” He agrees softly. “I will show you my cottage. It’s—” he hesitates. “Temporary.” He promises. “Now that you are my wife, you can help me plan the building.”

“The building?” You ask, but he is already swept up in the music again and humming as he twirls you around the floor, conversation forgotten in favor of so much joy.

The night is perfect. The mood is so joyful that he believes every movie should be kicked off with a wedding. Or maybe it just bodes well for the fate of this movie.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

TUWOP: @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sunnytuliptime @iamladyp @spishsstuff @famouslyanonymous

[spidrboots]

i hope u all are doing well !! my energy is a tad low today so we’ll see what i get around to. i appreciate you all sm ! take care !!!!!

[austerulous]

There are two wolves inside me. One that understands that Tumblr’s notification system is broken and that not everyone likes the posts meant for them. The other insists they saw it, they just didn’t enjoy it. 🙃

[citizen-zero]

WIBTA for taking advantage of my boss’ possible manic episode?

I know this already sounds bad but hear me out.

So I (30M) am the sole employee of this guy (62M) who’s honestly just a miserable boss and an even more miserable person. It sucks so bad working for him—the pay is horrendous, he’s verbally abusive, and the working conditions are awful (in the winter I literally have to stay bundled up the whole work day because he refuses to put the heat on in the office). He wouldn’t even give me holidays off if it wasn’t for the fact that there’s basically nothing to do those days because everywhere else is closed. I’m almost positive he unironically thinks poor people should die if they can’t work. His nephew (aka his only living relative and just the nicest guy) came by yesterday to invite him to Christmas dinner and he told him he’d see him in hell.

I cannot stress this enough—it’s BAD. I’d quit, but it’s been hard finding a better job and I’ve got four kids at home, including one with special needs.

Anyway, so here’s where I’m wondering if I’d be the asshole. Today was Christmas Day and he showed up at my house out of nowhere (huge red flag, I know). At first I thought he’d forgotten I had the day off and he was here to chew me out, which was worrying enough, but then his whole demeanor changed and he was super happy and excited and talking about how he was going to raise my salary. He even mentioned possibly making me a partner in the firm.

Now if that was it, I’d feel a little weird about the suddenness of it but it’d be fine. I’m not going to complain about having more money to feed my family. But then he started talking about how he wanted to pay our mortgage off. He talked about wanting to pay for our son to get the very expensive medical care that’s probably going to save his life. He mentioned at one point that he was going to be donating a huge amount of money to charity too—I knew he was rich but it staggered me. All this from a guy who doesn’t (didn’t?) even want to turn on the heat or the lights because it costs too much money.

It was such a sudden and drastic change that happened very literally overnight and now I’m kind of concerned he’s having a manic episode or something. I really, really want to accept his sudden generosity (I probably will; my wife is all for it and thinks he owes it to us), and I would love to believe that he’s truly had a sudden change of heart (an actual Christmas miracle lol) but I’m just worried about the possible consequences of accepting huge financial gifts like this from someone who I believe might be experiencing some kind of break from reality. Even if there’s nothing legally wrong with it, I’m worried about the ethics of it.

TLDR, my asshole boss might be in the middle of a mental breakdown. WIBTA if I accepted his offer to pay off my mortgage and my son’s medical expenses?

[airenyah]

love sitting in front of assignments until 1:30 in the morning

[atlabeth]

unadulterated loathing (pt 1)

pt 2

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don’t go as you imagine.

a/n: wicked was really good, i love jonathan bailey, and we're coming up on finals season which means im writing about how stressed i am. also halfway through this i realized reader is lowkey paris geller coded lmao. this got away from me so im splitting it into 2 parts, i had a lot of fun writing it so enjoy! also im high posting this so if there's any editing issues im sorry lol!!

wc: 5.5k

warning(s): reader is stressed to the max constantly. she is kinda mean to fiyero but he's into it so it's okay. mostly fluff

Your fingers were beginning to cramp. 

You should have been used to this by now with Doctor Dillamond. You’d been in his class for a few months now, and you graded essays for him often. He often had a propensity for verbosity, but this lecture had been an especially hefty one in preparation for your midterm projects.

He would be announcing partners before the end of class—much to your dismay, for you worked far better on your own than with others holding you down—and you figured you would want to have as much of a head start as possible. 

Great Oz, how you hoped you would be paired with one of your friends. Coralie and Ezura were your only contenders for top of the class—Elphaba had potential as well, not because of the magic she couldn’t control but because of the brain she very well could—and anyone else would frankly slow you down. Doing a large research paper with someone who didn’t care as much as you did would be a drag you didn’t care to go through. 

Midterms were only the most important thing, for they set the track towards finals and affirmed your skill with your assignments, and your first midterm was potentially the most important thing for, when completed successfully, set you on the correct track altogether. 

You tried not to think about it too much (though you failed almost immediately), for you were sure Doctor Dillamond would honor all the work you’d done for him by putting you with a suitable partner. 

“I see some of you are getting restless, so I will cut class short today.” Your eyes snapped up from your paper to see the professor smiling, and you could hear sighs of relief around the room. “I’m sure you’re all eager to know your partners for the midterm paper.” 

The sighs of relief turned to groans, and you had to agree. Assigned partners should have been considered archaic at this point in time. 

Doctor Dillamond trotted back to the projector and, with a bit of difficulty, replaced the image with a piece of paper. Everybody in the class was paired off in groups of two—you immediately started searching for your name, squinting slightly to see despite your spot in the front, and the furrow between your brows deepened when you realized you couldn’t find it. 

You searched instead for your hopeful options. Coralie was with Mayara, Ezura was with Nicholas, Elphaba was with Galinda—of course. You let out a slight huff of annoyance, not just at your disappointment but at the continued lack of your name. 

Perhaps he’d merely forgotten. You didn’t know how Dillamond could have forgotten you, seeing as you were only his best student and literal TA, but things happened. Your anxieties only grew as you heard the beginnings of whispers throughout the room as your classmates saw their pairings, either excited or dismal. 

“Class is dismissed,” Doctor Dillamond said. The room began bustling as students gathered their things, already talking with their friends or searching out their project partner—you heard Galinda squeal and saw her grab Elphaba’s hands out of your peripherals. You could only worry your lip between your teeth as you swept everything in your bag, hardly waiting a second before rushing up to Dillamond’s desk. 

“You didn’t call my name, professor,” you said, managing a smile as you tried to act like it wasn’t killing you. How could he have not called your name? Was there something wrong? Great Oz— had you been somehow moved out of the class? Was your work not exemplary enough? Your assistance not assisting enough? “I don’t have a partner.” 

His mouth opened, but you only found yourself continuing, the words practically tumbling out of you.  

“Of course, if you intended for me to be on my own then I am perfectly alright with that!” Your smile widened as your fingertips dangled over his desk. “I— I prefer it, in fact, so if that is it then there is really no issue at all—”

“Mr. Tigelaar!” he interrupted, and your head turned on instinct to see the eponymous boy arm in arm with Galinda (who was arm in arm with Elphaba) just in front of the door. “I hope you are not about to leave.”

Fiyero flashed a look at his companions before offering one of those easy smiles he seemed to always have up his sleeve. “You dismissed the class. I believe I am part of your class, am I not?”

“You are,” he said, “but you were not assigned a partner. Surely you wouldn’t be trying to get out of the project.”

Your free hand clenched as the threads started to connect. Doctor Dillamond wouldn’t do this to you. Would he?

That easy smile remained on his lips as he turned to Galinda and whispered something in her ear. She giggled and pecked him on the cheek before she walked out, pulling Elphaba behind her, and Fiyero sauntered over. 

“Of course I’m not trying to get out of it,” he said. “Whyever would you think so?”

“Your attempt at a quick exit before you could be assigned a partner,” the professor said. “But it is no matter, for your partner is right here.”

You blinked. He would do this to you.

Why would he do this to you?

“Well, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. “Fiyero Tigelaar.”

You ignored him, for you couldn’t look away from Doctor Dillamond. Would it be mad for you to strangle a Goat?

“Professor,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “why?”

“Mr. Tigelaar’s grades in my class have not been satisfactory, as I’m sure he is aware.” Dillamond moved away from his desk, prodding the chalkboard with his head to move it out of the way. “I care about all my students, even if they seem not to care for my course. I believe a partnership for the two of you would be beneficial.”

Your jaw clenched. “So you’re forcing me to tutor him because he hasn’t got a brain.”

Fiyero chuckled. “Ouch.”

“Not tutoring, just working on your midterm together,” he said. “And if you end up teaching him a few things along the way, then we would all be better off, wouldn’t we?” 

“Professor, with all due respect, this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “Why should I have to risk my grade, my midterm, my standing altogether at Shiz just to help him?” 

“Should you perform the way that is typical of you, there should be no issues.” Doctor Dillamond gave you that professorly look and your teeth grinded against each other. How dare he try to take the moral high ground. “Now, the two of you better hurry off. You haven’t got forever to work on this project.” 

“Professor,” you whispered, determined to not let up, “why are you punishing me like this?”

“I’m not punishing you, my dear.”

“Fiyero couldn’t care less about any of this,” you insisted. “I’m going to fail my midterm and it will be all his fault!”

“If you believe he can make you fail, then you haven’t got as much faith in yourself as I believed.” Doctor Dillamond looked at you. “Trust me—and yourself—that this will all work out.”

You stared back—it was rather difficult to have a staring contest with a Goat. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind on this?”

“You’d be correct.”

You huffed and glanced away. “Fine. But expect those test scores to take an extra day.”

He let out a bleaty sort of laugh while you walked away. You considered it a credit to yourself that you held back the childish tantrum you wanted to throw as you moved back over to your desk to gather the rest of your things. You shoved your books into your bag with a bit more anger than necessary, and you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over to see Fiyero sidled up beside you, leaning against the desk next to yours. 

“Surely you won’t be this irritated at me the entirety of our project.” He still had that unbothered smile on his lips, and it made you want to hit him. “It might make this a much more miserable partnership.”

You let out a mirthless laugh as you shouldered your bag. “Don’t act like this pains you. You’re just going to ride my coattails the entire time.” 

“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Fiyero mused. “But now that you bring it up, I just may have to.” 

“For the love of Oz,” you muttered to yourself before mustering the strength to look up at him. “I have a myriad of things I need to do today. Why don’t you go bother your girlfriend for the rest of the day, and then you can meet me at the library first thing tomorrow morning so we can discuss all of this.” 

He shrugged. “Sounds alright to me.” 

“Good,” you said. “Because I meant every word I said back there. I will not have you ruining all my progress thus far because of your absolute refusal to think.” 

“It looks as if you could take a page out of my book,” Fiyero said. “You seem awfully stressed.” 

Your lips tightened into a mirthless smile. “I’m stressed because of you, Fiyero, and we have hardly even interacted. I dread to think of my mental state after a week of working together. Now, good day. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You swept past him and walked out of Doctor Dillamond’s classroom. You felt his eyes on you until you turned the corner, and you had to resist the urge to look back. 

Oh, how you loathed group projects. 

-

The rest of your day was far more demanderating than it should have been, and you blamed Fiyero for it. You swore the clock went by half as quick and your lectures twice as long—it didn’t help that you were so distracted in chemistry that you nearly burned your eyebrows off from a potion gone wrong. 

You’d practically thrown yourself onto your bed when you got back to your dorm, and you didn’t get up until your roommate got back and demanded to know what had gotten into you. She didn’t exactly give you the response you wanted. 

“The prince is your partner?” Coralie sighed dreamily. “Oh, you are so lucky.” 

“Lucky is not the way I’d put it,” you mumbled, words muffled by the sheets. You finally tore yourself up off your bed and picked your nightgown up from atop your dresser. You went behind your folding sheet and began to change. “And I didn’t know you had eyes for Fiyero.” 

“I hardly have eyes for him,” she said wryly. “I just have eyes—anyone can see that he’s attractive.” 

“It doesn’t matter how attractive he is if he makes me fail this midterm,” you said. You straightened your nightgown then folded your school uniform while you walked back into the open, passing a glance at your roommate as you placed it on your desk. You then settled on your bed with a huff. “I just don’t understand why Doctor Dillamond is punishing me like this. It makes me reconsider all those late nights spent grading papers for him.” 

Coralie shrugged. “You’re one of his best students, Fiyero is probably one of his worst. I bet Doctor Dillamond figured you would be happy to take him on, what with how happily you take on everything else he throws at you.” 

You grumbled as you laid back against your pillows. “I just don’t know if I can take him on. Fiyero seems to care more about flirting with every student at this school than any actual material.” 

She gave you a mischievous smile. “Maybe he’ll turn the full force of his affections on you in return for your studiousness. Oh, how that would be a sight to see.” 

“Don’t even put that idea into the air, Cora,” you scoffed. “Besides, he’s clearly involved with Galinda. Even if I was interested, which I’m not—” you emphasized with a pointed look at her— “that isn’t something I want to touch.” 

“Well, you can’t deny that he’s dreamy,” she said. “He just showed up at Shiz and people started falling left and right. It’s more impressive that you haven’t.” 

“Because I’m here for one reason,” you said. “His whole… thing doesn’t fit into any of it.” 

“I know,” Coralie mused as she fell back onto her pillows. “You’ve told me your whole plan ten times over. I just think you should also try to enjoy your life instead of bulldozing your way through it.” 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I’m enjoying my life just fine, thank you.” 

Interestingly enough, Fiyero was going through something similar a myriad of rooms away. 

He laid on Galinda’s bed, his head in her lap as she trailed her fingers through his hair. She’d been going on about something for the last couple of minutes, but he hadn’t really been able to focus on any of it. 

“Dearest, did you not hear what I said?” 

Fiyero blinked at the sound of Galinda’s voice. He hadn’t indeed. 

“I’m sorry, beloved.” He absentmindedly reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze once he found it. “I was thinking.” 

Elphaba laughed from across the room. She sat on her bed with a book in her lap. “That’s a first for you.” 

“It is,” Galinda said, though with much more concern laced in her voice. Her hand moved from his hair to his forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Just fine,” he assured. “What was it you were saying?” 

“Just lamenting on how awful it is that we’ve been separated for this project,” she sighed. “I’m sure I could persuade Doctor Dillamond to put us in a group of three.”

“You can’t even get him to pronounce your name correctly,” Elphaba said wryly. “How could you get him to do this?” 

“Well,” Galinda huffed, “maybe you could do it. He appears to like you more than me.” 

“I’m sure that really hurts,” she said. 

Galinda placed her hand on her chest. “It does!” 

“It’s fine,” Fiyero interrupted. “I’m alright with my partner. She’s nice.” 

“Nice?” Elphaba scoffed. “I heard her lecturing you the whole time we were out in the hallway.” 

“She’s passionate,” he decided. “Besides, I don’t really care. I haven’t thought about it since she left.” 

That was a complete lie. In truth, Fiyero hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left. Very strange for someone who preferred to go through life with less thinking and more doing. 

He honestly didn’t know why his mind was so occupied with you. 

He’d always been aware of you, obviously—all your professors adored you, your name was always brought up when talking about top of the class, and he was sure you held the record for most time spent in the library at once—but he didn’t know anything about you other than your academic record. And for someone with such strong opinions, especially about him, Fiyero found himself with the strange need to know more. 

He would be at the library tomorrow. Maybe not on time, but certainly there. 

Fiyero would make this the beginning of a beautiful partnership, one way or another.

-

True to your word, you were in the library bright and early after a quick stop at the dining hall. You went through the effort of gathering everything you thought you would need—a myriad of textbooks and encyclopedias, your well-weathered notebook and another one for Fiyero because you doubted he had one, and enough writing material for the two of you.

You sighed. You had to do so much just to even the ground between your groups and the others. Coralie was always so prepared whenever you worked together. 

Fiyero, to your surprise, was only ten minutes late. You already had your head buried in a book when he said your name and scared you witless. 

Your eyes widened as they darted up to look at him, and he chuckled. 

“Sorry. You were in the zone.”

“I just wasn’t expecting you,” you said. “You’re late.”

“Hardly.” Fiyero took the seat across from you, his eyes sweeping over everything you had on the table. “You’ve got quite a collection.”

“I doubt you know your way around the library,” you said. 

“I know my way around a lot of things.” 

You leveled your gaze at him. Leave it to Fiyero to make everything an innuendo. “And is a library one of them?”

“I’m sure I could make it one.”

“If you bothered to think at all.”

“Darling, you know I’d never,” he said with a smile. “Now, what are we doing here?”

“Do you really not know what our midterm is?” you marveled. 

“I have more important things to worry about,” he said. 

You scoffed and shook your head. Ridiculous— it was ridiculous that you had to put up with this. Maybe Doctor Dillamond really did hate you.

“Our assignment is an extensively researched ten page paper on any great Ozian,” you said. “Anyone who has contributed to our society in a relevant way and made our lives better for it.”

“A ten page paper?” Fiyero frowned. “That seems a bit much.”

“Between the two of us, it’s just five pages each, and we’ve got two weeks to get it done,” you said. “I’ve written five pages in a few hours of inspiration.”

“Your life truly sounds thrilling,” Fiyero said. “We could do the Wizard.”

“Half the class is going to do the wizard,” you scoffed. 

“Because he’s a great man,” he said. “There’s no shame in it.”

“There is absolutely shame in copying half the class,” you said as you pushed over a sheet of paper to him. “Now, I’ve already got a list going. Look it over; see if there’s anyone you like or anyone worthwhile you want to add.”

You looked back down at your encyclopedia, opened to your personal favorite choice, and continued scribbling down basic notes. You glanced up a few moments later to see Fiyero’s gaze hadn’t wavered from you. 

You frowned. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re awfully prepared,” he said instead. 

“I figured you wouldn’t be,” you responded.

Fiyero’s lips quirked in a smile. “Then I believe that means you deserve to choose our subject.”

Your frown deepened. “Really?”

“Are you always this suspicious of everyone?”

“Just you.”

“Then consider this an olive branch,” he said. He slid the paper back over. “Who’s your top choice?”

“…Ilara Mayfair,” you finally said as you pointed at her on the top of your list. “She was a historical linguist, responsible for half of what we know about Ozian languages and how they connect and differ. She’s…” you cleared your throat and shrugged, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, “she’s kind of my hero.”

“Your hero?” Fiyero’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what you want to do?” 

“…It’s always been my dream,” you admitted. “I grew up helping around my parents’ bookstore and her mark was on nearly everything. I really admire it. I want to make that sort of difference in the world.”

“How noble,” he remarked. What surprised you was how genuine he sounded. “It’s impressive how much of your life you have planned out already. All Galinda knows is that she’s majoring in sorcery—she hasn’t really got anything else worked out.”

“What are you majoring in?” you asked.

“Undecided,” Fiyero said. “I was kicked out of my last school before I could declare, so I figure there’s not really a point in doing it here.”

“Not really a surprise,” you said. 

“Really?”

“On your first day, you snuck off campus with half of Shiz to go dance at Ozdust,” you said. “That’s not exactly a good first impression.” 

“I’d argue the opposite,” he said. Fiyero tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you for a moment. His gaze made you uncomfortably aware of yourself. “I don’t recall seeing you there.” 

“That’s because I wasn’t there.” You looked back down at your encyclopedia to avoid his eyes. “I had more important things to do.” 

He frowned. “Do you ever take a day off?” 

“Of course,” you said. “There isn’t any class on the weekends.” 

“I mean with this,” he said, gesturing at all the books around you. “It doesn’t seem like you allow yourself a single moment of respite. When you’re not in class, you’re studying. When you’re not studying, you’re doing work. When you’re not doing any of it, you’re probably dreaming of your future assignments.” 

You felt your skin heat. Surely you weren’t that transparent. 

“...I don’t dream of them,” you defended. “Not— not always.” 

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. Do you know that?” 

You frowned. “How am I ridiculous? You’re incapable of taking a single thing seriously.” 

“And you’re incapable of not taking everything seriously,” Fiyero said. “It can’t be good for your health.” 

“I plan to get out of here a year early,” you said, looking back at your books. “I can’t slack off like you do if I want that plan to come to fruition.” 

“Oh, I’ve gotten out of every school I’ve been in a year early,” Fiyero said. “Sometimes two or three— Oz, sometimes I don’t even make it through the first semester.” 

Your eyes snapped back up to him, widened in instinctual panic. “What?” 

He burst out laughing, and it grinded every one of your gears. “Oh, I wish you could see the look on your face! It’s priceless— truly priceless!” 

“You’ve been kicked out of every school you’ve been to and you think it’s a joke?” 

Still laughing, he shrugged. “It is. Nothing bad has happened, and I’m still having the time of my life wherever I go.” 

You just shook your head as you stared at him, eyes still wide. “Are you always like this?”

“Utterly charming?” 

“Entirely insufferable.”

You didn’t understand how he laughed. Everything rolled right off him, like oil off a duck’s back, no matter how many times you insulted him. 

“You know, there are other things to life than your studies,” he said.

“Not while I’m here, there isn’t,” you said. “It’s the whole point of university.” 

“The point of university is to have fun,” he said. “You’ve seen how this place has perked up since I’ve gotten here, haven’t you?” 

“Not really, no,” you said. “I’ve been more focused on other things.” 

“Like?” 

“Like my studies.” 

“It’s like I’m talking to a broken record,” he marveled. “Have you ever had fun in your life?” His eyes widened comically. “Do you even know what the concept of fun is?” 

“Ha ha,” you said dryly. 

He tilted his head. “Do you?” 

You frowned. “Of course I do.” 

“Okay, then.” Fiyero leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself.”

Your frown deepened. “We aren’t doing a research paper on me.”

“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Is it a crime to want to know my partner?”

A muscle worked in your jaw as you stared at him. He stared back, entirely unaffected. 

“If I humor you, will you actually work with me through this?”

Fiyero held up his hand. “Prince’s honor.”

Finally, you broke. You folded your arms with a short sigh then glanced away. “Fine. I’m from a tiny village in Gillikin that you’ve probably never heard of. I’m here on scholarship with the plan to graduate, become a historian, and make a name for myself.” You looked back at him. “Is that good enough for you?”

“It’s excellent,” Fiyero said with a smile. “Dare I say I’ve learned more about you in one short day than I have in the entirety of my time at Shiz?”

You gave him a fake smile as you tapped your book. “Open your textbook. We have a lot to catch up on.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask about me?”

“I mean this with all due respect—what could there possibly be to know about you?” You raised an eyebrow as you counted off on your fingers. “You’re from the Vinkus, you’re a prince, and you’ve never read a book a day in your life.” 

“Oh, that’s not true,” he chastised. “I’ve read at least one—I just choose not to.” 

“Well, how about we make that two?” You reached across the table and opened his book for him. “Unless that prince’s honor isn’t worth a thing.” 

“Oh, it’s worth everything,” Fiyero said. 

You raised your eyebrows expectantly. “Then prove it.” 

“Very well,” he nodded. “I believe I can be serious for the next… fifteen minutes.” 

“You won’t even get through a chapter,” you said. “Thirty.” 

Fiyero frowned. “You set awfully high expectations.” 

“Why do you think Doctor Dillamond forced me to help you?” you asked. 

“Because you’re oh so nice and charitable?”

That got a genuine laugh out of you. If you’d been looking closer, you would have seen Fiyero’s smile grow, his eyes soften. 

“Of course. Now, go to the glossary, find Ilara, and start writing. I know practically everything about her already, so you need to catch up.”

“I don’t have—”

You held out your extra notebook and fountain pen and cocked your head. “Don’t have what?”

Fiyero chuckled as he took them from you. “You’re prepared for everything, aren’t you?”

“Always,” you said with a satisfied smile. “Now get reading, my prince.”

He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed his head. “At once, my lady.”

-

You looked at the clock on the wall. Fiyero should have been here by now. 

Granted, he was ten minutes late to your first meeting, but that was before he’d changed your expectations ever so slightly. Almost an hour had passed, and there was still no sign. 

Of course, it wasn’t as if it hindered your progress. You kind of always expected him to fall short—if he showed at all, that was a credit to him—so you already had half the outline done. But a small part of you that you’d never admit to might have actually been looking forward to his presence. 

You enjoyed the bout of verbal sparring he engaged you in. A lot of your classmates thought you were mean, and it never bothered you. Like you told Fiyero, you were here for one reason and one only, and the amount of people that liked you at university didn’t influence that at all. Your professors liked you and your grades were perfect—that was all. 

But you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t… nice. For Fiyero to take everything you said in stride, with a smile and a retort of equal measure.

It was nice. But that was all. 

You were jarred out of your thoughts by someone calling your name. You looked up to see Fiyero sauntering over, bearing his usual smile and not much else.

“This is a library,” you said once he got closer. “You aren’t supposed to shout.”

He took the seat across from you. “I’d hardly call that shouting.”

“You aren’t meant to be loud,” you decided. “Why are you so late?”

Fiyero shrugged. “I lost track of time?”

“You know, we are partners,” you emphasized your last word, “so it would be helpful if you could try to put in the same amount of effort as me.”

“That seems impossible.” He gestured at your notebook with his head, your current page already nearly full. “You’ve got me beat on nearly everything.”

“It’s not that difficult,” you intoned. “I mean, just do some research outside of class.”

He stared at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t know what I expect with you, honestly.”

“Exactly what you see, darling. Now,” Fiyero's gaze drifted over to the window, then looked back at you as he stood up, “what do you say we put a hold on things and enjoy this beautiful day?” 

Your brows furrowed. “What, you mean do our research outside?” 

“Is your work truly all you think about?” he asked in exasperation. “I mean leave the books and your notes and your stress here, and take a stroll around campus.” 

“I’ve had my entire life planned out since I was ten years old,” you said. “Of course it is. I am not going to have some— some—”

“Some what?” Fiyero interrupted. He still looked remarkably unaffected by your outburst, that sideways smile of his infuriatingly charming. 

“Some ridiculous, pompous, self-absorbed, lazy Winkie prince ruin it!” you exclaimed. 

“Lazy,” he mused. “That’s a new one.” 

“Of course you’re lazy! Why would we take a break when we have a project to do?” 

Fiyero looked at you like you were crazy— no, like he was worried about you. He shook his head. “You really do have a one track mind.” 

“When we’re in midterm season, yes, I d— what are you doing?”

Fiyero had started stacking all of the books you had on the table away from you, then he grabbed your notebook and your pen out of your hand.

“You need a break,” he said. 

“I don’t need a break, and give that back—”

You reached for your materials but only just grazed his hand before he pulled them back and set them on top of the pile. “When was the last time you saw the sun?” 

You scoffed. “I see the sun all the time.” 

“Not from a window in the library or your dorm.” 

You bit your tongue. Fiyero smiled and held out his hand. 

“You need a break.” 

You stared at his hand. He gave you a cloying look. 

“It’s not a good sign that you’re this against self-care,” he said wryly. 

You sighed and reluctantly placed your hand in his. “Fine.”

Fiyero grinned and he pulled you close. You yelped at the unexpected speed and you tumbled into his chest. Fiyero’s hand dropped to your waist, and for a moment all you could do was stare at him, wide eyed. 

“Shall we?” he murmured. 

You jolted away from him once you came back into yourself, your skin burning where he’d touched you. 

“We shall,” you said, a bit too forcefully as you started walking a bit too fast. 

Fiyero chuckled. He matched your pace easily, soon coming up beside you. “You’re already that excited?”

“Oh, shut up,” you bit out. “You’ve already gotten what you want. No need for more.”

He feigned naivety. “What would I possibly be doing?”

You shook your head with a huff. “I’m not entertaining that with a response.”

Fiyero simply hummed. You glanced over at him, still staying even with you, and then you let out another huff as you stopped. He didn’t miss a beat, pausing at the same time as you, then met your flustered expression with a smile. 

“Yes?”

“You’re the one that wanted to do this,” you said, gesturing in front of you with a hand. “So lead the way.”

“Gladly,” he said. “I’m very good at taking the lead.”

Fiyero started walking and, though you had half a mind to take the opportunity and dart back to the library, you found yourself following him. 

Cora’s words spun around your head as you and Fiyero walked together, about him turning the full force of his flirting on you in return for you being such a stickler for your midterm. 

That was the embarrassing thing; you didn’t even think this was half of it, and he already had you blushing—and for what? It was as if you’d never even talked to a boy before. 

You’d had plenty of experience back home. Village boys coming into your parents’ store to flirt at you, leaving notes in your desk in class, offering to walk you home at night—plenty of experience. 

It didn’t matter that you denied them all and never went anywhere because you had a one track mind even then, and that Fiyero had done what no one else had and gotten you take a break simply because he asked nicely—

You sucked in a sharp breath as Fiyero’s arm suddenly pressed against your chest, stopping you in place. Your head snapped up to look at him, mouth already open with questions loaded, but he gestured with his head before you could ask any of them. 

You’d nearly barreled right down the stairs from being lost in your head, without care nor consideration for actually taking the steps. 

“Mind the gap, darling,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you damaging that brain of yours.”

“…Thank you,” you said once you’d regained the ability to speak words again. “One of us ought to have one.”

Fiyero laughed as he took his arm away. “Certainly.” He used it to gesture down the stairs. “Ladies first—unless you’re unsure of your ability to conquer them.”

“I’ll be just fine, Fiyero.” You started the descent, Fiyero right behind you, and you let out another short sigh. 

There had to be something wrong with you. That was the only explanation for why you were acting this way.

Maybe you really did need to start getting more sleep. 

[ireverie]

indulgence

pairing ↠ serial killer!sunghoon x (f) professor!reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, graphic depictions of murder, graphic depictions of violence, noncon, mentions of pregnancy, sunghoon is 43 (set in 2023)

summary ↠ you're an accomplished detective in the detroit area and park sunghoon is a prolific serial killer. when your department sends you on its behalf to pull back his layers, you attempt to convince sunghoon to recount his experiences and unravel the mystery once and for all.

wc ↠ 10.3k

a/n ↠ originally posted on my blog revehae, i am not plagiarizing myself. sunghoon’s american for the plot. part 3/3 of the in my blood series. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

the deepest prick of unease settled through you and you shuddered from its nipping cold. 

killers were your forte, but none like this. never in your life had you ever met a killer who’d been at their craft for over a decade. they typically got sloppy after the first half, which insinuated that this sunghoon park guy, whoever he was, was far from an ameteur. 

“gate twelve,” came the guard’s voice, speaking into a transmitter. he was to escort you to sunghoon’s holding room.

the gate lifted. behind it, you clocked the riveting face of detroit’s worst nightmare, hands cuffed at his back as he sat facing you. there was a sort of twisted grin on his face, not as if he was excited to have a visitor, but excited his visitor had been you.

“good luck with this guy. officers tried to get him to budge. he didn’t take the fifth, but the bastard’s damn good at talking in circles,” the guard whispered in your ear.

“duly noted,” you replied quietly, stepping further and taking the seat across from sunghoon. 

the guard left you to your devices, shutting the door behind you and leaving through the passage that led to the gate. complete and total privacy was the only way sunghoon agreed to talk. your department initially refused, insisting there should at least be one or two other officers monitoring the interview, but you let him have his way.

if you wanted to get this man to talk, that was your only option.

“hello, sunghoon. i’m detective ___ from the detroit police department,” you introduced yourself coolly, cloaking your nerves with confidence. never would you show a guy like this any fear.

sunghoon hadn’t stopped grinning since he made eye contact with you. you’d seen pictures at most and he was devilishly handsome, even more so in person, but it didn’t compensate for his unsettling aura. “that’s a beautiful name, detective.”

“flattery will get you nowhere, park.”

“it’s gotten me here,” sunghoon quipped. 

“yes, it has. and i suppose you already know why i’m here.”

“yes, i do,” sunghoon said, pleasant thus far. “you want me to tell you about the murders.”

you bobbed your head. “i do. you see, you’re an enigma to me, sunghoon. you turn yourself in, get fingerprinted, and all of the sudden our datsbase’s going off because your prints are connected to three other crimes over the past twenty-five years.”

sunghoon feigned surprise. “wow, it’s been that long?”

“it has,” you replied, in spite of knowing he couldn’t have not been aware. “martina mortes in 1998, sabrina lee in 2005, christine dalton in 2013, and dr. lee this year.”

sunghoon leaned back in his chair. “i’m familiar with those names.”

“you should be. you sexually assaulted and murdered these women,” you spat, none too tender. “except for martina mortes. you only strangled her. do you want to tell me why that it is?”

“what’s the weather like today? i haven’t been outside, but summer has been kind to detroit.”

ignoring him, you persisted, “let me guess. she was your first victim and that kill, unlike the others, was spontaneous. her being dead defeated the purpose of the sex act, didn’t it?”

“well, do you like your partners warm or cold, detective?” sunghoon asked, deflecting. 

you were heeding the guard’s warning. it seemed this guy liked to answer questions with questions, your least favorite type of offender. “that’s why when you subsequently added the sex act to part of your crimes, you kept your victims much longer, because you like to see them suffer. until you got bored. then, you killed them and dumped their bodies like trash.”

as if he was disinterested, sunghoon glanced to the side and yawned. 

the audacity on this guy was astounding. “am i boring you, park?”

sunghoon replied with total indifference, “if you think you know everything, then why are we here?”

you answered without hesitation, “because i think you’ve wanted to tell someone about what you’ve done for a long time, sunghoon. but you realize that you’re not like other people. i’m giving you the opportunity to get it all off of your chest.”

sunghoon cocked his head to the side, as if he was contemplating your offer. his face was borderline inscrutable. it was difficult, if not impossible, to decipher what he was thinking.

you restrained from heaving a breath. there was a crushing weight on your shoulders, the expectation to get this guy to crack. if you couldn’t do it, nobody would - ever. “how many victims do you have?”

“four.” sunghoon’s answer was quick, automatic. like he didn’t even have to think about it for a second.

folding your arms on the table, you shook your head. “no, i just don’t think that’s true. see, we’re pretty sure martina mortes, your high school girlfriend, was your first victim, and the college professor was your last.”

sunghoon cocked a brow. “but?”

“but there’s no way someone like you could’ve resisted your urges between four kills over the past two decades and then some.”

there was no point in denying the four victims, because you already had substantial proof. nor did sunghoon deny that martina was his first victim, because given the decomposition of the bodies, she died long before the other three. admitting that she wasn’t would be admitting that there were unfound others.

and sunghoon had no intention of implicating himself more than he already had. the only reason he turned himself in was because he didn’t want to prolong the inevitable, for whatever reason. he pulled his lips into a mock frown. “your assumptions about my self-restraint are hurtful,” he replied.

whatever, moron, you thought irritability. “i think they’re more than just assumptions.”

sunghoon teased, “then, let me know when you know something.”

you narrowed your eyes, groaning, “oh, come on. i know and you know that you can’t ignore your desires for a month, let alone over ten years. you have a compulsion. killing makes you feel powerful, it makes you feel in control, and you can’t live without the high it gives you.”

“you make me sound like an addict,” sunghoon remarked, pretending to be offended.

“it wouldn’t be so far from the truth,” you said, glancing over the file at your end of the table. “the first two kills were seven years apart. the second two kills were ten. full offense, i don’t see how you could control yourself for so long.”

“you can believe what you want, detective. i didn’t kill anyone else,” sunghoon lied, not that you ever needed to know. 

of course, he couldn’t control himself. the second he took someone’s life, it became a part of him, and his purpose in this world became clear to him. for the first time in his life, he felt as if he had something that made living worthwhile.

you surrendered. it was obvious sunghoon was intelligent and he wouldn’t be easily tricked into confessing. “okay, fine. let’s talk about the victims we know of. tell me about martina mortes.”

“what is there to tell?” sunghoon asked, brow cocked. “we met in junior high. then, in eleventh grade, we got together.”

“tell me about why you killed her,” you insisted, painfully curious. “it happened in chicago, before you moved to detroit over the summer. you killed her in the heat of the moment.”

sunghoon gave the impression that he would take a minute to crack, so you were surprised when he said in response to your prodding, “we got into a wrangle, if you will.”

that much was obvious. “what kind of wrangle?”

the garage was hot and the air was stuffy, making it difficult to breathe. to say nothing of the frustration scorching sunghoon’s skin, his face tensed into an irritated glower.

there was something about women he never liked, the seemingly inherent ability to blow almost anything out of proportion, as exhibited now as his girlfriend screamed in his face. his stepmother was the same, never not coming up with a reason to fuss at him. he was always walking on eggshells around that woman. 

martina was bristling. “you always fucking do this, sunghoon.”

sunghoon heaved a breath, sighing, “what - what do i always do, martina?”

“you trivialize everything i go through. you make me feel like i’m overreacting when i’m not, you just refuse to hold yourself accountable,” she spat. 

“martina, we’re about to go to college, for fuck’s sake! you can’t focus on your academics and a goddamn child. i don’t get why you won’t just have an abortion and call it a day,” sunghoon roared, heating up a thousand degrees.

“god, do you listen to a word that comes out of my mouth? my parents will kill me, sunghoon. if not for being pregnant at eighteen, then for killing it.”

sunghoon sighed. “i don’t see the part where that’s my problem.”

tears blurred martina’s eyes. she came up to him, shattered by his carelessness and embraced by isolation, and bellowed, “you want to know what your problem is? your problem is that you’re an incompetent bastard with no regard for other people!”

sunghoon’s body was engulfed in flames but his shoulders were cold, and he lost control of his emotions, grabbing martina by the throat. he effortlessly lifted her with a single hand and smashed her against the closest wall none too gently, watching her eyes wince closed.

“you wanna say that again?” sunghoon asked, nothing short of belligerent.

ache spread out through the back of martina’s head, a ceaseless throbbing worse than any hungover. her feet dangled off of the ground, waving and kicking, fingers weakly prying at the ones pressing down on her windpipe. until she was completely still, legs dropping, hands going limp at her sides.

“i didn’t even realize how long i spent standing there, until she felt… empty, and i knew she was gone,” sunghoon confessed, but his tone was far from sympathetic. “she scratched me. you know, when she was trying to pry my hands off. i didn’t know until hours later.”

you shook your head, disdainful. “you killed your pregnant girlfriend?”

sunghoon groaned, “oh, please. i was eighteen. i would’ve been a terrible father.”

“i would be slightly more inclined to accept that as an excuse if it weren’t for the fact that you had a son by sabrina lee only two years later,” you said viciously.

“a lot can change in two years.”

“i’m sure it did.” your eyes flickered over the file again, but nothing would allow you to familiarize yourself with this killer more than talking to him yourself. “for example, you realized just how much you liked killing.”

if sunghoon could’ve raised his hands, he would’ve. “your words, not mine.”

you leaned over the table, unrelenting. “tell me about it, sunghoon. how did it feel when you strangled her with your bare hands? what was it like?”

sunghoon chuckled. “is that what you wanna hear?”

you nodded. 

sunghoon leaned in too, getting closer to you, and whispered in your ear, “i squeezed every last breath out of her, one by one, until there was nothing left for her brain and she went slack in my arms. and when i was done, i felt elated. i felt free. it woke up this dormant sensation inside of me that i swore to never repress again, because it made me feel alive.”

your lungs started to feel shallower, like no breath could reach the bottom, and you sensed your heart come to a halt for a minute. sunghoon pulled back, grinning from ear to ear, as if he was proud of himself. 

“detective, did i startle you?” sunghoon asked, tilting his head ever so slightly. 

your face hardened. “why would you ever think that?”

“you’re not as good at feigning indifference as you think you are, detective. full offense,” he mimicked, mocking.

he’s just a fragile man that kills women to make him feel better about himself, because he needs to be in control. don’t give him power over you. that’s what he wants, you said to yourself, shutting any and all other thoughts. “so, you killed martina, nobody could connect her disappearance to you, and by the time they discovered her body you were already studying for college two states over.”

sunghoon ignored you, at least for a little. he was taking a liking to making you feel uneasy around him. “has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?” he asked out of nowhere.

“you aren’t my type. i don’t fool around with serial killers,” you replied sharply.

sunghoon didn’t seem to be offended, but you didn’t expect him to. “really now? it feels like we’re on a date right now. after all, we are getting to know each other.”

you asked, “have you always had such a distorted perception of normal human interaction?”

sunghoon shot with no hesitation, “have you always had such a sharp mouth?”

you pulled yourself together. the only way you would get anywhere with this guy was by establishing that you were the one in control. “okay, enough. this is my interview, park. you answer my questions, not vice versa.”

“that’s not any fair,” sunghoon told you, that unnerving smile still on his lips. “i don’t have to tell you anything, you know. and without me, you lose the only key to those answers you want so badly.”

“you shutting up doesn’t make much of a difference, considering you’re already dodging my questions,” you replied.

“let’s play a game,” sunghoon suggested.

you weren’t in the mood for any games, but that was sunghoon’s method of operation. “i don’t like games.”

“you’ll like this one,” sunghoon insisted, laughing. “twenty questions.”

your shoulders dropped. “am i supposed to be guessing something?”

sunghoon shook his head, something sinister about him. “no, it’s much easier than that. we take turns asking each other questions until i’ve answered ten and you’ve unanswered ten.”

you stared into his eyes, willing yourself not to break contact. he was just as relentless, silently cocking a brow at you, as if to challenge. and you weren’t an idiot. that’s exactly what it was. you asserted, “i go first, you can only ask me yes or no questions, and if i don’t like your final answer i get to press you for another.”

sunghoon slightly lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “yes, ma’am.”

“okay,” you started. “what made you move from illinois to michigan?”

“i was kicked out of the house. didn’t have anywhere else to go. but i had a buddy here whose family took me in,” sunghoon answered frankly.

you pondered those words, wondering if his aforementioned buddy knew about his secret indulgences. or if he asked why sunghoon’s parents kicked him out of their home. it would’ve been the question scratching at your mind, itching to be answered.

sunghoon’s lips parted. “what kind of perfume are you wearing - honey lavender?”

“yes,” you said, focusing your attention on anything but the possibilities of how he could’ve known that. he’d been with so many people to the point where he just knew. “why did you get kicked out of the house?”

“my dad always thought there was something different about me, ever since i was a child. he was a nasty piece of work. he found my journal, read a couple of things i wrote, and decided there was no hope for me in the house,” sunghoon ranted.

that piqued your curiosity. “what did you write about?”

“wait your turn,” sunghoon sang. “your hair smells just as lovely as the rest of you. do you match scents all the time?”

you were mildly uncomfortable, but given the type of dude he was, you stifled it. “yes. you don’t have to be such a pervert all the time, you know?”

again, sunghoon rolled his shoulders, chirping, “you call it perverse. i call it amusing.”

you almost cursed under your breath when you realize you’d asked him a question. “wait, i didn’t mean to ask…”

sunghoon cut you off, “that’s too bad. it’s my turn again. do you like necklaces?”

“not ones made out of fingers,” you retorted. it was meant to be a joke to hide how unsettled you were, hyper aware of the necklace dangling around your neck. you could feel invisible pressure on your throat.

sunghoon snickered. “i’ll admit that was funny.”

you pressed, “what did you write about in the journal?”

“my dreams,” he admitted vaguely, though in reality, he wrote endlessly about his corrupt fantasies of abusing women. some pages were about his stepsister, and there was a few about what he’d done to martina, though not explicitly. “you have the most beautiful eyes. they’re the perfect shade.”

you were certain he had told many other girls those same words and were not flattered in the slightest. the glare you were giving him was ferocious. “i’m not sure if there’s a question in there somewhere.”

“do you think your eyes are pretty?”

“i haven’t really thought about it,” you told him, quick to change the topic. you’d encountered your fair share of stranglers and it was no secret why he was so interested in your eyes. “was your relationship with your father estranged?”

“nothing was enough for that man. i had the top grades in my class and the highest gpa, and he took my door off its hinges and seized my privacy,” sunghoon told you, words harsh, but his tone plain. “he was obsessed with being the perfect family, something that was ruined the second my mother destroyed everything, and rather than embrace me, he turned me away.”

your eyes flickered. there was something about his language that stood out to you. courtesy of the research you’d done on him beforehand, you were aware that his father was divorced then remarried his stepmother, who already had a daughter sunghoon’s age. but rather than describe his parent’s separation as a divorce, he said his mother destroyed everything.

what a hostile view towards women, you mused, repulsed. but given the nature of his crimes, it adds up. and it might’ve been the origin of his hatred.

his family was twisted. you couldn’t fathom how his father, aware of just how unwell his son was, clocked his abusive fantasies towards women, and instead of getting him the help he needed, he left him to his own devices to slaughter them as he pleased.

you blinked when sunghoon leaned, craning his face towards yours, and snapped out of your reverie when you jolted back. 

“there you are,” sunghoon said, chuckling at your surprise. it was all over your face. “i’ve been talking to myself all this time. you must’ve been thinking about me.”

“no, not really. i was wondering if i forgot to feed my dog last night.” it was an obvious lie, but you would never encourage this guy to feel more important than he was.

amusement gleamed in sunghoon’s eyes. he was having a wonderful time, truth be told. had you not been so pretty, he would’ve clamped up like a crab, but you were so pleasing to the eye that he didn’t mind confessing a couple of truths. “a dog. that’s interesting. i myself have always wanted a pet - a snake. the constricting kind are my favorite.”

“you don’t say,” you droned, voice dripping with crisp irony.

your sarcasm was chucklesome to sunghoon, but his words were the truth. he remembered, all those years ago, asking his father for a pet snake. and when he refused, sunghoon, in turn, killed the family dog. he added, “they don’t just suffocate their prey. they coil around them, almost like a straitjacket, and cut off its blood supply.”

you replied, “yeah, but animals hunt to survive. you hunted because you had nothing better to do with your life.”

“in my humble opinion, we’re all animals of nature, and creatures of sin,” sunghoon told you in a whisper, as if he were telling you a secret of some kind. “anyways, it’s my turn now.”

you resisted a disgruntled exhale. 

like his questions couldn’t get any more absurd and strangely perverse, sunghoon asked, “when you shower, what do you use - a washcloth or a loofah?”

“that’s not a yes or no question,” you replied with total disinterest. 

“it’s hardly any less simple.”

“a washcloth,” you replied, though only because you needed to ask him your questions and resisting an answer would only waste valuable time. “why did you wait so long before killing sabrina lee?”

sunghoon smiled at the mention of his son’s mother, but the grin on his lips was distinguishable from the others. like he didn’t even realize he was smiling. “she was special. i loved her.”

“no, you didn’t. you don’t hurt people that you love.”

“maybe that’s true for you, but you’ve called me everything but a child of god and it’s clear you don’t think you and i are alike,” sunghoon said. “i don’t miss her, though, because she left a better print on this world. a world that was never made for her in the first place.”

a better print on this world. your brows furrowed, until you remembered the child they shared together. “you know what i think? i think whatever you felt for your son’s mother was the closest thing to love you’ll ever be able to pull from your ugly black heart.”

“you’re very strongly opinionated,” sunghoon responded, ever so unbothered. maybe some decades ago, it would’ve irked him to the point of breaking, but he was much more in charge of his impulses now.

you lifted your shoulders, gazing at him with the most discerning of eyes. all he could think about was how nice it would’ve been to seize you by the throat and watch the light dull from them.

to your surprise, sunghoon’s next question was not as a deviant as you assumed it would be, asking, “what made you decide you wanted to become a detective?”

“because of the people i used to know that aren’t around to tell you why,” you answered distantly, before pressing, “how was sabrina different, sunghoon?”

sunghoon perched over the table again, an uncomfortable distance close to you, made worse by his whispers. “because unlike the others, she didn’t beg me to stop - she begged me to finish. for it to be over. and when i wouldn’t, she begged me to kill her.”

the mental picture you got was cruel. your heart hurt for these women that had no idea what hit them until it was too late. 

“i put these women out of their misery,” sunghoon continued. 

you spat in a heartbeat, “the misery that you forced them to endure.”

sunghoon winced. “no, these women were miserable long before they met me. they were just ignorant of it. impressionability is a weakness.”

“either you have one hell of a god complex or you are working overtime to justify your sick actions.”

sunghoon merely shrugged, vicious and ominous and everything in between. there was something so dark about his spirit. you could feel it just from sitting within a couple of feet of him. 

sunghoon’s memories were triggered. he was reminiscing about the times he shared with his son’s mother, how perfect she was. there were no other women like her. she was his favorite victim, someone he took his sweet time with, while the others were disposed of in a few months time. 

midnight loomed, riding on the tail of dusk. sunghoon was counting down the minutes until the clock struck twelve, a self-imposed rule to gauge his willpower. the second the hour came, he bolted from the crackling sound of the cabin’s fireplace to a bedroom, anticipation like a stimulant.

the wooden floorboards creaked the closer sunghoon crept to the door. save for himself and the woman chained to the bedpost, the cabin was void of life. it belonged to the parents of a close friend who ensured it was vacant whenever sunghoon needed a place to indulge his twisted fantasies.

which was basically all of the time.

he meandered inside with a crisp bottle of water in hand, droplets condensing at its sides. sabrina laid right where he left her, just as broken, dreading her next breath. tape adhered to the flesh over her mouth, muffling her whimpers. there was nobody around for miles, the cabin was totally isolated, but it was a safety measure.

the chains were used likewise. when sunghoon was not there, the restraints kept her prisoner. sunghoon, reckless as he could be back then, was many things and stupid was not one of them. the chains stretched long enough to reach the bathroom but no further and he had his loyal friend help him test it after each victim.

“can you go further?” sunghoon called out.

heeseung’s lower limbs were shackled, ceasing his footsteps just shy of the hallway as he came to a total standstill. “not if i want my legs to follow me,” he’d retorted.

sunghoon had snickered. “good.”

had sunghoon been there, though, he would take the chains off. none of this was fair, even sunghoon didn’t believe that, but not giving them the chance to fight was too unfair. he needed not to chain them when he had the gift of his big, burly arms.

sunghoon waltzed over with a lighthearted and carefree gait, as if this was just another wednesday afternoon to him. and in some sick, despicable way, that wasn’t too far from the truth. he ripped the tape from sabrina’s lips, watching her face tense with pain.

“sunghoon,” sabrina rasped, voice croaking. he could tell from her flushed face and misty eyes that she’d been crying. “i’m thirsty.”

sunghoon cocked a brow, glancing to his hand. he had an irritating knack for playing dumb. it used to be endearing. now, with everything she knew to be true torn from her bare hands, sabrina didn’t know what to think. “what - you want this?”

sabrina nodded.

“yeah?” he popped off the top, throwing back a few gulps just before releasing a satisfied, “ah.”

sabrina’s lips trembled. “please.”

had she been anybody else, sunghoon probably would’ve dangled the water in her face just to snatch it away, but there was something about sabrina that made him gravitate towards her. in a rare moment of benevolence, sunghoon handed her the water, letting her drink.

she didn’t drink in short sips, but in giant gulps as if she’d known for some time that they’d be her last. when her thirst was satiated, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, handing the bottle back, and whispered, “thank you.”

sunghoon set the drink aside before returning to her, unshackling her limbs. sabrina’s breath quickened the moment the chains clacked harshly against the floor and nearly stilled when he brought his hand to her flushed face, tracing her chapped lips with a calloused thumb.

his thoughts rushed with unbridled exhilaration, ablaze with suspense, but he slowed for a moment to marvel at her loveliness. sunghoon’s hand touched her hair, touch tender in ways it would never be again, because he would never again know a woman as great as her.

he brought his lips to her ear, nibbling at the shell before asking, “do you know what i want you to do?”

sabrina bobbed her head, starting to halfheartedly peel off her clothes without needing to be told. with so many days held prisoner in this hell hole, it became routine. like she’d already resigned herself to her fate and knew sunghoon getting his way was inevitable. he always got what he wanted.

to be frank, it came out of nowhere. she never saw this twisted side of him coming. all she knew was that she became suspicious of his lack of family presence and it was too late when she saw him for the monster that he was, and then she woke here.

it had to have been months ago, although sabrina couldn’t have been sure how many. everyday started to bleed into the static hopelessness of another. sometimes sunghoon wouldn’t show for days, leaving her to live antsily, dreading his unavoidable return. other times, he would spend a day or two in the cabin, fucking her into kingdom come. 

as if she couldn’t be any more faultless. sunghoon smirked. “smart girl,” he purred. he would never deny her wit, given that she’d caught onto him, but her lack of strength was her only vice.

sunghoon restlessly tossed his own shirt over his naked shoulder and came to step out of his boxers. there was mischief on his plush lips. he knew something sabrina only knew from the unkind churn of her gut.

the end was more than near. it loomed over her, relentless and remorseless, and all she could like it to was dark and leaden clouds in a somber sky. even then, there was almost nothing she wouldn’t give to see the world again, but she’d long kissed that hope goodbye.

“down,” sunghoon told her, tone dark and stern.

she pliantly did as told, bare back meeting the mattress. sunghoon crept over her, hard cock twitching at the sight of her so meek. typically, he liked when they put up a fight, but sabrina knew better.

sunghoon could tell she was fighting back tears, willing herself not to cry with a stabilized breath, but her endeavors were in vain the second he started to force his way inside her. they escaped her eyes and dampened her cheeks, unable to overlook the agony of the stretch. 

“shh, baby,” sunghoon crooned in her ear, the weight of his body bearing down onto hers. “what’s the matter? you used to beg me to fuck you.”

sabrina shook her head, silently pleading for a mercy she knew deep down that sunghoon wasn’t capable of. “please make it quick.”

sunghoon’s tone was almost sweet. “but baby, you told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me, remember?” 

sunghoon knew that his words weren’t reassuring and he didn’t intend for them to be. there was a reason why he loved how she tried to hold herself together. he got to push her limits, find her breaking point. in the end, she would get her wish, and in a way, sunghoon thought that that was love.

her walls were just as tight and vice-like as they’d been all those times he’d taken her before. if sunghoon got close enough to her, let his hands wander and tease as they never not had done, sabrina would still involuntarily gush around his cock. like her body knew she was forever a slave to his touch. 

just looking at her face as she wept sent shock waves of pleasure rippling through his dick and chest. sabrina didn’t cry in noisy, gasping sobs. her tears dripped from her thick lashes quietly, mouth parting in the most silent of whimpers.

and she orgasmed the same way, sunghoon remembered. back when things were normal between them, when she begged for him to fuck her, as he called it, her release was marked by a volatile shudder, but a silent cry of ecstasy.

sunghoon pushed sabrina’s lips into an upward curling with his thumb and index finger. “smile for the camera, sabrina,” he whispered.

sabrina’s brows furrowed, painfully oblivious to the camera tracking her every emote. sunghoon couldn’t not document his deeds. there was something about being able to play them over, immersing himself back in that moment over and over, even when the life itself could not be so easily brought back.

but for sunghoon, they could be. when he rewatched these videos again and again, it was like he could feel their pulses thump in their neck, resuscitating.

sunghoon’s hands were everywhere, fingertips traipsing towards sabrina’s neck where marks lingered from all the times he’d strangled her, only to slacken his grip when she was just shy of passing out. the bruises were different colors, indicative of different healing stages. sabrina tensed, startled, and wondered when it would all be over.

“sunghoon.” sabrina was overcome with defeat. her voice cracked as she asked, “sunghoon, please just cum.”

sunghoon’s face tensed with pleasure. “fuck, babe, when you say it like that…”

he stood at the brink of climax, threatening to teeter over, and there was only one thing that could knock him over quicker than anything else. it wouldn’t be anything she said, anything she did, but only a weakness sunghoon had the power to wield against himself.

“you want me to finish?”

sabrina nodded. 

sunghoon chuckled darkly. “then, in that case, it’s time for you to get your wish, baby.”

he watched her shoulders slump, releasing all hope of ever knowing anything different again and accepting that this was where things ended. thinking about the feeling he remembered none too distantly, one that almost seemed to keep his blood pumping through him, in a way, sunghoon’s fingers itched.

sunghoon lifted his hands, bringing them to sabrina’s face, but before he could touch her, she exclaimed, “wait, sunghoon!”

his brow cocked. 

sabrina’s lips trembled. “can you tell me what today is? please?”

“wednesday,” sunghoon replied, holding his hands around her neck, but keeping his grip slack. for now.

“wednesday,” sabrina said, pulling her lips into the faintest of smiles as tears blurred her vision. “will you tell jake that i hope he has an amazing thursday?”

“that can be arranged,” sunghoon said, grinning.

sabrina nodded, setting her mind at ease. she’d already made peace with this day some months ago. she never knew when it come, but she saw it as something bound to happen. “thank you,” she whispered. 

those were her last words. because when sunghoon tightened his grip at her throat, almost like tightening a noose, he couldn’t bring himself to stop in spite of the agonized gleam in her stare. and then her stare was empty, and sunghoon had already emptied his load inside of her.

to describe the sensation he got from killing in a way that captured its essence would be impossible. it was more than feeling the life leave her. it was more than watching her eyes become soulless. it was a release, a way of relinquishing all of the vacantness he harbored, and knowing that his heart was still there.

it would always return, sometimes as soon as the next day, but for a minute, sunghoon was whole and no drug could replicate that kind of contentedness.

sunghoon did tell jake what sabrina said. he wasn’t all too sure why, maybe it was because she was his mother and jake was her son that they’d created together, and sunghoon would never have it any other way. for her to be the one to give him a child, he couldn’t imagine any other woman in her place.

it was almost unfortunate that she had to go so soon. even sunghoon thought that her demise was premature. had she not grown so suspicious of him, sunghoon could imagine making her his wife, maybe even spending the rest of his life with her.

their marriage wouldn’t have been without his secret dark life, but sabrina wouldn’t’ve been a victim. alas, loose ends needed to be tied. sunghoon couldn’t trust that she would’ve kept quiet, and even then, she was in a much more fitting place for an angel like herself.

there was much of this memory that would be abridged. never would sunghoon reveal anything about the cabin or the dear friend that helped him commit his indulgences, or even the existence of the tapes. if they found those videos, that was proof of murder with a grand total of 106 women.

the air around you was heavy and the words you’d just been fed weren’t easily take in. “what you’re just told me is really sad.”

but sunghoon didn’t look sad. whether or not he ever truly cared for sabrina would perpetually be a mystery. “maybe,” he started. “but tell me that you wouldn’t hurt the person you loved most if it was what was best for them.”

“i did. but what i had to do is different from what you were.”

sunghoon’s interest was piqued. “how come?”

“it was my responsibility to decide whether or not to take my sister off of the ventilator. there was no hope for her,” you confessed, though brushed over it quickly. “what happened to your ex-wife?”

“not that interesting of a story,” sunghoon said. “she wasn’t sabrina, i got tired of her, here we are.”

“and yet she wasn’t a one-off like martina mortes.”

“had she been a one-off, my body count would be one number higher. that was a favor,” sunghoon told you, grinning as if you actually had something to be grateful for.

you didn’t waste a second to accuse, “because you need to keep your victims to extract all the relief that you can from them, right?”

“i’m afraid it’s not your turn to ask questions,” sunghoon replied tauntingly. “what was your sister like - did she have long hair? what color were her eyes? how long were her lashes?”

sick son of a bitch, bellowed the voice in your head, though you willed yourself to remain composed. it was plain on his face that sunghoon didn’t want an answer - he wanted a reaction. and as furious as that made you, you couldn’t let him provoke you. “that’s none of your business,” you said, but there was a loophole. “but she was beloved.”

that qualified as an answer. sunghoon glanced at you in a way that made you feel see-through, as if he knew that you were threatening to come apart at the seams and didn’t buy your nonchalance for a minute. 

sated, he went on to feed you bullshit about his ex-wife’s death, though there were only four people who knew what truly happened to her and one of them was dead.

sunghoon remembered that day like it happened yesterday. it was a thursday evening when he’d come home from work. christine had picked jake up from school hours ago and sunghoon wholly expected to come home to her in the kitchen.

it was dark outside. the moon was a mere sliver and the stars were duller than they typically were, almost like they had witnessed something that drained their spirits. sunghoon remembered struggling to identify his house key, trying each of them until the door clicked open.

“i’m home,” sunghoon’s voice thundered as he turned to lock the door. 

there were quick footsteps from upstairs. jake, sunghoon thought, more than familiarized with the sound. but there was none of christine’s usual voice.

“dad, i’m hungry,” came jake’s voice from the stairs, coming down them one by one.

that in itself should’ve been suspicious, but instead, all sunghoon could think about was how sabrina would’ve already fed her son. “hasn’t christine made dinner by now?” sunghoon asked, irritated.

jake shook his head, though sunghoon couldn’t see. he was hanging his coat on the rack, like he always did after he locked the door. “she can’t right now.”

“why not?”

“because i think she’s dead,” jake replied, nonchalant as ever.

that was the very second that sunghoon turned around and noticed that jake was stained with blood. it was all over his face and the spots would probably never come out of his clothes, not that they would be kept.

for half a minute, sunghoon was genuinely stunned.

jake didn’t say what happened, and there was no need to. “the blood won’t come off,” was all he said, showing his father the pair of hands that he’d washed with vigor.

sunghoon heaved a breath. he should’ve seen this coming. jake took after his father and he never liked christine. to say the least, sunghoon couldn’t blame him. “where is she?”

“where they all go,” jake replied, as if it was the most normal and natural thing in the world to him. 

sunghoon headed for the basement with quick footsteps, jake following behind. if somebody were to come down there, they wouldn’t suspect a thing. not only was it decorated to look like one, but it was used as a man cave. behind a soundproof wall, though, was a dungeon for his prisoners. 

in this case, there was a trail of blood leading to the wall, proof that jake had somehow brought christine there after he hurt her. sunghoon entered the cell and saw her there behind the bars, coming to her side to check her pulse. 

pressing his thumb to her wrist and neck, sunghoon sensed a pulse, though it was weakening. “she’s not dead,” he said, wresting his phone out of his pocket.

jake didn’t look so relieved, but he didn’t voice his dissatisfaction. “are you mad?”

sunghoon glanced down at christine. jake had used a kitchen knife, attacking her in the heat of the moment. she was butchered and blood-splattered, on the verge of slaughter, and yet sunghoon couldn’t find it in him to offer any compassion. “that you hurt her? no. that you made a mess? a little.”

now that was a relief. to jake, at least back then, his dad was the coolest guy that he knew.

there was quite the scene in front of him and sunghoon didn’t have a thing for blood. he shook his head in reproach, chastising, “i’m going to teach you the right way to get rid of a woman when you’re sick of her.”

that piqued jake’s curiosity. 

sunghoon was quick to dial heeseung’s number. he had medical experience and that was what he needed right now. when the call connected, he said, “i’m in calling in a favor.”

heeseung patched her up again. at least for a few months, sunghoon still needed her breathing. they scrubbed the floors free of blood, burned jake’s bloodied clothes, and it was as if nothing ever happened.

what sunghoon had told you was only a fraction of the truth, but still enough to make you want to grimace. it bemused you how he got away with murdering his ex-wife and nobody thought to suspect her husband with a track record of disappearing partners.

“you want to know what’s really amazing?” you started, though it was more like disgusting. “how three of the women you’ve killed were your significant others, and somehow, you’ve only now been incriminated.”

sunghoon looked proud of himself. had it not been for jake, he probably would’ve never been caught. “sabrina never told anyone that we dated, or that she had a baby by me. her parents wanted her to focus on her education. if they knew she’d gotten pregnant, she would’ve been the black sheep.”

“and you took advantage of that,” you hissed. 

“so what if i did?” sunghoon asked, careless. “not to mention that dozens of teenage girls in chicago were going missing at the time. they added martina to that number and called it a day. is that sad? maybe. but that’s how it works.”

“and as for your co-worker?” you asked sharply. the boldness of his crimes astounded you. “her husband grieves her. were you having an affair?”

the thought of her made sunghoon chuckle. oh, were we, he reminisced. it was a misfortune that he didn’t get the chance to have his way with her the way that he wanted. and for that reason, he couldn’t regale you in a truthful account of her death.

what happened that day, the day his co-worker died, challenged his fate and was the reason that he only now knew the imprisonment he thrusted upon others.

sunghoon knew when he spotted her that he would revel in her vulnerability. married, but she hardly wore her ring. her kind was the most naive - the kind that believed ecstasy was without costly sin. one way or another, she had to reap what she sowed.

he worked his way inside her pants, but it was hardly any work; she was on a desperate pursuit for pleasure and when sunghoon promised it to her, offering content on a silver platter, she thought less with her brain and more with the throbbing between her legs.

for months, sunghoon slept with her, which was far from typical. if she were anybody else, sunghoon would have pursued her for a couple of weeks time, then banished her to the underground prison. though considering he already had a victim down there at the time, he had some time to spare.

it was no secret that she had grown fond of sunghoon in ways she hadn’t been of her husband in a very long time, and though sunghoon found her to be special, in a way, he could not reciprocate her feelings. when sunghoon saw her, all he felt was the overwhelming urge to use her with a lick of remorse, and squeeze those panting breaths out of her.

it was a shame that he never got the opportunity. sunghoon already tested the bounds of his self-restraint when it came to her, each of their encounters consensual with her oblivious to his deepest, darkest desires. sometimes, his fingers would wander to her neck, but even that was wanted.

what was not wanted was the tyranny over her body that preceded her death. it bemused sunghoon to learn that his son, along with two of his friends that he thought of like brothers and sunghoon thought of like sons, ravaged her to the brink of being unrecognizable.

had sunghoon held control over the situation, he wouldn’t have cared what happened to her and would have even permitted them to go to town. but what happened was somehow darker. when he got a call from the professor late that day, hearing her broken sobs over the phone, he told her to meet him at his house.

that was his first mistake. 

it wasn’t that she didn’t come. she made it there, hopeful to confide in sunghoon about the nightmare that tore her apart, but it was jake that opened the front door. and when she entered, there was no hope out of her coming out breathing.

jake had been a downward spiral ever since a month ago when he stumbled upon the tape of his mother. ever since he was a boy, jake watched every tape he could find of his father’s dark life, even sharing them with his friends as if they were movies and not snuff.

but this was not like those. this was his mother. and watching her suffer, listening to her final request before her untimely death, broke jake in ways which he would never recover.

jake had known since he was little that his mother was dead and his father was to blame, but his understanding of what happened to her was skewed. if he’d known eighteen years ago what he knew today, when sunghoon had his own son aid him in his mother’s demise, none of it would have ever happened.

to say nothing of the fact that what sunghoon had jake do was only a mere fraction of his mother’s suffering. jake would fetch things from the other side of the cabin he vaguely remembered visiting every now and then for three months. when he was not there, which was often, he would lie to his neighbors about her whereabouts.

even though when she died he was only a kid being taken advantage of, jake hated himself for letting it happen right under his nose. he wished he would’ve told his neighbors the truth. maybe if he had, his mother would still be alive and kicking, and he would know the only woman he ever cared for.

that was why he went after his professor that he knew his father had also been eyeing closely and having an affair with. her fate was obvious. sunghoon would entertain her for a while, somehow charm and woo his way into her pants like he did every other woman, kidnap her and keep her downstairs for three months, then kill her and identify the next victim.

but sunghoon’s liking of her was also hopelessly discernable. she was living too long. and that was a telltale sign that sunghoon took a special interest in his son’s professor, something that jake feared would rival the affection (if it existed) for his mother.

jake was not keen on having his mother replaced. the last time it happened, he snapped and maimed his stepmother. and he was not afraid of doing so again.

when jake exacted revenge, it felt like nothing he had ever done before. vengeance tasted like heaven. his professor tasted elysian. and he had never felt so good about himself, but then the high wore off, comparable to the fading release sunghoon got after strangling his victims, and familiar pain seared through him once further. 

vindictiveness was a lethal venom, festering quickly upon injection. after jake got what he wanted, there was a greed to replicate that feeling, in spite of the fact that nothing would compare to that first blow. in his own way, unlike his father’s but similar nonetheless, he was pivoting towards release.

jake was on the brink of something like psychosis when he heard those knocks on his front door. and when he peered outside, spotting the professor, his recklessness got the better of him.

she was dead before she even stepped inside the house. jake yanked her inside, brought her downstairs, and forced himself onto her for a second time that day. when she wept for sunghoon, wishing he would come home, jake almost pitied her naïveté.

if jake hadn’t killed her, wrapping his hands around her throat the way that he knew his father had been yearning to, sunghoon would have.

the look on his professor’s face was pitiful. “sorry,” jake said, though he clasped his hands around her throat harder. “but i have to make a statement.”

it was not particularly a difficult thing to do, at least not to stomach, but killing her was merely just a means to an end. he didn’t get off to it like his father would’ve, jake’s interest lay inflicting psychological damage, but he did it because he knew how much it pleasured sunghoon to squeeze the life out of his victims.

and if jake couldn’t have what he wanted, then as long as he lived, neither would his dad for tearing it away.

sunghoon came home moments too late. jake left his professor in the cellar for his father to find, eyes wide and face pale.

sunghoon glanced around. he saw her car parked outside, but no sign of her. when jake came from his bedroom on the upper floor, a creeping feeling of deja vu flooded sunghoon’s chest, but he asked, “where is she?”

jake’s face was expressionless. “she’s dead,” he replied, confident. “i mean it this time.”

sunghoon shook his head. “you killed her?”

“wasn’t it you that said you were going to teach me the proper way to dispose of a woman when i’m sick of her?” jake asked, approaching his father as he crept down the stairs.

though sunghoon wasn’t pleased, he willed himself to calm down. “did you strangle her?”

“yes.”

sunghoon figured, from the lack of blood staining his house this time around. “will you tell me about it?”

that caught jake off-guard. he expected his father to be angry, to let loose. he had to have been dreaming of choking her since the day he laid eyes on her. “you sick fuck,” jake sneered.

sunghoon snickered, unbothered. that’s rich. “who do you think you got it from?”

obviously, from the face jake was making, he didn’t like that. his nonchalant attitude dissipated. “i’m not like you!”

“keep telling yourself that. maybe one day you’ll delude yourself into believing it,” sunghoon replied, hanging his coat on the rack in spite of knowing he would be leaving again soon.

“i’m not like you - i mean that.”

sunghoon, miffed, rolled his eyes and said, “come on, son. you think i don’t know you and your friends have been watching my tapes for the past decade and then some like they’re cartoons?”

“but not mom’s,” jake spat, loathing fizzing in his stare. 

sunghoon froze, then spun around. “is that what this is all about?”

jake nodded, pleased his father was finally getting the picture. “i found it in your study. you hid it more carefully than the others, because she was special or you didn’t want me to find it, i don’t know.”

sunghoon heaved a breath. “you were never supposed to see that.”

“but i did,” jake replied. “and i’ve suffered every day for the past month because of that.”

sunghoon shot without hesitation, “a suffering you brought upon yourself. nobody asked you to go snooping around in my things.”

jake’s lips were twisted into the meanest snarl sunghoon had ever seen. emotion wrecked through him in its totality. “is that what’s important to you? i shouldn’t be surprised. you couldn’t even spare your own son’s mother from your heartlessness.”

sunghoon massaged his temple, summoning all of his willpower. “please,” he groaned, sensing an incoming headache. “women are weak, cheating whores. just look at your professor. maybe your mother wasn’t, but she was a liability.”

if that was supposed to console jake, it had the complete opposite effect. “are you saying she deserved it?”

“i’m saying that you’ve always been too soft,” sunghoon said, not bothering to sugarcoat his chastising. “just like your mother. even when you were a child. that’s why i had you help me, i hoped you would harden up a little.”

jake scoffed. “unbelievable.”

“your mother went quietly. she didn’t even fight it, jake. so, why are you?”

“because of that,” jake told him, vitriol in his voice. “she didn’t ask you to stop one time. she just asked you to get it over with.”

sunghoon tipped his head back. “ah, yes. she really was perfect, wasn’t she?”

that was all it took to kindle an unforgiving rage within jake and in a moment of fury, flickering through him in a flash, jake lifted his hand to smack his father.

sunghoon caught his wrist, as if this weren’t the first time this had happened and it was wholeheartedly expected. his voice lowered to a mere hiss, “i’ve never laid a hand on you. ever in your life. don’t make today be the day i start.”

jake glared, but wrested his way out of his father’s grip and backed away.

sunghoon smoothed down his shirt and headed for the kitchen, knowing jake would follow. this conversation was far from over. “now, if you excuse me, i have to clean up your mess,” he said, pulling a burner phone out of a drawer. “if you don’t mind.”

“i can clean up my own mess,” jake replied, scowling. 

setting the phone on the counter, sunghoon reached for a glass. “no, you can’t. not without digging your own grave. unless you want to go to prison, pack your shit, ask one of your buddies if you can stay with them for a few days, and take the tapes with you. hide them.”

jake made a face. “what are you talking about?”

sunghoon sighed. “we can’t get away with this one, son. her car’s parked outside. there’s too many loose ends.”

“we can get rid of the car. you don’t have to go to jail!” jake shouted.

“it’s either you or me. frankly, i’m doing you a favor. you wouldn’t last two seconds behind bars,” sunghoon hissed. he grabbed another glass, sliding it across the counter, then said, “now, wine? you know, to celebrate your old man going away? i believe that’s what you want.”

jake shook his head. never in his life had he been so conflicted. his father that he’d been so bent on despising until he the day he died was voluntarily confessing to a crime he didn’t commit, just so that his son wouldn’t have to suffer in prison.

“why are you doing this?” jake asked, bristling with emotion. 

sunghoon sighed. “because i love you, son. even if you don’t think so. and because your mother would be turning in her grave if she knew you were in prison.”

jake blew out a breath. then, after a moment of reluctance, he grabbed the glass on the counter and reached for the wine bottle. 

sunghoon snickered. “atta boy.”

“i wonder how your son reacted when he learned you were going to prison for murder,” you said, pondering. “you live in the same house. i wonder how he didn’t know.”

sunghoon lied, “he was at a friend’s house when i killed her. doesn’t like that it was his favorite professor.”

you nodded along, buying his lies. “that is a lot to take in. i mean, imagine your dad was having an affair with your favorite science professor. then, he kills her, like how he killed your mom.”

sunghoon shrugged his shoulders. “have you never heard the phrase ‘the heart wants what it wants?’”

“i have,” you replied. “and i guess your heart wanted to stop the function of others.”

sunghoon laughed at his own expense. “oh, please. you give me too much credit. you shouldn’t make me out to be more romantic than i am.”

you shook your head in disappointment. “you make these women want you, and then you undo everything. that has to be part of the amusement to you.”

“it gets a chuckle or two out of me.”

your lips were tempted to curl into a frown for the umpteenth time that day alone. “why?”

sunghoon leaned up in his chair, exclaiming, “because it’s fun!”

you were going to say something, but he didn’t give you the chance. 

sunghoon continued, “everyday, as adults, we do the same job for hours and come home. people want excitement in their lives. women get exhausted of coming home to their husbands or nobody at all.”

your stare was blank. “and your point is?”

“i didn’t just make those women want me, baby. i made them need me,” sunghoon told you smugly. “i brought a spark to their lives, and i took it away just as fast. and i do it… because i can.”

“because you could,” you corrected, confident he would never be free of this place for as long as he lived. “you’re going to be in here a very, very long time.”

sunghoon grinned. “i wouldn’t be so sure.”

you cocked your brow. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“wouldn’t you like to know?” sunghoon teased. you hated the smugness in his tone. like he knew something that you didn’t.

the door opened, and the guard from earlier returned. “i hate to interrupt, but it’s time for the count,” he said, coming behind sunghoon to undo his cuffs.

it all happened in a blink. sunghoon’s weight was pressed flush against yours, roughly thrusting you into the table. your body screamed, agony spreading through your side, but your gun was in a lockbox outside the room.

sunghoon knew from your conversations alone that you weren’t the type to go quietly. your first instinct was to fight back. naturally, you struggled against his hold, refusing to bend to his will even as panic shot through your chest. your whole body was on guard, aiming for survival.

but to your misfortune, your might was no match for sunghoon’s. you glanced to the guard for assistance, but when he only stood there as if he was waiting for it to end, the most unsettling feeling of realization washed over you.

“don’t fight him,” the guard said, arms crossed. “you won’t win.”

sunghoon snickered when he noticed your eyes widen in shock. you hadn’t seen that coming. though you tried to resist, it was over once his slender fingers came to your throat, and you genuinely feared for your life. 

you didn’t realize how good you had it just being able to breathe until you couldn’t anymore. your breaths wouldn’t come. it felt as if your bones were being crushed. your whole body was on fight mode, but it was like sunghoon had the reins, shutting down your senses one by one.

“you put up a good fight, detective,” sunghoon whispered darkly in your ear, admiring your struggle.

your lips parted, but you couldn’t speak no matter how hard you tried. your self-preservation instincts were no match against him. all you could do was meet sunghoon’s stare. the pressure on your neck was too much to handle, and in seconds, you were out.

“lights out,” sunghoon said. he released your throat, having no intention of killing you and leading you for dead, but knowing that you would likely regain consciousness in a matter of seconds, he grabbed you by the hair, smashing your head flat against the table to subdue you.

heeseung winced, but he did nothing to step in. “poor girl,” he mumbled under his breath, pitying you. “had enough?”

“for now,” sunghoon replied. “let’s go.”

heeseung gave sunghoon a uniform to wear so that he would blend in amongst the uniforms like heeseung had and when he was ready, the two of them fled before they could be deterred.

when they had successfully gotten away, heeseung asked with his hand on a steering wheel, “you know that i don’t agree with this, right?”

sunghoon snickered. it had absolutely been said. “you haven’t agreed with my lifestyle for the past twenty-five years, yet you still help me. why?”

heeseung frowned. sometimes, he asked himself the same question, but deep down inside, he knew the answer. “because we may not share blood, but we’re brothers,” heeseung replied. “and for my brother, i’ll do anything you need.”

sunghoon quipped, “like smuggle me across the border?”

“like smuggle you across the border,” heeseung said, chuckling. “when we get there, there’s gonna be this dude named sunoo. he’s gonna help you out. i’ll be in touch.”

sunghoon nodded. “i can’t thank you enough, man.”

“just lay low and stay out of trouble,” heeseung said, shaking his head. 

sunghoon grinned with mischief. he was already thinking about all of the beautiful women he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. “no promises,” he answered, sighing contentedly.

taglist: @ribbioniki, @yunakj, @vvenusoncasual, @lovingvoidgoatee, @iloveu-143, @bigwforjay, @hooniehon, @adoredbyjay, @cloud-lyy, @firstclassjaylee, @captainsaposts, @tinycatharsis, @511rkive , @sangiewife

[des2dream]

IndieAnimationDay Highlights✨

Say 'Yay'! It's IndieAnimationDay! A day to celebrate all those independent animators, storyboard artists, cleanup animators, writers etc. out there because we all know how difficult it is to work on animation. We also know how difficult it is to be given dreadful deadlines, people not crediting your work, and dealing with the presence of A.I. Today is the day to celebrate those who give it their all to make something all their own without anyone holding them back! I have three special projects I'd like to highlight for this occasion.

1. Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl!✨🌃🧀

In our first installment, we have an upcoming animatic project, Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl created by @kianamaiart. Our main character, Aika is an optimistic & excitable teenage girl eager to try new things....as long as one of those new things doesn't involve being a magical girl. Well, too bad for her because she is now "The Chosen One" and has to stop Lady DeVoid from plaguing the world in darkness with the help of her star being aid, Hoshi and her new manga-loving friend, Zira. I love this concept so much! As someone who enjoys watching Sailor Moon (the catalyst for Magical Girls), it's such a fun idea to see how much these familiar magical girl tropes will get shut down by either Aika or any other characters. I also really love the character designs, the art style, and the voice cast. We have the voice actresses for Mirko in My Hero Academia and Madoka Magica (one of the other popular Magical Girls)! You should also check out the rest of the cast. I'm so excited!

2. Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy👽🌌🌟

For our next installment, we have an upcoming animated pilot, Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy created by @starteas. The story has a group of alien friends traveling the galaxy in order to help a lost star named, Lumi find their way back home. As soon as I saw this, it gave me Wander Over Yonder vibes which is cute because it's actually one of the inspirations for this pilot. The same thing goes for Steven Universe! Two animated shows that I love so much! Starteas had been working on this pilot for a long time and you can tell if you've seen their art over the years with how much the character designs change. I feel like I'll really enjoy this cast of wacky characters and I'm more hooked on the supposed villain, Void who has one of the best designs for a bad guy. This pilot looks so cute! I have a feeling I'm really going to enjoy it!

3. Knights of Guinevere💙👑🗡

Here is our last installment! Created by @danaterrace (creator of The Owl House), John Bailey (writer in The Owl House & Future Worm), & Zach Marcus (writer, storyboard artist, & designer/The Owl House & Star Vs. The Forces of Evil) comes the next future animated pilot, Knights of Guinevere. The project is also partnered with Glitch Productions (making this their first 2D animation). We don't have much context on this pilot, but it does involve a space princess in a theme park called, Park Planet. As for the premise, my guess is it may involve the princess not being what she seems, a woman stuck in a fantasy simulation, or maybe the princess is a broken-down robot continuously stuck as a mascot. We won't know until later, but I am excited for what's to come since it plans to be released sometime later this year. I've been a fan of Glitch's previous successful animated shows like Digital Circus & Meta Runner, so I hope this will turn out well in the end.

Happy IndieAnimation Day, everyone! You have the ability to make your dreams come true and I find animation to be one of the best forms of creation and storytelling. Even if you're not an animator, you're still capable of creating what you want. Art is everywhere and it is beautiful!

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : ISAGI YOICHI

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : isagi yoichi x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 543

⊹ warnings : reader is referred to as “girl” with she/her pronouns, suggestive, mentions of oral sex, if I’m missing something pls lmk!! MINORS DNI

⊹ A/N : this is a repost from my prev blog bc i wanna continue this series and i cant post the next part without the context from this one so if it looks familiar, thats why. ALSO if anyone has a reblog of bachira's part somewhere pls send me the link!!

⊹ bachira’s version | kunigami’s version

“Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s do this”

“@/isagisbbybgrl asks How big is your dick?”

Isagi had practically choked on his own spit at the question.   “Wha—why is this the first question?!”

“I’m just reading out what Twitter wants to know?”, the interviewer laughs at the shock in his face. “Now answer the question.”

Isagi, Kunigami and Bachira were currently sat side by side across from their interviewer. They had been invited to guest star on LockX , one of the most popular podcasts to date relating to everything and anything Blue Lock. And today they were asked to answer a few fan questions from Twitter all while hooked up to a lie detector. Up first was Isagi, who looked like he was already regretting coming today.

“Like 10 inches” he sighed out. All heads turned to the polygraph examiner— Milo was his name.

“There’s no way—“

“Truth”

Bachira laughs out at Kunigami’s disbelief while the latter mumbles to himself. Something about not believing it till he sees it himself.

“Wait, now I’m curious” Bachira scooted forward and turned to Isagi. “How much of it does your girl take in her mouth?

“What the fuck Megs? Nope. I’m not talking about Y/N here. Not like that.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but more than half these Twitter asks are about her,” the interviewer adds.

“Come onnnn Yoichi”

“Fine. All of it. Next question”

“Milo?”

“He’s telling the truth” Milo nods back, while the room fills with whistles and cheers to Isagi, who’s hidden his face behind a hand but can’t help the proud smirk that grows on his face at the thought of you taking all of him.

“Okay okay” the interviewer laughs before he directs his next question, “User @/mysagiballs asks where is your favorite place to kiss a partner?”

“Hey at least this one’s not about Y/N”

“Ehh it technically is,” Bachira counters.

“It basically is,” Isagi sighs once again, finally accepting that this is what the rest of the interview will be like. “Her lips, that’s my favorite place to kiss her”

“He’s lying.”

“Wha- No I’m not!”

“Another lie”

“I feel like of all the questions you’ve been asked, this is the most mild.” Kunigami speaks up.

“But you’re lying about it, which means there’s something juicy you’re hiding” Bachira teases.

“Fine, her cheek”

“Still lying”

“Seriously Milo!”

This continues on for a few minutes, Isagi calling out a bodypart and Milo calling out his bullshit.

Her neck. Lie. Her shoulders. Lie. Her hands. Lie.

Meanwhile Bachira and Kunigami have practically fallen off the sofa in tears, laughing at how frustrated Isagi grows with every call of his bluff.

“Between her legs, alright?! I’m not getting any more specific than that. You can figure the rest out yourselves I’m sure”, he glares at Milo as he grumbles out his final answer.

“That was the…truth”

It takes a few moments for Bachira to calm down from his hysterics but then he’s teasing Isagi for being so naughty, giggling at the sight of his friend aggressively ripping off the cuffs and sensors connecting him to the polygraph.

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want now but you’re going next.” Isagi grins at him, excited to see his friend suffer the same as he did.

[box-of-roses]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾Dolled Up‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Characters: Daichi, Oikawa, Kita, Daisho, Kuroo, Bokuto, Ushijima

Warnings: fem! Dressed reader for Oikawa

Synopsis: How the captains of Haikyuu would react to you dressed up cheering for him

a/n: This literally came in my head because of how I dressed up for the Haikyuu movie today, so I hope you got a laugh out of it

Daichi

Blushy McGee over here

But also, like so proud??? Like Hell yeah that’s my partner!

He only notices you after the match ends, the moment he sees you his face turns red so quick. Suga immediately takes the chance to make fun of him as you wave and do a small spin showing off your outfit. It’s his missing jersey, not missing anymore, black shorts, and shoes that he can’t see yet that have beads that spell his name on them. Of course, the piece de resistance. His number on your face.

 He feels frozen in place. Gods, you were so cute. He’s almost glad that he didn’t see you earlier. But there’s also the part of him that wishes he had seen you earlier. He thinks he might’ve played harder. You rushing down to give him a hug makes it all the better. “Daichi!” You say happily and wrap your arms around his middle. He happily wraps his own around you as well. 

The minute the two of you are alone he’s hiding his face in the crook of your neck 

You definitely tease him about his red face

Asks if you’re planning on doing this next game and he can’t help but get a little excited when you say yes

Oikawa

The one who acts like it doesn’t affect him, but everyone knows better

Sees you, has to do a double take, and he almost misses his serve

It’s his first serve of the game and Oikawa looks around to find you. What he doesn’t expect to find is you dressed to the nines. He’s not entirely sure where you got it (Iwaizumi because he wanted to see the reaction and laugh at Oikawa about it) but there you are in one of his jerseys, his extra practice jacket, a blue miniskirt, a sign that says ‘My Boyfriend is the Setter (The best one obviously), bracelets he can’t quite makes out from here, and his number on your cheek. 

He hears the whistle blow and thinks ‘Fuck’ as he tries to prepare for his serve. Iwaizumi caught the whole thing and hopes someone got it on video (Someone did). He serves and it barely goes over the net and he takes a deep breath. 

Once Iwaizumi gets the video it’s kept in safe keeping on multiple USBs 

Oikawa refuses to admit that it did anything to him

Gives you his spare jersey for every game now though

Kita

Probably one of the few that actually doesn’t have much of a reaction (on the outside)

Since he doesn’t play much in games when he sees you, he just gives you a smile

Atsumu, Osamu, and Suna try and tease him about it but he’s just sitting there like ‘And?’

After the match is over you run over to Kita. Number on cheek, Pom Poms in hand, and of course, the jersey you had previously asked to borrow on your person. “You did so good!” Your bracelets jingle as you move your hands excitedly. Kita’s name is on one surrounded by hearts and on the back is the number one. You pull out another bracelet from your bag and hand it to him. It has your name on it. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” you say sheepishly. 

Suna is standing off to the side with his phone out recording the whole thing. And he’s glad he did otherwise he might’ve missed the blush on his captain’s cheeks as he took the bracelet and put it on. “Thank you, Y/N.” 

Kita later asks Suna to send him the video and the resulting photos he also took

The photos are now his lock screen and home screen*

Daisho

Also, one to have to do a double take

Asks to take a photo for his lockscreen which gets you blushing (perfect for his lockscreen)

He’s also one of the lucky few who sees you after the game. He also saw the sign you were holding. ‘My boyfriend is better than your’s, he’s a captain’ with printed out candids of him playing volleyball and one of you two in a small heart in the corner. 

Definitely one to tease you 

“Oh? Had to stake your claim on me?”

Kuroo

One of the unfortunate few to see you during the game

Completely misses one of his blocks and the ball hits him in the face

Kuroo wishes he had seen you a few minutes later. After they had won the set. Or better yet after Nekoma had won the whole game. Instead, he’s unlucky and catches you when he’s mid-block, your voice rang out in support, and he got distracted. Seeing you in a stark white jersey with his number, his name. He also suspects that’s where his extra set of warm up pants went as he can spot just a little bit of red peeking out. Once he gets hit in the face with the ball he’s reminded that he is in fact playing volleyball right now. 

Kenma finds the video online and plays it when he feels bad

You tell him you found it charming that you still have that effect on him, and he melts

He asks you to wear it more often

Bokuto

Akaashi is actually the one to notice you first

Bokuto is the last to see you and only does when he gets really sad about being blocked so much

Akaashi points you out to cheer him up

As you see Bokuto get upset by how many spikes he’s missed you move closer to the bar in the stadium. Akaashi noticed you much earlier and not even he is able to cheer Bokuto up. Once he points you out though you raise your poster higher and scream his name. “You’ve got this Ko!” You wave your sign with a smile. 

‘My Boyfriend is the best ace and captain ever!’ is what it says with a few photos of his best shots you had found online. Once he sees you, he immediately lights up. “You’re right! I am the best!” He’s back to his usual self with a ‘Hey, Hey, Hey’ 

Once he gets a closer look at your outfit at home, he’s smothering your face with kisses

He tells you how helpful you were in cheering him up

Akaashi messages you later asking you to ‘Please do this at all of our games.’ 

Ushijima

Another unbothered on the outside king

He may not fully get why you did it until you tell him he’s happy about it

He sees you after a service ace, he spots you in the stands. Your loud cheer makes him smile softly before he gets serious again. You’re zipped up in his practice jacket and a pair of your own Shiratorizawa sweatpants and although you don’t have a sign everyone knows he’s your boyfriend. Your cheering makes him happy, but he plays his best no matter if you’re watching or not. 

Asks Tendo to help him change his wallpaper so it’s the two of you

Tendo does him one better and takes a live photo of you giggling at something as the lockscreen and the two of you as his homescreen

Ushi tells you that you look nice

When you ask if it’s something he wants you to do for all of his games he just replies “I just need you there”

I hope you guys liked it; it was a very spur of the moment thing so sorry if it's not good!!! My requests are open although I unfortunately go through them at a snail's pace

masterlist

rules

[from-izzy]

[17:07] | enhypen park sunghoon

Sunghoon grunts at the reminder of your true visit, yet still makes love to your collarbones to cherish every second with you. “Not yet…” he pleads that time will go slower. 

pairing » enhypen park sunghoon x fem!reader

trope/au » established relationship au, (not so) secret relationship au, non-idol au

genre » fluffy fluff with slight suggestive themes (nothing like this), lovesick and cute sunghoon, boyfriend sunghoon, reader helping with sunghoon's sister's dinner dance prep!

word count; estimated reading time » 1293; ~5 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » getting caught during making out by sunghoon's sister, kissing on lower abdomen/body, sunghoon lifts reader, reader implied to be smaller than sunghoon

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 enhypen masterlist

my debut to enhablr...? i see clips of sunghoon and heeseung and they make me wanna get into enha 🥹 i'm sure the fandom knows that sunghoon has a sister but i didn't use her real name for this fic; it just makes me more comfortable in this way. hope you all enjoy!!

You don't usually knock on the Park’s residence house since Sunghoon would usually open it for you as per his invite, or help you sneak in through the side window. But today is a bit different since today is Serin’s dinner dance at her school, and she asked you for help with makeup and outfits. In a heartbeat, you agreed, especially since the event has been a special one for you since the day Sunghoon asked you to be his.

Sunghoon knows about you coming over to help his sister, but knowing that your visit today isn't for him puts a frown on his face. His relationship with you is still private, which is something that you both want at the current moment. But after a year of dating, he can't wait to formally introduce his once best friend to his family who is already very fond of you. 

“Thank you so much for coming!” The door opens to reveal the younger girl. “Come in!”

You chuckle at her excited nature. You know Serin has been a delightful one since a long time ago, and you're glad to be part of a wonderful event for her. A few steps into the house, you see Sunghoon by the couch, resting his chin on his arm as he pouts at you. 

“Hey,” you greet him casually, sneaking in a wink behind Serin.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes away playfully, turning around to the television as he sulks and sinks into the couch. 

“Oppa! Don't be rude!” Serin defends you. “But whatever, guess I'll have her to myself.”

If it was anyone other than his beloved sister saying those words, Sunghoon would cling to your side, sweep you off your feet and claim your lips with his. “Whatever,” Sunghoon dismisses her with a hand wave. 

Upstairs, Serin had all her makeup and dress options ready for your second opinion. It wasn't long until you chose the one you thought suited her the best, helping her change and adjusting it to fit nicely on her body. Just as so, it didn't take long until your numerous hair and makeup suggestions were chosen by her. 

“You're gonna be the prettiest girl in the room,” you blend the pink blush across her cheeks. 

“Of course, I am. You're the one giving me the makeup after all,” you chuckle at her words, adding the finishing touches and setting spray onto her face. “Don't tell Sunghoon this, but I'm going with a date.”

You gasp at the information. “Really?! That's so cute! Let me see a picture!”

Serin skips over to make sure the bedroom door is locked before sitting on the edge of her bed, patting the empty space beside her for you. The younger swipes through the many pictures in her gallery, recounting the main parts of that day spent together. 

You know what it feels like to be attracted to someone. To like someone, and ultimately, to be head over heels in love with someone. Looking through the pictures of her and her partner for the dance, you could tell that it wasn't puppy love or a short-lived crush. How'd you know? Her eyes sparkle with minimal lighting as they cuddle in the picture tells you everything her heart feels.

“Don't tell Sunghoon please,” a pout overtakes her face. “You know how protective he is, and I promise I will tell him soon.”

You squint your eyes in suspicion, humming in contemplation. The younger pleads once more, a pinky out hanging in the air, waiting for yours. In the end, you gave in, knowing well that you weren't going to not agree from the start. You understand where she's coming from since your brother is the same as well.

“Alright, go get the rest of your things ready!” You nudged your shoulder against hers and excused yourself from her room. 

As soon as the door clicks securely shut, your fingertips on the metal knob don't even get a chance to properly let go when they're replaced with warmth instead. A hand grasps the side of your waist, pulling you next door where the meaning behind another click of this door differs greatly. 

You yelp at the soft tug, a hand protecting the back of your head when your body hits the door. The room is barely lit, only the moon and the street lights shining through from the still-opened curtains beside you giving the luminance enough for you to face your blushing boyfriend. 

Sunghoon sighs deeply with how he manages to finally have alone time with you successfully without getting caught. His lips finally attach to yours, drowning out the giggling and pleasurable moaning slipping out from the both of you. Your eyelids flutter shut, brushing against his skin gently as he shudders at the way your nose nudges his as you kiss him feverishly. As the situation escalates, the hood around his head falls, giving your hand access to his beautiful locks.

The grip on the side of your body tightens only slightly as your boyfriend pulls you closer to his chest that your hands rest on. Sunghoon leaves your lips, travelling to your ears to huskily whisper, “Hi baby girl,” he kisses your ear after, kissing along your jawline and neck as you gasp at him.

“H-Hoon-” you hiss at the pressure he puts on a sensitive part of your neck, messing and tugging on his hair. “Your sister is going to be ready at any time now.”

Sunghoon grunts at the reminder of your true visit, yet still makes love to your collarbones to cherish every second with you. “Not yet…” he pleads that time will go slower. 

The hand behind your head joins the other side of your body, slithering down to the back of your thighs as Sunghoon kneels, continuing to trail his kisses to your clothed stomach. With a swift motion, he carries you by your thighs, standing up and walking towards his bed. He never spared a moment where his lips didn't touch your heated body. There was no time for your heart to calm its racing pace, the adrenaline of staying quiet hitting you both. 

Now seated on his bed with you straddling his built thighs, you take this moment to fully open your eyes, seeing the white light shine upon his red cheeks. His palm cups the apple of your cheeks, foreheads resting as you catch your breaths. 

“Can't get enough of you,” he mutters. “I just want and need you all the time…”

Sunghoon is cute when he's lovesick like this, your cheeks instantly heating more than before at his confession. You hum, “I love you, Hoon.”

“I love you much more.”

His orbs sparkle upon yours sincerely for a second until his open lips come closer to claim yours again. You're millimetres apart when the door opens unexpectedly behind you. Your body reacts first, jumping away from Sunghoon, pushing him flat onto the bed as you pull your clothes to straighten the creases of the makeout. 

Serin covers her eyes even if you both are detached, the split second burning into her memory. “I knew you guys were together, but I didn't know it was getting spicy here!”

Sunghoon’s body springs up from the mattress, “You knew yet you still came in?!”

“Wait, that's what you're worried about?!” you exclaim with wide eyes at your boyfriend. “You knew all this time?!” Questioning the grinning sister at the door.

“I know I just kind of exposed you, but don't expose me!” Serin shouts as she retreats to a safer part of the house.

“What does that mean?!” The clueless brother runs out to interrogate his sibling while you're left dumbfounded at what just happened in the last few seconds. 

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 enhypen masterlist

tags: @k-films @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @haneul-and-clouds @sunlightwoo @hursheys

[sugarplumkneecaps]

I have a cute idea for Shadow. Imagine he and reader have a baby girl and when he asks reader what they should name her, reader suggests Maria. 🥹

A/N: This is such a cute idea and I could totally see this happening! Hopefully I did this wholesome idea justice <3

Namesake

Pairing: Shadow x Reader (gender neutral) C/W: none Genre: Romantic, domestic fluff

A small jab within woke you from your nap, causing you to let out a small groan in pain. You were in the uncomfortable stage of pregnancy at this point, where the baby would stretch out within your abdomen in ways you truly could not understand. Shadow was alerted to your state, blinking into existence next to you. Although he had done this time and time again, his sudden presence startled you.

“Oh, jeez Shadow!” You placed your hand on your chest in an effort to calm your racing heart. The involuntary jump earning you another kick from within.

“What’s wrong?!” Shadow knelt down next to you, his careful hand making contact with your stomach. A look of panicked concern consumed his features.

You placed your hand on his, giving it a light squeeze. “The baby is fine, Shadow. They really enjoy having their foot in my ribs-“ your voice dripping with irritation, “but they’re fine.”

His scarlet eyes met yours, your touch and words bringing him a great deal of comfort.

He had been incredibly diligent (and anal, if you’re being honest) throughout your pregnancy. The amount of research he did in his spare time led him to a forming a strict diet and activity regiment for you to keep you and the baby safe. The first trimester was brutal, as the fear of possibly losing the child drove most of his extreme requests. Getting into the second trimester meant that the initial fear gave way to new ones, but still meant that your restrictions weren’t nearly as... restrictive. You were thankful you could at least broaden your meal item choices at this point.

Shadow’s hand lingered between your stomach and your hand for a long moment before he moved to help you onto your feet. “Your ultrasound is today, love. We should get ready.”

“Would you like to finally find out what the gender is?” Your voice resembling that of a plea. Another thing Shadow was surprisingly picky about was not finding out the gender too soon. When you made mention in the past that knowing the gender might help you choose what to buy for the baby, he simply stated that gender neutral items were more sensible anyway.

He pondered your request again for a long time, “I have your clothes set out on the bed. We don’t want to be late.”

Guess that’s a resounding “no” then. You thought to yourself, letting out an exasperated huff.

Once you were dressed, you both were out the door and on your way to the clinic.

This particular clinic was also specially selected by your partner, which you had little to complain about. The quality of the care you had received there had been incredible, for lack of a better word. Your midwife had chatted with you about each and every concern either you or Shadow had with such care and compassion, ensuring you both felt at ease through each stage of the pregnancy. They were the one who greeted you as you entered the building, a warm smile on their lips.

“Today’s a big day,” they cooed. “You must be excited.”

“Absolutely!” You smiled back, moving your hand to hold Shadow’s.

He squeezed your hand lightly, looking over at you lovingly before you both followed the midwife to the room.

You got comfortable on the bed in the center of the room as Shadow took the padded bench to your side. The lights were dim, with a projector light casting a dark image that would soon be images of your baby on the wall in front of you. This was nothing new for you, but each time you had entered this room for an ultrasound it always felt somewhat surreal.

You were carrying a baby. Your baby. His baby.

The technician joined you shortly after you both were comfortable, greeting you, “Hi again, it’s so nice to see you both! I hope things have been well?”

“Yes, Shadow’s been going through a great deal of trouble to ensure they have been,” you laughed. Shadow let out a small huff under his breath as you and the tech shared a chuckle together.

“Are we wanting to find out the gender today?” they inquired, looking to you.

You bit your lip lightly before opening your mouth to answer.

“Yes.”

To your surprise, it was Shadow who answered. You whipped your head around to look at him, your voice catching. A whisper was all you could manage, “really?”

He nodded, caressing your cheek as he ran a thumb over the blush forming.

The technician was quick to get to work, applying warmed gel to your abdomen before placing the wand against your skin.

A black and white image appeared on the projection in front of you, little features of your baby coming into view. The tech went over each; the hands, the face, the feet. Each bringing you and Shadow a sense of shared joy and relief to see your baby doing so well. The tech paused, inquiring once again, “are we ready to see what gender baby is?”

Shadow held your hand tight, “we’re happy with whatever, as long as they are healthy.”

His anxiety present in his words, you rubbed your thumb over his in an effort to soothe him. “We’re ready.”

The wand moved, as did the image in front of you. At this point you only hoped that the baby would cooperate long enough to discern the sex. The room stood still as the image halted, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Now you see this area here? You’re having a girl.”

A sudden rush of emotions overtook you and Shadow as the information registered. You looked over to see his eyes get wide before he pulled you into a tight hug.

“We’re going to have a girl,” he repeated, as if in a trance.

-----

You held the roll of ultrasound images in your hand for what felt like an eternity. Things had been quiet, the only sound coming from Shadow prepping dinner in the kitchen.

A baby girl.

Shadow had refused to discuss baby names up to this point, leaving the realm of possibilities open for any number of choices. You played around with a few, saying them under your breath to see which one might stick.

“Dinner is ready,” Shadow called as he plated the food.

You made your way to the table, roll of pictures still in hand. As you sat down, you placed the images to the side of your plate, the ultrasound featuring the words “it’s a girl!” accompanying an identifying circle on top.

Shadow paused to look at it as he brought you your drink, reaching over to plant a kiss on your forehead before sitting across from you.

“Have you thought of a name?”

He took a slow bite and chewed for a moment. “Not yet. Have you?”

You gnawed at your bottom lip (earning you a lighthearted scolding from Shadow) before scooping up a bite of food yourself. The reality was that, yes, you had in fact thought of a name. You had thought of a hundred names. But only one felt right to you. All you were hoping was that he would feel the same.

The long pause between you revealed your answer in part, eliciting a warm smile from your partner. “Well, don’t keep me waiting. What is it?”

Butterflies fluttered through your stomach up to your heart, causing your cheeks to burn as the name repeated over and over in your head. You swallowed hard, “Maria.”

Shadow stopped his movements immediately, his warm smile mixing with an expression you could not decipher. His utensil fell from his hand as he rose from his seat, making his way over to you slowly. You panicked, hoping that you did not offend him.

He grabbed your shoulders and peered into your eyes. You realized the his were welling up with silent tears before he fell to his knees before you. You pulled him into a tight embrace, brushing your fingers through his quills. “Only if-“ you stuttered, his sudden vulnerability catching you off guard. “Only if that’s okay with you-“

He pulled back to look at you, tears falling freely down his cheeks. “It’s perfect.”

[kirammanswifey]

wedding planning struggles with arcane characters x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: did i told you guys that i love this dynamic? because i do, i reaaally do, it's just so comforting describing this kind of mundane and simple problems. i'll exploit this dynamic much more, exciting scenarios are coming. as you already know request are open ;)

marriage proposal link:

Viktor

The excitement of planning your wedding with Viktor fills you with energy. From choosing the flowers to the menu, every detail matters. You've spent hours discussing colors, flavors, and sensations, but lately, you feel like Viktor isn’t sharing your enthusiasm. Today is one of those days when, sitting next to him in the lab, you try to capture his attention.

"Viktor, what do you think about the tablecloths? Do you think we should go with an ivory tone or something more vibrant, like a sky blue?" you ask, flipping through fabric samples.

He barely glances up from his project. "Whatever you prefer, darling."

You sigh and move on to the next question. "And the menu? We have options between a fish dish or meat. Which one do you think the guests will like more?"

"Whatever you decide will be fine," he responds with little interest, his eyes still focused on his work.

Frustrated, you decide to test him. "What do you think about the paper napkins? I was thinking of choosing ones with a floral pink print. Do you like the idea?"

Without looking up, he murmurs, "Yeah, sounds good."

Your patience runs thin. "Viktor! Paper napkins are for picnics, not for our wedding!"

He finally stops, looks at you, clearly confused. "Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I was focused on this experiment."

"Exactly, Viktor. You’re always focused on something else. You don’t care about the wedding, do you? No matter what I ask, you always say that whatever I prefer is fine. Does this marriage even matter to you?" The words come out with more force than you intended, but your frustration takes over.

Viktor puts down his tools and turns to face you. "That’s not true. Of course it matters. But you’re better at these things. I trust you to make the right choices."

"It’s not just about making the right choices," you reply, your voice shaking. "I want you to be involved, to do this with me. I don’t want to do it alone."

Viktor rubs his forehead, clearly searching for the right words. "I’ve been involved. I suggested we have the wedding in the Undercity, in the old market where I used to spend my childhood. I wanted that place to have meaning for us. But you refused, you said it was dangerous."

You sit in silence for a moment, processing what he said. "I did it because I want our guests to be safe. Not because I don’t care about what that place means to you."

"I understand, but that was my way of participating, and I felt rejected," he says, his voice low but full of emotion.

Your frustration turns into sadness, and you can't stop the tears from filling your eyes. "Viktor, this is important to me. I just wanted you to feel as excited as I do."

Seeing your tears, Viktor quickly approaches and takes your hands in his. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t care. This marriage means the world to me, just as much as it does to you. If I’ve been distant, it’s just because I sometimes get lost in my work. But I promise to be more present."

You embrace him, feeling the warmth and sincerity of his words. "That’s all I wanted to hear."

He gently strokes your hair, whispering, "We’ll do this together. From now on, I’ll be your partner in all of this, not just in the big things, but in every little detail."

You smile through the tears, feeling the weight of the tension lift. "Thank you, Viktor. I love you."

"And I love you," he replies, his voice filled with tenderness. "I always will."

You both remain in each other's arms, knowing you've found mutual understanding, strengthening your bond and the excitement for the day that is to come.

Jinx

Planning a wedding with Jinx is, to say the least, a roller coaster. You're sitting in your small living room, surrounded by catalogs, fabric samples, and endless task lists. Jinx is on the floor, playing with a knife and tossing it in the air, seemingly uninterested in the process.

"Jinx, can you focus for a second? We need to decide on the wedding theme," you say, trying to get her attention.

She shoots you a quick look, a mischievous smile on her face. "I already told you, we're having a wedding with explosions and fireworks. What else do we need?"

You sigh, trying to stay calm. "Yes, but we need more details. What colors do we want to use? What style of decoration?"

"Colors... hmm," Jinx leans back, holding the knife above her head. "I like blue, you know, like my hair. And pink, because it's fun. How about those?"

"Blue and pink, fine," you say, jotting it down in your notebook. "And about the food? We need to decide on the menu."

Jinx rolls her eyes, clearly bored. "Food? Whatever, something that'll keep them energized to dance all night."

You stop and look at her intently. "Jinx, are you really interested in this? Because I feel like you're not taking any of it seriously."

She sits up quickly, her smile fading a bit. "Of course, I'm interested. It's just... all this planning stuff isn’t really my thing. I like spontaneous things, you know?"

"But this is important to me," you say softly but firmly. "I want it to be special for you too."

Jinx goes silent for a moment, her gaze softening. "Sorry, I didn’t mean for you to think I don’t care. I just have a hard time sitting still and thinking about things so... organized."

You move closer to her, taking her hands. "I know, and I understand. But I want this day to be perfect for both of us. I need your help to make it happen."

She looks at you, her blue eyes shining with sincerity. "Alright, toots. I’ll do it. You just have to guide me a little, okay? I’m not great at this, but if it’s important to you, I’ll do it."

You smile and hug her, feeling her vibrant energy now more focused on you. "Thank you, sweets. It means a lot."

"We’re gonna make this wedding explosive, in a good way," she says, grinning again with that unmistakable spark. "And I promise I won’t blow anything up. At least not too much."

You both laugh, feeling like the planning now has a unique touch, with Jinx’s essence but also with the care and love you share.

Vi

The excitement for the wedding has you glowing. You've spent the whole day talking to your parents about the plans, thrilled about every luxury they can include thanks to their generosity. When you walk into the apartment you share with Vi, you're euphoric, eager to tell her every detail.

"Vi, you have no idea what we're going to have at the wedding!" you exclaimed, dropping your purse on the couch and walking over to her. "My parents are handling everything. We’re going to have imported flowers, a special performance from Seraphine, and even a chocolate fountain. It’s going to be amazing!"

Vi, who was sitting on the edge of the bed sharpening her fighting gloves, looked up. "And what else? Are they bringing unicorns too?" Her tone was clearly sarcastic.

You stopped, surprised by her reaction. "What do you mean by that?" you asked, crossing your arms.

She shrugged, setting the glove aside. "Nothing, just that it seems like your parents are turning this wedding into more of a show than a celebration."

"That’s not fair, Vi," you said, feeling defensive. "They just want the best for us."

Vi sighed, running a hand through her short hair. "Sure, the best for their perfect daughter, who’s lucky enough to get to marry someone like me."

The comment hit you harder than you expected. "What are you implying? That my parents are doing this just out of obligation? Vi, they support us, and I... I’m happy they’re helping. I don’t understand why you have to be like this."

"Why do I have to be like this?" Vi stood up, her voice rising slightly. "Because this isn’t what I imagined. I didn’t want us to have to depend on them for everything. I wanted to give you a wedding I could afford, something that came from me, not from them."

Vi’s words took you by surprise. You felt like the conversation was going in a different direction than you had expected. "Vi, my parents just want to help."

She shook her head, taking a step toward the window. "You don’t understand. It’s my pride, deer. It hurts that I can’t give you what you deserve. Every time you talk about the things they’re paying for, it reminds me of how little I have to offer you."

You walked over to her, taking her hand and forcing her to look at you. "Vi, you’ve given me more than any luxury or extravagance ever could. You’ve given me your love, your support, your strength. I don’t care who’s paying for the wedding, because the only thing that matters to me is that you’ll be by my side."

Vi’s eyes softened, her expression shifting from frustration to something gentler. "I’m sorry," she murmured. "I just... feel so useless sometimes, seeing them do everything."

"Vi, you’re not useless," you said firmly, caressing her cheek. "You are everything I’ve ever wanted. This day will be ours, no matter who’s paying for it, because the most valuable thing to me is marrying you."

She leaned in, her lips brushing yours in a soft, emotional kiss. "Thank you for understanding," she whispered against your lips. "I promise I’ll do everything I can to make this day special, even if I can’t pay for it with money."

"It’s already special because it’s with you," you replied, hugging her tightly. "I love you, Vi."

"And I love you, more than words can say," she said, holding you as if she never wanted to let go.

You both stayed there, embraced, letting the tension fade, knowing that, no matter the problems, together you could overcome anything.

Caitlyn

The room was adorned with a golden glow, the walls decorated with elegant tapestries, and the wedding plans scattered across the table, along with details and proposals. You were excited, visualizing what your wedding day would be like, but you couldn’t help but notice that Caitlyn seemed quieter than usual. Her gaze seemed fixed on the corner of the room.

"Cait? What do you think of these centerpieces?" you asked with a smile, wanting to share the excitement of the planning. "We could choose lavender flowers, something simple but elegant, right?"

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately. Her fingers played with the edge of her glass, but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. Finally, she looked up at you with a forced smile, which didn’t quite hide the worry in her eyes.

"It sounds good, although... I'm not sure my parents would agree with something so... simple," she said with a tone you couldn't ignore.

A knot formed in your stomach. You knew Caitlyn came from an aristocratic family, with many traditions that were expected to be upheld, but you never imagined that external pressure could interfere so much with something so important to both of you.

"What do you mean by that?" you asked, already sensing the growing tension in the conversation.

Caitlyn took a deep breath, standing up and walking toward the window as if she needed space to organize her thoughts. "My family... expects us to have a wedding that represents our status, something worthy of tradition. I don’t know if they would accept the venue being decorated with lavender flowers..." her voice lowered as she continued speaking. "They want everything to be big and glamorous, with high-profile guests. They think a simple wedding, even if it’s on our own, doesn’t reflect what’s expected of us."

Your heart raced. You knew Caitlyn’s parents weren’t exactly easy to please, but you never imagined their expectations would overshadow what you both wanted for this day.

"But... Cait," you began, trying to understand, "isn’t this our wedding? Why do we have to do it the way they want? I don’t want a celebration that doesn’t feel like ours. I want it to be something of ours, not just a display of status."

Caitlyn turned toward you, her face now more serious. "I know! I know, and I agree with you. But I can’t disrespect them, not without consequences. They... pressure me in ways you don’t understand. If we don’t meet their expectations, it would look like a failure for our family."

The tone of her voice grew more desperate, more exhausted. You knew she didn’t want to give in, but you also understood the internal battle she was trapped in, between the love she felt for you and her loyalty to her family.

"So, you want our wedding to be some kind of act to impress your parents, instead of what we really want?" Your voice cracked as you asked, feeling the dream you had for that day crumbling.

Caitlyn quickly walked over to you, taking your hands firmly, her gaze filled with regret. "It’s not that. I don’t want that. It’s just... I can’t stop feeling the pressure my parents put on me. They have so much power, and I don’t want to hurt them in a way that will cause us more problems."

The pain in her eyes broke your heart. You knew what that meant to her, the conflict between the love she had for her family and her desire to do things her way.

"I love you, Cait. And I want this wedding to be ours, not a show for them," you said, trying to calm the storm that was brewing in the air. "Cait, I know you’re strong, and I know we can face all of this together. It’s just not fair."

A tear fell from her left eye, something you had never seen before. Caitlyn, so strong and determined, now seemed vulnerable, lost amidst her own expectations and those of others.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I just want you to be happy. I don’t want you to think I’m not considering you. I’m just so trapped in this... and I’m scared that everything will end up being what they want, not what we want."

In that moment, you knew it was time to set aside the anger and hold her. She was having a hard time, caught in a difficult situation, struggling to find a way to satisfy both your desires and her parents’ expectations.

"We can do this, Cait," you whispered, your arms gently caressing her delicate back, and she leaned into you, resting on the person she loved and needed most at that moment. "If we support each other, we’ll find a way. The wedding will be everything we dreamed of, and what your parents expect, but always within what really matters to us. It doesn’t have to be a sacrifice if we do it together."

Caitlyn looked at you for a long moment, as if evaluating your words, evaluating your feelings. Then, with a soft smile, she cupped your chin and kissed you. "I promise I’ll do it. We’ll do it together, like always."

The tension that had filled the room disappeared, and all that remained was mutual understanding and the certainty that, no matter how many difficulties there were, they were willing to face them together. And that was the only thing that mattered.

Jayce

The flowers, the music, the menu... everything seemed to be taking shape, but there was something in the air, a growing sense of discomfort that you couldn’t ignore.

"Jayce, do you really think we need to invite all those people?" you said, the fatigue and frustration beginning to seep into your voice. "Your guest list... it's huge!"

Jayce, who until that moment had been reviewing the papers with enthusiasm you couldn’t share, looked up at you, smiling with a mix of confidence and energy. "It’s Piltover, darling! We need to make this wedding a big deal, something everyone will remember. We have to invite the most influential figures, the city leaders, the people who really matter."

Your breath quickened. You knew Jayce was a man of great ambition and vision, but at that moment, you couldn’t help but feel dismissed by his words. As if all that mattered to him was image and status, and not the fact that this day was so much more personal for both of you.

"I don’t understand, Jayce," you said, trying to keep calm, but your tone came out firmer than you’d expected. "Why is it so important who’s there? Why can’t we do something more intimate, with the people closest to us, with the ones who really matter?"

Jayce frowned, dropping the papers on the table and approaching you with an intensity that made you feel vulnerable. "Are you saying you don’t want to make this a big event? That you don’t want all of Piltover to know what our union means?"

"No, I’m not saying that," you replied, your voice trembling with the accumulated frustration. "What I want is for this day to be something we remember, not what Piltover thinks of us. I want a wedding with meaning, with the people who truly matter to us, not a party to impress others."

Jayce crossed his arms, his jaw tense. You could see his mind starting to process your words, but you could also tell there was something inside him that refused to give in. "This is important! This isn’t just a party, it’s a statement. We’re talking about our future, our position in this city. Everything we do, everything, reflects who we are."

A wave of anger took over you. Each word from Jayce felt like it dug deeper, as if he was ignoring your own wishes, your own feelings. "You’re obsessed with appearances, Jayce! Everything always has to be big, flashy, as if only that has value! I... I just want a day that feels real, something that’s ours, something that reflects who we are as a couple, not a damn parade of names and titles."

The air immediately grew tense, and Jayce’s gaze darkened. "You know what? I don’t understand why you’re so upset. This is an opportunity to show everyone what we’ve achieved, to show them we matter, that we’re not just... I don’t know, residents of Piltover. Doesn’t it matter to you that this day is on par with what we’ve built?"

You stood in silence for a moment, the anger mixed with pain. There was something in Jayce that you didn’t want to lose sight of, something you wanted him to understand. "It’s not about that, Jayce," you said, now calmer but still hurt. "It’s about me wanting you, about this day being for us. I don’t want every decision we make to be based on what others think or what’s expected of us. I want this to be our day, with the people we love, not all those... important people."

A sigh escaped his lips, and for a moment, it seemed like he finally understood. But then, his voice grew softer, but still full of frustration. "I’m not asking you to forget what you want. I just want you to recognize that this is bigger than us, that what we’re doing doesn’t just involve us, but an entire city. What we build here can be remembered, and I want everyone to see it."

The conflict grew bigger in your chest, as if you were caught in a tug of war between what you both wanted. Finally, unable to take it anymore, you said, your eyes full of tears from the intensity of the moment: "I don’t want to stay with someone who only thinks about that. I don’t want this day to be just a showcase. I want it to be something more, something... real."

Jayce looked at you, and for a moment, he thought everything was lost. But then, something in his eyes changed. He came closer, took your hands with a delicacy you hadn’t expected, and in his voice, now softer, whispered: "I’m sorry... I didn’t think about how you’d feel. I... I just want what’s best for us, for you. And I want it to be perfect, I promise. But... I know we also need something that we want, something that makes us feel complete, not just everyone else."

Seeing the sincerity in his eyes allowed you to relax a little. His frustration was still there, but now he seemed willing to find the balance you both were seeking. "We’ll do it our way," he said with a sigh. "I don’t want to get lost in all of this. I want it to be your wedding as much as mine."

Then, with a slight smile, you hugged him. You didn’t know how the day would be, but you knew you’d face it with Jayce by your side, because what truly mattered was what you both wanted, together.

Ekko

The wedding had stopped being just a dream. All the preparations were becoming more real, but as you moved forward, you realized that Ekko's vision of the event was not at all what you had imagined.

One day, after arguing with the organizers about the floral arrangements, you came home to find Ekko looking at some drawings he had on the table, extravagant sketches with half-written ideas. It seemed like he was researching something, but as soon as you walked in, his expression changed.

"What's wrong?" you asked, noticing the slight tension in his face.

Ekko looked at you with a knowing smile, but he didn't seem as enthusiastic. "I was thinking about how to make our wedding something truly unique... I don't want to follow all those boring standards."

You walked over, confused but curious. "Boring standards?"

"Yeah, why do we have to do something like everyone else? Why not have the wedding in an abandoned place in Zaun, where everything started for us? An art show and an improvised banquet for those in needs instead of... this?" he said, pointing to the guest list and the more traditional ideas you had considered.

Ekko's proposal left you in shock. He was serious. A wedding in the Undercity? Full of improvisation? At that moment, an uncomfortable feeling began to grow in your chest. "What? Ekko, are you joking? What's so special about that? It's dangerous, and it's not what I want for us!" You spoke with awareness, since both of you had been born and lived in the Undercity, and you knew better than anyone that it would be quite risky to celebrate the wedding there—interruptions were the least of your concerns.

Ekko looked at you with a mix of surprise and frustration. "I thought you were like me. Why do you like all these... conventional things so suddenly? These ordinary weddings that mean nothing. Didn't you want something authentic, something that truly reflects who we are?"

Ekko's words hit deep, and for a moment, you felt hurt. What did he mean by saying traditional weddings meant nothing? Did he think your dreams and wishes for that day were worthless?

"Ekko..." Your voice trembled a little as you approached him. "Does our wedding mean nothing to you? Is all of this just... a waste of time?"

The silence between you two stretched, and his eyes softened. He slowly approached, taking your hands gently. "No, babe, it's not that. I don't want you to think I don't care. It's just that... I want it to be unique. I want our day to reflect us, our story, who we are. And who we are doesn't fit society's rules."

You sat down, letting Ekko's words sink deeper. It was true, he'd always been someone who fought against the established. Someone who dared to dream the impossible, to challenge what others expected of him. But did that really mean that the wedding you had dreamed of would be lost?

"I just want... I want it to be something beautiful," you said with a sigh. "Something I can always remember as the most beautiful day of our lives. I don't want to do anything weird or strange."

Ekko then smiled, getting closer to you, with a light of understanding in his eyes. "It will be," he said with conviction, "but we'll do it our way. We're not going to follow the standards. I know you don't want that. I don't either."

For a moment, the weight of the situation began to lift, and everything felt much clearer. It was true. You had been so focused on making everything perfect, so eager for the wedding to match what had been your dream, that you'd forgotten something fundamental: you weren't like that.

Finally, you opened up, feeling vulnerable but relieved. "It's just... I just wanted to feel like a normal girl with a normal wedding. I don't know... like the ones I see in the Upper City, with everything so polished, so... perfect. I just want to feel like I belong. Like I'm not different."

Ekko looked at you silently for a moment, and his hands gently squeezed yours. "You're more than that," he said, his voice soft but sure. "You don't have to fit into anything or anyone. What we have, who we are... is unique. And that's what I want our wedding to reflect."

Your breath calmed, and finally, a genuine smile appeared on your face. "Then... let's do it. Our way. A unique day, without following rules."

Ekko hugged you, letting the warmth of his body calm you. "I promise," he whispered in your ear. "We'll make it unique. We'll make it better, but our way."

You both stayed there, surrounded by the warm silence that only the two of you shared, knowing that, even though the road to the wedding wouldn't be conventional, the important thing was that you'd do it together, and that would make it special.

Silco

Silco was standing by the window, looking out at the city from his office high up in the building, where the bustle of the Undercity felt distant but always present. Despite the imposing view, something in his gaze betrayed a void, an internal worry that he couldn’t shake off, even with the love he felt for you. The wedding was drawing closer, and while he knew he wanted a future with you, there were parts of his history, his past, that haunted him, and those shadows didn’t disappear easily.

You were on the other side of the office, going over some details for the ceremony. The environment you were in was bright and luxurious, but for some reason, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything you were about to experience didn’t quite belong to you. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Silco had pulled you out of the brothel, a life you had left behind but which always silently haunted you. You weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to fully free yourself from that past.

“I don’t know if I deserve this…” you murmured, without thinking too much, looking at a list of flowers for the wedding.

Silco lifted his gaze, the cold serenity of his face mixing with something darker, something that seemed like an internal struggle he was trying not to let you see. He walked toward you, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the room.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice deep but calm, though this time there seemed to be a hint of concern beneath it.

You sighed, not wanting to talk about it, but the sadness overwhelmed you. “I can’t stop thinking about what people will say… They’ll look at me and think, ‘that’s the girl who worked in the brothel.’ They’ll never take me seriously. I don’t feel like I deserve something as… beautiful as this.”

A heavy silence fell between the two of you. Silco stared at you, his eyes as intense and calculating as always, but this time there was something different in them, something closer to concern. He approached you, stopping right in front of you but not touching you yet. He looked at your face, your eyes full of uncertainty, and his lips tightened as if his own demons were struggling to surface.

“You know what bothers me the most?” he said finally. “That you keep thinking you don’t deserve this. That you keep looking at the past as if it’s the only thing that defines you. Those people have no idea what you’re capable of. And you… you’re so much more than any shitty place you’ve come from.”

Your eyes filled with tears that you couldn’t stop from spilling. The emotion swelled within you like a wave. “But… what about my parents? I don’t know anything about them. They sold me like I was merchandise. I have no idea if they’re alive or dead, if they care about me. I never knew if they really loved me…” The anguish spilled out in words, and the tension in your chest increased, as if the gravity of the moment were crushing you.

Silco looked at you with a mix of rage and frustration, as if all that pain were a threat to the fortress he had built around himself. But it wasn’t anger that dominated his voice when he spoke.

“You don’t have to carry that guilt or that damn shame. You don’t have to see all that past as a burden that keeps you from walking toward the future. I pulled you out of that shit, and no one, no one, has the right to judge what we are or what we’ve been. Because what I’ve built for you, and what you’ve done, isn’t measured by what others think. The only thing that matters is what I see when I look into your eyes… and when I look at you, I see a woman who makes me want to break the damn world apart to give you what you deserve.”

Silco’s tone was direct, filled with something he couldn’t express with simple words, something deeper. With a firm hand but an unusual gentleness for him, he touched your face, lifting your chin so you would look at him.

“I don’t care what people think. And I don’t care what you’ve been or what you’ve done. The only thing that matters is what we are now. Us. I don’t want this wedding to be just a formality. I want it to reflect everything. And if you’re by my side, then that everything makes sense.”

Despite the confusion in your heart, part of you began to calm down, at least a little. Silco would never lie to you, not in his coldest gestures nor his warmest ones. His words weren’t just empty promises; they were the words of someone who had fought as much as you had, albeit in a different way, to find his place in the world.

“So you really think I deserve this?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

“You deserve everything.” He answered without hesitation. “And I won’t let any shadow from your past cloud what we’ve achieved. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all this time, it’s that you and I have the right to create whatever we want. What we’ve done or been before doesn’t matter now.”

You stepped toward him, resting your forehead against his chest, the weight of your insecurities beginning to dissolve by the firmness of his support. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this… but being with you makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I deserve something better too.”

“You always have.” He whispered, wrapping you in a firm embrace. “And if you ever forget that, I’ll be here to remind you.”

And in that embrace, the security Silco offered was more than enough to extinguish the doubts that still burned inside you. It didn’t matter where you came from, or what you had suffered. What mattered was the future you both would build together.

Mel

There was something in the air, a subtle tension that you couldn’t help but feel as you sat at the wedding planning table. Mel was completely absorbed in the details, as if everything had to be perfect and according to her vision. She had told you about the decoration, the guest list, and even the type of outfits she thought you both should wear, but something didn’t add up. Mel was making decisions without consulting you, assuming her preferences were the only ones that mattered.

“I’ve decided it will be in an indoor venue, with all sorts of baroque decorations, and I’ve hired the most prestigious orchestra in Piltover. We want to make our position known, right?” Mel was so confident, looking at the papers and giving a satisfied smile while she handled everything, not letting you intervene.

“What about what I want?” you asked, feeling a mix of frustration and discomfort building up in your chest. “Don’t you want this to be our wedding, not just yours?”

Mel looked up, surprised by your tone, but quickly recovered, giving a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course. But… it’s not that complicated, don’t you think? I’ve always been the one to take the reins in this, I always get it right, everything perfectly.”

Your heart began to race. “Mel, you’re not letting me participate. It’s not just your wedding. This is about us, about what we want to share, not about what you think it should be.”

Mel furrowed her brow. “You know, right? Our wedding has to be something that stands out, something that tells the world who we are. I’m not trying to do it alone, it’s just… I’ve always known what’s best.”

“That’s exactly what bothers me!” your words came out forcefully. “You always think you know what’s best, but what about what I want? You’re always planning everything without asking me, always making decisions like everything has to revolve around you.”

The tension was palpable. Mel crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “And what do you know? Do you think I’m not trying to do what’s best for us?” Her voice was sharper now, as if each word was filled with contained frustration. “What about you? Don’t you realize nothing is ever enough for you? You always want something more, something different... Don’t you get tired of living within your own limits?”

What she said stung, like a sharp jab to your chest. “I’m not looking for a spectacle, Mel. What I want is a wedding that reflects what we share, not what the world expects to see.” You felt the emotion take over. “You’re suffocating me with your expectations, with your perfection, Mel. Sometimes, I feel like your need for everything to be perfect is taking away from what truly matters. Perfection isn’t what I want from you, what I want is for us to be together, real.”

Mel stood still, looking down, her face showing a discomfort she didn’t often show. For a moment, she seemed to hesitate. “It’s not that... It’s just that... I don’t know how to do things any other way.” Her voice was softer now, but there was still a layer of tension. “My life has always been about controlling things, doing them the way I want. It’s the only thing I know how to do well. And... I don’t want our wedding to be like any other. I don’t want people to look at us and think we’re ordinary.”

Your eyes softened, and you moved closer to her, taking her hands. “You don’t have to be perfect, Mel. I don’t care if it’s not the most luxurious wedding, or if everything is under control. What matters to me is you, and how we feel together. I don’t want you to drown in your own expectations.”

Mel sighed, the sound of her emotional weariness filling the air. “Sometimes, I feel like... I’m not enough.” Her gaze drifted, as if afraid her words might reveal something she didn’t want to show. “It’s easier to control everything than to accept that things might go wrong. Sometimes, perfection is the only thing I have.”

“You don’t need to be perfect for me, I’ve told you that,” you said softly, caressing her cheek gently. “You just need to be you. And that’s the best part of all of this, Mel. I want you, with all your imperfections, and that’s what I want our wedding to reflect.”

Mel took a deep breath, and a small smile appeared on her face. “I guess I owe you that. This wedding... might be simpler than I thought, but what matters is that it’s ours. Does that sound good?”

The tension immediately dissipated, and the atmosphere between you two softened. She moved closer, and finally, her hands intertwined with yours in a genuine embrace. “Thank you,” Mel said, her voice softer than before, vulnerable and real. “I promise we’ll do it the way you want. It will be our wedding, our way.”

“Thank you,” you replied, hugging her tighter. “All I need from you is for you to be you. And that’s the most perfect thing we can do.”

Both of you smiled, understanding that even though you had differences, the strength of what you shared was far more important than anything else. In the end, what mattered was your mutual commitment, not control, not perfection, but the love you had promised each other.

Sevika

The idea of planning the wedding seemed, in theory, fun and exciting. But in practice, it was an absolute mess. Both of you were trying to organize everything, but Sevika and you weren’t exactly the most organized. There were papers all over the table, piles of disorganized notes, and plans that didn’t match what you both wanted.

"This is a nightmare," Sevika muttered as she picked up a crumpled piece of paper from the floor. "How are we supposed to organize this if we can't even agree on a venue?"

You sat down in the chair, watching the disaster around you. "I know," you sighed, running your hands through your hair. "I wanted it to be simple, but it seems like I can't even do that right."

Sevika let out a bitter laugh, a sound you knew all too well. "Simple? Everything here is a disaster, and we're up to our necks in nonsense. I don't know if I'm the worst at this or if it’s just that this isn’t what I imagined."

Both of you were overwhelmed, and the tension was building. The lack of organization and control wasn’t just reflecting the physical chaos, but also the underlying anxieties of both of you.

"I told you, Sevika, this doesn’t make sense! We’re not getting anything right, and I feel like we’re already ruining everything." Your voice rose with frustration because you not only felt the wedding was out of control, but that this lack of success in the small details was affecting you more than you wanted to admit.

Sevika looked at you intently, frustration clear in her eyes. "And what did you expect? We're not people who do everything perfectly. We’re used to improvising, surviving, doing things our way." Her tone hardened, as if she was trying to justify what had happened. "I don’t know why you thought this would be different."

"Because it’s our wedding, Sevika! It’s not the same as always!" You were about to lose your temper. "I’m tired of you solving everything with ‘we’ll improvise’. This is important to me, and it matters a lot, do you understand?"

Sevika stepped closer, her taller frame and steady gaze making it clear this discussion had escalated too far. "I know, I know… but what I’m telling you is I don’t want it to be a traditional 'under control' wedding. Enough with the outside pressures." Her voice was softer but no less intense. "You know what scares me the most? That I don’t know if I’m capable of doing this right, that everything I plan won’t be enough for you. Because I know I’m not perfect. I’ve always been a warrior, not a princess who wants to sit at a fancy table."

A sharp pain pierced you as you heard her words. It wasn’t just about the wedding. There was something deeper in her tone. "It’s not about that, babe," you said, frustration transforming into a softness that took over you. "I just want it to be our moment. But it seems like we can’t even agree on the smallest thing."

Silence filled the room for a moment. Sevika, with her gaze fixed on the floor, seemed to be thinking. Finally, she stepped closer and, unexpectedly, placed her hand over yours.

"I’m sorry," she said, her voice softer, full of sincerity. "I didn’t want this to affect you so much. What’s going on is… I’m scared, you know? All of this is new to me. I’m not used to planning something so… so personal, and that scares me."

You were taken aback by her vulnerability. "I understand you’re scared, I’m scared too. But do you know what makes me lose that fear? Remembering that I’ll be with you, that we’re making the ultimate promise to share our lives together," you said, feeling the intensity of the connection between you both. "What matters is that, even if everything feels like a disaster, we’ll be together."

She smiled almost imperceptibly, with a mix of sadness and relief. "Do you really think I can’t do it right?"

"No, it’s not that," you replied, gently touching her face. "What I mean is, it doesn’t matter if everything is a disaster, as long as it’s our disaster."

A sigh escaped Sevika. "You’re right."

Both of you remained silent for a moment, understanding that perfection wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was what you shared, and that was more than enough for either of you.

Sevika, now calmer, hugged you softly. "We’ll do it right, doll. I promise."

You smiled, relieved. "Yeah, I know."

And, even though the wedding was still a mess, the only thing that mattered was that it was your mess. Your love was the only thing you needed to make everything make sense.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。the dictionary definition of a rich boy

synopsis. that rich guy who won’t stop asking you out is your partner for this project—send help

contents. pre dating rich boy! gojo, college! au, implications of a zenin being pushy on the first date, satoru being distraught you went on a date lol, pre relationship shenanigans with the cutest loser boy !!

word count. 3.8k (it’s literally all just him being a handful)

notes. thank you niku my most cherished gojo stan for comming this (and giving me the most ridiculous tip) i adore you so much :,) mwah 💋

he’s late—gojo is late. in fact, he’s very late, by forty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact. you aren’t really the count-by-the-second type of person, but somehow when it comes to that irritating, smug, too-talkative brat that you’re stuck with…well, you can’t help but be petty and use the seconds against him too.

he shows up close to an hour after your agreed time, waltzing in with a grin on his face—and, oh, you should kill him. he has the audacity to send you a wink when he walks over, coming up to your table and pushing his sunglasses down his nose just a bit to look you in the eyes over the lenses. 

what kind of person wears sunglasses indoors? surely only the kind that are nothing but trouble.

“aw, you’re here already,” gojo hums, “that excited to see me?”

“you’re late,” you spit.

“am i? i could have sworn—”

“now it’ll get dark by the time we get through what we planned for today,” you glare. he looks enthused, positively delighted by the statement—it’s almost as if you’ve offered him candy. 

“well, then i’ll just have to walk you to your apartment,” he offers smoothly. 

what a jackass. of course, just as expected, he’s still attempting to worm his way into your personal life (and likely your pants) in the most obnoxious of ways. over your dead body, however, will you ever allow him to know where you live, let alone accompany you on the way. you value your sanity, and having a conversation with gojo satoru longer than you absolutely have to seems like the most efficient way to fry every nerve and brain cell you have left.

“absolutely not,” you grit, “you can call me an uber. you pay.”

“alright,” he nods, “i’ll get an uber for you. but i’ll need your number to make sure you made it home safe. otherwise, what kind of partner would i be?”

typically, any normal pair of partners are meant to exchange numbers for a project—it would be the easiest form of communication, and more importantly, you can spam call if gojo decides not to carry his weight instead of just hoping and praying he checks his socials. but you can’t let him have your number—he’s not trustworthy enough for that. the last thing you need is him bombarding you with texts, or worse: calls, in the middle of work and class. so instead, you strictly inform him that any and all communication will occur via social media.

he pouts at that—it’s a cute pout, you have to admit. it’s slightly dangerous, too, because had you not had the self-control you do, you might have caved. but then he lights up at the prospect of you adding him back on socials. 

i’ll get your number one of these days, he says confidently. his confidence is as aggravating as the way he clicks his pen in the middle of class. he still chooses to sit right beside you despite all the free and very available seats the entirety of the lecture hall has. 

but no, he insists on sitting right next to you—and you? well, you have to hope you don’t get charged with homicide by the end of every class from the constant clicking he makes you endure. despite all that, gojo is surprisingly smart, which means your project might not be so doomed. 

he’s annoyingly smart, actually—he never takes notes, and just when you think the professor has him cornered by asking him a question when he’s seemingly dozing off, he answers immediately with the correct answer. 

you hate him.

“absolutely not happening,” you grumble, opening your laptop, “anyway i think we should start with—”

“well, i hate to inform you,” he sighs sadly as if it genuinely pains him to say this, “but i’ve actually deleted all my socials.”

“what?” your eye twitches.

“yeah,” he nods, “it’s a bit of a cleanse if you will. staring at your screen all day and finding value in fake posts is not good for mental health, you know? i’m trying to be more in tune with myself. it’s been a real self-journey.”

before the end of this project, you might either be a college dropout or an inmate at the county jail. you’re not sure, either is equally as possible.

“gojo satoru, i am sick of your games,” you spit, “we both know—”

“and i would hate not being in touch with my partner since it’s a crucial part of this project for us to work together,” he hums, something of a smug look plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face, “that thirty percent deduction for ineffective partner communication would be such a shame to get when we’re working so hard already on this, wouldn’t you agree?”

is he threatening you? for your number? with your grade? he is, you realize—and you clench your fist tightly around the phone in your hands as he eyes it with a knowing look on his face. he has you right where he wants you, whether you like it or not.

“you’re an asshole,” you spit.

“i’m a mental health advocate,” he gasps—he has the nerve to act offended, even as he’s so obviously enjoying working you up like this. you wish he’d drop dead immediately. maybe you could take his card from his wallet as his cold body lays lifeless on the table and order yourself a new laptop if he did—that would be ideal. 

“i saw you post on your story last night—”

“you didn’t watch it,” he pouts, “i posted a shirtless gym selfie just for you—wait a second, you pay attention to my story, huh?” he cuts himself off with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “c’mon, you don’t have to force yourself to skip them. you know you wanna watch them.”

“no, i don’t,” you seethe, “it was just the first one at the top. stop being self-important—”

“anyway,” he drawls, eyeing your phone again. you want to splash your coffee in his face. “i’ll need your number,” he sniffs, “the crushing disappointment of you skipping my story made me realize i’m too focused on getting social media validation, so i’m taking a break. it’s the best thing for me to do in my headspace right now. hope you understand.”

“are you kidding me?” you stare at him. he grins before shaking his head.

“i would never joke about mental health,” he says seriously—it’s not as serious as your desire to slap him, however.

“fine,” you take a long, slow sip of your coffee to calm down, “give me your phone.”

“oh, you’re gonna set your own contact?” he brightens, immediately handing you his phone. it’s brand new—the newest model, in fact. it’s barely been a few days since it dropped. truthfully, you’re not even sure why you’re shocked—of course, he, of all people, would upgrade immediately. “how intimate,” he gushes, “it’s almost like we’re going on a date—”

“do not text me outside of project purposes,” you interrupt, thrusting the phone back into his hands, “got it?”

“you got it,” he grins triumphantly.

—————

like all things he does, gojo finds a roundabout way to keep his word without actually keeping it. it’s his secret talent, you think—finding loopholes through all the technicalities of things.

hey when ur free can u read over my portion? i just finished

btw r u going to that frat party this wknd? u don’t seem the party type haha but u should come 

i’ll introduce u to suguru! he’s my best friend he’s super nice u’ll like him

oh and when do u wanna meet this week? promise i’ll be on time this time ;)

you make sure to only respond to the questions regarding your project—just because he technically kept his word and started the conversation centered around the project before getting off topic doesn’t mean you have to indulge him. and the way he types is infuriatingly annoying—who shortens every possible word like that? only him, you think.

okay, maybe you’re just nitpicking now, but every time you see his name pop up on your screen, your mood sours tenfold. you decide to answer as dryly as possible.

k i’ll look. we meet same time as last.

the period at the end should add the perfect touch—you grin to yourself in pride at that one. instantly, bubbles pop up and indicate he’s typing again. your smile very quickly drops.

wow ur a rly dry texter aren’t u?

that’s ok i don’t judge

so how bout the party? 

i can be ur escort ;) 

it’ll be fun!

from his side of the screen, gojo watches as your contact shows notifications silenced at the bottom. he pouts to himself—no party, then, he thinks.

—————

gojo satoru, the guy who seemingly has everything he could ever want, likes you. 

frankly, he’s not really sure why—at first, he finds you mildly amusing, and he thinks it’d be fun to have a short fling with you perhaps. somewhere along the line, however, that changes. he watches you dedicatedly take notes in class, no matter how tired you seem from work the night before. he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re really focused—it’s actually very cute, he thinks. and he’s entertained by the way you always have some smart little retort waiting on your tongue. you’re not boring—and more than anything, you leave him a little humbled. it’s refreshing, and he kind of likes it, if he’s being completely honest.

he’s never liked anyone before—it’s a weird feeling. at best, he’s had a crush where he could appreciate that someone is generally pleasing to the eye and has a personality that might mesh well with his, but he’s never yearned for someone before. 

it just so happens to be his luck that the same person he wants more than anything in the entire world (for the first time ever, too) seems to hate his guts. it also happens to be that the same person he wants more than anything is currently getting asked out by some kid from the zenin family. right in front of him. and you’re saying yes. 

why on earth would you say yes to a zenin of all people? don’t you value yourself? 

gojo can admit that he’s had his fair share of heart robbing and tear inducing moments—he’s not exactly someone with the best track record for commitment, but at least he doesn’t use people for his own benefit. plus, he does, in fact, actually plan on committing to you. that zenin boy most certainly can’t be any good news if he’s anything like naoya, who gojo has met on a multitude of occasions, and knows very well is a scoundrel of a guy. 

“see you at nine?” he hears the zenin (what was his name again?) ask you. you nod, smiling sweetly. 

why don’t you smile sweetly at him like that? he buys you coffee every week. sure, he only gets to buy you the coffee because you have no choice but to meet him for the project, but he even offers to get you a slice of cake—you don’t ever accept, though, so he ends up eating both. but you do like coffee, very strong coffee that’s probably not sweet enough for his liking, but you enjoy the coffee he buys you nonetheless, and that has to count for something.

“sure, see you at nine,” you hum.

gojo watches in absolute shock (and abject horror) as you look down shyly. as soon as the zenin boy walks away, he stomps up to you.

“hey, what gives?” he asks petulantly, making your face paint on that irritated look that it always seems to adopt when he’s in the vicinity—how rude.

“what do you mean?” you ask tiredly, “i don’t speak toddler, so please use your words—”

“why’d you say yes to that zenin boy—”

“he has a name. it’s—”

“who cares what his name is? he’s an asshole! he won’t treat you right even if his mother’s life is on the line—”

“oh, and you would?” you raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. how is it his place to tell you who’d treat you right and who wouldn’t? how is it his place to even care?

“i would,” he gasps at the accusation, “you’d date a zenin but not me? how come?”

“because you’re annoying,” you counter like it’s obvious.

okay, now that is technically fair—gojo has heard his fair share of you’re annoying’s from people in his life. in fact, a good amount of them come from his own mother, but he’s also dashingly handsome, very good in bed, has soft hair, is tall and muscular, can buy you whatever you like, and can be smart and funny too if you really don’t care for those kinds of things. he’s the entire package and more. and more importantly, he’s not from the zenin family, and that automatically means you’ll actually be treated with an ounce of respect.

he looks at you incredulously, feelings a little hurt. “that’s not true! name one annoying thing i’ve done—”

“you laughed in the middle of me speaking in class.”

“that wasn’t at you! suguru showed me something funny on his phone—”

“and you took like twenty minutes in line ordering the most sweetest drink on the menu while i was running late—”

“you can’t use that against me, that’s not fair! i’m a paying customer, i should be able to get whatever i want. plus, it’s technically not my fault you were late.”

“you rubbed in the fact that you had a black card.”

“you mentioned it first!”

“you were late to our first meeting for the project.”

“okay, that was an honest mistake! people are allowed to make those, you know—”

“i don’t want to go out with you,” you say frustratedly, “and it’s really annoying when you act like a spoiled brat that can’t handle the word no and keep on insisting, okay? so leave me alone unless it’s to discuss our project—which weighs fifty-five percent of our grade, by the way, so don’t even think about getting lazy.”

he is not lazy, he wants to argue.

but before he can, you roll your eyes and take a step to walk around him, leaving him there to blink in shock. okay, he thinks with a huff, so you’re playing hard to get. that’s no matter, he’s good at the chase anyway. 

—————

the date doesn’t seem to have gone well. gojo can tell because your eyes are slightly red and puffy, and you’re extra grouchy today in class. your professor seems to have noticed, too, because instead of calling on you today, she calls on gojo extra as a rare show of mercy. 

gojo doesn’t mind—this class is surprisingly easy, and he’s bored half the time anyway. he might as well indulge the uptight professor in an ugly brown pencil skirt and answer her pretentious questions that aren’t as complex as she thinks they are. 

“so,” he finally breaks the silence, “how was your date—”

“if you’re looking for a chance to say i told you so, just get it over with, you jerk,” you grumble. he raises his eyebrows in surprise before both hands go up in surrender.

“i wasn’t,” he says genuinely, “you just…uh…you look upset, is all.”

you hesitate for a short second, gauging his sincerity for a moment before sighing and slumping on the desk, cheek resting on your arm. gojo resists the urge to poke the soft flesh—it’ll probably make you mad, and you’re already in a bad mood. 

“he was…pushy,” you say quietly, “i don’t really believe in taking things far on the first date. he didn’t like that.” instantly, his fists clench tightly, eyeing you from the side carefully, almost in concern. “nothing happened,” you wave off, “but he did make me feel disgusting,” you mutter.

“yeah, well, he is a zenin,” he points out, “they’re…well, my family’s known them for a while. my mom hates them.”

you look over at him in mild interest, raising an eyebrow. “don’t tell me there’s drama in the rich community,” you gasp, “i thought you all just came as one to sip fancy wine and laugh at the poor together.”

he snorts, throwing you a toothy grin that you think for a moment is kind of cute—but that doesn’t mean he’s any different from the rest of the rich folks. someone of gojo satoru’s caliber has no business mixing with someone of yours—it’s common knowledge. gojo has everything he wants, and if he doesn’t, it’s a simple matter of asking before it’s his. there’s simply no way you can mold into his world to be what he needs you to be, and when the time inevitably comes when he realizes you’re not what he wants, well…you’d like to save yourself the wounded pride and crushed soul while you can. 

“sometimes we have fancy appetizers too with the wine,” he jokes, “don’t forget those.”

“oh, my apologies,” you chuckle. gojo likes it when you laugh, he decides. it looks much better than when you’re glum—he thinks seeing your lips quirked in anything other than a smile is a waste of your perfect features, and he can’t have that.

“my mom married my old man in this stupid arranged marriage or something,” he explains casually, like it’s just the norm. you suppose it is—for the rich, at least. you wonder briefly if gojo will have a marriage planned for his future, too, and you wonder if he’s okay with that. surely it’ll be some wealthy and fancy socialite of a girl that fits his family’s standards. someone who’s not you—not that you care anyway, you wouldn’t marry him regardless. “my grandma wanted her to marry the zenin, but she said no. said he treated her like a piece of meat every time they met, so she settled for my dad instead. lucky her, 'cause now i’m her son,” he beams. 

settled—something about the way he says it makes you think his parents must not really care for each other as a husband and wife should. it makes you think briefly about what his childhood might’ve been like, not watching his parents happy and in love the way they should be. but still, the way gojo talks about his mother is fond, with a gentle smile on his face as he recalls the things she’s told him. you can’t help but smile a little too.

“i think that makes you the lucky one,” you snort, “you’d still be her son. just that you’d be a zenin.”

he crinkles his nose at the thought, dramatically shivering and making you giggle. “gross,” he gags.

“well, now you have her to thank,” you hum, “your dad would’ve been…whoever the zenin she was supposed to marry is.”

“yeah, well, trust me,” he mumbles, his smile dropping ever so slightly, “my old man’s not that big of an upgrade from a zenin. even my grandfather’s sick of him. imagine being such a douche, your own dad can’t stand you.”

you’re learning more about gojo in one sitting than you ever imagined (or planned) to learn—part of that is because he seems like he’s the type to overshare on the first meet; the other part…well, you have to be honest with yourself, it’s not exactly a bad pastime hearing him talk about himself. gojo is an odd piece of work, and you can’t say you hate learning about the little pieces that come together to make him so weird. 

okay, perhaps weird is a bit rude, you think—he’s…unique.

“oh, so you’re the dictionary definition of a rich boy, huh?” you hum, resting your cheek on your hand as you sit up and face him—gojo, for a quick moment, feels his heart stutter when you talk to him like that: with your undivided attention like he’s the only one in the room. 

“what makes you say that?”

“daddy issues is like…the first thing in the rich boy starter pack.”

he laughs at that, smooth and almost sweet—it’s a dangerous thing. it’s easy to attract you to him, like a bee to honey, with the way his lips curl like that, showing off his dimples. but the bees can easily turn into maggots—and you don’t want to find yourself as a dead carcass by the end of this.

“i don’t have daddy issues,” he says smoothly, “that old man should sleep with both eyes open. if anything, he has son issues.”

“you’re hands down the oddest person i have ever met,” you mumble.

“what was that? did you say hottest? yeah, i know—”

“shut up, jackass,” you scowl, shoving his shoulder when he leans closer with a bat of his lashes. he laughs, and so do you—and just for one, quick, momentary instance, gojo satoru is not so bad. dangerous and a bad choice maybe, a setup for a big mistake perhaps, something you should stay away from, in fact. 

but not so bad. 

“how about i show you what it’s like to go on a date with a gojo,” he grins, winking easily. he’s persistent—very persistent, you note. “you might like it a lot more than a zenin.”

“no, thank you,” you hold a hand up, “never going to happen.”

“never say never,” he hums, “you might eat your words.”

—————

“hey, satoru?”

“that’s not my name.”

“that actually is your name,” you say tiredly.

“hmph,” satoru rolls over, dramatically tugging the blankets over his body as he shuffles away from you, “not to you, it’s not.” 

you sigh, pursing your lips at his antics. “oh my god. okay—hey, toru?” you correct yourself. and just like that, he turns back around, grinning brightly as he inches closer until his head is resting on your chest.

“yes, baby?” he says sweetly, earning a roll of your eyes as your fingers weave into his hair. it’s soft—you don’t think you ever want to let go.

“it’s way better dating a gojo, by the way,” you murmur, “than a zenin.”

“oh yeah?” he grins smugly, arm draping over your body as he kisses your jaw, “i told you it would be, didn’t i?”

“i haven’t dated other rich families to compare, though,” you tease, “you might get replaced.”

“unlikely,” he chuckles, “no one,” there’s a kiss to your jaw, “will love you,” another kiss to your cheek, “like me.”

finally, there’s a slow, soft kiss to your lips—and when he kisses you like that, you have no choice but to believe him.

satoru sooooo sends multiple texts back to back he just like me for real

[binniesbooks]

heyyy! absolutely loved your 100 followers special fic like it was so insanely good!!!

please can i request a bsf!beomgyu fic where he discovers through porn that women can squirt and during your next hangout he asks you about it and when you tell him you can he gets all excited and asks you to show him. this then ends in him fucking you till you squirt on his dick multiple times. can you make both beomgyu and the reader a switch if you don’t mind and only if you’re comfortable tho :) the beomgyu brain rot is getting to me 😭

• IS IT TRUE?

BG 001 .F23 2024

wc 3.6k

pairings bestfriend!Beomgyu x fem!reader

warnings switch reader x switch Gyu, mutual pining, porn watching, caught self relieving, oral sex (m. receiving), slight flood play, kissing, marking, unprotected sex, pull out method, squirting, mentions of hair pulling and scratching if you squint (+ anything I've missed)

faye's note I tried my best to make a great plot, I really did! I hope it worked. To the anon who requested this one, I'm sorry it took me so long, I was procrastinating, LMAO. SORRY 😭

"Beomgyu-" The nasty moans and lewd sounds coming from the computer were abruptly stopped when Beomgyu slammed his laptop shut. 

"What the fuck were you watching?" Yeonjun's brows creased as he stared at the younger awkwardly sitting on the bed, a pillow on his lap and a blanket covering his lower half.

"W-what?" Beomgyu stammered. 

Yeonjun's grin grew wider as his eyes scanned the room. A laptop that was forced shut, a box of tissues, a sweaty body in this air-conditioned room—what else was a guy to do, if not pleasure himself when alone?

"Damn, it looks like I've caught you at a bad time!" Yeonjun exclaimed, a faint chuckle rumbling within his chest. His teasing voice and giggles made Beomgyu blush.

"Okay, okay, I'll just talk to you later, take care of yourself first," Yeonjun said, throwing a knowing look and a teasing smile.

"H-hyung, hyung wait!" Beomgyu tried to stop Yeonjun, but the door was already shut. Besides, he can't just get up naked, can he?

He throws his head back against the pillow, groaning in embarrassment as he runs his palm against his face, muttering a frustrated "fuck" under his breath.

"So..." you started. "Why are you here again?"

"Can't a friend visit you? God, you're not as welcoming as before," Beomgyu barked, rolling his eyes as he threw the plastic bag full of snacks on the table and plopped down on your couch. And when he removes the hood of his jacket, he reveals the mess that was his hair underneath.

"I mean, you can, yeah. But... Do you know what time it is?" you replied, pulling your jacket against your body.

"3 o'clock," he answered.

"3 o'clock in what?"

"3 o'clock in the morning! But whatever!" he grunts, throwing a temper tantrum on the couch.

"Why are you here then?" you asked, sitting beside him.

"Just wanna see you. It's been a while," he muttered under his breath.

"You know you can't just drop by anytime, right?"

"I know, I know. I've just had trouble sleeping at night these past few days again," he sighed, leaning his head back on the couch.

"Am I your sleeping pill or something?" your brows raised and your voice teasing.

"What if I say that you're my medicine?" Beomgyu looked you straight in the eye. And there you are, embraced by his warm gaze, trapped inside the pretty door to his soul.

You leaned closer to him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, running your fingers through his hair.

"Stay the night—or whatever you call the time now, I hope you have a good rest even if it's just for today." 

Beomgyu has been your friend since you were in your teenage years—typical. He shuts other girls off, as he only gives his attention to you. He doesn't want to be involved in any relationship of sort—that includes you, though. He may be your best friend, your best partner, but neither of you two admitted anything. Just two young hearts showing care and love towards each other. 

Some say you should date each other, which the two of you would only answer with a sheepish smile. Sometimes, he would drop by at your place, hang out with you, and enjoy the rest of his free time. You've been to his place a few times, but you insisted on him going to your place instead, since he's living with his friends. 

Often times, you'll share a kiss or two with him—anything but a kiss on the lips. He loves it when you sit on his lap while he plays at your computer, giving your shoulder a few bites and planting soft kisses. He loves cuddling you to sleep, draping his arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, his warm breath fanning across your nape. 

Beomgyu could walk around your house half naked without you giving a fuck. He does anything as if it were his own home, and you don't mind at all. You're used to it, nothing new. 

Everything about this is pretty normal between the two of you. The kisses, the skinship, the hugs, the cuddles—anything that a 'just friends' friend won't normally do. Well, in your case, it was. 

"Can you come closer? I need to feel your warmth," Beomgyu pleaded, unzipping his jacket.

"Gyu, how much closer do you need me to be? Should I just sew my skin onto yours?" you chuckled as you shifted on the bed, scooting closer to him.

"I missed you. I missed holding you in my arms." he mumbles as he hugs you tight. 

"You're such a baby, Gyu. Do you know that?" you complained, burying your face in his chest, hugging him closer.

A few minutes had passed, yet Beomgyu was still awake. Busying himself with combing his fingers through your hair as he watches you peacefully sleep. 

His fingers traced the outline of your face. "I love you. I hope you know that," he whispered, planting a kiss to the top of your head before he shuts his eyes.

You woke up with heavy limbs draped upon your body. Beomgyu may have mistaken you for a pillow.

"Gyu... Gyu, you're so heavy, move over." Your voice cracked as you gasped for air.

"Gyu, what the hell, scoot over," you grunt again, trying to push him, but his body is far too big for you to push on your own.

"Choi Beomgyu!" You shouted.

Beomgyu squirmed. And instead of getting himself off of you, he pulled you even closer.

"What's your deal?" You frowned, trying to push him away.

Beomgyu grunts as he hides in your neck, rolling over, causing the two of you to crash down onto the floor. 

But instead of getting angry at him, your frown turned into a fit of laughter as you saw him wince and massage the back of his head and his buttocks.

"Did you have a good sleep?" you asked, stirring a cup of coffee.

"Mhm, I did, thank you. I'll get going now, the boys might already be looking for me," Beomgyu said as he pulled you in for a hug.

"You're not gonna eat breakfast here?"

His tall figure towers over you as he pinches your cheeks, "I'll do it next time. Let's have breakfast together next time, okay? Eat the snacks I brought earlier and take care of yourself." You watched him step out, closing the door behind him. 

It hadn't even been a whole 24 hours when he came back to your place.

"I wanna watch a movie; the guys are boring to be with!" he frowns, feigning frustration--- He actually never asked them to do so. Just a reason for him to drop by your place again.

"Bring the ice cream from the freezer, then," you said as you prepared the couch, bringing some soft pillows and a fuzzy blanket. 

You actually have no idea what the movie was all about. You even missed the title because you went to the restroom last minute. The only thing you know is that it's a 18+ rated movie. Well, it's not your first time watching something like this with Beomgyu, you've watched multiple movies that aren't child friendly. 

Plus, the fact that the two of you could even talk about anything sexual as if you're just talking about food and any other light topics makes this normal. Although sexually wise, neither one of you has experience. Considering that you both shut people away as if your world only revolves around each other.

And although this isn't the first time you're watching something like this with Beomgyu, it is the first time you saw him shove a pillow over his lap. It is the first time he's trying his best to avoid any skin contact with you. 

"Is everything okay? You're so distant," you commented, licking a spoonful of ice cream.

"Actually... There's.. there's something I want to ask," he started, turning his body to face you.

"That is?"

"That.. I.. Uhm, I just watched this from... You know..."

"Porn?" you bluntly answered.

"Y-yeah. And uh, is it true?"

"What's true? Geez, say it straight, Gyu," you rolled your eyes as you dug another spoonful of ice cream.

"Let me finish my sentence!" he pouts, making you chuckle. Beomgyu wasn't normally nervous around you, this is the first time.

"Is is true.. that.. girls can.. uhm.. the liquid... Like.." he continued stammering.

You looked at him straight in the eye and said, "That girls squirt?" Beomgyu nodded frantically as he tried to avert his gaze.

"It's more common than you think, Gyu," you answered as you returned your gaze to the movie. However, you're shocked about what's already happening on the TV. It was a fucking sex scene! Obscene sounds are coming from the speakers resonating in your living room. You gulped and shifted nervously.

"S-so you mean, you can do it?" Beomgyu dug his fingers into the pillow, his face painted with embarrassment and anticipation at the same time.

"Well..."

"Can you show it to me?" he said, cutting you off.

"W-what?" You looked at him in surprise. Why would a friend ask something like that?

"I.. I mean. I mean... Like..." he tried finding an appropriate approach.

"Are you initiating something, Choi Beomgyu?" You turned your whole body towards him. He bit his lower lip, his adams apple bobbed up and down as he gulped, swallowing the same embarrassment and sexual frustration.

"If... If you want to... I... I wanna see it.. I wanna see you," he whispered, his lips already red and swollen from how hard he was biting them. 

You weighed the pros and cons in your mind first. But, yeah, who cares? You're attracted to him anyway! It's a win-win situation, right?

"I swear, if you tell a single soul about this," you warned before straddling him, grabbing his shirt, and crashing your lips on his.

He forcefully pulled the pillow from his lap away, causing you to stumble a little, desperate to feel you even in the tiniest bit. His hands landed on your waist, trying to push you down on his lap.

You pulled away, "Stop. Hands off."

He stared at you with big puppy eyes and a pout, "Y/n," he whines. 

"Keep your hands off me if you want to know if it's true." Beomgyu placed his hand on his side. Trying his best not to touch you, gripping the fuzzy blanket instead, veins popping on his neck as he threw his head back. What a good day to wear sweats, he could fully feel you, and you could fully feel him hardening each second. 

Beomgyu used to order you around. He's a bit bitchy and bossy. Yet he's being pliant today. So you were enjoying this, watching him crumble under you, doing anything you were saying.

You moved your hips again, making him emit a desperate moan. Calling your name like the sex-deprived man he is, "P-please... Please it hurts..." he whines again, tears threatening to spill, nails almost tearing your blanket apart. Yet you grind again, teasing him some more. "If you cum too early, you'll end up not knowing whether it's true," you taunt. So he bucks his hips up, along with loud moans and whimpers, drowning the long forgotten movie in the background, too desperate and stimulated.

"M-more..." he whispered under his breath, almost unheard if you didn't pay attention, not wanting to get ahead of himself. 

You stopped your movement, making him groan and gasp. But blush crept up his pretty face when you moved down between his legs, spreading them open, kissing the tent on his sweats. He drapes his arm on his face as he throws his head back. He didn't know this would happen. He only asked if you could show him how you squirt, but he didn't expect for you to give him more.

"Y/n," he muttered, his hand muffling his mouth, "I-if you don't f-feel like it, you d-don't have to do this...."

"You don't want this, Gyu?" He looked down at you, only to throw his head back again when he saw you pouting with big round eyes. 

"Fuck..." He sighed, "Can I at least hold your head?"

And you let him. You let him tangle his fingers on your hair, but he's not allowed to push you down. You let him grip on your hair, but he's not allowed to pull you back.

As you pulled his sweats down, he tried his best to look at you. But he would end up closing his eyes because he can't look at you straight in the eye. 

"I won't give you a head if you don't look at me," you giggled, making him whine for the nth time.

And so he tried his best to maintain eye contact. Even when he's struggling to keep his eyes open because it feels too good. Even when he could only gasp because you're doing your best to take him whole in your mouth. He heard you gag over and over, yet he can only tangle his fingers in your hair gripping it. He wants to push you down, to fuck your pretty little mouth, to cum already, but he's waiting for your signal. He wants to be a good boy for you. He wants to be good. He wants you to praise him. He wants you to shower him with kisses later on because he was obliging to your commands.

And an idea came to your mind. You scooped out some of the melted ice cream and let it drip on his fully erect and wet cock. Beomgyu whimpers at the cold sensation.

"T-that's... Ahhh..." His voice was too shaky as he tried to form a sentence. Which he wasn't very successful in doing.

You carefully licked the melted ice cream, pushing your tongue on his slit.

"Y/n, c-can I cum? It.. ahh.. it hurts s-so much, p-please," he pleaded, drool rolling down from the corner of his lips, crying.

"Since you're too pretty, sure," you smiled sweetly, full of innocence. He lets go of your hair, placing them down on the couch, clutching on the blanket again. With one thrust in your mouth, he came undone, shooting spurts of sticky white cum inside your mouth. 

Beomgyu tried catching his breath as he looked down at you. He reached for your face, pressing on each side to make you open it. He watched your tongue swirl around the pool of his cum. Beomgyu pressed his thumb on your tongue, playing with his cum. "Swallow."

With a single command, you quickly obliged, swallowing the mix of sweet and salty taste from his cum and the ice cream. This time you felt so little under him as you sat on the floor between his legs. You opened your mouth for him to check. "Good girl," he smiled as he pulled you up, making you straddle him again.

"Did you enjoy your time ordering me around, baby?" He asked, tucking your hair behind your ear. You smiled at him, nodding with a wide grin.

His hand ran lower to your chest, touching your breast, causing you to bite your lower lip. 

"Tell me, why aren't you wearing a bra, hm?" He stared at you straight in the eye, raising his eyebrow, looking for a proper answer.

"I didn't know you were gonna drop by again," you pout.

"I see," he said, pinching your nipple.

"G-gyu..." you whimpered.

"Hm?" You looked away, clutching at the hem of your shirt. 

Beomgyu rolls your nipples against his finger again, making you quiver.

"G-gyu!" You moaned, holding his wrist. 

"What is it? Are you lost?" he chuckled, pulling your nipple.

"Ahh! Shit! Mhhmp!" you collapsed above him, hiding in his neck, whimpering and whining over and over again. You heard him let out a hearty chuckle again before wrapping his arms around your waist. 

"Too much?" he asked, and you nodded as an answer. "Okay, okay, I won't do it again, remove your pajama," he whispered.

You get off of him to discard your silk pajama, before repositioning yourself on top of him again. He kissed your forehead and played a little with the band of your panties.

Aligning his tip on your clothed pussy, he tried thrusting, teasing you, and smirking at how you squirm and pout at the stimulation.

Yet when he pushed your panties to the side, he saw the sticky wetness on the cloth from your hole. "So you're ordering me around while you're being wet like this, am I right?" he grinned.

He started teasing your pussy, pushing his red tip and letting it slide away. "Aww, too bad, I think it won't fit," he pouts, still teasing you. You whined back, wanting to feel him bare.

He teased you more and more. Until you couldn't take it anymore as you rose to your knees and aligned him against your hole, forcing your way down. You ended up collapsing in his arms again. Not prepared at all as you felt a burning pain from the stretch of his fat cock.

"God fucking damn it, don't do that again, you'll end up hurting yourself," Beomgyu winces as he tries to soothe you by combing your hair and kissing your face.

"No matter how desperate you want to feel me, don't do that again, okay? I haven't even properly stretched you out yet," he whispered, rubbing your back.

"Come here," he pulled your face to give you a kiss. A kiss that washed the pain away. Tongues fighting, teeth clashing, saliva mixing. It was nasty, lewd, and filthy. Yet you love it, moaning at the feeling. Especially when Beomgyu started to thrust his hips up, slowly training you with his size. 

His lips traveled down to your neck, leaving splotchy red marks and wet open-mouthed kisses in his wake. His hand fully grasped your breasts, slowly massaging them, occasionally rolling your nipples beneath his fingers, enjoying the way you moan his name in his ear as you catch your breath. 

Then he pulled away, holding your waist as he started his precise and delicious thrusts. 

"Deep?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with a grin. You nodded, both of your hands on his chest to keep your balance.

"How deep?" he smirked.

"H-here," you managed, pulling his hand and letting him press on your abdomen. You whimpered when he pressed harder, making you feel every curve and vein of his cock.

"Will you show me how you squirt? How did you find out you can?" he bombed you with questions, still maintaining his pace in thrusting inside your gummy walls.

"W-will show you G-gyu, will do... I ..ahh.. f-found out... One time when I t-touched myself," you started. "W-when you c-called me.. mmmph! W-with your morning voi....voice."

"You're touching yourself to my voice? Fuck, how desperate are you?" he scoffed, thrusting harder.

"W-wait! Ahh! Too m-much! Gyu!" You hid on his neck again, feeling so little and inferior. 

"I-it was only one time! I.. I never did it again!" You managed to squeak out, voice muffled on his neck.

"Then let's make you squirt again, yeah?" he sneered, pulling you back by your hair as you groan at the pleasuring pain spreading through your scalp.

He lifted you up for a bit, and he started fucking your hole with a faster and rougher pace. "Squirt on my cock, squirt on my cock." He kept on repeating it over gritted teeth, adding force to every thrust.

"G-gyu, w-wait, I'm gonna cum--" Clear liquid came out gushing from your hole, pushing his cock out along with your creamy cum, soiling your couch.

"Fuck.. do it again!" His grin grew wider as he lifted you up again and thrusted even harder with greater force.

"Gyu! Gyu! Beomgyu!" You chanted his name over and over again, your toes curled and your stomach twisted at the overstimulation. Yet he kept on fucking into you.

And again, you let out a gush of clear liquid. Whole body spasming above Beomgyu. His cock twitches as he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. 

"T-this is dirty G-gyu," you muttered below your breath, body spent as you found support from his shoulder.

"No. I like it. This is fucking hot. Makes me wanna fuck you more," he laughs.

You eyes flicker across the room. The couch, the blanket, and the pillows were wet. The chocolate-flavored ice cream smeared on his pants.

Beomgyu slowly slides himself inside you again, thrusting more precisely, wanting to cum inside you this time. He buried his face in your neck as he pushed your hips down. 

"F-fuck! Wanna fill you up!" 

"P-pull out, Gyu! Please!" you pleaded, clawing his back.

Beomgyu pulls out. Hissing through his teeth, he pumped his cock a few times and ended up cumming on your tummy. 

"Fuck," he pants, leaning back on the couch and pulling you to his chest. 

You heard how his heart thumped so hard and how his breathing was so ragged. You buried your face in his neck, allowing your heart to calm down. And realization settled in. You just had sex with your best friend.

"If you won't still ask me to date you after today, I'll ask Kai out, I know he likes me." You muttered, feigning nonchalance.

"What the fuck? Do you want me to tell them how good I made you feel?" he taunts, tangling his fingers in your hair as he gives it a little pull, making you moan.

"See? Only I am allowed to see you like this, to make you so spent like this, understood?" he frowns.

"Only if you date me," you said as you latched your lips on his neck, leaving a mark of ownership.

"Fuck," he scoffed, touching the part where you left a mark when you pulled away. 

@binniesbooks 2024

[cyxnidx]

LANGUAGE BARRIER !

characters: choso, gojo, nanami

summary: them with a bilingual-partner & their kids

ー# CHOSO didn't know just how big of a mistake he made letting his little girl learn an extra language. at first, he didn't think it'd be a big deal. his two year old learning your native language? that was an amazing idea - he loved it. the importance of maintaining your culture's language and spreading it through family made him think he was completing an aspiration he never knew he wanted. that was, until his you and his little angel decided to take things to the next level - insults. you taught her insults. and he didn't know it until he ended up upsetting her at the dinner table, and she blurted something incredibly disrespectful in your native language.

your jaw was on the floor. and choso was, rightfully so, incredibly confused. "what'd she just say?" he asks, genuinely confused about what she just told him. you begin laughing, scolding your little girl. "honey, you can't say that to daddy! that's bad." choso looks at her concerned. "what'd you say?" she crosses her arms, sticking her tongue out at him. he sighs, looking at you. "what'd she say?" collecting yourself, you sigh and whisper it to him, watching as his face contorts to complete shock. "that is so rude!"

ー# GOJO loved the idea. i mean, think about it? his little girl, stomping around, arguing with you in your language, and lowkey winning? he thought it was hilarious! of course, until she gets old enough to truly say something hurtful, but that'll be a while. or, at least, that's what he thought.

your daughter pouts, sitting in the middle of the living room floor, back facing you. she's six now, and far sassier than anything on plant earth. meanwhile, gojo is simply getting a snack bar from the kitchen. though, when you least expect it, she yells at you to shut up in your native language. your eyes go wide as you begin to slip off your sandal, walking toward her in spite of her screams. gojo wraps his arms around your torso, yelling 'calm down' and 'it's okay', having to catch your sandal when you attempt to throw it at her. your daughter approaches, just far back enough to not get caught by you, and apologizes formally before leaving to hide in her room. and now, gojo has to deal with you cursing at him. which is all fine, of course, except.. its somehow worse than you cursing at him in English?

ー# NANAMI thought it to be an interesting experience. he was the one to convince you that, no, it wasn't going to confuse him, and no, he wouldn't be upset if his daughter spoke to him in the language. because, unbeknownst to you, he's learning the language. ever since you were maybe six months pregnant? he wanted it to be a surprise for the little ones birthday. and that, it was.

you smiled, answering one of your daughters many questions for the day while nanami sat at the picnic table outside. today marks her fourth birthday, and she was ecstatic. she never really understood the significance of birthdays until recently, when nanami's been explaining to her how exciting they tend to be. "daddy! daddy! today's my birthday!" she exclaims, grinning ear to ear. "and ー and mommy made me my cake! and i helped!" she says, happily pointing to the cake, basically jumping off the ground and to the moon. nanami smiled at his daughter's excitement. "i see, darling. did you put the candles on it, too?" he asks, stifling a laugh at the slightly messy placement of the candles on top. she nods and grins. "you did a great job, darling." he praises, kissing her cheek. she asks you a question in your language, asking if it was time to cut the cake yet. before you could respond, nanami shakes his head, telling her she has to wait to light the candles first. your eyes go wide, while your daughter simply nods with acceptance. "since when did you-?" you ask, generally confused. nanami smiles. "i've been learning for some years now."