#eat bolo

[agnesandhilda]

jujutsu kaisen is a story that has the courage to ask "what if cannibalism was a metaphor for cannibalism?"

[anathemafiction]

I have family staying over, so I cannot linger for long, but I just wanted to take a moment to wish everyone a Happy Easter! 🐰 I'm not sure how much of a big deal this holiday is in the rest of the world, but here it's a time for rest and be with loved ones and, of course, to eat a bunch of chocolate 😋

Have a great time, wherever you may be, and if you don't celebrate, have an amazing weekend.❤

[argo-bolo]

i'm just going to get over emotional about people being buddies

[greedyapron]

11/8/2023 - Breakfast

Kam Wah Bolo Bao with Butter

Toasted it. Just look at that crust! Nice and crispy on the outside while retaining the soft chewy centre.

Tea with milk (from Amsterdam)

[sailorsoons]

Sweetest Thing (j.ww)

PAIRING: Dad!Wonwoo x Mom!reader 

SUMMARY: For the first Halloween in years, you and Wonwoo are able to enjoy it together without the kids. When you feel a little nervous about your costume, Wonwoo is determined to show you that you’ve always been the sweetest thing. 

WC: 2,278

AU: Slice of Life, Married Couple/Parents

GENRE Smut, Fluff

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Light mentions of anxiety regarding letting kids go trick-or-treating without them, slight body insecurity and light mentions of a skirt not fitting comfortably, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, spitting, hair pulling, stupid and corny during sex. 

A/N: This was originally requested for Haliween on sailorrhansol by an anonymous user. Sorry it got deleted bestie :/

A/N 2: PLEASE THE BANNER IS NERDY BUT THEY’RE DRESSED AS COWBOYS OK LMFAO

MASTERLIST | ASK | PERMANENT TAG LIST

“Soonyoung, her crown!” You warn, watching as your friend smacks the plastic crown off Haen’s head. She doesn’t seem to notice, too busy digging her greedy little hands in the pocket of his tiger onesie where she knows she’ll find candy. “Are you sure you can do this?” 

Soonyoung scoffs. His outrage is lessened by the ridiculous tiger onesie he’s in, the suit zipped to the neck and the hood pulled up over his head. He’s got Iseul in his arms, cradling her in her dragon costume as she pulls on his hood while Haen reveals a Jolly Rancher. 

“Maybe we-”

Wonwoo’s hand on your lower back cuts you off as he steps through the door frame. He pitches his voice low and gentle as he crouches down, eye level with your eldest child. “Hey, no candy until after. We agreed, remember?” 

Pouting, she shoves the candy back inside Soonyoung’s pocket. Behind him, Jihoon and Jeonghan snort. “Yes, daddy. Sorry, I excited.” 

Mouth pressed firmly to hide your smile, you feel the overwhelming sense of love for her as she puts her hands behind her back, waiting patiently for Soonyoung to escort her down the steps and sidewalk to go trick-or-treating. 

“We’ll be fine,” Soonyoung assures, pouting as he takes Haen’s hand and spins around. Your other friends hold out the empty buckets made to be filled with candy. “We promised we had them, and we do!”

Wonwoo stands, hand sliding up your back as he does. “You remember where the key is?” 

“Yes, daddy,” Soonyoung calls over his shoulder. He passes Iseul to Jeonghan, who holds her far less precariously. “We’ll let you know when we’re back. Go out on the town or whatever it is parents with no kids do.” 

Children and parents line the streets. You watch your little group of friends with your two kids meander down the sidewalk, Jihoon immediately lifting Haeun to put her on his shoulders. Nerves eat away at you as they finally vanish from your line of vision, lost to the other swarms of trick-or-treaters and bobbing halloween lights hanging from trees. 

“Maybe we should-”

“Nope,” Wonwoo says gently, pulling you toward him. “They’ll do fine. Jihoon is with them, what could go wrong?”

Blowing out a sigh you nod, taking a moment to just drink him in. As much as he hates dressing up on Halloween, he’s done it again this year for you, dressed in the exact cowboy costume that you had put together for him. It’s less a costume than it is precariously picked clothes - the tan, suede button up and brown leather pants had already been in his closet, along with the belt and bolo tie. You’d just purchased the hat and the boots to complete the look.

And it is a look.

Wonwoo has always had the annoying ability to look good in whatever he wears. It doesn’t matter if he’s sitting on the couch in a shirt with juice stains from Iseul spilling her apple juice all over him or if he’s in a pressed suit at a company holiday party - he looks good in everything. 

Heading back inside, you catch yourself in the mirror near the entrance, tugging at your skirt a little. It’s a little higher and tighter than you remember, and the button digs into your stomach a bit more than you like. Chewing your lip, you quickly turn from the mirror, busying yourself in the kitchen looking for your car keys and purse.

Wonwoo follows you silently, leaning against the door frame as he watches you. His eyes are heavy on you, your stomach fluttering as you drop a credit card onto the floor. Cursing, you bend down to get it, feeling the skirt hug you tightly and restrict your movement for a second. 

“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, pushing off the wall.

“No, no,” you manage to peel it off the tile. “This damn skirt is so much tighter than it used to be. God.” Standing up again, you shove your card into the wallet, not meeting his eyes as he drifts toward you. “Maybe I should change.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just… I don’t know.”

“I think it looks fucking fantastic.” You roll your eyes, looking at him with a deadpan stare. His mouth twitches a little as he drops his gaze to the jean skirt in question. “You look fucking hot.” 

“We’re married. You have to say that.”

“Weird. I don’t remember that being in our vows.” 

“It definitely was.” You fiddle with the zipper on your wallet, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I think it was right after in sickness. It said and always tell your wife she’s hot.” 

His laugh is throaty and he reaches for you. You let him, his hands soft as he pulls you toward him by the waist. He smells like spicy cologne and something that is distinctly Wonwoo. Instead of looking up to meet his gaze, you focus on the pocket of his shirt, lifting your hands to fidget with it and press it flat.

“Baby,” he murmurs. You still don’t look up at him, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “I really like the skirt, but you can wear whatever you want.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhmm. It makes your legs look good. Not to mention…” One hand drifts from your hip to your ass, squeezing generously. Your breath catches and your eyes flick up to meet his. They’re dark, a playful edge to his gaze that you’re intimately familiar with. “You look good in everything to me.” 

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” he imitates. Wonwoo’s fingers skim the edge of the skirt, brushing across your thighs. You shiver, clinging to him a little as your eyes flutter shut at the contact. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as he says, “Want me to help you out of it?” 

The two of you have been together for nine years, married for six. You know every part of your best friend turned boyfriend turned husband. There is no corner of his heart he has left unturned to you, no thought that you cannot complete, no words he can speak that you don’t already know.

So when he asks if you want him to help you out of it you know what he’s asking you. He isn’t saying he’ll help you out and to pick out a new skirt. He isn’t asking you to change it. He doesn’t even want you to put the skirt back on, if his hungry gaze and the low pitch of his voice tells you anything. 

“I thought you wanted to go to the halloween party.”

His laugh comes out in a huff. “I’d like to get you out of that skirt more.” 

Wonwoo’s fingers curl around the edge of your skirt, a question. “Please.” 

Wonwoo has never denied you anything, and he doesn’t now. He spins you against the counter so that your hips are pressed to it, your back to his chest. He sinks his hands down your front, fingers deftly undoing the button. His hot breath is on your neck, his lips barely skimming your skin in an almost-kiss. 

Button popped, Wonwoo pulls the material open. Instead of rolling it down at the waist, his hand snakes into your skirt, pressing against your underwear as his mouth connects with your throat. You let out a breathy noise, melting in his arms as he presses his fingers to your clit over the silk of your underwear. 

“Oh,” you breath, going slack against him. He doesn’t mind, pinning you between him and the counter as he circles his fingers teasingly. He keeps his mouth busy, pressing wet kisses up your throat and toward your jaw. “Thought you wanted me out of it.” 

“I will,” he promises, nipping your jaw. You tilt your head to the side, giving him more access. The lower pit of your stomach burns with desire, sparking at his lazy touch. “Just wanted to touch first.”

“Slow ain’t your thing, cowboy?” 

“Nah, I’ve got a pretty thing that wants to take a ride.” 

Your laugh is cut off by a hiss, your head falling forward, as Wonwoo glides a finger down to press at your entrance. You feel your muscles clench, your stomach lurching as he teases you. A hand shoots to his wrist and you dig your fingers in, nails biting. 

“Be nice,” you warn sternly. 

“Mmm. You’re using your mommy voice.” 

“I wouldn’t have to if daddy was being nice.”

“Daddy says he’ll make up for it.” 

Daddy does. He always does. Wonwoo loves to tease you and make you beg for it, but he doesn’t now, fingers pulling your underwear to the side so he can stroke your pussy in full. He moans at the wetness he finds, hooking his chin over your shoulder to watch as he works his hand between your legs. 

Wonwoo’s fingers are deft and skillful, applying just the right pressure and stimulation to work you up. Your breath becomes stilted, feeling the ripples of pleasure as he gets you where he wants you. Pinned between him and the counter, you can’t move. Can’t squirm. Can’t buck your hands to meet his strokes when he sinks a finger into your cunt. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, pressing a messy kiss to your shoulder. “Like fucking silk.”

Heat creeps up your neck. You feel breathless under his attention, the heel of his palm pressing into your clit as Wonwoo leisurely fucks you with his finger, dragging it out only to slide up to your clit, circling gently. 

Your fingers dig into him as Wonwoo strings you along, enjoying the way your sounds turn airy and weak. He plays you perfectly, working you up until you feel your thighs twitching, eyes shut as you let him steer you toward your peak.

Wonwoo pulls his hand from your skirt, making you eyes fly open, mouth hanging open. Turning to yell at him over your shoulder, your words are lost as he drops to his knees, fingers yanking your skirt as he goes.

Cool air hits your legs as he taps your ankle, asking you to step out of the skirt. You do and he rewards you with a gentle kiss on the back of your thigh, his hands skimming up your legs. You feel the coolness wear his wet fingers leave a slick trail on your skin. 

Leaning forward, he plans another gentle kiss on the curve of your ass, making you laugh. He hums pleasantly, hands warm and explorative. He presses the small of your back gently, making you lean onto the counter, ass out. 

Delicately, he peels your underwear from your hips, tossing them somewhere else. His hands return to your legs, pressing gently to pry your thighs apart. He groans at your messy cunt, no doubt proud of his work. 

The marble countertop is freezing cold, ground you as you rest your cheek on it. You feel your chest heavy, holding your breath for a moment when Wonwoo leans forward and dips his tongue between your folds tentatively. 

“Soonyoung should take the kids more often,” Wonwoo notes, breath hitting you between the legs. You make a strangled sound, distracted by the way his fingers squeeze your thighs, digging into the meat of them. His tongue dips back in, dragging upward again. “Want to do this more.” 

“You - fuck - did this last night.” 

“Not with you bent over the counter and this pretty ass in my face.” His hand smacks your ass lightly, making you squeal. He laughs deep in his throat, a little bit of a groan as he mutters, “Exactly.” 

Wonwoo stops talking, mouth busy as he fastens his lips to your heat, sucking gently. He drives you insane, losing yourself in the way his tongue circles gently around your bundle of nerves. He alternates between tongue and lips, a shattering combination of heaven and hell as he works you toward an orgasm. 

His mouth isn’t the reason you fell in love with him, but as you start breaking apart, you think it might be a solid entry on the list of reasons. You reach back with one hand, knocking the hat off his head to tangle your fingers in his hair. He grunts, appreciative as he gives a particularly greedy suck, making your toes curl. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, breaking away for a second. His fingers peel you open and you moan when you feel him spit against your hole, clenching around nothing. “Who needs candy when I have the sweetest thing right here?”

“Wonwoo.” 

“You even melt in my mouth.”

“Wonwoo.”

He chuckles. “Yeah baby, I know.”

He always knows. He attaches his mouth back to you, slick and messy and loud as he works you to your orgasm. Your nails dig against his scalp - he doesn’t care. He lets you tug him further in, happy to press his face as close to your heat as possible. 

You press back into him, muscle clenching. You burst like a bubble, completely coming undone under his mouth as you come against him, face pressed to the counter. He pushes you through it, not letting you escape him when you try and wiggle away, tongue hot and hungry until you’re begging him to let up. 

Wonwoo pulls away, breathing heavily. His hands skate up and down your legs and suddenly you’re grateful your weight is all on the countertop, thighs totally useless. 

“God damn,” you pants, eyes shut.

“Yeah,” he agrees and stands. You feel him crowd you in, touch seeking your hips. “Catch your breath, partner. You still got a ride to go on.” 

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[with-my-calamitous-love]

DON’T BRING ME TO TEARS WHEN I JUST DID MY MAKEUP SO NICE !

chuuya nakahara x f! reader

after a long and draining argument, chuuya makes it up to you in between your thighs.

smut! you are responsible for what you read 🪽

inspired by please please please

it was no ones fault, really.

it was one of those arguments that are really an amalgamation of many different things. that unwashed plate, his late nights and your early mornings, the way he brushes his teeth so god damn loud when you’re trying to read. it happens to every couple- not everything is sunshine, and you have to learn to love each other despite the things that may drive you crazy.

this should have been one of those nights. but it wasn’t.

you finally give out, surrendering your yells as the tears choke down your cheeks. he’s rescheduled this anniversary dinner about 6 times now, all due to his lucrative line of work. you were a okay at first, despite the nerve he had to make you call the restaurant almost all those times to cancel and reschedule.

“i feel like i don’t matter to you, chuuya.” you sigh in frustration, wiping away a tear. his eyebrows crease in shared annoyances, mostly towards himself for letting it get to this point. he’s tired, overworked by that jackass mori, and just wants to come home to you and feel your love. but he’s broken his promises, and knows he’s wronged you- despite how cocky he may be.

“i know, i know, i know, doll.” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. he hates seeing you cry, and hates knowing he’s the reason why. he hates that the dress you just bought is now wrinkled due to waiting around in the apartment for him, and that your perfect eyeliner and mascara are smudged because of your arguing.

he isn’t even sure why he argued back. he knows he’s a prick that hates being wrong, but he’s also a prick thats head over heels in love with you. he shouldn’t have pushed you to the side, especially on such an important day. his explanations remained the same, but his promises remained broken.

you eventually sigh in defeat, giving up and locking yourself in the bedroom. chuuya resigns to the couch, opening up a bottle of cabernet and filling his glass full. he tosses his hat and his coat aside, loosely undoes his bolo tie and unbuttons his shirts. if you weren’t sobbing over his asshole-like behaviour, you’d get to see his unreasonably toned abs peaking out from his shirt. messy orange hair hangs low from his shoulders, tired and missing you.

a few hours go by. chuuya’s had his fair share of alcohol, but he’s not intoxicated enough to miss the subtle click of the bedroom door unlocking.

he hesitantly walks over to the door, creaking it open to see you standing there. his eyes shamelessly roam your body, seeing how you’ve removed the dress and stripped down to just your panties.

“i was just gonna go to sleep.” you sigh. its not like he hasn’t seen every inch of you, anyway.

“wait.” he says, gently taking your hand and looking into your eyes. (impressive, considering you’re literally naked in front of him.)

you don’t say anything, but your fingers do interlock with his. it gives chuuya the green light to speak.

“…i’m sorry, doll. i shouldn’t have kept rescheduling and accepting you not to care. you do matter. it meant just as much to me as it did to you.” say what you will about chuuya, but he is a stand up guy. he’ll own up to it, especially if he knows its important to you.

you sigh, your lips curling into a small smile. its hard, damn near impossible to stay mad at him. “please don’t make me call the restaurant again, babe.”

chuuya chuckles, and you can see the remnants of the wine on his lips. he knows you’re only half joking, but he kisses your forehead in reassurance. “no, i have something different in mind.”

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

chuuya eats pussy like he’s starved.

he drags you to the end of the bed, getting on his knees and places kisses on your innermost corners until your sobbing, begging for him to kiss you. he’ll use his thumbs to spread you open, just admiring the way he gets your fluids dripping down. he’ll spit on your pussy, seeing how it runs down your already gushing core before he finally goes in.

slowly, he’ll sink down between your trembling thighs, his tongue darting out to take that first tantalizing lick. you arch your back at just that light contact, knowing you’ll be in for a long night. his hands grab your hips, blessedly holding you in place while he lavishes your pussy.

“your pussy is so pretty, baby.” he moans against you, closing his eyes and loving how warm and soft you are. he savours this taste likes its the last he’ll ever have. as intimate as the moment is, you both know he’ll fuck his cock into you filthy and fast later- better to enjoy the soft stuff now.

“je pourrais rester ici pendant des heures.” he groans with you, the vibrations sending waves of warm pleasure through your body. it starts from your teary eyes, than to your sensitive breasts, down to your stomach and the finally reaching chuuya in between your thighs. every now and then his eyes will open, looking up to see your flushed pink face, but he doesn’t dare remove his mouth. not until your soaking wet for him.

“chuuya! oh, fuck, please!” you whine, grabbing fistfuls of silky orange hair. he chuckles almost cruely, knowing that he’s not stopping any time soon. he does this just as much for him as he does for you, if not more. he loves the way you moan his name, how your pussy tastes. it makes his cock fill out knowing that he’s the only guy that gets to taste it.

“please what doll? want me to stop?” he asks, already knowing what the answer is. he teases you by slowing down his tongue, only touching your pulsing heat with just the tip of it. you almost cry, begging him to keep going.

“bonne fille, tu as tellement bon goût.” he praises you, wrapping his wine-stained lips around your clit and sucking in a way that gets you sobbing from the pleasure. you want to wrap your thighs around his head, pushing him deeper, but he keeps your legs nice and spread for him. “just like that, doll. god, you’re so pretty like this. can’t wait to fuck you so good later.”

you can feel yourself unraveling, and chuuya knows it. his tongue, lips and teeth move in a messy pattern, making your toes curl deliciously. you’re so close, almost seeing white as you approach your high. he does everything to make it as intense as possible, ending it off with one long stroke from bottom to the tip of your clit.

you wail when you cum, chuuya’s thumb rubbing your clit in circles guiding you through the orgasm. your chest heaves as he moves up higher, placing a kiss on your neck. “don’t worry baby, i’ll make you squirt tonight. just relax.”

safe to say that if chuuya was gonna make you cry, he should do it like this instead.

[doodlegraveyard]

Last minute Sero birthday art! Happy Sero day!!

[image description: Sero hanta eating a slice of birthday cake. He’s wearing an outfit in the colors of his hero costume, dark slacks, a bolo tie and a western shirt with designs that look like his helmet across the yoke. He winks as he licks icing off his fingers; icing is smeared across his cheek like one of his rowdy friends has shoved his face in the cake. “Happy birthday!” And “friendly neighborhood cellophane” are scrawled around him. End description]

[hollyhomburg]

Prey Animals (9)

—  Pairing: Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

—  Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, enemies to friends to lovers, Healing & Themes of trauma,

—  Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

—  Words: 4.6k

—  Warnings: Implied clothing control, Physical abuse, Implied eating disorder, Talks of violence, Discussed spousal abuse.

—  Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! — 

(108 days before, Yoongi)

You can’t hide all of it.

That Is what Yoongi realizes when he attends the next family dinner. It’s a more casual affair than the last one, hosted not at the Don’s ex residence, but on Moon family grounds.  

It’s a catered affair. White suit coated attendants wear red bolo ties, and the steak is served bloody.

It’s not a full celebration because there is still the matter of Jongho’s death. Expressed with condolences that seem rather hollow, seeing as Choi senior is not in attendance. Still out hunting down his son’s killers and searching through dead end leads.

The service had been neat and tidy even Yoongi had not been invited to attend. No one had beyond the Choi inner circle had. The casket closed.

The dinner is sparsely attended, barely more than thirty people. Roll is not called, there is no red carpet or lavish decorations.

The moon family home is a constellation of purple and black velvet. Dark patterned walls neither modern nor mid-century. Great big bouquets of purple roses and purple tulips litter the tables, allowed during Hors d’oeuvres and then taken away for the main course.

Although Yoongi knows that Moonbyul’s- unlike most of the family has a multi person pack (three omega’s), only her mate, the one who wears her bite mark on her throat, is there to welcome guests. Yoongi wonders where the others are. Upstairs probably, locked away from all this bloodshed. Kept safe or kept locked up away from prying eyes, who really knows?

Yoongi can’t say he doesn’t understand the impulse. He’s never met Moonbyul’s other two packmates before, but he knows they’re both omega’s. Moonbyul’s pack is one of the more typical ones; One alpha with three omegas’ to choose from is every alpha’s wet dream.

The moon family has always done well for themselves. Trafficking in diamonds both bloody and clean, real and impressively fake. Having figured out a method of creating lab diamonds without any signature and efficient at passing them off as the real thing. Their business has earned the family quite the fortune. Other families have been after the secret for years. Even Yoongi doesn’t know the location of Moonbyul’s laboratories. No doubt kept under lock and key.  

Moonbyul’s omega is similarly adorned with the kind of things that glitter, blinding to look at. The jewelry that Yoongi had so teased you for looks only dim in comparison. Yoongi has nothing against Hyejin, he might not know her well but…

You by comparison, are resplendent.

The dress code for this evening is velvet, much like the kind that line the inside of jewelry boxes. Many of the alpha’s have taken to dark velvet suits, the kind that makes diamonds stand out- and so has Hyejin. Your dress is lighter in color and more in line with the other omega’s. Off white, a silk corset tightly tied to offset your billowing velvet skirt and skyscraper high heels. Black velvet gloves that go up to your elbow.

Although you can hide the rest of the bruises on your face with makeup, what you cannot hide are the two stitches over one eyebrow. Small and dark, covered with a barely perceptible suture, the makeup dotted over top only makes it more noticeable. A bit of blood at the center, not enough to threaten a bleed, but too much to escape notice.

Yoongi knows what it’s from. The other night when Geumjae pushed you into the car without worrying about your face.

Yoongi sees you cling to Geumjae’s arm, more out of necessity than actual want. Your heels are so high- anyone would have trouble walking in them. Geumjae just smirks. All of them omega’s are delicate and dainty with their white getups, but Yoongi’s own dark three pieces suit feels stifling.

Yoongi watches you pick at your food through the whole of dinner. Not once does he see you lift your fork to your mouth and eat.

~-~

There Is a pause between the first course and the second where the omega’s head to the powder room to correct their makeup and the alpha’s head upstairs to partake in Moonbyul’s less…pedestrian delights.

Moonbyul’s omega tucks her elbow through yours and leads you there, faster than Yoongi can catch up to you, dragged into some conversation- an alpha asking for his advice on this and that. You cast one glance back, not at Yoongi, but at Geumjae. Already following the other alpha’s up to the parlor room.

Its decadently decorated with green velvet and dark leather couches, nooks and a fully functioning bar that serves Macallan by the glass and not the shot. There are dark nooks here and there, pairs of alphas in booths. It’s practically a private gentleman’s club.

Yoongi corners Geumjae in one of those booths, pulling half the red velvet curtain shut to give them both a modicum of privacy. He's already got a full glass of whiskey Infront of him, but Yoongi watches, vocalizes it, even though he probably shouldn’t.

He can’t let the bruises on your body slide; can’t let it go without at least trying. Maybe he should have thought better of it and shouldn’t confront Geumjae out of fear for what it might bring back on you.  But that the whole family surely knows about it, the abuse he’s putting through, they must know and they probably don’t care.

The stitches in your eyebrow…If that’s what Geumjae gives you for being late, for being out past a certain hour, he can’t imagine what the rest of your life is like. Yoongi can’t do nothing.

Predictably- he dismisses Yoongi’s concern. Laughing at his carefully worded chiding.

“She’s just an omega- you know how they are. They need a firm hand to keep them in their place.”

Yoongi bites back a scoff. Thinking of Jin and Jungkook and how little that applies to them. Anyone who even dared to insinuate that it’s Jin who needs the firm hand in their relationship would surely find their world view upended. 

He watches Geumjae cut another line of cocaine. The amount of drugs in this study cost enough to feed a small family for a year. But Yoongi knows better than to partake. He needs to keep his mind clear. He doesn’t even drink. He pretends to take a bump and taps it off onto the floor when Geumjae tips back another swallow of the whiskey.

“Omegas aren’t even fucking worth it if you ask me brother, you’re supposed to give half yourself away and for fucking what? A glorified bed warmer?”

Yoongi boils and stays silent, letting Geumjae get himself wasted on drugs and alcohol. Pupils slowly turning glassy and wide. He can’t tell what distresses him more; that Geumjae has such little regard for life that he can’t recognize that omegas are fucking people or that he’s so freely sharing this with Yoongi. 

He knows he’s toeing the line. More pushing might hurt you more. Yoongi can’t imagine wanting to hurt someone he loves or speaking with the same callousness that Geumjae speaks. “Don’t you love her?”

Geumjae laughs at Yoongi, loud enough to draw attention of the others. “Oh little brother, don’t you know yet that love makes you stupid?”

Yoongi sighs, tired of this conversation already. Barely resisting giving back a retort. But those threats from the funeral linger. And it’s not only your life and Yoongi’s at stake here but the rest of his pack. He has to fool Geumjae into thinking he is on his side. 

“Work with me here- what will the other omegas in the pack think if they find out what kind of shit you pull? And they’ll take their concerns straight to their alphas and say you’re unfit to lead out of fear that one day, their wives and husbands will do the same to them. You know I have to listen to the bulk of them regardless of what you want.”

If he can’t appeal to Geumjae’s humanity- he can at least appeal to Geumjae’s self-interest and common sense. His image in the family is arguably the most important thing in Geumjae’s mind, and Yoongi can tell by the way that Geumjae sits back when he says the words that at least some of it has stuck.

Geumjae might have been trained in torture, but Yoongi was trained in talking people through problems, to manipulate them to do his bidding and convince them it's of their own free will.

Another alpha joins them in the booth, and Geumjae is only too happy to offer the youngster (hardly 16) a line of cocaine. Geumjae just shrugs at Yoongi, and he can practically hear him.

What? It’s good for business.

Yoongi doesn’t know what kind of deal he has with the Miyazato family to personally supply him with the good stuff, but Geumjae has more than enough for every alpha in the Den. (The Miyazato family is one of the few family groups that traffics only in one specific sort of drug, fentanyl and cocaine) Maybe Geumjae gives them cheap firearms if they pass on a brick of the good stuff to him.

One of the other nearby alphas leans over, slaps Geumjae on the shoulder, they haven’t been completely secretive here. “At least your wife is pretty- my old hag doesn’t even bother to put on makeup, yours is pretty good at it.”

Geumjae tips his head back. “You’re right about that, at least she’s pretty.” Geumjae leans forward, pupils blown, gesturing wildly. “Now if only I could get her to shut the fuck up-” they laugh boisterously and Yoongi stays silent, hand tight on his knee under the table.

As quick as the alpha pipes in, he’s dragged away by the appearance of Moonbyul carrying a dark case, not full of diamonds but expensive Cuban cigars that fill the room with sweet smoke. The alpha’s gather around the box and Moonbyul hands out her party favors.

“If beauty is what you value why do you mar her face so casually?”

Geumjae shrugs as someone hands him a cigar. Yoongi declines his. “There’s always plastic surgery, I don’t mind paying for that. She’s already been through her first round of modifications anyway. She’s overdue for a few more. And-” He lights it, spitting out smoke.

Yoongi’s mouth goes dry. Geumjae sips at his whiskey. The ice clinking. “You assume that her beauty is her most dangerous quality” Geumjae jabs a finger at him. “You know nothing about my wife brother. It’s not surprising to me that she’s managed to sink her teeth into you already.”

“She’s practically a child.”

Geumjae scoffs, “She’s of age. Was when we married, if you’re that concerned about her non-existent virtue. A word of advice brother-” Geumjae sips his drink again before he drags Yoongi in, his breath smells like whiskey and ashes. His hand on the back of his neck forcing him in. Yoongi tries to pull back. But can’t manage it, Geumjae is stronger than Yoongi because he’s an alpha.  His lips brush Yoongi’s ear and Yoongi wants to vomit. He tries to recoil, but Geumjae doesn't let him.

“Asking a pretty woman not to have an ulterior motive is like asking a dog not to bite. It may or may not be in their nature; but it is certainly what they’ve been trained for.”

The others file out and Geumjae goes with them. The promise of a new shiny toy in the garage draws alpha's in like flies to honey. A car that like the woman downstairs, is one in a million.

In the darkness of the den room, Yoongi watches Moonbyul pour herself her own glass. Yoongi turns to the side of the booth, resting his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Moonbyul notices his distress. Takes the last cigar from the box and offers it to him.

Yoongi shakes his head. She shrugs and proceeds to light it with a zippo from inside her coat pocket. She leaves the zippo lighter burning on the bar top. The flame flickering back and forth with the draft in this house.

"Tell me cousin, do you know the difference between villains and hero’s"

Yoongi rolls his eyes at her theatrics and lets the silence hover.

"Villains need to kill millions to gain infamy, a Hero need only kill one." She puffs on her cigar, getting it going. It looks comically large for such a small woman. "Don't let your fear of becoming a villain keep you from being a hero."

Moonbyul shuts the lighter with a metallic clink and the flame is gone in an instant.

~-~ `

Yoongi toes down the wide curved staircase, trying to delay his return to the others as long possible. The last of the omega’s exits the foyer, heading back into the dining room with a cluster of whispered giggles. The crushed velvet flooring makes the sound of his footsteps nonexistent, gathering his thoughts. He passes by the powder room door, still lit inside, the honey light spilling onto the steps.

He doesn’t mean to overhear.

“Are you sure you’re alright pup?”

You say something soft, that Yoongi cannot hear you, he can’t even see you. Hyejin says something back and your reply, sounding breathless but confident. “You go down first; I’ll be there in a moment.” When Hyejin leaves, she doesn’t see Yoongi, standing there half in shadow. But Yoongi sees her pluck a napkin out of one of the attendants pockets on the way down the steps. Watches her wipe something red from her fingers and hand it to them.

Any other omega might have thrown it onto the ground just to watch the staff pick it up. Yoongi adds it to his mental tally.

Yoongi steps into the light of the doorway the same second you exit the powder room, a bright lit up space, the only spot that’s pastel. Your lipstick Is not smudged at the corner, in contrast, it looks perfectly applied. You teeter, taking a step back. Letting out a surprised “oh!”

Yoongi takes a step back onto the landing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Yoongi can’t help but think that you do that, startle easily. He wonders why that might be. You hold your hand over your chest and don’t say anything. You can hear the omegas and the grannies gossiping in the kitchen. Half of the alpha’s from upstairs have disappeared to smoke their cigars outside and appreciate a new Rolls Royce that one of the uncles bought out front. The wide windows are open but threatening. Anyone could look inside and see both of you standing here on the steps. The fountain outside on the cobblestone driveway gives a distant gurgle.

You both occupy the space. Neither of you steps away from the other for a moment.

The corset portion of your dress makes your chest soft-looking, plump, and inviting- if Yoongi was the kind of man to get distracted by something like that. All he notices is how it’s making your chest heave. Breath uneven, he thinks he can hear the boning in the dress creek. It’s a designer thing, but it looks too tight on you. He can tell how uncomfortable you are. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, though it’s clear you’re not, you don’t reply, looking down and away worried. Yoongi thinks you are, but the next second you’re scrabbling, reaching out to grab the Bannister, he catches you, hands going around your waist. “Shit- hey- what’s-” Your breath heaves.

Your collar bones are sharp looking and delicate. You’re wearing a small necklace, not gaudy but certainly sparkly. A diamond. Somewhere between pink and purple. It’s too dainty to be a gift from your husband.

“My dress, it’s-” you gasp, reaching behind you. Scrabbling for the ties there. “He did my corset too tight; it’s hurting my ribs. I’m going to pass out-”

Yoongi quickly looks around, but there is no one around in the part of the house right now, you’re alone. The attendant on the bottom of the steps has his back turned. He turns you around until you’re grabbing the railing, knuckles going white as you grip it hard.

He undoes the top knot of the dress with a harsh yank, and you inhale gratefully, gasping as he tugs at the strings looser, fingers touching your bare skin. “Oh, thank you- ah-” you hold yourself up via the railing of the staircase and Yoongi continues to loosen it. Tugging at the white ribbon tie until you touch your waist, inhaling gratefully. “I fucking hate corsets- how did people wear them for like a hundred years.”

“Is that better?” He has to be quick. This isn’t exactly scandalous but it’s not quite proper. He ties it back up in bow, different than the knot that was tied before, an ineffectual tangled sailors knot (tied so similar to a noose that it almost looked suspicious.

Yoongi’s hands hover on the bare skin of your back. You have freckles here; he wonders if you know. His finger hides a beauty mark. His fingers touch the bare skin of your back. Warm.

You stand up straight, and Yoongi snaps his hand away from your skin like it’s burned him.  You go a little stiff, and Yoongi steps back from behind you so that he can turn. “Sorry, I didn’t mean too.”

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, watching him with more suspicion than he likes.

Luckily, downstairs, the bell rings for the second course, and both of you have an excuse to make haste, making it to the foyer the same second that Geumjae comes in from outside in a cloud of smoke.

~-~

For the rest of the evening. Geumjae has the good sense to act softer with you in front of the rest of the family. But Yoongi fears he might have done more bad than good.

There is subtext to everything.

You spend the rest of the dinner with your gaze downturned at the food. You’re sensitive about eye contact, Yoongi gets it; You don’t have as much control over your facial expression as the rest of these robotic mobsters.  

More than once. Geumjae catches him staring at you. You look so much more comfortable now that it’s been loosened. Your hand hovering in front of your dress to conceal your cleavage under the guise of fiddling with your necklace. During those moments, Geumjae rewards Yoongi’s wandering gaze with bold touches. A hand sliding from waist to hip.

Only Yoongi notices how you suddenly straighten up in pain. 

Geumjae’s harsh fingers dig into a bad bruise on your hip. You’re so trained, you barely flinch when he does it. And still- Yoongi’s hands tighten on his knife. He tries to stomach the wagyu Infront of him. The Moon’s like their flesh raw. He grits his teeth and chews hard to stop himself from making a scene and reaching across the table to stop Geumjae from hurting you.

Many of the other members of the family notice Geumjae’s sudden affection. The way that he pulls you to sit on his lap when the hour grows late and Moonbyul’s liquor storage has been significantly depleted. The curious looks from the others confirm what Yoongi has always suspected; that most of the time; your presence at family dinners has been seen and not heard.

He’d never given you much attention at these family meals, at least not before Yoongi came with his wandering eyes.

Geumjae meets Yoongi’s gaze with a challenge in his eyes.

Yoongi keeps his eyes firmly trained on his plate full of spiced soft-shelled crab as one of the grannies comments on how sweet the two of you seem. Yoongi wants to gag. “You know how new love is. I feel like we’ll be in the honeymoon phase forever.”

Yoongi watches as Geumjae’s hand slides up your thigh, you stop him, softly chiding. “Jae.” Most people at the table are on their 5th or 6th glass of wine. He’s not the only alpha drunk and handsy. But Geumjae just smiles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and grinning at you. Nuzzling into your temple. Your stitches. His hand comes up to play with the bow at the back of your dress. You look so small perched on his thigh.

“I want her all to myself so bad I think she’s worried I’ll chain her to my bed” he says- feigning drunkenness. You laugh too- trying to play it off but Yoongi can see your barely concealed fear.

He’s not the only one who notices how uncomfortable you are either; Hyejin also looks at you more than she should. Measuring your wellbeing with every long searching look. Her gaze stays on you for a good long while before flickering to Yoongi.

Yoongi see’s Geumjae smile at her. It’s not a kind or happy gesture, showing his teeth an inch away from snapping at her.

Moonbyul, sat at the head of the table clearly notices, sipping on her wine and picking at her food. Coolly leveling Geumjae with a challenging look. She doesn’t instigate a fight at the obvious show of aggression directed at her omega. While others might see that as weak Yoongi sees it as a remarkable show of restraint. No need to engage with such childishness here.

Yoongi puts his fork down and declines desert.

~-~

Yoongi takes his suit off at the first available opportunity, heading to the cottage to change before he’s called out again. He tries to stop himself from hoping when his phone lights up just after dinner, sitting on the kitchen table in the cottage. Next to your scarf sitting there still. Yoongi hasn’t figured out what to do with it.  

He’s disappointed when he reads the text and sees that it’s not you. He had sort of hoped that you’d text him after dinner, that you’d tell him that you’re alright. Anything. Maybe sent him a picture of you flipping off your dress or something. Yoongi’s not yet sure why he cares, why he’s worried. He shouldn’t be getting involved with this, he should just coast through the next hundred days or so, make his selection and bounce back to the pack to grovel.

But it’s not you whose texting him, it’s just one of his family members who’s in his part of town and wants to go out for drinks.

 Disappointment clings to him, making him feel grimy and slimy. It’s not one of the cousins who is in line for the throne so Yoongi’s not too worried about being pitched so late in the evening. Or dealing with the mental headache of dodging indirect questions about if he’s chosen someone for succession yet.

In all likelihood, they probably just want to bitch at Yoongi about one thing or another. There aren’t many safe confidants in the family. And Yoongi gets paid because he’s sort of the mafias therapist.

He wishes he could ask Jin for some tips when a few hours later he’s got an omega crying into his shoulder, drunk off his ass. It’s good to reconnect with them and the rest of his family. To reconnect names to long forgotten faces made fuzzy by the inelegance of memory. To remember that not all of them are outright evil.

That Yoongi too, is not a Villain, even though he’s not actively trying to take them down.

He doesn’t get drunk- not even close. He’s not stupid. He drinks an overpriced mocktail. It’s not until he’s nearly home that he recognizes the empty weight in his pockets. That’s funny- his wallets still there- but his phone isn’t. Not usual for a pickpocket.

Maybe he just left it back at the cottage.

None of the locks are sabotaged and nothing is out of place. His phone is sitting on the bedspread where he left it. Yoongi would chalk it up to his own forgetfulness if there weren’t a bullet hole clean through the top corner. The screen twitches with green and black, destroyed.

There is a white velvet ribbon looped through the hole and tied with a bow.

Yoongi only saw it once, only touched it once, but he recognizes the tie to your corset, the same ribbons he pulled to let you breathe just hours ago. Tied in a neat little bow, just like he left them.

Yoongi fingers the hole. The phone is as good as a paperweight now. When He turns it over. There is a sticky note on the front. It only says a few words, but they make Yoongi’s blood go cold regardless.

‘Someone named Namjoon called and he wants you home. We want you to leave too’

It’s been years but Yoongi still recognizes Geumjae’s handwriting.

There’s a little bit of blood on the end of the white ribbon, and when he lifts it to his nose- he smells your fresh rain scent, colder than ever, and twinged with something that Yoongi might recognize as fear. Not even a hint of sweetness. 

People’s secondary scents are usually harsh and acrid- meant to draw in one’s pack members out of concern. To communicate to others that you’re in distress without having to say it. Like Yoongi, chocolate when happy and sea salt when angry. Most people hover somewhere around the middle between the two normally.

Yoongi has never smelled something from you other than the rain. He wonders what you smell like when you’re happy and truly comfortable. He wonders if he’ll ever get to smell it. Are you all rainstorms and thunder, or is there something sweeter that you’re capable of? 

What are you like when you’re happy and not just afraid?

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- I will totally explain why Jongho was killed, HOWEVER it is very very spoilery if you haven’t’ read through the Og version of bily, but send me an ask about it and i will tell you.

- I think the reason why the m/c doesn’t eat in this section of the story is actually not for any ed reasons (although she definitely already has an ed when Yoongi meets her) but it is because Geumjae has literally done up her corset so tight that she can’t even fit a deep breath in her, let alone a bite of food. She is very near to damaging her ribs.

- You should know that Macallan is like minimum 2.5k a bottle, the kind that I think that they’re drinking in this is probably their single malt that’s about 10k a bottle/1k a glass or something like that. Moonbyul is a bougie bitch.

- (SPOILERS) I highly suspect that Geumjae at least knew/suspected that the m/c had a hand in killing the don and beta. I don’t know how he sort of figured it out. But rest assured that’s what he’s referencing when he tells Yoongi to be wary of her ulterior motives.

- I feel like in the OG version of the story, I never really gave Geumjae a personality, but I truly think that with this version, I’ve done a better job of making him a compelling villain, we also get to see a lot more of Moonbyul earlier!

- It’s not actually about the m/c speaking, it’s about control. If she wants to speak, Geumjae will tell her to shut up, if she wants to be quiet, then he’s willing to do /anything/ to get her to make a sound.

- I feel like this is one of the few chapters that like- fully leans into the mafia persona and the mafia au, the aesthetic here is so pretty and I really like some of the details. I hope you can picture it as well as I can!

-incase it wasn't clear, the neclace that the m/c is wearing was a gift from Moonbyul. just another thing that seems a bit on the nose but i want to make sure that you keep track of these little details.

[agnesandhilda]

when you think about it the translator earbuds are a missed opportunity to explore the fine art of cross-cultural hating

[voydhund]

um. big TINAWDC spoilers.

LOTS of shit im gonna piss. this was made /w a ton of help from @neorails, and a friend!

Last warning, all spoilers!

. ~ △ ~ .

1: PASSWORDS

"AD ASTRA PER ASPRA" - Two images of pages written by Ford, with stickers and doodles on it from Mabel.

"AXOLOTL" - "YOU ASK ALOTL QUESTIONS"

"BABYBILL" - An image of, [you guessed it,] baby Bill in an ultrasound, with text that reads "CONGRATS, GUESS WHATS GROWING INSIDE YOU RIGHT NOW! SEE YOU IN 9 MONTHS PAPA!" [I giggled at this one way too hard]

"BILL" - opens Triangle - Wikipedia

"BLINDEYE" - An image of an eye test, with a code that reads

"BOYFRIEND" - An image of a book called "The Love Triangle" with audio of a woman reading it.

"CIA" - "YOUR WEBCAM IS ON. WE ARE WATCHING"

"CIPHERTOLOGY" - "CURIOUS?"

"CRYPTOGRAM CODEX" - Downloads a file with Bill's fonts.

"CONSPIRACY" - A video of someone talking about the site while it was on the page with Soos, stressing out trying to figure out the meaning. Me too.

"DEERTEETH" - "FOR YOU, KID"

"DOGE" - "LIFE PRIVILEDGES REVOKED. NOW RELEASING POISON GAS."

"DORITO" - Screamer jumpscare [i jumped]

"DUCKTECTIVE" - "DUCKTECTIVE STARS IN ''LOVE, QUACKTUALLY'' COMING TO: ''OI, ITS THE COCKNEY CHANNEL, INNIT?'' THIS FALL"

"EVENHISLIESARELIES" - An image of Ford's chess piece. Under it, Bill is talking with someone about Ford in the theraprism.

"FORDTRAMARINE" - An image of a file by Ford, talking about colours that cannot be perceived without 'Continued contact with extradimensional phenomena.'

"GIDEON" - opens either sweat resistant bolo ties on google, or audio of him 'singing' a song, before whispering 'I love you forever Mabel.' [I hate this place.] May also lead to "sweat resistant bolo ties." [I never got this, but Neo said it did]

"HECTORING" - A record of a song about Bill, and someone who fell for his tricks. Mentions to 'Leave him behind,' and the fucking "im a little different" shirt.

"HOTXOLOTL" - An image of Dimensional Authority Most Wanted, talking about Bill and the henchmaniacs. Red pen X's out Bill, writing "DEAD?" above him, circles the last seen and writes "WHERE DID THEY GO??"

"JUSTFITIN" - A video of a father and son playing a game called 'Perfection.'

"KINGSOFNEWJERSEY" - Downloads a file with Stan and Ford's secret code.

"LIES" - a REALLY long popup by Bill. At the bottom it reads "LIE UNTIL WHAT YOU WANT TO BE TRUE BECOMES TRUE. LIE UNTIL YOU CANT REMEMBER WHATS A LIE AND WHAT ISNT." and then in large, glitchy text, "LIE UNTIL YOU ARENT LIVING ANYMORE."

"LLIB" - Opens Jazzy Triangle Meets A Square Square (1969)

"LLIBREHPIC" - Opens Jazzy Triangle Meets A Square Square (1969)

"LOVE" - An image of a book called "The Love Triangle" with audio of a woman reading it.

"MABEL" - Stickers decorate your lab with a nice 'POP!' sound. after a few times of using it, text reads "LAB NOW FULLY MABELIZED."

"MCGUCKET" - Opens Cotton Eye Joe [🙂<3]

"MORALITY" - An image of a paper with 9 drawings of animals fighting or eating another animal. Text reads "CAN YOU FIND MORALITY IN THE NATURAL WORLD?"

"NAITSUAF" - An image of an article about selling your soul [For FUN and PROFIT!] written by Bill.

"NOTHING" - "SOMETHING"

"PAPERJAM" - An image of Tyrone, text reading "Here, he's your problem now! Just keep this guy from liquids!" under it.

"PINATA" - A video of someone whacking a Bill pinata while it protests

"PINES" - "A GOOD FAMILY TREE"

"ROMANCE" - An image of a book called "The Love Triangle" with audio of a woman reading it.

"SCIENTOLOGY" - "SUPPRESSIVE PERSON DETECTED"

"SHAVEYOURGRANDMA" - An image of a chapter of a book talking about the human life cycle, written by Bill. [The children yearn for the mines.]

"SIXER" - An image of a case report on Ford talking about his extra finger. There appears to be a word written under "Placebo" in small text. Also notably reads "If i could kidnap him and bring him to our secret cloning lab" obscured by a black marking.

"SOMETHING" - "NOTHING"

"SORRY" - An image of McGucket and Ford in collage(?). Ford is covered in sticky notes. [☹️]

"SOOS" - An image of a really long note from Soos, talking about Bill and his experiences as The New Mr. Mystery. Lots of cute doodles.

"SPOOKEMUPS" - An image of a book titled 'SPOOKEMUPS: The Book Of Bill" written by B. Cipher, with audio of a man reading it. It's about a boy getting scared by things and assuming it's Bill.

"STAN" - opens one of seven ebay pages that lead to Brass Knuckles, Colonel Sanders Tie, Shriner Fez, Male Girdle, 8-Ball Cane, Dogs Playing Poker, Gold Chains For Old Men. After going through all of them, the WHEEL! OF! SHAME! made by Bill appears, exposing some random secrets and shames. The last option reads "HOW HE BEAT ME," and when pressed, a note reads "He didn't! IM STILL HERE, SUCKER!"

"TOURISTTRAP" - An image of a page of a pamphlet, talking about 'The Caves Of Mystery.'

"TYRONE" - An image of Tyrone, text reading "Here, he's your problem now! Just keep this guy from liquids!" under it.

"VALLIS CINERIS" - A video of Baby Bill with his parents, only silhouettes of static. a text to speech says "Why did you do it?" three times.

"WADDLES" - Opens Pig Placement Network

"WEIRD" - A video of Alex(?) trapped in the screen, shouting at Bill to let him out.

"WEIRDMAGEDDON" - An image of a newspaper titled 'THE GRAVITY FALLS GOSSIPER,' with articles about how absolutely nothing happened. Never mind all that!

"WENDY" - An image of a note from Wendy that reads "Whatuppp cursed book! I've got a totally legit way to ward off evil triangles, and I wrote it in the bottom right corner of the book. It's totally worth it, I promise! Stay cool dork!"

"WHOAREYOU" - "I COULD ASK YOU THE SAME QUESTION"

"XYLER" -

. ~ △ ~ .

2: CLICKABLES

The golden tooth of the skull:

The Book Of Bill:

The Bill on the dagger in the book:

The 'McGUCKET LABS' on the top of the computer:

The eye in the bottle:

. ~ △ ~ .

3: CODES

this segment is a little iffy,

On page two of The Book Of Bill clickable

Solved: uh. maybe. check my blog?

During lightning strikes:

Solved: Vallis Cineris. It's a password!

The colours on the blindeye eye test probably arent codes, because they read "euclmriannrepttgccvisignnsuwepvisidnn." you can try though. ARE a code! they read "EUCLIDEAN DEPT OF VISION SUPERVISION" !

The blindeye eye test itself is apparently a ceaser cipher, but i havent found an answer to it yet.

working on adding to this, theres a LOT.

[argo-bolo]

nothing like walking home after a 10hr shift with a jar of lemon balm tea and a mug full of summer sausage slices

some wild behavior

[hexedwinchester]

Roles I wanna see Jared Padalecki in

Just me rambling about Jared Padalecki in general

Mafia boss: Imagine this: Jared in a stiff pressed suit with a fancy bolo tie, a lit cigar in hand, a ferocious looking dog by his side that looks like it chews on glass. a drug lord who runs the entire city is now in love with a foul mouthed woman whose father he offed.. anyone else get my vision?

Father of a daughter: Speaking of fathers, how good Cordell was with Stella! Being a girl dad IRL, he would play a great on TV. A protective father who is trying to keep his daughter safe from some earth ending disaster

Badass villian: Meg!Sam? Lucifer!Sam? That man has the right body, height and enough roughness in his husky voice to be a bad boy. He could kill with his expressions!!

Steve Jobs: Remember Lebanon episode from S14 and little clipping of Sam on Ted Talk wearing Jobs-esque polo shirt and glasses? More of that same arrogant energy!!

Mentally challenged: That Duo interpretation debate Jared long, long time ago is the inspiration behind this. It's a close resemblance of Leonardo DiCaprio's Arnie from What's Eating Gilbert Grape

Top gun maverick: His Camp Kosciuszko, Poland visit. Have you seen that man in harness and in an aircraft? He would nail it in a role like this!! I just know it

Something historical: Think Victorian.. dressed up in frilly collar, long coats, expensive pocket watch, high boots and a badass cane?

Beast as in Beauty and the Beast: it's self explanatory. The guy has the hair, the height, the body, the voice and the hotness of a Beast!!!

[greedyapron]

6/8/2023 - Lunch

KAM WAH's Bolo Bao with Butter (HKD 13)

HOW IS IT STILL SO GOOD. Even though it wasn't even warm anymore, the top still retains some crisp. The bun is still deliciously chewy and thicccc

HOP YIK TAI's Chee Cheong Fun (HKD 10 for 4)

She cut each strip into 4 and poured peanut sauce and hoi sin sauce over it. It's still so yummy. A very different take from SG's.

KUNG WO's Black Soya Bean Drink (HKD 17)

Not as beancurd-y as expected.

KUNG WO's Tofu Milky Pudding (HKD 18)

Not worth the price. Less smooth than the usual tofu pudding. Has a stronger tofu taste but isn't sweet at all .__.

[mik3stuff]

Mi Brigadeiro de fresa y cocoa,me puedes dar hcs de Jason come un baker con Miles y Percy?

Okay let's go!!

Jason likes to bake when he's feeling stressed or anxious, he can't always bear to eat everything he's made, and he almost always invites Percy and Miles to eat with him since their company also makes him much less stressed (a habit he learned from his mother (Catherine) and that sometimes makes him feel closer to her)

His favorite desserts would be chocolate cookies like the ones Alfred occasionally made, and which he usually eats by dipping them in dulce de leche (which curiously is not very sweet and is very delicious if you use the right recipe, I say this from experience)

Percy's favorites are also chocolate chip cookies, especially if they are blue because they remind her of her mother. When Jason makes cookies, he uses so many different food colorings that if you walk into the kitchen before he can clean it up, it looks like a rainbow fell on him.

Miles' favorite dessert is Bolo Tres Leiches . Jason always makes it for her birthday or on special days for her.

The three of them also like to get together in the kitchen and discover new recipes for homemade bread, etc. but they usually focus on making only their favorite recipes that they already know.

Espero que les haya gustado y de todos modos, fue muy divertido investigar lo que pensé que a todos les gustaría y también intenté investigar algo de la cocina puerto dominicana. Entonces gracias por la ask ^^

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances - Part Twenty of Twenty

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in a grocery store brings a second chance for you and for Beau. The only thing standing in your way are your respective pasts... and a tiny little roadblock. Word Count: 4,051 Tags/Warnings: 18+ smut, implied smut, FLUFF EVERYWHERE. A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

NOTE: Y’all are gonna want to kill me, but I promise you, this is not the end! In fact, I’m wrapping this part of the series and continuing it under a new series name! I haven’t decided what to call it, so I’m putting out a poll! Check it out and tell me what you think! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Twenty: The Wedding

The venue was a breathtaking outdoor setting, surrounded by rolling hills and an explosion of wildflowers in full bloom. It was a place that felt untouched, as if nature itself had designed it just for them. Wooden picnic tables had been arranged for the reception, the trees wrapped in delicate strands of fairy lights that would glow as the sun set. It was perfect—they were perfect.

Beau had never been one for grand affairs, but for Y/N? He would do anything.

He wore a tuxedo, but in true Beau fashion, it had a Texan twist—black with subtle Western embroidery on the lapels. His boots were freshly polished, and his hat sat perfectly on the dresser, waiting for the moment he stepped outside. And just as he was adjusting the collar of his shirt, his mother walked in.

Evelyn Arlen, looking as proud as she had ever been, held something in her hands—a beautifully crafted bolo tie, the silverwork intricate, the turquoise stone in the center striking.

Beau raised a brow, watching as she stepped closer, her eyes warm. “Mama?”

Evelyn exhaled, running a hand over the tie before looking up at her son. “Your grandfather wore this on his wedding day,” she murmured. “Then your daddy wore it on his. And now…”

She carefully handed it to him.

“It’s yours.”

Beau blinked, his throat tightening as he took the bolo tie from her hands.

“Mama,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “This is…” He swallowed hard, looking down at it.

Evelyn smiled softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You’re the best man I know, Beau. And you’re marrying a woman who’s meant for you. This? It’s just a little piece of where you come from.”

Beau nodded slowly, letting the weight of the moment settle deep.

Then, with great care, he slid the bolo tie around his neck, adjusting it until it fit perfectly.

Evelyn’s eyes shimmered as she looked at him. “You look damn handsome, sweetheart.”

Beau smiled, his usual charm slipping through as he kissed her cheek. “Well, Mama, I try.”

Evelyn sniffed, waving a hand. “Now, go find your daddy. You’ve got a ring bearer to wrangle.”

Hank Arlen stood near the front of the venue, adjusting his vest as he bounced Caleb lightly in his arms.

The baby, dressed in a tiny little tuxedo with little cowboy boots, was staring very seriously at the small satin pillow he was supposed to be holding.

“You got this, little man,” Hank murmured. “Just gotta get those rings up to your daddy.”

Caleb let out a tiny babble, gripping the pillow with both hands.

Beau, fully dressed and ready, walked up and smiled. “You sure about lettin’ him hold onto those?”

Hank chuckled, bouncing Caleb slightly. “Well, if he eats them, we got about ten minutes before we panic.”

Beau snorted, shaking his head as he gently ran a hand over his son’s curls. “You gonna do a good job, buddy?”

Caleb blinked up at him before slamming the pillow against his face.

Beau sighed and smiled. “Good enough.”

Eliza, standing beside them in her adorable flower girl dress, huffed dramatically. “I help.”

Beau smiled. “I know you will, wolf-child.”

Eliza grinned, adjusting the tiny basket of flower petals in her hands.

Hank adjusted his hat, watching the two little ones. “Well, son, this is it. You ready?”

Beau exhaled slowly, looking out at the beautiful venue—wooden archway, wildflowers in bloom, fairy lights strung through the trees. It was perfect.

And then he thought of Y/N.

The love of his damn life.

Beau smiled. “Yeah, Dad. I’m ready.”

The moment Beau stepped to the front, his eyes were locked on one thing.

Her.

Y/N stepped forward, walking down the aisle with her mother, Margaret, on one side and Russell, her stepfather, on the other.

When he saw Y/N for the first time that day, walking toward him in a vision of lace and delicate frills, his heart nearly stopped.

She was stunning. No—breathtaking.

The dress fit her like a dream, accentuating every curve he had loved for years. The lace was intricate, soft against her skin, flowing down to the ground like something out of a fairy tale. Her hair was styled in loose waves, a few delicate flowers woven into the strands. And when their eyes met—hers filled with emotion, his brimming with awe—nothing else mattered.

Her dress was perfect—delicate lace, soft, elegant, so her.

But more than that—

It was the look in her eyes.

The way she looked at him.

Beau’s chest ached in the best way.

Eliza, their perfect little flower girl, walked ahead of her mama, tossing petals with a seriousness that made Beau chuckle. She looked so proud, her curls bouncing with each step, her tiny white dress making her look like an angel.

And Caleb—his baby boy—was the ring bearer, dressed in the tiniest formal wear imaginable. Since he wasn’t yet walking, Beau’s father, Hank Arlen, held him securely, guiding him down the aisle. Caleb’s little hands curled around the tiny pillow that held their rings, his big eyes blinking curiously at the people watching.

When she reached him, when her parents stepped back, and she placed her hands in his—he swore he had never been more certain of anything in his entire life.

Nothing else mattered.

“You are so damn beautiful,” Beau whispered.

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hands. “And you are so handsome.”

The officiant gave them a warm smile as they turned toward one another, their hands clasped. The world around them faded—there were guests, there was a beautiful setting, but all Beau saw was her.

Beau barely heard a word. Because all he could think about was her.

How lucky he was.

How perfect this moment was.

How damn ready he was to call her his wife.

Y/N’s voice was steady, filled with warmth as she spoke first.

“Beau, from the moment you walked into my life, you changed everything. You have been my partner, my best friend, my safe place. You have loved me through my strongest moments and my weakest, through joy and through heartbreak. With you, I have found a love that is steady, unwavering, and true. You make me laugh, you make me feel safe, and most of all, you make me feel loved—every single day. Today, I promise to love you with all that I am, to stand beside you no matter what life brings, to be your home just as you have been mine. I love you, Beauregard Arlen. Always.”

Beau swallowed hard, his throat thick as he tried to keep himself together. But damn if that didn’t just wreck him.

And then, his voice low, but filled with certainty—

“Darlin’, I’ve spent my whole life lookin’ for somethin’ I didn’t know how to name. Then I met you. And suddenly, it wasn’t a question anymore—I knew. I knew that home wasn’t a place, it was a person. And it was you.”

Y/N sniffled, smiling through brimming tears.

Beau’s voice thickened as he continued. “You have given me the greatest gifts I could ever ask for. Your love. Your trust. A family that I never thought I’d have. I swear to you, Y/N, I will love you with everything I’ve got, for as long as I live. I’ll stand beside you, walk with you, lift you up when you need it. I promise to be the man you deserve, the father our babies need, and the husband you can always count on. Always.”

Beau squeezed her hands. “Forever, darlin’.”

“Forever,” she whispered back.

By the time he finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the audience.

The officiant smiled warmly. “Beau, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Beau’s lips curled into the softest, most sincere smile. “I do.”

“And Y/N, do you take Beau to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

She nodded, her voice filled with nothing but love. “I do.”

The moment the rings were exchanged, the moment the words husband and wife were sealed, the officiant grinned.

“You may now kiss your bride.”

Beau didn’t hesitate. He cupped Y/N’s face, tilting her back slightly as he kissed her slow and deep, pouring everything he had into it. The crowd erupted in cheers, Eliza clapping excitedly, and Caleb letting out a tiny, curious squeak at all the noise.

When they pulled apart, Y/N laughed breathlessly, her fingers curling around the lapels of his tuxedo.

“Finally,” she teased.

Beau grinned, pressing his forehead against hers. “Worth the wait, darlin’.”

And just like that—

Their forever had officially begun.

The moment Beau and Y/N walked hand in hand into the reception, the celebration truly began.

The outdoor space was beautifully decorated—long wooden tables lined with soft, flickering candles, fairy lights strung through the trees, wildflowers arranged in delicate centerpieces. The mountains in the distance were cast in the warm hues of sunset, a perfect backdrop for the beginning of their forever.

The guests cheered as Beau and Y/N stepped in as husband and wife, Eliza clapping enthusiastically from her little seat, Caleb babbling happily in Margaret’s arms.

Emily stood nearby, watching with a soft, warm smile, her heart full as she watched her father radiate happiness.

Carla and her husband, Daniel, stood off to the side, graciously clapping along. Carla caught Emily’s eye and gave her a small, knowing nod—one that said, your dad is exactly where he belongs.

Emily smiled, nodding back.

Beau’s heart was full.

He had his family, his friends, his wife.

And tonight?

Tonight was for celebrating every damn bit of it.

The reception was lively—guests laughing, drinks flowing, dinner being thoroughly enjoyed.

But then—

The music shifted.

Beau turned to see Jenny standing beside the DJ booth, grinning as she adjusted the microphone. “All right, folks,” she called out, “it’s time for the real moment we’ve all been waiting for—the first dance as husband and wife.”

The crowd cheered, people moving toward the dance floor as Beau turned to Y/N, holding out his hand.

“Shall we, Mrs. Arlen?”

Y/N smiled, placing her hand in his. “Lead the way, Sheriff.”

As the first soft chords of a classic country love song filled the air, Beau pulled her gently onto the dance floor, wrapping one arm around her waist, holding her hand with the other.

And just like that—

Everything else faded away.

It was just them.

Beau swayed with her, moving slowly, deliberately, his forehead resting lightly against hers. “You havin’ a good time, darlin’?”

Y/N sighed happily, tracing small circles on his shoulder. “This is perfect.”

Beau kissed her forehead, his grip tightening slightly. “Damn right, it is.”

The crowd watched, fully enchanted, as the two of them moved together—completely wrapped up in each other.

Emily stood by Carla, watching with quiet happiness, arms folded as she took it all in.

“Never seen him like this,” she murmured.

Carla, watching with knowing eyes, nodded. “That’s because he’s never been like this.”

Emily exhaled slowly, her chest aching in the best way.

Her dad had always been a good man. But now?

He was whole.

As the song came to an end, Beau didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled Y/N into a soft, lingering kiss—one that had the crowd cheering.

And when they finally pulled apart, when Y/N laughed softly against his lips, Beau knew—

This moment?

It was everything.

The night was full of love.

Jenny gave a toast that had everyone roaring with laughter (“To our beloved Sheriff, who somehow convinced the most beautiful woman on earth to marry him—may she never realize she could do better.”).

Poppernak followed with a surprisingly sentimental speech about loyalty, love, and how Beau and Y/N had built something truly special.

Emily was the next to take the microphone, standing before the guests with a nervous smile.

“I don’t usually do speeches,” she admitted, “but if there’s ever been a reason to, it’s this.” She turned toward Beau and Y/N, her voice warm. “Dad, I’ve always known you to be someone strong, steady, always there. But with Y/N… you’re something else entirely. You’re happy. And I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Beau’s chest tightened, his throat thick with emotion.

Emily smiled, clearing her throat. “So here’s to you and Y/N—to forever, to love, and to a lifetime of happiness.”

The guests cheered, and Beau pulled Emily into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Emily hugged him tighter. “Love you too, Dad.”

Stepping away from the crowd, Beau gently took Y/N’s hand, pulling her toward the edge of the reception space, where the fairy lights faded into soft candlelight beneath the trees.

Y/N, still breathless from dancing, arched a brow. “Stealing me away, Sheriff?”

Beau smiled, pulling her close. “Damn right, I am.”

They stood there for a moment, just them, away from the noise, away from the crowd—wrapped up in the warm Montana air, the soft hum of music still drifting from the dance floor.

Beau cupped her face, his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. “You happy, darlin’?”

Y/N sighed, pressing her forehead against his. “Happier than I ever thought possible.”

Beau exhaled, his chest aching in the best way. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t think I could love you more than I do right now.”

Y/N smiled, tilting her head. “You sure about that?”

Beau chuckled, pulling her into a slow, deep kiss—one that said everything he felt without a single word.

And when he pulled back, when he saw the way she looked at him, he knew—

This was forever.

Their forever.

And it was just getting started.

As the last song of the evening faded and the guests began to trickle out, the realization finally settled over Beau—

They were married.

Y/N was his wife.

For all the years he had dreamed about having this kind of family, about having this kind of love, it was now his reality.

The reception wound down with lingering laughter, warm hugs, and quiet moments exchanged between loved ones.

Beau stood with Y/N, arms wrapped around her waist as they said their goodbyes—Jenny, Poppernak, and the other deputies teasing him relentlessly one last time before heading off into the night.

Hank and Evelyn kissed their son and new daughter-in-law goodbye, Evelyn getting misty-eyed (“My baby’s married,” she whispered, hugging Beau one last time).

Margaret and Russell made sure Eliza and Caleb were secured in their car seats, ready to take them home for the night so Beau and Y/N could fully enjoy their wedding night alone.

Emily hugged both her father and Y/N before standing back, watching them with a knowing smile. “You guys really deserve this.”

Beau squeezed her shoulder. “We really do.”

Carla and Daniel offered their congratulations, Carla smirking slightly. “I gotta say, Arlen… I’ve never seen you look this happy.”

Beau grinned, slipping his arm around Y/N’s waist. “That’s ‘cause I’ve never been this happy.”

Carla nodded, truly meaning it when she said, “I’m glad for you, Beau.”

And just like that, with the last guests departing, the celebration officially came to an end.

The car ride back to their home was quiet, filled with a comfortable kind of anticipation.

Beau’s hand rested on Y/N’s thigh as he drove, fingers tracing slow circles against the fabric of her dress.

Y/N sighed softly, glancing at him. “I still feel like I’m floating.”

Beau smiled. “That’s ‘cause you are, darlin’.”

She laughed, tilting her head against the seat. “You really married me, Sheriff.”

Beau grinned, squeezing her knee. “Damn right, I did.”

The house was dark when they pulled into the driveway—Margaret had already taken care of everything, leaving them to fully enjoy their first night as husband and wife.

Beau exhaled, shifting in his seat before turning to her. “You ready for this?”

Y/N smiled, leaning in. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

And with that, he was out of the truck, circling around to her side before scooping her up into his arms.

Y/N gasped, laughing as she clung to him. “Beau!”

He grinned, carrying her toward the house. “What? It’s tradition, Mrs. Arlen.”

Y/N sighed happily, her arms looping around his neck. “I love the way that sounds.”

Beau kissed her softly. “Then get used to it, darlin’.”

The moment Beau carried Y/N through the front door, the air between them shifted.

The house was quiet, dimly lit with only the soft glow from the kitchen and the golden flicker of the nightlights around the home. The energy still crackled between them from the reception—the dancing, the toasts, the laughter—but now…

Now, it was just them.

Their first night as husband and wife.

Beau set her down slowly, but his hands never left her. One stayed firm on her waist, the other tracing slow, deliberate circles along the curve of her spine. Y/N tilted her head up at him, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

“We really did it,” she murmured.

Beau exhaled, brushing his fingers along her cheek, his green eyes soft yet filled with something darker. “Yeah, darlin’,” he whispered. “We really did.”

She sighed happily, her fingers toying with the bolo tie at his chest. “You know I love you, right?”

Beau grinned, tilting her chin up. “You better,” he murmured, pressing a slow, deep kiss to her lips.

Y/N melted into him, her hands sliding along his chest, fingertips tracing over the crisp white fabric of his dress shirt. She could feel the warmth of him, the steady strength in his frame.

And when he deepened the kiss, when his tongue swept along hers, slow and deliberate, she let out the softest sound, her fingers gripping his shirt.

Beau groaned, pulling back just enough to look at her. “I need you, darlin’.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening against his chest. “Then take me.”

That was all he needed.

With a low growl, he lifted her effortlessly as he carried her through the house, his lips never leaving hers.

By the time they reached the bedroom, Y/N was breathless, her pulse racing as Beau kicked the door shut behind them.

He set her down slowly, his hands roaming, savoring every inch of her.

Y/N smiled, stepping back slightly, her hands moving to the delicate buttons of her wedding dress. “I think it’s time for me to take this off,” she murmured.

Beau chuckled lowly, his hands gripping her hips. “Let me.”

His fingers moved slowly, reverently, unfastening each button, revealing the soft, warm skin beneath. He pressed kisses to every inch he uncovered, his lips trailing along her shoulder, down the curve of her spine.

Y/N shivered, her head falling forward as his mouth lingered at the base of her neck.

When the last button came undone, Beau slid the dress from her shoulders, watching as it pooled at her feet.

He exhaled sharply, his gaze drinking her in. “Jesus, Y/N.”

She smiled, stepping toward him, her hands reaching for the bolo tie. “Your turn, Sheriff.”

Beau smirked, tilting his head. “That right?”

She nodded, slowly loosening the tie before sliding it off, then moving to unbutton his shirt. “I think it’s only fair.”

Beau let her, his breath heavy as her fingers skimmed over his skin, her touch sending fire through his veins.

Once his shirt was gone, Y/N’s hands moved lower, to his belt buckle, her lips pressing featherlight kisses against his jaw.

Beau let out a low groan, his hands tightening on her waist. “You’re teasin’ me, darlin’.”

Y/N smirked, sliding his belt free. “Maybe.”

Beau huffed a laugh, then flipped them, guiding her gently onto the bed, his body pressing over hers. “You wanna play, Mrs. Arlen?” His voice was low, full of promise.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her fingers digging into his back. “I love when you call me that.”

Beau smirked, trailing his lips down her throat, his hands exploring, claiming, worshipping. “Get used to it, darlin’,” he murmured against her skin.

And as the night stretched on, as Beau took his time showing her exactly how much he loved her, they both knew—

This was just the beginning of their forever.

The morning after was nothing short of perfection.

The golden glow of sunrise filtered through the bedroom curtains, casting a warm, soft light over the room. The bed was a mess—tangled sheets, discarded clothes, and two people wrapped in each other, basking in the lingering warmth of their wedding night.

Beau stirred first, his arm firmly around Y/N’s waist, his chest pressed against her bare back. He let out a low, contented sigh, his fingers lazily tracing circles along her skin.

Y/N hummed softly, half-awake, stretching slightly against him. “Morning, husband.”

Beau grinned, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Mornin’, Mrs. Arlen.”

She smiled, turning in his arms to face him, her hands sliding over his chest. “I don’t ever wanna leave this bed.”

Beau chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “As much as I love that idea, darlin’… we do have a honeymoon to get to.”

Y/N groaned dramatically, burying her face against his chest. “Why did we plan on leaving so soon?”

Beau smirked, rolling onto his back, bringing her with him. “Because you wanted a full week away with zero interruptions.”

Y/N sighed, resting her chin on his chest. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

Beau grinned, pressing a lazy kiss to her forehead. “You did.”

She pouted. “But the bed is so comfortable.”

Beau laughed, running his fingers down her spine. “Darlin’, you know damn well the sooner we get outta here, the sooner I get you alone in a cabin by the lake.”

Y/N’s eyes brightened slightly. “Hmm… that does sound nice.”

Beau smirked, flipping them easily so she was beneath him. “Damn right, it does.”

Y/N giggled, her fingers threading through his hair. “Fine. Let’s go on our honeymoon.”

Beau pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her lips before pulling back. “Then let’s get packed, Mrs. Arlen.”

Despite their best efforts to have a smooth departure, the house was bustling with activity as they prepared to leave.

Margaret was distractedly feeding Caleb while also making very sure that Beau and Y/N had everything they needed for their trip.

Evelyn was absolutely making sure they had enough snacks (“For the road, sweetheart—what if you get hungry?”).

Russell was helping load the luggage into the car while Hank simply sat back, shaking his head at the circus around him.

Eliza, completely unaware that she wasn’t going on the trip, was still running around very excitedly, waving her stuffed horse. “Bo-Bo! We go?”

Beau paused, crouching down to her level. “Not this time, wolf-child.”

Eliza pouted. “Why?”

Y/N knelt beside her, smoothing back her curls. “Because Mommy and Daddy are going on a special trip, but guess what?”

Eliza tilted her head. “What?”

Y/N smiled. “You get to stay with Grandma and Grandpa, and they’re gonna spoil you so much.”

Eliza gasped, turning to Evelyn. “Spoil?”

Evelyn beamed, scooping her up. “Oh, absolutely, sugarplum. Ice cream whenever you want.”

Eliza gasped dramatically, looking at Y/N with pure betrayal. “I stay here.”

Beau snorted, shaking his head. “Thought so.”

Emily, leaning against the doorframe, smirked. “Alright, lovebirds. Time to hit the road.”

Beau stood, adjusting his hat before wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist. “Ready, darlin’?”

Y/N sighed, stealing one last glance at their home. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Evelyn sniffled, placing a hand over her heart. “Oh, my baby is going on his honeymoon.”

Hank chuckled, clapping Beau on the shoulder. “Good luck, son.”

Beau smirked. “I don’t need luck, Dad. I got her.”

Y/N smiled, lacing their fingers together.

And with that, they climbed into the car, the final step before their first adventure as husband and wife.

As Beau pulled out of the driveway, his hand resting comfortably on Y/N’s thigh, he exhaled—completely and utterly content.

“Alright, darlin’,” he murmured. “Just you and me now.”

Y/N sighed happily, leaning into him. “Just us.”

And with that, their honeymoon officially began.

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[mindless-tirades]

I leave my seesh Mahal for you and you eat mere haath ki rukhi sukhi roti

Bolo , haan ki haan?