#every time i hear i love you in the same way there's a chapel in a hospital i take psychic damage

[louisferrignojr]

infinity on high goes way too fucking hard for a dumb pop punk album from the year 2007

[chosok-amo]

OH, I'M DESTROYED : GOJO SATORU

he's your best friend— gojo satoru, he's getting married soon with kids on the way even though your heart is craving for each other, you sarcastically, jokingly tell him, “pleased? oh, I'm destroyed,” after hearing the news, he laughed, almost crying as he looks at you.

w/c. 3,4k

warning : non-sorcerer! gojo satoru. little bit angst. (idk)

p.s. when i said the reader didn't believe in god it's just for writing purposes, i, myself too believe in god. this fiction is inspired by one day series episodes 8? I forget.

“y/n, can we talk?”

there he is, satoru gojo— your bestfriend, your other half, your oasis in the desert, your everything. standing with two of his warm, delicate hands stuffed into his pocket. a warm smile makes themselves home on his handsome face. his blue eyes— satoru gojo's blue eyes, shimmered like the clearest ocean on a sunlit day, mesmerizing depths promising thousand, endless even, unspoken emotions.

each glance felt like being wrapped in the gentle embrace of a summer breeze, full of warmth and tender affection. his eyes held a universe of mystery and allure, making it impossible to look away, as if they whispered secrets of love and devotion only meant for you— hah, you wish’ you thought.

“sure,” you smile.

your hands gripping the bouquet tightly, so tight the spine cuts through your finger without you realizing. you two walk side by side into the maze behind the chapel where suguru geto and shoko ieiri weddings are held, yours and gojo's other friends. you refuse to look at him, sparing the man a glance that feels strange after all those two years living your life with no contact from him, neither do you try to reach him, at least not after the fight you have that night.

“how are you doing, y/n?”

the simple question lingers through the air for quite a time when the two enter the maze. your silken hair is pretty, falling gently, enchanting, on your back, touching the soft material of your bridesmaid dress, a blue one, the same color as his eyes— oh, his eyes.

you look to your left to fulfill the starving of your heart, take a glimpse by a glimpse of his frame. two years was too long without seeing those pretty eyes, those warm smiles, those pretty long white lashes, those . . . no, just him.

“it was fine,” lied, of course.

you couldn't find the courage to pour your heart out, you wouldn't dare. you wouldn't dare to tell your best friend how much the longing, how thousand days and nights, and each time you closed your eyes there he was before you, standing in the void inside your dream, how he all of the other people the one who you falling into the abyss to.

“turn right?”

you only nodded, his palm barely touched your lower back and your breath was already prepared to leave your body only for it to come back the second gojo pulled his hand away. the two of you sat on the concrete bench, nailed in the middle of the maze. under the moonlight, the soft glow casting a magical aura around you. the silvery light made gojo's eyes come alive, no longer hidden behind the black glasses he once wore so often.

his striking blue eyes shone with an ethereal brilliance, reflecting the moon's gentle radiance. his white locks shimmered like strands of stardust, adding to his otherworldly beauty. in that moment, with the moonlight dancing on his features, he looked more breathtaking than ever, a living embodiment of celestial grace and charm. the night seemed to hold its breath, as if time itself paused to admire the sheer beauty of the scene, leaving you both enveloped in a cocoon of serene enchantment.

he is as beautiful as ever, as breathtaking as you can remember— that's how you always saw him.

oh, but how gojo wish you could see the way he sees you. sitting before him, his oh-so-called-bestfriend, his unwavering rock, his compass, and how sometimes— no, every time, it's just 'his'.

under the moonlight, with its silvery beams casting a soft glow around you, in the heart of the maze where the world feels like a distant dream, it’s just the two of you. the stillness of the night amplifies the beauty of the moment, every shadow and glint of light painting a picture of serene intimacy. here, in this secluded sanctuary, surrounded by the whispering leaves and the cool night air, the universe narrows to the space between you.

gojo looks at you, his eyes filled with a tender intensity, wishing you could see yourself as he does—captivating, radiant, and indispensable. in this moment, under the tranquil moonlit sky, you are his everything, the silent heartbeat of his existence, the unspoken song of his soul.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence, “i never thought we'd end up here again. thought you’d be too busy saving the world or something,” you throwing the man side glance, a little smirk playing on your lips.

gojo chuckles, the sound light and familiar. he brings the glass of almost-finished wine to his lips, takes a sip before answering, “and i thought you’d be too busy being mad at me forever,” he jokingly smiled at you.

you roll your eyes, the smirk turns into a smile, tugging at your lips. “well, you did deserve it. you were being insufferable,” you laugh a little. and without you notice, it caught gojo by surprise, a little. two years long he survived with hearing your little giggle— giggle for me, again’ he thought. eyes fixed to you as he takes another sip, smiling.

he smirks, leaning back on his hands. “insufferable? that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” your head slightly shook, “nope, just accurate,” you retort, popping the 'p' as you nudging his shoulder playfully. “you have a way of getting under people's skin, you know.”

“oh, come on,” he protests, a teasing glint in his eyes. “you know you missed me. admit it.’

“missed you?” you asked, giving the man a glimpse of 'knowing look' before smiling, “more like missed having someone to argue with,” you reply, though there’s a softness to your words. you glance at him again, the moonlight making his blue eyes shimmer like twin stars. “it's been quiet without you around.”

he laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet night. “same old you. always ready with a comeback.”

“and same old you, always thinking you’re the center of the universe,” you quip, though your tone is softer now, the old familiarity seeping back. “well, i am pretty important,” he says with a wink, but then his expression turns more serious. “i’m sorry, you know,” his eyes moving slowly, looking for your expression, “for what happened. i never wanted to hurt you.”

for the second time, you nodded your head, eyes focusing on your laps. you finish the rest of the wine on your glass before putting the glass down on the bench and look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “i know, satoru. i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have walked away like that.”

he reaches out, taking your hand in his. the hands he always wants to hold, straving even. the hands that always perfectly fits with his like a puzzle, the warm, your pulse hitting your soft skin a little harder every time he holds it— oh, how he loves the feeling. “we both made mistakes. but we’re here now. can we start over?” you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. “yeah, i’d like that.”

he grins, the mischievous spark back in his eyes. “good. because i’ve got two years of teasing to make up for.” you laugh, shaking your head as your brain begging you to let go of his hands, so you did.

shaking your head slightly, you scoff, “bring it on, gojo. i’m ready.”

he shifts closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “you know, i really did miss you. it wasn’t the same without my best friend around.”

best-friend, fucking hate that word’ you thought.

you look at him, the honesty in his words melting away the last remnants of your anger and blossoming the garden of regret and sadness you used to grow, still. “i missed you too,” you smile so little, just like how your feelings made you feel right now. “more than i wanted to admit,” you added, jokingly.

gojo chuckles softly. “well, lucky for you, i’m back now. and i’m not going anywhere.”

please don't— you want to beg him, wishing he wouldn't make any promises, you hope he would go anywhere. at least until these feelings start to leave your body, faded, disappearing like whispers on the wind.

but you smile because feeling a sense of peace settles over you. “good,” you lie to yourself. “because i don't think i could handle losing you again,” it was a pleasure to be burn for gojo satoru, it was always a pleasure.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with tender intensity and something unfamiliar— you think, only to not realize he looks at you just like how the way you look at him. his love for you breaking all his bones and soul, but all he can do is just laugh; you were his best friend, after all. beautiful, crushingly so even, you look like the rest of my life— no, that's not how a best friend thinks of his best friend. gojo satoru wouldn't dare.

“you won’t. not if i can help it.”

the two of you just look at each other after that, with soft smiles on your faces, letting the weight of the past dissolve in the quiet night. under the moonlight, in the heart of the maze, it feels as if the world has been righted, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels as it should be.

or maybe it shouldn't.

gojo shifted slightly and reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “hey, i have something for you,” he said, his voice tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. curious, you watched as he pulled out an envelope. the paper was thick and elegant— the kind used for important occasions, a soft lavender color that stood out against the dark fabric of his suit. he handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours, sending a familiar warmth through you.

you took the envelope, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. opening it carefully, you find a beautifully crafted wedding invitation inside. the names on it made your breath catch in your throat: satoru gojo and his fiancée.

your heart sank, but you managed to keep your expression neutral. “satoru..” your voice came out as a whisper, blending with the soft hustle of the leaves. “this is lovely,” you said, forcing a smile as you looked up at him.

satoru's eyes searched yours as if trying to read your thoughts. the grief— it's all over your eyes, the grief that is more honest to him than you ever could. but gojo does not know the reason, why are you grieving? it is because of your sorrow and he can't give you the shoulder? or is it because you, once again, are letting yourself burn for loving him? the saddest is, he doesn't know that, not that he has to.

is it still a pleasure to burn for him now?

“i wanted you to have it first,” he said quietly. “you've always been important to me, more than anyone else.” the weight of his words hung in the air, making it harder to maintain your composure. “thank you,” you replied, your voice barely steady. “i wouldn't miss it for the world.”

you smile at each other as if trying to comfort each other. “are you pleased?” he asked softly— too afraid if his voice came out louder, he would break you. please, don't say yes’ he begged his heart. just say the word, y/n’ he continued. he begged, once, twice, three time, for the past twelve years of his life knowing you, under the moonlight, to the moon that you say the words, begging him to stop the wedding. just say the word and he'll come running to you.

you groan a little, “pleased? oh, i'm destroyed.”

no, he was destroyed.

so he leaned closer, faster enough to fill his eyes with a mixture of affection and again, something you couldn't quite identify. “you know, you’ve always been my closest friend. my confidant. my anchor.” you nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “and you’ve been mine,” you said softly, the unspoken words lingering between you.

the silence between you grew heavier as you stared at the lavender envelope in your hands. with a deep breath, you carefully opened the lavender envelope, your fingers trembling. the wedding invitation was exquisitely crafted, each detail speaking of the elegance and care that had gone into its creation. the elegant script revealing the date. seven weeks from now. your heart sank further, the realization hitting you like a wave.

you looked up at gojo, the question evident in your eyes. “seven weeks?” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. “that's. . . soon.” he nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “yeah, it's a ‘shotgun’ wedding,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “things have been moving quickly when you are not around,” your heart ached at his words, the reality of his imminent marriage sinking in. “why so soon?" you asked, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “you are going to be a father? is that allowed?”

he chuckled at your attempt to joke, trying to hide the sadness that was so clearly there behind his eyes. the smile on his lips didn’t quite reach them, but he tried his best to keep up a brave face for you.

he scoffs, “apparently, they did,” he nodded.

he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act as though it didn’t bother him in the slightest. he didn’t want you to know just how much turmoil he was facing with this entire situation. “yeah, not like we had much of a choice in the whole matter . . .” the fact that he was getting married had been eating at him for weeks. all of that time he had spent with you, all the memories. in just seven short, short weeks it would come to an end. he wanted to tell you. tell you just how much you meant to him, but . . .

but what? would it do any good?

your hand is gripping tightly around the bouquet, so tight, suffocating, until— for the second time that night the spine digs itself through your skin, straight to your heart— the pain, it's unbearable, you feel like dying.

there was a long pause, the maze around you silent except for the faint rustling of leaves. you wanted to tell him everything, to confess how much he meant to you, but fear held you back. instead, you tried to focus on the moment, on the bittersweet reality of his impending marriage. “oh, my god—” you choke on your own. one hand covering your mouth before you face him.

satoru reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and comforting. “promise me we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” he said, his voice almost pleading. you squeezed his hand, fighting back tears. “always,” you promised, even as your heart shattered a little more. your hands, the one he wants to carry his heart by.

your eyes are shaking, matching his heart, it's hurting. “i'm so happy for you,” your smile didn't reach your eyes. someone once said that people's hearts appear in their eyes, gojo can see yours now; it's broken, shattered before him.

please don't be happy for me, be miserable, so i don't have the heart to leave you, so i can be with you,’ he wants to scream at you.

“oh, god, i'm so happy for you. . .”

look at you, a girl who doesn't believe in god now crying, begging, pleading while calling his name because the pain was unbearable. how is cruel love can be?

the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, the lavender invitation between you acting as both a bridge and a barrier. you took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up, and without thinking, you pulled gojo into a hug. he stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around you in a familiar embrace.

your tears flowed freely, once, twice, thrice, the moonlight catching them and making your eyes sparkle like crystals. “i’m happy for you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and sorrow. satoru held you tighter, his breath warm against your ear. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “it means everything to me to have your support.”

the maze around you seemed to close in, the hedges whispering secrets and memories of times past. you clung to him, your heartbreaking and mending all at once, the scent of the night flowers mingling with the salt of your tears. “i wish you every happiness,” you continued, your words barely more than a breath. “you deserve it, ‘toru. you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. his own were glistening, the usual sparkle tempered by the weight of the moment. “and you deserve happiness too,” he said softly, his thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “promise me you’ll find it.”

your foreheads met, and the gentle press of his skin against yours felt like the most natural thing in the world. your breaths mingled, soft and warm, creating a delicate rhythm that only the two of you shared, a silent conversation of souls.

his eyes, filled with a depth of emotion you had always known but never fully understood, locked with yours. the moonlight bathed you both in a soft, ethereal glow, casting a spell that held the night in a timeless embrace. every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, shimmered in the air between you, a tapestry of love and longing woven through years of friendship.

gojo's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he were afraid you might disappear. slowly, almost reverently, he began to close the gap between you. his movements were unhurried, each inch a testament to the gravity of the moment, the culmination of everything that had been left unsaid.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, erratic beat that seemed to echo through the silence. the anticipation was electric, every second stretched into an eternity. as his lips drew nearer, you felt the world around you blur into insignificance, the maze and the moonlight fading into the background. then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, his lips brushed against yours. the touch was soft, almost tentative, like the whisper of a dream.

oh, how empty he is to be full by you.

the contact sent a shiver through you, a spark that ignited every fiber of your being. you responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his face, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

the kiss was everything—a confession, a promise, a revelation. it spoke of years of hidden desires, of nights spent wondering, of the unbreakable bond that had always connected you. the taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, was like coming home after a long, arduous journey.

when you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, you opened your eyes to find him gazing at you with an expression that mirrored your own—wonder, longing, and a profound sense of rightness. ‘longing’, such a tender name for such a miserable state of being.

you nodded, the ache in your chest making it hard to speak. “i’ll try,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but right now, i just need to be here for you.” gojo’s gaze held yours, the moonlight illuminating the silent understanding passing between you. “you’ve always been there for me,” he said, his voice a soft caress. “and i hope you always will be.”

the world around you seemed to fade, the only sounds the rustling of the leaves and the steady beating of your hearts. you felt a bittersweet calm wash over you, knowing that despite everything, your bond with satoru was unbreakable, saddest.

“i will be,” you promised, your voice firm despite the tears. “no matter what.”

he smiled then, a small, tender smile that spoke of shared sorrow, of the disaster from loving you, but oh how he promised, i will always be this tender for you. “good,” he whispered, pulling you back into his arms. “because i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his arm tightly around you as your cheeks rest against his chest— he gathers you up, folds you to his heart, and looks at each other a little too long to be just friends.

[sungjinhos]

I THINK WE MARRIED IN VEGAS

�� You and Jeonghan have always been friends, and friends go on a trip together, right? And somehow friends always end up marrying in Las Vegas right? And somehow friends become roommates as well right? That all seems very normal when Yoon Jeonghan has a weird addiction to doing the dumbest things ever just for shock value.

✷ genre: comedy (?), angst, smut (minors don't interact)

✷ word count: 28.244

✷ featuring: Yoon Ttoram, Choi Seungcheol, Lee Seokmin, Kim Mingyu as the unnamed satan-spit roommate one night stand, and Xu Minghao as the gothic impasto painter guy. 

✷ thea’s note: hey y’all this is my longest fic yet so I’m weirdly proud. I had fun writing this and trying to figure out how to build this Jeonghan and yes I did rewatched the birth of Ttoram while writing this. By the way - love you guys but the whole credit/debt/buying a house is just for plot I do not know how any of this works in America (and it is mainly set in America because I needed Vegas lol) <3 So bear with it. Also thanks to @wongyuuu for keeping me company in this nanowimo challenge, and thaks to @toruro Mika you are the best <3 thank you for reading this 

✷ Smut warnings under the read more ✷

✷ smut count: lost count of how many times Jeonghan thought he was going to cum on his pant, 1 dick sucked, teenagers level of horniness, non penetrative sex still sex, a lot of kissing, a 3 second of cumplay still a cumplay i guess. 

"Should we do it?" you hear Jeonghan ask, his face focused on something outside the car’s window. The lights of all the neon signs dance on his face and features—like a scene from a movie. He looks tired and overworked even though you are somewhat on vacation.

"Do what?" you ask, trying to understand what he meant. Maybe he was talking about a hotel spa and you missed the beginning of the sentence because you were too lost in your own thoughts? Yeah, a message would be a lifesaver right now.

"That," he says, pointing at one of the hundreds of little chapels in Las Vegas. This one has a deal sign in big and bold letters—an Elvis Presley priest, a bouquet, a professional photographer, and a bottle of champagne for half the price. Well, you never thought about off-season in Vegas, but maybe business was a little rough at this time of the year, but to be quite honest that did seem like a great deal—the shopaholic in you would fall for it if it didn’t involve marriage.

"Are you drunk already?" you ask. Even though you have known the man for years, you still can’t read Jeonghan properly.

Sometimes you think about how he is a book that is written in a different language, and you couldn’t have access to him without a dictionary on the side. Jeonghan does look like a classic—he is well put together, he is fancy, and he would be one of those books that have an embellished spine—the prettiest book on your bookshelf. But at the same time, he is one of those books that need commentaries on every page because somehow the author didn't care about giving enough context or didn't think his work would survive so many years. And one that the storylines end up being totally fucked up, so basically a Russian classical.

"No, I'm painfully sober," Jeonghan says while leaning his head on the window of the car. It almost makes you laugh when you hear the loud sound of him bumping his head, even the Uber driver who didn’t utter a word turns his head back. "It's just," he starts again, "I heard Seungcheol talking about it, and it seems nice to be married."

"What are you talking about?” you say in disbelief,  “Seungcheol is not married yet, he is having a bachelor party in Vegas. He is drinking his weight in alcohol and spending the college tuition of his firstborn in the casino. You and him know about the same thing about marriage, which equals barely anything."

“Yeah but he did talk about all the perks—Oh thank you,” he notices that the Uber finally arrived at the hotel feat casino and all the Vegas shenanigans. Jeonghan holds the car door for you, like a true gentleman—you almost scoff. “What I was trying to say is, Seungcheol did talk to me about being married, it doesn’t feel like a bad deal at all.” Again, he holds the door for you.

“So we should just get married in Vegas because Seungcheol said it is a great deal?” you ask Jeonghan like he said the stupidest thing ever, which is partially true. It was one of the stupidest things he’d ever said to you, and you’ve known the man for years—you’ve witnessed a fair  amount of his stupidity, all laced with his all-knowing smile. Every time you tried to understand what he was talking about it always left you feeling like this man was insane.

“I mean? What would you lose?” Jeonghan asked, crossing his arms after pushing the elevator buttons—one for your room, the other one so the door closes faster (he is one of those people).

“A lot?” you say almost laughing. What the fuck? It resonates in your mind, almost like the words are bumping the walls of your cranium, like the old Windows 98 screensaver logo.

“Yeah? Like what?” Jeonghan asks and the ping of the elevator makes sure both of you know that it arrived before opening the door.

“Freedom,” you say, trying to stay normal and not succumb to Jeonghan—you both hear someone saying,“Hold!” across the hall. Jeonghan just smiles and clicks the button to close the door. Maniac really, without basic education. To be fair though, it was a frat dude with another frat dude who could wait for the next elevator without dying, but still.

“Come on, you are a book editor. You love everything that has nothing to do with freedom, you love rules and everything that shackles you.” You scoff hearing Jeonghan’s words.

You want to argue, you want to kick and scream and pick a fight because is he basically calling you boring right? He is totally calling you the most boring person he’s ever met, and you are in Vegas - and still, somehow, you are the boring girl. But he is right about it—you do not leave your comfort zone, you do not do crazy very well, and you don’t even drink that much because losing control of situations makes you slightly insane. And Jeonghan is right because he is one of your closest friends, and you talked about it with him, he even knows how this is a recurrent topic in your therapy. Asshole.

“Well, still don’t give me the urge to marry you, your sales points are awful—how do you hold your job?” You ask side eyeing your friend, well, if you wanted to marry someone calling them boring is not the right way to do it.

“I do a better job when I need to sell to investors, I’m not giving my all right now since you are not paying me,” Jeonghan says, leaving the elevator and looking back at you. Well, not giving your all when you are asking someone for marriage - number two mistake.

“I’d hope so, otherwise your name would be number one in the next layoff,” you say rolling your eyes.

“Come on,” Jeonghan scoffs. “You didn’t hear Seungcheol talking about the benefits," he says, opening the door to your shared hotel door. The deal was to sleep in a weird hotel that may have bedbugs or share a room and a bed with Jeonghan in a more upscale hotel whose bathroom didn’t look like a crime scene. Not a difficult decision, to be quite honest.

“Is Seungcheol now a pro-marriage coach?” you ask, taking off your shoes and leaving your bag on the nearest chair.

“Probably, I mean, the side money would be crazy,” he says, taking off his watch and leaning against the table, again crossing his arms. “What I meant is did you ever think about the tax deduction, health insurance benefits, leave benefits? Also, Seungcheol did remind me that the bank raises the chance of getting approved credits if the spouse has a great credit history.” 

“Yet he is the one marrying because he loves his girlfriend,” you remind Jeonghan, because apparently he is forgetting one the key ingredients of marriage in contemporary societies - love, affection, and a dose of “I love you but leaving with you every time you forget the toothpaste open is making me thinking about how life in hell would look like.”

“Right,” Jeonghan scoffs, making you even more curious.

“What would you need credits for?” you ask. Jeonghan is an unmarried and childless man, who works on investments, travels twice a year, and has a car. You on the other hand work in a crumbling industry - books, who reads books? - don’t travel a lot and your car is like twelve years old.

“Marry me and I tell you,” Jeonghan answered without letting the ball drop, quick on his feet like always, you could never catch this man.

“Tell me and I will think about it,” You try to pry.

“A house.” He says earnestly.

Again - you know Jeonghan, and you know your friend is a lunatic, but you also know when he is being completely honest with you. The man did want that house, which was completely weird. Jeonghan was a city guy, he was living in a rented apartment sure, but it was a great apartment, it even had a view. He worked downtown, why would he need a house?

“A house?” You try again, trying to get more details of what the heck is making your friend go crazy out of a sudden.

“Yeah, a house.” He says shrugging like it is the most common thing ever, maybe it is a well-known scheme of marrying for taxes and credits that you don’t know, maybe you are late. Maybe you are outdated putting together marriage and love in the same sentence, maybe, the world has changed. “Will you marry me?” Jeonghan asks you in his dullest voice ever like he is tired and completely bored.

“No.” You deadpan.

“Come on, at least pretend that you are thinking about it,” Jeonghan says, lying on the bed horizontally, his face is now closer to you and his legs are too big so they hang out of the bed, like a kid almost. “It has four bedrooms so you can move and say fuck you to Laurel the accountability girl.”

Well, that makes you think about it. He should have started with that. Maybe if he just proposed a new roommate scheme you would’ve said yes in the uber.

“I don't hate her that much,” you lied through your teeth, you hated that girl. You blamed the real state crisis because the rent was crazy, sharing the apartment was a good deal on paper, and half of the rent money went to your savings account so you could live in peace - Jeonghan actually advised you on how to save and where to invest if you wanted to retire quickly, but you never really thought about buying shares and selling shares and the whole ordeal.

“Fuck you,” He laughs, “every week I have to hear you complain how she lets food go bad and how it leaves your fridge stinky enough to make you almost puke, and that only happens when she doesn't food go bad on the kitchen counter or wait, do you remember when she forgets to lock the door two times last week?”

“Well, I am sorry if I have listened to true crimes podcast enough to be actually aware of the horrors of being a woman and how serial killers are out there just waiting for you to sleep with the fucking door open,” you say like you are the most reasonable person ever.

“And you are right, what I am saying is that I would lock the door so no one can enter the house, I would be a better roommate.”  

“Sure we do not have to marry to be roommates we can look for suitable places in our price range,”

“Look at this,” Yoon Jeonghan says, fiddling with his phone, “It has four bedrooms, three and a half bathrooms, the kitchen is great, it has a backyard and a solarium.”

“Fuck-”  You say, sitting on the bed, your thigh close enough to his arm that you feel the warmth of his skin, “that’s, that's crazy.” 

“I know,” he says turning on the bed and closing his hand on his stomach like he is dead, just staring at the ceiling, “The price is not bad either, one of my clients is trying to sell so he can invest in a new startup so it is not actually in the market right now but will be in a few weeks so-”

“Did you try to get the loan?”  You ask, finger still going on his phone looking at different pics of this completely perfect house. All the rooms were big, and with natural light - crazy. The Solarium looked like a thing out of this world. And you could see yourself living there, if you had enough money you could live the dream, but that house was just out of your price range. God, with that garden you could have a dog. Damn.

“I don't want to pay interest to a bank,” Jeonghan almost whines, because he knows how this whole thing works and how he would have to pay the loan and half of the loan because banks are greedy bastards.

“Can I have two bedrooms?”

“What do you need two bedrooms for?” Jeonghan asks, finally looking at you and dropping his i-am-almost-dead act.

“My room, one office,” you explain. You know the office would be the one with two larger windows facing the garden. Oh what a joy - to build a life you would never live, it was indeed one of your favorite hobbies, maybe that’s why you love books so much.

“Ok, I guess. I can make something out of the basement.” Jeonghan replies nonchalantly making you laugh.

Maybe that’s why you two were friends, you had a great time speaking nonsense to one another. You both just kept feeding into whatever fantasy you built, like reality could not touch everything. You and Jeonghan had this weird pattern of just sitting, eating and talking for hours and hours about whatever that had nothing to do with the truth. What would you do if you won the lottery? What would you do when you retire? What would you do if you woke up on a desert island? What would you do if your boss was imprisoned for embezzlement? Ok not the last one, scratch that, this one actually happened.

“I can give you 5% of the price tag, and we can share the loan if it matches my current rent price range, but we need to actually draft something with a lawyer later so we can only sell the house to ourselves, I don’t trust you enough to buy this house without a lawyer on my side.”

“Dude-” Jeonghan jerks on the bed, he sits and turns his body to face you. “Wait, do you hate Laurel that much?”

“Yoon Jeonghan, do you want a marriage to up your credit score or what? I paid my student loans in record time, the banks love me.” 

“I don’t know if you are joking or not,” He tells you. 

"Can you call room service?" You ask heading to the bathroom, while you tie your hair - like you are preparing yourself for a dire work task - maybe talk to a translator about a deadline, they are worse than writers, "I think we will need more alcohol." 

"Wait," you hear Jeonghan's voice echo through the door, "are we actually gonna do it?" 

You are joking. 

And you know Jeonghan was too. With the years of knowing him, you knew that the majority of things that left Jeonghan's mouth had a shock value purpose. Induce distress first, we talk about truth later - or never. That made you 100% sure that you would never marry that man. You knew him enough - twelve years, since high school. He knew you as well - he knew all your teenage traumas, all of your romance fiasco, and he met all of your exes. 

You would never, never, marry that man.

Right?

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

When you open your eyes and the white ceiling greets you, you can hear yourself groaning almost involuntarily. Your head aches. You know you will regret everything that happened the night before, even though you don't know what actually happened, and what you need to hold yourself accountable for. But you know the taste of a life-changing hangover that has a side dish of regret and a cup of shame to go. But it couldn’t possibly be so bad right?

Ok, maybe moving your body was not the very first thing to do. You try to open your eyes again. Well, at least you were in your own hotel room. Jeonghan is by your side, his arm across your stomach and somehow his face is near your armpit. You try to sniffle yourself, but so far doesn't like you are actually stinky. Your deodorant was doing a great job so far, maybe it actually has a 24-hour action or something like that.

You try to lift yourself up, sitting in the bed, head in hand because everything spins. Oh God help you. Besides the headache you feel sticky and sweaty, and all gross. You can't believe you didn't shower, and if you didn't shower you didn't take your makeup off, and if you didn't take your makeup off you totally threw your 43-day steak of doing your skincare routine. Fuck. Maybe you could just delete the app, or pretend that yesterday never happened. Deal with the blank day that screams how bad you fucked up was not an option though, it would never happen.

“What the fuck did we drink?” You hear Jeonghan's hoarse voice. You take the hands off your eyes, the clarity feels like punching your cornea and brain, and Jeonghan's state is not very different from yours, his shirt is open and ruffled, his arms are shielding his eyes from the light entering the room, his hair is messy and he looks like he needed four days of sleep.

“Fuel? Petrol? Satan spit in a cup?” You answer dropping yourself on the bed again, every joint of your body aches. It is ridiculous how you feel trapped in a 90 years old body, and like that is not enough you feel nauseated beyond words. And every time you can feel and hear Jeonghan breathing it feels like it is piercing your skull, would be rude to ask your friend to stop breathing and just stay completely still? He would understand, right?

“Do you think room service can get us some painkillers?” He groans lifting himself up this time, “Or maybe a gun?”

“Can you call them? I think I will puke if I sit for more than half a minute,” you say, your hand going into your mouth as if it would actually help if the worst-case scenario happened.

“I think I can, the problem is that you need to get me the phone,” Jeonghan tells you groaning between words. His hand points to the object and there is no way in hell you are moving to get that, that would mean you getting up and turning and being alive altogether.

“I can't I told you I gonna puke,” you try to explain how serious your condition - also known as hangover - is.

“It is by your side of the bed" He groans again and yet he sounds just like a petulant child, maybe it is a gift.

“I can't I will puke on the carpet it only makes things worse,” you try again, “or worse I can puke on the bed, you included in the radio of the vomit you know it splashes.”

“Ok, stand still,” Jeonghan says, “don't kick me, I'm doing it for both of us”

And you do as you are told because being still right now is the only thing you can do - even moving your eyeballs seems too much right. So Jeonghan just dropped his body on top of yours, he is also sweaty, and he reeks of alcohol. Damn, he actually smells like gasoline. He picks up the phone and presses a few buttons. His body is still above yours, pressing into you.

“Be quick you are pressing my blade," you say after the surprise of having him against you fazes out.

“What the fuck do you need to pee or vomit? Ah yes, hello,” He says changing his voice in the middle of the sentence from something that says intimacy is a disease to his customer service voice without pausing, “hm do you guys have room service that includes painkillers?” He waits, nodding his head as he hears something before he remembers his on the telephone. “Oh okay, thank you, can you send it? Oh yeah great, yes if you can do that, yes, pancakes, toasts with poached eggs and avocado, coffee hmm” he thinks about it, looks at you, thinks about a second or two, and then adds, “Can you send us four cups of coffee? Thank you.”

Jeonghan finishes the call with a groan leaving his mouth, he places the phone on its holder. But when you think he will get himself off of you he only plops down, his body weight getting heavier. His bones poking your body, what the fuck he was doing with your elbow on your ribcage?

“Jeonghan what the fuck-" You complain, trying to kick your legs in a vain attempt to make your friend move.

“I got us painkillers and food, let me recharge for a bit stop complaining,” Jeonghan says in a dead tone of voice, almost like he is dealing with a kid throwing some type of tantrum - the only thing is that, in this occasion, the child is you and somehow you want to kick his shin, because you are the one right in this situation, and you could totally just plop down in a mall disgusting floor if Yoon Jeonghan was your father too.

“You are heavy!” You try again but somehow Jeonghan is stronger than you think and his body is still over yours like nothing is happening, maybe you are just dehydrated and fucking muscle-less, maybe the yoga wasn’t doing much when you almost killed your liver.

“I am not,” Jeonghan says, now he is the one being the moody child in the supermarket, maybe he will go off without parental supervision. Oh wait, this was Yoon Jeonghan he actually did wander away when he was out about with his parent and ended up three blocks away just because he saw an ice cream truck. Jeonghan was the easiest kid to be kidnapped, you ask yourself how he ended up being safe and sound, and in one piece.

“Just because you are skinny it doesn’t mean you aren’t heavy.” You try again pushing on Jeonghan bony shoulder, even that is pointy. “bones are heavy too, get off of me!”

“You kind of stink," Jeonghan says, his head still lodged in the space between your neck and shoulder.

“Well you asshole you are not better yourself, and you are stinky too and sticky like you showered in bear or something.”

“Maybe I did, I don’t know I can't actually think,” He groans finally trying to lift himself up, “We should shower,” he says sitting on the bed and looking down at you.

“You go first,” both of you say at the same time

You end up going first. Mainly because you needed to pee and you think that once you are up you may as well just use the opportunity to shower otherwise you would just drop dead on the floor and never get up again - you will be stinky and gross forever. Also, you think that if hell breaks loose and Jeonghan actually pukes you at least already used the shower. Back in college, he puked on the sink because it was the closest thing to the door, or whatever poor excuse he came up with, and that scene still haunts you, because somehow the sink was clogged. Ew, you think, finishing peeing and wiping yourself up. You wash your hands and say thank you for your past self because your necessaire is splayed on the counter, you pick up your face wash and head to the shower. Ok, let's deal with it. You need to wash your hair too. You open the register, letting the water hit your foot in an attempt to get just the perfect temperature.

You close and open the registers a few times - to fix the temperature, but you not gonna lie, to make up your mind too. But when you let the water hit your face - in an almost drowning attempt, you know you made the right decision, shower first was the only option. You let the water wash away for a few minutes until you are ready to really start your shower. First step - wash your face. Well, you needed to buy a new face wash this one was in its last few stages of life, you close your eyes and start to rub against your skin, normal, until you few something slightly different on your hand - almost like scratching the skin, you open your eyes and you finally notice, a band on your finger.

You turn your hand and it finally hits you.

It is a ring.

With a big rock.

In your ring finger.

A big damn rock on your ring finger.

“Yoon Jeonghan” you scream in horror.

On the other side of that door, Jeonghan just hears you scream. He actually picks himself up in record time and room towards the bathroom, oh shit did you just fall and hit your head? Did you break the glass of the fancy hotel shower? Are you dying? So without thinking much Jeonghan opens the bathroom door and he just finds you - completely naked and seemly okay, just staring at your own hand.

“What happened?” He asks trying to catch his own breath, maybe he does need to start working out man, he didn’t feel this horrible when he was hitting the gym after shifts, but also he didn’t feel that great either the whole gym rat thing was not his ordeal.

“What did we do?” You ask still in complete horror, not even thinking about how this is the first time Yoon Jeonghan, your friend is seeing you completely naked. 10/10 would not recommend this experience. Not even to Laurel, her satan spit roommate.

“What? Are you going crazy? I thought you fell and opened your skull or something,”

You just look at Jeonghan, dead in his eyes, like the reality is worse than falling in the bathroom, opening your skull and calling the paramedics naked. You just turn your hand to him - like it is enough to make him understand what a dire situation it is. And you swear to god you can almost see the little flakes of light on the bathroom floor, the rock is big enough to shine across the room.

“Did you call me to show me your ring? Couldn’t you wait until you put your clothes on?” Jeonghan asks leaning into the doorway.

“Jeonghan did we-” you say but you feel your own throat closing around itself, it can’t be right?

“Hm?” he asks without a blink of an eye.

“Oh we did, we totally did," you sighed, more to yourself than to Jeonghan.

“No, you are not that crazy,” he claimed. What is that even was supposed to mean? He was crazy enough for it but you the two goody shoes wasn’t?

“Jeonghan check your bank receipt,” you demanded, trying to connect the dots in a way, trying to find a physical proof, maybe you just bought a way too expensive ring for yourself, or maybe it was just impulse buying.

Before you can move Jeonghan almost runs towards the room, you try your best to keep up with him but you are a little behind because for the first time, you actually are aware of how naked you are. You pick up the fluffy bathroom robe - yeah the fancy hotel had its perks.

“Oh fuck” you can hear Jeonghan before you can see him, his phone it’s on his lap, his head is on his head - he is a man defeated.

“Did we?” You try to probe, but your voice sounds weird in your own ears - almost small, and the reality hits you, you are kinda scared. The reality of maybe having fucked up hits you like a trunk, you always been a nice girl, you never fucked up - at least not that bad, what would you mean if you married on a drunk whim?

“I think,” Jeonghan says, his hand on his greasy hair, fuck he needed a shower. “I think we fucked up real bad.”

You sit beside Jeonghan, you both staring at the wall ahead of you in disbelief. You are still gross, but now your damp hair is actually dropping on the bed and you can’t bring yourself to care. The fact that Jeonghan is motionless by your side without uttering a word is what freaks you out more. Jeonghan is not someone who is fazed so easily - his mouth is agape and his eyebrows furred, the ‘i-am-utterly-stressed’ Jeonghan feature is what freaks you out really.

“Ok Hannie,” you breathe softly. “That’s what we are going to do, I am going to shower, then you are going to shower, we gonna eat breakfast, then we are going to return this ring, then we are going to call Joshua, he is a lawyer, right? He probably will know what to do.”

“Joshua is a real estate lawyer,” Jeonghan mutters without blinking.

“Jeonghan focus!” You say getting out of bed, “divorce is a thing we don’t need to stay married.”

You take one of the longest showers in human history. You needed a good shower, but, the majority of the time under the shower you think about how the hell you got so drunk to marry Jeonghan. Some flashes of memory blink on the forefront of your mind every time you blink; a vegas chapel, not an Elvis but an Elton John in front of you, Jeonghan picking one of the most expensive ring in a fancy story. How the fuck fancy jewelry runs for twenty four hours?

Every flash comes with a sharp pain, the fucking headache.

When you get out of the bathroom the breakfast is already in the room. You take a bit of egg and toast just so you can shove coffee down your throat without having to deal with the stomach pain. You search the ring case and don’t find anywhere, maybe it is safe on Jeonghan���s thing, maybe he kept it safe, or you hope so. When you sit on the bed you stare down the ring, it is a beautiful ring and you are pretty sure it is something Jeonghan chose, it is beautiful, but at the same time, it is just too much.

You need to return it, no doubt about it.

You try to take the ring one and somehow it doesn’t even budge. You scoff, what a tricky little thing. So you try again, and again the thing doesn’t move. You can feel the drop in your blood pressure, what the heck? You lost track of the time when Jeonghan opened the bathroom door and you looked at him in shock, you look down at your red and bloated finger.

“This shit is stuck in my finger?” You say trying to take off one final time before just breaking your finger.

“Well, I think this is a good time to tell you,” he starts his voice all weird and over the place, “I kinda fucked up.”

“Jeonghan we are apparently married I already know we fucked everything up.”

“No, I-” Jeonghan begins, his hands now going through his washed hair, still wet and dripping on the floor, “I found a shred receipt and an invoice.”

“What the fuck?” You almost yell in pure knee-jerk reaction.

“I think it is yours now?” Jeonghan shrugs, like it is not a big deal even though you know that this ring is expensive, it must be, it has a giant rock and even though you know close to nothing about jewelry it looks expensive.

“What happened to us?” You question.

“You ask me? You don't remember anything?" Jeonghan says sincerely, and you know it is true. Jeonghan was kind of a prankster, he kinda did push people to its limit, but part of it was just doing fun things but also harmless shit. Like entering the beach at night, or hiding someone’s phone and pretending they did leave in the hotel so they can enjoy the trip without being bombarded by their special someone - read Seungcheol yesterday at lunch.

“Can we call Joshua?”

“I think we can do that later,” Jeonghan checks his watch, “I think it would be wiser just to show up to Seungcheol’s lunch and pretend that mini golf is fun, it would bring suspicious otherwise.”

“Jeonghan we married we didn’t commit a crime,” you say looking at him in disbelief.

“Do you want to deal with Seungcheol’s monologue about us getting married? I don’t think I want to deal with that with a killer hangover after a wedding walk of shame in fucking Las Vegas,” he drops. And God, that really sounds like a nightmare.

“Yeah,” you say looking at the big rock on your thing, “you are right, but we should probably still call Joshua,”

“I told you he is a real state lawyer didn’t I?” He says almost rudely to you, and you want to say that if you two are married both of you said yes it is not like you are the only one responsible for it but you try not to push his buttons.

“And what is your option Jeonghan?”

“I’m thinking about just getting drunk again so I can forget everything that is happening right now.”

What a fucking great idea.

Seungcheol is one of Jeonghan’s closest friends from college. Seungcheol just became your friend because you and Jeonghan were weirdly bound at the hip. You both shared your high school years, and when you two enrolled at the same university you only had two options, pretend you two didn’t know each other, or become conjoined twins. Jeonghan was a business major, you were enrolled in every class that had literature, poetry, or the name of a dead guy on it. But still, you and Seungcheol became great friends even though he is a finance guy. And Seungcheol was the reason you two were on a Vegas trip, the last trip of his life as an unmarried man, he had to make a sketchy deal with his fiancé in order to it to happen but still, according to him, it was worthy.

“Nice shot!” You hear Seungcheol's voice loud, bringing you back to reality. He is clapping as Seokmin - one of his other friends from work hits the ball down the hole.

Seungcheol’s voice, loud and clear, brings you back to reality.

Oh the joys of playing mini golf before lunch, you could spend days and days talking about how much you loved the idea and how every hole seems like a fucking nightmare but you are a married woman. Needless to say this whole situation wasn’t in your 2023 bingo card. You don’t pay attention when it is Jeonghan or Seungcheol’s turn, you wait until you have to put the ball in the hole, it probably takes you double the time, and then it starts again, ad infinitum. At least they are kind enough to not pressure you to perform like Tiger Woods or something.

You think about Jeonghan though. Somehow, he hasn’t changed. Jeonghan was the same Jeonghan you met in high school, of course, he matured and the years turned into baggage, but Jeonghan was still your friend who was playful enough to get married on a whim. Jeonghan was everything you weren’t in a way, somewhat playful and carefree, and still a very practical human being. Jeonghan was mischievous, but yet, not even once, he pushed you until you couldn’t take it, and that makes you think that somehow, with an unknown reason, in your drunk stupor, you wanted to marry Jeonghan, because hell can break loose, the skies can fall, but Jeonghan would never make you do something you did not want to do.

While Jeonghan and Seungcheol are busy hitting those tiny balls Seokmin stops by your side. You like Seokmin, Seokmin is kind, and you constantly think about how he is surviving the finance world, he doesn’t seem cut to it, but somehow he manages to stay alive against the monsters of capitalism, or, worse, he stays alive feed the monsters of capitalism. Ew. Seokmin’s face though seems focused on another thing, he looks in shock and happy at the same time, he probably did the whole hole in less than three shots you think.

“Oh my god,” He almost screams making you jolt in place, in all truth that was pretty much a common occurrence when your day to day involved Seokmin.

“Hm?” You question puzzled, looking at him trying to find a clue of something behind his feature when Jeonghan and Seungcheol finally join the two of you on the sideline.

“What is that?” Seokmin asks and you still without a fucking clue of what he is talking about. “Damn,” he says with his big smile across his face, making the tip of his nose get even more pronounced, “are you guys planning a surprise and I just ruined it?” His face changes in a blink of an eye.

“What surprise?” Jeonghan questions taking a drink of his gatorade like he was in the middle of an excruciating sport and not fucking mini golf after an unsafe amount of alcohol.

“That thing!” Seokmin cheered, and then it downs on you - the big ass ring on your hand, propped on the golf putter, and before you can hide it or chop your hand off the three man in your sight is eying the big damn rock that you forgot about,

“The what?” Seungcheol blurted.

“This is an engagement ring right?” Seokmin asks and you think about an ostrich, putting its head on the ground, you think you can do the same in one of the circuit's holes.

“No, it isn’t, how the hell they are engaged when they aren’t dating?” Seungcheol scoffs, acting like Seokmin is saying something that doesn't make sense, something that happened numerous times before, it could be happening again. It was happening again, at least to Seungcheol.

“We saw that one when we were looking for your fiancée present though,” Seokmin says all pouty and confused, and you think you almost try to defend his point of view as you always do, just because he is cute.

“It isn’t an engagement right?” Seungcheol asks

“It would be weird to be an engagement ring,” Jeonghan acknowledged the absurdity that envelopes the situation that you two are in, you want to try to take off the ring and just throw it across the field of mini golf, but a) it looked extra expensive, b) the three guys didn't even blink looking at your hand.

“Did you buy for aesthetic proposal?” Seokmin asks, "A girl that works with the human resources team did buy one just because she thought it was pretty."

“Of course,” Seungcheol claps, “I mean fashion was never your strong suit,” He says and it almost feels like a jab, “I almost brought that one, Jeonghan was dead set on this, saying it was the ring, but it was a bit on the expensive side”

“How expensive are we talking about?” You try to pry your body from reacting physically to the fact that Jeonghan shredded a fucking invoice and receipt, and the fact that even Seungcheol - the guy who buys twelves tumblers just because it was cute and ends up giving them away finds that expensive sets a new parameter of money waste.

“You didn’t check the price?" Seokmin asks, when you remain silent he continues, “Wow be you must be nice, balling and shit."

“How expensive are we talking about Seungcheol?” You try again, "Seokmin?" If you can’t return this damn thing at least you can try to sell it later. If you can’t find someone who can buy this you can sell for those weird and sketchy stores but you need to know how much you are actually losing on the deal, well, not you, Jeonghan but still, if you know the man he will just accept his fate and never move a muscle to deal with this ring situation.

“You really didn't check the price hun?” Seungcheol questions raising his eyebrow, like he always did when he couldn’t quite believe in you and it always made you feel angry with him. It was a tale almost, even when you were telling the truth he always raised that eyebrow questioning you, making you explain yourself.

“I brought the ring,” Jeonghan says nonchalantly like he is saying that he brought the bread on his way home. Jeonghan had this thing, a completely loath to let other people know his truest feelings. Even if he was one step away from a panic attack he would not tell you.

“Why would you do that?” Seungcheol asks again his voice is two tones higher, and you feel like he is questioning the two of you, and in his own mind he is the bad cop in the situation - Seungcheol liked that type of shit, and you think that maybe he is so into that because Jeonghan is his polar opposite, never giving Seungcheol a reaction.

“I told you I thought it was a beautiful ring man,” Jeonghan deadpans and take his fingers to move his bangs out of his eyes - making him look like a fucking prick, looking down at everyone else, and you know that just tickles something in Seungcheol. “What I am trying to say,” Jeonghan tries again, “is that the ring It is not an engagement ring because I didn’t ask her to marry me yet,” Jeonghan says walking by your side and enveloping your shoulder in an awkward hug. “I just confessed my feelings, it might be over the top a bit but you guys know I just had my eye on the ring.”

“Dude! Finally!” Seokmin says hugging Jeonghan, and you almost feel yourself choking on air.

When Jeonghan is free he whispers against your ear, his breath on your skin making you shrink, “Just bear with it.”

“What?” Seungcheol asks “Out of nowhere, you confessed your feelings? With an engagement ring?”

“Not an engagement ring Seungcheol we won't crash your wedding, relax,” Jeonghan says again, rolling his eyes.

“How much it was?” You try again dead set on finding out how much that was, apparently a new hyper-fixation.

“Babe,” Jeonghan says looking at you with a mischievous smile across his face, “it is not polite to talk about the price tag”

“What the hell I am watching right now?” Seungcheol bristled, more in anger than in frustration.

“It was long overdue really,” Seokmin gushed, in a terrible contrast to Seungcheol’s features, his voice is loud and his big smile stretches across his face, “I thought it was so fucking weird you two sharing a hotel room with the excuse of saving money, like we know Jeonghan has money,” Seokmin points to the ring, making your skin crawl.

“We are returning this,” you tell Jeonghan, your voice low while elbowing his ribs.

“Baby I told you,” Jeonghan appealed, grabbing your shoulder “We can’t do that”

“Like I personally found you guys always so weird like, I think I even asked Seungcheol if you guys were married in the past because you guys are really,” he moves his hands in a weird move in a way to mean how close you always had been, “like truly crazy and then I asked Seungcheol and he was like it is never gonna happen and I was like-"

And Seokmin goes on for about a good five minutes about how he thought the two of you were a couple, and in a way, you were so used to it that it didn't even startle you. The problem was that Seokmin truly believed Jeonghan’s lies, one thing was to think that you two were in a relationship - everyone had this basic reaction since the two were in college, even one of Jeonghan’s ex-girlfriend thought of, one of your coworkers too, Jeonghan’s door to door neighbors too, almost every single soul you two met. That alone was something you began to understand, yeah you and Jeonghan had a weird level of intimacy.

 If you mash together your college years you can sum up in - of course, we do not date, of course, you can go ahead and kiss him in this horrible pub, oh yeas I am living in his dorm at ungodly hours just because we decided to binge watch a docuseries, oh if I am wearing Jeonghan's clothes? Haha He saved my ass because I doped the coffee on my clothes - ps. The coffee didn't exist, and his girlfriend did break things up a week later, Jeonghan swore it wasn't because of you. Once one guy broke up with you because when he smelled you he could recognize Jeonghan's smell on you, Jeonghan toke as his duty to just fuck up with that guy's mind for a whole month. He told you over and over again that the guy was wrong and basically called you a cheater, so you might as well plant enough evidence to give them the mental image - Jeonghan planted underwear on said guy's returning box, a note with his own handwriting with meet me in secret at the library, and even brought you a small dog plushie to put in the box and when you asked why he said 'he will think another guy gave you a present'.

Knowing Jeonghan and the fact that he loved shocking people this whole act today didn't really shock you, in the end, you were the only that understand Jeonghan, because you would never ever fall for this weird ass act. Your default reaction to anything Jeonghan related was a fair amount of mistrust.

“What are you two doing?” Seungcheol asks again, his voice is laced with suspicion and mistrust.

“Doing what?” Jeonghan asks, his hand going to your hair and placing it behind your ear.

“Whatever you guys are doing,” Seungcheol says pointing his fingers at the both of you, and you think it is dumb to even pretend something to Seungcheol, he knows you, he knows Jeonghan he knows nothing like that would even happen and you still don't know why Jeonghan is even trying to lie to him. 

“Jeonghan-” you whine, marrying in Vegas is indeed something that brings you shame and regret but lying to your friends is even worse, how would you deal with that later?

You think you would prefer listening to Seungcheol’s monologue about how both of you are completely crazy, unreasonable, and unreliable, all of that rings true now. And it was Seungcheol, he would end up knowing somehow, even if you didn’t tell him now, you both would end up telling him. This whole scheme would fall like a house of cards somehow. You couldn't knock on Seungcheol door and say haha we were kidding, but Jeonghan could, you would make him do it.

“Seungcheol that’s actually-”

“What are we supposed to believe that after what? A decade you just woke up brought a ring and confessed your feelings?” Seungcheol asks, raising his voice enough to make you look around the damn mini golf to see if anyone is insane enough to care about this damn scene, “When you are a commitment phobe who has been on my ass for the past several months?”

“Look man, can you just drop it?” Jeonghan asks again - in the same aloof way he uses when he wants to piss you off, almost like he is flirting with the idea of being a patronizing prick. 

“Of course not, what the hell,” Seungcheol says, his tone still on the angrier side  “You didn’t even remotely tell us about this."

“Yeah well some people can actually keep secret,” Jeonghan says bitterly.

“What was that supposed to mean?” Seungcheol questions and just by the tone of his voice you know that shit is going down, you have seen countless fights between the two to know that Seungcheol was on the edge.

“It means that I can actually keep my individuality as a human being because I don’t have a crazy girlfriend who has trust issues so I need to overshare everyone’s personal life because she thinks you can cheat on her every monday to friday man,” Jeonghan quipped. He was not the one who loved to fight, Jeonghan was actually someone who would just shrug and resolve the situation later when it came back to bite his ass, but damn when he wanted to fight he was ready for it.

“Damn,” Seokmin breathed.

“What the fuck Jeonghan,” You and Seungcheol say at the same time, both in disbelief.

“It is the truth, isn't it?” Jeonghan chastised, “Dude you are traveling with friends and somehow the whole lunch was about how your girlfriend was pissed that you actually brought a ring to placate how angry she was."

“Jeonghan stop talking.” you plead, holding his arms trying to get his attention, to make him stop before things end up in a point of no return. 

“Why?” Jeonghan asks you this time, eyes focused on you and not Seungcheol.

“Because you are being a fucking asshole now,” you say “This is Seungcheol bachelor’s party the man is getting married,” you try again like Seungcheol is not in the room.

“Oh you think I don’t know about that?" He says exasperated, "We are in Vegas and this motherfucker drink one beer and told us to go to our own hotel yesterday so we needed to get drunk and-”

“Jeonghan,” you say again almost like a kid tugging Jeonghan's by his shirt sleeve.

“We are in fucking Vegas and we didn’t visit one strip club and we are playing mini golf that something off about this whole trip,” Jeonghan says loudly chuckling at his own words.

“Are you seriously right now? You are going on a tirade against your friend because he doesn’t take you to strip clubs?” It is your time to act in disbelief - strip club? Seriously?

“Maybe if we were at a strip club yesterday,” Jeonghan says eying you.

“You know what?” Seungcheol speaks up. “Fuck you, you are uninvited by the way, you go on and on about how you don’t think I should marry, well, then you don’t need to show up.”

You and Jeonghan are left side by side on the mini golf field. Standing there while the world still moving around. You want to break out in laughter, you want to just laugh at how the two of your friends seem to wake up on the wrong foot, you want to knock Jeonghan's head off his shoulder, but you end up just walking to return to the damn golf club. 

The whole way to the hotel you and Jeonghan spend in complete silence, not one uttering a single word.

And apparently - now you are the one that wants to start a fight out of nowhere. You are the one that wants to scream about how Jeonghan was being an unreasonable asshole. You try to wrap your head around his reasons, about why he would act like that and nothing that comes up in your own brain seems right.

So when you both are back in the hotel room - now with new sheets thank god, and less alcohol smell you just ask in the most nonsubtle way you can, you hold your own waist and ask like he was a teenager throwing a rude tantrum, “What was that?”

“What?” Jeonghan asks taking his time to take off his jewelry, watch the first thing, and later necklace, if he had any bracelet would be the third step of his routine.

“The whole Seungcheol marriage thing?”

“Well, you don’t have to deal with him drunk every Friday night telling you how overwhelmed and how he feels trapped since they set the wedding date,” Jeonghan says shrugging. 

“You told me he was going on and on about how great marriage is,” you say sitting on the bed, trying to understand all the things you apparently didn't know about Jeonghan and Seungcheol.

“Yeah, he has his own list of cons in his note app," Jeonghan huffs, "every time he thinks about calling it off, I think I just memorized it because he reads more than once a day”

“Fuck,” you say in a breath. In your own mind, Seungcheol not even once doubted his choice to get married, not even once seemed unsure of his decision.

“I was the one that said Vegas," Jeonghan says sitting on your side, both of you looking at the widow that faces a fucking parking lot, "I thought that he would get drunk enough to actually mess everything up because he can’t do sober, and by mess everything up I mean breaking up with his crazy girlfriend."

“Yeah, still, you didn’t need to be a fucking asshole,” you say seriously this time trying to face him.

“Well, I panicked ok?" Jeonghan finally breaks, "I wasn’t going to tell that man who is having a daily mental breakdown that we married in fucking Vegas.”

“I mean, I don't know about you but I think your friendship with Seungcheol is more important than being lectured because you married in Vegas, Hannie,” you tell him softly, patting his thigh.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, letting his hand on top of yours, “I guess I can't be gracious always,” he says with a sad smile.

“I know you are stressed out," You say calmly, "but you lashed out at Seungcheol and it wasn't great,”

“The fuck you are defending him for?” Jeonghan says standing up and pretending he is searching for something in that damn room.

“Are you serious?”

“What?" Jeonghan chuckles, "he can go on and on about how I am a commitment-phobe type of guy who is fucked up enough to not have a fiancée like him and it is all good and fun and games? But when I call out his fucking weird relationship I am the bad guy?”

“Jeonghan,” You try but before you can even finish he cuts you.

“No, don't Jeonghan me, the fuck,” he retorted, “you have the excuse of not knowing because I don't tell you, you could think I am an asshole and a horrible boyfriend because every time someone breaks up with me even though I am a great catch,” he laughs bitterly, “You can do that, Seungcheol can't do that, he doesn't have an excuse, he knows why.”

“I never ever think about you like that,” you say sincerely because it is the truth, never once have you thought about Jeonghan being afraid of commitment or being a shit asshole. You always thought about how every girlfriend of his always looked and sounded more in love with him than the other way around, but that wasn't exactly a character flaw.

“I know,” he says already sounding exhausted.

“No I don't think you do,” you say sternly, “like it never crossed my mind really, I always thought about how they were crazy for letting you go, so what you don't want to marry someone? the fuck you can still have a great life and a great relationship with someone without a ring, and I know you are capable of it," and to your own ears you sound almost bitter, how they could be so dumb? To have a chance to have Jeonghan and let him go? “You have always been there for me, you never once wavered, I have no reason to ever think of you in that light and I don't think Seungcheol is being fair, he wasn't, but he is getting married in three weeks Han.”

“Yeah and I am telling him his girlfriend has been a freak since week two when she threw a fit because she was jealous of you,” Jeonghan says shocking you, "because according to her own crazy brain, you are way too close to men so who knows what you will do when she turns her back."

“Of me?” You say pointing at yourself, “Damn, she is crazy."

“That’s what I am trying to tell him, and he isn't fuck listening I guess.”

The whole afternoon you think about Jeonghan.

You think about him when he is lying in the bed on his cellphone, and you continuously think about him when you find him napping in the same bed. You think about everything you don't know about your friend, and you think about everything he doesn’t share with you, that he chooses not to. And you know every single human has secrets, and there are things Jeonghan doesn't know about you too. But knowing that it is one thing, dealing with the emotions that come with it is another thing altogether. Why he would not tell you? Why he would tell Seungcheol?

Those questions live in your brain, rattling and making sounds every time they crash against your skull. You think about your friendship as well. Jeonghan was always there for you. He was there when you had your first heartbreak in the third year of high school, he was there when Mark broke up with you in college, and he was there every step of the way. He was there when you were sick, he was there when your favorite auntie died, he was there when you were panicking before your first job interview, he was there. You just couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that someone would call a man like that a commitment phobe or break up with him.

And what he said was true in some way, Jeonghan never broke up with anyone, he was always the one who was dumped and weirdly okay with it. Every time you talked about someone who didn't know Jeonghan you always painted him as the perfect guy, and it was true - he had a great job and his bank account was crazy even though he worked to the capital devil, he was someone who ha they shit together too, he helped his parent, he helped his friend, his house was never messy.

Every time you broke up with someone you talked about how you wanted a guy just like Jeonghan, nice and fun, but also low maintenance in a way, someone you could just comfortable be being with, without having to try too hard and do too much. And every time you met someone new, you always trusted Jeonghan's opinion, if he vetoed someone he had his reasons, like the weird guy that two months later was on the news because he emptied someone's bank account because they let their bank account info saved on the computer or something like that.

If you thought about it - really being married to Jeonghan was not even close to the worst thing that happened to you. Founding a dead rat once in the subway was worse, or that time when you found out that your roommate left the door open for weeks before you just never went to sleep before her just so you could make sure to close the door, and 95% of the time she didn't close the fucking door, that was worse than being married to Jeonghan.

“The fuck?” Jeonghan groans.

“What?”

“Apparently I messaged my account manager our marriage certificate asking if he could officialize the house-buying proposal, and apparently the bank green flaged it? The owner needs to accept the proposal of course, and it may take a while but-" Jeonghan stops halfway, almost like zooming out, staring at the wall ahead of him.

“I guess you are soon to be a house owner?” You question bringing Jeonghan back to reality.

“No, no-"

“Seriously if it is something that is helping you I don't mind, we can come back to Vegas a few weeks after the deal to annul it I looked up online it is not that hard we just need the documentation and the wedding certificate so," and it was true - you did research how to deal with the whole thing, it seemed easy, maybe that's why they actually let people marry crazy drunk, so they can pay to annul it and the city double the revenue, apparently crazy amount of drinking and casinos were not paying the bill.

“About that,” Jeonghan says, his hands tugging the sides of his hair.

“About what?” You ask.

"The wedding certificate,” he says, finally looking at you, his eyes big and still puffy because of his nap, “I think, I mean- I am pretty sure it is shredded with the receipt and invoice."

“What the fuck Jeonghan?” You shout, oh man, you are going to kill this man. The image is already on your head - jumping on that very same bed like a crazy woman and kicking him before you just kill him with your bare hands.

“I know,” he says almost in a grunt, laying down like a starfish.

“Why did you shred everything up for god's sake," you say almost stopping on the floor.

“I don't know okay?" Jeonghan says, sitting on the bed now, his cellphone forgotten, "Why did we marry? Can you answer that?”

“OOh," you huff, "We did get married, but I am soon to be a window if I don't kill in the next five minutes I swear to god”

“Wait, what changed if it is helping me?” Jeonghan says, back to his mischievous self, with a small smile across his face almost finding endearing the way that you try to threaten his life.

“You are making everything argh-” You are losing your damn mind and if you end up crazy it is Jeonghan's fault, now that he is indeed your husband has another tingle to you like a thriller movie, but you are afraid you are in your own Cameron Diaz Ashton Kutcher low budget 00's movie. Maybe you should take the whole thriller movie, it seems, weirdly, less weird. "First we cannot return this ring now I have to find someone who wants to buy it without documentation so everyone will think this shit is totally fake, I mean I would too, don't get me wrong I wouldn't trust myself either with this jewelry," you go off - almost missing the point, rambling really, before you get back to the point, "now we need to find a second copy of this certificate I swear to god we could just go to the nearest courtroom and annul the wedding I googled it." 

"I already told you you can keep the ring," Jeonghan says - voice low in contrast to your high-pitched complaints.

"Why would I keep this ring Jeonghan?" You question, it sounds weird in your own ears.

The truth is, you did love the ring, it is a beautiful ring but the truth is - you can't keep it. It shouldn't be yours to keep. It should go to someone Jeonghan wants to actually marry, even though you can't bring yourself to take it off your finger, even though you didn't even try to take it off after this morning.

And a breath almost gets locked in your throat. Why? You think, and deep down you know you have your answer but you just shove everything down when you hear Jeonghan's voice, "Well If you sell it I won't take the money."

"I can just pour it into my savings accounts," you say petulantly.

"The fuck," Jeonghan bites back.

"What? You said you didn't want it so I can keep the money," You try your best to sound even close to someone somewhat rational in this matter.

"It is a present you can't sell a present," Jeonghan though, never has a problem looking like he is saying the most rational thing ever even when it doesn't make any sense.

"I totally can," you bite back trying to hold your ground just out of pure spite. He didn't accept that cursed ring which is not even supposed to be yours why the hell he is making such a big deal of you selling or throwing it in the sea?

"You can't," Jeonghan says again, and you think back to your friendship and a lot of times it was like that - a lot of things without proper explanations.

"Why not?" So you just hold your ground - again, he will not win this one, this time he will have to explain.

"Because it is a present I picked up for you. I actually thought about it, I mean before drinking buying apparently, but I thought it would suit you" Jeonghan says, "Just don't sell, if you don't want to use it okay fine but just, just don't sell it, don't hurt a man's pride like that,"

You want to try again - to say you will sell this damn ring if you go to the store and it can't be returned, and you want to say you will throw it on the nearest river because Las Vegas is indeed very far from the sea. You want to push him until he says okay I take the damn ring and I will hold onto it and pass it through generations. But when Jeonghan speaks and he sounds so tired and so hurt you just give up and lock yourself in the bathroom pretending to take a shower before leaving this hellhole of a place.

You look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself how the hell everything happened in such a short amount of time. A marriage, a fight, a ring that makes you go crazy. Maybe you are closer to having a breakdown, maybe it is the time to face things that you are trying to keep hidden under the rug. You think that maybe it is time to just downpour everything.

But like always, you don't. You bottle everything up and pretend that everything is fine.

The last few days in Vegas have been less eventful, thanks God. Jeonghan and you go to weird restaurants and for a walk around the town, and you think about how you got married in the city of Sins.

At least it is fitting to think that pride and wrath have something to do with your own stay in this city.

You often think about Seungcheol, sending him and Seokmin a message or two, or a total of 15. Seokmin answers you, Seungcheol doesn't. And you need to hold yourself back when you type down a fuck you but don't send. You try to pry on Jeonghan's end too, but after the third time that he just doesn't answer you with words but just a cold stare you just let it go. Maybe that's why Seungcheol and Jeonghan have been friends for so long - pieces of the same cloth.

The flight back is not that tricky but at the same time when Jeonghan drops you out at your door, you are ready for a 30 minutes shower and drop dead for a whole week. When you open the door you are glad that your roommate at least remembered to close and lock the door. Character development you think, maybe she is getting better, maybe you don't need to actually move into Jeonghan's house as a safety precaution. But something doesn't seem quite right - there is a new sofa in the living room, which isn't exactly a problem, really, your sofa kinda sucked. But when you look again, you understand what is missing.

No, she didn't, she would not be that crazy. You refuse to believe that. You left all your luggage in the middle of the living room and ran to your bed, maybe she put the side table there, of course, maybe she just moved because the new sofa seems bigger. But there is nothing that resembles the side table in your room, so you try again - her room now, still nothing.

You send a message.

You try to call.

So you try the next best thing - call Jeonghan so he can calm you down. He doesn't pick up.  You sit on the floor, right beside your luggage, and you refuse to sit down on that sofa, it is pretty it seems comfortable but now is the object that you hate the most. You would prefer, I don't know, to take part in a scientific experiment that might fuck up your brain function than sit down on that thing.

The concept of time and space is a funny thing you think when you lose count of how many minutes or hours you have been staring at the door, it has been probably a long time. Until your roommate opens the door with a big guy by her side, great, all that you needed was an audience for your lash out.

"Oh," she says, big guy with his big hands on her hips and he knows he is not getting laid today, because he sees you and he gets so upright he seems like a fucking power pole, "I didn't know you would be back today."

"Laurel, darling, where is my side table?" You ask without beating around the bush.

"Oh right," she says letting her keys on the counter without fucking locking the door you have never been closer to a have a fucking stroke, you can feel your blood pressure rising, "the sofa was a bit bigger, you know I told you I was thinking about changing and this was on discount, but the table didn't really had a place in the room anymore so I put on marketplace a cute girl come up to pick in the same day, great right?"

You blink once, twice, and the words don't even come, you are so astonished that you are left speechless. Maybe you could get over the unsaid desire of getting murdered by a serial killer, and maybe you could get over the leftover food on the counter, and you could even get over the whole singing in the shower when you are fucking tone-deaf really.

But that. That was one thing you could never get over.

"Are you fucking insane? Are you fucking crazy?" You ask, the big guy taking a step back, "Or do you just have fun being the most self-centered bitch in this part of the country?"

"What the fuck?" She says, and oh god, you want to jump on her bones, you want to leave this woman bald.

"Did you ask Laurel?" You ask again, remaining sitting on the floor because if you pick yourself up you are probably no longer be a first-time offender. "Did you ever think about asking if you could sell, give or even create a fucking bonfire with the wood of my deceased auntie's side table? Did you fucking asked?"

"Oh I didn't know," she says simply. You feel the tears streaming down your face and you don't actually know if it is because of sadness or anger.

"So funny Laurel because I don't even fucking know how you function like a human being because your brain is so fucking empty of common sense really," you bristled, finally getting up and picking up your big backup, "Look I don't know how I don't care really, it is up to you, but you get my table back in perfect state, and you will pay this month rent fully because I am not living with you I would prefer Satan as my roommate really, and you may as well find another roommate because I will not move a muscle to put someone inside this apartment," You say moving past Laurel and the crazy big guy, "and by the way Laurel? I would fucking lock the door today you don't really think about how many insane people leave in this world."

You say finally get out of the apartment.

You don't really stop walking because you are afraid you will just fall on the ground, crying in the middle of the street in the fetal position, not really a pretty picture. You know Jeonghan's house is not really far, a twenty minute walk. You wish you had an epiphany when you see yourself at his door, a moment to say 'wow why am I here?'. But you know yourself enough to know why, you know Jeonghan enough to know why you are at his door.

You know Jeonghan will open the door for you, and you hope deep down that he will hunt Laurel-the-sattan-spit-roommate down.

When Jeonghan opens the door, he looks puzzled, his face shows that he is trying to understand what is happening. You are sure he was ready to say that he didn't order something and to check on his neighbor.

"What happened?" Jeonghan asks when he sees you on his door instead of a lost delivery guy.

"Laurel," you say, and before having the chance to say anything else, you already feel the pain, you don't want to cry but you end up doing that nonetheless. You even hiccup once or twice before you feel Jeonghan's arms against you, enveloping you, making you feel safe.

"What did she do?" Jeonghan tries again, one of his hands still around you, while the other cradles your head, his hand softly stroking your head.

"She sold my side table," you say, still hiccuping your way through the sentence and you feel so fucking dumb, crying in Jeonghan's arms, and you feel Jeonghan's body goes completely rigid before he holds your face in his hands and you almost flinch because you cannot face that man in this state, and second, his hands are cold.

"She sold your side table?" He asks and you just nod, it is the only thing you can do, "The side table?" He tries again just to receive the same reaction, his hands wrap around you, but this time he hugs you tighter, your head smashed against his chest and somehow you find a resemblance of comfort.

Jeonghan takes you to the kitchen, and when you feel his arms release you, you just sink to the ground, your back to the cabinets. Jeonghan hands you a cup of water, and hugs you again, his hands rubbing your back like you are some kind of a toddler, and that alone makes you sniff even more. That motion alone takes you back to your college days when you went back home to your auntie's funeral - Jeonghan drove the whole way, and the only sound inside the car was you crying. Back then you didn't know that Jeonghan lost an important exam so he could drive you back home, later when he was pilled with an ungodly amount of work and told you he needed to do an extra project so he didn't fluke his class you cried all over again - part of it because you felt guilty, part of it was because it was Jeonghan, and you could count on him for anything.

And here he was, years later taking care of you again. You never doubt he would, that alone - the certainty that Jeonghan is in your life should scare you, but it never did. Not now, and not even back in college when Seungcheol joked about every time a new girl showed up alongside Jeonghan. Somehow you knew that Jeonghan would be there if you needed him, if you ever shouted that man would run leaps. The thing was, Jeonghan never told you anything remotely close to make you believe that, he never promised you anything, but Jeonghan actions always reassured you that no matter what, he would be there if you needed him the most.

You think about it how - weirdly - you were never in that position, how you never once was that person to Jeonghan, the person that reassure Jeonghan or be someone he could lean on. There is a deep down desire that you don't quite acknowledge over the years - that you want to be someone important to Jeonghan. Someone as important as Jeonghan is to you.

When you feel you can finally breathe you get out of Jeonghan's hold to go to the bathroom, in a way searching a way to escape your own feelings and thoughts, pretending you just need to wash your face. When you return to the kitchen, Jeonghan is in the same place, sitting on the floor staring at his own hands. Now, calmer, you take the whole scene of the kitchen; the single glass of wine on the counter, the open bottle, Jeonghan's cellphone, and his notebook.

“Were you drinking?” You ask after a while, sitting on his sides and copying his positions - legs stretched and back flushed against the cabinets. The hiccups are still there but they’re less frequent now, and you can finally breathe on your own.

“Yeah I was,” Jeonghan says, stretching his legs and looking at his feet cladded with old socks.

Jeonghan thinks about the minutes before you arrived, how he was just scrolling on his phone and drinking alone because his mood was so dreadful that he didn't want to make anyone suffer in his company. The only person he would subject to a vent session was Seungcheol, so drinking alone was the only answer. The truth is plain and simple really - Jeonghan has been feeling miserable for quite some time now, mainly because even though it pays extremely well his job sucks. He works for and with shitty people, but it pays well, so that should be enough - why it isn't? But all of that seems so fucking small against the feeling of you losing the last physical thing of someone you loved, someone who was so important to you.

“Why were you drinking alone Jeonghan?” You ask, giving his thigh little taps but still looking ahead - you see yourself in the mirror, you are so swollen you can't face the man like that.

“I,” Jeonghan ponders, thinking about if it is the right time to just go on a tangent about how he works sucks, how his best friend isn't talking to him, and how he wants to go back to his high schooler self and just start everything over, even if he fucks everything over is way better than this gray area that he is stuck on. “We can talk about me another time,”

“Just," You breathe deeply, your head almost knocking against the counter door, "do it for me then,” you tell him softly, almost pleading, “tell me so I can take my mind off this shit.”

“I think,” Jeonghan says, “no, scratch that,” he laughs dryly, “I am sure that I am fucking miserable,” he looks at you waiting for your reaction, “and I’ve been miserable for a while, I just fucking hate everything,”

“Han-” you try to say, and you almost feel like you don't have tears anymore, but if you could physically cry you would.

“I am not depressed, don’t worry, I just,” he trails off, “I hate that fucking job and if I have to spend another year there I would probably kill a rich guy, I have a few investments, and I have savings, and I-”

“You should buy the house,” You blurt out, remembering Jeonghan's eyes looking at the pictures of the house.

“What?” Jeonghan says almost choking on nothing.

“You should buy the house, just give me one room and I will pay rent, we can share utilities and food, and then you can quit,” you declared like it was something people just do on a whim, like you are not even having a stroke just thinking about the process of ending your lease contract, but the sky can open you are not sharing another day in that apartment.

“Not a great deal when I have a fucking loan on my name,” Jeonghan bemused, almost laughing at your non-sense.

“Just don’t tell the bank,” you shrug.

“Well,” Jeonghan says, almost like he is trying to assess the situation, see how everything could plan out from different angles.

“Come on, tell me,” You say finally caving into your curiosity, poking Jeonghan with your elbow.

“Tell you what?” Jeonghan asks but you can feel the playful tone in his voice, almost a childlike wonder of being caught doing something he shouldn't do.

“What is the plan?” You whisper - you don't know why but this whole thing seems like a secret, like something Jeonghan doesn't want to see the light of day yet, something he has been keeping under wraps.

“What plan?”

“I know you Jeonghan," You say finally looking at him, a small smile still stretched across his face, "I have known you for quite a while, come on, don’t underestimate me,”

“What are you talking about?” Jeonghan says playing the fool but the smile is still there, making you probe a little bit more.

“I know you, you would never think about quitting without a black plan besides having a few savings and weird investments, tell me,” You almost pleaded, turning your body to him, your hands on his thighs supporting your own weight on him. And you know you need to bring out the big guns - the begging eyes, almost laughing at yourself.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan laughs at you, his head tilting back and all, like you are the most amusing creature ever.

“Come on,” you urge, using your hands on his leg to almost shake him.

“It is not a plan, it is a desire,” he begins, “I’m thinking about sitting down and doing a few design classes, it can be online but,”

“No-” You say surprised, your smile big across your face because you know where this is going.

“Maybe,” he says still leaning on the counter, eyes closed and that infuriating smile still on.

“You can totally do it,” you tell him almost jumping on your place.

“It is not a plan yet,” he explains, in a vain attempt to make you tone down your excitement, but every time he looks at you he thinks he can give you that, soothe your pain with his dreams and hopes that won't really get out of paper. At least today he can do that for you.

“I can help you,” you say, finally changing positions and sitting almost by his feet, facing him, Jeonghan's hand on your ankle.

“How can you help me?” He asks you, squeezing your ankle and you pretend you are going to kick him, but he just holds your ankle and puts it on his lap.

“We can do it,” you say completely seriously because you truly believe he can do it, achieving his teenage dream job. “You know me, I am an army general, I have discipline, and I love a good worksheet, I am an editor,"

“What you being an editor has to do with it?” Jeonghan says while he tickles your feet, making you almost jerk.

"Stop that," you say using your other to nudge him, "I did a few children's books mind you,” you say, using your free hand to pinch Jeonghan's feet in the form of a threat, “I know how to promote things, I know how to deal with due dates and with manufacturers, you just need to sit down after lunch watch your boring ass class like a college student and hand your resignation letter,”

“It is not something that will actually work and be profitable,” Jeonghan huffs.

“Jeonghan, be honest with me,” you say, this time in a more serious tone.

“Okay,” He says, hands leaving your feet and closing together on his stomach.

“Would you ever take that leap with you couldn’t live till 90 years old with the money you have on the back?” You joke, breaking him in half, his laughter resonating in the kitchen.

“No?” He jokes back.

“We are doing it,” you say like his opinion in his own laugh and plans don't actually matter that much, but Jeonghan just smiles back at you - sometimes, he thinks about how you are the only one who can actually match his insanity, the only one that goes with his plan, or come up with even weird ones.

And Jeonghan knows he is fucked, because every time he thinks he can’t love you more you show him that love grows and expands beyond borders. Lately, Jeonghan favorite song is My Love Mine All Mine, and when he looks at you, in his kitchen, face still swollen and red from crying Mitski sings in his ear - Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine Nothing in the world is mine for free But my love, mine, all mine, all mine. It resonates with him, the fact that his love for you is his to carry. And this alone makes Jeonghan happy in a weird way, because he knows how much love you deserve, and he is happy that he is the one that loves you, and he loves you for free.

Even though Jeonghan knows you don’t love him like he does love you he thinks about how you are the only person that is always there for him. Everyone that he knows would make Jeonghan just let it go. Why the fuck he would build a business around children’s toys? Why would he resign and leave a great career that gives enough money and intel to just go around and draw a few rabbits and frogs on a page? Just because of joy? Jeonghan always knew that joy alone could not make you survive on this earth.

But yet you were doing just that. Telling him to drop everything and just try to be happy. Right now Jeonghan could drop on his knee and ask you to marry him if you weren’t legally married and if he wasn’t a fucking coward. Sometimes he hates himself for that, the way he holds onto something he knows it is not quite enough but it is the only thing he can have.

Jeonghan thinks about- everything really, but mostly how joyful you are in your own way. How you would buy sweet treats just for the sake of it, how you had every single first copy of the books you worked on even if they were beaten in the process and almost unreadable. He thinks about the first time you showed up on his door, a big book in hands and a smile across your face, buzzing full of pride because it was your first fucking book and your boss give you one in the very first batch - back then you were just the one that did the toughest job, reviewing everything.

Jeonghan knows he loves you, he knows for quite a while.

Jeonghan knew before the first girlfriend dumped him because he was jealous of you. When his third girlfriend asked him if he liked you he couldn’t even lie, when his fifth girlfriend broke up and for the fifth time, the reason was you he just stopped trying dates altogether.

Jeonghan doesn't remember much of the marriage itself, he remembers bits and pieces of an Elton John in a 70's costume and how the chapel was way hotter, making Jeonghan's armpits wet, not a great look for a groom. But he remembers everything before that - in a less hazed lens. He remembers telling you in the hotel bar how he loved you for quite a while now, and how you looked so shocked - telling him he should quit lying. He swore on his first dog's grave, weirdly that made you believe him. He told you how he hated Mark - your college boyfriend that literature guy who gave you poems that you still keep as presents, he remembers you saying how you would keep every post-it note if Jeonghan wrote them in the future. It was a promise, you said holding your pinkie finger out for him. He remembers buying you the ring, you outside the store because he knew you would think that the chosen ring was too much, too big, too expensive, any ring will do it you told him before letting him inside, but he couldn't do it, he could only choose the prettiest ring for the prettiest girl. 

Jeonghan remembers his vow, promising he would take care of you, that he would write love letters for the rest of his life on every special date because you hated presents. And Jeonghan remembers how you two kissed in the chapel, on the uber back to the hotel, in the hotel room - more than you should have, because now it is the only thing he can think about it and you don't fuck remember. Jeonghan thought about running, about changing cities and even country - investments were pretty much the same everywhere in the world really. But the reality was that even if he moved, his love was still his to keep, and he would do that heartedly. He was a coward, but he still had his pride, and if that was the price to pay, then, be It.

“Hey, come here,” He says, finally lifting himself off the ground.

“What?” You ask, looking at him still sitting on the floor.

“Come here,” He says again, giving his hands so you can get up.

“What? You are weird what is going on,” you say finally getting up on your feet.

“Come here,” Jeonghan says and before you approach him his arms are already by your side, enveloping you in a thigh hug. “Thank you,” he says softly, “thank you for everything really,”

“Are you drunk Yoon Jeonghan?” you ask, your own voice muffled by the tight embrace.

“No,” Jeonghan laughs, and you can feel his whole body move, “I’m serious, thank you for being there for me even when you have shit on your own to deal with,” He says, his chin on top of your head, “and thank you for not thinking I am a commitment phobic asshole.”

“You are still on that? I told you I never saw you like that stop being dumb."

“I know, I am just-” Jeonghan doesn't finish his sentence, his arms still around you, his heart beating by your ear.

“Look you are drunk, at least there is nothing much we can fuck up being drunk together after getting married in Vegas," you say and Jeonghan feels a pang, almost like when he stubs his little finger on the corner of random furniture, but he doesn't say anything, "give me a sip of your wine you asshole,” you say getting free of his embrace and holding the bottle of wine

“Come on! Don’t drink it straight from the bottle, there is a glass right there!” Jeonghan protested.

“Come on Yoon Jeonghan, I know you, I know you since you didn’t have enough cups in your first kitchen, don't play the proper guy with me,” you say like basic manners don't exist, and sitting on his counter.

“I grow up I am an adult now,” Jeonghan says, but he doesn't really move a muscle to pick another glass of wine for you, he thinks it is his biggest flaw - the fact that you can walk over him countless times and Yoon Jeonghan will just let you do whatever you want even if he pretends that it is against his will.

“Oh, totally,” You look at him, and even though the phrase itself has a bite to it your voice is honest, “Not to go back to sappy times, but you really did Hannie, you are really growing so much, and I am so proud of you,”

"Shhhh-” Jeonghan murmurs trying to shut you up and you know it is mainly because he is so fucking shy that you almost laugh.

“By the way,” You say taking another sip from the bottle. “I’m so moving in with you and I can even deal with only one room if you don’t sell any of my stuff.”

“Shut up,” Jeonghan says kissing the top of your head, “you can have the whole house, just don’t set it on fire.”

Ultimately, that actually happens.

You actually move with Jeonghan into his dream house. The house is 98% bare, without the furniture of the last owner besides the utilities. But a) it is better than living with your satan-spit roommate, b) Jeonghan has been sleeping on his own couch for over two weeks now because even though you say it is okay you can't spend that time in your own apartment he refuses to let you near Laurel.

But somehow, Jeonghan and you make a home out of the new house. You take the bookshelves on the left, all the books you edited in your lifetime on a special shelf right in your point of view. Jeonghan takes the bookshelves on the right, a lot of the books you edited and gifted him are scattered across it because he doesn’t really care about arranging his shelves in a particular order.

Every time Jeonghan sees a nice piece of furniture he sends you a picture of it, and you two chat about if it fits the room, and the colors would clash. In a weird way your collection of cups and mugs triples the size, indeed you are engrossed with buying new ones, but the thing is - you always pick two of them now. Jeonghan’s favorite is a weird bunny mug that you never actually use because it ears always make drinking anything impractical.

You two also build a weirdly oiled routine. You two eat breakfast together, Jeonghan wakes up early and when he is just arriving for his morning run you are already scrabbling eggs. When Jeonghan is ready for work you are ready for your own run. When Jeonghan arrives from work you still have one hour to go, so in the end he is the one to always cook dinner. After you two share the dishes and eat something sweet as the dessert the kitchen counter - previously used as a dinner table, now acts an officer table.

While Jeonghan looks up some designer classes, you search manufacturers. When he draws a cute rabbit girl that he named Ttoram, you try to understand how a business works, how you file taxes for it? Sometimes Jeonghan does the dirty work himself after he finishes a new version so you get your pink glittery pen and write in post-it what you think about the new product; ‘what is this material arrow-drawing pointing to a specific part of a squish toy’, ‘her head seems big are you sure she won't flop head first in someone’s bed?’, ‘are you sure? I think lamps are quite expensive.

The house gets filled with new art supplies, sometimes Jeonghan orders a bunch of them online, and sometimes you are the one that brings back a single pen or a new colored pencil that you pick up in arts stories every time you go to a meeting. The house is filled with paper and drawings, your favorite ones is always the first drafts - the ones that Jeonghan does on the non-quality paper, the ones that he does on pieces of paper, the ones that look less refined and to you are filled with children-like joy.

Another curious thing is how somehow you and Jeonghan seemed very addicted to post-it. Besides the practical use in the drawing drafts because Jeonghan was an old soul who couldn’t do his work on an Ipad like a normal human being in this day and age, you also used to communicate - ‘please buy eggs!’ you wrote and left on the kitchen door, ‘already set a reminder on my phone so i don’t forget to stop at the market!’ jeonghan replied. “Didn’t see u before I left :( don’t forget to take breaks” he wrote, somehow the post-it ended up in your office, and you glued it on the computer screen beside one green post-it with a frog with a raincoat on.

Every time the fridge was out of space for new ones you took them off one by one, with a smile on your face, and kept them in a box, safely stored. You always noticed one or two missing but you always thought the wind knocked them out and Jeonghan, that traitor, threw them in the garbage. In short, everything stayed the same with a daily dose of domestic life. The problem was - that it didn’t stay the same for very long.

And as hard as it was to admit, it was your fault.

There was no way around it.

It weirdly began every time you saw Jeonghan around the stove. The fact that Jeonghan was beautiful-handsome-pretty was not news to you. You, and every human being that laid eyes on him, always reached the point where you acknowledged how pretty Jeonghan was. In college it was a fucking nightmare, guys and girls banging on his dorm room when you two were watching a movie just because they thought Jeonghan was alone - the fact that he didn’t have a roommate because he bribed someone (one of the most Jeonghan acts that you ever witnessed, but that was beside the point - really) only added to the fact that 87% of his course thought he was down to bang anytime. The truth was that you always knew that Jeonghan was someone objectively good-looking, but there was a catch, even though Jeonghan was beautiful you didn’t really feel attracted to him and he knew that. Countless times you told him he was too pretty for his own good along with the lines that he wasn’t your type, ‘what the fuck that supposed to mean’ he answered the first time you said that, back in high school. With time it turned out to be your standard answer to every girl that was attracted to him and wanted a shot with him but somehow thought he was your boyfriend.

You know that Jeonghan is good-looking, and you know that for fucking years so why are you going a little insane every time you get in the kitchen and the man is cutting some onions? Truly it happens in the weirdest hours, out of nowhere, your brain reminds you how hot Jeonghan is - and that is even scarier because you knew that the man was handsome, but hot? That’s a new development. Once he arrived from his morning run, his hair a little damp, sweat dripping down his neck, and only with a thigh shirt because he already removed his go-to wind-breaker and you almost collapsed on the kitchen floor. That alone was mind-blowing.

The horrors begin when you just couldn’t deal with his touch without your mind going to the fucking gutter. When he touched your hips to make your move because he wanted to open a drawer, or when he dropped down on the sofa without leaving space between your bodies, his hand tapping your thigh. Out of nowhere, you are combusting because his hand feels hot against your skin, goosebumps appearing across your skin Jeonghan asks you if you are cold. And the fact that Jeonghan is touching you isn't necessarily super weird, he always did that, but somehow you feel that his touches changed and you can't quite pinpoint how besides the fact that you are reacting differently.

It doesn't really help your case that Jeonghan develops a weird habit of wrapping his arm around your neck. It happens everywhere, even in public and every time you can feel yourself grow a little hotter. You were supposed to pay attention to Minghao’s new paintings, a designer slash illustrator slash painter whom you worked with for a few book covers, and somehow in the middle of the opening of his new exposition, you can’t even think about the impasto on his oil paintings because Jeonghan hands feels heavy on your neck, his fingers touching the lateral of it almost rubbing. Every time you take a step to try to see the paintings up close Jeonghan doesn’t let you leave his hold, his body close enough to be pressed against your back, half of your back feeling hot because of his presence, half of it feeling cold because of his absence.

“Hao!” You say when you finally see the man of the hour, black hair on black coats, his hands behind his back looking around all the people that came just to appreciate his work.

“Hey,” He says opening his arms for you.

“Congratulations,” you say feeling the arms of Minghao around your back, your body though prefer to pay attention to the weight of Jeonghan’s eyes on you, “everything is mind blowing,” you say to the man - his hands still on your body, yours on his shoulder, until you hear Jeonghan clearing his throat in order to get you to notice his existence, and you almost laugh, “Hao this is Jeonghan, Jeonghan this is Minghao.”

“Great job man,” Jeonghan says in a weird tone, giving Minghao two little pats on the back and taking a step by your side, his hand on your waist.

“Thank you,” Minghao says politely, like he always does, “It is a pleasure to meet you, you are in the book industry too?” Minghao asks with his hands in his pocket,

“No,” Jeonghan almost scoffs, him? and books? God forbid, “I work with investment these type of things,”

“Oh, so you are not in the art business then,” Minghao acknowledges and you know his interest peaked even though you don't know why, maybe because you know Jeonghan so well you don't have much to unfold, while Minghao just seems weirded out by the fact that you have a Wall Street dude by your side.

“Oh Hao you always flatter me when you include me in the art business,” you say jokingly, reminiscing one of the many conversations you had with Minghao over a bottle of wine.

“I told you," a sly smile across his face, "books are a matter of passion.”

“You did,” you say somewhat reminiscing of the talk you two had back then. It was after calling him up for his second cover, after a meeting where he made you go through the book's motifs and ideas so he could have a feeling of what he should focus on.

“You should come to the after party,” Minghao says, “we could catch up,”

“Yeah I don’t think we can,” Jeonghan says while he checks his watch, he knows the question wasn't directed to him, he isn't stupid and he has two eyes, but he also is a stubborn motherfucker and now he just wants to ruin Minghao's night, and he is not about to Banksy this place up with shredded art pieces - because he is afraid his bank account can't take the lawsuit. “I have a work meeting tomorrow morning” Jeonghan reminds you, his fingers still on your waist.

“Still,” Minghao says, looking puzzled by you two, “you can stay right?”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” you say sorry “Han is driving us back so-”

“Is your phone number still the same?” Minghao asks without dropping a beat, and Jeonghan can give him that, he doesn't know Minghao but the guy just doesn't quit - he knows a stubborn guy when he sees one.

“Yeah, I didn’t change, but if you need you can e-mail me and-” You say before someone calls Minghao, it is his opening after all, a guy in the suit makes a gesture to him when the three of you look to see who was the owner of the voice.

“Sorry, I have to go, but I will call you," He says before giving you a kiss on the cheeks and walking to the guy who just called him.

Jeonghan snorts, really, what was that? He shouldn't find it so funny but it is. He takes a step back, his hands leaving you, while he looks at the painting. You know he is just pretending to analyze everything.

“What?” You ask him - missing his hand on your waist, on your neck, missing his presence around you.

“Nothing,” he says shaking his head, he is biting back a smile - laughter really, and you want to know what it is so funny, you are curious about what is going on in his head.

“It can’t be nothing come on,” you press on, your hand on his shoulder in a way to get some sort of touch from him, to regain some sort of proximity.

“Just-” Jeonghan stops, in front of another painting, his hand going back to your waist, and at the same time you think you can finally breathe again, your breath feels trapped in your throat, making you swallow on nothing, “You didn’t tell me it was an opening night to your ex-fling," he says. Eyes almost tinkling under the light and you know where this is going.

“Hao isn’t my ex fling what are you talking about?” You pretend, trying to get out of this situation because you know somehow Jeonghan will pry on, and he knows how to push your buttons enough just so you can spill everything he wants to know.

“Not fling then," Jeonghan says, hand still on your waist when he starts walking around the gallery with you by his side, until another painting that he really doesn't really care about, "an one night stand.”

“He is a friend," almost rolling your eyes at him, "I told you, I know him because of work,”

“So you are telling me you guys didn’t fuck?” And even though his words my seem harsh his tone is still light - he was truly a jerk but why are you smiling at him?

“Jeonghan, what the fuck?” You yelped, making Jeonghan's sly smile appear again.

“What?” He asks eyes still on you when you pretend to pay attention to the orange painting in front of you.

“Keep your voice low,” you mouthed, “we didn’t fuck,” you tell him again, and it was the truth, but somehow Jeonghan knew how to read between your words.

“Well,” he began, still looking at you even when he tilted his head to the side, a sly smile still on his face like he could see through you like you couldn't keep anything under wraps, and you could feel the goosebumps on the nape of your neck, your whole body tingling, “I am pretty sure it wasn’t for lacking trying on his part.”

“It would be too messy,” you finally blurt it out.

“Ah of course," Jeonghan laughs again and it almost sounds bitter to you, "so he did try, it was after or before saying the book and passion line?”

“After,” you say, your time to laugh, even though you feel the heat on your skin, a crazy addition to new feels because you are not one to actually feel shy around Jeonghan.

“And you laid him down too gently,” he acknowledges, eyes moving through the room again. You follow his gaze, seeing Minghao watching the both of you across the room, you just greet him with a smile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask him, pressing your body on his sides until his arms are back on you.

“Well," Jeonghan breathes, his eyes still rummaging around the room, "I know you can break a guy's heart but apparently you lost your touch with that one because he is still down to fuck.”

“Jeonghan!” You gasped, “No he isn’t you are seeing things like you always do.” You tell him, Jeonghan had this weird superpower that he tuned in college - he could tell a guy was somehow interested in you from miles away, the first few times you actually made a bet on it; fifteen dollars, to pay him for a meal, to go with him to a frat party that his friend Soonyoung was hosting. After the fifth time, you just learned that was better to trust his judgment on it.

“Oh yeah, it truly takes a mind reader to see a guy ogling you across the room and telling you to show up at the after party even tho you have a guy on your arm," Jeonghan almost scoffs, then he leans down, his mouth close to your ear, "truly, his intention was indeed to talk about the impasto or the lighting or the shadow of his hard-on,”

“Jeonghan” you accuse again slapping his arm playfully, laughing at his antics “If I trusted you my ego would be in the clouds because every walking human being apparently wants to fuck me according to you.”

“Not everyone but a great part of it, sure." He deadpans.

“Sure, apparently you are the only exception who else?”

“I’m not,” Jeonghan deadpans again, just shrugging. Because it is not actually something he tried to hide over the years, it is nothing something that he is ashamed of either. And he is pretty sure it is something you already know since college so he doesn't have to lie about it. Jeonghan might be a coward, but he isn't really a liar.

“What?”

“I tried to get in your pants my whole high school years," He says, his eyes still on the painting, or everything that catches his attention, his eyes are everywhere really but on you. "I just gave up after the few first months of college”

“What the hell?” You try again. Everything feels kind of abnormal in your head. The way that Jeonghan says those words - like he is saying that you two should buy soap the next time you both go do groceries, it freaks you out. How can he be so normal about all of that?

And how could you be so clueless? Everything shifts in your brain - like the earth just changed its axes. He never told you anything closer to this, you are sure of it. You never suspected that Jeonghan liked you back then, or scratch that, that he tried to get in your pants. It seems something so unreal that you are having a hard time wrapping your mind around it - around the idea of a teenager and younger Jeonghan wanting something from you that you never really saw happening.

“What the hell what?” Jeonghan stopped dead on his track, finally looking at you, “You didn’t know that?”

“Of course not,” you say exasperated.

“Oh, I thought you were laying me down gently too,” he added, in the most neutral tone possible, making your head spin a little.

“No, I had no idea,” and it is true. You remember everyone from college who thought you and Jeonghan were a couple back then, everyone who found it weird when you two answered that you were just friends. You remember Seokmin, and you think about Seungcheol's words in Vegas and everything is hazed, a little out of focus. “Why did you give up tho?” You ask him.

“I just,” he says still looking forward and avoiding your eyes like the plague, “I mean, besides the fact that you got into he is not my type phase I would never kiss that man, the fact that I tried for four years and it didn’t happen led me to believe that never would, so...”

“I needed to make clear to every girl that was falling and tripping over you that I was not your girlfriend, they were pretty sure we were high school sweethearts back then”

“I think everyone we know somehow ends up thinking we are in a relationship,” he says, “I mean, clearly not goth impasto guy because that would be crazy, hitting on a woman with her husband on her side but”

“You need to pick up your husband's game,” you say kidding, while walking around the gallery with him, “I was indeed mistaken to be a single woman today.”

“I should have bought a bigger ring,” Jeonghan groaned, making you laugh, weirdly you still have the big ring on your finger.

“That’s not the answer,” you groaned because the man truly had this weird obsession with this ring and big rocks. You could tell him over and over again how you didn’t care about the ring or the rocks and he still found a way to make sure you were wearing the ring.

“And what is? If I try to be more territorial within the touch department we would be in jail for public indecency,” Jeonghan says low on your ear, his voice mischievously, while his hand presses on your hips, “Should we just go to jail?” Jeonghan asks, his hands trying to go lower heading towards your butt.

“Jeonghan, don’t test me,” you say seriously, your hand holding his and bringing up on your body. Why the fuck didn’t Jeonghan behave like a proper human being? Why your heart is racing against your ribcage? Why you are enjoying this whole thing?

The whole night you can feel Jeonghan’s hand on you in some way, or on your lower back, your neck, fingers on your shoulder, making his presence known somehow. And every time you think you are starting to understand what happened - what Jeonghan said, what that meant, he touches you again and everything gets a bit hazed, taking you to the start again.  Should you read into everything that he said to you? Would you be able to deal with it?

Those questions are still going around your brain in the car back home. Home, that alone was something that didn't make sense either. The air in the car is so thick that you think you can't breathe, the fact that Jeonghan's hand is splayed against your thigh doesn't help with the issue. The curiosity gets the best of you - you want to know all the unsaid things, you want to get under his skin and discover everything Jeonghan even wanted.

He doesn't move his hand, he doesn't stroke your skin, his hand is just there. Again, a reminder of some sort, and you almost laugh - silly of him to think that his presence could go unnoticed by you. Jeonghan has always been there on your mind, and lately even more. It makes your mouth go dry. The feeling is back on the pit of your stomach again. What if? You ask yourself, what would have happened if Jeonghan said those things back then? Would the present be different? Would that have washed away all the curiosity about Jeonghan?

Arriving home you go straight to the sofa and plop down in the middle seat, taking your time to take off your high heels, you don’t know why but you still buy pairs with ankle ties - the bane of your existence when it is three hours later and you have a thigh dress on, maybe that’s why you think you hate those types of event, even though you had a great time, saw a few friends and enjoyed the night with Jeonghan, you always ended up tired with a few blisters on your feet. You can hear Jeonghan’s footsteps around the house while you massage your feet and try to ease the tension.

You turn your body so you can stretch your legs on the sofa, the pain on your calves is killing you. You don’t even turn when you feel Jeonghan entering the room, his perfume and the sound of his slippers are enough to make his presence known. It was always like that? Did Jeonghan's presence always engulf you? Did it always make you unable to focus on anything else? Did it always make you question your own sanity? He sits down on the sofa, in the same direction as you, his legs around yours, his front pressed on your back and you hold yourself back because you almost whimper when you feel your body melting against his.

“You’re tense,” Jeonghan says his voice low, his hands pressing the knots on your shoulders.

“I am always tense and stressed out,” you say, and it is the truth. Jeonghan doesn’t need to know that for the last few weeks the fact that he is the number one reason. You almost rub yourself against him, feeling a little bit crazy and hot all over - oh no.

“Hm,” Jeonghan acknowledges. When his fingers close around your neck you almost jump on your seat, his thumbs traveling across the knots of your spine, and you are not strong enough to not whimper this time, “there’s a lot of things you could do to distress.”

“Like what? A guided meditation?” You joke, trying to get away with it, trying to downplay every reaction of your body.

“Fuck those apps,” he mutters under his breath, he is so close you can feel his breath against your nape.

“Yeah right there,” You say when his thumb presses down in a particular knock on your back.

“This one?” You just nod, don’t trust yourself enough to utter a word that doesn’t sound like a humiliated noise. Since when did you turn into a mess in Jeonghan’s hand? But you just accept your fate, feeling how soft your body feels against his. “Can I open this?” Jeonghan asks, his voice so low you barely hear, but he is so close to you that your ears catch his question.

And you still don’t trust yourself, so you nod again. Jeonghan drops the zipper of your dress and takes his time to gather your hair in his hands, and taking them out of his way, letting your locks rest on your shoulder. His fingertips trails the collar of your dress again, and you can feel the goosebumps across your skin and you know Jeonghan can see them as well.

You can feel the way that Jeonghan’s fingertips travel down your spine as he opens the zipper of your dress. And you close your arms around your chest, in order to maintain the dress in place because you can feel how loose the fabric feels against your body after the zip is down. But apparently, Jeonghan is not even close to satisfied because his fingers are tugging the straps of your dress down your arms.

Jeonghan’s fingertips are still on your skin, stroking your arms when you feel his lips against your shoulder. Before you can think about anything your own body reacts before you, giving space so Jeonghan can continue kissing the column of your neck. Everything feels a little surreal, a blur, you can't quite grasp-

Then, your cellphone starts to ring bringing you back to reality.

“Don’t pick up,” Jeonghan tells you, almost like a whisper against your ear, his hands still around your waist - but then your phone rings again and again and reality comes crashing again and again.

And you want to say that you are ok with almost being undressed on Jeonghan’s lap, that it is ok the way his thighs cage you, that it is ok how his hands feel hot against your body and how his lips feel against your neck. But your phone rings again and it must be important so you stretch yourself and try to find your phone inside your bag by feel. When you finally can reach the phone dies, and you can feel Jeonghan’s smile across your skin - like he just won. But before you can drop the phone you feel it ringing again, and when you pick up the big font appears on the screen ‘seungcheol is the best’. You can feel Jeonghan’s hand freeze against your body, the way he just goes rigid.

“Don’t pick up,” He says again but now something is different - his voice is not low.

“It must be something important,” you reasoned, because it is true. You have been trying to get a hold of Seungcheol since before leaving Vegas and yet the man didn't answer you once.

“Just-” Jeonghan tries, and you can feel his squeezing your shoulders again, almost in a silent plea.

“I haven’t talked to him since Vegas, it must be something important,” You say, your own hands going to his in an effort to show him that you understand what he is trying to say.

“Are you truly doing this right now?” Jeonghan asks and when you don't answer him he already knows.

You look at him but Jeonghan just gets up and off the sofa and leaves the room, in the end, you choose to just pick up your phone and answer it with a low “Hey cheol,” so low that Seungcheol asks if you were sleeping.

Seungcheol tells you he wants to meet, to talk about things. And you say yes because why not? You pick yourself up and close your dress. Before going to your room you stop at Jeonghan's door and before you lose all the courage that you have in your body you knock on the door, nothing, and you try again just to hear the sound of the shower across the room when you glue your ear against the door.

When you lie on your bed you don't really can close your eyes. You feel restless, your mind wavering, and you can't stop thinking about Jeonghan.

What would that mean?

If you took that leap would Jeonghan be there if everything fell apart? A shiver runs down your spine because it is the first that the answer would be a no. You ask yourself why now. What made Jeonghan change?

And you can't even look back anymore - you can't even think about your friendship with Jeonghan without it being tinted, his words echoing in your brain, "I just gave up". You play the whole conversation back in your head, almost like an old VHS tape - rewinding and pressing play, trying to see everything in another angle, rewinding, asking yourself what that meant, rewinding, thinking back, rewinding and pressing play - unfolding all the touches, and the times Jeonghan's hand lingered on your body.

You rewind until the sleep gets the best of you when it is already bright outside.

You wake up to the sound of your phone, Seungcheol calling you because he will run a little late, of course, you say while he just laughs because it is so clear that you were sleeping. When you run down the stairs, almost falling on it because your brain isn't functioning yet, you don't find Jeonghan anywhere. When you look at the fridge and there are no new notes, your heart breaks a little.

The coffee that Seungcheol chooses is pretty, and not very crowded, and even though Seungcheol is late is not a big deal, you use the time to go over a few manuscripts and spreadsheets with a cup of coffee on your side. Or at least you try to, but the truth is that you send Jeonghan a few messages and every time your phone pings you need to check if he is the one answering you - it isn't.

When Seungcheol arrives, you see him first, still from afar, his hair is shorter now. You almost laugh because that is definitely not a Seungcheol's choice, nor a haircut. His hair screamed his fiancée's name.

"Hey stranger," he says sitting across from you.

"Hey yourself," you greet him back, almost laughing at how awkward this whole thing is. Seungcheol and you walking around eggshells. Neither you nor Seungcheol wants to start talking about the whole elephant in the room - Yoon Jeonghan.

You ask him about the wedding preparation, it is going nice he says, he was late because he needed one last fit on his suit. His mother nagged over and over about how he shouldn't wear a navy blue suit, his future wife nagged about how it couldn't be black because the whole vibe of the afternoon wedding was different from a night wedding.

"I'm just happy that you guys worked everything out," Seungcheol says after a while, sipping on his coffee.

"Cheol," You try your heart already tugging on your inside.

"No really," he smiles at you, the way he always does - with a fondness you can't quite handle, like after all those years he still sees you like the kid you once were. Someone who didn't really have hold of her life and in a way, after all those years you feel like that again. "I did a lot of thinking," Seungcheol chuckles, "I think that I always have been envious of Jeonghan in a way," he breathes loudly, almost trying to gather up courage, "here I was, with my wedding date set up and still having doubts about how I feel and if I should go on with it." Seungcheol scratches her head almost like he is ashamed to tell you the truth, "And there is my friend, right? I think that the thing I always admired about Jeonghan was how consistent he was, you know me, in that way, we are alike right? We see shine things and we run towards them, a new project, a thing we like, don't even say anything about the golf gear I swear to god," he says abruptly making you laugh, and it was true in that sense you and Seungcheol were very much the same. "But Jeonghan is consistent, that man's mind is a fucking rock," Seungcheol says like a jab and you can understand why, "and yet he is more sure about you than I am about my fiancée really. And he has been sure for years, I still don't know what made him make a move-, he didn't talk to me prior to that, but I am truly happy that you guys figured it out, it took you long enough."

"I don't even know what to say," you breathe, looking at Seungcheol. You can't blurt out the words - physically unable to tell him. You think about what you should say, you should tell him -'we are not together', 'we didn't figure it out'. You want to tell the truth, you want to come clean, but you just can't. "But yeah, he has always been there for me" you laugh a little soulless. It is not a lie either, but it is not the whole truth, Yoon Jeonghan has always been there for you, but now all the other pieces of the puzzle are coming together. "I think the only thing that hurt him was you going on and on about his commitment issues or whatever.

"It's-" Seungcheol breathes, "it wasn't like that. I mean, sure, he can't commit to anyone who isn't you," he shrugs, "I think it was back when you were going out with that lit kid right? god" Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head like he just found a memory in his treasure box, "Jeonghan was so jealous back then," Seungcheol continues, reminiscing,  "he would get furious every time that guy would give you a letter, a poem, anything really. I don't know how you didn't catch up on how much he hated that guy's gut if he dissed the poor kid."

"I just thought-" you stop to think about it, "I don't even know what I was thinking back then, but I never once thought it was because of jealousy, he was dating like 3 girls at the same time back then," you tell, felling the bittersweet taste on your mouth.

"Well," Seungcheol takes another sip, "you know Yoon Jeonghan, when he doesn't get what he wants he tends to fuck everything up and push himself to do shit just out of spite. His high school crush and love of his life found her first boyfriend, how do you think he would handle that? What he could do about that? Try to write poems better than Mark? He tried to believe they were all shitty, trying to forget you was the last thing he could do for himself, even that didn't actually work."

And you feel like you are about to go into overdrive.

It is one of your flaws really, you were never one who would react quickly - your brain always trying to assess and digest everything before being able to take a leap. The problem was that you needed to unpack more than ten years, to go through every file of your life with Jeonghan and try to find a new meaning, trying to find a clue, in search of something you don't know yet, but that could make you understand, or realize.

You spend the whole day feeling a weird taste in your mouth.

The thing is, you can't quite pinpoint what are you feeling, you can't really name it. It somehow resembles feeling betrayed, you think, that you have a cheating boyfriend and everyone knows his secret but nobody has the courage to tell you, and when you actually find out you are the last one to know.

You take your time walking around town and even figure out the longest route to Jeonghan's house.

Even that sounded weird rolling off your tongue.

You try again - picking random memories to try to see if you can find a hiding meaning somewhere, a clue, evidence of Jeonghan's feelings. A crush you could understand, something small like an affection with an expiration date you could understand. You could understand the curiosity that grew in the past month.

But Seungcheol's words didn't point to that, Seungcheol's words were actually pointing in the opposite direction of that.

And if you were being honest with yourself, that made you afraid.

“I talked with Seungcheol,” you blurt out when Jeonghan finally arrives.

“Yeah, we are not going there,” Jeonghan says seriously, without looking at you - avoiding you at every cost. It is a tell, a clue that he doesn't want to talk about it. You don't want either, if you could you would never go there again, but you need to, because living things like they are right now, messy and all over the place aren't working.

“Jeonghan,” you groan, “we need to talk about everything that happened in Vegas, his wedding is in a few weeks."

“I think you were there when he said I wasn't invited so I am not really following right now," Jeonghan says his voice stuffy because his head is inside the fridge in search of something, maybe he is just trying to not look at you.

"He told me you are not answering his calls," You tell him, and before Jeonghan says anything he just scoffs and closes the fridge door without taking anything out. He doesn't actually move, but he doesn't look at you either, his head is hanging off his shoulders, and you know Jeonghan so well that you know that nothing will make him move. You know you are not going to win, but yet you press it on, because you are tired of things being left unsaid, of Jeonghan bottling everything out and things ending up being your fault.

"Why are you being so fucking stubborn about this?" You ask watching Jeonghan just shake his head, "he is your best friend."

“Yeah like Seungcheol’s is flawless,” he bites back.

“Jeonghan this is not the point right now-" You start before he cuts you off.

“It is never the point right?” He asks you, finally looking at you, still holding his weight on the counter, "Is never the point, is never the right time, is never them it is always me fucking it up because it is Jeonghan he is not serious, he can take it, you guys can go on and on and god forbid if someone doesn't wanna take more bullshit from you."

“Come one don’t get angry with me,” you plead.

“Of course, right, I can't even get angry," Jeonghan says before he heads to walk out of the kitchen.

"Jeonghan," You almost beg making him stop and look at you, "we really need to talk about everything."

"Talk about everything or for you to be Seungcheol's spokesperson?" He says, and when you don't answer he completes, "Then no, we are not talking”

“Of course, because that will solve everything," you say almost groaning, "he is your best friend for god's sake, he still thinks we are in a somewhat relationship, he wants to talk to you, he feels guilty for being an asshole. He is sorry." You try almost stomping your feet at every word.

"Well, good for him," Jeonghan says like words don't have enough weight to make him care.

"Come on Jeonghan I'm trying here," you whine.

"Trying to do what exactly?" He asks, "Did you ever think about what actually happened since Vegas?" He says finally looking at you, and you feel even worse. He almost laughs when you don't answer. "Okay, I did, I spent every single second thinking about it and I am really fucking tired of thinking about it. I tried to put it through a different lens, I tried to put myself in other people's shoes, I tried to be reasonable and understand everyone, look I really did, and I did a great job understanding that you forgot the whole damn thing, of course, you can forget me telling you that I am head over hills for you sure, you can forget that you were the one who kissed me back then sure, of course it happens, I mean," Jeonghan scoffs, "I understand for years what is a few more months right?"

"Jeonghan-"

"No, let me finish this because somehow it will be my fault again so let me make everything clear," he says - back again looking at every corner around the kitchen but not laying an eye on you; "Seungcheol knows, he always knew about everything, he knows how many girlfriends gave me fucking ultimatum and I always choose you. He knows how many women broke up with me because they knew I was in love with you, sure, everyone in my fucking life knew but you - I understand that too sure," he stops, breathing loudly and you feel the lump around your throat way to thigh, "and he fucking knows that if I could I would've got over this sooner, so yeah, maybe I was too fucking sensitive when my friend act like I was a fucking coward who has commitment issues and would never do anything about it sure, it's my fault great, I can be responsible for that. I can take that sure, I can take Seungcheol, what I can't take is you playing dumb after last night, that I can't take it, and to be fair I don't want to, I don't have to, and you don't have a lot of excuses this time, I guess you remember right? And I think that time I made myself pretty clear so this time you must know right?"

You have been building your life around Jeonghan's for years. In a way, Jeonghan's life and yours were beautifully intricate, to the point that you weren't quite sure where one ended and one began. You think about how would your life be without Jeonghan's presence, and how would your future look like. And that scared the shit out of you.

"And that took you how many years Jeonghan?"

"Don't do that," he says and his voice feels almost small.

"Sure, I am sorry if I'm being fucking selfish right now, but you had your own time to think about everything, right? You have had years to come to your own terms? I'm freaking out here, do you think that's easy for me? Do you think it is easy to think about the aftermath if this goes wrong Jeonghan? Sure I understand that maybe that is your tipping point great, I understand that, but you are my friend and I don't fucking know how we will go on if we fuck everything up," you laugh, "I think we already passed that apparently."

"We didn't fuck it up," Jeonghan says, "Why can't you trust me for once?"

"I do," You say, and it is the truth, you trust Jeonghan with your life, "I do, I am just scared. You took your time to figure everything out, but every time I look back now I think about everything you didn't tell me,"

"I told you everything," Jeonghan says and you can almost feel his desperation, "I was sincere about everything,"

"Now you are just telling lies," you say laughing dryly.

"Sure I didn't tell you everything, but the things I haven't told you are small in comparison."

"The fact that you like me isn't small Jeonghan," you say, and it finally downs on you, that this - his feelings are a huge thing that you can't quite hide.

"What I am trying to say is-" Jeonghan says, finally taking steps and getting closer to you, "I will not go anywhere," you hear him - even though it feels like he is whispering, "even if we fuck up, even if this doesn't work out, I will not go anywhere, if that's what you are afraid of then you have nothing to be afraid. I won't go anywhere because that would kill me more than would hurt you, and even though everyone around me thinks I am a masochist I would prefer not to die."

"I would rather not hurt you," you say and you feel like you could cry, "I am sorry if I ever did."

"You did," Jeonghan says, taking your hand, and holding it firmly like that act alone can show you how serious he is, "but nothing I couldn't take, even If you hurt me again, I can take it, I will take it." 

Even if both of you don't want to, things stay a little weird between the two of you for some time. Like both of you are back to being so conscious of each other presence that it is just weird to jump right back at it, or, actually, take a step in another direction. But things fall back into place - more because of Jeonghan’s attitude than yours. He is the one that calls you for dinner, and he is the one that hugs you when you enter the kitchen.

He is the one that is trying to make things not weird. And you love him for it, you just love him, heatedly.

And the thing is, you always loved Jeonghan, but somehow, this kind of love and appreciation feels new and it is so scary, it makes you realize how everything is so fragile. But, at the same time - it makes you curious, it makes you wonder, it makes you act first just to see Jeonghan’s reaction.

Like when Jeonghan’s is whining about something and how he wants to quit his work so bad and you just hug him - almost melting against his back, placing your chin against his should and you can see Jeonghan freeze for a few seconds before he starts to pay attention on the food again.

Or when you start to watch a movie together and Jeonghan just melts in your lap, falling asleep while your hand goes through his hair. The next day when you whine about it he sweats to God he didn't sleep, he was paying attention to the movie, if you want to he can say the whole movie plot and all.

When the first Ttoram prototype arrives you are so excited that when you both place the little bunny on the dinner table, when she flops down - face diving because her head is too big - you are so happy for him that you just hold his face and place a quick kiss on his lips. Jeonghan looking at you wide-eyed. You almost start to laugh before you mutter:

“I told you, her head is too big,” you say trying to place Ttoram upright again.

“It is her charm, her brain is so big that she is dumb,” He says his voice weirdly fond, hands on your body pulling you into him.

“Yoon Jeonghan,” You stare at him - that weird mischievous smile on his lips, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“You should be honored,” Jeonghan says, holding your face almost making you yelp because his hands are so freaking cold, “You are my muse after all.”

And you almost curse him. But the thing is Jeonghan is cute, so will let it pass.

The thing is most of the time you are giggling and kicking your feet at everything Jeonghan does - that crush is so weird because you used to be stronger than that, now you are just falling in all of his antics, and boy doesn't he love it.

He just says the weirdest things out of nowhere just so he can hear your laugh. He holds you every time he has a chance, just pulling you close to hug you. But his favorite part of this new thing is how movie night now is just the two of you starting a movie to just act like a horny teenager.

Jeonghan is always the one who initiates it in a way. Sometimes is just caressing your arm before you start kissing him and licking against his mouth. Sometimes he feels bold enough and places his hand under your hoodie. The details always change but he always ends up with a hard-on and feeling like his younger self.

And it is happening again, his cock is hard, and he can barely hear the movie that is playing on the tv because you are kissing him and he can feel himself melting against the bed, like his whole body is going limp.

It is stronger than him, really. He wants to stay calm and collected but before he knows it he is already a whimpering mess, fingers digging in on your waist, his hips moving on their own, searching for some kind of pressure.

It is such a weird feeling, feeling so boneless and yet, feeling like he is a string - being pulled thigh enough he is about to snap at any minute.

When you break the kiss Jeonghan almost whines but before he can say anything you are already kissing his jaw so he just breathes loudly - accepting everything you want to give him.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask low on Jeonghan’s ears and he almost drop dead right there, like a fucking high schooler, like a teenager who just cum on his pant and drop dead when see a woman naked. And that would be fucking humiliating. He waited for so long he can't just burst a fucking nut in his own pants.

Jeonghan wants to answer you, he wants to say yes and maybe even mutter a please and thank you but somehow his brain is not even working properly, he is beyond dumb. But his dick is hard against his pants and he cannot even think properly - his brain is working overcapacity right now to try to take everything in.

So he does the only thing he can do in the moment - he pulls you into a kiss, and it is messy but Jeonghan doesn’t really care, focusing on the way you taste against his tongue. Jeonghan feels your cold hand against his stomach and he almost jumps at the spot, but you just whimper against his mouth when he does the same thing.

Jeonghan thinks the two of you are beyond niceties - you just told him you want his dick in your mouth, so he lets his desires win, while one of his hands is holding your waist under your shirt, the other one he uses to grope your ass. He squeezes your ass and at the same time, he tries to get your body even closer. You end up with your leg over him, across his hips, Jeonghan with his last functioning neuron takes the chance to shove his hand under your shorts too.

“Han,” you say when you come up for air, hand still splayed across Jeonghan’s body. “Come on,” you try again whining.

“Hm?” Jeonghan questions, his eyes almost closed and his head bent.

“You don’t want to?” You ask, voice low, taking the time that he uses to think about an answer to trail your lips across his neck, sucking at his skin, “I really want to but if you don't that's okay?”

“Hm?” Jeonghan mumbles - for a second he has no idea what are you talking about, his mind focused on how you feel against his hands, the weight of your body against him, how every curve of your body is pressed against his, how you smell and you taste.

“Suck you off,” you say again against his neck, almost petulantly like Jeonghan isn't paying attention, and he really isn't, but you shouldn't blame a man.

“Fuck,” he says almost whimpering.

Jeonghan was never like this - in his life nor in bed. He was never a mess, not to this point. Jeonghan always pretended to be somewhat collected, holding the strings of his life tight enough he could make his own choices, but it was never like that when the topic was you. So when the feeling pools on his belly, a reaction to how your fingers feel against his throat, taking matters into your hands when you grab Jeonghan's chin and maneuver his face in an angle so you can have access to more of his skin.

Jeonghan thinks he can die like this - almost dry-humping your leg. But apparently, you have other plans, your hand tugging at his joggers. Jeonghan's only reaction is to lift his hips, trying to help. It doesn't help much, but it is enough for you to shove your hands under his underwear, making Jeonghan shiver. When your hand finally finds his dick he almost melts, the tip of your things trying to map out everything before you apply pressure on it. He moans softly before closing his eyes.

He wants to be patient and wants to take whatever you give him, but the truth is he can't quite hold back anymore. His hands left your body so he can get hold of your face, kissing you. "Want to see you," he tells you, using all his strength to take one of the straps of your pajamas down. Kissing your shoulders, trying to map your collarbones with his mouth.

When Jeonghan tries to move the strap down your arm you don't budge, shaking your head telling him no, "don't want to stop touching you," and Jeonghan almost short circuit when your hand wraps around him and give his dick a few tugs.

"I know baby," Jeonghan coos, almost delirious out of his mind, his hand holds your wrist and takes out of his cock and the way that you just whine makes him even more desperate. His whole body is limp, almost melting. Jeonghan thinks he might die if he doesn't get naked, but he is too entertained with the view of your boobs in his face.

He knows there is an easier way to do this but fuck it, he is not in his right mind. Instead of taking out your flimsy excuse of a pajama Jeonghan just shoves It down, tugging at the end of the fabric while he kisses your chest. The way that you hold his head is so delicate that makes Jeonghan feel weirdly treasured even if he is completely debauched lapping at your skin. And Jeonghan takes his time, appreciating every inch of your skin

He could spend hours like this, he thinks - almost melting against you, kissing your chest lazily. He drags his tongue across your skin until he can reach your nipple, his hands come up your body until he can grab your boob so he can angle just right before his mouth is back to your body. Jeonghan thinks he can die like that, it would be a good way to go - your fucking tits on his face, your body pressed on his, his hard-on against your thigh, everything feels dizzy. When you shove your chest on Jeonghan's face, holding his face against you, he just takes it because he is so down and so horny that taking it is the only thing he can do.

"Hannie," you call and Jeonghan really just has enough strength to look up at you, without his mouth leaving your chest, "Just let me-" you try to say without much control of your own situation.

It is not like you are in your right mind either. Jeonghan's hands feels warm on your skin, and he holds you so tight that you think about the aftermath of his grip - you should make a mental note to check for marks after this, and that alone makes you tremble. You can only think about how Jeonghan's body feels against yours, how his mouth is still on you, and you want to cry because it is just so good but not enough. You feel you might cry. Or worse, die.

You press Jeonghan down until his back is pressed down on the mattress. And God he is so pretty, it makes you almost feel delirious.

When you sit down on Jeonghan's hips he feels like he is almost dying. Everyone he ever wanted felting very pale in comparison when he lay his eyes on you - hair already a mess, lips red from kissing him, flimsy shirt pooling at your waist. Your hands sneak under his shirt, and he almost laughs, damn he must be looking so dumb right now - feeling and behaving like a fucking virgin while his crush is on his lap, taking her time with him. You lift Jeonghan's shirt, dragging your hands underneath it, almost whining and frustrated when the shirt doesn't stay around his neck. Cute - he thinks, when you pout Jeonghan realizes he said that out loud.

"Just take it off," you whine again, tugging at his shirt.

Jeonghan just nods, holding your hips for leverage until he is sitting upright, holding the back of his shirt and taking it off in record time, before Jeonghan lies down again he feels your hand on his chin, holding him so you can kiss him again. Damn, he is lucky. But before he can think another thought you are pushing him back on the bad again, his hand on your hips.

Your hands travel on his body, caressing him - making him feel so close to losing his mind it is almost ridiculous. When Jeonghan's feels your fingers graze his neck he feels almost delirious, when your hand palms his chest and your digits press against his nipples it Is his time to whine, he almost feels like it is just too much, maybe he is closer than a step away from coming in his pants.

One of your hands is splayed against Jeonghan's stomach when the other one tugs  the waistline of his pants, pulling the elastic band and letting it hit against Jeonghan's skin. You shuffle around his hips, sitting on his thighs now and Jeonghan is ready to complain when you tug on his pants again, this time actually getting the cloth to move and get it stopped by Jeonghan's hard-on.

"Baby," Jeonghan mumbles, "that's too much," he tries again, but apparently there is nothing he can say to make you stop - and in all honestly he doesn't want you to.

Jeonghan thinks he will die if he doesn’t get his dick free. Even though he doesn’t want to he takes the hand off your ass so he can take down his joggers, shoving his underwear down at the same time, his other hand still firm on your waist.

When your fingers close against Jeonghan’s shaft he almost sees stars. You give him a few experimental tugs. He feels so breathless, how is that even possible?

You almost scoff, looking at how even his dick is pretty - really, you should complain because it is so unfair. You press your finger on his slit, collecting the drop of precum, and the way that his dick twitch it makes your mouth water, but before you can even complete your thoughts Jeonghan’s hand is holding your face and bringing it down to another kiss.

If it was up to Jeonghan he would kiss you the whole night, but you had other ideas, using one hand to shove him until he is lying again when the other one is still on his dick. He is pretty sure he can feel your taste against your mouth but yet he feels parched. When you start to press kisses on his body, the only thing Jeonghan can do is take it.

Jeonghan thinks you want to wreck him. He feels you press your lips against his nipples, his hips buckling on its own, and you stroke his dick a little bit harder. Jeonghan can barely breathe, yet, without wasting a second you are doing it again - pressing your lips to his other nipple and licking it.

Before he can even wrap his mind around that you start to lick his belly and Jeonghan almost sees stars. He just feels everything, and apparently, your tongue dragging against his skin goes straight to his dick. Jeonghan doesn't know how, but he lifts himself up on his elbows, the view alone could make him cum - you still kissing him, lips on his hips, pressing Jeonghan's dick against his tummy, fingers rubbing his frenulum and he is just so sensitive that he groans before he can hold your hand making you stop.

"Too sensitive?" You ask and why the fuck do you sound so out of it when Jeonghan is being pulled and pushed around the edge?

"A little," Jeonghan answers breathlessly, his tongue dry against his mouth.

"Ok, noted," you say before doing something even worse - placing your lips on the same place before kissing the tip of his dick.

You wrap your lips around Jeonghan can't really control himself, he just pushes his hips slightly so you can take more of him, and god when you moan around him almost makes Jeonghan forget every trace of decency and good bed etiquette. But damn you just look so beautiful sucking his dick, one of your hands digging on his thigh and the other one still wrapped around his dick that it is physically impossible to not thrust his hips up.

"God," Jeonghan says and he sounds so defeated against his own ears, "fuck, you are so pretty," he tries again, looking at you and when he sees you looking up at him, eyes almost twinkling with the praise. And his mind almost snaps - oh, you felt that didn't you? The joy of discovering something every time Jeonghan's hips snapped. He gets it now. It is almost like a power trip. "So pretty, taking my cock," Jeonghan tries again and he almost can feel your moan against his dick before he can hear it.

Every word that Jeonghan mutters makes you take more of his dick into your mouth until he is hitting the back of your throat, god and how he can take that? Your lips around him, your tongue dancing around his dick, the hollowing of yours checks each time you suck him. He is delirious and out of his mind. He tries his best, he really does, but his hips have a mind of its own, and before he knows it he is thrusting up again making you gag around him.

Then your mouth leaves his dick and Jeonghan feels like he is about to collapse, everything just feels so much - the sound, the spit trail, the way your breath is irregular, fanning against his skin - and yet the intensity of feeling nothing makes him mind spin a little bit.

"Come here," Jeonghan mutters trying to catch his own breath. You crawl up his body and Jeonghan can only focus on how messy you look, lips glossy and pink, and he can see the faintest trail of spit on the corner of your lips, he presses his lips there before he drags his fingers on your lips, "I let you suck my cock, can I fuck you now?"

"Please?" You ask back and Jeonghan can feel his dick twitching.

"How do you want me?" Jeonghan says tugging at the bottom of your shorts and he almost laughs when you just shove everything down at once - and he could laugh really, at your desperation but first, he is way worse than you, second you are so pretty that he can't wrap his mind around the fact that everything he conjured up in his mind every time he thought about you when he was lazily stroking himself didn't do you justice.

"You can stay like that," you say, and before Jeonghan can mutter an answer you are already placing your knees on the sides of his hips, his hands automatically going to your waist, his mouth pressing against your collar bones.

One of your hands goes to Jeonghan's jaw, just holding slightly, while the other one wraps around Jeonghan's dick again - and he swears he would say something but his mind goes completely blank when you press your pussy on his dick. Your hips moving to make his cock disappear between your folds, making it drag against your clit, Jeonghan can feel how wet you are and god everything just feels so hot - he feels tight all over, like his muscles are contracting, even the ones he didn't know he had.

"Are you getting off like this?" Jeonghan questions and his only answer is a whine and your hips buckling against him, "Come on baby," Jeonghan tries again, hand now holding your hip, guiding your movements, "I can-" Jeonghan breathes, he doesn't want to say it but, "If you keep going like that, pussy so pretty against my cock, I will cum before I-"

"God," you groan against his shoulder, "can you really?"

"Yeah," Jeonghan almost laugh, his hand grabbing your ass. Of course, he can, he could've come already, but he is dragging this off, he is holding himself back. "Babe," Jeonghan calls you, mouth hot against your neck, "I could've come on your mouth, I'm so hard it is almost painful,"

"Can we-" You almost hiccup, "can we like that" you mumble again, "you can fuck me later," you say and Jeonghan almost sees white.

God, he could cum like that this wasn't even a question, the question was could you? The fact that you were over the edge like him was enough to drive him crazy.

Every time you drag your hips against him Jeonghan's let out a little moan, and he feels so wrecked that he just plants his lips on your neck, sucking at your skin. Jeonghan does not know if it is a reaction or is just because he is losing his mind but he can tell you are getting faster, the rhythm getting a little off, the way you breathe against him, everything just seems too much, and Jeonghan can't take it anymore.

The world stops spinning for a bit - everything just stays still.

Jeonghan is out of it until the sound of your breath brings him back. You are almost pouting. "Did you?" Jeonghan asks, himself breathless too.

"No," You whine and you feel so frustrated that Jeonghan pities you a little bit.

"It's okay," he says - because it is he will take care of it, it's not a problem.

But when Jeonghan looks down he almost cums again. It is so messy. Why there is so much cum? God, he blinks at the view - trying to take everything but mainly you, hovering on his lap.

"Han," You call and Jeonghan is brought back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, and it is not like he is in control anymore, his mind Is just gone, he just drops his hand - scooping his own cum and placing it own your pussy. You moan so loudly and Jeonghan can feel your desperation, pressing his digits more firmly against your clit, "Like that?" He questions and you can only nod your head, words falling. Jeonghan holds you close to him, your chest against his, your hand still going between your legs, his other hand holding your waits, "Fuck how can you be so hot," he starts going making you feel a light-headed, "I will eat you later okay?" Jeonghan says, "Don't worry, I will eat you out and I will let you fuck me, you just need to tell me what you need."

"Just," You hiccup, "Just like that."

Jeonghan listens to you, even though the position is not the best to his wrist and he could do so much better - but you just keep babbling on and on about how you are almost there, how he just needs to stay like that, how you are feeling so good that he listens to you, how could he not when you are almost coming undone against his fingers?

And then you bring Jeonghan's face up to a kiss, his mind was too focused on his fingers disappearing against your folds to catch on earlier, but you don't seem to mind when you lick against his mouth and finally cum. Jeonghan holds you against his body for a few seconds when he finally hears you groan.

"God I am so sticky," you complain and he finally laughs.

Jeonghan though, keeps his promise and he eats you out after that, and he fucks you too, and then, he just forgets he has his own room.

It is weird how much you two fit each other. And how seamlessly you two turn into boyfriend-girlfriend situations, or legally, husband-wife, but who cares about silly papers really?

Everything is normal really - Jeonghan keeps saying he need just a better Ttoram version before you two start promoting on social media. You two keep sharing dinners, and Jeonghan even makes a point about how the two of you need to go on a date. You bribe him, telling him he needs to call Cheol before the wedding - and he just shrugs and picks his phone up calling his best friend, you almost scream, it was that easy?

You two share everything, you don't know why but Jeonghan just chooses your bed to sleep in, you question him saying you want to sleep on his bed too - it just smells like you, is nice - he says before making a weird noise after face planting one of your pillows. 

It comes to the point that you get weirded out when you wake up and he is not on your bed. When you pick yourself up and finally drag your body out of the bed - something weird happens, an unknown voice resonates in your house - okay not yours, Jeonghan's but...

You find Jeonghan in the kitchen, back facing you, sipping a cup of tea with another woman. A very gentle elderly lady, her hair is almost all white, and everything about her screams grandma. She sees you before you can say anything,

"Hi dear," even her voice is gentle.

"Han?" You ask when Jeonghan stares at you, eyes fondly taking up your sleepy self.

"Hey baby, come here," He says opening his arms, "come here Iris was talking about how she was visiting her third grandson can you believe that?"

You could, sure, everything about her screamed grandma in uppercase letters, but what was happening?

"Yes," the old lady answers, "where was I?" she claps before she picks back up again, "See like I was telling you, Aroon's mom is my youngest daughter, and her pregnancy hadn't been the easiest so that's why I couldn't bring the table back," she says and you neck almost snaps, looking at Jeonghan's, he is so proud of himself that you almost scream. "So I'm sorry dear, your husband told me how much it meant to you but I was out of town so-"

God, he looks so proud and so full of himself, he couldn't be happier right now. God, you are so deeply in love with him. You could marry him all over again.

[BONUS SCENE ONE - THE WEDDING}

“Are we doing this for real?” You ask and the world is kinda spinning a little bit, by your side, Jeonghan holds your hand. You both stare at this little chapel, the Elton John one because you said that you would prefer to be married with don't go breaking my heart, Tiny Dancer or even Berry and the Jets as a soundtrack than any of the Elvis’s songs and of course Jeonghan listened, he listened to everything you said. What a fucker, how could you not be in love with this guy? What? Wait-

“Of course, we are doing this, we made a bet,” Jeonghan says still staring at the chapel.

“Only because we made a bet,” you say looking at him. When Jeonghan turns his head to look at you something inside you sings a bit - like a doll with something in the inside broke and jiggling inside.

“Of course darling, only because we made a bet,” Jeonghan says, holding your hand firmly, he smiles at you, and out of nowhere he is running inside the building and you follow him around because why not?

It seemed like a fucking great idea, and you both did lose the bet, even though right now you can't really think straight - how does a bet work? Can both people lose a bet at the same time? You are not totally sure but you guess Jeonghan is right, it can happen.

[BONUS SCENE TWO - BIOGRAPHY]

When Jeonghan finally opens the hotel door you almost fall in the room, but before you fall face flat on the floor Jeonghan's hands save you from breaking your nose.

“Wow, what a gentlemanly husband I have,” You say, tapping his chest.

“Sure, sure, perfect husband material right here,” Jeonghan says pointing at himself the door still open.

“You are,” you gushed, hands on his shoulders searching for some kind of balance, using these high heels shows was so wrong, but you knew at least you would be pretty in your wedding pics, and in the end, that’s all that matters - the pictures for your own autobiography that you will make for your grandchildren. You always told Jeonghan that you would make one for him too, with every single thing he gave you as a safe keep and the collection of pictures you have of him in different times of his life. You have pictures of Jeonghan with his long hair, with his short hair, the time he died it was almost white because he thought it would be so so cool and ended up hating how it fucked up his scalp. You had the material, you had the story, and you could do his biography, the funny thing now it is that his grandchildren could be yours too.

“What are you laughing at?” Jeonghan says, kneeling at your feet and taking your shoes off, wow, a life-saver.

“I just thought about grandchildren,” you squealed in a high-pitched voice that you didn’t know you had until Jeonghan’s hand found your hips.

“Grandchildren?”He asks you softly.

“The biographies,” you say and Jeonghan nods, “I was thinking about how I always pictured us together when we were gray and old in a nursing home together all that jazz, but know that I thought about it, your family will be my family so the grandchild will be the same kids, I won’t do your biography for your grandchildren I will do your biography for my grandchildren as well that changes a lot of things,”

“Like what?” He asks amused

“I don’t know if I want to tell them about the time you were sure to have gonorrhea or something like that”

“I do think we can let this story die with us,”

“wait, now that I am thinking about it like we only have one family," You say, a pouting on your lips, and Jeonghan almost melts, "that means only one visit in the nursing home because like when our family as separate entities we would have two families so two visit yours and mine now that I think about it I think we should divorce

“We are not divorcing," Jeonghan says.

“We can annul It,” you try again.

“We won't do it,” Jeonghan says, shaking his head like you are talking nonsense.

“But two visits are better than one,” You say showing him your fingers and trying to make him understand that two are indeed better than one, boys like girls even sang about this, was Jeonghan dumb?

“I won't have a family if it isn't your family,” Jeonghan says plopping down on the bed.

“Of course you can have a family,” you are sure of it Jeonghan is amazing there is nothing stopping him.

“But I don't want to,” Jeonghan whines looking at you and you get it, you finally get it.

“Damn boy you are crazy about me,” you say laughing, laying on his side.

“Now you are catching up,” Jeonghan says while his arms close around you.

“Still think two is a bigger number”

[BONUS SCENE - SHOULD WE?]

Jeonghan, your husband of three years, is eating on the kitchen counter and you can almost hear the gears in his brain turning and twisting. Sometimes, you think that maybe, Jeonghan is like a toy that he built the week prior, if you pick him up and shake him around you can hear loose parts of him rattling inside of himself.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask while opening the fridge.

“Should we go to Vegas again?” He asks taking a bit of his breakfast.

“Vegas?” you say - your head peaking and your body stretched so you can face him while the fridge door is open. 

“I was thinking we should renew our vows,” he says like he is thinking about buying lunch because he cannot bring himself to cook, “you know, I want you to actually remember our wedding.”

[animeficsworld]

The Ending We Deserve

Levi Ackerman x Reader

---

Seeing him in a wheelchair made you knees weak.

Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, Levi Ackerman.

When you left the Survey Corps, Levi and you parted. After many years of working together.

He always assumed you got married, had children or died during an attack.

But you never did.

You never moved on. You always loved him.

And now that the war has ended and you rushed to find him.

You heard news that he died along with the others, you heard news that he survived but was terribly injured and you also heard that he went insane and was locked away.

He didn’t notice you, he was talking to a man while you watched from afar.

You debated during the last couple of days whether you should find him and now, you debated if you should even go up to him. Maybe that old wound should not be reopened.

You watched as the man left with his son and you knew, now or never. 

“Humanity’s strongest watching the sunset.” you said as you walked over to him, he turned and looked at you with a shocked expression. “Before you ask, no, I’m not a ghost.”

“Y/N… how?”

“Mikasa told me everything.”

“Everything?”

You simply nodded before you sat down in front of him on the bench.

“I thought I would never see you. I thought you got married or died.”

“I never got married. It was hard to find another dark midget with a terrible attitude.” he smiled, you knew that you were the only friend of his who was still alive. Actually, more than a friend. “I’m sorry, I got scared and I left. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, idiot. This way at least I didn’t lose you.” you laughed a little.

You looked at the skin as it turned orange and pink.

“I think you know this, but I have always loved you Levi. Ever since I left, every day, I spent worrying about everyone. But I mostly worried about you.”

“They are all gone.”

“Yes, but we are still here. Our lives shouldn’t stop because theirs did. I rent a room closeby, if you want… I can visit tomorrow.”

“Don’t leave. I have a house, stay there with me.” he offered and you could never say no.

—

Almost a year passed since you decided to go back to Levi.

Almost a year since you two found each other and fell back into the same comfortable partnership that you two had years ago.

And almost a month since you two got married.

The wedding was in a small chapel with no one there. Only you two and a priest.

And it was enough. It was more than enough.

Now, with a simple gold band on both of your fingers, you decided to cook lunch, Levi was outside sitting on the bench, watching as the children of the neighbourhood played. 

You heard him enter the room just as you finished with the food.

“Lunch’s ready.” you said and you felt a pair of arms around you, your back met his chest as he put his head into your neck. You stayed like that, allowing him to have his time.

“I want one.” he said in a low voice, you almost didn’t hear him.

“Lunch? I just made some we can eat-”

“No.” you were confused. What could he mean? You tried to think but you couldn’t realize what he meant.

“W-What do you mean? Tea?” you asked after a few minutes.

“A child.” 

Now, that hit you like a cold shower. No, it was more like hitting a wall while going full speed.

“You what? You want a baby?”

“Yes.” his answer was simple. 

“I didn’t know you would… I couldn’t imagine that you would want a baby.” He pulled back and you turned around, you looked into his eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t think it through. I guess you don’t want to and its okay.”

“It’s not that.” you said quickly before he could move away from you, you put your hand on his chest, holding him there. “I just never could have imagined that you would want one. B-but I think we can. If you really want to. I would love to have a child with you, Levi.” you smiled at him as he placed his forehead against yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” you said.

Who could have thought all those years ago that you would have such a happy ending?

Who could have thought that you will have the ending both of you deserved?

[mandarinmoons]

lemme set the scene for u -

rossi’s wedding (please please can Derek be there 🥺🙏 idc if it’s the wrong time just please let him be there my hot choco)

anyways, shy little miss y/n is dating our fav boy genius and it’s about time to introduce her to the team, and when better to do it then when they’re all guaranteed to be in the same room together!

the team is very welcoming but also can be a bit touchy or overwhelming for reader cuz maybe she’s like spencer with the touching

uh if you didn’t think this was that boring and wanna do it you can change up literally whatever 😭 really just wanna see shy & awkward reader meet the team and spencer just stand there with an awkward smile supporting his gf as she fumbles over her greetings cuz uh that’s me

You smoothed down your dress as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Dresses aren’t something you usually wore, but duty called and you pulled out your emergency fancy clothes from the back of your closet, something you never thought you’d have to do for a long while. But here you were, going to a wedding with your boyfriend and meeting all of his teammates, also his friends, for the first time. However, this was more of like a two in one deal. The only family Spencer had in his life was his mother and his team was like a second family to him, which made this whole ordeal more unnerving.

“Hey, are you ready to- woah…”

Turning around you saw Spencer’s eyes wide as saucers as he took in your appearance. A beautiful floral dress hugged you at just the right places and showed off your figure, a sight which was clearly adored by your genius boyfriend.

Walking over to him, you rested your hand on his cheek and tapped his chin, “Close your mouth or else you’ll catch flies.”

Spencer rolled his eyes as a chuckle left your lips and it was soon muffled by Spencer’s lips finding your own, pressing a light kiss to them.

Pulling back, Spencer’s eyes were still on you, admiring your beauty while your gaze lingered to the side and a light sigh leaving your mouth.

“I’m nervous…”

“I know, but you’ll love everyone, trust me.”

“You haven’t been wrong yet, so.”

Spencer chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “And that day will never come.”

The drive to the venue was nerve wracking. Spencer gave background information on what everyone on the team was like as well as telling some of the funniest memories he’s had with each member. Hearing all the tales did help to ease some of the tension, but it would be a miracle if you’d be able to remember even the tiniest detail by the time you’d set foot in the chapel. Spencer may have an eidetic memory, but you’d be lucky to remember what you had for breakfast this morning.

Arriving at the destination, your shaky legs walked up the steps and Spencer’s hand rested on your waist to try and steady you.

The moment you walked through the door you heard someone gasp and the sound of heels running toward you filled your ears.

“You must be Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you!” a blonde woman you guess to be Penelope Garcia immediately comes over to introduce herself and you feel yourself freeze when she takes you in for a hug. You didn’t mind hugging, but when it came to someone you had just met 5 seconds ago, it was a bit much.

Spencer pulled Penelope off of you gently and told her you were a bit shy when it came to meeting new people and Penelope being the saint that she was, apologized right away and said she’d let you eat her piece of cake as a peace token.

Soon enough the rest of the team took notice of the woman Spencer brought along with him and with their interests peaked, made their way over to the both of you to see the new love birds.

Your breathing became a bit erratic as your space was filled with so many new faces that you didn’t know where to start and who to answer first. You didn’t mind meeting new people at all, but when there’s multiple questions coming from every corner you could think of, your brain shut down and your mouth dried up.

Spencer took notice of your change of behavior and excused both of you from everyone while he led you to the side.

“Are you okay?” Spencer’s hand rested on your cheek while his other hand was on your waist, his thumb gently rubbing over the fabric of your dress.

“Yeah, there’s just… so many people.”

Spencer nodded and brought you in closer as you rested your head on his shoulder and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“How about you meet everyone one by one? Have some to talk to everyone a little so it’s not so daunting?”

“That works yeah.”

Spencer nodded and made his way back to the team with you by his side, taking a hold of his hand as if you were a child holding onto their parent’s arm on the first day of kindergarten.

Making your way back to everyone, you could see the concern written over their faces. You didn’t want them to think of you as this fragile girl who wasn’t able to be alone without her boyfriend and you hoped to God that they wouldn’t make fun of your behavior.

Later on as the ceremony was done and everyone had a blast dancing and chatting away, you managed to ground yourself and now here you were, chatting to the girls of The BAU about anything and everything. What had only been a few hours felt like you had known these girls for a lifetime.

The evening also included Derek and Luke taking turns dancing with you, Rossi sharing his famous pasta recipe and the highlight of the night being Spencer pulling you to the dance floor and trying his best to sweep you off of your feet with his dance moves. Knowing that he has two left feet when it came to dancing, it wasn’t hard to do.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile and laugh so much.”

“I guess your team is really good at bringing that out.”

“They really are.”

Looking to the side, you saw some of the members looking over at you and Spencer as you two slowly danced together and a chuckle fell from your lips as you heard Derek call out “Show her what you can do, pretty boy!”

Locking eyes with each other, you squealed as in one swift movement, Spencer dipped you and a second later his lips were on yours and from the side you heard everyone cheer.

“You really do have some moves, Doctor Reid.”

“You haven’t seen nothing yet.”

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai @deppfanatic @potatovoyager @indyvelazquez

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[luvrrszn]

pov

MIGUEL O'HARA x FEM READER

summary miguel o'hara is in love with you. so hopelessly in love with you. (spoiler alert: you are, too.)

warnings fluff, pure tooth-rotting fluff, just a bunch of blurbs put together, NOT proofread

a/n feeling peaceful 2day love u all xx (p.s. wrote this listening to "pov" by ariana)

masterlist

mornings with miguel o'hara can only be described using one word: peace.

you'd never think that "peace" would be a word associated with miguel o'hara, but once you've experienced what you have, you wouldn't see it any other way.

miguel is protective of his mornings with you. being such a busy man, mornings with you are sacred.

"can we sleep in a little longer?" you mumble against his chest, almost every morning. his answer is always the same: "of course, my dear."

how could he ever say no to you?

—

you set your phone down on the kitchen island as you go to grab a glass of water. miguel's gaze leaves his laptop as he glances at your phone screen.

your phone was left unlocked, an instagram post of your high school classmate with a gigantic diamond ring displayed on it. miguel asks you, "mi corazón, does it bother you? we have been together for 8 years, and no ring."

"hmm, not really, miggy. does it bother you?" you reply, setting your glass down as you approach miguel.

"no, but if you did, it would be understandable."

you walk closer to him and he wraps an arm around your waist. you settle down on his lap and stroke his hair, saying, "i don't need a ring to prove that i love you. ring or no ring, we both know that i am yours, forever."

—

you wake up to the sound of giggling and a thud of something falling to the floor. you drag yourself out of bed and down the stairs. your daughter is giggling as she runs around the living room, being chased by miguel who's holding a...bottle of pink glitter?

a chair at the dining table has toppled over, the culprit behind the "thud" you heard earlier. the dining table has a piece of A3 drawing paper on it, covered in pink glitter glue, light pink sequins and dark pink and purple fairy dust. you've never seen so much pink in your life.

"the glitter monster is coming for you!" you hear miguel call out. you turn around just in time to see miguel pick up your daughter and carry her over his shoulder. she giggles, "papá, put me down!"

you look at the line of photo frames on top of the fireplace, a mere representation of the time that has passed since you first met miguel o'hara

there's a photo of you and miguel in a dark, crowded bar. the night you two met.

there's also photo of you and miguel in front of the eiffel tower. the night of your 5th anniversary.

there's a photo of you and miguel in a chapel in vegas, both of you grinning, his arm slung over your shoulder. the night the two of you were married by an elvis impersonator.

there's also a photo of you in the hospital, miguel grinning next to you, and the most perfect baby girl bundled in your arms. the night your baby girl entered the world.

last but not least, there's a photo of you and miguel slightly hunched forward, with your daughter in between the two of you, holding a huge bouquet and grinning. the day of her very first dance recital.

by the end of the day, your little angel's pink artwork takes its place above the fireplace, joining the array of photo frames.

[19burstraat]

wanna shoutout joseph trapanese's score for s&b, bc for all that we talk abt the adaptation, the score doesn't get brought up much, and it makes me so crazyyyy it's one of the best bits about the show. shipwrecked??!? ravka??? that unreleased piece of music from season 1 where alexei recounts what he saw on the skiff? that OTHER piece of unreleased music from season 1, the organ when inej saves kaz in the chapel, that is singlehandedly responsible for the reignition of my obsession w SOC? the cheeky little flute run in wylan's theme? the fact that brother is a slightly off-kilter reprise of helpful goat? the fast as fuck electric strings in I'm here for the killers that wanders into that very menacing buildup in the final minute? the ticking pocketwatch motif???? hope is dangerous hot-wired my brain forever and was on my spotify wrapped last year. 1:30-1:44 of that goddamn track.... oughhh. same for how will you have me. makes me UNWELL. I KNOW it's just association/nostalgia, but this is what soc sounds like to me forever now. every time I hear that goddamn helpful goat motif (it starts at like 0:28 in the original and then is scattered around a lot in season 2) I want to throw up but like in a good way. I love it I love it I love it music is so important to adaptationssss

[adamnablelittledevil]

"There is Lestat, first and foremost, the author of four books of his life and his adventures comprising everything you could ever possibly want to know about him and some of us. Lestat, ever the maverick and the laughing trickster. Six feet tall, a young man of twenty when made, with huge warm blue eyes and thick flashy blond hair, square of jaw, with a generous beautifully shaped mouth and skin darkened by a sojourn in the sun which would have killed a weaker vampire, a ladies' man, an Oscar Wildean fantasy, the glass of fashion, the most bold and disregarding dusty vagabond on occasion, loner, wanderer, heart-breaker and wise guy, dubbed the "Brat Prince" by my old Master - yes, imagine it, my Marius, yes, my Marius, who did indeed survive the torches of the Roman Coven-dubbed by Marius the 'Brat Prince,' though in whose Court and by whose Divine Right and whose Royal Blood I should like to know. Lestat, stuffed with the blood of the most ancient of our kind, indeed the very blood of the Eve of our species, some five to seven thousand years the survivor of her Eden, a perfect horror who, emerging from the deceptive poetical title of Queen Akasha of Those Who Must Be Kept, almost destroyed the world. Lestat, not a bad friend to have, and one for whom I would lay down my immortal life, one for whose love and companionship I have ofttimes begged, one whom I find maddening and fascinating and intolerably annoying, one without whom I cannot exist.

[...]

But Lestat was calling. Lestat was, or so he claimed, afraid. I had to go. The last time he'd been in trouble, I hadn't been free to rush to his rescue. There is a story to that, but nothing as important as this one which I tell now. Now I knew that my hard-won peace of mind might be shattered by the mere contact with him, but he wanted me to come, so I went.

[...]

Of course I knew the very moment that he left this world. I felt it. I was in New York already, very near to him and aware that you were there as well. Neither of us meant to let him out of our sight if at all possible. Then came the moment when he vanished in the blizzard, when he was sucked out of the earthly atmosphere as if he'd never been there. Being his fledgling you couldn't hear the perfect silence that descended when he vanished. You couldn't know how completely he'd been withdrawn from all things minuscule yet material which had once echoed with the beating of his heart. I knew.

[...]

I didn't fear for Lestat, not really. I had no hopes for his adventure, except that he would appear sooner or later and tell us some fantastical yarn. It would be regular Lestat talk, for nobody aggrandizes as he does his preposterous adventures. This is not to say that he hasn't switched bodies with a human. I know that he has. This is not to say that he didn't wake our fearsome goddess Mother, Akasha; I know that he did. This is not to say that he didn't smash my old superstitious Coven to bits and pieces in the garish years before the French Revolution. I've already told you so. But it's the way he describes things that happen to him that maddens me, the way that he connects one incident to another as though all these random and grisly occurrences were in fact links in some significant chain. They are not. They are capers. And he knows it. But he must make a gutter theatrical out of stubbing his toe. The James Bond of the Vampires, the Sam Spade of his own pages! A rock singer wailing on a mortal stage for all of two hours and, on the strength of that, retiring with a slew of recordings that feed him filthy lucre still from human agencies to this very night. He has a knack for making tragedy of tribulation, and forgiving himself for anything and everything in every confessional paragraph he pens. I can't fault him, really. I cannot help but hate it that he lies now in a coma on the floor of his chapel here, staring into a self-contained silence, despite the fledglings that circle him for precisely the same reason as I did, to see for themselves if the blood of Christ has transformed him somehow and he does not represent some magnificent manifestation of the miracle of the Transubstantiation. But I'll come to that soon enough. I've ranted myself into a little corner. I know why I resent him so, and find it so soothing to hammer at his reputation, to beat upon his immensity with both my fists. He has taught me too much. He has brought me to this very moment, here, where I stand dictating to you my past with a coherence and calm that would have been impossible before I came to his assistance with his precious Memnoch the Devil and his vulnerable little Dora. Two hundred years ago he stripped me of illusions, lies, excuses, and thrust me on the Paris pavements naked to find my way back to a glory in the starlight that I had once known and too painfully lost. But as we waited finally in the handsome high-rise apartment above St. Patrick's Cathedral, I had no idea how much more he could strip from me, and I hate him only because I cannot imagine my soul without him now, and, owing him all that I am and know, I can do nothing to make him wake from his frigid sleep. But let me take things one at a time. What good is it to go back down now to the chapel here and lay my hands on him again and beg him to listen to me, when he lies as though all sense has truly left him and will never return. I can't accept this. I won't. I've lost all patience; I've lost the numbness that was my consolation. I find this moment intolerable."

THIS CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET AND IT'S ALREADY PEAK INSANITY OMG

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

hey! i love your donna fics so so much and i adore the way you write donna!! thank you for all the wonderful works you've shared!

do you think you could write one where reader is very insecure and doesn't think she deserves love and donna reassures her? i'm a sucker for hurt/comfort!

Yess!!! Thank you for your request, and for your kind words!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

To deserve, or not to deserve

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, insecurities, depression

Word count: 4,485

Summary: You're useless. You don't deserve to be loved... Or so you tought

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! Remember to love yourselves!!!! Today I have enough free time, so maybe I'll post another request if you don't mind. I think maybe I'm being annoying :S

“You are a failure, useless!” Your father shouted, cornering you against the old wall.

“No, that's not true! It isn't true!” You shouted back, hands on your head to avoid hearing those accusations. “Now, now I have someone who loves me…”

“Someone who loves you? Don't talk nonsense, no one could ever love you, (Y/N), you don't deserve to be loved...”

You don't deserve to be loved...

“No... It's not... It's not...” You murmured, opening your eyes only to find yourself in absolute darkness.

Your heart was beating fast and your breathing was struggling to control itself. The silence contrasted with the screams your head had imagined. You sighed in relief, but your were hands still shaking.

A nightmare, that was all.

Little by little you get used to the darkness, but the humidity on your forehead betrays the sweat of panic you experienced in your dreams. Your father was not there, he would never be there, you were safe. You were at the Beneviento estate.

Loyal subject of Mother Miranda, villager with a purpose in life, tireless cultivator and worker. That was you, just another villager, a useless one who couldn't even find someone to marry. Or so your family said.

The witch's weekly sermons were a constant plea for your life to change. You put your hands together, praying to the Black Gods to give you the chance to leave that horrible house.

You wouldn't know if they really heard your prayers. What you did know was that one of the Lords, Donna Beneviento, seemed to have some interest in you. Interest, at least you thought so. That mourning figure, along with the irritating doll, looked for you every week, looked for your body kneeling in that old chapel. She just watched you, as if you were a curious specimen, as if your suffering attracted her.

Little by little that was changing. A formal invitation to go to her house gave you enough hope to keep fighting, to want to keep living. A friendship, a silent tea. Not a word, not a sign of danger or threat.

Many times you thought you confused dreams with reality, why had a Lord like her noticed you? You weren't special. You were nobody, just (Y/N), useless, a failure, a mistake.

No matter the circumstances, you would still be the same failure to your father. Donna, for her part, seemed to listen to your empty words, your absurd stories about working. Did she really listen to you? It seemed unlikely.

But the teas were longer, the visits more frequent. Something seemed to really interest her, since one day, the woman in black showed her face to you, along with her feelings.

“I like you, (Y/N), I think I love you,” she said with her soft voice, marked by an unknown accent. You turned around, just when you felt you had to go back to your house. You would never come back, never.

A kiss sealed those words, confirmed Donna's interest in you. You had never kissed anyone, she had never kissed anyone. With no other experience to compare that beautiful feeling to, you began to think that maybe, just maybe, she was telling the truth.

It wasn't long until you started missing your stuff, the stuff that was still in that hell you used to call home.

You remembered your father's screams and his constant mantras that talked about how useless you were. He didn't believe that anyone had paid attention to you. He thought it was impossible for anyone to love you. It wasn't the first time he said it, but it was the last.

If you were to search your mind for something to make you smile, it would be your father's face when Donna appeared at the door, with her stoic pose, the Angie doll in her arms, and that veil that made her look terrifying.

Your father knelt, begging for mercy. Donna should have tortured him, but she didn't. She took your hand, taking you away from that place forever.

And there you were, sleeping with her, living with her. You might think you were in paradise, that your nightmares were over, but that wasn't the case at all. An insecure girl like you was unable to see the sincerity on the face of the lady in black. She wanted something from you, she didn't love you. She couldn't love you.

When you calmed down after your past haunted you in your dreams, you reached out your hand to the warm body lying next to you. Donna groaned and shifted, annoyed with you for interrupting her sleep.

You couldn't help but smile tenderly. You may not have been sure what she felt for you, but you were. You loved her. You loved her with all your soul.

You sighed again, slowly getting out of bed. You needed some water, you needed to reflect.

The cold water cleared your thoughts, and the reflection in the mirror showed your insecurities again. You were nothing special, you were nothing.

Drying yourself with a towel, you thought about everything you had experienced in that house. Smiles, compliments, caresses, large amounts of kisses and words of love. But were they sincere? Did Donna really love you?

“(Y/N)...” A hoarse and sleepy voice scared you, making you jump on the floor. Donna appeared behind you, out of the darkness, with her black hair down and a face that betrayed that you had woken her up. Apologize, (Y/N), you're useless. “I'm sorry, did I scare you?”

“A bit,” you said, with a half smile, lowering your head. “I didn't mean to wake you up, Donna, I'm so sorry,” you apologized.

She shook her head and smiled.

“Don't worry, it's okay,” she whispered, approaching and surrounding you from behind, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. You were shaking from the nightmare and the sweat on your body was quite evident, which made Lady Beneviento murmur something and slowly turn you around.

“Forgive me,” you repeated, afraid that her reassuring words preceded a punishment. Donna shook her head and frowned, studying your expression.

“(Y/N), are you okay? You're soaked,” she asked, ignoring your repeated apologies, something that was very common for her. Why didn't she give it importance? Your apologies were genuine.

“It's nothing, it's just that... I had a nightmare,” you said, downplaying it and avoiding looking into her bright and suspicious eye.

“A nightmare? What was it about?” Donna asked in a loving voice, gently grabbing your hand, comforting you with her caresses.

“Well, I... It doesn't matter. We, we should go back to bed. I'm stealing hours of sleep from you,” you said, your voice breaking as you remembered that horrible dream. Donna didn't move and stopped you from moving forward, keeping her grip on your hand.

“Come on, (Y/N), you're sweating. I’m going to prepare a bath for you,” she said, walking with you to the bathtub. Her tender smile could mean many things, but all you saw was just interest.

You've woken her up, and that requires paying for it, you supposed with the sight of your naked body. Yes, yes, surely that was what she wanted from you.

As the hot water filled the bathtub, you played with your nightgown. Donna noticed and looked at you with a strange grimace.

“Tesoro, you're shaking...” She said worriedly while she watched you untie the cloth that separated you from nudity.

“I’ve, I've never gotten naked in front of anyone, I'm sorry,” you said apologetically, looking down as the fabric disappeared from your body.

“What? Wait,” the lady in black whispered, grabbing a towel and covering your body with it. “Naked? What are you talking about?” She asked, tying that soft fabric to your body.

At that moment your face went from fear, from sadness, to the most absolute shame.

“Don't you want to see me naked?” You asked scared. Wasn't that what she wanted? What was it then?

Donna's eye widened and she looked away, with a confused grimace and her breathing speeding up little by little.

“No, I mean, yes, but...” She stammered, adjusting your towel tightly so that it wouldn't dare to fall on the floor. “I don't think it's time for that now, (Y/N).”

You nodded even more confused. Her face looked sad and worried. You had done things wrong again. You are useless, no one could love you.

 “I'm sorry,” you whispered, slowly stopping your trembling. Donna nodded with a frown and turned off the faucet, checking the water temperature.

“Don't apologize, you haven't done anything wrong,” she said, now, smiling tenderly.

“I woke you up,” you said hurriedly.

“(Y/N), what's wrong? You're acting...” She asked suspiciously. You took a deep breath and shook your head.

“Weird, yes, I'm sorry,” you said again with a melancholic tone, hoping that this time Donna would accept your apologies.

Donna approached you, gently lifting your chin and kissing you slowly, wanting to comfort your sorrows, something even one of those otherworldly kisses couldn’t do at that moment.

“Stop apologizing, tesoro... Get in the bathtub. You'll see how much better you feel afterwards, mm? Don't worry, I'll go make you a relaxing infusion so you can sleep well,” she said with a smile, but without losing that small distrust that was in her eye.

You nodded, noticing how she walked away from you, closing the door.

The bath felt good to you and the infusion even better, but they did nothing to silence the voices of your conscience. Your father was right, you were worthless. No one could love you.

When you opened your eyes the next day, loneliness invaded you. No one breathed calmly next to you. The warmth of her body had disappeared. Just as you had predicted, she had abandoned you, she didn't love you. You didn't deserve to be loved.

“Donna?” You asked with a sob, silencing the horrible thoughts that plagued your insecure mind. “Donna?!”

You got nervous just at the thought of having to go home, of her throwing you away because you were stupid, useless.

“Don't yell, idiot,” the Angie doll, who was resting curled up next to you, snapped. “Now she comes.”

“I'm sorry,” you apologized, bowing your head. Angie made fun of you with some exaggerated gestures.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” she mocked comically. “You said your name was, (Y/N)? More like you're Lady Apologies.”

“I like to apologize when I think I've done something wrong,” you defended yourself against those taunts. Angie stopped jumping on the bed and sat next to you, studying your gaze.

“So what exactly have you done wrong? Apart from screaming like a crazy girl, of course,” the doll asked, with that irritating tone, one that was not the most appropriate to listen to when you just woke up.

“I've bothered you,” you whispered, feeling pathetic for having to apologize to a porcelain doll.

“I don't know how Donna can stand you, you're so annoying,” the doll hissed, pointing an accusing finger at you.

“I know,” you murmured, tears in your eyes.

“You know?” The puppet asked, surprised by your answer.

“You're right, Angie, I don't know how she puts up with me,” you said sobbing, raising your knees to your chest, burying your soft cry in the sheets.

“Oh, no, no, no,” the doll said climbing up your body and trying to separate its hands from your face. “Don't cry, or Donna will be angry with me... Come on, stop crying. Do you want to hear a joke? What does the stick of a campfire say to another? Your caresses make me burn...”

You raised your head and smiled involuntarily, lowering your legs slightly.

“Do you get it? Campfire, burn...” Angie repeated, amused. You nodded, laughing sheepishly. “I won, you laughed…”

“Good morning, tesoro,” a soft voice interrupted that awkward but funny moment. Donna, already wearing her dress and her hair tied up, entered the room, carrying what looked like a tray with breakfast in her arms.

“Donna...” You sighed when you saw her, with a smile of relief.

“I bring you breakfast,” she said happily, leaving the tray on your lap and sitting next to you. “Look, I made you coffee, with milk and sugar, just the way you like it. You also have toast, some pieces of fruit…”

“What’s that?” You asked, amazed but incredulous at the same time, admiring this display of delicious morning delicacies. Donna shrugged, taking one of the toasts with an amused smile.

“I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed. I think it's very romantic, don't you?” She said, biting into a bit of that lightly toasted bread.

Her words seemed sincere, but you still didn't believe her. No one would do something like that for someone like you. No matter how many times you thought about it, it didn't seem remotely possible.

“Romantic...” You sighed with the same sad tone, earning that suspicious look again.

No, no. She didn't want to be romantic with you. No one could be romantic with you.

Donna looked at you curiously. You couldn't fool her any longer. She knew perfectly well that something was happening to you, what would be your punishment for that?

“I'm so worried about you, (Y/N),” Donna murmured, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly in hers.

“About me? Oh, don't worry, Donna,” you said, apologizing with your gestures, and pretending to take a sip of that hot coffee.

“Have I done something wrong?” She asked again, getting a little closer to you. You shook your head and faked a smile. No, you didn't want to, you didn't want to lose her.

“No, I... Everything you do or say is perfect,” you said firmly, making the lady and her doll look curious at each other.

“That sounds like a reproach to me,” Donna murmured, now with a colder expression.

“No, it is not. I didn't mean for it to sound like that, I'm so sorry,” you said to try to calm that cold look. There would be consequences, for sure. The lady in black moved away, she was getting nervous, because of you, always because of you.

“Okay, well... I... I'll leave you alone, I don't want to annoy you,” she said, caressing your cheek and leaving the room, giving you one last sad look.

You couldn't help but cry after that. Your doubts, your insecurities were too strong, too intense to bear. If only you had the courage to ask her, the courage to know why she was attracted to you, or rather to ask what she wanted from you.

The love you felt was strong, but you wanted to stop, you wanted to find out what kind of evil plans the lady in black had for you. No, love was definitely not a feeling she could have for you. Nobody will ever love you.

The day passed slowly, sad, dull.

Donna worked in her workshop as always, but even then you couldn't be with her, she told you that she wanted to be alone, she needed to concentrate.

Your insecurity after those words only grew. You always accompanied her in her work, with her dolls. Donna said that she felt comfortable in your company, but she didn't like it lately. Obvious. She was sick of you. You were a scumbag, a loser. You knew nothing about love, you didn't know how to please her. You didn't know if it was time to take the next step or not.

You didn't know anything. You didn't know what she felt. Every I love you that came out of her mouth sounded like the biggest of lies. For you, that sudden isolation only confirmed your suspicions. The day when you would be left alone would soon come, she would torture you. She would confess you were not good enough for her.

Depressed, you lay on the couch, the sound of the waterfall dramatizing your horrible thoughts. You were nothing, you deserved nothing. Those words you yourself repeated over and over again accompanied your tiredness, your apathy, until your eyes closed, until your eyelids were too heavy...

“I don't love you, (Y/N)” Donna hissed, in the middle of a dark, empty room, where only you and her were.

Kneeling, you cried intensely, inconsolably, clinging pathetically to the black fabric of her dress.

“Don't say that, Donna, I know it's not true,” you sobbed when she pushed you away unpleasantly, making you fall to the ground.

“You are a worthless girl!” The lady screamed, with her fists clenched on either side of her hips. “You are useless!”

“No, no, it's not you, Donna, I know it's not you...” You said nervously, getting up from the floor and cupping her face in your hands.

“Stupid,” she hissed, pushing you away. “I just wanted to have a fun time with you, but you don't even deserve to be my toy. You're not even good enough to get fucked, you're useless.”

You shook your head, while more voices and evil laughter filled that empty room.

“Useless, useless, useless,” voices like your father's began to insult you at the same time that ghostly arms cornered you against a wall.

“No, no, stop it!” You shrieked, doubling over yourself, not wanting to look at the lady in black's expression of contempt, not wanting to hear those words anymore.

“(Y/N), (Y/N)...” Donna murmured, with that devilish smile on her face.

“No... No...” You murmured, writhing on the couch until with a dull thud, you fell to the wooden floor, realizing the brightness of the place. Another dream, another nightmare.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” The lady in black asked, leaning down to help you up. You were no longer in an empty room. You were at home, in her house...

“Yes, I... I think I fell asleep,” you whispered, sitting up with his help. She joined you, but she avoided looking into your eyes. “I'm sorry I scared you.”

“No, tesoro... Don't apologize...” She whispered, running a hand over your sweaty forehead. “I heard you scream. Don't tell me you've had another...”

“No, it doesn't matter, really, I'm better now,” you interrupted, perhaps with a slightly abrupt tone. Donna shook her head as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You hadn't realized, but she was carrying something in her hand, it looked like a small box.

“Right,” she whispered, suspicious. Soon that distrust changed to an expression of shyness, as she extended that small box towards you. “I… I… I have, I have something for you.”

You pointed to yourself, confused, and picked up that small box, opening it slowly, hoping to find a note inside that surely said: I don't love you, out of my sight.

But there was none of that inside. In its place, there was a small bracelet decorated with porcelain animals, with the symbol of the Beneviento House. The golden glow hit your eyes and your nervousness only increased.

“It's, it's a bracelet,” Donna said, noticing your confused look, taking the object and tying it to your wrist with trembling hands. “I’ve made it for you, (Y/N)”

“For me...” You repeated nervously, looking at that bracelet again and again, not understanding. Not understanding anything.

“Yes, of course,” Donna said, amused, but also upset, nervous about your reaction. “It was a surprise, that's why I didn't want you to go down to the workshop,” she explained, breathing heavily.

Surely she should expect a smile, a thank you, but all you could do was to keep your gaze on that golden bracelet as your eyes filled with tears.

You shook your head, all your feelings screaming to come out of you. It didn't take long for the sobs to appear.

Why would someone who didn't love you do something like that? Why would Donna give you something so nice? Why would she bother doing it if she didn't love you? You don't deserve that gift. You don't deserve to be loved.

“Why are you crying?” Donna asked, scared, placing her hands on your shoulders. “You don't like it?”

You looked at her and nodded profusely.

“Yes, I really like it, Donna, it’s amazing,” you said with a broken voice, playing with those little porcelain animals. She nodded too, looking for the answer to your attitude in your teary eyes.

“I don't understand why...” She murmured, wiping several tears from your cheeks. You pushed her hand away unpleasantly and growled, wanting to get out everything you had inside you for a long time.

“Why, Donna?” You said with a pitiful cry, making her retreat.

“Why what? What's going on, tesoro?” She asked scared, controlling her breathing so as not to get nervous, even more so.

“Don't call me that...” You hissed, clenching your teeth tightly. “Do not call me that way!” You screeched, pushing her shoulders.

“But, but, it's an affectionate nickname... No, it's not bad at all. It means honey, sweetheart... Or...” Donna said, completely scared, with her eye open in surprise and fear.

“I know what it means!” You screamed again, letting more tears travel down your face. “How long are you going to continue like this?”

“Like this? I don't understand you… (Y/N),” she muttered confusedly, blinking erratically. Great, useless girl, you're going to cause her a terrible crisis.

“Stop pretending you love me, Donna. I'm fed up,” you said furiously, avoiding her gaze, avoiding listening to the intense beating of your heart.

“What are you talking about? Pretend?” She asked again, trying to grab your hand, a gesture that you rejected again.

“Yes, yes...” You responded, now, looking at her, with your vision blurred due to the crying. “You're pretending. You're just pretending so I don't run away, right? So you can get what you want from me.”

“I don't understand you, really... I don't, I don't know what...”

“You really know!” You responded to her babbling. “I'm nothing but a useless idiot. I'm no good for anything. You can't have any other intentions, Donna. You want something from me.”

“You're talking nonsense, (Y/N), come on, you have to calm down,” she said, smiling nervously, not knowing how to act in such a horrible situation.

“I don't want to calm down!”

Donna, looked at you in horror, completely lost, about to burst into a nervous breakdown that you caused.

“I love you, you know?” You said in a calmer tone, almost like a whisper. “I love you with all my soul. And I know, I know that you don't feel the same.”

“I don't I feel the same? But, but why do you think so?” Donna said, still bewildered, lost in your tears and overcome by your own emotions.

“Because no one can love me,” you said in a dark voice, clenching your fists tightly, wanting to scream, break things, wanting Donna to be honest with you. “I know that I’m a failure, useless. I don't deserve anyone to love me, no one can love me.”

The lady in black just shook her head, stunned by your somber response.

“This is all because of your father, right?” Donna said, calmer, with a soft tone, with that tone that you adored. You shook your head, this time, letting her hand grab yours.

“He was right,” you said quietly, letting the touch of her hand on your skin calm your demons.

“No, he’s not,” she said, approaching cautiously. “Your father is an idiot, (Y/N)...”

“Me too,” you whispered, looking away from her again.

“No, no, darling...” She murmured, bringing a hand to your face, forcing you to look at her beauty, an irresistible beauty for you. “Hey, come on… What nonsense is you don't deserve to be loved?”

You didn't know how to respond, you simply shrugged, resigned.

“Listen, I... I understand your thoughts,” she told you, coming a little closer, grabbing your hands tightly in hers. “I know what it's like to feel useless, a failure... But, I also know that I look at you and my whole body shakes, that I couldn't live without your smile. I'm in love with you, (Y/N). You're a wonderful girl.”

“Why? Come on, tell me why you think I'm wonderful,” you said, annoyed by those, in your opinion, empty words.

“Just look at you, mm? You're beautiful...” Donna said with a tender smile, lifting your chin slightly. “You are a nice person, funny, happy… You are not useless.”

“I'm not funny, nor happy,” you responded, ignoring her words. Donna sighed, finding frustration in your depressed attitude. But she wasn't going to give up.

“Of course you are,” she said, insisting, insisting so much that little by little, you began to believe her words. “You are when you are with me.”

“Because I love you, I've already told you,” you said, avoiding smiling when remembering those pleasant talks with the sound of the waterfall in the background, or those anecdotes about your boring life in the village.

“Love makes you happy then,” she said, amused but with her eye shining, revealing that some tears were about to come out. “That's very nice, you know?”

“But you don't... You can't feel the same. I'm just a stupid villager, you are a Lord. You deserve someone to give you everything you need. You don't need a self-indulgent stupid (Y/N) who apologizes all the time.”

“No, my love... No one can give me what you give me,” she whispered, very close to your lips, kissing them carefully, afraid that you would reject them. You didn't, at least at that very moment.

“So what do I give you?” You asked, closing your eyes, enjoying the contact, her soft skin against yours. A feeling that you had never valued as much as in that moment.

“You make me to live, (Y/N), want to love...” Donna whispered, kissing you romantically once again.

“I’m giving you that?” You asked, sobbing again, but this time, from happiness. No one had ever said anything like that about you, ever, not even your family. You had never thought that you could be so important to someone.

“You give me the love that I’m missing in my lonely life. You are everything to me, (Y/N). I don't expect you to believe me... But I love you, I really love you.”

“Do you really love me?” You asked again, clinging to the black fabric of her dress.

“I would give everything for you...”

After those words, you were the one who threw yourself into her arms, kissing her with passion, with joy dispelling your doubts, with love ending your insecurities. No, you weren't useless, she needed you, she needed your love. She needed you to be with her. You would never be useless again.

You were her love, she was yours. You deserved to be loved. You deserved all the happiness that Donna gave you. You weren't a stupid villager, you were her stupid villager, and you always would be.

[anthonycrowley]

���i love you in the same way there’s a chapel in a hospital’ idk if this lyric is underrated or whatever but god literally one of my favorites. it poleaxes me every time i hear it i don’t know why it just has me cuckoo bananas every time.

[xxchumanixx]

Superstitious pt. 1

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Niklaus Mikaelson x reader

Warnings/Tags: hurt, angst, violence, blood, fluff, comfort, character death

Loving the same person can be hard. Especially when history seems to have a habit of repeating itself.

Authors note: Heya! Had this idea because of a dream that sadly got disturbed by my alarm going off. I really love this and I hope you will as well!

I seem to have a hang for dramatic stories I think.

There will be a part two, split into two chapters (one with Elijah, one with Niklaus)!

Word count: 3.612

"Nik!" his name fell off your lips in a happy squeal, throwing yourself at the oh so dangerous hybrid.

He caught you with ease, holding you flush against his body. "Hello, love." he greeted you in return, his lips curling into a smile. "How are you?"

You separated, looking up at him. "I'm doing great! How are you?" you gave back, smiling. He chuckled at your obviously good mood, leading you to one of the windows of his gallery. "I'm good as well, thank you love."

Your breath hitched in your throat, as you saw the gorgeous view the window provided you. It was one where you could step a little outside, but not really being outside. Almost like a small winter garden.

"See, I promised you a breathtaking view." the hybrid spoke behind you, smiling at the way your eyes lit up and goosebumps covered your skin.

He knew you loved photography, always searching for opportunities to bring out your camera or phone.

The view infront of you instantly made you want to snap some pictures.

The night sky was perfectly in view, along with some of the city's skyline, paired with the enormous chapel located at the far west.

It truly was breathtaking.

"Let me dim the lights and open the window so you can take some pictures." Niklaus offered, before opening the big window infront of you and dimming the lights.

The cool air floating in helped to calm you down a little.

It was the first time that you were at his gallery, as he refused to show you unless it was perfect. Now that you finally could see it, you saw what he meant by 'perfect'.

It truly was.

Almost every one of his paintings was displayed in the big room you currently where at, some of them in the attached rooms that where to your left and right.

It was magical.

You were happy that he was able to fulfill his wish of having his own gallery, a place where he could show his art and inspire others.

When he first told you about it, you were a little hesitant. Considering the past and the words said about him (though you didn't believe them), you weren't sure if he really wanted this.

But now, you knew it was the right thing for him to do. Something to get noticed by in a good way, something people would speak of with kind and gentle words, not the gruesome ones they tried to scare you with.

You fished for your phone in your pocket, not having brought your camera with you.

Looking for the perfect angles you took some pictures and then a few more.

Niklaus watched you with a fond smile on his face, happy to spend some time with you alone.

He was entranced by your appearance, the way your hair flowed down your back like silk, and the glow in your eyes when you looked at the different pictures you took.

He knew he loved you, even though he never would have dared to say it out loud.

Your gentle and kind spirit, which contrasted to his in such a way it took his breath. The way you never got scared because of him and his past, which you well knew thanks to a lot of people.

You had refused to believe what they told you, wanting to get to know him despite everything they said about him being the big bad wolf, the original hybrid.

You were amazed by him.

The way he changed after his daughter was born, the way he cared about the people he loved, showing it in his own ways.

He would have done everything for you, you just had to ask. Seeing you so happy filled him with pride and joy.

But the steps approaching that only he could hear, made him sigh to himself. His time with you alone was up.

You turned around to him, just at the moment where his brother entered the room through the door located behind Niklaus.

"Elijah!" you breathed out, smiling at the older Mikaelson brother with adoration in your eyes.

Niklaus' heart broke for the millionth time, as he knew he would have never stood a chance against his noble brother.

You walked over to Elijah, engulfing him in a hug. He hugged you back, holding you close to him with a smile on his face.

He could hear your human heart race, could feel the happiness that radiated off of you.

"Hello, brother." Niklaus spoke up, causing you two to separate. Elijah greeted him with a curt nod, stepping forward with his hand on the small of your back.

You were oblivious to their silent argument about you, Elijah's gritted teeth the only indicator. But you brushed it off, wanting to show them the pictures you had taken.

"Come on, let me show you the pictures I took." you spoke, smiling at both brothers, before walking over to one of the lounges Niklaus had sat up.

The cushions made the slightest bit of sound as you sunk down on them, Niklaus and Elijah following you short.

They huddled closer to you, each one trying to be closer than the other. You flipped your phone so they could both see, before starting to slowly swipe through the various photographs you had taken.

"These are stunning, darling." Elijah complimented you, making you blush.

"They really are, love." Niklaus agreed with his brothers words. You felt the warmth spread through you at their words, making your heart pick up its pace.

You couldn't deny your love for them, which seemed almost equal. But your heart had trouble deciding, and it slowly killed you inside. You were scared to lose them if you dared to say a word about your feelings, especially when knowing about their past with Tatia.

So you kept it to yourself, hoping not to break because of it.

"She's going to die because of them" "What makes you so sure of that?" "It's history repeating itself. The love of them will ultimately destroy her."

You smoothed out the dress you had picked out the night before, trying to calm yourself down.

It was the night of Niklaus' gallery opening to the public for the first time, the room being crowded with lots of people you didn't know.

You hadn't seen Niklaus nor Elijah yet, leaving you almost alone in the middle of strangers. The only face you knew being your best friend's, but she was already occupied with some wealthy looking man.

"Lost?" the sudden voice behind you had you jumping, your heart doubling its pace with your hand above it.

"Elijah!" you scolded the man now stood beside you, who simply chuckled in return. "You seemed lost amongst these people." he explained, smiling. He knew you hated crowds, them always making you feel uneasy.

You decided to let your anger about him scaring you slide, instead of giving into it.

"I was, thank you very much." you replied, a smile slowly forming on your face as well. "But now you're here so I won't have to watch Marissa cling to this stranger or these poor souls trying to look smart, anymore."

He chuckled again at your words, grabbing two champagne flutes from a waiter passing by. He offered one to you, which you gladly took. "To Niklaus and his gallery." you toasted, clinking your glass with his, before taking a sip of the sweet beverage.

Elijah looked you over for a moment, before opening his mouth to speak. "Y/N, you-"

"You look stunning, love." Niklaus' voice traveled towards you, as he walked over to you, interrupting his brother.

Elijah's fist clenched, but he kept quiet.

You blushed, feeling your insecurity fade a little at his grin. "Thank you." you smiled back at him, subconsciously smoothing over your dress. "I thought I should wear something fit for the occasion."

"It fits perfectly." Niklaus assured you, offering you his hand. "Care for a little tour?" he wanted to know, his eyes gleaming.

"Sure-" you wanted to give back, but Elijah interrupted you. "Actually-" he spoke up, glaring at his brother in the most subtle way possible. "I was about to show Y/N where you hung her photographs."

Your eyes widened at the same time Niklaus' narrowed. You knew that he thought about showing some of your photographs, but never assumed he really would.

Before Niklaus had the chance to reply, Elijah grabbed your hand and led you to one of the attached rooms where Niklaus displayed his art - and apparently yours, too.

"I-" you stuttered, trying to find the right words. "I never thought he would actually show them." "They are beautiful." Elijah gave back, smiling down at you. "They deserve to be seen. They should be seen."

Your cheeks warmed as you looked away from him. You still couldn't believe seeing your own work at a gallery, let alone Niklaus'.

But he gave your hand a soft squeeze, making your eyes find their way back to his. "I really mean it, Y/N." he said. "They are beautiful. And so are you."

Now, you really blushed, your heart skipping a beat.

They would be the death of you.

"Look at her. She doesn't even know that she has them both wrapped around her finger." "What will happen if she finds out? If she discovers that they would fight the other to death if it meant being with her?" "Let's just hope she will do so and then pit brother against brother."

"Do you think she will be more like her mother?"

The question caught you off-guard, making you halt in your movement, the ice cream in your hands no longer important.

"Why would you ask that, Nik?" you wanted to know, frowning at the hybrid.

He hesitated, his mouth agape, before he looked down at his ice cone, licking his bottom lip. "I don't want her to be like me." he quietly admitted, worry etched in his features.

"Why would you say that?" you asked in disbelieve, not understanding how he could think this bad about himself. "You're a great person, why shouldn't she become like you? Or a mix of you and Hayley, for that matter."

He looked back up at your words, hope shining in his eyes like the stars above you.

"Do you really think so?" he wanted to know, sounding more vulnerable than he would have ever admitted to be.

He couldn't stop but hope you really meant what you had said.

"Of course I do." you gave back, smiling up at him. "Why would I not? You're kind, charming, funny and smart. Why shouldn't she become like that, too?"

He made a sound of relief, a smile forming on his face. His heart skipped a beat, something he hadn't experienced in a long time, before you came into his life.

You were like a ray of sunshine after the rain, bringing the rainbow and all its beautiful colors with you wherever you went. Seeing you smile would make his day, hearing you laugh his entire week.

You truly had him wrapped around your finger.

He swallowed, as he thought back to the first opening of his gallery.

He had noticed two women near you and his brother, seemingly talking to themselves. But he hadn't missed what they had said.

He wasn't sure if he should pay much attention to their words, or if they meant entirely different things.

Either way he had kept it to himself.

He embraced you as best as he could, trying to show you his gratitude for your kind words.

He wouldn't admit it, but hearing you say such things about him made him happy, made him value you even more.

Your hands wrapped around him as best as you could, still holding tight onto your ice cream. You would have rather died, before letting it hit the ground.

You loved your ice cream walks with Niklaus, walking through town after the sun had set, buying ice cream and talking about everything you came up with.

It made you happy beyond words.

But your walks with Elijah were beautiful as well.

He would take you to new places, showing you buildings and explaining the history behind them.

Talking about what he had witnessed in person and what happened where. How each building was important in his own way, and showing you the beautiful landscapes.

You would occasionally make picnics, bringing your favorite snacks and drinks along with you, spending the day talking and laughing.

You truly had them wrapped around your fingers.

"They would never turn her, even if it meant her growing old and eventually dying." "Maybe. But her time is running out. She won't even get any gray hair, so don't worry about her growing old."

"Elijah!" Rebekah came rushing inside, frantically searching for her brother. "Elijah!"

"What is it with you?" Niklaus wanted to know as equally as loud, as he rounded the corner, not understanding why his sister had to shout at this time of night. Not that he would have been asleep, anyways.

"It's Y/N!" his sister explained, worry written all across her features, carrying the girl he loved in her hands. "I don't know what happened! She suddenly spat blood, before she fainted."

Niklaus' heart began to pound violently, his head spinning, as he stopped dead in his tracks. Mouth agape he wasn't able to move at first, when suddenly Elijah sped into the hall. They seemed to move in sync, as they both approached their sister with you limp in her arms.

"Bring her into my room!" Elijah acted quickly, not missing the sound of protest his brother made at his words, though; barely being able to hold it back.

But Niklaus knew that it would have been pointless to argument, especially when he didn't know if you would survive, only wasting precious time. So he swallowed his pride and followed his siblings.

Rebekah lay you down on Elijah's bed, checking your temperature. "She's burning up!" she explained, looking at her brothers for any indication of help.

Niklaus' teeth grit, as he seemed to grasp what led to you being in this condition.

"What is it, brother?" Elijah wanted to know, having noticed his brother's change in demeanor.

Niklaus hesitated, but eventually spoke up.

"At the gallery, when you and Y/N looked at her photographs..." he bit his lip, needing a moment to gather the right words. "There were two women, I initially thought they were visitors. But they talked about Y/N having us both wrapped around her finger. About her eventually pitting us against each other. I didn't think much of it but I think they are responsible for this."

He wasn't the one to back down that easily, but he knew he should have told Elijah earlier, who's expression showed exactly that.

"And you didn't deem this important?" he almost shouted, not able to believe that he didn't tell him. "Now Y/N's life is at stake, and you tell me this just now?!"

Niklaus was ashamed.

Not because his brother was angry with him, but because he had failed you. He had known about a threat, still deciding to ignore it, putting you in danger because he didn't want his brother to become overprotective of you.

He should have known better.

How would you ever forgive him, if you even made it out alive?

Elijah paced, as he heard your heartbeat growing weaker. He stopped, putting his hands in his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration.

"We have to-" he began, but Niklaus cut him off. "No!" he shouted through the tears blurring his vision. "Don't even think about it!"

Elijah's eyes widened in disbelieve. He couldn't understand how his brother would willingly let you die.

"Are you seriously just going to let her die?" he shouted. "Just because you wouldn't stand her eventually choosing me instead of you?"

Niklaus shook his head. "No, brother. Because she would be sired to you. She loves you, and if you turn her, she could-" "Could, Niklaus!" Elijah cut him off, anger making his voice shake. "I refuse to let her die just because you're scared of losing her!"

Even though his words made Elijah's heart flutter, he knew that you loved his brother as well. He had seen it in your eyes - the way you would look at Niklaus as if he meant the world to you.

How could he possibly compare to that?

It was impulsive and maybe even selfish, but before either one could react, Elijah had bitten into his wrist and pressed it to your mouth, making you swallow the crimson liquid.

"No!" Niklaus shouted, making a move for his brother, but Rebekah held him back as best as she could.

It took him a second, but eventually he broke free from her, rushing at Elijah. They collided, landing on the ground in a heap.

"How could you?!" Niklaus wanted to know, punching his brother in the face, anger making his eyes glow. "She would have died!" Elijah tried to make him come to his senses, gaining the upper hand for a moment, trying to hold his brother down. "How could I not?"

A tear slipped from Niklaus' eye, as he suddenly gave up every fight, slumping on his back.

He didn't want you to end up like them, doomed to live forever, not able to have any children of your own.

A wish you deeply harbored.

But now, your heartbeat had stopped.

You were dead.

And if it weren't for Elijah you might have had a better afterlife than what was about to come.

Hunger.

Heightened emotions.

The possibility of you being sired to Elijah.

It was like a nightmare come true for Niklaus.

He understood why his brother felt the need to save you, but he still hated him for it.

He hated him for robbing you of all chances to live a normal life.

To make you like them.

Turning you into a monster.

Elijah swallowed as he registered your missing heartbeat.

He let go of his brother, sitting back on the ground. His hair hung in his face, but he couldn't care less.

The weight of his decision suddenly hit him like a bullet, stealing his breath.

He had taken everything from you.

Not even giving you the chance to pick.

And now you would pay the price for his selfishness.

It was silent for a while, neither of the siblings daring to utter a word.

But the sudden gasp you let out as you shot into a sitting position broke the silence, making three pairs of eyes turn to you.

You were back.

Elijah part two

Niklaus part two

[flowerandblood]

Sweet kiss, sweet blood (7)

[ dark vampire! • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: kissing, sexual tension, fluff ]

[description: A centuries-old vampire lives in Victorian England, bored and discouraged. His old friend sends him a letter, inviting him to his new country house. Aemond arrives there to rest. Next to the property, there is a small chapel, visited by the faithful. It turns out that at night, a young lady prays in it. Slow burn, sexual tension, profanation, murder, blood drinking.]

I owe the idea for this wonderful series to: @qyburnsghost

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

______

Miss Whaterfield was furious with herself for ever opening that unfortunate letter. She couldn't sleep because of what she read in it. Because of what he wrote to her, because of the thought that he waited for her in the chapel every night.

This terrifying, bloodthirsty man.

She didn't understand why he wouldn't leave her alone, why he was so insistent that she become his wife. She had the impression that he was constantly mocking her, that he only wanted to humiliate her even more.

She decided not to change her mind. She did not reply to his letter. She began preparing for her departure by sending a letter to a nearby convent with the intention of being accepted.

After a few days, she announced to her father that she had received permission. Mr. Whaterfield took this information with equanimity and a strange, unlike him, satisfaction. He placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders, smiling reassuringly at her.

“I know I've always been strict with you. But today, right now, I'm proud of you. You have found your calling and I am glad that you will dedicate your life to God. It's a great honor for our family." He said and kissed her forehead.

She felt as if her heart would break at the same time from emotion and pain at his words. She desperately wanted to hear it, but not right now, not in this way.

She dreamed of Ser Aemond every day. In her dreams, he would bite her neck, then either kill her or kidnap her, locking her in his castle, making her his slave. On the one hand these dreams terrified her, on the other hand, for some reason when he took her with him or simply killed her, she felt relieved.

On the last evening that she was supposed to spend at her home, she couldn't sleep. She felt her heart pounding hard, she was terrified, but she didn't share her thoughts with anyone.

She didn't know what to do with the fear and grief that writhed like poison in her heart. She felt as if her body and inside were rotting, as if she was lying in a dark, cold dungeon, from which she would never come out.

Pastor Smith took the news of her future entry into the convent with reserve. He could not clearly show his displeasure since she was devoting herself to the service of God, but he made it clear to her father that he did not think she was up to the task. Mr. Whaterfield took great offense at his words, and their relations have cooled since then.

Miss Whaterfield thought that she had said goodbye to everyone, except Ser Aemond. The half-man, half-beast that kept her awake at night. She was furious that she couldn't bring herself to think of him as an unequivocally evil person.

He had done cruel and brutal things to her, and others that made her cheeks burn, but in fact she knew that before he tasted her blood, she was slowly falling in love with him. She would never admit it to him, but when he asked her father so directly for her hand, she felt an explosion of joy in her heart. There is nothing left of it now.

For some reason, she felt that if she left without saying a word she would leave something unfinished in her life forever. She thought that she wanted to say goodbye to him, forgive him like a true Christian and move on, giving her life into God's hands.

She got up, trembling slightly with emotion, putting on a white robe over her night gown which she tied with a ribbon around her waist. She lit a candle and, as she had promised herself, sneaked out of the house for the last time through the back door, heading across the meadow to Ser Criston's park.

She saw from a distance the chapel where she had prayed so often, and in it the light of a candle. She knew it was his sign for her, and she felt a strange painful pang in her heart.

She silently approached the slightly ajar door and paused, trying to calm her pounding heart in her chest. She was afraid, but at the same time she felt an indescribable excitement, a pleasant shiver at the thought of seeing him again. She swallowed hard, plucked up her courage, and walked inside with small, quiet steps.

He smelled her scent before he even saw her. He turned his profile towards her, shocked, then stood up and looked at her, his pale, long face expressing disbelief.

He swallowed hard, and they both looked at each other, standing some distance away, breathing uneasily. His eye showed so many emotions all at once that somehow it touched her. Her throat tightened at the sight of what she might normally mistake for longing.

After a moment, as if he had remembered who he was, he bowed to her, as befitted a man of his status. She nodded, feeling her hands tremble, her candle flame flickering uneasily. Neither of them knew what to say. Finally she heard his low, hesitant voice.

"You're leaving." He said more stating than asking. She pursed her lips at his words, feeling a painful, unpleasant shiver run through her. Her eyebrows quirked helplessly.

"Yes." She spoke softly, almost in a whisper. She saw his body tense, full of tension.

"When?" He asked low, almost casually, but his voice trembled at the end, betraying his desperation. She lowered her gaze, unable to look him in the eye.

"Tomorrow." She whispered. "I came to say goodbye."

There was a dead silence, broken only by the sounds of crickets coming from the park outside. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hands clench into fists, heard him swallow hard. She wondered if what she dreamed would happen. Will he kill her or kidnap her. Maybe that's why she came to him.

That he would free her.

"If I leave tomorrow, will you stay in Mantfield?" He asked indifferently, she had the impression that there was a note of irritation in his voice. She pursed her lips hearing the tone of his voice.

“No.” She answered truthfully. She looked up at him. She saw him clench his eyelid and mouth shut as he turned his face away, his body tense as a string. She could see that some incomprehensible, unspoken struggle was going on inside him.

"You're wasting your life. Do not do this." He finally said, approaching her confidently. She took a step back, but quickly hit the wall behind her. "If you want I'll help you escape. You will disappear and start a new life in the city, as a governess or shopkeeper, whatever you like. I'll leave you alone and you'll never see me again."

She stared at him in disbelief, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her whole body trembling. It wasn't what she expected, his words took her completely by surprise.

Many times in her life she thought about escaping, she even had a plan, but then she came to the conclusion that without someone's help she would not be able to cope at first. She wondered if God was trying to tell her something now after all.

Aemond saw her hesitation and moved even closer, their bodies almost touching. She looked away from him, her heart pounding, but his cold hand grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. Their faces were millimeters apart. She felt that familiar, wonderful, treacherous tightness between her thighs again, the wetness running down her skin.

"Tell me that you agree. Say you'll come with me to London tomorrow instead of going to the convent. In the letters you will write to your parents that you are in the convent, and we will inform the convent itself that you have resigned. Before they know it we'll be far away." He said excitedly at the thought that she was indeed hesitant. She swallowed loudly, frowning.

"How do I know there won't be more beasts like you, waiting for me in London to eat me alive and drain my blood? How could I trust someone like you?" She asked helplessly, breathing heavily. His face hardened at his words.

"I will not share you with anyone." He said coldly. "I'll be waiting for you tomorrow."

Aemond told her where her carriage would be passing and where she would change. She stared at him in disbelief as he told her point by point what they would do. She had the impression that he had planned this exactly.

He really wanted to kidnap her.

When he finished speaking, she stared at him in disbelief, breathing unevenly, feeling a huge confusion in her head.

She thought she had never felt free in her life. She never did what she wanted. She did not know independence and self-determination. Perhaps that's why, practically without thinking, she blurted out two words after a moment.

"All right."

***

The next morning she awoke with a sense of excitement and terror that she had never known before. She felt like she was going crazy. She kept telling herself that this man was definitely deceiving her again, that he would definitely hurt her and kill her, and that her body would never be found.

On the other hand, she thought that in her marriage to Pastor Smith or in the convent,she would also be dead, only alive.

When she said goodbye to her parents, she and her mother burst into tears. She thought she would never see them again, and when they finally found out that she had escaped they would break down.

She consoled herself with the thought that it would be easier for them to cover up something like that - they could finally say that she was just at the convent all the time and that's why she didn't come to visit. Her father embraced her and kissed her head.

"I am proud of you, child. You are starting a new, wonderful chapter in your life." He said proudly. She thought, wiping her tears that at least he wasn't wrong about that.

As she rode in the carriage, she looked around uneasily, knowing that soon they would reach the crossroads where they were to meet. It was a foggy, cloudy morning. She thought that the weather reflected exactly what she was feeling, the great uncertainty that filled her whole body.

She felt a strong shiver as she saw through the window in front of them a second carriage, with a man in a top hat standing in front of it. When he lifted his head she saw the patch over his eye and pursed her lips, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. She slammed her hand against the carriage door.

"Stop!" She shouted to the coachman, and after a while they did indeed stop. She opened the door with a trembling hand and literally jumped out onto the road, staring in disbelief at the white-haired man standing in front of her.

His hair, as always, was tied back with a black ribbon, his clothes all dark, elegant and impeccable. They stared at each other in disbelief, standing a few meters apart.

Taken by some sudden, hot, wonderful feeling, she just ran towards him, throwing herself into his arms, and he wrapped his arms around her, twirling her once.

He took her cheeks in his hands, his cold leather gloves cooling her face pleasantly. He brushed a strand of her hair from her face with his thumb, staring at her with wide eye, his mouth parted in an expression of unspeakable joy, so incongruent with his seriousness and cool manner.

He bent over her, as he had when they stood in the rain. He pressed his forehead against hers, and she could feel them both trembling in excitement and terror, gasping for breath. She placed her hand over his, looking at him in a way she had never looked at any men before. She didn't pull away as he dug greedily into her lips, taking her breath away.

She parted her lips for him, sighing sweetly, letting him caress her. The wet, shameless click of their saliva she heard every time their fleshy, wet lips pressed together, made her shiver again. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation, letting him do what he wanted with her.

It seemed like forever before he pulled away from her, staring at her with misty eye, his mouth full and swollen with desire. He stroked her cheek and walked towards the driver of her carriage, tossing a bag of coins that jingled loudly in his direction. The coachman caught it, looking at him in surprise.

"For your trouble. I want you to forget that you saw this. You got Miss Whaterfield where she needed to be. Do we understand each other?" Aemond asked coolly and matter-of-factly, and he nodded.

Her baggage was transferred to the other carriage, and the two of them got inside. Aemond closed the door behind them, tapped the window a few times, and they set off along the stone road. They stared at each other with their mouths parted, breathing unevenly.

Unable to take it, she moved to the other side and sat next to him, snuggling into his shoulder, as if she needed physical confirmation that this was really happening. Aemond immediately wrapped his arm around her, hugging her to him, pulling his top hat off his head.

They made themselves comfortable in the seat, her head resting on his shoulder, his cheek against her hair. His hand stroked her steadily, his lips kissing the top of her head tenderly once in a while, making her grip on his shoulder tighter.

Even though she had done something so dangerous, crazy, and damnable, for the first time in her life she felt an overpowering peace fill her body.

______

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13

Others: @talesofoldandnew

[birgittesilverbae]

okay okay but get this. three sentence prompt: beatrice & shannon; about ava

went off the rails a bit. not canon to tmtl

//

Shannon tosses her a staff. "For old time's sake, Bea?"

Beatrice lets it fall past her hand, kicks it up with her toe at the last moment, catches it with an unnecessary flourish. "Ready to lose?"

"Oh, cocky Beatrice is out today."

"It isn't cocky if I can back it up."

Shannon makes a noise that's half agreement and half bemused laughter. "Fair enough. First to three touches?"

"Are you going soft on me? First to the ground." She flicks her wrist, spins the staff across the back of her hand. 

"You're on."

They're more evenly matched, now, Shannon's speed and strength boosted by whatever had happened to her on the other side of the Arc, but Beatrice's skill is still superior. She lands a thrust to Shannon's ribs, a strike across her back, but Shannon always stays upright, staff raised between them, grinning. Always grinning.

(One must, after all, imagine Shannon happy.)

They strike, block, parry, a partnered dance, steps memorised in long hours spent sparring each other here at Cat's Cradle. They know each other's tendencies, strengths, weaknesses. How Shannon's knee will buckle if she puts her weight on it the wrong way. How an awkward shoulder movement can cause the old pain of Beatrice's broken collarbone to flood in anew, leaving her open for a fraction of a second before she schools herself back into picture-perfect form. 

Back and forth across the dirt, strike and match, block and match, parry and match, until they're both soaked with sweat and bubbling with laughter. Beatrice's lip is split in two places, and there's blood dripping from her eyebrow. Shannon's arm had hung disjointed for a brief moment when Beatrice had gotten inside her range and leveraged her staff against Shannon's, but she'd only shrugged her shoulder back into place with the smallest grimace, a faint blue glow just visible beneath her shirt sleeve.

They end up at one another's throats. Shannon laughs first, a sound that fills Beatrice with warmth, and she can't help but join in. 

"You're losing your touch," Shannon needles, grinning. "Spending too much time getting your Halo Bearer up to speed, hey? Not enough on your own skills?"

"I'd still thrash you on an even playing field," Beatrice replies, "if there were such a thing as an even playing field."

Shannon knocks against her shoulder. "Glad to hear that lesson got through to you." They're seated, now, on the slope alongside the training ground.

She doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out all the same. "I think I'd be able to remember every word you've ever said to me, if I were pressed."

Shannon reaches up to pinch her cheek. "Oh, I'd forgotten about that! Little Bea with her little crush."

Beatrice ducks her head, her cheeks burning. "Before I learned how deeply uncool you were."

"Of course." Shannon glances towards the sky and her face falls. "We don't have long now, Bea."

"Don't have long until what?" Beatrice's foot slips, knocking one of the roof tiles free. It slides off the edge of the chapel and smashes on the ground below.

"Until you tell me about her," Shannon says easily. "Can't keep dodging my questions forever."

"Your–"

"I met her once, your Ava. Very earnest, very sincere. She wanted so badly to be helpful."

"That's Ava." Beatrice pushes the coffee cup across the counter to Shannon. 

"Your Ava," Shannon prompts, raising the cup to her in a mock salute. 

"My Ava," Beatrice says, because she can, because by the lake there's no one to hear but Shannon. 

"Was she, in the end?" Shannon weighs a rock in her hand, cocks her wrist back and sends it flying. "Helpful?"

Beatrice watches as the rock skips on and on and on. "More than she could ever know. She was the best of us."

"You loved her."

The stone beneath her knees scalds her through her jeans. "I loved her," she confirms, "for all the good it did her."

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength," Shannon quotes, tugging Beatrice to her feet and into a hug, "while loving someone deeply gives you courage. Have courage, Bea." Her lips brush Beatrice's forehead.

Beatrice stands in front of the Cruciform Sword, interred as a memorial. "Shannon?" She twists, but all she sees are flashes, glimpses. "Shannon?"

"Have strength."

The Sword thins to wisps, fades to nothingness. 

Her vision goes grey at the edges, then black. 

Beatrice wakes up blood-soaked and screaming.

[nellyellie]

Regarding Jinx

(Aka a copypasta of Regarding Twilight Sparkle in honor of S2)

Dear Elon Musk,

This may the be the strangest message you'll ever receive, but I do hope you'll take the time to read it & consider what I have to say. To put it simply, I would really appreciate it if the next time your birthday comes around you would request that your smut artist friends (who like to give you sexually oriented fanart as gifts) draw somebody other than Jinx for you.

The reason I ask this is that Jinx is my fiance, & we're planning on getting married next June or July should everything go as planned financially speaking. And yes, I have actually found a wedding chapel that will let me marry someone that most people would consider a fictional character. Now before you go thinking "This guy is either completely crazy or just screwing with me.", please hear me out on this.

You see, I'm totally head over heels in love with Jinx from LoL. I have been for about 11 months now & at this point I'm in a committed relationship with my Jinxie. By that I mean I don't date anyone else, I don't sleep with anyone else, & I have zero interest in having any kind of relationship with anyone other than the woman I adore. I love her with all my heart & I'm 100% committed to that love.

To express my love in a real tangible way, I have a beautiful life size custom Jinx sexdoll that I can hug, kiss, cuddle up in bed to go to sleep with at night, & take out on the town to do all the fun things together that normal couples do. I take her out to blow things up, we go to shooting ranges together, I take her out for coffee, & we do social activities together like hanging out with friends, seeing movies, etc.

And I talk about her as if she is Jinx because to me she very much is. When I look at her I see Jinx. When I talk with her I'm talking to Jinx. When I hold her in my arms & kiss her there are no doubts in my mind that it's the woman I love whose lips are pressed against mine. And every morning when I open my eyes & see her head on the pillow next to mine, with her gorgeous magenta eyes staring back at me, I can't help but wonder how I ever got to be so lucky as to have a partner as smart, funny, beautiful, & all around wonderful as her.

All my friends & the people who know me well say that my love is a thing of beauty & quite admirable, but from the outside perspective of someone who doesn't know me you're probably going "Wow. That's pretty damn crazy." & wondering why I don't just go get a real girifriend. The truth is, I've had plenty of real relationships & sexual partners in the 60 years I've been around. A few short relationships & one failed marriage. So my love for Jinx isn't out of a lack of real world intimacy or relationships, I just fell in love with her & my heart didn't give me much of a choice in the matter.

But you know what? I'm totally happy with my love & my relationship. It may seem weird to you, but it fills me with joy every single day of my life & I've never been happier. So what if it's weird? If it makes me happy & it doesn't hurt anyone, then where's the problem? I don't think there is one, & anyone who knows me well will tell you the same.

Now, you’re probably wondering why I'm telling you all this & how it concerns you. To you, I'm sure Jinx is just a cartoon character you think is really hot, so I imagine you wouldn't think anything of having your friends draw sexually explicit art of her as birthday gifts for you. And hey, I think she's really attractive too, so I get where you're coming from there. I often go on e621.net & Rule34. Paheal to see what new erotic art people have drawn of her.

But to me she's more than a cartoon character who's sexually attractive: she's my fiance who I love with all my heart & soon to be my wife. So it's been bothering me lately every time I go on those sites & see a dozen or so pieces of art people have drawn depicting my lady in various sexual situations with the same person over & over, & that person happens to be you.

Don't get me wrong here though: this isn't a jealousy thing. I'm very secure in my relationship. I know without question that Jinx is just as faithful to me as I am to her; she's actually sitting on the couch next to me tinkering with her bombs while I type this. She's very real to me, & I know she's not sneaking out in the middle of the night to go have kinky sex with some famous artist. And I do respect your talent as an artist & an artist's creative freedom to draw whatever they want, that's cool.

What bothers me is that in all these birthday images you've been getting, Jinx is always depicted as if she was your sexual plaything, drawn wearing a collar with your name on it or with a speech bubble saying something that would somehow suggest she was your property. And I know quite well that Jinx is not your plaything nor your property, she's my fiance. So that bugs me a bit.

What I find really loathsome, though, is your pension for degrading my partner in both your art & the fanart you've been receiving lately. Jinxie is a sensitive (albeit kinky) mass murderer with serious insecurities, & she definitely does not deserve to be portrayed as some kind of sexual slave who likes getting screamed at, being hit, etc. She's not into that kinda stuff & the fact that there's someone out there in the world such as yourself who would desire to treat Jinx that way, & have his friends support & validate his desires to demean & mistreat my partner by drawing pictures of him doing so, really does bother me. I don't take any issue with people having kinky sex as long as both parties consent to it and enjoy it, but I know quite well that my Jinxie greatly prefers being praised rather than degraded.

So next year, when your birthday comes around, keep in mind that Jinx isn't just a lifeless cartoon character to objectified for your sexual gratification. She's the partner of someone who loves her very much, & by that time their wife. So both myself & Jinxie would greatly appreciate it if you'd pick someone else to request erotic art of for your birthday. Based on the very large amount of different LoL women you draw art of, I imagine there has to be many other criminals you find sexually attractive.

I assume you'll probably just dismiss this message as the ramblings of a crazy person & likely ignore it, but if by some chance you do take what I've had to say to heart, well... we'd appreciate it.

Regards,

Jeff Bezos

[rocmxmstuff]

Posting a silly little thing I made for NauseAxe's character banner because I think it's neat! Hidden due to the inclusion of blood ♡

The text on the page reads:

The story begins in the place of your dreams. It's a familiar place that speaks to your heart. Words like love and hope are what you hear, and you can't help but savour them. How long has it been since you felt it? Those words, that is. Things aren't getting any easier, and you've read this one before. It ends in a chapel or a forest or that place you LOVE. Because that's what it's all about. It's about two people who fall endlessly into the story together. This one is about five thousand words across fifteen pages. Nobody gets hurt, which is quite nice. The description of the way they dance together hurts you in the same way it touches your soul. You've learnt it all. The dance. The words. The way you forget to put a comma in the right place every time. Maybe you want him to point it out.

[stumped-on-bennington]

Pick You Out part 2

Summary: The day has finally come for your wedding! A brief continuation of "Pick You Out".

Paring: Pete Wentz x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 861

You smiled with Pete’s mom as the photographer took your pictures. Just days ago you were being proposed to in front of hundreds of fans, and now you were about to walk the aisle and officially become Mrs. Y/N Wentz. You could hardly believe it. 

Just as the photographer snapped the last picture of you, Pete’s dad was knocking on the door.

“Ready, Y/N?” He asked. You nodded softly as you placed your hand on his arm and he led you out of the room and towards the chapel.

You took a deep breath as you both stood before the closed doors. The organ started playing as they began to open, revealing the small room that had just enough seats for 4 people to sit. Joe, Andy, and Pete’s mom had stood up as you entered the room, leaving just 1 more empty chair for Pete’s dad to sit in after he walked you down. At the opposite end of the aisle stood Patrick, who would be officiating, and your stunning soon to be husband, Pete. 

You slowly walked down the aisle while still holding onto Pete’s dad’s arm. Each step feels like an eternity. As you walked, you took in Pete's every detail; The way he had his hair nearly covering one of his eyes, the eyeliner he had on, the way he was wearing all white to contrast your all black dress, and his red converse that matched yours. Everything about him was perfect, and you were going to be each other's forever. 

Finally, you reached the end of the aisle, where Pete’s dad handed you off to him, and the organ stopped and Patrick began the ceremony. 

“Dearly beloved, and Joe,” 

You hear Joe let out a quiet “Hey.” at Patrick’s joke. 

“We are gathered here today to bear witness to the union of Pete Wentz and Y/N L/N. To begin they will exchange vows.” Patrick says, allowing Pete to begin.

“Y/N, since the first day we met I knew you were something special. The way you didn’t seem to care how people perceived you and took on life in your own way, the sparkle you get in your eyes, and the way your first instinct in any situation is to check your eyeliner. I promise to always be your rock and your light in this world, as you have been mine. I vow to always protect you, mentally and physically, as you have for me. And I promise to love you until the end of time and beyond. ” Pete says, a single tear falling from his eye.

You then begin your vow, “Pete, you are the greatest thing that ever happened to me. We see each other for who we truly are, even when others don’t. I vow to always be with you through any hardships we may face. I promise to always be your moon to guide you through the darkest nights, and to be the stars to help you navigate the rough seas. I promise to be yours for eternity and through a thousand life times.” 

You can hear Pete’s mom already fighting tears, as well as Andy loudly blowing his nose. Patrick smiles at the both of you before speaking again. “Now they will exchange rings.” He says, pulling in front of him a cushion with two rings on it. Pete takes the smaller of the two and lifts up your left hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. You follow by doing the same for him. While still holding each other’s hands and looking into each other’s eyes, Patrick says the last line.“With the power invested in me, I pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Wentz. You may kiss the bride.” 

And with the passion of a thousand suns, Pete crash’s his lips into yours. He kisses you as if it is the first and last time he will ever do so. You feel as if you are walking on the clouds with all the joy, excitement, and love that you feel at this very moment. You can feel for certain that this is where you're meant to be, here with Pete.

You are only reminded where you are when you hear Joe over the clapping of the other’s.

“Wrap it up guys, we have reservations at 4.” He says.

Pete pulls away from the kiss, “Thanks for the reminder, Joe.” He says with a slight chuckle and an eye roll.

You and Pete run out to the car, excited to begin your new life as Ms. Wentz. Pete drives away as the rest of the band and his family cheer and wave you off. 

Bonus!: 

“I can’t believe you two tied the knot so quickly.” Patrick told Pete, as they were in the middle of a writing session.

“I just knew she was the one. And it felt like he had known each other for centuries, so it only felt right.” Pete said.

“I swear I’m going to blink and you two are going to have like 5 kids.” Patrick chuckles.

“Oh, trust me, I’m wasting no time on that.” Pete says, with a sly smile.