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clubdionysus · 7 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #49] Stooping

warnings: a wedding! how delightful! koo in a suit! delicious! our starluvrs subtly matching!! yummy! what an apt time for romance!! hayun >:( a wedding is no place to argue!! and yet..... lol. discussions of noses!! pda??? what is happening?!

notes: just one tonight bc tomorrow you get a lurveeely lil bunch of chapters <3

wc: 10K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Jeongguk has always been gentle: with you, with your feelings, with your body. This morning, he seems even more so, almost like he's cautious.

In all reality, it's just gone six in the morning, and he knows he's waking you before you're fully rested. Feels bad. Is why he's brewing coffee in a French press in the kitchen, ready to wake you up a little.

Quiet as can be, he's letting you hold onto those final moments – but when he glances over to his room, and finds you wrapped up in his duvet, leant against the doorframe, he knows he's failed.

"Sorry," he whispers. Offers a small smile that you reciprocate, eyes all blurry, face a little puffy. "Did I wake you?"

Shaking your head, you lie. "Think I'm just nervous about today."

"Why?" He grins as he begins to pour the coffee into iced cups – not quite your usual americano, but the closest he can get without leaving his apartment. Isn't dressed for it. Left his shirt in his room, along with everything else except for the Calvin's keeping him decent, and the glitter of yours dappled all over his skin. "It's not like you're the one getting married."

There's a sweetness to his voice, with no annoyance in his posture nor expression when you dump the duvet on the floor. The shirt he'd left in his room is now on your body, and Jeongguk marvels at the sight of you. Hair a little lopsided, your glitter is smudged all over your cheeks, making him smile. He'd picked you up after a shower yesterday, yet you're still covered in it.

"I don't know," you shrug, hopping up on one of the barstools opposite him. "Big day, isn't it?"

A cowlick of hair sticks up from his head, making him look like the sweetest sprout ever known. Cheeks full, his face is a little puffy, too. You both need water far more than you need coffee.

"How so?" He asks, as if he doesn't know.

"'Cause nobody knows you're obsessed with me yet."

Jeongguk's pretty sure they've known for months, now.

"More like you're obsessed with me."

"No," you hum, sitting up a little straighter. "To become obsessed is to lose yourself, and I am not a loser."

"Yeah, you are."

"Am not," you protest, but there's a tranquil smile on your lips.

It's impossible to lose with Jeongguk, you think. Impossible to have him and not consider it a win. A monumental win, at that. A win for yourself. For your heart. Against Hayun, too, but you're trying not to think about her.

Her message sits delivered in your otherwise unused chat feet. Part of you feels like Nabi had encouraged her to send it for the sake of Seoyeon, and while you don't want to be difficult, you also don't feel like peace needs to be made.

See, peace would indicate harmony. No ill feelings – but you know damn well if you have to greet Hayun with anything more than a smile and simple hello, you'll feel like an imposter in your own skin.

Small talk is reserved for the people you care about, not those who destroy people you care about. Doesn't matter how things currently stand. She was awful to your favourite person in the whole entire world. How she treated him just makes no sense to you in any way, shape, or form. He was born to be adored, you think.

You're no saint, and you've had your fair share of disagreements with Jeongguk, but all your arguments have been fundamentally human. Issues borne of miscommunications, or hurt feelings. Unintentional upsets.

What she put him through was cruel. Inhumane.

So no, you won't give her the time of day, and if anyone suggests you do, you'll simply smile and move the conversation along.

Jeongguk's nattering on about the wedding – how he's not sure how to do his hair, so you tell him that he should wear it pushed back.

"You think?" He contemplates, pulling at a strand just above his eyes. Tries his hardest to look up at it.

"Yeah," you nod, knowing that he's not really asking, as such. He wants to be told what to do. Doesn't want to make the decision himself, 'cause he's already a little anxious about the responsibility bestowed upon him as the ring bearer. "You always look really nice with it pushed back."

With a slightly bashful smile, Jeongguk nods. "Okay. Let's go get ready, B."

As Jeongguk's tyres crunch to a halt on the gravel of the driveway, you're a little bit blown away by the grounds of the venue you're in.

A chapel wedding never would have been Yoongi's taste. It's not his style. Likes tradition, hates establishments. He'd found a kindred spirit in Seoyeon; a love for the less than typical. A desire to do things a little bit differently.

A string of Joseon-style Hanok houses sits in acres of sprawling countryside. Though they're obviously newly built, the style is so perfectly in keeping with traditional architecture that you wouldn't be surprised to see the scene in a historical drama.

The oak timbers are varnished, but unpainted; golden beneath the mid-morning sunshine. Lush grasses and shrubbery paint the landscape in the most beautiful hues of green, with dragonflies flittering around in the long spikes. There's a pond nearby, you're certain.

"This place is gorgeous," you say quietly, amazed you haven't ever come across it before – but why would you? Marriage has hardly been near the top of your to-do list, and checking out wedding venues for sport was abandoned the first time Seokjin cheated on you. It hasn't been indulged in since then.

Something about being here, Jeongguk beside you, makes you curious. Maybe there are new places that have opened up.

Seokjin had always been keen on a church wedding whenever you spoke about hypotheticals.

You've never wanted a church wedding.

You wonder what Jeongguk would want; if he'd even want one at all.

"It sure is something," he agrees, as he twists his keys off in the ignition but makes no attempt to get out of the car. "This is just where we're sleeping. There's a pagoda a little further along where the ceremony is happening."

You nod, unsurprised. These are just little dwellings, no matter how beautiful they are. You're sure the pagoda will be far more befitting of a wedding ceremony.

Silence fills the car as the radio cuts out, Jeongguk pulling the keys from the ignition. Neither of you care to fill the space. You're too fixated on the view in front of you.

Jeongguk's distracted too, but not by the view, no matter how pretty it may be.

A hundred and one thoughts run through his mind, but the one he can't seem to shake is how on earth he's gonna survive the day in a state of 'just friends' with you.

Of course, he'll be able to do it. Has done it for months – but fuck, all he wants to do in your presence is hold your hand. Steal kisses. Do things no one would question, if they knew you were together.

But you're still, on a technicality, not.

He's supposed to be sharing a room with Jimin tonight. When the place had been booked, it still hadn't been decided if you'd be sharing with Danbi, but as the months passed, it was blatantly obvious she'd be sharing with Tae.

But Tae was supposed to be with Namjoon, which left two options: either you or Namjoon should stay with Hoseok. At the time, the sensible choice was you should room with Hoseok. That's how the plans had transpired, and are the intended sleeping arrangements for the evening.

And it's been driving Jeongguk mad.

He likes Hoseok. Likes him a lot. Doesn't know him well enough to know that he's mildly repulsed by the idea of ever being intimate with you, because unlike Jeongguk, his boundaries as a friend stop short of sexual attraction. Like a normal friendship should.

He'd rather you weren't rooming with Hoseok, but he's hardly gonna cause an issue out of it.

What he is gonna do, however, is have periodic tantrums about it throughout the day's events. Nothing super obvious. Just a slight pout of his lips, or a furrow of his brows when he thinks about it occasionally.

Much like he is now, when you ask, "Do you know which room is assigned to who?"

"Names are on the doors," he simply says, knowing that's how Seoyeon intended to arrange it.

He thinks he's subtle in his mard. Thinks you're none the wiser. Believes he's good at hiding how he feels about it all.

Or at least he does, until you start laughing, "It's one night, Gguk. You can survive without me for a night."

"No, I don't actually think I can," he replies without missing a beat, decidedly needy in his lack of denial. "In fact, I think I might-"

"You're not gonna die," you smile, reaching across for his hand. He doesn't resist as you pull his knuckles to your lips, pressing a pretty little kiss upon them, then lowering them to your lap. Your clasp is warm. Welcome. Just like home. "It's just a night-"

"Just a night," he echoes, before arguing against you. "Just a night where you're gonna look all fancy and nice and I'm gonna have to know another man is taking you to bed-"

"He's not taking me to bed!"

"Well, then he's a fool."

"Shut up," you laugh, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "Hey, look at me." He doesn't. "Gguk, please."

As much as he wants to stay stroppy, he just can't say no to you. Glances in your direction. Finds his tense posture easing as he takes you in. Chocolate brown, his eyes are so dark you half think they'll swallow you up entirely.

"What?" he pouts.

"You'll survive the night," you assure him. "And Hobes has, like, the biggest crush on Joon."

This is not news to Jeongguk. He has eyes, and has spent time in the presence of them both. Is pretty sure that the crush is mutual. In fact, he's sure of it. Has never known Namjoon with a crush, but he's pretty sure that the way he gets a little tongue-tied around Hoseok is prime example of what it would look like.

"Well then why don't they share?" Jeongguk frowns. He really is petulant when he wants to be.

"'Cause they're normal," you grin. "They have a crush, and they're still pussy-footing around it. They're not like us."

His frown intensifies. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The birds," you simply state. "Gguk, we were combating intimacy from the get-go. Breaking down barriers. Hobes and Joon will be taking things at a normal pace. If they're into each other, sharing a room will be a big step."

Foolishly, you didn't think Jeongguk's frown could get any deeper.

It does.

It's not because he disagrees with you, not at all. It's just that he wonders if you've fucked it; if you've ruined the sanctity of the early stages of a relationship. You'll never get those special 'firsts' with him. Never have those giggly, girly debriefs with Danbi after sleeping over Jeongguk's for the first time. Won't remember the date of your first kiss (even if it was the early hours of New Years Day, and impossible for you to ever forget).

He knows that staying in the same room isn't a big deal for you two. Knows that sharing a bed is like breathing at this point. Loves the comfort that comes with being with you. Hates that perhaps you don't get that wave of excitement from it because of it being so familiar.

And so he nods. Accepts your words, and decides that maybe sleeping apart will be good for you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that.

"You're right," he relents. Eases his frown lines as his head tilts back against the headrest. Lazily looking over at you, he squeezes your hand, now. Whispers, "I'll miss you."

He'd probably feel a lot better about it all if he knew that such a simple statement did, in fact, get butterflies swarming in your stomach. There's a sparkle in your eye as you whisper back, "I'll miss you too, Koo."

He grins now. With heavily-lidded eyes and a smirk that screams fuck me, he husks, "Don't call me that, B. You know what it does to me."

"Do I?" You banter back. Flutter your lashes like the dragonflies dancing outside Jeongguk's car. "What does it do, Koo?"

"B," he warns with a smile. "Don't."

"Don't what?" The hand of his that's being held in your lap is lifted. Repositioned; palm opened, then closed down on your chest. Encouraged to squeeze. Held in place by your own hand. He groans. Lets you dictate his movements – of which you very much do.

"Byeol," he whispers, now. "You'll kill me."

"I give you a reason to live," you flirt, because seeing him like this always gets you a little bolder. "No one else is gonna be here for another hour, yet."

"So?"

"So I know you cum in like 5 seconds flat-"

"Not true."

"-whenever you're touching with my tits."

"We-" he pulls his hand from your grasp and places your hands in your lap. Holds them there. "-Are on a shagging ban."

"But it's a special occasion."

Realistically, you're not vying for a shag. In fact, you'd be quite surprised if you were to end up in bed with Jeongguk at all, today. You're just teasing him. Winding him up because you can. Because you want to. Because it's important that he knows just how much you enjoy him in all capacities.

"You're a menace," he tells you. "A randy little gremlin."

"You love it," you tell him, voice playful.

He doesn't respond. Just gives you a look, that you interpret to mean, of course I fuckin' do.

"C'mon," he eventually sighs, regretful of the fact he has to spend time with people other than you. "Let's get our bags sorted, then you can get ready. I'll go find Yoongs."

There's an effortless nature to the way Jeongguk takes the lead; how diligent he is at getting from A to B. You know it's thanks to his job, and his studies, and the way he's gonna spend the rest of his career organising people and events, but something about it makes your tummy feel all fuzzy.

He's as dependable as the changing seasons; guaranteed. Competent, in the way he takes command of situations. It's not a trait you ever realised you valued until you met him. Had always been the driving force in your relationships. The one with the get-up-and-go attitude. It's nice to let your brain rest when you're with him.

You know his brain is probably going a mile a minute, but you also know that he somehow prefers to live like that.

And while it's true – he needs to be kept busy to keep himself from going insane – he does revel in the way you make him forget his stuggles. Nothing is ever too much trouble when you're within touching distance of him.

By the time you meet him at the rear of his car, Jeongguk has already swung his rucksack over his shoulder and is reaching for your mini-suitcase. Taps your hand away as you try to intercept. Nods towards the garment bags on the backseat, instead.

"Can you grab them?" He asks, voice soft, his lack of verbalised 'please' made up for with his puppy dog eyes.

"Sure."

He would have gotten them himself, but he knows you'd have insisted on doing something. This way, he does the heavy living, and you don't complain. A win-win.

Chatter comes naturally between you both as you make your way up the wavy stone path to the hanok. Set in a horseshoe formation, there's a small water feature in the centre, trickling ever so peacefully.

You're looking at your feet, avoiding the cracks, when you accidentally walk straight into Jeongguk.

"Steady on," he smirks, glancing over his shoulder.

"You don't stop in the middle of the road! Basic highway code," you tell him, certain that it's a universal rule of all roads.

"Okay firstly, this isn't a road-"

"The Romans would disagree."

"The Romans didn't know shit about Korea," Jeongguk laughs. While you know he's correct, you're a little curious as to what other trinkets of knowledge he's got hidden up inside that brain of his. He doesn't strike you as a history buff, but he also didn't strike you as a chess player, either. "But secondly, I was trying to figure something out."

Coming to stand beside him, you follow his line of vision. Tilt your head. Realise exactly what he's looking at: Your names, on the doors of the rooms next to one another. Close, but not close enough for his liking.

"Could always just switch them," he suggests. "Be together."

"Together?" You chirp, as if it's a foreign concept. Play up the idea that maybe it is. "Why would we be together?"

Jeongguk looks down towards you. Smiles. Gives you no verbal response, but you don't really need him to. Is so curiously smitten with your need to downplay how much you mean to one another. He presses a kiss to the side of your head, then heads towards the designated room. Calls back, "So are we still pretending like we're not together?"

"We aren't together," you assure him, smile as wide as the sky is blue. "You haven't asked me yet."

Turning as he reaches the door, his smile makes his lip ring do the thing . "It's a group activity, B. You could always ask me."

He's got a point. You're just as responsible as he is. It's sort of like you're both playing a game of chicken; edging one another closer and closer to the point of no return. Truth be told, in some sadistic, twisted kinda way, you enjoy this back and forth. The certain uncertainty.

It's an inevitable fact of life, at this point. You will be official - but you're both secure in that knowledge and enjoy toying in this slight state of limbo. Makes it fun. Exciting. Dangerous, yet entirely safe.

"Anyway," Jeongguk derails the conversation. Pops your bags by the door of your room, and leaves his door ajar for you to put his suit inside. Pats his pocket to make sure the ring boxes are still there. They are. "You get yourself ready. I'm gonna head over to where Yoongi's staying. Check in with him, make sure everything's okay."

"How far away is it?" You ask, really not knowing much about the site.

"Ten minute walk," Jeongguk says. "Two minute drive, if that. Follow the road we came in on round a little further, and there's another hanok like this, which is where their families are staying," he explains. "The ceremony pavilion is a little beyond that, by the pond, and I'm pretty sure it's where the reception is, too. Can't tell you where the wedding suite is, 'cause I haven't asked, but like... I don't think any of us need to know."

You nod, and let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Families and close friends have a place to stay by the reception, but other guests will be staying in the neighbouring village. The sprawling countryside is gorgeous, and lends itself perfectly to the tranquillity of a wedding, but the location is a bit of a pain in the arse to get to. Takes a little commitment. Is perfectly apt for a celebration of Seoyeon and Yoongi's courtship.

Jeongguk leaves you to get ready, but only after he's made sure to kiss you half a dozen times. Knows he won't get the luxury later, so makes the most of it while he still can. Smiles as his lips press down into yours. Giggles, 'cause he can't articulate the way he feels. Tells you to fuck off when you smile at him as he walks away. Walks backwards so that he doesn't have to stop looking at you. Shakes his head, grin as bright as a burning star when you tell him to fuck off, himself.

He thinks about saying he loves you.

Bites down on his bottom lip instead. Presses a kiss to the tips of his fingers and sends it your way as he finally turns around. Leaves you with an aching heart. It's so full that it's weighing down on your ribs in a way you're not used to - and yet you'll take the strain. Like it, even. Never want to lose it.

The rest of your friends slowly begin to trickle in. All arriving within the hour, they're early, too. Are excited for the celebrations.

The room you and Hoseok are in is as you'd expected: pale walls, natural wood, floor mats instead of beds. Traditional internally, just like it is externally, there are no big frills or grand statements.

And there needn't be, for Hoseoks personality fills it with such warmth and colour that it's all you need.

"Oh," he grits his teeth when he sees the dress that you're wearing. "You need to get changed. We can't wear the same dress."

Rolling your eyes, you swat him out of the way of the mirror. He's already in the fitted suit he's wearing, though if anyone else could pull this dress off, then it's Hoseok.

Simple in its structure, the satin sage green dress hits the floor perfectly in line with your heels. A split runs up to your thigh, but it's mostly obscured. The cowl neckline paired with dainty bows on the tops of your shoulders makes it the perfect understated wedding guest dress - pretty, but not asking for too much attention.

A second dress remains in the garment bag, far flashier - sparkly - but upon seeing the location, you want to remain stripped back. Glitter still prevails on your skin like it always does, and your eyes rival the disco balls that you know will be present at the reception, but you have a feeling you'll look a lot more cohesive in photos like this.

After all, this is Seoyeon's day, and she has very specific colours in mind, so you know it must be important. Both dresses got her approval when you'd asked last week, but it's a head vs. heart decision. You'll save the sparkly one for another time.

"Y'know, you clean up well, Hobes," you tell your friend as you smooth the front of your dress down.

"You say that like it's a surprise."

Glancing to meet his cheeky smile in the mirror, you're quietly pleased to have him here with you. Despite how much you genuinely enjoy the company of everyone here (well, nearly everyone), without Danbi and Hoseok, parties are never as much fun. They're your people, you think. Always will be.

But when you think of it, so are the rest of them.

Perhaps none more so than the boy knocking at your door ten minutes before you're supposed to head up towards the ceremony.

"I was just about to head out," Hoseok subtly smiles, realising who it must be. "See you in a bit."

You bid him farewell, then refocus on the mirror in a feeble attempt to look unaffected by Jeongguk's presence as Hoseok welcomes him in. Left alone, Jeongguk tucks inside the door. Shuts it, but doesn't lock it. Just leans against it with his suited shoulder. Wants to break the silence, but struggles to find the words.

There's a silence to the room as he drinks you in; the way the satin of your dress rests against a body he knows better than his own at this point. No words can convey the 90's television static that's sounding in his head right now. Nothing could articulate the way it feels like his heart is melting like butter beneath his ribs; how he feels like he might just die from the sight of you alone.

Turning to face him, you're still preening yourself, obviously a little unsure. Ask, "Watcha think?"

If Jeongguk could think straight, he'd say you're the most gorgeous woman alive.

But he can't, 'cause he's utterly consumed. Says instead, "You'll get told off."

"Told off?" you frown, then worry that someone else is wearing the same dress.

He nods, unaware of your thought process. "The bride is supposed to be the prettiest person at a wedding."

Something about compliments like this from Jeongguk - a little mindless, and feral in his own, sweet way - makes your tummy feel all funny. There's not enough room in the bodice for butterflies, so you roll your eyes. Try to remain composed.

"She is going to be the prettiest person at the wedding," you assure him, then hold your hands out for him to join you in the middle of the room. It takes a second, but he eventually complies. Of course he does. Will do anything you ask of him.

The light brown of his tweed suit looks almost grey. Lends itself perfectly to accents of deep teal and sage alike. Was a strategic choice. Didn't know what colour you'd be wearing, but knew he wanted to look good beside you.

He's without a tie - you knew he would be, thanks to what little he did share with you about his outfit choice - and a few of his upper buttons are loose. The silver of his usual chain sits prettily on his collar bones, hair pushed back, just like you told him to style it.

Hands in yours, Jeongguk takes in the sight of you. Is so pleased to see the dainty silver bird when it usually is.

"You look great," you tell him, 'cause it's important he knows. You never would have chosen the colour of suit he's gone for, but it looks absolutely divine on him. In fact, you're quite pleased you left him to his own styling devices. Rarely ever think his outfit choices are rogue, so you're really not surprised - but you did bring something for him just in case.

Pulling away from his grasp, you reach into the garment bag, and slip a small offcut of fabric from the bottom of your dress that had been saved when you'd have alternations made. Sewn perfectly into the shape of a pocket square, you say nothing as you pull out the white fabric in his breast pocket.

Without interruption, Jeongguk lets you. Watches your hands as you neatly arrange the pocket square. Likes the way the fabric compliments his suit. Loves it, in fact. Would love it even more if he noticed the tiny embroidered star on the material that you've hidden towards the bottom of his pocket. Matching the fabric's colour, the thread is so subtle that you have to know it's there to clock it. A secret declaration: I'm yours.

"Green suits you," Jeongguk eventually says. Gently pushes your hair back over your shoulders. Cups your jaw. Kisses you just as softly as he compliments you.

"Suits you, too," you tell him right back.

"Ready to pretend like we aren't dating for a few hours?" He smirks, knowing you'll find this just as hard as he is.

There's something about his phrasing - the acknowledgement that you are dating - that has you shaking your head. Smiling, like the cat who got the cream. "Not in the slightest."

And there really is no need. Everyone knows. The only people you're deluding are yourselves.

But as you give yourselves one final glance in the mirror, and Jeongguk slaps your ass before he leaves, you're quite content in this denial. Like the bubble that you're living in. Don't want it to burst. Not yet.

You're relieved as you join your group of friends by the water feature, finally seeing what everyone's wearing. It's the reason you had two outfits. Was afraid to clash.

Danbi is in teal - a strapless, figure-hugging number that looks outrageously good on her.

Like you, Nabi is in sage. A little darker in its tone, her dress is far more structured, finishing midway down her calves. You'd be forgiven for thinking she belonged on a runway; enviably tall and impossibly beautiful.

Hayun is the last to join the group, uncharacteristically smiley. Unlike the rest of you, she's opted for a well-tailored pantsuit situation. Deep teal, she looks just as good as she always does, red lips accenting her choice perfectly. One thing is for certain: the photos of everyone together are going to look great.

The men are in classic suits, with little variation. Jeongguk's is the most adventurous by far, and it makes you a little sad you hadn't done anything 'extra'. Kind of resent the fact Hayun's chosen something unique, but have to remind yourself it isn't a competition.

Walking down the twisty gravel road to the pavilion, arm linked with Danbi's, there's a whimsical feel in the air. Giddy happiness. You get to witness true love do its thing right in front of your very eyes, and that is a blessing, you decide.

As you turn the corner, there's a collective silence.

Brilliantly beautiful, the ancient-style pavilion is breathtaking against the backdrop of lush spring mountains. Though cherry blossom season is over, some of the trees are still blossoming; white magnolia accenting the green in the most gorgeous of ways.

Unpainted, the pavilion boasts the natural colour of its timbers, much like the hanoks, and as you spot Yoongi nervously waiting at the end of the aisle, you can't help but smile. There's a strength that comes with pavillions like these, despite their beauty. No place is more apt for them to say their vows.

Though his face lights up when he spots you all approaching, it's not enough to shake the nerves. It's not as if he's got any doubts, nor is he worried about Seoyeon having cold feet. It's just wedding jitters.

As the boys greet him with handshakes, there's a formality between them all that has never existed before. Tearful eyes, tightly shut lips. Smiles, and stuttered laughter. It's all very endearing.

Jeongguk takes a seat on the front row beside Yoongi's family. Needs to be close for his ever-so-important ring-bearing duty. You watch on from the row behind, unable to look at anything other than the back of his head.

For all the beauty of the landscape, and the gorgeous venue, he's still the most breathtaking thing about this place.

Or at least he is, until the pianist begins to play the opening notes of something you don't initially recognise. It's not a traditional choice, but then again not much about Yoongi and Seoyeon's nuptials are. It's around the time you register that it's a rendition of Etta James' At Last that Seoyeon finally comes into view.

A vision in a champagne-coloured tulle dream of a dress, she's every bit the girl of Yoongi's dreams. Whimsical and winsome, she captivates in a way that only she can. Hair loose, her usual plaits remain scattered throughout her dark waves, to match the single plait in Yoongi’s hair. There's something slightly eccentric about Seoyeon, and yet she's entirely down to earth.

Her deep, dark eyes are a little glassy, focused on her husband-to-be. Trying his best not to cry, Yoongi is almost annoyed at himself for being so emotional - but how could he not be?

Breaking tradition once more, Seoyeon's sister, Seobi, walks her down the aisle, much like Yoongi's older brother is his only groomsman. After all, this day is about them, and them alone. They've got everyone they care about watching on, and that's enough. When it comes to the actual wedding, they only want to focus on one another.

As you watch on, you think they made the right choice. There's something incredibly special about how Yoongi and Seoyeon look at one another. A reverence you don't see too often. One that keeps you glancing to the back of Jeongguk's head.

He fidgets, you notice. Gets restless.

You're unaware it's because it's taking everything in him not to turn around and steal a glance in your direction. Doesn't know how to be near you without being close to you. Hates it. Wishes you were by his side.

And yet when the time comes for Jeongguk to pass over the rings, he's smooth. Calm. Collected. Everything he needs to be and more. Doesn't drop them, which is what you'd been fearing more than anything.

A wave of relief flushes over you as he takes his seat once more, his job done.

God, how you wish you were beside him so that you could give his hand a little squeeze. Nothing noticeable. Just a silent well done. Pride; shown in private, but not in secret.

Instead, you're forced to sit with an uncomfortable longing in your chest. A need to be closer to him. It's not a new feeling, per se, but it's definitely one that isn't usually as intense as it is right now. Something's changed.

The feeling is washed away with a roar of congratulations as the newly minted Min's share their first kiss as a wedded couple. Soft, serene smiles are plastered all over their faces from the pandemonium, but the kiss perseveres. It's the first of a lifetime, so they're gonna make it count.

When they finally pull away for air, Seoyeon's hand is raised into the air, Yoongi's hand hooked behind her back as she cheers in pure delight. They really are the perfect tale of compromise, struggle, and fruition. A romance that has endured.

It's been an honour to witness it - and as Jeongguk silently walks beside you to the reception, you can't help but be glad you're experiencing it with him.

Tables arranged in seating groups of six, you're pleased to find yourself sitting with Danbi. You've been assigned one of the top tables, with Seoyeon's sister and her other half, Dokyeom. Naturally, the remaining spaces go to Jeongguk and Taehyung.

Every bit as ethereal as Seoyeon, Seobi is a little more put together than her sister. She's got the height in her family, and a slightly better poise, but also has a look about her that lets you know she's just as much fun as Seoyeon.

Dokyeom looks like he's been copied and pasted out of the pages of an Italian fashion magazine documenting Milan Fashion Week. With a sharp nose, and just as strong jawline, you're surprised by how much he softens when he smiles - and given that he smiles almost every single time Seobi speaks, it's like having sunshine bottled up and put on your table. He even gives Hoseok a run for his money (but you'll never tell him that).

"So," Seobi says over wine between courses at dinner. Has been ever so chatty and curious about both you and Danbi. Though you're new to her, you're clearly important to Seoyeon - after all, the wedding party isn't that massive. Just their nearest and dearest. She glances towards Jeongguk, who's currently embroiled in some hot topic with Dokyeom. "How long have you guys been together?"

What a great question , you think to yourself, trying not to let the panic on your face show - but your pause sort of gives it away. You glance over to Jeongguk now. It's quick, but not quick enough for Seobi not to notice.

"Oh, unless, you're not?" She laughs a little.

You grit your teeth a little bashfully, then say, "Let me confer quickly."

Squeezing Jeongguk's arm, he's instantly pulled away from the conversation he's in. Hastily apologises to Dokyeom, then looks towards you.

"Yeah?"

And it's probably just because you're tipsy and this is all so stupid, but you find yourself absolutely enamoured. Grin, as you ask, "How long have we been together?"

Jeongguk pauses. The chatter around you both fades into silence. There's no one else in the room, as far as he's concerned. A smirk lingers on his lips. "Together?"

"Mhmm," you say quietly. "Seobi asked."

He turns now, the room chatter quickly clattering back into his ears. With a small smile on his lips, Jeongguk says to Seobi, "Like, a year. She's been playing hard to get, though."

With that, he dips. Rejoins his conversation. Leaves you with an incredulous look of bewilderment on your face.

"That's a long time to play hard to get, girl," Seobi laughs - but she also knows Jeongguk reasonably well by now. Was around during the Hayun days. Is pretty sure Jeongguk exclusively goes for girls who won't give him an easy win. "I'm impressed."

You know you could deny it. Could say he's making up. That you aren't together.

But it's a nice reality to think he's been yours for that long.

Deflecting the conversation back to her, you get the details on her and Dokyeom; how she actually met him through Jeongguk, and how they've known each other for years. Tells you about their awkward limbo between friendship and relationship, and how it's the best leap of faith she's ever made.

"Didn't believe him at first," she admits. Sips on her wine, and says, "Thought the idiot kept getting his heartbroken, but turned out the girls he was dating kept asking him to choose between me and them."

"And he always chose you?"

She nods. Looks smug, but incredibly sweet about it. Is just proud of the man she gets to call hers. "And he always chose me. He just never told me. Thought I'd figure it out."

It's sort of a blessing to hear that not everyone has the fairytale coming together like Yoongi and Seoyeon, or the slightly less romantic but still incredibly straightforward coupling of Taehyung and Danbi. That maybe your history with Jeongguk will be the making of you, not the downfall.

You almost choke on your wine when Seobi follows up with, "The she-devil given you any grief over it?"

It's now that you realise the most stark difference between Seoyeon and Seobi: their temperaments. While Seoyeon is a peacekeeper, Seobi has no time to entertain people she deems a threat to those she cares about. Knows of Hayun doing one too many shady shenanigans in the past to think that she's good for anything other than drama.

"Given that you don't need me to mention her by name, I'll take that as a yes," Seobi smiles, reading your expression perfectly. Rolls her eyes.

"It's not been so bad," you downplay the gravity of her impact.

"She told Dokyeom he could do better than me, once," she says, the taste of the words bitter in her mouth. Glares ever so briefly in the direction of Hayun's table. "Trust me, I know she's a cow."

"Why on earth would she do that?!" You almost gasp. It's one thing feeling possessive over Jeongguk, but another guy? Who she'd have known was friends with Jeongguk? Seems unreasonable.

"His nose," she says, deadly serious. So serious in fact, that you can't help but laugh - and then so does she. "It's true! She always goes for guys with great noses. I can't fault her. Jeongguk's ain't half bad, but it's got nothing on Dokyeom's."

"I'd beg to differ," you grin, appreciative of Dokyeom's nose, but thinking it can't compare. That's the thing though - of course you're enamoured with Jeongguk's nose just as much as she is with Dokyeom's. Goes with the territory.

"Well, you would," she grins right back. "But that's the thing, you actually give a shit about him. She was just a selfish bint looking for the next good nose."

Beneath the table, you reach out. Both of Jeongguk's elbows are on the table, hands out of the way, so you gently stroke his thigh. Just want to let him know that you're there, and that you do care. Not just about how unbearably sexy that nose of his is, but all of him.

Silently, still engrossed in his conversation, Jeongguk brings one of his hands down. Tucks it beneath the table. Finds yours. Interlocks your fingers together.

Pouting as she observes you both, Seobi is glad Jeongguk has you.

"Look after him," she muses quietly. "Him and his nose."

The night's celebrations proceed exactly as you expect them to; a myriad of champagne and confetti.

You all drink far too much, and dance a little too hard. Hayun is avoided for the most part, but not ignored entirely. You smile during conversations that involve her. Seoyeon is a girlie of peace, so you'll give her exactly that for her special day.

The only downside to a wedding is that the happy couple has to spend so much time entertaining other people. Seoyeon and Yoongi seem to have to constantly greet guests or say goodbye to older family members instead of revelling in one another's company.

In fact, the first time they truly do get a moment alone is when Seoyeon goes to change out of her wedding dress into an evening gown. Takes Yoongi with her, understandably.

Bouquet left on the table, the girls sit around a giggle, all incredibly wine-drunk. Gossiping and enthusing over little stories, there's an ease to it all - even if you are across the table from Hayun.

The boys are busy out on the front lawn. Yoongi had tossed Jeongguk the rest of his wedding cigars as he'd headed up to the bridal suite with Seoyeon. Felt like a shame to waste them. Also suggested that Yoongi wanted something to keep the boys entertained, knowing he'd be gone for a little while.

Toying with the ribbon around the stems of Seoyeon's baby's breath bouquet, Seobi muses, "I wonder which one of us will be next?"

It's her and Dokyeom, guaranteed. You only met them a matter of hours ago, but it seems like the only logical conclusion to draw. Taehyung and Danbi are nowhere near that point yet, and you and Jeongguk are still cosplaying as besties.

"Well if it's not you and Dokyeom," Hayun says a little absent-mindedly, as if she's forgotten whose company she's in. "Then it'll be me and Gguk. We've got that dumb pact of ours to see through."

She laughs, but she's the only one.

Everyone else just kind of looks at you.

"What?" she grins, but doesn't look in your direction. Shrugs, with such carelessness that you know she must be looking to get a rise out of you. There's no reason she'd open herself up for embarrassment like this if she didn't think she could embarrass you even more. Though red might be her colour, she doesn't like to be red in the face. "A pact's a pact, and we're both single. He's always been a man of his word, so why wouldn't he make an honest woman-"

"Yun," Nabi interrupts. Is stern. Looks at her friend, willing her to just keep her mouth shut. Knows that even if you and Jeongguk aren't specifically official, that you aren't exactly single, either. Very much the opposite.

Instead of listening to her, Hayun seems to find this all hilarious. "We could literally do it tomorrow." Her eyes seem so nostalgic that you almost feel bad. "Y'know, we made a cake once. Froze it. Said we'd use it-"

"Seriously, Yun."

"-if we ever got married. It's probably still there in the back of his free-."

"It's not," you finally interrupt. Honestly have no idea if it is in his freeze or not. Fabricate a story, just because you can't bear the thought of her knowing the intricacies of his home better than you do. "Gguk cleared it out ages ago so he could freeze Jimin's pens into an ice block. Said it was nothing special when he tossed it in the bin. Had terrible freezer burn. Clearly didn't care about preserving it. Sorry."

It's entirely plausible, you think, for Jeongguk to do such a thing to Jimin. Wouldn't be surprised if it is the kind of prank played in their apartment.

But just like you have no idea if her claims are legitimate, Hayun has no idea if you're telling the truth or not.

She shrugs. Looks directly at you, now. Smiles. Says, "Maybe he'll pick you as his Best Woman, given how close you guys are."

Hayun is playing entirely dumb to the fact she knows Jeongguk is head over heels for you. Wants to reduce you to nothing more than what you pretend to be: friends .

Part of you wonders if she's baiting you out. Trying to get you to admit it, that you and Jeongguk have been far more than just friends for a while.

The rest of you thinks she's just doing it to upset you.

Absolutely no part of you thinks she's delusional enough to actually believe what she's saying.

"Yeah, maybe," you smile, deciding not to rise to her. Glance over to Nabi. "You'll be maid of honour, right?"

She says nothing, because while yes, she will be Hayun's maid of honour when the time comes, she absolutely knows for certain that it won't be during a marriage between Hayun and Jeongguk, of all people.

"As seriously as I'll take the role of Best Woman, I'm afraid I have to tell you that I won't seduce you," you pout in Nabi's direction, making fun of the best man and maid of honour stereotype. It's not that Nabi isn't gorgeous, or undeserving of someone fawning over her - it's just that you're being petty and want to hit Hayun where it hurts with what you say next. "I mean, I can't fuck the maid of honour and the groom. That'd just be messy."

There's a couple of gasps, and some chortled laughs. Danbi curses, completely taken off guard by the fact you've just openly admitted to fucking Jeongguk.

Realistically, she knows it's more than just fucking. Knows you'll do anything for him. Knows that all of this is just a rouse to wind Hayun up.

"It'll be really cool of you to let me be the Best Woman, though," you insist, focusing back on Hayun, now. "Most girls don't like their partners being friends with exes, let alone invite them to their wedding! Such cool girlie energy from you, Yunnie ."

You're deliberately being patronising and you don't care. She started it. The only people left at the venue are your friends, so there's no worry about a public fall out, even if it is becoming more uncomfortable.

"We all know he only has exes because he couldn't have me," she shrugs, as if she actually believes that. "It's no threat."

You know she means to say ' you're no threat. '

You also know that would be a lie.

"It wasn't meant to be," you smile, just as good at playing faux-friendly as she is. "But he could totally have you, now, with the way you keep throwing yourself on him - yet he couldn't want you less, even if he tried. Funny, that."

A child-like fury sets into Hayun's features. There's no way she's winning this - but you don't exactly want to keep it up, either.

Pushing your chair back, you get to your feet, and smile. Excuse yourself. Head outside to where the scent of cigar smoke lingers in the cool early summer air.

With the changing seasons come the promise of something new. Something unprecedented. You'll never get the days ahead of you ever again. You'll rip them away like numbers in a raffle book, and toss them into a bin. Occasionally you'll get a winner - and when you spot Jeongguk laughing about something, stubbing out his cigar as soon as he sees you appear, you can't help but think this is one of those occasions.

"Hey," you grab his attention, squeezing his arm. "Just gonna run over to the rooms quickly. Want a jacket."

A little vacant in his registering of your words, Jeongguk turns away from the conversation he was in. Thinks nothing of the way he comes to walk alongside you, a hand on the small of your back.

"You don't have to come," you laugh. Had only been telling him so that you could keep him in the loop. Still, it's nice to have him follow you in the way that he does: without question, without request, without reason.

"Wanna," he just shrugs. "Haven't seen you in like, an hour."

"Oh, no," you tease. "How on earth have you coped?"

"Terribly," he admits, sipping on the beer still in his hand that isn't on your back. Passes it over to you. There's an easy silence when you take a sip, beer warm and bitter in your mouth. No need to fill the space where conversations typically are. In fact, it's the first time either of you have had the chance to rest your brains all evening.

Returning the bottle to its original owner, you snake your arm around his waist. Heels off, you'd left them in the reception venue, which is fine - except for when you reach the gravel driveway.

"C'mon," he insists, dopping his posture a little, positioning himself in front of you. "I'll carry you."

"It's fine-"

"Get on," he says, turning back over his shoulder. "It'll be quicker."

Your first attempt at jumping on his back fails. Has you both laughing. Are too drunk to coordinate yourselves properly.

Eventually, though, you land the jump just right. Wrap yourself around his body, and take his beer bottle so he can support your legs. Trust him with your body in the most innocent of ways.

He carries you the entire way without complaint, but as he puts you down outside the hanok rooms, Jeongguk simply says, "You can just borrow my jacket."

There's a curious wonder to the way you look at him, glitter shining under the low lighting of the pathway guides. This far out of the city, it's easy to see the stars - but Jeongguk would argue that it's always this easy whenever he's around you.

Narrowing your eyes, you tilt your head. "Could have offered ten minutes ago. Saved yourself a walk."

He purses his lips. Tries not to smile.

"True," he nods, drawing you closer, nudging his nose up against yours. Whispers against your lips, "But I couldn't have done this."

It's not new, the way Jeongguk's lips sink into yours.

The way he smiles into the feeling? Not new, at all.

The way you pull him closer and giggle between kisses, is again, nothing new.

Nor is the pressure of his lip ring, nor how his tongue strokes against your bottom lip. The way he kisses you is tried and tested; guaranteed to have you both melting into one another's touch.

You're not entirely sure how long it lasts. All you know is that your lips are a little numb, and his are now the colour of your lipstick.

Serene, as you stroke across his bottom lip with your thumb, you wonder how you made it this far with a man who makes you feel as secure as Jeongguk. Quietly hum, "Can I ask you something?"

He nods. "Anything."

And even though you already know the answer, you just have to be sure. Have to know. Aren't sure what you'll do if Jeongguk gives you a different answer than the one you expect.

"The pact... The one with Hayun." Upon hearing your words, Jeongguk frowns. Understands what you're asking immediately. "Is it... Like, will it still happen?"

There's a soft shake to his head. Silence. A deeper frown, and then, "No, Byeol."

"Even if we-"

"Even if we call things off," he cuts you off. Thinks it's vital that you know how serious he is about this. Knows you met him at a time when the answer would have been different, so that it might be hard to believe now. "B, that chapter of my life-" he shrugs. "-It's done. Completely. Entirely."

"Even if you're single at thirty?"

"If I'm single at thirty, it means I've fucked things up with you," he states, swallowing back the uncomfortable feeling that comes with that potential. Looks down, jaw a little tense. Shakes his head, then focuses his hardened gaze in on you again. "I liked telling Seobi we're a couple, earlier. I want that reality. And I also want you to stop second-guessing my intentions, B. You know how I feel about you."

You're silent, now. Hadn't even realised that your insecurities had been tarnishing his vulnerability.

You do believe him. Of course, you do. There's never been a pair of eyes more honest than his.

And maybe it's because he's drunk, and feeling everything a little more intensely, but Jeongguk feels like he simply can't take it any longer. Is in dire need of something more than the 'nothing' you're pretending to be.

But he's got a plan, and a way that he wants to do things, and a handful of more dates until he can do any of that.

So instead, he rests his forehead against yours. Wants to give you his heart, but will settle for his outerwear. Insists, "Wear my jacket, B. Please."

It's a curious way to declare your status as 'his'.

A shared blazer is exactly that. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a way to keep warm - but it's a sacrifice of his own comfort. A display of his desire to provide. Slightly primal, you think, as you wrap yourself in the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body.

The garment swamps you, but Jeongguk thinks it looks sweet. Likes how undeniable it is that his pocket square matches your dress perfectly, now that it's on you.

And so when you return, Jungook takes the opportunity to dance with you in a way that you really shouldn't dance with a 'friend.'

Palms finding your waist beneath his jacket, the low lighting of the pavilion isn't enough to obscure the intimacy from onlookers. He's holding you close for everyone to see. For speculation to be made. For gossip to spread and for whispers to echo.

And they do.

Nodding across to the pair of you, Yoongi smiles. Leans across to his new wife as they sit together for a breather, and says, "Think they're finally getting their shit together."

Seoyeon can see it in your eyes; the way you look at Jeongguk.

It's the same way she looks at Yoongi.

Glancing across the room, Seoyeon is quick to check if Hayun has clocked what's happening, and frowns when she notices the little bit of agony resting between her friend's impeccably shaped brows. Regret, perhaps.

Seoyeon chooses not to mention it to Yoongi.

Instead, she rests her chin on her shoulder and looks at him. Waits for him to look at her, too. When he does, she smiles. "Do you think they'll go the distance?"

The answer is obvious. She just wants Yoongi's opinion so that she knows how to handle Hayun in the wake of it all. She's still her friend, after all. Still not someone she wants to see hurting.

But Seoyeon also knows there's no way in hell she can let Hayun throw a tantrum and disrupt the fledgeling romance between you and Jeongguk. It wouldn't be fair. Not to anyone.

Yoongi nods. Is quiet when he replies, "I think so."

He continues to watch his wife as her warm eyes focus on the pair of you once more. There's laughter between you both, Jeongguk leaning close to whisper in your ear as you slowly waltz together.

Hand in hand, there's no mistaking how naturally it comes to you both. A warm glow of exposed bulbs paint you both in an orange hue; toasty warm and quite content. The sparkle that's forever on your skin is in your eyes, too. And his. Sort of feels like watching a cosmic calamity take place.

There's something incredibly ordinary about you and Jeongguk. Totally unsurprising. Puzzle pieces correctly slotting into place.

What makes you special is that you're the final pieces of the puzzle. The ones that make it complete; that end the painstaking trials it takes to create the perfect picture.

"Okay, okay," you chuckle, deliberately trying not to draw attention to the conversation you're having. It's nonsense. Makes you feel all warm inside, how joyful it is to be with a person like him. He grips your waist when you laugh. Likes the way it feels. "Next hypothetical: Genie grants you one wish. No money, no bringing anyone back from the dead, no superpowers. What's the wish?"

"What's the point in a wish if I can't get superpowers?!" He protests, quietly and giggly, just like you are.

"The point is that it has to be something you really want."

"I do really want to fly-"

"Then get a plane."

"You're no fun, Byeol," he grins, suggesting that you are, in fact, a lot of fun. "Please let me have superpowers."

"Nope."

"Plea-"

"No," you laugh, knowing it's too much of an easy out. "C'mon. Use that brain of yours, babe."

And maybe it's just because you're a little drunk, or maybe it's cause the romantic air of a wedding has your brain a little loopy, but 'babe' almost feels normal. Almost.

The way Jeongguk cocks his brow, but says nothing about it – just accepts the term of endearment – makes you think that maybe it is normal.

Jeongguk would quite like it to be the norm. Finds himself all rather endeared, actually. Wants to kiss you. Knows he shouldn't.

So instead, he tells you, "I wish we were alone."

It's not that he wants to leave, or that he's bored of the celebrations. He's enjoying this dance floor far too much, and still has energy to burn from the sheer amount of cake he practically inhaled after dinner.

It's just that everything is so loud.

But when it's you, and him, in an empty room, Jeongguk's brain switches off. Falls into a natural state of being. It's the only calm he thinks he's ever known. Comfort, in a life that routinely feels uncomfortable.

"Why?" You smile, all tipsy and tepid, as if your heart isn't beating a mile a minute thanks to how risky this feels. It's like you're scared you're gonna get caught – but caught for what? You and Jeongguk are exactly what everyone thinks you are. There's nothing to hide, because it's impossible to keep a chemistry like yours secret.

You're caesium in water; nitrous oxide and carbon disulfide meeting an open flame. Things learned about as kids, but rarely – if ever – seen in adult life.

In fact, there's only one other example of such chemistry in this room, and they're sitting at the top table with freshly polished rings around their fourth fingers.

"You know why," Jeongguk simply says, then decides that simplicity is for idiots. Wants to embellish his words. Fluff them up. Make them stupid and irrational and ever so foolish. Wants to declare, because he thinks declarations are what you deserve. "Just wanna be with you, B. Constantly. It's like I have tinnitus whenever there are other people around, but then I see you and it-"

The word 'stops' is lost in your lips. It's fast and it's fleeting, but it's your own declaration right back to him: I want you, proudly.

Like the dragonflies you'd marvelled at earlier, your lips only flutter against his for a small fraction of time. Just long enough for him to know what magic feels like.

When you pull away, Jeongguk's eyes stay closed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What?" you giggle, squeezing the sides of his waist with so much adoration that he thinks he'll melt into your touch. "Am I not allowed to kiss you?"

On a technicality, no. You're not. You'd agreed to let things fly under the radar – but you're both tipsy, and you both hate the idea of other people simply being unaware.

Because you are proud.

You are his.

And you want that red hot pair of eyes on you to know it, too.

To know that he's yours. Him, and his pretty nose.

"It's against the rules," he smiles – then steals one right back.

"When it comes to rules, we always seem to break them," you hum, all serene and docile in the wake of Jeongguk's reciprocation.

That's the thing about you both. Are just handfuls of bad decisions wrapped up with bows and dusted in glitter. So pristinely messy that you wouldn't be out of place in the Tate, or SOMA, or some other gallery Jeongguk hasn't heard of but you know intimately. Displayed somewhere not too far from Tracy Emin's My Bed, or Kang Wonje's Black Star. Entirely human and yet not of this world at all. Will be adored by the masses; and will confuse just as many. An invaluable piece of art that will never be auctioned, 'cause you can't put a price on this. On love.

"It's what they were made for," he promises.

"Well, in that case," you hum, getting on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. You're about to make an incredibly bad decision, and you know it - you're just beyond caring. "I think know a couple more rules we can break."

And the way Jeongguk looks at you would suggest he's past the point of caring, too.

"Fuck it."

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quitealotofsodapop · 11 months ago

Note

TMKATI AU Wukong accidently spawning pig ears every now and then. Only seems to happen when around Pigsy for extended periods of time or when he's looking for dad flavored validation. Pigsy at first thinks he's being mocked and complains to his husband. Tang subtly asks Wukong about the ears in private just to find out Wu had NO IDEA he was doing it! Pigsy is crying. Years later, after Wu finally found out it was happening and actively tries not to bc thats embarrassing, he texts Pigsy an unsteady photo of little MK messing with his hair in a mirror oblivious to being watched, trying to shape a second ear with gel he found. Child is frustrated. Caption: "What the baby doin???"

Another photo of MK noticing his audience and lighting up. Caption: "Hold on, he's asking for help"

Last photo, half an hour later. Both Wukong and MK are in the photo. MK in his dad's lap with Wu's head on top of his, both beaming at the camera. Both sporting fuzzy "pig ears." Wukong's are the manifested ears from before, MK's are his natural bang and a second ear sculpted with hair and gel. Caption: "He didn't understand why he was the only one to 'inhawit' anything from Dadsy and why he was missing an 'ear', so we fixed it lol :P"

Pigsy is INCONSOLABLE

omg, Wukong's limited shapeshifting abilities manifesting when he's in an emotional state/mood is so based.

I feel like shapeshifting is *not* uncommon among demons, many use it to appear "more human" and fit in, or to hide blemishes or injury, or even just to fit inside buildings. But the side of it thats effected by the user's emotions is not 100% well known. It's like only seeing experts in sports or games, you have a hard time telling whats "Hard" or a "Beginner" move.

I'm imagining Pigsy and "Wu" cleaning up after a very busy and stressful day (first time Wu has ever handled a rush hour), and they're just chilling when a convo like this occurs;

Pigsy (wiping down the kitchen): "You didn't screw up." Wu, sweeping: "Huh?" Pigsy: "For someone who hasn't worked in the service industry for a long time, you did really good today. I'm proud of you." Wu, quietly smiling: "Thanks..." Wu: (*suddenly shapeshifts a pair of pig's ears*) Pigsy, confused: "Tf?? Was that intentional? Whatever, he's weird enough already." ₍ •̀ ⚇•́₎

Later he mentions it to Tang, a little offended thinking Wu could have been mocking him, only for the scholar to point something out;

Tang: "Wait. You said he spawned pig ears when you told him you were proud of him?" Pigsy: "Yeah! He didn't even comment on it or nothin'! He just finished cleaning, still with the ears on!" Tang, thinking: "Well it's said that demons who use shapeshifting a lot can glitch out when they feel strong emotions." Pigsy (rarely uses shapeshifting): "Huh?" Tang: "Yeah. You telling Wu that you were proud of him probably meant a lot to him, and his magic responded by trying to mimic you." Pigsy: "Why??" Tang, shrugging: "I dunno. The article I read said it most often occurs in interspecies adoption since kids want to *be* like their parents and- Piggy are you crying?!" Pigsy: (*emotional at the realisation that Wu likely sees him as a father figure and/or role model*) "No." (*Lie*)

Macaque witnesses Wukong do this one day and just snickers. Him and Nezha are just quietly betting on how long it'll take for Wukong to even notice that his normal monkey ears now have a permanent "flop" to them, like a pig's ear.

At least until Nezha looks at himself in a mirror and notices that his regular tiny red face markings have spread into a suspiciously familiar... heart-shape. He clams up about any emotional shapeshifting after that.

I am just adoring the phone scenario with MK thinking his hair bang was him inheriting Pigsy's ears, it's so cute! X3

And the baby isn't shy about shapeshifting either. Pigsy and Wukong were super-confused when they went into the resturant one day and saw a little brown piglet standing there - only to both scream with amazement/pride when they realised that MK had manifested his first ever *full* transformation.

On the flip-side Macaque has been accidentally spawning fox ears and extra tails for centuries since his biggest parental figure was Jiuweihuli - who like her title indicates, is a nine tailed fox. He mostly has it under control, but the extras tend to "pop out" when he's being very catty or mischievious.

The vixen warns Macaque about flagrantly shapeshifting or "You'll get stuck like that" as any mother does like to a kid pulling a silly face.

When MK is born with three tails (like his kaiju form), Jiuweihuli smugly declares herself correct - after sobbing with joy after meeting her adoptive grandbaby.

#gif warning #the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #sun wukong #lmk pigsy #lmk tang #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #lmk jiuweihuli #lmk mk #qi xiaotian #lmk nezha #freenoodles being parents #shadowpeach being parents

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oneofthecacti · 1 year ago

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S2 Thoughts: Izzy and Lucius

(Spoilers below the cut)

So I could definitely be wrong about this, but I’m putting it out here anyway:

I have this little itch in my brain that’s telling me Lucius and Izzy will have some sort of significant (positive) development in their relationship throughout the rest of s2. Could be platonic or romantic (I’d be happy with either), but I think it’s already been catalyzed through Lucius’ not-so-secret resentment towards Stede/Stede’s incompetence, and Lucius’ difficulty connecting with Pete post-reunion (due to Lucius’ acquired trauma post-shove + Pete’s aversion to what Lucius tried to recant of said traumatic events). I love both Pete and Lucius, and their relationship during s1, but the vibes I was getting from their interactions after their initial reunion felt off-kilter (could they be the couple that parts amicably? I didn’t miss the lukewarm reunion/interactions between Jim and Olu, but Jenkins is a crafty mf, so… Also to be clear, I am 100% in favor of healthy polyam relationships, so shhhhhhush).

Now that The Revenge Crew (including Ed, but minus The Swede) are all back together, Lucius is going to be looking for that sense of security he’d found on The Red Flag and under the command of Zheng Yi Sao. From Lucius’ perspective as of s2e3, Stede doesn’t currently spark confidence (and may not even after Izzy whips him into shape), Ed is a definite “hell no” for obvious reasons, and both have either failed him or outright tried to murder him. So who is left, really?

Izzy.

From what we’ve seen in s2e1-3, Izzy displays profound competence that results from his decades of pirating, as well as his genuine concern + care for the crew under his charge (and their care for him in return) + the ability to keep his head/make logical decisions under extreme emotional AND physical duress (s2e2 will be forever burned into my brain /pos). We even see that while he and the remainder of “Blackbeard’s” Crew are being held on The Red Flag, Fang, (especially) Frenchie, Jim, and Archie all seem to be (subtly) deferring to Izzy as if he were acting captain (even if not in title and despite how at least 2/4 mutinied against him in s1). While Stede (and later, Ed, as co-captain (maybe)) will likely resume command of The Revenge and her crew there is no denying that Izzy has earned the trust, respect, and care of those he had been sailing with during the time-skip. He’s an old salt—has seen a lot and been through A LOT—and it definitely shows now more than ever (despite sucking at being a captain in s1) that he can and will keep them alive if he has any say in it. I feel that Lucius will inevitably be drawn to Izzy for that reason, and then (through plot shenanigans and tears) go on to develop a healthy relationship (don’t ask me for details my brain hurts).

Anyway, what did y’all think of S2? because so far I’ve eaten three of my toes and am even more besotted with Izzy and Con O’Neill than I was yesterday (like that’s even possible)

10/26 me @ today me:

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd s2 speculation #izzy hands #israel hands #lucius spriggs #sprizzy #sprigghands #lusrael #izzy x lucius

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youwouldntlietopapa · 1 year ago

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"I'm not jealous, you are jealous."

With Primo

This is anon and it’s definitely not Beth ❤️

I love you and I like you thank you bye

Oof, okay, this one got more feelsy that I was aiming for. Sorry not sorry.

_________________________________________________________

“Buongiorno, sorella.” Primo’s greeting sounds unusually formal and a bit flat when you walk into the greenhouse. Not his usual warm welcome or his smile. In fact, he hasn’t looked up from his work table where he was fussing over one of his plants.

“… Good morning, Papa.” You respond, sounding more like you’re asking a question than offering a hello. “It’s nearly tea time.”

It’s become a habit over the last few weeks. Tea with Primo in the greenhouse at 10:30. Late enough in the morning that he’s ready for a break and early enough to give you some time to spend together before lunch. It’s… something. Neither of you have been willing to name it or put rules to it. It simply is what it is and you’re content knowing that you’re both comfortable and happy with your arrangement, without worrying too much about the rest. Sharing his bed (or work bench, or chair, or whatever else is at hand) when the mood strikes, and enjoying his company just as much.

You walk over, setting the tea tray down on the bench next to where he’s working. Primo still doesn’t look, shifting his weight subtly to make any attempt at a kiss on the cheek awkward if not impossible. It’s not like him to behave that way and definitely not like him to not even offer a thank you for bringing pastries from the kitchens.

“Not today, I think.” He says bluntly. “I am very busy.”

You blink at him for a long moment. “Replanting that hosta? Primo, if you’re going to lie to me, could you at least make it less insultingly transparent?”

He huffs. “I did not think you would come today. I have things to do.”

“Why wouldn’t I come today, of all days?” That’s all the patience you have for talking to his back and you walk around him to actually see his face. “If I did something, I wish you would tell me.”

“You did nothing. I just assume you would be with Cardinal Doyle this morning. Too busy for tea out here.” He says Doyle’s name like a curse, his mouth twisting sourly.

It takes a moment for the meaning to sink in, like an unexpected slap in the face. You had been talking to the Cardinal or, more like, he was talking to you. The other Sisters had already warned you about that man and his wandering hands. He was a menace and a pest, and also had seniority. It was very hard not to talk to him once he got it in his head to talk to you.

“What on Earth are you talking about, Primo? Do you mean at breakfast?”

“In the hall, si. You seemed very interested in what he had to say. I hear him telling you to come to his office later.” He finally looks at you, trying to keep his face neutral but his pale eye glows in the muted light of the greenhouse. “You are not obligated here, Sorella. If you wish to meet with the Cardinal, I am capable of entertaining myself.”

“Are you being serious right now?” You stare at him, stunned. “Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

“Are you forgetting who you are talking to?” In all the time you’ve known him, you’ve never heard Primo play the I am Papa card. Definitely not with you. He’s told you more times than you care to count that he’s too old for juvenile dick measuring contests. I always win those anyway, he winks every time.

But not today, apparently.

“I thought I knew. But I’m starting to wonder.” You pause and look at him, pieces clicking together. “Are you… Are you jealous???”

Primo scoffs and dusts the dirt off his hands, marching across the greenhouse to look for a larger pot. “Now you are just being ridiculous!”

“Me!? You’re the one who’s all bent out of shape because I was talking to Cardinal Doyle – who approached me by the way! He’s my superior, what was I meant to do? Walk away? I’m so sorry, Cardinal, Papa Primo will be absolutely miserable if I talk to anyone else! A rule I was supposed to just intuit, as it happens. I know, very odd, but you must know that I can read Papa’s mind and know exactly what he wants without him ever actually telling me!”

That certainly got his attention. Primo turned back, pulling himself up tall. It was easy to forget how imposing he could be. Easy to forget that Papa Secondo was his little brother. His little brother who still wouldn’t cross the eldest Emeritus. But you are quickly reminded, fighting the urge to try and shrink down, to back away.

“You may speak to whomever you wish, Sorella. You do not belong to me, clearly. If it is Doyle you want, you have my blessing. May the Old One bring you both nothing but happiness.” His tone was icy cold.

“You are jealous!” Is all you can think to retort. Maybe not your finest comeback and definitely not ideal timing, but no one ever said you were good at keeping your mouth shut.

“I am not jealous. You are jealous!” Primo snaps.

This time you do stand there, looking like he slapped you. Part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity and part wants to scream. Not able to make a decision, what finally comes out of your mouth is simply, “Who in all the depths of hell is it I’m jealous of, exactly?”

“I see you yesterday, and several days before that, Sorella. Don’t think I am so old and feeble I don’t notice. The way you glare daggers at Sorella Abigail when she comes to talk with me.” There mockery in his tone meant to get under your skin and it works all too well.

“Abigail???” You are very aware of how loud you’ve both gotten and the greenhouse walls aren’t thick. But to hell with it. “You think I’m jealous of Abigail???”

“Si, Sorella.” He fires back snidely. “You deny it?”

“Satanas, I think I had better just go get your brothers because I think they may need to take you to the doctor for whatever head injury you’ve apparently suffered. Jealous of Abigail. Lucifer be merciful. Of all the absurd things you could have said. The last person I will ever be jealous of is that catty, manipulative, power hungry little social climber. You can talk to her whenever you want, Papa, I just thought she was making a damned fool of herself, aiming to be rejected by the third Papa this month!”

“And you were, what? Going to Doyle’s office just for a nice chat? Hmm? Everyone here knows who he is. What he does. Don’t tell me you don’t know. I see right through you. You want to fuck that stronzo, you go ahead. And when you are sorry and disappointed, don’t come back here crying to me. I try to warn you.” He slams the bigger pot for the hosta down on the bench so hard it cracks.

“I don’t want to fuck Doyle!” You shout back at him. The shadow of a ghoul on the greenhouse wall freezes, pressing a little closer to listen. You know that silhouette. “SWISS, FUCK OFF!”

The shadow skitters away, leaving you to your shouting match.

“I was only talking to him because his fucking sister is a florist and she knows people who deal in rare flowers, you absolute dickhead! All I wanted was her number so I could surprise you because it’s your birthday next month! But I suppose I won’t need to worry about that now, will I? I don’t need to ask you what this is or if you want more. I don’t need to tell you how I feel. You’re the brilliant Papa who’s already got it all figured out. It’s Doyle I want, right? Just my type. Creepy scumbag who keeps trying to feel me up. Not the man I actually spend all my free time with. Not the man I actually get excited to see.” Your anger and your hurt collide and your voice cracks. All the energy you’d had for yelling vanishing at once.

“Not the man I actually love.” Your eyes drop to the floor because it hurts to look at him, and all you can manage is a tired sigh. “I’m so sorry I bothered you, Papa. Please forgive me. I won’t keep you from your work any longer.”

His hand catches your elbow before you can reach the door and when you look back at him, there’s something panicked and uncertain in his eyes. A hope he’s afraid to give voice to, half certain it will crumble to dust if he tries.

“You don’t mean that.” It’s not angry or even accusing. Just disbelief.

The tears on your cheeks burn like acid. Traitors, every one of them. “You’re going to call me a liar now too?”

“Tesoro…”

“Don’t snip at me about treating you like you’re old and feeble and then tell me you didn’t know, Primo.” You hang your head and give in to the exhaustion. “I love you. Of course I love you. I spend every morning waiting to come out here just to see you. To be with you. To be close to you. You had to know.”

“Why didn’t you say?” His hand slips from your elbow to your hand.

“Say what, Primo? That it wasn’t enough? Because it was. It was enough to just… to just have you to myself for a little while. A few minutes. An hour. Whatever I got. I could make it enough because it was better than nothing. And if… if I said it and it was wrong… it would vanish. I couldn’t… I couldn’t risk that.”

His warm arms envelope you, wrapping you in the smell of fresh turned earth and a dozen different herbs you can’t hope to name all of. The sound of his heartbeat, faster than its usual steady rhythm. His hand rubbing your back, soothing and calm.

“Mi dispiace.” That voice, that’s the one you know. Primo’s voice. “Mi dispiace, angelo mio. Forgive me. I don’t have an excuse. I am a fool. A fool who doesn’t deserve you.”

His finger hooks under your chin and lifts it to look you in the eye. Gently drying your tears, cupping your cheek. “I thought…” He sighs, shaking his head at himself. “I see the way he hangs around you. Like a fly, always buzzing. But you smile, you laugh and I think… Satan knows what I think. Stupid, ridiculous, petty things. Because he is still young, he is flashy and confident… And I am…”

“Perfect.” You finish for him. “You are perfect.”

Primo presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. “Far from perfect. But for you, fiore mio, I will keep trying to be.” His lips brush against yours softly. “Anch'io ti amo… from the start. The very beginning. No matter how many times I tell myself you don’t need an old man holding you back. I can’t help it. I don’t want to. Ti amo. Ti amo tanto. Ti amo così tanto che non riesco a pensare lucidamente.”

When you stretch up to kiss him again, it’s no light brushing of lips. Your hands catch the back of his neck and you kiss him deeply, passionately, the way you’ve held back from anywhere but bed. Worried it would overstep some line. Break some unwritten rule. But he leans into the kiss, meeting you with equal desire and need. His arms crushing you to himself.

When you finally break away and look back at him, it’s like seeing a new man. “Does that mean we can still have tea?”

“No.” He says firmly. Letting you go and taking your hand, he starts walking quickly toward the far end of the greenhouse, hidden by a thick layer of foliage, to the private room you two have made use of before.

“No. Today, amore, I still have apologies to make and lost time to make up for.”

________________________________________________________

Anch'io ti amo = I love you too

Ti amo. Ti amo tanto. Ti amo così tanto che non riesco a pensare lucidamente. = I love you. I love you so much. I love you so much I can't think straight.

#ask prompts #ghost fanfic #Primo x reader #MDNI

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zxvak47 · 1 year ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⣤⣤⣀⣄⣤⣠⣤⣤⡤⠤⠤⢤⣀⣤⡀⠀⠀⣰⠀⠀⢰⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠧⠴⠛⠛⠒⠛⠉⠉⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⢸⣿⣿⠿⠏⠉⠁⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠉⢿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⠇⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠙⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

WEDDING DAY , simon “ghost” x fem reader

(suffocating in fluff > <!!)

very rushed, I’m tired and it’s 4hr30am so gn!

WARNINGS: none! happy crying!

↳

R/N rarely cried. Not that she wasn’t sensitive or cold blooded she just learned out to manage her emotions. Today was an important day for both y/n and Simon. Not once did she believe she would be getting married to such a man. A man who was hurting but kept it together, for her. “Love sucks when you’ve got a broken heart” the both of you have been through hell and back, and through some but managed to keep it together throughout the last three years.

R/N’s father had passed away, and when he did she was just little, and not knowing the rest of her brought her to wonder just how this day would play out. No family, an orphan who wasn’t so alone anymore. She didn’t know who would walk her down the isle till Simon somehow brought up the conversation with none other than Price. He knew Price and her had such a bond together that a father and daughter could only understand.

Asking him to do it felt like a challenge for Simon. Everyone knew Simon wanted the best for his Fiancé, and if he had to push himself out of his own boundary for her he would do it without any question.

She was beautiful to Simon. Her dress in an off white, sticking perfectly to each and every curve. Everyone was in awe at her beauty. Her arm was now being linked with Prices arm, smiling as he did so.

“Come on love” He said, watching the girl tear up with every peaceful stride down the isle.

R/N smiled when she saw Simon. His tuxedo all black and justifying his muscles subtly. Of course they made their own rules, his balaclava was on at the beginning. He took it off once R/N’a veil was flipped, and there it began.Words were given from the man who would be marrying the couple, till Simon grabbed R/N’s hands into his. His hands were calloused, but none the less felt comforting in the stress and unity of the moment.

He couldn’t stop his gaze from staying out on the bride, and R/N couldn’t help but look into those beautiful eyes of his. It got to the point where staring made everything distorted as if no one else in the room was there except them.

The two were now told to share one another’s vows.

“Simon, if everything I wanted to say about you was put on this piece of paper I’d be reading till my jaw was in pain and till my lungs give out. You had caught me at a bad place three years back and I couldn’t thank you enough for just being there with me. Though neither you or I have truly been happy with our lives and how we chose to live them, just know…you have shaped me to finally become happy with how I live my life and to keep living my life. I’ll always choose you, you’ll never be a second option, you are my second half. Simon, I love you… you are who has shaped me to who I am and who I will keep being. I hope you stay long enough to live this joy out with me till the day I die.”

R/N couldn’t bring herself to look around the room. The sniffling of the congregation, of her and Simon’s friends told the answer. The girl couldn’t even look at Simon till she felt it was necessary. He wasn’t crying, but you could tell the tears in his flooded waterline was sooner or later going to explode.

“R/N, not most people see me to be the kind of guy to do a lot of things because of how I act. I’ve been told how I behave or what kinds of decisions shape who I will and have become. I don’t believe them anymore, being scared simply what others think. This is a decision I made, and it’s one of the best decisions I have made. Where we are today, standing here together is what I believe is confidence, because you motivate me to be that guy who is confident. Our lives aren’t perfect but putting the past in it’s place and creating new memories to override the old ones is a once in a lifetime chance. I wouldn’t give up to make new memories with anyone else but you. I love you, R/N.”

At this point with the copious amount of crying R/N did, her makeup was running. There wasn’t a point in fixing it or trying to because the tears wouldn’t stop. Simon raised a hand to wipe her tears and try and fix R/Ns makeup with a quick wipe under her eyes, but to no avail did the makeup look a little bit better.

Already holding hands, more words were spoken about both of there vows till rings had to be exchanged. His ring was all black and custom made for Simon. You made sure it was military grade and would never bend while doing his job. Simons ring to you was so beautiful almost everyday for the last year you got compliments about its beauty. The diamond wasn’t too big but you liked how dainty it was, held in place by the bands hooks. It really wasn’t how big the diamond is it’s the reason it was picked and the thought of it being on your finger till being parted by death.

“R/N, Do your take Simon Riley to be your husband?” The wedding officiant asked looking at you as you immediately shook your head yes, followed by an “I do”

“Simon, do you take R/N L/N to be your wedded wife?” His smile was so pure, one I didn’t see all too much but today was a day where I knew there truly was love pouring throught both of us.

“I do.”

ⓒzxvak47

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #cod fanfiction #cod #call of duty mw2 #cod mwii #cod fanfic #cod fandom #cod ghost #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley

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maxverstappensflatbrim · 2 years ago

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Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [5]

chapter five, act one: antichrist

October 15th 2012

Tommie sighs as she drops herself down onto the old crooked chair at the table, rubbing between her brows, her glasses on top of her head. George looks up from his laptop where he’s working on a demo and Ross glances from the work he’s looking over.

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugs, drawing shapes into the wooden table, stained with cups rings and cigarette burns, “Just… long day.”

“Tell me about it.” Ross mutters, adjusting his glasses on the edge of his nose.

“Hey, how come us two are the only ones with jobs and you three get to roam around all day doing nothing.”

George pauses looking up, “Us three are making music.”

She shrugs, “Ross and I make the music too, I help with lyrics, he does bass all alone.”

Ross nods quickly, “Yeah, we go to work, slave away all day, then come home to have to put up with you lot.”

“Yeah.” She echos, nodding as they both sit side by side staring at George across the table.

“Well, look at it on the bright side, we have a month before the album is finished, then a further two months until it's out, then we’re touring for months, you two can quit and live off the money of the people.”

The pair slowly look at each other, “Three months?”

“Yes.”

“If any old ladies come in and shout at me the way they did today, I’m quitting on the spot.”

“Okay.”

“If she quits, I quit.”

“Then we won’t have an income.”

“We’ll sell pictures.” Ross shrugs.

She nods, “Of our feet.”

George rolls his eyes, trying to hold back his grimace, “Just, three months. Okay?”

She nods slowly, “Okay.”

Ross subtly high fives her under the table, as if they didn’t plan this over text ten minutes before she got home.

Out of the five living in the house they’re the only two left working, Matty and George quit almost two months ago, and Adam, a week ago so he could start focusing on helping with the last bits of the album.

Right now, both Adam and Matty are going over the new album design with an artist and Jamie, who has now taken on the role of manager for the band.

“When’d you get that?”

She looks down at her arm, the new tattoo staring back at her, it’s a little pair of cowboy boots.

“Yesterday. Roddy and I got bored.”

“How many is that?”

“Nine.”

She looks across her arms taking note of the little ones she can see, a quote from her poetry book, ‘I love you, don’t you mind?. Arctic Monkeys humbug logo, an old vintage looking frame on her left arm, the exact same spot that the box sits on her right just above her ‘the 1975’ tattoo. She also has a ‘the strokes’ logo on her left arm, 505 on her wrist, with three little stars on her waistline, dipping just below her underwear.

“You two have an issue.”

“Talk to the penguin, Ross.” She mutters, turning back to her little leather book and jotting down some ideas.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

November 2nd

“Baby…” There’s a pause, and she blinks into the darkness thinking she’d heard it, “Tommie…Tom!”

She stumbles out of bed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand as she opens her bedroom door, “Roddy, what’s wrong?”

He tosses a hoodie from a pile of pillows and blankets he’s holding then steps into her room, “What are you doing?”

“You have the fire escape room, we’re going outside.”

“You could’ve just gone out if you wanted a smoke, don’t wake me-”

“No, come with me, please.”

She sighs leaning over to check the time on her phone, 1:02 am.

She follows him out as he goes outside but pauses when he starts moving up, “Where are you going?”

“To the roof, we can see the stars better.”

“We’re in the city, Roddy, you can’t see the stars, dead remember?”

“Just,” He sighs, reaching a hand blindly behind him until she grabs a hold of it, “Come on.”

When they get up there he drags two deck chairs to the one wall and wraps a blanket around himself, passing the other to her when she settles down.

He plucks a joint form behind his ear, showing it to her with a grin as he fishes in the pocket of his pyjama bottoms for a lighter.

“Want some?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never…”

He shrugs, placing it between his lips as he starts lighting it, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out away from her.

He tilts his head back to stare at the dark sky, she’s right. There’s not a single star in sight, just the moon.

“Okay.”

He turns to look at her, “Okay?”

“Give me some.”

He raises a brow and shifts his deck chair closer to hers, holding it out to her, she goes to snatch it but he brings it back, “Don’t be so eager.”

She sends him an unimpressed look and he grins as he leans over, his other hand holds the back of her neck, angling her head towards him as the other presents the joint to her.

“Inhale.”

She wraps her lips around it, breathing in deeply, when the smoke hits her lungs she coughs and he laughs rubbing her back, “You Hanns. Adam reacted like that too.”

She shoves him away when he teasingly pinches her arm and takes it from him to try again, this time it’s much easier and she turns to blow the smoke in his face, still coughing a little as she giggles.

“I can’t do it.”

He looks down at it then back at her again, “Come here.”

“What?”

“Just, come here.”

She scoots her chair closer but he shakes his head, “No, Tommie, come here.”

He pats his lap and she raises a brow, he leans over catching her hand and tugging it slightly.

She doesn’t give him the complete satisfaction of sitting in his lap, she forces herself into the tiny gap on the big chair, forcing him to close his legs that were once laying open.

“This’ll be easier.”

“What will?”

“To take it down,” He says, clearing his throat a little awkwardly, “But if you don’t want to, you don’t- you don’t have to do it. If-”

“I’ll do it.”

“Yeah?”

She shrugs then nods, “You guys, you do it all the time. And Adam never lets me, I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

He nods quickly, lifting the joint back up between them, his free hand playing with some strands of her hair. Wrapping the red hair around his finger then letting it unravel again.

“Do it, Matt.”

“If you don’t feel-”

“Just do it.”

He nods, dropping her hair and cupping her cheek, using his thumb to tilt her chin down towards him. His other hand lifts, breathing in the joint and then cupping her face, the rolled up joint brushing her cheek as he brings her mouth to his.

He taps her cheek with one finger and she breathes in slowly, his free hand travels back to her neck, massaging the nape slowly as he pushes her closer.

She finally moves her hands from where they’d been folded in her lap, one threading through his hair the other fisting his hoodie.

She shifts when his tongue meets hers, straddling his lap, when he presses forward with a groan she pulls back, hand sliding through his to snatch the joint from him and take a long drag.

She giggles when she sees his face, eyes wide and lips red, he tries following her lips for another kiss.

When she tries pulling back he reaches up for another kiss, hand on her neck pulling her down as she blows the smoke into his mouth.

It continues like that for almost an hour, sharing ‘kisses’ under the stars, passing the joint back and forth until eventually they’re quiet.

Tommie is curled up beside him, tucked under his arm, his pinky brushing across her forehead and down her nose, her legs curled over his lap.

He starts humming under his breath and she groans, “Please, stop-”

“What?”

He laughs knowing they both aren’t the best fans of the singer, “Look, it’s a shit song-”

“It’s about his dead son.”

She shrugs, “It’s still shit, isn’t it though?”

“If I was Clipton,” He breaks off in a giggle, “If I was Cl-A-pton, right here, what would you say to me.”

She sits up and turns to him then clears her throat, “Sorry that your kid’s dead, but work on your music.”

She falls back against his chest, “It’s not a good song, I’m sorry, I just- I don’t like it. Besides, he’s an arsehole, he’s a bad- a bad person. He’s like,” She lowers her voice to a whisper, “A racist.”

Matty giggles suddenly as he stares at the moon peeking through the clouds, “If you-” He pauses and groans as he adjusts in the chair, hand settling on her calve, rubbing up and down through her Star Wars pyjama bottoms, “If you could have anything in the whole world- no universe what would it be?”

“Right now?”

“Mhm.”

“Garlic bread.”

She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, “I really want garlic bread. But like, the little dough ball cheese ones,” She turns her head to look at him, chin resting on his shoulder, “What about you?”

“The moon.”

Her hands run through his hair, scratching at his scalp causing him to let out a content sigh as his eyes fall shut, “Mmm, that’s nice.” He leans further into her, “Nana used to do that.”

Her hands move slower at that, and he relaxes even more mumbling out an ‘i miss her’.

She smiles, head awkwardly leaning on his shoulder from her position, “If I could give you the moon, Matty, I would give you the moon.”

“Well,” He stands, stretching his arm, “We can’t get the moon, but we can get garlic bread.”

“Right now?” He nods, tugging her up by both arms, “It's two in the morning.”

“Don’t care, let's go.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

November 27th

Tommie rolls over in bed, she watches the time change, slowly the number one changes to a 2 and then there’s the familiar knock.

1:02am.

“Baby?”

She grins to herself, every night at one Matty gets out of bed, gathers himself some blankets and hoodies, and forces her to the window and up to the roof with him.

She opens the door, acting as if he’s awoken her for the third week in a row and not that she’s been lying away for the past three hours waiting.

“No wait,” He grabs her arm before she can push open the window and stops her from walking over, “Don’t wanna smoke today,” He looks down, cheeks tinting slightly, “Can we just… stay here?”

She hums, sleepily rubbing her eyes and falling back onto her bed, he stands there awkwardly, his usual bundle of fluffy blankets in his arms.

She lifts her head to look up at him, “You getting in?”

He nods quickly, kicking his slippers off and throwing the blankets on top of her. He folds his glasses up, placing them besides her on top of the closed record player she uses as a bedside table. He smiles as he looks at the two pairs, his squared frames and her curled ones side by side on top of books, notebooks and a mess of other things.

Then he lays down on his back, looking over at her as she adjusts to sleep on her right side. “You wanna watch a film?”

“Hmm?”

“A film?” He asks again, “I can get the DVD player in here. Instead of dragging the tele in in the middle of the night.”

She nods, “Sure.” Her face pressed into the pillow, eyes closed as she sighs.

He jumps back out, runs to his room and slows down when his ears are met with the snores of his roommate. He quietly creeps back in, pulls the box out from under the bed then grabs the old DVD players and a DVD.

He runs back, closing the door softly and smiling even softer when he sees her spread across the bed.

“Tommie.”

“Hmm?”

“If you want to sleep we can just do that.”

She shakes her head, “I’m awake.” She sits up on her elbows a little, “But a fag might wake me up a bit.”

He smiles as he moves to crack the window a little before getting in under the piles of blankets and digging into his pockets for his cigarette packets.

He takes one out and she looks up, opening her mouth and he twirls it around to place it between her lips. He takes the lighter out of the almost empty packet and then lifts it up, cupping over the cigarette to light it.

“What film you got?”

“True Romance.”

She rolls her eyes, “Don't roll your eyes at me, you’ve never seen it.”

“Yeah, but I know what happens from the amount of shit you talk.”

He smiles sheepishly then leans back against the pillows as he sets the player up, “Just… watch.”

“Mhmm.”

She looks at him in the corner of her eyes. Smiling as she watches him quote the few opening lines, his mouth moving but no sound actually coming out.

He feels her gaze and looks over, “What?”

“Nufin’.”

“Nothing?” He asks and she nods, smiling to herself again, he raises a brow and reaches to steal the cigarette from her hands, “Quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She asks, shifting to slide further under the quilt.

“Like that.” He says quietly, passing the cigarette back to her.

“Watch the film, Matthew.”

And watch the film they do, she stays quiet for the rest of it, and he looks over everytime a good part comes on to see her reaction.

When it finally ends, the credits rolling, at least three cigarettes now in the dr pepper can she uses as an ashtray, and the window has since closed.

“What did you think?”

“It was good.”

“Just good?”

“Yeah, it was good. I didn’t hate it.”

He scoffs, “That is the best film ever made. It has everything, romance, action, drugs…”

“You want a good movie?” He nods, “Barnyard.”

“The cow film?”

“It's good.” She defends, pushing his shoulder when he raises a brow at her.

“It's a cartoon.”

“Still good.”

He shakes his head, muttering about her terrible movie choices as he gets up to put the DVD player away, by the time he does the twenty second task and returns to the bed she’s curled up on her side, blinking up at him lazily.

“After a good movie,” Matty says quietly, turning his head to look at her when he finally settles again, “Usually I kiss the pretty girl I’m with, you know, kind of a tradition I have.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His word is whispered quietly as his hand moves to push some hair from her face.

She lets her eyes drift around his face, taking in every little freckle, every little scar and indent on his face.

“You want some pie?”

She giggles but pushes herself forward to meet his lips, hands threading through his curly hair at the back to bring him closer.

He moves closer, sliding on top of her, pinning her down with his weight, hands either side of her head.

He lifts his thigh between hers, one hand moving to cup her jaw, pushing her face upwards with his thumb so he can kiss down her neck.

“Roddy?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t move, pulling at the neck of the jumper to kiss down to her collar bone.

“Can we-” She swallows and avoids looking down at him, and at his lustful eyes that watch the way her chest stutters when he kisses the right spot, “Can we stop?”

His head is lifting immediately, thigh moving to give her space, “Y-Yeah, Tommie, I never-”

“No, no, don’t think it’s your fault, Matt. I’m just too tired. It's three in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” He asks quickly, moving so he’s laying on his side beside her, “If I did anything to make you uncomfortable-?”

“No,” She shakes her head and moves over to cuddle into his side, “You make me comfortable, Roddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans back into the pillows, letting her lean her head on his shoulder as his arm wraps around her, “I’ve never-” She breaks herself off with a yawn, “Never kissed anyone before.”

“Liar.” He declares quietly into the darkness of the room.

“I’m serious.” She tiredly giggles, “Never even held hands with a boy.”

He lifts his other hand to play with her hair, twirling it around and tugging softly, “You’re a very good kisser.”

“Mm?”

“Mhhm.”

He sighs and looks up at the ceiling, leaning his head against hers, nose brushing her hair line, smelling the shampoo from the shower she’d had just before bed.

“I sleep better here,” Matty mutters as he wraps her red hair around his finger, “With you.”

He lets the hair unravel before picking a new strand to do it again, “My mind doesn't have to work as hard. When you’re here I just… just focus on you. Just you.”

taglist @thereisaplaceintheheart @indierockgirrl

-let me know if you want to be added :)

#matty healy x reader #matty healy x oc #the 1975 x oc #the 1975 imagine #matty healy imagine #matty healy x bandmateoc #show me yours matty healy

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voxiiferous · 17 days ago

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Send “⇷” to view a memory from my muse’s past life. / For Vi!!

@thefaeriescafe | March 18th, 1942. (The day following the announcements of the third military draft lottery). Some mild inspiration from this picture!

There were always quieter days at work, but the mood today was somber. A year ago, everyone had known that America would enter the war and that it was, at that point, mostly a matter of time. But that wasn't true anymore.

The latest lottery had been announced last night, and Vivian had never found herself seeking out Clarence's hand more than to see if his number had been on the list. It hadn't. But that hadn't been true for everyone. They'd walked past people crying on the subway, and those who simply stared ahead with vacant eyes.

"They're going to ask questions about us soon," Vivian calls through the propped-open door between the washroom and the living room. She leans towards the mirror, pinning a hair roller in place. It's the usual shape of their nights. She prepares for bed, and then Clarence does.

"They already do," he says, voice growing closer. She catches his eyes in the mirror as he comes to lean against the doorway. And it's true, they do: about the fact that she works and has no plans to stop even once the war is over, that they don't have children, or own a house, or any of the other great number of things that make them just so subtly unlike the other couples.

"About children" she elaborates.

He grimaces. "You don't want children,"

She sticks another roller into her hair. "No," she agrees. "And you don't want them with me," but they both know that what they really want isn't an option. It was why they ever got married in the first place. She thinks the only reason they've managed to avoid more pressure thus far is because they had still been newly married enough, but it would be their fifth anniversary soon.

Clarence tries to laugh, bitter as it might be, and nods in acknowledgement of the truth of it all.

"They'll probably listen for a while yet about worries of ending up like our parents." Like her own father, she doesn't add, who came back in nothing but flesh. Now is hardly the time to have children, so soon to when everyone thinks they'll need to ration. But after the war... she'll be older then, but not so old as for it to still be unreasonable and they'll need a better excuse.

And there is, perhaps, a comfort in discussing the future like this. She doesn't want him to die in the war, as much a farce as the marriage might be. And the last day... they've come closer to the risk than has felt real since the day he had to register.

He seems to catch onto the concern before she needs to say it. "We need something they won't question,"

Vivian nods.

"Fear of being widowed?"

"Only so long as the war lasts."

"Notoriety?" This time, Vivian turns to look at him directly, and the sigh says it all. "The assistant and a daytime television star? We're hardly the most notable couple in New York," whatever dreams they both might have to the contrary.

They both fall into silence for a long minute while Vivian finishes preparing her hair for tomorrow.

"Infertility," she says a moment later, and Clarence's eyes light up.

"We play it off as a tragedy," he says.

"A mutual desire that just isn't to be," she adds.

"No one asks anything past it," he says, and a split second later. "But now that you're done, it's my turn with the washroom now."

An hour later, when there's nothing left illuminating their apartment but a lamp, she touches his shoulder gently. "For what it's worth, I am sorry I can't give it to you."

He catches her wrist before she can move away, leaning his head against it. "Don't be. How could I ever play the handsome heart-throb if I'm living the role of the exhausted father?"

"The same way you always have," Vivian answers. "You're a good actor,"

Clarence laughs, and it's just enough to lighten the mournful air. "Ah, Vi, if only you were the person running it all. Maybe then the world would see my true vision. You're the best wife I could have asked for."

#*spinning the prize wheel until it lands on me (Vivian Price)#thefaeriescafe #this was such a fascinating thing to write!#Some fun historical facts I get to lampshade #rationing started in may of 1942 in America #and I realized that she and Clarence were married A LONG TIME!!!#I sort of... forgot that #and it's fun because he's a whole NPC that just... Does Not Exist for Vox #*roll camera (meme responses)

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twiceasfrustrating · 2 years ago

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Hello I hope it's okay by you but could you write something with Helvetica and his S/O who used to not care about their looks at all, but once they got with him they started being anxious and obsessed with always looking their best?

Rating: Teen and Up Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: GN/M Fandom: Bustafellows Relationships: Helvetica Olsted/MC Characters: Helvetica Olsted, MC/Reader Additional Tags: Kind of angst with some fluff, the ending just sort of happens and isn’t really satisfying though. MC is femme coded in their appearance but they aren’t called a man or women, plastic surgery mentioned A/N: Helvetica! My love! Love when the rare Bustafellows fan pops up and let’s me write for him~ Did this take me waaaaay too long to get to? Yes. Yes it did. I never claimed to be an efficient writer. Word Count: 1,072

Concealer. Lipstick. Blush. Mascara. Stockings.

Concealer to hide the miscellaneous blemishes and scars that ruined your complexion. Lipstick to fill out and plump up your lips. Blush to give your cheeks a youthful glow. Eyeliner to subtly draw attention to the focus of your face. Mascara to define your eyelashes and make them look elegant and long. Stockings to shape your legs in a way to show them off while also hiding them from view. A long knit sweater that was cute, flattering, and just baggy enough to hide the curves of your body that you didn’t like.

That was your ensemble of choice today and you ensured that everything about it – and you – was perfect. After all, Helvetica himself had been the one to teach you what it meant to present your best self in front of others, and he never advocated for anything less than the absolute best.

That's also why, when he suggested which shoes you could wear to elevate your score even more, you hadn't hesitated to put them on. It was his distinguishing eye that knew you better than even yourself, and you wanted to be everything he made of you. Even if standing became painful and blisters formed on the back of your heel, that was a sign that you were beautiful. After all, beauty was pain.

It was a casual get together for him, but he had invited you along. That's why you had to be better than even your best self. Because you were not only representing yourself but him as well.

That’s why you stood back and nursed your glass of champagne while listening to them converse.

"Sounds like your business is booming!" An older gentleman dressed in a polo and khakis laughed as he slapped his knee.

They were friendly, but not friends. A relationship of convenience and happenstance, as Helvetica had told you. However, that did not make it any less of an important relationship. It was, apparently, a sound business decision to work on maintaining it.

"Demand is on the rise, but I am not seeing any more patients than I was previously." Helvetica held his ice-filled drink on his knees as he spoke, letting the condensation roll smoothly down the side and create faint wet patches in the fabric of his pants. "Increasing my caseload would mean reducing the quality of my work and the care of my patients."

"Said like the doctor everyone loves."

"Retaining a good report with my clientele and maintaining their trust is as important as my precision. A lack of trust and understanding means they're more likely to neglect their post surgery care, which negates my work and is detrimental to their health."

"Like I said, they love you for it."

You sat and listened to the conversation passively rather than attempting to contribute to a topic you only understood on some approximate level from hearing Helvetica talk about it previously.

The man sitting with Helvetica looked at you but clearly wasn’t speaking to you. “So how long until this one goes under the knife?” He pointed at you with a jovial laugh, like he’d just said something funny. “They’re cute, but they could use your touch in a few places.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly before you pushed them back again.

It was distressing to hear that all the effort you’d put into looking presentable had been for naught. You wondered if it was your cheeks? Or maybe your chin? You supposed your nose was a little off. Or maybe he could see the exact lumps and curves you’d been trying to hide beneath your sweater.

Your eyes darted over to Helvetica, whose eyes were now on you as well.

You didn’t expect to be a topic of conversation between them. You were supposed to be an accessory; falling into the background of their conversation and simply looking appealing. But… he clearly didn’t think that about you.

You smiled modestly without showing your teeth for fear they weren’t white enough. “I’ve considered it, but Helvetica hasn’t agreed to-”

“And I won’t,” Helvetica said as he sipped at his own glass.

“Come now, Helvetica.” He laughed again and it felt like his voice was scraping at your eardrums. “Isn’t it cruel to deny your partner?”

“It’s bad practice to mix business and pleasure. Once you are on decent terms with someone, you can no longer be their doctor in good conscience.”

The man seemed to be looking through you somehow. “Too bad for you. You managed to land the best guy around, but he won’t help touch you up. If you want, I might know a few other doctors who would love to show him up and bring you to his level.”

You nodded politely. “Thank you. I will consider it.”

Helvetica looked across the room, focusing on nothing in particular before grabbing your hand. “Excuse me, but I believe I see someone else I should really say hello to.”

He began to pull you away before getting a proper response.

With his hand wrapped around yours, it was clear just how much more perfect he was compared to you. His skin was smooth, his finger long and slender, and there wasn’t a scar or blemish in sight.

When you were both far enough away from the man, Helvetica finally spoke to you. “If you want surgery, I’ll introduce you to someone trustworthy. It would be best to find a reputable doctor to make sure you like your results.”

He was, after all, a believer in the philosophy that people should be allowed to choose the body they lived in. He would never dissuade you from doing that for yourself. However, he also wouldn’t support the decision if it was a result of someone else’s decision. After all, that person wouldn’t be the one living with your new face, so their opinion was irrelevant. All of his suggestions and advice were temporary. If you decided you didn’t like how it looked, you could wash it away or take it off.

You squeezed his hand. “I’m not sure.”

It wasn’t a yes or a no.

“Then I won’t inform my contacts yet. Let me know when you make a decision.”

For now, though, you just wanted to look the best you could in your current skin. “I think I need to touch up…”

He paused for a moment before changing directions. “The restrooms are over here.”

#mine #bustafellows fanfic #bustafellows #helvetica orsted #angst

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teen-antisocial · 9 months ago

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SPEAK NOW

TRACK THREE

SPEAK NOW

SEJANUS PLINTH X FEMALE READER

ANGST WITH HAPPY ENDING

youtube

Today was the day, the day she dreaded. The day her first love was getting married. Well her best friend. Who she fell in love with and never told Sejauns. If truth be told, however, sejanus loved Y/N back. But Y/N didn't know that, it was his family that made him do this.

“Honestly, why don't you just tell him how you feel,” Coriolanus laughed, while adjusting his best man suit “I mean it's not like anyone can tell you not to.”

“What right before he marries the love of his life, might I add I was uninvited, how the fuck do I get past that?”

“just tell him, what's the worst that could happen. Just do it”

“because I am not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion”

“But he is not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl.”

Y/N sighed knowing her brother was right. Even then she didn't understand why she was uninvited. Just before Corio could leave, Y/N turned to face him. “What dress would suit me?”

Corio smiled knowing what was about to happen, she was going to sneak in. “That purple one, the one Tigress made you last year.”

Y/N nodded and went to pick up her dress, she took a breath in and evaluated her options. But deep down something told her she needed to do this. Not just for her sake.

So she got ready, and went down. Managing to get there before the wedding starts. She sneaks in and sees all of Sejauns’ friends, and her snotty little family all dressed in pastel. Anxiety began racing through her blood. It was now or never. And it made her feel horrible but it needed to happen.

She began to wonder where the bride was, but then figured she'd be getting ready. Before she knew it, Lucy sat next to you. “You'll never guess what's going on back there?”

Y/N chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. “Right, apparently Vivian has been a bridezilla, and she is yelling at a bridesmaid somewhere back inside a room wearing a gown shaped like a pastry!”

“This is surely not what he thought it would be.” Y/N laughed thinking of what was going through Sejauns’ mind right now. It probably didn't help that all this pressure was on him, and him alone. Nothing was on her. This was all so his parents could move up the social ladder.

Suddenly, she lost herself in a day dream where she stands and says “don't day yes! run away now! I'll meet you when you're out the church at the back door. Don't wait or say a single vow. You need to hear me out!” and they said

“Speak now!”

More guests arrived, which began to drag Y/N out of her day dream. She stood up and went towards the back so she couldn't be seen. Lucy sat near the front, with her being Corio's plus one. Corio was obviously Sejauns’ best man.

Fond gestures are exchanged before the ceremony starts between the families, making more and more anxiety spread through her veins. Before she knew it, the doors opened, bridesmaids started walking down the aisle in beautiful red dresses and the organ starts to play a song that sounds like a death march, and she is hiding in the curtains. It seems like she was uninvited by his lovely bride-to-be and not Sejauns.

She floats down the aisle like a pageant queen. Making Corio laugh a little bit, he honestly couldn't believe this was happening, he knew your plan and just couldn't wait for it to happen. “Bet you wish it was Y/N” He whispered in Sejauns’ ear with a grin, he tried to ignore his best man but failed. “Oh my god you wish it was her, you wish it was her don't you?”

Sejanus had had enough of Coriolanus by that point and subtly jabbed him in the stomach, making Lucy and Y/N laugh their heads off, we'll internally anyway.

Y/N found herself whispering “Don't say yes, run away now. I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door. Don't wait or say a single vow you need to hear me out and they said speak now”

In the corner of his eye, Sejuans could see what she was whispering about him. “Don't say yes run away now I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door, don't wait or say a single vow” And it made him reconsider all of this, deep down hoping she would say something.

“You're time is running out” Corio whispered before Viv was facing Sejuans with a grin on her face, knowing everything was going according to plan.

And they said “Speak now!” sejauns said in his head hoping something would happen if he did and nothing happened.

They all hear the preacher say “Speak now or forever hold your peace”

There's the silence.

There's her last chance.

She stands up with shaky hands.

All eyes on her…

Horrified looks from everyone in the room, well other than from Lucy, Tigress and Coriolanus. But she's only looking at him.

Suddenly, she felt a sense of regret. Why on earth did she listen to Corio? But there was no going back, especially with the hope in Sejauns’ eyes. All of a sudden, her mouth was moving faster than words. “I am not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion but you are not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl”

She took a deep breath out before continuing. “So don't say away now, I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door. Don't wait or say a single vow you need to hear me out”

And the best man said “Speak now!” to his friend, knowing if he didn't he would do nothing but live in regret. Just before he said anything though, Vivian's father began backing Y/N into a corner. Before she could protest, Sejuans spoke up.

And he said “Let's run away now, I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door” The room was filled with gasps and looks. Jaunis’ family looked like a crime had happened. But he didn't care. As far as he was aware, Y/N was his soulmate and he was willing to run away with her. “Baby I didn't say my vows!”

Suddenly, Sejauns’ feet were moving, and he ran over to Y/N and put his hands on her face. Lucy and Corio running behind them. “so glad you were around when they said speak now”

if you want to support this account; please like and follow, maybe even repost and go look on my AO3 and Wattpad - both under the name teen_antisocial. and if you're feeling up to it, please buy me a coffee but please don't feel pressured to.

MASTERLIST

SPEAK NOW MASTERLIST

#the hunger games #sejanus plinth #sejanus x reader #alternate universe #coriolanus snow #Coriolanus is a good guy #speak now (taylor’s version)#speak now #taylor swift songs #taylor swift

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emotionalsupportbloggy · 5 months ago

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I used to pride myself on being smart. I didn't have beauty, so smart was all I had. And now i realize, I'm not even that smart. I can't do math in my head and took forever to learn to tell time and directions. I was probably just an average bear, but everyone felt bad for me because I was ugly, so they let me think i was smart.

I hated myself inside first. Eventually I hated myself on the outside too. I am ugly inside and out. God knows I wish I could change those both. For a time there, I hated myself so much that I wanted to die. It was painful, and i felt like my kids and husband would be better off without me. I was always too weak to do anything serious, so I just had to do the next best thing and run away. Of course, I couldn't even do that right. I never even went very far. I just sat there alone, wishing that I could kill myself.

I didn't have the courage to cut myself when I was young. I wanted to, but I didn't want pain either. So I used to play with my cat and she would scratch me so bad that it could pass as cutting myself. Attention or legit affliction? I don't even know. I don't recall drawing attention to the cuts, so I don't know if this was for me or perhaps for others to subtly notice and feel sorry for me.

What is my issue with attention? Did I not get any as a child? Is my attention meter broken and I did get plenty but feel like I didn't? Is it because my dad left me? is it the middle child blues? Is it from looking at sexy magazines too young?

Why do these thoughts afflict me, Lord? These afflictions have shaped my whole life and still affect me so much today. Help me understand!

I think this is why Jojo doesn't love himself. Is it genetic, or did I inaverdently show him not to love himself? Maybe he doesn't know how to because i didn't teach him. I don't recall anything specific I could have done to model that for him, but maybe someone else will have to tell me from their perspective.

I get to wondering why God gave me my husband. Did I rush because I found such a good catch, so I thought I better lock him up before I never have another great guy come my way? He was great at the time we met. He was going to school and church, slim and fit, handsome, star soccer player. He loved God and reminded me of my step dad, who i admire and love dearly. I stalked his life and fell in love. I don't know how, but I managed to grab his attention. He was everything. And for some reason, he thought I was too. But then reality hits, and that's where this fairy tale ends. I quickly showed him he was wrong about who he thought I was. He didn't like anything about me- my walk, my talk, my dress. The real me was a rude awakening, and the honeymoon was over. But what could he do? This is a man of God, he can't just divorce me. So he became miserable. I always thought he would welcome the day that he asked me if I cheated on him and I said yes. His get out of marriage free card. What confuses me is that he could also be jealous and insecure- so did he care or did he want me to do something he could use to get out of the marriage?

Because I made him miserable, he turned to what he knew to cope. Started with alcohol. That led to partying, not coming home, cheating, porn, drugs, pills, and eventually debt. Did I miss anything. What wasn't he doing? I spent many long, lonely nights through the years wondering where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and waiting for him to come home. This was painful. I guess I don't even blame him for all this because I feel at fault for it. I was ugly, inside and out. He was stuck with me. What was he to do. And I stayed through it all. As hurtful as it all was, I hung on through it. I deserved it.

The main reason I didn’t leave? Fear i won't find someone to love me like he does. Aside from his afflictions, he's a very good man. He's troubled, but he has a beautiful heart. He is good to me otherwise. Who is going to deal with me and my ways. And a divorce? That thought takes me to my fear of failure. So I endure. It is painful. Who would stay but someone who feels it's their own fault and they deserve it. But love isn't supposed to hurt.

Did I hurt him first? I certainly didn't do it on purpose. He was repulsed by my personality and who I truly was. He had buyer's remorse with me. Was this my fault? I suppose I was different at the time when I met him. I was on fire for God. Plugged in and attending church 3x a week, I was finally feeling some sense and purpose in my life. We married, and that actually wore off quickly. I didn't know how to be married, and I had a hard time adapting to the biblical wife he thought i would be. I didn't ask him to help me make decisions, especially with the kids. I just made them. I was used to running my household and parenting my kids as I saw fit. This was probably hurtful to him. Maybe one of the first few problems we had.

I have battled depression probably my whole life. At the time I met and married him, I was on clouds. I thought God was really blessing me. Things lined up, and I took them as signs this was right. So we didn't wait very long- engaged in 4 months, married in 6. We should have waited. I don't think we would have married if we did.

There is nothing I have ever liked about myself. I hate my face, my height, my body, my hair, my thoughts and habits, etc. Always have too. I don't know how to do girly things and I was also a late bloomer to top it off.

I always had guy friends and never hooked up with them. Now I'm realizing it was probably more because I was the ugly chick friend instead of the hot girl everyone wanted to make out with. And I've always said proudly as if some kind of feat that I never hooked up with these guys. Ha!

But I think that's why I am confident to have guy friends. I feel like I can have boundaries, but I'm also not worried that anyone actually likes me. I am definitely not the one to assume a guy likes me, and if i don't like them i will try especially hard to ignore any possible signs because I don't like confrontation or setting boundaries. I prefer to ignore or avoid either of those situations.

I have always had low self esteem. I'm sure my need for male validation has something to do with that. After all, it wasn't just any attention I wanted.

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arafilez · 10 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ▰ ▰ ✶ WØRLD EPISØDE FIN: WILL ⪨

ㅤㅤ➛ ㅤvi.ㅤ SILVER LIGHT 𒉽 song mingi❛ 𓇿

🥂̸̤ㅤㅤfluff angst suggestive cf2lㅤ ✸ㅤyou and mingi have been literal partner in crime since you were kids, and today it is perfect too, almost!ㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ w: fighting, blood, injuries, use of gun/weapons, seducing (both sides) ㅤㅤ»ㅤㅤ wc: 3.5kㅤㅤ𠈔ㅤㅤ moodboard

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❛ looking at the night sky 'n your eyes ❜

Silver Lights. Neon. Red. Purple. And then all those together reflected in your eyes. You twirl the ends of your hair and toy the empty wine glass on your fingertips as you look around.

“Is he in sight yet?” Mingi’s raspy voice fills our ears and you pass a quiet ‘no’ subtly scanning the bar. You wait for the signal and as soon as you see Jongho put the glass on his lips you get up and walk towards the back room.

Your job is easy. Because all you have to do is seduce. Seduce. Get the information. Get in the car. Run.

And horny men, oh who are you kidding, any horny gender is easy to get information from because everyone is high on hormones. Their sensations are heightened and logical thinking reduces as soon as they are given what they want.

You push a strand of your hair to the back of your shoulder and walk in your heels towards the private pool table inside the room. You chuckle lightly at all the restraints lying around and the wine bottles and glasses along with the toys you knew were hidden under the pool table.

The room is built only for the high officials and you smirk lightly when you hear the door creaking and the footsteps behind you.

“Oh darling, I am the one in a treat for tonight,” a hand slips up your waist and you put on your seductive smile and turn around to look at him. The man in his fifties sports a disgusting smile on his face and caresses your cheek with the other.

If anyone would have told your five-year-old self and your ‘partner in crime’ Mingi then that you two would be doing this you would have stared at their faces. Would have even thrown a paper ball at their faces while you two would run.

The old man presses his fingers against your skin and you crawl your fingers up his arms and latch your mouth to his neck. You are so used to this right now you don’t even feel like gagging at the musky scent that infiltrates your nose.

He hums in content and you start your work as you continue the ministrations and ask, “So what brings you here?” He purrs at your voice and you smirk lightly at how good you have become at this.

The conversation continues while you continue the foreplay but always be in charge because that is key. Dumb yourself down to ask questions but always be top when it comes to seduction.

After the man high in his bliss has spluttered all the information you needed you suddenly make an excuse and he complies easily while you tell him to wait with a wink and a flying kiss and make your way towards the back door quickly zipping up the dress.

You see Jongho getting the signal as he drags himself and his partner away and you run, light on your feet, towards Mingi’s car. You see him sitting there, his elbow resting on the open window of the car and as soon as he sees your figure in the rear mirror he starts the engine.

You jump lightly to get inside and he starts the car and you both flee.

“I remember the first time you sanitized your whole body,” Mingi chuckles and you smile looking at him with wary eyes. You had told Hongjoong you wanted to do this since you had always been told how your face can deceive well by your friends before.

“I was twenty, almost fucking a fifty-year-old was never on my bucket list,” you laugh lightly and he looks at your figure with his small eyes making crescent shapes.

“Don’t you ever feel annoyed by it anymore?” he asks and you look up at the boy you have grown up with who knew your every wish and dream you wanted to achieve and shake your head slowly to a ‘no’.

“It’s not like any of them are doing it forcefully, I am the one deceiving them and I have applied myself for it. Also, it is not like either side is forceful, so their minds and bodies allow me to do it too,” you answer and look away not wanting to see his reaction.

“That’s way too damn philosophical,” he huffs and you let out a small laugh reaching for Hongjoong’s door.

You knock on Hongjoong’s door and hear a hum of approval and getting inside you hand him the recorder that was previously attached to your ankle.

“Another day of filtering out moans,” he sighs and you laugh at him and wink while Mingi hands him the papers he needs for it.

You two walk out as Hongjoong sets to work and Mingi takes your hand in his much larger ones. He always does this after a mission, or after you do anything together. It is a ritual sacred to the both of you.

In prep two at school, you had tried to hold his hand and he denied and you clung onto him clutching his hand tightly as he winced. And that is how it all started. He wanted revenge and ate an ice cream and then rubbed his mouth with his hand and then held yours making ice cream get all over it.

The hand holdings went from pranks to care, when one day you two got scolded for breaking the swing set as you jumped on it. The scolding was about how you two could have gotten seriously injured but then at the age of seven, you held Mingi’s hand tightly as he sniffled.

He was your partner in crime, at eight, ringing the neighbour’s doorbell and running, at ten, climbing on the half-made tree house your parents told you not to, at thirteen, putting toothpaste in his older brother’s shampoo, at sixteen, changing the disc of the DJ at junior prom, at eighteen, going to college and losing the schedule ‘accidentally’ on the very first day.

At twenty-one you joined Ateez as an act of revenge when your parents got killed as hostages.

Back when you were young, you had made fun of Mingi calling him princess, and he demanded he was a prince and vowed to keep you safe playfully.

“The sky is clear tonight,” Mingi voices out and you smile at him knowing what he means. You two would lay underneath the stars and point out all the constellations you knew. It has been years since you did that so the idea was tempting you all over again.

“Let’s go to the roof,” you giggle and the biggest smile etches his face as he drags you two through the stairs.

Lying down on the clean roof, clean due to courtesy of Seonghwa, you place your head on the ground and Mingi lies down beside you. He looks at your twinkling eyes taking in the night sky.

You inhale a deep breath and Mingi smiles when he hears your voice softly pointing out the constellations, knowing the name of every star that was twinkling. You list the importance of the stars, the memory of your text book an easy knowledge that you held and your voice grows sadder every moment you take in the vast night sky. Your throat tightens when you realise how well you know these.

Mingi has never seen you cry, not when you fell off the swing set, not when you twisted your ankle while playing with him, not when your date ditched you in senior prom. So when he hears your soft sniffles it comes as a surprise to him.

He doesn’t speak a word and instead holds you close and makes you rest your head on his chest and you fist his shirt, your tears dampening the material. You feel his hands run through your hair and you choke badly as you speak, “I had a dream, Ming.”

“I know, honey,” he says softly as he holds your shaking figure tightly against his body,

“I wanted to be an astrophysicist so bad, Ming, and then this happened and everything messed up, and we didn’t even get the revenge and it has been so many days and all I can do is fuck people,“ you cry softly, sobs rocking your body, pouring your heart out at your childhood friend.

He interlinks your fingers and speaks softly, “These take a lot of time, but you don’t have to worry, we can finish this and I promise I will make you complete your dream.”

“That’s fucking unrealistic and you know it,” you say in between your tears but Mingi shakes his head lightly and chuckles saying a quiet ‘no it’s not’ against your ears.

You look up at him, suddenly hyper-aware of the proximity but still place your head on his chest and hear the rhythmic heartbeat. He holds your wrist, softly pressing his lips on the inner side and you feel your pulse quicken at the action.

You decide not to notice, he decides not to point it out.

You attach the recording device to your ankle as Mingi races through the streets to get to the destination. None of you brought it up last night; you are glad it is that way instead of an awkward interaction.

Today your victim is known for being notorious. It’s not like you haven’t handled this type before but some palpitations still reach your skin because today will be hard.

Suddenly Mingi hits the back of your head and you look at him ready to retort and realise you are already in your destination.

“Been here for at least ten minutes,” he deadpans and you wave him off with your gesture while making sure you got everything ready as and when you need.

“Don’t die,” Mingi jokes and you stick out your tongue saying, “I try to every day.”

You strip off your jacket throwing it in the back seat while Mingi laughs at your answer and then sees you walk towards the bar.

You enter quietly, strutting towards your designated chair when some man easily slides his hands up your waist. You turn around slowly, ready to spew enough words of rejection when you get surprised.

He is your target.

Your target approached you.

Alarms blare up in your head at this incident.

It is just some weird coincidence, right?

“Play along,” Jongho’s voice in your in-ear screams you back to reality. You smile the best seductive one you can muster and trace your nails along his arms and he smirks at you.

“Hey pretty girl,” he speaks and you check his every detail. They match perfectly. Twenty-seven, blue eyes, sharp nose-bridge, hair slightly permed and a mole under his chin on the right side. Yunho was right, he is smooth and knows his way with words.

His hair has shades of blue at the ends and suddenly your mind shifts to Mingi who had done this kind of style before. His hair looked good in that, but maybe the blond highlights he has right now in between his black hair make you trip on air.

You unconsciously run your fingers through the man’s hair and mentally note how much better it was when you did that to Mingi. Even though he complained and still complains when you touch his hair.

“Who are you thinking of when you are with me, hm?” the man’s voice brings you back to reality and you suddenly become hyper-aware of your current situation and feelings in your heart.

Focus on now, your mind scolds you now, and you blink lightly, smiling up at him and letting out a light chuckle. “Nobody, but you,” you say in a sing-song voice and he hums in satisfaction of it.

Enough, now take the lead, you tell yourself but it falls short when the man pulls you close by your waist and slides you to the corner. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see and now hear Jongho and his partner quickly informing the backup team about the situation.

You wonder lightly if they will inform Mingi too, and you scold yourself this time. Why are you thinking of Mingi and getting distracted so much?

You try again pulling him by his shirt to take the lead finally, but he overpowers and traps you between him and the table.

Play it cool, calm down, you reassure yourself but it didn’t stop you from getting palpitations at his attitude.

He leans close to your ear and whispers, “You know I could go for the cheapest and easiest weapon a man has, and use it in front of everyone, the one you take advantage of but killing you is easier.”

He didn’t finish the sentence when you kicked him on his knees and got off his arms. He takes out his gun and the bar gasps at the scene of other trapped citizens trying to flee.

He doesn’t stay down for long, immediately fighting back and you take out your gun. You knew something was wrong, you knew it and yet you still walked into this trap. You take up a bottle of alcohol throwing it in his direction which he dodges but not without getting some light marks all over. The fight continues, neither of you giving up and he is a good fighter and thus you know what you had to do.

You have to do this or else Ateez will not be able to complete the mission.

“Mingi slams the car through the bar,” you choke out the last part of the sentence and you can hear Mingi’s distant ‘what’ before the man rips off your ear and points his gun at your head.

You are faster as you shoot his stomach but that doesn’t faze him enough and he shoots just below your chest right back even though he falls. Pain surges through your body and you buckle up falling to the ground and see him groaning with blood pooling in his mouth and dripping on the floor.

You feel your clothes dampen from the blood and the light-headedness coming in and desperately wish Mingi had heard you.

Your head falls back against the counter and you see the car crashing, lights blinding your vision. You close your eyes hearing voices of the undercovers and fighters near you and you make out the deep voice right after.

You limp back in his hands as soon as Mingi holds you and a string of curses leaves his mouth. You register being picked up and slightly rejoice that in the end you still had the upper hand on the notorious man. He is already killed or at least now he will be.

Your consciousness slowly gives up and you feel lighter and better already succumbing to the pain you were going through. “If you die on me I will kill you,” Mingi pants as he runs with you in his arms towards the car and you let out a chuckle.

You register his hazy face and close your eyes again saying, “It will be romantic though.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hear his words before you feel darkness taking over you.

Apparently, some nerves were damaged due to the bullet but everything else made you unconscious and weaker than usual, is what Mingi hears the doctor say to the three eldest.

He stands in the distance quietly waiting to see you. You have woken up as soon as the anesthesia ended, as per the doctor but only one person at a time is allowed to see you. The doctor leaves and Seonghwa notices Mingi calling him towards him.

“Why don’t you go and be the first person to see her?” he proposes in a soft voice and Mingi nods quietly. Sliding the door softly he sees you crack open your eyes and your face immediately brightens up seeing him.

“Mingi Mangi,” you giggle and he shakes his head looking at your monitors.

“Pay attention to me, you idiot, not those monitors,” you scold him lightly and he raises an eyebrow asking, “So you are now in your sick and ‘I need you’ state?”

“Shut up, I- what are you doing?” you ask when you see him picking up some bottles and seeing them around.

“Checking your medicines and the times for them.”

“Hey, I am a grown up I can do it myself.”

“No, you can’t, shut up and lie down.”

“Woah, the tables have changed now?”

“What do you mean?” Mingi looks up at your last sentence and you shrug saying, “You are taking care of me and are worried when I clearly remember to Band-Aid your knee when you scraped it so that you can hide it from your mom.”

“That was so long ago,” he groans and you laugh even though it physically hurts a bit in your body.

“Can you just stay safe for me?” he whispers and easily slides beside you, sitting on the bed and you look away. You have feelings for someone who you grew up with but was never on your Wishlist.

And the way he acts, you can’t help but think he feels the same.

He waves your hand lightly and he notices the strips in your hand providing the saline. Then he notices a beaded wristband resting there. He looks at his own one in his right hand and then says, “You still have it?”

You look at him pointing at the band you two made when you were seven and you nod saying, “Wouldn’t lose it for the world.”

“That’s cheesy,” he grins but his heart swells at the thought of you treasuring it and you scream at him and try to punch him and he giggles and gets up showing his tongue.

You stick your tongue out too and his quiet but extreme laugh comes up at him and you roll your eyes as he goes through a fake asthma attack.

With the help of Mingi, you two went up, to the rooftop again today. This little habit back then has come back and you aren’t complaining. He helps you lie down and he does too and looks up at the sky littered with stars.

It has been two weeks and you are healing well. You look at Mingi taking in his side profile that was beside you and smile lightly. He is the best person you could ever have asked for.

“Do you know stars depict love too?” you suddenly say and he hums and you point in the sky at a cluster of constellations.

“The constellations of Perseus and Andromeda are with each other. Perseus freed Andromeda who was chained to a rock and saved her from the sea monsters. Later he married her and thus they are depicted side by side in the night sky. The-“You get interrupted when Mingi starts speaking.

“The bright W is Cassiopeia, Andromeda’s mother, and the wonky K on the left is Perseus and on the tip of his sword is Andromeda’s constellation,” he says and you grin at him and he shrugs as you push him by his shoulders.

“When did you study all this?” you ask, and he makes a face at you and you scoff affectionately.

He rolls lightly on the ground laughing and you pout lying back down. Mingi grins, his black hair ruffling on his face and you yelp as you suddenly see him hover over your body, balancing himself on his elbows and knees.

A comfortable silence settles and you look up at him and he looks back, his small eyes that hold such a large part of your heart and your life and brush away the stray strands of hair on his forehead.

Mingi looks at you, in your pyjamas, hair messily done and glass perched on your nose bridge and under the night sky and the light of the moon he feels you have never looked prettier.

“I love you so much, it’s stupid,” he whispers and you exhale lightly hearing his confession. Love is such a big word how can he say that so easily to you of all people?

“Mingi-“ you trail off your voice betraying the emotions on your face and he breaks into the grin you have seen ever since and the thin slits his eyes turn into when he smiles and you look away being overwhelmed by everything of Mingi.

He tilts his head and holds your gaze asking, “Can I kiss you?” You whisper a ‘yes’ unable to move and he presses his lips to yours. You feel stars exploding inside you and his body falls on yours softly.

You close your eyes kissing him back and you feel his hand on your waist as you hold his arm, the material of the shirt crinkling under your touch. His lips taste like your favourite dessert and you smile against his mouth when you feel him do the same.

He pulls back softly later, then presses quick pecks on your lips and you giggle spilling, “I love you too.” He halts abruptly and you look at him again. He scans your eyes which hold all the stars he can ever count.

You caress his cheeks smiling and put a small peck on his nose like you did when his sandcastle got broken by the waves when you were five and he giggles the same way he did back then.

The day you became friends and now the day you realise you are in love.

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