#i was looking through my photo gallery and saw these are four pictures i saved this week and the vision the emotion jumped out

[septembersghost]

moodboard for when it’s been a bit of a week

[roosterforme]

Right Girl, Wrong Time Part 7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Your weekend is over and you say goodbye to Bradley, but you both hope that it won't be another ten years before seeing each other again. Bradley was desperate for more of you, and this time, he'd make sure to do whatever he needed to get it. He just needs you to fulfill your end of the deal first.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, swears, and angst

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a sequel to accompany my story Old Habits Die Hard (you'll want to read that one first)!

Check my profile for my masterlist

You didn't want to move. Ever. You just wanted to lay here on top of Bradley on your bed in your little house. Keep him with you forever. 

This moment was too perfect. His hands rubbed your back underneath the soft fabric of his Grateful Dead shirt, and he was singing to you. He was singing the lyrics of your tattoo, with something extra added on.

You don't know how easy it is to love you, Sugar.

Part of you wanted to fall asleep like this, absorbing his body heat, and his voice, and his love. But you didn't know for sure when you'd get to see him again. You didn't want to think about the possibility that you might not. 

Because admitting that you loved each other ten years ago and saying you still felt that way now.... well, that didn't necessarily mean that you and Bradley would be able to mesh your separate lives together into something you could both live with. Although, this weekend that you got to spend reunited with him did feel more serendipitous than you'd like to admit. Your mind was still reeling, still searching for the logic in this situation.  

When Bradley stopped singing and you felt his fingers at the back of your neck, you sighed and let yourself enjoy this moment. After you pressed your lips to his scars, you asked him, "Will you send me those selfies you texted to Nat?"

Bradley studied your face, and even with the soft lighting, you could tell his cheeks were flushing with color. "Sure." He kissed you gently and then slipped out from under you to retrieve his phone from the bathroom while you located yours under a pile of discarded clothing on your floor. 

"What is it?" you asked, when he sprawled out on your bed once more. "You're blushing right now, Beer Boy."

He handed you his unlocked phone and cleared his throat as you crawled over next to him. "You can send them to yourself. I already saved them to a folder."

"Okay," you said, taking his phone and looking at the wallpaper, which was a picture of his Super Hornet. "Which folder?" 

You tapped on the photo gallery and it opened to neatly organized pictures with labels and dates. He had things pertaining to his aircraft, one labeled 'House Projects', and then you saw one that made you suck in a short breath.

There was a folder labeled 'Sugar' at the top of the gallery. 

"You have a whole folder of...me?"

He just nodded, his brows furrowed now. "The passcode is your birthday. Text whatever you want to yourself." You could tell he was trying for a tone of nonchalance, but it wasn't translating as cool as he probably thought it was. You typed in your four digit birthday, and the folder opened.

At the top you saw the selfies he had taken just a few hours ago, the ones he sent to his best friend. You started to select them, but then decided to scroll down to see more. 

"I thought you said you had one picture of us that you showed to Nat and Bob," you whispered, but Bradley just shrugged.

The folder was filled with candid shots of you from ten years ago at frat parties and in the library study room. There were some where you were smiling and biting your lip, others where you were concentrating on a textbook and paying him no mind. He had even taken a picture of his bedroom door at some point, on which he had written 'SUGAR what's your number?'

"Bradley," you whispered, but he was running his hand through his hair and looking at the ceiling. The pictures you had taken to make Phoebe jealous were all there, too. You and he were in the kitchen at the Beta house, enjoying your fake spring break together. There were photos of you kissing and licking his lips, one of you sucking melted chocolate off of his fingers, and several of Bradley touching and kissing your bare breasts. 

"I took those to make Phoebe jealous," you whispered, looking at him while he still avoided your gaze. "I thought you would have deleted them."

He shook his head. "Couldn't bring myself to. Couldn't delete any of them."

You paused for a beat, looking at a selfie of the two of you a few weeks before graduation. He was standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his chin resting on your shoulder. You both looked unbelievably happy. 

"Did your other girlfriends mind that you kept these?"

Bradley rolled his eyes at you. "Why do you think it has a passcode? None of them knew about it."

You bit your lip and inched closer until your knees were bumping his side. "Do you have a folder for each of your other ex girlfriends, too?" you asked softly. 

Bradley finally reached for you, pulling you so you were straddling his lap and looking down at him. "You see any other folders in there?"

You didn't need to scroll to know he only had a folder of you, so you shook your head and started selecting all of the pictures in the 'Sugar' folder to send to yourself. 

"It's just you," Bradley whispered. "I've only ever been in love with you."

You hit send and leaned down to kiss him while your phone lit up across the bed. 

"I can't fucking believe I could have been texting you this whole time," he said as you kissed his cheek. "I figured you'd blocked me permanently. Or that you had a different phone number. I thought you were probably married."

You laughed and asked, "Would you have really texted me?"

"Hell no," Bradley replied, holding you against him. "Couldn't deal with the disappointment of you not remembering who I was."

You kissed him for a long time. Eventually you both slipped under the blankets, rolling onto your sides and sharing the softest touches. Every gentle brush of his lips against yours felt like the promise he made to you, felt like he would wait to hear your answer after you visited both schools.

"You think I could forget you? I've only ever been in love with you too, Bradley."

------------------------

Every time Bradley pulled you close to him, you lit him up with your laughter. "I don't want to leave," he whined over and over again as you and he made breakfast together on Sunday morning. He couldn't stop touching you through the soft fabric of his old shirt. "Fuck the Navy. I'm staying here."

"You don't mean that," you said with a smile. "Don't you miss your friends? And your Super Hornet?" You were being coy now, and he didn't know if it was because you were going to miss him too, or because you wanted to know where you ranked.

Bradley groaned dramatically. "I don't miss Nat. She was downright sweet to you when you were texting last night. But she's never that nice to me. And I guess I miss flying, but pretty soon, I'll be doing that every day for six weeks."

"That's true, I suppose."

While you tried to plate some pancakes, Bradley whispered, "I'd rather be doing you every day for six weeks."

You giggled and looked up at him over your shoulder. "You always were smooth, Beer Boy. Too smooth for your own good. But does that mean you'll be thinking about me at night? On the aircraft carrier? When you're tired and unable to sleep?"

His eyes drifted closed. Now he had a whole arsenal of images he just knew would be circulating through his mind; 21 year old Sugar and 31 year old Sugar. Both too sweet for him, but exactly what he wanted. 

"Not only then. I'll be thinking about you a lot. Waiting to hear from you as soon as I dock back in San Diego."

You fed him bites of pancake while he caged you in against the kitchen counter. "How will I know when you get back? Do they tell you the date ahead of time?"

"Yeah, but sometimes it changes according to the weather and mission parameters. I'll text you as soon as I can. Don't worry about that. You can tell me about the schools, and we can talk on the phone and catch up."

"Okay," you agreed, setting the food off to the side and wrapping your arms around him. And now Bradley was feeling guilty again. He shouldn't be talking to you like this right now. There were too many things up in the air. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking of ways to get a transfer to Florida if you picked Miami. He couldn't live without you now. 

He took your face in both of his hands, running his thumb along your swollen lips and smiling at the dark smudges under your eyes. Neither of you had slept much last night, and Bradley had been kissing you almost nonstop. "I love you, Sugar."

Your eyes drifted closed briefly before you nodded against his hands. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"I don't know if I can stop now."

"Don't."

---------------------------

After you ate, you spent hours in your bed with Bradley, talking and touching each other. Your words grew softer, and you found yourself clinging to him a bit more as the morning turned to early afternoon. You were laughing, and he was kissing your shoulder when suddenly a soft sob escaped your lips. 

He pulled back to look up at you, but you just shook your head. "I don't want you to leave."

Then he was looking at you like he was in agony. "I would stay if I could. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Our timing kind of sucks, but maybe we can figure it all out. You're smart, Sugar," he murmured as his lips found your tattoos. "You'll figure it out and let me know where I stand." When you opened your mouth to tell him you could figure it all out right now, he kissed your lips. "But not yet," he added. 

Did this man really think you'd fall in love with Miami more than you loved him? You almost laughed, but then he was sucking on one of the spots on your neck that was still tender from last night's activities. 

"Bradley," you whined softly. He was hard and pressing against your clit just right. His tongue and lips were soothing your neck only to be met with his prickly mustache. 

"I need to leave soon, baby. Tell me how you need it."

The most unholy moan left your lips, and you were surprised you could sound that needy. "Slow. Just go slow."

He nodded against you, sliding through your silky wetness and entering you so leisurely, it somehow felt filthy. When you tried to press up against him to take him faster and deeper, Bradley scolded you.

"No, no. You're getting it slow, Sugar. It's what you need. I need it, too."

"Fuck," you gasped, winding your fingers in his pretty hair while he spread your pussy wide, squeezing your thighs. "Bradley."

And you knew this might be your last time with him like this. At least for a while. 

--------------------------------

Bradley was in heaven, basking in the little sounds you made just for him. You had told him he was the best and that you still loved him. But he wanted to be your only one.  

As he worked his thumb softly along your clit, he paused his ministrations each time he felt you clench around him. "Please." Your voice was soft and broken, and after he'd taken you close but not all the way a few times, you were begging. "Bradley."

He responded by kissing his name on your lips and tasting your tongue. He swiped his fingers against your clit just the way you liked it best, and you anchored yourself to him with your fingers tugging on his hair.

"Shh, nice and slow," he grunted next to your ear, and once again you were clenching around him. Your moans were building like a crescendo, and soon he was panting just like you were. "I love you. I'd wait forever to be with you again."

He watched a tear leak from the corner of your eye, and he kissed it away as you came on his cock. Bradley rocked into you slowly, watching you squeeze your eyes shut as he filled you up, rubbing his lips and mustache along your neck. 

Finally you were looking up at him again, and he was just as mesmerized by your beautiful, expressive face now as he had been in college. Your voice was soft and spent as you whispered, "I love you, too, Beer Boy."

But he knew it was time to leave you. The idea of being away from you again had him panicking like it did before. What if you changed your mind while he was gone for six weeks? Completely out of contact with you? "I'm not going anywhere, Sugar. But I do need to leave."

"I understand." You smiled softly at him, and then your lip quivered as your eyes filled with tears. Bradley withdrew himself from the comfort of your body and wrapped you in his arms. 

"I'll text you when I get back. You can let me know when you're able to call me, and we can figure this shit out, okay? I'll text you before I even text Nat, and she's the one who's supposed to pick me up."

You laughed softly against his ear. "Promise me you'll be safe when you're deployed."

He kissed your temple. "Sugar, you know I can't promise you that. But I can promise you that I love you now, and I will still love you in six weeks no matter what happens." He held onto you until the last possible minute, knowing he'd miss his flight if he waited any longer. 

When he stood up and started to gather his clothes, you tracked his movements with your eyes. "I'll come to the airport with you. I can Uber back," you told him, jumping out of bed and pulling on the tie dyed shirt and some shorts. 

Bradley watched you move around your bedroom, slipping on shoes and grabbing your purse before tucking yourself against his chest. 

"We're just prolonging the inevitable, baby."

"I don't care," you replied defiantly. "I'll get an extra thirty minutes with you."

The way you could make Bradley's heart soar left him grinning. "Alright, Sugar. Let's get me to the airport."

The ride was quiet, but you held his hand in both of yours while he drove, and he sang a few Grateful Dead songs. "Sing me my song," you demanded softly, kissing his fingers. 

Bradley laughed softly. "You know, you're so perfect, Sugar, it probably was somehow written with you in mind." And then he sang for you until he pulled into the airport to return his rental car. 

You kept a firm hold on his hand until you walked him as far as you could go without a boarding pass. When Bradley set down his bag to give you a proper goodbye, your lips were immediately on his. "I love you, Beer Boy," you whispered between kisses. The brush of your lips against his mustache had him holding you tight against him, and he dug his fingers gently into the back of your neck. He kissed you so hard, you were moaning into his mouth, swiping his tongue with yours.

"I never stopped loving you," he panted, breaking away and resting his cheek against your forehead. "You seemed like a mirage the other night, at the bar. I never thought I'd get a chance to look at you again."

You laughed softly. "You can do more than look at me, Bradley. Anytime you want."

Bradley wanted a commitment now. He could feel in his very bones how right that would be. But this wasn't the time for it. "Remember what you promised me."

You nipped along his jaw, saying, "I'll look at both schools, Lieutenant Bradshaw. And then I will report back to you when you are once again on dry land."

"That's my girl," he crooned, and your gaze met his with so many unspoken questions and answers. "I'll be thinking about you. Just like I always do." He kissed your cheek and then pressed his lips to your mouth in one final kiss before getting in line for security. You stood there in his favorite shirt and watched him until you couldn't see him any longer, your arms wrapped around your midsection while you cried. 

He used his phone to call you a ride back to your house and texted you the information. You wrote back right away. 

This was the best weekend of my life.

------------------------

You were so antsy to talk to Bradley. You were thinking about him all the time now. As you sat on your desk in your office, eating a sandwich and looking at your packed boxes, you wondered if he was eating dinner. Or maybe it was the middle of the night where he was. Maybe he was thinking about you, too.

This room reminded you of him, and he had only been here once. This desk especially reminded you of him. When you passed Ted, the security guard on your way in earlier, you thought about Bradley while Ted blushed and greeted you softly. 

And that's how it had been for the past two weeks. You had Beer Boy on your mind almost nonstop. Sure, he'd popped into your thoughts pretty frequently over the last ten years, but this was overpowering. Now that you knew you could reach him by phone if you wanted to, you hated that he was deployed and out of contact. 

You sighed, giving in to your urge once more to scroll through Nat's Instagram page. You had already memorized every post with Bradley in it, but it didn't hurt to look once more. And then you told yourself it would be okay to look at all of the photos that had been in his secret Sugar folder. 

You had to tip your head back and press your lips together to keep from moaning, because just the thought of Bradley keeping those pictures for ten years made you want him badly. 

And then started the vicious cycle of hating deployments. 

"Fuck," you groaned, tucking your phone away. You would drop your boxes off with your friend Veronica, and then you had another week in Virginia before you started your adventure. 

First stop, Miami.

-------------------

Bradley was laying in his tiny bed aboard the USS Ronald Reagan, thinking about you. He wondered if you were in Miami or San Diego yet. He wondered if you had visited either of the schools. He wondered if you had made a decision and how he would fit into it. 

He was halfway through his deployment, and it had been so boring. Even though he desperately wanted to talk to you, he had decided to give you some space while he was gone. So instead, he'd used his one facetime call to talk to Nat, but he had spent most of it catching her up on his weekend in Virginia.

"You're still in love with her," Nat had said with dreamy eyes. 

"Yes. I am still in love with her. And I've given her the power to break my heart a second time. Nat, I won't survive."

But in typical best friend fashion, she had been able to calm his nerves and tell him he needed to focus on work for now and give you some space. He would give you as much time and space as you wanted or needed, if he just knew for sure he could see you again.

------------------------

They parted ways, and I want to cry. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[scyphosunny]

vargastober day 1 !! time to make pretty pieces !!!

HUGE RANT INCOMING !!!! LET'S GET TO IT

okay so it's currently almost 5AM and i set up an alarm in four hours but hey let's just write an entry right now :DDDD ( at this rate i will die soon

i remember that when i saw this prompt in the list , my brain immediately said " 20 / 21 " . YOU KNOW ME , I JUST LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH . and once i had all of the prompts , i put all of them in one of those websites to randomize the order of something ??????? yeah . and " memory " was the first one to appear . ( smiles mischievously

okay . . . of course i had to get something to do on the very first day . i'm going out with my famiily today , and i won't be back until tomorrow . . . great timing isn't it

so idk like three hours ago i had to SIT DOWN and work on this . i was extra stressed because i chose to work on some edgar / jake first , for some reason .

then my sister got home and YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS , IT'S CODE LYOKO TIME !!!!! it was like 10PM and i didn't want to get myself to work on it . i really didn't feel like drawing yesterday . but i still did , because usually that means i can just push myself a little bit and if i get something that i like at least a bit , i'll probably just work with it and enjoy it !

for this whole thing , i had an extremely specific reference saved SOMEWHERE on my phone . that thing when you see something neat , and you're like " hey i want to draw that " then , take a screenshot and forget about it forever . I HAD THIS ONE REALLY FRESH ON MY BRAIN THOUGH !! and even if there's plenty of things i could do for this one ( fuck , i even have a whole pinterest board for them !! and for the rest of the characters , really ) i really REALLY wanted to get this one done taking that picture as a reference .

it was a picture of a little girl kneeling down to get some flowers . . . and the whole thing just screamed childhood for me . i could probably just do the whole thing without a reference but i wanted to see the background and overall the slight blurriness to it . that would be harder to recreate without a reference . but i just had this picture floating somewhere on my phone's photos . i didn't even remember the year i took the screenshot ! and i didn't want to check through 13k pics on my phone to find it . i used to clean my gallery a lot , but since i got a phone with a fair amount of storage ( unlike last one ) i stopped doing it so much because it isn't really necessary anymore lolz . so yeah . . . i didn't want to look for it . last time i checked my phone's photos from last year i got depressed because i fully believe i had everything and lost it all . but hey that's not the point-

at the end , i did find the picture ! didn't take too long , too . . .

and here it is ! a tiktok screenshot of an age regression post . really fitting . i wanted it to have this kind of , hazy dreamy end to it . a memory . ( laughing

GOT TO WORK . I HAD TO . THERE WOULD BE NO TIME THE NEXT DAY !!!!!!!!!

first i made this incredibly poor sketch to see how bad it'd look because HONESTLY i didn't think i'd get it right first try . AND I HAD NO TIME TO TRY AGAIN

i've been working with backgrounds for a while , and one thing is certain . i SUCK at them i've already had two pretty pieces ruined by shitty / unfinished backgrounds . last one i made ( the fireflies one ) was at least a bit better . and well , IT WAS FINISHED .

the main problem i had with backgrounds is that , my art is pretty line heavy . and the way most people do backgrounds is just like , scribbling things around with big brushes and stuff . first time i tried . idk it just looked odd ! the characters were so sharp looking and the background looked blurry , almost . i don't even have a picture to show because the file of the piece i'm talking about got CORRUPTED at some point , so . . .

there's this guy on instagram that makes tutorials and just MAKES IT LOOK SO EASY IN WAYS I COULDN'T UNDERSTAND . i did notice something , though . . . this person started with the background first , then drew the character . made sense . i mean yes , that would make the character actually fit in the piece . . . . . . it's funny because yeah common sense OF COURSE you start with the background but MY BRAIN REFUSED TO ACCEPT IT FOR SOME REASON i don't want to draw boring backgrounds I WANT TO MAKE PRETTY CHARACTERS WITH PRETTY HAIR AND PRETTY CLOTHES

( by the way , this is the guy and this is the tutorial i followed ! check his art everything's so cool

i COULDN'T ALLOW MYSELF TO FAIL THIS TIME so i tried it this way . didn't take a lot of screenshots of the progress because i was like JUST FOCUSING ON GETTING THE PIECE DONE but hey i had some screenshots i sent to brusk

started with the sky . . . then added clouds , some mountains . . . brusk told me she liked it ! that it had undertale vibes lolz

then adding bushes . . . some trees . . . the place scri would be standing on . . . i watched the tutorial , got similar colors but still took the reference pic as well , a reference lolz

if there's something i hate , is detailing grass . really really hate it I CAN NEVER MAKE IT LOOK RIGHT . seeing just a nice , open field like this one made me think of another drawing idea i have for them

i have at least three pieces like this on my pinterest ideas board . i was like " what if i do something like this instead " but NNNOOO !!!! I HAD A REFERENCE TO FOLLOW ! and quickly got back to the original idea . hmm . . . i still want to draw a piece like that , though . . .

then , i just detailed the grass a bit more . . . added pretty yellow flowers .

i liked how it looked so far ! which was surprising . i usually never like my backgrounds .

then , TIME FOR THE FFFFFFUN PART !! SKETCHING THE CHARACTER !!!

this was the initial sketch . i keep saying " YYEAHH I DON'T DRAW LINE !! MY SKETCH IS MY LINE !! I'M COOL AND SUPERIOR " but nah this piece and most of them have at least the smallest sketches . i lied to you guys .

honestly . . . i didn't really liked how it looked . bleh .

still , chose a nice , pencil-like brush to work on the line . the background doesn't look really sharp , and i wanted to avoid the problem i talked about before ! characters looking solid and background looking blurry . i used this brush before for a little thing before and i thought it'd be harder to use . but everything okay .

this is what the line looked like at first ! love detailing lines and stuff but i didn't really give myself enough time to detail this one as much . half of the details would be lost , at the end . . .

flat colors ! and a pic of william looking like he's constipated on top lolz . that frame is so funny . i know he's suffering and getting his memory back BUT IDC . I KEEP WATCHING CL ANALYSIS VIDEOS . I CAN'T HELP IT , THEY'RE SO COOL TO WATCH

i had to make my colors a bit less saturated for them to fit the piece . you can't really notice at the end , since the filters i added made it look normal lolz

little break to talk about mmmusic !!! okay so , you know . i really like code lyoko . they have this fake band called " the subdigitals " and one of their tracks was used on the credits of the show . nice song . well , once i read in reddit that they had actual songs ! so , i searched in youtube and THEY DO HAVE MORE SONGS ! a fair amount of them , too . . . so i've been listening to them for days now . THEY'RE REALLY GOOD I CAN'T HELP IT

i really like how distorted XANA's eye looks here lol

( also this is just an excuse to show my old youtube . i love add-ons

BACK TO DRAWING . after flat colors , shading was next ! and oh i've seen people shade with purple since i was a kid . but i was like " that doesn't make sense . I'M DIFFERENT AND I'LL DO IT ANOTHER WAY " so i did , but IT JUST DIDN'T LOOK RIGHT . so i had to . ( sigh ) . shade with purple . ( and it looks great !

TO BE FAIR i do add a bit of a darker blue when shading but this time i just used it as it is .

oh also i did have to go back and correct the colors a bit for it to fit better . this time , i didn't color his hair like i usually do ! i wanted something less scribbly , more solid . . . i think it looks pretty . his hair is shining !

SCRI DIDN'T HAVE FEET AT FIRST i didn't draw them because i mean you can't really see them on the reference picture . but here it just looks like he's SINKING INTO THE FFLOOR OR SOMETHINg so i went back and added them . . .

coloring the line was really important on this one ! at the end , scri did look sharper than the background AGAIN so i tried and colored the line in a way that it wasn't that noticeable . i like it . should do it more often .

even after colring the line he still didn't so i had to save the background and a png of scri's character , set them on a different canvas and then blur scriabin just a little . I REFUSE TO MERGE MY LAYERS . YOU CAN'T MAKE ME

once the colors were set and done , i went to add a bunch of filters ! only to notice that !! i forgot the freckles !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! way to go , sunny !

( most of the pics i added here do have freckles on them because i took them after finishing the piece but . yeah

so i had to GO BACK get everything set and add the filters again . AND , AFTER 5 HOURS OF WORK , WE HAVE THIS PIECE !!!! i forgot the freckles because i don't add them as part of the line anymore . they were harder to color like this . . . so i just paint them on his face when i'm rendering . ah well .

i was strugggggling to find a way to crop it , and now half of the background it's gone . gggreat . i don't think i achieved that hazy feeling , if i'm honest . . . but i still like it a lot . so i'm pretty happy with the result .

( also , i should sign these . it's been a while since i signed any of these ! i just don't know where to add the watermark !

this is the pic with and without the filter !

then , i go to bed , get comfortable and warm . only to realize . . .

I FORGOT . THE YARN . ON SCRIABIN'S HAIR .

GOD DAMMIT

i tried to add it on ibis paint because i DIDN'T WANT TO COME BACK TO THE FILE , ADD IT , CROP IT , PUT THE 999999999999999 FILTERS I ADDED AND GET IT ON THE POST . let's just say it's on the bit of hair we can't see on the picture .

i fforgot it because !!!!!!!!! i ddddon't know !!!!! HOW CAN I FORGET THE MOST IMPORTANT PART WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU

oh , and also . this is how my canvases usually look . i make huuuge files just so i can have lots of spacte to add a bunch of references in the canvas and then crop everything out when i'm done using them .

like this piece i made for the askblog ! hahahahah

i don't really know if there's anything else to add . just that i'm glad i'm doing this , i'm glad i got this one done on time AND I'M EXCITED TO WORK ON THE REST OF THESE

happy october , expect more pieces soon ! :D

( also , as an extra ! here's the piece my 10y.o sister made for today ! lolol

( bbbbefore you come at me and be like " why did you show vargas to a ten year old WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU " i kind of . didn't ? and did at the same time ! she saw me drawng them a year ago , got interested and i explained their dynamic to her . now she knows them ! of course , she doesn't know the DEEP PART OF IT lol

[eijishimas]

caught red handed.

18+ nsfw content. minors dni. all characters are aged up.

masterlist.

content warnings: f!reader, college!au, masturbation, mentions of alcohol, voyeurism, daddy kink, bit of a handjob, bit of oral (m!receiving), filming, slight degradation, creampie, one (1) instance of bakugou slapping your pussy.

notes: happy belated birthday to my bestie, @rekiri . you deserve the world and so much more, you’re sweet and hilarious and i fucking love talking to you, whether we’re joking or being more serious. i know you told me not to, but i really wanted to write something for you as a gift (because ya girl is a bit of a broke bitch). ik it’s not eren, kiri, or reki, but i hope you like this piece regardless. i love you, even if you annoy me to death, you whore /j. this one’s for you <3

wc: 2.6k | inspo (nsfw link): xxx

Everyone knew college was stressful. Deadlines nearly every single week, assignments and essays, not to mention attending classes brought a whole new wave of anxieties for students every single day. Sometimes that stress was either doubled or relieved by having a partner for a project or two. Luckily for you, you and your old high school classmate Katsuki Bakugou were paired up for a project for one of your Quirk Law classes. It was a research project, one that required a forty slide presentation. You were headed on your way to Katsuki’s dorm today to work on it at the time you agreed upon: 5pm. Then you two would study together for upcoming midterms. It was all planned out down to a tee. So at around 3:50pm, Katsuki knew he had time. He figured he needed a break from his Rescue Tactics Indoors II class, otherwise his brain would begin oozing from his ears.

Pushing aside his overpriced textbook, he rolled his shoulders back, hearing the cracks of his stiff muscles while he stretched at his desk. He let out a sigh, propping his chin up on the palm of his hand as he scrolled mindlessly through his socials. Mina had posted a Throwback Thursday post, an old one of him and you back in your freshman year of college. His nose twitched in annoyance as he recalled the parties, more specifically Denki Kaminari’s birthday party, where he had gotten so drunk that the walls melted and bent before him. Katsuki’s expression changed however, as he swiped through the collection of photos to stumble across an image of you and him. Have you always worn dresses that tight? You practically had your ass out from how short your garment had been cut, tits threatening to spill out of your low hanging neckline. Not only that, but Katsuki had an arm slung around your shoulder. His smile was stretched wide due in part to the alcohol in his system, but also because you were standing next to him. You were laughing at something Mina had said behind the camera, your hand tossed against the slightly unbuttoned shirt Katsuki had worn that night. Your fingers had brushed against his toned chest and he scoffed at the thought. Slowly but surely, memories of that party flooded back to Katsuki in waves.

They were mostly recounts from Kirishima and Mina, but apparently you two had made out in front of everyone that night. He swiped left again, swallowing dryly as he saw just that. Your manicured fingers were wrapped tight around his party shirt, tongues in a deadly dance of want and desperation for each other. Katsuki’s eyes grew as he noticed that the photo hadn’t cut out the part where he had been kneading your ass through that skimpy dress of yours. Immediately, Katsuki went to Mina’s dms demanding to take down the photo. And she did, thank god, but not without sending Katsuki more than ten photos of you and him making out at the party. He clenched his jaw, anger and a low desire plaguing his conscience. Glancing to the top left corner of his phone, he noted the time. 4:10pm.

He had time.

Saving the photos to his gallery, he pushed his chair away from his desk to have some fucking breathing room. His eyes flitted down to his sweats and as he expected, there was a tent forming. He groaned, wiping the sweat from his palms off on his pant leg before languidly beginning to palm himself through his clothes. His breaths quickened, chest stuttering as he looked to his phone displaying the photos of you and him. There’s a faint recollection in the back of his head of how you taste. Like cherries from your glossy lips, like vodka from the shots you took off of Denki earlier that evening, how you moaned into his mouth the night you had drunkenly kissed.

Katsuki tugged the waistband of his sweats down, allowing his previously constrained cock to breathe. It slapped against his stomach, heavy and leaking. Shit, he didn’t remember being this horny at the beginning of this. Spitting into his palm, he lubed up his dick as best as he could on short notice. His eyelids drooped as he swiped through the pictures like a filmstrip, a montage of all the best moments he had with you at that party. You grinding on his lap, you whispering dirty ideas you wanted to do with him later, you, you, you…

Katsuki squeezed his aching shaft, fisting his cock as precum dribbled down his slippery head. His face was an uncanny shade of crimson, a testament to how horny he was all for a few old pictures of the two of you. “Y/n.” He swore he barely recognized his voice from how breathless and needy it was. He continued to pump his cock, the only thoughts replaying in his mind were perverted fantasies of you bouncing on his dick hard enough to hear the slap of your ass cheeks against his abs.

Tapping the screen of his phone twice to zoom in, he admired your curves with pursed lips. Fuck, you really were gorgeous. Everything about you radiated a sinful nature he could never put his tongue on. You were tempting him, licking flames up his body with such intensity that made him shiver. He cursed, thumb drifting over his slit as he hissed. Fuck you for being as ravishing as you were that night, fuck you for making him feel so goddamn needy for your-

“Bakugou, I was about to text you but I remembered you were studying today, so I figured it would be okay if I came a bit...” your words trailed off. You blinked rapidly in an attempt to process the scene unfolding before you. Katsuki Bakugou, holding his dick in his hand, face on fire with a deep blush, his other free hand secure around his phone with- was that a picture of you from your freshman year of college? There was a beat of silence, Katsuki’s uneven breathing the only sound in the room aside from the low drawl of the ceiling fan over both of your heads. You gaped at him, tongue darting out to wet your lips upon realizing his hand hadn’t stopped moving. If anything, you saw his hand flex around his cock, further tightening his grip as you stood right in front of him.

“What the fuck-”

“What?” he beat you to the punch, his lips twitching into a devilish smile, “Don’t like what you see?” His confidence knocked the air out of you, your bewildered attitude showing true on your features. Your body feels warm, searing beneath his gaze. “Excuse me?” you squeaked out, overcome with both curiosity and a hint of lust for the ash blond.

“Are you gonna fucking help me or not?” His pride was refusing him to be flustered, not when he was this feverish for you. He needed the upper hand, he needed control over this situation. And it seemed by how you were shifting your weight from side to side, that it was happening just as he wanted. Who were you to refuse such an offer from Katsuki Bakugou?

And that’s how you ended up here, nestled between thick, muscled thighs with your hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. He had you spit over his dick, his entire shaft gleaming in all its glory as it stood to attention in your grasp. The flash of his camera burned your eyes as you suckled on his crown, hand continuously jerking his cock while he ravenously watched you through the screen. The guttural groan that escaped him was nothing short of music to your ears, your thighs tensing as the coils of heat continued to build and knot between your legs.

“Mm. Keep going like that, take it. All the way in now, like a good little slut,” Katsuki instructed, his voice slicing through the heavy atmosphere of desire. The words make you whimper, enveloping his sensitive head in vibrations while you lick around his slit. A large hand cupped your face, forcing you to make eye contact with the ash blond behind the camera. His black tank top truly had no confines over him, since it was tight enough to see the outlines of his pecs and ripped torso. Katsuki sure worked hard to maintain his appearance, but you knew he had the strength to back those muscles up. The thought of him completely dominating you, holding you with strong arms and pinning you down with his body made your pussy even more wet with your slick than it already was. Even from how you were on your knees, Katsuki possessed an unspoken will over you. You wanted to please him, make him feel good, make him have no good reason not to give you everything he had to offer.

You took your lips off of his head with a little ‘pop’, eyes wide and expectant as a string of drool connected your bottom lip to the tip of his cock. Bakugou’s smile grew, making sure your face was completely in frame and in focus. “Dirty girl,” he hummed, thumb tracing the apple of your cheek before guiding your lips toward his twitching cock. You slowly kissed the vein on the side of it, mumbling out four words:

“Your dirty girl, daddy.”

The moment the words left your mouth, Katsuki let out a low, gravelly moan. It was as if a switch inside him had flipped. Without warning, he’s pulling you off the floor and sitting you down in his desk chair instead. He’s a bit rough, his vision clouded by the sheer want to fuck you until you were screaming his name, until his name was the only word your pretty little brain could recall. He abandoned his phone and instead had his hands drop to the armrests of his desk chair, encasing your body as he towered over you. Your skirt was immediately shucked up your waist and Katsuki’s hands went to work on your panties. He ripped them off completely, tossing them aside without a care as to where they went. He gazed down at you with fervour, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt.

“Who’s pussy is this?” he coaxes with a grin, teeth shining. His hand slipped between your thighs, his index and middle finger tracing up and down your slit. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, your thighs instinctively closing around his hand. Your face bloomed with warmth, eyes darting away from his cocky demeanour, “Baku—”

Your body jolted as a firm smack was delivered to your sensitive pussy, a wet, lewd sound meeting your ears as he did. It made a high pitched, whiny moan be pulled out from your throat.

Fuck.

“Try again,” he ordered, tone demanding and almost condescending. His lips ghosted yours yet he never had any intention of moving close enough to seal the gap between the two of you. You whimpered, eyes meeting the dark red irises that were staring straight through you.

“‘S yours, daddy.”

“Now that’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

His lips found yours, teeth tugging at your bottom lip hard enough to make the warmth in your stomach double. The liquid heat had been building ever since you walked in, and you were fairly certain that you weren’t going to last much longer.

He hooked your knees over his elbows, biceps flexing as the muscles in his arms supported your full weight. He picked you up with such ease, your arms flying around his neck as you squeal, gasping at how little effort that took him. He was a pro-hero in training, of course he had practiced lifting people up no matter their body type or size. Either way, it didn’t matter to him. He thought you looked rather angelic clinging onto him regardless. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat with his hands spreading your cheeks, grunting as he adjusted you in his arms. He slid slowly into your slick cunt inch by suffocating inch, your walls fluttering and enclosing around his throbbing cock. Katsuki’s breathing was unsteady, eyes watching your expression intently in hopes that this new position would give you as much pleasure as it was giving him. His ego was running rapant from how you were holding onto him for dear life. You were practically shaking in his grasp, mouth open in an ‘o’ shape as all you could do was gape at how deep he reaches within you. You were keening, eyes hazed with lust and nails digging crescents into his shoulder blades hard enough to make him hiss.

When you finally catch your breath and adjust to his size, you give him a curt nod as an indication for him to start moving. Slowly, he lifted you up off his cock until his head kissed your entrance before allowing gravity to do most of the work. This position had his cock nudging your cervix and it made the knot in the pit of your stomach squeeze further, threatening to snap with every loud smack of his balls echoing through his dorm room. He pistoned into you like that, reaching deeper to rearrange your insides. It was like your entire body was being engulfed with pleasure and fire. He took in your face, how it scrunched in pleasure, hair sticking to your face as you mumble out how much you want to cum, how much you need to cum.

“Fuckin’ tight just for daddy, hah?” he cooed to you, “You wanna cum all over my cock like a little slut? You were watching me from the door jerking off for you. Dirty fuckin’ girl. Who’s making you feel good? Say it. Spit it out.”

“You!” you moaned, your head feeling light from the way the veins on the side of his cock rubbed your walls, “You, daddy. Please let me cum. I w- wanna cum!”

“I can’t hear you,” Katsuki rumbled, eyes steeled before you unmoving and unwilling to give you permission just yet. “Please!” you begged, “I’m a dirty girl. I’m your dirty girl, daddy! Please let me cum!” You were too engrossed in your pleasure to have any semblance of shame. Katsuki grinned. That’s what he wanted to hear. He let out a tiny ‘tch’ before uttering out, “Then cum, slut.”

Without another word, you let out a final wanton moan, gushing around him as the liquid heat finally expels from your body. Your orgasm hits you in waves, your body quivering with each new sensation as you hold Katsuki’s cock within your cunt. Your nails leave angry red marks along Katsuki’s shoulders, ultimately sending him hurtling towards his own release.

Cum dripped down his twitching cock, your chest heaving as your legs feel like jelly. Tingles shot down your spine as Katsuki pumped rope after rope of his sticky cum well enough to paint your inner walls white. He helped you ride out your high, delivering harsh bitemarks to your neck to leave a mural of hickeys claiming you as his. The smile he gives you is cocky, prideful, and arrogant. He placed you back down on his desk chair, your thighs still going through the aftershocks of your high. Reaching for his phone, he tapped the app icon for his camera. He knelt down, chuckling as your fingers slid between your legs to spread your lower lips for him. His cum seeped out past your slit, leaking down to your puckered asshole.

“There we go. Aren’t you daddy’s good girl, hm?”

Tiredly, you nodded.

“‘M daddy’s good girl.”

all works © eijishimas 2021. do not reuse, modify, or repost.

tags:

@lonleyweeb77 @cynthus-no @lonelyheart-cluband @smhhyung @stoopidnekobish @kiridarling @kirislilrock @baku-deku1 @hajisuu @damnitcrowley @foruthemoon @peaxhcringe @justanotheruselessextra @izukuuarchive @katsuki-kitten @shokoarashi sorry i couldn’t tag all of you!

want to be on the taglist? see here.

[ahgaseda]

phoenix | one

I’ll be the phoenix, leave it to me, we be flying, spread your wings behind your back, they call us phoenix, ride or die, ride or die...

summary : the clock is ticking as you recount your passionate affair with Jackson, the most wanted man in Shanghai, to the people trying desperately to catch him, but no one - including you - knows if he will risk his life to save yours.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, mentions of blood and violence, references to drug and alcohol use, graphic sexual content, self-destructive themes, potentially triggering elements involving kidnapping, arson, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

The chains rattled on the steel table. The cold cuffs wrapped around your wrists were anchored to the surface, looped through a bolt. You weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

It had been a quiet Thursday night. Nothing out of the ordinary to note. You left your apartment and went out for dinner. The steak was cooked just right. Your company of friends were lighthearted and buzzing from wine, but for once didn’t grill you about your relationship.

On the way home, you were ambushed. You put up a fight, of course, knowing all the while it was futile. The men had descended on you like thieves in the night and none of them were gentle.

Shoved into a chair and fastened to the table, you were read your rights, but by their tones, you had none. Five hours had passed since your less than legal arrest. The clock slipped past midnight a while ago. There was no telling when you would be reported missing, if at all.

Your closest friends knew you vanished from time to time. It was that good for nothing guy you dated, whisking you away to god knows where, they often jeered. Envy was ugly.

He was on your mind. He would notice your absence. Especially the empty space left in his bed.

The detective slapped a file in front of you, but the loud smack that echoed through the room did little to rouse you at this ungodly hour. He was middle-aged and the lines of his face were hard, furrowed. You wondered about the kind of people often in your current position. Gangsters, killers, and the like. You had done nothing to warrant the same treatment.

“Am I being charged with a crime?” you asked, poised and calm as you had been trained. You tossed the idea of trying to speak to them in their native tongue the moment you were booked. Your Mandarin was rudimentary and would likely get you into more trouble. “You have no right to hold me here, chained up like a criminal.”

He shot back, “You are at the center of a government investigation.”

Those words alone should have sent your heart somewhere to the pit of your stomach, but you knew better. All your life, you had been a law abiding citizen. But they treated you like you were wickedness personified.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” you replied, head held high. You dared not give them an inch. You couldn’t afford it.

He glanced at you over the rim of his glasses, eyes scathing. His reply was bitter, dripping with disdain, “Your lover has done plenty.”

You didn’t argue. It was abundantly clear you had no rights in this damned metal box. Lover; the word lingered in your mind a second or two. Yes, he was your lover. No man had loved you like him and no man ever would again.

Was he in love with you? Not even God knew the answer to that.

The detective finally took the seat across from you, in an attempt of appearing more diplomatic. His shouting and intimidation had gone nowhere.

“Tell me about your relationship with Jackson Wang.”

Your eyes fluttered. Just hearing his name made your heart spin. The boy owned you - mind, body and soul. Lacing your fingers together in front of you, you lied, “I don’t have one.”

The detective snorted. Then, he withdrew a photo from the file and placed it before you.

There you were in black and white, centered in a scope that for all you knew could have belonged to a sniper’s rifle, caught up in Jackson’s arms as he kissed you with abandon. Passion flowed freely from every inch of the photograph. It belonged on display in a gallery for twisted, ill-fated lovers.

You could still remember that day in the picture clearly, how it felt when he pushed you up against the window. The glass was frigid on your back, but did nothing to rival the heat of his body against yours.

Jackson always felt as if he carried the entirety of Hell inside him.

You lifted your gaze from the image at last and murmured, “A moment of weakness… a long time ago.”

The detective didn’t believe you for a second. He rifled through more pages in the file and fanned them out in front of you. “Phone records. Travel logs. Looks like you live in a constant moment of weakness,” he sneered. There was no doubt he resented having to share the same oxygen as you; a woman that willingly slept with the devil himself.

“I do,” you retorted, almost regretting the words when they left your tongue.

The detective raised his voice angrily, “Jackson Wang is singlehandedly running the underworld of Shanghai and is a major player in the open rebellion against the People’s Republic.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. One day you knew you would be confronted with what he was, what he had done. There were nights you lay awake, wondering if you slept in the arms of a murderer.

The detective tapped his finger on the table and the noise brought back your attention. His face was severe, red from stifling his rage. To him, you were a valuable pawn, but a pawn nonetheless. His ass was on the line. Perhaps you were the one and only chance he would get at piercing Jackson’s armor.

“I have no information to give,” you answered quietly. “I know nothing of that. Nothing.”

He had gathered that. From the months they had you under surveillance, you were never seen near any of Jackson’s businesses or his known safe houses. He went to great lengths to keep you at a distance from his work.

“Given the nature of his crimes and how viciously he runs his underlings, what would happen if we were to… leak that you were in here, singing like a canary?”

The first threat of the night. You knew it wouldn’t be the last.

You scoffed. He knows I would never betray him. It didn’t matter what Jackson did, you were loyal. Jackson had the ability to inspire loyalty in those close to him. He tolerated many, many things, but disloyalty was not one of them.

The detective lifted a brow, thinking your silence meant he had found an edge. “Have you seen what he does to his enemies?”

Your expression didn’t change. No, he made sure I never saw.

Jackson was ruthless when he took his pleasure from your body. Even more merciless when he buried his head between your thighs. You could only imagine how intensely he ran his underworld.

“Do you know nothing of what he is?” the detective exclaimed, incredulous.

He never wanted me to know, your thoughts wavered.

The world didn’t exist when you were with Jackson. Together, it was just you and him, and everyone else be damned. Every moment spent with him was a lifetime unto itself.

A spontaneous trip to Maldives. An impromptu midnight ride on his yacht in the harbor of Hong Kong. A weekend in South Korea spent locked away in a riverside cottage with only the birds to witness your sins.

Jackson had money. There was no denying that. But so did you. You had made a fortune in your line of work and from then on, no one could buy your attention or affection. Jackson was different. He didn’t shower you with designer clothes or heavy diamonds. He paid attention. Learned your interests and kept you on your toes. He understood you to be like some beautiful mystery in need of solving.

You bit your lip, tears pricking your eyes. You wanted Jackson, wanted to be safe in his arms, hidden against his chest. You loved him. God, you loved him with every fiber of your being. He had taught you how to live again. He showed you there was still a soul somewhere inside you.

Even if his own had been burned out of him.

Clearing your throat and pushing back your emotions, you asserted, “For your own safety, don’t show me anything and don’t leak that you have me in here against my will.”

The man before you bristled with wrath, jaw clenching. “For my own safety?”

You frowned. It was not your intention to anger him. You just needed to keep buying time.

The detective stood abruptly, knocking over his chair and shouting, “Is Jackson going to come for his whore?”

You winced, more so at the screeching sound of his chair scraping the ground than the unsavory words. You weren’t surprised that was how they saw you.

They had probably sent women to seduce Jackson before. Find a crack in his walls to exploit. They must have waited years for him to finally have someone he could love, someone to ultimately break him.

The detective began circling the room, like a vulture spiraling around its next meal. You weren’t afraid. There were laws in place for situations like these. At least, you hoped they still applied to you.

I have to get out, you thought. You steadied your breathing and remembered what you had been taught.

Being held captive was something you had rehearsed many times. Jackson tried to chase you off once. He didn’t want you to live in a constant state of danger because of what he was. Then, Jackson realized he had been waiting his whole life to find you - the person who completed him. And that’s when he started preparing you.

In fact, rehearsing being in police custody was one of your favorite roleplays.

You remembered being led into a tiny room, no larger than a closet. Bound to the only chair, Jackson had stormed in and treated you like a traitor. But you knew how soft he was for you, and how bad of a liar he was, and had seen through the ruse all too quickly.

Nevertheless, he wanted you to be ready for whatever the dirty cops would throw at you should the day come you were in their clutches.

“Baby, had I known you were going to tie me to a chair, I would have worn something a little more seductive,” you teased, licking your lips.

With your hands overlapped and cuffed behind your back, your shoulders were pressed to the top of the chair rather uncomfortably. Jackson skulked before you, not uttering a word. His face was shadowed, dark and menacing. All it did was turn you on.

With heat in your eyes, rather than look demure or nervous, you spread your legs.

Jackson let his gaze fall to your parted thighs, clad in black pantyhose. He had bought you the red bottom heels you were wearing and fuck, if they didn’t make your legs look longer. Without a word, he bent down before you, taking your ankle in hand and slipping off the shoe.

You watched in surprise as he tossed both shoes to the wall where they clattered loudly. No distractions, you mused, wanting to giggle.

Jackson saw your little smirk and fought a grin. You weren’t fooled by him in the least. He stalked across the room, coming to stand behind you with a hand gliding up your arm.

You shivered when his fingers found your neck.

“We have ways of making you talk, sweetheart,” he whispered darkly.

“Mm,” you hummed, breathing heavier as his hands stroked your jaw and throat. With every pass of the rough strokes of his palms, they moved further south. You sucked in a gulp of air when his fingers grasped the buttons of your blouse.

Glancing down, you watched him unfasten one button. Then another and another.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked softly, pulsing with adrenaline.

Jackson traced the pads of his fingers down the lines of your cleavage, which he already knew quite intimately, and grinned at the sight of your blood red bra. Also a gift he had bought for you. Perhaps you wore the matching panties beneath your skirt.

It went without saying that red was his color.

You shuddered when you felt his breath hot on your neck, lips brushing your ear. Your hair stood on end. Electricity prickled across your skin. His touches on your breasts were maddening, drawing senseless patterns that only served to stir a fire between your legs.

“I want you to say,” he replied venomously in your ear. “That you’re going to give me everything I want.”

You gulped, shifting in the chair. That voice was lethal, drawing you into a heady fog that almost made you forget the purpose of this roleplay in the first place. And his hands cupping your clothed breasts were even worse. Jackson had godlike hands. Long fingers. Bulging veins. Your mouth watered.

“I’m waiting,” he taunted, taking a patch of flesh on your neck between his teeth.

You quickly asked, “What is it that you want?”

Jackson squeezed your mounds, tugging down the cups of your crimson bra to expose your nipples, pinching them between his deft fingers. With how badly you squirmed on top of the chair, it was safe to say his hands alone were doing a number on you.

“Jack…,” you started, about to tap out. You needed him to soothe the ache he had created.

Jackson caressed your nipples with his thumbs, smirking at the way your chest rose and fell for breath. “Where is the money?” he growled, trying to sound vicious.

You shook your head in defiance. “I never cared about the money.”

Jackson flicked his tongue over the blemish he had made on your neck, one of his hands leaving your chest to wrap around your throat. His next question sounded more like an accusation, “Are you saying you don’t trade him your body for money?”

You snickered. “I give him my body because I love what he does with it,” you purred, snapping your jaws as if you were going to bite him in retaliation.

“Good girl,” Jackson said with a chuckle, thoroughly pleased with you.

You smiled victoriously. Whenever he said those two little words, you melted into his hands. The man could play your body like an instrument. He could draw the devil out of you like poison to dance with his own.

Jackson pressed a single chaste kiss to your temple. Then his thumb and forefinger gripped your neck, suddenly pressing to your blood flow. Your vision clouded and thrummed. The room began to fade. When you felt a hand dip between your legs and settle on your clothed sex, you knew you had passed the test and would get your reward.

You found yourself back in the present, crossing your legs beneath the steel table. It did you no good to think of Jackson and the power he had over your body. Always leaving you satisfied, shaking and screaming. He took pride in making a complete and utter mess of you, ruining you for anyone else.

The detective resumed his threats, but his voice faded into static. He offered to toss you in a cell and throw away the key. But in your mind, you were back in Jackson’s bed, naked save for his dress shirt as he told you what to expect.

“They’ll try to scare you into talking,” he said levelly, sporting only a towel around his waist after a hot shower. “If you flinch, they’ll escalate. Find your happy place and don’t give them an inch. Never let them know you’re afraid.”

You nodded, distracted by the fiery tattoo that covered the full expanse of his back. Jackson was a perpetual distraction.

“Then, they’ll switch it up. Offer you a deal. They may give you full immunity if you give me up,” Jackson continued, focusing on your face to see your reaction.

You rose to your knees, shuffling to the edge of the bed and grabbing him by the hips. Pulling him close, you pressed a kiss to his lips and crooned, “Ride or die, babe.”

Jackson rewarded you with another kiss, but pulled back the moment you tried to slip him your tongue. His expression turned grim. “Then, they might turn off the camera. Might start threatening you with pain.”

You shook your head. Being with him made you brave. “I’m not afraid of pain.”

Jackson cupped your cheek, stroking his thumb over your soft skin, and whispered, “I won’t be there to protect you, but I promise on my life… something bad will happen to them when they least expect it.”

“Just get me back to you, back to where I belong,” you told him impatiently, carding your fingers into his damp hair and teasing your tongue over his bottom lip before kissing him again. At the time, you wanted him to hush this line of conversation, wanted him to focus on the precious time spent together.

What you didn’t know was that the noose had been tightening and Jackson was setting things in motion.

For a moment, he indulged you, sucked eagerly at your tongue in his mouth and kneaded your hips in his broad hands.

Finally, he stopped you, cradling your face and staring intently into your eyes. “You need to know this,” he whispered in hushed tones. “The cops are dirty. Corrupt, every last one of them.”

You nodded your understanding and made sure never to forget it.

The door opened and you snapped out of your reverie, the detective joined by another officer that had been one of the men to participate in your violent arrest. He strode in forcefully, a phone you swiftly recognized as your own held in his hand. The device was hooked to a number of wires and receivers.

“Here, talk to your bitch,” he snapped harshly.

The officer grabbed a handful of your hair and shoved the phone to your ear.

You groaned at the stiff tug on your head and answered confusedly, “...Hello?”

“Baby,” was all Jackson said.

“I’m fine,” you spoke like a well-rehearsed robot, looking up to make eye contact with the man holding your hair in his fist. “They are treating me very well.”

The officer shouted loud enough for your lover to hear, “She’s being a very cooperative cunt, Mr. Wang.”

You bristled, practically feeling Jackson’s wrath through the phone.

“Baby girl, rest assured,” he hissed under his breath and you had never heard his voice devolve into such a growl. “They are all dead men.”

You flashed your teeth in a grin at the man gripping you so roughly and sang, “Yes, Daddy.”

The line clicked dead.

“Damn it,” the officer groaned, releasing you none too gently.

The door swung inward again, causing the man beside you to jump. Whoever had just entered was clearly a superior, because the others bowed deeply.

“Out,” said the stranger with little to no patience, dressed in a crisp charcoal suit.

You watched the two shuffle through the door, metaphorical tails tucked between their legs. It was a relief to be free of them. Though you now had a new enemy to confront.

The interrogator spoke your name in greeting, offered a warm and somewhat reassuring smile, and introduced himself, “I’m Park Jinyoung.”

“Korean,” you mulled in surprise. “What are you doing in Shanghai, Mr. Park?”

He looked barely Jackson’s age, but you already respected him more than the others because of his kind manners. He wasn’t here to play any violent games with you.

“I was about to ask you the same question, Mrs. Wang,” he retorted, pointing at the ring on your left hand.

“I’m not his wife,” you were quick to correct, overlapping your hands to hide the piece of jewelry. It was the most precious thing you owned. You sighed in relief when they hadn’t removed it during your arrest process.

Jinyoung approached and withdrew a key from his pocket, unfastening your cuffs. You caught a glimpse of the gun strapped to his hip and decided not to cross him. Once you were free, he sat down comfortably across from you, unfastening the button of his coat.

You murmured a small thank you and studied him carefully. He was a far different entity than the corrupt detectives.

“I apologize for the unsavory care that has been given to you in here,” Jinyoung said, seemingly genuine. “From what I understand, this is hour five for you.”

You nodded. “Spent the first hour being read my rights. The only word out of my mouth was lawyer. Then, no lawyer in sight, hour two they left me in here to sweat,” you told him as you rubbed your aching wrists. “I didn’t sweat.”

Jinyoung bobbed his head as you spoke, as if he was well aware of all that, adding, “And as I saw, he has already been in contact.”

You sighed. “Not long enough to get a trace.”

Given the officer’s reaction when Jackson hung up, you gathered that much.

Jinyoung smiled. He was almost amused. Opening his notebook to a blank page, he tapped his pen and said, “We both know they won’t get anything from you. You’re not going to crack.”

You tilted your head. “Are you interested in finding a way to break me, Mr. Park?”

Jinyoung was a master tactician, highly respected for his intellect. He had been watching from behind the tinted glass. Your behavior with him was a stark contrast than with the detectives. You had been trained. You were more at ease with him. Jinyoung realized he didn’t put any fear in you. And that was an advantage for him.

Jackson’s words echoed in your mind, “If someone comes in from the outside, a different agency or a different country, he or she will be the real deal. They will have been hunting me for a long time and will see you as a key to finally bringing me down.”

Jinyoung’s delayed response cut through your thoughts, “I’m more interested in how someone like you became involved in this. Level with me. How did you meet the one and only Jackson Wang?”

You shrugged. “Why do you care? It won’t help you find him.”

Jinyoung uncapped his pen, ready to write, and pressed, “Some girls are drawn to men like him. Men with violent, dangerous power.”

“I never knew about his powers,” you shot back vehemently. Was he implying you were insane for loving someone like Jackson?

“I’ve spent the greater portion of my professional career in a cat and mouse game with him,” Jinyoung confessed, trying to smooth your feathers. “Help me get to know him better.”

“You’re the mouse,” you smarted.

Jinyoung glanced up through hair straying into his eyes. With a smirk, he scribbled something at the top of his blank page and said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

You exhaled loudly.

The last of Jackson’s warnings rang in your ear. “If they’re the real deal, buy time. Get a feel for them. Figure out what it is they’re after and how they want to use you. And then, whatever you do, don’t give it to them.”

Glancing down at your nails, noticing one or two had broken in your scuffle during your shady, back alley arrest, you began, “I met him at some ritzy, overpriced hotel. It had been a shit day. Another board meeting of senior partners where no one gave a damn what I had to say. As long as our stocks came out unscathed, they didn’t care if the rest of the world was about to go to hell…”

You had been sitting at the bar, manicured nails drumming on the black marble. The bartender kept a steady flow of red wine coming your way and you sipped your glass in an attempt to clear your head of all its moral conscience.

It was a wonder you had lasted this long and you pondered how much longer you could keep going. You never imagined selling your soul to a corporation, playing with people’s lives. It had all just been numbers and math, at which you excelled, and then the corruption steadily seeped into you.

“Another crisis, Luke,” you told the bartender.

He tossed a cloth over his shoulder and retorted, “Another Tuesday, madame.”

You chortled and put the glass to your lips. “That’s the truth if I ever heard it,” you mumbled bitterly.

You saw the numbers. Numbers were your expertise. The market would crash. Much, much worse than before. Hard-working people would lose their retirements, their livelihoods. Some would never recover. Meanwhile, you and your bosses would roll in cash and the government would cut the banks a giant check to fix the disaster they had created.

Looking at your hands, you marveled how clean they looked for being so stained and filthy.

Luke glanced at the television overhead, where you had asked him to switch to the financial channel. The bell was chiming. The market had closed, deep in the red. No surprise there.

You glared at the screen. They had no idea what was coming tomorrow morning. People worked hard, but greed worked harder.

Luke turned to you, pointing at the coverage, and inquired curiously, “That kind of crisis?”

You tipped your glass toward him for more wine and nodded. “Now is the time to pull out.”

“My pull out game has never been good,” Luke quipped after topping off your drink.

You nearly spat your wine with laughter and your stomach ached. Fuck’s sake, when was the last time you laughed?

“Dammit, Luke. How am I supposed to cut in now?”

You angled to the man who had been seated a few stools down from you.

Luke held up his hands in defense, smirking with satisfaction.

The first thing you noticed about Jackson Wang was his smile. It was warm, undeniably playful, yet something about it put you at ease. Most men in your field had smiles that warned of danger or bad intentions.

Your eyes met and Jackson could see right off the bat you were unimpressed. It had been a rough day and you were in no mood to flirt. So Jackson decided to finesse, which luckily was his specialty.

Turning back to your wine and tasting it on your tongue, you tried not to steal another glance or two at the handsome man at the bar.

“Should I unload my portfolio?” Jackson asked, wanting your attention.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye and feigned disinterest, “What’s your pleasure?”

He cocked his head and joked, “I’m surprisingly vanilla.”

You rolled your eyes and deadpanned, “In stocks.”

Jackson recognized that icy tone of a woman who did not have a single fuck to give him and knew he would need to melt you a little. You had caught his eye at the bar, but beautiful women were a commodity in his line of work.

At first he dismissed your glowing skin beneath the bar lights and your big beautiful eyes glistening with unshed tears. You almost hooked him with that tight black dress and the way it hugged your every curve. And your legs, hot damn, keeping his eyes off of those had been even harder.

Then, he heard you speak. You talked with intellect and eloquence, and he was ready to hire you to narrate the rest of his life. He realized you may have some intelligence in that pretty head of yours and that snared his attention.

Because Jackson had learned long ago he was very, very easily bored. And the vapid nonsense that came out of the mouths of the girls he tended to attract with his money just didn’t cut it for him anymore.

The pursuit was on.

“Mostly gold, some silver. A few auto brands,” he replied, attempting to sound humble.

You answered expertly, “Gold and silver will bounce back in the long run. They always do. Some auto manufacturers may not survive, but just the American ones are at risk. And more than likely Uncle Sam will bail them out like last time.”

Jackson winced, but it was for effect. “Bye-bye, Cadillac.”

You chuckled.

Jackson sobered a little, frowning at the television. “Another crash, huh?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” you whispered under your breath, sipping your wine and knowing every time you opened your mouth, you jeopardized your entire company.

In the morning, when the opening bell rang, your firm would unload all of its dirty, worthless stock to unsuspecting buyers, and the market would collapse like clockwork.

Numbers didn’t lie.

“I trust your expertise,” Jackson flirted, voice like silk.

You gave him a sideways glance, not convinced. More than likely he was just trying to get into your pants. “Most men get turned off when I speak with expertise in my field,” you said, running a hand through your hair.

Jackson shook his head and retorted, “I’m not most men.”

You giggled; how predictable. “That’s what they all say.”

But you knew now that he was right.

As the conversation went on, Jackson moved closer and closer. By the time he sat at your side, his presence was a welcome one. After another glass of wine, you started leaning into him.

You talked about everything. Topics shifted from the market to the weather to international travel and finally to your favorite subject, good food. You were never one for small talk. In fact, you hated it. But Jackson spoke like he could match your rhythm.

He didn’t shy away from more complicated discussions. He didn’t bat an eye when you challenged his opinions. He could keep up with a little verbal sparring and seemed to enjoy it as much as you did. And he never tried to dumb you down like so many men before him.

Finally, after you didn’t back away when he moved dangerously close to you, Jackson cut to the chase and teased, “Don’t act like you’re not feeling me.”

You laughed, but there was no weight behind it.

Jackson shuffled closer and murmured, “I see you.”

You blinked up at him innocently. “What do you see?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I can’t explain it, but I could try if you wanted me to.”

It had been a long time since you indulged a man to sweet talk you or romance you or even get you into bed with him. You had given up on the opposite sex not long after you began ascending the ladder at work and learned the vast majority of them were threatened by your success.

Jackson was not the least bit intimidated by you. At this point, he was a goddamn unicorn.

“Explain it to me,” you whispered slyly, realizing his lips were mere inches from yours.

Jackson moved even closer and whispered for your ears only, “You’re gravity. You’re a magnet. I can’t stop getting closer.”

You lowered your head, hiding the heat quickly rising behind your cheeks.

Jackson slipped his fingers beneath your chin and tilted you back up to meet his unwavering eyes.

It was the first time he touched you.

“I want you,” he said, a low rumble of a growl in his throat.

Your eyes flickered, faltering under how intensely he looked at you. You wanted desperately to hide how badly his words and voice affected you, and you sneered, “Does that line work?” You had to keep him on his toes in this little dance. You weren’t ready to surrender yet.

Jackson wasn’t going to let you have the upper hand anymore. He knew you were what he wanted and he was coming in for the kill. “You tell me,” he spoke, more aggressive. “You’re the first woman to hear that from me.”

You pouted when his fingers slipped from your chin, satisfied he had made his point. “You’re smooth,” came your reply, a little hesitant from the tension. “I’ll give you that.”

Jackson slouched comfortably on his bar stool and said, “I’ve flashed the watch, the rings. Most girls get very friendly once they’ve seen sparkly rocks.”

You clicked your tongue and snorted. “If you only knew how much money I make.”

Jackson tried another approach. “So I can’t buy your affections?”

With a shake of your head, you crooned, “Sadly, not for sale.”

“Fine,” Jackson said, noncommittal and rather abrupt.

You panicked. It sounded like he was about to throw in the towel. Your heart began to beat a little faster against your ribs.

Jackson gulped what was left of his drink and set the glass back down loudly on the bar. Adjusting his tie, Jackson rose to his feet and peered down at you, whispering, “Tell me you’re not feeling me and I’ll go. And you’ll never have to see me again.”

That was not a welcome thought.

At your silence, Jackson pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and handed it to Luke. “Mine and the lady’s tabs, pal,” he said, driving the last nail into the coffin.

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve without hesitation, gazing up at him with naive eyes. You had no idea then what you were getting yourself into.

“Don’t…,” you whispered bashfully, cheeks flushing again.

Jackson moved back to your side, a victorious smile on his face.

You saw his grin and chuckled, realizing you’d been beaten in the game.

Jackson cupped your cheek and leaned in with confidence, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Your lashes fluttered. He smelled good, ridiculously good. You wanted to bury your face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in.

Jackson resisted the urge to slip his hands in your hair and kiss you like he really wanted. Your skin was soft; so soft he wanted to trace his lips over every inch of you and write his name with his tongue across your body.

You managed to hold onto some semblance of self-control throughout the elevator ride. The tension was thick. The air was heavy. No words passed between either of you. And you stood at opposite corners of the elevator.

Jackson led you down the hallway, your hand tucked inside his. The moment he stopped at door 309, the two of you were on each other.

“You’ve got some nerve getting me turned on like this,” you teased, panting softly.

Jackson’s lips were on your neck, his arms around your waist. He crushed you between his body and the wall, and you couldn’t be happier. After that comment, he pulled back to look into your eyes and smirked, nipping at your lips.

You took his face in your hands and smashed your lips on his. It went without saying that you really liked kissing Jackson. It was all you wanted to do for the foreseeable future. He tasted of liquor and really bad choices.

Jackson wedged a knee between your thighs and made room for his hips to fit between. You moaned into his mouth, tempted to lock your ankles behind his back, but rather conflicted about it. Were you going to hook up with him? Your first thought was an emphatic yes.

Your hands roamed over his shoulders and back, feeling taut muscles underneath his expensive suit. He was hard like iron, thick thighs bracing you against the wall. His hands wandered too, exploring your body, finally able to touch those curves.

Despite his hold on you and your tongue down his throat, Jackson managed to pull the keycard from his back pocket and swipe it over the panel. You heard the familiar beep of the hotel door unlocking, followed by Jackson pushing it open.

Mumbling against his mouth, you grabbed his wrist and pulled, blurting, “We can’t.”

“What…,” Jackson exclaimed, his lips red. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, letting your head fall back against the wall in defeat. “If I go in there, we’re gonna fuck.”

The words alone made a certain something twitch in his pants. Jackson fought a chuckle and gave you a glance over. You were already disheveled and breathless, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. “Is that so?” he taunted, expression full of boyish energy.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, still at war with yourself. Then, you leaned into his chest and collided your lips back to his.

Jackson smiled against your mouth, tightening his arm around your waist and meeting the rush of your kisses. He took them to mean you changed your mind and swiped the key card again.

Hearing the chime of the door, you grabbed the lapel of his suit with both hands and broke away. “No, we can’t.”

Jackson laughed, amused by you. “Okay. Okay,” he relented.

“Sorry, but…,” you trailed, still trapped in his arms. “I’ve never fucked anyone I just met.”

“Me neither,” he replied softly.

You cocked a brow. No one gave a damn if men had sex with every human that passed their sight. For that reason, you were inclined to believe him.

Jackson pulled the door closed and pressed the sweetest of kisses to your lips. When he stopped, your eyes fluttered open and you peered up at him.

“Gravity,” was all he said, chuckling to himself.

Yeah, you felt it, too.

Running your fingers into his hair and tugging gently, you ordered, “Keep kissing me.”

Jackson didn’t need to be told twice.

The rushed, hurried kisses were over. Now that the two of you weren’t sprinting to the bedroom, you could focus on how your tongues danced in each other’s mouths. Jackson stroked a hand down your thigh and hooked your leg over his hip, needing to be as close as humanly possible to you.

When his lips moved back to your neck, you rolled your eyes and the catch in your breath almost sent him to his knees.

“Can I take you to breakfast in the morning?” he asked between kisses.

“Yes,” you replied, fingers pressed to his shoulders.

Jackson proceeded to suck a mark of possession beneath your ear. “And dinner tomorrow evening?”

You were out of your mind, insane with lust and desire. Sweat was beginning to gather beneath your dress, courtesy of the fire burning inside him. “Absolutely.”

Jackson licked the bruise he was making, tasting your skin. “How about the day after that?”

You groaned in frustration. He was making it fucking impossible. “And the day after that. Just don’t stop kissing me,” you whined, bringing his face back to yours for another kiss.

You blinked your eyes rapidly, dismayed to find you weren’t in Jackson’s arms, but still caged inside the grey room. Grasping the ring on your left hand, you spun it around - a nervous tick, but it was vaguely comforting. The ring had been a gift on your first anniversary. Inscribed along the inside of the band were the words, never stop kissing me.

It was the closest Jackson had ever come to confessing his love for you. Slipping the ring on your finger, the finger generally reserved for wedding vows, Jackson had said, “So every man knows you’re spoken for.”

Jinyoung let his gaze fall from your face to your hands, noting how you turned the gold band around your finger to soothe yourself. It was human nature, to cling to something sentimental when under duress.

You noticed where his eyes had fallen and quickly covered your hand. His expression was one of scrutiny and belied interest, and you deflected, “Alright, I told you how we met. Makeout session included. Tell me what you hope to get from that.”

Jinyoung replied without hesitation, “I want to catch him. I want to put him away forever.”

A bitter taste filled your mouth. “I will never help you do that.”

“You already are.”

You blinked.

Jinyoung leaned back in his chair, at ease when he explained, “I can keep you here indefinitely. We wait for him to crawl out of his hole.”

You shook your head vehemently. “He won’t.”

“He won’t trade his life for yours,” Jinyoung questioned, seemingly shocked.

“He…,” you paused with indecision. “I don’t know.”

The cold, hard truth was, you didn’t. There was a part of Jackson’s life he never shared with you. The life that was centered around his powers.

But you knew Jackson took great pride in what he had built. He came from nothing, was told his whole life he would never amount to anything, and he had destroyed all the odds stacked against him. He not only beat the game, he changed it forever.

“You’re in here, ready to give up everything for him,” Jinyoung’s voice faded into the background.

“Am I?” you questioned, lost in your memories.

The first time Jackson made love to you, he revealed himself to you and said something that was burned into your mind forever. The two of you were naked, exposed and vulnerable to the other. So many little nothings had been spoken while endless promises and vows were written into each other’s skin.

Then, in a moment of stillness, Jackson cradled your face and drowned himself in your eyes. He called your name and you stared up at him, hinged on his every word.

“Do you know what they say,” he breathed, chest heaving. “About playing with fire?”

“Are you going to burn me?” you asked him innocently.

“I burn everything I touch,” Jackson told you, filling with sadness. “And only I survive.”

“I’ll be your Phoenix then,” you whispered, bringing your fingers to rake teasingly down his back over the tattoo of the immortal firebird inked into his skin.

Jackson smiled and shifted on top of you to take you again. “You are the closest I will ever get to heaven…”

And you watched in disbelief as the dark brown of his irises turned to scorching red.

Jinyoung called your name. He knew you were somewhere far away in your head.

You blinked through oncoming tears.

“Do you know what he is? Do you have any idea what he’s done? Do you even know what they call him?”

You heard the rumors and read the headlines, just like everyone else. He wasn’t the only one; these men with strange powers. Some said they were harbingers of the end times.

“The Phoenix,” you interjected.

Jinyoung frowned in contempt.

“Because he burns everything and everyone in his path,” you finally confessed. Whatever gets in his way.

“One day, he’ll raze cities to the ground.” Jinyoung’s tongue was a razor. “Did you think you wouldn’t get burned?”

I asked for it, you admitted to yourself. I fell in love with the villain.

Reaching down to pick up the photo still on the table of you swept up in Jackson’s arms, you sighed in acceptance of fate, “Moth to the flame.”

Somewhere out in the night, as Shanghai finally drifted to sleep, Jackson sat in the backseat of his tinted car, gripping the phone so tight he was sure it would snap at any minute.

There would be hell to pay for those that had taken you. Jackson already identified each of them. But in the meantime, he could only sit and think. Getting revenge was easy. Getting you back was considerably harder.

He had to stay ahead of the game. They took you for a purpose. You wouldn’t roll on him, Jackson was sure of that. You would never give them the satisfaction. But they would try to use you as leverage and Jackson couldn’t risk everything he had built. It would make the entire city fall down on top of him.

If he tried to rescue you, then the whole world would know he had a weakness and you would never be safe again for as long as you lived. If he didn’t, then the corrupt cops could put you in the hands of enemies that were much worse to make a bloody example of you.

Jackson grit his teeth. He knew this day would come, when he would finally have to confront his feelings for you. He swore to never let his heart out of its cage, but it had escaped and fled to the palm of your hand. There was a reason he never told you he loved you.

He couldn’t admit it to himself. Love was meant only for humans.

“What do I fucking do?” he cried out in his mother tongue, wringing his hands before hiding his face behind them. He needed you in his arms, needed to hold you again.

But he would lose everything.

The phone chimed and Jackson opened the text.

Call it off. Or she drowns first.

Jackson shook with rage and opened his hand, irises turning crimson as flames appeared on his palm. Then, he closed his fist, snuffing them out.

next chapter →

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[peterxwade24]

Broken Hearts and New Beginnings

Chapter 6

this one didn’t get a cool title.

anyways, enjoy.

Marinette looked at Chloé and Sabrina, they were going to go take selfies in Gotham’s Botanical Gardens and they had decided to wear cute outfits that looked good together. She let a small smile spread across her face before she stuck her tongue out at her friends.

Chloé had her hair in a half-up half-down style with the half that was up pulled back in a fishtail braid. She wore a pastel yellow sundress with gray faux leather ankle boots. She had a quilted crossbody purse in champagne with a gold tone chain strap resting against her left hip.

Sabrina, on the other hand, had her hair pulled back into a low bun with a braid pinned to the underside of the bun. She wore a purple spaghetti strap tank tucked into a pair of gray shorts over black sheer tights. She had a mini sling backpack in the pattern Belle Paisley. She wore knee-high fashion boots in cognac with straps over her ankles which ended in brass buckles.

Marinette’s hair, cropped close to her head in the back and around the sides, was spiked up at the back and hung messily over her forehead. She wore a red tank crop top over a pair of black distressed jeans with a pair of black combat boots. She had a black wristlet to go with the outfit, the strap had a few pins on it, one was Littlefoot hatching out of his egg while another was a Cathulu boba tea pin.

“Let’s go take pictures.” Marinette threw a throw pillow at her friends before pulling out her phone to text Adrien and Nino.

Marinette let Chloé drag her out of the room, the duo followed closely by Sabrina, rode the elevator down to the lobby, where they met up with Adrien and Nino. The group of five left the hotel and walked to the botanical garden. They stuck together, knowing that they looked like easy targets to the hardened Gothamite thieves who’ve never seen them kick Akuma ass.

Marinette surveyed the plants in the garden, not paying attention when several more bodies joined her four friends. She turned to ask her friends their opinions, a smile on her face, until she saw they had gained people to their group. The smile died on her face, her eyes hardening. “Hello.”

Jason waved, taking in the way Marinette’s hair seemed to shine in the sunlight.

Roy and Adrien were wrapped around each other, red-orange spun with neon green above their heads. Stephanie spoke with Nino, light eggplant and illuminating emerald tucked in Nino’s hair. Chloé and Sabrina cheerfully spoke with Tim and Kon.

Jason was lost in thought, the image of a smile on Marinette’s face stuck in his thoughts. He hated that he was the reason she didn’t smile like that around many people, he hated that he caused the light to go out in her eyes.

Marinette simply frowned before clearing her throat. “Chlo, Nino, Brina, Adri?” She called to get her friends’ attention.

Chloé and Sabrina turned from their conversation with Tim and Kon, their attention going to their friend almost instantly. Nino turned to look at his childhood friend, his eyes taking in the way she seemed to be shrinking into herself. Adrien was the last to turn away from his conversation, not understanding why Marinette sounded the way she did.

“What’s up Bug?” Adrien asked while his eyes flicked between his friends and Roy, he wasn’t paying attention to his friends so he didn’t see Chloé glare at him or Nino looking at him pleadingly to shut up. “I’m a little preoccupied.”

Roy, however, did see the glares sent by Chloé and Nino’s pleading looks and so wisely decided to move away from his soulmate.

Marinette simply turned away from him, setting her gaze on Jason instead. “Since Adrien is too busy talking to help Chloé, Sabrina and I take good pictures, you get to help.”

---

Jason looked at the photos he saved to his gallery, the girls looked really good and he was starstruck by how well they looked together. The three girls seemed to balance each other but also still looked distinct enough to know who was who. His eyes couldn’t help but keep drifting back to Marinette and he couldn’t help but think about how she’d look with his jacket in addition to the outfit he’d spent nearly an hour taking pictures of her in. Jason was so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed someone standing behind him.

“Whatcha lookin’ at there Jaybird? Is that that pretty French girl you’ve been sighing about lately?” Dick’s voice sounded from beside Jason’s face.

Jason, reflexively, brought his other hand up into Dick’s nose. He frowned before turning to look at his stupid older brother. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me Dick?” Jason all but hissed through his teeth. The second Robin had always been more likely to strike first and ask questions later, so the look of shock on the first Robin’s face was unwarranted. “You know better.”

“That was uncalled for Little Wing.” Dick’s words were slurred due to the fact that he was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why’d you have to hit my nose?”

Jason just rolled his eyes and stood up, walking out of the room without answering Dick’s question. He sequestered himself away in the kitchen with Alfred, who was making tea.

“Is everything okay Master Jason?” Alfred asked as he handed him a cup of tea.

“I found my soulmate Alfred. I found my soulmate and she’s going back to France at the end of her class trip.” Jason frowned before showing Alfred one of the pictures of Marinette. “Her name is-”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng, granddaughter of Roland and Gina Dupain.” Alfred smiled and took a sip of his tea. “I served with her grandfather, her father is actually my godson.”

Jason stared at the man who for all intents and purposes was his grandfather. “Wait, really?”

Alfred smiled, a small and sad smile full of nostalgia. “Yes. Roland was a good soldier and is an even better man, if a little stubborn and set in his ways.”

Taglist:

@mystery-5-5 @moonlightstar64

[blackpinkofficial]

[TRANS] 200521 Lisa’s Full Interview for Allure Korea’s June 2020

Translation by: lalisamanoban54

Interviewer: Is your memory good? Lisa: Yes, I usually remember even the smallest things.

Interviewer: Remembering something requires a lot of your 5 senses. What do you think you use the most? Lisa: I think I remember things that I see the best. If I smell or hear something, it feels real and vivid then, but I forget it quickly.

Interviewer: We met during the unbearably hot summer in 2018 and the lukewarm winter in 2019. We meet again going through 2020 where summer and spring have blended together. Do you remember that day? Lisa: Yes, I remember both days. Specifically, in the summer, I met you with Rosé in a 2-story house with broken air-conditioning. I remember it being really hot. It isn't a bad memory, though. I remember it as a happy and fun memory, probably because I wasn't alone.

Interviewer: I looked at that day's conversation again. Although we were joking and laughing about it then, there are a lot of things that came true afterwards. Almost like the genie's magic lamp in Aladdin. How about now? Do you still wish for things? Lisa: I heard that you shouldn't make wishes on insignificant things. I believe you need to save up before wishing for a really important one, so I always wait until something really important. I especially wish for no mistakes and for everyone to be safe before going on stage.

Interviewer: You still have your film camera. The last one I saw was the Contax T2, what is this? Lisa: I’m still in love with the charm of the Contax camera. The camera I brought today is the T3 model that I bought recently. I like all the results (photographs).

Interviewer: You said you like taking pictures of people more than scenery. You published a photobook with pictures of your member’s faces and your own. Lisa: Since we spend a lot of time together, I naturally took more pictures of them. Whenever we went on tour or had a schedule, I would take pictures to remember that day. When I looked at my gallery, I had quite a few.

Interviewer: When choosing pictures, the ‘selecting’ process is quite important. What is your standard for choosing photos? Lisa: I think I look at the overall mood. I like pictures that capture the natural vibe of the moment. All of the photos in my photobook are all pictures that I like, so I can’t choose just one.

Interviewer: It's been a little over a year since your Coachella performance. It seems you still remember that day very vividly; is this true? Lisa: That stage was like a dream. We practice hard for every stage, but I remember preparing and practicing for Coachella a lot. I was really nervous before we went on stage, but I felt happy once I was. It's an event I can never forget.

Interviewer: You’re currently taking a break from touring and performing on stages in the world. Lisa: It’s for everyone’s health and safety, so we can’t do anything. I am also staying safe and being careful. I’m sad that I am unable to meet my fans face to face. We are working hard so we can show off our best when we get the chance (to see them again).

Interviewer: How do you feel staying at home after a long period of time outside? Lisa: Last year, I was barely able to stay at home. I wasn’t able to see my lovely cats Leo, Luca and Lily, often, so they were pretty mad at me. So, they stick to my side like gum nowadays. It makes me really happy.

Interviewer: How about your family in Bangkok? Do you miss them? Lisa: There are times where I miss them, since it is hard to see family right now. I video call them often to check up on them.

Interviewer: Is your favorite food still red chicken curry? Lisa: Of course! It is still my favorite Thai food. But I have been liking Chinese food recently as well. Especially fried egg pancake and fried huājuǎn (a kind of bun).

Interviewer: When I think of you, I think of a person who smiles brightly, is kind, and a free soul. I heard that you were born this way. The traits you are born with don’t change easily, right? Lisa: That’s true. On top of that, I enjoy my job. Many people love me for who I am, so I am really happy working. I also love myself. I want to keep my bubbly personality this way until I die.

Interviewer: What do you think about your influence? There must be many people in the world who look up to you. Lisa: Everyone looks at me from a different point of view, but I just want to have a positive influence on everyone. A person who gives you strength all the time.

Interviewer: Can you give us a little hint about Blackpink's new album? Everyone has waited for such a long time. Lisa: I can't tell you yet because it's still a secret. I'm really sorry. (Laughter) We're working on It hard so we can show off our best, so please wait a little bit more.

Interviewer: There’s a lot of process and work that goes into making an album. Blackpink also seem to release perfect works of art with no mistakes. Lisa: Like you said, every element of each album is very important. Each part has to mesh well together and also needs to be perfect. We can’t slack off on anything. The most important part is pulling everything off and expressing it well. Perfectly.

Interviewer: What is the thing you love most right now? It doesn’t matter what. Lisa: My family always comes first. I love them the most. I haven’t seen them in a long time, so I do miss them a lot. Also, my cats. (Laughter)

Interviewer: You said you use your wishes sparingly, but I am still curious. What is your wish right now? Lisa: I want to meet my fans as soon as possible. I want to repay them with amazing performances that will make the long wait worth it. That is my actual, biggest wish.

Interviewer: How about meeting again in 2021? I hope it’s a breezy fall then. Lisa: Okay! Then we will have met in all four seasons. (Laughter) I’ll be waiting.

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Forget Me Not (3/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Angst

A/N: Again, thank you for the sweet comments! It really means a lot and keeps me motivated. Not gonna lie, this chapter was a pain to write but I do hope you enjoy it.

Part 2

Los Angeles. The City of Angels.

The sun had begun to set behind the glimmering high-rises on the horizon, bringing another day to a close. The city outside of your window reminded you of the one you grew up in nearly three thousand miles away. A city whose memory was the freshest one in your mind.

Below, the streets were bustling, crowded with people strolling down the sidewalks and vehicles racing between red traffic lights. Your focus then shifted to the palm trees outside, watching them as they gracefully swayed in the gentle summer air. You closed your eyes and imagined the fresh breeze blowing softly on your face.

You could almost feel it.

Gazing out the window, you could see your face reflected on the glass pane, nearly unrecognizable at first glance. For a moment, you stared at yourself, studying every single change that the last five years had brought you.

Five years that you still could not remember.

After a few rounds of brain scans and a seemingly endless list of questions, the doctors had officially diagnosed you with retrograde amnesia. Luckily, the swelling in your brain caused by the car accident had stopped, and you were expected to leave the hospital in a matter of days. Yet, it didn’t change the fact that five years of your life had been entirely wiped away.

“Dear?” Glancing behind you, you realized that your father was still inside the room. “Is everything alright?”

You turned your body to face him while you sat on your bed, setting an empty tray of food on the table by your side. “I’m okay. I was just thinking.”

Peter hummed at your hesitant response. Even if you didn’t say it out loud, he could tell that this was stressful for you. Since your diagnosis, nothing felt right to you, and the world seemed out of place. You hated that feeling—the feeling of not remembering, not knowing.

Your parents did their best to fill in the lost memories. After you had ended things with your ex-boyfriend Eric, you had acted somewhat lost, unsure of what to do now that you were single again. Wanting a fresh start, you decided to move out west. It came as a shock to you that you had done something spontaneous, but your parents said that you believed it was one of the best decisions you had made in your life.

Settling down in California, you worked as an office secretary up until two years ago when you later became a photography assistant. You were often traveling across the country and even abroad, both for business and pleasure. Your mother shared that for the first time in such a long while, you were happy. Life seemed to have fallen back into place, a complete turnaround from the four years you had wasted with Eric.

You wanted to learn more,  but your parents had explained that they couldn’t reveal too much. It wasn’t because they didn’t know, you were always updating them over the phone every weekend. Instead, they felt as though it wasn’t their place to tell you the most important detail about your new life.

Because most of the memories that you had forgotten weren’t of your family. No—they were of your partner, Keanu.

When you first saw Keanu after he entered your room four days ago, you could see in his eyes how hopeful he was that you would recognize him. But once he realized that you didn’t, he had walked right back outside, his heart shattering into a million pieces as you heard your mother’s voice calling out his name.

He never returned after that.

Even though you didn’t know Keanu, it was upsetting seeing him that way. You wanted to remember, but it was something beyond your control. Seeing his devastated reaction had certainly left you wondering how important you must be to him.

And only those missing five years held the answer to that.

“So, have you thought about it?” Your dad suddenly inquired, and you knew what he was talking about.

By early next week, you would be mostly recovered by then and could be discharged from the hospital. Your father was overjoyed that you would be able to come home soon, which led you to ask where home was.

“I’m not sure if I can do it,” you replied. According to your parents, you had moved in with Keanu two years ago, meaning his home was also yours. “I haven’t lived with another man since Eric.”

“Well, you can come back with us,” your dad proposed. “We got a new place upstate a year after you moved here. It’s smaller than our old home, but we have a spare bedroom that you always use whenever you come to visit.”

“You sold the family house?” You asked, catching him off guard. “I thought you and mom wanted to live there forever.”

Peter shrugged, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “We did, but plans changed. This new house is much more beautiful, though. It has this lovely rustic charm and a grand view of the lake out in the front. It’s secluded, far from the busy cities, and the peaceful ambiance was what sold us.”

“Sounds pretty amazing,” you returned, picturing in your head of what it could look like.

“It is,” he nodded. “You were the one who convinced us to buy it because we loved it so much. Plus, Keanu helped a lot with the renovations. He even built us the fire pit in the backyard that we use every summer.”

“That’s good that he was there. You and I know that I can barely lift a hammer, let alone fix up a house,” you chuckled, albeit mirthlessly.

You heard Peter exhale deeply, his hand coming to rest behind your back as you toyed with the loose threads of the blanket covering your lap.

“Keanu’s a great guy, you know?” he noted sincerely. “I’ve never seen you so happy in life until he came along. You two really bring the best out of each other.”

You smiled softly at your father. “Can you tell me more about him?”

“I think it’s better if you talk to him yourself,” your mom’s voice startled you and Peter, turning your heads simultaneously towards the door. “He’s on his way up right now and wants to speak to you.”

Your heart began to race at the mere thought of seeing Keanu again. For the last four days, you had spent long hours late at night thinking about him, imagining the multitude of moments shared together that were lost. You wouldn’t know how to react if you were in his shoes, and you couldn’t blame him for needing time to deal with it.

Peter saw the look of uncertainty on your face. “It’s okay, darling. You’ll be fine.”

“I-I don’t want to upset him,” you stammered. “He’s been through a lot. If you only saw the hurt in his eyes when I couldn’t remember him—”

“Honey, relax,” he whispered, putting a comforting arm around you. “You’ve been through a lot, too. It’s not your fault that you can’t recall everything, and Keanu just wants to help. I know you don’t know much about him, but trust me when I say this—he really loves you. It’s a lot to take in, and I get that. I’m not forcing you to talk to him, but at least try.”

You then heard someone clearing their throat, and when your eyes flickered up, you saw Keanu standing by the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets and a shy smile on his lips.

“We’ll be right outside, sweetie,” Your father told you, pressing a kiss on the top of your head before joining your mother out in the hallway.

Keanu’s gaze fell to the floor, the atmosphere shifting once the two of you were left alone. You swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say at the moment. His long hair was messy, his beard unkempt. He appeared as though he hadn’t slept in days, and you knew exactly why.

“You really don’t know me, do you?” Keanu spoke tautly.

Your head hung low before you gave it a shake. After the last time you saw him, you realized that you did recognize him, but not in the way he was expecting. He was Keanu Reeves, a famous actor appearing in several hit movies, some of which you had actually seen before.

You knew of him, but you didn’t know him. There was a difference.

“I don’t,” you answered him after a while. You lifted your head up to see Keanu, who was now looking at you with an unreadable expression and still standing a great distance away. “Do you want to sit next to me?”

You pointed at the chair beside your bed, and after a bit of hesitation, he ambled to the empty seat and sat down.

“Um, so how are you?” You questioned Keanu, whose head slightly bowed, hiding his eyes behind a curtain of his dark locks.

“I’m fine,” he replied simply. You might not know him entirely, but you could tell that he was lying. Keanu also sensed that you had caught him and sighed. “I just can’t stop thinking about this whole situation. I’ve been having a difficult time accepting it, but I should be the one asking how you’re holding up.”

“I’m doing alright. Better now, to say the least, but it’s been difficult for me, too,” you admitted. “Every day, I wake up wishing that I could remember the simplest of things like what I did for my birthday last year, but my mind’s been drawing a blank each time.”

Keanu brushed his hair back, and you finally met his gaze. You found yourself smiling as you stared deeply into the rich brown pools of his eyes. You wondered if you often did that—admired the way his eyes looked as they bore into yours.

“I, uh, have some pictures of us if you want to see,” Keanu nervously brought up as he took his phone out of his pocket. You watched as he typed in his passcode, which you had recognized to be your birthday. You smiled softly to yourself before the phone was passed over to you, and you began scrolling through the array of photographs saved in his gallery.

In every photo you saw, you could see the undeniable look of love in your eyes and Keanu’s. You had long forgotten the feeling of it, but you were sure that at the moment when the picture was taken, you were happy. Happy with Keanu.

“How did we meet?” You asked, setting the phone back down in front of him.

“A few months after you moved to Los Angeles, you were driving to Santa Monica Pier, but you never made it. Your car had broken down in the middle of the highway,” Keanu began with a faint smile on his face. “Luckily, I was riding my bike when I saw it happened and pulled over to help you out. I couldn’t do anything to get it running again, so I called for a tow truck.”

“You called a tow truck?”

Keanu nodded. “Yeah, after you complained that you didn’t have enough money to have it fixed. I told you that I’d take care of it.”

You raised a brow at him. “And I agreed?”

“You did, and we then exchanged phone numbers. We were in contact with each other for a few days, and once your car was out of the repair shop, I personally dropped it off at your house.”

“Why did you do that? You barely knew me. I’m sorry, but what you did was too much.”

“It might seem that way, but I just wanted to help you out since you were struggling at the time. After the car got fixed, I still wanted to keep talking to you. I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to get to know you better because you seemed so genuine and fun to be around.”

You giggled at that. “Sounds about right.”

“It sure does,” Keanu responded with a light chuckle. “Anyways, we continued texting each other until finally, I asked you out for coffee. Since then, we were almost inseparable. Our anniversary is actually coming up in September. It would have been five years.”

“Five years,” you repeated lowly as if it were hard to believe that you and Keanu had been together for that long. “We looked happy in those pictures.”

Keanu lowered his head, staring down at his phone’s lock screen photo of you and him. “Yeah, we were...”

It was quiet for some time until Keanu talked again, glancing back up at you. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come back here after you didn’t recognize me. I had been so optimistic while waiting outside of your door, only to find out that things aren’t going back to normal any time soon.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I understand that you needed some space. To be honest, I don’t think I was ready to hear all of this on the first day.”

“Yeah, it would have been overwhelming,” Keanu agreed with you before you heard him sigh. “Your parents kept me updated while I was away… dealing. They told me the doctors said that the best way to recover your memories is to go back to your usual routine.”

You listened to what he was saying, already knowing where the conversation was heading. You still weren’t sure whether to pack your bags and move back home with your parents—back to the only life you could remember having. Or you could stay here in Los Angeles with Keanu, waiting until your memory returned, and that’s if it did.

“Have you decided on what you would want to do?”

“I want to remember,” you revealed truthfully. “But I’m just scared.”

And that you were. You were scared of not remembering anything, and you were scared of disappointing yourself and everyone, especially Keanu. 

You were also not the same person before the accident. Healed wounds were fresh once again, and you were still wary of falling in love due to your past. Despite the pictures showing that you were indeed happy with Keanu, you couldn’t help but feel reluctant about jumping into this.

“Amalfi Coast,” Keanu blurted out all of a sudden, pulling you away from your thoughts. It took you a second to realize that he was referring back to what you had mentioned earlier. “On your birthday last year, I surprised you with a trip to the Amalfi Coast in Italy. You’ve been begging me to take you for a while, and I’ll never forget the look on your face when I told you that I had booked us a week-long vacation there.”

“What did we do?” You asked, a soft smile gracing your lips.

“The basic tourist things,” Keanu reminisced, gazing off into the distance. “We went sightseeing, took in the gorgeous views of the mountainside, relaxed on the beaches, did a few boat rides, and feasted on the most delicious food we’ve ever tried.”

“That’s my dream vacation ever since high school.” You grinned as you imagined the bright blue waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea and the beautiful architecture of the towns surrounding it. You couldn’t believe that you had finally gone there after years of trying to save up and plan for it. “We had a great time, didn’t we?”

“We did. You called it one of the best times of your life,” he added, smiling fondly.

“I wish I could remember it,” your voice cracked as you said those words, feeling a single tear running down your cheek as you blinked away the ones pooling in your eyes.

Keanu could only sigh as you sat there before him. “I know, Y/N. And I’m hoping that you will.”

Silence fell over the room, but surprisingly, it was more comforting than not. Ever since you had emerged from your coma, you had never felt so at peace and content until now. Something about Keanu being there brought you a strong sense of comfort and somehow reassured you that all would be okay.

“I’ve spent the last two days thinking about how we could handle this,” Keanu started to explain, his gaze running over your face as his expression softened. “I want to let you know that I’m here for you. I made a promise on the night of your accident that I’ll never give up on you no matter what happens.”

A pause. You noticed Keanu move his hand slightly as if he were trying to reach out for yours, but instead, he clasped his hands together. “I want to ask you to come home with me. I understand that I’m a stranger to you right now, but I want to help you remember everything that you’ve forgotten. And if I have to win your heart again, then so be it. I love you so much, and I think this will work.”

You took a moment to let his words sink in. The man in front you was someone you had been with for the last five years, whether you remembered it or not. You wanted to learn for yourself what was so special about Keanu that he was able to make you believe in love again. If you had fallen for him only months after your previous relationship, then he truly did mean something to you.

But then, the thought struck you—Keanu was a celebrity. Your relationship would be different from all of your other ones. You weren’t sure if you could handle the unwanted attention that would surely come just because you were dating him. But you had stayed with Keanu for years. You must have gotten used to it, or it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

This was your chance to get to know Keanu again, and being with him could possibly trigger your memories. Perhaps doing it this way would lead you back to that normal life you used to have and loved. It was a big risk, but if you were brave enough to fly across the country for a brand new start, then you could do this.

“Keanu,” you uttered, realizing that this was the first time you said his name out loud. You didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up at the sound of it. “If you’re really willing, then I want to give this a try. I know that it’ll feel like we’re starting over, but if it means helping me regain the years that I’ve lost, then I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?” He inquired, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a grin slowly appeared on his face. 

You nodded at him eagerly, your lips curving up to a smile. You truly wanted this, to remember. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Keanu said softly, gazing at you as you both shared some semblance of hope that this was going to work.

With a smile, you tentatively reached out to hold Keanu’s hand, resting it over his open palm. He squeezed gently, his calloused fingers closing over your hand, still scarred from the car crash. You held him for what seemed like a long time, and for a fleeting second, you swore that you had felt something slightly familiar.

Closing your eyes, you waited to see if his touch would bring back at least one memory.

Nothing.

Part 4

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @fanficsrusz @toomanystoriessolittletime @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee​ @ficsnroses​ @ringa-starr

[loveburnsbrighter]

Live In Your Heart

requested by @i-dont-even-effing-know-anymore. hope you enjoy! 💕

read it on ao3

"We're not setting up the wifi yet," Patrick says.  He's got his Stern Face on, which usually means fun things, but sometimes, unfortunately, means that David will be required to do work.  This seems to be one of those times.

"But babe," he says, wheedling, "how will I order pizza if I don't have wifi?"  He brandishes his phone. "I ran out of data in New York last week." He went with Alexis to help her settle in — it's been a strain, her moving right before he and Patrick were set to, and he's frankly exhausted, physically and emotionally.  "We promised Stevie pizza," he adds, as if he can convince Patrick that his motivation is purely selfless.

Patrick plucks the phone right out of his hand.  "I'll call them," he says. "You remember, how we ordered pizza back in the nineties?  By calling?"

"Ugh, don't remind me."  David leans back against a towering stack of boxes, ignoring Patrick's pained look, and sighs heavily.  "Alright, fine. We might as well get this done. Bedroom first, or kitchen?"

"We can put Stevie on kitchen duty when she gets here," Patrick says.  "Bedroom now." He pauses for a moment, and then smiles slowly, like he can't help it.  "Our bedroom," he says, and David wouldn't generally describe Patrick as a particularly jovial person, but he looks downright giddy.

David honestly can't blame him, feels that a little bit too, at the words.  He's spent a lot of time at Patrick's place, and for the last month or so he's lived there fully, barring his four days in New York with Alexis.  But it was still Patrick's place, no matter how at-home David made himself there.  (Very.)  

This is their place.  David and Patrick's home.  David and Patrick's bedroom.

"Our bedroom," he agrees, and grabs a box, following Patrick down the hall.

Their bedroom is, thus far, more or less a big empty cube.  There's a weird alcove with the window in it that Patrick has been insisting he wants a window seat for, and the master bathroom door is on the wall kitty-corner to the bedroom door.  David has been pleased (thrilled) to note that the whole thing comes with a lovely little walk-in closet; it's not huge, but it's easily three or four times the size of the closet back in Patrick's studio.

The movers brought in Patrick's bed yesterday and set it up against the far wall, and David and Patrick slept on the mattress on the floor at Patrick's place.  "Okay, first things's first," David says, dropping his box in the middle of the floor. Patrick pointedly pushes it against a wall, and David ignores him. "Where are the sheets?  Because we can not sleep on dirty sheets our first night in the new house, Patrick."

"Actually," Patrick says, "about that."  He's barely trying to hide a shit-eating grin, and it makes David immediately wary.

"What," he says heavily.

"Okay, don't be mad," Patrick says, which tells David that he probably should be, "I should have talked to you probably but I wanted it to be a surprise," and he rushes through the words to keep David from interrupting.  "I used all the money my grandparents gave us for our wedding and bought that flax-linen Pottery Barn set you wanted." 

David gasps, because he has wanted that bed set so badly — fair trade linens in gorgeous soft sandy beige — but Patrick has insisted every time David has argued that it's frivolous to spend more than a hundred dollars on sheets.  Their current sheets are from Target.  "Like, the sheets —"

"The whole bed set," Patrick says, looking inordinately pleased with himself.  "The sheets, the duvet and shams — I didn't get the dust ruffle because my bed frame —" But David doesn't get to hear about the dust ruffle because he's quite literally launching himself into Patrick's arms and kissing him. 

Patrick makes a soft, surprised noise, not quite a laugh, and lifts his hands to hold David by the waist.  He pulls back just a little, letting David kiss down his jaw, to say, "So you're not mad?"

"Linen sheets," David mumbles against his Adam's apple.  He pulls back to smile down at Patrick, and Patrick is smiling back, radiant in a way that David never saw him before they got engaged, a way that he's seen more and more since they decided to buy the house.  "Okay," he says, schooling himself, because if they do what he wants to do — which is tackle Patrick onto the bare mattress in their empty bedroom and thoroughly christen the house — then they'll never get to all the things they have to do.  "Well, where are the new sheets, because they have to be washed before we can use them."

Patrick helps David wrestle the new bedding out of its insane packaging, and then builds a little fort in the tiny laundry room out of all the cardboard while David starts a load.  He's relieved every second that the previous owners left their washer and dryer — they're both done with public laundry for the foreseeable future.

They grab another box each to haul into the bedroom on the way back down the hall; the bed and dressers are there already, and a single bookcase.  David has already been in to clean the closet and repaper the shelves in there, and they've agreed that they don't want to paint the bedroom; it came a creamy off-white that feels warm and soft, somehow.

David puts on music — he's made a playlist just for this, full of high-energy, multigenerational pop, Tina and Britney and Mariah all sharing space.  At some point Patrick logged into their shared Spotify — purely an economic choice; David didn't want Patrick's music fucking up his Wrapped, but that's not really worth ten bucks a month — and added Mumford and Sons and Bryan Adams and the Beach Boys, because Patrick has no sense of thematic or genre consistency.  It's fine, he supposes; when you love someone, you're willing to compromise for them.  

"'Framed wall art and photos - bedroom,'" Patrick says out loud, reading off the Sharpie label on a box.  "Maybe we should save this one until we've got the basics together?"

"Okay," David agrees over an infuriatingly long banjo solo.  "This one is your books?" Patrick gestures and David slides it over, watches him produce a knife from his pocket and slice open the top.

By the time Stevie strolls through the door, helpfully using her emergency key, they've mostly got the bedroom together.  The mattress pad and sheets are on, with the duvet set in the dryer, and Patrick's books and David's books are commingled on the shelf, which David is alarmingly pleased by — they're married, but the sight of his Virginia Woolf next to Patrick's Agatha Christie makes him feel warm from the inside out.

"I picked up the pizza," Stevie shouts.  "You owe me forty bucks in reimbursement!"

David skids down the hall, eager for pizza, with Patrick behind him.

"How in the name of god did you spend forty bucks on pizza?"  Patrick wants to know.

Stevie shrugs, hugging him as David relieves her of the boxes.  "I got garlic knots."

"And cheese bread," David says gleefully, spreading the boxes on the table.  "And one of those big cookies."

Patrick sighs after him but dutifully digs three beers out of the fridge.  (They set up all the appliances and TVs yesterday.) (All that's in the fridge so far is beer, a single head of lettuce, and a few bottles of green juice.)  David accepts his beer with minimal distasteful nose-scrunching.

They make short work of lunch, and Patrick sets Stevie up in the kitchen with a roll of shelf paper and more boxes than he'd ever thought he could fill with kitchen stuff; the dishes from his apartment, of course, and then they'd gotten a lot of the classic appliance wedding gifts: a brand new blender, a four-slice toaster ("but what will you use?" David had asked), an upright mixer, a block of knives with marble handles that Patrick is actually thrilled with.

David finishes making the bed, and then he just stands and stares at it for a second; he can't wait for Patrick to have sex with him in these sheets in this bedroom, but he also can't wait for Patrick to cuddle with him in this bed.  Watch movies with him. Hold him close and fall asleep with an arm slung low over his waist.

Patrick comes up behind him and settles warm hands on his hips, and David leans back into the touch.  "Stevie and I want to get started on the living room," Patrick says, hooking his chin over David's shoulder.  "You just about done in here?"

David crosses his arms across his own waist and takes Patrick's hands, swaying.  One of Patrick's songs is playing from David's tiny speaker. I've been so happy loving you, Dennis Wilson croons into the space, less echoey than it was earlier before they got their pictures up.  He looks around at their new room; the receipt from their first date is already on the bookshelf, and there's a framed poster for that first open mic night, and one from Alexis' singles week.  These are all things from Patrick's apartment; all this time, he's been collecting little souvenirs for them. Stepping stones tracing the path of their relationship. There's a framed wedding invitation, too, and photos: from the store opening, Patrick's birthday, their bachelor party, their wedding.

Even after David landed in Schitt's Creek without a paddle, if he'd been asked to describe his future, he would have crafted a life more or less like the one he'd left: galleries and parties, a drugged-out A-list entourage, globetrotting in the wake of Alexis' endless stream of near misses.  He never could have imagined this: a house in a small town, a business heavily patronized by flannel-clad locals, a single friend who loved him enough to help him move. Alexis settled in one place, his parents settled in another, weekly Facetime calls.  

Five gold rings on his fingers, the most beautiful man he's ever seen in Costco jeans, holding him and swaying and singing softly in his ear: "Forever, together my love…"  A sedan that clicks in the driveway, blueprints for a vegetable garden.  All the Ricky-and-Lucy trappings of a good life, things he never would have expected to love.  

"You won," Stevie told him a few months ago, when he brought her here to sit in the driveway and pour out his heart.  And David can hear her clanking dishes together downstairs, and Patrick is warm against his back, and the song is fading out the way that slow seventies rock does, and David knows, bone-deep, unshakeably, that she was right.

[iobjectfa20]

Ugala Masquerade IOBJECT

Ben Enwonwu

Ugala Masquerade 1940

Medium: Watercolor

Dimensions: 38 by 27.5 cm., 15 by 10¾in.

Private collection

© Courtesy the Ben Enwonwu Foundation

Explanation

Ben Enwonwu is an extremely talented African artist, who paved the way for many Nigerian artists. His painting “Ugala Masquerade” was sold in May of 2017 by Sotheby's, a multinational auction company. It is unknown where this painting currently resides today. In 2017 and 2019, the painting was shown in a group show “Playing Mas” by Vigo Gallery in London.

I chose this painting because I have always liked African art and was always moved by Ben Enwonwu and his pieces. He has a lot of meaningful pieces in regards to colonialism. I’m very passionate about art and colonialism. When I saw “Ugala Masquerade,” I knew that I had to do this piece because it caught my attention. The masks, the trees, the bow and arrows, and the colors  made me want to know more about the context and background of the painting. Enwonwu focuses on colonialism and Nigerian Modernism. Art in the form of Modernism specifically Black modernism  has always been something I was interested in. For an example, Jacob Lawrence and his series about the Great Migration up north caught my eye when I took a course on African American Art. His piece “In the North the Negro had better educational facilities” from his series “The Migration of the Negro” is one that caught my eye when I visited Th Museum of Modem Art in New York. Pictured in the piece are three African American girls who are writing the number two, three, and four on a chalkboard. I thought that this was so interesting because as a Black woman, I've always valued education. If i didn’t have the education I have now, I don’t think i would be as well off as I am. Black struggle is real and it’s something that I never want to face. Knowing that Lawrence talked about girls and education made my heart warm because girls are always devalued. On another note, education for  black students during the reconstruction period was 5 times lower than it was for white students. However, in the North, schools were still segregated, but there was more technology and educators for black students than in the south. Students were also supported more because some white educators saw brightness in their black students.

Drawing back to the original piece, I think that it's interesting for Enwonwu to capture the masks in his piece because the meaning behind masks are usually for people to not be seen. Often, we portray Africans as people who have face makeup and wear tree fabric as clothing. Enwonwu was clever to create this piece to try to decolonize and move away from stereotypes. I personally am glad that he chose to do this because black individuals already have to deal with enough. It’s refreshing to see that an African artist  broke down barriers and paved the way for other black artists. Overall, I'm intrigued by Enwonwu’s decolonization paintings as a whole . In some way, all of the pieces are connected and that's where he also caught my attention.

Original Context and Reframing Resistance

As previously noted, “Ugala Masquerade” was created to talk about colonialism, politics and the anticolonial struggle. Enwonwu wanted his viewers and artists to see and analyze the connection between colonialism and modernism within Nigerian art. He was inspired by his art tutor Kenneth Murray. Kenneth Murray(British artist)  focused on the aspect of indigeneity . His piece “Ibo Musicians and Dancers” Ibo (Nigerian) people dancing and playing instruments on a road guarded by a fence and trees. The Ibo people are wearing indigenous related garments and jewelry. Being under Murray’s wing, Enwonwu sort of took after his style. However, he later realized that he had outgrown his tutor and went into a different direction for his art pieces. He had two phases that categorized his work. The first phase was one, which included epistemology and disobedience during 1937 and 1956.During this phase, viewers were able to see Igbo as symbolism and then his studies of European art . His second phase was mainly focused on pan-Africanism. He used houses, trees, and masquerades as a way to talk about colonialism. Since he moved to European art, he used western figures in combination with Igbo culture. His painting “Agbogho Mmuo” from 1949 solidifies this change. This painting shows a figure in masquerade garments but more so shows the spirits within it. It's important to note that during this time, British people were very dismissive of spirits when it came to art. They thought that they were karmic and harmful.  Enwonwu moves further away from Murray’s style by focusing more on the true African figures and their spirits. He was aware of the dismissive language as well as the institutionalization of colonialism.

It’s important to note that Enwonwu went on a different approach to things unlike Afro Caribbean author Frantz Fanon. Fanon believed that you should analyze the system. Enwonwu on the other hand was more focused on showing how his privilege as an African artist resisted colonialism and colonization. I think that Enwonwu can relate to Gayatri Spivak and her “Can the Subaltern Speak?” book. The subaltern is an indigenous man or woman without agency. Enwonwu’s pieces depict people who don't have agency. In the Ugala Masquerade,” he is showing that the figures in the painting don’t have much agency and that they’re restricted to their villages. Gayatri Spivak states that white people are always trying to save brown individuals. If you take a further look into Enwonwu’s piece you can see that there are eyeballs within the bells on the figures' waists. I think what Enwonwu is saying is that he sees what is happening in the world of art and wants viewers to know that as well. No matter what, people are going to be aware of the difference in the way art is portrayed for African artists.  When I see this piece, I also think about Chinua Achebe’s  book “All Things Fall Apart "and it’s cover. Achebe has many book cover versions, but one stands out the most. The cover includes trees, a village,  a masquerade figure, black men, a colonizer and of course a woman hidden in the back. Achebe and Gayatri Spivak have similar portrayals of women in certain countries and or societies. Women are often seen as weaker than men but because they bear children, they are to be worshiped and protected.

.

In the beginning, I was  intrigued to see that in Enwonwu’s piece, you cannot tell whether the figures in masquerade garments are men or women. This is important because gender roles are huge within the Nigerian and Igbo population. However, the more I look into the image, I see that one masquerade figure is turned with their backs, while the others are faced forward. It made me wonder if in fact this photo does include gender roles. Could it be that the one with the back turned is in fact a woman being protected by men? There needs to be a better explanation for this. It also makes me think that the eyes in the bells are a way of saying that Enwonwu sees that this is the normal in the Igbo community and is bringing this to light. I also see that they are carrying bow and arrows -- I think this could be symbolic  of trying to fight for the acknowledgement and respect  that they should already be getting. As recently mentioned his mentor and tutor was focused on the indigenous figures, but here in this piece I believe he’s telling us that these figures are going to stick together and cannot be silenced or unseen. His other masquerade piece moves more towards the actual African spirits and African masquerades.

By resisting the idea of indigenous people being limited,  I was able to see that Enwonwu is trying to show us that he saw how his mentor didn’t appreciate either  African cultural background or the indigenous cultural background. Enwonwu refused to make gender a role in the painting because in fact he knows that this issue is often pushed to the back of people's minds. Looking at the maturation of his pieces, you see his appreciation for African figures and masquerades. He develops the full picture of what African Masquerades incorporate.

Further looking into the meaning of the word “Ugala” it is said to be something of higher education and or theatre. It could also be that Enwonwu is saying that people with education need to wake up and see African art for what it is -- beautiful and just as good as white art. The figure turning around could signify how many still turn a blind eye to the lack of acknowledgement and appreciation for African art styles  over European art styles. The other figures might be skeptical or maybe even sure  about combating the issues within the art world. Enwonwu being one of the most influential African artists has created these pieces in order to awaken the lack of agency for many individuals. His resistance to colonization through the use of his own privilege was brilliant.

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

Part 3

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"So how was that show you went to last night?" Javier asked as he preened in front of the mirror. 

"Oh my god, it was so, so good," Angel replied as he peeled off his shirt and folded it. "Totally worth taking off a Saturday for. I actually got to talk to the lead singer for one of the bands and he was so gorgeous." 

"Yeah? Tell me you got pictures." 

"I got a couple when they were playing, here, come look." He motioned Javier over and retrieved his phone from his locker. 

Opening up his photo gallery, he'd already pushed the photos from the show down under a wall of selfies, most of the same angle and expression, with only the most minute of differences. 

"Girl," Javier said, clicking his tongue as he looked over Angel's shoulder, "you are so conceited." 

"Shut up, I am not. This is advertising." 

"Sure it is, Miss 'I'm a thousand followers away from ten K.' I saw your post begging for brand deals. Hey, if you get those flat tummy teas to sponsor you, you can do a post about how they flush out your system so you can take a ton of dick." 

"Oh my godddd," Angel laughed. "You are such a bitch! Do you want to see these pics or not?" 

"Yaaaas, show me!" 

"Here," Angel tapped a photo and it expanded to fill the screen. It was probably the best picture he'd gotten at the show, one of Demie as he'd growled into the mic, his long hair cascading on either side of his face, which was half cast in shadow by the stage lights. Angel was especially fond of the way the shadows highlighted Demie's long, gaunt face, and the way the fake horns curled up around his ears. 

"...Girl," Javier said. His tone didn't sound like he was impressed. More like he was being judgemental. 

"What?"

"That is like, one of the ugliest dudes I've ever seen." 

"What? No he isn't, he's hot A.F." 

"Giiiirl, you can't be serious. Look at that ratty-ass beard! Oh my god, could you imagine trying to kiss someone with one of those?" 

"Oh whatever, you think bald old men are hot." 

"Nooo, I think Daddies are hot, not every old guy is a Daddy." 

"Ugh, gross." 

"You won't think it's so gross when I'm married to a hot rich old guy who dies and leaves me his mansion," Javier said, giving Angel a little shove and heading back over to the mirror. 

"That's right, I forgot your idea of romance is murder," Angel shot back. Javier shot him a look, pursing his lips, and gave Angel the finger before heading out of the locker room. 

Angel laughed to himself. He took another look at the picture of Demie. He'd taken surprisingly few photos of the show - something about the music had just taken such a strong grip on him that he'd forgotten to document the experience. In a way, it had felt too intimate to post on Instagram with a long-winded caption about how much he loved music or whatever. 

Plus, he preferred to tag artists in his posts, and despite doing a lot of digging, he hadn't been able to find any social media presence for Bacchus at all. No Instagram, no Twitter, no Spotify, not even a Bandcamp page. He'd even scrolled back through nearly a hundred of Marius' Instagram posts, looking for a picture of Demie or Elaine, but both were notably absent. 

That tracked, he guessed, considering Demie had said he didn't have a phone, but he could've sworn he saw Elaine on one. Surely she posted something about them, at least to let fans know if they had a show coming up. But all he'd been able to find was a post on a heavy metal Subreddit with a low-quality recording of the band, asking if it was true that Marius used to play for them. There were only two replies - one reporting that Marius had said in an interview that he used to play bass for an indie band, and another saying that Marius' music sucked. 

Angel sighed, thinking that he should've gotten a selfie with the band, to memorialize the show for himself if no one else. With that thought, he put his phone back in his locker and stripped down, changing into a g-string and heading out onto stage. 

He liked his job, for the most part. He enjoyed the freedom of being openly, luridly sexual in front of others. He enjoyed feeling like he had a power over the men who came into the club. It was a power he didn't really get elsewhere. Sure, he was tall and muscular for an Asian man, but in comparison to the average American, he was still short, and in the local gay scene he was expected to be a submissive little bottom. 

Not that there was anything wrong with being a bottom. He definitely was one. But he didn't appreciate the way he was expected to be a doormat for tops. 

When he was dancing, though, he held the power. And he loved that feeling. 

He didn't love when drunk guys tried to get handsy, though. And he didn't love having to pay to work the club, nor did he enjoy how unreliable the pay was. Some nights he could pull upwards of $600, others he struggled to get $100. Taking a Saturday off for the sake of a concert was an especially unwise move, since weekend nights were the best financially. 

He didn't really regret it, though. He was glad he'd gone to the show and had the opportunity to meet Demie. The singer occupied his mind the entire day, so much so that, after the club closed for the night and he got home, he pulled out his phone and dialed Demie's number, already saved to his contacts. 

The phone rang four times, and he was ready - albeit let down - to accept that Demie had given him a fake number when a female voice finally answered. 

"Hello?" She asked groggily. 

"Um… is Demie there?" He asked. 

"Who the fuck…" He could hear her say, though it sounded like she'd held the phone away from her. Her voice came back louder and asked, "Can I ask who's calling?" 

"This is Angel, Demie gave me this number after the show last night?" 

"Jesus fucking…" Her voice got muffled, but he could make out that she was shouting Demie's name. 

After shouting Demie's name twice, Angel could just barely make out Demie's voice shouting something back. 

"Phone! It's that guy from the show," Elaine shouted. There was some weird feedback, like she was rubbing the mouthpiece of the phone on her shirt, and then a clatter as the phone was handed over. 

"Hello?" Demie asked. 

"Hi, this is Angel. We met the other night." 

"Dude, it's like four in the morning." 

"Oh! Oh shit, you're right. Sorry, I work nights. I can call back later…" 

"Nah, it's cool, I was already up." 

Angel could hear Elaine shout something that sounded like 'I fucking wasn't.' Demie grumbled something and a few seconds later there was the sound of a door slamming shut. 

"What's up?" Demie asked. He made an 'oof' sound, like he was flopping down on a bed or chair. 

"What's your band's Instagram handle?" 

"Oh. We don't do that shit." 

"Seriously? What about Spotify? Or Bandcamp?" 

"What are those?" 

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Never heard of them." 

"Where do you sell your music, then?" 

"Uh… I've got some cassette tapes that we used to sell at shows. They're old stuff though, back when Mar was still in the band. Why, do you wanna buy one?" 

"Holy shit," Angel said with a laugh, tossing himself down on his futon. "What fucking decade did you walk out of?" 

"What? Tapes are cool. I don't know why anyone would want some e-file digital copy on their iPod or whatever when they could have a physical copy." 

"God, you sound like a hipster."

"I don't really know what that means but I'll take it as a compliment." 

There was a brief lapse in the conversation. Angel wasn't sure what to say. The more he found out about Demie, the more quaint he seemed. It was oddly endearing, knowing that there was no way Demie would've seen his Instagram. He never would've seen the airbrushed photos or the flirty stories or the pics of beautifully crafted breakfasts that he never actually ate because he had to maintain his abs for the sake of his job. 

In a world where everyone had to put their best self on display at all times for a digital audience, Demie had no expectations. He didn't see Angel-the-wannabe-micro-influencer. There was something beautifully vulnerable in that. 

"So what are you doing up at 4am?" Angel eventually asked. 

"Eh… I was writing some music. Haven't really done much since Mar moved out, but I dunno… I just kinda got this flash of inspiration. Just gotta see where it takes me, y'know?" 

"No, I get it. Back when I was in school, I just couldn't write essays during the day, somehow the words only came to me when I'd been up past midnight." 

"Hm. Yeah." 

"Can I ask what the song's about, or is it like… trade secret stuff?" 

"Yeah, no, it's cool. You ever heard of Orpheus?" 

"Oh, yeah. A friend of mine is in love with that one musical, what's it called? Hadestown?"

"Oh shit, they made a musical out of that? I thought it was just an album." 

"See, I didn't know it was an album first." 

"That's cool. So this song's more about the original myth…"

[100legacy45]

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Before arriving in France I had a long list of places to travel and things to see. Antz, Liv and I all agreed that one of them was seeing the Les Machines de l’île in Nantes.  I purchased annual SNCF passes because they were on mega sale (they are usually €75 each but I got them for €29!) These passes give us discounts on train fares for trips on the weekends and a special child fare. We plan to take so many train trips, I think it’s a bargain. So I’m sure you have never heard of Les Machines de l’île or le Grand Élephant so watch this clip to see what I’m talking about.

We have watched several videos about these magical creatures so I booked a train trip to Nantes to surprise the kid a week before her birthday!

The train ride to Nantes was our longest to date. Just over 4 hours but we sat in a Club Four which is a set of four chairs facing each other with a table. This configuration is rare to book so we really enjoyed it. We departed from Gare Austerlitz.

  We did everything you could during the ride. We played video games on our phones, ate snacks, napped, read books, colored in Liv’s coloring book and played an intense game of Uno. I taught Liv how to play the card game Speed (my favorite game when I was in high school). We arrived after noon and it took awhile to figure out how to get to the part of town where the machines were. I would think it is such a popular attraction, the tram would take us directly there. However, we took the tram for about 20 minutes and had to walk over a long bridge and then we found the site.

We were shocked to be sitting next to this cutie on the tram! Our cat Lola would never sit so obediently let alone let us put a harness on her.

We walked past the Château des ducs de Bretagne but it was closed and there was a protest happening nearby.

During the long walk across the bridge I was wondering if we would end up having to climb that ladder to get to the Le Carrousel Mondes des Marins. It’s hidden in plain sight!

We had no idea what this gentleman was selling when we first saw him riding past. I was hoping for some cotton candy but it turned out to be marshmallow squares in very unique flavors.

It’s hard to describe the Marine Worlds Carousel. It’s part steampunk, part nautical. There are three levels. The lower (Ocean floor) levels don’t have a floor, so you board via a moveable gangplank which Liv and I felt too apprehensive to ride. So we climbed to the top. I was so bewildered by the sea creatures I kept forgetting to take pictures.

As you can see it’s a very surreal experience. I was explaining to Liv how the characters reminded me of the films of Terry Gilliam. The only one she has seen is Doctor Parnassus but she got the idea.

When we reached the top, we were happy to find a floor and the raddest set of creatures. Each one has a moving element that you control like a marionette. Some by steering and some by pedals or pumps. It was very cool but also odd. I couldn’t capture the entire carousel in photos due to the sheer size of it. I loved the music they were playing too. It reminded me of one of my favorite singers Tom Waits.

Next we walked over to the mechanical elephant. I was surprised to see a sign saying that the elephant ride was sold out. It was close to 1pm, and they weren’t due to close until 7pm that evening. When I found someone who spoke English she said they had to close early due to thunderstorms. Bummer! So we took some photos and marveled at the giant wooden elephant. The gracefulness in it’s movement and agility was remarkable. I wish we could have experienced riding it but seeing it up close was rad.

I’m so glad I brought my wide lens for my camera because our iPhones couldn’t fit it in one frame in photos. Antz took this video with his iPhone X.

Liv and Antz went inside the Gallery and Liv was chosen to steer the giant Ant!

She loved it! We had lunch at the restaurant on the site. It was just about to close so the menu was limited. I got the last Cesar salad they had and Antz and Liv had a chicken sandwich.

The last thing we did was check out the smaller carousel. This one was similar to the large one and the creatures were interactive too. Absolutely enchanting.

The elephant returned from his walk and Liv got a surprise!

She dried off with an ice cream cone and we browsed the gift shop. I bought Liv a Nantes souviner gold coin for her collection and I bought a coffee table book about the Royal Deluxe Company. It was heavy in my backpack but I knew they didn’t have it on Amazon and it’s such a beautiful photography book, I couldn’t pass it up. I hope to one day see them perform in person since I have watched every single youtube video of their amazing giant puppets. The work they do is incredible but they don’t announce their shows until a few days in advance so it’s hard to catch them.

After spending the entire afternoon at Les Machines de l’île, we decided to take the tram back to the train station a little early because Antz had a headache and Liv was tired. To our surprise when we arrived at the tram, it was closed by the local police for some unknown reason. I tried to order an Uber but the app wasn’t working (no wifi) so we had to walk over an hour back to the train station.

Lucky for us we left early or we would have arrived there late. We sat patiently waiting for our train arrival. Poor Antz headache got so bad we had to go to the pharmacy and buy him some medication. Just when our train was 15 minutes from boarding we saw this on the train schedule display.

I asked Liv what retard meant in French and she said LATE! It took forever to find an English speaking staff person and they told me that due to lightening striking the train tracks, all trains going to Paris were delayed for an indeterminate amount of time. So we ended up stranded at the train station for FOUR HOURS! The staff brought out little snack boxes and bottled water for everyone but it felt like the apocalypse. People were grabbing the boxes like a riot and Antz headache was worsening. Liv didn’t feel great either and it was too hot to wait inside the station so we sat outside at the tracks which meant we couldn’t hear any updates. The announcements were all in French anyway. We started to panic and worry that we would have to book a hotel for overnight. Then finally around the time we were scheduled to arrive back in Paris, we saw everyone getting up and heading towards the tracks downstairs. We pushed through like cartoon super heros and jumped on the train and sat at the first club four seats we saw. Since all the trains to Paris were late, the staff didn’t check our tickets and we didn’t bother to find our original seats. An English speaking couple sat down across from us and told us we were in their seats but I guess I gave the guy a look like Reagan from the Exorcist and he nicely said, No worries, we’ll sit here. The train ride was supposed to be 4 hours but they put the pedal to the metal and got us into Paris by 1 am. I have never seen more exhausted and frustrated people from all over the world collectively sleep like we did. We were all happy to be out of Nantes.

I scheduled an Uber before the train stopped in Paris before all the rush but I still got hit was double the fare surcharge. Merde! I told our French friends about enduring this trip and they laughed and said Welcome to France!

So despite being disappointed about the elephant ride and the long train delay, we had a good time. I didn’t think the town of Nantes was particularly awesome. As Antz put it, if you seen one town in France you’ve seen them all.

Tant pis!

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Day trip to Nantes, France Before arriving in France I had a long list of places to travel and things to see.

[yeolsmuffin]

Married to a Monster - Twenty Two || Final

Paring: jonginXreader

Genre: Fluff & Angst || Husband!Jongin, Best friend!Minseok, Best friend!Jongdae

Word Count: 11k

Summary: You are forced into a marriage with your once love/childhood best friend. Although, you don’t love him anymore and are disgusted with having to marry him. After driving yourself to suicide twice, you know you can’t ever fix things with him but even though, you push forward for the happiness of your parents who are still grieving the loss of your older sister.

Notes: Trigger warning: talks of death, self-harm, suicide, and the likes. Depictions of self-harm.

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen [M] | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty [M] | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two |

As you all walked towards your cars, you stared at Minseok. If it wasn’t for him watching you all those years, you may have succeeded in ending your life. You wouldn’t be here, smiling and freshly graduated with an art degree. Your parents would have been heartbroken and you couldn’t imagine how Jongin would have managed to get through it.

Thanks to Minseok, you had the chance to have this new life – the life in the light.

Because of Minseok, you got to love Jongin and in the process of loving him, it saved the both of you.

You thought about the conversation you had with Jongdae. He had said that in saving you, he and Minseok managed to save themselves too.

Minseok looked back at you as if he knew everything you were thinking. His eyes went straight into your soul.

You were always able to read each other so as he stared at you, you knew he was thinking of the same thing. Even if you created a mess that Minseok and Jongdae had to clean up, Minseok’s expression told you that you saved him too – the same way he saved you all those years ago.

Balancing on a ladder and trying to get a canvas straight on the wall, wasn't an easy task. Especially, when you looked over and saw a completely shocking photo being hung by your partner.

Your eyes grew wide and you wobbled on the ladder for a minute before catching yourself. "Baekhyun," you hissed. "Why are you hanging a picture of Jongdae's dick on the wall?"

Baekhyun turned slowly, narrowing his eyes at you. "How do you know it's Jongdae's?"

You put your hands up in defense, "It's not like what it seems."

"It has no distinguishing features other than his actual dick, so how do you know it's his?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "I refuse to let you marry Jongin if you're blowing Jongdae behind his back."

Pointing at him and climbing off the ladder, you scoff. "You'd be more likely to be blowing Jongdae than me," you said as Baekhyun scrunched his face up in disgust. "And for the record the first time I saw it, it was an accident, okay? Jongdae has a habit of stripping in his sleep and when I stayed the night at his house for the first time when we were younger, Minnie and I were both victimized."

"The first time?"

You shrugged, taking the picture off the wall and thrusting it at Baekhyun's chest. "I said it was a habit, didn't I? I grew to be desensitized to it but it's been a while so you nearly gave me a heart attack."

Baekhyun clutched the picture tightly, "Can't we hang it up though? Jongdae has been sending nudes back and forth with someone and he won't tell me who." You raised a brow. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not being a weirdo and going through his messages. He's the one that accidentally sent me the picture and now I want to use it to find out who he is sending pictures to."

"Baekhyun, this is the opening night of our gallery and my parents are coming."

"What?" He asked while winking. "It's not like your mom hasn't seen a dick before."

You closed your eyes and let out a deep breath. "You're making me regret opening this business together."

Holding the picture to his chest still, he gave you a coy smile. "Okay, okay. I'll just hang it up in the house."

After giving him a nod and a playful smack, you went back to getting the gallery ready for opening. It had been six months since you graduated from college and you and Baekhyun had been such great partners before, that the two of you decided to open a gallery together. Baekhyun was going to do the photography side and not only sell the work he did on the side, but also take professional pictures of people too. You were doing the same but with paintings. The last painting you did of Hani, the one you did for school, and the one you did of Minseok were on display to showcase what you could do with your work and even though people asked about them when they saw your portfolio, they were not for sale. You wouldn't remake them either because they were too special.  

The two of you were getting ready for tonight which was when you were having an opening party with your friends and family for the gallery. It wasn't necessary but it was Jongin's idea and Baekhyun loves any chance to talk about himself.

The night rolled around and you and Baekhyun stood side by side, admiring the gallery from where you stood by the doors. You tried to hold back the tears that started to form in your eyes as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

You were in a white satin dress that made you feel much fancier than you had wanted but Baekhyun insisted and he wore white satin dress pants and a black dress shirt. "Don't cry," he whispered as you looked at the walls that were filled with paintings you had created over the past few years and the photographs that Baekhyun had taken.

You smacked him. "Saying don't cry, will make me cry. You should know that."

He nodded, "I know. I'm really proud of you and all you've done, Y/N."

The door opened behind you and the both of you turned around, being met with Jongin's bright smile and perfectly styled hair. "Are you guys going to stare at the place all day or let us in?" he asked while grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. Jongin pulled you away from Baekhyun and towards the wall. "You look fucking stunning. I'm still jealous you arrived with Baekhyun and not me," he pouted.

Pressing your free hand to his cheek, you smiled back. "Am I making you regret wanting to wait until our wedding night?" You asked in a low voice as you saw the other boys walking into the gallery.

Jongin groaned as his eyes trailed down his body. "You are. Baekhyun literally picked this dress out to make me miserable."

You grabbed his chin, pulling his gaze back to your eyes. "Keep your eyes up here. You're the one that wanted to wait."

"Can I take it back?"

"No."

The sexual tension between you and Jongin was increasing by the day - or more accurately by the hour – but the two of you had come to the decision that waiting until your wedding day was the best decision. Not that you had any reason to wait but you wanted things to be perfect. Last time you tried, everything had fallen apart so you didn't want to take the moment lightly.

Baekhyun stomped over to the two of you and pulled your free hand, "Stop trying to seduce my business partner. She's got someone here to see her."

Jongin scoffed as he let Baekhyun pull you away and trailed behind the two of you. "It’s not trying if it’s working."

"Gross," Baekhyun replied.

He led you through Yixing and Junmyeon who gave you sweet smiles. In the corner admiring the piece that was made for him, was Minseok. His hair was gelled back and he was wearing black pants with a black dress shirt. His eyes were boring into yours when he saw you and his smile was lively.

Minseok hadn't visited since you graduated and stayed at his place so it was surprising to see him here. While you invited him, you didn't have high hopes for him coming. It wasn't that the two of you weren't best friends anymore but it was more that you were trying to be better friends. Looking at him, you could still sometimes see the life you could have lived and being apart was the best way to stop seeing him that way.

Sometimes it still stung.

It hurt that you couldn't have your best friend the same way anymore but things were the way they were meant to be. You finally had a life outside of Minseok protecting you and it felt good.

Baekhyun pushed you towards Minseok and walked off towards Jongdae – most likely to harass him about the dick pictures. Jongin gave you an encouraging nod and left you alone with Minseok.

Everyone still looked at the two of you as if they had watched the relationship between you two grow and come to an end - and you imagined they really had.

Minseok pointed his chin at the painting. "This is so amazing. I don't know how you did it."

You blushed and moved to stand next to him. "It was hard to remember the shape of your face from memory so it took some work but it's one of my favorites."

His smile was half-hearted as he put a hand on your shoulder. "How have you been?"

"I've been good. Planning for the wedding. Working on the gallery. Being driven crazy by Baekhyun's antics. How about you, Minnie?"

Minseok laughed. "I love Baekhyun, but I am so happy to have my own place now. I'm good, Y/N. I think of you often. I don't know how long it will take for that to stop but we've been friends so long I don't know it ever will. I've been working in the emergency room lately and I'm really enjoying helping people. It's hard not to look for your qualities in everyone I see but I think I met someone who is helping that."

The feeling you got wasn't one that you could quite explain. It was a mix of happiness with a touch of heartbreak. It wasn't fair for you to feel that way but by the look he gave you, you were sure he understood what you were feeling. When you had gone with Jongin, you were sure he felt the same. "You met someone?"

He nodded. "I'm not sure it means anything yet but... she's special."

You tried not to wince. You were special to Minseok regardless of who he would meet. Besides, Jongin was special to you so you couldn’t be hurt when Minseok wasn’t the only special one to you. "What's she like?" You asked in a small voice.

"She's nothing like you," he sighed. "I haven't figured out if that’s a good or bad thing yet."

"Good," you immediately responded as you tried to fight the tears. "She shouldn't be anything like me. You need someone who is going to bring you happiness instead of pain."

Minseok reached out to you but dropped his hand almost immediately. "Don't say it like that."

"It's true," you looked off towards a painting you had made of Yixing. "I caused you a lot of pain. I hope she's only going to bring you happiness."

He scoffed. "Love is pain, Y/N. Even if she isn't like you and doesn't suffer the way you did, loving her would still cause me pain. It's inevitable for two people who love each other not to hurt sometimes. Love isn't meant to be perfect, sunshine, and butterflies. It's messy, painful, and heartbreaking. That's what makes it worth it. Jongin caused you a lot of pain but do you regret it? Do you want someone who is less painful? Someone who only makes you happy?"  

You looked back at him and wipe away a tear. Minseok was that. Minseok was someone who didn't cause you pain and only made you happy but even though, Jongin was who you wanted to marry and spend your life with. You hoped that even though his words made it seem like he still wanted you that he could love someone else.

No matter how many times the two of you came back together and had these talks, it seemed you still were hurt. When did it stop? When did you get the happily ever after where you loved Jongin and saw Minseok as a brother?

That was it. It would never be like that.

Even though it wouldn't, it was okay. This was your future. It was tough but you would get through it. You were sure that one day you would be able to look at Minseok without feeling hurt or sadness and you were sure he would feel the same one day. The way things had happened made it hard to move on from and that wasn't your fault.

Loving Minseok didn't make you love Jongin any less. It didn't mean you didn't care for Jongin. While you loved Minseok, you didn't dream of cheating on Jongin or being with Minseok in a romantic way anymore. It was just love and it was something you were trying to grasp.

He would love someone one day and you would have to watch them be happy together. It would hurt the way he hurt from watching you and Jongin but one day, it would get better.

"I wouldn't change the way things ended up, even if I could," you whispered as your eyes searched Minseok's face.

He nodded. "I wouldn't either. It's going to work out, okay? In six months, you're marrying Jongin and I will be there to be your best man because I love you and loving you means I want your happiness no matter the cost."

Minseok gave your shoulder a pat as you wiped away another tear. "I know. I want your happiness too."

"Besides everything going on with us, I want you to know I'm proud of the woman you have become. I know I haven't been around much and I haven't watched you the way I watched you grow up but just know that even if I can't see you or I'm not around, I'll always look out for you. This place," he gestured around him, "is amazing and just thinking that this is what you've done makes me feel glad to go back and do everything the exact same way all over again. Hani would be so proud of this place."

Looking around, you knew she would be proud.

You and Baekhyun named it "Hani's Art" in honor of her because it was the only name you could envision the place having.

Filled with the boys, your parents, and friend Kat, everything felt right.  

In life, you found that too many people rushed to make things turn out the way they want. Everyone rushed for a solution the second there was a problem but that wasn't how it needed to be. A problem didn't have to be solved immediately – all that matters is that it gets solved in the end. Taking your time to work up to a solution is way better than having a fix that may not be right.

It took years for you to get things right and even then, things weren't perfect. Sure, you still missed Hani, Minseok and you were at a weird place, and you still felt like you loved him but even though, it was okay.

Jongin came back over to you when he noticed that you and Minseok stopped talking. "Hey, Min." Jongin said as he wrapped an arm around your waist. "It's good to see you, man."

Minseok gave him a smile and stepped further away from you. "It's good to see you too."

"How is school going?"

"Good, just have about another two years and I'll be more than just a nurse. But I don't mind being just a nurse," Minseok said and by the way his eyes brightened you knew he must have been talking about the girl.

You looked off towards Jongdae and how he was engaging in conversation with Kat. Bright eyes the same way Minseok was and you wondered if he was finding comfort in your friend the way Minseok was this new girl.  

Butterflies erupted into your stomach and you felt happy. Finally, after years of working towards your happiness and well-being, your best friends were able to live on their own. Jongdae and Minseok were their own people and while you loved having them by your side, nothing felt better than standing on your own two feet.

⇻☆☆☆⇺

Your and Baekhyun's gallery had been slowly but surely striving. People were brought in by Baekhyun's photographs on social media which boosted his ego a little too much.

In the meantime, while you were working there several hours of the day, you were planning for the wedding. Which led you to where you were, trying on wedding dresses in front of your mom, Kat, Sehun, Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Jongdae.

The first dress you stepped on had Sehun standing up and protesting immediately.  

"You're not wearing that," he said shielding his eyes. "Please someone tell her she isn't wearing that."

Chanyeol scoffed, "You had a crush on her for a while so shut up. You should be eating this up," he said folding his arms over his chest.

Sehun all but growled at Chanyeol, "It was for like two weeks."

Chanyeol laughed exaggerated. "It was like two months."

Jongdae waved them off, "You're not wearing that. I agree with Sehun." And your mom was nodded along with him.

Turning to look in the mirror, you looked at the dress and all the sheer paneling it had. It hadn't been one you picked but when you met Baekhyun's eyes in the mirror, you knew that he had picked it. You narrowed your eyes. He was such a mischievous bastard.

It was probably twenty dresses later when you came out in one and nobody had anything negative or annoying to say. You were tired, sweat making your hair stick to your forehead and you lost the inability to suck in any part of your body to help squeeze into the wedding dresses you tried on.

The boys stared at you with their mouths gaping and your mom had started to cry. Looking down, you realized that the dress was beautiful – but was it that beautiful?

Turning towards the mirror, you took your full reflection in. The dress was everything you had dreamed it to be and while you had a wedding once before you had just the simplest and plain of dresses since you weren't truly in love with Jongin. That wedding dress wasn't one that was special and it was evident as you stared at your reflection with tears forming in your eyes as you saw Jongdae getting choked up with your mom.

The nice consultant who had been getting you in and out of the dresses came over to you with a veil. "It seems we finally found a hit. Let's make it more real," she said with a sparkle in her eyes as she stood up on her toes to press the clip part of the veil into your hair. Fluffing it a few times, she smiled. "You look like you're going to marry the love of your life," she commented.

When you saw yourself with the veil, you could feel your heart pumping in your chest. You really looked like someone who was marrying the love of your life.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you faced your loved ones and watched as they teared up and stared at you as if you were the prettiest thing they had ever seen.  

"Sweetheart, you look so beautiful," your mother said. She wasn't quite sure why you had wanted the second wedding but you figured it would be best that she didn't need all the messy details. You just explained that you had truly fallen for Jongin in a way you hadn't before and you wanted to honor that. Never could you reveal the past to your parents and have them hurting over what you had done to yourself. They still hurt over Hani enough and you could see it on her face as she stared at you.

Nothing would bring back Hani and you would never be able to experience her getting married but maybe your two weddings would make your mother feel a little more complete.

Sehun had his hands covering his face as he tried to pretend to look off in the distance but you didn't miss the way his eyes watered and the way Chanyeol whistled and stared at his feet in an effort to stop his emotions coming to surface.

Baekhyun stared at his watery-eyed friends and he let out a scoff, "I don't know why you're all cry-crying," he said his voice breaking at the last word and he sighed dramatically and tried to blink the warm tears away.

"So is this the dress?" The consultant asked.

You could practically hear Jongdae gulp as he stared at you with eager eyes.

You nodded, "This is it."

⇻☆☆☆⇺

Chanyeol looked at you skeptically, "You're wedding is in two months and you want to get another tattoo?"

Rolling your eyes, you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and tugged at him a few times. "All the more reason, Yeol. This is the last I'll ask you for a while – unless you want me to take my business elsewhere. I mean, I can just ask Sehun-"

He pulled your arms from his neck and made you look at him. "No, I want to do it."

Chanyeol pushed you down into his leather tattooing chair and stuck his hand out, "Give me the drawing."

With a smile, you pulled the drawing from your sketch pad and handed it to him.

He froze. "What – what is this?" His eyes were glassy as he stared at you and you fought the flashback that stuck with this very tattoo that you had designed. You had one scar left to cover and it wasn't one that many people noticed - including Jongin. It was a small scar on your left wrist, a place you didn't mark much but even though it was small, it had a big impact.

You hadn't cut in a while. Months had passed and you were doing so well not to harm yourself. Jongdae and Minseok stopped watching you so heavily since you hadn't had an incident in a while. It felt good to have them trust you and have you even trust yourself.

But like with all good things, it had to come to an end.

You tried to get the blood to stop seeping from your wrist the best you could but it had been a while since you had handled this whole ordeal.

It had been a rough day. It was Hani's birthday and you went out with your family and Jongin the way the group of you had always done.

He wasn't mean to you or even giving you sneering looks this time but that wasn't what set you off. He wouldn't even look at you.

It wasn't like you blended in with the surroundings since you were the only one wearing a long-sleeved sweatshirt in a fancy restaurant in an attempt to hide yourself harm scars from the prying eyes of the adults around you.

His parents spoke to you and tried to involve Jongin in the conversation but he wouldn't budge. Couldn't he hear the way your voice broke? Couldn't he hear how desperately you begged him just to look at you the way he used to? Didn't he notice how you didn't smile anymore?

But that was just it. He didn't care.

Which lead you to lock yourself in your room and cry once you got him. Thoughts of Jongin flowing through your head. More than anything you missed the looks he gave you, the touches, the care. It was long gone because now he hated you and you were close to hating him. Losing Hani had been too much and ruined the two of you. You cried over what could have been if you hadn't lied about Hani's passing.

The thoughts pushed you straight back to the point you didn't want to be in and you all but tore your room apart looking for something sharp or by chance a razor that Jongdae and Minseok hadn't been able to find. You got lucky when you found one buried in your underwear drawer and you used it to slice into your left wrist so roughly that blood dripped onto the floor at an incredible speed. You cried out in pain but also relief. It felt good to hurt yourself - to punish yourself for what you had done.

No longer was your left arm unmarked from scars and you raised the blade to make more when Minseok came walking into your room. He stared at you in shock for a moment before closing and locking your bedroom at lightning speed and lunging at you. You tried to move away from him as tears and blood dripped down.

"Y/N!" He yelled and kept repeating your name over and over as he grabbed you and wrapped his arms tightly around you in almost a vice grip. "Drop it, Y/N. Drop it now."

You shook your head as your blood dripped onto Minseok and you clutched the blade so hard in your hand that you felt it cutting through the rough skin of your hands.

Somehow and using excessive force that was likely to bruise you later, Minseok got the blade away from you and threw it into the open door of your bathroom and as far away from the two of you as he could.

He sighed and continuing holding you in his tight grip as the two of you fell to the ground, both of you a crying mess. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" He cried out. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I deserve it," you cried. "You should have let me die."

Minseok sobbed. "Don't say that. If I let you die, I would have died. I wouldn't be the person I am. Y/N. Please. You don't deserve it."

"Kai won't even look at me," you cried. "Not even on Hani's birthday. I just wanted him to look at me and notice that I'm not okay without him and he wouldn't even look at me once."

You could hear Minseok's teeth grind together as you cried in his hold. "Why didn't you let me go with you?"

You shrugged. "It wouldn't fix anything, Minseok."

"Like hell it wouldn't. I'd make that bastard look at you. I'd make him look at your scars over and over the way I've seen them. I'd make him feel so low and remorseful that he would never look ill in your direction again," Minseok cried into your neck. "Don't you understand what I would do for you? Anything, Y/N. Anything, just stop hurting yourself. It hurts me so fucking much every time you mark your beautiful skin."

"I'm sorry, Minnie. I'm sorry that I'm hurting you too. I'm hurting everyone around me. I hate myself."

He held you tighter, pressing a kiss to your head. "Don't fucking say that. Don't fucking ever say that. I'm your best friend and I love you. That's all that matters, okay?"

You nodded as the two of you rode out the tears and pain. Eventually, Minseok got up to get rid of the razor blade and to take you into the bathroom to clean your cut up. He ran you a warm bath and you bathed with him sitting on the tile next to you and even though he made enough bubbles for you to cover your naked body, he still kept his eyes averted. One of his hands clutched your left one that was now wrapped in gauze and he stared at it, pressing kisses to the gauze every now and then.

"What are you doing?" You whispered as your head rolled over to look at him and you opened your eyes.

Minseok finally looked at you, keeping his eyes on your face as he stayed scrunched up on the floor. "Minseok's seal of protection."

A small laugh escaped your lips and you saw Minseok's face lighten up. "What's that?" You asked him.

He kissed your wrist again. "Well, it's my way of marking you but instead of the way you do it by scarring yourself, I'm doing it with love. I'm kissing the cut so maybe next time you want to do it, you'll see me kissing it and you won't want to do it anymore. My kiss is the seal of protection."

Your heart started to palpitate. "Minseok that's so sweet."

"I just want to help you however I can. I want to be with you even when I'm not physically," he pressed another kiss to your wrist, "So I'll keep kissing this cut until it's the only thing you can remember when you look at it."

And that’s the way it became as you stared at the cut that had somehow barely become a scar at all. Sometimes you thought it was the way Minseok had kissed it as it healed and all the times he had kissed it after. Every time he would hold your hand or hug you in the past, he would kiss your wrist and give you a silly smile. Thinking back it made your heart hurt.  

This tattoo wasn’t to make the bond between the two of you stronger by any means. It was another way to let him go especially since your last tattoos weren’t quite for him. This was all for him and you had to do it before you got married.  

It was a way to tell him he didn’t have to kiss your wrist anymore. Minseok didn’t have to protect you anymore because what he had done in the past was enough and you forever had his protection with you.  

It was also a way to commemorate the love for him because even though you were leaving that in the past, you wouldn’t be able to ever forget the impact he left on your life.  

Just the way when you looked down at your wrist, you could still feel his lips pressed against your skin to this day.  

Chanyeol stared at you because he knew this. You had told him about it on a drunken night when traveling in the RV in the summer what almost seemed like lifetimes ago.  

His hands shook as he held the sketch, “Are you sure this is something you want to have on your body?” When you had gotten drunk, you had cried over the way Minseok didn’t speak to you and how stupid it was that he left that damn protective seal on you. Chanyeol tried to nurse drunk you over the heartbreak and he was surprised when you were okay the next morning.  

You scoffed, “Yeol, I think if I don’t it will be a mistake. I have to cover this tattoo. I have to cover it specifically with those words because it’s my final attempt at setting us both free.”

“But what if it hurts you more?” He asked as he looked up at you with soft eyes. Chanyeol was a brother to you now and him looking out for you made you feel loved in the purest way. The way you imagined Minseok would love you if he hadn’t had to pull a razor blade from your fingers so many times. If only he hadn’t been the one to pull you off the bridge. Everything would be different.  

Which was why it wouldn’t hurt. It’s so why you had to cover the scar up in the first place. You couldn’t keep thinking of the what if’s and this scar was related to a lot of it.  

Minseok would forever be connected to the scar. The way he had kissed it and the way when you had first made it, he told you that he loved you.  

“Before I marry Jongin, I have to do this. It’s a way of keeping me connected to Minseok but also saying that I don’t need him to protect me anymore. We’ve talked about it but we’re both still going through the motions. My tattoos have been helping heal me and I think this is the perfect last edition for now,” you said to Chanyeol with a wink.  

He sighed and sat the drawing down, “What if it hurts him?”

You eyes Chanyeols face. The amount your decisions had affected everyone around you was apparent on Chanyeol’s face. He had seen Minseok suffer all while Minseok helped and loved you. “I’m almost certain it won’t but if you want to confirm that, let’s call Minnie.”

He scrunched his eyebrows. “Right now?”

Nodding, you smiled, “Right now.” You hadn’t spoken to Minseok in a while and it was sure to be awkward but it was best to clear it up. You doubted it would affect Minseok in any way although.

“Give me a bit to make a stencil, we’ll put it on and then video chat Minseok to see if it’s okay with him,” Chanyeol said in a defeated voice.

Chanyeol of course was great at what he did and it didn’t take long for him to whip up a stencil.

You looked down at the stencil covering your scar and you smiled. “it looks so good, Yeol.”

He scoffed, “You designed it.”

You glared at him, “But it has your flare, as always and it’s beautiful.” Your wrist scar was covered with thick but elegant lettering that said ‘seal of protection’. It was corny but yet it made you feel at ease. Maybe you and Minseok said everything was final years ago when he had told you it was over but to you, this was it.  

This was ending it because even though it’s been years it seemed like there were still unmended edges to your hearts.  

Minseok was gone from your body and so was Jongin.  

You would be free.  

Your body was yours again.  

Chanyeol grabbed his phone and stared at it a few times before sighing. “Things between you guys still feel so strained. We can all feel it.”

“I’m sorry. It’s a process I guess.”

He scrunched his mouth up, “Things between you and Jongin are great though…”

“Because we’re together,” you replied simply.  

“So if you were with Minseok, it would be okay? You guys wouldn’t be like this?”

You had thought of it and the answer was no. Things wouldn’t be the way it was between you and Jongin. Some might see that being with Jongin was toxic, but in reality being with Minseok was toxic. He watched you for so many years being in love with Jongin. He watched you hurt yourself over said boy for so many years. And then even after, you made yourself leave him. Minseok has been fixing you for so long that being together would have killed you both. He wouldn’t be able to stop seeing your cut skin in his head and he would never fully trust you. So many times you had broken his trust and at some point, you couldn’t earn trust back in a relationship like that. Not only that but your whole life has been filled with loving Jongin as if it was something you were programmed to do. Even if you devoted yourself to Minseok, Jongin would always be someone you were in love with.  

Even if you had been solely devoted to Minseok, nothing could have ever worked. You hurt him too much and so you hoped a tattoo like this could help.  

Maybe it would separate you two. Maybe you would stop being friends. Maybe it was for the best.

“I’m not good for Minseok. Call him, Yeol. Please.” You had to go through with the tattoo before it was too late. Before you remembered how much you loved him.  

Chanyeol called him before he could second-guess and Minseok picked up quickly. Chanyeol kept the screen pointed at him as he smiled and waved at his best friend “Hey!”

“Hey, Yeolie. What’s up?”

Chanyeol started chewing on his lip, “Well…”

Groaning, you snatched the phone from Chanyeol and pointed it at yourself. “Hey Minnie,” you breathed as you looked at him. He was dressed in scrubs and looking handsome as always. You forced yourself to avert your eyes as you felt your heart pound. “I’m getting a tattoo and Chanyeol wanted to check with you first.”

Even through the phone, you could feel his gaze, “Why check in with me? It’s your body, Y/N.”

You opened your mouth a few times but then closed it again and lifted your wrist to the screen.  

“Oh,” you heard him say.  

“Chanyeol wants to be sure me having this tattoo won’t hurt you and I told him of course it won’t and that maybe it will help us finally get through this.”

Minseok let out a shaky breath, “You still remember that?”

Pulling your wrist back, you looked at the screen, “How could I forget? I remember it like it’s yesterday.”  

“When I told you that Ioved-“

You cut him off, “I didn’t realize it was genuine until now.”

“I knew you wouldn’t take it seriously at the time which is why I told you.”

“I didn’t.”

“Do you remember how I held you?”

You smiled sadly, “Basically held me down while I got blood all over your white shirt and jeans. Do you still have those?”

He nodded, “I know I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Burn them. Don’t keep them anymore, Minnie. I’m covering my scar so you don’t need to kiss it anymore. Burn the clothes so you don’t remember it anymore.”

“I haven’t kissed it in years,” he said ignoring what you said about burning the clothes.

You scoffed, “You never stopped.”

And while it was metaphorical, Minseok had never stopped kissing the scar. You wanted him to put it in the past but you knew for a fact he still asked about you and still looked out for you. But you wanted him to stop. Stop being afraid and looking out for you.  

“This is my last attempt at proving to you that I’m done. Don’t look after me anymore, Minnie.”

He scoffed back, “Easier said than done. Even Yeol looks out for you.”

“But it doesn’t hurt him to do so.”

You could see him frown but he nodded, “Get the tattoo, Y/N. I’ll burn the clothes.”

⇻☆☆☆⇺

“So strippers, right?” You heard Baekhyun whispering and snickering to Jongdae in your living room.  

Coming up behind him, you pressed your hands to his shoulders from behind, making him jump in shock. “Get Jongin strippers and I will actually rip your dick off.”

He purses his lips, “Don’t be like that. He hasn’t been a single man in a long time. He needs one last night.”

“He has enough of that in high school,” you replied bitterly.  

“Y/N, Baek is kidding. No strippers,” Jongdae looked at Baekhyun harshly. “Don’t be a fucking asshole,” he hissed.  

“It’s okay, I’m used to the asshole. But seriously, no strippers. Me and Jongin discussed this already. While Jongin may have a ton of friends ready to give him a bachelor party full of strippers, I’ll be staying at home by myself. So remember that when you’re having fun.”

You could feel Jongdae gaze at you with a look of regret. While you had the boys and Kat, that was it. You didn’t have any close girlfriends really. And Kat was studying abroad for a few months and wouldn’t make it to your wedding. All you had was the boys and your parents so a bachelorette party wasn’t possible. 

“You have to have some friends who can buy you all that dick themed shit and get you drunk,” Baekhyun said. “Every girl has those friends.”

Jongdae sighed, “We are those friends.”

Yixing joined you guys in the living room and you glanced over at him. You hadn’t even heard the front door open. “What, do you guys just let yourselves in now?” You asked with crossed arms.  

Yixing patted your head, “No, darling, but I do remember you giving me a key,” he whispered as he dangled it in front of you. “Aren’t we planning the bachelor party?”

Baekhyun pouted, “We were until Y/N became a buzzkill.”

Yixing scoffed, “How so?”

“She doesn’t have anyone to throw her a bachelorette party so when Jongin has his party, she’ll be at home alone.”

“Aren’t we her friends?”

Baekhyun stares at him. “What do you mean?”

Yixing shrugged, “Why don’t half of us go with Jongin for his bachelor party and the other half do Y/N’s bachelorette party?”

You pursed your lips and thought about it.  

“Guys don’t do bachelorette parties,” Baekhyun said in a ‘duh’ tone.  

You glared at him and he glared back.  

“We don’t even stick with traditions,” Jongdae reminded. “I think that would be fun.”

“There’s eight of us so-“ Yixing was cut off by Baekhyun.  

“With Minseok?”

Yixing glared at him, “No. Excluding him.”

“Then there’s only seven. We don’t include Jongin.”

Yixing rolled his eyes, “Okay. In that case, we have Jongin’s party and Y/N’s. Who goes to which?”

“Easy,” Jongdae said. “Me, Sehun, and Yeol with Y/N and You, Baek, Jun, and Soo with Jongin.”

Yixing nodded, “How does that sound, Y/N?”  

“Good but,” you looked at Yixing and then at Baekhyun, “No strippers.”

Baekhyun crossed his arms. “Then no strippers for you.”

You scoffed, “You don’t need to convince me of that.”

“She’s right, Sehun is the one who would try to get strippers,” Jongdae laughed. 

⇻☆☆☆⇺

While Sehun didn't get strippers, he did buy anything he could find with a pink dick on it and had you, himself and the two other boys decked out in dicks. It wasn't the typical bachelorette party that other women had but you were still completely satisfied. The four of you spent the night drinking from your dick cups while you watched movies and it didn't take long for you to all get drunk.  

You would surely regret it in the morning but the wedding was two days away so you hoped that was enough for you to ride out the hell of a hangover that was to come.

It turned out you were all whiny drunks (especially Jongdae) and it became a cry fest about the stupidest things that didn't even matter. Like how Sehun felt like one of his feet was bigger than the other, Chanyeol found a gray hair, Jongdae just wanted to be treated like an adult, and your left boob was significantly perkier than the right. The night was filled with laughter, whining, and a bit of vomit but you found that it was one of the best nights.

It didn't take long for the group of you to find yourselves passed out on the cold kitchen floor of Jongdae and Baekhyun's house. Being in the house, it still brought up memories of Minseok that made you anxious to even start to imagine and the alcohol had amplified that. He wasn't here. Things weren't the way they used to be and you tried to use that to push it to the back of your mind.

Jongin had a good night with his four friends. They hadn't done much other than some drinking and wasting money at the casino but that was enough for Jongin. He didn't need an extravagant night with half-naked women. After all, Jongin had barely been able to see you naked so why would he want to look at other women? He had loved you for so long that his interest in other women didn't exist. He didn't know how to have eyes for anyone but you in the past years. Maybe he had once loved Hani and looked at her but he knew that she never compared to you.

Even in his teen years when he made poor decisions with drugs and girls, he still only thought of you.

It was like a song in his head when he was away from you, he would hear your name and see your face over and over again.

The wedding was two days away and Jongin wasn't even the slightest bit nervous. While the two of you were legally married, this was going to be your spiritual wedding and Jongin was so ready to fully tie himself to you. He made mistakes – hell, he made a lot of mistakes but therapy had helped him put that behind him. He would never completely forgive himself but he learned how to cope with it. How to accept the past and remind himself that he wasn't that person. It wasn't an excuse, but in the past he hadn't been completely sane because completely sane Jongin only wanted you and your well-being.

Jongin on drugs even mostly thought about you when he came down from the high. The drugs made him feel that much worse when he realized what he had done to you.

Never again would he let that kind of harm come to you and he could promise you that. He wasn't that person anymore and by marrying you this time, he was making that promise

He left his friends passed out at Junmyeon's house and came to check on you just around four am. He didn't want to interrupt your fun, but he wanted to see you. Being away from you was hard even if just for a short time.

He left himself in with the key he had and found the house silent. It didn't take him long to come across the four of you passed out on the floor and somehow all cuddling each other.

Jongin sighed with relief and let out a little laugh when he saw you in Sehun's arms and wearing several accessories that had dicks on them.

It was cute even if it was funny.

Maybe other guys would be jealous to see their wife cuddled in their friend's arms but it made Jongin feel at ease. He trusted you and he trusted his friends. Jongin knew you loved him unconditionally so no matter who you showed your affection to, Jongin knew he was the only one to get the intimate side. He was the one who had your heart and he trusted that. He trusted you with Minseok even though Minseok still had part of your heart. Jongin knew where he stood with you and that was enough.

It was sweet to see his best friends look after you in such a loving way and Jongin felt like he was blessed. He wouldn't ever have to worry about your safety or well-being because you had the boys to look after you too.

He smiled as he watched you clutch onto Sehun's shirt and he gave you a gentle pat on the head before grabbing a few pillows and blankets for you all. Once the pillows were placed next to you and the blankets were draped over your bodies, Jongin left and went home.

The bed was empty without you but he wanted you to have your fun. He knew how close you were with Jongdae in the past and now how close you were to Sehun and Chanyeol and he didn't want to mess that up tonight. He could deal with the lonely bed for one night because after all, he slept alone so many nights when you were in school.

That night he wondered what the future would be like. Would you guys have children? Would you fight often? What would sex be like?

Jongin couldn't keep his mind from going there and he felt like he had almost been celibate too long. You were completely worth the wait but it was something Jongin thought of since he was fourteen and you were basically forbidden to him. He had always wanted you so his whole life was spent wondering what it would be like to be with you like that.

He couldn't wait to be with you and although a couple years ago he hadn't been in the right mindset, he was now there.

Everything had changed.

Maybe life didn't go down the right track but Jongin had finally grabbed control and was having a grasp on his reality and future. Drugs were a thing of his past just as he knew self-harm was something of your past.

Guilt still clouded him every now and again but Jongin knew if you didn't want this relationship, you wouldn't have chosen it. He had given you options – hell, he had all but given you to Minseok. He offered to divorce you but here the two of you were. Two days away from marriage.

Jongin had never been so happy.

⇻☆☆☆⇺

The thing with Minseok being your best man meant he acted as a maid of honor. From the beginning of the day till the end of the night, he would be by your side.

He showed up at the venue, in sweatpants and a t-shirt but yet somehow looked perfect. The moment you saw him walking into the bridal quarters, you almost cried and caused the hairdresser to fuss over you and hand you tissues.

"Why are you getting upset?" he asked as he hung his covered suit up on one of the wall hooks.

You looked at him in the mirror as you wiped at your eyes. "I'm n-not."

Rolling his eyes, he sat down on the loveseat that was nearby the vanity you were getting your hair done in. "Don't lie."

"It's an emotional day," you muttered.

Minseok smiled. "I know. It's a big day. If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure I'll get emotional when I see you in your dress... which I still haven't seen."

Looking over at the dress that was in a bag and draped over a chair, you grinned. "It's perfect."

"I'm sure it is. Anything will look perfect on you."

A blush crept on your cheeks but you tried to ignore it. "Baekhyun picked out the most scandalous dress for me when we were trying on dresses," you said changing the subject. "I swear I've never seen Sehun look like he was going to scream like that before. Jongdae even cringed."

Minseok chuckled. "I'm not surprised but they act like you're pure. Don't they know better?"

The hairdresser cleared her throat awkwardly. "It’s been a long time," you laughed. "I may very well be."

The two of you met eyes in the mirror and while you thought about the time things almost escalated in his bedroom and you were sure he thought the same, neither of you brought it up. "Yeah. No matter what you do, you'll always be innocent little Y/N."

"No, I'm strong Y/N now."

Minseok's eyes stayed glued to yours. "You're right. This sounds bad but you're stronger than I ever imagined you'd be and I'm so happy that you are."

"Me too, Minnie. I'd be nothing without you and Dae which is exactly why you're my best man."

He scoffed, "You would have been something without me. You didn't need me."

"Without you, I'd be with Hani and while I love her, that's not where I need to be nor where I want to be."

Minseok shifted where he was sitting. "I'm just glad it's okay now."

"Me too. Speaking of okay, how are you?"

He sighed in what seemed like relief. "Happy. I invited that girl to be my date."

Your eyes shot open. "That's a big deal. Do I get to meet her?"

"Of course. That's mostly why I brought her."

"And does she know... about us?"

He nodded. "Anybody I date is going to know about you. You're an important part of who I am."

You looked down at your lap. "I've shaped you into the scared and untrusting person you are."

He was beside you in an instant and touching your shoulder gently. "I did that to me too. It's okay. She's helping me get through it. I keep trying to help her but she reminds me that she doesn't need help. She doesn't need a protector. She does that herself."

Looking up at him, you smiled. "Good."

"I like seeing you smile," Minseok whispered. "It's a good look on you. The fact that Jongin makes you happy baffles me but also puts me at ease."

"Do you trust him?" You asked as the hairdresser sprayed your hair with hairspray.

He paused for a moment but eventually nodded, "Yeah. I think I do."

"Maybe you'll trust me one day too."

"As long as I trust Jongin, that's all that matters. I trust him to keep you away from harm."

Minseok gave you one more pat on your shoulder before walking towards the love seat, "Is there anything I need to do as your best man?"

You shrugged. "Not really. Just be here."

He sat down and smiled. "I can do that."

The first wedding you had was a blur in your mind now. You hadn't remembered getting ready for so many hours but there was really a lot of work behind a wedding. Everything this time, you made sure it was perfect. Every piece of hair, every fleck of makeup, you wanted to wow Jongin.

He hadn't cried when you guys married the first time like some men did when they got married but instead, you cried in despair. This time you wanted happy tears to come from Jongin.

The moment came for you to put on your dress. Minseok was there, his warm hands helping zip up the back as his eyes stared at you in the floor length mirror.

This was the official end of you and Minseok and you could feel it hanging in the air. Here was the man who still held a piece of your heart, zipping up your wedding dress. It didn't get any more bizarre than this.

Once you were zipped and the sash around your waist was tied, Minseok stepped back. He let out a deep breath, "You look like a princess."

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a while, twisting your head back and forth as you looked at yourself fully done up in makeup and covered in a white wedding dress. "It's so different than it was all those years ago. It feels like that wasn't even me." You turned towards Minseok. "I can't even remember what it was like to see Jongin like a monster. I said I was marrying a monster but now all I can see is that I'm marrying my one true love."

You didn't miss the way Minseok winced and gritted his teeth but he quickly turned the disdain into a smile. "You're happy, right? Truly happy?"

"I'm happy. I think everything is panning out the way it should."

Minseok gave you a look, "I need to be honest."

Your heart was already protesting against your chest. "What is it, Minnie?"

"I think I love that girl."

Tears pooled in your eyes before you could stop them. "That's amazing," you sniffled. It wasn't that you were sad that Minseok had finally found love in someone other than you but it was that you were happy. Happy that he was capable after all you put him through. Sure, it hurt that tiny place in your heart that still loved him but it would be healed but the love of your life and you would be okay. Knowing that Minseok was able to love someone else made everything. "Is she the one?"

Minseok shrugged. "Maybe. I don't think I'm going to rush love. I'm just going to see what happens."

"Anyone is lucky to be loved by you," you mumbled as you wiped the tears that had fallen.

Coming closer, Minseok helped wipe the tears. "I know you don't want me to look after you anymore, but I still will. I won't stop. Even if you have your own seal of protection, I won't ever stop. Not because I love you but because you're my best friend and even if you're strong, I still care about you. I will always love you in so many complex ways. I love you even if I love the girl I'm with more and in a different way. You will always be my Y/N and nothing will ever change that. You still love me even though you love Jongin, don't you?" You nodded. "Don't ever think I'll stop loving you even if I get married. We are special to each other and while I have a long way to go and I need to learn how to stop trying to help you and everyone, I'm not going to stop having you around just because it hurts. I was away for too long. I want to come home more often."

He pulled you into a gentle hug and you hiccupped out a sob. "I want that, Minnie. I really want that. I want you to be happy but I don't want you to hurt."

"Anything worth something in life, hurts a bit, okay? Stop thinking you need to do whatever to prevent me from hurting. No more tattoos, no more distant looks, no more agonizing yourself over what happened. The distance we've put between each other is only making everything more complicated and I want to come home more often. Starting with Christmas."

There hadn't been a Christmas that Minseok had come home for yet and the thought made you excited. "That would be great. I'm just worried."

Minseok shrugged and then pulled away. "Let's not be worried anymore, okay? Let's just live."

After a few moments and Minseok helping you fix your hair a bit, your father entered the room. "You ready, sweetie?" You could tell his eyes were puffy and you knew him and your mom had probably been crying again. It made you hurt that even after more than eleven years after you lost Hani, your parents still grieved often. That was one pain you couldn't run from and you hoped that you could make them happy from this day forward. The gallery, the schooling, and the second marriage had already brought them so much happiness and you had only one other way to help them with the pain of losing Hani. Giving them grandchildren.

Nothing could honor Hani the way having your own family would.

But then you weren't sure you wanted to be a mother at all – after all, you had such a messy life and you weren't sure you would be prepared to lose a child the way your mother did or even just be a mother without suffering from lose.

You sighed. At least you had plenty of time to decide. Maybe you weren't getting any younger but if you were going to want kids, you would figure it out when the time came.

Minseok held the train of your dress as you walked over to grab your dads arm. You held a little more tightly than necessary. "It's okay, daddy," you whispered. "She's here too."

He tried his best to smile at the comment as he led you down the hall and towards the doors to the inside of the church where Jongin was waiting for you. Minseok gave you a wink and let himself inside to stand with the rest of the bridal party.

It took a few minutes for you to catch your breath once it was you and your dad alone. He patted you gently. "Are you nervous?" he asked confused.

You laughed. "Of course not," you reassured him. "Not nervous, just happy."

He smiled. "You weren't this happy the first time around. You seemed more sad."

"It just wasn't right the first time. Now, I think everything is right."

You could tell he was trying not to cry. "I didn't think our family would ever heal after the loss of her but the marriage between you and Jongin seemed to help us all. You got happier and followed your dreams. Your mother and I never thought you would do that."

"I'm glad you guys made me marry Jongin," you whispered.

He laughed. "We didn't make you we just knew it would be best for the family. Besides, you and Jongin had drifted apart and us as your parents, and the Kim's knew that the two of you truly loved each other and were too dumb to figure it out."

Your heart softened. Even your parents knew that you and Jongin had loved each other. It reaffirmed that you were really doing the right thing. Being with Jongin was what made you happy and it made you even happier that those around you knew it.

Things might have once been broken but did that matter?

Did the broken pieces matter if they had gotten mended in the end?

You didn't think so. Actually, you felt like the mended pieces of you were better than the originals.

"Are you ready?" Your father asked you.

With a confident smile, you nodded.

Once the doors were open, your eyes immediately locked with Jongin's and everything around you blurred. You didn't see the audience or the bridal party. You couldn't even spot Minseok.

All you could see was Jongin and the way he looked at you like you were the best thing his eyes had ever seen.

You cried hard. So hard you could feel your dads hand smoothing over your back. Jongin was crying too you noticed when you got closer. His tears were beautiful though because they were happy and you could see the way his eyes sparkled at you.

You came to a stop with your dad and he lifted your veil as he handed you off to Jongin. You took his warm hand and stepped up beside him. There was silence in the church for a few moments as you and Jongin wiped each other's tears away and tried to regain your breath.

"You look beautiful," he whispered but when the whole church let out 'aw's' you were certain they had heard it.

"So do you," you said quietly as your voice shook.

This time around, the two of you had written your own vows because everything needed to be special and the first time, things were too formal.

"Y/N," Jongin started with a shaky voice. "I know legally we are already bound but I feel like this time, we are really bound. We are bound spiritually in ways I never imagined. When I first married you, you were beautiful – perfect even but we were young. It seems like lifetimes ago that we married so I feel the need to express my love to you the best way I can. In my life, nothing has made me happier than you. We have been through bumps, pain, and heartbreak but through all of that there has only been one thing that was certain to me and that was that I was made to love you. I promise to love you as much and if not more as I did when I was sixteen years old. I promise to cherish you every single day of our lives and never take you for granted again. I promise to protect you from anything that can ever hurt you. Y/N, I promise myself to you and only you because you're the only person I can see. I promise to give you everything you need because by giving me your hand in marriage, you have given me everything."

Jongin finished with tears and he folded the paper he had written his vows on and pushed it back into his pocket.

You sobbed and tried to even your voice as you unfolded your vows.

"Jongin. In life, nothing has been perfect. Things haven't always played out the way we wanted and when I married you just over six years ago, I wasn't sure it was what I wanted. Now, I'm so happy that it happened. I've learned that you're the only person who could ever make me feel the way I do. There were years in my life that I tried to fight my feelings for you but no matter how much I fought them, they always came back. You are what true love is to me and no matter what we have been through, I'll stick by your side. I'll stay with you even when things get rough because you have my heart. Please don't ever push me away because it won't work. I want to be your morning, day and night. I want to be your happiness, anger, and happiness because I want to be your all. Who knows what we have ahead of us. All I know is that no matter what it is, I want to be there for it because you are my true love and nothing can or has got in the way of that. I love you."

There was no laughing or half-assed intention behind your vows this time. They were filled with pure love and you could feel it in your bones as Jongin pulled you to him and kissed you.

He kissed you the way he should have the first time.

He kissed you in a way that almost erased the first time.

Although, without the first marriage, you would have never had the second one.

His lips kissed yours tenderly and kissed away your tears as the crowd cheered and you smiled at the loving faces all around you. Jongin wasn't a monster and he wasn't really ever one to begin with. He wasn't in his right mind when he had said all those things to hurt you in the past and you knew that because there wasn't a single day that you had ever seen that same man again. Kai was long gone. Jongin was the man you were marrying. Jongin the man who loved you more than life itself and loved you so much he was willing to divorce you so you could marry his best friend.

That just made you love him more.

Six years ago, you didn’t imagine you could ever marry again. You thought you would be stuck with Jongin and that you would never be able to marry for love.

But here you were, marrying Jongin once again.

Marrying the monster.

Marrying for love.

This time though, you were marrying your best friend and first love. This time when you saw Minseok in the bridal party, you didn't wish it was him.

Things were exactly as they should be and though it took work and time, it was worth it.

Jongin didn't look at you like he was afraid you'd crumble in front of him and you didn't look at him like you hated him.

You and Jongin walked down the aisle together and this time you leaned on him happily.

"You look cheerful," he whispered as he led you out the doors.

You scoffed. "I'm pissed, I can't believe I married your stupid ass again."

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up, you love my stupid ass."

A smile formed on your lips. "Yeah, I do. I love you."

He kissed the top of your head. "I love you too. Are you ready for the rest of our lives now?"

You nodded, "I think we've waited long enough."

And so it ends the same way it began, but yet, not the same at all.

masterlist

a/n: Ah, it’s so bittersweet but we’re at the end. I decided not to end off in smut because that didn’t really feel right BUT if you guys want wedding night smut, I will make a special chapter for that (there are two special chapters to come, also!). So let me know if you want wedding night smut!

I hope this ended the way you guys saw it ending and thank you all for the love and support on this journey. MtaM is special to my heart in so many ways and I love everyone who has found me because of it. Shoutout to all my main supporters throughout this. MtaM will live on because of you guys. <3 @lalys685

(I’m sure there are editing mistakes but if I edit anymore, I’ll try to rewrite it all and I think I’m happy with it.)

[christinaengela]

Shutters seem like a very old-fashioned concept don’t they? There are of course a variety of reasons why the idea of having shutters on a window – perhaps even your bedroom window – might appeal to you. I’ll tell you about mine.

A few years ago, the owner of the house next door to me went against the wishes of all the rest of the residents in the area – and also the municipal bylaws – and turned his garage into one of those nasty little illegal shops. Oh yes, it was convenient to be able to walk right next door at virtually all hours of the day or night to buy a quick sweet, chippie, coldrink or pack of smokes for the wiffle, but the negatives were far more numerous and weighty. Noise at all hours was one of them – and it came from the back door of the shop, which was situated in the alleyway between the two houses, right outside our bedroom window!

Think of it – all through the night we would hear the hum of refrigerator motors, and late at night one of the managers would move in or out of the door noisily chatting on their phones, slamming doors, or move fresh coldrink bottles in to repack fridges… Early in the morning while we’d still be asleep, they’d move around there, opening the door and prepping for opening time!

Regardless of the drama relating to the illegal shop issue and how it was eventually closed down last December after a five year wait for our municipality to get things sorted out, this was the reason why my other half suggested I make some shutters for the bedroom window. The idea was added to further when we visited the Nr 7 Castle Hill museum in 2018 and saw the interior wooden window shutters they had there. I wanted to make shutters for our bedroom window – the only issue was how I was going to do it!

What did I do? I’m D.I.Y.ing to tell you!

We have tall windows, and so I knew whatever design I settled on in the end, it would require a fair amount of material. I started working on ideas on my sketch pad, and then had a look around the wood-store in the garage, and my spare parts bin, and came up with the groundwork for this concept!

If you want to, you could pop down to the wood shop and buy pine planks to make your own version of this. At the time I didn’t have enough pine plank or similar to make plain wooden shutter doors, so I used what I had at hand – melamine, or veneered chipboard – and decided I would paint it afterwards.

Neither of us minds the rustic look – in fact, we’re quite partial to it, so it not looking like it was popped out of a mold or template at a machine-shop didn’t bother us in the least.

I measured carefully – and it’s important to do this, because if you’ve measured wrong and then cut based on those wrong measurments, it could be hard to recover from that mistake!

I made two doors, each of them the full length of the inside of the window opening from top to sill, and half as wide. I usually work with what I have available – in this case, I had several broad and tall lengths of melamine, one perfectly sized to make a whole door, and several smaller ones which I would use together to make the second. This implied joining three smaller pieces to make the second door – but never mind that, there are ways to secure, brace and make joins look good. I used a few lengths of 2×4 pine to brace the join in the second door – two horizontally across the joins on the inside or window side, and one vertically on the outside spanning all three pieces.

Of course the ideal would be to make the door out of one piece of wood, but as I said, I work with what I have – that’s how you end up with unique items firstly, and secondly, how your hobby remains affordable!

Making the doors was not as simple as it could’ve been, because I didn’t just want to make solid opaque doors, which would’ve been easier. We wanted to shut out noise as well as light, but we still wanted to retain some airflow. The solution was to cut a rectangular window in each door, which I did with a jig-saw. I could’ve made the window opening any shape, say a circle for instance, but I picked a rounded rectangle. Then, from another piece of melamine, I cut two rectangular pieces about 2cm larger than the window hole. These are to cover the hole from the outside, mounted on spacers which will leave a gap for air to pass through.

I then covered the hole with fine nylon mosquito netting, securing it all the way round with a staple gun. For this exercise, I made sure the netting went on the window side of the doors. (In hindsight, I’d prefer to use the more durable plastic mosquito screen available from hardware stores instead.) After that, I cut eight small pieces of melamine from offcuts, and arranged them one at each corner of the windows, and secured them with glue to keep them in place while I lined the two rectangular planks up with them, and then drilled and screwed them to the door.

In the case of melamine (or in fact any brittle type of real wood) when securing two or more planks to another, I find it’s better to first drill a hole through the top planks and then putting the screw through the hole into the back one. This avoids splitting and bulging and breakage, which saves a lot of frustration.

With the small windows blanked off, this will block most of the light entering through the window, as well as noise, while allowing airflow to continue. The netting would also keep out annoying bugs like mosquitos.

Next, the hinges.

Once I was satisfied both fitted together inside the opening, I knew it was time to fit the hinges.

I had two pairs of long steel hinges available, which I’d recovered from two old doors we’d replaced on our outbuildings years ago. Both were about a century old, and the hinges were covered in paint and surface rust, and it took some sanding and wirebrushing to get them nice and shiny again! Afterwards, I clear-coated them with spray-on aerosol clear lacquer. You could use new hinges, and you can still get this sort of hinge at hardware stores for a premium price of course. I opted for longer hinges because of the weight of the doors and the extra support these give.

I secured the hinges to the doors in a nice even spacing – top hinges close to the top and bottom hinges close to the bottom of the doors.

Then I placed the doors in the window opening to measure for the placement of the hinges on the wall beside the window opening, marked the placement of the screw holes, and drilled them. I opted to use two small 10mm rawl bolts per hinge, and there are four hinges, so there are sixteen rawl bolts.

I secured the hinges to the wall. Once it was all tightened, the doors opened and closed perfectly – but it was still far from finished. There were gaps through which light shone, and made the imperfections in the edges glaringly obvious! Can’t have that, can we?

I solved that by applying some thin pine dressing along the edges of each door. This material comes in lengths of 2m, and is about 6mm thick and 2 to 3 cm wide. I needed three to finish this job, and still had a little left to put away for another project.

I secured the dressing to the edges of the doors with short screws while they were closed, all the way round, leaving gaps only for the hinges and the bolt that closes the doors.

The dressing along the opening edge in this case was attached to the edge of the left door, which I chose to be the one that opens first, so it overlaps over the right door edge and closes the gap. The edging around the outside edges of the door also overlaps neatly over the gaps between the door and the window opening or sill, all the way round.

Because the melamine was mostly white and had been recycled from old cupboards, it needed a coat of paint – and because we were planning to repaint that wall of the bedroom a dusty pink or something like it, we picked a dark off-red paint to coat the shutters insides and out!

In the middle of it, we decided the pine edging looked really nice as is, and so I had a bit of a time keeping the paint off it! Nevertheless, I still need to add some varnish to the pine edging, which I’ll probably get around to whenever I get around to repainting that wall!

A pair of opening and closing shutters isn’t the end of the job yet – I still have to tell you how we keep it closed!

At the bottom that was simple – the right door is secured to the window sill by a small barrel bolt which slides into a hole drilled into the sill. At the top – which is out of reach, I employed the same system, but as you can see in the photo, I employed a spring to keep the bolt in the extended position, and a cord tied to the bolt which is long enough to operate from a normal standing height.

The left door is secured to the right door by means of an old-fashioned lift-latch which came off the old outside toilet door, is made of iron, and dates from about 1901 when the house was first built. It took some work to clean and recover this item, and I’m quite proud of that 😉 .

That’s the long and short of it – our bedroom shutter doors. They cut out noise from the neighborhood to an acceptable, tolerable level for a good nights’ sleep, and daylight in case one of us has a migraine or want to have a peaceful afternoon nap! Plus, they add to the overall visual effect of our rustic little hideaway!

I hope this gives you some good ideas and inspiration for D.I.Y.’ing around the house!

Pictures included – enjoy!

Have a DIY day!

Cheers!

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Easy DIY Window Shutters Shutters seem like a very old-fashioned concept don't they? There are of course a variety of reasons why the idea of having shutters on a window - perhaps even your bedroom window - might appeal to you.