#the fact that his side of the aisle is completely empty at their almost-wedding says A LOT

[remmixx]

“it’s not like this is the first time this has ever happened” HE HAS DONE THIS BEFORE

“i know you’re a good Catholic girl” EWW WHAT THE FUCK

any one of the characters in that show could have murdered him in cold blood and I would have sworn under oath that they were with me at brunch

[jinnyeo]

不浄な結婚 UNHOLY MATRIMONY

Fem reader x Gojo x Geto x Sukuna x Choso

╰┈➤ They all had always been obsessed with you from the moment they laid their eyes on you.

Masterlist | Wattpad link

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter content: Mild abuse

WC: 4.2k

You were set to marry Naoya Zenin, the very man you despised your entire life. In the quietness of the Zenin household, the air was thick with tension as you sat in your new room, you were adorned in your finest kimono for your marriage.

From a young age, your parents had set to marry Naoya Zenin. He was always there, his presence looming over you like a dark cloud. Even as children he was obsessed with you, a fact that both disgusted and frightened you.

Born into a noble family, you were known as the most beautiful woman in Japan, desired by many. However, Naoya's obsession with you turned your life into a nightmare. He destroyed your reputation, tainted your purity, and ensured that no other man would want you.

You were trapped, with no choice but to marry him.

Now as the day of your wedding approached, the dread that filled your heart was suffocating. The thought of spending your life bound to a man you despised was almost too much to bear. Yet, you knew that this was your fate, chosen for you by your parents, leaving you with a future that seemed bleak and devoid of any happiness.

In a few minutes, you were going to be the wife of Naoya Zenin. Despite your hatred for him, you wanted to fulfil your parents dreams of being allies with the Zenin clan, you just wanted to make your parents happy for the first time. So with a heavy heart, you wiped away your tears with the forever of your kimono before putting down your wedding veil.

The wedding ceremony began, and you walked down the aisle, the red carpets contrasting with your kimono. As you reached the stairs, you took a seat in front of Naoya Zenin, unable to summon the courage to look up at him. The air was heavy with tension as he lifted your veil, revealing your face to him and sealing your fate in a marriage you never wanted.

"You look beautiful as ever Y/N" Naoya's voice cut through the music. His words only served to deepen the resentment and disgust you felt towards him.

Ignoring Naoya's comment, you reached for the cup of tea in front of you and handed it to him. Without a word, you then picked up your own cup and took a sip, the bitterness of the tea matching the bitterness in your heart.

With the tea ceremony complete, you were now officially married to Naoya Zenin and the new lady of the Zenin clan.

Throughout the entire wedding ceremony, you remained seated in your chair, a silent figure of a ruined beauty. You didn't gaze at anyone, nor did you speak a word. Ever since Naoya tainted your reputation, everyone had abandoned you, unwilling to associate with someone they deemed tainted and immoral. Left with no one by your side, you endured the ceremony in silence while watching everyone praise and cheer on your so called husband.

Finally, the ceremony came to an end, and as you stood to leave your mother approached your side. "Remember what I told you Y/N" She whispered, her voice lacking any empathy, it was cold and empty as always.

You turned to look at your mother, her face was stone-cold with no expression. You looked at her with pleading and sorrowful eyes that screamed the words of help, about to open your mouth to say something.

But then Naoya's butler came. "Lord Zenin is waiting for you in the wedding chambers" He said.

Before you left your mother had put her hand on your shoulder. "At least try to please your husband" She said.

Your mother had always been neglectful of you, treating you more like an obligation than a daughter. Her lack of care and concern had been constant in your life, leaving you feeling unloved and unseen.

You were always aware that you were unwanted by both your mother and father. Your mother was the first and legal wife of your father, your mother's repeated attempts to conceive a male heir failed, resulting in you- a mere woman and a burden to your family name. Your mother neglected you, wishing you were a male instead because this failure led your father to take on multiple concubines, distancing himself from your mother and you. Finally your father had succeeded in fathering three sons with his beloved concubine, forgetting about you and your mother. Your father had abandoned you and your mother within the family walls, you guys were nothing but mere ghosts with everyone ignoring the both of you.

The only success you could bring to your family was earning the title of the most beautiful woman and marrying into the Zenin clan. It was the only moment your father acknowledged you, recognizing you for your beauty and the advantage your beauty could take you. You had secured multiple marriage proposals from high ranking noble families. Your father had used your reputation to his advantage, he used you to climb up the ranks, he pretended to love and cherish you in front of others but in reality that was far from the truth because you were still and would always be nothing but a failure in his eyes.

Your father was more than happy to see you bring power to your family name. So, he was more than happy to marry you off to someone with high ranking like Naoya Zenin.

So now here you were, holding back tears as you walked towards the wedding chambers, multiple maids followed behind you. You knew not one of them would ever pledge their loyalty to you because they were the property of Naoya Zenin, they only and will ever follow your husbands orders, never yours.

Once you entered the wedding chambers, the maids immediately began to undress you, carefully removing your wedding kimono and the multiple hair ornaments that were in your hair. They stripped you down to your wedding night attire, all while brushing out your hair.

"Lord Zenin is here!" A voice yelled from outside the room, signaling Naoya's arrival. As you clenched down onto your inner cheek, you watched your maids all walk out, leaving you in the room alone. The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence, and you were left to face Naoya on your own.

You sat on the bed, watching Naoya walk in, a sense of dread settling over you. As he approached, you couldn't help but plead silently for this night to be over quickly.

To your surprise, you watched Naoya kneel down in front of you. He took your hand, kissing it gently. "Your so beautiful Y/N" He said, his actions had caught you off guard as he looked up at you with those slick green eyes you once fell for.

Naoya was a man full of arrogance and power, always ensuring that everyone knew their place beneath him. He was cocky and always abused his powers. He demanded respect and obedience from everyone below him, making sure that everyone kissed his feet to maintain his position of authority.

Yet here he was, Naoya Zenin kneeling in front of you.

"N-Naoya, are you drunk?" You stumbled over your words, unable to process the fact that he was kneeling in front of you. "Get up, you can't be seen like this" His behavior was so out of character that it left you questioning his motives, unsure of what to make of this unexpected gesture.

"Can I not worship my wife?" Naoya replied, his tone soft yet firm. His words caught you off guard.

There was silence in the room for a bit, the weight of Naoya's words hanging in the air between you.

"Can we just... get this night over and done with Naoya" You said, unable to meet his gaze.

"Why do you always think of me negatively Y/N?" Naoya said, his voice carrying a hint of sadness. Despite this, you ignored it, convinced that it was just another one of his manipulative games.

"How could you ask me something like that?" You snapped back, your brows furrowed in anger. The audacity of his question, the way he seemed to expect you to overlook all the pain and suffering he had caused you, infuriated you.

"All I've ever done was love you Y/N" He sighed, resting his head on your lap. You felt a mix of emotions, anger, frustration, and perhaps a hint of pity.

"You don't even know what love is" You replied, the words coming out sharper than intended.

"I've done everything for you Y/N" He said. "I bought you everything, the most expensive jewels, kimonos, and ornaments. I even built your own private estate here. But you still won't return my feelings and see me as your husband." His words were filled with frustration and hurt.

It was true that Naoya loved you. Throughout the years, he had stayed by your side, his love suffocating. However, what he didn't know was that you were disgusted by his love. His perception of love was different from yours. Naoya was obsessive, going to great lengths to ensure you would always be his, but in a way that felt like you were his hostage rather than loving.

He would send people to follow you, watch you, and report back to him. Naoya's obsession with you was evident even from a young age. When he found out he was betrothed to you at the mere age of 11, he spent seven years building your own private estate within the Zenin walls, all to your liking.

Naoya's obsession with you reached such heights that when you came of age and garnered the attention of many suitors, he grew incredibly jealous. To ensure that no one else could have you, he began spreading rumors that you had lost your virginity to him. These rumors tainted your reputation, causing men to stop courting you, believing you to be impure and immoral.

Left with no other options, you were forced into a marriage with Naoya, trapped with a man you despised.

"Please Y/N" Naoya begged, desperation evident in his voice. "Why can't you love me back?" His words were filled with a longing for something that seemed unattainable, a plea for a love that you could never return to him.

"You are a man who doesn't know what love is Naoya" You suddenly said, your voice firm. "You are not capable of loving me, you're just infatuated with the thought of me. You don't love me" Words began spilling out of you. Naoya's love was not true, it was a twisted obsession that left you feeling trapped and suffocated.

"No..." Naoya stood up, his expression desperate. "Is it the concubines I have? I'll get rid of them all for you" His offer was sincere, a last-ditch effort to win your affection. But you knew that even without the concubines, his love would remain the same. Selfish and possessive.

"You can take on as many concubines as you can, you can sleep with them as much as you want Naoya. But at the end of the day, no matter what good or bad thing you do towards me, my feelings for you will always stay the same. I can't love you Naoya, I can never love a man who ruined my life, I can't give you the love you want so please just give up on me!" You finally snapped, standing up to face him as he hovered above you. "We both know that this is just a political marriage Naoya, please don't bring love and feelings into this. I can't be a wife who loves you, but I can be a wife who can bear you a son, and that's all I can do for you"

Naoya's expression was a mix of shock and hurt, his eyes searching yours for any hint of a lie. But you stood your ground, your words final and resolute. The truth was painful, but it needed to be said.

"You...you" Naoya muttered, he then looked down at you with a dark and intense look in his eyes. It was almost like you flipped a switched in him and it terrified you.

Suddenly you felt his strong grip on your neck, you gasped in shock as Naoya's grip tightened around your neck, you struggled to breathe, fear and shock coursing through you. His eyes, once filled with adoration now bore into you with a cold and menacing glare. You tried to pry his hand away, but his strength was overpowering.

"Naoya....please!" You managed to gasp, your voice strained. But he remained silent, his expression unreadable as he continued to tighten his grip. Panic surged within you as you realized the gravity of the situation. This man, whom you were bound to by marriage, now held your life in his hands.

Just as you felt yourself starting to lose consciousness, Naoya suddenly released his grip, stepping back and letting you fall to the floor gasping for air. He stood over you with his chest heaving, a mix of anger and hurt evident in his eyes.

"You will love me sooner or later Y/N" Naoya said, he looked down at you with those dark and intense eyes. His words sent a shiver down your spine, his tone menacing and full of intent.

With that, Naoya turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you lay on the ground you gulped, trying to catch your breath, your hand instinctively reaching for the spot on your neck where Naoya had choked you. Tears welled up in your eyes. No matter how hard you tried, you could never escape Naoya's obsessive grip.

You had spent your wedding night all alone on the floor. The night passed in a blur of tears and despair as you lay curled up on the ground.

As the morning light shone through the windows of your chambers, you sat in front of the mirror, your reflection stared back at you with that same sorrowful and dull face full of nothing but sadness. Your maids busied themselves around you, dressing you in a delicate floral kimono and adorning your hair with luxurious ornaments. They tried to conceal the redness and puffiness of your eyes with powder.

"Get the carriage ready" You suddenly said, ignoring your maids surprised looks, you got up from the chair and walked towards the door.

Two maids ended up accompanying you from behind. As you were about to reach the carriage, your eyes were drawn to a scene that froze you in place. There, hand in hand with another woman, was Naoya Zenin.

You brushed off the sight of Naoya Zenin with another woman. You reasoned that she might be one of his concubines, dressed in luxurious kimono befitting her status.

"Lady Zenin, please do not worry" A maid spoke up from behind you, her voice soft and comforting. "You are the lady of the house, she is just a mere concubine"

You turned around and were met with a young girl who couldn't have been older than 16. She stood before you, petite and fragile. "What's your name?" You asked.

"H-Hana" She stumbled over her words, clearly nervous in your presence. "I've been assigned to serve only you my lady"

You silently stared at Hana, her words echoing in your mind. Despite her seemingly innocent demeanor, you couldn't shake the feeling of distrust that lingered within you. Was she truly here to serve you, or was she merely a pawn in Naoya's game? The thought gnawed at you, leaving you wary of the young girl standing before you.

You took a deep breath, continuing to walk to the front gate. Yet the heavens seemed to be against you as you would have to walk past Naoya first. With a stoic demeanour, you walked past Naoya, ignoring him as best as you could. Just as you thought you had successfully avoided him, he called out your name.

"Y/N" His voice cut through the air, stopping you in your tracks. Despite your reluctance, you turned to face him.

You sighed. Stopping in your tracks, you turned around to meet Naoya's gaze, only also feel the intense lingering stare of the other woman wrapped in his arms.

"My lord" You said, bowing to Naoya.

"Where are you going?" Naoya's voice cut through the air, his tone unreadable.

"To the city centre" You replied, keeping your tone neutral. Avoiding Naoya's gaze, you hoped to end the conversation quickly and continue on your way.

"Oh, do you mind if Emi and I accompany you?" Naoya's voice dripped with mockery, and you could hear the chuckles of the woman beside him.

With a forced smile, you agreed to Naoya's request, though every fiber of your being resisted. "The more the merrier" You said, masking your true feelings.

"Great, I'll get my driver" Naoya said, releasing the woman beside him and then tightly grabbing your hand. You flinched at his touch, a shiver of discomfort running down your spine.

The whole ride was full of tension. You sat bundled up in the corner, the distant laughter of the woman who had snuggled up in between Naoya's arms echoing in your ears.

Finally, the carriage arrived at the city center. Naoya was the first to step out, and he reached his hand out to help you. However, you ignored his hand and stepped out of the carriage on your own. After you, Emi got out and ran to Naoya's side, seeking his attention once again.

"A wife who does not want to accompany her husband?" Naoya's voice was laced with amusement as he snickered. His words were like a knife, cutting through the already strained atmosphere between you.

"You have enough company by your side" You said, your tone calm but firm. You ignored Emi's gaze, refusing to be drawn into any drama within the walls. All you wanted was to fade into the background, to live your marriage in peace without the burden of Naoya's relationships weighing you down.

"And here I thought you would succumb to jealousy Naoya remarked, his tone mocking.

"Naoya, I'm here to buy gifts not to chatter with you" You sighed, trying to keep the conversation as brief as possible. The less interaction you had with Naoya, the better.

"Gifts? For whom?" Naoya raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued at the thought of you knowing anyone else apart from him.

"My father" You replied curtly.

"Your father? He already has the power he wants after you married me, what else could he possibly need?" Naoya replied. "Hm, I guess instead of a gift for your father, we should buy you jewels"

"Naoya... I already have so much" You sighed.

"No, my wife will only have the most expensive and fine jewels. It's never enough" Naoya insisted, his tone firm.

So, here you were, walking behind Naoya and Emi as they led you to reknown jewellery shop in the heart of Tokyo.

You felt out of place in the jewelry shop, surrounded by married couples in love while you stood there looking like a mere maid, awkwardly holding your own hand as Naoya and Emi held hands like teenagers in love.

"What would you like to get for your wife?" The shopkeeper said, completely ignoring you and looking towards Emi, assuming she was the wife. You felt invisible, a mere bystander in your own life.

Naoya suddenly took your hand by surprise, pushing Emi away to the side. "You remember the woman I bought all those jewels for last week?" He asked, looking at you with what seemed like love. But you ignored him, maintaining your stone gaze.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Lord Zenin. I thought that other lady was the new Lady of the Zenin House" Fhe shopkeeper apologized, realizing his mistake.

"Give me the most expensive necklace that would suit my Y/N. I only want my wife to wear the most lavish ones" Naoya instructed, his tone commanding.

Naoya let you go, turning his attention to the multiple pieces the shopkeeper showed him. Meanwhile, you gazed out, losing concentration, lost in your thoughts and emotions, feeling trapped in a life you never wanted.

You wished someone, anyone, could save you from this life, from the suffocating marriage and the emptiness that consumed you. But you knew deep down that there was no one coming to rescue you right?

You were gazing out, lost in your thoughts, when your attention snapped back at the sound of an unfamiliar voice from behind you. "Bring out Yuji" The voice said to the clerk.

You didn't know what came over you, but you suddenly turned your head to the side and were met with the sight of icy blue eyes and white hair.

His presence was like a beacon in the room, drawing everyone's attention. Dressed in the attire of a high-ranking noble, his aura screamed power and authority. His unique features, with his striking face and ethereal appearance, made him stand out as if he were an angel among mortals.

His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, locked in a moment that felt suspended in time. You could see the curiosity in his eyes, the flicker of interest, but also something else, something you couldn't quite place.

As you felt someone touch your arm, your attention snapped back to Naoya. You turned to look at him, momentarily forgetting the presence of the man. Naoya's expression was unreadable, his eyes searching yours as if trying to decipher your thoughts.

"I called you 3 times Y/N" Naoya said.

"Forgive me, I must have been lost in thought" You replied, meeting Naoya's gaze with a forced smile.

"Isn't this necklace beautiful Y/N?" Naoya said, showing you the lavish necklace adorned with sapphire, shaped like a butterfly.

"Yes" You replied absentmindedly, your thoughts still lingering about the mystery man.

"Zenin" The familiar voice said from behind you. You could feel his presence strongly, close behind you. Inching your head slightly back, you looked up at him, your eyes immediately locking as you felt your heart flutter.

"Your... majesty..." Naoya gritted his teeth as he bowed to the male. You also stopped in your tracks and immediately turned towards the male bowing to him, not realizing the man behind you was possibly the emperor.

"What are you doing outside the palace... are you not afraid someone would try to assassinate you again?" Hatred was evident in Naoya's tone.

"Enough questions, Naoya. I'm glad I met you here" The man said, his eyes lingering on you as you gulped by his intense eyes. "So, this is the infamous Y/N Zenin?" His eyes never leaving your body.

"What do you want Gojo?" Naoya finally snapped, grabbing your arm and forcing you against his chest as you gasped.

"Wow, already dropping the honorifics?" The male laughed amusingly.

"Cut the bullshit Gojo. You never talk to me unless you want something," Naoya retorted, his grip tightening on you possessively.

"What? Are you afraid that I would take your beautiful wife?" He laughed. "You're not entirely wrong Naoya" He said with a smirk.

"Y-you" Naoya snapped, about to take out his katana, but Emi stopped him by throwing herself on him, hugging his chest tightly.

"Naoya don't! Not here" Emi screamed, gathering more attention as they all watched the scene unfold between the emperor and Zenin head.

"Naoya Zenin, you really are a shameless man" He mocked. "Naoya Zenin, you're a despicable man. I heard rumors that you managed to marry the beautiful yet immoral daughter of the L/N family. But here you are, taking advantage of your wife's love and taking in concubines" He said.

Naoya's eyes flashed with anger. "You bastard, how dare you speak like that in front of my wife" He spat out.

You felt cold hands cup your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his icy blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as your faces were mere inches apart.

"It's a shame to see you lose your purity over a man like Naoya" He said, his voice almost a whisper, sending chills down your spine. "You should have picked an emperor over a lord" He added, his tone cutting through the air like a blade as whispers began erupting in the store.

@jinnyeo

I’ll be publishing chapters rlly slow on tumblr, but wattpad is where I publish on.

[themsource]

Fransweek '23 - Day 1

Theme: Sweet Gesture Rating: T Pairing: UT Sans/Frisk Word Count: 1,015

Woot! Another year another @fransweek! Cross-posted to Ao3 here. Les' go! XD

Frisk was tired.

Always so tired, utterly exhausted.

Between her job as an ambassador and her new living situation with Sans she was practically dead on her feet before she even rolled out of bed in the morning.

Not to be misleading, she did love living with Sans. It'd taken long negotiations and almost two years of dating to convince the skeleton to move in with her, to leave his brother to live on his own and to trust that Frisk wasn't going anywhere and that the relationship was all or nothing—the long run destined for the wedding aisle eventually. Frisk would never give up what she had now; late night cuddles, movie marathons with hilarious commentary, and the joy of simply being in his presence for as long as she wanted when she pleased.

But Sans was a slob.

What she had once thought was only a long running joke between the brothers turned out to be a very real situation.

Sans had socks, many, scattered everywhere, constantly. Frisk hadn't seen him change his socks once, but he apparently did it often enough that there were literal piles now that lined an imaginary pathway in their room from door to bed.

And the wrappers—countless burger wrappers and chip bags, empty soda bottles and cans, dotted their house across countertops and flooring no different from a garbage dump.

She didn't mind cleaning. Frisk had no issue whatsoever making the house tidy and presentable…when she could.

However, more often than not she was laden with heavy workloads of paperwork and bills to review, propositions and exchanges to approve or deny.

That on top of cleaning just…

Killed her inside.

Sometimes it'd feel as if she was alone and expected to do everything without help. Like everyone only existed to take advantage of her.

Which wasn't fair to think.

Sans worked just as much as she did, in fact he had multiple jobs, occasionally twice or three times a day! How he managed that without going insane bewildered her. She could barely manage a decent night of rest with just one.

So when she woke up that morning and saw what minor cleaning she'd done had been erased overnight, she didn't say anything.

Just stared.

Blankly.

"mornin' babe."

Frisk was so tired she didn't have the energy to acknowledge Sans' greeting.

His smile dipped with concern, the hand holding his mug lowing as he watched her from his spot on the couch. "frisk?"

She simply turned and headed into the kitchen directly to the coffee machine.

As she was mixing in her sugar and taking a sip she felt a hand on her lower back. Looked over into two worriedly creased sockets.

"is something wrong?"

It was a traitorous thought. One she couldn't contain because she was simply too worn out and depleted.

"I wish you'd try."

Sans' sockets widened.

"I know it's not fair. You're probably way more tired than I am at the end of the day, and I shouldn't expect it of you. It's just hard sometimes."

He looked completely lost but she didn't register it.

"I'm tired…Sans…" She gestured around them, at the mess. "It's hard."

'I can't do it all, I feel broken' was what she didn't say.

Sighing, she downed the last of her drink that she knew would do nothing for her because for some reason she was cursed with a caffeine immunity, and leaned over to plant a kiss on the side of his skull as she sat her cup in the sink.

"I'll be late tonight. I have a meeting with the prime minister of France about allowing citizenship for monsters. Love you."

Sans looked ready to say something but stayed mute as Frisk reached for her briefcase, shrugged on her coat, and headed right out the door.

It wasn't till she reached the embassy that Frisk realized she was still in her pajamas.

Thank god for her assistant Marcy and the spare suit she kept for her.

The day went.

Just went.

Frisk saw by the paperwork she was stapling together that she'd succeeded in the conference with the prime minister but wasn't able to recall what exactly the details were. She'd have to read the packet over later if she was able. She must've looked terrible too because Marcy knocked on her door and gave her the same concerned look that Sans had.

"Day's over." She whispered. "Would you like me to give you a ride home?"

The thought was appreciated but Frisk didn't think she'd be able to fit into the Mini Roadster the eight foot slime monster drove. Not without inconveniencing them both by having to part way sink into the monster's body for space.

She didn't want to feel like a burden.

"It's alright. I'll call an uber."

Marcy stared at her, chewing her lip, before reluctantly nodding. "Alright. Goodnight Miss Dreemurr."

…How bad did she look?

Frisk wondered if she'd only won out with the prime minister because the man had felt bad for her.

Fatigue made her eyes droop and turned her light headed. It took a strong amount of concentration to gently slide the papers into her bag and close it.

A blur.

She opened the app, glanced at the passing buildings, tipped the driver, opened her front door dreading and hoping a smell hadn't started to form—

Frisk froze in the kitchen.

Slapped awake, eyes wide, she peered at the sink as if it was about to sprout legs and walk away.

"...Sans?" She drawled.

The counters were clear, whitened, bleached clean. The tiles looked much the same, shattered splinters of ceramic from a broken plate that she'd noticed that morning, vanished.

He shouted back. "hey babe!"

Still registering.

"You did the dishes?" Frisk asked gobsmacked.

"yep!" Sans' call echoed.

Frisk stepped into the living room.

It was spotless.

"You cleaned the house!?"

"yep!"

She wobbled over to the couch and collapsed on his chest.

"I love you."

"love you too babe."

He kissed her forehead as he continued to flip through the television channels.

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

"-and I, Edward Munson, take you to be my husband...seriously?"

"It's just a formality. Everyone in my family has to say it. It's tradition."

"Yeah, well, have you ever thought about the fact your family has some lame ass traditions?" Eddie snorted as he crumbled up the piece of paper his soon to be husband handed him. Returning to the cigarette he'd been nursing for the past five minutes. Steve quickly retrieved the paper and unfolded it.

"I know, but this was your idea. Getting married here, with my lame ass family. Come on, Eds, just do this for me. Put up with the weird traditions for one night, and before you know it, we'll be on our way to San Francisco." Steve gave Eddie a look that he could only describe as puppy dog eyes. The older man sighed with the role of his eyes as he put the cigarette out and nodded.

"Okay, fine. I'll say the boring vows. But you have to promise not to leave me alone with your grandma....that lady scares the shit of of me."

"What? Nonna? She's not...that terrifying." Steve tried to explain as he straightened his suit. "But I promise." Eddie smiled as he pressed a kiss on Steve's cheek.

"Now get out of here. I'm not a bride, but you're not supposed to see me until Wayne walks me down the aisle."

"I wasn't here." Steve covered his eyes with his hand as he walked out of the room. Well, he tried to. Running face first into the wall with a loud thwump. "Shit-you, didn't see that." Eddie barely held back a laugh as his fiance managed to finally exit the room, the door slamming shut behind him. The metalhead glanced down at the cigarette he just put out, contemplating another one, but he secured against it. He wasn't nervous. Totally not scared about the fact that he was marrying the love of his life. With his weird, rich family and their weird family traditions. But Steve was right. He chose this. To have a big wedding with the entire Harrington clan present.

Glancing out the window of the room he was allowed to prepare in, he looked out to see the large family starting to take their seats. His side of the aisle was almost completely empty, save the chair set aside for his uncle. Eddie loved Wayne. He really did. But growing up, Eddie always wanted a big family. Or at least parents who could be there for him. Sure, his fiancé's family was a little intimidating, but Eddie was excited. This was his chance to get something he never had.

Turning to the large mirror on the wall beside him, Eddie felt strange as he took in his appearance. The white suit actually fit him. Steve hadn't told him the price, but Eddie knew it was probably more expensive than anything he'd ever owned. The matching shoes were already scuffed from just being worn. He almost felt guilty wearing them. With his hair neatly groomed into a ponytail, it felt like he was staring at a stranger. A stranger about to be judged by all of his in-laws.

The bedroom door opened, making the young man's head turn, expecting his uncle. Eddie faltered when he was instead greeted by a familiar blonde.

"Billy. What the hell are you doing up here?" Eddie's face blanked as the other young man strutted into the room. There was an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he grinned at Eddie.

"Hey, last time I checked, this was my family's house. That means I can go wherever the hell I want. Got a light?" Eddie reached into his pocket and tossed it at the blonde's head, Billy just barely catching it. "Come on, no need to be so rude. We're family now." Billy frowned as he flicked the lighter a few times before it finally caught the cigarette. "A big, shitty family."

"Shouldn't you be watching your sister?"

"Step-sister. And she's thirteen. I think the little shit bird can handle herself for a couple of minutes." Billy tossed the lighter back to Eddie, who caught it with an annoyed look. It seemed that in the five years since they broke up, Billy hadn't changed one bit. Eddie remembered the day he found out that Billy Hargrove was apparently his fiancé's cousin at the Harrington Christmas party last year. Another reason that Eddie was sure God was specifically laughing at him. Making the air around the Harrington parties somehow even more awkward by having his ex at every family event. "You look nice." Billy added as he took a drag of his cigarette. "Didn't think you'd be the one in white."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked defensively. Billy shrugged.

"Nothing. You just...you look good in white."

"Steve thinks so, too." Eddie reminded Billy of his fiancé. An awkward silence fell over the two at the statement. Billy took another drag of the cigarette before speaking.

"You sure you want to do this? Be a part of this....thing we do?"

"Thing?" Eddie asked, confused. Billy's frown deepened.

"He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Eddie raised an eyebrow as Billy's eyes darted to the floor. Clearly thinking about something for a moment before shaking his head as he finished the cigarette.

"Nevermind." The clock on the wall began to chime, and they both looked over. "It's time. I'll leave you to it." The other man shuffled out of the room, giving Eddie a quick glance before leaving all together with Eddie left wondering what the hell Billy was talking about.

ready or not steddie au but Steve genuinely tried to work his way around marrying Eddie- delays, arguments, debates, compromises. but he does want to marry Eddie and Eddie really wants to marry Steve. so they have to play the game, Eddie pulls hide and seek, and Steve spends the whole night helping Eddie win, no betrayals or anything, he's genuinely trying to help his husband survive. and Eddie does survive. and then, in the light of sunrise, the Harringtons start to... pop.

[dovechim]

lonely hearts club (m)

➾ 11k

➾ summary: jeon jeongguk has annoying little brother energy™. you know this deep in your bones. wedding after wedding, you keep running into him at the goddamn singles’ table, and he just won’t leave you alone. until you start to wonder... is he your ticket out of the lonely hearts club? 

tdlr: enemies to lovers

➾ warnings: hate sex, public sex (in a photobooth lmao), impregnation role play, oral (f receiving), jk has intensely annoying energy, it gets unbearably cheesy towards the end

➾ a/n: wow, addie is back???? finally??? gosh, even I can’t believe it. please enjoy, and thank you for waiting :)

The first few times, it was lovely. Watching your friends find their partners and get married in holy matrimony, their faces filled with bliss as they walk down the aisle together towards their happily ever after. You tell yourself that you are truly happy for them, and you are. But you can’t deny that deep seated feeling of envy buried within you, and the sense of dread every time you receive a new wedding invitation.

Why’d all of your friends have to be so good at getting their shit together?

Which then begs the question, what are you actually doing here?

Other than celebrating your friend’s wedding, obviously. You crane your neck to look around the large, luxurious ballroom for any sign of Kim Seokjin and his husband, and you think you spot them at one of the tables up front.

You scan the attendees at your table surreptitiously. It goes without saying that anyone can see that this is the singles’ table, it’s obvious enough by the way no one talks to each other and how the host has made the painstaking arrangement to alternate the genders. You have no idea where this tradition of a singles’ table came from, and why you’re relegated to it at every single wedding you attend.

You sniff in indignation as you take a sip at the flat soda in your glass. For all they know, you could have a secret celebrity boyfriend hidden away somewhere. The both of you have decided to keep your relationship under wraps so as not to risk the wrath of the public, so that’s why you can’t bring him to events like this. There. Let that be your saving grace.

It’s embarrassing to be at the singles’ table at a wedding, even more embarrassing when you realise that the faces at the table come and go, all except for yours. In fact, you spot a few familiar faces integrated into other tables, drinking and laughing happily with their significant others by their sides, while you remain a permanent resident of the singles’ table.

This is your fifth wedding in as many months; and at this rate it seems like you’ll never graduate from the singles’ table.

A sudden movement interrupts your moment of drowning in self-pity, and you glance to the side only to realise that the empty seat beside you has been filled. All night long the empty seat had been mocking you, reminding you of what could have been a lovely night in with a few bottles of soju and some chicken, but now it presents you with a new contender to the singles’ table.

And God damn, you can feel the women at the table perk up at his presence, some of them shooting you envious looks because you happen to be seated next to him. The girl on his other side seems to be swooning already, but you staunchly refuse to react. Refuse to even look at his side profile.

Two singles matching up at the singles’ table is practically every host’s wet dream. So much so that you refuse to let it happen. No matter how good looking he is, you won’t let yourself stoop so low.

Are you bitter? Yes.

But are you willing to admit it? Most definitely not.

“No way- Jeon Jeongguk?” The gentleman on your other side stands with his arms spread in what can only be the bro code. “What are you doing here? God damn- I never thought the day would come when I meet Jeon Jeongguk at the singles’ table!”

Wait, why does that name sound so familiar? You can hear the smirk in the newcomer’s voice as he stands as well, and the two men embrace each other in a manner that involves a lot of back slapping and chest bumping.

It’s only then that you unwillingly catch a glance of his face, and immediately an unwanted thought occupies the front of your mind persistently. He is most definitely, without a doubt, the most eligible single man at your table right now.

Jeon Jeongguk looks like the kind of man who is aware that eyes are on him at any given moment and milks every single second of it to show off. His broad shoulders are the first thing that catch your attention, he fills out the jacket of his dark blue suit just right, and yet the tapering of his torso into an impossibly slim waist has you questioning if he’s even real. You stop yourself from going any lower.

His face is a whole other matter, a cocky smirk pasted onto his face, charming doe eyes that lock right onto yours as he sits back down.

“Well, for my first foray into the singles’ club, I can’t say I’m disappointed,” he lowers his voice so that only you can hear it.

Scandalized at how he’s already prepositioning you within minutes of meeting, you make the mistake of turning to face him, witnessing how he adjusts his suit jacket as he makes himself comfortable in his seat, spreading his muscled thighs under the banquet table.

“For someone who’s sole hobby is the gym, I’m surprised your vocabulary range is better than a five-year old’s,” you shoot back at him, immediately annoyed by his very existence itself.

“So you admit you think my body is nice?” He raises an eyebrow and leans into your personal space, causing you to cross your legs and angle your body away from him in response. “You aren’t wrong there, but I could give you a much better idea of what’s under these clothes.”

Your hand tightens around your glass, getting ready to swing your entire body and drench his stupid good looking face with flat, lukewarm soda, but a loud burst of laughter ruins what could have been a perfect moment of humiliation.

“Ah, _______! Jeongguk! I see you two have met!” Kim Seokjin, approaches with Kim Namjoon on his arm, and the two of them look like they are glowing with happiness. “It’s about time, I can’t believe you guys are finally here!”

Finally? What is he on about?

You stand and Seokjin gives you a warm hug, a kiss on the cheek and you immediately feel slightly better, and more than slightly guilty at almost having caused a scene at one of your closest friend’s wedding. Namjoon greets you with a bright smile as well, holding out his arms and embracing you tightly.

Having always been the more sensitive of the couple, Namjoon holds you at arm’s length for a moment. “You alright there?” Namjoon’s gaze wanders over to the table behind you, and it’s like an epiphany strikes him. “God, I’m sorry! I wanted to put you at the table with my parents, seeing as you’re already like a daughter to them, but Jin wanted you to have another chance at…”

“Love,” you grimace as you complete his sentence for him. “I’m used to it by now.”

Namjoon looks like he’s about to say something else, but then Seokjin gets your attention, his arm slung around Jeon Jeongguk’s neck.

“______, as I was saying, I can’t believe you guys only met now. Jeon Jeongguk, meet _____. The sole reason why I managed to graduate from university on time. And ______, meet Jeon Jeongguk, the reason why I almost couldn’t graduate on time.”

Jeongguk snickers and elbows his hyung in the ribs, and you stare in shock at their camaraderie. Seokjin takes in your frozen expression and gestures wildly to get his point across.

“Hello? Remember Jeon Jeongguk?” Seokjin waves his hand in front of your face. “He basically lived in our dorm for a year without even attending our school because he wanted to see what university was like. You always complained about him leaving his cereal bowls in the sink!”

No fucking way. That snot faced brat became… this?

“How you doing, _____?” Jeongguk has the audacity to wink at you. “I see you’ve grown up a little.”

You eye him up and down in shock. From what you remember, Jeon Jeongguk was a scrawny little kid who shadowed Seokjin everywhere, to classes and even to the washroom. He was just a wide-eyed high schooler who worshipped both Seokjin and Namjoon back then, and cowered at your very presence.

“I see you haven’t,” you reply coolly, inwardly praising yourself for thinking of a comeback that quickly. You will not let this stupid brat intimidate you with his looks. Just because he grew up a little and got some muscles doesn’t mean he isn’t the same person who begged to carry your books to class for you.

You remember how he basically lived as a parasite in your dorm that year, irritating the hell out of you with his messy living habits, puppy dog eyes and basically taking turns to follow you everywhere you go. Now the memories are coming back, and so are the teasing laughter from your friends who thought he was your cute little younger brother and doted on him every chance they got, not aware that he’s actually the devil incarnate.

“You guys are getting along right?” Seokjin grins from ear to ear, likely already more than tipsy. “My two bestest friends, and my husband, all in the same place. This calls for a toast!”

“We’re getting along amazingly, aren’t we, ______?” Jeongguk says with a sickening grin as he passes you a champagne flute. “In fact, she was just complimenting me on my workout routine, and I was about to tell her that I’d be more than glad to incorporate her into my home workout too-“

“Toast to the happy couple!” You immediately cut him off, feeling your cheeks burn at his insinuation, raising your glass and avoiding Jeongguk’s gaze. “Congratulations Mr Kims!”

The happy couple moves off, and in your wealth of experience, you know that the night is coming to an end, and so is the event that you dread. You start to gather your things just as everyone starts to rise from their seats to gather in the middle of the ballroom, where a space has been cleared out. Instead of making your way with the crowd, however, you go the opposite direction, ready to make the practiced and unnoticed slip away out into the night.

But this time, a hand on your wrist stops you. It’s Jeon Jeongguk, a slight frown on his handsome features.

“Hey, where are you going? They’re about to do the bouquet toss.”

You pry your arm out of his grasp. “I know.”

And without a single glance back, you slip out of the back entrance of the ballroom, unnoticed by all except one.

*

The next time you see Jeon Jeongguk, it’s at Kim Taehyung’s wedding.

It’s a lovely wedding, a little abstract for your tastes, but totally Taehyung’s style. Expensive paintings worth more than your entire lifetime’s earnings adorn the ballroom, the menu is Italian cuisine, and the wine is exquisite. Him and his blushing bride are gorgeous, the night is perfect, were it not for one tiny little…

“Nice dress, bet it’d look nicer on the floor of my bedroom, though,” Jeongguk eyes your navy blue halter dress that shows off your shoulders.

The two of you are once again reunited at the singles’ table, and the fact that he’s seated right next to you has you in a foul mood.

“Why don’t you just slither off back to whichever hole you came from?” You hiss at him, finishing your third glass of wine for the night. “I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing you again.”

“And leave you all sad and alone at this miserable singles’ table?” Jeongguk grins. “I don’t think so. In fact, I can’t imagine how you managed to survive all these weddings without me. Why do you even hate me that much?”

What a question indeed. There are a million and one reasons as to why you hate Jeon Jeongguk, number one being his cocky personality, number two being his unfair glow up, while you’re still stuck looking pretty much the same as you did back in the first year of uni, if not more tired and world-weary.

“Oh, I managed alright,” you say through gritted teeth. “Not that I’m curious or anything, and I’d hate to give off the impression that I care even one iota about your existence-“

“Don’t worry, you can ask anything about me and I’d be more than happy to indulge,” Jeongguk says with a maddening smile.

“… why don’t you just get a girlfriend and graduate from this sad little island of singles? It’s not like you don’t have a ton of girls falling at your feet everywhere you go,” you roll your eyes as you witness the girl on the other side of him leaning over so far to show off her cleavage that she nearly falls off her seat. “It should be so easy for you.”

“Why would I do that when it’s more fun to stay here and annoy you instead?” He grins, topping up your wine glass, and that’s the only reason why you hesitate from smacking him on the head. His arm lingers on the back of your chair in a manner far too intimate for your liking, but if you were to smack him it would mean you have to touch him, and that’s a definite no-no.

Today he’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt with the top three buttons undone, showing a hint of his toned chest. His jacket features a dark grey floral print that matches nicely with the abstract, artsy theme of the whole wedding.

You’re saved from having to reply when it’s time for the couple to cut the cake. In true Taehyung fashion, he smears a dab of wedding cake on his bride’s cheek, causing her to gasp in shock and everyone around them to coo in adoration. Photographers are snapping away, capturing the perfect moment.

“I’d want to get married on my birthday too,” Jeongguk remarks off handedly beside you as the applause dies down. “You know it’s Taehyung’s birthday today, right?”

“Of course I do, what kind of friend would I be?” You roll your eyes at him. “And in response to your other statement: I don’t care.”

But Jeongguk continues as if you haven’t said a word. “I bet they’ll be spending lots of time in their birthday suits tonight.”

“Ew!” You can’t help but react as you turn and smack his arm. Just the thought of imagining Taehyung, your best friend since childhood, naked and doing… those things…

Jeongguk grins salaciously. “First contact: success.”

Still trying to stave off all the unwelcome images of Taehyung, you frown at him in confusion. “What?”

“It’s a rule I personally go by. No matter how interested I am in a girl, I always keep my physical boundaries until she breaks the touch barrier by initiating physical contact with me first.”

Hmm, who’d have thought the bastard would have a sense of morals?

“Well, you’re completely wrong because I’m not interested in you at all,” you turn your head away from him. “And if you think that one touch from a girl entitles you to do all kinds of lewd things, then you’re sorely mistaken on what it means to be a gentleman.”

“Who said anything about lewd?” He leans in, and you smell the sweetness of the tiramisu on his breath that is oh so tantalizing. “I think you’re the one who brought it up first.”

Snagged, you reach for your wine glass to take another chug, hoping that it might explain away the redness on your cheeks.

“You know, most people become more relaxed the more they drink, however with you I think it’s the opposite.” Jeongguk comments, swirling his wine in his glass casually as he studies your side profile.

You can’t help but get a little flustered at his attention. You can see the envious gazes of the other women at the singles’ table, and once again you are reminded of how very eligible Jeon Jeongguk is, especially amongst the rest of the males at the table.

“What would a guy like me have to do for company for his lonely heart?” Jeongguk turns his sparkling doe eyes on you, and at the same time, the lights in the ballroom dim as Taehyung directs everyone’s attention towards the ceiling.

While everyone looks up at the now bedazzled ballroom ceiling, amazed by the projection of multicoloured galaxies and shooting stars, you find yourself unable to look away from Jeon Jeongguk.

Then, while the lights are still off and everyone’s attention elsewhere, he leans in closer until you can feel his breath on your cheek. When you don’t make a move to push him away, Jeon Jeongguk places a hand on your chin and coaxes you those last few inches towards his lips, and you find that you don’t exactly hate the feeling of kissing this obnoxious brat.

His lips are soft, and the kiss is more demure than you’d expected it to be, judging from his fondness for dirty jokes and double entendres. You taste a slight bitterness from the coffee powder in the tiramisu on his tongue. He takes it slow, exploring every inch of your mouth with his, and it’s obvious that he enjoys kissing.

Jeongguk draws away just before the lights come back on. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you jerk away from him in a panic, just as the emcee calls everyone together for the bouquet toss and hightail your way out of the ballroom.

* “Why do you always leave before the bouquet toss?”  

“God, you have such annoying little brother energy,” you sigh, taking your eyes off Jung Hoseok’s grinning face as he dances and sings on stage, with his bride standing off to the side.

“Do you still think of me like that?” Jeon Jeongguk looks a little taken aback at this statement, though he recovers quickly. “My sources tell me that we aren’t far apart enough in age for you to be calling me that.”

“I don’t know who your sources are, but they’re wrong,” you shoot back at him. “Wait, are you stalking me now?”

“I hardly think asking around constitutes stalking,” Jeongguk says defensively. “And is that all you think of me? An annoying little brother?”

“What else could you be to me?” You cover a yawn with one hand as one of Jung Hoseok’s relatives comes on stage to make a speech.

“I highly doubt you kiss your younger brother like that,” Jeongguk smirks, one hand brushing your hair off your shoulder to expose your collarbone. “Unless…”

“I don’t,” you hiss at him, half annoyed at him, and half at yourself for letting him wind you up like this again. “You’re like… an annoying little punk who thinks he’s a man.”

To avoid any further conversation with him, you get up and head for one of the photobooths hired for the occasion, fully intending on getting a photo to prove that you’d been here, say your congratulations to the happy couple, and get out of here as soon as possible.

Jung Hoseok has chosen an outdoor wedding, and the venue is nothing short of spectacular. It’s a starry night, Shakespearean theme, and the décor is absolutely gorgeous. Having attended ballroom weddings for the past few months, this is most certainly a breath of fresh air, but you’re a little worried about how you’re going to get out of here, seeing as it’s quite literally a field in the middle of nowhere.

You’d better leave after this photo and try and call an Uber outside.

However, much to your consternation, Jeon Jeongguk follows you into an empty photobooth, planting himself right next to you on the tiny little loveseat, with his solid thigh against yours. He draws the curtains shut, and since the photobooth is automatically set to go off on a timer, it means that the two of you are currently very much alone in a confined space.

Inwardly you curse Jung Hoseok for having even the photobooths built for two.

“What are you doing? Get your own photobooth!” You growl at him.

“Not until you tell me why you’re running away from me,” he persists, crowding you on the small seat so that you’re nearly on top of him.

From this close up, you feel your resolve weakening, he might be a jerk but he’s a damn good looking one.

“I can feel you want me.” Jeongguk says with his lips pressed against your ear. “Don’t fucking deny it.”

Oh fuck it. It might be the folly of those earlier shots at the bar that makes you grab his collar and pull him into you, your lips crashing together in a clash of tongue and teeth. Unlike last time, the kiss is anything but gentle, and your touches are anything but demure as the two of you grope each other like animals in the small confined space.

“I fucking hate your cocky little mouth,” you hiss at him, biting down hard on his lower lip and eliciting a delicious little whine from the back of his throat.

Jeongguk responds by grabbing your waist and pushing you onto the seat, just as he swivels to end up on his knees. He’s tall enough so that he’s able to kiss down your neck, sucking and leaving behind bruises on the way.

“mhm… show you what this cocky little mouth can do,” his muffled voice sounds more like a threat, growing bigger by the minute as he kisses his way down your throat, to your collarbone as he pulls down the sweetheart neckline of your dress to mark the top of your breasts with his lips and teeth.

There is a moment of hesitation as his fingers pause at the top of your glittery black dress, just shy of exposing your bra. You answer his unasked question for him by pushing it down yourself. Once your breasts are exposed to his reverent gaze, he doesn’t waste any time in cupping them with his large hands, rolling your nipples expertly with both hands, pinching it every so often to make you wince.

“I hate your stupid, gorgeous hands,” you gasp at a particularly hard pinch. “And I hate your fingers.”

It’s those very fingers that are currently travelling up your bare thighs, your dress having ridden up from sitting down. You can feel the cool metal of his rings on your heated skin. Jeongguk doesn’t respond to your declarations of hate for him, instead he’s far too interested in exploring what lies between your thighs, in finding out whether the noises you make are the same as what he’s been imagining all these nights with just his hand for company.

You hate how he leaves you feeling, desperate for his touch and just to feel him everywhere. Hate how exposed he makes you feel, dress and bra pushed down inside a photobooth in the middle of a wedding.

“Could someone with little brother energy make you feel like this?”

With a surge of strength you hadn’t expected, Jeon Jeongguk pulls you to the edge of your seat so that your thighs are draped on his shoulders, legs spread to his liking. He has a front row view of how your panties are already soaked. Pushing the saturated material to the side, his tongue explores your folds eagerly, lapping up every drop of you and teasing the hell out of your clit.

It’s all you can do to keep silent, other than cursing him and his stupid mouth over and over again as he eats you out. His fingers dig bruises into your inner thighs as his lips start to suckle at the most sensitive part of your body, tongue flicking in and out. This for sure isn’t his first rodeo, for he adds his fingers into the mix deftly. You can feel yourself completely drenching his face, and a part of you would be embarrassed had you not already thrown your pride away when you first let Jeon Jeongguk kiss you with that filthy mouth.

“Oh my god,” your arms flail out in search of something to anchor yourself with and find purchase on his hair. Taking pleasure in messing up his perfectly styled hair, you urge him not to stop, both with desperate tugs on his silky black locks, and egging him on with every insult you can think of. “Don’t fucking stop, I swear to God…”

“Like my cocky mouth that much?” Jeongguk grins as he takes a breather, resorting to his slim fingers as he glides them in and out of your drenched cunt. “How about my fingers? Or my cock?”

“Shut up and make me cum,” you dig your nails into his scalp, making him wince a little. “Your fingers are probably the only part of you that doesn’t disappoint.”

His eyes darken just a smidge before he re-doubles his efforts, flattening his tongue against your clit and licking until you are near tears. With a final thrust of his fingers inside you, he sends you over the edge, relishing how you tighten deliciously around him as your body tenses in orgasm.

Jeon Jeongguk lazily thrusts his fingers in and out to help you ride out your high, pulling out to lick your essence from his fingers when you push him away.

“Well, doesn’t seem like you hated that,” he grins in a self-satisfied way that immediately irks you once more.

You close your legs and pull your dress to cover yourself, ignoring the fact that your thighs are still shaking from that orgasm. “I guess you aren’t that bad at going down on someone, which is a blessing considering that disappointment you’re packing in your pants.”

The dark gaze that you caught a glimpse of earlier comes back into view again, and just as your standing up, straightening your dress and gathering your wits about you, Jeon Jeongguk slides his arm around your waist, pulling you against his body in with a sudden movement.

“Does this feel disappointing to you?”

You can feel him pressed up against you, the considerable bulge right against the swell of your backside has your words caught in your throat, and you can’t bring yourself to refute his claim.

Jeongguk gives a low chuckle that sends shivers down your spine. “Didn’t think so. But don’t worry. I won’t fuck you here. Only good girls deserve my cock.”

He finally pulls away, and the space in between the two of you allows you to breathe and get your senses back once more. Throwing a disinterested glance over your shoulder, you bend over to collect the pictures that have dropped into the little slot on the machine, well aware of his eyes jumping from the curve of your ass just exposed to your chest still marked with the imprint of his lips.

You toss him one strip of the pictures, along with a parting shot.

“Who said I wanted to be your good girl?”

*

If you thought that weddings were bad, that was because you hadn’t experienced baby showers yet.

It hadn’t even been more than a month since you attended Kim Taehyung’s wedding, but the baby shower cum announcement invitation shows up in your mail anyway. You highly suspect that this wasn’t the result of their wedding night, but you all knew that Taehyung was the most eager out of all of you to start a family.

Right, back to why baby showers are even worse than weddings.

There isn’t even a hint of a singles’ table here at baby showers. Everyone here is happily married at least, some of them are pregnant, but either way they are more taken than your sad, single self.

“_____! So glad you could come!” Taehyung approaches you with what looks like a diaper stuck onto the front of his suit. “Ah, sorry about this, I was playing pin the diaper on the diarrhea…”

It’s all you can do to stop yourself from grimacing as you intercept his full-on bear hug with a side embrace instead. You can see Namjoon and Seokjin off to one side, laughing and proudly showing off scan pictures of their surrogate baby. Jung Hoseok and his wife are grinning happily just behind them, tanned and blissful having just returned from their honeymoon trip, and judging from the way that his wife has one hand protectively on her lower belly…

“Did you manage to get a drink yet?” Taehyung grins, an arm around his suddenly very pregnant wife. You have no idea how she managed to appear svelte and slim at her wedding just a few months ago.

“Ah, no, I was wondering if there was anything… stronger,” you grin weakly, holding up a glass of orange juice.

“No there isn’t,” Taehyung says with an embarrassed frown, reaching to scratch his neck. “I thought since this would be mostly couples who were kind of starting a family themselves…”

You force a smile onto your face at the confirmation that there isn’t a single drop of alcohol at this god forsaken baby shower. Surely the rules don’t apply to Namjoon and Seokjin??

“It’s fine,” you wave away Taehyung’s embarrassment. “Congratulations, by the way! Do we know if it’s a girl or boy yet?”

“Not yet,” Taehyung’s wife giggles, exchanging a look with her husband. “We want it to be a secret.”

You smile awkwardly as husband and wife exchange a loving kiss, but glance at your watch to see how much time has passed. Off handedly your thoughts suddenly stray to one Jeon Jeongguk, and you wonder if he’s here.

You have to say that having him present at one of these events really makes them a lot more tolerable, and you are feeling the effects of his absence, especially so without alcohol. It’s not that you like him, god forbid, but it’s just… he’s become somewhat like your partner in crime at events like this. He may be annoying, but his stupid jokes and handsome face helps pass the time quicker.

You suddenly find yourself wishing Jeon Jeongguk were here.

“Miss me?”

And the devil speaks. You whirl around to find Jeon Jeongguk dressed down in a pair of ripped black jeans and a white shirt with a casual blazer thrown over, hair grown out a lot longer than the last time you saw him. It frames his face in slight waves, giving him a far more carefree look than the last time you saw him, sharply dressed in a suit with his hair pushed back off his face. He looks even more annoying with his long, unkempt hair like this, and you have a great urge to just tangle your fingers in it and pull till he cries.

“No,” you say just to spite him. By now, Taehyung and his wife have wandered off to another group, so you feel safe enough to say your next words. “This party was a bore. Just looking for a semblance of intelligent life.”

“And alas, I come when called,” Jeongguk smirks at his double entendre, placing a hand on the small of your back to lead you to a small corner of the garden party. His touch sends shivers down your spine, brings your mind back to the last thing you did with him.

“I’m afraid I’m still looking,” you retort without any real heat in your voice. Bickering with him has become normal now, it’s comfortable with him like this.

Jeongguk feigns being stabbed in the heart, then takes a swig of his drink. Judging from his reaction, that is most certainly not plain soda, and you grab his hand, bringing his glass to your lips for a taste.

Definitely not soda.

“Where’d you get this from?” You hiss, feeling like a druggie on withdrawal.

Jeongguk shrugs. “Brought my own. Y’know, since this is supposed to be a baby shower and all, I cam prepared. You’d obviously come expecting virgin drinks.” He takes out a cleverly concealed flask from his blazer.

You help yourself by uncapping it and tipping it into your half full drink, sighing when you take a sip and the alcohol burns on the way down. Jeongguk watches you with an amused smirk, thinking how there isn’t any other girl who gets him just like you do.

“What?” You catch him staring at you, finishing your drink with one more gulp.

“I was thinking…” Jeongguk starts with a slow drawl.

“Oh wow, that’s a first for you-“

“… why haven’t you jumped me yet? You and I both know I’m the most eligible man at the singles’ table. Being here only strengthens my argument, I’m the most eligible single man here.” Jeongguk is enjoying riling you up, likes watching you spit insults at him and exchange banter like there’s no tomorrow. Just for good measure, he throws in a last jab. “Judging by your age too, I don’t think you have much time if you want to pop out at least three of my children.”

For a moment your eyes narrow in your annoyance. “I have plenty of time left, thank you very much. I’m still on the right side of 25-“

“-not for much longer,” Jeongguk helpfully throws in, gleefully delighting in the way you glare daggers at him.

“- and who said I want three of your children?” You cross your arms, stopping just short of stamping your foot. “Maybe I’ll go and be Namjoon and Seokjin’s surrogate!”

“Be my guest, I’d very much like to see how you look when you’re swollen and pregnant,” Jeongguk lowers his voice as he crowds your body with his, and you realise how much taller and broader he is. “Preferably if the baby is mine too.”

“W-why’d I want a baby who’ll grow up to be as insufferable as you?” You know your comeback is weak, but you find your mental faculties really at a limit especially when he’s this close. “He’d have the mentality of a five-year-old for his entire life.”

Jeongguk gently takes your empty glass from your hand and sets it down on a nearby server’s tray. Taking your hand, he leads you into Taehyung’s house, where much of it is empty as compared to the garden party outside.

“He’ll at least be as handsome as me,” Jeongguk offers with a hopeful grin, closing the door behind him to ensure no one accidentally wanders in. “So, do I still have that annoying little brother energy after what happened last time?”

At this point you’ve gone too far with him to straight up deny it. “Fine,” you admit. “You might be half decent at oral. But my theory that you have small dick energy still stands. You’re just a little brat who thinks with his dick and is used to girls dropping their panties for him-“

“I seem to recall you spreading your legs for me just as easily,” he hums as he traces a finger down your covered thighs, slightly displeased at your choice to wear a longer dress today.

“You’re just asking for it, aren’t you,” Jeongguk tsks under his breath, his tattooed fingers coming to rest on the front buttons of your modest midi dress. “Pretending to be all demure and modest like a good girl when in actual fact you’re a slut who lets random men eat her out in photobooths.”

“You’re not just any random-“ the words slip from your mouth before you realise it, and Jeongguk looks up sharply at you.

“What was that, babygirl?”

You cover up your own slip by bursting into slightly exaggerated laughter at his pet name of choice. “Babygirl? Oh my god. You’re the kind of guy who likes to be called ‘daddy’ in bed, aren’t you?”

Feeling slightly attacked, Jeon Jeongguk’s sky high confidence dips a little, and you spot the tell-tale signs of his eyes widening in shock, giving you a glimpse of his younger, more vulnerable side.

“Wh-what’s wrong with ‘daddy’? It’s a classic.”

“Only for those who actually fit the bill,” you say, placing your hand on his cheek and trying your best to ignore the sharpness of his jawline. “For your information, I only use ‘daddy’ when it comes to real men. Not stupid young punks like you.”

His eyes flicker with anger, jaw clenching even tighter so that a muscle jumps in his cheek, and the sight of it sets off a thrill in your lower belly, your heart racing in your chest, and it makes you feel even bolder.

He attempts to take back control of the situation by grabbing your waist with both hands, pushing you up against the wall and supporting your entire weight as if it’s nothing. Jeon Jeongguk obviously likes to show off his strength, and while you are indeed impressed, it’s not like you’ll ever show it, not unless you want to stroke his already inflated ego.

You loop your arms around his neck to keep your balance, feeling his hands on your ass and thighs and his bulge right against your centre. Taking advantage of your proximity, you lean in to suck right under his ear, leaving behind a red mark.

“’Daddy’ is only for men with big dick energy,” you whisper, breath hot against his neck. You draw back to take in his reaction, and he does that thing with his tongue against his cheek that tells you he’s really pissed off.

“Shut up,” he growls, one hand on the front of your dress as he tears the buttons open, exposing your bra in one movement. “I’ll fucking show you what ‘Daddy’ is.”

Another rip and your bra falls open, exposing your breasts to him as he harshly bites and marks you, enough to replace the fading marks from last time. While doing this he also grinds into you, letting you feel how hard he is through his jeans.

“I’m gonna fuck you right up against this wall, with all our friends just outside,” Jeongguk breathes into your neck, taking one hand off your ass to push your dress up. “Gonna rip your panties off so you’ll have to go home with no underwear like the whore you are.”

“Do it, if it makes you feel more like a man,” you urge him on, and that bastard really does rip your underwear, tucking it into his pocket for later like the pervert he is.

He ignores your jibes at him to push your body weight against the wall with his own, one hand supporting you as he slides two fingers against your core to find out how wet you are. They come away soaking, and it boosts his confidence further as he licks his fingers.

“Could anyone but a man make you this wet? Even without touching you?” He smirks, using one of his thighs of steel to support you better as he starts to stroke your clit with his thumb, plunging his fingers into your tight cunt to stretch you out.

“Still so fucking tight for me, creaming all over my fingers like a dirty girl,” his words are getting filthier and filthier the more you egg him on, and you are indeed coming all over his fingers embarrassingly quick. You bite into his shoulder to conceal your moans, and he hisses a few curses under his breath.

“You’ll be calling me Daddy by the time I’m through with you,” Jeongguk casts you a dark look as he struggles with the zipper on his jeans with one hand.

You throw your head back with a laugh. “Go ahead, baby boy.”

The nickname only infuriates him more, and he spanks your clit once, making you dig your fingernails into his arms. Already overstimulated from the first orgasm, Jeongguk doesn’t let up as he continues to rub your clit until you weaken in his arms, only then does he feel like he’s got the upper hand once more.

You have to say that you’re impressed with his strength so far and you help him out by unbuckling his belt, tossing it to the side and lowering the zipper on his jeans. He pushes it, along with his underwear, down to his knees, and while he’s doing that you take the opportunity to push his shirt up, exposing his rock hard abs that make you want to grind against them.

“Like what you see?” Jeongguk is smirking, he knows all his hours at the gym pays off well.

“I’ve seen better,” you say with a sniff, but you’re lying and the both of you know that from the way you can’t keep your hands off his chest and abs.

Jeongguk pushes his underwear off, and his cock slaps against his belly, the head an angry red and fully erect. At the first sight of it, you’re tongue tied. While some men are blessed in girth and some in length but not both, he seems to have the best of both worlds, and his entire length spans almost three quarters of your forearm.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” He presses a suckling kiss against your collarbone, pushing his sticky cock against your inner thighs.

He’s left with a satisfied smirk when you really do have nothing to say, instead reaching down to stroke him. The feeling of your small hand on his cock makes him swear under his breath, sweat dripping off his forehead as he thrusts forward into your grasp involuntarily.

“Have protection?” You remember at the last minute, placing a hand on his abdomen to stop him from thrusting into you bare.

“I got a vasectomy,” Jeongguk answers, and you nearly choke on your saliva.

“Wha- whe- I-“

“I knew it! You want to have my babies,” Jeongguk snickers at your reaction, but not for long when you grip him tighter and he groans. “I’m kidding. Don’t worry, I’m as fertile as a bull in the china shop.”

“That’s not how the saying goes- you know what, just shut up and tell me if you have any condoms. You’re a lot more attractive when you aren’t talking.”

“In my blazer pocket,” he answers, and you reach for it, finding a foil packet and tearing it open, rolling it over his cock.

You note how the packet says extra-large, and in your mind, you can already imagine his cocky little self walking up to the pharmacy and fucking asking for the extra larges even though there is stock on the shelf.

Jeon Jeongguk is just that kind of cocky little bastard.

“Big dicks aren’t everything, Jeon,” you say at last, guiding him towards your centre. “Not if you cum after the first three strokes.”

“I’ll fucking show you what stamina is,” Jeongguk growls as he surges forward into that delicious, warm heat, your pussy tightening around him despite having been stretched out earlier. You cry out against his shoulder as he fucks into you, having mercy enough to give you shallow thrusts at first before building up to sheath his whole length into you.

“Haven’t cum yet? I’m surprised,” you mock him, tightening your core around him and feeling his steady rhythm falter.

“Fuck you,” he grits his teeth, using the power in his thighs to fuck up into you.

“That’s what I’m trying to do, but you’re gonna cum too soon aren’t you,” you coo at him, petting his cheek and babying him, all of which you know by now he absolutely hates. “Cute little Jungkookie’s all grown up.”

“Don’t fucking call me cute when I’m pounding my cock inside you,” Jeongguk leans forward to bite your lower lip in a harsh, punishing kiss, effectively shutting you up as he pistons his cock in and out at an unforgiveable pace.

Since you came once already, you thought your second orgasm would be way far off, but you’re proven wrong especially when Jeongguk buries his cock deep, limiting his thrusts so that he’s just grinding his cock against you, his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit just right. He then shifts so that his arms slide under both your thighs, opening you up even more for him as he fucks you against the wall with his incredible strength, and you feel yourself tightening around him again.

When he smirks against your neck you realized you must have called out his name when you came. But in this position you can’t do much other than wrap your arms around his neck as he gives you the pounding of your life.

“Ready to call me daddy yet?” Jeongguk pants against your neck, leaving his cock buried so deep that he can feel your cervix.

“No fucking way,” you refuse to relent.

“Then how ‘bout you make me a daddy instead?” He proposes, pulling out suddenly to the tip and slamming back in, making you whine his name again. “That’s right baby girl, I saw all your envious looks at all the couples out there.”

“Wha-? I…”

“Don’t fucking deny it. You’d look so much better swollen and pregnant than all of those women out there. You know you want to, especially when I started teasing you about getting too old. You want a baby, you want mybaby fucked into you.”

You don’t know what kind of roleplay this is, but all you know is that you get even wetter around his cock, and all you want is for him to fuck you against this wall until you forget your own name and you can’t walk tomorrow.

“Fuck… keep going. Tell- tell me more,” you pant against his neck for more as Jeongguk starts fucking his cock into your pussy once more, every thrust ending so deep that it taps your womb.

“Gonna fuck a baby into you at our friend’s baby shower,” Jeongguk grips your thighs hard. “You want that? Hm? Then next it will be our turn to have a baby shower. Though I think we’ll have it before our wedding, where everyone will see you round and swollen with my baby.”

“Wh-who fucking said I wanted to marry you-?” You can barely get your words out of your mouth as you dig your fingernails into his shoulders. There’s something about how primal his thrusts feel when he talks about fucking a baby into you, and you want more.

“I can give you a baby right now and then you’ll have one more reason to marry a cocky little bastard like me,” Jeongguk smirks against your neck as he lets one of your legs drop to rub your clit, and you squeeze around him again, crying out into his neck.

Your thighs are quivering, cunt clenching around his still pounding cock as Jeongguk grunts. You feel his cock twitching, and even though all of this is make believe- the condom wrapper on the floor reassuring you… you wouldn’t exactly hate it if it were all real. Being with Jeon Jeongguk… doesn’t sound that bad after all.

Feeling him close to his orgasm, you wrap your arms around him tighter, legs around his waist as you feel his desperation soar.

“Give it to me. Your baby, I want it,” you whisper against his cheek, not knowing how much of it is just for the heat of the moment, and how much of it isn’t. All you know is you love his reaction to your words, the way his thrusts stutter in rhythm and he lets out a deep groan.

He moans your name in the most beautiful way as he spills his load, continuing to thrust to ride out his orgasm, his hips pinning you against the wall as his hands encircle your waist.

The both of you remain like that for a moment, his harsh breaths against your neck as you find yourself stroking his back and leaning your cheek against his broad shoulders. Gingerly, Jeongguk puts you down so that your feet are once more touching firm ground, and he slips out of you in the process.

It’s slightly awkward now that everything is over, and Jeongguk turns away, pulling the used condom off his softening cock. While his back is turned, you start to straighten your clothing, realizing that the bastard has really ripped all your underwear and even your dress too.

Cursing him loudly enough so that he hears it too, you stuff your now useless bra into your bag, trying the best you can to button your light blue lace midi dress back together again and failing miserably. You cross your arms as you glare at his broad back, until Jeongguk feels the weight of your glare and turns around.

He disposes of the used condom in the trash, and has the gall to check you out, particularly lingering on your half exposed chest.

“Quite a number you did on my arms… this’ll last for a while definitely-“

“You fucking ripped my dress! How the hell am I supposed to get out of here?”

Jeongguk can’t keep that stupid smile off his face as he shrugs out of his blazer, coming towards you and draping it across your shoulders so that it covers you adequately. Despite being pissed off at him, you can’t help but notice how much bigger he is- his shoulders stretch as he assures his blazer is securely on you and the concentration furrows his brow as he buttons it up.

“There. Like that. I think you look much better, to be honest.” He takes a step back, smirking in satisfaction before he turns you around with one arm around your shoulders. “Look. I am a gentleman. I’ll even walk you out so that we can call a cab together.”

“Are you crazy?” You shrug his arm off violently. “We can’t go out like this together! Everyone will know we just fucked!”

“Well, we just did…” Jeongguk has a stupid grin on his face as he states the obvious, and it makes you want to smack him.

“You stay in here for five minutes then come out. Look like you just came in here to piss or something,” you shove his chest in an attempt to get him to stay, trying to ignore how firm his pecs feel under your touch, and how he barely even moves.

Jeongguk has an amused smile on his face as he watches you arrange your hair, check your makeup for any smudges before gingerly stepping outside, all while oblivious to that fact that you wearing his blazer is the biggest telltale of all.

Truly, he’s never met a girl like you.

*

Jeon Jeongguk’s goal is to get you to stay for the bouquet toss just this one time.

More specifically, he wants to find out why you always leave before it happens. Personally, it’s his favourite part, aside from the free flow booze and food and cake. He particularly likes seeing the women’s faces when they spot him, and then see how desperate they are to catch the bouquet later on especially when he’s in the crowd.

But today he’s more interested in seeing one particular person’s face when the bouquet goes sailing through the air.

Jeongguk rubs his hands together in glee with a devious smile on his face, peeking around the corner to find his best friend Eun Woo and his bride at the center stage, taking pictures with guests.

“Bro! So glad you came!” Eun Woo greets him with a wide grin that reaches his eyes, spreading his arms wide to embrace Jeongguk.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jeongguk grins back, slapping his friend on the back a few times before pulling away. “You remembered my request, right?”

Eun Woo clasps Jeongguk’s hand cordially. “Of course man. Just point her out to me and we’re good to go.”

Jeongguk steps back to let Eun Woo go back to his bride and entertaining his guests, all the while keeping a close eye on the door. You hadn’t showed up for the wedding ceremony nor the dinner that followed, and Jeongguk knows from sources that you’d been invited to this wedding too. He fidgets anxiously, wondering when, or if, you’ll show up.

After what seems like forever, you slip in quietly, alone as always, wearing that same light blue midi dress that he had the pleasure of ripping off your body.

You weave through the crowd in order to get to the front, wanting to get it over and done as quickly as possible. When you catch a glimpse of Cha Eun Woo dressed to the nines, smiling and laughing with his bride, you feel a small little pang in your chest, considering that you had a crush on him once.

In fact, that was the main reason why you decided to only show up at the end. When you received the invitation, it wasn’t like you were shocked or anything because you knew the two of them had been dating for a while, but the same old blues just crept up on you, and you don’t think you can bring yourself to sit through another wedding and watch another couple find their happy ending, when all you wanted was to find it yourself.

So here you are, forcing a smile on your face as Eun Woo springs to his feet once he sees you, engulfing you into a hug for old times’ sake.

“I almost thought you weren’t coming,” he says with a pout, and your heart almost melts.

Eun Woo just has this way of speaking that makes anyone feel incredibly important to him. It’s the way his voice softens to an intimate tone and his eyes focus on you entirely. He holds you at an arm’s length to really look at you.

“Long time no see,” you laugh, extricating yourself from his embrace, all too aware of his bride standing beside him looking a little out of place. “Congratulations, brat. I’m so happy for you.”

Eun Woo grins, a heart-achingly handsome smile directed just at you, and damn if it doesn’t make you feel special even when you’re here attending his fucking wedding. Your moment of regret is interrupted by a slight shove to your back that puts some distance between you and Eun Woo, and you turn your head in annoyance to see who it could possibly be.

Jeon Jeongguk sure knows how to ruin a moment, for he steps in between you and Eun Woo, bro hugging him generally making a lot of noise. Before you can quickly slip back into the crowd, however, Jeongguk grabs your arm, tucking it into the crook of his elbow.

“Did you meet ______ yet?” Jeongguk says, winding an arm around your shoulders tight to stop you from escaping. Slippery little minx you are.

Eun Woo hesitates for a second, and some kind of unspoken communication goes on between the two men, and you roll your eyes, wanting to just leave now that you’ve shown your face.

“______?” He says your name with such surprise in his voice, and his eyes widen, as if seeing you for the first time, taking in Jeongguk’s arm around you. Then he coughs awkwardly and tries to play it off smoothly. “Dude, we go way back since uni, my partner in crime when it comes to project work,” Eun Woo shoots you a fond little grin, and you feel your heart flip.

Jeongguk catches this little interaction and frowns.  “Wait, you guys… know each other that well?”

“Yeah. We even-“ you cut yourself off, realizing that this isn’t the best time to bring it up.

“Oh, you can say it, Eun Woo told me and it’s all cool,” his bride grins, casually looping an arm around her husband. “I know you guys used to date for a while.”

You can feel Jeongguk’s grip tightening slightly around your shoulders. “Um… wow. Okay. That was… uh, unexpected.”

You shoot him a sharp glance, wondering why he’s being so weird and saying such weird things and trying to figure out if he’s trying to be funny and embarrass the both of you. But Jeon Jeongguk seems genuinely flustered, the tips of his ears growing red.

“Anyway, uh, congrats you two,” you clear your throat and give them a slightly subdued smile. “Wishing you guys happiness always.”

Eun Woo reaches out to grasp your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Thanks, ______. I really appreciate it. You guys, stay till the end of the event, ‘kay? We have something really special planned.”

The two of them are soon dragged away by another group of friends, leaving you and Jeon Jeongguk alone in the crowd of strangers.

“Okay, what was that?” Jeongguk demands, folding his arms across his chest.

You’re still staring somewhat wistfully as Eun Woo and his wife as they wrap their arms around each other. “What? It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? You were practically making love eyes towards him!” Jeongguk points out indignantly.

You roll your eyes and start to head for the refreshment table, figuring you should at least get something to eat and drink while here. “It’s all in the past. We used to date for a while, that’s it. Maybe there’s still some lingering feelings for him. Maybe I’m feeling a little bitter while attending my crush’s wedding. What’s it to you?”

Picking up a flute of champagne, you down it in one gulp, feeling much better once the alcohol hits your system.

Feeling the urge to outdo his best friend, Jeongguk steals a chocolate covered strawberry off your plate and pops it into his mouth, making sure his lips wrap around the strawberry. He sucks it for a moment, making eye contact with you to capture your attention before he bites it off, closing his eyes as the sweetness bursts on his tongue. Jeongguk has to make you forget about your long lost crush.

“Stop it!” You hiss at him, at the way he licks his chocolate covered fingers obscenely.

“What?” Jeongguk shoots back, eyes wide and innocent. “I’m not doing anything!”

It’s ironic, the way practically everyone here is dressed for a black tie event, and here Jeon Jeongguk is, bow tie and suit, licking chocolate off his fingers like a five year old. But strangely, rather than irritate you, it’s kind of… endearing.

You like how he’s not afraid to make a fool out of himself even at events where everyone seems to be doing their best to pretend they’re sophisticated adults. He makes boring, stuffy old events like this more fun, and you realise… you want him in your life.

“You’re an idiot,” you say without any real heat in your voice, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I see you’re wearing the same dress,” Jeongguk comments with a glance down your body, and you fold your arms protectively.

“Yes, because washing machines are a thing,” you roll your eyes at him. “Sorry I don’t earn enough to debut with a spanking new dress every time one of our friends decide to get hitched.”

“God, you’re so defensive,” Jeongguk attempts to pry one of your arms loose. “I was just thinking that perhaps I didn’t do a good enough job of tearing off your body. How’d you even get it to be in one piece again?” Jeongguk watches the way red blooms across your cheeks. “So, am I still little brother energy?”

Judging from the way the cocky little bastard grins, he already knows the answer, but he just wants to hear you say it.

“No… but you’re far from daddy,” you add the last bit just to stop his ego from inflating so much that he can’t walk out the door later. Doing him a favour, really. You take your plate of cakes and pastries and find a seat somewhere in the ballroom, in a nice and secluded corner where no one will notice you stuffing your face.

Jeon Jeongguk follows you, grabbing more glasses of champagne along the way and handing them to you once you’re seated. “You said you had feelings for Eun Woo.”

“Yeah. Key word, had,” you clarify. “Past tense.”

“And me?” Jeongguk holds his breath in anticipation. “Do you… have feelings for me?”

You let the plate rest in your lap for a moment, considering how to best word your emotions. As much as you want to deny it and say he’s just an annoying little punk… it’s gone too far for you to do that. “I guess… yeah. I do. Don’t get me wrong though, you’re still annoying as fuck and you irritate the hell out of me sometimes, but I guess somewhere along the way… I stopped minding it so much and even started to miss it when you weren’t there to annoy me. It’s not just because we fucked or anything like that, but… having you beside me at all those weddings made me see how happy everyone around me was, only because… you kind of made me happy to begin with. Attending all those weddings by myself and seeing everyone get their happily ever after… I was kind of lonely, but now I’m not anymore.”

Embarrassed at your sudden show of emotions, you glance away, nearly spilling your glass in the process, but Jeongguk saves you by taking it away from you. An insatiable grin is on his face. “So… you’re saying I make you happy by annoying you?”

“And your dick is pretty nice too,” you grumble under your breath, in an attempt to distract him from how raw your emotions are feeling.

“I know,” Jeongguk steals a monster bite of your cake without asking. In the midst of his chews he sneaks a kiss on your cheek so that he leaves some cream behind. “I like annoying you too. I want to keep annoying you for the rest of my life.”

Just when you’re about to smack him for being so cheesy and disgusting, a voice comes over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our lovely bride and groom will now be preparing for the bouquet toss and the garter throw. If you would kindly gather, please.”

Jeongguk takes your plate and puts it aside before grabbing your hand securely in his, but there’s no need to, because you’re not going anywhere without him at your side. There was a time where you would have rather died than witness the bouquet toss, see the bundle of flowers being thrown into the air and hoping against hope that you’ll be lucky enough to catch it… but this time, with Jeon Jeongguk by your side, all you feel is warm and content, like you’ll be happy as long as he’s with you.

Jeongguk guides the both of you to a prime spot at the front, where you see Eun Woo’s bride seated in a chair, and Eun Woo on his knees before her. Realising you’re about to witness what’s called a garter toss, your eyes widen in shock when you see Eun Woo dive under his bride’s skirt. The crowd reacts with giggles and wolf whistles as Eun Woo seems to struggle a little, but a few minutes later he emerges, hair ruffled, but victorious with a lacy band between his teeth.

“We’re so gonna do that at our wedding,” Jeongguk murmurs under his breath with a squeeze of your hand.

“Getting a little ahead of yourself hmm? I never said I’d marry you,” you reply with a half-smile.

Eun Woo stands up, holding his wife’s garter high in one hand before he extends his other hand towards her, and together they turn their backs to face the crowd. You can see his wife’s beautiful bouquet of pastel peonies, tiger lilies and baby’s breath, held over her head.

The crowd is holding their breath with anticipation, and you can feel the people around you jostle slightly in their eagerness. You see Eun Woo lean down to whisper something to his wife, and she giggles, nodding in return before casting a glance backwards at the crowd behind her.

Eun Woo does the same, and his eyes lock onto yours before shifting slightly to beside you. Then he turns his back, and with a count of one, two and three, husband and wife toss their respective items high into the air.

For the first time, you see the bouquet sailing in the air towards you, and it’s as if everything is in slow motion. The crowd around you disappears, miraculously no one is pushing or shoving against you, and… could it be? The silk wrapped bouquet looks like it’s actually going to… this is impossible. The chances are so slim, there are so many people here…

And yet, your arms move of their own accord, the bouquet lands in your grasp, and you smell the sweetness of the flowers immediately as the sheer size of the entire silk wrapped bundle blocks your vision entirely.

Then, time unfreezes and sound filters back in. People around you are cheering and clapping, they’ve given you some space now. You start to shy at the attention, lowering the bouquet and half-panicking over what Jeon Jeongguk will think- will he take this as a sign that you’re a psycho who wants to marry him even though it’s this soon? What if he’s scared off by this?

But as you lower your bouquet, you realise that Jeon Jeongguk isn’t empty handed either, he’s holding a lacy garment in his hand, grinning from ear to ear with that annoying little smirk of his that tells you this went exactly as he planned.

Welcome to the lonely hearts club: table for two, please.

[lostinthewiind]

Forget Me Not: Part 1

Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sawamura Daichi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Oikawa Tōru, Kuroo Tetsurō - Haikyuu

Synopsis: five years after graduating high school, you're invited to Kiyoko and Tanaka's wedding and find yourself back in Japan. Surrounded by your old classmates and volleyball buddies once again, not only are old friendships rekindled, but old feelings start to resurface as well. Did five years change you and your friends too much, or did it change you all just enough?

Rating: PG13

Warnings: none

Next → Part 2

Being back in Japan filled you with a familiar, comforting feeling that spread throughout your entire body. The country where you had lived most of your life and been educated from kindergarten to high school in brought back childhood memories that you had not thought about in nearly five years.

And now, here you were, attending the wedding of one of your best friends, whom you hadn't seen in way too long, and surrounded by people who shaped your elementary and teenage years.

It wasn't until the reception that you got to actually catch up with your childhood friends, but the ceremony had certainly gotten you thinking. With the beautiful decorations strewn all over the venue and Kiyoko's breathtaking dress—and the way Tanaka teared up after seeing his future wife coming down the aisle—you had begun to wonder, as one who is still single would, if that would ever be you; all dressed to the nines and ready to devote the rest of your life to one person.

The fact that you were deep in thought must have been visible on your face because it wasn't long after that Kiyoko made her way over, gently placing her hand on your shoulder and asking if you were all right.

Startled out of your internal dilemma, you assured her that you were fine and just caught up with your own thoughts. "Sorry," you apologized with a lighthearted chuckle. "I didn't mean to make you worry about me at your wedding."

Taking a seat beside you at the rather empty guest table—more than happy to get off of her feet after Tanaka had been swinging her around the dance floor for hours—Kiyoko sighed contently and brushed off your concern. "Oh, please, make up something if you must." Kiyoko glanced over her shoulder at her new husband, who was currently preoccupied with something Noya was saying to him. "I need a break. If this is any indication of what the rest of my life is going to be like, I'm going to be eternally exhausted."

You laughed, having completely forgotten about what you had been thinking about. "You chose to marry the boy who spent all three years of high school chasing after you and you're surprised that he's over the moon 24/7?" You cocked a brow at her jokingly. "Don't say you weren't warned."

Kiyoko giggled at that and before long you and your best friend were laughing together just like when you were teenagers. It was like nothing had changed; like the two of you had been transported back in time five years.

"In all seriousness though, are you happy?" you asked her as you grabbed for your champagne flute and took a sip. "Because that's all that matters."

A light dusting of pink rose to Kiyoko's cheeks. "I'm ecstatic." She beamed as she looked back at Tanaka again. "I mean . . . that's my husband!"

"Good. I'm happy that you're happy."

Kiyoko nodded in agreement before turning back to you. "So, when is it going to be your turn?"

You thought about asking her what she could possibly be talking about but there was no fooling Kiyoko; she already knew that you knew. Not a week had gone by since you had moved away where she hadn't asked you if you had found yourself a man yet.

You just rolled your eyes. "I would have to be dating someone first in order to start thinking about getting married."

"Okay, so we start at the beginning." Kiyoko started surveying the gorgeous outdoor reception venue as if you didn't already know pretty much everyone who was there.

You scoffed. "I'm sorry, we?"

"You act like I haven't always been invested in your love life." She waved you off, never taking her eyes off of the bustling crowd. "Anyway, back to what I was saying . . . you need someone with a stable career, handsome, and, most importantly, someone that I approve of."

"Yes . . . most importantly." You took another sip of your drink and let your eyes scan the crowd as well, mostly because there wasn't much else for you to do. Eventually, your gaze settled on a table in the back corner where five men sat, engaged in a conversation with one another. It took you a few minutes to make out the face in the dim lighting, but when you did, you were immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia.

There, in a convenient group, as if they had all collectively been waiting for you to spot them, were five of your dearest friends from high school: the captains from the various boys' volleyball teams. Since you had been the captain for the girls' team at one of the rival schools, the six of you had started as acquaintances who bonded over being captains and soon grew into an inseparable friend group. The only person you had been closer to in high school was Kiyoko.

Sawamura Daichi, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Oikawa Tōru, and Kuroo Tetsurō.

They all looked just like how you remembered and yet you couldn't help but notice from afar the ways that they had matured over the past five years. You had been given a brief chance during the ceremony to say hello to them, and during that brief moment, you weren't ashamed to say you would admit they had all grown into handsome young men (not that any of them had been hard on the eyes in high school by any means.)

"Oh, so we're going for the classic 'high school reunion' trope." Kiyoko's face was suddenly right next to yours, startling you once again. "Which one are you looking at?"

Ripping your eyes away from the group of men who had thankfully not noticed your staring, you shook your head. "It's not like that," you sighed.

"Oh, yeah . . . okay." Kiyoko's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "That's fine, you don't have to choose right now. You could probably have whichever one of them you wanted anyway considering they all had a crush on you in high school."

It had been a big mistake to try and take your final gulp of champagne right then. As soon as you had heard what Kiyoko had said, you jolted in surprise and the alcohol went down the wrong way, causing you to begin coughing and sputtering rather loudly and aggressively.

Of course, that was when the five former captains turned to look at you after hearing the commotion. To be fair, a lot of eyes were on you then as you frantically reached for a napkin to dry the champagne that had spurted out of your mouth and Kiyoko patted your back comfortingly.

"Jesus," you managed to choke out. "Warn someone before you say something like that."

Kiyoko grabbed another napkin and began dabbing at the little wet spot on your dress. "You act like you didn't already know."

"I didn't already know."

Kiyoko looked up at you in shock, her hand ceasing all movement. Thankfully, she had pretty much dried your dress completely by then anyway. "What do you mean you didn't know?" she inquired quizzically, almost like she suspected you of lying.

"What do you mean they all had a crush on me?!" You remembered to lower your voice at the last second to avoid screaming such a personal conversation.

"How could you not have known?!" Kiyoko retorted with another question. "It was so obvious!"

"We were all just friends!"

"Just friends?!" A deep voice from behind you interrupted before you or Kiyoko could say another word. "You aren't talking about us, are you?"

You could pick that voice out of a lineup and consequently, your face turned bright red and you swallowed hard. Had he heard what you and Kiyoko had been talking about? How long had he been standing there?

Turning in your chair, you looked up at Kuroo, who was standing behind your chair, and the four other guys standing behind him; all of whom had apparently made their way over after witnessing your struggle with the champagne.

Before you had the chance to work out a suitable answer and attempt to explain away what you and Kiyoko had been discussing, Kiyoko stood from her chair and offered it to Kuroo, motioning for the group to sit down with you at the same time.

"Well, I'll leave you guys so you can all catch up." She smiled wide, throwing you a quick wink when no one else was looking. "I'm sure Tanaka will start searching for me soon anyway. I can only leave his side for so long before he starts causing chaos."

"Looks like the chaos has already started." Oikawa pointed to the head table where Tanaka was pouring liquor straight down Hinata's throat while Noya and Tendou counted the seconds out loud at the top of their lungs.

"Oh, good God." Kiyoko excused herself without another word, rushing across the room to put an end to her husband's antics. The six of you were left chuckling and watching as she snatched the bottle out of his hand and made quick work of reprimanding the men.

Shaking his head, Daichi sat down across from you while the other men took their seats as well. Having been the team captain of Karasuno and on a volleyball team with Tanaka for two years, he knew all too well what it was like to have to keep him in check constantly. "I will never understand how he suckered her into marrying him," he commented.

"Because love." You shrugged. "It makes you do stupid things."

Just then, a waiter came by and placed a fresh glass of champagne in front of each of you. "Ain't that the truth." Kuroo rose his glass and encouraged everyone else to do the same. "To love and other stupid things."

"To love and other stupid things," the remaining five of you repeated before clinking your glasses together and taking a sip of the bubbly alcohol.

Bokuto, who already seemed a little too tipsy for his own good, downed all of his in one go before scooting his chair closer to yours and throwing an arm over your shoulders. "So, tell us, what have you been up to?!" he chirped happily. "We all missed you when you left, you know."

After assuring Bokuto about four or five times that you had missed him as well, you gave the group of eager listeners the short version of what you had been up to since graduation. You explained your boring job and the fact that you played volleyball as often as you could. They asked about other aspects of your life as well, and when the topic of significant others came up, you shyly admitted that you were, indeed, still single.

"Hey, it's not like any of us can judge you for that," Ushijima told you. "None of us have anyone in our lives either."

Oikawa scoffed. "You make it sound like I'm hopeless."

"You are hopeless," Kuroo laughed. "You spent how many years in Brazil and still couldn't find a girl to date you? You moved to Argentina and still nothing. Doesn't that say anything?"

"Leave it to Oikawa to make it all about him," you commented, mindlessly taunting the setter like you used to do all the time when you were younger.

Your jab earned a few amused chuckles from the others and even Oikawa cracked a smile; and just like that, it was like you were back in high school with five of your closest friends, shooting the shit like you always did.

Before you knew it, the six of you were talking, laughing, and drinking the night away. Even Ushijima, who was usually the quiet one of the group, was participating more than you ever remember him doing so. The awkwardness from the first few minutes of interaction and the burning embarrassment of what Kiyoko had told you had melted away so seamlessly that you didn't even notice; suddenly you just found yourself comfortable and feeling rather at home.

Daichi told you about how his job as a cop was going and even shared a few exciting stories—stories that the others had clearly heard many times before if their bored expressions were any indication.

Kuroo talked about his job at the Japan Volleyball Association Sports Promotion Division, which he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying. You were kind of envious of him for managing to stay in the world of volleyball without actually having to keep playing.

Then, of course, Bokuto, Ushijima, and Oikawa discussed what it was like playing for the MSBY Jackals, the Schweiden Alders, and Club Atlético San Juan in Argentina, respectively. Oikawa, much like Daichi had been, was very excited to have someone new to tell his stories to—although his stories were about Argentina and not being a cop.

It made you feel a little sad when you realized just how distant you had grown from your friends and how much of their lives you had missed, but you had to admit that getting to play catch up was extremely entertaining.

After what felt like only twenty minutes or so, but was probably closer to two hours, the reception started winding down and guests started heading home for the night.

Pulled from the happy little bubble the six of you were existing in by the sudden realization that the party had a lot fewer people than you remember, you checked the time and noted that it was rather late.

Daichi, who had been oblivious to the rapidly passing time as well, muttered something about having to work the next day as he reached for his suit jacket that he had draped over the back of his chair at some point and started putting it back on, indicating that he was getting ready to leave.

Bokuto began to pout jokingly and tightened his hold on you, his arm never having left your shoulders the entire time. "You're not going home right away, are you?" he asked you, his wide eyes ready to guilt-trip you into staying longer should he need to. "You're staying in Japan for a while, right?"

"I'll be here for about two weeks or so," you told him, patting his cheek lightly and chuckling when his expression changed on a dime and he smiled wide. "Don't worry, I'm not abandoning you again so soon."

"Then we will have to get together for dinner or drinks or something," Kuroo suggested as he too stood from his seat. "Have you changed your number since high school?"

You shook her head. "Nope, it should be the same one you all have."

"Excellent!" Oikawa cheered. "I've got to head back to Argentina in a week or so as well so we definitely have to get together soon. I have first dibs!"

"Y/N is a person, not the last piece of food," Ushijima huffed. "You can't call dibs."

Oikawa just scoffed. "Sure I can, Toshi. I just did."

"I told you not to call me that."

The two professional volleyball players glared at one another and you wondered how it was possible that they stayed friends for so long, let alone became friends in the first place, considering they were always at each other's throats.

"Okay, you two, don't make me escort one or both of you home in a cop car tonight," Daichi warned. "I'm not in the mood to babysit."

"If I promise to behave, will you promise to use your handcuffs?" Oikawa winked, earning a few hushed chuckles and an obviously disappointed look from Daichi.

"Well, that's my cue to call it a night," Daichi announced as he made his way over to you and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. "It was lovely seeing you again. I'll call you and we can do dinner sometime, yeah?"

You smiled and nodded. "I'd love to."

With that, Daichi took his leave and the others were soon to follow. Bokuto, who was the last to leave your side, had somehow swindled you into promising to play a volleyball game with him at some point before he bid you goodnight as well and left you to collect your thoughts before catching a cab and heading back to your hotel room.

On your way out, you thanked Kiyoko for inviting you and congratulated her and Tanaka on their marriage. They too insisted on getting together with you once more before you left and you happily agreed, already dreading having to leave your friends again.

As you climbed into your cab that evening, drunker than you had been in a long while and filled to the brim with joyous memories and content feelings after being reunited with so many old friends, you couldn't help but linger on one thought in particular . . .

The fact that all of your former captain friends had grown into handsome men with stable jobs, they were all single, and the startling new discovery that they apparently all had crushes on you in high school.

Did they still feel the same way? Or, more importantly, did you feel the same way?

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog​ <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

 --->--->--->--->--->

 “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”  

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->---> 

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 20 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 1.6 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

His

The moment you open the front door, you know something's off. It's night already, and you're sure, by how dark it is, that every single light is turned off. Keanu was supposed to stay with Liam as you went to your appointment with the psychologist. Another one, someone who will give you a different perspective. So you don't get why the house seems to be empty. He doesn't take Liam out without telling you, and you do the same, always letting the other know where you'll be.

“Keanu?” You call, throwing your purse on the couch and taking your heels off.

Fear starts creeping over your skin when you see something weird on the floor, some feet away. Walking there, you bend over to take it, and at the same moment you realize what it is, you see another, and another, and one more after, forming a trail that leads to the back of the house. Furrowing your eyebrows, you wonder why are there so many red rose petals on the floor.

“Keanu?” You call again, making your way to the backyard, an unusual yellowish light getting your attention. “What–” The words get caught on your throat when you notice more and more the petals, and as you follow and then, raising your head, your eyes go wide at the sight of the backyard, completely lit up by candles.

There's a table set in the middle and roses all over the place. Keanu stands by the table, in a damn suit, which makes him look even more handsome. Mouth half open, you take a look at everything, perfectly set, before starting at Keanu once again.

“Ke... What...” He moves his hand a little and a slow, soft song starts playing. You gasp, biting your lip.

“Can I have this dance?” He asks, and you nod, making your way over him and taking his hand on yours.

Keanu guides your arms around his neck, his big, warm hands resting on your hip, and it burns right through the delicate fabric of the green dress you're wearing. And then, you start moving, from side to side, following the rhythm.

“What's this about, Ke?” You have to ask. It's been a while since you decided to start dating. It does sound silly, given everything that happened, but you both thought it would be a good start. You also promised not to let out what happened between you two, since people wouldn't understand and you don't want to affect his career. You forgave him, wholeheartedly, and you know he did what he did to keep you safe.

“Just thought we needed a romantic dinner.” He simply says, taking your hand and pushing you away, so gently, before pulling you back into his arms. “And don't worry. Liam is with Mrs. Jackson.”

“Alright...” Raising an eyebrow, you look up at him. “Is it a special occasion? Like my birthday or something?” The day you were born was mentioned, but you didn't really pay attention.

“Not for a couple of months.”

“You're oddly mysterious tonight, Ke.” Tiptoeing, you place a kiss on his lips.

“What's wrong with a little bit of mystery?” When the song ends, he takes your hand, guiding you to the table.

“There's nothing wrong with it.” Shrugging your shoulders, you smile at him, taking your seat.

“I'll serve dinner. Give me a minute.” You nod as he walks back inside, taking the time to look around again.

The yard was never so beautiful, the candles casting soft, warm lights. There are red petals, scattered around the place, and roses on the centerpiece. Reaching out your hand, you take one, bringing it to your nose and breathing in the amazing scent.

“(Y/N),” Keanu calls when he's near you, and when you turn around, you don't find anything on his hands. “I was going to wait so we could have dinner first, but...” Taking your hand in his, Keanu pulls you up, and you furrow your eyebrows at him.

He takes a deep breath before searching for something on the inside of his suit, and you feel your blood running cold when he gets down on one knee.

Keanu reveals a small, dark box, and when he opens it, there's the most beautiful ring you've ever seen in it. It shines, lit up by the candles, and you see three stones, the one in the middle a little bigger than the others.

“(Y/N), I know it's only been some months since we started... Dating.” He begins, and you feel your hands shaking. “But everything happened to us in quite an unusual way and I'm completely in love with you.” You're already crying, a hand covering your mouth. “I thought I knew what love was, but I was so wrong. This is love, and it's... Undescribable. The way I feel when you walk in the room is... You own my heart, it's yours.”

Biting back a sob, you let him take your hand in his.

“So I couldn't wait anymore, beautiful. I want what we had while stuck on that lie to be real. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. Forever. So... (Y/N)... Do you want to be my wife?”

“Yes,” you mutter, a little too fast, but since you're not sure if he could hear it, you nod, watching as he slides the ring on your finger.

There are no words to describe this moment. As Keanu stands up again, welcoming you into his arms and lifting you up, and you know this is right. Maybe everything meant to lead you to this moment. You know there are important people you left behind, like Daniel, your first husband, but you can only count on what you remember. And maybe just maybe, this was meant to be since the beginning. And you're happy, beyond happy, to have found the love of your life.

So it doesn't take much until the preparations start. Actually, they start on the very next day. For the general public, you'll be just a wedding vow renewal, since you don't remember the first. But it doesn't matter what they think, only what you know.

Laura is overjoyed, and she takes it into her hands to help you with everything. The date is set for only two months after the proposal, so it gives you little time to put everything together. And Laura is as indecisive as you are about the wedding dress. You do want to know Keanu's opinion, but you really want it to be a surprise, so you manage to chose it without asking him.

Things start getting hectic as the day approaches, but thanks to Laura, and to some people Keanu hired to organize everything, stuff is getting done just in time. When the day comes, there's not a single thing that isn't perfect.

There weren't allowed any journalists, just a single photographer, who's friends with Keanu. You know the pictures will find their way online, and you're well aware of some paparazzi hiding away. But nothing else matters. When you say ‘I do’, dressed in white, eyes on the most handsome man on Earth, nothing else matters.

And when you kiss, sealing your love before all the guests, you finally understand the true meaning of happiness. And as you walk down the aisle, hand in hand with Keanu as he holds Liam in his free arm, you smile at the camera, barely able to believe your eyes.

Sometime later, you're watching Liam playing in Mrs. Jackson's arms as you're seated on Keanu's lap. It was just for some photos, but you decided to stay.

“I have some news. But only if you agree.” Keanu says, low voice on your ear.

“Let's hear it.”

“I thought about a week in the Caribean as a honeymoon. But in November, so Liam is a little older. And if you think he'd be alright without us for this period.” As he speaks, Keanu pulls your hair away, placing a kiss on your neck.

“If we can hire Laura as a babysitter, I think it'll be alright.” Biting your lip, you look down at him. “And you should at least try to control yourself, Mr. Reeves. There are still some hours before we can be alone.” Lowering your voice, you smirk, placing a kiss on his lips.

“Because you're so good on self-control, Mrs. Reeves.”

“Oh, I love my new name.” Kissing him again, you only pull away when a song starts playing. “Ok, we have to dance.” Jumping to your feet, you start moving already, holding his hand as you walk to the dance floor. The song is fast, so you get this chance to be all over Keanu the best you can without letting anyone else notice the teasing.

“Do you really think it's a good idea to tease your husband before the wedding night?” He asks, his huge hands coming to encircle your waist, pulling you against his chest.

“It's the best idea I ever had.” Winking, you turn around, moving along with the rhythm, rasing an eyebrow to see Laura dancing with Robert. That took some time, but you finally see something happening.

The rest of the party goes on wonderfully well, and when it's over, you go back home. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson offered to stay with Liam tonight, so you and your husband have the house to yourselves. You're not entirely surprised to find your bedroom all decorated with candles and roses. You love it, but before actually getting into bed, you completely fail on the self-control thing, joining Keanu in the shower.

But of course, it doesn't stop there, and in no time, the amazingly decorated bed is messed up, once again claimed as yours. And even though you're tired of the party and the ceremony, you can't stop. You can't have enough of Keanu, you can't have enough of finally being his.

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303 @june-harris

[tooruluv]

Tobio Kageyama x F!Reader ( part 9 )

❝ goodbyes hurt when the story is not finished, but the book is closed. tell me, have we started a new one? ❞

description: it had been years since you and kageyama broke up. it had been years since the two of you left each other, hatred brewing. fate works in funny ways, you thought, as you caught his eye across the café. love works in funny ways, you thought, as you woke up in his bed the next morning, his fiance calling his phone.

genre: forbidden love, cheating, ex lovers, (all characters are aged up)

word count: 2,109

warnings/notes: im so sorry for the delayed update!! midterms have been kicking my ass. anyway. only one part left!

tag list: @kara-grayson04​ @sadhwstudent​ @unlikelytigerqueen​ @kageyamavibes​ @monviemoo​ @tazzi-baby​ @1800xibal​ @amirahroronoa​ @lozzybowe​ @stinkybitch1919​​ @sillykittt​​ @pinknugget​​ @celamoon​​ @bokutosworld​​ @elianetsantana​​ @chao01248​​ @vhskenma​​ @yoitsseulgi​​ @milegonzalez96​​ @doremifa-so-fucking-done​​ @cuddlejeongin​​ @yeahhemmings-​ @melanieacademy​ @killuaking​ @animewhore28​

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The second that the words left Oikawa’s mouth, he was paralyzed. He hadn’t expected to say it. His eyes were wide, skin flushed and mouth agape. Surprise and regret immediately masked his anger.

He couldn’t even move as you turned and left.

Let’s paint the picture, shall we? You, a girl who still had an incredible amount of love for your ex boyfriend to the extent that you were comfortable being the mistress in his affair. Kageyama, said ex boyfriend who still had a lot of unresolved feelings for you to the point where he had considered (on more than one account) disregarding his entire upcoming wedding. And Oikawa, your best friend and fuck buddy for the past five plus years who had just accidentally revealed that he was, in fact, in love with you.

Let’s just say that you walked a lot that day.

You walked through the city until the sky turned dark. You walked along the neon lights, through the park, and back into the city streets. You walked near the water, you walked past hundreds of people. It was incredibly melodramatic.

It wasn’t until you realized that you were actually tired, and your feet hurt, that you sat on a bench. It was pretty secluded. The bench sat facing the water, the city behind it, and you did nothing but sit.

A body sat beside yours, on the complete opposite side of the bench with as much space as possible between you. You almost giggled to yourself, despite everything.

“Hey.” The person spoke, and you knew who it was. There was only one person on the face of the earth that would take it upon themselves to be that respectful to sit on the opposite side of the bench you were sitting alone at, at night.

“Hey, Hinata.” You looked up at him. He’d grown a lot since high school.

“You found my bench.”

“Your bench?”

He chuckled, making you smile. “No, not my bench. But the bench I like to sit at when I have a lot to think about.”

“So, you would sit and think about volleyball on this bench?”

“Yeah.” He smiled brightly. There’s something about Shoyo Hinata that made it impossible not to smile. “It’s really pretty here. And there’s a lot of good food behind us.”

You turned back to the water, eyes scanning for answers.

“I’m still in love with Kageyama.” You told him.

“I know.”

“And Oikawa just told me that he was in love with me.”

“Wait, really? Finally!” He stopped himself. “I mean. I knew that, too.”

“Does everyone tell you everything?”

“Yeah, usually.” He moved a little bit closer, but not by much. “If you think you know someone’s secrets, I’m sure I already know about it.”

“Even Tsuki?”

“You mean how Hana cheated on him with Kageyama and now you are going to the wedding with him, him being Tsuki, to make them both jealous?”

“Damn. You’re insane.”

“Nah, I’m just a short stack of secrets.”

Another bubble of laughter. 

“You don’t plan to ruin the wedding, do you?” Hinata asked. 

You shook your head. “No, no. We aren’t monsters. We just want to make the two of them shake in their boots a bit. There’s way too much money being spent for us to ruin the wedding. Besides, I would somehow end up being the one sending out apology letters to family and friends for coming.”

“Yeah that would be embarrassing.”

The wedding was the next day.

You didn’t go to the rehearsal, and even took it upon yourself to stay the night at Tsukishima’s.

When you arrived at his door with a bag (that you quickly snatched of necessities from Kageyama and Hana’s), Tsuki just opened the door and simply asked you to join him in watching a murder mystery podcast. You accepted.

“Why can’t I wear a fucking suit?” You complained as you shoved yourself into the nicest dress you owned. It was beautiful, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, and hugged you in exactly the right places. You just hated the process of getting ready.

“Because you look great in that dress. Now hurry up because we don’t want to be the only ones late.”

You left Tsuki’s bathroom in full glam.

You watched Tsuki’s eyes shift from your chest to your eyes. You smirked. “I guess the dress works.”

“It definitely works.” Tsuki rolled his eyes, bringing his arm up for you. You linked your arm through.

“You guys have fun!!” Yamaguchi called from the living room. You waved as you walked by. “Holy shit, you guys look likes gods.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss.” You said.

“You’ve obviously never talked to him.” Tsuki scoffed. “We’ll be back later. Or, at least, I will be.”

“Don’t die. And don’t kill anyone!”

“No promises.”

Tobio Kageyama always thought that on his wedding day, you would be the one walking down the aisle in white.

He would never admit it; but to be completely honest, he had thought about it a lot during the duration of your relationship. He had imagined standing at the end of the aisle and you walking down, and kissing you as man and wife. It was a stupid imagination for a high school relationship, but he did imagine it.

He watched as you walked into the building by yourself. He was greeting everyone, welcoming them before the wedding and telling the women where to find Hana in her dressing room.

You were absolutely stunning in the most brilliant red dress he had ever seen. The wedding was white and blue, and you stood out in the most amazing way he had ever witnessed.

Kageyama couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you turn to the door, where Tsukishima just entered. His stomach churns when he sees you greet him with a hug and the two of you laugh at something Tsukishima said. And he hates how evidently the man is your date.

He has to physically stop himself from chasing after you when you pull Tsuki by the hand and drag him through the sea of bodies to where a few members of the old volleyball team are (ie Hinata, Daichi, Suga, and Noya).

His heart leaps violently against the bones of his chest when a thought floods into his mind. The thought that you were with Tsukishima, the thought that you knew of everything that happened since you’ve been gone.

He felt as though he couldn’t breathe.

You kept yourself at Tsuki’s side the entire time.

There was a little get together before the actual wedding. Everyone just stood around and chatted with everyone that they only get to see once a year, greeting the groom and making him more nervous. After a bit, it would be time to sit down and watch the ceremony.

The thought made you want to eat dirt.

Tsuki put his hand on your waist and you looked up at him. The two of you were still in the middle of talking to the old volleyball boys, Hinata talking about his travels.

“He can’t take his eyes off of you.” Tsuki muttered into your hair. It wasn’t unnoticed by Daichi and Suga, who just exchanged a look (as they always seemed to be all knowing).

“Just wait until Hana gets her eyes on you.” You lean into his side. “She won’t make it down the aisle.”

He chuckled and placed a kiss on your temple, feeling the eyes of Kageyama on your back.

“The man of the hour.” Daichi spoke up.

Kageyama appeared beside you. Tsuki’s hand stayed on your waist.

“How are you feeling?” Suga asked, eyes shifting between you and him. You could swear he knew more than you could ever imagine.

“Good, good.” Kageyama plastered a fake smile on his face. “Just nervous.”

“Well that’s normal.”

“Can I borrow her for a second?” Kageyama turned to Tsukishima. You blinked. “I just have to talk to her for a second.”

“Yeah.” Tsuki let go of your waist. He sent you a look, basically telling you to fuck the shit outta him in the broom closet.

“I’ll be right back!” you sent them a smile.

Kageyama looked absolutely delicious in his suit. Black, with a little bit of blue accents throughout. It brought out his eyes. You couldn’t focus as you followed him to an empty room.

“Hey.”

“If you have something you have to say, you could’ve said it out there.”

“No I.” I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. I should just leave with you right now and run away and get married and live in a forest. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. Instead, “What are you doing here with Tsukishima?”

“What do you mean? He’s my date.” You shrugged.

“Yes. But why?”

“You expected me to come to your wedding by myself?” You blinked. “Or, rather, you expected Tsuki to come by his lonesome?”

“No, I…”

“That’s a bit selfish, don’t you think Kags?” You felt anger rising in your chest. “To think that I can’t have a date to a wedding when you’re literally getting married.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” You were exasperated. “It’s incredibly clear how you think of me, Kageyama. But as for someone who will never be loved by anyone, it’s nice to go to a wedding with…”

“You’re loved by me!”

It was the first time in Kageyama’s life where he truly understood what earth-shattering silence was. It was deafening and loud; too loud. He stood there motionless as the howling of his blood pumping in his head, his heartbeat inside his chest. You were silent.

His world seemed to have stopped the second he had said those words to you. The moment those words left his lips, he wished to take them back. Not because they were lies, but because it was the first time he had said them in the most honest way possible.

You shook your head.

You shook your head and Kageyama’s world shattered. He knew that he had hurt you, over and over and time and time again. But he had done it. He had hurt you to the point that you would simply shake your head at the confession of his love.

Whatever was left of whatever the hell was still there was gone.

“Kags,” You closed your eyes. “You don’t. I’m not.”

“I do.” He reached for your hand. You backed away.

“Me and Tsuki coming to your wedding together was not to get you to tell me that you love me.” You were muttering. You were babbling. You couldn’t do this. “It was to get you jealous, yes, but.. not this. Maybe rile you up. Get Hana to admit her bullshit for sure. But not… not this.”

“I…”

“You are getting married today.” You reminded him. “To Hana. You’re getting married to her. Today. And I cannot do another confession like that.”

“Who else has confessed to you?”

“Oikawa.” You said before you could think.

“Tooru Oikawa told you that he was in love with you?” Kageyama laughed as though it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. You basically heard your heart break.

“See? That right there?” You headed for the door. “That’s why you can’t possibly be in love with me. You’re so fucking convinced that I can’t be loved by anyone because I fucking moved away in high school. Jesus, Kageyama, get over it!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He was literally wiping tears from his face. “It’s just. I knew it. I fucking knew it.” He stopped when he seen your face. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Seriously fuck you.” You moved to open the door to go back to your date and get ready for the ceremony. Because this was for Tsuki, not you.

You started to walk out, but turned to him with a glance over your shoulder. “By the way, I’ve been in love with you for years. This shouldn’t be new information.”

You didn’t stay to gauge his reaction.

[storiesbymads]

WEDDING CRASHER ( jj maybank . )

Years after JJ and Y/N break up, he shows up at her wedding uninvited

warnings: uhh angst at some parts

a/n: wow two fics in one night don’t know what came over me 

wc: 1.5k

JJ had been fidgeting in the pew for about 45 minutes now as he waited for the ceremony to begin. His knuckles were bright red from how many times he’d run his nails across them and his bow-tie was almost completely undone from how many times he’d pulled at it. Of course, JJ hadn’t officially been invited to this wedding per say but, as always, he had found a way in. He still didn’t know why you were getting married to this guy in the first place. It was someone you’d met when you had gone back to the mainland for college at UCLA. Mark… Michael… Malachai. Some guy named Malachai. 

The pianist’s notes caused JJ’s ears to perk up and his entire body to turn around to face the doors of the church. There was the faintest of creaks from the large wooden doors as they were pushed open to reveal the bride. And, God, did the sight of you cause JJ to go weak in the knees. He pictured himself at the altar where your fiance was now, staring at you across the aisle with tears in his eyes. 

Your legs were shaking profusely as your dad helped you walk down the aisle, maintaining eye contact with Malachai for a few minutes before gazing out into the crowded church. Your mom was in the front row with the biggest smile on her face, tears threatening to slip down her cheeks. She had an old digital camera in her hand as she snapped picture after picture of you. Kie was at the altar closest to Malachai. Her bridesmaid dress looked amazing on her and it reminded the both of you of the one she’d worn at Midsummer’s all those years ago. Various women in the pews were wiping tears away with napkins, each of them telling you just how wonderful you looked as a bride as you passed. The bright smile on your face never wavered. 

At least, that was until you spotted JJ four rows from the front with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and a pained expression covering his face. You quickly averted your gaze back to your fiance, forcing that same bright smile you had moments ago while your mind went absolutely berserk. Why was he here? You knew for a fact that you hadn’t invited him despite all of the times Kie had told you to. 

A kiss on your cheek brought you out of your daze as you parted ways with your father. Without realizing it, you had made it all the way down the aisle. All you had to do now was focus on the man in front of you and not the one thirty feet away. 

“Dearly Beloved,” the priest started. “We are gathered here today…”

“Y/N just drop it already,” JJ sighed, removing the red baseball cap from his head so he could run his fingers through the already tousled blond locks. 

“Fine! You want me to drop it, I will,” you said, a singular tear running along the length of your cheek as you made your way towards the door of the chateau. Thankfully no one else had been there all day lest they deal with the three hour long screaming match between you and JJ. You couldn’t even remember what had started it to begin with. 

“Where are you going?” he grumbled, grabbing you by the forearm to stop you. 

“I’m dropping it,” you swallowed. Your lower lip was quivering. You refused to make eye contact with him. You refused to cry in front of him. 

“You’re just gonna leave me?” he asked, his voice sounding shaky. His grip on your arm loosened slightly as his eyes widened. 

“Look, J. All we do is fight now. I think it’d be best if we just ‘drop it’.” You wiped your nose with the back of your hand. You couldn’t stop the seemingly never ending stream of tears that were falling now. 

“You know what? Fine, leave.” He laughed in disbelief. Of course you weren’t actually going to leave him. Until you did. 

“Goddamn it!” he grabbed an empty beer bottle from the kitchen and threw it across the room where it shattered against the floor. He would deal with it later. 

“If anyone objects, speak now or forever hold your peace,” the priest said but was met with silence. You could feel your pulse in your ears as you silently side-eyed JJ. The silence didn’t last long, though, as he made possibly the most noise manageable as he tripped his way into the aisle. 

“Me! I do! I, uh, object,” he said, raising his hand in the air like a child. He still had that dopey smile. “Y/N, I still love you. I’ve always loved you and I don’t think I’ll ever stop. It’s been six years of me hating myself for letting you go and, if I could, I would do it all over again.”

Fucking JJ Maybank. You brought yours and Malachai’s linked hands up to your lips, placing a chaste kiss against his knuckles, muttering a quick sorry before shuffling off the altar and grabbing JJ by the hand to lead him out the church doors. His smile had grown tenfold. 

“Don’t worry everyone. I’ll be back, I just have to deal with something real quick,” you let out a nervous laugh as you quickened your pace-- well, as much as you could in the heels you were wearing. You were just thankful you didn’t trip over your dress on the way out the door. You brought him far enough away that no one inside could hear you. 

“Y/N, baby,” JJ started, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. You pulled your face away from him causing his hand to fall limply by his side. The smile slowly started to fall from his features. 

“Don’t, J.” You instantly regretted leaving off the extra J. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came for you,” he said. “Look, I know it’s been a while.”

“It’s been six years!”

“It’s been a while…” he said again. “But, as I said in there, I have never stopped loving you. This is the last chance I’m ever going to get to try.”

“You had so much time to ‘try’ whatever you wanted. Why did you have to come on my wedding day?” you asked. JJ intertwined your fingers together, running his thumb along the back of your hand the way he did when you were both still in high school. 

“I just thought that-”

“You thought wrong,” you snatched your hands away from his and started to walk back towards those large wooden doors. 

“Tell me you don’t still love me,” JJ said from behind you. You stopped in your tracks. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me and I’ll let you go. You can go have your happily ever after with Michael or whatever his name is.” 

“Malachai.”

“Yeah, sure. Tell me you don’t love me and you can go be with Malachai.” You turned around and stepped closer to him. You could tell just how much his hands were shaking from this distance. You couldn’t say yours were any steadier.

“I’m going to love you until the day I die, J,” you mumbled into his chest. The hammock outside of the chateau rocked as you moved your body to rest directly on top of his. One of his hands found the small of your back while the other moved to run through the length of your hair. 

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “I’m gonna love you till the day I die, too, pretty girl.”

“Pinky promise?” you shuffled, rocking the hammock once more, pulling your arm out from underneath you with an extended pinky. 

“Pinky promise,” he mumbled, removing his hand from your hair to place a kiss on his own pinky before intertwining it with yours. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. You looked down at the white tiled floor. 

“Can’t what?” JJ asked. The corners of his lips quirked up ever so slightly. He grabbed your hand to intertwine them once more, steadying both of your shaking. You didn’t attempt to pull away this time. 

“I can’t tell you that I don’t love you,” you said. He separated one of your hands so that he could place it beneath your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him. “But, God, JJ. Do you know how much it hurt to be without you for so long and then for you to just show up back here? Today?”

“I know, pretty girl,” he said and placed his lips onto your forehead. He left them there for a solid ten seconds before he pulled away. “But the fact that I’m here now should mean something.”

“What am I going to tell everyone?” you leaned in closer to rest your head in the crook of his neck while his chin instinctively moved to rest on your shoulder. He still smelled faintly like weed and spearmint. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbled into the exposed skin. “But we’ll figure it out together.”

[atinybitofau]

S E O N G H W A ⥈ mafia au series

RECAP: you finally have to close the deal with the devil and you meet with Hongjoong one last time before becoming a married woman. you also decide to postpone a honeymoon for another time.

word count: 2010+ , tags: angst

characters: ateez (ensemble), fem!reader

⤩ CHAPTER 2 ⤩

character list . prologue . one

Turns out Jongho had a thing for weeding out the imperfections, flaws in a woman. It was easy for him, arriving no later than 11 in the morning to join both you and San after your dress fitting to do your hair.

“I can fix the hair.” The city turned country gangster’s lips grimace at the dark bags under your drooping eyes. “The makeup.. you’ll have to do on your own, sweetheart.”

You clutch on the silver necklace he’s handed you before he put his hands on your head, the thought of blessing Seonghwa with an engagement gift beyond your intentional rights. You play with the small compass charm between your fingers and gaze at your reflection in the mirror.

So you look like complete shit: lack of sleep, lack of encouragement, lack of pride. This was you in your most pitiful state and the boys could only spare mercy in your absence of excitement. You’ve always dreamed about family and weddings— the trends in modern life you were never entitled to try. Seonghwa was already giving you parts of the world you’ve always wanted and you couldn’t hate him for that. The arrangement however was something you’ll have to hold against him.

“You look beautiful.” Yunho nods in your direction after Jongho fluffs at your curled hair. “Y/n, you do. Now stop frowning and making it worse.”

You let out an upheaval sigh. “Remind me again why I have to dress up for such a casual occasion.”

San scoffs from the side still nitpicking his sleek suit. “This is your wedding, y/n. Have some respect for yourself. It’s the least you can do.”

“It’s a wedding with a man I don’t even want. And he said so himself this was more a partnership than ties of love.” You force yourself to retort in the nicest way possible. “Seonghwa has good intentions and that’s great. But my place in his heart is not something I earned and I’m far from pleased.”

“You rather woo Seonghwa? Then do it, at least, after your wedding.” Yunho charmingly places his chin over your shoulder to face you in the mirror. “This wedding is passed formalities but something he sought good for the both of you. He wants you to feel comfortable and that’s leeway enough to your heart. Accept it as it is and maybe you won’t get shot.”

You hear it so many times, you ponder over thought of maybe wanting to get shot at this point. Why was Seonghwa so prideful? What else was he hiding?

“The day he ever wants to shoot me is the day I end this partnership of his he claims is good for the both of us.”

The trio behind you pause in their movements and let your answer sink in. It’s not everyday they get to see a woman get ready to marry a man they assume to be their best friend. It certainly isn’t every day they get to see a woman as beautiful as you sit in front of them with a personality as fierce as their empty hearted boss. Although they’re intimidated, they feel a particular sense of relief knowing you’re fully aware of your circumstances. They didn’t sign up for meddling in an innocent life though you’re far from innocent.

“We have to meet some of our partners..” San clears his throat as you fumble with the jewelery in your hand. “I’m sure you won’t mind if we leave you with your thoughts for a bit.”

“Not at all.” please.

They hum in response before setting out prompt, your thoughts a little more blind in your head than they think. You look in the mirror after they leave and think to yourself that you’re just a penny of satisfaction. The best way for you to accept all this is to breathe and let it go. It’s gotten you this far.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” A voice echoes through the slit of the door. “If you haven’t tried killing yourself already.”

Your eyes light up like a child on Christmas Day. “Hongjoong.”

His lips quirk at your tone of admiration. “You look beautiful, babe.”

Your own lips quiver and you’reholding back the years of tears. “Can you hug me please? Just this once?”

He sighs softly before coming over to take you into his arms. The homey embrace of someone you trusted— no someone who trusts you was enough to end some misery. The one thing Seonghwa could grant you that you’d thank him for was this. Hongjoong was far from what you deserve but he’s someone you wished you could have. Life served you another platter and you can’t just complain and ask for a refund.

“Of all the years I’ve known you, y/n, seeing you in a wedding gown would be the last thing I’d ever imagine.”

You roll your eyes at the city mobster before turning in your chair. “I’m surprised he let you imagine let alone show up today.”

Hongjoong presses his lips together and fumbles with his tie. “There’s a lot of things you’d be surprised by.”

You sniffle mostly to undermine all the overwhelming thoughts in your head. Hongjoong sees right through you though.

“I’m sure Seonghwa’s got good intentions. Despite the fact, obviously, I’m not all for the things he does—Beyond what he does, y/n, he’s a good guy.”

You scoff his way, looking elsewhere in your reflection afraid of his words.

“Are you here to patronize the enemy some more or walk me down the aisle?”

He chuckles wholeheartedly, coming over to plant a reassuring kiss on the top of your head. Where your father lacked, Hongjoong picked up. You can’t name a single man— no person on this planet who has made you whole enough as Hongjoong does and maybe why Seonghwa is threatened. Hongjoong is a force no one is reckoned to feel accustomed to. The city monster had ties everywhere. Feeling sorry for your father was one thing; feeling sorry for you was little of what the truth was.

“You are a gem.” He annunciations through a genuine smile. “Be it Seonghwa nor I aren’t lucky to have. You’re a blessing.”

You look into Hongjoong’s eyes with a type of everlasting loyalty you can’t define. “How can you be okay with Seonghwa having me? I was already yours..”

“Your father was mine and I let you have the benefit of the doubt.” His comment sharpens at the end.

“Losing him was nothing but means to end for you. Don’t act like it was more than that.” You try to rebuttal.

“It was something I didn’t like but it sure as hell made you happy. And so I heard.”

Hongjoong’s very casual. He likes to be hands on in a moment and is, trend wise, very different from your future husband. It’s not like you loved Hongjoong romantically or anything. It just felt wrong to need to love someone else that’s all.

“Walk down the aisle.” He whispers again against the crown of your ear, hand hovering over your bare shoulders with hesitance and grace. “I’ll always be right here when you need me the most.”

It’s some misdirection partly. Also partly your fault that you’ve gotten here. Now you’re walking down an aisle with Southside’s very own devil standing at the alter awaiting you. You don’t look back on purpose. That and Hongjoong’s grip right beside is not one on par with a fatherly gesture. Hongjoong probably wanted to wring Seonghwa for what it’s worth too.

“Past formalities?” Hongjoong mumbles when you two get one step closer to the end of your suicide mission.

“Definitely past that.”

“Knock em dead, sweetheart.”

Let the party commence.

There was little shared words between you, your new husband, and the pastor. With what seemed like false devotion and empty promises, the wedding reception began. You two sat together on a podium where it’s pretty obvious Seonghwa’s treated like royalty. You were right in his district and with first impressions comes clear boundaries to be made. He wanted you to know where he stands. You two sat together as husband and wife but complete strangers. It was awkward watching the sight of men come and go to prove that Seonghwa was nothing but a merciless mafia boss. The gifts weren’t even of your benefit either.

Hongjoong left early (something you’ll press against him some other day forward) and you were stuck thinking about when this cursed day was going to end. Somehow someway it did and you were in a car fraternizing with the enemy this time.

“— So you married me instead?”

The air gets thick. It almost gets so thick you think you’re getting some type of allergic reaction to his face in the confinement of his wide vehicle. Staring at him was no gut wrenching eye sore but it’s not something you were used to just yet. Seonghwa’s eyes matched the color of war— red with fury and relent. There was something there that his calm tone didn’t quite express to it’s fullest capability.

“You’d rather be dead?”

His coldness reflected on you. It’s probably your body’s natural mechanism of defense coming to play because you’re sure as hell you’re not gonna let some man control you for the rest of your life. No, you may not get that right to speak up and say something that might as well get you killed but you still aren’t gonna let him walk all over you.

“Are you gonna get out of your dress or did you want me to strip you out of it for you instead?”

His tone persists as he emerges from the bathroom to see you sitting on solemn. You glance up tiredly at the cheeky bastard who’s lips perk at your attention. You look away without a word at all before taking your dress off without further notice.

His throat clams up at the sight, unsure of how long his self constraint would last even for the night. The sight of your broadened narrow shoulders— bare and ready to taste— was something he was definitely not prepared for. His hands tremble as the damp towel between his fingers drops and you glance to look at him.

“Tempted?” You rasp in the most taunting voice you could fabricate. “Mind me, but you asked if I was going to get out of my dress, Seonghwa. I’m showing you that I can follow basic instructions, was that not what you asked of me? Of this partnership.”

He chokes on that, jaw clenched. “Pressing my buttons, honey, is not something I suggest you test.”

You hold your dress up back to your chest as you turn to face him. “I’m just letting you know what kind of wife you gambled to marry, my sweet husband.”

He nearly screams the moment you slam the bathroom door. Not realizing on both sides that either of you were ready to combust. You shower the anger, the resentment away and Seonghwa just lays back on his bed staring at the bathroom door.

He needs to stay away from you at any time possible. Until he learns to control himself at least. Living with a woman, a woman of his absurd dreams, was proving itself difficult. You weren’t just gonna give yourself up to him just like that either.

“Sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow.” Is all he says before turning on his back when you shut the lights off.

You stare at it. Like the night before when he got in bed without even saying a word, feeling cold.

“J-Just me?” You ask propped still on your elbow in the dark.

“I have business to take care of in the city. You’ll have San and Yunho tomorrow.” His voice lulls deeper as he’s getting pulled to his exhaustion. “It’s training you have to endure just in case. Hongjoong informed me you never took part in your father’s extravaganza’s and I need to know my wife is safe while I leave.”

“You want me to learn how to fight?”

“Something like that..”

@atinybitofau

[calpops]

falling facade | c.h.

part two: falling freedom

part one: falling flowers

5k words

Copyright 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted by anyone else on any platform in any format (translations included). 

<< >>

The previous night was an alcohol induced blur; stiff muscles and a throbbing headache woke Calum. The curtains were pulled shut but a gap in the fabric let a strip of sunlight filter through and shoot extra flares of pain through his head. He stumbled out of bed; the sheets scratchy and unlike the Egyptian cotton that adorned his mattress at home. He took a moment to collect himself, to note the state he was in. Wearing only an undershirt and boxers. Something typical of any night. If the world would just stop spinning for a moment he knew he could figure this out. His clothes laid on the floor just past the foot of the bed and pieces of last night came back to him. A discarded suit jacket laid in a heap and songs that led down the aisle and accompanied first dances filtered through his hazy thoughts. The wedding.

He reached down, felt the dampness of the fabric and furrowed his brows. It only made him more confused for a moment; until flashes of dim light and secretive whispers led him back to a pool. He turned, seeing the red silk dress just inches from his clothes. His heart hammered, too scared to put that piece of the puzzle together. He tried not to think about it, to push it away but a lingering feeling of something unsettling forced him to turn back to the bed. To find another within the sheets. His heart leapt, throat closing in with a wildfire of heat threatening to suffocate him.

It all came back from just one look at his best friend’s sister bundled under the covers. Michael’s sister shifted, a slight groan freezing Calum in his newfound trepidation. Locking in memories he knew he could never tell. Hoped that she would keep as secrets as well. When Arden rolled to her other side and seemingly fell back into sleep Calum let out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding and drowned in the memories of just hours ago. Drowning in moments of fingertips lingering and lips brushing against each other, in the sway of their bodies as they danced and fallen flowers they had walked away from.

Calum broke from the reverie of the memories flooding him, only long enough to notice the yellow stain contrasting against red silk and fall back on his heels, stumbling to the chair in the corner and dipping his head in his hands. His heart pounded as he tried to ground himself into the moment and confusing reality  in the hotel room, Arden was still under the covers and Calum still sat motionless in the chair pushed into the corner. The room was quiet save for the even breathing of Arden and Calum’s heart beating so hard he could hear it in his ears. He was flushed and warm, cheeks burning as the rest of the night started piecing together. The yellow stain on her dress, the secret between them and the chlorinated scent that lingered on damp clothes.

He rubbed at his temples, willing the hangover headache to just go away. He couldn’t remember how much they drank but he knew they’d blown past the proposed two drinks at the open bar and meandered their way out of the wedding and to a filthy pub. Arden sighed in her sleep and Calum shot his head up to look at her. Her hair was splashed across the pillow and the red lip stain was faded. Calum’s fingers touched his lips; remembering the taste of sugar and then chlorine. He started making sense of it; pulling back the moment of spilling some horrible and greasy “food” on her dress and drunken giggles deciding it didn’t matter. Stumbling their way back to the hotel and huge eyes casted at the door to the pool. Running in as quietly as possible and jumping in with clothes still on—thinking maybe that would get rid of the stain. Calum could almost feel the breath ripped from his lungs as he plunged under, could hear her laughter echoing around the empty room and the sobering shh that followed it so they wouldn’t get caught.

He pinned his eyes on her, still quiet under the sheets. Her arm came out from under the covers, hands clutching the comforter and a glint on her finger stalling Calum’s heart beat and air supply. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment and her lips pouted.

“Arden, what did we do last night?” Calum managed to ask barely above a whisper. Surprisingly Arden heard and her eyes opened again.

“Went to a wedding,” she said—nothing about the situation alarming to her. Not the headache he was sure she must have, not his presence in what he now knew to be her hotel room. “Drank too much.”

In a broken attempt at an explanation of his confusion Calum swallowed a lump in his throat and forced words out. “Look at your hand.”

Arden, with tired eyes and languid movements brought her hand to her face to inspect. Her arm dropped.

“We also robbed an old lady for her ugly jewelry, apparently.”

It took two seconds for the joke to die and reality to set in. Arden sprang up, the sheets falling and pooling around her hips until they both realized she was only in a bra. She quickly covered herself and stared at the ring on her finger. She shook her head frantically as if trying to convince herself.

“We didn’t, no way,” she let out in a disbelieving whisper.

Calum got up and stumbled to his phone, holding onto a thin hope that there may be photographic evidence or a lack thereof to quell the fears rising in him. It was dead and the case was cracked. He threw it to the floor in disappointment and jumped when the hotel phone rang. He turned to look at Arden who glared at the phone and timidly reached over to answer it.

She couldn’t even get out a hello before Calum heard Michael’s muffled voice yelling on the other side. Arden flinched, dropped her head and the corded phone to the bed; still able to hear Michael’s spiel. Calum picked up key words. What and stupid and even strung an entire sentence together; management isn’t happy. Calum’s heart sank as Arden wrapped the sheet around herself and climbed out of bed to wobble over to her own phone laid face down on the entertainment center. Michael was still reeling on the phone and Calum took it upon himself to move to it and try to calm the storm.

“Michael, hey, Michael!” Calum snapped, finally getting his best friend to shut up. “What did we do?”

A moment of pause ensued before a disbelieving huff and shriek came from Michael. “You don’t even know?”

Arden’s phone seemed to have some life left as she went to Calum’s side and showed him the screen. Instagram was loading, the photo still gray but the caption attached to a post he made sent shockwaves through him.

She said yes. Followed by the date, a bouquet of flowers and a ring.

In the blink of an eye the photo appeared and Calum’s guess and fears were correct. They were close together, Calum kissing Arden’s cheek as she held her left hand up with the gaudy diamond on her ring finger. He couldn’t make out where they were, the lighting was too dim and the photo too grainy. But the fact they were in formal wear and somehow a flower had ended up tucked behind her ear left the photo and caption feeling pretty convincing. And through the panic a tinge of relief cut through. If it was just this photo then maybe they really didn’t do what fears ultimately plagued them.

“Is that it?” Calum whispered, not wanting Michael who was still frantic to hear, Arden understood the implications behind the question and forced a shrug but went to her own camera roll and came up empty.

Arden grabbed the phone from Calum after discarding hers on the bed. One hand still held the sheet tight around her and the other brought the receiver to her ear. “Michael, we’re going to have to call you back.”

“No! You need to get back now. Management wants to see you both.”

Calum heard that sentence loud and clear and felt his knees go weak. “We’ll leave soon. Just. Hold them off for a while,” he suggested and Arden hung up the phone before Michael could say another word. She even went so far as to unplug the cord and sink onto the bed, hands gripping the sheet covering her with a tight hold, pulling it tighter.

Calum’s head was still throbbing, his stomach churning and heart racing much too fast for his liking. Arden had gone peaked, face drained and eyes dull. Her phone was on silent but Michael’s call lit up the screen. She ignored it and turned the phone completely off. Calum bit back laughter, finding it an inappropriate reaction.

“There’s no way we got married,” she voiced their fear aloud and in the moment all Calum could picture was a bouquet that would have landed in Arden’s hands. It was coincidental, it had to be. Calum had never been one to believe in the far fetched and something as silly as an old wedding tradition being a warning or signal—a prophecy—was beyond far fetched in his mind.

“No,” he agreed. “We’d have some kind of proof.”

And in that moment a thought struck him hard and fast. He leaped away from her, just two strides taking him to his suit pants where he last knew his wallet to be. He was desperate in looking for a receipt to the ring and the possibility of a marriage license or a commercialized certificate from a shifty chapel being within the faux leather. He found what could be a receipt but it was water stained and the letters and numbers bled. He convinced himself it was for the ring; the five digit number at the bottom was smudged but it still managed to wrangle the breath out of Calum. It must be for the ring. But there was nothing to accompany it. The lack of papers eased his mind and worries. He voiced his findings to Arden who had slowly made her way over to her bag; still wrapped in the sheet.

“Maybe we thought it would be funny,” she murmured. “It’s got to be a joke.”

“I don’t think management is finding it all that funny,” Calum said and let anxiety of having to meet with them eat away at him.

The last thing he wanted was for Arden to be pulled into the chaos and bullshit of management. But Michael said they wanted to see them both. Surely it was for damage control. They were probably drafting posts of explanation as he and Arden sat in their stupor of confusion and hangover haze. Maybe they’d chalk it up to a joke. Maybe Calum would have to apologize. Maybe they’d let it die off. All those maybes didn’t feel too likely but Calum didn’t voice that thought. Instead he watched as Arden finally left her bag and shuffled to the bathroom with clothes in hand. It prompted him to remember his own things were in his room across the hall. Made him realize he’d spent the night in here.

A storm of new questions were aroused by that but he shut them down. He could only focus on one life altering dilemma at a time. He forced himself off the floor with his things in hand and shuffled out of the hotel door—telling Arden he’d be back and they’d need to leave as soon as possible past the closed bathroom door on his way out. He changed and packed his things with forced movements and was met with the sight of Arden ready to go in the hallway. Dark circles highlighted a night without rest and fidgeting hands told of her nerves. Calum sighed. He wanted to take her hand like he had done at the wedding but stopped himself; suddenly scared to initiate anything that could be perceived as more than platonic. A night with uncertainties followed his every motion and burned his throat with every word.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she answered and bit her lip. “How much trouble do you think we’re in?”

Calum shook his head and put a hand on her back as he led them down the hall. He couldn’t begin to fathom what sort of storm would be waiting for them. All he knew was that it would be big and possibly dangerous.

“Plenty.”

***

The management office was stuffy; the air was stale and the lights were too bright for the lingering ache in Calum’s head. Michael met them there, not wanting his little sister to face the wrath of management alone. But Calum could tell from the stoic gaze and lack of conversation that Michael would hang him out to dry if it meant defending Arden. No matter how much they bickered and fought and no matter how distant they got from each other, they’re family and family was everything to Michael. Calum understood that. Knew he’d do the same for his sister Mali if the roles were reversed. And suddenly he felt nauseated; the paper cup of water sitting on the oak table in front of him doing little to ease the overwhelming feeling. They hadn’t gotten married—the record showed and proved that—but there were intimate moments that transpired before and after the false engagement announcement that Michael wouldn’t approve of. The team was quiet, staring at Calum and Arden as if they were children needing to own up to their actions, clear their souls of guilt and bear the weight of consequences.

Michael cleared his throat and miraculously spoke up first. “They were drunk. It was just a joke. No one can be taking it that seriously. We don’t need to do anything too drastic.”

The head of management didn’t say a word, just directed their attention to a laptop screen filled with tabloids and tweets and headlines all about the engagement. They were still trending on twitter. And for the first time since morning Calum saw the photo again. It wasn’t the ring on her finger or the caption that stole his attention this time. It was the numbers. The likes were in the millions when his usual posts barely cracked five hundred thousand. Tens of thousands of comments littered the photo. Apparently, plenty of  people were taking it seriously.

“How do we fix it?” Calum choked out, way too overwhelmed to even pretend to have suggestions.

“We use it to our advantage,” the head of management declared and Calum could feel outrage building in his chest. He didn’t want to be used, he didn’t want whatever it was he may or may not have with Arden to be a pawn, he didn’t want Arden to have to play their game. “Make it a stunt. Get good press for about a year and then you can separate.”

While almost everything inside of Calum was screaming no there was a tiny inkling begging him to take the deal. A year wouldn’t be so bad. They could control the narrative and he could keep Arden’s name safe. Without an amicable agreement management could trash her reputation. Spin her into a heartless monster. They had control of his name and socials, they could wreak havoc on her and pretend it was done by his hands. Calum found himself nodding and then looked to Arden who was shaking her head in tiny bursts.

“No. No, I don’t want to be a stunt,” she finally spat out. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Calum could sense the frenzy in her voice; she was verging on hysteria. He reached a hand out under the table where eyes couldn’t see and gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. She turned to look at him, eyes pleading for guidance and another way out.

“I think this is the best we can do,” Calum told her, trying to garner her trust. He’d explain it to her later, when the suits weren’t circling them like predators ready to strike on vulnerable prey.

“Unfortunately, I think he’s right,” Michael pitched in and Calum knew he must have had the same thoughts of Arden being under scrutiny, fire, and slander should she refuse. Even if they didn’t use her name directly. Everyone would know anything vague would point back to her. She was still shaking her head.

“Come on, Arden. I never ask you for anything,” Calum said and brought her back to the yard where all of this accidentally started. She let out a small and sarcastic laugh.

“Alright,” she conceded and blew out a breath. “I’ll do it.”

The head of management gave a grin that was supposed to be friendly but was more unsettling than anything. He pushed papers towards them and Calum collected that they were contracts. A stunt was never just a verbal agreement. That was too risky and uncertain. They wanted it to be legally binding.

“A contract?” Arden squeaked, thumbing through the several pages they had worked up during the hours it took to get back to California. “You didn’t say I’d have to sign anything.”

Arden was looking at Calum then, for answers and for direction. He bit his lip and took up an offered pen, settling the ballpoint to a signature line.

“Shouldn’t you at least read it over first?” Michael jumped in, trying to be a voice of reason and advocate for both sides.

Calum considered that and started scanning; all the words blurring together in legal jargon he couldn’t quite comprehend. He caught the timeline; a year with publicity stunts and posts to sell it. The rest was a blur that left him looking at Arden and Michael who was reading over her shoulder.

Arden looked up suddenly, towards the team. “Why does the split have to be my fault?”

Calum hadn’t caught that within the fine details. He knew the answer to her question; in the eyes of management she was dispensable. Calum’s reputation rained on the band’s livelihood. Arden was the fallout. An easy target. He felt the fight to protect her surging through him, ready to stand up for her and demand a change. But she surprised him by continuing her train of thought with venom in her voice.

“It shouldn’t be my fault. It shouldn’t be Calum’s fault either. It can be mutual. And respectful.”

“People will point fingers if it’s a mutual decision. We’re just looking out for the best interests of the band. Surely, you understand reputations would be hurt. You wouldn’t jeopardize your brother's career, would you?”  

Manipulation. Business would be nothing without it. Arden crossed her arms over her chest, eyes flickering with fury and desperation; clearly not okay with the tactic employed to try to make her bend to their will. She shot Calum a look that begged him to follow her lead.

“The only reputation I can ruin is this company’s. One little tweet detailing the matter of these contracts ought to be enough. The only thing I have is the truth. I can use it, if I want. I haven’t signed any NDA contracts. I’m not a client. My brother’s career would explode with support if the fans knew the truth,” she said, voice contrite and eyes fixed on the man in charge. Her gaze was stony as she slid the papers away from her. “Fix the damn contract.”

Everyone fell silent, mouths hanging open in shock and Calum caught the stifled laughter from Michael. The head of management took her words for what they were worth and pulled the papers back; requesting a redraft. It took a couple of hours for everyone to come to an agreement and for legally binding signatures to be inked. It was night by the time they left the office; fresh air finally finding way to their lungs. There was an unspoken communication to take a moment to decompress after the stressful affair. Arden sat on a bench positioned on the curb, looking worse for wear with her head in her hands. Michael stood by and Calum chose to sit next to her.

“Well, at least they gave us an easy way out,” Calum mumbled; the alternatives spinning through his mind and darkening his thoughts, hurting his heart.

“What about this is easy?” Arden asked, suddenly sitting up to face Calum, eyes wild and in search of answers.

“Trust me, Arden. Management could’ve conceived something worse,” Michael defended but didn’t offer the alternatives. It seemed neither Calum or Michael wanted to be the ones to voice them aloud, not when Arden was already so worked up and the management building sat directly behind them.

They kept their voices low as people passed. The later hour left little foot traffic but the random pedestrian happening to pass by didn’t need to hear their conversation. In fact, Calum was sure that might even get them in more trouble. Sharing this new secret would surely be a breach of contract. He hadn’t read every line of the new draft but he knew how management functioned. For all intents and purposes, Calum would keep it between only those who needed to know.

“You guys need new representation,” Arden mumbled and went back to her position of looking down with her head in her hands and elbows balanced on her knees.

“At least you held your own standing up to them. I’ve never done that. It was incredible,” Calum offered in all honesty.

“I felt like I was gonna puke the whole time,” Arden said, the words muffled with her head down and hands squishing her cheeks. “Still do.”

“Still hungover?” Michael attempted to make a joke but Calum shook his head.

He knew what Arden meant. That same nervous feeling had assaulted him in the office. He’d swallowed it down and tried to even his breathing. It’d come and gone quickly but the situation had fried his nerves completely. He felt numb, fingers tingling with apprehension now that it was just him, Arden and Michael. He knew the gist of it but there were still secrets kept and those moments came back to Calum, guilt eating at him in a fresh wave.

“Nerves,” Calum answered; for Arden and for himself.

Arden nodded and even though Calum knew he probably shouldn’t, not with Michael and secrets made of moments just like it right there, he put his hand gently on her back, hoping it might be comforting. Michael didn’t flinch at the contact but Arden finally looked up. A bit of color was coming back to her face and her breathing began to even out. He felt her press into his touch, accepting the comfort and giving him a grateful glance. Her eyes were bleary with exhaustion and a tired sigh escaped her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, directing the comment at Calum and then turning to Michael. “I’m sorry.”

Calum’s heart sank, caught in that free fall from the night before, but this time it felt like hitting jagged rocks was imminent. It was less like floating through the air and more like dropping. Arden was crestfallen, completely torn apart and convinced it was her fault. Calum shook his head, trying to shake away her apology as he felt it wasn’t owed. It took two to tango. And it surely took two to get drunk enough to fake an entire engagement for the world to see. If it wasn’t happening to him; Calum might have found it amusing. And maybe once time put some distance between it he’d tell the story fondly.

“It’s not your fault,” Calum said, rubbing small circles on her back without thinking about it. It went unnoticed or at least unmentioned by Michael. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“It is. I asked you to go to the stupid wedding with me. I got us drinks. I don’t remember anything about the ring but I woke up wearing it. It’s my fault.”

Michael stood as a silent mediator for them. Offering sympathetic shakes of his head and confused expressions as their discussion unfolded.

“I agreed to go. I found the pub. I bought the ring and made the post, Arden, if it’s anyone’s fault it’s mine,” Calum argued.

Arden’s eyes widened as if a revelation had surprised her.

“You bought the ring,” she said but her tone wasn’t accusatory; it was shocked and followed by a wave of guilt. “How much did it cost? Calum, we should return it.”

He waved her off, wanting to settle the panic and guilt consuming her. “Don’t worry about it. You need it for the stunt, no returning it now.”

Michael, jarring both Calum and Arden as he broke his silence pitched in, “He’s right. It’s not like you could replace it with anything else, fans would catch it in a second.”

“Management probably wouldn’t like it much either,” Calum added and rolled his eyes. Management was the last thing he wanted to cater to after all they had done but the contracts were signed and it was time to play the part.

Calum watched as Arden fiddled with it, twisted it around and around her finger, looking at it with disdain. Calum wondered where this situation would fall on Arden’s scale: okay or not so okay. From the pained expression written on her face and the shake of her leg Calum’s bets were leaning toward the side of not so okay. It was in that moment he became determined to shift the perspective and experience. If they had to go through this, they were going to make it as okay as possible. They were going to control the narrative; Arden had fought for that right after all.

Calum’s hand hadn’t stopped rubbing Arden’s back but the silence they fell into startled him into realizing and stopping. He let out a sigh and she shifted away, a blush capturing her cheeks as she bit her lip and stared at Calum as if trying to figure him out. Michael stared at both of them, for less contemplative reasons and more dumbfounded ones.

“You look exhausted. We should probably get you home,” Calum suggested.

All of his things were still in Michael’s car, all of Arden’s things were too. They didn’t stop on the way, they got to the office as quickly as possible. Michael took an Uber and met them there. Now it was time to leave and Calum could only hope Michael would be kind enough to drop him off at home and that the awkwardness lingering between them all might start to melt on the way.

“Yeah. I’ll go get the car,” Michael offered and Calum tossed him his key fob he had forgotten to give back until that very moment. Michael stalked off and Calum took the chance to have a conversation with Arden alone.

“Thank you,” he began with. “For agreeing to do this with me.”

For a moment Calum contemplated words of explanation. Whether it was the time or place to let her know the reasons he thought it was best. But the words it would take to say it all felt too heavy. He didn’t want her to know it was for her sake more than anything. That she was dispensable in the eyes of business and the only way around ruthless rumors and a ruined reputation was into a contract. That felt like information for another time, or, information that if she didn’t know it wouldn’t hurt her. He decided to reword it; shift the way the blame might feel like it was falling, clearly she felt the weight of it already.

“For me,” he said. “You’re really saving my ass here.”

Arden’s eyes narrowed and if she had any doubts of his thanks she didn’t voice them. She just nodded, a bit dejected and lost. Calum’s hand found hers and she let their fingers entwine though she arched an eyebrow in question at his antics.

“Better get used to it now,” he said while trying to keep his voice light and secrets below the surface. “Gonna be stuck with me for a year.”

“There’s worse ways to spend a year,” she said, a shadow of a smirk crossing her lips. “I guess.”

“Just think; if Ashton hadn’t been busy, you might actually be married to him right now. Till death do you part.”

Arden’s laugh was uncontrolled and free, infectious and a sound Calum craved to hear again the instant it stopped. She drew blank as a reality of being married to Ashton swept past her eyes. Calum was grinning when she pretended to shudder and vehemently shook her head no.

“He is chaotic and convincing enough for that to be a reality. I guess a year is nothing compared to that.”

The car pulled up and even though Michael was able to see them Calum didn’t let go of Arden’s hand. The doors opened and he helped her into her seat, gave her a small wink before taking up a place in the back. The ride to Calum’s place was quiet and offered everyone a chance to think over the events of the past two days and how two days felt like lifetimes. Michael pulled to the side of the road by Calum’s house and it only took Calum a moment to collect his few things and bid them both goodbye. He took one last long look at Arden before the door closed, gave her a comforting smile and told her he’d see her tomorrow. He knew he wanted to see her again whether they were contractually obligated to or not. Whether it was falling freedom now shackled to signatures or something much more.

<< >>

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[thefanficmonster]

Your Enemy

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder)

Warnings: Angst, Eating Disorder, Swearing, Trauma, Anxiety, Spoilers for HTGAWM Season 1, Mentions of Murder

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: Following the most stressful events she’s ever had to deal with in her life, Michaela is forced to face a demon she thought she had left in her past. Luckily, this time she doesn’t have to deal with it on her own and has the support of a person she deemed least likely to ever come through for her.

Requested by Anon. Hello darling! I’m so happy to be hearing you’ve completed a full year of ED recovery! I’m very proud of you for having fought such a tough battle and came out of it a the bravest, strongest winner. Hope you enjoy the fic and hope it doesn’t trigger any bad memories. If it does, please let me know wo I can change it up. Love and care about you lots, Vy ❤

It’s been almost a month now. Almost a month since she was involved in the murder and dismemberment of her professor’s husband who her and her classmates were sure was the killer of a college student by the name of Lila Stangard. A month and she still can’t stomach any of it - a month during which she hasn’t stomached much else either. 

It all started the morning after the murder when she was still a distressed and disheveled mess, a nervous wreck that refused to leave the confinement and safety of her home and face the world out of fear of getting that stamp and punishment she knew she deserved. She knew she was basically a criminal in hiding. They all were and it was frustrating as all hell to see them all putting up with it so well like that murder wasn’t their first or their last. They almost came off as though they felt they did the right thing - rid the world of one more disgusting prick which Sam undoubtedly was, but that still wasn’t on them to decide. What they did was still a crime, they were still killers and would get charged as ones if this was ever to be found out by any law enforcement.

And Michaela Pratt could barely live with herself.

That first week her stomach was in constant knots that would tighten at the mere mention of food. Therefore, she lived solely on liquids that supplied her with faux energy and nothing nutritious that her body could work with. Then it became a habit. Well, it had more so to do with the fact that she looked in the mirror one day after showering and noticed the sudden change in her body, how it seemed smaller and, in her eyes, prettier than before. She liked the ‘improvement’ and wanted to hold onto it, linking it to her new eating habits she decided to stick to them. Though, they can’t really be called ‘eating habits’ considering she spent a great deal of time not eating anything at all, leaving large gaps between each tiny meal and drinking significantly more black coffee. She even developed the bad habit of smoking - a way for her to get out of the room whenever the rest of the Keating 5 were on a lunch break.

She hated the familiarity of it all, but there was also a certain dose of comfort to it. She had faced this demonic entity that resides within the very mind of the troubled person and that’s why she wasn’t scared. It felt more like opening the flood gates she had barely managed to shut and keep closed in the first place. Hell, it was almost relieving to open them up again, allow the inevitable to finally happen.

Having to lie about eating, having to renew her wardrobe with clothes of a smaller size - and some larger ones to hide the sudden change in - and dealing with dry and cracked skin, chipping nails and thinning hair were only few of the hiccups Michaela started facing when her weight loss became more significant and apparent, so much so that the Keating 5 were starting to worry. She was used to lying and making up stories about it. After all, this wasn’t her first time going down the dangerous lane that is undereating and abruptly losing a ton of weight. As mentioned, she dealt with it as a teenager for almost two years. Eventually, her lies started becoming see-through, causing her family to force her into recovery which eventually worked - took her a while to cooperate, but she managed to be convinced her life was to be lived properly. Her success was to be earned in more ways than boney limbs and vertigo every time she stood up. She came to the realization that the world was a crueler place than she had anticipated. It was a warzone she needed to be strong to face and, having become thin as a stick and mentally rattled she was terribly underprepared for facing and battling any of it. 

Michaela Pratt decided she deserved better - chose to toughen up and take the bull of her life by the horns and control it properly. She finally became the one really in control - not her self-destructive side, but her rational, fighter side. The warrior in her decided enough was enough.

However, for her, there’s never such a thing as enough.

Sensing it was a delicate and rather triggering subject, the members around the Keating household were more than reluctant on touching the topic and asking at least one of the many questions they always had in mind.

Why do you suddenly wear such wide clothes?

Why do you no longer put sugar in your coffee?

What’s with those bags under your eyes? You haven’t been getting much sleep?

How come you always have a big breakfast even when you wake up late?

Why do you never eat?

Those and so many more questions swarmed the heads of her friends but none of them were brave enough to say anything. No one went to look for her around lunchtime to see where she goes to hide during that period. No one mentions their suspicions and doubts about her statements. No one dares to point out that she’s become a ghost of the Michaela they previously knew. She’s not as fierce as she used to be - not the same way. She just snaps at people, throwing empty insults at them. Her focus has dropped significantly and she often times falls asleep while on the clock, working on the case. They all see it but they all choose to be passive on-lookers, by-standers, no one sporting the guts and bravery to bring it up and ask her or express worry.

Well, no one except the brutally honest and straight forward Connor.

“And here I was wondering where our Shooting Star had fallen.“ He says, making his presence known verbally only after he snatched the pack of cigarettes from Michaela’s hand, startling her to no end. “Since when do you smoke, by the way?”

“None of your goddamn business.“ She hisses back at him, reaching for the stolen pack like an angry tigress. “Give them back, asshole.“

She’s stopped in her futile yet hostile attempts of retrieving the stolen cigarettes when Connor grabs one of her arms and develops a downright terrified look on his face: eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open, confusion, shock and concern in his gaze. That’s a rare combination for him - someone who’s supposedly super laid-back and careless. That concern is what hits her the hardest. It catches her so off-guard she puts her movements to a halt and just stares back at him for a few seconds, both of them deciding what to say.

“Michaela, what have you done to yourself? What are you doing to yourself?“ He asks her, still not letting go of her arm which feels tiny in his grip. His fingers loosen their hold instinctively, as if afraid that any more pressure could break it. “Are punishing yourself for what happened to Sam?“

Michaela returns to her senses, shaking her head and frowning as she yanks her arm out of his grip. “Nothing happened to Sam!” She whisper-yells, narrowing her eyes, glaring at him with a fiery intensity, “Don’t talk like he died of a heart attack or in a car accident. We happened to him. We fucking killed him, Connor! Come to terms with that already!”

“Scream that louder, will ya? A more perfect confession doesn’t exist.“ Subtly, he slips the pack in the back pocket of his jeans, the movement flying under Michaela’s radar since she’s so laser-focused on his face and the subtle changes in his expressions. “Seriously, what the hell are you doing? Is this the punishment you think you deserve?”

She rolls her eyes, “That’s fucking nonsense. It’s no punishment, I just wanna fit into my wedding dress come the time I have to walk down the aisle.“

“So fitting into your wedding dress is the priority? Tell me, what will your hairdresser and make-up artist gonna say when they see your cracked and bruised skin, your thinned hair, the massive bags underneath your eyes. Also, are you even gonna fit in the dress or is it gonna hang on you the way it would on a stick figure.“

“Shut up! Connor, my life, my appearance and my eating habits are none of your business. You can’t play the caring enemy and fuck with my head - hating me one minute caring about me the next. It really doesn’t suit you, in fact, it’s below you.“

“Michaela, I’m not your enemy.“ He taps her temple with his finger, getting his hand smacked away about a second later, “That brain of yours is currently your enemy, not me. You need to get rid of it.“

“But what if I can’t?!“ She snaps, her eyes glistening with tears Connor didn’t expect to see, “What if that’s all I have? That me who’s constantly whispering to me that I don’t need nor deserve food - she’s stuck with me longer than anyone else has. She’s been with me since I was fifteen, Connor. Fifteen! She never left, even when I tried to push her away and chase her out of my head. She stayed there, and now she’s helping me. You wouldn’t understand! You don’t have dresses to fit in, people to please, your own criteria to fulfill! You don’t even feel like you deserve punishment for what you did! You dismembered a human being, Connor! When are you gonna come to terms with the fact that you’re a murderer?!“

“When you come to terms with the fact that you’re killing yourself, Michaela!“ He too snaps, unable to control his emotions when faced with a literal life or death situation - one regarding his friend on top of all.

No, she’s not my friend. I’m just doing what any person would do in this scenario, he convinces himself. Turns out there are several facts Connor Walsh can’t come to terms with - caring about his biggest rival is one of them.

“She’s not your friend, Michaela! She doesn’t want anything good for you. She’ll end up leading you to your death if you keep listening and trusting her! That Michaela is the one deserving of punishment, not you. Don’t let her overpower the rational Michaela I met that day, the first day of class. The one I wanted to strangle for being so cocky and self-centered and was stealing my spotlight. The one who left me in the dust a few too many times for me not to respect her. She could kick the self-destructive Michaela’s ass. Let her.“

A choked sob escapes Michaela’s throat as a result of Connor’s speech. The last thing she expected was support and help - she was prepared for the mocking, the sympathy and pity, the ‘Seriously? Get over it, will ya?’ or the ‘It’s all in your head. Just eat, damn it.’ she grew used to hearing the first time she was dealing with an eating disorder. If she wasn’t still herself she would’ve probably even given him a hug - one she’d regret later - but she remained in her spot, arms folded over her chest, nodding slowly.

“Thank you, Connor. But it’s not as easy as you make it sound.“ She sniffles, her gaze wandering elsewhere, embarrassed by how she broke down in front of him just now. Lord knows she’ll be even more pissed later, but right now she’s got other things on her mind. Something she hadn’t even brushed upon before this conversation with Connor - recovery. She’s not used to seeking help from anyone for anything, especially not something she saw as her superpower until someone forced her eyes open. Forced the epiphany on her that she’s not living, she’s killing herself.

“Of course it’s not easy. That’s why no one does it alone, you know.“ Hesitantly, very very hesitantly, he lifts his hand, cautiously placing it on Michaela’s shoulder. “People reach out for support and go talk to professionals. You don’t have to do this alone. In fact, you can’t do this alone.“ He pauses, waiting for her gaze to meet his. When it does, he continues, “I won’t let you.“

Never did Michaela expect support from anyone, never did she want or need it. But here she is receiving it from the person she thought least likely to offer it. Never did she think there’d come a day when her arms, as if on autopilot would, wrap around Connor Walsh in a tight embrace of gratitude. While pretty startled, he manages to return the hug after blinking once or twice to comprehend the situation.

“Thank you.“ He hears her whisper and that’s more than he ever thought he’d get from her.

“Don’t mention it.“ He lets a small smile slip onto his face as his hold on her tightens ever so slightly.

[asupernaturalgirl]

Engaged to Be Wed

Daryl x Reader

Summary: Daryl doesn’t think engagement is necessary but when Y/N mentions it, he realizes she may want to marry. 

A/N: This is actually going to be a series about the wedding process in the zombie apocalypse. It’s not going to be anything to hard hitting, just some cute fluff and marriage! Also, let me tell you, it’s hard to find any GIF of Daryl that could have anything to do with engagement, hence the random one here. 

Warnings: fluff, panic about big moments

                                                               … 

You laid in bed with Daryl, your head on his chest as he slowly ran his fingers along your arms. Moments like these were your favorite. You could be completely yourself and share the most peaceful time with the love of your life. Not everyone was this lucky. It was the middle of the zombie apocalypse and you found love on Hershel’s Family farm. The relationship was slow moving at first but by the time you made it to the prison, the two of you were thick as thieves. You may not have been “dating” but at that point everyone already knew the two of you were together. 

    Looking up, you saw Daryl with his head on the pillow, his eyes closed. He wasn’t asleep though, just resting his eyes. “Have you ever been to a wedding?”

    His brows furrowed and he looked down at you, his hand stilling. “Based on the fact that I was wandering around the woods with my drunk, high brother when this all happened, I’m gonna say you already know the answer to that.”

    “I have,” You looked down at your hands and sat up in the bed, leaning your back against the headboard. “I always thought they were so beautiful. When the Groom would look at his bride for the first time and cry. Everyone celebrates the fact that two people are so in love they want to spend the rest of their lives together. It was the most romantic thing I could even think of.”

    Daryl looked at you apprehensively. He didn’t know you felt this way about weddings of all things. All these years he’d know you, you hadn’t mentioned marriage once. To him, you always seemed like the type of girl to not worry about marriage because it wasn’t what truly showed that you loved the other person. These days it would almost be impossible to get married. He couldn’t even imagine worrying about a wedding while you’re killing walkers. It just didn’t seem to fit. 

    “You wanted one?”

    “Of course I did,” You smiled to yourself. It was a long shot, you knew that. Marriage was part of the institution. The institution that didn’t even exist anymore. You loved Daryl with all your heart even without a ring on your finger. It just seemed when you were young and you imagined the future, that future involved a ring. It made you feel shallow, ungrateful. How could you worry about that right now? There was no way Daryl would want to get married anyway. “Weddings are impossible these days anyway. There are bigger things to spend time on.”

    You slid back down in the bed, adjusting the quilt on your body and leaning back into Daryl, enjoying the warmth that radiated off his skin. His lips pressed onto your head, giving you a soft, sweet kiss. “I love ya, Y/N.”

    “I love you too, Daryl.”

…

    You had just walked away for a moment in the small store you’d raided. Daryl watched closely as you turned down an aisle and moved towards the jewelry before you could spot him. There wasn’t anything expensive here, he knew that. You probably wouldn’t want anything like that in the first place. You were always practical, wearing the most comfortable outfit you could at any opportunity. He imagined you’d want something small, something that wouldn’t get in the way of your work. The ring box laid in the back of the section and he glanced over the cheap cubic zirconia. They were all fake. Would you want something like this or would you want something real?

    When he heard your footsteps making their way back to him, Daryl grabbed the ring with the smallest jewel and seemed like it would fit you the best and turned right as you walked into sight. Your brows furrowed and you looked around. “What the hell are you doing over here?”

    “Just got lost,” He said nervously, moving his hand by his sides. 

    You rolled your eyes and chucked. “Okay, weirdo. I want to get back. Eric said that he would cook me dinner if I found him some books and mama is hungry.”

…

    You slurped down the bowl of chowder that Eric had put in front of you after your trade of several contemporary books you’d found in the book section of the store. He gazed over them as Aaron and Daryl spoke in the corner. Usually you’d be suspicious, but you were too hungry to care at this point. Whenever Eric offered to make you food, you jumped on it at the first possible moment. 

    Daryl silently pulled Aaron to the side, trying to get him farther away from you without looking suspicious. He’d never seen an engagement, never even been interested in carrying out one and had no idea where to even start. Aaron had done this before and would know better than him about how to do it. “I’m planning on proposin’ to Y/N.”

    Aaron’s expression took on a surprised look. His eyes widened and he patted Daryl’s shoulder, a smile crossing his face. “Good on you, man. What made this come up all of the sudden?”

    “She wanted it. I could tell,” He shook his head and leaned against the wall, rubbing his temples. He never thought he would be so worried about something that he didn’t even care about a few days ago. “I jus’ wanna make her happy, ya know? I don’t want how the world is now to stop her from living a life she’s always wanted.”

    “I understand,” Aaron nodded and crossed his arms. “How are you planning on doing it?”

    “Well, that’s what I’m tellin’ you for,” Daryl looked over at you to ensure you weren’t peeking and pulled the ring out of his pocket. “I picked this up when we went on a run. Had to try to keep it from her the best I could. I don’t even know where to start.”

    Aaron looked at Daryl with empathy. It was likely very stressful to do something like this when you’ve never even thought about it before. “Y/N’s a sweet girl. I’m sure she’s going to be very happy with whatever you do. Take her somewhere special, somewhere you both enjoy. Tell her what you think about her.”

    Daryl bit his lip and shoved the ring back in his pocket. “You really think it’s that simple?”

    “I know it’s that simple,” Aaron’s eyes flickered to Eric quickly before stepping back from the wall. “You’re gonna be nervous as hell.”

    “Thanks,” Daryl said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and making his way towards you, putting his hand on your back. “You ready to go?”

    You looked at your empty bowl and nodded, grabbing your jacket off the back of the seat. “Thanks for the food, Eric. Enjoy your books!”

    He smiled and waved goodbye as the two of you left the house and walked back towards your room with Daryl. 

…

    The world flew past you, your cheek resting on Daryl’s back. Going on rides with him was one of your favorite pastimes when you weren’t working. The loud sounds of the motorcycles echoed around you, waking the stray walker to follow. They had no chance to get either of you. The motorcycle was too fast and even if they got too close, Daryl’s crossbow sat where it always was on a run, his shoulder. 

    Daryl slowed to a stop by a lake the two of you frequently swam in. It seemed odd he was pulling out all the stops today. You looked at him suspiciously and furrowed your brows. “What the hell are you up to?”

    “Wanted to get out. Needed to relax.”

    “Everything okay?” You bit your lip and kissed his cheek softly. He seemed shifty, nervous. It made you feel on edge when he was on edge. 

    “Jus’,” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I’m fine.”

    Now you were really nervous. This wasn’t usual. Daryl would never have acted this nervous about anything. Usually you would have to annoy him for hours to get him to tell you anything. In his mind, it was his job to protect you and if he was the one making you nervous by being nervous, he was doing it wrong. 

    “Daryl,” You lean back, grabbing his arms. “What’s going on? Are you sick or something?”

    “Nah,” He shook off your comment and laughed slightly. “It’s okay. I promise you.”

    “Did you come out here to break up with me or something?”

    “No!”

    “Then to kill me?”

    “God, woman,” He rolls his eyes and puts his hand on your cheek, running his thumb over your cheek bone softly. “How the hell do I love you so much?”

    Your heart warmed by you were still so unsure. This wasn’t Daryl. Your heart beat quickly in your chest. “I love you, too.”

    He closed his eyes, his hands shaking beyond belief. You’d never seen him so scared in all the time you’d known him. Tears pooled in your eyes, beginning to feel panicky. If he was acting like this, something very bad was happening. “You’re scaring me.”

    Daryl looked down for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and getting down on one knee. You gasped, jumping back slightly. You would have run had it not been for his hand holding yours. “Daryl, what the hell are you doing?”

    “Y/N,” He ignored you, his voice shaky and unsure. “You’re the most important thing in the world to me. I didn’t realize I needed a friend, a companion, until you came along. I know you know I’m not all about this marriage stuff but if it’s important to you, that’s what were going to. I have to repay you somehow for what you’ve given me through the years.”

    “Daryl,” You sighed, running your hand over the top of his head as he spoke. His words meant so much to you. He never spoke like this, but when he did, he meant it. You began to sob now, feeling nothing but joy. 

    “Will you marry me?” The question seemed so simple, so odd when walkers walked around you. After everything went down, this was something you never imagined would happen. This world wasn’t meant for marriage. The two of you were different though. You both adapted to this world. When you hadn’t answered him for a few minutes, Daryl grew nervous. “Can you just give me an answer? I’m sweatin’ through my shirt.”

    You giggled and pulled him up, taking the small ring from the box and slipping it onto your finger. You kissed his lips softly and pulled back. “Of course I’ll marry you, ya big doof.”

                                                               … 

Tags: @crazynocturnalkiki, @kamieshep

[happytsukki]

boyfriend material

k. bokuto

in which you inquire bokuto to act as your fake boyfriend for a weekend, but you’re the one acting like you don’t have real feelings for him.

a/n: so you’re telling me i have to accept the fact that bokuto isn’t real?? real heartbreak 😔 anyway i love the fake dating trope hehe i hope u enjoy!! idk how i feel about the end ummm

“be my boyfriend, taro.”

“woah woah woah, slow down y/n. technically you haven’t even confessed to me yet,” stuttered bokuto, his eyes darting around the nearly empty library just to avoid your gaze. heat rose to his cheeks and the tip of his ears, showcasing a pink hue that he was embarrassed to let you see.

sure, your friends loved to giggle about how good you and bokuto looked together or how you two were basically soulmates because you shared the same music taste and movie favorites. and you two would shyly refuse, believing that you were simply friends. right?

but nothing would’ve prepared bokuto to hear something so bold come out of your mouth. wasn’t he supposed to be the bold one? but why was he suddenly the one being flustered and feeling knots grow in his stomach?

you shook your head profusely. “shut up taro. not like that, what i mean is that my parents think i have a boyfriend to bring home this break—which obviously i do not.” you placed your hands together and pouted, “so please be my fake boyfriend.”

the boy scratched the back of his head in confusion. “wait, why exactly do your parents think you, of all people, have a boyfriend? and besides, why can’t you just say you don’t?” questioned bokuto.

he was right. you were never really adept at dating, and who knows why your parents fell for your silly lie but you knew one thing for sure: if you didn’t go to the family reunion with a boyfriend, you would be disowned by your entire family.

“well it started with a small lie— for a good reason of course! see, we have a family reunion around this time, but my snotty cousin loves to show off every year and i was fed up.” you huffed and rolled your eyes just at the thought of her, “so i told my parents that my boyfriend and i had a date planned for that day so i couldn’t go, but no. they refused to let me miss it and insisted on introducing him. now i have to see my annoying cousin again and bring my nonexistent boyfriend.” you sighed heavily and threw your arms up in frustration.

“okay. i’ll do it. but first, you have to tell me why you picked me.” he crossed his arms and stuck his nose up, waiting for your response. ah, it was bokuto’s daily need for validation that you were expecting.

“you’re obviously the best candidate to not only make my parents proud of me but also to rub it in my cousin’s face. i mean who else can i bring that was one of the top 5 aces in the nation, now part of the msby black jackals and just as scrumptiously fine and hot as y–“ bokuto’s eyes widened at your last statement and his hand quickly went to cover your mouth. you almost doubled over in laughter, shy bokuto was a rare sight so this was quite enjoyable to watch.

he laughed nervously, “woaaah, okay i get it now. thank you y/n....or should i say girlfriend.” winked bokuto. though it came off as a joke he could feel his heart race so fast that he felt like he was high on cloud nine, a feeling foreign till now.

desperately seeking a breath of fresh air from the situation, bokuto scrambled to gather his books and bid a short farewell but not before giving you an awkward pat on the head and a high-five. yes, a high five.

“bye y/n!” smiled bokuto, dashing out of the library like it was a 100 meter race.

but bokuto failed to realize that his exuberant heart seemed to beat in rhythm with someone else’s, yours.

your two years of friendship seemed to suffice for a decent cover story, or so you thought. but once you stepped foot onto the front lawn of your home, the growing tighteness in your chest would say otherwise.

maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

your mind was spiraling out of control causing you to be paralyzed with a million thoughts on your mind.

“earth to y/n— are you okay?” asked bokuto. he waved his hand in front of your face, snapping you out of your frozen state.

“i-i think i’m stupid for thinking i could pull of this crazy plan. maybe you should just go home kou,” you admited. your eyes wouldn’t dare look into his eyes, instead redirecting your attention on the hem of your sweater.

bokuto wasn’t a quitter and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you go into there alone. he grabbed your hand and gave it a small squeeze, his other hand raising your chin up.

“i’m not letting you admit defeat, y/n. besides, i’m wearing the perfect sweater.” beamed bokuto.

“sweater?” you puzzled. “check it out, it’s made out of boyfriend material.” he joked, earning a simple smile out of you and washing away your doubts.

you couldn’t help but marvel at the look of pure determination on his face. you’ve seen it plenty of times, mostly during tough volleyball games. the way you could look into his eyes and see a fire set ablaze made you feel strong and fearless. bokuto just had that effect on people. without a second thought, one hand interwined with bokuto’s, you pushed open the door.

unfortunately, your rush of adrenaline was cut short by the disgusting sight of your cousin, chiyo. her eyes immediately landed on you but soon shifted over to the mysterious attractive man to your left.

chiyo was vile, cruel, judgemental, rude, bossy, selfish and the list goes on. since you were children, she made it her life goal to be better than you in everything. you were usually able to tolerate her childish attempts to make you feel inferior but ever since she got an internship with alexander wang while you were still stuck in college, she just couldn’t stop tearing apart your life.

“oh my, look who it is. hello y/n, is this your friend?” questioned chiyo, her eyes running bokuto up and down like tiger finding her next prey.

oblivious to her true intentions, he offered her his usual friendly smile. you rolled your eyes, anger stirring deep within you.

you wrap your arms around bokuto’s waist and lovingly rest your head onto his chest.

still in his embrace, you turn your head to face chiyo again “no, this is my boyfriend bokuto. but i don’t think i see your boyfriend, is he around?” you retorted. chiyo gasped in response, and after failing to find a snarky rebuttal she stomped away in annoyance.

while cheers of victory rang through your head, you peered up at bokuto. “did you see that taro? we really showed her” you laughed.

but bokuto didn’t laugh. he nodded trying to keep his calm but inside he was screaming hysterically. he felt like absolute jelly in your touch, wondering why he wanted to play this role forever.

“come on, you should meet my little cousins!” you say as you drag him to the backyard.

needless to say, the kids absolutely adored him.

“hey hey hey!” boomed bokuto, his voice resonating through the yard and catching the attention of the horde of children.

your five year old cousin yuta gaped at his towering height “woahhh mister— you’re a giant!” another boy began climbing his body, tugging at his white-grey streaked hair, causing bokuto to yelp in pain.

it was a sight that made your heart swell with happiness. the way bokuto sat on the grass, surrounded by children ooo-ing and ah-ing at his stories while he showcased a huge grin made you appreciate the little things. and of course you just had to snapping a quick picture of bokuto before he could even notice. after the initial excitement died down, he returned to your side with the same grin painted on his face.

“excuse me, y/n-chan. is that your husband?” a tiny voice whispered, tugging at the hem of your cyan-colored sweater. the girl, small and doe-eyed, pointed a shy finger towards the boy.

oh my god. you were mortified, completely frozen in your spot. you couldn’t believe she just said that, why would she say that? suddenly you hated children. but at that moment you just desperately wanted the earth to open up and swallow you whole.

before you could awkwardly announce that he was just your boyfriend, bokuto already had the situation under control. he placed one knee on the grass, now eye-level to the girl. with a hearty laugh he said “not yet...but would you like to be a flower girl at our wedding?” the girl’s eyes lit up with pure bliss, nodding her head aggressively to his suggestion.

for a split second, you thought bokuto deserved an oscar for his exceptional acting skills.

because at that moment, you were beginning to fall for him, wondering if one day you would be lucky enough to walk down the aisle to meet a teary-eyed bokuto at the altar.

“oh y/n i’m so happy you’re dating bokuto!!” your mother exclaimed, clapping her hands together at the dinner table.

you’ve been dreading dinner time the entire day, and of course your mother just had to prove your point exactly.

“y/n has always been gushing over him, i’m so glad she finally made a move— how did you two finally get together?” your mother questioned, placing her chopsticks down, leaning forward to give you her full attention. the rest of your family turned their heads towards you and eagerly waited for your response as they continued eating.

“oh, i-um” you stuttered. why didn’t you prepare more? you thought, mentally facepalming your poor decisions.

luckily, bokuto interrupted, “actually i confessed first, at my last game..” he offered you a small smile, and placed his hand over yours. it was a gesture that made you let go off the breath you were holding, it meant “i got this.”

“i thought she was perfect from the first time we met..”

you laughed. what a lie. the first time you met bokuto was far from elegant. you still remember it vividly, you standing on the sidelines chatting with kageyama when suddenly bokuto’s hard serve accidentally hits you in the back of the head. lets just say you weren’t exactly pleased to meet the perpetrator.

“and i thought she hated at first. we had mutual friends so we hung out more, and the more i got to spend time with her, the more i fell for her. i loved how she greeted me with a congratulatory hug after every match or how she would constantly sends me random songs that reminded her of me. i’m glad she’s mine..” professed bokuto.

he had the entire room swooning over every word, the story stringing together like it came straight out of your typical romantic movie.

oh how you wished bokuto wasn’t such a good actor. you wished he was the terrible fake boyfriend that all the kids loathed. you wished he was the terrible fake boyfriend that your mom didn’t look at with complete and utter adoration. you wished he was the terrible boyfriend that didn’t make your entire world stop on its axis with one look, one touch or one word.

falling in love with bokuto kotarou was easy; it’s admitting to yourself that it happened that was hard.

“mind if i join you?” asked bokuto.

after a long and tiring dinner, you decided to lay down outside, gazing at the blanket of stars that lit up the pitch black sky.

you longed for peace and quiet, away from your crazy family and your fake boyfriend. but you couldn’t escape from the feelings you harbored for bokuto.

“no.” you said, not daring to even glance at him. he laid down beside you, so close that his warmth radiated and his hand lightly grazed yours. silence filled the air, begging someone to say something, anything.

“thank you taro.” you whispered. “you’re suprisingly a good actor.”

“you ever heard of method acting?” he asked. you shake your head in confusion and he continues,”its when an actor completely embraces his role by developing sincere and genuine emotions..”

he sat up abruptly, diverting his gaze from the stars to your face, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. his fingers lace through yours, your hearts thumping joyfully in a familiar unison.

“what i mean is— acting isn’t hard when it’s real. none of my feelings were fake” expressed bokuto. “i don’t wanna be the fake boyfriend anymore.”

and for once, neither you or bokuto question your feelings, everything became so clear.

“because, frankly, i think our hands fit perfectly and i wouldn’t mind holding yours forever.”

[chenle-dressed-in-black]

✰ 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 | 𝕝.𝕥𝕒𝕖𝕪𝕠𝕟𝕘 ✰

     This is mafia!taeyong au where you’re forced into an unhappy marriage with him that becomes the promise of something more. I’m writing this on request. There’s language, mentions of violence, mentions of sex (not smut, though), and an arranged marriage, so fair warning. Enjoy~

m.list

     Your life is over. Growing up living a life where you were almost guaranteed to be killed has taken many things away from you. The promise of a long life, of children. Of finding love. Through every promise of life stolen from you, there has always been one unquestionable fact to keep you grounded: your life is your own. 

     Maybe you won’t live long enough to find your purpose in life or change the world, but each day you get to choose how you’re going to live. Despite everything, your life has consistently belonged to you. You never lived bound to the whims of another, until now. 

     It’s a beautiful dress, really. Hand-crafted lace and expensive black silk. Your wedding dress is something out of a dream. They must have been planning this marriage for quite awhile longer than you first thought, because the dress is clearly custom-made for you. And staring at yourself in the floor-length mirror in your honeymoon suite, you cannot deny that you’re stunning. 

     The ceremony ended very quickly. You walked down the aisle of an empty church, promised to give up your individual desires, and kissed a stranger. He could be anyone. The ugliest or most handsome man in the world, the kindest or the most supreme type of evil. You hate him either way, Actually, it’s easier if he is completely abominable. Part of you hopes he’ll try to lay a hand on you, because that way you can kill him and get in no trouble. If there’s one code every mafia respects, it’s an eye for an eye. And sometimes a life for an eye. 

     When your husband walks in the room, you’re still daydreaming about murdering him. His hair is dyed a faded pink color. You’re betting his tuxedo was custom-made for him, too, because it fits him flawlessly. Honestly, he’s beautiful. The man looks as devastated as you are, but there’s no way he really is. With these types of arrangements, the men always have more wiggle room and say. 

     He clears his throat. “You must be Y/N.”

     “No shit.” You take off one of your sparkly heels and throw it at the floor. “I don’t even know your name.” 

     “It’s Taeyong,” he says gently. “Lee Taeyong. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

     You want to laugh, but your stiff, trembling body won’t comply. “Obviously not that sorry, since you’re the one doing it to me, new husband.”

     Taeyong sits down on the other side of the giant heart-shaped bed, undoing his bow-tie. “I didn’t really have a choice.” 

    “The guys always have a choice,” you say dryly. “You know, the worst part of this is that it wasn’t even an angry ex-boyfriend or rival who kidnapped me and forced me into marriage. It was my own family. Do you know what they told me?” 

     Taeyong shakes his head. Now he’s taking off his suit jacket. “I don’t know anything about you except your name. And that you probably hate me. And you’re my wife.” 

     “‘You can marry the nice boy we picked out for you, or you can die.’” Your gaze is locked on the stupid hardwood floors. “I didn’t want them to kill me, so here I am. You don’t get to fuck me tonight, so don’t get your hopes up. If you’re waiting for me to catch Stockholm Syndrome, don’t hold your breath, Taeyong.”

     “I wasn’t expecting that to happen.” He seems irritated now. “I’m not the asshole you want me to be. I didn’t want this—I’ve never wanted a marriage like this. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

     “That’s funny.” 

     “I’m not the ‘nice boy’ your family picked out for you,” he explains. “That was my brother. Murderer or not, no girl deserves to be subjected to his torment. So I volunteered for this wedding.” 

     You get up and come around the bed, edging toward the door. “Good for you, Katniss. But I’m not thanking you for ruining my life. I would’ve rather married your brother. At least I could’ve gotten rid of him the second he tried something. I’m not really a murderer, by the way. The people I’ve killed got what was coming.” 

    ��Taeyong rolls his annoyed eyes at you. “You can’t go anywhere.”

     “We have a whole mansion to ourselves. I’ll be making the most of it by the hot tub, alone.” 

                                      ~~~

     “Y/N!” He’s just gotten home, and he’s yelling from downstairs in a scary voice you’ve never heard before. Three months of living with him and sleeping beside him at night but you haven’t seen him angry. 

     You hear him run up the stairs, and suddenly he’s bursting into the bedroom you share. You make an impartial face at him. “What?”

     “You left again,” he begins. “You went somewhere without any protection. Not just anywhere, because you strode right into our enemy’s territory.”

     You shrug. “Your enemy, not mine. Didn’t need a bodyguard.” 

     “My enemies are yours now, Y/N!” Taeyong runs his fingers through his hair. “Anyone will kill you to hurt me.” 

     “Don’t be ridiculous,” you say, waving a hand. “Everyone knows we were arranged. I’m in no real danger, since no one believes that you care about me for a second. Killing me just wastes a bullet.”

     “That’s not true!” he yells. You give him a look that makes his voice drop to a breathy whisper. “. . . none of that is true.” 

     “No, I’m pretty sure it’s widely known that I was forced to marry you because my family sucks ass,” you say. “And you married me to spare me from the wraith of your psychotic brother I would’ve murdered, or whatever.” 

     “You are in real danger.” Taeyong’s still whispering. “Because anyone can see how much I love you.” 

     Your mouth opens and you try to say something sarcastic and cold, but nothing comes out. He moves toward you and suddenly you’re pressing your mouth against his like it’s the only thing you’ve thought of doing in three months. Kiss after hungry kiss comes next, and they say everything you won’t admit. You give in to your buried desires without a second thought. After the high wears off, you escape him under the guise of needing to take a shower. 

     “Can I come with you?” 

     “No.” His hand is resting on your bare shoulder and you can still see all of him and it’s too much for you. You hurry to the bathroom and lock the door.

     It was so stupid. You’re leaning your head against the cold, tiled wall. How could you let yourself do that? After three months of successfully keeping your distance from him, you slipped up in the worst way possible. And it’s even worse because you know what you’ll see the second you step out of the bathroom. Taeyong, still in your bed, staring at you like you just gave him the sun. With his stupid, irresistible black eyes and his bare chest. 

     God! How could you be so stupid? It takes everything in you not to cry. One moment, the two of you were screaming at each other in the dark. He was mad that you don’t take your safety seriously; you were pissed because you don’t want him to care about your safety. You just want him to hate you, so you can hate him back. 

     When the hot water runs out and you drag yourself out of the shower, your face is swollen from crying. You wrap yourself in a towel, preparing to make a run for the guest bedroom that you used to sleep in. At the beginning of your marriage. You get halfway through the bedroom when Taeyong jumps up. 

     He hasn’t bothered to put on any clothes. “You don’t have to regret what we just did. I know you do. We’re married, Y/N, and I love you.”

     “Stop saying that!” You force your eyes not to look down. “Stop saying that, because it’s not true. Don’t be cruel.” 

     “Me?” His eye contact is unnerving. “You’re the cruel one, Y/N. What part of ‘I’m in love with you’ is going over your head?”

     “You don’t even know me,” you say. “You said it yourself: all you know is my name.” 

     Taeyong takes another step toward you. “I know that you hate loud noises. You kick in your sleep. Sad movies are your favorite.” 

     “Congratulations, you know basic facts about your roommate of three months. I don’t see why anything you just said matters.” 

     He snaps his fingers. “That’s another thing you do—act like you don’t care when you actually do. A lot. Even though you pretend to hate me, I know how you really feel. The one thing I can’t figure out is why you want to hide your feelings for me. Because I’m standing right in front of you, professing my love to you. I’m looking out for you, making sure no one can hurt you. What are you so scared of?” 

     “You’re supposed to be the person who ruined my life, but all you’ve ever done is make me happy. You make me safe and loved. But at the end of the day, I’m stuck with you. No matter how you make me feel; I’m stuck.”

     Taeyong puts a soft hand on your cheek. “Maybe you didn’t choose to start this arrangement, but I promise you that I will never stop you from ending it. The second you say you want out, I’ll make it happen.”

     “Are you serious? Could you even do that, if you tried? Your family wouldn’t like it.” 

     “Screw them,” he says. “I’ll do whatever I have to. I swear to me that the only way you’re going to be tied to me is if you choose it.” 

     “Taeyong . . .” The two of you are standing very close now. “I choose it.”