#wedding favor ideas for guest

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Terms and Conditions

Russell Shaw X F!Doctor!Reader

Summary: when your sister's fiance goes missing, you call Colter for help, and he brings along his rugged, but handsome and charming older brother, Russell.

Warnings: mature content, eventual smut so minors dni (always), no use of y/n, this part only contains cursing. I've never written anything so tame (it's okay next part won't be)

WC: 3.6k

A/N: so I finished tracker, yay and Russell owns my thoughts rn so here we are. I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this. I'm not great at writing series, but this idea called for development I can't do in a one-shot. I started this right after finishing tracker last week and I finally had time to proof read it. I also had a hard time with Russell's characterization, mans been in only one episode, so if i didnt portay him perfectly sorry i tried. Happy readings.

I don't do tag lists, if you'd like keep up with upcoming parts follow @midnightreadinglibrary and turn on notifications (I only reblog my written works on there)

You have encountered a lot of grief and sorrow in your life. Pain, you were familiar with it. And you could safely say that one of the worst was heartbreak. You were all too familiar with that one. And right now, your baby sister was experiencing it, too.

“Rosie?” You called into your apartment as you kicked your shoes off and tossed your keys like they had offended you. With a heavy sigh, tired from a long and stressful day at the hospital, you dragged your sore feet through your apartment. 

The living room was empty, TV off. The kitchen was dark with the lights off. You frowned, calling your sister’s name, louder again. Couple seconds went by. Silence. You padded down the hall to the guest room. You could hear faint indistinct sounds. The closer you got to the guest room the clearer the sound became. It sounded like crying.

“Rosalie?” Your voice grew louder with concern as you opened the door to the bedroom, and there you saw your sweet baby sister, sobbing into her pillow. Your heart immediately sank and you rushed to her side. “Oh honey, it’s okay.”

You sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into a hug. She held you tight as she cried. It broke your heart to see her like this.

“It’s not okay! He’s been gone for over a week!” She sobbed. You squeezed her shoulders as she sat up and sniffled. “Our wedding is in three months! Why hasn't he come back?”

You stared into her eyes, the same color as your own and you sighed, only being able to give her a look of sympathy in return. You didn’t want to tell her what you thought.

“I dunno.. I mean.. What if he just.. You know?” The look on your face said everything you couldn’t with words, and Rosie looked like she wanted to cry even more.

“He didn’t bail. He wouldn’t… I know him. He's missing, why won’t anyone believe me?” She raised her voice, almost choking on a sob, and you immediately felt so horrible for even suggesting such a thing. 

“No, hey, I’m sorry for saying that, I do believe you. Have you heard anything from the cops?” She shook her head and you sighed heavily. 

“I can’t keep waiting, what if he got hurt? What if someone hurt him? Please, I need to do something.” She begged you, eyes filled with tears, you had never seen your sister so sad, so hopeless. She was always the more bubbly, optimistic and lively out of the two of you. But ever since her fiance went missing, you didn’t see that spark anymore. It broke your heart.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. I think I know someone who can help, alright? We’ll find him.” 

~~~~~~~

“Hey Doc, to what do I owe this call? It’s been like what, three years?” 

You sighed softly at the voice on the other line. You didn’t exactly want to resort to this, but you didn’t know what else to do, but you had the money, your sister didn’t exactly have a lot to spare with her wedding planning, and all.

“I need a favor, Colter. Well, not exactly a favor, I’ll pay but, I need help asap.” You rubbed the side of your throbbing temple, you heard him hum, telling you to go on. “My sister’s fiance went missing last week. They’re supposed to get married in three months, and the poor thing is a wreck.”

Colter sighed. “A runaway groom? You know what that sounds like, right?”

“Yes, I know. But I know this guy, he’s a decent guy, and I know he loves my sister, he wouldn’t just leave her like this.” You tried to explain, Colter sighed again. “Listen, the guy was in the Army, he’s a Navy SEAL now, went overseas a lot, and my sister told me he’s been acting weird since his last assignment. Just humor me, please? I can’t see her like this.”

Colter stayed silent for a long minute, you honestly thought he had hung up, but you ultimately heard him take a deep breath before responding. “Fine, send me his details, I should get there by morning if I head out now.” 

“Thank you.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Chaos, chaos and more chaos.

You just wanted five minutes to breathe. You sat down, for the first time in hours today and took in a deep breath. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Rosie, almost zombie-like as she walked through the emergency department  You called out to her.

“Hey, did you get some sleep?” You asked her with worried eyes. She shrugged. “Listen, I called an old friend, he helps find people. Maybe he can find James, ‘cause the cops clearly aren’t going to.” You saw the smallest smile, and the smallest bit of hope light of her eyes.

“Really? What, is he like a PI or something?” She tilted her head at you, seemingly just as exhausted as you were.

“I mean..” You hesitated, unsure on how to explain Colter’s job to her. “I guess? He collects reward money. When someone goes missing and a reward is offered, he finds people for that reward.”

“But I didn’t offer any reward. I can’t even afford to buy a pair of shoes right now.. On my shitty nurse salary. I’ve already spent so much of my savings on planning the wedding. And these student loans are killing me. I can’t pay him.” She started to ramble in panic, motioning her hands around. You stood up and grabbed her hands.

“It’s fine. I got it covered. Take it as your early wedding gift?” You flashed her a toothy smile, hoping to humor her at least a little. She looked at you with apprehension. “Not a word, okay? I want him to come home to you, I don’t mind spending some money if it means you can be happy.”

She could have the happiness you never could.

Rosie’s eyes filled with tears and you thought she was going to burst into tears in the middle of the emergency department, but instead she hugged you, and she hugged you so fucking hard you thought she broke one of your ribs. You laughed softly and patted her head reassuringly. You were about to say something to her but you heard your name being called. You turned around and saw one of the rotation nurses.

“You have visitors at the front desk.” She told you. You scrunched up your face in confusion.

“Who? I wasn't expecting anyone.”

“Don’t know. The front desk just said two guys asked for you directly.”

Oh. Colter. But who was the other guy?

‘Alright, thanks.” You nodded at her. You then looked at Rosie with a warm reassuring smile and you held her hands in yours. “We’re gonna find James, I know it. I’ll let you know when my friend wants to meet with you, he normally likes to talk with the missing person’s closest relative. Try to focus on work alright?” 

You left her with that, hoping she would trust you. And you hoped you could trust Colter. With a heavy sigh you walked to the front desk of the emergency department. And there you saw Colter, hands in his pockets as he talked with another man you didn’t recognize. With a bit of skepticism, you approached both men, letting your presence be known with a clear of your throat. They both turned to look at you, Colter with a warm welcoming smile, but the other guy, who was arguably the hottest man you had ever seen in your life—not that it was relevant—looked at you like a deer in headlights, like starstruck.

“Hey Colter,” you gave him a cordial smile, then you looked at his slightly shorter companion, though both men were still a good head taller than you. “And Colter’s friend. Didn’t know you had a partner.”

“I don’t. This is—”

“Russell. Colter’s more handsome and charming older brother.” Russell interrupted, extending a hand to you. You looked at Colter, who looked less than impressed and you couldn’t help but snort a bit.

“I see the flirty nature is a family thing then?” You took Russell’s hand with a small laugh but you quickly swallowed when you felt the warmness of his large hand as it engulfed your smaller one. You weren’t really laughing then. You made eye contact with Russell, you had never seen a pair of prettier eyes, a breathtaking shade of green, and an intensity that was equally breathtaking. It didn’t help that he was smiling at you, too. 

You cleared your throat and took your hand back, choosing to look at Colter instead, “So uh, what’s the plan?”

“Right, well, first things first, I need more details about this James, think you could take an early lunch? I would also need to talk to your sister as soon as possible.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, catching a glimpse of your watch before ultimately nodding, “Yeah, just give me an hour. We can meet at this cafe nearby, I’ll send you the address. You can meet with my sister after her shift. She’s been staying with me.”

They looked at each other for a second, shrugged then nodded at you. These two were definitely brothers. 

~~~~~~~~

You were frantic as you pulled into the cafe, running late after a code blue that took up almost the whole hour to get under control. You were sure that you looked like a mess, still in your scrubs, pieces of hair falling out of your bun as you entered the cafe. You were almost embarrassed that Russell was going to see you like this, you didn’t care too much about Colter, though. When you entered you saw them sitting at a booth, two cups of coffee sitting on the table but no food. You felt a bit bad. Colter noticed you and waved you over, making Russell turn his head to look at you. And somehow he didn’t seem to care about how wild you looked. 

“I’m so sorry. I had a code blue. I hope I didn’t waste your guy’s time.” You said almost frantic, barely able to catch your breath. You unconsciously sat next to Russell, who seemed quite happy about that.

“Nonsense. We were actually waiting for you to order, right Colt?” Russell reassured, and when you turned your head to look at him he was smiling at you, a toothy smile that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle a tiny bit, it was kind of cute, actually. 

“Yep. Russell insisted we waited. Even though we haven't eaten anything in over six hours.” Colter sighed sipping on his coffee. 

“Well at least one of you has manners.” You narrowed your eyes at Colter, and you heard Russell rumble a laugh.

“Y’know what? Let’s just focus on the case, okay?” You held back a laugh and simply nodded, trying to ignore the intoxicating scent of Russell beside you, a mixture of bourbon and sandalwood. 

Colter asked you a million questions, ones you had answers to, and others didn’t, which was probably best if he talked to your sister, too. Your food also arrived quickly, which you were thankful for since you hadn’t had anything other than the Keurig coffee from the doctors lounge. 

“So, you said James was in the army?” You nodded as you munched on a fry. “And is Navy SEAL now?” 

“Yeah, he went overseas every month or so. But after his last assignment a few weeks ago he told my sister about getting out.” You answered as you bit into your cheeseburger. You didn’t often like to indulge in greasy heavy foods, but you were beyond stressed from both work and your sister, so you needed some joy in your life.

“He wanted out? Why?” Russell asked beside you. You shrugged.

“I don’t know. One thing or another about being tired of being on the battlefield, wanting to be home more. Or that’s what Rosie told me.” You answered as you munched on your burger. You thought for a few seconds before speaking again. “But if you ask me, I think something went wrong in his last assignment. Rosie said he didn’t speak to her for a whole day after coming home, and that he was constantly on edge and irritable for weeks leading up to his disappearance.” 

“Maybe. Might be worth looking into.” Colter shrugged as he took a bit out of his sandwich. “You think we’d be able to look into his assignments overseas?” He asked Russell.

“Doubt it. If they’re classified, which most likely they are, they’d either have little to no paper trail, or they would be heavily secured.” Russell said with a mouthful of fries, which Colter clearly disapproved of. But Russell paid no mind to it, his attention was all on you.

“How do you know?” You asked Russell with genuine curiosity. He half grinned a bit.

“I used to be in the Army too. Spec ops. That's why Colter brought me along.” Russell explained, and you almost wanted to sigh out loud. “So I know damn well how secretive some of those overseas assignments can be. Most are black-ops and off the books. It’d be hard to find the files.” 

So much for tall, rugged and handsome. Guess you’re going to have to look from afar.

‘Well fuck. That sounds lovely.” You mumbled into your burger, annoyed and frustrated. Russell actually laughed this time.

“You know that burger isn’t gonna run away, right?” He chuckled at the way you were so aggressively stuffing your face. Colter narrowed his eyes at his older brother and kicked him under the table. “Okay, ow.” 

“Mind your business? Also, you have no room to talk dude.” You scoffed, eyeing his sriracha covered fries with disgust. “That’s actually fucking criminal.”

“Well, this one has a mouth on her. And here I was trying to be a gentleman.” He chuckled, playful grin on his face as he shoved a particularly heavily sriracha-covered fry in his mouth while you watched. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, sweetheart.” 

You stared at him with an indescribable feeling. You didn’t remember the last time a man had this much of an effect on you. Sure, in your mind it didn’t do him any favors that he used to be in the military, but you’d gladly break your own rule for just a little taste of him. He was a little rugged, sure, but he was undeniably handsome and carried himself with an alluring sense of self confidence. And the way he smiled at you, God, it made you feel like a schoolgirl, warm and tingly. You didn’t remember the last time a man looked at you like that, either.

“Can we focus here?” Colter, the ever present voice of reason. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who woulda thought, you look even more beautiful without the scrubs.” Those were the first words out of Russell’s mouth when you opened the door. You had told them to stop by in the evening after Rosie’s shift so they could talk to her. 

“Russell,” Colter sighed, looking at his brother with annoyance but Russell simply smiled, unapologetically proud of himself. They both looked at you, you were trying so hard not to smile right now. “Alright, is Rosie home?”

“Yeah, she’s in the living room. Come in.” You shook your head softly as you allowed both brothers into your apartment. 

You led them to the living room, you caught Russell looking around with curiosity. Maybe he was trying to figure you out, figure out how to get on your good side. But he otherwise didn’t say anything. 

“Rosie, the guys I told you about are here.” You called out to her and she immediately shot up to her feet and rushed to your side. You looked at her, poor thing looked like she had been crying again. “This is Colter, the tracker, and that’s his brother, Russell. They’re going to help us, okay? Colter just needs to ask you a few questions about James.”

Rosie was nodding profusely, “Anything, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Just help me find him? Please?” 

Colter led her to the couch, perhaps she’d feel safer if she was comfortable. You didn’t want to intrude, you probably weren’t needed right at this time, anyway.

“I’m going to get you guys something to drink.” You announced, wanting to give them some privacy. 

“I’ll help.” Russell piped up and you looked at him with curiosity, he simply smiled at you. You didn’t bother to question him.

You went into the kitchen, Russell was close behind you. You could feel his intense gaze burn into the back of your head as you rummaged through your fridge. You tried to ignore it.

“Beer?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at him. 

“Sure.” 

You grabbed three beers from the fridge and Rosie’s iced tea. You handed Russell his beer before moving around your kitchen to grab a glass cup from the cupboard. You poured the iced tea into the cup before turning around to find Russell still looking at you, with wonder, and maybe something else you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“So what’s your deal?” He asked you as he sipped his beer. You tilted your head at him and furrowed your eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, yeah you’re clearly a kick-ass doctor, and a caring sister but, what else is there? I don’t see any pets, surely no kids, no pictures on the walls, minimal decor, hopefully no boyfriend,” You laughed at the last part. “So, what are you about?”

“Right, well uh,” you chuckled softly, awkwardly sipping on your beer as you leaned on the counter. You shrugged. “I’m a doctor who works sixty-plus hours a week, I have zero social life, I’m not home nearly enough to have a pet. And I certainly have no time for the nonsense of men my age. But hey, if you want to know what I’m about, it’ll take more than just shitty beer and a kitchen conversation to figure me out.”

Russell smiled. Genuinely smiled. But it was a different kind of glint, like he was amused, impressed almost. He chuckled as he nodded, stepping to stand in front of you. You straightened up, looking up at him.

“Surely you’d have time to get a drink with me sometime then? I don’t know if I’m your age but I can assure you I’m not going to waste your time. Would love to try and figure you out while I’m here.” He bit his bottom lip, eyebrows raised and green eyes big with expectancy. 

Yes—said the warmth between your legs.

No—said your rational mind.

“Russell…” Your voice was a warning, apprehensive as you chewed on your bottom lip. “I don’t think I should be going on dates while my sister’s fiance is missing.” 

“It’s her fiance that’s missing, not yours.” He chuckled. You knew he didn’t mean to sound mean, or mocking but you scoffed softly, moving away from him. His words hit you in ways he could never know.

“I don't do… That. Y’know, dating? Or hookups. I don’t do romance, period.” You argued, hands on your hips. He tilted his head at you, eyebrows raised as he looked at you with that indescribably charming look of his. God, did he make it hard to say no.

“Don’t have to be anything. I’m not expecting anything. Just drinks, no strings attached, we’ll see where the night takes us, yeah?” He made a very compelling argument, and his unwavering confidence and charm was hard to resist.

Truly, you didn’t remember the last time you felt so tempted to go on a date with someone, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. From coworkers to patients have made advances you’ve always easily turned down. But Russell? You didn’t feel like you wanted to turn him down. You gave in so easily.

“Whadaya say?”

“Yeah, okay. Just drinks. We’ll see what happens. But don’t get any funny ideas, okay?” You warned him. He chuckled but ultimately raised his hands up in defense when you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I am a gentleman, sweetheart. I know how to behave in front of a pretty girl.”

Your concern was if you could behave in front of a hot guy. Especially when he was as hot as Russell.

[romana-after-dark]

Don't You Worry Your Pretty Little Mind

DBF!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Sugar Daddy Joel, No outbreak

Masterlist : Taglist

Summary: You need money for next semester. Luckily, your dad's rich friend's eyes follow you were ever you go, and he thinks you're such a good girl.

Warning: DUB CON VIA BRAINWASHING AND MANIPULATION: The sex is v consentual, the breeding is worn down. Breeding kink, age gap (30 ish years), Joel's obsession with gender rolls. The gender rolls and sentiments expressed by Joel and eventually reader are not mine. You do not need to be a mother or wife or care for children to be a good girl. Joel is controlling and manipulates reader away from friends and keeps her financially in the blind but he does not hurt her. If you like this and are okay with DARK DARK DARK you might like The Wrong Way on my masterlist bc Joel housewifes little one up. Cream pie, fingering, oral, but its not super smutty. Most is implied.

Immersability: Joel can pick up reader, reader can have kids theoretically.

This born of me being under extream stress rn and wanting all my thoughts out of my head.

*******************************

Joel was broad, sweaty, and all consuming over you.

His thrusts were growing erratic, sloppy, but that was okay; he’d made you cum 4 times already, so it was his turn. You had no idea how someone his age had so much stamina while you got winded walking up a flight of stairs, but were too tired to think much further on it. As it was, you were falling asleep as his rhythmic thrust rocked you. It wasn’t that you were bored, it was that you were completely and totally wrecked. Spent. Fucked to sleep.

“Please baby, please? I need to cum inside you, need to make you mine.”

“I am yours.” You insisted quietly, fucked out head unable to stay up and nodding to the side. You needed sleep. 

Joel continues to grunt, to plead with you. “Not yet, not until you’re stuffed full of my cum, not until your belly swells with my baby…”

*

It was supposed to be one time. You were so, so close to having enough money for another semester of college… but not enough. You’d been late on payments so often your school required it upfront for you now, and you were just short.

“Hey hun, you alright?” Joel let himself into your family’s home. He had a key right now, with your parents vacationing in Europe the last couple months and gave Joel a key to watch over things. To watch over you. 

You check yourself in the mirror once again, everything needed to be perfect, so you shout down the hall.  “One moment, sorry!”

“Take your time, darl’n.”

Re-apply lipstick. Wait, no, too much lipstick. It’s too try hard, take some off. Fuck you smugged it! Touch out your cover up, then the lipstick again. FUCK ITS TOO MUCH! Oh fucking well, your were whoring yourself out, might as well look like one. Straighten your dress. Tits out.

You tried to act casual. It wasn’t unusual to see you dressed up for dinner, your parents were big on dressing for dinner especially when guests were over, and Joel had been a friend guest. Him and your dad were close friends ever since your dad represented Joel in his divorce, getting him full custody of Sarah. It ended up being pointless anyway, as his ex-wife stopped taking Sarah for her weekends a year into the divorce. Sarah had been just a pawn for her, but Joel loved her, taking care of everything she needed for college. His business had taken off, moving from not only construction to full on housing and property developments, so he had paid for her college and was paying for her dream wedding as well. You were invited, although you’d only met her a few times. Your parents, despite their success, had no interest in helping you with college when you rejected pre-law in favor of early childhood development, so you’d been paying your own way.

Joel had defended your life choices when your dad attempted to publicly embarrass you, your dad stating that you ‘don’t fucking listen’ and were an ungratful, disobidiant brat at a dinner party, but Joel wouldn’t hear it. He said you were ‘a good girl’, and that it was a beautiful thing to see a woman who cares about children, still in this world. He praised your efforts and your determination.

“Thank you for coming, Joel.”

Joel stands as you enter the room. “Of course, a pretty girl invites me to dinner, how could I say no? Everything's alright here, no one’s giving you any trouble are they?”

“Yes, everything is good, thank you.”

“Anything need fixing while I’m here?”

“No, thank you. Come on, diners ready.”

You lead him to the kitchen, and you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down as you pass. This is what you were counting on.

Joel was quick to praise your food, not holding back on compliments. “This is delicious, sweetheart, you really got a skill here.” and “You’ll make some man very happy one day.”

That last one made you swell with pride. You were happy he thought of you as wife material. What you were about to do wasn’t very “good girl” of you, however. Joel always called you a good girl, while your dad thought for sure you were taking an ��easier’ major to allow more time for partying. You wanted Joel to think you were good. 

After dinner, you and Joel sat down with coffee and a cherry crumble, smoothing your dress over the couch. Conversation was light, easy. It was always easy with Joel, despite him making you nervous. He was just so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, and the way he talked about sarah with a twinkle in his eye… you know he was a good dad, a loving dad. The few times you met Sarah, Joel always took care of her even in adulthood. He gave her gas money she never asked for, told her she looked beautiful, and his face always beamed with pride when he looked at his daughter. He always hugged her goodbye, even if he’d see her tomorrow. Your father hadn’t hugged you in years.

“Is there a reason you brought me here tonight?” Joel asked, sipping his black coffee with a bit of splenda in it, a splash of the dark liquid remaining on his mustache until he dabbed it away.

You squirm a bit in your seat. “Well, yes, actually. Not that I don’t enjoy your company!” Was your fast addendum.

Joel chuckled, smiling into his mug. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I ain’t one of those old men that have delusions of pretty young girls wanting to spend time with them.”

“That’s not it!” You stand quickly, fluttering over to where he sat on the couch and plopping down. “I swear, Mr. Miller, if you say no, I’d want you to stay and finish dessert, I enjoy spending time with you, just as we are.”

*

Joel was struggling more and more to stave off his orgasm, but he needed this. He couldn’t just cum in you, although you wouldn’t resist and he doubted you’d throw a fit. He had you too wrapped around his finger by now. Young, sweet, naive thing that you were… but Joel needed you to want this too, Joel needed a life with you at his side, his pretty wife, mother of his children… starting tonight.

“Joel, nooooo…” You mutter, tired and worn out. He made sure to get you like this; compliant. “I have to finish school, Joel…” 

*

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Just tell me what you need, I’m sure we can work something out.”

You wring your hands in your lap, suddenly aware of your proximity to him. He smelled like leather and sandalwood. 

“Well, as you know I’m in school…”

He nodded, setting down his drink. “That’s right, Early Childhood isn’t it?”

That made you light up, turning to actually look at him and finding his kind eyes on you. “Yes! I can’t believe you remembered!”

“I remember your dad ranting about it. I told him he shouldn’t have been surprised, good girl like you, wanting to take care of children.”

You nod quickly. “Yes exactly! My school offers a minor in special needs which I added too.” You were happy with his approval of your choice and added that fact on to make you seem more noble. This was a good cause he was investing in. You were a good girl who wanted to help children.

“My oh my, darl’n…” Joel mused. “You really are a sweetheart, aren’t you? Now, what can I do to aid such a valiant effort.”

“Well, school starts this month and I’m close, I’m so, so close to having enough but even with the overtime, it’d looking like I’ll be short about $500 for tuition, and then there’s books and supplies and-”

“Now wait a minute, little lady.” Joel held up a hand, and for a moment you’re disheartened and think he’s about to reject your ask before it’s even out, but his furrowed brow is for another reason. “Your daddy ain’t help’n you pay for school?”

“No sir… not since I refused to go to pre-law.”

“Well that ain’t right… I know how much he makes, he can pay for a few months in Europe but not your school? Fathers are supposed to take care of their daughters.” He looked genuinely disappointed.

Shrugging, you chuckle nervously. “Well, I suppose he doesn’t think it’s very useful, so he doesn’t want to pay for it.”

* 

“You graduate before the second semester.”

“But my dad”

“I’ll handle your dad”

“What about Sarah?”

“I’ll handle Sarah.”

“But the money-”

Joel stopped, mid trust, his cock buried inside you and trying his best to stave off his orgasm. 

“Sweetheart… Don’t you know I want to marry you?”

*

Joel had known Mike wasn’t the most attentive father, but he never thought it was this bad. He always thought you were a good girl, kind hearted and calm, empathetic and caring. It had only been this last year that he’d begun to see you as something more, something seductive, yes, someone who he thought about fisting his cock at those lonely nights, but, that wasn’t the full picture either. You were a caretaker… Maternal. 

“That’s fuck’n stupid.” Joel countered, bluntly. “Take’n care of children, that’s the most important job on earth, why, your daddy should but thrilled to have such a nurturing daughter!” His voice was raised just a bit, but not at you. Didn’t your dad see what a prize he had? A woman like that, well, you were of high value. You were a treasure. His bitch of an ex wife never really wanted to be a mother, he knew that now, just like his mother. They had Sarah because that’s what you did when you were married in the 90’s. Joel fell in love immediately… she never really attached, and much like his mother wasn’t mentally present on the rare occasion she was physically… Well, his ex-wife lasted longer than his mother did, anyway. You would never leave your child like that. You would never leave him like that. “Whadya need, sweetheart.”

Your fidgeting continues. “Well… $1000… but… It’s not a loan, I was hoping to… to sell you something.”

Interesting… you had his complete attention, whatever you needed, it was yours. $1000 was nothing, and he’d much sure such a good girl had everything she needed… you deserved it. 

“Whatever it it, darling girl, I’ll buy.”

He saw you taking a deep breath, hesitating at first before standing up and walking in front of him. You looked stunning in your red dress, an absolute marvel.

With a deep breath and hands folded in front of you., you answered what you were selling.

“Me.”

*

“W-what?” You were suddenly awake again, snapping back to reality at his words. “No, no Joel you’re just saying that…”

Joel shook his head. “I wouldn’t like about that, baby. C’mon, you gotta know how badly I want to marry you. You're my good girl. We’d be so happy together, just you and me…” A large, splaying hand on your bare belly. “And our baby…”

*

Joel stands up, walking over to you and towering his body over yours. “Sweetheart, do you know what you're asking?”

You look up at him and nod. “I do, Joel. Please know I understand what I’m doing.”

He shakes his head. “No, darling girl I’ll just give you the $1000, you don’t have to-”

“I want to.” You eyes shined at him, timid but attempting to look sure. “I can’t just take a hand out.”

“You can-” He reached for his wallet, but you grab his hands.

“I can’t. Joel…” You slide up to him, pressing your body too his. “I’ve seen the way you look at me… I look at you like that too.”

Reaching a hand up, Joel cups your face. “Baby…” He groans, erection growing in his pants already at the thought. “I don’t think I can do this just once… you gotta know that, don’t you? Special girl like yourself…” His eyes darted to your lips, cherry red and beautiful and oh-so inviting. 

You look down at his shirt as you behind to feel up his chest. Firm muscles of hard work under the softness of age. “Well, maybe… since my dad won’t help me…” You wriggle your pelvis against his, taunting him before looking up at his brown eyes again.  “We can come up with an arrangement?”

Joel was holding on by a thread. “Yeah? You gonna let me take care of you?” His thumb on your face spreads to your mouth, and when it prods are your lips, you open eagerly. Keeping eye contact with his brown orbs gone black, your nod and suck, the message clear. Yes sir.

“Fuck…” Joel mumbles his mouth encasing yours in a harsh, hard kiss and scooping you up with ease, only to lay you down on the couch. Your red dress splays and russles as he does, bending your knees so it slides down to your hips. When you make an attempt to remove the dress, rough hands stop you. “Keep the dress on.”

Your black tights, however, were ripped open to reveal white lacy underwear. “Uh fuuuuck..;. So beautiful…” He marvels at your pussy, so perfectly groomed for him. Falling to his knees on the floor, Joel mouths over the clothed core, his breath adding to the heat as he explored you. 

“You don’t have to-”

“I know damn well I don’t.” Joel snaps. “I don’t want to, sweetheart, I need to.”

With that, Joel ripped off your underwear with two hands and dived into you. He couldn’t help but palm himself over his pants as he did. You just tasted too good, and he was a starved man.

*

His thrusts continued, but with a different rhythm this time. Eyes sharply on yours, he drew back slowly but thrusting in hard. Slowly, hard. Less slow, more harder. Less slow… you were going to come again, eyes never leaving his for a moment. 

“Everything you ever need, everything you ever want, I’ll take care of. I’ll provide for you, I’ll love you, protect you, I’ll care for you… only thing you ever need to do is take care of me and this baby, okay? That’s it.”

You were dizzy, you were worn, you were on the precipice of climax and you were in love.

“Okay.”

His eyes light up, a smile spreading on his face. “Yeah, baby? You lett’n me fill you up?”

Joel knew you were ovulating. Of course he did. Joel tracked your periods to make sure he always knew what you needed. Heating pads, tea for bloating, pads and tampons and cups. He said he wanted to know so that he could take care of you emotionally.

Of course he knew when you were ovulating.

*

The next two hours were a blur of bliss, Joel taking care of all your needs, physical, sexual, even emotional.

At the end, a $2000 check was written in your name and a tender kiss on the head as he parted as well as plans between you to for next time.

For the next several months, ‘next time’ became more and more frequent, more and more demanding but a higher and higher price. Joel began to take care of it all. Your apartment, your food, every single need or want was handled by Joel, and in return every free moment was spent with him. You didn’t desire to see your friends. They just wanted to party. But you, you were serious about your passions. You were serious about helping people. Joel may have mentioned it once or twice when your grades were getting worse, suggesting instead of studying with them, you study at his place. He’d keep you on track. Quickly, your grades improved, and you began studying with Joel more and more. You eventually just stayed with him. 

It was like a dream, you had everything you needed, including Joel who whispered his love to you every chance he had. Joel took care of you in the way your father never did, Joel filled those gaps he left.

Joel took away every in convenience. He told you when your friends weren’t good for you, he cooked for you on late nights, he even began making appointments and getting your car fixed. Your parents were none the wiser, but you began to care less what they thought. Only Joel mattered, and the children. Joel took away every worry for you, and all you had to think about was making him happy, and what to do with your upcoming degree. 

*

“Yes Joel.” You whine, desperate to please him, desperate to remain his everything as he is yours. “Wanna be your wife, wanna have your babies, please?”

“Oh fuck,” He panted, holding on by a thread as his brows pursed together. “Gonna fuck you full, little mama.”

Your orgasm hits you, crashing waves causing you to cry out in a rigid scream. “Joel!!!” Your fingers claw bloody on his back. “Make me a mommy, please?”

“Ohhhhh, fuck yeah baby, good fucking girl, gonna put my baby in you, yes, yes yes, FUCK YES!” Joel growled and  unloaded into you, painting your inside in his cum and filling you to the brim before collapsing onto you. Heavy and overbearing, Joel consumed your body and every thought in your head and soon, your body and entire life will make room for him. 

Your mind reeled, the reality of what just happened setting in. At 22, you were at peak fertility… were you pregnant?

“Joel?” You ask, still clinging to him desperately. 

“I know exactly what you’re worried about, and what do I always tell you?”

You smell his neck, reassuring yourself with his mantra. “Don’t you worry your pretty little mind…” Joel always told you not to worry about a thing. He’d take care of it all, he’d take care of you…

 “That’s right, sweetheart. I know you’re worried about what I said…” Joel’s body pulls away just a bit, tucking his forehead to yours. “I’m gonna marry you, baby girl. I’m gonna take care of you and this baby. If you’re pregnant, if you really are my good girl, I’ll marry you.” Sitting back, Joel watches his cock slide out of you with a ‘pop’ and laments the cum seeping out of you. As he pushes it back in, Joel brings you to orgasm yet again.

*

You were, in fact, pregnant. As your belly swelled, Joel became more and more obsessed with you, constantly caressing your belly. You graduated college of course, as you dreamed, but finding a job… it wasn’t really on your raidar There wasn’t really a need. Joel handled it all, and he said he didn’t want you dealing with that stress right now. And who would hire a heavily pregnant woman?

Joel and you married in an intimate ceremony at the 4th month mark in a small baptist church. It was your parents, a few family members of yours and a friend who two who Joel thought were good influences and Sarah and Tommy were there of course. Joel promised you a big, fancy vowel renewal whenever you wanted, but a wedding like that takes time to plan, and you both wanted to me married when you had your baby.

Joel made you happier than you ever thought possible, he took care of everything. Of course, he controlled everything too, but that was okay. You didn’t need a bank app on your phone, all you needed to know was that your debit card would go through, and you knew it would. You didn’t need the routing and account number, you didn’t need to see finances, look at insurance plans, stocks, bills, anything like that. All you needed to do was take care of your body, and soon, this baby. 

“I gotta admit Joel, I wasn’t really a fan of this  at the start.” Your dad announces one Sunday dinner. He had invited Tommy and Sarah over as well. Extended family. Both had been hesitant at first, especially Sarah, who was a few years older than you… but they saw how you made her dad smile, and how Joel took care of you… how could they not be happy?

“I remember” Joel jokes back.

Your dad continued. “But I gotta say, this has been good for her.”

They tended to talk about you like you weren’t in the room, sometimes, but that was okay. You were Joel’s pretty, obedient wife, and you spoke when spoken too. You were there to support Joel, not meddle in his conversations.

Joel turned to you and smiled, kissing you on the cheek and feeling your 9 month swollen belly. “She’s come a long way, but she’s a good girl, obedient. Best wife I could ask for.”

Joel spoke for you, proudly telling them how after the baby was born and you’d recovered, you had plans to put your degree to use. Not work, oh gosh no! You don't need to worry about something like that. No, you’d be volunteering at a nonprofit. And isn’t that so much better!

You wouldn’t have to have another worry in your head again, outside of being a good mother. Your could give a few hours a week to children in need and then come home to a living family without being exhausted from long days on your feet.

Everything would be taken care of.

Everything would be handled.

All you had to do was be a good girl.

************

AHHHHHHHHHHHH

I hope you guys enjoyed!!!

I am so stressed rn ive been crying for days about work stuff. I dont want to work I want to volunteer and take care of children in need and have a hot husband fuck me and and and and ANYWAY

PLease consider reblogging, it's the only way to spread fics!

I love you all, thank you to everyone whose been raching out to me

@fandxmslxt69 @moriartyyouwhore @hereforthepedrofanfic @alwaysmicado @noisynightmarepoetry @morallyinept @kyloispunk @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @princesslunablogger

[saintzweig]

are we gonna be getting pro-tennis player patrick zweig x younger socialite girlfriend headcanons

-bambi

ask and you shall receive my favorite oomf girliism 🫶 this is more on fluff n just some background :)

ꢾ꣒ the two of you met through your father, once a professional tennis player who now spends his time doing charities and building foundations.

ꢾ꣒ you usually help your father handle the affairs, co-directing charities events, galas and dinners.

ꢾ꣒ patrick was reluctant to go the first time he was invited but tashi and art convinced him it would be good for his image, to save his career from reputation as a manwhore and his sloppy techniques.

ꢾ꣒ got bored not even five minutes in and tried to flirt with you to get you to come with him to the bathroom.

ꢾ꣒ you only smiled as you introduced him to your father, who he realized was the man he idolized when he was a kid.

ꢾ꣒ attended every event he got invited to in hopes of seeing you again.

ꢾ꣒ and when he does see you, he's following you around the venue like a lost puppy. he only shrugs and says you're the only person he knows

ꢾ꣒ you finally had enough and drag him to a janitor's closet far away from the room.

ꢾ꣒ i'd say two years since then, you move in together almost immediately, in an apartment gifted by your father.

ꢾ꣒ very secure couple, you know how attractive the other one is so it doesn't really bother you when people try to flirt, if anything it only inflates your ego.

ꢾ꣒ not when they cross the line obviously. even though he trusts you, he still gets protective every now and then. when he sees you looking uncomfortable, he doesn't waste a second and immediately comes to take you away. not without showing off to the person trying to flirt with you of course.

ꢾ꣒ hands you his credit card whenever you say you need new clothes or accessories, even though you can afford it.

ꢾ꣒ his personal driver is also yours, he makes sure to make them sign non-disclosure agreements because some wild shit happens in the backseat.

ꢾ꣒ you have his initials embroidered on your clothes because he once mentioned that he likes the idea of marking you

ꢾ꣒ lets you drag him to countless galas and dinners, even though it's not really his thing

ꢾ꣒ to make up for it, you let him drag you to his morning trainings and sometimes lunches with tashi and art

ꢾ꣒ he's also a fan favorite in your friend group, you brought him to a girl brunch once and everyone loved him. i think he'd be so good at spilling and receiving tea

ꢾ꣒ always on the front row during his games, wearing his favorite colors

ꢾ꣒ it's impossible for him to lose now that he has you, you bring him so much confidence but also he just really wants to prove himself to you.

ꢾ꣒ talks about you a lot during interviews even when the question has nothing to do with you or your relationship. also his lock screen is always a photo of you, a selfie or a professional photo taken during fashion week.

ꢾ꣒ makes a game out of guessing the color of your underwear

ꢾ꣒ he'd be the type to rip them and assure you he'd buy you new ones. so that's where his money is going

ꢾ꣒ inappropriate touches under the table is definitely one of his hobbies, as well as sneaking into bathrooms during events

ꢾ꣒ also car sex ... very often ... he loves seeing you all disheveled as you lay on the seat beneath him. all sweaty with your mascara and lipstick smudged on your face. your lace panties hanging off your foot.

ꢾ꣒ when he retires, that's when you two finally settle down completely. moving out of your apartment into a proper house, with the goal of filling it with kids.

ꢾ꣒ the two of you build a tennis academy where he teaches and mentors younger aspiring tennis players

ꢾ꣒ also the wedding was big, i'm talking the best venues and decorations. over a hundred guests due to your connections and standing, it was all over the internet too. most fashionable new york socialite and grand slam winner ties the knot.

ꢾ꣒ three kids, two boys and one girl. his favorite one is definitely his little girl.

ꢾ꣒ he's definitely come a long way and he has you to thank for that.

[nosesitter]

Help, I’m stuck!

| Father in law!Joel Miller

3.9k words

a/n: let me real quickly clarify no I don’t wanna fuck my FIL I just wanna fuck Joel Miller, this came to me in a completely different way but I added another idea in and made this! I hope y’all love it cause as I post I’ll be writing an add on cause FIL Joel was something I didn’t know I needed. It’s niche but someone has to write it, also PLS let me know if you want anything specific I love writing blurbs for people 🫶🏻 not even Joel miller I love hot characters, masked men, mean men, thot men, BIG BURLY HAIRY MEN!! Joel will talk more next part I just could only get him in at the end

⚠️: Father in law!Joel Miller, reader has an onlyfans, no Sarah but Joel does have a grown son, age gap not specified for reader but Joel is 55, no outbreak, it’s definitely dub/con, mentions of alcohol and drugs(don’t do any without me), recorded sex, small anal and food play?(it’s just a line you’d probably glaze right over it), f masterbation, unprotected pinv, toys, creampie, use of sweet pet names 🫶🏻and then the word slut is tossed around a couple times, reader can fit in a dryer lmfaooo never thought I’d type that

“The whole ‘stuck inside the dryer’ that could be fun.”

Two years ago you started an only fans. Your husband loved the idea of it. Hyping you up, filming the content, giving you ideas. He loved coming home seeing you dressed up, camera ready to record the homemade videos, it made him insane, causing him to go hard and give it his all only to throw in the towel after your wet cunt milks him of his release 30 minutes after hitting record. It became a full time job for you. Once you started it was hard to stop, pulling one orgasm out of you opened a Pandora’s box of animalistic lust, in the past you’ve been called a nymphomaniac. It was a blessing and a curse to be so horny all the time. After videos with him you would let him rest, kissing him goodnight then heading to the guest room to make solo content. Your trusty pink vibrator and thick realistic dildo helping you reach your climax 5 more times before you call it a night then head to bed to edit and post the content.

Your husbands words ring through your ears as he opens a bottle of wine for you. ‘Stuck in the dryer’ it was simple really, trying to think why you’ve never thought of it before. Tonight you’re having dinner with your father in law, Joel Miller. The grumpiest old man you’ve ever met. In the two years you’ve been married you’ve seen him smile a few times, once when the two of you met, another at your engagement, and then the night of your wedding as you were leaving for your honeymoon, very quickly he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a big hug ‘welcome to the family’ he whispered when he pulled back a drunken smirk was plastered on his face. there was something about the whole interaction that sent a shiver down you spine. After the honeymoon he was over, a lot. Finding things around the new house to fix. Always mumbling to himself;

‘them new contractors don’t know what they’re doin’

Walker entertained his dads need to be helpful and useful and so did you. So to return the favors you’ve banged out dinner and dessert for the man. As you’re setting the table there’s a loud knock at the door. Walker grabs the door and smiles big when he sees his father pulling him into a manly hug, both of them patting each others back three times. “Welcome in dad! Yeah, she’s in the kitchen just finished up.” You can hear Joel’s voice ask for you, maybe it was the sip of wine you just had but hearing his voice made your legs… buckle.

His boots stepping across the hardwood floor, crossing the threshold into the dining room. Standing next to the set table, one hand on your hip the other holding your generously full glass of wine. This has to be the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on Joel’s face.

“Hello there sweetness ,you do all this for me?” Pulling you into a side hug his big warm arm going around your waist. tightly. yours going around his shoulder as you rest your head on him for a brief second. You pull back but his one arm lingers around you a little while longer.

“Well we just wanted to say thank you for working so hard to help fix up the place.” He sets the 6 pack he brought with him on the table grabbing one of the bottles and twisting off the cap and wrapping his lips around taking a big gulp. There’s a sudden dryness in your throat and you swear you can hear yourself gulp when he pulls the bottle away and runs his tongue across his bottom lip to gather the excess.

“Let’s eat, honey I’m hungry!” Walker says and the three of y’all sit down and begin to eat. One thing about Joel is that he’s a vocal eater, meaning he will moan and groan if the food is good. He loves your cooking, says it’s just like his ma’s even brought his brother Tommy over for him to have some too. You’re surprised he’s not here either. So when Joel stabs his fork into the baked chicken you were making earlier it comes as music to your ears when he lets out a throaty growl. Legs crossing even tighter now causing you to reach for your glass of wine.

When everyone finishes with dinner you head back into the kitchen to grab Joel’s favorite, your mixed berry pie. Quick on your heels is your husband. As you’re closing the oven he comes behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pressing kisses into the side of your neck. “Mm I keep imagining you on your knees inside the dryer.” He mumbles into your ear his breathy whisper making you giggle from its ticklish feel. He presses himself into the back of your ass the dress you’re wearing is already thin enough so you can practically feel the outline of him on your skin. Grabbing the pie again you quickly get out the kitchen and back to Joel.

“Everything all good, sweetness?” Joel asks seeing your chest and face red from your husbands advances.

“Oh it’s nothing just talking with Walker about the dryer, we might get a new one.” Walking back out the kitchen Walker points his beer at his father exclaiming.

“No need to fix this one dad, we’re just gon’ replace it.” He tells him and Joel just holds his hands up as you’re cutting him a slice of pie. Your hand raises to stop him from scarfing it down so you can add the whip cream on it. You shake the bottle and you can feel the eyes of both miller men on you as you shake a little too hard causing some to spray out. The spurts of cream landing on your chest and falling onto your hand.

The whole scene comical for your husband but absolutely stunning for Joel. You just laugh while your fingers gather the white cream off your chest and into your mouth. He’s looking up at your while he sits in the chair completely dumbfounded by the scene in front of him. He prays he doesn’t need to get anytime soon because the both of y’all will see his complete hard on for his daughter in law.

“Well dig in Joel, it’s your favorite!”

———

It’s midnight by the time you finish cleaning up. the bottle of red wine sitting empty in the recycling bin and your husband on the couch barely awake. You wake him up and lead him into the bedroom, getting him under the covers and pressing a kiss against his lips before he whispers goodnight and a quick love you. You head into the bathroom and strip yourself of your dress, bra, and panties. Then head into the guest room grabbing your camera and putting it on the tripod set up in the corner. Laying back in the bed you start slow at first. Hand slowly trailing down your chest, ghosting lightly over the swell of your breasts. Squeezing your tits together, thumbs rubbing over your hardening nipples. Your head whips around as you begin to think about your husband and how you love to sit on his face, the feeling of his mustache on your clit. Trying to work yourself up more you think about something else, maybe about how he fucked you on the back patio, him laying on the chaise while your hands hold onto the arms rests. His hips rutting into you while you hover over him.

As your hands reaches your clit like a flash of lightning there’s a brief imagine of Joel. when he was cleaning the gutters, it had been raining for weeks and it was so humid that when he came over within 10 minutes he had stripped himself of his flannel and under shirt. Standing on a ladder one leg bent the other straight as his hands were above his head, the humidity causing beads of sweat to trail down his tan broad arms and causing his gray wife beater to blacken. The whole scene made you rush back inside, heading into the kitchen to try to forget by making him fresh squeezed lemonade.

Your hand pulls away with guilt but theres a gush that comes from you, putting your hand back between your legs your fingers gather the arousal that pours out of you. Sitting up you grab your dildo from the bedside table and begin again. Tapping the head of it against your clit the teasing causing you to moan. One hand holds the dildo while the other spreads yourself back for the camera your fingers opening up into a ‘v’ as you rub the side of the dildo along your exposed cunt. Gathering your wetness so you can slip in the thick fake cock. The dildo has more girth than your husband. His dick was long but it just didn’t give you the stretch you wanted. Pushing the tip in you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you slowly push more in. A couple seconds pass and you can feel the toy bottom out inside you stretching you out perfectly while also lightly bushing against your cervix.

Slowly you begin to move it getting used to the stretch. To edge yourself on, your fingers go to your nipples tweaking and rubbing your arousal over them causing the air to hit the wetness sending a chill through you. Your hand goes for your neck lightly pressing yourself into the bed, then another flash of Joel with his thick hand wrapped around the whole bottle. it was tiny in his big ruggedly hands. There’s a loud moan that escapes your throat and your hand holding the dildo between your legs begins to thrust faster. Now you can’t help but think of him as the sound of your gushing cunt gets louder, it’s fucking pornographic. Another image of him and it’s when your husband surprised you with a hot tub and you found Joel in it when y’all came from your honeymoon. He was red with embarrassment even though he asked his son if he could use it. You remember him getting out, water dripping down his salt and pepper covered chest the heavy drops falling off his body and his swim trunks getting stuck to his big thighs, the outline of his cock was far bigger than your husbands.

A very loud moan comes from your mouth one last time and you’re looking between your legs at the arousal squirting out of you. Your head tosses back into the pillows as your hips go crazy bucking up and into the bed. Pulling the dildo out of you and winching at the emptiness you now feel. Your shame is coating the bed and running down your arm. you swing your legs that feel like noodles over the bed and head into the bathroom to wash off the thoughts of your very hot father in law.

———

There’s a bubbling nervousness in the pit of your stomach as you set up the scene. Camera set up on the tripod, the laundry room cleaned up to look like it’s never been used, and the pillow you set inside the dryer for you to bend over on. You decided to dress up for the part wearing a tight see through tank top, shorts that a too small your ass is hanging out no doubt but the real kicker is that you’re not wearing any underwear so when your bent inside the dryer they ride up causing your whole vagina to be exposed to camera view. Knee high socks and a pair of converse. it’s about 10 minutes to 12 so you decide to loosen up by smoking a little before your husband comes home for lunch.

Heading home baby see you soon!

Walker doesn’t work too far away so you finish up the joint you rolled and head back inside to your place in the dryer. You can hear his truck pull up, the engine dies and the driver door closes, your phones dings a couple more time but you don’t check it. Quickly you press record and get on your knees and head first into the dryer.

The front door opens and you begin.

“Help, I’m stuck!” You shout out before he could get out a hello causing his rushing footsteps to come past the dining room and into the laundry room. You can feel his presence behind you but what you didn’t expect is the catcall whistle that came with it.

“I got stuck in the dryer, please help me!” You plead with him wiggling your ass around, your hungry cunt wrapping itself around the crotch of your tight shorts. His hand comes down and slaps your ass hard you’re thrown off by the force he gives you but he must really like this idea since he suggested it. A deep growl comes from his throat and you can hear him getting on his knees right behind you.

“Just get me out please!” Pretending to plead with him. Walker usually talks but he’s quiet today you think nothing of it. He presses himself against you feeling the cold buckle on his belt on the back of your thighs. The roughness of his jeans as he grinds himself into you. You move forward slightly but his hands grab your hips holding you in place as he continues to grind into you.

One of your hands try to go for his belt behind you but he’s quick to slap it away. He leans back on his knees and pushes you more into the dryer ass hiked up higher. He begins to pull your shorts down to your knees and slowly trails his fingers back up your exposed legs back to your ache between your legs. “If you’re going to eat me out move the camera closer.” Breaking character for a moment you tell him and then you hear shuffling and then the sound of your tripod being picked up and set closer to the dryer.

His left hand spreading your cheeks apart the other has his finger ghosting lightly over your entrance. Suddenly there’s a harsh feeling of Walker spitting right where his finger begs to be. His middle finger pushes inside and begins twirling around inside of you. The sound of wetness and his finger pushing deep into you makes you moan out loud the echo of it escaping the dryer. Still having your cheeks spread he adds another finger this time, his ring finger. The force his hand is giving you gets faster and faster then he starts to make a come here motion with his fingers. The stretch of his two fingers alone have you white knuckling the pillow. Then his lips press a light but wet kiss to the other hole that’s getting no attention. The feeling of his mustache right on you pubic bone makes you giggle a little then his lips lower and you can feel the prickly sides of his cheeks against you. He forgot to shave this morning. You like when Walker lets his little facial hair grow out. His beard is patchy just like his fathers but you love the look. His fingers curve inside of you again and suddenly you’re about to cum.

“Fuck baby, I’m so close!” Panting out. The force from his hand gets faster and harder causing your body to shake as he begins to pound his hand into you. One of your hands goes behind you to grab his wrist. His other hand grabs your arm and holds you tightly there as your body begins to convulse violently. With your hand back behind you, you can feel your orgasm approach, well you can definitely feel it. You start squirting again the feeling of your orgasm shooting at walkers clothes. He’ll have to change before he can leave. Your arm still being held in place while his other hand begins to grab at his belt buckle. The sound of the zipper going down, then his tip slides right between your folds. Back arches from the contact you want more.

“Please fuck me.” You beg, ass wiggling around trying to find his dick so it can just slip right in but he stops you with his big hand giving each of your cheeks a few slaps. Your free hand goes behind you to stop the spanking but he’s quick to grab it and hold it with your other hand. You can feel his bare dick twitch behind you, just dying to be inside of you like a compass pointing right into your cunt. Before he pushes himself inside of you his fingers grab at the wedding ring right on your finger sliding it off and hearing the metal hit the top of the dryer. Confused but you decide to not ruin the moment with a simple question.

His fingers grab at his base to straighten his cock out and almost immediately upon penetration you know this isn’t Walker. Your head turns slightly to look behind you and you can see the recognizable green flannel that belongs to your father in law, lower part of it soaked with your arousal. His big broad hand holding both your arms back, veins poking out of his flushed red neck. His bottom lip sits between his teeth, his eyes catching you staring right at him.

“Poor little housewife, begging for her father in laws cock.” As much as you want to push him away, scream, fight, and cry for your husband your eyes just roll right back as he bottoms out inside of you. He’s the perfect size, the perfect girth, he’s perfect right inside of you and he knows it too. His free hand goes for the tripod taking the camera right off and moving it closer to his dick that’s moving slowly all the way out then slowly all the way back in.

Your mind isn’t thinking about where your husband is or how he might be standing at the door watching the whole scene happen before him instead you’re thinking about every vein you can feel on his cock, how stuffed you feel, how his balls slap right up against you, the mound of black and white pubic hair he has and how ticklish it feels grinding against you. The whole situation is fucked, how can you even go back to your husbands skinny dick? How can you ever look in your father in law in the eye after this? There’s a hard slap at your ass followed by Joel’s hand grabbing the skin at your hips.

“Such a good little slut.”

The coil in your lower stomach feels hot to the touch, your body smushed into the dryer the metal indenting into your skin. Your knees get closer together causing your pussy’s grip on Joel to get tighter around him. His hand lets go of both of yours as his thrusts get sloppier, he’s going to cum inside of you.

“Uh uh baby, you’re gon’ take this and you’re gon’ love it.” Both your hands try to push yourself out the dryer but joel just raises one of his legs to kneel beside you blocking your body from moving anymore from him. As much as you don’t want this your hand can’t help but wonder to your clit. Joel’s notices this and puts his hand over yours, your two small fingers and his two big ones rubbing all over your clit. The pressure is so much that you squirt again, your climax is grotesquely satisfying, tears begin to flow out your eyes as Joel moans very loudly, he sounds like he hasn’t had an orgasm in years and you just let the beast out the cage.

Following your release Joel gives you one last thrust practically shoving his cock inside your cervix, spraying hot cum all inside of you it feels like you’re full, so full of Joel’s cum. Body shaking around him milking him of everything he can give you. His thrusts get slower but you’re pressing back into him hard just chasing the high of being stretched full. His hand that’s still on yours slaps your clit and you’re coming again in an instant. He laughs at your desperate body as he looks down at his cock to see the white ring on cream sitting around base of him. Slowly he pulls out, his body goes limp and he lays against the washer right beside you.

Finally out the dryer you catch your breath and look at the red light blinking on your camera. You stop it the video and it saves it. A big part of you wants to delete this and curse at Joel for taking advantage of you like that, a small sluttier piece of you wants to watch it again while you suck joel clean. You just set the camera to the side, not deleting it yet. You and Joel just look each other in the eye while he begins to put his dirty dick back in his pants. he zips up and then gets up groaning like the old man he is in the process.

“You better get cleaned up, don’t want my boy to see his slut wife with his dads cum in her.” You sit on the floor at his feet just watching him grab his bag of tools and leave. Your phone dings and you wonder if it’s Walker telling you to move out cause he saw the whole scene.

Got fucking pulled over I was too excited to head home and fuck you! :(((

Just gonna head back to work :( hungry and horny see you tonight baby

While you look at those texts, one pops up sent 30 minutes ago from Joel

Hey darling I’m gonna head over and check out that dryer for ya, see you soon!

———🏠💍👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻

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0802

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 5 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 12.1k

chapter warnings: jeon jungkook, seventeen is here because i needed fill-ins (also they’re not singers but their music still canonically exists in-universe so good luck figuring that one out), a wedding!, tae is WHIPPED, the infamous butt debate, jealousy (plural), jimin has terrible timing, alcohol consumption ft. a drinking game, a mega cliffhanger i’m so sorry

a/n: while not required, i highly recommend reading the prequel drabble if you haven’t yet as it has some heavy relevance to this part and the next! special thanks to @btsborahaee and @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this chapter and letting me gush and brainstorm in their inboxes on the regular <3 also, shout outs to @animeniacss and @taegularities for sprinting with me all the time (and a forehead kiss to rid for coming up with the idea for the bathroom scene, mwah)!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"After today, I never want to see a ribbon ever again."

Jimin fumbles his fingers over the thin string, throwing his hands up in a huff when the slippery material resists his efforts to tie it. With Hoseok and Sunny's wedding only two weeks away, you'd offered to help out with some of the prep work, and Taehyung suggested hosting a mini prep party at your apartment as part of his efforts to make new memories since you'd moved back. True to his word, he’s been at your place nearly every day the past few weeks, cooking dinner with you and rewatching your favorite shows from high school.

You have to admit it’s been pleasantly domestic.

"It's not that bad," you say, finishing off your own ribbon around one of the tiny boxes of chocolate which will be distributed to each of the two-hundred-plus guests as a wedding favor.

"No, I'm serious. I don't even want to tie my shoes anymore. I'm a Crocs guy now."

"I've heard girls love sport mode," Taehyung quietly teases. "Is that right, Y/N?"

The flirtatiousness of his tone startles you, and your eyes snap up to meet his where he sits across from you at the dining room table. He's smiling one of those mischievous grins that makes your stomach churn, belly lurching when he stuns you with a wink before turning back to his own tiny box.

What the fu—

"If any of you show up to my wedding in Crocs, I'm kicking you out," Sunny grumbles.

Hoseok smacks his lips as he ties off a ribbon. "Does that also go for—"

"You as well, yes."

Your group settles into a momentary silence at her declaration—not a sound besides the ripple of ribbon and paper. At least until—

“I got laid wearing Crocs once.”

The entire table groans in unison, and you toss a bit of balled up wrapping paper at Jungkook's chest that bounces pathetically to the floor as Jimin boos. “No one cares about your sexcapades, Kook.”

“What, it was impressive!” he argues. “Just be thankful I'm not bringing any of them to the wedding.”

“I almost wish you were,” Hoseok grumbles. “You'd better not be picking up anyone inappropriate that night. Sisters, cousins, aunts—”

“That was one time!”

“—and anyone else even remotely close to family are off limits.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, pouting to himself, before he says, “Moms?”

The table boos again, more bits of wrapping paper flying his way.

“I'm kidding! Kidding!”

“Actually, Y/N,” Sunny murmurs, leaning towards you. “I hate to bring it up, but are you planning on bringing anyone else in Jace’s place?” Her expression is one of compassionate regret, with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, but the question still hits you low in your chest, knocking the wind out of you.

“I feel terrible asking,” she continues, “but one of my friends from high school originally declined a plus-one, and now she’s asking if there’s any way we can squeeze in this guy she met two weeks ago, and normally I’d tell her no, there’s no way I can change the head count two weeks out and who is this guy anyway, but then I figured that we do technically have an extra spot so we could fit him in, but I’d definitely give you the option to bring someone else first if you wa—“

“It’s fine,” you say, trying to ignore the way everyone else around the table is now looking on in sympathy. “I have no one else to bring. Let her guy come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” It feels like you’re dying inside, but you try to look unbothered, especially since you can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Sunny quietly agrees, just as Hoseok suddenly jumps in at her side.

“You know, Tae isn’t bringing anyone to the wedding either,” he says, looking between the two of you. “Why don’t you just go together?”

“I’m also going alo—“ There’s a thump under the table and Jungkook immediately shuts his mouth.

You glance at Taehyung, who’s looking back at you with a dip in his eyebrows and parted lips. It was probably a given that you would spend time at the wedding hanging out already, but wouldn’t going together mean something else entirely? A promise of dancing and proximity and a label the two of you have never shared?

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s staring at you with a touch of discomfort. Your own skin prickles at the thought, and so you scratch away the itch at your chin and deflect.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to.” Then you stand from the table sharply, hitting your limits with this conversation. “I’ll be right back.”

You head for the bathroom, not even needing to do anything in there, but sure that you can busy yourself for a few minutes to get your emotions under control away from your friends. But as you’re about to swing the door shut behind you, a large hand reaches out to stop it with a thud, and Taehyung quickly slips in before closing the door himself.

“Tae, what are you—“

“Come with me.”

You’re practically chest-to-chest, and if not for the fact that you’ve stopped breathing with his question, you’d probably be pressed up against him in the tight space.

“What?”

He licks his lips, pulls in air through his nose like he’s bracing himself.

“Come to the wedding with me.”

The room is heavy with silence as his request fully sinks in, the air between you thick and hot as you try to get some of it into your lungs. It’s hard, though, to develop a coherent thought with him standing so close—his scent engulfing you and dark, searching eyes fixated on your expression.

“I don’t kno—“ you begin, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Why not? Like Hobi said, neither of us is bringing anyone already.” His fingers brush yours—an apology for mentioning it again. “So why not go together and…not be as alone.”

You shift on your feet. “But you do know that you don’t have to do this. I’m fine without a plus one. There’s no shame in it for me.”

“Y/N,” he huffs. “You know that I like being around you, right?” He nudges gently against the underside of your chin, making you look at him directly. “I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if I didn’t.”

You’re still skeptical—nervous about the implications of what this would look like, especially when you just got out of a relationship. To you, it feels very much like teasing a boundary. But Taehyung is all nerves in front of you, gaze darting up-and-down your face and a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth telling you that he’s chewing on his lip.

And of course, because it’s him, you cave.

“Okay.”

He beams and, not for the first time, you feel your chest lighten at the sight of his boxy smile. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, smiling back.

“Okay.” Almost impossibly, his grin gets even wider, and you can see the wheels begin to turn in his head. “Do you have a dress picked out yet? What color is it? I can match you.”

It takes you aback. You wouldn’t have even thought about that. “Emerald green.”

“Emerald green,” he repeats, something registering behind his eyes, and he licks his lips again. “Okay. Great.”

He shifts like he's getting ready to leave, but you catch his fingers to reel him back. And you hate to put it out there, hate to even bring it up, but after everything you’ve been through, you need the clarity.

“And Tae,” you say, “this isn’t a date, right?”

He gives a slow blink, a wave of unknown emotion rippling from forehead to chin before he smiles gently at you, eyes softening at the corners. “Of course not.”

You nod. “Okay.” And a small part of you feels…disappointed?

But there's no time to dwell on it as he exits the bathroom, and you follow him out in spite of doing exactly zero bathroom things. You return to the dining room together, your friends clearly trying to look nonchalant as they diligently work on their party favors but being way too quiet to not have been trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Sunny,” Taehyung says as you take your seats, looking positively brighter. “Just make sure we're sitting next to each other, yeah?”

She snorts. “As if you were anywhere else to begin with.”

Blue skies stretch endlessly in front of you, wind running through your hair and sunlight filtering in through the sunroof as you and Taehyung make the trip to the lakeside resort where Hoseok and Sunny are to be married. He's the absolute picture of relaxation in the driver's seat, wearing sunglasses and a mindless smile with his fingers wrapped delicately around the steering wheel like vines.

He'd opened the door for you when he picked you up, a seemingly spontaneous gesture that had left you both shy and blushing. But if the afternoon started with a touch of unusual awkwardness between you, the prospect of your “not a date” wedding date making itself known, it has since evaporated in the hot summer air. At this point, you’ve spent the past hour chatting, playing road trip games (Taehyung somehow destroying you in the alphabet game in spite of having to focus on driving), and burning through three boxes of Pepero.

“These are an addiction, I swear,” you say, crunching down on a chocolate-filled stick and clapping your hands in delight. Taehyung’s eyes leave the road for a second as he takes you in and grins.

“Was that the last of it?”

“Oh.” You peer into the box. Empty. “Yeah. Sorry. Did you want it?”

“No, it’s fine. You can have it.”

“I sure hope so since I already swallowed it.”

He laughs, whole face lighting up with it, and you feel something turn over behind your ribcage as if someone’s flipped your heart like a pancake. It makes you think that even though you were supposed to be making this trip with a different person, you’re glad it’s him instead.

My love only amounts to this.

The lyrics ring out through the car, and Taehyung leans forward suddenly, turning up the volume on the stereo.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite song!” he joyfully says. “I know you like to sing along.”

You stare at him blankly, taken aback because you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this to him. When did he notice…?

“C’mon, sing with me. Play a song I know and one step. Hold my hands and put my feet in, two steps.”

His sweet baritone sounds out beside you, and you feel a grin break out across your face. You always forget what a joy it is to hear Taehyung sing.

“The person to know all my secrets is you,” you sing, joining along. “So I’m even more thankful.”

“Sometimes when you get tired, and I see you crying with your head down, I don't know what to do. What can I do?”

You’re both belting it out at the top of your lungs by the time it gets to the chorus, and you think the sun has somehow moved inside the car with how bright and warm you feel.

My love only amounts to this. But thank you for staying by my side, my baby.

Your car charges down the road, trailing laughter and joy in its wake, and your chest feels light for the first time in weeks.

Even if my love only amounts to this. I'll be your umbrella in the rain. I'll protect you on all your days.

Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook meet you in the hotel lobby—a marble behemoth with wrought iron staircases and sofas that definitely cost more than your rent—and you all line up to check in, gawking at the elaborate chandelier that hangs above your heads.

“How did they even afford this place?” Jimin wonders.

Maya sucks her teeth. “At this rate? I think they might have mob ties.”

“Feet pics,” Jungkook says simply.

Once everyone has obtained their key cards, you set off to find your rooms. You’re all on the same floor since a certain section was booked specifically for the wedding, but with you having a room with only a single queen-sized bed, you’re down the hall and away from the others who booked doubles.

While Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook break off to get acclimated in their own respective rooms, Taehyung follows you into yours with a touch of melancholy, your luggage slung over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re fine here alone?” he asks, setting your bag on the ground. “I can room with you if you’d like. I’m sure Kook wouldn’t mind.”

“There’s only one bed,” you point out, blushing.

Taehyung also goes slightly pink. “Well yeah, but the other week we just…or I can take the couch. Or we can ask Kook to swap rooms?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’m alone at the apartment all the time anyway.”

He nods, looking oddly shot down. “Alright. But if you change your mind, just ask.”

“Unlikely,” you tease with a wrinkle of your nose. “You snore.”

He gasps, feigning hurt. “I do not.”

He doesn’t. But you still tilt your head solemnly, pressing your lips together as if preparing to deliver bad news. “You do.”

“Shit,” he sighs before the two of you break down in giggles.

A few hours later, the five of you wind up at the resort’s restaurant for dinner, lamenting the exorbitant prices but enjoying an incredible meal. The night dwindles down as you settle in at the bar, figuring you can have a couple drinks before resting up for tomorrow’s big day. With a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a perfect view of the lake outside and the glow of the sunset spreading out above the trees. It tints the room orange, seeping onto every surface, including Taehyung’s forearms resting atop the bar.

You trace his veins with your eyes, study the way they trail to his hands curled lightly around his low ball glass. Your friends are talking about plans for tomorrow, but you’re not paying much attention; you’re far more interested in trying to figure out when your best friend’s arms started looking like that.

“And don’t worry, Chim. If I have the chance to get lucky, I’ll make sure not to use our room,” Maya says, placing a hand over her heart in pledge. “No locking you out because I’m a good friend.”

But Jungkook has tensed up next to you, and in spite of the cute pout of his lips, the creasing of his forehead suggests that he’s genuinely upset. “Hook-up? You’re going to find a hook-up?”

Maya looks at him incredulously, drink paused halfway to her lips. “Possibly. Aren’t you?”

“I…” His teeth bite into his lip. “It’s a wedding.”

She barks out a devilish laugh. “So? When has that ever stopped you?” A spiteful glare is sent his way that even has you shrinking behind him in secondhand shame. “Since when do you have morals?”

Taehyung’s knee squeezes against yours under the bar—a warning, probably, but your brain momentarily becomes fixated on the weight of it, on how nice it feels to have his warmth pressed against you. It’s not until he taps a finger against your thigh, signaling with his eyes at the sullen man behind you, that you pass on the touch, giving Jungkook’s elbow a gentle nudge in support and encouragement. He takes a quick look at you with sad, vulnerable eyes, and you’re reminded of how flustered he’d been during your conversation a few weeks ago.

“I was actually thinking,” he begins, more serious than you’ve ever seen him, “that maybe we could go together since neither of us have dates.”

Maya snorts, setting her drink down firmly on the countertop. “Why, so you can ditch me halfway through for the first woman that flutters her eyelashes at you? No thanks.”

Jungkook physically recoils like he’s been slapped, the force sending him back so far that he practically winds up in your lap. “You really think I would do that?”

His voice is tiny, hurt dripping from every syllable, and it makes Maya finally look up, face dropping as she seems to realize the wounds she’s inflicted upon him.

Her brows draw together, and she opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by the bartender popping up to ask if anyone needs a refill. By the time he leaves, the moment’s passed, and Jungkook briskly stands up, throwing some money down on the bar.

“I’m done. See you guys tomorrow.” And he strides out towards the hotel lobby.

You hop to your feet, shaking your head at Maya. “That was uncalled for.”

She looks guilty but says nothing, rubbing a finger along the rim of her glass, and you follow Jungkook out, calling his name as he approaches the elevators.

“Jungkook!”

He spins to face you with a frown, thumbs hooked in his pants pockets like he’s trying to look casual, but his eyes betray his discomfort. “What?”

“She didn’t mean that,” you say, slightly breathless from your jog across the lobby. “I know she didn’t.”

“Sure she did. That’s who she is. Always speaks her mind.” He shrugs, shirt rippling over his shoulders. “It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Don’t you though?” you ask. “You’re not a bad guy, Kook. You deserve simple respect at least.”

“Maybe I don’t.” The elevator dings, and he steps inside, turning back to you with a final sad smile. “Night, Y/N.”

A sense of dread taps into the back of your skull, fear that your original inkling on this relationship was perhaps correct. Though you’ve since warmed up to the idea of Maya and Jungkook as a potential couple, it was this exact tension that you were worried about—their fire and gasoline dynamic harboring implications that could blow up your entire friend group.

Taehyung strolls up next to you as the doors roll shut, sighing as he comes to a stop. “He okay?”

“No, but don’t try telling him that.”

He purses his lips. “I had a quick talk with Maya. Reminded her that just because she’s had bad experiences with guys in the past doesn’t give her the right to take it out on him.”

“Good,” you say. “She probably needed to hear it.”

A nod as he assesses your figure and asks, “Are you coming back to the bar? I already covered your tab.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you back—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You can make it up to me a different time.”

You smirk at him, stepping closer. “How about I roll it into your Christmas present?”

“Deal.”

You let out a soft laugh, and he offers to walk you up, pressing the button to call the elevator back. The two of you chat about nothing in particular as you make your way to the third floor, commenting on the ridiculously patterned carpet in the halls and laughing about the strangely risqué photos that you noticed hanging in the rooms.

When you arrive at your door, you swipe your key card over the sensor, turning the light from red to green and wishing Taehyung goodnight, but he loops his fingers around your wrist to lightly tug you back.

“Y/N.” He curls his bottom lip over his teeth, head dipping towards the ground in a shy smile as he searches for his words. “I’m…really looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.”

He’s adorable; he truly is. Seventeen years of affection, and he still finds ways to endear you to him even more, bits of gold from the lamps catching on the browns of his eyes as he stands before you.

“It is,” you say, tongue tied around your own apprehension. He hums and looks like he wants to say more—tangles his fingers in front of him and chews on his lip as he fidgets. But after a moment passes—you still stuck on his eyes—he jerks his chin down in a nod, says goodnight, and leaves you standing at your door in confusion, taking one look back as he swipes his own key card down the hall and disappears into his room.

You enter your own space with your mind whirling, not sure what the hell just happened but also sure that you’re not upset about it. And once you’ve gone through your bedtime routine and settled in for the night, you fall asleep thinking about brown eyes and shy smiles, welcoming the most restful sleep you’ve had in weeks.

You awake to the sound of Maya knocking on your door promptly at 9am with her suitcase in hand, casually making her way to your bed when you let her in and picking up the hotel menu from the side table while you stare at her. "What are you doing?" "We are going to order room service and watch some shitty TV, and then I am going to help you get you ready for your date." "It's not a date," you say on impulse, though you're internally tamping down the involuntary flutter that's tickling your stomach. "If it's anything, it's a guy taking pity on his unexpectedly-single friend." "Pity date then." She says it with a nonchalant wave of her hand and doesn't give you the chance to speak when you open your mouth to protest. "Y/N, please, just give me the chance to make his jaw drop. If there really is nothing there like you say there is, then what's the harm?" The harm, you think to yourself, is the tingling feeling that's been increasing in intensity when you've been around Taehyung recently, warmth flooding your body at just the thought of him. Your brain has been desperately explaining it away, chalking it up to years of familiarity and comfort being stoked by the emotional trauma which (you're quick to remind yourself) you're still working through. No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you. It's these thoughts that, in the end, have you acquiescing as Maya lets out a joyful squeal. At the very least, you make your friend happy and get some well-deserved girl bonding time. Really, what's the harm?

The idea has barely finished running through your mind when you’re already beginning to regret it and wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Maya wheels her entire suitcase to the foot of your bed and pulls out no less than seven bags of make-up, a curling iron, hairspray, four different brushes, and a straightener.

“Are you doing the entire wedding party after this?” you ask incredulously. “Why did you bring so much?”

“Needed to be ready for anything,” she says, organizing her tools into neat rows. “When I’m done with you, every straight man and half the women will be falling at your feet.”

Your face heats, and you subconsciously rub at your arm. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Okay, then just one man.” She raises her arms, fingers arranged into a square through which she peers at you like she’s sizing you up for a photograph. “Hmm, where should we start?”

You and Maya make your way to the resort's event hall a little while before the ceremony is scheduled to begin. Seating doesn't seem to have opened yet as guests mill about the entryway, the buzz of conversation filling the space above your heads, and the two of you pause at the top of the stairs to see if you can spot your friends. "I think Kook's got a purple tie," she says, peering around. "And you know what he's wearing why?" you ask, but she ignores you. "Oh, look, there they are." Maya's goal may have been to get Taehyung's jaw to drop, but you're left stunned when you look over to where he's standing with Jimin and Jungkook, the now-familiar tingle rippling through your veins once again. His black suit is perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, emerald green tie wrapped around his neck to match the color of your dress as promised. He's slicked his hair back and away from his eyes so you're able to see how they nervously dart between Jimin and Jungkook, clearly not listening to whatever it is they're enthusiastically saying. Actually, once you look more closely, everything about his body language screams nerves for some reason, his hands moving back and forth to play with the hems of his jacket before smoothing the lapels over and over again. Maya waves, grabbing Jimin's attention, and you watch as he grins at the two of you before leaning in to say something to Taehyung, pointing at where you're standing. Maybe, you think, just maybe you appreciate Maya's plan from this morning after Taehyung glances up at you. His incessantly-moving fingers finally still—halfway through re-adjusting his tie—and his perfect Cupid's-bow-lips pop open, eyes wide as he soaks you in in your floor-length gown. Maya’s worked your hair into loose curls cascading over your shoulders and bare back, and while you convinced her to not go wild with the make-up, she strong-armed you into agreeing to a deep red lipstick that’s only accentuated by the green of your dress. A smug cough comes from your right (clearly Maya's pleased with her work) as you descend the stairs and approach the trio of men. Jimin and Jungkook greet you brightly while Taehyung still looks mildly concussed, continuing to stare at you with his mouth half-open. "Alright there, Tae?" you ask, reaching up to adjust and smooth out his tie, messy from where his hands had frozen on it.

The pads of your fingers are hot where they brush against the hard muscle of his chest, and you try not to read too deeply into the pounding of his heart. Taehyung makes a weird noise akin to what you'd imagine a drowning fish would sound like, and Jungkook gives him a sharp slap on the back, which seems to knock him out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "Incredible!" he blurts, and you almost want to laugh at the reset-button-like effect Jungkook's smack seems to have on him. He clears his throat, composing himself further. "I, um—you, I mean. You look incredible." You thank him, ignoring the second wave of smugness that comes from Maya's direction, just as the event staff open the doors and begin ushering guests into the hall. Taehyung offers you his arm, and you gladly take it as he guides you to sit alongside your friends.

The wedding hall is as grandiose as the rest of the hotel, with columns ornamenting the sides of the room and a massive flower arch constituting the altar. You all talk as you wait for the ceremony to begin, admiring the decor (the bright bouquets of red, purple, and blue flowers pop against the stark white of the venue) and trying to see if you recognize any of the guests.

“Oh, there’s Sunny’s cousin Chan,” Maya says, peering out over the room. “Remember we met him at that party one time?”

“Didn’t the two of you drunkenly make-out?” you ask.

Jimin frowns. “I thought they hooked up.”

“No, Y/N is right.” She fixes her hair, oblivious to the way Jungkook is now staring at the man in question, hackles raised. “Wouldn’t say no to that happening again; he was good with his hands. Tae, are you alright? You’re looking at Y/N like she’s sprouted four more arms.”

You swivel your head around to see Taehyung next to you, entirely flushed red above the shoulders. He licks his lips as he meets your eyes, blinking furiously like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, I spaced out.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maya waves a dismissive hand, shuffling her attention to Jimin to ask if he knows about the music choices for the ceremony.

A throat clears on your right. “You do look nice. Really.” Taehyung looks utterly sheepish, his head tilted low as he softly pays you the compliment, and it reminds you of how shy he was last night as well. A butterfly takes flight in your chest, and now you’re the one blushing.

“Thank you. You cleaned up nicely, too,” you reply, and he blinks at you in a way that has you second guessing your words. “Not that you don’t always clean up nicely. And not that you don’t normally look very handsome. Because you do. Look very handsome, I mean. All the time.”

His bashfulness morphs into amusement, lips quirking up in an affectionate smile. “Oh, really?”

Your face heats up even more, mouth opening to respond with you don’t even know what, and you’re grateful when a hush falls over the room, the beginning notes of a wedding march signaling the ceremony’s start.

Hoseok appears first, looking dapper in a full tuxedo and grinning ear-to-ear. He walks down the aisle with long strides like he can’t possibly get to the end fast enough, bouncing on his toes as he settles into his spot.

The officiant is next, followed by Iseul and Seokmin, one of Hoseok’s childhood friends. Hana and Namjoon stroll in arm-in-arm after that, then Yumi and Jiho, and finally, everyone rises to their feet as Sunny appears at the entrance and begins her walk in, gaze finding only her groom.

Just as Sunny reaches the head of the aisle, a teary-eyed Hoseok taking her hands in his, another image, one which had once occupied your mind almost constantly but hadn't plagued you in weeks, takes hold: you and Jace in a similar setting, pledging forever to each other in front of your friends and family.

Maybe you had gotten ahead of yourself—the discovery of the ring box in his desk along with the natural longevity of your relationship sparking your imagination—but in the weeks leading up to your heartbreak, you had allowed your mind to plan—what kind of dress you'd wear, the colors you'd pick out, what you might say in your vows. It seems stupid now, dwelling on a future that's already evaporated into nothingness, but seeing the echoes of your dreams being played out in front of you, it’s like you can feel the sand physically slipping through your fingers.

Right as it starts to become too much, as you feel your chest tighten and heart ache, there's a brush of skin against the side of your hand, and glancing down, you see that Taehyung's reached over to quietly hook his pinky with yours. You turn to face him, but he keeps his eyes directed on the bride and groom, face neutral and unreadable, and you know he's giving you the chance to pull away, no questions asked.

But the gesture has warmth flooding through you, thawing the ice of your previous thoughts, and so you move to slip your hand under his, lacing your fingers and pressing your palms together tightly.

Taehyung looks at you then, a shy smile crinkling his eyes and twisting up the corners of his mouth, and you grin back, the previous ache in your chest replaced with a steady flutter as he begins to skim his thumb back and forth in a gentle caress.

You stay that way for the rest of the ceremony—watching your friends vow eternity to each other, Taehyung's hand tethered with yours.

Classical music drifts from the speakers at the back of the room as you find your seats for the reception. The ballroom is tremendous, with tall, arched ceilings, a gorgeous chandelier, and a wide dance floor that you’re sure will see a ton of action later. With the tables seating eight, you see that you’ve been placed in a grouping of you, Taehyung, Maya, Jimin, Jungkook, and three of Hoseok’s medical school friends, who introduce themselves as Wonwoo, Joshua, and Mingyu.

Thankfully, your group hits it off immediately. Wonwoo is rather reserved, more an observer of those around him than anything, but Taehyung and Jimin quickly strike up a conversation with Joshua about college after the latter mentions having gone to the same school as you, albeit never crossing paths. Maya and Mingyu, meanwhile, immediately fall into their own introductions, talking about how they know Hoseok and Mingyu’s studies to become a doctor.

“If you ever need a headshot or something, let me know,” Maya says, laying a hand on his arm. Across the table, Jungkook's head shoots up. “I do work as a photographer and would be happy to help.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu makes no move to remove her hand; if anything, he shifts even closer. “What are your rates?”

“For you? Free of charge. Any friend of Hoseok is a friend of mine.” They're in their own little bubble now, Jungkook watching wide-eyed. “Besides, you'd be doing me a favor. With a face like that, you're a photographer's dream. Perfect model.”

Mingyu smirks. “A face like what?”

“Dangerously handsome.”

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT TO SPECIALIZE IN?”

Jungkook practically screams it, and not only do Maya and Mingyu turn to look at him in bewilderment, but so does the rest of the table and a few guests in the neighboring seats.

Joshua clears his throat awkwardly, eying Jungkook like he might be rabid. “I’m trying for pediatrics.”

“Surgery,” Wonwoo says.

Maya turns towards her new companion. “What about you, Mingyu?”

He leans back in his chair. Gives a light tug on his tie. “I have a residency lined up in obstetrics and gynecology.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me—”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, cutting him off as he slides his chair back from the table. “Why don’t you help me get a round of drinks?”

“But—“

“C’mon.” He says it gently, like he’s trying to coax a toddler, and rises to his feet, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder as he goes. “Cosmo?”

“Yes, please,” you say, and he nods, dropping a quick wink your way as Jungkook joins him, grumbling under his breath.

Joshua watches them walk away in the direction of the bar. “Is he always this…”

“Annoying?” Maya scoffs.

“Transparent.” Wonwoo quietly smirks.

A gentle laugh sounds on your left as Jimin hears. “I don’t know that anyone has ever described Jungkook as subtle in his life.”

Maya frowns, Mingyu looking downright perplexed at her side. “I don’t think I quite understand what’s going on,” he begins, but Maya soothes him with another press of her hand to his arm.

“Don’t worry about him. It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Tell me more about your residency.”

The reception passes in a swirl of music and drinks and food—and oh goodness, the food. Plates heaped with calamari, crab legs, and tiny filets wrapped in bacon are placed at the table by wait staff as your group digs in. Even Jungkook is placated, no longer scowling at Maya and Mingyu.

"Ughhh, I am never eating this well again," Jimin groans, stretching back in his chair and giving an exaggerated rub to his belly.

"You'd best get ready to," Taehyung says from your other side. "This isn't even dinner."

"This isn't even dinner?!"

Dinner turns out to be just as delicious and lavish as the appetizers, and it's no surprise that once dancing starts, your friends opt to stay seated for a while longer talking and digesting. As the party climbs to a full swing, Mingyu asks Maya to dance, Jimin and Jungkook start a debate on whether the butt is one body part or two, and Taehyung excuses himself to the restroom.

“It’s one part that’s split!” Jimin loudly exclaims. “The top is connected!”

“Jimin, go home, stand in front of the mirror, and pull your right ass cheek up. See if your left cheek comes up with it, and then get back to me, you absolute clown.”

“Do they do this a lot?” Joshua asks, the two idiots arguing between you.

“At least once a month.” You take a sip of your drink as you look on, bored. “I’m pretty sure this one is a rerun from last Halloween.”

“It’s one,” Wonwoo says, amused.

A flash of green catches your eye, and you look up to see Taehyung standing by the side of the bar, speaking with a woman. She's about your age, you think, and pretty, wearing a low-cut dress that certainly accentuates her chest.

She and Taehyung are talking excitedly, and you can tell he's putting the charm on—eyes bright, signature boxy smile lighting up his face. Nausea simmers in the pit of your stomach, and you force your attention back towards Jimin and Jungkook, trying to focus on whatever nonsense they're debating now.

This isn't a “date-date,” you remind yourself. And Taehyung hasn't had a relationship in a year—not since he was so torn up after Luna. He deserves to meet someone.

You’re spaced out next to your friends, still only halfway listening to them jabber on about butt cheeks, when a slow song starts up over the speakers and, within seconds, a hand is being extended over your shoulder.

You look up to find Taehyung's eyes gazing steadily down at you, a small but confident smile playing on his lips.

"Dance with me?"

And in spite of the unease that had plagued you only moments ago, you don't hesitate to let him wrap up your small hand in his large one and lead you to the dance floor. His palm settles on your lower back to pull you in close, and maybe it’s the proximity or the intoxicating smell of his cologne that weakens your resolve, but you find the words spilling out.

"Did you get her number?"

Taehyung looks at you quizzically, brow furrowing in confusion. "Whose?"

"The woman at the bar."

His face relaxes as he realizes. "Oh, yeah. I did."

"Good." You manage a smile. Why does it feel so hard? "It really is…good you're getting back out there. Are you going to ask her on a date?"

He laughs, mischief in his eyes. "I don't think her fiancé would like that." And now it's your turn to look confused.

"Her fiancé?"

"I met the two of them through Hoseok a couple times so we've chatted. Nice people." He nods his head, and you look over to see the woman now dancing with a man not too far from you. "They just got engaged, and she knows I'm a photographer so she asked if I'd be interested in doing the wedding. I said I'd call her this week to talk about it."

"Oh." You can feel your face flush, but there's no doubting the relief that floods through you. And Taehyung surely notices, grinning down at you in amusement.

"Were you jealous?"

"No!" you say, but perhaps a little too quickly because Taehyung laughs, his fingers applying a gentle pressure to your back to pull you closer.

"I'm here with you," he murmurs matter-of-factly.

You shake your head at him. "It's fine, Tae. If someone catches your eye…like I said, it could be good—"

"I'm here with you," he repeats, more firmly this time. He releases your hand for a moment to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and you have to look away. You spot Hoseok and Sunny swaying together in the middle of the dance floor, pressed closely together and smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world. What it must be like to have someone look at you like that, you think, to hold you like you're something precious to be cherished. You had thought Jace made you feel that way, but now, watching your friends gaze at each other so delicately, so in love, you're no longer sure he even came close.

"What are you looking at?" Taehyung's voice rouses you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly notice his hand has drifted a little higher to where the back of your dress dips down low, exposing your bare skin.

Trying to pass off the shiver that involuntarily runs through you as a nod, you gesture at the newly married couple. "They're so good together."

Taehyung follows your line of sight, watching Hoseok lean down to murmur something in Sunny's ear that makes her giggle and press her face into his chest. "They are."

"Can you imagine loving someone like that?" Your voice is a bare whisper as if the words slipped out on their own accord, like a wish you didn't even realize you were making.

Taehyung's fingers splay at your spine, gently tugging you in until your hips are bumping his. Startled, your eyes snap back to him, breath catching in your chest. He's gazing at you intently, but as opposed to the intense fire that you've seen from him at times, there's only a deep warmth to his brown irises that you're not sure you've ever seen before. He looks at you with softness, with both a sense of familiarity and wonder that can only be attributed to your many years of companionship, and you see it all swimming behind his eyes—every day spent together seeking refuge from your families, every stupid childhood fight, every time you comforted each other through the bad days. And before you can deflect, can explain away the question as a rhetorical slip of the tongue, you hear his answer come out on a breath.

"Yes."

There’s a weight to it, the word landing from his lips like a stone into water, and you suddenly forget where you are. The world around you fades away: faces, music, and noise all receding into the background until it’s just him and you, you and him.

Just like it’s always been.

Taehyung's head dips towards you as if pulled by gravity, and your body responds in turn, hand sliding from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck and eyes fluttering shut. Your breaths mingle together, his nose lightly brushing against yours, and you find yourself on the brink of keening forward, on the brink of diving headfirst into a place of no return, when—

"Hey, we're going to step outside for some air. Do you guys wanna—oh."

You spring apart. Jimin is staring at the two of you, eyes so wide you're worried they might fall out of his head. His hand is still half-raised, pointing in the direction of the doors behind him, and you use this to make your escape.

"Yeah sounds good I'll come outside definitely," you babble before speeding towards the exit. Glancing back over your shoulder, you see Jimin say something animatedly to Taehyung, but the latter shakes his head and mumbles something back, his face pink.

The night air is cool on your skin, and you could not be more grateful for it because what the fuck was that?

Were you really about to kiss your best friend? Or was he going to kiss you? Things had certainly been…different between you two recently, but this surely would have been an awful idea. If something went wrong or there was a misunderstanding, you'd likely never be able to come back from it.

He said he doesn't have feelings for you.

…But do you have feelings for him?

Maybe yes, his smile has always set your heart alight unlike anything else and yes, your brain seems to have been lingering recently on how damn handsome he is and yes, you'd do anything for him at the drop of a hat—follow him anywhere—but given your history, of course you would, right? He's your best friend.

And he deserves to be more than a rebound. Because that's what this must be—lingering heartbreak amplified by the emotions of a wedding. You may have even imagined Taehyung leaning towards you, a desperate fantasy of a mind just wanting to be loved.

That's it, you decide. Your brain must have finally snapped into a world of delusion.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't hear Jungkook approach you, practically jumping out of your skin when he places a gentle hand on your arm.

"Y/N—shit—you okay?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes wide and apologetic.

"Yeah," you say, as your racing heart begins to calm. "You just startled me."

"Sorry, I tried to call you, but I don't think you heard. We're back over there if you want to join us." He nods his head in the direction of a patio area behind him, and you spot Namjoon, Joshua, and Wonwoo sitting around a table next to an elegant fountain, its ornamental lights illuminating the magnificent swan sitting atop it. They’re all laughing and, for some reason, the sight makes your chest tighten.

"Um, maybe in a little bit. I think I might just need a walk right now."

Jungkook studies you, biting ever so slightly into his bottom lip, and you think you see something in the way of understanding behind his eyes (you wonder if it has anything to do with the notable absence of Maya and Mingyu). "Do you want company?"

When you just give him a small smile and shake your head, he nods.

"Okay, well…you know where to find us." He moves to rejoin the others, but then turns back towards you, taking easy steps on his heels. "And just shout if you need a friend."

You meander around the outside of the hotel, following the stone path that paves its way around the perimeter. There's a certain kind of peace out here. Though the summer is nearing its close, you can still hear crickets chirping in the grass and spot the occasional firefly dangling in the air. You focus on the swishing of the cars out on the main road and try to let the sound clear your mind, but as you settle on a short brick wall overlooking the property's enormous lake, you realize it's no use.

Your eyes drift closed as you sink into the grief once again, let it slowly overtake you like quicksand until your lungs are crushed and burning. But more than anything, you’re simply exhausted—perpetually drained by the demons which have once again arrived to feast on your psyche.

At this point, you think most of your frustration lies with yourself. Maybe you’re being overdramatic, maybe you should be over it by now—if only you were stronger, more resilient. Not the miserable pushover you feel you’ve turned out to be. Harsh? Yes. Unfair? Perhaps. This does feel like the breaking point in your life’s long line of abandonments, digging up feelings you haven’t felt since you were a child.

But that being said, it also makes you feel like you should be used to it by now. Should be used to having to bounce back—what else can you expect from the world at this point, really? What a fool you were to even think that this time would be different.

The sound of quiet footsteps has you opening your eyes again, and you’re not sure whether the man in front of you is the first or last person you want to see right now.

Taehyung has his hands in his pockets, watching you with that calculated expression he always has on when he’s trying to gauge your mood. But all you can see in his face on your end is concern, not a hint of awkwardness or trepidation after what just transpired between the two of you in the ballroom.

So it really must have been all in your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Kook said you seemed upset.”

“I’m fine.” You try to push out a smile, but he unsurprisingly sees right through it, closing the gap between you and gesturing at the spot to your right.

“Mind if I sit?”

You’re still not entirely in the mood for company but you can’t bring yourself to say no to him, so you give the tiniest of nods and Taehyung settles on the wall next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, the buzz of the surrounding trees continuing its serenade. Taehyung doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything, only provides a steady presence. On particularly bad days when you were kids, you’d both wander down to the local playground and sit on the swings for a while. Sometimes you’d talk—either to rant and let it all out or make each other laugh to distract yourselves—but most nights, you’d just sit in the quiet and enjoy the feeling of not being alone.

It feels like that now, with Taehyung’s warmth radiating at your shoulder and the stars hanging above, but tonight, you’re compelled to speak.

“I’m really pathetic, huh?”

Taehyung’s eyes flash as he looks over at you, but he doesn’t interrupt, sensing you want to say more.

“I’m at my friends’ wedding, I’m supposed to be celebrating them and their love for each other, and instead I’m out here having a pity party.” You scoff. “It’s pathetic and selfish.”

“First of all, we are out here having a pity party,” Taehyung begins, and it draws a sudden laugh from you that you think sounds halfway deranged, but he only smiles.

"Secondly, you're not pathetic, and you're not selfish. You just went through a traumatic event, you know? You're allowed to have emotions."

"I know, but I just don't…want to," you sigh. "I just want it all to stop. I'm so tired of feeling weighed down especially on a day like this, but it's like it just doesn't end. The reminders don't end."

"You thought he'd be here," Taehyung says softly, and though his head nods slightly in understanding, his voice is tinged with sadness. "You miss him."

"I—that's not exactly it, no," you quickly say, not wanting him to think that you somehow regret being here with him. "Given what he did…like you’ve said, it's not forgivable, so it's not like I wish he was here. I mean, sure, are there some days where I reflexively think about him and stuff? Of course—we were together for four years—but I…still would prefer to never see him again."

Taehyung lets out a short sigh that you interpret as approval, but he stays quiet, giving you time to work out your thoughts.

"I think it's more the loss of security than anything. Seeing Hoseok and Sunny up at the alter…I couldn't help thinking that I was so, so close to that—to having that one person that I could commit to walking through life with. A partner, a friend, just someone to have day-in and day-out. Forever." You choke up, a fresh wave of tears lodging in your throat that you try to keep down. Taehyung is stiff next to you, staring down at his hands in his lap.

"And I want that, Tae. I want that so bad. But it's…so scary to start from scratch after feeling that close. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm just constantly overwhelmed and feel like I can't outrun it, and then I feel guilty on days like this because I shouldn't be letting it get to me, and—"

"Hey, hey, Y/N, shhhh." Taehyung finally jumps in as you begin to spiral, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You don't have to worry or feel guilty because you are going to have all of that. Okay? You will."

"You can't know that."

"I do." He slips his pinky around yours briefly before his hand comes up to cup your jaw, guiding your eyes to his. "I promise you. I don't know how far out it'll be, but one day we'll all be together again at a place like this, and it'll be your turn." He gets a faraway look in his eye, seemingly perceiving something that you're struggling to even grab a glimpse of right now. "It'll be everything you've ever dreamed of—intimate and outdoors, right? I know you always said growing up that you were going to get married at the Spring Day Gardens. If you still want it, it'll be yours."

You let his words draw you in, painting you a picture so beautiful you're afraid to even let your heart believe in it. But his baritone voice presses on.

"And it'll be perfect. Not a cloud in the sky—nothing but sunshine. And we'll all be there, and you'll have your favorite lily bouquet and your perfect dress…"

Something stops him, and he blinks at you, dropping his palm from your face and glancing away at the lights from the party before resuming his tale.

"And the guy…" He licks his lips, and you feel the hand that's still holding yours tighten ever so slightly. "He's going to love you so much. Properly love you. He's going to see you come down that aisle and weep because he's just going to know that he's the luckiest guy in the universe. And if he doesn't cry right away, I'll kick him in the shins up there until he does because in spite of what Jimin and Jungkook think, we all know that I'm actually your best man."

You let out a watery giggle, the tears flowing freely now, and Taehyung reaches up to swipe a few off your cheeks, letting out a chuckle of his own.

"I want to believe you," you say quietly. "And hopefully one day I will. I just…I need more time."

"Whatever you need, you know I'm here for you," he murmurs, and you nod.

You fall back into silence for a few moments, Taehyung dutifully continuing to hold your hand while you lightly sniffle and wipe at your cheeks.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to the party like this—I think you ruined my make-up," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe, but you're the prettiest raccoon I've ever seen."

You laugh in earnest now, your shoulders shaking with it, and Taehyung smiles at you before suddenly rising to his feet.

"Wait here," he says, and then he's jogging back up towards the venue.

The silence envelops you again as you continue to mull over Taehyung's vision. Your battered heart is hesitant to dream, all of your imaginings coming in with fuzzy edges and blurry details that you just can't seem to place. But you're sure Taehyung was definitely right about one thing—you can't imagine a situation where you get married without him standing by your side.

It's a handful of minutes later when the man himself finally reappears with a hand behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face. When you raise your eyebrows at him in question, he comes to a halt in front of you and presents a full fifth of your favorite whiskey.

"What do you say we get out of here?"

The dim hotel lights cast a soft glow about the room as you and Taehyung pass the bottle back and forth, the mood significantly more casual than the extravagant party you just ditched. The decor may be fancy—Hoseok and Sunny certainly didn’t skimp when it came to location—but the two of you are perfectly rumpled, stretched out on the expensive sheets: you having removed your make-up and changed into your pajamas and Taehyung propped up against the headboard with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his jacket and tie tossed over the couch.

You’ve started up a game of Truth or Drink, a somewhat milder version of Truth or Dare, where you get to take turns asking each other questions, and the respondent has the chance to either answer the question or take a mouthful of whiskey. Normally, between you and Taehyung, such a game would be low stakes, with your shared years and few secrets between you making it hard to ask challenging questions. But something about tonight and the need for a distraction seems to have made both of you competitive, going for questions that you know the other wouldn’t want to answer.

“What was the last thing you cried about?”

“One thing you don’t like about me?”

“Favorite position?”

“Did you really lose your virginity in a tree house?”

“What’s your greatest fear?”

"If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?"

"Oh God, one of those cupcakes from Sweet Night Bakery," you groan. It was a place you had passed every day on the way to school, the wafting scents of cookies and cakes playing pied piper to your youthful noses. You had always dreamed of one day being able to afford the expensive pastries but had fled your hometown before having the adult money to do so.

"Seriously? Anything in the world and you want a cupcake?" Taehyung laughs, pink tongue poking out from behind his teeth.

"It's not just anything, it's one of my life's dreams," you counter, playfully shaking a fist at him for emphasis, but Taehyung seems unconvinced. "Fine then, if you have such a good answer. Same question."

He tilts his head at you, a mild haze in his eyes that tells you that while he's not drunk-drunk, he's definitely tipsy. A beat passes and he takes a drink.

"Ooh, mysterious," you slur. "But I win."

"Alright, alright." He grins at you. "I concede to your sugary dreams."

You mirror his smile, observe the way his fingers curl in his lap as you try to think of your next question. He’s always had nice hands—so delicate and careful with everything he touches. It’s odd, you think, how such gentleness could emerge from a home and upbringing that was anything but. How someone as bright as Taehyung could come from such darkness.

“Do you want kids one day?”

The question takes him by surprise when you ask it, and he physically startles, turning the bottle in his hands slowly. “I don’t know. Why?” He looks at you then, and you feel like you can see a riddle being worked out in his head. “Where did that question come from?”

“I don’t know,” you echo. “You spent so much time earlier imagining a future for me. I realized that we’ve never really talked about what you want for yourself outside of your career.”

Growing up, you’d discussed your dreams for the future, of course. But while you have always skewed towards the romantic, envisioning rings and weddings and vows, Taehyung’s always been much more practical and career-oriented—his plans always involved degrees and promotions and retirement funds.

A beat passes as he continues to fidget with the whiskey bottle before he again says, “I’m really not sure.”

“Well think about it now,” you challenge. “Or drink up.”

He chuckles to himself, some private joke in his head. “It would terrify me, I think. But I’d love them with everything I’ve got. Want to give them everything I didn’t have and be better than my parents were.”

You hum in agreement; you’ve had the same thoughts on occasion. Some who grew up in your situation may have been turned off the idea of children—and the idea does scare you in certain respects—but you’ve always been stubborn. “It’d be a chance to prove that it doesn’t have to be that hard. That you didn’t deserve what you went through.”

Fingers graze against yours in a subtle show of kinship. As always, you understand each other. “Exactly.”

And he may be struggling to imagine it, but you can see it so clearly: a small boy with big, brown eyes and a boxy smile riding on Taehyung’s shoulders. The two of them playing in the sand at the beach house or walking down the street together—the boy’s tiny hand tucked safely in his father’s.

The image chokes you up, fills you with so much warmth you think you might burst.

“You’d be an amazing father, Tae.”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind about it—that this incredible, thoughtful, selfless man would also be a wonderful dad. He doesn’t look so sure, but a flicker of recognition passes through him.

“You’ve said that to me once before,” he murmurs.

“I did?”

A nod. “One time when you were drunk junior year.”

You don’t remember it, the memory lost to the alcohol. “I guess drunk me has flashes of brilliance.”

“Maybe we’ll see someday.”

“I hope we will.”

Suddenly nervous, he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his neck. “But it’d have to be with the right person.”

“Has there ever been anyone who you thought was close?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re asking a disproportionate amount of questions.”

Reaching over, you pull the bottle from his hands, drink down a mouthful of burning liquor, and set it right back in his lap. “Answer.”

Wide eyes appraise you through the dim light; he looks almost impressed. “No.”

“No, there’s never been someone you could see a future with, or no, you won’t answer?”

“The first one,” he says. “I’ve never been with someone I could imagine having kids with.”

You frown, the blunt despondence in his tone cutting. “Not even Luna?”

A look is thrown your way—pursed lips and creased brow telling you that’s a stupid question.

“What happened with her?”

He scoffs, lips immediately wrapping around the bottle as he takes a gulp.

“So something did happen.”

“We broke up,” he states. “That’s what happened.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never said why.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if you’ve just asked him what he wants for dinner and not why the longest relationship of his life ended. “We weren’t compatible.”

You can’t help but sigh, a small part of you hurt that he still refuses to talk about it, that he’s closed this part of himself off to you. “You don’t trust me?”

“Y/N, no.” He shakes his head, looking genuinely remorseful to have given you that impression. “That’s not it. It’s just…impossibly complicated—“

“Was it me?” You’re suddenly reminded of a conversation with Maya from weeks ago, when she’d suggested that you were the reason all of Taehyung’s relationships had failed.

His lips part, tongue pushing into his cheek like he’s trying to hold words back.

“It was, wasn’t it?” you push, and his teeth dig into his tongue now, chewing. “You can tell me. I can handle i—“

“You were part of it, yes.”

In spite of what you’ve just said, the words land like a blow. You’ve spent years watching him go through breakup after breakup, and now you find out that you were a source of that anguish all along—helped fuel that heartbreak in his life.

It pains you to think you’ve been holding him back.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” you whisper.

“Because there was nothing to tell. It didn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Tae. If I’m getting in the way of your relationships…I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

That silences you, the sincerity in his voice leaving you blinking at him, and he continues.

“She didn’t like how close we are—most of them haven’t. But it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I’ll always choose you. And that’s the end of it. Nothing left to tell.”

You feel like you should protest this, insist on him putting himself and his future first.

But given similar circumstances, wouldn’t you do the same for him?

“Did Jace ever give you shit about us?” he asks, reading your mind.

He had, ranting about Taehyung that night in some fucked up attempt to explain away why you’d found him in bed with another woman. Before then, you hadn’t noticed the signs: hadn’t picked up on his reluctance to spend time with your friends, hadn’t read into the way he stuck close to your side on the rare occasions he did, a possessive arm always tight around your waist.

It all made sense afterwards, and you hate that the vulnerability and anguish of the moment made you question your own actions. You never would’ve shut Taehyung out—never in a million years—but it initially made you think that maybe if you’d been more attentive towards Jace, had been more sensitive to his feelings, that maybe you wouldn’t have wound up in the situation you did.

You recognize now that he didn’t deserve it in the end, obviously, but heartbreak is a funny thing.

Not wanting to have to admit to any of that out loud, you whisk the bottle from Taehyung’s hands again and drink. He watches the movement of your throat with heavy, knowing eyes, immediately taking the whiskey back for his own sip once you’ve finished.

“I must admit,” he says, the alcohol clearly loosening his tongue as he sags against the headboard. “I’m a little relieved about things ending for you and Jace. Aside from him being a certified douchebag, I mean.”

You frown, not sure where he’s going with this, and the look on your face must come across as offense because he’s quick to clarify.

“Not that I liked seeing you hurt.” He shakes his head, and you can see some anger at the situation still lingering under the surface. “No, never. But I just…now I get to keep you longer at least.”

“Keep me?”

“Yeah, this…” He wags a finger between you. “You know this has to end one day, right?”

The whiskey should be warming, but your veins fill with ice at his words. Losing Jace was one thing. Losing Taehyung would be a different matter entirely.

“You’re always going to have me,” you say, reaching for his pinky.

But he pulls his hand away.

“Not like this.” He smiles with what you assume to be intended comfort, but his entire demeanor is tainted with sadness. “One day, when you have the dream guy and the family and the white picket fence, there won’t be room for me. Not like this.”

It feels like earlier—him trying to paint you a picture of a possible future for you—but unlike earlier, you can’t picture this future. You don’t want it. Not if he’s not there.

“Tae—“

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He gives another sad smile, takes another drink. “No husband is going to want a third wheel hanging around. I understand. I want you to be happy, too.”

But you wouldn’t be happy without him, and in many ways, you’ve always known that to be true. But that knowledge hits you now with such force, such raw truth, that it renders you speechless and leaves you staring at him, drunken eyes laser-focused as if discovering the very center of the universe.

You want to challenge him on his statement, make him see that he’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But the alcohol muddles your thoughts, has your brain dropping half-formed sentences through your mind like Scrabble pieces that you can’t quite wrangle into a coherent thought.

Taehyung takes your silence for agreement and, seeming to suddenly realize that some kind of line has just been crossed, takes the quiet opportunity to flip the conversation back to your game.

“The shoes you gave me for my seventeenth birthday,” he begins, the words tipping out slow and oddly calculated for someone who’s had as much to drink as he has. “Where did the money come from?”

You know where he’s going with this. And it’s perhaps the only secret you’ve kept from him in the entirety of your friendship. “Christmas money, I told you.”

“No, really.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I never saw that house decorated for Christmas even once.”

“Could’ve been from an aunt or uncle.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

It wasn’t. You snuck the money out of your father’s desk one day knowing that he wouldn’t have even noticed it was missing. Absent-minded in everything aside from work, your father had misplaced things constantly. You drink. And even though it’s supposed to be an avoidance of the question, it gives him his answer.

“I knew it.”

“They weren’t going to miss it, and you needed it more.”

“You could’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

“I knew I wouldn’t. I didn’t. And it was worth the risk regardless.”

Looking back, you wish you’d had more of a fear of getting caught—wish your parents would’ve scolded you, screamed at you, anything. It would’ve been better than the indifference you’d been met with day in and day out. As if you were invisible.

Taehyung’s head swings from side-to-side. “You shouldn’t have. I would’ve been okay.”

“And you shouldn’t have punched Jace in that club, but you did anyway, didn’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not. You’re not the only one who gets to put your ass on the line for the people you care about. You were worth the risk.”

He blinks, regarding you as if you’ve presented him with some outlandish concept. Like you’ve asked him to explain rocket science or open-heart surgery. “Then you should’ve told me then.”

“You would’ve given them back.”

“Maybe, but then at least we would’ve been in it together instead of you lying to me.”

“And you’ve never lied to me?”

He hesitates, tongue tracing his bottom lip. “No.”

“Okay, then. Truth or drink: what’s the worst lie you’ve ever told?”

You know there must be one, can read it in the way his shoulder is suddenly pressed against yours as he tilts into you. Fingertips skim the bare skin of your knee, tentative in their movements, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath as the distance between you closes to mere centimeters, his gaze roaming your face and snagging on your mouth.

And you feel it—the pull that you’ve always felt towards him, the gravitational force that’s kept you in the same orbit since you were children. Two souls that intertwined the moment they sensed the other’s presence with a flash of awareness and said, You, you, you.

Thinking back on the entirety of your life, you don’t know how you possibly could have made it through without him: your best friend, your partner, your sanctuary. In such a volatile world—a turbulent youth marred by uncertainty and sorrow—he took your hand and held you steady, made sure you didn’t go through it alone.

In hindsight, you can’t truly regret it. Yes, there will always be a part of you that will resent your parents, wish that they would have loved you enough to spare you the hurt and stress they put you through. But just like the night when he brought you back to your apartment—held you close as you fell asleep in his embrace—your memories with him far outweigh the trauma you endured. When you think of your time spent growing up, he is by far the brightest star, outshining any darkness that may have lingered at the corners. It’s not the empty house or your parents’ stony faces that you think of first, but him: blanket forts and starry nights and walks in the park and blurry photographs and sometimes tears, sure, but only with him there to hold you.

Looking at this man in front of you, in every familiar line of his face and body, you know, without a crumb of doubt, that you’d do it all again. Screw Jace and Luna and your parents and anyone else who’s expressed disdain at your closeness with him. He’s written into every line of your history, every memory that’s worth something. And he may fight you on it, but he’s worth every risk you’ve ever taken—you would’ve stolen a thousand pairs of shoes for him. You’d move mountains and drain the oceans if he needed you to. You’d do anything.

You couldn’t live without him. You don’t want to live without him.

A moment of clarity, a wave of revelation as you lock eyes and are met with your favorite color. And at long last, you find the words.

I love you.

Your heart throws itself off a cliff…

And you lean in to press your lips to his.

NEXT

a/n: happy holidays to all who celebrate 😊

[soongyeopsal]

Imported

Summary: Seungcheol can hold a conversation and liquor, but that’s not what counts, is it?

▸ Pairing: Seungcheol x AFAB!reader

▸ Rating / Genre / AU: 18+ (MINORS/AGELESS DNI)/ smut, pwp / fuck buddies to ? If you are a minor AND/OR if your account has no age in the bio, you will be blocked upon interacting (liking/reblogging) with this post.

▸ Warnings: infidelity, creampie

▸ Word Count: 2k

▸ A/N: This is another take on the “people making bad choices at a wedding” idea explored in Like I Want You, though the perspective is closer to Imported (Jessie Reyez & 6LACK). Yes, I am a garbage character enjoyer. Perpetually trading favors with the loml/beta/banner maker @shuadotcom! <3 Starting with a read more due to the opening vulgarities.

The first time you and Seungcheol hook up, he’s simply looking for a good fuck. The second time, too. The third time is a thinly veiled dick appointment, but he’s not against being a booty call for a hot piece of ass. When the drunken hypothetical idea of being an Official Sidepiece comes up with friends, he’d said that’s only for losers, yet when you call him for a fourth time - after you’d said the first three were a mistake while you were on a break with your fiance - his pride goes out the window. Seungcheol isn’t the type to fall in love at first sight, but he was pussy-whipped at first lick. When that fourth call comes he figures maybe he can help you get over that prick by getting on top of you, just the way you like. And it seems to work – kinda. Eight months later he’s still on your speed dial, which is his personal best for staying as a legitimate contact in a woman’s phone. 

But nine months later your engagement ring is joined by a matching silver band and calm, cool Seungcheol has never had to try so hard not to make an ass of himself in a room full of people. 

You look stunning in your wedding dress - almost better than you look naked. Those rings look good on your finger too, though he can’t help the thin-lipped frown that settles on his face when that clown slides the band on. He barely hides a disapproving “eugh” with a cough when you kiss your beloved a little too long at the altar. The collective applause from the rest of your wedding guests is the only thing that saves him.

By the time the ceremony has crawled by and everyone breaks for cocktail hour, Seungcheol’s thoroughly irritated and has an itch on his palm that he can’t seem to scratch. He’s this close to going home, but then the DJ announces your grand entrance as “Mr. and Mrs. L/N” and despite the much less hidden “eugh”, he stays. Fuck the wedding dress. This shorter dress with your garter just barely peeking out is less of a dream and more of a tangible treat. Seungcheol’s stomach is doing acrobatics as he stands on the sidelines of the dancefloor with a drink in hand, watching you make the rounds to each of your guests. No matter how much time passes, he never gets tired of looking at you. He is tired of watching you turn around in search of your husband, only to plaster on your fakest smile when you spy him roughhousing with his groomsmen on the other side of the room. The man is completely oblivious to your needs - your words nine months ago at the bar - and frankly, is a complete embarrassment next to someone as immaculate as you. 

The groom drives that very point home soon enough. When he finally does rejoin your side, drink in hand, it only takes one good joke from another guest for him to nearly spit out his drink as he roars with laughter. And although he spares everyone his spit, he’s generous enough to slosh some of his beverage onto your dress. Most people can’t see the aftermath, but from Seungcheol’s corner he can see the way you barely mask your vexation and politely excuse yourself before too many people notice anything’s happened.

The idiot returns to his friends. Seungcheol opts to down the rest of his liquor and quietly exit the reception hall and follow you to the bathroom.

You’re dabbing at your chest with a paper towel when he lets himself in and locks the door behind him. “O-Oh!” If you’re trying to sound nonchalant, you absolutely suck at it. “Cheol, hey. Thank you for coming.” Seeing you like this twists his innards into a knot that sits heavy in his gut like bad indigestion. He has to choose being being mad at your beau or being mad and you - and there’s only one person he can punch in the face so… “Why are you so fucking fake?” “I– What?” You stop fussing with your dress to fix Seungcheol with a belligerent look that you used to give everyone but him at the bar all those months ago. 

Seungcheol takes a few steps toward you, but is careful not to get in your face. His mouth isn’t as cautious as his body language, however. “Why? Are you? So? Fake?”

“Are you serious? You’re fake. What are you even doing here?” “Are you serious? You invited me!”

You show the least amount of restraint you’ve had all night, closing the gap between the two of you to square up with the man who could easily throw you into the toilet headfirst.  “Stop copying me. I invited you because we’re friends, but I wouldn’t have if I thought you were gonna be a jerk.” Seungcheol’s laugh is more bitter than he’d intended when he scoffs, “How many other ‘friends’ are you sleeping with? Besides, you’re already married to the biggest jerk in existence.”

You’re fixing your mouth to bite back at his casual slut-shaming, but the second comment gives you pause and you conspicuously eye the locked door. “What is this about?”

What is this about? Seungcheol had been taken with the idea of swooping in to comfort you, swept up in the idea of being a rock (instead of just a cock) for you to lean on. He needed to step in as your man, not just a lover. The realization shakes him and when he falters, you ensnare him in your web yet again. 

“Ooh, Cheollie,” you coo, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your chest into his. “Are you jealous? You want me that bad?”

Is Seungheol experiencing a cardiac event? No, but the way heat seems to radiate from your joined chests and into his bones is startling. He enters autopilot as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to rest your core on his thigh the way he knows you like. His dick reminds him that common sense wasn’t invited when this conversation started and isn’t welcome now, not when your bedroom eyes are dragging him into the depths of his greed need to make you his. “Cheol~” Your siren song calls him back to the reality of you grinding against him weakly, asking for more. 

You’ve been picking him apart piece-by-piece for ages and even though Seungcheol knows it, he decides he’d rather you eat him alive than leave him to rot without your touch. 

“Babe…” it sounds so normal on his tongue - it’s sick. “It should be me and you know it.”

“Prove it, then.” With the way you try to plant your feet in your heels, Seungcheol knows you’re going to roll your body into him again. He stops you before you can steal another ounce of pleasure - he’ll give so you don’t always have to take, take, take. Crowding you toward the sink, he spins you around so you’re leaning your elbows on the counter and arching your back to leave little to the imagination as your dress shifts halfway up your asscheeks. Not that Seuncheol has to imagine - he does the rest of the work for you, pushing the fabric to rest on the small of your back and leaving only your thong and garter to cover your supple skin. A finger pulls your thong to the side and you keen impatiently, watching him in the mirror as he marvels at the way your lower lips glint with the shine of your arousal. 

“Cheol–”

“Shut up, Y/N.” He finally scratches that itch on his palm by slapping your ass so hard that you’ll have to explain yourself to that other dickhead later. Seungcheol’s dick is out of his pants and battering your walls before you can say much about it, his weight keeping you trapped between himself and the cold granite as he mounts you the way you deserve. Your pussy does most of the talking, squelching every time the plush of your ass meets his hips in a sloppy, barely coordinated dance. That’s ok - Seungcheol doesn’t need you to talk when he can watch your brows knit together and your mouth open in that perfect, silent “o” in the mirror as he hammers into your g spot again and again and again. 

When your legs start to shake, Seungcheol pulls hard at your bunched up dress with one hand and uses the other to grip you possessively by the front of your neck, almost making you stand straight up so he can spear you on his fat cock (your words, again) the way no one else can. “Say it.” He loves the way you go pliant under his touch and flutter around him when the low gravel of his voice scrapes the shell of your ear. “Say that no one else can fuck you like me.” He’s so caught up in the pursuit of his own climax that he doesn’t hear the quiet knock at the door. “Answer. Me. Y/N.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust harder than the last and your whimpers in response are hoarse.

“O-Occupied!” you call weakly instead and it’s only then that Seungcheol’s brain touches back down to where you are and what you’re doing. It’s too late to stop anyway. He lets you go in favor of pushing you back down to the counter and pulling you into him by your hips, watching your ass jiggle in the shitty bathroom lighting as he continues to serve take you. A few more thrusts are enough to establish that this is how he’d finish you off and he underlines it by snaking a hand around to press messily at the hard nub of your clit. Seungcheol doesn’t even need an answer anymore. “No one is ever gonna fuck you like this. Nobody can. Only me. You can only cum like this from me.” 

“Is everything ok in there?” The night’s biggest fool is on the other side of the door and his voice only serves to make Seungcheol fuck you harder - he almost puts you straight through the mirror with the way he’s damn near forcing your torso into the sink. 

“Y-ye-heh… Yesss, I’ll be rrright out! Just…fixing! My dress!” Your words are slurred with pleasure and you should have some shame, Seungcheol thinks distantly, but shamelessness is what got you both here in the first place, so who is he to judge?

“Ok, honey, love you,” the moron calls from the hallway. You just barely manage to wheeze out “I love you too” before you’re gasping loudly, a hand flying back to scratch at Seungcheol’s wrists as your orgasm seizes your muscles where they are so you can ride out the pleasure. Seungcheol keeps his momentum for just a minute longer before he cums inside you like fate intended, groaning loudly behind you as he throws his head back.

The euphoric wave of his release is dampened, however, when his eyes slip open to meet yours in the mirror. Seungcheol regards you like a priceless piece of art. You look at him like a plump black widow, sated for now. 

Seungcheol release you and pulls out as quickly as he can without injuring you. “Let me get you something.” He shuffles into a stall behind him and grabs a wad of toilet paper to present to you. You can clean yourself up for once.

“Lose my number, Y/N.”

Another month goes by and Seungcheol is moving on by laying beneath another gorgeous woman, ogling at the endless wonders of her tits as she rides him to completion. Pussy and tequila cures all, he muses lazily when she falls asleep beside him. He grabs his phone to set a timer as a reminder to kick her out after a quick nap when an instragram banner glides across the top of his screen. Message from **Y/N:** You blocked my number fr? 😒Let me make it up to you. Bar @ 11?

[lanas-delight]

the one that got away.

♫ rec: when i was your man by bruno mars

✰ an enhypen scenario || word count: around 2k, w/ fem-presenting!reader, heeseung, & sunghoon

✰ description — years after an anniversary dinner gone wrong, heeseung finds himself singing at your wedding as a favor to you and your new husband, even if that meant he’d have to bury his feelings and his regrets from the past.

✰ warnings — angst. literally just a lot of angst.

✰ note — inspired by the off my face cover by heeseung (and A LOT of kdramas....). 🤍 enjoy !

(why didnt i change the warnings good god IGNORE THE OG WARNINGS ITS FIXED NOW I FORGOT TO CHANGE IT WHEN I COPIED THIS FORMAT FROM MY OTHER DRAFT OMLLL)

The sun had fallen in the early evening. The sky was dark, though plastered with stars. It was a day in mid-July, a clear day after a week's worth of rainy days, and the air felt so clear, the breeze so warm but soft. It was a day that would begin your new life, and relive in your memories every day for the rest of your life. You knew that too well.

In a white tent surrounded by a meadow of sunflowers, lights all around, lighting up the grounds as the wedding march echoed from the grand piano, everyone was standing, watching as you, the bride, walked down the aisle, hooked arms with another’s arm, as you approached your fiancé, soon-to-be husband, Sunghoon. His furrowed brows raised at the sight, you in a beautiful white dress, lace at every edge of the dress, your hands delicately shown off bare, your ring finger empty only for a few more moments. Sunghoon gazed at you, admired every piece of you, curving his lips into a smile. A whisper, “You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” comes from his mouth for only you to hear. Your cheeks heated up, just like they did on your first date, when he said a cheesy pick up line to make you laugh, which it did, but you felt your cheeks heat up, like you were blushing, too. He noticed it quick.

The priest started to speak, everyone took their seats once again. It went quiet, only the soft echo of crickets in the far distance behind the strong voice of the priest’s. He goes on to welcome the guests and start the speech to where Y/N and Sunghoon would repeat his words and then kiss to confirm their marriage to one another. They had said their vows privately that morning, backs facing each other on a wide bench by the water. It was beautiful, and it respected the tradition of not seeing each other before the wedding. It was your idea, and Sunghoon tried his best to not sneak a glance but he knew you looked so beautiful.

You had this day planned out since you were six, the first time you took one of the pillow sheets and put it on your head like a veil, prancing around the house like a happy bride. You picked out your ideal dress through boredom on a late night in middle school, chose what your bouquet would like in after a trip to a community garden. You had met the most perfect man, had the perfect life, your perfect wedding, but there was something missing.

In the crowd, in the middle of the third row on the left side, sat Heeseung, his hands knotted together in his lap as he watched you kiss him. His face was pale, his eyes wide but inside, he felt his heart shatter and all the little pieces fell to his stomach. There was a part of him that knew he had no reason to feel this way, but he couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t supposed to be there. He only went because you asked, as a favor. He was a singer, a very good one, and the original singer you had hired came down with the flu last minute so you called him in a panic as a last resort. He said yes, which surprised you, but you were thankful. You gave him a list of songs that the original singer had made for their performance, and Heeseung told you he’d be there and that was the end of it. Now, at the wedding, you had forgotten he was to attend at all. You felt his stare, amongst the other eyes glued to you from all around the room, but his was distant, yet it tore you apart little by little.

After the kiss, everyone rose from their seats and clapped, cheering for you and Sunghoon, except Heeseung. He didn’t stand with the others, but once he did, he turned and scooted through the other people in the row so he could get ready for his performance at the reception.

If he was asked about how he felt, not that he ever would be, but if he was, he would say that it took everything in him to stay for the reception and to sing in front of everyone—old friends, some faces he didn’t recognize, and the family he was supposed to be apart of. It was his fault, everyone in that room knew it, claiming more than Heeseung did, but that wasn’t true. He relives his nightmare everyday, seeing you with another man, happier without him.

You and Sunghoon had gone off to change into more comfortable, though still formal outfits, with Sunghoon wearing a lighter colored suit, a loose tie and one open button at the top. Meanwhile, you looked like a diamond, white dress that fell to just above your knees, maybe of silk and satin, oh it looked wonderful on you. It was the dress Heeseung had picked out for you years ago, but you had forgotten that. It was now the dress that you and Sunghoon would have your first dance in. Nothing Heeseung ever did for you mattered anymore, maybe it never once did.

Everyone had taken their seats at their tables, drinking champagne and waiting for the speeches to start. Heeseung sat at the stage, his face low to keep hopefully no attention on him whatsoever. You and Sunghoon sat at this long table, with the maid of honor, best man, and the bridesmaids and groomsmen all on either side of them. The best man started first with his speech, his name was something with a “J,” an English name, but his accent was no American. He was apparently dating the maid of honor—who started her speech directly after the best man’s—which made Heeseung smile a bit because he had met the maid of honor plenty of times before, when he was with you. She used to be voluntarily lonely, never wanting to date because she could never find the one. But it seemed she did. They have a son, last he heard. He was happy for her, even though he knew that she hated him for everything that happened with you.

Sunghoon’s speech was next, and it was absolutely beautiful. Poetic, if you will. He spoke nothing but beauty and love of you, every word a new meaning for you, describing every perfect you behold. It made Heeseung want to fall apart right at the spot. He promised himself he wouldn’t let himself fall down this hole again, that he’d move on and fall out of love with you, but that could never happen. He was stuck on you. There wasn’t a single reason to him that made him not love you, or even consider the possibility of not loving you. You were his moon, his star, his every part of him, but you didn’t love him. You haven’t loved him for a long time. You weren't his, and he wasn't yours.

Then, it was time. Sunghoon and you walked to the middle of the dance floor, holding each other’s hands and preparing to dance as Heeseung stood up and approached the microphone stand. He glanced back at the pianist behind him who nodded at him before starting to play the song, Off My Face by Justin Bieber. Their song. But it wasn’t theirs anymore. He was sure that it never was.

Heeseung clears his throat quietly as he turns back to the microphone, one hand wrapped around it while the other fell to the stand, holding it gently, space between his palm and the pole. He starts to sing, every note and every line perfectly harmonized as the couple danced together.

Everyone watched the couple quietly, with eyes of admiration and small smiles, but only one ever looked at you and it was you. Sunghoon’s back faced Heeseung for a few moments as you and him swayed together, and that was when, just between the chorus and the verse, you had met eyes with the boy you once loved, the one singing at your wedding to another man.

Once the song was over, Heeseung stepped back to take a drink out of his water just as everyone else joined in on the dancer floor for another song, one more upbeat than the slow, love song he had just sung for the couple’s first dance. He sang another song, then another, and a couple more before his set was done and he grabbed his stuff and headed out of the reception tent. He headed to the parking lot just a hundred feet away but just before he made it there, his name was called and his heart stopped for a second. It was you.

“Heeseung, wait,” you caught up to him, holding your heels in your hands so you wouldn’t break them or twist your ankles trying to catch him before he left. “You’re leaving?”

Heeseung quickly looked over to the tents then back to you. “Yeah, I, uh, finished my set.”

You reached your hand out to him, “No, you should stay. Enjoy it,” you gave him a smile, “Might be the only wedding you’ll attend,” it was a harmless joke, but Heeseung took it differently.

“Are you saying I won’t get married?” His voice sounded hurt, but stern at the same time. He was trying to stand his ground, while dying on the inside.

“What? No, I— I was joking,” You lowered your hand, “What’s wrong?”

But Heeseung raised his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” He scoffed, “You asked me to sing at your wedding, of all things, of all people, you asked me to come here and relive everything that happened.”

You were confused, “Relive? You mean I would have to relive it? You broke my heart, Heeseung. You were never going to marry me. We had no future—”

“Did I say that?”

“Say what?”

“Did I say I would never marry you?” Heeseung repeated, “Did I ever say we had no future?”

You stepped back, “Well no but you never did anything that proved otherwise.”

But Heeseung shook his head and rubbed his face, trying to stay calm as you continued on.

“You never told me you would marry me, you never even asked about our future or even talked about it. You and I were together for three years and there was nothing you did that gave me any hope at all for us.”

Heeseung clicked his tongue, pushing his hair back, “God, Y/N, are you really that oblivious?”

You furrowed your brows, “What?”

“I was going to propose to you that night.”

Seven years ago, you and Heeseung met at your work—a cafe at the time—because that morning, he was craving a frappe and he knew that the cafe you just so happen to work at made the best coffee. You were his barista, and he fell in love with you the moment he saw you. He left his number on a napkin and you waited a day to call because you didn’t want to seem desperate, but also that you didn’t want to see him again either. On the first date, so memorable, you read out your favorite quotes from your favorite books, which he asked for because he knew you liked to read. Over a handful of dates and a million talks, you and him fell for each other—hard. He was all who you wanted, for three years, he was the boy you wanted to marry. He was your endgame, or you wanted him to be it.

For your three year anniversary dinner, he had made a reservation at your favorite restaurant, bought your favorite flowers, and dressed in your favorite suit of his. You wore his favorite dress, a white, short dress that fell just above your knees. You two headed to the restaurant around six, seated around six-thirty. It was good at first, he opened the car door for you, held the restaurant’s door open for you, pulled the seat back and pushed it in for you. He did what he always did. But for months, you wished for more. You had been wanting to hint for him to do something more, to take the next step in the relationship, but it was never the right time to talk about it. But instead, you dropped hints. For a year now, every day, you’ve dropped some kind of hint, and only realized that morning that it had been a year, and there was nothing. No conversations about the future, not even a poke at it. Nothing. You had enough.

During appetizers, you broke the silence, which was only there because he was eating and you were sipping on your wine, with a simple, but cold statement—“I don’t think this is going anywhere.”

Heeseung, confused and taken aback, almost spit out his food. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about us, Hee. You’ve done the same thing over and over again, for the last three years, and you’ve never even given the thought of asking me to marry you.”

“Y/N—”

“And I’ve dropped hints, every single day since our two year anniversary—a year of this cycle, I can’t,” You shook your head, “I had your mother talk with you about proposing, I had your brother talk to you endlessly about his own wife. God, I even had a fake email about wedding rings sent to you by my friends so you’d finally ask me!” You abruptly stood up from your seat, everyone in the room was staring at you and him. You sighed. “I can’t wait around anymore for you.”

Heeseung stared at you, tears slowly forming in his eyes, those bambi eyes of his, “Y/N . . .”

You shook your head, “It’s over, Heeseung.” And you grabbed your coat and left the restaurant. He sat there, completely still. Everyone stared for another few moments out of pity before turning back to their own dinners. Heeseung slowly took out the box from his pocket and set it on the table, opening it and looking at the ring he had bought months ago, waiting for this exact day to propose to you and to make you his bride. But he was too late. He was just a day too late.

“I took you to your favorite restaurant, asked you to wear my favorite dress—which you’re wearing for him tonight, ironic enough!—and I wore your favorite suit. I took you there and I ordered your favorite foods, your wine, everything. I had it all planned out. I was going to tell you how much I loved you after we ate the appetizers,” Heeseung declared to you then, a choking sob in his throat, “I was going to propose to you minutes after you decided we were over. I noticed every hint and I planned it all, from the beginning. But I was too late. Right?”

You had started to cry, “Heeseung . . .”

He shook his head, “I have never stopped loving you, since the day I met you. Not even when you ruined me, when I cried for months on end, for the humiliation, the heartache, I have never stopped loving you. Until tonight,” he turned, "Goodnight, Y/N."

“No, Heeseung, please,” you went towards him, grabbing his arm, “Please,” implying you wanted a second chance, just a few yards from your newly wedded husband. Heeseung knew he didn't love you anymore. Tonight was his closure. The regret, the miserableness, the mourning of what could've been—it was finally over.

“You remember that quote you told me? On our first date?” Heeseung stared at you, coldly, “Maybe if you were the moon, I could’ve loved you the same,” he then scoffed, “It had always been about us, huh?”

You shook your head, “Hee, please—”

“No, Y/N.” Heeseung took his arm out of your grasp, stepping back from you, “Congrats on your marriage,” and he walked away from you, leaving you to fall to your knees on the grass, crying to yourself as he got into his car and left. You got up a few moments later and returned to the wedding.

You never told Sunghoon what happened, claimed you fell on the way back to the tents after you had gone out to thank Heeseung for coming since he was leaving so abruptly, and Sunghoon, being the kind person he was, didn't question any of it. He helped you get cleaned up and danced with you until it was time to head off to your honeymoon. But Heeseung never left your mind.

Months went by, then years, and Sunghoon never knew what you had done that night, begging Heeseung for another chance, that you would've thrown everything you had for the boy you broke. He never knew.

On the night of Christmas Eve, the one following your eleventh wedding anniversary, the kids were asleep in their rooms while you and Sunghoon put out the presents from "Santa." One girl, and two boys. You didn't think you'd want kids, let alone three of them, but you loved and cherished your kids entirely. Your oldest was ten, middle was seven, and the youngest was three. You had gotten them toys, clothes, etc., but that didn't matter. It was when you seemed off, like you did every Christmas, every Thanksgiving, every holiday. Sunghoon finally asked about it, and that's when you told him.

You told him about Heeseung, what he said to you, how you feel about him, and the absolute and miserable regret you had for letting him go. Sunghoon didn't say anything for a while. He just stared at you blankly, not sure how to respond or react, so he didn't. He just sat down on the couch and covered his face with his hands. You tried to sit with him but he scooted away before turning to you, telling you that he should've known. You reassured you loved him now, but that wasn't enough. You both knew it wasn't enough.

Divorce followed shortly after, joint custody where the kids will spend every other week with either parent. Sunghoon was cordial about it all, which was good for you, you guessed, but you didn't want a divorce. You loved Sunghoon, but not the way you should've all these years. He deserved better, and you wish you could've gave him what he deserved, but at the end of the day, you didn't love him. You loved Heeseung.

You searched Heeseung up the moment it came to mind, thinking you could go back to him as your last resort—just like before—but to your unfortunate surprise, Heeseung was married. On the night of your wedding, Heeseung drove to the bar to straighten out his thoughts over a few drinks. There, he met his future wife who sat beside him and actually bought him a drink because he was looking at her a lot but not actually making a move. They married the next year, and have a son around your oldest's age. He looks at her the way he used to look at you. He didn't love you, and hadn't for a long time. You lost him, and that was never going to change. There was nothing you could do to get him back, to make things right, to fix your marriage, your family, to get closure. Alone, you were, but you sought out to get better.

You started therapy, and eventually, convinced Sunghoon to go to couple's counseling with you. A year or so passed, you and Sunghoon decided to give it another try. You wanted that happy ending, and you worked for it. You loved Sunghoon, more than ever, never to lose that love, because he was your husband, the love of your life, the father of your children. Sunghoon was who you wanted to love for eternity, not Heeseung. You didn't love him anymore. You finally moved on, just as he had.

Because he wasn't yours, and you weren't his.

end.

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a/n—i'm gonna be completely honest.. i was watching a lot of kdramas when i thought of this shit, but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyways! thank you for reading <33

[alex51324]

That Tweet, take 2

OK, so my first reaction to That Tweet, by Djenks, was as follows:

My money is on DJenks realizing that he shat the bed & now furiously trying to write himself out of the corner he's in. (My second guess is that he basically already knows there won't be a Season 3, but there's some network or business-related reason for not announcing it yet.)

But now that I've had a bit more time to think about it, I am kind of seeing a scenario where he could've intended it to be a fuckery all along.

Step one is that we imagine him being a bit disappointed by how Lucius's death fooled absolutely no-one. It's likely that he was planning for the reveal that he was alive to be a much bigger moment than it actually was; maybe he even has some Big Reveal ideas that he had to put on ice once it became clear that there was very little actual suspense surrounding Lucius's fate. This is, obviously, since I don't know him personally, a big hairy guess, but it seems like a very plausible reaction for someone to have, when they put a lot of effort into planning a surprise and it falls flat because everyone guessed it.

Step two is him deciding to sell Izzy's "death" a little harder, with the emotional death scene and the funeral (where we do not actually see the body, and a mourner, Wee John, is missing) and all. It's laying it on a little thick, in my opinion, but again, we did all confidently (and correctly) assume that Lucius was alive based on the evidence that "this show wouldn't do that" and "The Stede-Ed reunion won't work if he's really dead," so you can see how a showrunner could, hypothetically, get to--

Step three, is Djenks opening up his socials at the crack of dawn on Thursday morning, expecting to see reams of speculation and analysis about how Izzy could have survived, and being genuinely shocked to instead find seas of angry and devastated fans suggesting that he should perhaps give up television in favor of a career in going and fucking himself.

Step four, realizing that he drastically overshot the mark re: creating genuine suspense over character death, he tweets out a big obvious hint.

I don't love this interpretation--for one thing, there is nothing in the episode we saw that would provide a plausible in-universe reason for faking Izzy's death. It would be pretty easy to create one--have Prince Ricky No-Nose vow personal vengeance against Izzy Hands in specific for calling him a syphilitic cunt/his role in foiling the "end of piracy" scheme--but we did not see anything like that. To make the funeral scene work as a fuckery, it would be necessary to insert a flashback between the "death" and the funeral in which A) this happens, and B) the other characters find out about it. That's a cheap trick that I personally hate--the old, "Haha, I made you feel a thing by deliberately withholding context"--but again, if it's an overcorrection for the complete and abject failure of the effort to create suspense around Lucius's fate, I guess I can live with it.

If Izzy's death is a fuckery, that addresses a lot of the other problems with the finale. First, Ed and Stede's obviously-doomed, harebrained scheme to give up piracy and be innkeepers (in a dilapidated shack, on an island where we see no other people or settlements) is plausibly funny, as long as we aren't thinking that Izzy died for it.

Second, the tonal whiplash of going from the funeral to the wedding is also fine if everyone involved knows perfect well that the guest of honor at the funeral is actually recuperating just offscreen.

(Thirdly, there's Captain Frenchie--I haven't seen much discussion of that, but the only problem I had with it is that I can't think of any moments from the season where he stood out as being a leader for the crew. I might've missed something; he's not one of my particular blorbos, but it wouldn't have taken much, just something you can look back on and see how it was setting up him becoming captain.

And, crucially, we do have those few little moments of setup for Frenchie as First Mate to Captain Izzy. Frenchie was there during the dark days, during which he presumably underwent some skill development, pirate-wise, and definitely bonded with Izzy to some extent. We see him holding Izzy's hand during his breakdown, and he presumably helped hide him and definitely lied to Blackbeard about it, and then how they were sitting in the cell on Zheng's ship--it isn't a whole lot, but you can look back and see why it makes sense for Izzy to pick him.)

Making Izzy's death a fuckery doesn't do anything to fix the way the whole Zheng thing fell flat. (Why give her a massive fleet in the first place, only to take it away? Why did we get those scenes of ships being towed across land? What was she doing selling soup on the Republic of Pirates? For that matter, why did she come to the Caribbean in the first place, after becoming Pirate Queen of the Chinese seas?) It doesn't help with how Ed and Stede keep repeating the same beats of getting closer, then running away, then reuniting without ever talking about their relationship or their issues. It doesn't address why the Kraken Era had to go that dark, if the whole thing was just going to be smoothed over in the space between episodes 4 and 5, and how Ed never really takes responsibility for any of what he did.

However, middle installments of trilogies are notoriously difficult to write, and it isn't particularly fair to judge them before you get to the last part. Most of the weak points could look better in hindsight once we know how it all turns out.

(And, not for nothing, as long as Izzy is alive, we can still get something where Ed reckons with the Kraken Era, and particularly-but-not-exclusively what he did to Izzy. I don't see how that works with a dead Izzy, though--it's too easy for Ed to keep minimizing what he did and offloading blame onto him.)

There isn't a whole lot of evidence for an Izzy Lives scenario. All we have is:

This Show Wouldn't Do That (which, recall, was point 1 in why we didn't believe Lucius was dead. However, it is weakened by the absence of point 2--unlike with Lucius, the person who "killed" Izzy isn't a character we're expected to like or root for.)

No body at the funeral. I initially interpreted the funeral as being intended as proof that Izzy was really dead, a sort of "don't get your hopes up, guys," after what happened with Lucius. But again, if we're thinking about the framing of Izzy's "death" as an overcorrection to how completely non-fooled we all were by Lucius's, maaaaaybe not? I mean, if he really wanted to hammer the nail into the coffin, we would have seen Izzy lying in the grave, or his body being sewn into a shroud of sailcloth (as was the custom), or something. (Also, point 2b, the unicorn did have two legs.)

No Wee John at the funeral. There are certainly Doylist reasons he might've been left out--maybe the way the shooting schedule worked out, it saved money or some other resource to just leave him out of that scene, something like that. But for an in-universe reason, "somebody had to stay back and nurse Izzy" makes a lot of sense. (I mean, if this show operated on real-world logic, someone would have had to stay with the ship, but that's never been a concern before.) Wee John helping Izzy with his makeup for Calypso's birthday was presumably a bonding experience that involved some vulnerability on Izzy's part, so it would be weird for him to just nope out of the funeral, but plausible that Izzy would find him acceptable as a caregiver.

Stede and Ed's conversation over Izzy's grave could, just barely, make sense as a conversation about how Ed and Izzy are now on separate paths, with no particular guarantee that they'll see each other again. It takes a certain amount of massaging to make it fit, but it almost could? (Except Zheng's part really doesn't--unless the grave actually contains someone Ed cares about, or she isn't in on the secret that the funeral is a fuckery.)

I'm not in love with any of this, or even particularly convinced by it--my enthusiasm for any Season 3 is going to be pretty dampened, unless the announcement that it's been picked up includes the information that Con O'Neill has a contract to appear as a major character in all 8/10/whatever episodes--but IDK, I guess it's maybe not outside the realm of possibility? Ish?

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

A Companion (Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader) Chapter 3 Sneak Peek

Now officially betrothed to the Hand of the King, your life begins to change dramatically.

King’s Landing was far more pleasant as the betrothed of Lord Otto Hightower than it was as the unfortunate widowed girl from the Neck, you quickly realized.

The ladies from great houses stopped looking at you as if you were a toad in a fine gown that had snuck into the Red Keep. Now, they approached you with broad smiles as they tried to befriend you. Even if you knew they were only attempting to gain your good favor so you would sway your future husband to the benefit of them and their husbands, it was nice to be greeted as an equal, and without that look of pity you had become so accustomed to.

You were moved out of the guest chambers assigned to House Whitehill and into apartments in the Tower of the Hand. Not your future marital chambers, which connected to those of your future husband, but a much finer guest suite for you to occupy until your wedding day.

Best of all, Gryff and Sybelle were gone. Once they learned that Lord Hightower – Otto, as you were now to call him – would not accept a dowry but instead pay a bride price, they were more than happy to leave the city immediately in exchange. The moment the Red Keep’s gates closed behind their wheelhouse, you breathed a little lighter for the first time since Locke died.

You felt a pang of guilt each time you felt at ease. Since Locke, you had not thought it possible to again enjoy the sight of a sunset or laugh at a clever joke. You had resigned yourself to being a haunted widow forever. But now, you did not have to be.

Now, you could enjoy the sunrise from the eastern window in your bedchamber and the sunset from a western-facing bench in the Red Keep’s gardens. You could laugh whenever the urge struck you. And you could smile freely and genuinely at whomever you wished.

There were times when your grief would again overwhelm you, and you pulled the curtains on that eastern window tightly shut or abandoned any idea of going down to that bench. You would not laugh whenever Otto made a witty remark, and you would not smile for hours.

But you were never scolded for it. Otto would only fall into companionable silence or gently coax those laughs and smiles from you by telling you tales of his late wife or asking you more about Locke. He knew what you felt, having been through those roiling emotions himself, and used his own experiences to soothe you.

Thus, your nerves slowly faded away until the red walls of your new residence began to feel like yours – to feel like home.

That is, until King Viserys and his new wife returned from their honeymoon, and Otto decided it was time for you to meet your future stepson, stepdaughter, and none other than the king himself.

[coconutmr]

https://www.mrcoconut.in/blog-details/trendy-gourmet-idea-in-jaipur-delightful-fusion-of-heritage-and-innovation-for-weddings

[hannahhook7744]

Tomorrow, It's Claudine's Birthday.

Summary: Ivy de Vil just wants her girlfriend to have a good birthday for once.

Ship: Ivy de Vil x Claudine Frollo.

Trigger Warnings: mentioned patricide, swearing, yelling, unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied child abuse, childhood trauma, etc.

Happy birthday @panthera-tigris-venenata .

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

“DIEGO ETHAN RAMIREZ-DE VIL, I SWEAR TO HADES IF YOU DROP THAT CAKE I WILL FEED YOU TO TIK-TOCK!” Ivy threatened, leaning over the second floor railing of Hell Hall.

“Fuck off, I'm not gonna drop it!” Diego flipped her off awkwardly, doing his best to support the birthday cake that looked more like Auradon's Idea of a wedding cake (one of Anastasia’s children had owed Ivy a very, very, very big favor, apparently).

“Ives, calm down. If you feed Diego to the crocs, there won't be any music at the party.” Hunter—the oldest cousin and involuntary peacemaker he was—sighed from where he was hanging up the banner Ivy herself had made with the help of Claudine's younger half sister, Gigi Gothel.

“I can always do it after.” Ivy rolled her eyes, trying not to let on just how stressed out she was.

“Now I know to play badly if I drop the cake!”

“Shut up Diego!”

“I'll shut up when you calm down.”

“I'll calm down when everything is perfect. ”

And when exactly will that be?” Hunter and Diego asked in sync looking very done with her. Unfortunately for them, Ivy was just as done with them as they were with her.

“When Harry B gets here with the gift he promised to help me get!” She stomped her foot, turning red with fury. “Preferably before Claudine shows up!”

It had been bugging her all day—the idea that Harry Badun wouldn't show up on time or that he wouldn't allow that stupid conscience of his to do what she required. Even if it was a small request by de Vil standards.

Everything else she had managed to make perfect.

There were games she knew Claudine would like and wouldn't feel too guilty playing.

There were foods she liked and not a crepe insight.

Frollo's Creperie was rigged to blow thanks to a favor Carlos owed her.

All her friends were there.

The decorations were perfect and well crafted (in her opinion) and Cruella was away at the spa without a care in the world regarding what the teenagers under her care and not where doing while she was gone.

She'd even set up a room for Claudine there so that girlfriend could indulge in all of the passions she had had to suppress because of her bastardy hellion of a father (who, thanks to her wonderfully broken angel, was no longer a problem).

“Do I even wanna know what you asked my reckless cousin to ‘procure’ for your girlfriend?” Jace asked warily, looking exhausted as he carried in some of the presents the guests had brought. Looking ready to throw himself off the docks.

Ivy didn't answer because honestly, she didn't have the energy to and she also didn’t know how the other vk would react to the knowledge of what exactly his cousin would be getting her. With his ‘icky’ morals, who knew how the detective would react.

“I'm gonna take that as a no.”

Diego snorted. “Probably a smart idea, knuckles.”

“I told you not to call me that!”

[honeyjars-sims]

Episode 33: New Ventures

Seth and Reese were finally turning one and the DiMarcos were ready to celebrate! Lucy and Christopher couldn't believe their boys were growing so fast. It seemed like just yesterday that they were preparing to bring them home. Now they were beginning to walk and talk.

Lucy was thrilled with the wonderful job Kaylynn had done putting the party together. As she’d requested, it wasn’t too over the top but everything looked great and ran smoothly.

The food truck arrived just in time to feed their hungry guests, and there were plenty of age-appropriate activities for the kids to enjoy while the adults mingled.

Everyone was having a great time, and Kaylynn seemed to be quite proud of what she pulled off.

“You should do this for a living,” Lucy told her. Kaylynn laughed it off. “No, I’m serious,” Lucy continued. “Maybe not just kids’ birthday parties, but anniversary parties or even weddings.”

Lucy pointed out all of the connections Kaylynn had around the community, how skilled she was at planning things, and most importantly, how much she enjoyed helping out other people.

Kaylynn’s eyes grew wide.

“You’re totally right!” she exclaimed. “I loved putting this all together, and if I become an event planner, I can have some control over when and how often I work.” She thanked Lucy and went to find Matt to tell him about Lucy's great idea.

Later the boys had their birthday cupcakes and got more on their faces than in their mouths. They had so much fun that they passed out in their high chairs when they finished.

After Lucy and Christopher got the boys all cleaned up, Lucy spotted Damien walking toward her. She’d extended an invitation to her boss but hadn’t expected him to actually show.

She introduced him to Christopher and the boys and before long, the conversation predictably turned to work.

Damien told Lucy that seeing the new projects being developed and how they’d been received had reignited his passion for the company.

“I’ve had a lot of ideas about how I want to continue with the expansion of the company,” he said. “But I’d be remiss not to get your input given the work you’ve put in so far. Are you interested in becoming the Coordinating Producer for my new production company?" He was quick to assure her that the promotion would come with a pay increase.

Lucy couldn’t turn down a challenge, especially if it meant some actual collaboration with someone as accomplished as Damien. She was happy to accept the offer, but she asked for one small favor.

"Can I hire an assistant?"

Damien was happy to oblige her request, but he had one more surprise in store for her.

"I think I found the perfect name for the production company, but I wanted to get the okay from you first. How do you feel about Sunny Side Productions?"

Lucy was thrilled with the idea. They both felt the moniker was perfect for the new venture. They had just began discussing adding new members to the team before they were interrupted by Matt and Kaylynn.

“Sorry to leave so soon, but–” Kaylynn began.

Matt interrupted her by shouting, “IT’S BABY TIME! WOO!”

Kaylynn smiled and continued, “My water just broke.”  Lucy promised she’d forgive them for dipping out early to bring a new life into the world. 

Previous | Beginning | Next

[digimonloving]

A tamer with both a Sakuyamon and Diarbbitmon that are very much a couple but finds out that they aren't married. So they tell them what marriage is and reccomend that they should get married. They both actually like the thoughts of getting married and proceed with it.

Sakuyamon and Diarbbitmon that are very much a couple, but aren't married so their tamer reccomends it...

Sakuyamon

Is very excited for it! Begins searching for flower symbolism in books because she wants a lot of flowers at the ceremony.

Goes consult a psychic, wants to know what would be the suitable day for the marriage that would guarantee a long lasting happy marriage.

Begins searching through wedding venue catalogues and likes every single one and wishes the wedding could be held at every venue.

Starts checking online for wedding favor ideas. Really wants something special, yet simple that every guest would like to take home to remember the occasion.

Diarbbitmon

Pulls out a list of close friends and family members and starts wondering who should be invited.

Starts making a seating chart because he doesn't want any drama or fights during the wedding.

Starts looking at the color for decorations and wonders if their tamer can hire a wedding planner so they can get everything done in a timely manner.

[thecameronchronicles]

The Newlywed

TW: Dom!Rafe. Smut. Language. Degrading Language. 

SUMMARY: Rafe makes the most of a moment alone with you on your wedding night. 

WORD COUNT: 2300

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

The Newlywed

His eyes had followed you since the second he witnessed you within that white dress. Such preying eyes broadcasting every illicit thought held as a silent conversation between the two of you. As you accepted the congratulations with him sipping his whiskey neat from across the room, you felt those eyes shameless to your physique. But where the majority of your guests complimented how happy you were in your post-marital glow, his faded cobalt irises sharpened as if it were only the two of you. 

In a room full of friends and family, you solely existed for each other. 

But his patience was dwindling. He kept his hands to himself when you passed with the easy observation of your mutual crowd. He refrained from making his ambitions known even as you seduced him with the cutlery to remind him of what was his. But it would take him watching you dance with someone who was not him before he had to act. Even if he was well aware you belonged to him in every way of importance and relinquishment, he favored the dominance you allowed him. 

"Come with me." He growled to your ear before pulling you from your commemorative celebration. A simple gasp came from a single gasp as you were taken to the hotel room designated for him. 

"Rafe-" You warned as he pushed you up against the door to quicken the time in which it would close. 

"I've had to wait all fucking day to get you out of this dress…" His fingers searched quickly for the zipper or buttons he had been used to. Frustration read across his face as you turned to reveal the array of crossed ribbon that made up this antiquated tie. 

"I'll tear it off of you if I have to…" He explained behind clenched teeth as you couldn't help but illuminate at the idea. 

"Then again…" His hand came beneath the skirt, an A-line constriction that kept you too distanced as is. His touch now beneath the layers of tulle as your breathing labored by this alone. The anticipation nearly too much as he offered a side smirk almost invisible beneath the one present with lust. 

"I don't need you naked to make you come…." Your cheeks flushed at the proof lain in memory of his claims. Parties, events, even a rehearsal dinner in which he'd been the reason behind such ruined panties by his touch alone. The accompaniment of dirty words such as theses only making this release swifter. 

"But I've earned seeing all of you…" You were turned against the door, palms pressed to the cold false wood. He hesitated for a moment at the labyrinthine ties before deciding on the most efficient plan of action. 

"Sit on the bed. Don't touch anything I've already made wet or come on…" He explained, fingers at a rest beneath your chin. As your eyes cast to the side on a mischevious thought to start without him, that kind grip altered to one of possession at the entirety of your jaw. 

"Or you don't get to do anything but watch." You offered a single nod of understanding as he left for a moment. The sound of the hotel room door coming closed had offered you a moment of reflection. 

You came to adore your ring. The promise of eternity held in the vows spoken as it slipped deeper onto your left hand. Those very words hollow against the lust you fell now as romance was exchanged for need. The need that made you consider Rafe's wrath in contrast to the sensations you were deprived by his absence. But before you could silence that pulsating desperation between your thighs, he returned. 

"Stand up." He explained, the sight of the very knife used to cut the cake, now in his grasp. 

"Don't cut the dress….' You guided as he scoffed. 

"Not like I paid for it." He chortled as you rolled your eyes before he cut the strings loose. The compression of your bodice released as the fabric fell to your feet. 

"Shit…" he breathed in disbelief at the sight. Your flawless skin set before him as his fingers worked to your curves. 

"You have an entire hotel full of people wanting to celebrate you…and yet here you are with me…" His lips rose from your shoulder as he collected your hair in such a way that made you mobile to him. He pulled you to face him, an unnaturally craning made of your neck as you faced him. 

"Why is that?" 

"Because I need you." His hands ran down the lingerie worn for him now. Ivory lace covering the most sacred curves and caverns. The same ones he knew well. The ones he made his. The ones you let him. 

"And you'll always choose me over them…won't you?" You nodded as your eyes came to a rolled closed as his touch reached your panties. 

"Because you're desperate?" You continued to affirm his suspicions. 

"Because you're mine?" 

"Yes." 

"And you listen?" This question took you back as you watched him lift your hand to his lips. 

"Didn't do anything to yourself while I was gone….yeah?" That simple question, the final word drawn out in the cadence only he could speak in such a way, and you were complacent to him. 

Before you could answer, he pulled your fingers to his smirk, using them to part his lips and test his theory. 

"Oh you were good…but you thought about it…didn't you?" You paused, cheeks flushed. "Dirty girl…"

"The things you've let me do to you and you're embarrassed by such an innocent question?" He couldn't and didn't care to hide his amusement at this. 

"Sit."

"I-" He corrected you by a new hold to your jaw. Only now, teasing his lips. Ones you'd craved all day. 

"Sit." He spoke against, brushing passed you as you took the side of the bed as your stage. Your eyes watched him as he pulled the chair from the window and just out of reach of your feet. 

"Rafe…"

"You look wrong." Your eyes narrowed. 

"You know I prefer you in red or nothing. But since you are the bride…I won't punish you for it…But…you are gonna wait…and show me…what your new husband has to look forward to now…" He lifted his finger to his lips as you smirked. 

"Panties off." You moved gracefully with his instruction. 

"Toss em." You obeyed as he collected them for a second before chuckling. 

"Jesus, how did they not drop to your ankles? They're fucking drenched…" You bit your bottom lip. 

"Knees up. Feet flat. Let me see it…" You pushed yourself further back on the bed to acquiesce to him. 

"Start slow. And if you even think of coming before I say, everyone in that reception hall is going to know just how fucking desperate their bride is…So slow." You pulled your fingers to your folds. 

"Use one hand to part your lips…I wanna see all of it." He explained behind clenched teeth. 

"One finger. Just like I'd do it…" You mimicked the slow insertion. "Now two. No bending. Only I get to touch that spot that knows me so fucking well, doesn't it?"

"Yes…' you exhaled sharply. 

"Faster…just a bit…" He leaned closer to you, elbows on his knees as he studied you. 

"Faster…" 

"Rafe…" You moaned, now supporting yourself on your own elbows. 

"Such pretty nails…I love how they feel leaving those marks all over my back…"

"Please…Let me…" he now stood, moving to the edge of the bed as you slowed. 

"Did I say to slow down?"

"Please…I want it to be you…" 

He lowered over you. A hand to your cheek offering a false sense of security as he pulled you to him by a harsh grip to your hair. 

"Keep doing it. I love how fucking desperate you sound." He managed to undress as he spoke. The attire loose and disposed of by the time your eyes came back open from rejecting that nearing orgasm. 

Desperate kisses from your lips lowered down his abdomen before he pulled you back. 

"Does your new husband have your impatience to look forward to?" 

"Just say-"

"Answer me or you won't be able to talk at all." He threatened, motioning to the impressive erection at war with his boxers. 

"I wanted to be nice tonight. Try to even be gentle…maybe let you come without crying…But you just can't keep that pretty little mouth shut can you?" He pulled you to look up at him. 

"Convince me to forgive you. Not like the whore you just acted like touching yourself either. Like a good girl who deserves this cock…" You parted your lips before he nodded. 

"Maybe I'll let you come on it if you're really convincing." But where others may take this as an invitation for deepthroating. 

You knew Rafe well. He prefers the build up. The delayed gratification that gave him an excuse to leave marks on your body. The way he could cross that line with your consent as the pain fell just as intense as the pleasure. 

"You're so good…so good…" His voice began to fade into groans and heavy releases of inhales as you took him in stride. The only sound to now last between you was the combination of your fingers in a continuation between your legs and that of the fellatio exercised by your skilled mouth. 

His pornagraphic breathing motivated you to ignore the pain he left in the stretch of your increasingly sore throat as you pulled him deeper to the abyss of ecstasy. But as he created that edge, release validated in the beads of precum as a condition with your spit, you were pushed into the bed. 

"Enough of this shit." He explained before aligning your hips with his own. But prior to any penetration of a familiar tongue or fingers, his touch rode up your spine. 

"All of you." He explained in an answer to your silent question to the pause, before his bare cock was teasing your entrance. 

"Rafe…"

"For me." This singular grunt sent him to thrust into you. Your pleas silenced as he reintroduced pleasure to your clit with the presence of his fingers. 

"I don't even have to do anything you're already dripping…" 

"I could make you come so fast, couldn't I? Make you loud enough for every guest in every room to know who's responsible for making you hoarse?"

"Rafe-" He twisted his body to witness your expressions as he forced you into the mattress but his grip to your hair brought your eyes back to him. 

"I could make you come by doing this….just like for your birthday…" The memory made you moan louder. 

"Or like this…" his dominant hand moved to your breast, your nipples teased and pulled between his pinch. 

"When you wore that suit and decided to let everyone see what belongs to me?" 

"Oh….Rafe…"

"Or maybe…" His finger brushed your lower lips, drawing you to his mouth. 

"Have you ride my face like you did after getting engaged…You'd never tasted sweeter…" 

"Rafe…I need to…"

"How? Since tonight is special…tell me…" he winced for a moment to the clench you made around him. 

"I'm close!"

"My choice?" He lifted you back in alignment to his hips. 

"You know I love this ass…let's see just how red we can make it before you come…" You began to shiver to each strike until the rise of your release contracted this pain. Just as always, he made you not only endure it, but savor it. 

"More…"

"My girl wants welts?"

"I'll take whatever you give me…" you admitted breathlessly as he scoffed. 

"Oh I have something to give you…" You gasped to his brutal thrusts. "Every last drop baby. Just like when you swallow…" He flexed at the thought as he held your grip harsher into the fabric of the comforter. 

"Oh my God…you're so fucking perfect for me…you feel so good baby…I could come inside you all night-"

"YES!"

"But you've got a party to get back to…" He lowered his lips to your ear, "and a husband…" 

But at the mention of these reminders, he has you on the edge of that orgasm. Your body forgiving him as well as yourself for your transgressions as very penetration silenced your morals. His teasing of your nipples and seats to your ass deafened it further until all that remained had been the thought of you and him. 

"Careful. He might hear you-"

"I don't care! Fuck! I'm so close, Rafe!" 

"Yeah?"

"Yes!"

"Oh…you are…shit…Slow down."

"I can't."

"On your back. I wanna watch you come for me." You were directed to your spoke as he thrust into you once again. Harshly. 

"Fuck! Yes! Rafe, you feel so good-"

"Is that why you're clenching me like this? You've never been this tight ..shit…"

"I wanna come so badly! I'm so close! Please!"

"Oh…fuck…Oh…"

"Raaaafe-"

"Keep coming…" He ordered as you contracted your expression beneath him. His fingers wrapped in your damp hair forcing you upward. 

"Look how you take me! Fuck! Look at it! Look! Shit!" 

"You look so good inside me…" you whimpered. 

"Yeah? Then make me come…make me come…use that pussy and make me come-' 

He ravages your chest as you clenched around him, raising your hips to meet his motions. 

"I'm gonna make you come all night. Make him wonder where you are-'

"Ahhhh…I'm gonna come again…"

"It's gonna be a long night, baby…might wanna save your breath…" He wrapped his hand around your neck. 

"Gotta make it up to me for choosing him…"

"It's you."

"Prove it."

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST 

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

[firthbetterorfirthworse]

Marrying Mr. Darcy (2018)

Remember that last Hallmark movie? I'm hate watching the sequel now. Buckle up, you will not be spared.

TL;DR: Woman makes herself miserable by choosing what other people want without telling them her desires, over and over, until she breaks down. When she finally tells people, they give it to her. The end.

The movie begins with them having a picnic in the park with the dogs, and Donovan pulling out a ring box. Fakeout! It's a new collar for her dog. Double fakeout! There's a ring on it.

(also they got caught in the rain, we're already getting the wet data)

Apparently Bitch Aunt Darcy never comes around anymore and Zara (the teen sister) doesn't know why. Liz encourages him to patch things up for the wedding. Honestly she does seem genuinely contrite and apologizes to not only Darcy but Liz too.

Liz finally has a job interview! (also she made the wedding march her ringtone? I'm a total asshole but I hate that)

Darcy's friend is encouraging him to not assume that Elizabeth will attend events, and instead ask her and have her be involved (good job Henry)

Aunt Violet complains to Zara in the hall, but when she sees Liz and Darcy dancing together she gets shiny eyed and says she hasn't seen Darcy so happy in years, and even gives her a necklace that belonged to his grandmother. She seems really genuine.

Liz and Darcy want a small, simple wedding. Her mom owns a bridal shop. Aunt Violet is invited to plan as well, since she organizes most of the foundation's events. I sense that there will be issues.

And they're already happening! Aunt Violet pulled some strings and got them into the church that the last 4 generations of Darcys have been married in, even though it's normally booked years in advance. Only snafu is that the only date they have is in 2 months instead of 7. Liz agrees even though she was secretly hoping for a garden wedding.

They're reminiscing about a moment in the first movie (gag) "You thought I was pompous," he says. "You thought I was rude!" she says ("you were," I say) "No, I thought you were smart and charming and exactly the woman for me." "How convenient! I thought you were exactly the man for me!" she cries (bitch you hated him and went out under duress)

His idea of a small wedding is 250 people. Her idea of a small wedding is like 30. They compromise at 150 and Liz surprises him with having to tell his aunt, who came up with a guest list on Darcy's side of 400.

She found a dress she likes, but then Aunt Violet is like "hold up I know the premiere dress designer in the country as a favor to me she can see you at 10". Liz feels torn, which is insane, because why wouldn't you meet with this dress designer and see what she says and honey your mom owns the bridal shop, she would probably happily put that other dress aside for you just in case? This is not an issue?

Also Darcy shows up and is like uh surprise, I forgot to tell you, there's a board meeting tonight. Also I forgot to tell you, you're on the board now. She's like hey I'm excited about this opportunity but in the future you absolutely have to talk to me about things like this first, especially since she was super unprepared for this meeting.

Darcy has admitted a couple of times that he works for Darcy Enterprises, his family company, out of obligation and tradition even though he would rather spend all of his time at the foundation.

Aunt Violet is telling Liz she won't have time to go back to teaching. Liz is upset because teaching is who she is! Liz continues to be upset even though Darcy is immediately like ridiculous, you're a teacher be a teacher.

As my bestie, who I am hate ranting to, said - NONE OF THESE ARE REAL PROBLEMS

Especially since Darcy talked to Aunt Violet and she immediately capitulated.

Liz is meeting with the designer, who shows her two designs. One Liz clearly likes, one she clearly doesn't. None of us are shocked when she chooses the one she doesn't like, even though we all throw up our hands in disgust.

Aunt Violet can't get the guest list below 200 and talks them into it.

Darcy wants to make the honeymoon all about the two of them and take them to historical places and have it be for a month instead. His friend is like cool see what she says. He wants to surprise her.

He gets stuck in a traffic jam and can't make it to cake tasting.

Hey she got the job!

OH THANK GOD she FINALLY made a decision for herself with the flowers! And it convinced her to put her foot down and make decisions elsewhere, standing up to Aunt Violet (who is not even upset, she's surprised but says "well done")

We get to see Darcy interact with kids, which is supposed to be adorable but ends up playing very flat.

We as the audience know that Darcy is working hard on getting an incredible European tour honeymoon including a private after hours showing at the Louvre, and prepping for a month away from business, but Liz is certain he's just pulling away from her (again against the advice of everyone around her)

She sees herself in her dress and she hates it. She talks to Darcy about maybe eloping.

"I thought I was marrying Darcy, not his work. Is it always going to be 'see you tomorrow'?" even though they JUST had a conversation about how he was sorry he was so busy and he promised it wouldn't be like that after the wedding.

Now we're 3 days out from the wedding. Liz is afraid they're rushing into things and needs time to herself to think. Darcy is literally begging her to talk to him, knocking on the door and calling for her, and she is just standing on the other side crying.

His best friend Henry is talking to Jenna and being like hey wtf is up?? He admits to her that he's been at work so much trying to get a month long honeymoon together and he wants it to be a surprise. Jenna is like this is misguided, but sweet.

So Henry goes to Darcy and is like, tell her. Darcy is like I WOULD IF SHE WOULD TALK TO ME

Aunt Violet of all people goes to Liz and is like Darcy is devastated. I'm sorry if I upset you in any way, it was from my manner and not my heart. They have a great heart to heart but STILL she doesn't go talk to Darcy??

He texts her and is like I will wait at our spot in the park, I'm begging you to come talk to me. She FINALLY shows up and he tells her about what he's been trying to surprise her with.

"I wanted a tiny garden wedding" she tells him, FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER

"You know, for a while there we stopped communicating," she says (BITCH WE? "WE"???)

They compromise by giving her the tiny garden ceremony she's always wanted but never told anyone about, and also having the big grand wedding. Darcy decides to step away from the company and work for the foundation, as his heart desires. Zara gets to go to Montreal. Everybody gets a happy ending.

Thank god it is over.

This had nothing to do with Pride and Prejudice.

I have to watch three more of these Hallmark movies