#and i still have to do my fucking scene prep for tomorrow

[callixton]

oh i am on the Brink of a mental breakdown. and like a real one. i am going to feel so so fucking terrible and guilty if i don’t go to the first week of mac rehearsal bc i need to recover but i am also getting the sense that i Need to recover. i have never been this burnt out or genuinely terrified of starting a new semester in my life.

[writers-hes]

Sydney Saw it First (c. berzatto x reader)

You’re Carmy’s friend from Noma and he asks tou to mentor Marcus before he heads to Copenhagen to stage. Sydney thinks you’re both fools in love and she’s determined to fix it. (fluff, sydney being the best wingman, inspired by the scene in new girl when nick points his shoes to jess, two fools in love)

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It was hard for anyone to read if the Carmen Berzatto cared.

Some days, he was loving but most days he was tenacious. It’s not like he meant it. It was just how he was wired; how he reacts to things. The crew learned that the hard way, when he exploded on Marcus, when he screamed at Sydney…when the stress gets to him, it really gets to him.

He’s imposed penance on himself for his actions, secluding himself from the world…being unreachable. If there was one thing in the world that he craved and that he was afraid of, it was love. So he secludes himself until he feels alone. Relationships were unnatural to him.

But it came naturally with you.

You were training to become a pastry chef at Noma when Carmy was there. You met each other at the halls, shared friends that it was inevitable for you two to become friends. He was your first taste tester when you first made croissants. He helped you make your own sourdough starter for the sourdough cookies that you were experimenting on. You were the first person whom he cooked his mom’s picatta. You were his sous chef, helping him prep the vegetables on important dates. When news arrived detailing Mikey’s death, you were the first person he called. 

You two were great. You were great.

If anyone deserved praise, Carmy thought that it was you.

He didn’t know why but when he saw that Marcus was really interested in pastry, he called you; asked you to come and teach a really, really eager student that was going to stage in Copenhagen soon. Sydney also suggested that sweets are needed in a restaurant. You didn’t hesitate to board the plane upon his request. If anything, you were glad that he was finally asking you for a favor. It only meant that he was still—if not more—comfortable with you. 

You arrived in Chicago all smiles, and greetings. It was Richie and Carmy who picked you up from the airport and Richi was floored. How did his cousin even manage to tolerate you? He didn’t hate you immediately, of course. In any case, Carmy told you about his little girl; you decided to bring her a little gift. 

“I didn’t know what to get you but Carmy said that you have a daughter so I got this instead,” you said, extending a toy. “My niece has the same one…so, I figured…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie nodded. He muttered a small ‘thanks’ before helping you with you luggage. 

The night before, Carmy instructed everyone during family to behave. 

“Look, there will be no funny business, alright? My friend is flying in tomorrow to oversee Marcus and act as his mentor while we fix the Bear. No taking her knife away, no screaming, no fighting, no fucking anything, alright, chefs?” he asked. When he was met with silence, “Alright, Chefs?”

A couple of ‘heards’ were thrown. 

“Who is this friend, anyway, Jeff?” Tina asked. “You didn’t tell us to behave when Sydney over here first came,”

“Someone from Copenhagen. She, uh—“

“She?” Sweeps asked, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. “You got a girl, chef?”

“No,” he replied. “She studied in Copenhagen as a pastry chef, okay? No big deal—“ he proceeds to mention your name and how you’re just really super cool. “No big deal—“

“Wait, Chef, that’s a big deal!” Marcus said. “Oh, you know her recipes are all over my station, right?” he asked. “Sydney—“

“I went to the place she worked at in New York after I graduated. Everything’s just so…good. Amazing,” she recalled. “So, yes, it’s a big deal,”

“Yeah, whatever. Just promise me to behave, alright?” Carmy asked. “She’ll have to make do with what we currently have but I’ll try to stock up and set up the station before she arrives tomorrow.” 

-

You arrived at the Beef—er, the Bear a day after your arrival in Chicago. You were able to find a place that was near the city center for a good deal. You were here indefinitely, still trying to figure out if you wanted to run your own bakery or just work with others for the rest of your life. Seeing Carmy take the leap was insipiring. 

“Hello, chefs, I’m Y/N,” you said, a friendly smile gracing your features. Carmy was right beside you, watching everyone. “I’m a pastry chef and I graduated with Carmy in Copenhagen. I’m here to mentor Marcus but of course, if you have any questions regarding anything, you can ask me. I know how to cook too…and uh, I’ll be taking care of family tonight,”

Carmy jerks from his relaxed position. 

“You sure?” he asks softly. “I can take care of family, if you’re too tired.”

“Yeah. It’s like initiation,” you nod, looking at him and then looking back at the new faces in front of you again. “Do you have any questions…”

Sydney raises her hand. 

“Um, I’m sorry if this comes across rude but why are you here?” she asked.

“Oh, well, I’m not really tied down to anything right now. When Carmy called me, asking if I could come here, I decided to go. I’m here in Chicago indefinitely and I’ve been receiving invitations to cook, teach a class, whatever. I might accept some of those,” you said. Sydned nodded. Damn, Noma’s chefs were being chased from left and right. She was in the presence of two. 

“Do you have a little notebook?” Tina asked, making Sydney scofd. “With recipes?”

“Um, no,” you shook your head. “I keep all my notes in my head and then write it afterwards,” Tina liked you already. 

“What do you think about Carmen Berzatto—“

“Anyway, that’s all, Chefs! Marcus, come to the office with me, chef,” Carmy said, breaking up the huddle, and making you laugh. He discreetly pulls down your shirt, a sign that you should follow him too to the office. When you were both out of earshot, Sydney asked no one in particular.

“That girl and Chef? There’s something,”

That afternoon, during family, Sydney watched the two of you like a hawk. Confirming her suspicions when Carmy stayed for family and sat beside you.

-

Sydney notices it for the second time. You were going over the Noma “picture book” with Marcus, telling him how some of the desserts came about.

“What’s this?” Marcus asked, pointing at a photo of the dessert that put you on the map. 

“That’s a dish of candied hallabong peel, with a prosecco peach sorbet, on a bed of meringue, topped with candied cherries. I got it because some of my friends went to Jeju sometime and brought back this orange hybrid. I think….I think we can recreate it but it wouldn’t be the same without the orange.”

“What about the flesh and the juice?”

“I turned it into like an orange-chocolate cake with chocolate mousse,”

Carmy was just passing by but he decided to watch you interact with his employees instead. 

“Anyways, where’s your chocolate cake? Let’s taste it and compare it from the last one. Also, I can send you my recipe for sourdough doughnuts. Just give me your email,” you said, looking up briefly to find Carmy already looking at you. It made him feel good to see you incorporate yourself so well in the kitchen. Well, it’s not like the Bear is open but his staff went to you for some tips and advice. They were all undergoing some sort of training to make everything more elevated. “Hey, Carm. Do you need anything?” 

“Hey-hey,” he coughed, ashamed for being caught. “Nothing. Uh—“

“Chef, did you ever try Y/N’s stuff?” Marcus asked. He’d really, really, really want to taste something that you made someday. They were all delicate and so detailed. It’s probably why you got multiple awards at such a young age.

“I did. She used to bring big Tupperware containers of things they made in the kitchen,” 

“He finished them all,” you told Marcus. “Wouldn’t spare me a bite,”

“I don’t know, bug,” he teased. “I vividly remember you begging me to do it because you were so sick of fucking croissants.”

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, a playful smile on your face. “Go on now. Marcus and I have stuff to do and you’re distracting us.”

“In my own restaurant,” Carmy mutters, shaking his head. Sydney’s eyes immediately directed to Tina. Did you see? Did you hear the word ‘Bug’?. Tina only shrugged. 

-

Sugar dropped in to check on the improvements being done at the Bear  when she saw you and Carmen at the back, talking. She had to double take what she saw because it was quite…odd to see him talk to you with the same twinkle he used to have. She has never seen him like this. He was genuinely laughing at some of the things that you were saying, a shared plate of leftover chocolate cake between the two of you. 

“Who’s the girl outside?” Sugar asked, looking at Richie and Sydney for answers. 

“Some fancy pastry chef Carmy met in Copenhagen,” Richie replied. “It’s a whole bet now, you know? They’re always out in their own world ever since she got here,”

“Everyone puts in 10 to predict what’s going to happen,” Tina said. “You’re betting?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sugar says, giving a bill to Tina. “I bet…I bet they’ll fall in love right before she leaves Chicago. Like, on the way to the airport. Carmy’s going to tell her that he loves her and she stays,”

Laughter echoes in the room. 

“This is not some fucking movie, cousin,” Richie said. “Obviously, Carmy’s not gonna do shit about it.”

“I think…she’ll call him over and they’ll share a moment,” Marcus said. “He’s always at her place, did you know that?”

Meanwhile, unaware of the ongoing bet, Carmy looks at you.

“What do you think about Chicago?” he asked, a cigarette hanging idly on his fingers. 

“It’s nice…chilly,” you said. “But it’s nice. I’ve been offered jobs here, you know?”

“Hm?” he asked. “Are you planning to take them?”

“I’m…thinking about them. They’re all the same but like, I want my own bakery, you know? My own place.” you said. “It’s going to be a lot of work if I do that and I don’t necessarily have the staff to do all that.” you said. 

“If you want…you can come stay with us if you’re not sure,” he offers. “Like a pastry chef. Actually, I’ll have to ask Sugar and Sydney if it’s alright with them but you can stay here,”

“Bear, I don’t want to impose—“

Sydney was walking outside to throw the trash but she stopped her trackes when she heard you talk. 

“I want you here,” Carmy said with conviction. “But if you don’t-don’t like it here in Chicago, I wouldn’t mind either, you know? It’s just that…I want you here and-and fuck, I don’t know. I guess working with you made it so much more fun again, you know? Like us in Copenhagen. I mean, we’re always a team and-and it’s nice to have you here with me. Sugar and spice? Sweet and spicy or whatever the fuck they called us back then,” he chuckled, inhaling his cigarette to calm himself down. “We can make it work,”

“Yeah, yeah. You go talk about it to Nat and Syd,” you said, taking a swig of your water. “And then we’ll talk. Cool?”

“Cool,” he shrugged. Sydney leaves and goes back to where the commotion was. 

“I change my scenario,” she said. 

“You can’t do that, Sydney,” Richie said. “It’s a bet! You have to pay again,”

Sydney breathed, what was ten more, right? Fuck. 

“Fuck, sure, okay. Whatever,” she said, giving Richie the bill. “She’ll stay here. She’ll realize the there’s nothing waiting for her back home and she’ll stay here,”

“Where did you get this?” Fak asked. “Quite—oh my God. Sydney, did you fucking cheat?” 

“No, I didn’t fucking cheat!” she defended, it was a lie. “Can’t you see the two of them? Always in their own world? How would Carmy let her go?”

“Jeffrey has a point,” Tina shrugged. “But if she loses, just know that you lost twice, Jeff,”

“I know,” 

-

You, Sydney, and Carm all went to his apartment. It was where the two of them made a menu while you acted as a consultant and a taste tester. Their palates were fucked and they didn’t know what to do or what to cook anymore. So they asked you. But you weren’t there today. You and Marcus were in your apartment, making up stuff for dessert. The Beef has officially closed down and is a rubbled mess. There was no space and Carmy just wanted to be there with you.

“Can I ask you something and you can tell me to fuck off?” Sydney asked while she watched Carmy plate the hamachi crudo. 

“Hm?”

“Do you…have feelings for Y/N?” she asked, looking at Carmy. He blushed, his ears turning red for being caught.

“Is it obvious?”

“To everyone but her,” she shrugged.

“Fuck, really? I thought I was being discreet,”

“Oh, you can stay here! You’re so good and so smart and so pretty,” Sydney gushed, mocking Carmen.

“Fuck off,” he laughs. “I…I do,”

“Yeah?”

“I just…just…she’s uh, so amazing, and like, I’ve been feeling these feelings since…since Copenhagen,” he mumbles, finishing the garnish with an oil. 

“Damn. You never made a move?” she asked, getting forks. She gives one to Carmen and they both taste the crudo. It was amazing. “That’s good,”

“It is. Good job, Syd,” Carmy replied.

“It was her who told me to try adding jalapeno slices,” Syd said. 

“You can’t do that,” Carmy warned her. Why did she want to get you two together so bad? “But I haven’t done anything. I mean, like, she was dating these guys and they’re so cool that-that it was never really my turn,” he remembered.

“But you’re the best chef in the world! That trumps that,” she encouraged. “None of them worked out?”

“No,” Carmy shook his head. “She’d always end things and I don’t want that for myself. She told me none of them worked out…wasn’t what she was, uh, looking for?”

“Oh,” Sydney nodded. “Well, if you’re feeling brave enough…”

“I haven’t been having…fun,” Carmy acknowledges. “With the Beef and the Bear until she got here, you know? Made me feel like I was young in Copenhagen again,”

“Another question. You can say fuck off if you want,” Sydney says and watches as Carmy bites a smile. “The last one. Is that why you asked her to stay? It’s just that I heard you the other day and…”

“Fuck off,” he laughs but Sydney noticed how everything about him conveyed everything that she needed to know. 

-

“This is a quenelle,” you told Marcus. You, Marcus, Carm, and Sydney were at your apartment. It was bigger than Carmy’s and your oven didn’t have jeans in them. “This took me at least a hundred tries,” you chuckled. “You just…away, back, and then hands…” You demonstrated, making a quenelle of a yuzu mousse.

“Damn, Chef. How’d you do that?” Marcus asked, trying it for himself. He failed, his quenelle being a little bit smaller than yours. 

“I had a friend named Luca. He didn’t let me out of the kitchen until I made a perfect one,” you recalled. “Carmy was there and he was laughing at me. He could do it in like three tries and I remember hating him,”

“You hate me?” he asked, leaning on the countertop. He didn’t like to hear about Luca. He only wanted you to talk about the two of you.

“Hey, Bear. Try this?” you asked, spooning him the raspberry curd. Carmy opens his mouth and you walk over, feeding him the pinkish liquid and then watching his face. “It goes with a black sesame shell. Do you like it?”

He notices your close proximity and flushes.

“Y-yeah,” he coughed, looking away. “Really good. Uh, very good,”

“No notes?” you asked and he swore he could kiss you right there because you were so beautiful.

“No notes,”

“Thanks, Chef,” you said. Sydney whistles as you help Marcus master his quenelle. Carmy looks at her and she teases him with a mockery of what he just said.

Carmy and Marcus left after cleaning up. You and Sydney decided to have a girl’s night. You were both sitting on the couch, mud masks on your faces when she turned to you fully.

“You know, he likes you right?”

“Who?” you asked, trying to fit a handful of chips.

“Carmy,” you heard and you choked on the bits of chips in your mouth. 

“Fuck!” you choked. “Sydney!” You were coughing while Sydney handed you a glass of vodka cranberry. You gulp it down. “You—can’t say shit like that!”

“What?” she laughed. “Look, I’m not kidding! Whenever he talks to you, his feet are pointed at you. I’ve read enough fucking books and body language shit to know that he’s interested,”

“I don’t think so,” you said. “That’s bullshit,”

“It’s not though,” she shrugged. “He asked you to stay for a reason,”

“He needs a pastry chef,” you shrugged. “Besides, he and I are friends, Sydney. I’ve been trying to get him jealous all my time in Copenhagen but he never…he never got the signal,”

“Oh,” Sydney nods. Two idiots in love. “Have you ever tried telling him?”

“Of course not! He’s always on about how he doesn’t have the energy to love or date. I tried the jealousy thing before but it never worked. Trust me, there’s nothing.”

-

Carmy arrives at your doorstep the next morning, bright and early. Sydney had already left, telling you something about stopping by at her dad’s apartment to get stuff. You were going to the Bear with him to help Sydney choose plates for the restaurant. 

“Good morning,” he greets. Two cups of take-out coffee in his hands. “I got us some coffee while we walk on the way,”

“Thank you,” You took the cup from his hands and clutched your jacket tighter. It was so, so, so cold. “Didn’t know it was going to be this chilly today,”

“You wanna wear my jacket?”

“You’ll be cold,”

“It doesn’t bother me,” he said, already taking off the jacket to the best of his one-handed ability. He was only wearing a gray sweater underneath. “I have something. See?” He doesn’t take no for an answer, taking your coffee and your bag from you so you could wear the colorful jacket.

“Thanks, Bear,” you said, smiling at him. The sight of you in his clothes does something to him and he couldn’t help except give you a slight nod before forging on in the chilly Chicago weather. 

You both entered the Beef giggling amongst yourselves when the usual buzzing stopped.

“Remember when Luca—“

You halted, finding the silence odd. You looked around to see everyone looking at you.

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Carmy asked, removing his hand from the small of your back. “Syd—“

“Love the sweater,” Richie teases. You look down and feel the warmth on your cheeks. 

“It was cold and he asked me to wear it,” you shrugged, leaving Carmen to deal with the staff out front. You were signalling Sydney for help but she only looked away. Traitor. “Um—“

“Y/N, if you could please help me out here,” Carmy called you. 

“Your boyfriend’s calling,”

“He’s not!” you huffed before walking over. “What is it?”

“I need you to time me, is that okay?” he asked. He nodded towards the stopwatch and you complied. “Thank you. I just need to check or like, map out the kitchen you know?”

“Of course,” you replied. 

“Do you need help getting on—“

“It’s okay it’s just an old thing,” you replied.

“Yo, cousin! If you’re done eye fucking, Sugar needs you.” Richie calls.

“We’re not eye-eye fucking!” you complained. “What the fuck?” You stood up from your corner before you could even work and accidentally looked down. If a man is interested his feet will—

You move to the side and Carmy follows. And then to the side again. 

“Y/N–“

“Stay there,” you asked, walking around him and him turning around. “Carm!”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders. He looks down to his shoes. “Are my shoes dirty?”

“No, it’s just—“ you tried again but Carm still followed. “Sydney told me about like, how when a guy is, uh,”

“Cousin!”

“Fuck, okay. Let’s talk about it later okay? Once everyone’s out?” he asked, looking at you. “Can we do that?” His jacket felt softer on you than it ever did on him.

“Yea-yeah,” you nodded. “I’ll go help Sydney,”

The afternoon passed by and you were alone at The Bear. You waited for Carmen to finish up at the dining area like you promised. Your heart was beating so fast, maybe a thousand miles an hour. What Sydney said has been on your mind and what if it wasn’t true and you get embarrassed? Fuck, could you even handle that?

You sighed, burying your head between your hands when Carmy walks over to you. 

“What’s up?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you nod. “Can you stay there and just, I don’t know, be Carmy?” you asked, standing up to test the theory again. He just stands there, dumbfounded. You circle around him and he follows. You were looking on the ground. 

“Fuck, what the fuck?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with my shoes? I know they’re old and not—“

“Carmen, shh,”

“What?” he asked, grasping your shoulders for the second time that day to steady you. “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck, I don’t—“

“What’s wrong?”

“Sydney told me that there’s like, this body language thing and like, uh, says that when a guy is interested his shoes are always pointing at you and well, she told me to look at yours,” you rambled, looking away in embarrassment. “Look, if this will be weird between the two of us, I mean—“

“Why would it matter?” he asked, hands inching closer to your neck. He was nervous but maybe this is the opening that he’s been waiting for for years. When you didn’t reply, he asked again. “Why would it matter?”

“Because…because I’ve been trying to make you jealous for years in Copenhagen and it never worked,” you whispered. You were embarrassed. It felt like you were in high school telling your crush that you liked him. “I know you don’t see me that way,” you replied, trying to look for the right words. Carmy lets you finish. He wanted to hear you. “And it’s fine. If this is stupid, let’s forget that this ever happened. Okay? God, I’m so fucking embarrassed right now,” 

“Hey, hey,” he cooes, his thumb tucked the hair back and then caressed your cheek. “Whoever said that I wasn’t jealous? I had to leave all the time because I was so fucking jealous. Those guys were cool. Don’t-don’t be embarrassed, okay? I like hearing that-you, uh, like me,”

“Carmy…don’t lie to me, okay? You don’t have to pretend—hm,” 

Carmy had just kissed you. Carmen Berzatto just kissed you. You were clutching on his shirt so tightly, afraid that if he lets go, he’ll be gone. But he doesn’t. He just trails his hands down to your back, touching skin to skin until you’re one. 

“I’ve been waiting years to do that,” Carmy rasps, breathing heavily. 

“Yeah? Then, do it again,” you whispered, smirking slightly at how he seemed to blush hard. Before you could tease him though, he tucks your hair back again, bringing your lips closer to his.

He did.

A/N: Thank you for giving my recent fics so much love and for being so motivating. Your kind words really make my day and I hope that you love this too. Don’t forget to reblog and comment! Thanks again!

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt

[nonbinary-potatoes]

Prompt: Change 19/10/24 @rosekillermicrofic

Word count: 811

(Was feeling super motivated to write today, but it's not proofread)

Barty would never understand why Evan and Regulus liked the library so much. It was too quiet most of the time, and the room temperature was always too warm for a jumper but too cold not to have one. Still, Barty sat in his seat and doodled mindlessly onto parchment because he'd rather be bored out of his mind in the company of his boyfriend and best friend than bored out of his mind by himself At least there was something to do here, and being alone was always a recipe for trouble when it came to Barty.

"Nice drawing, Bug," Evan muttered softly, looking up from his notes briefly and smiling at the sketch Barty had been half-heartedly working on. There were some basic anatomy sketches, based on the pictures in the book Regulus was working on - some bullshit about healer school prep. But it was fun to draw, and the pictures were pretty cool, especially the ones from autopsy results. Barty smiled, writing an I and a U on either side of an anatomical heart and sliding the parchment towards Evan who took it, folded it, and tucked it safely into his breast pocket on his shirt. "I heart you too," he mumbled before returning to his notes.

"Heyyyyy Junior," an annoying voice drawled out, some blonde girl strutting over the table the three were working at. She batted her eyelashes and smirked, clearly wanting something. Barty recognised her as some hookup from a while ago, Chloe, maybe? Some C name.

"Yeah?" Barty squinted at her suspiciously. She leant over the table the buttons on her blouse undone at the top, showing off far too much cleavage for a casual interaction. She pouted before running a tongue over her teeth and speaking in a disgustingly sweet voice.

"A little birdy told me that you're not seeing any girls at the moment... so I safely assume you're on the pull..." she drawled her words in a particularly annoying way, Barty was coping by imagining using her as a specimen for an autopsy. At least this conversation had given him some insight on a possible future career option.

"Me, you. Hogsmeade tomorrow, get me a drink, and we can come back to my dorm afterwards." She was straight to the point; credit where credit was due. Evan wrinkled his nose but stayed occupied on his notes. A shame, really. Barty would've liked to see him shut her down.

"Sorry, dollface got plans. Can't change em" Barty shrugged her off, encouraging her to quiet while she was ahead. Unfortunately it was rather unbelievable that Barty wasn't actively hunting down someone to sleep with, he wasn't exactly known for his celibacy in the same way he wasn't known for his ability to maintain a longterm relationship. He had since realised that he just didn't get that spark for women. There was never any romance... no desire to make it last the same way there was with Evan.

She reached foreward, walking her fingers up Barty's chest and pushing his chin up to look at her face. It was a rather disgusting plea for attention, attention Barty wasn't going to give her.

"Yeh bitch, we have fucking plans" Evan grumbled quietly, clearly not too please with the attention she was giving Barty but he wasn't often the type to cause a scene unlike Barty who didn't mind putting people in their place. She glanced at Evan and raised an eyebrow. "Who invited you to my conversation? You swot." She scrunched her nose up. She looked a lot like an ugly hare. Somehow, the way she spoke to Evan made her look even uglier.

"Don't talk to him like that," Barty snarled, swatting her hand from his face. He had no shame in punching her if the need arose. Luckily for her, she seemed to get the idea that Barty didn't want her unsolicited touching.

She frowned, suddenly looking much less friendly. Kissing her teeth, she stood up and buttoned her blouse back up properly. "Fucking enjoy your date with your bros" she muttered, gesturing to Evan and Regulus and glancing between them like they were offensive. She leaned close again to whisper "I don't get why you're cockblocking yourself Crouch" spitting the words out bitterly, she gestured widely to herself "what's not to want?"

"The clap," Regulus says before chuckling to himself and going back to his book, clearly proud of the comeback. The girl looked even more offended now, much to Barty's amusement.

"I'll enjoy my date with my boyfriend... and then after that, I'll very much enjoy-" Barty was cut off by Evans hand clasped over his mouth, giving Barty that stern look that easily made him shut up and not even consider talking. He smiled with his eyes and waggled his fingers as the girl stormed off, looking half disgusted and half disappointed.

[muddyorbsblr]

a proper fit

'one look and they'll know' collection masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: married era; a week after 'come on, england'

Summary: You return to the Soccer Aid training grounds to prep for this year's game and promotional events, having to spend a day away from your husband.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Brynne (blech this bitch is back); language; steamy married blorbos moments [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: yearning married babeys in the first scene; shifting POVs

The briefing room was already filled with the sounds of reunions and multiple conversations of catching up when you walked through the doors. Before you walked in further in to the commotion, you whipped out your phone, shooting off a text to Tom.

I'm at the training grounds. Looks a bit fancier than last year.

Before you could even make it two steps into the room, your phone sounded with a new message.

I know you've only been away two hours tops, but I already miss you terribly.

You had to take a breath, doing your best to not let your shoulders slump. Was it crazy that after nearly a decade together, you two still behaved like this whenever you had to be apart? To most people, definitely. But you and Tom weren't most people, and reading that text had you instinctively running your thumb along the rings on your left hand.

I miss you, too, sweetie. I know we'll see each other tomorrow but sleeping alone tonight is gonna fucking suck.

Right as you were about to put your phone away, one more message came through from your husband, making you pause again and take a moment to compose yourself before you started acting like a giddy teenage girl. Already counting the hours, goddess. Though I suspect we won't be getting much sleep tomorrow night, either. With a goddamn smirking emoji at the end.

"Ohh my god, Y/N!" A smile pulled at your face catching sight of the owner of the voice. Lilly, waving frantically next to Simone, your roommates for a day last year. They pulled you into a hug the second you made your way over to them, already asking questions on what life had been like for the last year.

"I was looking for your name in the credits for the second season of Loki but I couldn't find it, what happened? You didn't come back for--"

"Ohh no I'm there," you answered Simone. "It's just my name doesn't display on there as Y/N Y/L/N anymore, but Y/N H."

"Hang on a bloody second there, sweetie are you saying--"

"Wait no, why did you print a player name on a staff badge?" you heard Johanna question one of the other staff members at the registration table. "Find a blank one we'll just have to write hers down by hand."

You had a feeling you knew which name she was pertaining to. Yours. But before you could make your way over to the table and clear it up yourself, another voice called for your attention. Bitched for it, actually.

"Well well, Y/L/N, shoulda known you were going to be here again this year. We all know by now that you're so paranoid you have to tail your boyfriend everywhere he bloody goes. Tell me, do you follow him to the loo as well?"

Ohh this is gonna be particularly delicious, you thought to yourself as you turned around to face Brynne with the widest most plastic looking smile you could muster up. "And hello to you, too, Brynne."

"What do you mean which player name, it's glaringly obvious which one. That one. The one with 'Hiddleston' printed on it. He's a player, not staff, dearie."

Lilly and Simone audibly gasped hearing Johanna's words before you kept answering back to Brynne. "Let me correct you right now, so you don't get it confused for the rest of the week. First, it's not boyfriend, it's husband." Her snarky smile dropped at the word. "And second, you may call me Mrs Hiddleston." Right as her jaw dropped, you turned around to call out to Johanna, "That's not a mistake! That's mine."

A wide grin spread across the older woman's face at the new information. "So Tom finally put a ring on you, huh?" She gave you a brief hug when you made your way to the table. "Congratulations, dear."

"Multiple rings, actually," you clarified, Lilly and Simone joining in to look over the pieces of jewelry on your hands that were definitely not there last year. You pointed at the heart-shaped amethyst on your right middle finger. "He gave me this one two years ago, but…the reason I wasn't wearing it last time y'all saw me is a long winded story for another day." They all pouted from your cutting the story short before it even began. "Or maybe later tonight when we're all done for the day."

"I'll have to remember to stop by your room later because this is not something I'd want to miss," Johanna said with a giggle, pointing over at your left hand. "Hang on, dear. Is that that ring I've been seeing people getting into tiffs over in the forums?"

"Ohh the Darry ring? Yeah, we got matching sets for our engagement and our wedding rings. Signed off each of our one and only transaction with them." Your smile grew wider looking at the stacked rings on your left ring finger. "They're not gonna hear any complaints from us about not being able to make another purchase down the line, we're sure. We've had more than half a decade to be sure."

"Well then, shall I hand you over your husband's room key, then?" She rifled through a booklet containing the key cards to the players' rooms, taking two out and handing them over to you. "I had an extra made for you already when you agreed to come back this year and help out."

There was a spring in Tom's step the closer he got to the entryway for the training grounds, the weight sitting heavy in his heart since you left the house last night already lifting knowing that just behind those massive double doors, you were somewhere inside. And you would be back in his arms in a few short minutes. Even if it was just for a short while until you two properly reunited later tonight.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but his anticipation of seeing you again had him a touch out of focus with the initial arrival interview for the players that he opted to instead tag along with one of the other players on the England team so he could bounce his answers off of them. He wasn't even sure if he spoke a full coherent sentence in that interview.

All he knew for sure was that as soon as the interviewer thanked them for their time he was off to walk through the main entrance. With the singular objective of finding you.

It wasn't long until he crossed paths with the woman in charge of the committee last year, and from the looks of it, this year as well. "Tom! You're here early we all expected the players to be spending some time out in the field, getting a lay of the land, just leaving their luggage here to be brought to their rooms later. Getting your uniforms?"

"Right right…" he mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish now that he was getting a firm grasp on how disoriented he truly had been for the past day. "I was hoping to see Y/N though before I got started on all that--"

"Oh, say no more, dearie. She's in the main ballroom, I believe. Been lending a hand to most anyone that needs it so they can all collectively finish with the day's tasks sooner. She's been blazing through her assignments since she got here. Seems she's motivated to have every bit of free time she can manage." The elder woman gave him a knowing smile, pointing at the hallway leading to the ballroom in question. "I also took the liberty of giving your wife the keycards to your room. Oh, and before I forget, congratulations. You two make an impeccable pair."

Tom couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face. He never could whenever anyone at all referred to you as his wife. Even more so when he or anyone else would refer to himself as your husband. Much as it had been a long and winding road to finally get to where you two were now, he wouldn't change a single day.

He made sure to utter a 'thank you' toward Johanna before taking off down the hall, walking much faster than he usually did, his heart already beating faster when he could already pick up your voice in the flurry of the conversation going on inside. You were all talking about the complimentary Theraguns being given to the players. He couldn't prevent the chuckle that escaped him when he heard you talking about how you two had already driven one to the ground and were well on your way to bringing that count up to two with how often either of you had needed it over the years. And how it was good that now you already had a third one on standby.

The young man standing guard outside the ballroom straightened his stance immediately once he clocked Tom approaching. "Oh…I'm really sorry, Mr. Hiddleston, but players generally aren't allowed in this area."

"That's quite alright, I actually just stopped by to see if I could steal Y/N away? I was told she's here assisting."

"Oh…certainly, Sir. I'll go ahead and call for her now."

"God these smell so good!" Simone sighed, taking a sniff of the luxury bath products that you two were placing into the self-care packages that the players would receive later tonight. "I hope we end up having a bit of surplus."

"Well if we do, just ask Johanna nicely I'm sure she'll be happy to give away whatever's left," you told her, taking a sniff for yourself and couldn't help but break out into a grin when the scent that hit you resembled Tom's cologne.

Before she could ask you what had you in such lighter spirits, another one of the staff members, Allen, called out into the room. "Hiddleston!"

It took you a second before you processed that he was calling for you. Still haven't gotten used to that, you silently tsk'd yourself. "Oop, that's me. What's up?"

"God rub it in a little more, why don't you? I don't think the rats in the walls know yet," you heard Brynne grumble from her corner of the ballroom.

You tried to fight the urge to sass her back. But you weren't that evolved. Not yet. And for people like her, maybe not ever. "What was that? There's rats in the walls?" you said loudly, visibly startling the redhead. She glared at you, pursing her lips before returning to her task, and you turned back to address Allen. "So…what's up?"

"There's someone here for you." You had to fight back a squeal when he opened the door wider and revealed your husband on the other side, an ear to ear grin on his face when your eyes met. The urge to run across the room and straight into his arms, however, was a fight that you lost all too quickly. He dropped his duffle bag when you got close so he could wrap his arms around you and lift you into the air once you closed the distance.

"You're here early," you said, giggling when he pressed his lips to yours. "We weren't expecting the players inside until later tonight."

"I couldn't wait that long to see you again, sweetheart." He gave you a kiss on the cheek before setting you back down on your feet, raising a hand to wave at your friends who were now swooning from watching you two reunite. "When the other guys mentioned someone else's name at the desk for claiming our uniforms I set off to find you."

"Ohh…right. They didn't assign me for that this year since I'm not the new girl anymore. Gave the girl assigned there my little hand fan though. Hopefully it helped."

"Yeah there's nothing new about you, old boring bitch," Brynne grumbled again. You could feel Tom tense up as he held you, no doubt seeing how your entire mood shifted once you heard her words.

You took a deep breath, letting your voice settle into its natural timbre that you seldom used anymore. Outside your home, that is. "Sorry Brynne, but you're gonna have to speak up a bit." She flinched in her spot, eyes widened as she looked up at you, so obviously indignant that you called her out for the second time in the last few minutes. "You know, since my old boring ears can't really hear you all that well."

"Fuck dammit you heard--It's-it's nothing, Y/N, I wasn't saying anything--"

"You don't get to call me that," you cut her off, making her neck twitch more erratically the more your voice settled into its natural state. "You don't get to disrespect me at every turn since the day you met me a whole ass year ago and get away with calling me by the same name my friends and family get to call me. Now…you seem to be confused again, Brynne. Would you like me to remind you what you may call me?"

Her nostrils flared as she shook, the embarrassment and the indignation of having to address you 'properly' rolling off her in waves. "No. No you don't. It won't happen again--" She sucked her teeth audibly, making it increasingly obvious she had such a visceral reaction to even uttering her next words. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hiddleston."

You slowly looked her over, a tiny sadistic part of you struggling not to smirk seeing her fidget in place while waiting for your response. After a few seconds you gave a bored shrug. "Your fake sincerity needs work, Saunderson. But I'll let it slide. For the last time."

All the other staff members in the ballroom had their jaws on the ground at what they just witnessed, most of them looking silently satisfied that the audacious woman was finally put in her place and finally chose to face off against someone that returned the energy that she was putting out tenfold. Lilly and Simone broke the silence clapping and whooping for you, the rest joining in slowly.

You gave them all a little salute before turning back to face Tom, lacing your fingers through his. The two of you walked toward the claiming room for the uniforms but barely made it halfway down the hall before he led you into a narrow corridor off to the side, pressing you against the wall and slanting his mouth over yours.

He threaded his fingers through your hair, groaning into your mouth as your tongues met.

"You know what that voice does to me, goddess," he groaned the second he pulled away and his lips latched on to the crook of your neck. "I've missed you." He rested his forehead against yours, trying to steady his breathing, his hand firmly grasping your thigh as your leg wrapped around his. "Do you have any other tasks before the training proper starts?"

"I don't," you breathed out, crossing your hands behind his neck to pull him into another kiss. "I finished everything Johanna sent my way from this morning."

"Then I very much want you to come with me to claim my uniforms."

"Say less, sweetie." You let out a giggle as he stole another kiss before setting your leg down and threading your fingers together so you could lead him to the claiming area for the players' uniforms.

When you walked through the door, the girl assigned to your task last year, Penny, looked visibly flustered once she caught sight of Tom. "O-Ohh…Mr and Mrs Hiddleston--" She started scrambling at the packages, not clocking the way you and your husband looked at each other, giving each other a tiny smirk at how you two were addressed now.

You indulged yourself in reminiscing on how you and Tom were around this time last year, keeping things so private that his fellow players and your fellow staff members knew nothing about your relationship. And your husband making a whole show of trying on the uniforms that you registered one size too small, with him giving you a damn near striptease almost exactly where the two of you stood right now.

"Here we are…" Penny trailed off, fishing a parcel out of the pile of uniforms with a "6" drawn on with a wide marker. "We got some changing areas outside if you want to make sure your training jerseys fit alright."

"Oh wow they actually have proper changing rooms this year," you chuckled, pointing over to the corner of the room. "Last year they just had a curtain in the corner over there."

Tom approached the table, ready to sign. "There's no need to try them on, I trust my wife inputted the right size this year." He gave you a playful pointed look, which in turn had you giving him a small pout.

"I put medium this year, sweetie, I promise."

"Hold on…last year's--?"

"I put Small on his registration form last year," you answered Penny, her jaw dropping to the ground as she made her way around the table to shake your hand vigorously.

"Thank you for your service," she said with a hushed tone. "The group chat went wild last year over those pictures."

"I'll do it again in a heartbeat when I get the chance," you whispered back conspiratorially, giving the young girl a little wink.

"I can hear you, sweetheart."

"Next time I'm not gonna bother pretending it was a mistake, though." You scrunched your nose at your husband when he turned around to face you again. He took your hand in his and led you out the room, both of you shooting a 'thank you' Penny's way before exiting the room.

What you didn't expect for him to do next was lead you into one of the designated changing areas, his expression full of more than transparent intent. Especially when he locked the door and started untucking his shirt from his pants at a deliberately slow pace. He kept his gaze locked on you as he approached you, making you so weak in the knees that you had to prop yourself against the wall just to stay upright.

"Sweetie…what're you doing?"

Once he closed the distance, he crowded you, working his thigh between your legs and capturing your lips in a tender but heated kiss that stole your breath away. "I need to change and get ready for training, sweetheart," he said softly, murmuring against your lips as he guided your hand to the buttons of his shirt. "And even though we'll see each other again for much longer later tonight, I've very much missed my wife's touch."

You took in a shaky breath, letting out a whimper when he slid his free hand underneath your shirt. "I missed you, too," you whispered, both of you smiling into the kiss when you began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Later that night, you left the dining hall long before dinner was finished, readying your room for when Tom would get there. You barely had enough time to transfer the welcome package from the bed to the table and change into a sleeveless nightgown before you heard the door unlock. He scanned the room, a lustful knowing grin on his face when he caught sight of you, eyes darkening as they hungrily roamed your body covered by the luxe satin fabric.

"Hi. I'm Y/N I'll be your roommate for the week," you told him, letting out a stream of giggles when he made his way to you and lifted you by the backs of your thighs.

"I didn't realize the players were to be assigned a roommate," he said playfully, wasting no time and kissing along the neckline of your nightgown.

"Some budget cuts had to be made," you joked, squealing when your back hit the bed with a soft thud and your husband now hovered over you, giving you a little smirk before proceeding to kiss his way down your neck.

He worked his hands underneath your nightgown, groaning into your skin as he grasped at your legs for a moment before working the fabric up and off your body. "You should know by now, goddess, that there are rules you must adhere to if you're going to room with me." He let out a contented sigh once he completely removed the garment off of you, baring your body to him. "No clothing," he rasped, his eyes not leaving yours as he whipped his own jersey up and over his head before sliding his arm under you and lifting you off the mattress, pressing your chests together. "I don't want any barriers between us."

Your joint moans filled the room as you kissed each other in a desperate, starved tangle of lips and tongues. Like you were separated for months. He shuffled his shorts down his legs until he could kick them off of him and wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the shower.

And you both knew that as much as it sucked being apart even for the shortest, fleeting amount of time, oh how delicious it was when you both were finally home with each other again.

A/N: There's a whole bunch of stories that are banging the walls for my attention but I honestly can't help it, OLTK blorbos keep getting a hold of me 😂 I'm gonna try and cool it with these two though and work on some other projects…starting with…

OOP-- 😳👀

Also I had to fade to black their steamy moments here because honestly if I didn't it'd have taken longer to get this done 🥴🫡

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[jaehyunsbreadbasket]

Fuck The Rules- Mindy Meeks-Martin

Word Count: 1.2K

Synopsis: It's your last night alive and you only have one mission: fuck Mindy Meeks-Martin.

Consists of: Gender neutral AFAB reader, mentions of death, mentions of murder, brief mention of knives, brief mention of guns, brief mention of drugs and alcohol, reader is so sickeningly in love with Mindy, a little asphyxiation, reader and Mindy make out

Here it is, the long awaited end of the world, or the end of Woodsboro at least. And what's the best way to say goodbye? A giant house party apparently. It's supposedly "For Wes" but I've never seen half these people in the same room as him when he was alive, and we only toasted to him once before people went back to their typical house party nonsense: hooking up, smoking, and smashing shit.

But I'm here too so you'd think that says something about me too, makes me hypocritical for critiquing my peers. But I'm here for one reason, and one reason only. And that reason happens to have curly black hair, a highly eccentric personality, and the most animated reactions ever known to man, Mindy Meeks-Martin.

Now I've never actually talked to Mindy, but there's something about the feeling of the end that pushes you to take chances. Even before the killings, I knew now was the time to get bold, it is senior year after all. Now that my high school career as well as my literal life may be ending, it truly is now or never.

Mindy is sitting in the living room, loudly commentating on the scene in Stab where Randy explains "The Rules." She's so immersed in it, probably a combination of her love for movies and her admiration for her uncle, but maybe because a part of her thinks these rules could truly come in clutch now. Maybe she's prepping for survival. I come over and sit next to her in the most casual way I can. Not too close, but not far away enough for someone else to squeeze in between us, I'd gotten tripped up too many times before, I had to have a fool proof plan this time.

But to my surprise, Mindy speaks to me, "You ready to die tonight?" she asks with a smile completely inappropriate for the question. If it was anyone else, I might even be weirded out. But it was Mindy, and she asked me a question.

"Oh yeah, I have a special request for the killer of how I wanna die," I smile back at her, copying her way of sitting, leaning back against the couch.

"Well do tell!"

"Well, I don't just wanna be stabbed, or shot, or any of that other boring shit. I want something interesting-"

"Like Tatum in the garage door?" she cuts me off.

"Exactly! Just like that. But not exactly that, still something new. If I have to get killed here like tens of people before, I'd definitely like to have something that sets my murder apart from the others."

"Oh so you're one of those people that try to be different," she rolls her eyes playfully, "attention seeker."

"And you're not? Sitting here at the center of the party yelling at the TV. If anything it seems like you're the attention seeker."

"I don't need to seek attention, people look at me anyways. You especially," Mindy scoots closer to me now, resting her head on her arm propped up on the back of the couch. She looks at me intensely.

"I-I don't-" I start, feeling myself getting ready to back out. But then I remember, last chance. I'm never gonna have Mindy Meeks-Martin this close to me ever again, hell we both might be dead by tomorrow. Now or never, "It's hard not to, a pretty girl like you."

"You think I'm pretty?" she bats her eyelashes rapidly and plays with her hair. She knows this. When you look like she does you have to know.

"You're gorgeous," I continue.

She comes even closer, her face inches away from mine, "You are too. I didn't know if you'd ever grow the balls to come talk to me. It made me kinda sad, honestly. I could've fucked you years ago."

"W-what?" and there goes my composure.

"I could've fucked you years ago," she says slower, really wanting me to understand, "But now I can't. So sad," she pouts, shaking her head.

"Why not?"

"Rule number one, darling, "Never have sex" especially not in this spooky ass house, you know this is where the original act three went down."

I, in fact, did not know that. But having knowledge of it now, doesn't make my pussy throb any less for her. If anything it makes everything feel more necessary, more urgent. I urgently needed to see Mindy Meeks-Martin naked.

"Those rules aren't always true though. Sidney had sex. In this "spooky ass house" no less, and she's still standing."

"Yes because Sidney Prescott is a freak of nature, the most special of cases. We're not Sid."

"Speak for yourself."

She lets out a breathy laugh, "If you have sex you could die. You want me so bad that you'd risk it?"

"What if I did?" I challenge her, making the gap between our faces smaller and smaller.

"I'm not gonna let you get me caught up," she puts both her hands up in defense, "You really think you can fight the rules?"

"I think you'd really like to see me try," I lean all the way in, pressing my lips against Mindy's gently, fighting every urge in my body to stick my tongue in her mouth right away. But once again, Mindy beats me to it, her tongue already exploring every corner of my mouth. She grabs my face with both hands, and brings the rest of her body closer, she's almost straddling me. Mindy kisses like she's hungry. As if she's been starving and I'm her first meal in weeks. My body feels hot all over, my skin is burning, every hair on my body is standing straight up. I feel like I'm not even in my own body right now, like I've floated away to what I can only assume to be heaven because Mindy is kissing me right now, and it's better than every dream I've ever had.

I'm not really sure what to do with my hands. I want to touch her of course, but I'm not entirely sure where the best place would be right now. The waist is a given, but Mindy doesn't seem like the kind of girl that'd like that. It'd be awkward to hold her face because she's already holding mine. My thoughts are immediately swiped away as she grabs my hand and places it in her hair. I run my hands through her hair, pulling her deeper and deeper into me. We haven't stopped to breathe once, but I kinda like the dizzy feeling it gives me. I think I have a new request, death by suffocation. I can think of no better way to have my last breath than directly into Mindy Meeks-Martin's mouth.

"God, get a room Mindy!" Mindy and I pull away from each other as a loud male voice shouts in our direction. Mindy's brother Chad, plops down on the couch next to me and chirps a quick "Hi." I awkwardly wave back.

"Must you ruin EVERYTHING??" Mindy shouts at him, reaching behind me to push his head back.

"Ow!"

"You wanna go upstairs?" Mindy looks to me and grabs my hand. I almost faint right then and there. She just had her tongue shoved down my throat but hand holding is when I lose it.

"What about the rules?" I ask her. I'm teasing again, but in the back of my head I'm also saying this to create an escape route for either of us, for me mostly.

"Fuck the rules," she pulls both of us up and after I nod to her she leads me away. Her and Chad flip each other off as we climb up the stairs.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Part 2 coming soon!

Scream Masterlist

[im-a-king-baby]

Hiii i loved ELYN so much.

I was hoping for any other tidbits/stories/scenes about Simon carrying the frog in the sock. i just wondered if it was like his comfort object or like the orange sweater etc. .That was one of my favorite scenes when Wille finds it

And/or “i wanted to wake up with you” i dont think i will ever forget that line.

💜 thank youuuu

Okay so I'm sorry this is so very late. Life has been a Lot 😅 hopefully folks are still interested in my ramblings!

<3 <S <3

"I wanted to wake up with you."

Fun fact: I almost cut this line. It was originally in the first draft where Simon never made the late-night-call that led everyone to Bjarstad and I was worried that after I'd made that change this line would put people off Simon, because at this point (in theory) Simon knows that Wilhelm had to get up because of what Simon did during the night so it's a bit unfair to Wilhelm. But then I figured Simon's in withdrawal, he's going to be resentful and frustrated and just because intellectually he knows it's his fault that doesn't mean he's not still having those feelings.

As far as the wanting goes, Simon is just dragging himself through life at the moment. He had this whole spiral of failing to sleep, eventually managed it by basically promising himself a future where he'd wake up and things would still be like they were when they went to bed, just the two of them avoiding the world. Plus withdrawal emotions, plus Candace showing up, the bubble is fully burst and this line is Simon tired and resentful and having to face it.

In case you're interested in how things change in editing, this is the first draft version of this moment (in this version Candace showed up basically the moment the queen left which would have been one hell of a coincidence).

“People always leave before I wake up. Maybe they think I’ll be less fun sober, probably they’re right.” “I wasn’t trying to leave you.” “Okay.” It’s the same tone of voice, accepting but not believing. “Are you going back to Stockholm with her?” He pushes himself off the wall, crossing into the kitchen and opening cupboards at random. It’s Friday morning. Wilhelm is due on TV at six PM. He’s supposed to be attending multiple prep meetings, seeing a stylish and a make-up artist before that. Minou is no doubt already at full panic stations. “I can stay if you want me to.” He stands up as Simon emerges from a cupboard with a half full bottle of vodka. “I can help you look for a lawyer. Or we could go for a walk.” Simon unscrews the bottle. “If you want to go, you can go.” The roar of an engine surges outside. Simon is closer to the window, and Wilhelm sees the moment his face shuts down, the inevitability of it, a moment before he sees Candace emerge from a sleek white car. “I want to be here for you. If you’ll let me,” Wilhelm says, picking at a conversation that’s already died as Simon braces his shoulders like a solider going into battle and tilts the bottle up to take three long swallows. Candace raps three times on the door. “Simme! Open this door right the fuck now.” Simon looks at Wilhelm over the bottle. “I wanted to wake up with you.”

x🐸🐸🐸x THE FROG x🐸🐸🐸x

After six hours of meetings a car comes to drive him to the hotel. Rachel tells him to order whatever he likes from room service and to be in the lobby for seven thirty the next morning and then he’s letting himself into a luxury hotel room. There’s a lounge, a bedroom, a bathroom with a full size bath and a separate shower with six different heads.

He takes the frog out of his bag and places it on the bedside table overlooking the pillow then pulls out his phone. He’d messaged Wilhelm when he arrived (Landed! Hopefully someone comes to pick me up!) and now he sees Wilhelm has texted three times since.

Good luck! La doesnt know whats hit it! Everything okay? I’m awake, no plans today whenever you want to call

Simon texts back: Sorry! Dumped straight into meetings all day. I’m kind of exhausted, can we do tomorrow?

Wilhelm: Of course! Jet lags a bitch. Sleep well, I love you xxx

Simon picks up the menu off the side but his stomach is still protesting the bagel it thinks it had in the middle of the night and he kicks off his trainers and his jeans and crawls into the mega bed.

After a moment, he reaches over and picks up the frog again, runs his thumb across the nose, and settles back down with it’s weight firm in his palm as he types: Love you toox

x🐸x

Candace tells him they’re going to Sweden in the same matter-of-fact voice she uses to tell him anything. The label won’t approve a third single. We have to crowdfund plane tickets. We can’t afford to keep the whole band, who can you live without? I’ve booked us a week in Stockholm and put word out to local news sites and venues, we’ll be taking the buses up there after Paris.

Simon reaches for his backpack on instinct, touches the front pocket where Wilhelm’s frog has been nestled since they left L.A. “Should I… I should call Wilhelm, right? Let him know?”

Candace glances at him over her iPad. “Sure,” she says. “Let me know if you need me to put him on the List.”

Simon leaves the meeting, twisting his phone over and over between his hands. They’re going to Sweden. For the first time since he flew out and it’s - he glances at his phone again - it’s September.

Fuck, it’s September. It’s September 2024, somehow. It’s been over a year since he left Sweden, since he last saw Wilhelm. He scrolls through the contacts on his phone but Wilhelm isn’t in there, of course Wilhelm isn’t in there, Simon got this phone back in L.A. and he hadn’t had time to transfer anything across. That had been last Christmas. Ten months ago and god, where had that time gone?

He could ask Candace to get Wilhelm’s number. That’s what she does, she sorts things. Wilhelm doesn’t answer the phone to unknown numbers. Obviously. But Simon could write a text or something. Hi, this is Simon. I know you said there was no way we could make it work because I was so busy all the time but I’m going to be in Sweden and I’ll still be busy all the time and you’re probably off in the army somewhere but -

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. There is no ‘but’, they don’t work and that has always been abundantly clear.

He unzips his backpack and the frog is there in it’s tiny golden crown, glitter still clinging to the paint because glitter is a bitch that can never be removed.

There’s a scratch across it’s nose, deep enough that Simon’s nail can catch against it. Hi Wilhelm, this is Simon, I know we haven’t talked for a while but I need to give you your frog back because you trusted me to keep one thing safe and I couldn’t even -

He scrolls back up his contacts to Guitar, Kevan and types: drinks?

His suitcase is at the edge of the room, surrounded by a scattering of costume pieces and toiletries. He digs through chains and glitter to find a pair of probably-clean socks and tucks the frog inside, where it’ll be safe.

His phone buzzes: party in 267

He just needs something to calm his nerves, to settle his stomach.

He’ll ask Candace to get the number tomorrow. Or, there’s a show tomorrow, next time he has a free minute.

He tucks the bundle down into the case and heads out of the room.

x🐸x

His case is still on the floor of his bedroom half full from tour. Technically he’s been back in L.A. for two months but unpacking was one of those ‘I’ll do it later’ things that has now somehow come full circle. He tugs out clothes, nudging them into the ever growing laundry for the cleaners to pick up once he’s gone.

His hand finds something solid and he pulls it out. Socks, with something inside, and his throat catches as he remembers September, Sweden. Everyone talking to him in Swedish, fans screaming 'jag älskar dig!' like it wasn’t… like…

Candace promised the next tour could skip it. And if he’s not going to Sweden, he can’t give the frog back, so there’s no point having it. He doesn’t need it.

He folds the socks around it a little tighter, stands up to push it into the back of his sock drawer, underneath everything else. It’ll be safer there.

Two days later the taxi is honking it’s horn outside as he runs back into the room, upends the whole drawer on the floor and grabs the wrapped bundle, shoving it into his pocket on his way out the door.

x🐸x

There’s a fresh bruise forming on his collarbone, a faded one on the side of his neck, a man whose name he doesn’t know snoring face down on the cheap polyester pillows.

He runs his thumb back and forth across the nose of the tiny frog statue, lets his head thump back against the wall to stare up at the ceiling and count down the hours until dawn.

[thedevilinmybrain]

When I tell you I screamed when I saw #fuckfestfriday on my dashboard 🙈

Please do anything zouis -- Louis bragging about Harry to Zayn, or Zouis talking about/dominating Harry! ❣️

"He's got a nice ass." Zayn offers, tilts his head slightly and watches Harry from across the room. They're all supposed to be working out, but Louis and Zayn's version of gym time is really just sitting on the bikes and talking shit. Louis doesn't think he should be blamed. He likes watching Harry do pilates. It's good for his emotional and sexual health.

"You should see it without the compression shorts." Louis mutters, keeps his voice down because Liam is on the weights next to them and he's a little narc who will complain if he overhears something he shouldn't be listening for anyways.

"You really hit that?" Zayn raises a brow at him, reaches for his waterbottle.

"Hit that? Z, my lad, he fucking takes it like a champ. You know what he asked for yesterday? Fisting." Louis smirks, nodding his head at Zayn's wide eyed stare. "Asked me if I thought he could take it and then if I would fuck him after. He's all excited about it. Wants to start prepping tomorrow."

"Is there anything he won't let you do to him?" Zayn asks, shaking his head in disbelief. "You've got yourself a well trained sex junkie on your hands."

"Slut." Louis corrects, grin growing wide. "He goes wild when I call him my little slut. Think he came untouched one time."

"Jesus." Zayn nods, impressed.

"And as for your other question, you want to find out?" Louis asks, halfheartedly pushing his feet down on the peddles.

"Find out?" Zayn asks, glances at where Harry is bent over, grabbing his ankles.

"Yeah, we talked about it. Harry wants to try this like tied up in a room and used scene. Like, I loan him out to my friends and he doesn't know who is fucking with him?" Louis shrugs a shoulder. "It's hot and I'm definitely into it. But I have to have rules and I don't think I can trust anyone other than you to follow them."

"Oh, um, thanks?" Zayn lets out a straggled laugh. "I think?"

"Yeah mate. I mean, you might have your dick involved, but that's still my boyfriend, ya know? If I stay stop, you stop." Louis explains, says it so nonchalant like he's not talking about his twenty one year old boyfriend that he's been with for nearly six years.

"Yeah, of course. I just-" Zayn licks his lips. "I just have one question."

"Yeah?" Louis raises an eyebrow.

"Does this include you fucking me too?"

[ilyfynn]

i need to ramble and cope with m y ridiculous wip count that i need to finish in the remaining days of this year so im going to write down some thoughts here shhhhhh no peeking

fw. priority priorite priority . if im lucky i can finish it in 3 days. like. today, tomrorow day after that. ive been wrting ffaster (not forfeiting though) recently because i ve learn t my lesson from heavy overthinking and overedtiign. just. dont do it fynn. dont do it. hence, if i finish the entire day-off scene today then i will be fully ont rack. tomrorow i do christmas and the day after that i resolve and wrpap up. therefore i can finisht htis really fast and then its out of the way an d not on my shoulders

mcythe. second priority priority priotyiy. i must get this done as soon as i can. if i allocate it a week it wil be fine right. three chapters - 2k minimum, so theyll be around 2k each, which is utterly walright. i should be delighted i already have a plan because executing it wil l be fine. so thats 6 days

other fandom exchange thing. still dont know when assignments are sent out so surely im safe for now. SURELY

swapping collab thing. probably a tomorrow thing. im too eepy today i need to mentally recover

lappel ch4. next year i think sob emoji. i need to putllove in lappel but i have 587392847985479287592475987249587 things to do before then

secret sixth option. i will do it. i will do it after mcythe im promising myself im promising myself this is my gift for all my arduous ranked writing this year

SECRET SEVENTH OPTINON THAT WOULD BER EALLY SMART ....... after i finihs secret sixth i will do secret seventh because holy shit

now lets estimate whether i can go home:

fw - +6k. three days of nice ranked writing at home all curled up and cozy? its a dream. surely i can crank hoax-style. especially since this fucking thing has been planned for months

mcythe - +6k. i have no choice. minimum 6k or i have betrayed the universe

collab swap - +5k. we will probably get it done by the end of the year i love statistics sharing its beuatiful

secret sixth option might come this year might not depending on how destroyed i feel after this. how to balance this with exam prep. how. secret sixth option will probably be around 5k becuas ei dont want to go super short but i dont want to explode my brain by writing another, ANOTHER, longer fic. im sorry its too muchfor me rn

therefore worst case scenario +17k best case +22k by the end of the year. 143+17 = 160k WORST CASE SCENARIO I GO HOME LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. now i have to figure out how to balance this with revision but surely it will be walrihgt. surely. surely

fynn try not to sign up for events challenge. fynn try not to start 3749875918734981759873198471985631946913659384 wips challenge

[3xm-draconic]

The Jester and The Courier: a wild wasteland love

Chapter 16: Hellfire. 

Tomorrow came and everyone prepped to surprise Myrtle with a big birthday breakfast. Joshua whent up to her door to knock but heard…noises coming from her room…copulate noises…he immediately left.

“Why haven't you gotten her up yet!?” Boone mumbled as he adjusted his party hat, Joshua trying his best to hold in embarrassed laughter “she’s…ehem…currently occupied ”, “WITH WHAT?” Boone annoyedly hissed.

Boone whent to her door, “I wouldn’t” Raul said “I whent to go get her up, there is a sock on the doorknob”, “What?!” Boone gasped, he looked over at the door and sure enough there was one of her socks on the doorknob.

Boone grumbled “Ok…THAT does it!”, Boone opened the door…

“WAKEY WAKEY TIME FOR SCHOOL!” he screamed, Cicero and Myrtle who were bathing in the afterglow suddenly started to panic at the intrusion. Cicero screamed, scrambled and flopped out of the bed and Myrtle yelled at Boone “EH YO WHAT THE FUCK MAN!?”

Boone laughed “HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Now get the fuck out of bed and come open your presents” he laughed, he looked at Cicero with an angry “Iam watching you”  look.

Myrtle sighed and looked over at Cicero, they both started to laugh…

“~Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday-happy birthday dear Myrt!, Happy birthday to you!~” they all sang as they brought out a huge stack of birthday cake flavored flapjacks, “thanks guys, you are the best!” Myrtle smiled.

Myrtle sat down to eat when the doorbell to her room rang, Jane opened the door and an NCR soldier walked inside “Miss Merminns?”, “oh hey privet Kowalski, long time no see” she grinned, the man smiled sadly “I wish I would have come on better circumstances, you are no doubt a fine asset to the NCR but we have…a problem…with you”, Myrtle paused “what?...what did I do?!”

Her companions started to get ancy…especially Boone and Cicero…

“I’am going to have to arrest you for manslaughter”, “WHAT?” Myrtle gasped, “a scouting party found boot prints and fingerprints matching yours at a massacre scene. Jackal gang members may be vile but they did not deserve whatever you did…or did not…do, there is still debate on if it was you who committed such a crime seeing as how this doesn't fit you. Hsu is assigning you a lawyer and you are expected to be in court tomorrow at 0: 700. But for now you ae to be taken into NCR custody”

Her companions looked amongst themselves and at her “Myrt?” Boone looked at her agasped “what did you and Cicero do last night?...”

(Camp McCarran holding cells)

“All we did was go out, shoot some geckos…and…well” Myrtle flusteredly looked to Casidy and Raul from behind the bars, “fucked like a paire of jackrabbits?” Cassidy mumbled, Myrtle nodded and sighed…she hated lying to her friends…but she didn’t want Cicero to get into trouble with her…

“Iam sure this is something by the legion, some kind of tactic to make you look bad” Ulysses grumbled, “we’ll get to the bottom of it, Pumpkin” Lily assured her. Boone, Gannon and Joshua meanwhile were in the concourse with Cicero…

“So all you did was hunt?” Boone muttered curiously, “mm hmm” Cicero innocently nodded, “what did you hunt?” Gannon asked as he eyed Cicero suspiciously, “umm…geckos…” Cicero shrugged as he sipped on a glass of water.

Joshua closed his book and sighed…

“Can I have a moment alone with our friend here?”, Boone and Gannon looked at one another and then to him “you sure?”, “yes I am”, Boone nodded and Gannon and him left to go get food.

  “Cicero…” his gravelly voice was not loud or harsh…but instead…calm “I know”, Cicero nearly did a spit take “Know? Know what?”, “I know about Myrtle’s…tendencies…” the man leaned in “I know about her past…about the voice in her head” Joshua sighed “...I know what she’s done…”

Cicero grew quiet, “I hoped that my words, teachings and prayer would help her…but I can see that it has not improved her situation and neither has Usanagi’s treatment and therapy…I fear for her” Joshua looked down into his glass of soda “I feared what she would do…what she has done…” Joshua’s dark eyes looked directly into Cicero’s…

“And I know YOU know too…”

“well…Cicero dose…but she told me as we were hunting geckos…”, Joshua sighed again…“I hate liars, Cicero…” he set his half empty drink down “I know because I found out one night…”

“We were out in the Mojave. She snuck away from camp and I followed wondering where she was going…she snuck down to a small encampment where a solitary legionnaire was…poor man…he for all his evils…did not deserve what she did to him. When she saw me and realized I had bore witness to her actions…she broke down…she begged me not to tell the others, to tell them what she really is…” Joshua looked around “I see the NCR, New Vegas and others idolize her as a savior, as a hero…when she herself thinks she is a monster…when I know she is but a sad broken woman”.

He sipped a little more on his drink…

“Which brings me to you…Myrt would not tell anyone of her murderous nature…unless they either saw her…or…encouraged her” he eyed him “now if you are telling me the truth and you two did hunt geckos…she might have slipped away from you and committed her crime…or” he was nearly finished with his cup “you two did it together…”

Cicero was in a cold sweat “what will you do to Cicero if you think he encouraged her?...”, “well…as soon as I am finished with my drink…I’am going to shoot you…I don’t care if Myrtle likes you, you are a bad influence on her and I will introduce you to my god very, very soon…” his cup had barely a swig left, “what if Cicero is innocent? How can he prove he is not guilty!” he whimpered.

Joshua sighed “...if you are innocent, after I finish my drink I’ll wait and give you 10 seconds…if they come through the concourse doors with good news then it is by an act of god himself you live jester…if not”, Cicero heard him draw a gun under the table, “you are dead funny man…”

Cicero held his breath as Joshua started counting…

“10…

9…

8…”

Cicero looked at the doors, he began to silently pray to Sithis…

“7…

6…

5…”

Cicero could hear his heart thudding in his chest like the pounding of the drums of war!

“4…

3…

2…”

Cicero heard the gun’s safety click off…

“Joshua, Boone, Gannon!” cried an officer as he ran up to them “hey I’am glad I found you, hey Myrt’s free to go”, “what?” Joshua pondered as he stowed away his gun, “fingerprints came back wrong, it was an accident that hers got mixed up in with another file”, Joshua was quiet and glaring at Cicero with Boone and Gannon “thank you” he nodded to the officer “Well now Cicero, looks like I was wrong…”

Cicero breathed a heavy sigh of relief…

(Back at the 38)

Everyone was in bed but Myrtle…she looked out over Vegas through the big windows…she sighed and looked up to the night sky, into the dark void beyond…

“~Beata Maria, you know I am but a mortal woman and of my faith I am justly proud. Beata Maria, you know I'm not much purer than The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd. So tell me, Maria, why do I feel it here, Bloodlust? Why does it smolder and scorch my soul? I feel it, I see it! The love to see the sun glistening off crimson pools is blazing in me out of all control~”

“~Like fire

Hellfire

This fire in my skin

This burning desire

Is turning me to sin~”

She turned to her fireplace 

“~Is it my fault”

Am I to blame?

Who has sent this flame?”

If it's not my fault?

If it’s in God's plan…

Iam I the Devil he made so much stronger than a man?~”

She looked down at her gun, the one that bore the image of the holy virgin on it…

“~Protect me, Maria

Don't let this siren cast it’s spell

Don't let the fire sear my flesh and bone

Destroy this part of me

And let it taste the fires of hell

Or else let me know I am not in the wrong!~”

She sat down defeated…and looked at her gun…

“~Hellfire

Darkfire

Now it's my turn

I must choose correctly or my pyre

Let me be right or I will burn!

….

God have mercy on me

…

Oh please God have mercy on me

…

But I will be right

Or I will burn~”

[worldwright]

Good evening ! I went to the doctor's office to ask for painkillers and maybe crutches, and left with prescriptions for a scan of both of my knees, an appointment to see a podiatrist, and a brain MRI

wtf

ive never done one of those things in my life before

Also, my doctor basically said "fuck off the notice of your antidepressants, just take ibuprofen when it's the only thing that works for you", so that was nice

I love her, she never says stuff related to my weight, because she knows, she also knows that I can't take more than a meal a day, and was fucking delighted when we saw I gained weight after my trip from the unit after my attempt.

So, yeah, apparently your knees shouldn't make the sounds of bubblewrap and your shoes shouldn't look like that after 2 years of use

Also, I always thought that it was just headaches because "they're not that bad" and she went "lol nope, sounds awfully like migraines" and oh that makes sense why my go-to to make them go away is sleeping because even if i wake up still in pain, at least i didn't feel the pain for hours

I knew my body wasn't the best, but, man, what the fuck

Now my knees hurt, because of course just making them do their job is hard for them, and I'm thinking about stealing my mom's crutches (she doesn't need them anymore) if it's worse tomorrow :')

Also. I'm always looking to be sure the scenes in my fics are around the same size, but, well, the third one's about 1k words and that's half the fic's words for now. it's going out of control, and that's a good news, because if a fic goes out of control it means that im gonna finish it :)

Have a wonderful morning my friend !

hey that's a solid amount of GOOD medical news for once!! or at least, measurable progress towards good news lol

it's awesome that your doc is actually understanding and helpful, and like. is actually doing stuff to try and help you

also FUCK yeah gaining weight!! congrats!!

yeahhhhh uh those shoes may be. indicative of an Issue... ehehe rip

I Also have medical news today lmao, though not for me -- my friend is FINALLY going to urgent care for her incredibly fucked-up back. like it took her being unable to WALK for several HOURS for her to go get some help... not that I blame her, cuz of a) depression and b) the dogshit medical system in this shithole country

anyway, hoping for her to get some corrective care, pain meds, and hopefully a back brace 👍👍 at LEAST

i saw a really promising apartment listing last night, but it turned out to be fake :'))))))))) I was like 75% prepared to push up the move to like next month if the listing worked out. but no that would be too convenient

I'm watching dunmesh with my dad lol, he seems to like it :3 not that he's super into anime in general, but I can usually convince him to watch stuff with me

I gotta start getting rid of stuff I don't need, to prep for the move... I can probably donate like 30% of my craft supplies lol. maybe I'll borrow the car for a day and make some runs to thrift shops

hope you have a lovely evening, friend!!

[outofcontexturi]

sun 5th March 2023 22:18pm journal

I have no WiFi in this house. It’s been like this for two days now and idk why it’s cut out lmao but I’m just treating it as part of the process of fuckeries in my twenties that don’t need that much attention cause it’ll work itself out eventually. I’m so glad I finished showcase. I’m glad it’s over. I’m glad I don’t have to do it again. As much as I performed infront of all these agents and casting directors etc I just need the fucking break man. A nigga burnt out. I don’t know if third year just kills your love for acting because you’re so engrossed in different things at once and you don’t know how to make sense of it all in the moment and there’s so many miscellaneous things going on along side the acting that it’s so easy to come off track but not one thing is for sure and it’s the fact I need a fucking break. I did feel bad on Friday morning though. I hadn’t had any calls from Jo about agency interest and I did think to myself “you did two fucking showcase scenes and STILL didn’t get any interest?!” HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?! Can I act? Etc but then I remembered the circumstances I had and realised I was being super hard on myself and I have been these past few months and it’s not cool and I need to stop being so hard. It’s currently 22:40pm. I start my musical rep tomorrow. We’re doing RENT. this will be the most ambitious role that I’ve played at lamda and I honestly don’t know what ive got myself into but tomorrow will be interesting. I’m hoping to be asleep by 11:30pm tonight. So I’m gonna call it a night and prep for bed. I’ll talk to you later . Love ❤️

Sign out time: 22;42pm

[reallyromealone]

Despite (name) seemingly being the calmer one in the relationship, he was the one who threw the fuck down when need be.

And it was glorious.

When he learned that Billy was being shitty to little max again, he almost lost it on the blond.

"Baby I'm gonna shave his head when he sleeps" (name) said seriously to Eddie while cupping the brunettes cheeks lovingly "I will get a seam ripper and rip seams in all his clothing so they slowly fall apart while he wears them"

Eddie loved it when (name) was like this.

When he was an absolute menace.

"Put mashed potato mix in his gas tank..."

Eddie wanted to cackle at (name)s revenge plots as their little pup sat in his arms, completely unaware that his dam wanted to commit crimes for the sake of his packmate.

"I have no doubts in your abilities baby"

"Next time I see him I'm running him over"

"Baby remember the rules" Eddie chastised as he let his pup play with his ringed fingers "leave no evidence" (name) groaned "exactly so no car hitting"

"...fine..."

"Thank you"

Back in high school billy was down bad for (name), one of the few omegas in his opinion that were worth his time and he was always hella salty that (name) picked the freak over him and what could he say? He had a thing for Dilfs (dams id love to fuck) and (name) definitely fit that category now.

He's down to be that pups step dad he won't even try to deny.

The thing is (name) despised him deeply.

Like willing to commit a felony onto him.

And he almost had a few times.

He was terrifying and hot.

"Stop staring at me you pervert" (name) said with venom in his tone as he was halted by Billy in the grocery store, the man very much objectifying (name) to filth much to the omegas disgust.

"C'mon babydoll don't be like that" Billy said trying to flirt with the Omega who all but hissed at him "piss off sweaty"

"You wanna see me sweaty?"

"I will literally hit you with my car"

"I see something I wanna hit"

Billy leaned closer and that's when (name) had enough"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU PERVERT!" he yelled and everyone turned to look at the scene and Billy tisked as people began whispering amongst themselves because why was an alpha harrassing an Omega and their pup? Billy gave him one last look before leaving the store.

Finishing up his shopping he went to customer service in the grocery shop and borrowed their phone and called Eddie to come get him, he didn't feel safe at the moment.

Eddie came in record time and immediately went and checked on his Omega and pup "I got extra sugar..." (Name) mumbled and Eddie looked confused "gonna fucking ruin that car"

"And I won't stop you angel"

Eddie drove (name) home, helping him unpack before grabbing the baby bag "what are you doing?" (Name) asked curiously "you're coming with me to the shop" Eddie's alpha instincts were going wild at this point and didn't want (name) alone and the Omega didn't stop him.

"What's (name) doing here?" Dustin asked curiositly as the couple walked into the store, it was winter break so all the pups were here ((name) didn't care that they were around sixteen at this point, they were still babies go him) "Billy tried hitting on me at the grocery store and Eddie doesn't want me alone" (name) said simply as he went and sat down beside his little brother, (sons name) babbling excitedly at his uncle "are you alright?" Max asked worriedly to the older Omega and (name) just smiled sweetly "I am but he won't be"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't worry about it little Sparrow"

And no one dared ask further questions as (name) turned his attention to the game table"so what are you guys doing?"

"Working on a campaign for new years"

"Interesting... Oh! I need you guys to come over tomorrow to get your Christmas gifts" (name) said suddenly"except for you dusty, you can wait"

The Hendersons and Munson families were having one big Christmas at (name) and Eddies house and (name) and Eddie had that shit planned.

The two would prep any foods that didn't need to be cooked day of the night before and wake up nice and early to start the meal and dessert.

It was their first Christmas with (sons name) and they did go overboard for him they won't deny.

The rest of the day was spent with Eddie at work, helping him with orders and inventory as their pup hung out with his many aunts and uncles.

The next morning though apparently Billy was pissed and hunting down whoever put sugar in his gas tank.

He never figured it out.

[gukyi]

love me or we both go down | kth

summary: after going through with an arranged marriage to please his parents and secure his inheritance of the family business, kim taehyung thinks he’s got it all figured out. he doesn’t. apparently just being married to you isn’t enough, not when everybody and their mother can pick up on the fact that the two of you absolutely loathe each other. but taehyung wants his inheritance one way or another, so he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures: the two of you need to fall in love, and you need to fall in love fast.

{enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, rich kids!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, smut (i know, crazy right?) word count: 32k warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, multiple unprotected sex scenes (they’re married y’all), fat cock tae, tae has a wife kink, lots of praise, alcohol consumption (but they’re safe), minor character death (not explicit), mentions of heart attack, slow burn like there is no tomorrow a/n: hello and welcome to the fic everyone, literally everyone, has been waiting for! i am so, so, so excited to share this with you all, especially because none other than rose @kinktae​ helped me write the smut, and i am literally forever indebted to her. you all better go spam rose with all the love and support you can because this fic would not be here without her and i love her so much. 

also, to all my readers who aren’t comfortable reading smut, please know that the smut in this fic is not imperative to the storyline, and you skipping past it will not affect your reading experience., enjoy!

Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.

The sound of them is akin to the sound of strings, of a single piano note in a horror movie, right when the film opens and someone random is about to die on screen for the sake of proving to the audience that this is, in fact, a horror movie. Make no mistake about it; these wedding bells spell doom for you, too. And the most horrific part about them is that just like that poor, helpless soul in the movie, there is no way for you to escape your fate either. 

With only seconds left to go before you have no choice but to promise yourself to the man waiting at the other end of the aisle, you desperately try to think of any last-ditch efforts to get out of this. Many, if not all of them, are utterly useless. 

Feigning sudden illness won’t work, because then your parents will just reschedule the wedding to a later date. Running away is fruitless. Where will you go? The parking lot?

If only you had a lover out there in the audience somewhere that could object to the marriage when the officiant says, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” A knight in shining armor that could whisk you out of the venue and off to a new life, far away from here. Too bad all of the people you’ve dated before hate you now. 

Maybe getting married isn’t such a bad thing after all. Instead of having relationships with multiple people who will eventually despise your existence, you only have to have a relationship with one. And the feeling, as has always been, is mutual. 

You bristle as your assistants do some last-minute prepping, fixing your sleeve and adjusting your necklace and making sure you don’t trip on your enormous train. They flutter around you like a swarm of well-meaning but ignorant butterflies complicit in the agenda of your family. None of them have said a word to you about the wedding ever since you arrived at the venue, choosing to talk more about things like the weather. Not that you were ever under the impression they had been hired to entertain you. Maybe they were told to not engage you, just in case you try to conspire with them.

As if they could be of any use in your wildly unrealistic escape plans. 

The truth is that, unless you were to drop dead on this marble flooring right now, you’re getting married. Whether you like it or not.

The doors open. 

You’ve attended red carpets, galas, award shows, and balls. You’ve had hundreds of cameras flashing in your face, the bright light capturing each and every centimeter of you. You’ve had paparazzi waiting outside the restaurants you eat at, the stores you shop at, desperate to catch a picture of you in sweatpants without a drop of makeup on. You’ve been on dates with ex-lovers that looked at you like you were a piece of meat with a credit card. And yet, for some goddamn reason, walking down the aisle in a white dress the size of Pluto, with the rest of your life waiting for you at the other end, makes you feel fucking transparent. 

Face resolute, you clutch onto your bouquet so tightly the flowers feel like they’re about to pop right out of your grasp. Determined not to look at anybody in the audience, you stare straight ahead, right into the eyes of your future husband.

Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen multiple times drunk off his ass with hickies dotting his neck and jawline, cleans up pretty well. For someone getting married, at least. He dons a simple black tuxedo that still probably costs more than the average car, his caramel brown hair is pushed back off his forehead, and his expression is firm and still. He most certainly has had an equally expensive team prepping him, but they haven’t done too bad a job. The silver lining is that he doesn’t look any more thrilled than you are to be doing this, right here, right now. But to his credit, this is definitely the best he’s ever looked, as far as you’re concerned. 

When you reach him, he offers his hand out to you, a hand that you only accept for the sake of professionalism. The bouquet in your hands is handed off to one of your bridesmaids, and the two of you take your position at the front. Your train drags along the aisle, draping over the few stairs you had to climb to reach the altar, this satin trail behind you that cements you to the floor. It may as well be a ball-and-chain. It’s about as heavy as one, anyway. 

This is the longest you and Taehyung have ever held eye contact. Not that you’re really keeping track of how long the two of you have met each other’s gazes, but if you had to make an educated guess, this would definitely be the victor. Most of the time you end up sneering at each other ten seconds in, but to be fair, those other times you were also not getting married. To one another. In a ceremony attended by hundreds of people. And cameras.

There can be no sneering here. 

“Don’t you look nice?” Taehyung whispers, loud enough so only the two of you can hear. He has that drawling, sickly sweet tone to his voice, the one that you hate because it makes him sound like he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else. “Surprised they were able to makeup that scowl off your face.”

This, of course, brings on a hearty scowl only he can see, your backs both facing the rows of attendees. “How much concealer are you wearing to cover up all of the hickies on your neck?” You quip back easily. It’s not like the two of you are going to pretend he doesn’t waltz around at every club or bar or private venue he can find, looking for his next treat. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Taehyung grins, and if you weren’t standing in front of hundreds of people about to get married, there’s no telling what next you would do.

The two of you would probably go on like that for another ten minutes if it’s not for the officiant, who coughs once he’s ready and opens the book in his hands. Next to you, Taehyung straightens, hands clasped together at his front, and lips pressed into a neat line. You do the same. There will be no giggles, no laughter nor smiles, nor any genuine emotion at this wedding. This is a wedding for the sake of politics, for economics, for security, and anyone in attendance would be a fool to think otherwise. Especially you. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, loved ones, and esteemed guests,” the officiant bellows, listing off as many groups of people as he possibly can in an effort to both include and compliment every person in the audience, “We are gathered here to celebrate the wedding, and future life, of Taehyung and Y/N…”

Taehyung turns to you, grinning in that god-awful way, the way he does when he feels like he’s got something over you. And sure, you can’t think of any punishment quite as bad as this, but what’s Taehyung got to smile about? He’s marrying himself off to a woman he hates, kissing goodbye his days as a free-spirited, heartbreaking bachelor, and promising what may very well be the rest of his life to loving you. That is not cause for celebration. 

But perhaps, to him, your suffering is enough to bring a smile to his face. 

Your vows are, to put it simply, total bullshit. Your family hired someone to write yours and there’s not a doubt in your mind that his family did the same thing. This nonsense talk, this complete and utter garbage that spews from your perfectly-glossed lips, shit about how you promise to love each other until the end of your days, how you promise to take care of each other when you’re sick and accompany each other at every event, every gala, every ball. Shit about how you promise to look only at each other, promise to uphold your family traditions and become a dependable spouse. 

The words don’t belong to you. But the thing is that this marriage was never yours anyway. 

When the kiss comes, there’s a part of you that thinks maybe you should have psyched yourself up a little more for this. When Taehyung pulls you in, placing a stiff hand on your lower back as he brings you towards his chest, your stomach turns and shivers run down your spine. The feeling of his hand on your body, the breath from his lips brushing against your own, are enough to keep you frozen in place. 

He smiles at you, almost as if to ask, “Are you ready?”

And you squeeze your eyes shut, almost as if to respond, “Let’s do this.”

When his lips meet yours, there is almost nothing. Nothing runs through you, nothing explodes, nothing strikes. But when he pulls away and cheers and applause rings out throughout the room, there is something. A little heat, a remnant of a flame, left on your lips. A little sting, just to remind you it happened. 

The entire hall is cheering but nothing about this is worth celebrating. The fact of the matter is that you and Taehyung will never love each other the way that you are supposed to. 

“Ugh, finally.”

The elevator doors haven’t even properly opened by the time Taehyung is loosening his tie, tugging it off over his head as he stretches his head back and runs a hand through his perfectly-styled hair. As he rakes his fingers through his caramel locks, the hairspray and gel loosens, strands falling down by the side of his face, framing his temple.

“Don’t sound so relieved,” you huff out, deciding now is as good a time as any to start getting undressed yourself. Reaching down to lift up the hem of your reception dress, you tug off your heels, already feeling lighter on your feet. Who cares if Taehyung is watching you pull off your stilettos like a defeated movie heroine? You don’t think you can walk another step in those shoes. “We still have to live together, you know.”

“Don’t remind me,” Taehyung says gruffly, brushing by you roughly as he stomps out of the elevator. “I’m just glad the fucking night is over. I swear, seeing that fake-ass smile on your face made me want to gouge my eyes out.”

You storm after him, refusing to be the helpless damsel in this situation. “Oh, like you didn’t also have that exact same fake-ass smile on your face. It almost made me think you were actually enjoying yourself tonight.”

“I was only enjoying the fact that I know you hate this just as much as I do.” It’s perhaps the only thing you will ever be able to empathize with him on. Mutually relishing in the other’s destruction. Taehyung fumbles with the keypad to the door to the penthouse for a moment before you hear the lock click, the door sliding open as the entrance lights flicker on. 

The reason Taehyung’s penthouse is so clean is because he’s never lived here before. Neither of you have—Taehyung’s parents bought it just for the two of you. And as much as you absolutely despise the idea of having to live with him, at least it was not you who paid for your place of residence. 

You can tell Taehyung’s never lived here before because it’s actually quite nicely decorated inside. The ceilings are high and the sleek velvet curtains are pulled open, revealing a shimmering skyline. The furniture is modern and functional, and the whole damn place smells brand new. You’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of entering the place Taehyung lived in before now, and it looked nothing like this. The furniture was worn and stained despite the live-in maid, the house reeked of five hundred different spices that wafted from the kitchen to the living room, and the bookshelves were covered with comics, graphic novels, and old textbooks. 

If it weren’t for the fact that you and Taehyung are rich kids in their twenties that hate each other, you might have actually thought the place looked… homey. 

You don’t have time to be impressed by the interior design and architecture skills of whoever designed this place. Right now, all you can think about is tugging yourself out of your airtight reception dress and passing out on the nearest bed. Which, hopefully, will be as far away as possible from Taehyung’s bed of choice. 

“How many bedrooms does this place have?” You ask, shimmying along the floor so you don’t trip over the hem of your dress. From the looks of it, you can see one giant hallway to your right and a massive, double-sided staircase leading up. 

“Enough,” Taehyung grumbles in response. The hazy stupor from all of the fancy champagne is starting to wear off for the both of you, leaving behind two grouchy, begrudgingly-married individuals who want absolutely nothing to do with each other and have no problems making that known. Whatever golden light of the evening that was making Taehyung at least a little bit more attractive than usual has faded, and now you see him for what he really is: an unceremoniously tired man in a suit. “You want upstairs or down?”

You gaze up at the marble staircase in front of you, then back down at your too-long dress. “Down.” The last thing you want is to trip in front of the man you have to see, every day, for the rest of your life. 

“Fine by me.” Taehyung’s halfway up the stairs by the time he turns back around to say something else. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”

“Yeah.” There’s no point in being hostile now. The both of you are too exhausted to mean anything by it. Besides, what else can you say? Everything to complain about has already been complained about. At least the two of you managed to wrestle out from your parents the stipulation that you would not be going on a honeymoon together. Now that would have been your worst nightmare. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It’s as good of a goodnight either of you are going to get. Taehyung heads up the stairs and disappears around a corner, and you start wandering down the hallway. All the bedrooms look the exact same other than different colors on the walls and bedsheets, but they all look serviceable to you. Clean. Empty. Far away from wherever Taehyung is. 

You pick the one at the very end of the hall just to be as much of a diva as possible, and don’t even bother drawing the curtains before tugging off your dress. It’s past one in the morning, and you’re so high up you don’t think anyone will be able to see you anyway. By the time you’ve stripped naked and are tugging up the too-tight sheets tucked into the mattress, your legs are about to give out beneath you. The bed could be made of rocks for all you care. Anything to lie down on is fine by you. 

Sleep comes fairly easily to you tonight. Once your head hits the pillow you can already feel yourself drifting off, eyelids fluttering shut, but you don’t sleep quite yet. Not before you can think about how this is your life now, sleeping in a foreign bed in a foreign place with a foreign husband upstairs. This is what you will be living in now. Now and forever. 

Living with Taehyung is, in both the best and worst ways possible, like living with a roommate that doesn’t give a shit about the fact that they live with another person. It’s good, because you and Taehyung hardly see each other and speak even less, which was pretty much the only thing you were asking for when it came to living with him. But it also sucks, because whenever you do happen to cross paths, Taehyung acts like you don’t exist, barely sparing you a hello or even that tight-lipped smile you send to drivers on the road when they let you cross the street. 

Not that the two of you ever engaged in energetic conversation before you got married. But at least the two of you would acknowledge each other, even if only to shoot a glare and a scowl the other’s way from opposite sides of a hotel ballroom. Maybe it’s just because it’s him, but you did always find yourself actually relishing in those little interactions with Taehyung. In this strange, twisted way, it seemed to provide some sort of continuity to your ever-changing life. Like no matter what happened, at least you would know that the two of you would always despise each other. 

To be frank, right now you’re not sure if Taehyung even remembers he got married at all.

Nights have been a lot more sleepless since your wedding day. After two weeks, the reality of it has finally started to settle in. This is your life now. And ever since you realized that, your bed has felt much less comfortable. 

“But the place is nice, right?”

You look around the living room from where you’re sat on the sleek, white suede leather couch, eyes glossing over the bookshelves, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the draping velvet curtains. From here, you can see the entire city skyline, flecks of gold from the windows of skyscrapers against a navy blue background. Slowly, as the moon creeps over the sky and the clock gets later and later, those lights will soon begin to flicker off, one by one. 

“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Nothing to write home about. That is, if home were a place other than here. 

“That’s good. At least you don’t live in, like, a total dump or anything,” Victoria says on the other end of the line. “How’s Taehyung?”

His name alone elicits this deeply-exhausted sigh from your lips, like it’s been ten years since you married and every day has felt worse than the last. “Fine.” You can’t really complain about anything yet, considering that you hardly ever see the man. 

“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 

“Yeah,” you draw out the word, as if trying to convince yourself of its truth. “I mean, it’s like he doesn’t even live here. I barely see him. And when I do, we don’t even speak to each other.”

“That’s good though, isn’t it? You hate him.” Victoria says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And in a sense, it kind of is. 

“I mean…”

“I know that your life hasn’t exactly… gone the way you had planned, but isn’t this your best case scenario when considering everything?” She asks. “If Taehyung is as distant as you say he is, isn’t it almost like you never married him in the first place?”

As if on cue, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, heels clicking on the marble as they make their way to the entrance. You whip your head around to find Taehyung, all dressed up in loose, flowy slacks and a flowery silk button-down, strolling down the staircase as he scrolls through his phone, paying you zero attention whatsoever. 

He notices you briefly when he reaches the bottom, meeting your eyes with his own. He offers this measly, unenthused half-smile your way before he grabs his wallet and some house keys from the table by the entrance, opens the door, and vanishes off into the night. 

If you hadn’t been in the living room, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he left. Not that you being present as he’s planning on leaving would have stopped him anyway. This is the sixth night he’s done this in the past two weeks. You could stand by the door and stare him down as he emerges from his bedroom, all dressed up for something you’re definitely not invited to, and he would offer you that same goddamn smile and walk out the door without even blinking. Who he was before you got married and who he is now are no different. Not even a ring could change that. 

“I guess,” you tell Victoria. At least Taehyung hasn’t turned into a helicopter husband. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wish that I didn’t have to deal with him at all.”

Wish you could turn back time. Wish you could worm your way out of an arranged marriage before it was too late. Wish you could go back to the way things used to be. 

You and Victoria talk for another couple of minutes before she regretfully has to end the call, citing both her beauty sleep and an 8AM meeting tomorrow morning as her reasons for hanging up. The moment you put the phone down, you sink back into the couch cushions, staring out the windows at the world below you.

Here’s the deal. What Taehyung does in his free time is none of your business. But also, it’s totally your business, because you are his spouse. A spouse who is an equal amount in the public eye as he is. What he does and does not do has a direct impact on what you do and do not do. 

It’s no secret that when you catch Taehyung sauntering down the stairs looking like a Gucci runway model, it’s not because he’s planning on catching a movie with a college friend and then playing video games for four hours on a couch in a basement. He is going out. To clubs, to parties, to exclusive events that he’s been invited to by his equally-rich friends, all of whom are acting like he’s the same bachelor he’s always been. 

And maybe that’s the real problem with your whole marriage—other than the glaringly obvious issue that it’s a marriage wholly unwanted by the two parties involved in it. Despite the ring on his finger, Taehyung is going out and pretending that nothing in his life has changed while you’re trapped at home, desperate to save you and your family’s reputation by keeping as low a profile as possible. You would give anything to march around the city all day, flashing middle fingers at paparazzi as you shop at your favorite high-end stores and frequent your favorite clubs. But you can’t, because your family’s fortune and influence is on the line. 

And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 

It sort of makes you wonder why it was even Taehyung you ended up marrying anyway. His family isn’t any richer or more powerful than yours. Your spheres have always been sufficiently separate. What was it about him, and perhaps more importantly, his family that drew your parent’s eye? And what was it about marrying you that prevented him from saying no? Money? Prestige? Influence?

You suppose you’ll never know. But whatever mystical force that convinced Taehyung to agree to this must not be as important to him as your reasoning is to you, because it’s become exceedingly apparent that Taehyung does not care that he’s married. He doesn’t care about the ring on his finger, he doesn’t care about his public image, and he most certainly doesn’t care about you.

Perhaps you were naive for thinking this, but you actually believed marriage might tone him down a little. Might age him into a real adult with real world obligations. Instead, it’s only given you a firsthand look into who Kim Taehyung has been and always will be: a selfish rich kid.

You don’t bother waiting around in the living room until he gets back, but you are still awake by the time you hear the door creak open. Taehyung makes no efforts to hide his return. You can hear him chattering loudly on the phone as he stumbles up the stairs, can tell from his gait alone that he is most certainly wasted. You don’t want to know what he did tonight. You’ll probably be able to figure it out anyway when you wake up tomorrow morning and check your social media. 

What were you thinking, marrying him? That he would change? That he would suddenly become someone that you could rely on? You had no choice when you said, “I do,” but you were at least hoping that maybe one day, one day in a long, long time, the two of you would finally see eye to eye. Maybe there would even come a time when you would genuinely love him. How foolish. 

You close your eyes and try to imagine a world where you have married someone you love, someone who loves you back.

Not unlike the many nights preceding it, tonight is sleepless. 

Unlike your marital status and general disposition, one thing that hasn’t changed about you is your love for extravagant events. Call you conceited, but there is something so much fun about putting on a fancy, expensive dress that you love and getting your hair and makeup done before going to an exclusive gala and posing in front of five hundred cameras. 

Actually, now that you think about it, maybe your wedding could have actually been pretty good, considering it let you do all those things. It’s a real shame there happened to be a storm cloud in the form of Kim Taehyung there to ruin it. Otherwise, you think you would have rather enjoyed that day. 

Tonight is the first event since your marriage where you and Taehyung are both required to show up and act like a happy married couple. Which would probably be a lot easier if you and Taehyung had exchanged more than ten words over the past two weeks. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but there was a part of you that thought you could use your arranged marriage to actually cultivate some sort of meaningful relationship between the two of you. So events like these wouldn’t be such a drain on both of you. 

When Kim Taehyung comes down the stairs, he actually doesn’t look too bad. You don’t know why this sort of thing keeps catching you off guard—like you don’t expect him to look that good whenever you see him. The problem is that you can’t even chalk up the surprise to him wearing tailored clothes or having his hair done. He just looks… good. 

Well, you suppose you do have to look at him every day for the rest of your life. It’s a good thing he’s attractive. At least he’s not sore on the eyes. 

Taehyung and his unfortunate attractiveness aside, the two of you don’t say a word to each other as you join up at the entrance, grabbing any last-minute items like house keys, chapstick, and whatever dignity you have left to spare. You send forced smiles and tight nods each other’s way in the elevator, staring straight ahead in the lobby of your building as the car pulls up to the front door.

By the time the two of you sit down in the back of the limousine, the built-up tension between the two of you is so thick you’re almost positive that even the chauffeur can feel it through the closed partition. 

If you were any more idyllic, you’d probably spend the drive over to the gala staring out the window and imagining yourself in a different life, on a train to nowhere, flowers in your hair and a journal in your hands. Or perhaps you’d be the CEO of your family’s company instead of having that responsibility passed down to a husband you don’t even want, sitting in an office at the top of a skyscraper overlooking the city. Anything. Anything but this.

But the idyllic part of you died when you realized that fantasies like that are nothing but distractions and that daydreams are for romantics and optimists and losers. 

“What’s our plan for tonight?”

Taehyung scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘what’s our plan’?”

You frown. “Well, we’re married, so we at least have to act like it, don’t you think?”

“Isn’t standing there and smiling enough?” Taehyung asks, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. 

You bristle. Maybe that sufficed for your wedding, but there was so much going on it was easy to distract yourself from the gravity of it all. But this event is not about you. It’s not even about either of your families. It’s about someone the two of you are, at best, distantly connected to, through work, through fame, through power. Which means that though the focus will not be on you, there will still be eyes looking your way. Eyes watching your every move. 

“Do you think it will be?” You challenge. Doesn’t Taehyung realize that things are different now?

Taehyung’s lips curl downwards. “What do you expect us to do, shower each other in kisses? We don’t even sleep on the same fucking floor.”

“Maybe I just expected you to act less like a stranger and more like a husband!”

Taehyung sighs. “Don’t.” The word is clipped, short. “Don’t tell me you actually want to be married.”

“I don’t.” It’s a response that you hardly have to think twice about. “But we are, and nothing can change that.” Unfortunately. But it’s a fact that you and Taehyung have both had to grapple with over the past few weeks, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you are more aware of it than he is. If Taehyung could have his way, he would ignore you for the rest of his life and keep partying with the rest of his bachelor friends until he keeled over and died. 

He huffs next to you, eyes staring straight ahead. You don’t think the two of you have met each other’s eyes in a week. Maybe more. They’re starting to feel as soulless as your marriage itself. “Whatever. What do you want me to do?”

“What do you think?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Just act like you don’t hate me. Can you do that?” The way Taehyung’s behaving right now, you expect that will be a challenge for the both of you.

“Only if you can. I’ll even hold your hand to prove that we love each other.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The idea of holding Taehyung’s hand makes you want to implode. The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. But it’s better than nothing, and that’s good enough for you. At least you won’t have to kiss. 

The rest of the ride there is silent. You drive to this gorgeous mansion just outside the city, bathed in lights hidden amongst the bushes, illuminating both the architecture and the enormous fountain that sits in front of it. In a house this size, you imagine you could probably go your whole life without ever having to come across Taehyung. It actually makes you consider investing in a home that big. 

Taehyung helps you out of the back of the limousine, a cold hand clasping your own as you rest your palm against his. You can feel the way his fingers hesitate as yours make to intertwine with his as you walk towards the entrance, smiling at whatever camera flashes you encounter on your way. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were holding hands with a ghost. 

The moment you step inside and are ushered out of the door’s view, Taehyung’s grip relaxes on yours. For a moment, you think he’ll actually spend the rest of the night like this, a gentle hand wrapped around yours, but then he pulls it away entirely and shoves it back into his pocket. Oh. You frown quietly to yourself. So that’s how tonight’s going to go. 

You don’t make an effort to reach out towards him again. 

For an event concerning people you don’t know a damn thing about, everyone sure seems to know things about you. Other than greetings, you don’t think anyone’s said anything to you about anything other than your recent marriage to Taehyung. Every conversation is punctuated by a Congratulations! you do not feel that you have at all earned, considering you and Taehyung could barely look at each other on the way here.

Maybe Taehyung was right. All you really can do is stand there and smile.

“Oh, don’t tell me… Y/N, is that you?”

The champagne swirls around in the flute between your fingers as you turn towards the sound of your name, looking up to see a familiar face headed your way. 

Kim Seokjin is nice enough. He’s terribly handsome and got a flawless smile, but you know better than to trust those pearly whites of his. The sight of him alone is enough to make your body tense up. There was a reason you had explicitly told your parents not to invite him to your wedding. 

“Seokjin, what a surprise to see you here,” you say, forcing a smile. “I thought you were supposed to be in Switzerland right now.”

“Change of plans,” Seokjin grins back in that awful, awful way, the kind of grin that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you. “I came back early. It’s a shame, though, I missed your wedding.”

You shrug. “It was a humble affair.” It wasn’t. And you’re positive that Seokjin knows it wasn’t an accident that you didn’t extend an invitation to him or his family. 

“Ah, I see,” Seokjin says, nodding his head. He turns to Taehyung next to you, who is making no effort to hide how wholly uninterested in this conversation he is, and holds out a hand. “You must be Kim Taehyung, then. I’m Kim Seokjin. Congratulations on your wedding.”

Taehyung shakes his hand firmly, the air between the three of you growing unbearably palpable. 

“Seokjin’s father is the VP of News Daily,” You explain, eyebrows raised as you try to signal to Taehyung what exactly it means when Seokjin is speaking to the two of you. “And his mother is a popular journalist for the city’s post.”

Seokjin grew up in the world of media, and it seems he’s picked up his parent’s affinity for sticking their noses in places they don’t belong. You know he’s not talking to the both of you out of the goodness of his heart. 

Seokjin laughs, his hand waving away the mention of his parents. “Oh, please. That’s them. I’m just a bored socialite like the rest of you.”

You resist the urge to scoff. 

“Marriage treating the two of you well?” He changes the subject to what he really wants to talk about: you. 

“Of course,” you say quickly, preventing any hesitation on your end. Your empty hand reaches towards Taehyung’s, fingers searching for his between the two of you. But his refusal to join hands does not go unnoticed by you nor Seokjin, who is eyeing the space between your bodies with an eyebrow raised. “It’s just been—well, it’s just been difficult to adjust to a new life. That’s all.”

If you were to describe the face of a non-believer, it would be the exact expression on Seokjin’s face. “Perfectly understandable,” he says, that same toothy smile lacing his features. “But it must be nice, you know, to marry someone you love.”

“I couldn’t be happier,” you say, almost challenging Seokjin to say something even more inflammatory. He must know that all you’re trying to do at this point is save face. Love? Ha! As if. 

“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 

You can feel the way Taehyung is stiffening beside you. “I suppose we are both lucky and unlucky in many ways when it comes to who we love.”

It’s enough of an answer to get Seokjin off your tail. For now. He bids the two of you a tense goodbye before sauntering off to go poke his nose in someone else’s business, fish for drama, a thread of a rumor he can pick apart with nimble fingers. You wonder if anybody actually likes him. 

The moment he disappears from earshot, you grab Taehyung’s wrist tightly and pull him close to you. “What the hell was that?” You hiss into his ear. 

“What?” You can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he really is that dense. 

“You!” You exclaim. “Kim Seokjin is the one person who could easily expose how fake this marriage is and you pull away from me? Right in front of him? You can’t even hold my hand for two seconds, that’s how much you hate me?”

“Who cares what he thinks?” Taehyung says. “He’s just another media rat. No one will even remember we were here tomorrow.”

“But if you keep acting like this, people will start to notice! Why can’t you just act like you don’t hate me, for one night? Is that so bad? Is it that torturous, to spend one night with me?”

“Do not turn this on me,” Taehyung orders harshly. “You’re making a scene. Come on.”

You don’t have time to shout at him for bossing you around like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum before he drags you out of the venue, the two of you finding a back door to the building that leads outside. The cold air blows against your body, goosebumps popping up against your skin, but you find that the chilly night provides quite the respite after practically overheating indoors. Taehyung makes fire rush through your veins but at least the air can cool you back down. 

Nevertheless, your conversation is not over. It’s just been moved to a more private location.

“You do realize that our marriage isn’t going to suddenly go away, right? That we’re going to have to keep doing this for the rest of our lives?” You remind him, eyebrows raised. There’s a part of you that genuinely thinks he’s completely forgotten that your marriage is permanent.

“Oh, and not holding hands for five minutes for this one event is totally going to change the course of our lives, isn’t it?” Taehyung fights back.

“Don’t act like you did the right thing,” you spit out. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me. I know you don’t give a shit about our marriage.”

“What marriage is there to even give a shit about? Just because we had a wedding and signed some documents does not mean there is a real marriage between us. Look at us,” he motions between the two of you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We hate each other. Is this what you would call marriage?”

“But at least I’m trying to get past that!” You exclaim. “You make it seem like being as miserable as possible is some sort of badge of honor. Do you actually want to spend the rest of your life hating the person you married? Or do you want to grow up and try and move on?”

Taehyung frowns. “What I want is for the person I married to stop acting like they’re doing me such a huge favor by pretending to care about us. Especially when all they really care about is their family’s goddamn reputation.”

“No,” you tell him sternly. You are doing him a favor. He just can’t admit that he actually needs help from you. “You are putting zero effort into this. What am I supposed to do?”

“Let it go!” Taehyung shouts. “Maybe one day we’ll actually start getting along, but right now it’s obvious that neither one of us can stand the other. I don’t need you to do favors for me. I can handle it myself.”

You look away, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t look like it to me,” you mutter to yourself. 

Taehyung cracks. “Fine. You want me to pretend that I actually care about us? I will.” Thank God. Maybe now the two of you will finally start seeing eye-to-eye. “But make no mistake about how I feel about you,” he spits. “Getting married to you ruined my life.”

You stare straight at him and his eyes are swirling, so obscured in the darkness of the night that you might even think he doesn’t have a soul at all. His pupils bore into yours and for once, for once in your goddamn life, after so many years of staring each other down at debutante balls, so many years of witty refrains and snarky insults hurled each other’s way, it feels like the two of you might actually snap. 

Then, a camera flashes.

Trouble in Paradise! would be a suitable title for the front page of the city’s biggest tabloid… if anything about your life with Taehyung could be considered paradise. Unfortunately for the both of you, that is not the case. 

You don’t need to keep reading the rest of the trashy article on the front page of the daily tabloid to know how much trouble you’re in, nor do you even have time to scroll beneath the terrible photo of you and Taehyung literally shouting at each other before you hear your phone ring. 

You don’t even bother saying hello to whoever’s on the other end. You know it’ll go in one ear and out the other. 

“I assume you know why I’m calling,” your mother’s harsh tone spits from the other end of the phone. There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s standing in the middle of her office, snapping her fingers at her fifteen secretaries as they partake in the worst damage control your family’s had to deal with since your cousin two years ago was caught with a mistress outside a high-profile restaurant. 

“Can I take a wild guess?” You’re about to be scolded into the next century, so you might as well enjoy your last few moments. 

“Don’t get cheeky with me,” your mother warns. “Care to explain why you and your beloved husband made the front page of the Daily Post today?”

“I know,” you sigh, a hand coming up to rub at your temples. It’s eight in the morning, you’ve barely looked at your phone, and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. It feels like you’re still asleep, and most certainly lack the energy to deal with this right now. 

Your mother, on the other hand, thinks otherwise. “You know? You know, and you still go out and do this? For everyone to see?”

“We tried to take our argument outside,” you begin to explain, but your mother isn’t having a single word of it. 

“The fact that you thought it was even appropriate to have an argument in a public setting at all astounds me, Y/N. We raised you better than that.” There’s no need for you to even see her face. You’ve grown so used to that disappointed frown over the years that it’s burned into your brain. 

“Maybe you should have thought about that before marrying me off to a man I barely know so I could be someone else’s problem instead of yours,” you bite. 

“We did this for your own good,” she hisses back. “You are married because we love you, and we want you to succeed outside of this family.”

“Then why do you care what the tabloids print about me?”

“Because being married does not mean you are no longer a part of this family,” your mother informs you sternly, lips smacking together. “Your marriage reflects on all of us, and you know that. What will people think of us when they see how terribly behaved you are?”

“Everyone acts like that, and you know it.” How could your mother preach good behavior when everyone, everyone you know, is just as spoiled and entitled as you? There’s no such thing as being altruistic when it comes to people like you. Being genuine, and good, and pure—that will get you ruined. 

You can hear her breathing into the phone when your mother responds, “But not in public, and that is the point. We expect better from you.”

“If you were so worried about me behaving so badly, then why did you even marry me off anyway? You knew that I didn’t want to. What did you think would happen?” It’s a question you wouldn’t have dared ask three months ago. Hell, even a year ago, when it was first revealed you were to be engaged, you wouldn’t have dared open your lips. But things are different now. You’re married to a man that hates you just as much as you hate him. He is making no effort to improve your relationship and seems hellbent on despising you forever. There is no way to get out of it. And if your parents really foresaw all of that, then what was the point in the first place?

“Your grandmother.”

Your mouth shuts. 

“You know she wanted to see you married before she passed,” your mother says, words clipped and biting and harsh. “She cares about you. She wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you mutter to yourself like a petulant child. In a way, you sort of are.

“If you want to stay in her will, I suggest you change that mindset.”

You freeze in your tracks. The will?

“Is that a threat?” You ask, positively dumbfounded. Are you being coerced into staying in this marriage because of your grandmother’s will?

You can hear your mother laugh, that muted, knowing chuckle of hers. “It was the deal all along, remember?”

Vaguely, you do. You remember fighting your parents tooth and nail over getting married until your grandmother revealed it was her dream to see you wed. You remember the look on her old, wrinkled face, that soft, sad smile that said she knew she didn’t have much time left. You remember agreeing, because how could you deny her? You remember her promising to remember what you’re doing for her. 

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

“That’s the end of this conversation, Y/N. You fix things with your husband or you’re out of her will. She’s made that clear. I expect you’ll make the right choice.”

She hangs up. 

Well. 

There are a lot of ways to describe how you’re currently feeling, and you most certainly had an expensive education that would provide you with plenty of the vocabulary, but you think the most appropriate words for the current situation would be: you’re fucked. 

At least the feeling is mutual. 

Hardly two minutes after your mother’s brutal phone call, Taehyung comes storming down the stairs, hair still mussed from the night prior, his own phone clenched tightly between is fingers. Even from where you stand in the middle of the living room, you can see the way his eyes are glinting with anger, the veins popping out from his skin. 

“I just got off the phone with my parents,” Taehyung begins, not even bothering to spare a ‘good morning’ your way, “and they are fucking furious about last night.”

You shrug. “Join the club,” you mutter, arms crossed in front of you. What, does Taehyung really think you got off scot-free?

“Don’t act like this means nothing to you,” Taehyung says as he approaches you, footsteps calm despite his demeanor being anything but. “You’re the one who’s so obsessed with keeping up their family’s perfect reputation. You’re the reason we’re even in this mess in the first place.”

“What do you mean, ‘I’m the reason’?” You ask, astounded. Like he’s totally absolved of all blame and just an innocent third party. “You are the reason we went outside. You are the reason we had that argument, because you refuse to accept the fact that we’re actually married and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Right, because holding hands is really gonna show all those people how in love we are. I bet your parents are so thrilled right now.” Taehyung drawls. 

“It’s a start!” You shriek. “God, you’re just so—so infuriating! You can’t accept that this was your fault, too. You just have to turn everything against me and you always, always have to get the last word. It’s like you think you’ll die if you don’t.”

“Like you’re any better,” Taehyung huffs back. “You think I’m the villain because I don’t want to pretend to be in love with someone I’m not in love with. You act like us not holding hands is going to ruin our lives. It was one event! One! It’s obvious we hate each other, so why even try?”

“What, do you expect me to just sit around and do nothing? To act like everything’s fine? Like I’m happy?” As if. This marriage is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. “While you prance around the city with your rich boy friends, going out to clubs and parties and pretending that I don’t exist? Is that what you expect from me?”

Taehyung laughs, this loud, disbelieving sort of noise, like he’s never heard such nonsense before. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean the rest of my life has to change. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself with my friends? Or are you determined to keep me chained to your side for the rest of our lives?”

“What I want,” you punctuate every word, “is for you to stop acting like you haven’t got stakes in this, too. You think I don’t know how your family works? What being married to me means for you? Because I do. And I know that if we were to divorce, it would be you who would get the short end of the stick. Make no mistake.”

That’s enough to shut Taehyung up for a good few seconds. And it shuts him up, because he knows it’s true. Taehyung’s family may have a little more money, a little more power than yours, but you’ve got a family intimately more connected with the media. One phone call and Taehyung may have a rather messy, rather public breakup to deal with. 

“You wouldn’t,” he says, calling your bluff. 

“Are you sure about that?” You say, sticking your ground. You would never really divorce him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I am,” Taehyung says firmly. “Don’t think I don’t know what being married to me is in it for you. What is it? Money? Power? Your father’s CEO position?”

“That’s none of your business,” you snap quickly. Maybe you’re more transparent than you thought. Bristling, you straighten your shoulders and turn back to meet his eyes. “Regardless, it seems we both have a reason to stay in this marriage.”

“It seems we do,” Taehyung agrees with a thin, contained smile. “Then I suppose we can reach some sort of agreement.”

“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 

“I’ll stop going out with my friends if you stop picking fights with me all the time,” he says economically, like he’s killing two birds with one stone. 

“Only if you agree to also act more like my husband when we’re in public,” you tack on, because you just can’t settle for anything less. 

“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 

You scoff. “Like I’d even want to pretend to be your wife when we’re in private.”

“Good. It seems we’ve come to a deal.”

“What’s in this for you, huh?” You prod, just to be annoying. Taehyung’s right. There’s a reason you’re not divorcing him the second you get the chance. But there must be a reason why he’s not doing the same thing. 

“Does it matter?” He challenges, a single eyebrow raised. “My life is just as awful as yours.”

Fair enough. 

“Do we have a deal?” Taehyung asks, holding out his hand, that sneaky, devilish grin lacing his features. 

Taking his hand in yours and grasping it firmly is the easiest decision in the world. His palm presses against your own, hot hand meeting your cold skin, and it feels like the two of you are finally finding some sort of balance. You look up into his eyes, burn your gaze into his pupils, watch them glint in the white ceiling light of the living room. 

“Deal.”

For two people raised on the values of reading the fine print and making educated choices when it comes to business deals, you and Taehyung sure haven’t worked out any of the intricacies of the deal the two of you agreed to. Unlike those business deals your parents constantly agreed to, however, knowing all of the stipulations and provisions of your strange, strange agreement with Taehyung may prove more harmful than helpful. 

Like right now. 

“Wait, we don’t have to be by each other’s side the whole night, do we?” Taehyung asks you, eyebrows furrowed in a knot, as you sit in the back of a big, black van on your way to a mutual friend’s twenty-first birthday bash. 

“There are going to be a lot of cameras there,” you respond. 

“Yeah, outside the entrance to the damn club. You know they won’t be allowed in, so who cares?” Taehyung rebukes. 

You huff out a little sigh, not wanting to get into an argument when you’re literally minutes away from your first public appearance since the whole tabloid debacle from three weeks ago. You and Taehyung could both do with being a bit more relaxed than you normally are when you’re around each other. 

“Hasn’t Clarissa invited hundreds of people? They’ll all notice if we aren’t together,” you remind pointedly. The girl whose birthday party you are attending is an heiress who grew up on the money of two people with a monopoly over the current artificial intelligence market and has millions of followers on social media. There will be notable people there. And people will know the two of you, as well. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “That’s the point, Y/N. There’ll be so many people, no one will even care. It’s her twenty-first birthday. Do you think people are going to be sober?”

You purse your lips together. He’s got a point. “How about when we are together, we hold hands. But if you see a friend or something then feel free to say hi.” Taehyung can be afforded that luxury. Especially because the chances of him not bumping into someone he knows is exceedingly low anyway. 

Taehyung nods in agreement. “You too. But I won’t leave you unless I know you’re with someone you’re close with.”

“You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine,” you say with a small chuckle. What, is Taehyung suddenly worried, or something?

“Yeah, but it would be in bad taste if I left you with someone you didn’t know well. Or alone. Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.” He shrugs nonchalantly, turning back to look out of the window on his side of the car. 

“Okay.” 

You don’t really have anything else to say to that. You’re sure you can handle yourself if you’re left alone for a few minutes while Taehyung says hi, but you actually find yourself rather appreciative of his resolve to look after you. Or, at least, make sure someone else is looking after you. It’s quite… chivalrous. Strikingly out of character for the Taehyung you’ve become well-acquainted with over the past couple of months. 

By the time you arrive, it’s obvious that Taehyung was right about there being so many people you two practically don’t even exist. Other than the herds of camera crews waiting outside the joint, photographing everyone that steps out of a black car to see what they’re wearing and who they’ve come with, no one seems to be paying you any attention. And in a way, that sort of nonexistence, that anonymity, it’s refreshing. Your entire life you’ve felt like all eyes were on you, like there was constantly a spotlight above your head, but here, the party centers around someone else. 

Despite that fact, Taehyung keeps his promise. He keeps himself pressed closely against you when there’s not enough space for you two to stand side by side, and he makes sure to have a hand gently intertwined with your own as you weave your way through the dozens of bodies in the room. He doesn’t say anything, of course, always looking up and forward instead of beside him, where you stand, but you find that you’re actually quite relaxed with his presence. He spots a bit of a clearing near the back of the first floor of the club, where a whole bunch of leather couches are pressed up against the brick walls, where the two of you can take a breather. 

“Damn, Clarissa knows a lot of people,” you say when you finally settle down, happily plucking a martini from a tray held by one of the many caterers wandering through the venue. 

“I doubt she’s even spoken to half of them,” Taehyung comments. “She and I have maybe spoken once… three years ago.”

“It was enough to get you invited, wasn’t it?” You point out with an eyebrow raised. 

Taehyung nods, chuckling a little. “Touché,” he says, clinking his own cocktail glass against yours. 

You take a swig of the drink, letting it wash down your throat. You’re not exactly sure how else you’re supposed to survive the night. “You must enjoy this, huh?” You muse, looking up at Taehyung from where you’re seated on the couch. He’s standing next to you, looking around the room with a distant gaze in his eye. 

“Enjoy what? The drink? It’s nice,” Taehyung says, having another sip. 

“No, I mean this,” you say, motioning toward the crowd. “The clubbing, the dancing, the drinking. I’ll bet that if you could do this every day for the rest of your life, you would.”

“I’m honored that you think so highly of me,” he deadpans. 

“Just making an observation,” you say, holding your hand up in surrender. “I mean, isn’t this what you used to do every weekend before we got married? Get wasted and party? Wake up in someone else’s bed the next morning? Muscle your way through the week just so you could do it all over again?”

Taehyung shakes his head, a knowing grin on his face. “Looks like someone keeps up with her tabloids. Let me guess, you would scroll through all of those trashy articles on your phone whenever you woke up so you could see what your future husband was doing?”

“I could have never even met you and I would know that that’s exactly what you do,” you say, even though you definitely did do those things before your engagement was announced to the public. “You’re a heartbreaker, Kim Taehyung. I don’t need to read a tabloid to know that.”

“Well, you must be quite the lucky girl, then,” Taehyung comments. “You seem to be taking up so much of my energy that I don’t have the time for that anymore.”

You place a sarcastic hand on your heart. “I didn’t know you were always thinking about me. I’m touched.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Taehyung huffs out, making the two of you both shake your heads as you chuckle to yourselves. First civil conversation you’ve had with each other in a long while, even if there may have been a few blows exchanged. 

The privacy doesn’t last long. Soon after, a huge crowd of people that could honestly still pass for teenagers herds towards the back of the club, all of them wanting to take pictures with each other. You and Taehyung do your best to stay out of the way, but one of the girls recognizes him from the Elle photoshoot he did about a year ago and begins to strike up a conversation with the both of you about your recent marriage. If she was paying attention to anything the tabloids leaked three weeks ago, she doesn’t mention it. Taehyung smiles and happily answers all of her questions, and even offers to take a picture of the group for them. The conversation ends before the two of you even catch her name. 

You’re standing by the line of buffet tables laid out against the staircase leading up to the second floor, no doubt as crowded as this one, when the opportunity for you to speak to someone other than Taehyung finally presents itself. 

“Y/N!”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You turn around to see Victoria barreling towards the both of you, not even caring when she accidentally spills a bit of her piña colada on the floor as she does. 

“Hey!” You exclaim excitedly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure Clarissa invited everyone on her, her best friend’s, her best friend’s cousin, and her best friend’s cousin’s dog’s contact list,” Victoria says with a laugh. “It’s nice to see you. I feel like you’ve been holed up in that big ol’ penthouse for weeks.”

“Damage control,” you remind her succinctly. Victoria knows enough that that’s all the explanation she really needs. 

“I don’t know if the two of you have ever met formally,” you say, thinking back to your wedding, where Victoria spent most of her time schmoozing with your parents (who love her) and didn’t even engage with any of the people who Taehyung’s family had invited. “Taehyung, this is Victoria. Victoria, Taehyung.”

“Pleasure,” Victoria says in that loud, unabashedly forward way of hers, holding out a friendly hand. Taehyung smiles back curtly, taking her hand and shaking it gently, so as not to spill any more of her drink. 

“Mine as well. I remember you were at our wedding.” Oh? So he does know her?

“That I was. Oh, I miss that day. The food was excellent. Tonight’s isn’t too bad either. Hope you’re doing well, the two of you. It’s nice to see you getting along,” she says, always the observer. 

Taehyung’s eyes widen a little when he picks up what Victoria is not-so-subtly putting down, but you place a hand on his upper arm to calm him. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “She won’t say anything.”

“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 

“If you wanna go spend time with some of your friends, you can,” you say, giving Taehyung a nudge. He looks positively helpless standing in between the two of you as Victoria out-extroverts him. 

“Alright,” he says hesitantly, even though you know he’s already spotted at least ten people you’re sure he’d want to spend time with over you. “I’ll come find you soon, okay? Don’t go too far.”

You nod, and Taehyung disappears off into the crowd. Not two seconds later, you hear someone else call his name in a familiar tone. 

“I thought you said you hated him,” Victoria points out as the two of you watch his caramel brown hair makes its way throughout the crowd. 

You take another sip of your drink. “I do,” you say. 

Victoria looks at you like you’ve just told her you’ve sworn off custard-filled doughnuts. 

“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 

“Nothing,” Victoria singsongs. “It just doesn’t look like that to me.”

“We just need to keep up a good appearance in public, that’s all. You know how mad my parents got when the tabloids leaked all that shit a few weeks ago,” you explain. You’re not sure what all the fuss is about. Taehyung said he would do these things. And he did. That was him upholding his end of the deal. This is you upholding yours. 

“If you say so…” Victoria says, not looking at all convinced. “I guess I’m just surprised that—that you two seem to be getting along so well. Maybe you being married isn’t going to be the worst thing after all.”

You stare back out into the crowd, scanning the top of people’s heads for Taehyung’s familiar locks. In the dim light of the club, you have a difficult time finding his, squinting your eyes slightly as you look around, but eventually you spot him, dancing happily with some old friends of his you recognize. He looks like he’s having a good time. And that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this might end up alright. 

“Yeah,” you say, though with the pounding of the bass and the alcohol already rushing through your veins, it doesn’t really feel like your voice belongs to you. You look back at Taehyung, knowing exactly where he is now, and you smile. Just a little. “I guess he’s not so bad.”

You never do get a chance to meet Taehyung’s friends that night. By the time he joins back up with you and Victoria he’s by himself, a little more drunk than when he left, and ready to go home. And for once, instead of fighting him, instead of insisting you stay an hour more just to make sure you’ve done all of your rounds, you let him take you home. 

Taehyung has been spending a lot more time at the penthouse lately. Perhaps his family’s business happenings are slow, or perhaps he’s actually starting to get more comfortable with inhabiting the same space as you, but he has definitely found himself quite the rhythm in that house of yours. He even comes down to the first floor rather regularly. 

When he’s home, Taehyung is a lot quieter than you thought he would be. Granted, you don’t exactly know what you were expecting in the first place, but it certainly wasn’t him ruminating in one of the home offices while the Beatles play softly on the stereo, nor was it him reading a book in French in one of those big old grandfather chairs in the living room. If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably think he was still absent in that old way of his, ghostlike and silent, like he was occupying the space instead of truly living in it. 

But you do know better, and even though Taehyung is just as noiseless as he used to be, the house already feels a little bit fuller. 

Perhaps the reason you’ve become so keenly aware of his presence over the past few days is because of the notable fact that Taehyung has indeed held up his end of the deal, and no longer goes out with his friends in the evening. Or at all, for that matter. Which strikes you as rather odd, because he’s the epitome of a social butterfly, a thousand contacts in his phone and a whole group of friends he regularly spends time with. Maybe his parents told him to tone down the public appearances, too. And that’s understandable, but don’t they know Taehyung? Can’t they see how much he thrives on social interaction? It almost makes you feel… bad for him. 

To remedy this, you suggest he invite over his friends. Just for a few hours, you swear you won’t mind. 

“Seriously?” Taehyung looks positively shocked when you tell him he can, standing in the doorway of the office he seems to have designated as his own. 

“Yeah, why not?” You say with a carefree shrug. Besides, you’ve never met his friends anyway, and now seems as good a chance as any to introduce yourself. You are his wife, after all. “Unless your parents say you can’t. But it’s not a problem for me.”

“You… don’t mind if I have my friends over for a bit? Honest to God, we’re probably just going to play FIFA for three hours straight,” Taehyung says like it’s some sort of warning. Like the idea of him and his buddies from college are going to sit in the living room screaming at the television, leaving you alone to do literally anything else, is somehow bad. 

You laugh. “It’s fine, really. Call them. I’d actually quite like to meet them.”

Taehyung picks up his phone almost instantly, as if you’ll change your mind in the next five minutes so he better get them over soon, and already you can see the way his face is lighting up, the way his eyes crinkle as he chats to his friends and the way his lips curl upwards when they crack a joke back. Isn’t it obvious? He feeds off of the energy of others. Who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

As it turns out, Taehyung’s friends actually end up being quite nice anyway. 

He invites over three, because four people is apparently the perfect number for a hardcore game of FIFA on his Playstation, and they are all very handsome men you have never met before. You suppose like attracts like, after all. 

“You must be Y/N,” says the first one you see when you open the door to let them in. He doesn’t look a day over twenty-one—in fact, he could probably still pass as a college student—and has rather long dark hair that drapes over the sides of his face, covering the edges of his big doe eyes. “I’m Jungkook. This is Jimin and Hoseok.”

“Nice to meet you all,” you say, stepping aside so they can enter.

The shortest one, Jimin, grins in response, and Hoseok, behind him, gives you a wave. It’s refreshing enough as is, not having to exchange formal greetings and shake each other’s hands like you do with everyone else. Hoseok even gives you a bit of a nod, too.“You, too,” he says. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 

“All good things, I hope,” you say awkwardly, forcing a small smile as Taehyung comes bounding into the room, ears perked up at the sound of his friends’ voices. 

“Definitely. Thanks for having us over. We didn’t wanna intrude on the sanctity of your new place,” Jungkook says, gesturing vaguely to the house as a whole. He’s got this excellent, genuine grin on his face, the kind that people who are just happy to be alive always wear. 

Already he’s said enough to charm the shit out of you. Who knew Taehyung’s friends could be so… friendly? “Please, you’re welcome any time. I was just thinking Taehyung was getting a little lonely.”

“There he is!” Jimin shouts excitedly when he spots Taehyung behind the two of you, looking a lot more casual than he normally does when he’s alone with you, having abandoned his usual silky button-down and wide-leg slacks for a loose shirt and some sweatpants. You didn’t even know he had those things in his closet. 

“Hey, everyone’s here!” Taehyung exclaims, just as happy. He squeezes past you to give the three of them a big hug, and it almost makes you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be in. Even though this is literally your house. 

“Nice place you got here,” Hoseok comments, eyes drifting around the living room. “Very minimalist, I like it.”

“Sure hope you don’t spill anything on those nice leather couches of yours,” Jungkook says. 

“Yeah, unlike Kook, who has spilled tomato soup on every shirt he’s ever owned,” Jimin jokes, earning laughs from Taehyung and Hoseok and a punch from Jungkook. 

“Moved after we married,” Taehyung says simply, shrugging his shoulders. It’s an easy enough explanation for why it doesn’t look at all lived in. Here’s hoping none of them realize you sleep in different bedrooms. 

“Yeah, congratulations on that, man,” Hoseok says, giving Taehyung a celebratory nudge in the shoulder. “Who’d have thought, out of the four of us, Kim Taehyung would be the first one to settle down.”

The way Taehyung’s body tenses up at that comment does not go unnoticed by you. 

“Seriously, I would have never guessed,” Jimin adds on. “You’re showing us a new side of yourself, Tae. But I’m happy for you.”

Normally, you’d probably take offense at such blatant insinuations that your husband was a former playboy, especially from his equally noncommittal friends. But truthfully, it’s not like you were blind to Taehyung’s transgressions either. And what matters most is the fact that since it was announced publicly, you are the only woman he’s been seen with since your engagement. 

“Me too. You seem to really like her. I’m glad,” Jungkook pipes up, sending a smile your way. You definitely feel like you don’t belong in this conversation. “I think the two of you will be good for each other.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” Taehyung says with a nervous chuckle. His eyes quickly shoot your way, the two of you meeting gazes, your hesitant expressions matching. At least the two of you are on the same page. “Alright, alright, enough,” Jungkook says. “Who’s ready to get their ass kicked in FIFA?”

“You’re on, Jeon. But when I win, you owe me a five-star dinner,” Hoseok challenges. 

“Deal.”

Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately crowd towards the couch, and you take that as your cue to leave. But before you can disappear down the hallway, you and Taehyung look awkwardly at each other, hands tied. It’s not like you can say anything to them. 

The truth is that, sometimes, it’s easy to forget that not everyone else knows that your marriage is just for business. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are still people out there that believe you marry for love. 

Isn’t it crazy to think that you used to be one of those people, too?

“Hey,” Taehyung says when you meet up at the bottom of the stairs again. 

“Hey,” you respond. 

“You look nice.”

You scoff a little to yourself. What, are you exchanging compliments now? “Thanks,” you say, looking him up and down. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Like he ever is. 

“I knew you had taste,” Taehyung teases, and it’s the sort of comment that would have earned him a melon ball to the face back when the two of you were teenagers at a debutante ball, but today only earns him a roll of your eyes as you join hands. You don’t have anything big tonight—just a small dinner to celebrate some sort of business accomplishment for your family, which means that all you have to manage is not ending up in some sort of food fight by the end of the night. 

“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” You retort easily as you get into the car. 

You don’t normally speak a lot on the way to events. Not that you ever did, but even as your relationship has slowly faded from pure hatred to attempts at compromise, you both seem to relish in being able to stare out of your respective backseat windows and into the city that surrounds you. Just out of curiosity, about halfway through the ride you look towards Taehyung to see what he’s up to, and find yourself genuinely surprised to see him leaning against the window with his eyes closed. Is he sleeping? A couple more minutes of gazing at him tells you he is, because his body has gone lax and his breathing has evened out, soft snores leaving his mouth. This ride can’t be longer than twenty minutes. Has he not been sleeping well? Up in that enormous second-floor bedroom of his?

He’s awake by the time the car parks outside the restaurant, this fancy name brand steak place that was chosen solely because the biggest beneficiaries of your family’s new business deal are two sixty-year-old men whose entire diet consists of beef and beer. No cameras tonight, just a small family affair. You and Taehyung hold hands as you enter the restaurant and are led to the private room in the back anyway. 

You and him are seated on the far end of the long, rectangular table, alongside all of the other adult children dragged along to celebrate something that has no effect on their lives. But it’s nice, because the space alone prevents your parents from actively speaking with you, and you and Taehyung can stay in your own little bubble, only chiming in for a toast when necessary. 

“What are you going to get?” He asks you, the two of you gazing at the menu. No matter how fancy this place is, all the options seem to boil down to steak, steak, steak, steak, and caesar salad. Classic. 

“Oh, so you actually care now?” You counter, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 

Taehyung laughs. “Aren’t I supposed to?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, wise to his usual shenanigans. It’s hard to tell if Taehyung really means what he says, or if it’s all for show. But perhaps he’s asking because he’s genuinely curious, since no one else seems to be paying you any attention. 

“The choices on this menu are simply overwhelming,” you say, motioning to the six options in front of you. 

“I know, I’m so torn,” Taehyung jokes, making you huff out a little giggle. At least he’s still got that same sense of humor. 

You both end up going for a pretty classic steak dinner, which neither of the two of you finish because the damn portions are the size of your head. Dinner is, in and of itself, absolutely mindless, all of your parents talking about things that don’t concern you whatsoever, leaving you and Taehyung to your own devices as you desperately try to make the night go by faster. 

At one point, you notice Taehyung’s foot brushing up against yours, the leather of his loafers brushing against the toe of your patent heel. Thinking someone of it, you push back, foot nudging his back to his own chair. It’s not a second later that Taehyung retaliates, the two of you dancing around each other underneath the table. 

If the two of you were any younger, or perhaps any less resigned to your fate, there’s no doubt in your mind you would be attempting to get Taehyung to fall off his chair in an effort to do the same to you. Footsie means war. But when the both of you know that, at the end of the day, you’ll still be going home to the same place, and waking up the next morning in the same house, it doesn’t feel like this is a battle.

It’s just life. 

Eventually, you meet Taehyung’s eyes with a hesitant smile, shoe pressed against his, stuck in ceasefire. And for once, he doesn’t have that devilish look in his eye, that smug little grin on his face that tells you that he’s going to make you regret whatever it is you just did. He’s just smiling back at you, all pink lips, having found real fun in the little things. 

And that makes you happy. 

The rest of the dinner is uneventful, which, in your book, is about as good as a dinner can go. You cheers to the future of your parents’ relationship with their newfound partners and say a quick goodbye to them both, hurrying out of there before they can ask you any questions on your relationship with your husband. But you don’t spend the car ride in silence on the way back. 

Instead, you say, “Have you been sleeping well?”

The question seems to catch Taehyung off guard. He was already getting in position to take a power nap on the ride home, head pressed up against the window of the car. 

“What?”

“Have you been sleeping well?” You repeat. “I noticed you fell asleep on the way here.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess,” he says, a hand scratching the nape of his neck. “I mean, it’s been hard adjusting, I suppose. But I’ll get over it.”

Hard adjusting? You’ve been together for nearly three months now. Three months worth of sleeping in the same penthouse bedroom, on the same soft-as-a-cloud mattress, underneath the same weighted blanket. And he’s still having trouble? 

“Oh. I mean, I just wanted to ask because you seem really tired lately.”

“I got a lot on my plate, what can I say,” Taehyung says with an empty smile, forcing a chuckle. “I’ll be fine, seriously. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Isn’t that my job?” You remind him. “I am your wife.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything to that. He just lets out an audible breath, the kind you let out when you’re amused and have something snarky to say, but don’t have the energy to get the words off your tongue. 

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 

When you get home, you place your house keys in the bowl by the entrance and take off your shoes, just about ready to take a hot shower and collapse in bed, when Taehyung’s voice stops you. 

“Hey,” he begins, almost hesitantly. You look back at him inquisitively. “I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted, we could start sleeping in the same bed?”

You scrunch your nose up. Not in disgust, but in surprise. In bewilderment. What brought this on, all of a sudden?

“Really?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. “I thought we liked the separate bed thing. Gives us privacy.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “but—I don’t know, it’s stupid. I just thought, you know, since we’re married and all. And it’s been three months.” He looks about two seconds away from backtracking, from shaking his head and going upstairs before you can say anything else. 

“Alright,” you say quickly, nodding your assent. Taehyung’s eyes widen when he hears the word, like he had completely expected you to shut him down the moment he made the suggestion. “If that’s what you want. We can try it.”

“You sure?” He asks, that same hesitant smile from earlier lacing his features. It’s strange. He almost looks… sweet. Nervous. 

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”

Taehyung lets you grab some of your toiletries and your pajamas from your designated bedroom before you head up the stairs together, towards the bedroom he’s claimed for himself. Funnily enough, this is the first time you’ve been in his room. Three months of living together and you haven’t dared step foot on the second floor. 

You don’t know what you were expecting when he opens the door to let you inside. Maybe a room that screamed ‘Taehyung’ a little more than this one does. One that looks like an actual human has been living here. But other than one of his classic silk button-downs draped over a chair, there’s not a shred of evidence someone has actually been sleeping here. You could honestly be fooled rather easily that the shirt, too, is just decoration. 

“You can pick a side,” Taehyung says casually. He grabs his own sleepwear—an old t-shirt and some sweats—and heads into the bathroom to change. 

You wonder why Taehyung has had such a difficult time adjusting. This room is about as lavish as a bedroom can get. And yet. 

Sitting down on the left side of the bed, you begin to remove your own clothes, unzipping tonight’s dress and stepping quickly into your pajamas, hurrying to make sure Taehyung doesn’t catch you half-naked. How funny is that, you think to yourself. You’ve been married for three months and you still can’t bear the thought of Taehyung seeing you without a shirt on. 

When Taehyung comes out of the bathroom, hair all messy and clothes all casual, he grins lazily to himself. “I sleep on the right anyway,” he comments mindlessly. 

Within twenty minutes the both of you are about as ready to pass out as you have ever been, the only lights still on the ones on your respective nightstands. 

“Goodnight,” Taehyung says, reaching an arm over to switch his off. 

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning off yours as well. And all of a sudden, the room is shrouded in darkness. 

You fall asleep instantly. 

When Taehyung wakes up the next morning, the first thing he says to you is that he hasn’t slept that well in ages. 

“You slept together?” Victoria shrieks, so loud you actually have to move your phone away from your ear as you punch in the code inside the elevator for access to your floor. 

“We did not sleep together,” you emphasize. “Okay, well, we sleep together, as in, in the same bed. But we are fully clothed. And not the slightest bit interested in doing anything other than sleeping.”

“I thought you said you liked having your own space,” Victoria points out. “When was the first time you—uh…” she pauses to find the right words, “shared a bed?”

“A couple weeks ago. It’s really not so bad, I don’t know why you’re so hung up over it,” you say, lips pursed. You squeeze the phone between the side of your head and your shoulder, hands full of shopping bags, the string of the handles burning your skin. Maybe you should look into getting a personal shopper. 

“I’m hung up over it because, for the longest time, you have sworn off Kim Taehyung. Called him dead to you. Insulted him every chance you get.” 

You scoff. You don’t need reminding of how much you hated him, how much you can’t believe you have to spend the rest of your life with him. “It’s different now. We’re married. And he said he wasn’t sleeping well. I felt bad.”

“He wasn’t?”

“Enough about him,” you say, shutting her up. You don’t feel like talking about him with Victoria anymore. “Word through the grapevine says that your parents are actually thinking of letting you start your own company?”

It’s enough to distract Victoria. For the rest of the ride in the elevator, she talks animatedly about a new streaming service her parents are considering letting her launch, under their parent business, of course, but it’s her own company nonetheless. And you’re proud of her. Proud she could do something your parents would never dream of letting you do. Proud she could make that happen. 

You push open the front door with the side of your hip after entering in the security code, phone still snug between your ear and your shoulder, when you hear Taehyung call out your name. 

He comes into view from the kitchen, which surprises you because you have, on multiple occasions, made fun of how much of a disaster chef he is, especially because he’s admitted to you he’s not a very good cook. 

“I made brownies,” he says, holding out a plate of the chocolate treats in front of you. Instinct has you dropping your bags on the floor by your feet and reaching out, but you eye him first, suspicious. 

“I have to go,” you tell Victoria, hanging up before she even gets a chance to object to your sudden departure. “You made these?”

“Yes, I did,” Taehyung says, rather proud. 

“And the kitchen is… still standing?” You ask, skeptical. 

Taehyung frowns at you, clearly unimpressed. “How bad of a chef do you think I am?”

“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 

Taehyung pouts sadly to himself for a moment. “These are good, I swear. Nothing weird in them like vegetables or anything either. I used a box mix.”

“No wonder they look so nice,” you comment snidely, hesitant hand reaching out to grab one. They feel like brownies. So that’s good. 

“Hey, I was the one who had to crack the eggs and shit. Three eggs! And not one eggshell in the bowl!” Taehyung says, clearly very pleased with himself. 

You laugh at his enthusiasm, taking a bite. It’s good. And exactly what you needed after a long day of shopping. “I’m proud of you. They taste good.”

“I knew you wouldn’t doubt me.” Taehyung grins.

“They’re really good, actually,” You amend, genuinely surprised. And the best part is that you can count at least ten brownies left on that plate, which means that you get at least five more. Which, if you had any less self-restraint, you would probably eat all at once within the day. 

“I’m glad you like them. They’re all for us, you know. No one else to share them with,” he says.

“Honestly, I’m probably going to finish them by tonight. You’ll have to make more tomorrow,” you say sheepishly. 

“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you respond. The words come off your mouth easily, tumbling from your lips without you having to think about it. You aren’t saying them because you have to. You’re saying them because you want to. Because baking with Taehyung doesn’t actually sound too bad. Especially if it means more brownies. 

“You’ve, uh, you’ve got something,” Taehyung says, gesturing vaguely to the side of his lip. 

“Oh, I do? Yikes,” you say, a little embarrassed. Your hand comes up to wipe at the left side of your mouth. “Is it gone?”

“Wait, here, let me do it,” Taehyung says, reaching out towards you. He presses his palm against the side of your face, cradling your cheek and jaw in his enormous hands, and all at once it feels like your skin is on fire. 

Your body freezes up at the touch, at the way his thumb swipes at the corner of your mouth, right against your lips, wiping away nothing but a goddamn brownie crumb. You look at him, look right at him, how can you look anywhere else when he’s right in front of you like this, and it feels like you are caught in his gaze, a rain droplet trapped on a web, a bee stuck in its own honey. His big, brown eyes sparkle from the ceiling lights, a chocolate sky that mirrors the food he just made for you. He looks at you and his eyes are so soft, so open, so happy to be looking right back at you. God. 

“There,” he says, a moment too late. 

“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 

You both stand there, looking at each other, wordless expressions drawn all over your faces, no idea what to do next. 

After a while, Taehyung breaks the silence. “Do you wanna order takeout tonight?”

“Okay,” you nod, still a little breathless. Taehyung smiles before retreating back to the kitchen, leaving you standing in the entranceway, shopping bags abandoned by your side. 

You look over to where he’s vanished. There’s a part of you that wishes he hadn’t left. A part of you that makes you want to see him again. 

Phone calls from your mother are never good. The last time she called… well, you know how that went. So when you see her contact information light up your home screen, it’s only instinct that you feel your heart rate spike. 

“Hello?” The voice that comes out doesn’t even sound like yours. 

There’s no good way to put what comes next. Your grandmother has died. Heart attack. The paramedics got there too late. It was over before it even started. 

For a moment, for a split second, it feels like everything is frozen. Like the world has come to standstill. Your mother’s voice echoes in your ears, suspended in time, the words turning into stone as they crash onto the floor. And when they do, it is as if everything comes back to life. 

Truth be told, you don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, your phone resting lifelessly in the palm of your hand. It feels at once like an eternity and only a second in time. You spoke to your grandmother two days ago. You had promised that you and Taehyung would visit her soon. How can this be happening?

Your phone buzzes relentlessly in your hands, condolences pouring in from every person in your contacts, sorry’s and heart emoticons and If you need anything, I’m always here’s filling up your screen. There’s a part of you that vaguely registers your mother, alongside some of the other members of your family, trying to call you. But nothing can seem to shake you. 

Until—

“Y/N? You still up here?”

You hear Taehyung before you see him. Hear his voice, hear his footsteps, hear the door creak open as he enters your bedroom. Slowly, almost sluggishly, you twist around to look at him, the mere act knocking the wind out of you. Or maybe you were already breathless. 

“Hey, you alright?” Taehyung knows instantly that something is wrong. 

“My grandmother died.” The words sit heavy on your tongue. There’s no point in not telling him. He’ll find out soon enough. He’s… he’s family, isn’t he?

“What?” Taehyung freezes in place. “I—I’m so sorry to hear that, Y/N. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, voice weak but steady. You blink up at him, once, twice, three times, and then suddenly you feel tears running down your cheeks. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything else. He rushes to your side and sits himself down on the bed next to you, arms wrapping around your body. And you don’t think about the fact that it’s him, about the fact that this is the closest the two of you have ever been. You just let yourself be engulfed in his frame, let yourself be enveloped in his hold as the tears stream down your skin, little hiccups jolting your throat. You close your eyes and press yourself into his arms, head resting against his chest, and wish so desperately that so many things about your life were just a little bit different. 

It must be at least five minutes before either one of you dares to move. Your phone begins to rattle incessantly, that familiar and insistent buzz that the both of you are hard-pressed to ignore. 

“I think you should answer that,” Taehyung whispers into your skin, lips right by your forehead. 

“Yeah,” you sniffle, sitting up next to him and wiping the remnants of wetness by your eyes. Well, Taehyung’s seen you cry. There’s no going back now. “You’re probably right.” You look down at the phone. It’s your father. 

“I’ll be downstairs, okay? Unless you want me to stay,” he offers, looking hesitant. 

You shake your head. “No, it’s—it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Call me if you need me,” he makes you give him a nod of understanding before he finally gets up, hands slowly removing themselves from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. Remnants of warmth. Suddenly, you feel much colder. Hardly a minute later he’s out of the room, and you can hear his distant footsteps as they make their way down the stairs. 

Sighing, blinking, and swallowing all at once, you pick up. 

The call passes by in a blur. Your father says the will will take at least half a year to be executed, but that the funeral is already being planned. Your grandmother had hoped you would eulogize her. You agree, but you have no idea what you will say. He says Taehyung is invited but does not need to come if he cannot make it. He says a lot of other things too, about your mother, about your cousins, about your aunts and uncles and your poor grandfather, who passed five years ago, but you can’t even remember them moments after he’s said them. 

When he hangs up, the tears on your cheeks have dried, patches of them left along your skin. You head to the bathroom, getting off your bed for the first time that day, and try to wash away everything that has stained the morning. A part of you doesn’t even want to bother, just wants to slug downstairs and eat as much sugary cereal as you can get your hands on, but you can’t go down there looking like this. Looking so helpless. 

By the time you reach the kitchen, Taehyung is already standing there, on the opposite side of the counter island, a big stack of pancakes in front of him. They look mouth-watering. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Thought you might want something to cheer you up.”

“Did you make these?” You ask, a little endeared. That was thoughtful of him. 

“Yeah. They’re still warm,” Taehyung says. He holds out a fork. 

You grin. 

The funeral is a week later. It sucks in every way that something can suck. But not in the same way your wedding sucked, or even the announcement of your engagement. It sucks because it’s a funeral, because you have to stare down your grandmother’s casket when a part of you still doesn’t even believe that she’s gone. Because everyone there is so sad, so melancholy, dressed in all black and looking down at their feet. Because everyone is so sorry for you, so sorry for your loss, everyone has nothing but condolences to offer you. What will those do? They won’t bring her back. They won’t change things. They won’t make you feel even the slightest bit better. 

Taehyung comes. He comes because he offers, and because you want him to. You want someone whose hand to hold. Want someone to smile at you when you’re speaking in front of your entire extended family and trying not to cry. You want someone who is familiar, and warm, and there for you. 

And most of all, you want someone who won’t keep the conversation going when you get home. 

“Do you wanna order Chinese?” He asks, coming into the living room, where you have been sulking on the couch ever since you stepped foot inside the door. 

“That sounds nice,” you force out. 

“Okay. Your usual?”

“Yes, please.” You don’t bother asking how Taehyung already remembers what you like to order when you’ve only gotten Chinese twice in the last three months. 

“I’ll call them.” He disappears off into the kitchen. 

What you do appreciate about Taehyung is how he has defaulted to food as a comfort measure, and how the thought alone genuinely brightens you up a little bit. You don’t know each other very well—still, after three months, you couldn’t even say his favorite color—but he is doing his best, and he is trying his hardest. In some ways, you were unlucky to marry him. To marry someone you didn’t love. To be forced into a union you had no say in, with someone you had so much antagonistic history with. 

But in some ways, your luck has changed. In some ways, marrying him was perhaps the best thing that could happen to you. Taehyung is snarky, a little devilish, and absolutely full of himself, but he is not thoughtless. He is not heartless. He has proven that he is willing to put in the work. That he can grow to care. To change. To compromise. And isn’t that the luckiest thing you could have gotten?

“I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing people tell you they’re sorry for your loss.”

His voice breaks your reverie, carrying throughout the wide open space of your living room. He’s grinning honestly where he stands, slowly making his way over to you. 

“Kind of, yeah,” you admit. “It’s not going to bring her back. Most of those people probably don’t even mean it.”

“Don’t say that,” Taehyung says, sitting down next to you. “I’m sure they do.”

You look at him skeptically. 

“I mean, they’re sorry for your loss because that loss is causing you pain. And that sucks,” Taehyung explains, albeit a little less eloquently than you thought he would. “I know it sucks for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t like seeing you sad,” Taehyung says honestly, shrugging to himself. 

You scoff a little to yourself. “I would have thought my downfall would be the exact thing the great Kim Taehyung would wish for himself.”

“Maybe a couple of years ago.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Okay, maybe even a few months ago,” Taehyung admits with a laugh, making you smile, ever so slightly. “But it’s different now. I like it when you’re happy. When you’re snarky and funny and a little evil. Seeing you like this… I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

“That’s called empathy,” you point out. 

“I’m trying to tell you that seeing you sad makes me sad, stop being a smartass,” Taehyung chides, and that really makes you grin. “There. There’s that smile I was looking for.”

“You’re so annoying,” you say, even though there’s no malice behind it. You give him a little push, palms of your hand pressing lightly against his shoulder as you roll your eyes. 

“Only for you,” he promises. He manages to grab a hold of your wrist as your hand meets his torso, pulling you into him as he wraps an arm around your torso. You gasp a little at the sensation, head falling against his body, fitting snugly in the crook of his neck. He gives your side a comforting rub. “I’m sorry today was so shitty.”

“It was,” you agree. “But Chinese food will make it a little bit better.”

Taehyung looks positively scandalized. “What? ‘Chinese food will make it better’? But not your loving, doting husband?” 

You pretend to think for a little bit, tilting your head up to the sky as you tap your chin with your finger. “Okay. Maybe that, too,” you cave after a bit of waiting, just to be extra bothersome. 

“That’s what I thought,” Taehyung says proudly, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. You can feel his grip tighten as he presses you against his body, letting you rest your head on his side. It feels like the longest hug ever, like you’re wrapped up in a weighted blanket. Only it’s not a blanket. It’s Taehyung. It’s your husband. 

He’s your husband.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. 

You nod against him, letting your eyes drift shut. Things are pretty awful right now. Your grandmother’s dead. The funeral was the saddest family event you have ever attended. You have no idea what’s supposed to happen next. 

But he’s right. He seems to be right a lot these days, actually. 

Tomorrow will be better.

Taehyung lets you sleep in for the next few days. Next several days, actually. Every time you wake up it’s close to noon and your husband is nowhere to be seen, the right side of the bed cold to the touch. It’s nothing to be worried about, though, because you can still see the noticeable dip in the bed from where he lies upon it, sinking his weight into the mattress. Taehyung’s an early bird and you’ve been having fitful nights ever since your grandmother passed. 

Today, you pull yourself out from underneath the covers around noon, sluggish and still tired, squinting as the near-afternoon light streams through the enormous windows of the bedroom. Taehyung must have thought to keep the curtains open today. 

You pull on the first casual clothes you see in your shared closet, some wide-leg sweatpants and a drapey t-shirt, and trudge downstairs like a raccoon to a trash can, hoping to fish through the kitchen cabinets to find something to eat. 

Taehyung is, as far as you can tell, nowhere to be seen. You can’t seem to hear him anywhere, and a part of you wonders where he’s at when you stumble upon the note left on the granite counter. 

Had a meeting downtown, be back around 1! There should be smoked salmon and some cream cheese and bagels in the fridge. 

Taehyung.

You chuckle to yourself as you read his flowy handwriting, amused that he thought to let you know of, of all things, the available breakfast foods in the kitchen. You check the clock. It’s nearly noon. Which means you have just over an hour of the house all to yourself. 

Having the house to yourself for five minutes is infrequent enough as it is, let alone for a whole hour. So often is Taehyung around, somewhere, holing himself up in one of the dozens of rooms or mindlessly wandering down the hallways. And for how much Taehyung is present, the funny part is that you still have no idea what he gets up to most of the time. Despite your voluntary abandoning of the separate bedroom rule, the two of you are still firm proponents of the sanctity of your personal spaces. There are rooms in the penthouse Taehyung has never been in, rooms filled with your clothes and makeup and accessories for when stylists come over before an event. A sewing room that you had specifically asked your parents for, because a part of you never let go of that childhood dream of being a fashion designer. 

And there are rooms in the penthouse that you have never been in. Rooms with dark wooden doors that have always been kept closed, that you have never stepped foot in. It’s not that you aren’t curious as to what Taehyung gets up to. He could have a goddamn evil lair in one of those rooms and you would be none the wiser. But you don’t go, because he doesn’t go into your rooms. Because you two, despite all the vows you have broken, promised each other you wouldn’t.

An hour to yourself is almost a good enough excuse for you to head back up to the bedroom and take a nap. Not that you don’t get enough sleep on a regular basis, or that you even had a fitful night last night—hell, you woke up near noon today and already you want to go back to sleep—but what else is there to do when he’s not around? What new freedoms have suddenly been given to you?

You head back upstairs, much less groggy after that delicious bagel of yours, when you catch a whiff of what smells like wet paint coming from down the hallway. It’s potent and immediately invades your senses, prompting you to wonder if that has always been there, or just magically appeared. Maybe you were so sleepy earlier, you didn’t notice it. 

Well, you notice it now. Unable to help yourself, you start to wander down the hallway, towards the source of the smell. God, it stinks. It takes you back to those days in middle school, when you would spray paint projects inside a tiny little classroom, have to step outside for fifteen minutes while you cracked the windows and aired it out. It gets stronger the further down the corridor you go, like a thick, smelly cloud stationed firmly within the walls of the penthouse. And then you realize where it’s coming from. 

It’s an art studio. 

A very messy art studio, you amend to yourself, as you peek inside. The door is wide open, and all of the windows are popped too, but the extra air circulation doesn’t seem to have made a dent in the scent. And all over the floor, the walls, and the tables are canvases covered in paint, denim jackets and pants and shirts with these wide, unafraid brushstrokes. Open cans of spray paint lie discarded on the hardwood floor stained with splotches of red, yellow, and green. 

Is this what Taehyung does in his free time? Is this where he goes, this bright, sunny room at the end of the second floor hallway? Is this what he is making?

You look down in awe at the clothes resting on the floor, splayed out to maximize dry time. Abstract faces, landscapes, and words are painted onto the backs of jackets, the fronts of old white t-shirts. What hasn’t made it onto the clothes has been put on canvases instead, blurs of color mixed together in this purposeful pattern, confidence emanating from every stroke, every dot. It’s not art in the way that the gorgeous landscapes of Monet, the picture-perfect portraits of Kahlo, the messy, unplanned splatters of Pollock are. It’s art in a different way. In a Taehyung way. 

Who knew he loved it so much? 

You almost feel like an invader encroaching on his territory when you lean down to start cleaning up some of the mess, throwing out empty spray-paint cans and tossing out grey paint water. You don’t dare touch any of the work, don’t dare try to move it. You do what you can, washing out the brushes resting in the water and cleaning up the wet splotches of paint on the hardwood. Over time, the thick scent of still-wet paint slowly fades, disappearing out the window as the fresh afternoon air seeps in. And you stand there, in a room full of art, in a room full of pieces that Taehyung has undoubtedly poured his heart into creating, and you smile to yourself. 

That’s how Taehyung finds you ten minutes later, peering into the room after declaring that his meeting had ended early. 

“Thought I’d find you in here,” Taehyung says with a grin as you jump at the sound of his voice, eyes widen when you turn around to see him standing by the door. 

“Oh, hey,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Maybe because this is the farthest room in the house from the front door,” Taehyung teases lightly, coming up behind you. “I see you found my studio.”

“I know I’m not allowed in here,” you admit. 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”

“Didn’t we both agree on that?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. I think we just reached an unspoken understanding we wouldn’t invade each other’s personal space. But it was not in the fine print, no.”

“The fine print of what?”

“That deal we made.”

Right. That deal you made, four months ago, That deal, where the two of you agreed to pretend to be in love with each other during public appearances so you wouldn’t get burned at the stake by your families. Where the two of you agreed not to interact with each other otherwise because you hated each other so much. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say distantly, feeling naive for already forgetting about it. It doesn’t seem to have slipped Taehyung’s mind whatsoever. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind that you’re up here,” Taehyung says, interrupting that piercing little voice in the back of your head that is asking you why on earth you forgot about that deal in the first place.

“Yeah, I—” You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to find the words to say. “It just smelled like paint, so I wanted to see what you get up too. And it’s this, apparently.” You motion vaguely to the entire room.

“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 

“I guess I am,” you surmise. “I’m rather impressed, too, actually.”

“Really?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to sound surprised. 

“Yeah,” you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. “I—you know, I just came in here because the entire hallway smelled like wet paint and I wanted to know why. But I didn’t know you loved art so much.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Taehyung points out. 

You suppose that’s true. You don’t know his favorite color. His favorite song. His favorite book. For a long time, you didn’t know what he got up to on his side of the penthouse. You don’t know how he met his friends. What he studied in university. Who he has loved in the past. Who he loves now. You don’t know why he does the things he does, and why he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t do. 

But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 

And you do know his hobbies. Well, one of them, at least. 

Who’s to say you can’t learn more?

“Well,” you start with a smile. “I’m your wife, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I begin to learn?”

Taehyung picks up what you’re putting down instantly, grinning in response. “Only if you’ll tell me things about you, too,” he requisitions. 

“I will,” you promise. It’s the easiest one you’ve ever had to make. 

His face is light, bright, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmer as they meet yours, golden flecks more pronounced like this, in this gorgeous, open space, daylight streaming through the windows. Looking at him makes you feel like you are surrounded by warmth, makes you feel like the sun is opening its arms out to you. He has always been gorgeous. Beautiful. But looking at him like this, standing in the middle of a room filled with all the things he loves, a yellow halo surrounding him—he is ethereal. 

Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”

The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.

The funny thing is, actually, you don’t need to hold hands at this gathering. It’s not an event. Or a public appearance. It’s not even a business dinner. It’s your aunt’s sixtieth birthday party, reserved exclusively for family. Isn’t that strange? That Taehyung is, technically, family now?

For so long you had vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. Vowed to stick it to him whenever and wherever you could, do anything you could to get on his nerves, rile him up. Vowed that when you, one day, took over your family affairs, you would never, ever invite him. Make it known that he wasn’t to be a part of your life. And yet, here you are. Clinging to him despite being well-acquainted with—loved by, even—every other person in the room. Holding his hand like a goddamn lifeline. 

To be fair, Taehyung doesn’t look a hair out of place here. Dressed relatively casually, a smart sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, he smiles warmly at all of your relatives and presents your aunt with a beautiful and very expensive scarf the two of you had commissioned from a designer in Italy, which she absolutely loves. She pinches his cheek and proceeds to wear it for the rest of the night. 

“Damn,” you murmur to yourself as you wander around your aunt’s house, hand wrapped around his arm. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”

“When was the last time you were here?” Taehyung asks. 

The question actually makes you think for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe five years ago? Last couple of birthdays I was overseas or in school. Had to send her a card.”

“Bet your parents were real pleased with that,” he jokes, making you both laugh. At least you two will always be able to share your experiences of domineering and influential parents with each other. 

“Oh, I’m sure. Just as pleased as they were when they realized how much we hated each other.” You expect that little jest to elicit a laugh out of Taehyung as well, but he just smiles tightly, huffing out a breath of acknowledgement. 

“Eh, it’s not like that now, is it?” He offers up. 

“I suppose not,” you muse, sitting down together on her ancient grandma couch in the living room. No matter how rich your family gets, she’ll never get rid of this thing, that’s for sure. 

One thing you’ve picked up over time is that, for every second Taehyung spends basking in the spotlight, he spends an equal amount of time lingering by the wall, watching the rest of the world turn without him. He’s an observer. He is one by nature, feeling an irresistible pull to understand humans in a way only artists could ever do. He sits down next to you and watches your family in an environment where they can relax, where they can feel comfortable and be casual with one another. 

Very seldom have you ever brought friends to events like these. Small family affairs. But Taehyung isn’t a friend, is he? No, he’s your husband. He belongs here just as much as you do. 

“My family seems to really like you,” you point out. Not that anybody has ever harbored as much disdain for him as you. Your parents called him respectable and polite when they told you you were to be wed. Your grandmother had said he was a dashing young man. He doesn’t exactly have to reach far to be loved around here. 

“That’s my job, isn’t it?” He replies snidely. 

“Oh, just take the compliment,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Taehyung always has to be so difficult. “I’m surprised you aren’t nervous as hell. Last boyfriend I brought to meet my parents was shaking in his Louis Vuitton shoes.”

“Last boyfriend, huh?” Taehyung’s interest has been sufficiently piqued. “And, uh, how many of those have you had?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, smile twitching on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Heartbreaker.” Pretty rich of Taehyung to be asking you such a question when he’s probably had more girlfriends than you can count on both hands. “Not as many as you’ve had girlfriends, that’s for sure.”

“Guess I’m a lot different than all those trashy guys you’ve dated, aren’t I?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he looks at you. 

“You are?”

Taehyung nods assertively. “Well, yeah. First of all, I’m your husband. Second of all, your parents love me. Third of all, you love me, too.”

You scoff. “Don’t humble yourself. You don’t know me that well.”

“Speaking of which,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as he points to you knowingly, “how about you tell me a little fact about yourself? It’s my job to learn about you, isn’t it?”

“That is my line, watch it,” you sneer, pointing back at him. You wrack your brain for a fact that you can tell him, something more exciting than your favorite color but less weird than one of those terrible icebreaker exercises you had to do in college seminars. Something that has pertinence to who you are. Who you’ve become. “Alright. I used to want to be a fashion designer when I was little.”

Now that catches Taehyung off guard. “Really?” He says, genuinely intrigued. 

You shrug. “Yeah. I learned to sew when I was really little. Been tailoring and hemming clothes all my life. But I always wanted to design my own stuff.”

“Is that what’s in your room?” Taehyung asks. “A sewing machine?”

“Bingo.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says. “I didn’t know that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?” You say, just to be smart. 

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 

“What about you?” You ask. You can’t imagine what he’ll say. Astronaut. Veterinarian. Or, if he really wants to surprise you, a business executive. 

“A museum curator.”

It is an answer that simultaneously surprises and doesn’t surprise you at all. 

“Fitting,” you muse. “You could have put your own art on display.”

“Pretty sure that’s, like, super unethical,” Taehyung reminds you. 

“So? You’re rich. Start your own museum. Put your own art on display. Live your dream,” you amend. “It shouldn’t be holed up in that studio of yours forever. It deserves to be seen.”

Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”

You nod. “Of course. You create beautiful things, Tae.” It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. And that is not lost on Taehyung, either.

“Thank you,” he says softly, blinking as he looks at you. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.

Later that night, when everyone’s gotten a few drinks into their systems and Bruce Springsteen is playing low on the stereo, Taehyung disappears off towards the bathroom, no doubt because of the excellent soup that was served that night. All by your lonesome, you feel a little stranded, surrounded by your old relatives dancing on the hardwood floor of the dining room, your other cousins too young to actually spend time with. 

In the commotion, your mother comes up to you, swirling a rather large glass of red wine in her hand. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 

“Bathroom.”

“No wonder you were alone,” she says with a hearty laugh. “The two of you have been glued to each other’s sides all evening.”

“He’s my husband,” you offer as an explanation. 

“I know, I know,” she says, shaking you off with a smile. Your mother is a lot more casual once she’s had her fill of wine, no doubt her favorite, Bordeaux. A lot more loving, too. “You really made your grandmother proud, you know? She loved you so much.”

“I know,” you say, trying not to get choked up at the mere mention of your grandmother. 

“She was so happy to see you with Taehyung. It made her feel safe that you would be taken care of,” she continues on, barely paying you and your swimming eyes any attention. “She would be so happy to see you with him now, too. How much you love her.”

“I miss her,” you hiccup out, trying to compose yourself. Nothing kills a birthday party like some sad sack crying over her deceased grandmother. 

“I know, darling,” your mother says, calling you by a nickname she has hardly used ever since you turned eighteen. She squeezes you tightly, a small hug of comfort. “I miss her, too.”

Someone calls your mother’s name, distracting her as she wanders off to your uncle, who is asking what the best way to cut the three-tiered cake on the dining room table is. She bids you a goodbye before disappearing towards the kitchen, no doubt ready to make the cutting of the cake an affair all on its own. 

Taehyung comes back soon after, spotting you instantly as you stand around in the living room. 

“Hey,” he says, noticing the wet shimmer of your eyes. “You alright?”

You nod, feeling better already now that he has returned. Now that he is by your side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I hope those tears aren’t because you missed me,” he says, wiping away a stray one that has escaped from your eyes. You close them as his thumb brushes against your upper cheek, your eyelashes, opening them only when you’ve felt his touch vanish from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. 

“No,” you say. But the night makes you honest, and a couple of drinks, even more so. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”

For all those days you have spent together, never have you and Taehyung had a night in. Which isn’t necessarily completely surprising, considering how many evening events the two of you have had obligations to attend, considering your differing work schedules and meeting times. Considering that, for a very long time, the two of you had no desire to spend any time with each other at all. 

But tonight, there is nothing on your calendar. No galas, no dinners, no meetings, no schedules. There is only Taehyung, who has spent the entire afternoon up in his studio, inhaling spray paint fumes and doing what he loves. And there is only you, who has spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to do tonight when there is nothing else planned. 

You knock on the door to his studio, catching him right as he’s finishing up another piece. This one is a single flower, painted in broad, confident strokes, bright green and red and sunflower yellow decorating the canvas. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, turning around to face you. 

“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 

Taehyung grins. 

Thirty minutes and your favorite Chinese food later, you and Taehyung have settled onto the couch, trays of dumplings and noodles and rice in front of you, an unfunny movie playing in the background. 

You can’t remember the last time the two of you sat on this couch together. Maybe that night you had made the deal? Perhaps not even then. It wouldn’t at all surprise you if you found out that this was the very first time you and Taehyung have sat together on your couch, in your living room, in your house. So often is it occupied by others—Victoria, who sometimes comes over to ooh and ahh at your closet, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who sit on this couch and play FIFA like it’s their job, your mother, when she wants to make herself at home in a place that doesn’t belong to her—but never you. Never you and him. 

“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing a bite of dumpling. 

“Chinese food is always nice,” Taehyung responds over a mouthful of cold noodles. 

“Not that,” you say with a sigh, “this. Sitting together. Watching this shitty movie.”

“It’s not that shitty,” Taehyung tries to reason. On screen, the main character is getting pied in the face during some weird college fundraiser. “Okay, it’s a little shitty. But it’s good background noise, right?”

You nod halfheartedly. “I guess.” Silence. You take another bite of your dumpling, not really sure how to continue the conversation. “We don’t really get to do this a lot, you know? Sit and eat dinner and watch a movie together. Like a date.”

“We’re on a date now, are we?” Taehyung muses, eyeing you snarkily. 

“Isn’t that what this is?” You retort. 

He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”

“Tell me another fact about you,” you request, looking over to him where he sits on the opposite side of the couch. 

“About what?”

“Anything.”

Taehyung pauses, ponders for a moment. But he could never say anything wrong. Not when there is still so much you don’t know about him. Still so much you want to learn, so much you want to commit to memory. For so long you have stared at the planes of his face, the curve of his nose, the twinkle in those dark brown eyes. Those you will always remember. But what about who he is? What he loves? Those are things you still don’t know. 

“The very first time I met you,” Taehyung begins, “I asked Jimin what your name was.”

“When was that?” You ask. Despite you being someone who has spent the better part of the last several years vowing never to give Taehyung the time of day, you sure don’t remember when it all started. 

“That debutante ball,” Taehyung remembers fondly, “when we were fifteen. I asked Jimin what your name was because I wanted to ask you to dance.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you say with a scoff. 

“It’s true. You were standing there in that poofy white dress and I wanted to ask you to dance,” Taehyung points out. The fact that he even remembers what you were wearing is shocking. 

Who knew. Who knew, back then, that you would one day grow up to marry him. 

“And what did I say?” You demand more. 

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “I came up to you, and I asked you if you wanted to dance, and you said, and I quote, ‘Who are you?’”

“No,” you say, aghast at your own behavior. Were those really the first words you ever said to KIm Taehyung?

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

You think back. Think back to every year you have ever known Taehyung, every year you have spent scowling at him from across ballroom floors, making some snide remark as you pass by each other in the hallway. Every year you have spent cursing his existence, willing him away from you so he could bother someone else. Every year you have listened to rumor after rumor of girlfriend after girlfriend. You think back and somewhere, somewhere in there, in those dusty corners of your brain and cobwebbed boxes of your heart, is that first memory of Taehyung, too. 

Of him standing there in some generic black suit, black hair swept over his forehead, shoes too big. Of him coming up to you, trying to be as suave as a fifteen year old could be. Of you saying to him, instead of a hello, or even a what’s your name, “who are you?” 

Of him saying—

“And you said, ‘your dream come true’.” Like a dam bursting open, the memories flood back to you all at once. “I remember that.”

Taehyung laughs out loud at the thought of him saying something so cheesy. “Unsurprisingly, you didn’t want to dance with me.”

“You were so—” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Don’t have the words to express how you felt about him that night. Don’t have the words to express how you feel about him now. Thinking about this, talking about it, it is a bridge. A bridge between what was then and what is now. A bridge between who Taehyung was and who you were and who Taehyung is and who you are. “—so unthinkable. I couldn’t believe you had come up to me and said that. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity. But something about that night made me remember you. Made me remember your name.”

“You thought about me after that?” Taehyung asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“There is something about you that is unforgettable,” you say, honest and real and true. What else can you tell him? The truth is that you have always thought about him. Whether you liked him or not. 

You finish your dinner and place your trays on the end tables next to you, stacking your empty bowls and plates on top of one another as the movie rumbles on in the background. 

“It is kind of a shitty movie,” Taehyung admits after a while of being wholly unenthused. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “But it’s good background noise.”

Taehyung laughs at your little mockery, warm and deep and from his belly. You look at him. He feels so far away, on the other side of the couch. Feels like he’s miles apart from you. You have spent countless nights clinging to his harm, hand gripped tight in his. And sitting like this, a full couch cushion of space between the two of you—it isn’t enough anymore. So you inch closer. 

And closer. 

And a little closer. 

Until you’re pressed up against his side, legs touching as they rest neatly in front of you, backs stick straight as you stare at the television. 

Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 

Without asking, you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, in the space right underneath his jaw. You pull your feet up onto the couch and curl into his frame, pressing yourself against him. He is warm and firm and inescapable. He smells of coffee and paint and Chinese spices. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in, as if there were any other place you’d rather be. 

You sit like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Lazing around on the couch as the stars twinkle above your head. The movie ends and the two of you don’t even bother skipping the credits, letting them and the cheesy 80’s pop song play on, a distant soundtrack. 

“I never thought any of this would happen,” you breathe out. 

Taehyung looks down at you curiously. “What? This?”

“All of it,” you admit. “Us. Getting married. That stupid tabloid picture. My grandmother. This. It’s all so new.”

“New things will happen all the time,” Taehyung muses aloud. “We can’t help when things change.”

“You don’t have any regrets?” You have plenty. Regrets that you’ll never become the CEO you wanted to be in college. Regrets that you’ll never become the fashion designer you wanted to be as a little girl. Regrets that you will come to resent this marriage, resent Taehyung more than you have in years past, all because you had no choice. Regrets that your grandmother couldn’t see you now. Regrets that there were so many things in your life you could have changed, but didn’t.

“I thought I did,” Taehyung tells you. “I wanted to spend more time with my friends. I wanted to major in art in college. I didn’t want to marry you. I know you didn’t want to marry me.” He looks down and you look up at the same time, eyes locking, inches apart. “But looking back on it, I’m happy where I am. With what I have.”

“I never thought it could ever be like this,” you say, words falling off your tongue before you even ask them to.

“What?”

“Us.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Taehyung understands. He understands that, half a year ago, you both would have thrown yourselves into a volcano before holding hands with each other. He understands that getting over your hatred for each other seemed like an absolutely insurmountable task. He understands that you had never wanted to marry each other, that you couldn’t believe you would have to spend the rest of your lives with each other. 

And he understands that now, things are different. 

“I’m glad things happened the way they did,” Taehyung begins. “I’m grateful for us.”

You press yourself impossibly closer to him, feel his grip tighten around you. Like this, you can hear his heartbeat. Hear it thump like a drum, steady and firm and unwavering. His heart beats against his chest and you wonder. 

You wonder if he can hear the way yours beats for him, too.

There were lots of things that made your night in together special. But one of them is the glaring fact that you don’t get them very often. That their infrequency makes them all the more valuable. 

This has become blatantly obvious to you, because right now you are not spending a night in together. Right now you are stuck at a gala that you have to attend for the sake of business, drinking thin flutes of champagne and mingling with people you barely speak to. 

The one good thing about nights like these is that Taehyung looks positively gorgeous in suits. He sort of always has, but you’d never admit that to his face. At least not until now. And as his wife, you are lucky enough to have a front-row seat. 

“I can feel you staring at me all the way from over here,” Taehyung deadpans as he helps himself to a chocolate-covered strawberry from the buffet table. 

You’re too obvious to have any shame about it. “What can I say, I like the view.”

“Hard to believe I was the once the one being shouted at for being inappropriate in public,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. He bites into the strawberry and eats it all in a single go, tossing the stems into a bin nearby as you join back up in the heart of the crowd. 

“It’s only inappropriate if other people hear,” you tease, letting him guide you, hand intertwined with yours, towards an empty corner where the two of you can snuggle up to one another in (relative) peace. 

“I don’t think the champagne was very good for your filter, Miss Y/N,” Taehyung hisses into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 

“Don’t you mean Mrs. Kim?” You pose, an eyebrow raised. 

That seems to do something to Taehyung. It’s not very bright in here, with it being nighttime and all, but even still you can see the way his eyes darken. See the way his lips curl upwards, feel the way his grip on you tightens. It sparks something within you. Something deep in the pit of your belly. 

Something that makes you want more. 

You test the waters. “Mrs. Kim has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tae?”

Taehyung looks about a moment away from losing control. But instead of slamming you against the wall in front of all of these people and giving you what you really want, he growls out, low and powerful, “Home. Now.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 

You hail your car outside of the venue and it’s all the both of you can do to not jump on each other right then and there, in the backseat of this giant black van, overcome with want, with need, with everything in between. Taehyung’s leg bounces impatiently the entire ride back, and the feeling of your hand pressed against his doesn’t seem to be calming him down. He pulls you close to him in the backseat of the car, a hand resting on your thigh. You eye him carefully, as if challenging him to be any more daring. He grins. 

Home cannot come soon enough. The two of you tumble out of the backseat and into the elevators, where you mash the top floor button after entering in the security access code, desperate and shameless. The ride seems to take hours, and the heat that surrounds you practically smothers you, covers you, fills up your lungs and chokes you. 

There is nothing left by the time you reach your door. The moment it slams shut behind you Taehyung presses you up against the back of it, pins you against the wood as he hovers over you, eyes tracing your lips. 

“Tell me something,” he demands. 

“What?” 

“A fact. Something I don’t know.”

It doesn’t take much thinking. “I want you,” you breathe out, watch it hit his skin, watch the way his eyes glint in the light of the entranceway. “Please, Tae. I want you.”

It’s enough for him. 

This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed. The first time was nearly five months ago, in a chapel, at an altar, surrounded by hundreds of people. It was so unfun that you seem to have eradicated the mere thought from your memory. But you remember that feeling from that day. That feeling you got when you pressed your lips against his, cemented your marriage with a kiss. That heat. That sting. 

Kissing him now—that feeling has returned tenfold. When his lips meet yours, it feels like fire is rushing through your veins, setting alight every nerve it passes, unforgiving and relentless. His enormous hands come up to cup your jaw, fingers pressing against the skin of your cheeks as they pull you close to him, keep you trapped in his hold. This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed but it feels like it is—it feels like there is a lotus blooming on a lilypad in your heart, it feels like you have been struck by lightning, it feels like nothing else you have ever felt before. It feels brand new. 

Pressing back against him, he slowly releases you from the cage he has created against the door, spinning around so the two of you can tumble up the stairs and into your bedroom, unable to resist sneaking in pecks here and there as you make your way upstairs. Every step you take you stop, giggle as he presses you against the railing just so he can steal another kiss from you, put his hands all over your body. It’s a wonder the two of you even make it into your bedroom at all. 

When you do, however, all bets are off. Taehyung presses you against the still-made bedsheets with a glint in his eye and a growl on his lips, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, at your body.

"Aren't you a sight? Laid out so pretty for me," he purrs, robbing a breath from you.

It's a tone you have yet to hear from him. You find yourself growing impossibly hot under his stare, burning with an uncharted desire.

You can hardly wrap your brain around it. Here you are, craving the man you had spent the better half of your young adult life loathing. Maybe it’s the champagne; maybe it’s the way his fingers are running slowly up the length of your clothed torso. Whatever it is, your stomach does flips, unfamiliar to the way your body preens under his touch.

"Don't let it go to your head," you tease, simply because you could.

Taehyung hums disapprovingly, pressing kisses into your neck as he grabs one of your thighs and wraps it around his waist, riding your dress up in the process.

You sigh, exposing your neck further for him as he paints bruises into your neck. It feels like just yesterday you had called him out at the altar for his habit of sporting the very same marks you were soon to wear.

Perhaps you should have thought twice about letting the man you had married purely under business pretenses press his hips against your clothed center, but as he rolls his into yours, your mind falls blank, silencing any and all reservations you should have.

Whimpering, you beckon his mouth back onto yours, tongue meeting his wantonly. 

You feel his fingers creep up the outside of your bare thigh, thrilling you in the most primal way. Reaching the band of your underwear after what felt like entirely too long, he runs the pad of his thumb against the lacy fabric.

 You could scream. He is doing this on purpose. He must be. Surely he knows how badly you were aching for him? For him to fill you– whatever the manner may be.

You let out a whine before you can help yourself, frowning as Taehyung looks pleased with himself, confirming his knowledge of your prolonged pleasure.

"What's that? Did you say something?" he mocks, looking cruel and yet strikingly gorgeous as he smirks above you.

"God, you're irritating,” you huff, hips jerking up against his as he pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back into the flesh of your hip. "Just fuck me already."

He tuts, clearly unimpressed by your impatience, "Now, where is the fun in that?"

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers suddenly snake their way between your thighs. Mouth falling ajar, you grip his shoulders as he runs his middle finger against your clothed slit, trailing up and down your warmth. To think he was still dressed while he was touching you like this...

"No... I think I'll take my time with you," he says.

You mew against his hand, arousal forming against his long digits' ministrations. You have to hand it to him. Taehyung knows what he’s doing. The life of a bachelor has seemingly served him well.

You aren’t usually vocal in bed, but the way he’s purring words of filth to you, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he tells you how hot and slick your pretty pussy felt against his hand, has you gasping and sputtering, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.

The fabric of your panties provides a friction that toys the line of pleasure and pain, making you thrust up to meet his motions, your humility slipping from you.

Taehyung watches you intently, cock growing hard under the constraints of his dress pants. You look better than he could've imagined, eyes watering and body shivering under his touch, his fingers soaking with your arousal. He can only imagine what you'd feel like with his fingers fully buried into you, rocking them against your velvety walls.

He lets out a groan of his own, turned on by the idea of you fucking yourself onto his fingers, whimpering out his name in ecstasy.

There’s this part of you that faintly recognizes that Taehyung has done this plenty of times before. Plenty of times with plenty of other lovers. But there is a different part of you, that part that bursts with light and hope, that reminds you that he was never married to those other ones. That his allegiance lies with you. And that thought, knowing that deep within you, he is yours, makes your jaw fall slack, pretty noises tumbling from your lips and your thighs clamping around him.

You were close, closer than you care to admit. Every touch against you is careful yet deliberate as he reads the signs of your body, the way it keens and arches into him, offering you words of encouragement as your climax finally hits.

"That's right. Good girl. Let go for me," Taehyung coos, eyes dark and focused on your writhing form.

You cry out into the familiar space of your shared room, head thrown back as you ride out the high, letting it wrack your body, send jolts throughout your veins.

You barely have time to catch your breath when he presses his mouth back onto yours, kiss still as eager as it was when you both first entered your home. You are alight with satisfaction as he pulls away to press a trail of kisses against your jaw.

"I want—f-fuck," you stutter as he finds your already hypersensitive clit once more, rolling his thumb over your now soaked panties in tantalizing circles, "want to make you feel good, too."

Admittedly, this fantasy had crossed your mind once or twice, brought on by the way he carried himself in a suit and the way his large fingers wrapped around the champagne glass; confident, collected, and entirely charming. Who are you to shy away from a man like him? He certainly has always been rather good-looking. 

He pauses his motions, pulling his hand back to sit on your waist. Your dress is of the finest, most delicate satin, and after tonight's activities, completely wrinkled. You can almost hear your stylist's cries of dismay. Whatever. You have a steamer. And why focus on the dress when it’s obvious the two of you are focused on what lies underneath it?

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod, skin still burning from your past climax.

Helping you back up, Taehyung stands. You lick your lips as you sit back up on the edge of the bed, watching intently as he unbuckles his belt, audibly hissing as his pants fall to his ankles, cock visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. Thank God you don’t have to stand. With the way your thighs still felt weak and how your husband looks like a goddamn Adonis towering above you? Your legs surely would give out underneath you if you rose.

Brows furrowed, Taehyung palms over himself briefly before pulling down the waistband of his underwear, his painfully hard member slapping against his torso.

Your eyes widened on instinct. While the last thing you wanted to do was help inflate Taehyung's already large ego, you were certainly impressed at his size; thick and girthy, his tip red and shining with precum.

He couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly pleased by the way you stared at him unabashedly, chest rising and falling heavily.

"Open up for me," he orders.

And who are you to deny a request from your dear husband?

Your pretty lips wrap themselves around his engorged tip, all remnants of lipstick long gone by now. Taehyung hisses, a hand finding the side of your jaw as you run your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts, fighting off the urge to grip the back of your head and fuck your throat. As much as he'd love your have you choking and drooling all over his cock – and boy would he – he lets you set your own pace, not wanting to overwhelm you.

It doesn't take long for you to sink your mouth further down, however, clearly set on making Taehyung feel as good as you could.

A low moan erupts from his throat, digits pressing into your jaw in request to take more of him in, which you happily oblige.

You had your eyes trained on him, completely obsessed with the way he panted through pink lips, hissing slightly every time your tongue rolled over his sensitive tip.

Lolling his head to a side, his eyes meet yours, gaze primal and wolfish as he watches the way you worked his cock.

"Doing so good, love. Doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs.

You hum against his skin at the sound of the sudden pet name, an unfamiliar feeling fluttering in your belly. You push aside the feeling, focusing instead on the way he grunts at the new sensation you had just given him.

Giggling, you pull off his cock, opting instead to press a kiss against his leaking tip, making sure to hold his eyes as you run kitten licks against it.

"God, you're such a tease." He shakes his head in disbelief. 

He looks so good above you, shivering and cursing out praises on how good your mouth feels, how well you take his cock. Running your tongue along the length of his shaft, you become certain that this is a display you can’t imagine yourself ever getting tired of. But you have all the time in the world, right?

"Y/N,” he gasps suddenly, hips jerking towards your face. "Love, I'm gonna-- gonna cum."

"Cum in my mouth, please." Your voice was pleading and desperate. Taehyung had never heard such words spoken more sweetly. 

"Fuck's sake."

You let out a yelp in surprise as his fingers work their way through your hair, bringing your head back down onto his cock. You relax, though, when you feel the hot ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you do your best to swallow it all down.

Pulling yourself off him, you let out a small cough, eyes watering slightly as you hadn’t managed to prepare yourself with a breath before his release. His large palm runs across the top of your head as you caught your breath, expression flickering with something unfamiliar. Could it be... fondness? 

Your heart stammers at the thought as you stand, slowly stepping out of your dress, letting it drape off of your figure. Taehyung looks absolutely gobsmacked, pupils dark as he gazes at you, eyes unabashedly raking your body. He’s shameless. 

You both are. 

Slowly, you step towards him, fingers reaching out towards his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons as you gaze at each other, expressions unreadable. 

"Tae?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him. “Fuck me?" 

Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 

"Please?" You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes blinking up at him adoringly for good measure. You reach the last button, let his dress shirt drape open. He brushes it off himself, stands there for a few seconds just to let the way you’re ogling his toned chest go to his head. At least he’s good-looking. 

He sighs, probably contemplating some clever rebuttal, but eventually decides against it as his cock is already twitching back to life.

"Alright, love. Turn around. On your knees for me," He orders, making your stomach flip.

To your surprise, you are hardly in place when the warmth of his large hands finds the soft of your tummy, pressing you back into his chest as he pressed a peck to the back of your neck.

You squirm in his hold, whining as that same hand of his grabs hold of your breast, long digit rolling your nipple between their tips. You can’t help but press your ass back into him. His cock feels hot and heavy, pressing against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench in anticipation. 

You want him.

You want him so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself, shuddering as his free hand runs along the side of your ass, leaving scorching hot trails on your skin wherever he kneads into your flesh. He's touching you everywhere – everywhere but where you need him the most, and the arousal that drips down your thigh mocks you.

"Dammit, please!" You exclaim, running out of patience.

"Please what?" He says, an eyebrow arched.

You shiver, committing the way his middle finger traced your pelvic bone to memory forever.

You puff out a frustrated breath, nearly at your wit's end. "Please fuck me, Tae."

Taehyung pauses, grip on your breast and hip tightening as he lets out a moan. You let one out yourself as you feel him readjust, cock pressing against your slick entrance.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name," He grunts. "Okay, baby. I'll fuck you. Begging so nicely for my cock."

You let out a squeak as you're suddenly pushed down onto your hands, back arching as he pushes his fat cock inside your heavenly cunt. He's thick, so thick, that you instinctively grip the sheet underneath you, fingers curled around them tightly as if it means to hold onto your sanity.

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, angling your hips up so that you could take more of him.

"You feel—feel so good," he admits above you, and suddenly you wish you could see him. See the way his bangs stick to his damp forehead—see the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip wickedly.

You let that thought go, however, as he thrust into you, making your jaw fall slack and eyes flutter shut. Profanities roll off your tongue unabashedly, helpless under the way his thick member pulls out of you, only to slam back into you.

You weren't expecting this. The way he stretches you out further than anyone had before. Your pussy clenches around him, reveling in the sweet, sweet burn.

He digs into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as you mew and cry out, pushing your hips back in time to his, trying your best to meet his movements.

"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"

He was filling you to the brim. Filling you tight and deep.

God, the way he was panting behind you was music to your ears. His cock pulses every time you call out his name, voice muffled and buried as you had your head pressed into the mattress, hair messy and bouncing with every hard thrust.

"S'good! Fuck... so, ah, big..." you cry out.

You feel drunk. Intoxicated off this beautiful man and the way he makes you feel a way only he can.

You nearly let out a sob as the rough pads of Taehyung's fingertips suddenly reach around you and find your neglected clit, rolling light circles on the soft and swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.

You are a mess, whimpering and drooling into your expensive sheets, and he filled every inch of you, leaving no place undiscovered. Your high nears, stewing on low heat somewhere near the pit of your belly, waiting for a chance to erupt and wash all over you. Taehyung must be close to, you realize, as his thrusts began to slow down, slamming into you roughly as if chasing after his high.

"Gonna take this load? Huh? Gonna let me cum inside your pretty little pussy?" His voice is straining, as if trying to breathe evenly but merely moments from falling apart.

If only you could formulate an intelligent response, but instead, you are a blubbering wreck, thighs shaking as they threatened to give out underneath you. But somehow, Taehyung knew. He had you. Quicking his motions against your delicate pearl, he could tell you were close too, and he was going to make sure you got there.

Suddenly, you're crying out and convulsing, tears brimming at the ends of your eyes as you feel Taehyung empty into you, collapsing onto his hands as well.

You feel his hot breath against the back of your neck as he pants, breath growing more and more even as the two of you regain control of your bodies and minds.

Pulling out of you, he plops down beside you, and for a moment, the two of you hold each other's gazes, eyes speaking in ways words never could.

Finally, after what feels both like an eternity and just a moment, you work up the courage to say something, moving closer to him as you place a hand on his chest, cushioning your chin as you rested on top of it.  

"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.

"I’m grateful, too."

"Huh?"

"I’m grateful for us, too."

Taehyung's gaze is soft, and it lingers on you for a second before the sides of his mouth curl up tenderly. He grins down at you, eyes drifting shut. You feel him squeeze you closer, pressing you against his skin. And then, you hear his breathing steady, see his lips part slightly. 

You lean into his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Thank you, Tae.”

Not unlike the many other mornings you have awoken in this bed, when you open your eyes as the morning sunlight streams through the windows, Taehyung is nowhere to be found. The sheets on his side of the bed are flipped aside, revealing that soft outline of his body from the night before left imprinted into the sheets, a dip in the mattress where he slept. You had fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other, tangled up like vines, but must have separated sometime during the night. Distantly, you register Taehyung’s voice outside, notice his phone missing from his bedside table. He must be on an early morning call. 

You check your phone for the time. Ten o’clock. 

A late morning call, then. 

Still basking in the afterglow of the night prior, you slowly inch your way out of bed, shivering as you pull the covers off you and scoot your legs around so they hang over the edge of the bed. You rub at your eyes until you faintly remember you did not take your makeup off last night, and when your hand comes away covered with black streaks and flecks of mascara, you wince to yourself. There goes five hundred dollars worth of a skincare routine. 

After washing yourself up and applying as many serums as you can to your skin, you wrap yourself up in one of his button-up shirts, the torso so wide that it drapes over you. The tips of your fingers peek out from the ends of the sleeves, and you cross your arms lightly over your chest as you make your way to the door, ready to entice your husband back to bed for round two. What? It’s Saturday. 

You peer around the door to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, facing away from you. He’s shirtless, and as his wife you have absolutely no problems ogling him, the toned curves of his back, the muscles in his arms. He’s always been a looker. You just finally have an excuse to look for yourself. 

You approach him quietly, not wanting to interrupt nor broadcast your sex life to anybody on the other side who may be listening. Already, the idea of crawling back in bed together sends goosebumps along your skin, makes you giddy with anticipation. You’re just about to tap him on the shoulder, lips curled upwards in suggestion, when he says—

“And my inheritance? That’s secured now, right? Because I said I would pretend to be in love with her in public—?”

And it is as if Medusa herself appeared in this room, turning you to stone as your heart thuds to the floor, a hollow, empty noise. 

You don’t hear the rest of Taehyung’s conversation. You don’t even hear the sound of your own heartbeat. This terrible, aching sound rings in your ears, silencing everything in its wake, drowning out even the sighs of your own breath. It is as if you have been frozen solid. As if you have been shot in the stomach. You stand there, feeling absolutely nothing, and all you can do is brace yourself for what is to come. Taehyung’s words were the knife but his next actions will be its removal, leaving in its wake an irreparable wound. 

He turns around, casual and cool, voice still hushed. As if you were still asleep. As if you hadn’t heard anything at all. But when he twists his body and sees you standing there, staring back up at him, lips parted in shock. 

“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever was on the other side of the line, looking more panicked by the second. He opens his mouth so he can explain himself, but you don’t need him to. You’ve heard everything already. 

“I should have known,” you say, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at once. “I should have known it was all an act.”

“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”

“What is there to tell me, Taehyung? What are you going to say? That you didn’t mean it? That you thought I wouldn’t find out? That last night was just a one-off?” You demand. The heat from your veins hasn’t left. Still, it simmers through your blood, burning you up from the inside out. “That you didn’t want to lie to me?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Taehyung says defensively, brows furrowed. “Just give me a chance to explain myself.”

“Explain yourself? How you pretended, every day and every night, just so you could get some more money in your bank account? So you could make sure you would get your father’s business when he died?”

Taehyung bites back easily. “Don’t act like you weren’t also faking it at some point. I know you were almost removed from your grandmother’s will.”

Your tongue is bitter at the mention of your grandmother. As if Taehyung ever even knew her. “My grandmother has nothing to do with this.”

“Really?” Taehyung challenges. “So you wanting to stay in her will was just a little bonus, right?”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “It’s different.”

“Different how?” Taehyung spits. “Because right now, to me, it looks pretty similar to what I’ve done.”

“My grandmother died months ago,” you remind him. Her will is no longer the question. It has been written, settled, and executed. There was no reason for you to continue playing along once she took her last breath. No reason—unless you wanted to. “Meanwhile you’ve been keeping your inheritance a secret from me this entire time.”

“We made a deal,” Taehyung says. “A deal that said we would both act happy and pretend to be in love because we both had things we needed to worry about. Family things. Money things. You were a part of this, just like I was. You pretended, too.”

“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 

You can’t take it anymore. All this anger, all this emptiness, it’s been bubbling up inside you ever since you heard those first words come out of his mouth. It spills out of you all at once, an eruption from your lips, your heart’s doors bursting open. You have held his hand tightly in your own. You have pressed your lips to his. You have laid yourself bare in front of him. What is there left to protect? What part of you has not already been stained by him, by his touch, by the feeling of his fingers against your skin?

The hallway is silent, but you can hear your cry echo down the corridor. Hear the way it bounces along the walls before fading away. 

“Maybe I stopped pretending,” you repeat, softer this time. You blink and already can feel the streaks along your skin, the tears falling from your eyes. “Did you ever think about that?”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Taehyung looks like he’s in disbelief. Like he cannot believe the words you are saying to him. 

Well, that makes two of you. 

“Can’t you see, Tae? Can’t you tell?” You ask, the nickname falling from your lips before you can even help it. You must remind yourself to change that, later. “I’m in love with you.”

They are words you have never said to someone before. Not even your old boyfriends. Words that you always knew you would reserve for someone special. Someone who would touch your heart and make it their own, someone who would leave imprints of their fingers against your chest. Someone who would brighten you up from the inside out, leave you bursting with light. 

Ironic, that Taehyung has become that someone. When he is the one person you never thought could. 

When he has proven, time and time again, that you two just cannot mix. Oil and water. Pastel and acrylic. Satin and silk. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you spit out quickly, before Taehyung has a chance to respond. “I know it doesn’t matter to you.”

“Y/N, yes it does,” Taehyung begins, desperate and pleading. “I know you heard what I said, but I swear, it stopped being an act for me, too. Things are different now, just like you said.”

“Don’t. Please.” You pull away as he reaches out towards you. Faintly, you remember that it is his shirt you are wearing. Remember that no matter what you do, he will always surround you. “Please, Tae.” You have nothing left. You can’t bear to look at him, but where else will you go? You cannot believe the things he’s said, the things he’s done, but where else would you go?

“I love you, too,” Taehyung says, and a part of you wants so badly to believe him. 

A part of you wants so badly to ingrain those words into your head, carve them into your heart, let him wrap his arms around you and promise that everything will be alright. But things are different now. Just like you said. You and Taehyung are not the same people you were six months ago. Or six weeks ago. Or even six minutes ago. You are helpless and he has proven that he does not care. 

“I have to go,” you say, looking away. You don’t think you could handle turning back to him again. “Please, Tae.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, and he reaches out once more but you are not there to meet him halfway. Were you ever?

“I know,” you whisper back.

You duck into your bedroom and pack a suitcase of everything you need. Being here is suffocating. Being with him is like setting yourself alight. 

Victoria has no questions when you show up at her door later that day, suitcase by your side and this ridiculous bottle of Merlot in your hands. You had picked it up on the way over. You sort of figured you might need it. 

“You don’t wanna talk about it, do you?” Victoria asks. 

“Tell me about your streaming service,” you hiccup in response.

Victoria is happy to oblige. She even tells you that she still hasn’t picked a CFO, and that the position would be open for you if you ever wished to take it. 

Funnily enough, what will become of you once your father retires and passes along the company is the furthest away from your thoughts. 

You remember being so worried about that. Being so worried that, once they married you off like every good daughter should be, you would be absorbed into your husband’s life, cut out of your family’s. Your father would choose a cousin, an uncle, or even a friend to take after the business, bestowing upon you a thoughtful inheritance but nothing more than that. All of those years of schooling, finance in college, your MBA soon after, would be wasted, just so you could hang on the arm of your husband for the rest of your life. 

It’s thoughtful of Victoria to think of you for the position. She knows just as well as anyone else that you would be an excellent fit. And if things were just a little bit different, you would be jumping at the offer. 

But your future career plans are on the backburner, along with the rest of your life. 

All you can really do, right now, at this very moment, is wait for things to change. As they always do. 

“Don’t you have an event tonight?” Victoria asks about three days into your stay. She’s given you her favorite (her words, not yours) guest bedroom and an enormous closet to match, despite you only coming over with a carry-on’s worth of clothes. 

You scoff to yourself. “Like I’d want to go to anything with him.”

“Have you even called your parents?” 

“No,” you say, not even caring about the repercussions. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll be ringing you soon. And when they do, maybe then you’ll finally work up the courage to tell them what really happened. Tell them that you can’t go back there. Not yet, at least. 

“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Victoria says as she hands you a bowl of vegetable soup, homemade from a couple of days ago. You nod to yourself, sniffling as you curl into the couch cushions and wish they would absorb you whole. 

There’s no need to ask her what she means by ‘this’. Everything. From your engagement to the marriage, from those tabloids to the deal, from your grandmother’s death to now. It has all been unfair. Life is unfair. And while you’ve always known that, it has been particularly cruel to you as of late. 

Still, when you wake up sometimes, you can still feel him tracing over your skin. Feel his lips hovering over yours, breath fanning out over your cheeks. You turn over and expect to see him lying there, on the right side of the bed, sheets mussed as they cover his figure. You wake up and for a brief moment, for that split, split second, there is peace. And happiness. And love. 

And then there is nothing. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”

Maybe he really does love you. Maybe things really did change. But you have always been a pragmatic person, always let your head guide you rather than your heart. The secret’s out. Taehyung had an inheritance he needed to secure. You were his path to doing so. Those things haven’t changed. No matter if his feelings did. 

“Hey, look at this,” Victoria says, brows furrowed as she holds out her phone in front of you, revealing a livestreamed interview from the event tonight. 

You peer over. 

It’s Taehyung. 

Of course it’s Taehyung. Who else would she be showing you?

He stands in a clean-cut gray coat, draping over his figure, black dress shirt and slacks underneath, belt wrapped neatly around his hips. He holds his hand up in a wave and smiles politely to the cameras, to the reporters, letting the flashes wash over him like waves in the ocean. 

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Someone calls. “Where’s your wife?”

Oh, God.

Taehyung grimaces a little, pursing his lips. “My wife won’t be joining me tonight.”

“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 

“Sorry, no more questions. Thank you for asking though. She’s well,” he says, quickly ushering himself along, entering the venue so no more reporters can bombard him. When he disappears, the livestream immediately moves on to the next guest, but you hardly pay them any attention. 

“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 

Indeed. Taehyung’s response strikes you as rather odd. Why would he tell the public that? Why not make up a lie, say you’re sick, or you’re overseas, or you’re just late? Why simply tell them that you won’t be there? Surely, Taehyung is just as aware of the consequences of arriving at an event without you as you are. There’s no doubt that his parents will be in contact with him soon, too. No doubt that this will leave a stain on his family. His image. It might even threaten his inheritance after all.

So why not lie?

You frown to yourself, nose scrunching up in confusion. You don’t like where this train of thought leads.

“You okay?” Victoria asks when she sees the bewildered expression on your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say. Just completely befuddled. It escapes you, why Taehyung wouldn’t just make up some sort of excuse as to reasoning behind your absence. Why he would even show up at the event at all. Certainly, going to the event without you is worse than not going at all. It prompts questions. It spreads rumors. 

Later that night, you get a call from your parents, demanding to know why you weren’t there with him. You say you got sick. You plead with them not to question anything. 

You wonder what happens next. You and Taehyung still have two more events this week. A dinner and a ball. What will you do then?

Taehyung goes solo for the dinner. You suppose you could have predicted that, considering his apparent willingness to arrive alone for the first event, too. He hasn’t made any efforts to contact you and for once, you’re glad for his silence. Not that you even know what he would say to you, anyway, but at least he isn’t begging you to come back to him. 

The sad truth is that if he did, if he got down on his knees right in front of you and willed you to come back home, you probably would. He has always been impossible to resist. Even when you first met him, when he sauntered up towards you and told you he was your dream come true. You didn’t know it then. But he was. He was everything you would ever want. 

Why would he lie? 

Why would he do that?

You can’t wrap your head around it. What is he getting out of it by telling the truth? By admitting to the paparazzi, to the reporters and the cameramen, that you won’t be there with him. That you will not be joining him. Nothing, certainly. His parents must be furious. His inheritance may be on the rocks. His image might tank. 

So then, why do it at all?

Could it… could it be?

Is it true?

You have loved Taehyung for a long time. Longer than you probably even care to admit. You have always held your head high at events, spoken loudly and without fear, but being with him made you feel safe. Secure. You would hold his hand and know, know that he was holding yours, too. It grounded you. It soothed your worries. 

Does he really love you back?

Taehyung smiles politely and laughs when he needs to at these events, but he doesn’t look the same. Even through the screen you can see those bags under his eyes, that spark that has faded. You hardly recognize him. He looks so lonely, without someone by his side. So distant. 

When you know the dinner has ended, you almost pick up the phone and call him. 

Almost. 

Instead, when the ball rolls around, you ask Victoria if she’s got a spare dress she can lend you.

 Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen covered in paint splotches, wearing old college hoodies, and fresh out of a restless night’s sleep, cleans up pretty well. For a married man, at least. 

You wonder what the past few days must have been like for him. If they have been as empty as your own. Wonder what it was like, riding alone in a big black van to this hotel ballroom, no one to tease, no one to laugh with, no one to hold. No one to poke him awake if he accidentally fell asleep. No one to make sure he’s okay. 

Taehyung stands right outside of the entrance, waving politely to all of the paparazzi, smiling as the cameras flash, giving them the time of day for a moment before he heads inside and muscles his way through another event without you. 

Or so he thinks. 

You spot him just as he opens his mouth, ready to repeat those same lines all over again.

My wife won’t be joining me tonight. She’s well, though.

And maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Maybe it’s just because he is about to lie to those reporters once more, ready to face whatever consequences come his way. 

Or maybe it’s just because you miss him. Miss him terribly, have been missing him terribly. Being away from him was necessary, but that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Not getting to hold his hand, see his smile, meet his eyes. You and Taehyung may not have always liked each other, but you saw him every day regardless. He became a constant in your life. Not an if, but a when. If everything went to shit, you always knew he would still be there. 

And there he is. 

“Wait! Taehyung!”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as he hears your voice, gaze darting around wildly, mouth parted in surprise. He looks around desperately, scanning the crowd, meeting the eyes of every single person in front of him until he finally looks to the left, sees you rushing up towards him, hiking up the skirt of your dress as your heels tap against the sidewalk. 

And when he spots you, sees you running up to him, his body relaxes, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he beams back at you, relieved and thankful and filled with joy, all at once. And you know, then. 

You know that everything will be okay. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you say sheepishly, cheeks burning as he looks at you, takes in every inch of you, breathes you in and lets you fill him up. 

Taehyung doesn’t respond. You reach out to hold his hand but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, presses you against his body as he presses his hands against your cheeks, palms burning as they meet your skin, and he kisses you. In front of all these people, he kisses you. 

And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 

It feels like lightning, like a thunderstorm, like the waves of the ocean are crashing against your heart. It feels like fire, like flames are licking at your veins, sending sparks through your blood. It feels like home. 

You and Taehyung ignore the shouts of reporters, the flashes of cameras, the honks of the cars on the other side of the road. When you part, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the tip of your nose meet his. And you smile. 

“Don’t be alone any longer, Mr. Kim,” you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear. 

“When I’m with you, I never am, Mrs. Kim,” he murmurs back. 

You wonder what those tabloids will be saying about you tomorrow. 

The rest of the night finds the two of you pretty much inseparable. You wrap yourself around his arm and for the first time in a long time, he presses his hand against the small of your back, keeping you close. Like he’d ever lose you again. 

One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny. 

But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now. 

The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along. 

“I missed this,” you say softly. 

“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”

“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn. 

“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”

“They always do,” you muse with a grin. 

“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”

“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin. 

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”

You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too. 

“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”

“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”

“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 

You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become. 

Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay. 

It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress. 

There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.

The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.

Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.

Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?

It makes it all worth it.

"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.

You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

Taehyung swallows.

"Do you?" You tease.

His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you. 

Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.

"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.

You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow. 

"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too. 

"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.

"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.

"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."

"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.

You giggle.

It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed. 

"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."

“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure. 

"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."

God, you love this man.

You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display. 

"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.

Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.

"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.

Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.

Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?

Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.

"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.

"Yes, please."

The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.

Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.

You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.

"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.

You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.

Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.

He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.

"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.

His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.

His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.

“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.

Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.

“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman

Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.

“Taehyung?”

You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.

Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.

“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.

You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love. 

“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.

He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.

Faintly, you realize. 

That was the first time you had ever told him that.

You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells. 

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.

Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.

It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.

You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.

Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.

You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 

Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.

Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.

“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 

“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 

Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”

“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”

“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”

“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 

“And you are mine,” you murmur.

As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 

“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 

He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”

And so it was. 

don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Jessalyn Gilsig, Big Shot

Actress Jessalyn Gilsig, who you may recognize from Glee, currently stars in Disney+’s Big Shot opposite John Stamos. Audiences will also know her from Nip/Tuck, Vikings, Scandal, Friday Night Lights, Heroes, Boston Public, and NYPD Blue, among others.

How are you? Seriously, how’re you doing?

I’m fine! Thank you for asking. I think I am like a lot of people—I move in and out of a place of deep gratitude and then worry and concern for the world. It’s a bit of a seesaw, but I think it’s the only way to be right now.

Which of the roles you’ve played over the years challenged and/or taught you the most, and why?

Gosh, they all teach me something. I do think Gina on Nip/Tuck challenged me to really advocate for my characters. When I first read the role, you could tell she was just a device, another conquest of the main characters. For some reason, that really woke something up inside me, and I was determined not to allow her to be written off so easily. She was only supposed to be in two episodes of the show and instead made it to the end of the series, or almost—until she was fucked off a building (can I say that?).

Can you show us a photo from the set of any show/film that you haven’t shared before and tell us the story behind it??

This is from Vikings, which we filmed in Ireland. The little girl in the photo is my daughter, who was an extra on the show that day, and it was so special to be able to share my world with her. We even ended up in a shot together, which I treasure. Living in Ireland with her while we filmed the show was one of the most special periods of my life. It was such a great adventure to be away from our normal life and exploring a new country, just the two of us. I still can’t believe we got to do that.

Do you have a routine or ritual to prepare yourself for a scene? Does it differ depending on the character and setting?

I have a few things I always do. I’m very visual, so I mark up my script a lot; I look for the beats and the progression of the scene. I often write the words “truth, love, open, listen” or something like that. And I am the kind of actor who does need to focus and think, “where am I coming from? Where am I going?” Some people I work with can be scrolling through Instagram, put down their phone, and dive right in, but I need a little more prep than that!

You’re putting together a basketball team, but no one on your team can be a professional athlete. Who’s on your team (players can be real or fictional)?

Wow. Ok. My friend Peggi. She played D1 for Georgetown and is the most competitive person I know, so she is definitely a starter. Then I just watched “Last Chance U,” and so Deshaun Highler is on my team. I think Frances McDormand would be up for a laugh so she can play. RBG because she wasn’t afraid of anything and also seemed like a lot of fun. And she can bring Kobe with her. Oof, now I’m sad. Ok, everyone can play. No cuts.

Can you teach us a Québécois saying or phrase that you use often?

“Bein zut alors,” pronounced BAH ZOOT ALOR. It’s basically a more polite way of saying “fuck.” It’s pretty useful and satisfying to say.

What’s a fact about the making of Big Shot that fans would be surprised to find out?

Probably that John Stamos is not a sports fan, and I am. It’s kind of funny how shocking that is to people. But it plays right into the show. It’s our stereotypes that keep us apart; never assume you know someone without giving them a chance.

What’re you overthinking right now?

Probably this interview! I am an over-thinker, I guess; I have a hard time shutting my brain down. Having a child was such a good remedy for that because I had to learn to be present and not worry about tomorrow or the next day. Children are so present for a good seven years of their lives, and they really call you out if you drift away. I liked being reminded to just be, get down on the floor, do a craft, and let go of time. Tomorrow will come whether you worry about it or not.

You painted and provided art for the film The Station Agent. Can you share a photo of a piece of art that you’ve made recently, and/or can you make a quick sketch of whatever/whoever is on your mind right now?

I haven’t painted in a long time. I thought I would during the pandemic, but instead, I doodled a lot. Here is a small sampling, and the pencil drawing is from a class I took which I really enjoyed. My dream is to really immerse myself in art classes someday. I have so much to learn. But it’s a great outlet for me, especially when I am on set and have so much downtime.

What would you do if you had to go back in time and relive high school with all the knowledge you have today?

Can you imagine if you knew then what you knew now? You’d be like, “ok, that’s a waste of time, you seem interesting, let’s hang out, who wants to buy a bitcoin?” But you can’t do that. It doesn’t work that way. What I love about life, and especially what I do for work, is I still get to play. I still get to be surprised and scared and learn and grow, It’s just now I don’t have a curfew, and I can eat cereal for dinner. Being a grown-up is just fine with me.

Thanks for taking the time, Gislig! Big Shot is now streaming on Disney+.

[mint-yooxgi]

Gilded Gold - Yandere!Vampire Prince!Jaehyun X Reader

Yandere AU, Vampire AU, & Prince AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Smut (Someone goes a little feral at the end there)

Pairing: Jaehyun X Reader

Words: 22,845

Warnings: Jaehyun is pretty sadistic and manipulative in this one, as such there is a lot of violence and gore mentioned. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: It’s finally here! Omg, after months (again) of nothing, I'm really happy with the length of this one and how it turned out. Certain scenes are really good in my opinion, so hopefully you enjoy reading them just as much as I enjoyed writing them. I’ve nearly had this idea planned out for almost a year, so I'm happy that I've finally finished writing it all out. Tbh, certain scenes are pretty self indulgent... Anyways, I do really hope you enjoy this one, please do let me know what you think! Feedback is always appreciated!

“Is everything prepped and ready for tomorrow?” He asks, expression stern as he looks towards his adviser. 

“Yes, my Prince,” with a nod from the adviser, a smirk begins to slowly spread itself across Jaehyun’s lips.

“Perfect,” a dark look takes over his features, smirk now fully formed as he thinks over his plan once more.

Tomorrow will change everything, and he can hardly wait. For too long he’s waited, watching in the shadows until this day would come. Until finally, he can have everything that he’s ever wanted. Tomorrow, he’ll finally have you.

From the first moment he saw you all those months ago, he knew he had to have you. The way you so willingly went out of your way to help your neighbours with their little market stand only confirmed to Jaehyun that you’re a kindhearted individual. However, if it weren’t for the way you cussed out an older man for attempting to hit on your younger sister, he would have assumed you to be too soft. That is what intrigued him: that you could look so innocent on the outside, but on the inside, contain a strong, level-head, is what drew him to you.

Since then, he’s been sneaking out of the castle at least five times a week to find you, and once he did, he couldn’t stop himself from simply observing you. He became another shadow in the night, and you were none the wiser as to the monster lurking just outside of your window.

The day he learnt that you had no potential suitors, he swears he had never been happier in all his long years of living. It took him a bit of persuading, but he eventually convinced his mother to let himself actively pursue you. She was a bit wary at first, having never met you, nor even having heard of you before. The fact that you’re a mere human, and a commoner, no less, concerned her greatly. However, he made sure to take care of everything before your arrival. After all, you’re his responsibility now, and he’ll make sure to take care of you in any and every way that he can. 

Soon, the whole kingdom will know that you are meant to be his, the Crown Prince’s very own betrothed. The announcement might turn some heads, considering everyone is aware of the vampire society, and how the creatures of the night reign over them, but he’s counting on the support from those whom support interspecies relationships. It will be a huge step in a positive direction for his family to bring a common human into their inner circle. Not that you would have a choice, whether you know it or not.

That night, he barely gets any rest, too excited for what is to come tomorrow. He has it all planned out, the outfit he’s going to wear, how he’s going to make a grand entrance when meeting you for the first time, as well as the first thing he’s going to say to you once he sees you. 

His eyes flash red. Fuck, he finally gets to see you in person with you actually aware of his presence this time. Oh, how he can hardly wait to see your reaction when you gaze upon him for the first time. A smirk slowly tugs at his lips as he envisions the scene in his head, your awestruck face, the wonder shining in your eyes, and the way you’ll bite your lip as you take him in with the realization that he’s all yours.

Tomorrow cannot come fast enough.

That next morning you are awoken by the sound of your mother answering the front door. Muffled voices reach your ears as you bury yourself deeper into the warmth of your comforter. The sound of your door creaking has your eyes flinging open as your mother storms into your room.

“Get up! There’s a royal advisor at our front door asking for you, personally,” she tears your blankets off of you before moving over to your dresser to pull out some of your nicest clothes. “Apparently he has a message from the Prince. For you.”

“For me?” Your head is reeling at the thought of a royal advisor visiting you with a personal message from the Prince himself. What would the Prince want with you? You have no idea.

“Yes, you,” your mother tuts at your confused look as you clamber out of bed. “Now hurry up and get dressed. Don’t keep him waiting.”

Without another word, your mother leaves your room, heading back downstairs so as not to keep the advisor alone for too long. She would have made your sister keep him company, but she had to go to work this morning.

Squinting at your now closed door, you shift your gaze over to the outfit she has so meticulously picked out for you to wear. The clothes are quite literally the nicest ones you own, and your frown deepens. What message could possibly warrant you wearing your nicest clothes?

Yawning, you rub at the sleep still in your eyes. Screw formalities, it’s just a message, it can’t be that serious. Forgoing the outfit, you quickly head to the bathroom to freshen up and at least make yourself look presentable. No matter what this message turns out to be, you’re going to hop right back into bed afterwards anyways, so you see no point in getting dressed.

Making your way downstairs, you hear soft chatter coming from the front room, and as soon as you enter you can feel your mother’s scrutinizing gaze on you for not changing. You briefly make eye contact with her before turning your attention to the unfamiliar man standing across from her. You can already tell from his proper stature and from the royal emblem hanging proudly on the left side of his uniform that he’s the advisor.

“Ah, good, you must be Miss (Y/n), it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he bows to you. “My name is Minho, and I come bearing a message from Prince Jaehyun himself.”

You bow back respectfully, nodding for him to continue as your mother smiles almost nervously from the side of the room.

“You are to be moved to the castle immediately,” he says as your eyes go wide. “You are to be betrothed to Prince Jaehyun effective immediately.”

“Excuse me?” Your jaw has dropped, disbelief clear on your face.

“You are to be moved-“

“No, no, I heard you,” you cut him off, “I meant, what the actual fuck?”

“(Y/n)!” Your mother scolds.

“What? You’re telling me that this completely unprompted visit is to tell me I am to become the prince’s fiancée without any say in the matter?” You ask, incredulously.

“I apologize, I should have been clearer,” Minho clears his throat. “You do get a choice, as it is the Prince’s intention to court you first. However, in doing so, it requires you to come stay at the palace for the time being.”

“I-“ your mouth gapes like a fish out of water, “do I have a choice in this?”

“Of course!” Minho immediately responds. “I understand this is very sudden, and probably very confusing, but the Prince promised to explain everything once you have arrived to the palace for the day. We really shouldn’t keep him waiting too long.”

“I-“ you’re about to object once more when your mother cuts you off.

“Go with him, sweetie,” you frown at the look she’s giving you. You don’t think you’ve ever heard her voice sound so tense, completely different to how she looked when she first entered your room not ten minutes ago. “He told me you would have to leave immediately, so I’ll send a few bags with your stuff later this week.”

“But mom-“

“No buts,” she smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and the Prince chose you, no less. Please be on your best behaviour.”

“Great, then it’s settled!” Minho smiles, beginning to exit the room in order to walk towards the front door. He places a hand at the small of your back and guides you along with him, with you too stunned to say much else. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he bows to your mother once at the door, “we’ll be in touch.”

With those words, he is leading you out of the front and to the car that awaits at the end of the driveway. By now, a few of your neighbours have stepped outside their homes to view what is going on, and you can see them whispering to themselves as you are ushered into the back seat. You only wish you got to say goodbye to your sister before you had to leave.

“Guess leaving is so urgent that I can’t change out of my pyjamas, huh?” You joke, a hint of seriousness to your tone as you cross your arms. 

Minho soon slides into the front seat beside the driver whom has been waiting in the car this whole time.

“I’m afraid not, Miss,” he replies, pulling out his phone. “We’re on a tight schedule today.”

You sigh, leaning your head on your hand as you look out of the window. You see more neighbours watching the car go down the road as you drive off, and you begin to wonder how you even got into this mess. Though you will admit, a part of you is intrigued. To catch the eye of the Prince, the Vampire Prince, no less, is causing your heart to race. 

You’ve seen a few photos of the Prince before in passing, and he does look very handsome, so a part of you is curious to see if that’s actually true. Another part of you feels excitement at the thought of being sought after by the prince himself. Maybe that’s why you’re not putting up more of a fuss at this matter. A sigh escapes your lips at the thought, and you begin to wonder what exactly is in store for you once you arrive at the castle.

About forty-five minutes later, you arrive at the palace. Your breath is quite literally stolen away as you gaze upon the fortress in awe, taking in the arches and crevices in the architecture, along with its massive size.

“If you think the outside is grand, just wait until you see the inside,” Minho chuckles, noting your gaze of wonderment.

His words manage to pull you out of your admiration of the palace and back to the steps in front of you which lead up to the front doors. Shaking your head slightly, you clear your thoughts. You’re sure you’ll have plenty of time to admire and explore the castle once you get settled inside.

“So, uh…“ you trail off, following Minho up the steps, not knowing what to ask first.

“I’ll be leading you to your personal chambers while you’re going to be staying here, then some servants will be coming to prepare you for lunch with the Prince,” Minho explains, and you nod along absentmindedly, still too distracted by the grand stonework of the building, of which is much more intricate on the inside. “I’m sure His Royal Highness would gladly take you on a tour of the premisses, given how intrigued you seem to be by the grounds already.”

At this you can feel your face heat up in slight embarrassment, “sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize, Miss,” Minho smiles at you assuringly. “It’s quite nice to see someone admiring the architecture once more.”

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head slightly in curiosity.

“Oh, it’s just been quite a while since we’ve had a new guest who’s admired the detailing as you are,” he says.

“Must not get many new guests then,” you mutter, but he still manages to hear you.

“No, not really,” he sighs, eyes soon going wide as he’s come to realize what he’s just said, clearing his throat in the next moment. “I mean, I’ve said enough already.”

You simply hum in response as he leads you through some side corridors and up another set of stairs. You can feel your legs burning at the amount of flights you’ve climbed, not used to the amount of steps yet. Once you reach the tops of the stairs, you find yourself resting your hands on your knees in order to catch you breath.

“One second,” you hold up a finger, indicating to Minho to stop and let you catch your breath.

“Alright, but we really mustn’t delay, Miss,” he says, worry flashing briefly in his eyes, but it passes so quickly that you do not see it.

After a few moments, you right yourself, taking a deep breath before nodding at him to continue. He nearly breathes a sigh of relief as he continues to lead you down the hallway you’re now in, checking his watch on the way and noticing he’ll make it just in time. It’s important for everything to go according to schedule today, or so the Prince has reminded him countless times, along with the other staff. Everything has to be perfect.

Leading you to a set of doors near the end of the hallway, Minho pushes them both open to reveal a large room full of everything you could possibly think of. You’re pretty sure this room is the size of your entire main floor of your house, complete with a four post king sized bed, privacy screen which looks like it leads to another part of the room, along with various shelves, desks, and cabinets spread throughout. To say you are awestruck would be an understatement.

You take your time wandering around the room, opening one of the side doors to find an adjacent bathroom built for the gods. A large tub rests on one side, along with a set of double sinks, a large mirror that takes up the entire wall, along with a huge shower which you believe also works as a sauna. You are hardly able to believe what you’re seeing, this is all so unbelievable. To think, your lifestyle quite literally has changed in the blink of an eye. 

Now, if only you could see what rests behind the privacy screen. You’ve avoided opening the doors so far due to the fact that you’re unsure what’s waiting for you on the other side. In the back of your mind, you hope it’s not another room. More particularly, that it’s not the Prince’s room.

The whole time that you spend exploring your new room, Jaehyun stands just off to the side beside the privacy screen where you cannot see him. A smirk is ever present on his face. He could smell your scent getting closer with every step you took down the hallway, only serving to make his dead heart race in his chest. He cannot help how his mouth salivates at the thought of you now only being one room away, nothing more than a thin set of doors standing between your bodies. He can hardly wait to meet you.

After a few more moments of you taking in your new room, you turn to look at Minho, “so, uh, am I allowed to see what’s behind those privacy doors,” you motion to them with your head, “or is that part off-limits?”

Your attempt at a joke earns a small chuckle from him, “actually, I believe the Prince should be joining us soon.”

“Is that the Prince’s room?” Your eyes widen as your suspicion is all but confirmed. You know you’re expected to become close with him, but you aren’t expecting to be literally sharing a room.

“Oh, no!” Minho is quick to answer, to which you breathe a small sigh of relief. “I believe His Highness went to inspect the second portion of your room earlier, before your arrival, in order to make sure everything is up to his standards.”

“Ah, I see,” you nod in understanding. “Glad to know he’s taking such precautions for me.”

Of course! He wants nothing but the best for you, after all. It’s what you deserve. Jaehyun’s smirk only grows, and he takes your words as his cue to finally make his presence known, and finally enter the room.

Ever so slowly, you notice a shadow forming behind the semi-transparent screen. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, racing at the prospect of finally being able to meet the Prince in person. Little do you know, that this is not the first time that the Prince will be seeing you.

Just like a scene from a movie, the doors part, Prince Jaehyun stepping through the threshold. His gaze lingers on the ground briefly before finally looking upwards to lock gazes with you. Your breath hitches, and you can feel your heart skipping a beat, all of which does not go unheard by Jaehyun, only serving to make him more smug during this time. Besides, the smirk resting on his features only adds to his charming good looks as he takes a confident step forwards, slowly making his way over to you.

The whole time, your eyes never leave his. Again, to say you’re stunned would be an understatement. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a finer looking specimen in your entire life, and from the looks of things, he can read your expression like an open book. 

For a brief moment, your gaze rakes over his entire body, and you have to stop yourself from inhaling sharply once more. He’s wearing the finest embroidered suit that you’ve ever seen in your life, the sharp gold thread contrasting with the black fabric. You know the suit must have cost a fortune, just from the design alone, not to mention the materials. The detailing of the floral design, combined with the surrounding leaves is stunning, but what catches your attention the most is the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt beneath the suit jacket. You can see the smooth skin of his chest on display, only serving to make you lick your lips in admiration, anticipation lingering in your chest. For what, you aren’t quite sure, but fuck, you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t think he was extremely attractive.

His chest swells with pride. He knew you would react like this, only confirming to him that you also find him as attractive as he finds you. Well, considering all the peasants you had to endure back in your hometown, he’s not surprised. As if any of them ever stood a chance with you. Well, not if he had anything to say about it.

So far, everything is going exactly how he has planned it to, and he couldn’t be more happier in this moment. Minho was on time and everything, though Jaehyun worried at one point that you were running behind schedule. He cannot let that happen, everything needs to run like clockwork in order for things to be perfect.

The one thing that he wishes more than anything that he could do right now would be to take you into his arms, but he knows that would be overstepping boundaries at the moment. The last thing he wants to do is scare you off on the first day. After all, since you’re going to be spending eternity together, he doesn’t want to push you away now.

You don’t mean to stare as you have been, but you cannot help it. With wide eyes and slightly parted lips, you continue to stand there, almost dumbfounded by the current events. By now, you are most certainly regretting not listening to your mother to change into your nicest clothes. Meeting the Prince while still in your pyjamas is making you feel a bit self-conscious. How embarrassing, to meet him while you’re still in your sleep clothes.

On the other hand, Jaehyun thinks that it’s so endearing that you’re still dressed in your pyjamas. Were you that excited to meet him that you couldn’t even wait to leave, meaning you forwent changing? How adorable.

“Miss (Y/n), may I formally introduce you to Prince-“

“Jung Jaehyun,” he cuts Minho off, taking your hand into his own in order to bring it to his lips and kiss the back of it tenderly. Oh, how soft your skin feels against his own. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Introducing yourself, your voice is a bit airy, still breathless due to everything that you’ve encountered so far. You’re especially impressed with the way he’s held himself, “the pleasure is all mine, Your Highness.”

“Please,” he smiles, running his thumb over the skin on the back of your hand before releasing his hold on you and returning his hands to his sides, “call me Jaehyun.”

You smile back politely, thoughts running through your head a mile a minute. All the while, your nerves begin to grow, and you begin to ponder why exactly it was you that he chose. You don’t necessarily think you’re anything special, but Jaehyun would beg to differ.

“Um, I was told that we were going to be dining soon?” You ask, shifting slightly from foot to foot as you attempt to break the small silence that has settled over the three of you. You figure Minho is probably avoiding saying anything right now out of respect for you and the Prince.

“Ah, yes,” Jaehyun nods once in confirmation. “That is, if you’re willing to join me for lunch. Of course, I’ll let you change first, unless you’d prefer to stay in those.”

At the motion of his head towards your choice in outfit, you can feel your cheeks heating up once more in embarrassment.

“Oh, uh…” you avoid his gaze for the first time today, and he can’t help but be reminded of how cute you are as you add quietly, “I don’t have anything else to wear.”

He simply quirks a brow in response, “has Minho not shown you your wardrobe yet?”

“No, I-“ you smile sheepishly, “I didn’t get a chance to pack any of my own clothes before I left. I mean, I didn’t even have a chance to change.”

He chuckles this time in response, “come with me, Princess.”

You cannot deny the way your heart positively flutters when he calls you that. A fact which only makes him smile subtly. You haven’t even known him for more than fifteen minutes and he already sets your heart racing. A fact which only serves to stroke his ego even further. This is going even better than anything he could have ever planned.

Leading you over to a side door that resides in the second half of your room, of which you notice is a lavish seating area complete with a chaise, he opens it. A grandiose closet is revealed to you, filled with the most lavish pieces of clothing you’ve ever seen in your entire life. Dresses, shirts, skirts, you name it, line the shelves. Rows upon rows of accessories cause your eyes to widen even further than they already have. You cannot help the surprised gasp that escapes your lips as you take it all in.

“Is this-“ you blink, attempting to wrap your head around everything as you try to get the words out, “is this-“

“It’s all for you, Princess,” Jaehyun smiles at your wide eyed expression.

“I-“ you turn to him, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you.

“Honestly, I’m torn,” you bite your lip nervously.

He simply quirks a brow at you to continue, despite the fact a frown wants to pull onto his features.

“I’m torn between ‘I can’t accept this’, and ‘thank you so much’,” you admit, and you hear him chuckle once more. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Minho tense.

“Always so humble,” he hums. “Don’t worry about it, it’s a gift.”

“I-“ you take a deep breath, “thank you.”

He smiles, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants, “just promise me that you’ll use it.”

You notice how he motions to the closet with his head, and you immediately nod, “of course.”

“Good,” he nods once. “Well, I’ll let you get ready. Maria and Greta should be arriving soon to prepare you for lunch.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, a soft knock sounds at your bedroom door, signifying the arrival of the two aforementioned women. He could hear them walking down the hallway and figured now would be as good a time as ever to take his leave, even if it will be momentarily.

“I’ll see you soon, Princess,” with those words, he walks out of your room. 

The two women whom have been patiently waiting in the hallway to come in now step inside as Minho steps out of the room following Jaehyun. You notice that they look somewhat nervous, approaching you carefully as if you’re someone to be cautious of. You send them a reassuring smile, introducing yourself shortly after.

“It’s nice to finally meet the woman the Prince has been talking non-stop about,” Maria admits, seeming to relax more now that you’ve talked to the two of them.

“Maria,” Greta hisses while elbowing her partner. Your brow furrows, it seems as if they’re not allowed to talk about that in front of you.

“He’s talked about me?” You question as they move you into the closet to pick out an outfit for the day.

“Oh yes,” Maria nods. “He’s been very… excited for you to come visit the palace.”

“I won’t warn you again,” Greta narrows her eyes at Maria disapprovingly.

“Am I not allowed to ask about it then?” You frown.

“Oh, you can ask any and all the questions you’d like,” Greta answers, pulling a simple gown down from the racks. “We’re just not supposed to talk about certain things.”

“Like the Prince?”

“Listen dearie,” Greta sighs. “If you knew what’s best for you, you’d run, and run far.”

Her words only serve to confuse you even more, especially at the nervous expression Maria now wears on her face.

“Is there something I should know?” You ask as they help you into the dress.

“Don’t listen to Greta, dear,” Maria pats your arm gently once the dress is secure. “The Prince is a wonderful gentleman, and from the looks of things, he’s completely smitten with you.”

“But he hardly even knows me,” you mumble as they start to work on your hair.

“He knows you better than you think,” Greta’s voice is barely above a whisper. In fact, it’s so faint, you don’t catch all of what she says.

“Pardon me?” You catch her gaze in the mirror they have you sitting in front of now.

“All the more reason for you to get to know him better,” she corrects herself with a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Maria manages to change the subject shortly after by asking you questions about yourself, and her telling you small stories about her life. The two of you are able to connect well quickly, and you know that if she continues to look after you while you’re here, you will have a friend in her. Greta, on the other hand, you’re not so sure about.

Not only does she continuously look at you with worry in her eyes, she scolds Maria any time she thinks Maria has overstepped any sort of boundary. The amount of times Maria has begun to tell you about the Prince, only for her to be cut off by Greta soon after is astounding. Hopefully you can get some answers from the Prince himself. After all, you are going to lunch together.

“There, all finished,” Maria smiles warmly at you as she helps you stand up.

“Thank you,” you smile back, smoothing out the front of your gown subconsciously.

“Come now,” Greta says, checking her watch, “or else we’ll be late.”

“Oh dear, we wouldn’t want that,” Maria suddenly looks worried. “We’ll lead you to the dining room. His Highness should already be waiting.”

“I guess I shouldn’t keep him waiting, then,” you joke as you three move to exit the room.

You fail to notice the brief glance the two of them share as Greta says, “no, you really shouldn’t.”

Without another word, you all make your way down the hallway, them leading you to where Jaehyun has instructed them to meet him. As he hears you approaching, a small smile tugs at his lips. He can’t wait to start his forever with you, and today is day one.

“Ready for lunch?” He asks, turning around just as you walk up to him.

You nod, humming your eagerness. You can’t wait to see what they decide to serve to eat, you are in a palace after all. Besides, the company is wonderful so far, and you really want to get to know him better.

Lunch with Jaehyun passes by far too quickly for either of your likings, and before you know it, you’re both finished. To say that you enjoy your time with him would be an understatement. Not only was the food delicious, but you also got to do what you wanted and get to know him better. One thing you know for sure, is that he has a beautiful smile, of which you hope to see more of. Plus, he’s got the cutest dimples you’ve ever seen.

After lunch, he gives you a tour of the castle, and once again, your breath is stolen from your lungs. The whole time you spend admiring the architecture, Jaehyun spends admiring you. His dead heart races in his chest every time he looks over to see that awestruck expression on your face. You’re so beautiful, and the fact that you’re admiring everything he shows you so far, along with how grateful you’ve been towards him, assures him that he’s made the best choice in choosing you as his fiancée.

Every so often, his hand will brush against your own as he walks with you through the castle. You cannot help the rush you feel each time he does this, his touch both innocent and teasing at the same time. Each brush only makes a subtle smirk pull at his own lips, knowing he already has such an effect on you.

All too soon, the afternoon comes to an end and he’s leading you back to your room for the evening. He’s told you that you’ll more than likely be meeting his mother tomorrow, so you should get as much rest as you can, considering how hectic the day has been for you.

“If you ever need me, I’m just down the hallway to your left,” he tells you, of which you find yourself nodding in response. “If an emergency ever arises, come and get me. No matter the time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, lips twitching upwards in a half smile. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he returns your smile. “I’ll always be here for you.”

By now, the two of you have stopped just outside of your bedroom door. You stare deeply into his eyes, and you can see the sincerity reflected in them. Your lips part slightly as you take a small step backwards as he continues to stare intensely at you, almost as if he’s in a daze.

Before you know it, he’s blinking as if to clear his head while clearing his throat, “well, I’ve got a few things to attend to before dinner. I’ll have someone bring you something to eat for then. In the meantime, feel free to do whatever you’d like, just let Maria know where you’ll be.”

“Sounds good,” you smile once more.

“See you later, Princess,” he grins, grabbing your hand in order to place a gentle kiss onto the back of it, successfully making your face warm. Without another word, he takes his leave. 

Watching his figure disappear down the hallway, you let out a blissful sigh. Lunch was enjoyable, and you can’t wait to see what else he has in store for you. Not only that, but you can’t wait to further explore the castle and find your favourite spots. Hopefully you can find a little nook to read some of the books from the massive library that caught your eye while you explored with Jaehyun.

Entering your room, you bite your lip. The only thing you’re particularly nervous about would be meeting his mother. Based off of what he’s told you about her so far, she can be very picky about mannerisms, and it can be difficult for anyone new to impress her. Maybe that’s what Minho meant by no one new has come to the palace for a long time. You just hope you can make a good impression, or at least good enough for her to at least tolerate you. After all, if you’re to marry her son, having her like you would be a huge success.

“You okay there?” Maria’s voice manages to pull you out of your own thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” you reply absentmindedly, walking further into the room as the door falls shut. Your brow furrows slightly as you notice Greta isn’t with her this time. “Where’s Greta?”

Maria stiffens ever so slightly, “she has this afternoon and evening off.”

“Ah, makes sense,” you nod, moving to sit on your bed.

“Is there anything I can get for you, Miss?” She asks politely.

“Not at the moment, thank you,” you shoot her a grateful smile. “I think I might just nap, I am a bit sleepy.”

“Alright, well, I’ll help you change,” 

“No need, I can do it myself,”

“No, please, I insist,” she’s already begun to move around your room and grabs a fresh set of clothes for you to change into. “After all, it’s what I’m here for.”

“Well, okay,” you sigh softly, allowing Maria to help you change.

Once done, the two of you just sit together in your room talking about anything and everything. She tells you that her family has always served the Jung’s for as long as she can remember, but she doesn’t mind it here. Apparently, the job pays really well, and they get ample time off.

Before you know it, there is a knock on your door and another servant is there holding a tray for you piled high with plates containing your evening meal. You thank them and move to take the tray from their hands, but they insist on putting it down for you. They set everything up for you on the table in your room before bowing respectively and leaving you to your own with Maria still patiently standing off to the side.

Sitting back down, your eyes rake over the food now resting in front of you. This is one of your favourite meals, but Jaehyun couldn’t possibly know that. Could he?

“The Prince made special preparations for you before you came,” Maria says, noticing your stare.

“This is my favourite dish,” you comment.

“I take it everything is to your liking, then?” She smiles.

“Of course, but I still don’t understand how he knows this is my favourite dish,” you say.

“If I’m not mistaken, I believe he was informed by your mother,”

“He’s talked with my mom?” Your eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“Oh, I mean, Minho was told by your mother, who in turn told Prince Jaehyun when he got back to the palace today,” Maria is quick to correct herself.

“Ah, I see,” you turn back to the food spread out in front of you. “Oh my! Where are my manners? Would you like anything?”

Maria almost looks caught off guard by your offer of sharing your food with her, “oh, no, thank you! I couldn’t.”

“Nonsense,” you shake your head, pushing one of the many side dishes over to her. “I don’t like eating alone, anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Her voice is hesitant, gnawing her bottom lip in worry.

“Of course,” you confirm. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

“Thank you, Miss,” she graciously accepts the dish, grabbing a set of utensils to join you in eating.

You simply smile at her in response, happy to be sharing your favourite meal with someone else. Her presence brings you comfort in this still unfamiliar place, of which you know will take some getting used to, despite the tour you took today. After all, you are alone, and far from home.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun paces in his study. He sent Minho to gather Greta for him just before you came to meet him downstairs for lunch that day. He overheard what she told you, and to say he was not impressed would be an understatement. Is she trying to make him look bad in front of you? No matter, he’ll dispose of the problem soon enough.

“Minho, I still don’t understand what’s going on-“ Greta’s voice gets caught in her throat once she is escorted inside the study to see Jaehyun now leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.

“Your Highness,” she bows respectively. “How may I be of service to you?”

“I have a favour to ask of you, Greta,” the way he says her name sends a shiver of fear running down her spine: full of venom and malice.

“Y-yes, sir, what is it?” Her blood is rushing through her. She’s heard of the Prince’s famous glare but never having been on the receiving end, there’s nothing that could have prepared her for the look of bloodlust in his eyes that came about so suddenly.

“I want you to run, Greta,” he pushes himself off the edge the desk, staring directly into her eyes, “and run far.”

A gasp escapes her lips. He heard.

“Well?” He hums, tauntingly, amusement shining in his eyes as he stares at her now trembling form. “What are you waiting for? That’s an order.”

With a shaky nod from her, she’s bustling out of the room and down the hallway. He can still hear the sound of her racing heart even after she makes it to the floor below him.

The malicious grin never leaves his lips as he begins to make his way out of his study. Currently, he is a predator stalking their prey. This’ll be fun, he hasn’t had to chase his prey in a while, and he cannot wait to tear into her throat. How dare she even suggest that you run from him. He would never hurt you. 

Anyone else, on the other hand? Fair game.

“Are you really sure this is necessary, my Prince?” Minho nervously watches Jaehyun as he passes through the doorway into the hall.

“Of course,” Jaehyun smiles, but it only serves to unnerve Minho as Jaehyun’s eyes flash red in the next moment. “She nearly lost me what is mine.”

In the blink of an eye, Jaehyun is gone from his sight, and Minho can only breathe a sigh of relief that he’s left unharmed this evening. Once Jaehyun sets his mind to something, there is no changing it. No one can stop him when he’s on a warpath, and Minho is just glad that he isn’t on the receiving end of one of the Prince’s violent episodes.

It takes Jaehyun mere seconds to catch up with Greta, who has been able to make it into the grand foyer before the main doors. He slams her against the wall, hearing a few of her bones fracture due to the impact. Her whimpers and pleas for her own life fall on deaf ears, even as more servants shuffle passed. They all know not to get involved, lest they want to suffer the same fate as Greta. Too many have learned that the hard way.

The last thing she sees is Jaehyun’s malicious smirk, fangs on full display as he tears into her throat. Once he’s sure she’s dead, he tosses her body aside, letting the blood spill over the floor. He spits the chunk of her neck he has in his mouth onto her body, a look of pure disgust on his face as he glares down at her corpse.

“Somebody clean this mess up,” he snarls out as he turns his back to her body. The others are frozen in fear, but his growl manages to have a few snapping immediately to their senses and rushing over to Greta’s dead body. “Now!”

He doesn’t stick around to see if they remove her or not, opting to head straight to his room for the evening. He wants to see you again, but he knows that it might be too soon. Besides, with his emotions heightened at the moment, he would potentially be putting you in danger. At least he’ll still be able to smell your scent, and hear whatever it is that you’re doing. That’s enough for him, for now.

A smile tugs at his lips as he faintly hears you conversing with Maria about something that happened to you during your childhood. He knew placing Maria with you as your personal assistant would be a good idea. Greta was his mother’s choice, and he had a feeling she was going to be nothing but a nuisance for him. Nothing is going to get in his way of winning your heart. Nothing. Everything has to go according to plan.

The following morning, he does a brief check of the front foyer to make sure everything has been cleaned properly, and that nothing remains of the events of that previous evening. The last thing he wants is for you to see something like that. Seeing that it’s been cleared of any evidence, he smiles, making his way back upstairs to finally greet you for the day.

To be quite honest, he is a little nervous himself for you to meet his mother. She didn’t exactly approve of him essentially stalking you, what he just calls taking a keen interest in making sure you’re doing alright. If Greta was any indication of how his mother will act, he knows she’ll probably devise a plan to take you away from him, or worse, make you afraid of him. After all, she knows exactly how her son can be.

Knocking gently on your door, he can hear your soft footfalls as you walk closer to him. He can’t wait to see you, and when you open the door to reveal yourself he most certainly is not disappointed with what he sees. How you look more beautiful every time he sees you is a mystery to him. One thing he knows for sure though, is that you’ve enchanted him since the moment he first laid eyes on you.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he smiles, noticing how you react positively to his words.

“Good morning,” you greet back politely, a small smile gracing your own features.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, noticing Maria has already remade your bed.

“Quite,” you nod, smile only widening as you look at him. “Did you?”

“I did indeed,” he hums in response, though he would have slept better if you were in his arms. “Are you ready for today?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you let out a nervous chuckle as you step into the hallway, closing the door gently behind you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be with you the whole time,” he assures you, extending his arm out for you to loop yours with his. “Let’s get going.”

“Yes, let’s,” you hum back, taking his arm as you begin to walk down the hallway. “Any advice for me before we meet you mother?”

“Just be your usual charming self, and I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he squeezes your arm slightly, causing you to look over to already see him smiling at you.

You say nothing but choose to nod in understanding. You just hope your usual charming self doesn’t do or say anything that might embarrass you.

The two of you make idle chat as you make your way to the throne room to meet his mother. He manages to make you laugh, loosening your tense shoulders slightly as you relax the more he’s able to distract you. The whole time, he observes you fondly, glad to know that he can ease your nerves slightly, even if you’ve only officially known each other for a day. If only he could help you to relax in any and every other way he knows how.

All too soon, you’ve arrived just outside the doors to the throne room. Minho already stands waiting outside the grand set of double doors for the two of you, announcing your arrival to the queen as the doors part for you to walk through. 

Your heart races in your chest, nerves momentarily returning as you’re faced with the task at hand. This is one of the most important moments in your mind, for if his mother doesn’t approve of you, you do not know what will happen. That being said, you want to make sure to make the best impression you can on his mother, no matter what happens.

Walking into the room, you see his mother already sitting on her throne, watching the two of you as you approach where she is seated. Her gaze is scrutinizing, though it seems as if she’s watching he son more closely than she’s watching you. A fact which confuses you slightly since you would have assumed she would be more interested in how you hold yourself around her son rather than how her son holds himself around you. However this may be, you’re only grateful for the momentary relief you feel as you finally stop just before her throne.

“Mother, I’d like to formally introduce you to the woman whom I’d like to become my betrothed,” Jaehyun introduces you, telling her your name shortly after.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty,” you say, bowing politely in introduction to the queen.

“Please, Your Majesty sounds so formal,” the queen waves her hand slightly in the air as if dismissing the remark before leaning forwards slightly in her throne, “call me Cathy.”

“Huh,” you muse, “like mother, like son.”

“Oh?” Cathy’s amusement is clear on her face as she looks from Jaehyun over to you.

“Yes,” you confirm. “It seems not liking titles runs in the family. Jaehyun’s also told me to call him by his name instead of his title.”

“Has he now?” Cathy leans back, eyeing her son suspiciously. That’s very unlike her son, as he only ever allows people to call him by his title, no matter who they may be. You must be important to him then, a fact which only causes her worry for you to grow. None of her son’s other playthings ever got to address him by his first name. “And has he been treating you alright so far?”

Jaehyun’s eyes narrow ever so subtly at his mother, for he knows what game she’s playing. Like hell she’ll catch him slipping up.

“He’s been nothing but a gentleman since I’ve arrived,” you respond, and if your words don’t fill his chest with pride, nothing else will. He can hardly wait for you to see what else he has in store for you.

“I see,” she hums, placing her hands gracefully in her lap.

“I’d also just like to thank you very much for your hospitality, and for letting me stay at the palace during this time,” you bow deeply once more. “Thank you.”

“Of course, sweetie,” she smiles. “Anything for the one my little Jaehyunnie has been so obsessed with lately.”

“Mother,” Jaehyun’s reaction is a warning to her, but to you it just sounds like a boy being embarrassed by his mom.

You giggle, and normally he would think it’s the sweetest sound, if not for the circumstances. “So I’ve heard.”

“Ah, I see,” Cathy grins. “He’s already told you all about how he-“

“Are you quite content, mother?” Jaehyun interrupts, eyes flashing his warning towards Cathy who only appears to be amused at his antics.

“Oh, indeed,” she smiles back, though you fail to register the malice hidden behind her lips. “I was only hoping to be joined by Miss (Y/n) here for some morning beverages. I’d love to get to know her better, if she’s alright with that, of course.”

Before Jaehyun can even respond, you’re already speaking, “I’d love that.”

“Excellent!” His mother stands, descending the stairs and coming to stand before you. Having her this close really makes you realize the amount of power and regality she possesses. She extends her hand out for you to take. “If you’d be so kind as to join me.”

“Of course! Thank you,” you take her hand, allowing her to lead you out of the throne room as your arm slips out of Jaehyun’s grasp. With one final glance back, you see Jaehyun already staring after you, an unreadable expression on his face.

Turning back around, you notice Cathy leading you towards the gardens. Once outside, you see a nice table already set up facing the fountain, some of the finest cups and plates already set on top. Letting go of your hand, she motions for you to sit with her, a servant already pouring what looks like a steaming cup of tea for each of you.

“Thank you,” you repeat your words from earlier once you’re seated, graciously accepting the cup that is handed to you.

“I’m so glad you could join me this morning for a little girl talk,” she smiles, tilting her own cup in your direction in a mock ‘cheers’ gesture, of which you mirror.

“It’s nice to be invited,” you reply, taking a sip of your drink.

“I want you to know that you can come to me for anything, dear,” she says, looking you directly in your eyes and you’re momentarily stunned by how sincere she looks. “Absolutely anything.”

“Oh my,” you blink a few times in surprise, “that’s awfully kind of you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” her gaze lessens in intensity, allowing for your shoulders to relax slightly, not that you had even been aware of tensing them. “I know how my son can be, so your safety and happiness is my number one priority.”

“Thank you,” is all you can say, and you’re starting to feel like a broken record, but you truly are grateful for her words. Though, you don’t quite know exactly what she means by her most recent ones. Jaehyun, to you, seems like a really nice, caring guy, so the knowing look she sends you when she says that only serves to confuse you. Besides, she seems a lot nicer than what Jaehyun had made her out to be, of which you find a bit strange. Perhaps she’s just putting up a nice front for your sake at the moment. Either way, you’ll make sure not to do anything that would warrant her to dislike you.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Cathy sips her tea, leaning back in her seat to get comfortable as she watches you.

The rest of the morning is spent with the queen, getting a feel for each other and learning all about the other. She listens intently to everything you have to say and she looks genuinely so intrigued by you. The more time you spend with her, the more you seem to relax around her. She’s nothing like how Jaehyun described, which only makes you believe that that’s his familial side talking. Perhaps they’re not as close as the media makes them out to be.

By the time lunch rolls around, you find yourself eating alongside the Queen in the dining room, Jaehyun nowhere to be seen. Noticing your curious gaze, she mentions that he has some diplomatic council meeting to attend to, but he’ll probably be joining you for dinner that evening. You simply nod in response, continuing on with your conversation with the Queen.

Another hour passes with you spending time with Cathy, and the both of you enjoy this so much that you plan to make your little girl talk a weekly thing. You end up leaving with a smile on your face, as if a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders as you head back to your room. Honestly, you cannot wait for next week to be able to spend more time with the Queen, as she’s nothing at all like you were expecting. It’ll be nice to have another person that you can consider a friend while you’re staying here.

Making it back to your room, you’re greeted by Maria who seems to have been patiently waiting for your return. She asks you how your day has been so far, and you tell her honestly that you had a lovely morning with the Queen. 

“I’m a little surprised though,” you admit.

“Why’s that?” She asks, brow furrowing in slight concern.

“Jaehyun told me that she was a hard woman to please,”

“Really?” Her voice comes out in mild disbelief. From what she knows of the Queen, she’s a lovely person through and through. The Prince on the other hand… though she would never tell you that. Not that she could without risk of losing her life and everything she holds dear.

“Still, I’m glad we made such a connection today,” you smile. “That’s good, right? Getting his mom to like me is a step in a positive direction.”

“Of course, Miss,” Maria returns your smile, though it seems a bit forced. She has to be extra careful around you now with how she acts and what she says, after all, by now, every servant in the castle has heard of what happened to Greta last night.

“By the way, how’s Greta doing? I haven’t seen her since yesterday,” you wonder aloud, almost missing the way Maria’s shoulders seem to tense at the inquiry.

“Oh, uh, about that,” Maria says, eyes shifting nervously around the room. She’s just grateful she’s facing away from you at the moment. “Greta took a vacation to go visit her family, so she won’t be back for a while.”

“Ah, I see,” you hum. “That’s nice, hopefully she has a lovely time with her family.”

If only you knew what kind of condition she was in when her body was sent back to her family. Maybe then you would have heeded her warnings.

“Yeah,” Maria replies, somewhat breathless. “Hopefully.”

The next few weeks pass by in a blur for you, each day bringing about a new adventure with Jaehyun. So far, he makes you very happy, and you’re beginning to settle into things at the castle. You especially look forward to the weekly girl talk dates with Cathy, of which she’s asked you to start calling her ‘mom’. Each time she does, you smile shyly and your heart warms, though when you told Jaehyun, he seemed quite shocked.

You’ve also discovered that some of the servants are humans and others are vampires, which was a bit of a surprise to you since you thought all of the servants were humans. At least most of the one’s you’ve encountered so far are. They’ve all been super nice to you, except for the odd one that either looks at you with pity or worry in their eyes. A few even go so far as to attempt to warn you against something, but Jaehyun always appears before they can finish whatever it is that they have to tell you. Whenever this happens, you can never understand the fear that seems to take hold of their body, eyes pleadingly looking towards Jaehyun. Oddly enough, you usually never encounter them again, only hearing brief mention of their names from passing servants.

Of course Jaehyun won’t tell you the amount of teeth he’s pulled, eyes he’s gouged out, or even tongues he’s cut off because of this. No, never. He always has to be the perfect prince in your eyes, keeping you blind to everything that might scare you away from him.

What really sets him off one day is when the two of you had just come back from riding your horses through the grounds. The stable hand, Shotaro, had given you a hand helping you off of your horse. Instead of Jaehyun being the one to help you, he was forced to watch as another male held your hand delicately and smiled at you softly.

Having had a few previous interactions with the vampiric stable hand, you thought nothing of this. A simple friendly gesture to you was near treason in Jaehyun’s eyes. Only he should be able to touch you like that. How else is he supposed to charm you and show you how much of a gentleman he can be towards you? How he can provide for you, even in the most basic of ways?

Luckily, Maria was waiting to lead you back to the castle in order for your weekly girl talk with the Queen. Using this opportunity as you’re walking away, Jaehyun rounds on Shotaro, already seeing the vampire visibly stiffen at the deathly gaze that is sent his way. In the blink of an eye, Jaehyun is in front of him, grasping the same hand Shotaro used to help you down from the horse.

“Scream, and I will end you,” Jaehyun seethes, not giving a second thought as he crushes Shotaro’s hand in his grip, hearing the bones snapping beneath the pressure. The tears he sees threatening to fall from this pest’s eyes only serve to widen the sadistic smile on Jaehyun’s face. “If you ever touch what’s mine again, your hand won’t be the only part of you I shatter. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes, my Prince,” Shotaro stutters out, fear pouring off of him from every angle.

“Now, you better go get that hand of yours fixed up,” Jaehyun tilts his head slightly, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “We wouldn’t want any bones to set and start healing in the wrong place, now would we?”

“N-no, my Prince,” he shakes his head, clutching his broken hand to his chest as soon as Jaehyun releases his grip.

“Good,” Jaehyun hums, a dark expression taking over his features. “Now, get out of my sight.”

Immediately, Shotaro flees the scene, fearing the Prince might inflict more of his wrath upon him. How you haven’t noticed Jaehyun’s eccentric behaviour yet is a mystery. Then again, he purposely keeps you blind to everything bad about his personality, only willing to show you the good parts. Those good parts which are only reserved for you.

Meanwhile, you have just been softly conversing with Maria as she walks with you back up to the castle from the stables. It’s then that you realize that you’ve been walking alone with her for the past two minutes, causing your brow to furrow slightly.

“Where’s Jaehyun?” You verbalize your thoughts, and just as you’re about to turn around to look for him, you feel his comforting hand on the small of your back.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I had to check up on something back at the stables,” his smile is dazzling and you can’t help but nod your head in understanding as you smile back at him.

Naturally, your arm slides around his, the two of you walking comfortably back into the castle with Maria at your heels. Soon enough, the two of you enter the throne room, a large smile breaking out onto your features as you greet the Queen. A smile which Jaehyun wants only for himself.

“Are you finally going to join us today, Jaehyunnie?” Cathy asks, standing from her seat and making her way towards the two of you.

“Oh, I’d love that,” you look towards him with a hopeful expression, eyes wide.

“Not today, unfortunately,” the look you’re giving him almost makes him change his mind immediately, the pout causing him to gently cup your cheek in his hand, running his thumb over your skin. “Maybe next time.”

“Alright,” you sigh, slightly disappointed. You love spending time with him, almost as much as he does with you. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he smiles, placing a gentle kiss onto your forehead as he reluctantly steps aways from you, only to see his mother observing him carefully. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Okay,” you respond, eyes following his figure as he turns and walks out of the room, gaze lingering ever so slightly on the doors even after they’ve closed behind him.

“Ready to go, dear?” Cathy’s voice manages to pull you out of your daze, you nodding in the next moment and following her out into the gardens for your weekly girl talk session.

The afternoon passes with the two of you conversing about how you’re liking staying at the palace so far. You tell her honestly that you’re having a wonderful time, and that everyone seems so nice, except for the odd few who seem to avoid you like the plague. She seemed to only hum in response at that, though you’re not quite sure why.

“How’s your family? Have you been writing to them like I suggested?” Cathy sips her drink, looking at you expectantly.

“Oh, I completely forgot,” you meant to send them a letter last week after she had suggested it, but you got caught up in the plans Jaehyun had made in the afternoon that you forgot all about it. Besides, he didn’t quite look too enthused when you mentioned writing to them, but that could just be your faulty memory. “I should write them today, I do miss them greatly.”

“Would you like to visit them?”

“I’d love to,” you smile softly, not believing it to be possible. “But-“

“Excellent! I’ll make arrangements for you to visit them tomorrow,” Cathy interjects, a chipper expression on her face.

“I don’t know how to thank you enough,” at this point you know not to question her decisions.

“Nonsense,” she places her hand gently on top of yours which has been resting on the table between the two of you. “It’s the least I can do. After all, with how much you talk about your family, I can tell they’re important to you.”

“They are,” you confirm, looking over to meet her fond gaze.

“You have a kind heart, (Y/n),” she hums, shifting her gaze to look out over the garden. “Guard it well.”

You can only smile in return, thoughts running wild as to you finally being able to go visit your mother and your sister since you first arrived at the palace two months ago. Finally, you’ll be able to catch up with them and tell them all about what’s been going on in your life. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can introduce Jaehyun to them as well.

That evening, after Jaehyun has bid you a goodnight, he storms into his mother’s chambers. Throwing the doors open, a loud bang reverberates throughout the room, a few passing servants looking on in fear. Sending a dangerous look their way, Jaehyun manages to scare them off before rounding on his mother.

“You promised to let her see her family tomorrow?” He seethes, voice booming as there’s no fear you may overhear. After all, your room is all the way on the opposite side of the castle.

“Oh, Jaehyunnie, what a pleasant surprise for you to drop by to finally come visit your dear mother,” she feigns interest, sparing him a side glance before going back to her nightly routine.

“Spare the small talk, mother,” he spits, brows furrowed in anger. “Why would you do something like this?”

“Are you that obsessed with isolating the poor girl?” Cathy hums, tilting her head questioningly at her son. “She needs to socialize with other people, she can’t just stay around you the whole time.”

“I’m the only one she needs,” his voice is low, a growl threatening to rise up his throat. “The only one she’ll ever need.”

“You do not own her,”

“I know,” he snaps. “I’ve worked too damn hard to let her go now.”

“You have a lot to realize before you should even think about calling her yours,” Cathy states, hearing her son let out the growl that he had been holding back this whole time. She only looks amused by his reaction. “You cannot control her.”

“Everything’s gone according to plan thus far,” he retorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Besides a few minor set backs which have been disposed of.”

“Ah, yes,” she muses. “I’d appreciate if you stopped mutilating my servants, let alone killing them.”

“It’s no less than they deserve,” he counters.

“And what does your beloved think about that side of you?”

A brief moment of silence settles around the room, speaking volumes in Cathy’s eyes, until he breaks it.

“She doesn’t know,” Jaehyun watches his mother move around her room carefully, eyes narrowed in distaste. “She never will."

“My child, there will come a day when her eyes are opened to see your true colours,” Cathy warns, pausing in her step to turn and look down upon Jaehyun with her nose upturned. 

“Is that a threat, mother?” His eyes hold a crazed look in them at the mere idea of you finding out the truth. Hell, even the thought of you being taken away from him sets his instincts into overdrive, causing his eyes to bleed red and another growl to escape his throat.

“It’s not a threat if I only speak the truth,” she replies calmly, only causing his anger to flare more than it already has. “Do not expect her to return with you after visiting her family tomorrow. I have been keeping in touch with them regarding this entire situation and they know the lengths you are willing to go to ensnare her. The lengths you have already gone. I don’t know what you told Minho to tell her mother that first day that has her so terrified of the consequences, but her sister, Lori, was it? She seems to have a level head on her shoulders.”

Jaehyun’s blood boils, eyes filling with fury as they remain red, “you’ve been doing what?”

“Warning them about you and devising a plan to free the lovely Miss (Y/n) from your clutches,” her brow quirks as she watches her son fume before her very eyes. 

“I’ll kill them if they so much as even try,” he hisses, chest heaving with every breath as he is thrown into this situation. He’s come this far, there’s no way he’s letting you go now.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Cathy’s voice is steady, firm in her command of the room. “Enough blood has already been spilt on your account.”

“Clearly, there hasn’t been enough,” Jaehyun growls, eye flashing once more at his mother.

Rising to her full height, the Queen does not take the underlying threat from her son lightly, “you dare threaten me? Let’s not forget who brought you into this world and who taught you all that you know. Be careful, boy, lest your ambitious lust go to your head.”

“I don’t care who you may be to me, mother,” he seethes, straightening his back and matching her ferocity with his own, “but if you so much as even attempt to take what’s mine away from me, I’ll kill you.”

Without another word between them, Jaehyun is storming out of his mother’s room, leaving her standing with a shocked expression on her face. Never, in all of her long years of putting up with his antics has she ever seen him look this serious, this deadly about something in her life. Her worry only grows for you as she thinks of what he may have in store for you in the future. Going forward, she’ll have to be extra cautious, preparing herself for whatever her son has planned to come.

The next morning, you wake up bright and early, excited to finally go visit your family again after being away from them for so long. You hardly got any sleep at all last night, considering how excited you are. Being able to catch them up to everything going on in your life will be like a dream come true, and besides, you never did get your clothes from your mom that she promised to send to the palace, and you really miss your favourite sweater.

“You’re awfully happy this morning,” Maria comments as she does your hair for the day.

“I am,” you agree. “I haven’t seen my family in months and I can’t wait to introduce them to Jaehyun.”

“That’ll be lovely!” Maria replies, though you catch her grimace in the mirror.

“What is it?” You question, eyes wide with concern.

“Nothing to worry yourself about,” she tells you, shrugging off your inquiries.

“Clearly it’s something,” you counter, to which she sighs.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the Prince will not be joining you right away this morning,” Maria admits, to which your expression drops slightly.

“Oh,”

“But don’t worry! He told me to tell you that he’d be along as soon as he can,” Maria continues, giving your shoulders a quick rub in encouragement. “He just has a few things to tend to first. You know, political duties and such.”

“I understand,” you nod, still visibly disappointed you won’t be arriving at the same time, nor travelling together this morning.

“Come on, dear, let’s get you changed,” she gives your shoulders one final pat before leading you to the closet to finish getting you ready for the day.

After a quick breakfast with the Queen, you’re being ushered into the back of a car to head back home for the day. The whole car ride over feels like an eternity, the scenery not being able to distract you one bit. 

Restless wouldn’t even begin to be able to describe you, your eyes flitting everywhere inside the car, then out the window, only to repeat the same process over and over again. Even your leg hasn’t stopped bouncing in anticipation, fingers toying with the edge of your shirt just to have something to do.

Eventually, after what feels like hours to you, you arrive in a familiar neighbourhood. Once the car is parked, you step out onto a familiar driveway, a smile gracing your features as you breathe in the fresh air. The driver has only been instructed to drop you off since Jaehyun will be by later, accompanied by Minho to take you back to the palace. Once he sees you’re safe, he’s starting the engine once more and pulling out of the driveway. This way you can have some privacy before the Prince arrives. Cathy made sure of that.

Making your way up your front porch, there’s a slight spring to your step, pushing open the front door in the next moment and calling out a cheerful ‘I’m home’! Oh, how good it feels, too.

“(Y/n)?” You hear your mother’s voice sound from the kitchen before her head is peeking out from the doorway, eyes wide with disbelief. “Is that you?”

“Hey, mom,” you greet, kicking off your shoes and running over to embrace her, her arms already spread open in anticipation.

“It’s so good to see you again, sweetie,” she says, hugging you even closer than before, almost as if she’s afraid you’ll disappear in a moment’s notice. “When the queen sent notice last night of you coming to visit this morning, I could hardly believe it.”

“More like you couldn’t believe it,” Lori’s voice sounds from the entranceway behind you, causing a large grin to spread on your face as you turn around to face your younger sister. “Where’s the Prince? I’m surprised you two aren’t joined at the hip.”

You roll you eyes at this, “it’s lovely to see you, too, Lori. I’ve missed you so much.”

She merely sticks her tongue out at you in response, coming over to squish you in a hug in the next second. “Yeah, yeah, I missed you, too.”

Despite her grumbling, you can tell she means what she says, if the tightness of her hug is anything to go by. You can tell she’s also missed teasing you, just as you’ve missed teasing her.

“If you must know,” you say, pulling away from Lori after a long hug. “Jaehyun will be coming by later, he’s just got a few things to attend to first. He sends his regards, though, for the time being.”

“Wow, first name basis with the Prince,” Lori whistles lowly. “That’s a shocker considering I’ve heard that he doesn’t let just anyone call him that.”

“Lori,” your mother shoots a warning look at your sister.

“What? It’s the truth,” she shrugs, only causing you to chuckle.

“Well, we are pretty close,”

“I’ll say,” Lori hums. “Speaking of, has he ever told you why he chose you, or how he even found out about you in the first place?”

“Lori, my word,” your mother shoots her another look, as if to tell her to quit while she’s ahead.

“Mom, it’s okay,” you chuckle, voice nothing but reassuring. “I always knew my little sister was concerned for me, no matter how badly she tries to hide it. As a matter of fact, yes. I have asked him before.”

“And?” She motions with her hand for you to continue.

“He told me that one day while he was out he saw me and overheard the conversation I was having with Jaemin - remember how we always banter back and forth?” Seeing her nod, you continue, “anyways, he apparently appreciated my wit and humour and decided to learn more about me. Well, here we are.”

The smile you send your mother and sister only serves to unnerve them slightly. They’ve been told not to tell you that Jaemin has gone missing since you’ve left for the palace.

“You believe him?” Lori gives you a ‘really’ look, brow quirked in disbelief.

“I have no reason not to,” you shrug.

By now, the two of you have sat down at the kitchen table, your mother busy with preparing lunch for all of you.

“You know how crazy that sounds, though, right?” She goes on to say. “After eavesdropping on your conversation he suddenly wants you to move to the palace so he can make you his wife? That’s very strange.”

“I mean, I was a little weirded out at first, but after he explained himself I felt better,” you say, leaning back slightly in your chair in order to relax. “I trust him.”

At your words, Lori only seems even more suspicious, your mother distracting you long enough for her to hide her concern.

“That’s nice, dear,” she smiles at you. “You must really like him, then.”

You hum in agreement, “I really do.”

“So,” your mother begins, sitting down to join you two at the table as the food heats up on the stove, “tell us everything.”

It takes you about an hour and a half to explain everything that’s happened to you since your arrival at the castle all those weeks ago. The whole while, your mother and sister listen patiently to what you have to say, chiming in here and there with little comments of their own. Your mother seems happy for you, but you can tell your sister isn’t all that convinced. Her comment about the Prince not being everything he seems to be certainly is enough to rub you the wrong way, putting a slight damper on your mood the longer you spend at home.

“All I’m just saying is that he seems too nice, from what you’re telling me,” her eyes hold the same suspicion you can hear clearly in her voice.

“He’s given me no reason to suspect otherwise,” you counter, a slight furrow to your brows.

“Yet he’s never once suggested visiting us, and when you do, he’s nowhere to be found,” Lori quirks a brow at you.

“It’s not his fault he has duties to attend to,” you defend him, upset that your sister doesn’t seem nearly as happy for you as you thought she’d be.

“Does he always have ‘duties’ to attend to when there’s something you want to do?” A knowing look is sent your way, as if she already knows how you’re going to answer. “If you’re always alone there, then why don’t you just come home? It sounds to me like you’d be better off that way, anyways.”

“No!” You immediately counter, crossing your arms in front of your chest, hurt that your own sister would even suggest something like this. “That’s not the case. He’s been nothing but caring and respectful towards me since I got there. I don’t expect him to wait on me hand and foot all the goddamn time. It’s nice having some space every once in a while, too.” You can tell you’ve momentarily stunned her with your answer as she looks at you, dumbfounded. Taking this opportunity, you continue, “if all you’re going to do is shit on my happiness, then I won’t bother to come home at all. I care about him and I know he cares about me, and all you’re doing is making your jealousy clear. I don’t want to move back home, I want to stay with him. I-“ you swallow, gathering your courage to utter your next words, “I’m in love with him.”

A soft gasp leaves your mother’s lips, “sweetie.”

“What?” You turn your attention to look at her, noticing how she’s already staring at you with an unreadable expression on her face, your sister sitting frozen in her spot at your admission.

“You love him,” comes your sister’s voice. Not a question, but a mere statement of facts, of which causes you to gape slightly before closing your mouth and steadying yourself. You let out a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“I do,” you confirm, staring both women down as they stare back at you. Your mother with a dumbfounded expression, your sister with a stern gaze that feels as if it’s boring into your soul.

A moment of silence passes over the three of you as they let your confession sink in, only interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” your mother sighs, heading towards the front door to see who it could be.

“He has you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he?” Lori sighs, causing whatever last thread of patience you had to snap at her remark.

Your snappy retort dies in your throat as soon as you hear a familiar masculine voice coming from the front door, Jaehyun politely introducing himself to your mother after being invited inside.

“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear,” Lori mutters, shaking her head.

In an instant, you’re standing, the scraping of your chair against the floor enough to cause Lori to look up at you in surprise at the sudden action. You say nothing as you head out of the kitchen and towards the front door, Lori following shortly afterwards with a frown prominent on her face.

To everyone’s surprise, you start to slip on your shoes. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Minho shoot you a worried look while your mother and sister share a glance. However, none look as concerned as Jaehyun does right now.

“Is everything alright?” He asks lowly, hand finding purchase on your lower back as you right yourself after fixing your one shoe.

“Fine,” you respond shortly, to the surprise of everyone in the room. “Thanks for lunch, mom. It was really nice seeing you again.”

You move over to give her a brief hug. It takes her a moment to return it, unsure of what exactly has transpired in the past minute to have you rushing out of the door so soon. You seemed so excited for them to meet the Prince earlier, so this only serves to increase her worry.

“Of course, dear,” she answers. “Is everything okay?”

You pull away, giving her a tight smile, “just a bad headache, is all.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to lie down for a bit? You just got here,” she frowns, worry evident on her features along with a hint of what looks like sadness.

“I’m sure,” you reply, sending her a weak smile in return. 

One thing you’ve always been horrible at is hiding your emotions. Anyone can read them clear as day on your face, especially right now. That’s one thing Jaehyun has learned about you during your stay at the palace, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t find out what happened. For now, he’ll simply go along with your wishes, playing the part of the concerned lover. Good thing, too, otherwise if a moment longer had passed, he probably would have torn Lori’s head from her shoulders for causing you such distress.

Even though he’s only just entered the house, he’s been outside far longer than any of you have suspected. Of course he overheard what the three of you had been talking about, and your family’s attitudes certainly rubbed him the wrong way. He knows his own mother definitely has something to do with the way Lori is acting. Thank fuck she won’t be a problem any more.

The only good thing his mind has latched onto at the moment is your loving confession. He has to remind himself to stay in control of his emotions for the time being, lest he want his plans to be ruined. After all, things are going far better than he could have ever hoped on this end.

“Okay, sweetie, if you’re sure,” even though she doesn’t look convinced, she doesn’t push the issue. “Come and visit again soon!”

“We will,” you give her another small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

Giving one final nod to your mother, you hardly even spare Lori a final glance as you bid her farewell, the both of them waving goodbye to you from the front porch. Once seated in the backseat of the car beside Jaehyun, you let out a sigh.

“Is everything okay, Princess?” His voice holds nothing but concern as he motions for Minho to raise the privacy screen.

You finally meet his gaze, and he curses whoever was the one to cause you pain, “honestly, not really.”

He shifts closer, placing a comforting hand on your knee, “did you want to talk about it?”

A few moments pass by in silence as you attempt to calm yourself down. Taking a deep breath, you meet his gaze once more.

“She called you a devil,” he inhales sharply at your words, feigning shock. “And I know how much you hate that word, let alone being called such a thing. I just couldn’t sit there and listen to any more of Lori’s bullshit slander of you.”

“I see,” he says, lips tugging downwards in a frown. On the inside though, he’s surprised that you even remembered him telling you that offhandedly one of the first times you went horseback riding together. It warms his heart that you would remember a detail like that of himself. Though, this only serves to confirm to him even further that you’re perfect for each other.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize for your family’s behaviour. “I just couldn’t stand how she was talking about you, or the fact that I felt like they were invalidating my feelings.”

“It’s not your fault,” he assures you, shifting so that his hand can now gently stroke your back as you lean forward to rest your elbows on your knees.

“I was looking forward to you meeting them, too,” you pout, disappointment clear in your voice. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s alright, Darling,” he sends you a reassuring smile. “If I’m being completely honest, I’m kind of glad we left early. I don’t think I would have had the heart to be proper company to your loved ones.”

This time, it’s your turn to look at him in concern, “is everything okay?”

“Not really,” he shoots you a weak smile, his facade cracking just as he had planned from the moment you decided to leave your house as soon as he had arrived. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” You cup his cheek tenderly, and he leans into your touch, briefly closing his eyes as he revels in the way your skin feels against his, though you take it as him seeking comfort for whatever it is he’s about to tell you.

“It’s my mother,” he pauses, swallowing a fake lump in his throat. “She’s been murdered.”

“Oh my god,” a gasp escapes your lips, a hand coming up to cover your mouth in shock.

“I was only just informed minutes before I arrived at your house,”

“Oh, Jaehyun,” your eyes hold nothing but sorrow as you embrace him, “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re doing an awful lot of apologizing today for things that aren’t your fault,” he comments, wrapping his arms securely around your waist as he pulls you closer into his chest.

“Still,” you whisper into his neck, “I’m sorry for your loss. Your mother was a wonderful person.”

A hum is all you receive in response, his grip tightening ever so subtly around you as he feels you start to shake slightly. He knew the two of you were close, but he wasn’t expecting you to shed actual tears when you learnt his mother had passed. Perhaps it’s the combination of emotions from your family mixed with this sudden news that has you curled up in his arms, seeking his comfort as much as you are comforting him. Either way, he’ll use this to his advantage, loving the feeling of having you pressed so close to him, clinging onto him like he’s the only one you’ll ever need.

Quietly, he shushes you, telling you that it’ll be alright. You’re quite surprised at how well he’s taking all of this, though you can tell he’s glad for the comfort you provide him during this time. However, what you fail to see is Jaehyun glancing briefly towards the window, eyes flashing as he catches his reflection in the glass. A look of smug content resides on his features as he continues to stroke your back in comforting circles.

You manage to fall asleep about halfway through the car ride back to the castle. Your head is resting on Jaehyun’s lap as he gently strokes his hand over your hair. A smile pulls at his lips when he hears you hum in content, shifting yourself closer to him in response.

Growing up the way he did, getting everything he ever wanted or could ever ask for, and hardly ever receiving punishments for his actions, he’s used to others shouting and crying about how unfair he can be. The amount of people he’s seen beg for their life with tears in their eyes has never made him blink one time. However, seeing you this upset, with tears in your eyes has made him promise himself to never see you cry again. You’re the only person in this universe he cannot stand to see in pain, and he will do anything and everything in his power to make sure that this never happens again. You deserve nothing but happiness, of which he knows only he can give you.

The news of the Queen’s death spreads throughout the nation like wildfire. Many demand answers as to how something like this could have happened, as well as who would do such a thing. Luckily, Jaehyun had prepared for this. A few servants, both human and vampire alike, that had tested his patience for far too long took the fall, information leaking that the murder was an inside job long planned out by said servants.

Jaehyun played his part well, condemning the criminals for their vile acts and taking his precious mother away from him, as well as the precious matriarch away from the citizens. The best part is that you were there the whole time comforting him and making sure he was okay. 

Those were some of the best days for him, being able to stay by your side nearly twenty-four seven, being able to hold you in his arms as you slept beside him. Fuck, he can never get enough of you: your soft skin beneath his fingertips, the way your body feels pressed against his own, the way you stood by him and offered him condolence when he needed it, and especially the way you smell. There were a few times he nearly went feral during the night due to your scent spiking with arousal. He could tell you were having some pretty nice dreams about him, for the one time you moaned his name in your sleep, nearly driving him insane.

He only wishes he had done this sooner, maybe then your sister wouldn’t be even more suspicious towards him. The letters from her only seemed to increase after his mother’s death, but he has no time for them, nor does he even want to entertain them. Maybe then he can finally have you all to himself without worrying about what your stupid brat of a younger sister might do to take you away from him. No matter, he’ll make sure to dispose of her soon, if she doesn’t stay in line.

Approximately two weeks after his mother’s funeral, Jaehyun takes you on a small picnic beneath the willow tree that overlooks the gardens. The place is secluded enough that you know you won’t be disturbed. After all, after the commotion of the past few weeks, it’s nice to just get away for a while, especially with just the two of you.

Currently, his head is resting in your lap, the two of you finally able to relax and enjoy each other’s company without interruptions. Glancing down, Jaehyun catches your gaze.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today yet?” He smiles softly up at you as he watches the evening sun kiss your skin.

“Hmm,” you pretend to ponder his question, gazing out over the gardens as you teasingly tap your chin. “I don’t think you have.”

“It’s a shame, then,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly. “All the stars in both heaven and on earth could never compare to your beauty.”

The way he looks at you, like you’re his entire world, sets your heart racing in your chest. You bite your lip, looking away bashfully.

Sitting up, he lets out a small chuckle at your reaction. How can you be so cute?

“Don’t hide that pretty face from me, Darling,” cupping your chin gently in his hand, he turns your head to face him, noticing how you avert your gaze slightly in embarrassment. Pride swells in his chest as he knows only he can get a reaction like this out of you. Only he can make you feel this way. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one for me.”

“Jae,” the whisper of his name from your lips sends a shiver down his spine.

“Getting to know you over these past few months has only confirmed my first thought I had of you,” he tells you, stroking his thumb slowly over your bottom lip as you watch him carefully.

“Oh?” Your gaze becomes hooded as you watch him, his own eyes focussed on the way his thumb is caressing your lip. “What might that be?”

“You’re perfect,” his voice is low, seductive, as he moves his hand to the back of your neck, thumb now stroking the nape.

“You must not have met many good people, then,” you lightly joke, the corner of your lip twitching upwards as your eyes flick to his lips, noticing how the space between the two of you grows ever smaller by the second.

“No,” he replies softly, “I haven’t.”

Your hand comes up to cup the side of his face, thumb rubbing his cheek tenderly as the two of you continue to stare into each other’s eyes. A moment of silence passes between the two of you before Jaehyun is breaking it.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,”

You barely have time to finish your words when his lips are on yours, the hand he has placed on the back of your neck pulling you in closer. His touch is soft, lips delicate over your own, as if you’re the finest piece of glass that needs to be handled with the utmost care. Your eyes flutter shut.

This tender moment is enough to steal your breath away, something that Jaehyun never fails to do when you’re alone with him. How you got him of all people to fall for you is still a wonder, of which everyday you’re thankful for. Ever since he’s come into your life, you’ve never been happier. Each day with him is another where he makes you feel special. He cherishes you, just as you have come to cherish him, but more than all of that, he makes you feel loved.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead on yours, the hand on the back of your neck holding you in place as your eyes open to see him already gazing at you fondly.

“Like I said,” he breathes. “Perfect.”

“I could say the same about you,” you hum, pecking his lips once more and causing him to smile.

He hums back, content with how this evening is going so far, and with one final lingering kiss to your lips, he pulls away from you, albeit a bit reluctantly. If he’s honest with himself, he’s a bit nervous. The question he’s been meaning to ask you this entire evening sits at the tip of his tongue, unwilling to actually be formed into the proper words.

“I love you,” this is not the first time he’s told you this, but it still sets your heart aflutter. Maybe this time will be the time you say it back.

“I know,” you hum, lips tugging upwards as your eyes reflect the same love and want shining in his own.

“Even though we haven’t know each other all that long, no one makes me feel the way that you do,” he begins, again, somewhat nervously. You take his one hand into yours, letting him know he can take all the time he needs to in order to form the words he wants to say to you. “You mean the world to me, and I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. I know it sounds ridiculous, but my life changed the day you stepped through those palace doors, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. You’ve changed my life for the better; you make me want to be a better man.”

“Jaehyun,” his name is but a whisper on your lips as he pulls out a ring from his pocket.

“Will you do me the honour of becoming mine?” He asks, gaze locking on yours as your hands come up to cover your mouth in shock. 

All you can do at the moment is nod your head, a large smile breaking out onto your face before it morphs into a slight smirk as he slides the ring on your finger. “Does this mean I get to call you mine?”

“You can call me whatever you’d like,” he grins, eyes hooded as he pulls you onto his lap to admire the ring now glinting on your finger. “My perfect bride.”

Your giggle is like music to his ears as he pulls you in for another kiss. This one is more heated, full of passion and longing with an undertone of a promise of what is still yet to come. 

Jaehyun could not be happier than he is in this moment with you. Everything has gone according to plan, and soon, he’ll get to call you his wife. Not that you would have had a choice in the matter, even if you had denied him. Now, you’re his, indefinitely, and nothing can change that. Now, he’s never letting you go.

As the sun begins to set in the distance, it’s your turn to rest your head on his thigh. He’s currently feeding you some red grapes, of which he’s been told are your favourite.

“What else we got?” You ask after a having a few more grapes.

“Hmm, let’s see,” he digs through the basket, pulling out and listing the different food options. “Why, do you not like the grapes?”

“I do, don’t get me wrong,” you smile reassuringly at him. “I’m just not the biggest fan of red grapes.”

“I thought they were your favourite,” Jaehyun replies, a small frown pulling at his features. Who was it again that told him that red grapes were your favourite? Ah, that’s right, Ben. If he had known they weren’t your favourite he would have never even dreamed of having them packed for you.

“Nah,” you scrunch your nose slightly while shaking your head. Jaehyun would think it’s cute were not for the situation he finds himself in. “Green grapes are where it’s at.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiles, though you don’t registered how it looks slightly forced.

Shooting him a smile back, the two of you turn your attention back to the sunset before you, making small comments here and there about the way the light reflects off of the surrounding areas. You feel completely at peace. Jaehyun on the other hand, is suffering from inner turmoil at this mistake. Something that is so small could have meant a world of difference to you, and the last thing he wants is to screw things up this far into your relationship. How is he supposed to be the perfect lover if he can’t even get your favourite foods correct?

The moment he bids you a goodnight and your door shuts behind him that evening, he’s speeding to the kitchen. The staff, whom had been finishing up for the day are startled by his sudden appearance. Immediately, they bow in respect, a few of the cook’s nerves spiking in fear that what they had prepared this evening did not please him.

“Where’s Ben?” His voice booms throughout the room, eyes deadly as they scan the area for the aforementioned man. 

“He’s just gone to dispose of the trash, Your Highness,” one of the cooks tells him.

“How fitting,” he muses, already thumbing the coin in his pocket which he had grabbed from the cellar on the way here.

The side door to the kitchen creaks slightly when it opens, a lanky man walking through in the next moment. Sensing the tension in the kitchen, he freezes, the door falling shut behind him. Noticing Jaehyun standing at the opposite end of the counter, he immediately bows.

“Your Highness,” 

“Red grapes, huh, Ben?” At Jaehyun’s words, Ben stiffens, already knowing something must have gone wrong for the Prince to be in the kitchen this late.

The rest of the staff share brief glances towards one another in confusion as they watch the scene before them play out. None are willing enough to move for fear of the Prince’s wrath.

“Do you know what this is?” Though his voice is calm, Jaehyun is far from it, only able to maintain his composure due to the fear radiating off of everyone in this room. He loves knowing the power he holds over each one of their insignificant little lives.

Ben eyes the coin now poised in Jaehyun’s hand warily, the metal glinting ever so slightly in the light of the kitchen.

“A coin, Your Highness,” Ben answers as Jaehyun looks at him expectantly, obviously wanting more than just that as his answer. “The ones which you use to pay us.”

“Very good,” he feigns amusement, eyes narrowing harshly in the next moment. “Now tell me, what’s the point in paying you when you provide me with the wrong information?”

Ben looks stunned momentarily, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.

“Red grapes, Ben,” Jaehyun tuts. “Red. Grapes.”

It seems as if something clicks in his mind, “oh, yes, (Y/n)’s fav-“

“You dare speak her name in my presence?” Jaehyun’s voice booms, a few of the younger staff now visibly shaking in fear at his outburst. “Do not taint my love’s name with your tongue.”

“My apologies-“

“Silence, you scum,” he hisses between clenched teeth. Jaehyun’s anger currently knows no bounds, only serving to worsen the longer he has to deal with this situation. Taking a breath, he seems to visibly calm down slightly before speaking once more. “Did you know, Ben, that she prefers green grapes over red ones?”

It is then that Ben realizes his mistake. The information he had gathered proving insufficient and false. He starts to shake, unsure of what is to become of him now.

“I’m sorry, my Prince, it will not happen again,”

“You’re right,” Jaehyun smirks. “It won’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an engagement party to plan,” he turns to leave the kitchen, tossing the coin he’s holding in his hand in the air once before catching it between his fingers. “Oh, and somebody clean this mess up.”

In the blink of an eye, Jaehyun has flung the coin through Ben’s head, a dull thunk being the only sound heard as his now lifeless body falls to the floor. The whole kitchen remains silent, no one daring to even move a single muscle until Jaehyun has turned the corner, nothing but the coin embedded in the wall serving as a reminder of his presence mere moments ago.

The following week passes by in a blur to you, the whole castle bustling from the news of your confirmed engagement to the Prince. Now, there is cause for celebration instead of remaining in the period of mourning that had plagued the nation previously. You only wish his mother was still here to see it all.

You’ve planned to host an engagement party this coming Friday evening, and you can hardly wait. The two of you have been discussing plans for the event, and you don’t think you’ve smiled brighter than you have been these past few days. Jaehyun has been with you every step of the way, sharing in your excitement at the date grows near.

All too soon, the night of the party arrives and you’re dressed in the finest materials you’ve ever worn. Quite a few diplomats and vampires from surrounding kingdoms are coming to wish you a congratulations on your engagement to the Prince, and to say you’re nervous would be an understatement. You just hope you don’t make a fool of yourself in front of so many important people.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, cannot wait to show you off. Finally, he gets to profess his love for you in front of so many others, finally letting everyone know that you’re his and his alone. If anyone so much as dares to take you away from him, he’s prepared to do whatever it takes to keep you and make sure you never leave his side. Nothing, in all of the world, could tear the two of you apart.

Luckily, the evening goes by without a hitch, passing by much quicker than either of you two expect. Though, you have to say, you’re glad. With the way he’s been looking at you all night, the end of the party could not have come sooner.

Making your way back to your room, you think back to the events of the evening. A smile tugs at your lips as you recall the way the two of you danced, the way he held you close in his arms and made you feel loved. You couldn’t ask for a better man to have come to sweep you off of your feet. You only hope that the night doesn’t end here, and from the dark look you still see swimming in his eyes, you have a feeling that it’s only just begun.

With the way Jaehyun has been looking at you this entire evening, you swear he wants to eat you whole. His eyes are dark, a smirk on his lips as he backs you into the wall of your room, hands finding purchase on your hips as he leans into your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed in bliss as he allows your scent to cloud his mind. A growl escapes him, finally allowing himself to indulge his fantasies, revelling in everything you. “All mine.”

You cannot deny the way your heart positively flutters at his words, and from the way his grip tightens, you can tell he is enjoying each and every one of your reactions. After weeks of tensions rising, interrupted moments and longing glances sent each other’s way, you know what you want, and you what you want, is him. Badly. 

“I hope you don’t mind, Princess,” his voice is low, nose ghosting over the skin of your neck until his lips come to rest right beside your ear, “but tonight,” he hisses as you pull him closer, “tonight, I’m going to make you mine.”

Bringing his lips to yours, he steals a kiss, loving the way you hum approvingly in response. He loves all the reactions you’re giving him, he thinks they’re so cute. The way your heart is racing in your chest, excitement rolling off of you in waves, sets his own dead heart racing. He can smell your arousal building, a fact which only makes his chest swell, a growl of approval building from deep within.

He could get lost in you. The feeling of your lips on his, your scent, your touch. Everything about you drives him wild, and tonight, he finally gets to show you exactly what you mean to him. He’ll treat you like the royalty you are; whom you are meant to be.

Breaking the kiss, he leans back slightly to rest his forehead on yours, staring deeply into your eyes. You can see the love he has for you shining in them, along with the lust and desire swirling within his irises.

“I’m addicted to you,” voice nothing but a whisper, he cups your cheeks in his hands, “I can never get enough.”

“Then don’t,” your soft reply has his eyes widening slightly. “Because I don’t think I could ever love another as much as I love you.”

He swears his dead heart has once again stopped beating in his chest as he lets your words sink in. You love him. You finally told him that you love him.

A smile breaks out onto his face as he claims your lips with his own. You love him, and that’s all he’s ever wanted. Everything he could have ever asked for has just been granted to him. You’ve fulfilled his every wish, and tonight, he’s going to finally make you his, in every meaning of the word. Tonight, you’re his Queen, and his alone.

“Fuck, you don’t know how happy you’ve just made me, hearing you say that,” he says against your lips, needing to feel every inch of your skin beneath him soon, or he might just go crazy. Your giggle is music to his ears as he litters your face with kisses, “I love you.” He hums contently. “My Queen.”

Your breath hitches as you hear him call you that for the first time. You cannot deny the way your stomach clenches at hearing him call you that, and from the slight upturn of his lips, you know he heard your reaction loud and clear.

Feeling a surge of confidence wash over you, you look into his eyes once more, smirk dancing across your own lips. 

“Then fulfill your promise and make me yours,” you purr. “My King.”

A shiver runs down his spine at your words, and he cannot help the snarl that escapes him, “with pleasure.”

In the blink of an eye, he has you pinned on the bed, hovering over top of you as he trails his lips over the skin of your neck. Pinning your hands at the side of your head by your wrists, he takes this opportunity to start sucking marks into your skin, biting down occasionally. Although he doesn’t let his fangs out yet, he makes sure to leave his marks. He wants everyone in the kingdom to know that you’re his, that he’s finally claimed you for all to see.

The sound of tearing fabric registers in your mind, and you glance down to see that Jaehyun has torn both your dress and his shirt from this evening from your bodies, eyes drinking in every curve of your figure beneath him. His hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples as they harden from his touch.

“Beautiful,” he hums.

Giving your chest a slight squeeze, he emphasizes his approval, only serving to make you become bashful. In the next moment, you attempt to cover yourself with your arms, but he’s quicker. Grabbing your wrists, he pins them beside your head once more.

“Ah-ah,” he tuts, a gleam to his eyes, “don’t you dare hide from me.”

Before you can say anything in response, his lips are on yours as he successfully steals your breath away for the nth time that night. Ever so slowly, he parts from you, trailing kisses down your neck and to your chest, where his hands have returned to cupping your breasts gently. 

A shiver runs down your spine once you feel him take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking lightly as his tongue flicks over the pert bud. His opposite hand works at the other, making sure neither goes untouched. Your satisfied hum is all he needs to hear to know you’re enjoying yourself so far. Smirking against your skin, he trails kisses from one breast to the other as he takes his time to make sure each gets the attention you deserve. By the time he’s done with you, you’ll be screaming his name in ecstasy all night long.

A hand in his hair catches his attention as you guide his head back up to yours, lips meeting in a heated kiss. He can never get enough of you: your taste, your touch, your everything, and he’ll take everything you’re willing to give him, and then some.

Slowly, he grinds himself into you, your legs parting naturally for him to fit between them. The gasp you let out when you feel his hard cock rubbing against your core is music to his ears.

“Feel that, baby?” He hums, nuzzling his nose against your neck and scenting you once more. “That’s all because of you. You have no idea what you do to me.”

The breathless whisper of his name you let out sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine. His one hand grips your thigh, pulling you against him as your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him in to kiss you again as he continues to grind himself into you.

Breaking away, he nips at the skin of your neck, trailing kisses down your body. The whole time, he mumbles against your skin about how he just needs to taste you, your panties being ripped off of your body not even a second later.

The full force of the scent of your arousal hits him as he settles between your legs, a pleased growl echoing from within his chest. He can already tell his eyes have bled red, your slight gasp confirming it when you meet his gaze.

Trailing kisses up your thighs, he notices how your chest rises and falls with each breath in anticipation. A smirk dances at his lips as he sees you close your eyes momentarily the closer to your entrance his mouth gets. 

Testing the waters, he licks a tentative strip up your core, watching your every reaction and drinking it in. Fuck, if you aren’t the best thing he’s ever tasted in his life, and he’s sure to let you know.

At his words, you cover your face in slight embarrassment, feeling every breath he makes hit your core and send little jolts throughout your entire body. From the chuckle you hear him let out, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“No, no, no, none of that,” he reaches up and pulls your arm down so you’re no longer covering your face. You meet his gaze once more, and your heart nearly stops at the carnal hunger you can see shining within them. “I want you to watch me as I devour you.”

A moan slips passed your lips as you watch him bring a hand up to spread your lower lips, tongue slowly dragging through your folds all the while he stares deeply into your eyes. Every sound you make, every reaction, is his tonight, and his alone.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, he sucks a few times before flicking the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue. He alternates between this and bringing his tongue down to circle your entrance before thrusting it in to collect your juices, massaging your inner walls at the same time. Like hell he’s going to let anything go to waste, not after he’s waited this long to finally have you all to himself.

Your hips start to move in time with his tongue, and he lets out a snarl as your hand comes to tangle in his hair, only serving to pull him closer into you. His tongue continues to work you up in every way he knows how, wanting you to know that only he can please you like this. Only he can make you feel this good.

His eyes never leave yours the whole time, even when he starts to pick up the pace. Every twitch of your inner walls lets him know he’s doing something right, taking the opportunity to slide a finger in using his free hand. Now, he focusses his tongue on your clit, licking and sucking as his finger massages your inner walls. The way you’re clenching around him only makes him that much more eager to finally be inside you after all this time.

By now, multiple curses and moans of his name have slipped past your lips, whines only serving to becoming louder as he adds a second finger. Each movement he makes is precise, and you can feel the pressure building with each moment that passes by. With each flick of his tongue, you swear it will be the push you need to fall over the edge, but he purposely slows his movements, wanting to keep you on the brink for as long as possible and prolong your pleasure. By the time he adds a third finger, you feel as if you’re just about ready to fall apart.

“That’s it, darling,” he coaxes, moving his fingers along your inner walls in time with each flick of his tongue, the pressure within you about to snap. “Let yourself go.”

His words are all you need to hear in order to feel yourself falling over the edge, your orgasm crashing into you as a scream of his name tears from your throat. A smirk on his lips is the first thing you see once your vision clears, chest heaving with each breath you take as he laps up every last drop of your essence with his tongue.

“Such a good girl for me,” he hums, removing his fingers in order to crawl up your body and place them at your lips. “Suck.”

Immediately, you part your lips, taking his fingers into your mouth and tasting yourself on them. A moan bubbles in your throat as your tongue swirls around his digits, echoed only by his own groan as he sees the blissful expression on your features.

Taking his fingers out of your mouth, he kisses you once more, pulling your body impossibly closer to his own. He needs to feel every inch of you pressed against him, not wanting to leave any part of your body unexplored this evening.

“Jaehyun,” his name falling from your lips is one of the best sounds he’s ever heard in his life, and he could never tire of it. “Please, I need you.”

Those words are all it takes for him to be ripping off his pants and lining himself up with your entrance. He can’t help but tease you a bit, dipping the head of his cock into your folds to collect your wetness before pulling back out again just to hear you whine. You’re so cute when you’re needy for him.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make you feel so good,” his voice is a low drawl that sounds right beside your ear.

Your arms are already wrapped around his torso, nails digging into the skin of his back as you feel the need to bring him closer. The next thing you hear is him let out a small chuckle, feeling him beginning to stretch you out in the next second as he begins to push into you.

Your mouth falls open in a soundless gasp as you feel him stretching you out. His own breath falters as he feels your walls pulsing around him, the soft warmth of your flesh feeling as if it were made for him. Considering the fact that you two fit perfectly together, he swears that’s the case.

He has to remind himself not to move before you’re okay, every instinct in his body screaming at him to ravish you as soon as he’s seated in you fully. However, he’s in no rush tonight, wanting to take his time in order to make the sweetest love to your body. Something only he can do.

As soon as he sees you nod, he’s resting his forehead against yours as he pulls out slightly and gives a shallow thrust to start. His movements are slow, precise, each movement of his hips a sensual grind to make you feel every inch of him buried within you.

“I fucking love you, you know that?” His voice is rough, strained as he attempts to control himself for the time being. This is your first time together, and he wants to make sure it’s special for the both of you, something neither of you will forget. 

You let out a gasp at a particularly sharp thrust, “I love you.”

This is all he could have ever wanted, and more, as he begins to pick up his pace. His lips meet yours once more in a searing kiss, all of his passion, love, lust, and want for you being conveyed wordlessly through every movement he makes.

When his lips aren’t on yours, they’re sucking marks into the skin of your neck, teeth nipping at the skin shortly after. As he increases his pace, his one hand comes up to grab yours, fingers intertwining as the other grips your waist, holding you to him as close as possible. The way your free hand drags down his back, nails biting into his skin lets him know he’s doing all the right things. Your legs wrapping around his waist only serve to pull him that much closer into you, a pleased rumble escaping his chest.

Shifting slightly, he adjusts the angle he’s hitting you at, hearing your sharp intake of breath as he hits a specific spot inside you.

“Fuck, my King, right there,” your voice is desperate as it comes out, eyes closing in bliss as your head is thrown back.

The snarl that tears from his throat is feral, your words snapping any last bits of sanity he had left in his body as his hips snap into yours. 

“That’s it, Darling,” he growls, eyes bleeding red once more as he takes in the beautiful expressions you’re making for him, “let your King take care of his Queen.”

The hitch in your breath at his own words causes a tightening in his abdomen, and he knows he’s getting close. He has to remind himself that you’re still only human as his grip tightens on your hand and waist, not wanting to hurt you, but needing you to feel just how desperate he is for you. Everything about you drives him insane, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t treat you like the Queen you are.

With each thrust, he can feel your walls twitching around him, signalling that you’re getting closer to your second release of the night. Bringing his one hand down from your waist, he uses his thumb to circle your clit, feeling your whole body shudder beneath him as you near the edge.

“Come on, my Queen,” his chest rumbles in content each time he says those words, voice dangerously low. “Come with me. Come for your King.”

The way his thumb flicks at your clit, combined with his words and the angle he’s hitting inside of you is enough to push you over the edge for the second time that night. Seeing you shake beneath him in ecstasy, combined with the sinful way you’re moaning his name has him following shortly after, a loud cry of your own name escaping his lips.

Lazily thrusting into you a few more times as you both come down from your highs, he makes sure you’re okay before pulling out of you. In the blink of an eye, he’s got a damp washcloth ready in his hand, wiping you down gently while whispering soft praises in your ear, telling you how good you are for him, and how much he loves you. You can only smile softly in return, finally able to catch your breath once he returns from disposing of the washcloth.

Crawling into the bed, he tucks you both under the covers, pulling you close into his chest in the next moment. His hand strokes over your back gently as he places a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers. “My Queen.”

“And I love you,” you hum. “My King.”

Silence settles over the two of you as you each take comfort in the other’s embrace. Eventually, sleep overtakes you, leaving Jaehyun to watch over your sleeping figure with a smile on his face.

“Always and forever,” he whispers, allowing his eyes to close and his whole body to relax as he succumbs to his own darkness.

Dawn comes and Jaehyun manages to wake before you do, appreciating the way the morning light cascades over your naked form, painting you in golden hues for him to adore. His eyes trail over your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he remembers the events of last night. Licking his lips, he inhales the scents of the morning deeply, positively growling at the way you’re now covered in his scent.

As it should be. As it will always be. From this point onwards, you’re his and he’s yours, and last night serves as a confirmation of that fact. Now, you’ve given yourselves to each other, and all that’s left to do is set the date for the wedding.

A few minutes pass by with Jaehyun simply admiring you. Very lightly he traces his hand over your back, loving the way you shiver underneath his fingertips, for it only makes him recall how you were trembling beneath him in bliss merely hours before. He could stay like this with you forever, but unfortunately, he needs to attend to some final arrangements for the royal announcement of your wedding ceremony.

Letting out a small sigh, disappointed he has to leave you for the time being, he slides out of bed. The glint of the ring on your left hand in the morning light catches his gaze, only causing a small smile to form at his lips. Last night could not have been more perfect.

Moving as silently as he can so as not to disturb you, he exits your room.

It takes him longer than he would have liked to get ready that morning, his movements feeling a bit sluggish the more he has to move around. It’s almost as if his senses have dulled slightly for the time being, for his hearing isn’t as sharp as it usually is, nor his sense of smell. Perhaps these are simply side effects of his mood, for he knows when he’s overcome with emotions he can never think straight, let alone react in an orderly manner.

Making his way through the castle, he finally enters the throne room, having requested to meet Minho there to discuss everything that still needs to be done for the upcoming ceremonies. However, what he isn’t expecting to see is another person standing with their arms crossed in front of their chest beside a very nervous looking Minho.

“What is the meaning of this?” Jaehyun’s voice practically booms across the room, demanding their attention.

“Your Highness, I’ve been attempting to escort Miss Lori out of the castle and back to her home, but she simply will not go until she speaks with her older sister,” Minho explains, words coming out rushed as he looks towards Jaehyun frantically.

“Is there anything I can help you with? Your sister is currently still resting in her chambers,” Jaehyun continues to play the nice card. He’s gotten this far despite not needing anyone’s approval, but that still doesn’t mean he won’t try for you.

“Cut the bullshit, you’re not fooling me,” Lori narrows her eyes at him, only causing Jaehyun to raise his brows amusedly.

“Is there a reason that you’ve come to talk with your sister then?” Jaehyun asks, already bored with this conversation, yet still feigning interest and concern. Again, he’d do anything for you, even if it means something as trivial as this.

“I’ve come to collect my sister and take her back home,” Lori answers. “Away from you.”

Jaehyun’s expression falls, immediately darkening at the threat apparent in her voice, “I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in here.”

“No, I don’t think you understand your situation,” Lori counters, causing Minho to send her a look filled with nothing but distress. “I’ve seen through your little ‘nice guy’ act long ago thanks to your mother, and I’ve finally come to save my sister from whatever you plan to do to her. She’ll listen to me this time, she always has. I’m taking my sister back home with me, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

The confidence in which she says those words irritate Jaehyun to no end. Though, he supposes he finds this situation rather ironic, causing him to let out a few laughs in disbelief. How dare Lori threaten him of all people. Like she could ever do anything to tear the two of you apart now, considering what occurred last night. After all, the two of you are to be bonded for life.

“You came all this way to threaten me? Me, of all people?” He chuckles maliciously, shaking his head in disbelief. “You think I’m just going to let you waltz in here and steal what rightfully belongs to me? That I’d even let you near what’s mine?”

“Your threats don’t scare me, I know you won’t do anything to me,” Lori raises her chin in the air in defiance, a smug look resting on her face. Clearly the letters his mother had sent her are still giving her a false confidence on this matter.

In a flash, he’s in front of her, holding her in the air by her neck. The hold his hand has around her throat is firm enough for it to be a threat, but not hard enough to completely block her airway just yet. “You underestimate the lengths I am willing to go to keep what is mine. I’ve spent too long planning everything out and making sure things run smoothly in order for things to get where they are now. I’m not giving my love up so easily.”

“Then, obviously you wouldn’t harm her own sister!” She manages to choke out, gaze darting off to his right as if something, or someone has caught her eye. His grip only serves to tighten ever so slightly as his eyes flash red.

“Wouldn’t I?” He hums, tilting his head in false sympathy. “I mean, considering I disposed of my own mother who got in the way, what’s a measly little human girl compared to that?”

Minho can do nothing but watch as this event unfolds before his very eyes, taking a few steps back in order to give the Prince space to do what he has to. His own heart is pounding in his chest out of fear, so he can only imagine how Lori feels in this very moment.

“It’d be so easy for me to cover up your death, so don’t flatter yourself,” Jaehyun seethes, eyes crazed as he stares into hers. “I’ve done everything I can to rid myself of nuisances in my way. So, what’s one more?”

Shifting his predatory gaze, he locks eyes with Minho, waiting for the advisor to speak and confirm his words.

“Yes, Your highness, you’re correct,” Minho swallows nervously, he’s never seen Jaehyun like this before. The intense insanity in his eyes nearly has Minho stumbling over his own feet despite standing perfectly still. He knows something must have happened last night after the engagement party, otherwise there’s no way he would be looking like that right now.

“You’re nothing,” he hisses. “A measly little human whose life will end at the flick of my wrist, worth no more that the servants I’ve killed beneath my feet. Poor Greta, only wanted to warn the love of my life about me, and look what that got her,” he feigns a pout, “only her throat ripped out.”

Lori gasps, remembering how you mentioned to her that one of the servants you met on one of your first days here seemed to have suddenly disappeared, never to be seen again.

“Not to mention the countless other lives I’ve taken for even looking at my love the wrong way. Or maybe, perhaps I should say poor Ben, who only got his skull run through for providing the wrong information about my love’s favourite foods,” Jaehyun tuts, shaking his head. “Bastard could have ruined everything. Just as you are trying to do.”

Lori can feel the breath being squeezed out of her lungs as Jaehyun slowly crushes her airway. She attempts to claw at the hands around her neck to no avail, legs kicking out uselessly beneath her. 

“Don’t you ever think for one second I’d let you take away what I’ve worked so hard to achieve,” he spits, venom dripping from every syllable as he crushes her throat, bringing his other hand up and tearing her head off in the next moment in his anger. “Worthless scum.”

Lori’s head hits the floor with a loud thump, her blood pooling around her now discarded body as lifeless eyes stare up at Jaehyun in fear. He shakes his head in disgust, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe off the blood that had managed to get on his hands. 

“Clean this up,” he orders, turning to Minho to see him nod once in understanding.

Closing his eyes, he shakes his head. So much for his pleasant morning. 

Turning around, Jaehyun sighs, eyes still closed. His face is still contorted into an expression of annoyance, brow furrowed as he takes a deep breath. He can feel his whole body tense as he recognizes a familiar faint scent in the air.

Slowly, he opens his eyes, realizing in horror that you stand in the open doorway of the throne room. Your hands are both raised over your mouth, as if to cover a silent scream as tears stream down your face. He can feel his dead heart falter in his chest as he watches you. The fear you look at him with is something he never ever wanted to see from you, especially directed towards himself.

A few moments pass by with the two of you just silently observing the other. Jaehyun hates how it’s only now that he can seemingly hear the loudness of your racing heart, your scent becoming stronger the more time you spend staring at one another. All that he had worked so hard to create, everything he’s done to impress you, to woo you and make you fall in love with him, is now ruined. It’s only all confirmed when he sees you turn and attempt to run away from him.

In an instant, he’s run to you, caging you in his arms and holding you tightly. Your screams and protests are falling on deaf ears as he holds you to his chest. His attempts to quietly shush you and calm you down are not working, with you only seeming to struggle harder against him, spouting insults and curses at him. 

“Sweetheart, please,” he sighs, “I need you to calm down.”

“Calm down?” You’re hysterical at this point. “Calm down? You just murdered my little sister in front of my very eyes and you have the audacity to tell me to calm down?”

“I did it for us,” he replies calmly, voice sounding completely opposite to how he really feels inside at the moment. “She would have only gotten in the way.”

He’s not entirely sure how you managed to sneak up on him, but he assumes that he didn’t hear you due to his dull senses this morning. The fact that you’re covered in his scent is probably why he didn’t smell you right away, too. Either way, he’ll do his best to steer the conversation in a direction which suits him, considering he doesn’t exactly know how long you had been standing there for. However, your next words only serve to confirm just how long you had.

“And I suppose your mother, Greta, Ben, and who knows who else were all collateral, too?” You retort, anger and disgust shining in your eyes which only causes his grip to tighten ever so slightly around you.

“Yes,” he answers, but he isn’t stupid enough to believe you’ll willingly accept his reasonings. “They were. I don’t expect you to understand why I’ve done what I have yet, but if you think I’m ever going to let you go, you’re mistaken. And before you say you hate me, I just want you to think back on everything I’ve ever done for you since you’ve been here. I want you to remember all the moments we’ve shared together, especially the good ones. Especially last night,” a shiver runs down your spine as he whispers those words lowly in your ear before trailing his lips down your neck, pressing them against the same spot he did the previous evening. Your struggling lessens as he continues, “I’d never do anything to harm you, I think my actions towards you have shown that. I never wanted you to be scared of me. Why do you think I never showed you this side of me yet?”

“You really are a devil,” you spit, finally giving up your attempts to escape his hold for you know that it’s futile at this point. You’ve long been trapped in his clutches, you just only wish you’d realized it sooner.

“A devil who loves you,” he hums, nuzzling his face deeper into your neck and breathing in your combined scents. A shiver goes down his spine. At least now he doesn’t have to worry about hiding this side of himself from you any longer. Plus, you now know what he’s capable of; what he’s willing to do for you. What he’s always been willing to do for you. “I always get what I want, so don’t even think about leaving me. You sealed your fate the moment you agreed to become mine.”

“I hate you,”

He simply chuckles, “that’s not what you were saying last night.”

“Yeah, well, things change,” you reply, refusing to so much as look in his direction as he holds you from behind.

“That they do,” he hums once more, clearly amused by your stubbornness. In the next moment, his eyes are going dark, expression deadly serious as he turns you around to stare deeply into your eyes. A shiver goes down your spine. “One thing that hasn’t changed though, is the fact that whether you like it or not, you can never escape me. I love you, and I will always love you, so you better get used to that. After all, a King should never be without his Queen.”

[sortasirius]

“Unity” and the Broken Boys

BOY Y’ALL BETTER SIT DOWN BECAUSE THIS IS AS LONG AS CAN BE AND I TOOK OFF WORK TOMORROW SO I’VE GOT TIME

This is....one of the best episodes in the show.  Yeah, in all 325 of them, this is hands down one of the best.

First of all, stan Amara for clear skin.

That silent treatment babey, right out the gate with the Angst.  Tbh Dean deserves it.

“Like I said, killing Amara, Jack dying...that’s the only way.”

“The only way.  Our one shot.  Our Last chance.  You ever get tired of saying stuff like that?”

“We don’t have to like it, alright?  But you and me, we gotta get it done.”

Amara is such a welcome energy in this whole episode.  She’s warm and understanding, whip-smart and probably more powerful than Chuck.  I love her.

Sam is a wonderful, understanding, loving dad.  I love him eternally.  He loves Jack so much, he’s trying so desperately to do what’s right for Jack but also what’s right for the world.  Jack made this choice, but he can’t live with it.  How do you support your child when their life is at stake?

“Come on man.  Blindly following orders, lying to Amara, sending her to her death. Does any of this feel right to you??”

“It doesn’t matter how we feel!  You know what?  Stay.  Stay.  Someone has to be the grown up here.”

“Yeah well someone has to keep fighting for Jack!”

“He knows what he signed up for!”

“Last I checked, we don’t give up on family.”

“Jack’s not family.”

Y’all should have heard the noise I made.  What a fucking line.

“I know how you feel about the kid, I care for him too, I do, but he’s not like you.  He’s not like Cas.  He’s just not.”

“I’m- I’m ready.”

You can see the regret, the heartbreak in Dean’s eyes.  You can see how he wants to take those words back the moment he said them, and for Jack to hear them?  It’s unthinkable.

Sam and Cas I’m just so fucking emo dude.

“Sam, you stayed behind to find another way huh?  I woulda done the same.”

AMARA

First of all, LOVE this structure.

Amara and Chuck have such a fascinating dynamic.  Rob and Emily do a great job (as they have all along) by clearly being siblings but...heightened.  You can just tell they both exude power, and the other is the only one they consider an equal.

“You and Dean had that whole weird...thing.”

“That wasn’t you writing?”

“Ugh, not that part.  Gross.”

What I took away from this is what I’ve suspected all along.  They HAVE free will, just not total free will.  Dean and Amara’s connection wasn’t Chuck, there are parts of the story he didn’t write.  Obviously, this comes into play later. 

I also have a hunch that Chuck doesn’t write romance.  I also think that in particular will come into play.

“Balance.  Something we’ve never tried before.  Creation and destruction, light and dark, brother and sister united again, but on behalf of one world, this world.  True balance.  The way it was always meant to be.  But you can’t.  You only care about your pleasure, your story.  Well, I guess that makes you the villain.”

“Villains get all the best lines.”

We see again and again this season, Chuck is irredeemable.  He doesn’t care about the angels, he doesn’t care about the world, he doesn’t care about anything.  He is a petulant toddler who has broken his toys. And when he realizes he’s trapped, he gets angry, he shouts and screams, completely at odds with Amara’s peace.

“You can’t hold me here forever.”

“I can hold you long enough.”

DEAN

Pain is the name of the game in this section homies.  Because not only are we dealing with Dean’s pain, we’re also dealing with Jack’s.  Jack says he understands why Cas and Sam mean more to Dean, but Dean clearly doesn’t, he, once again, wants to say more, but is stopped, still stopped by his fear: his fear of not beating Chuck.

Alright guys, gals, and non-binary pals.  Let’s talk about Adam and Seraphina.

Adam.  The first man.  And Seraphina.  The angel.

“My old lady.  She’s the only one who could put up with me all these years.”

Yeah okay.  Volume at 100 I get it lmao.

But also: Adam wants God dead not because he and Eve were kicked out of the Garden, but because he went after their sons.  The theme of protecting the children strikes again.

“Killing God is your plan?”

“Yeah, Billie’s been giving us a hand but Sera and me, this is our baby.”

This juxtaposed directly with Dean’s own pain at what he has to do to kill Chuck, to gain his free will: the cost of his child.

Adam’s rib.

And who else might get his ribs hurt, only to be likely healed by an angel?

It’s fine, that’s fine.  I’m fine with that.

“Jack, I don’t know how to explain it but, when I found out about Chuck, it’s like I wasn’t alive.  Not really.  You know like my whole life I’ve never been free, but like really free.  But now?  Now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life, without all this crap on our backs.  And that’s, that’s because of you.  So, I want to say, I need to say...thank you, Jack.  Thank you.”

I’m gonna have to do a separate post about just Dean in this episode, because there is so fucking much to talk about, but there are a couple of things that I think are important:  Dean realizes how wrong he was, to say what he said.  He knows that it’s not true, this is the way he’s always coped with loss, by pushing the person to be lost away, but for Jack to hear it?  He can’t stand for that.

And:

Dean has finally pushed through the barrier.  He won’t be quiet in the face of his doubts anymore.  This is a breakthrough for him, and, of course, there are more to come.

SAM

Sam and Cas, my chaos duo.

The box, the inscription, the door.

Death’s library, filled with dead reapers.

And there it is.  The Empty.

It tells Sam the plan, the plan for Billie to take God’s place.  For everything to go back to the way it’s “supposed to be.”

This has always been the game, since season 13.  This is the longest of long games.

Sam fuckin Winchester, lying his way out of a confrontation with the Empty like the legend that he is.

He comes back with a new purpose: to stop Billie’s plan, and here’s where we get to the heart of the episode and maybe the heart of the season.

“You hear that?  Dean, brought to the edge of doubt.  His sense of duty, his rage winning out in the end.  And poor Sam, always gotta know everything.  Can’t leave well enough alone.  This is my ending, my real ending.”

The gun comes out, pointed at Sam.

Hmm...what did I say during 15x05?  Oh yeah, this.

And:

Dean would never survive killing Sam, but he’s willing to do anything, anything to earn his freedom.  His ending, where one brother kills the other and then kill himself.

Why, you might ask, did Sam not mention that the angels would be sent back to Heaven, why does he not mention Cas?  I’ll tell you why, or rather, Becky will.

Plus, Dean looks back at Cas IMMEDIATELY when Sam says that, when he mentions Eileen, and THAT’S the first time he hesitates.  He can’t lose Cas.  But at the same time, he’s willing to do anything to have his freedom.

“Sam we don’t have a choice, Jack’s about to blow!”

“We always have a choice!”

You know me, just sitting here thinking about choice, the ability to choose, and how that translates to their free will.

And Sam...I don’t think there will ever be characters I love as much as these.

“I don’t care if Billie gets what she wants!  I don’t man, I’d trade it all, I’d trade em all for Chuck.  In a heartbeat!”

“What about me?”

“You’d trade me?”

“Chuck has to die.  He has to!  Otherwise he’ll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can’t live like that man, I can’t live like that, I won’t!”

“I know you feel like that right now, okay? I know you do, but you gotta trust me.  My entire life, you’ve protected me.  From Dad, from Lucifer, from everything.  I didn’t always like it, you know?  But it’s the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on.  It’s the only thing I’ve ever known that was true.  So please, put the gun away.  Just put it away.  We’ll figure it out, Dean, we’ll find another way, you and me.  We always do.”

Okay I feel like this is going to be one of those scenes that I cry watching for years to come.  Because fuck.  After fifteen years they finally admit that not only did Dean protect Sam from Lucifer, but he protected him from John.  John.  On a par with Lucifer.

Dean and Sam have, for so many years, sacrificed themselves for the other.  Dean’s demon deal, Sam and the trials, every season they have fought to see who can die the quickest for the other.  But this?  This is them fighting to stop the violence, to stop from killing the big bad.  This is them growing, in our eyes, in real time.  Sam has always been able to get through to Dean when no one else had a prayer, but for Dean to listen, for Dean to take his words to heart, to stop the hunt for Sam, for their family, that’s how you know they do have free will.

(Btw Chuck’s eye effect when he dusted Amara was sick as fuck but I’m emo for my boys so.)

Chuck knows it’s a loss, he knows that his story has, once again, been thwarted by the boys making their own choices.  And he’s pissed, but in his anger, we get a bomb dropped on us.

“Spare me your contempt Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday.  You know what every other version of you did after “gripping him tight and raising him from perdition”?  They did what they were told.  But not you.  Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

Also, just worth bringing up this one as well:

Every Castiel pulled Dean out of Hell.  Every one told him the same thing.  And yet, immediately, with this Cas and this Dean, something was different.  Because what has everyone seen about Cas, from the moment he met Dean?

And there’s our endgame people.  Laid out on the line.

But we ain’t done yet, fam.

We’ve talked about the handprint, but you know:

So there you have it, our prep into the “monumental” 15x18.  I have spec on that, of course, but I think a novel is long enough for this.

What to take away: Dean’s rage was always Chuck’s plan, they do have free will, their love for each other, for their family, is what will stop Chuck’s control, Death is about to come back with a vengeance, Cas’ deal is at play, and, most importantly, Castiel and Dean Winchester are a blind spot for Chuck, something he has never, not once, controlled.