#and i’m a little all over the place but im very angry right now. forgive me

[torglives]

to say my piece: firstly, fuck iskall.

secondly, its very easy to tell by the outpouring of hate comments on many of the hermits' recent videos (after his response) that he reached a target of young, impressionable fans. not only that, but also a darker side of the hermitcraft fandom that i like to ignore.

as much as i love hermitcraft, its "golden" status that its gotten from remaining "unpolitical" and "drama-free" has perpetuated a very ugly-hearted group of fans who cant find solace in the more openly left-wing smp communities. so they turn to hermitcraft, where they can hide a little more easily. and this has been a group of people slowly cultivating numbers for years now, and there's enough of them that docm77's gay beacon, or the number of pride mcc participants (and queer hermits) can't ward off.

these people have always been the ones brushing concerns in the community under the rug, the "this isn't the place for politics," and "i watch hermitcraft to get AWAY from that stuff." types. they are never going to believe the women that were harassed over the male creator they've latched onto as someone who's "for them" and "un-cancelable." these people have been waiting for this opportunity. and you'll see them say "hermitcraft is over," and "they can't come back from this," but none of that is true. they're the only ones who believe that.

and as awful as all of this is, the hate and the VERY thinly veiled misogyny-- there is a bright-side in weeding those people out. "i don't think i'll be able to watch hermitcraft after this" good fucking riddance.

iskall knew what he was doing by bringing his shit response video to his youtube audience. instead of the reddit, instead of twitter, but to a space that HE moderates. the space with the highest concentration of people who he know will defend him.

my only hope is that the hermits double down on this, and that they have the backbone to make it clear that these people are not welcome in the community. and neither is iskall. and that the larger chunk of us continue to support the victims, and uplift what they have to say. i can't imagine how this must feel for them.

[blee-bleep]

Hello, I’m fairly new (you have a lot of talent, you make wonderful art) but I just saw your post about your grandma. I’m very sorry for your loss. Grief is a very difficult thing and can be very confusing when you lose someone you had a bad relationship with. I was once in such a situation too. I don’t know how it was with your grandma, but I hated that person so much. And when they left… I missed them and I didn’t understand why. After all the things they did… after everything they caused… I still cared about them. I even felt guilty. How could I care about someone like that? I used to get angry at myself every time I grieved, every time I cried. Don’t make my mistake. When we lose someone, no matter how they influenced our lives, there’s an impact. After all, they were still a part of my life, a part of my world. They were a loved one. A member of my family. It changes a lot. And after all, I knew deep down, they still had some good in their heart. After everything… they didn’t deserve to die. And maybe, the thing I missed most was the relationship I wished I had with them.

It was very hard for me to move on. To let go. And I think this is mostly because I didn’t understand that I needed to forgive them. I kept holding on to this pent up feeling of hatred. This anger. But I should have forgiven them for everything they had done. Because forgiveness doesn’t excuse their behaviour. It most certainly doesn’t justify it. It doesn’t mean what they did was okay. Forgiveness is taking the knife out of your own back and not using it to hurt anyone else. Forgive them not because they deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve peace. You deserve to be able to let go. Forgiveness prevents their behaviour from destroying your heart. If you haven’t already, I think you should think about this.

And in the end, we shouldn’t see death as a bad thing, as when someone passes away, it creates another beautiful life. Like flowers dying in the winter, making place for beautiful flowers to blossom in the spring. That is, the merry-go-round of life. 

I hope you have someone to help you through these difficult times. And remind yourself that it is okay to grieve. It just shows that you have a good heart. I don’t know how it is for you right now but I hope I helped at least a little bit. Take care!

Oh and, life has many different chapters. Don’t let one bad chapter close the book.

-Sorry for the long text and all-

Thank you for this ask. i rlly needed to read it, especially abt the knife metaphor. I didnt live with my grandma as close as my other family members were but I still grew up with her, and her image is everywhere in my family (literally, my grandpa's genes are basically nonexistent). so its really hard to process how to grieve for someone you had a bad relationship with. her death esp impacted my parents and aunts, and there's a certain tension between them now.

for me, Im still learning to forgive and learn how to live without her, but rn its the guilt of not building a happier relationship with her im angry about because after all this time, she is still my grandma. this doesnt mean it justifies the horrible shit she said and done (and shes over 90!), but i feel like i can't make peace with myself when we heard that she finally passed. so thank u for your reassurance through this message. grief is truly hard

[tobi-momo]

A Misunderstanding

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

GENRE: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Reverse Comfort

WARNINGS: a lot of crying from both you and kuroo | cursing | mentions of sex | cheating (kind of? youll know when reading) | angst | mentions of drinking/being drunk | nothing is suggestive!! oh ya yall are married btw

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: ok ik this is long but this idea came from literally nowhere but i decided to write it thank you @combat-wombatus for helping me you helped put ideas in my brain<333 now i wasnt originally going for a happy ending but im really bad at angst so enjoy the shitty ending :)

“Please, Y/n, you know I didn't mean it,” he pleaded, his large hands desperately grabbing at your form while you push him away, your breaking sobs making his heart shatter. “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he begs, falling on his knees in front of your trembling body, not being able to tear his eyes off of your heartbroken ones. He needed you to stay. He needed to show you that he isn’t that guy and that he would do anything for you. It was a one time thing. He wasn’t even sober. It wasn’t him. It was the alcohol. He wasn’t thinking straight. Please forgive him, please, please, please.

But you couldn’t. No matter how hard or how much you loved him and wanted to, the pain that ripped at your heart every time you looked at him was too much to bear. So you didn’t. You turn your blurry, glassy eyes away from him as he grabs your hand and forces it into his; your lips quivering and knees shaking. You couldn’t keep the betrayal and agony inside, whining and weeping at him, your knees giving out before your legs slam against the floor, your head near the carpet as you try and keep your affliction at bay.

“Y/n, please,” he whines, tears streaming down his pale cheeks; his admission of his unfaithfulness drained the color from his face. “Please forgive me, I need you, I love you so much.”

“W-” you sniffle, not knowing what to say. You knew you didn’t have to say anything at all, that you didn’t owe him any words, but you just...you just needed to know. “Why,” your voice quivered and cracked, your throat sore, “why did you,” you take a long breath, grabbing your chest to try and stop the heartache, the sudden cramp that formed where it used to be filled with warmth and love, “do this to me? With her?” You look up at him once with wide, searchful eyes as you ponder the reasons and look for the answers in his empty pupils.

“I wasn’t thinking straight, baby, I didn’t know what I was doing, please,” his voice stammers, trying to get you to understand that he really didn’t know what he was doing. “I would never do this to you, I-” “But you did.” Your tone is no longer sad and confused, but angry and fed up. His head backing up quickly, not expecting the response. “You made a promise, Tetsurou, remember?” You glare at him with menacing eyes as you hold up the very finger he kissed and placed the ring on on your wedding day. The beautiful diamond ring that had his initials carved in the interior and little gorgeous jewels that made the walls sparkle once hit with the hot sun was no more; the dark, gloomy piece of rock and metal meaning nothing but lies and mistrust.

“No, Y/n, please. Don’t do this to me,” he adjures guiltily.

“Don’t do this to you?” Your voice laced with deadly venom, standing and backing up, wiping your mouth with your hand in annoyance, placing it on your hip. “You did this to me! You did this to us! You went out! You got drunk! You fucked someone else! And not even a random girl! No! You just had to fuck your ex!” Your voice cracked again before you inhaled sharply and covered up your struggle.

“Y/n, I didn’t know what I was doing!”

“And that’s an excuse?? What, so now you can go fuck whoever you want and say ‘I didn’t know what I was doing!’” you mimic, “so you can get away with it every time?”

He didn’t answer. He looked at the ground, understanding exactly where you came from.

“Hm? Are you gonna answer me, or sit there like a coward?”

He could tell fully well you were just saying this because you were hurt. You didn’t mean any of it. You loved him. No matter what, you will always love him. Trusting him was out of the box for a while, maybe forever. But he can’t lose you. He knew you were soulmates- he knew you were made for each other. There was a reason you guys made it this far and only had big problems now. He needed to find that reason and use it for himself to win you back. He needed you back.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, your dramatic hand gestures coming to a halt at his words, your figure coming to a stand still as you wait for him to finish. “You don't deserve this. You don’t deserve me. Please know that it was a mistake and that I’ll never do it again ever, ever, ever,” he repeats, wanting it to sound as sincere as he means. “Just please give me a chance to make this up to you, please don’t leave me by myself without you,” he sobs out, putting his head in his hands.

You knew you shouldn’t feel bad for him. But god-fucking-dammit are you feeling bad for him. You knew you still loved him, you knew he still loved you- that much was obvious. You couldn’t see him for a while, no. Could you guys work it out? Maybe stitch the wound? Wait until the scar is barely visible anymore? Would that even work?

“Tetsurou,” a single, hot tear dripping down your face as you point to the ground. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.”

“I know, I know, just please give me a chance to help fix this!” He cries at your feet, his body bundled in a ball of self hatred and guilt. “I can do it, baby. I can help things go back to normal.”

“I don’t think they ever will be normal again.”

He whines, trying to negotiate with you as much as he can. “Let me fix us. Let me give you my everything again, let me show you that I’m all yours and no one else's, please,” he moans in anticipation for rejection, knowing the chances of you agreeing were next to zero.

The next few hours are silent. Him alone in the bedroom. Crouching on the floor as he ponders your possible answer. You work in the kitchen, making food to satisfy your appetite. He could hear your sniffles from the bedroom and picture you wiping your tears as you carry the pots on the stove. God, he was the biggest piece of shit ever known. What the fuck went through his mind when he was fucking his ex? He only remembers some of it, them waking up in bed together after, only wearing undergarments underneath the sheets and him holding her waist as if she were you. He thought they had ended on good terms, knowing that they were better as friends. He rushed out the door, not being able to stay in the same room without getting sick. He knew what he had to do.

He opens the door to the living room, a slight creak gaining your attention as you stir the sauce in the pan. Your eyes are puffy, your lip still trembling as you try to turn away from him. He only takes about two steps forward before he stops, trying to find the words he wants to say.

“Listen, I know you said you needed time, and I’m not rushing you at all whatsoever. I want to give you all the time in the world to think this over. If you need, I can go to Kou’s house and stay there for a while. He won’t mind. I just want to give you the space you deserve.”

You nod in response, your head still facing away before he whispers an “I love you” before he slips out of the apartment.

~.~.~.~

The next few days were tortue. Not being able to sleep in the same bed he would sleep in with you, not being able to watch the same tv shows, not being able to even be in his presence at least once a day like you used to melted a hole of despair inside you: eating away at your emptiness, taking away the numbness that you so desperately needed right now. The feeling came back- the one that you tried shutting out three hours ago. It crept up at you, flipping your stomach and weighing your lungs down to the floor, your throat sore and dry. Your eyes wet with a blurry wall as your tears build up once again, missing your cheeks as you crouch down looking at the floor, falling on the tile. The droplets containing your anguish splatter on the ground, your raggedy whimpers echoing throughout the vacant apartment, making it all the more obvious he wasn’t there.

Knock knock knock

Was that the door?

Your wide, unbelieving eyes turned to the wooden door frame; the knocks getting louder and faster. You quickly stand up and try to collect yourself, preparing to have a long talk with Tetsurou. You grab the handle, turning it- the door opening with a tiny creak.

Oh.

“Hi! Kuroo left his jacket at the party the other day, is he here?”

Oh, that bitch.

“No. He’s not.” You deadpan, not finding her cheery, happy expression amusing.

“Oh no! Uh, well, here, can you give this back to him for me?”

“Stop smiling at me like you aren’t part of the reason he’s gone.” You snark, glaring at her with sharp eyes as she backs up, confused.

“W-what?”

“You heard me. Don’t act fucking clueless.”

“Excuse me? Who are you to talk to m-”

“Oh, cut the shit,” you roll your eyes, “I know you slept with Tetsurou, you don’t need put on whatever the fuck this is,” you gesture at her.

“What the hell are you talking about? What are you, fucking crazy?” Your eyes narrow in confusion, your disgusted scowl lessening at her words.

“Right. You probably don’t remember because you were blacked out,” you add sarcastically. “He told me what you guys did. Now you know. So, I would love it if you would just leave.”

“What are you- Me and Kuroo didn’t do shit last night. I drank like two beers and was hanging out with another girl the entire time,” she explains, looking offended. Your face loosens into an expression she couldn’t read. “He blacked out early and passed out on the couch while I was busy talking with the other girl.”

“Huh?” You whisper, your disoriented thoughts not aligning to a proper conclusion.

“I didn’t go to bed until like,” she thought back, “I don’t know, three in the morning? There were people passed out on the floor so I decided to take the guest bedroom with her. I was still awake when Kuroo came into the room, I’m guessing because he thought it was yours, based off of how he kept mumbling your name and shit,” she exhales, “he grabbed onto me once he got in and just clung.” You glower at her, huffing. She sees this, sighing before continuing, “Calm down, remember nothing happened. Remember that girl? She ended falling off the bed because I was scooting away from his clingy ass.” You look at her blankly, trying to fit the pieces together. “She ended up leaving the party completely,” she mumbled in embarrassment before you speak up.

“Then why did he tell me you guys had sex?” You mutter quietly, although assuming she heard since her head backed up while she quickly scoffs.

“I swear to God, that man. Listen.” You look up into her eyes- her genuine eyes. “Me and Kuroo didn’t do a single thing. I didn’t do anything to him and he didn’t do anything to me. I’ll have a conversation with him later because he is an absolute dumbass,” she breathed.

What the fuck?? You were just supposed to believe her?

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“Me and him ended a long time ago. I don’t like him like that and I haven’t for a while. And seeing he was bragging about you the entire time at the party, he’s over me, too. Besides, I’m not even into guys that much anymore anyways,” she grinned and winked at you. The shock and realization hit you like a truck. She wasn’t even- oh my God. She chuckled at your expression; you ran away from her to the counter to get your phone, quickly unlocking it and tapping on Tetsurou’s contact.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mumble over and over. To tap the call button, listening to it ring as you bring your phone up to your ear, hearing him pick up the phone almost immediately after.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” He sounded worried. It’s only been about a week, he had hoped that you weren’t going to leave him.

“Get over here, right now, Tetsurou.” Your voice made it seem like it was urgent, so he quickly picked up his jacket from the couch, and you could hear the jingling of his keys as he grabbed them and opened the door, almost slamming it shut once he left.

~.~.~.~

“Y/n?” He asked at the open front door, wondering why it wasn’t closed. “Y/n, you have to be careful and close the door, we have them for a reason, you know,” he said as he walked in. Even after being at the line of a break-up, he still cares for your well-being. He didn’t even do anything wrong and he was still caring for you as a loved one should. He always did everything to make you feel comfortable and safe, so once he knew that he had slept with his ex he was completely devastated to his core. He didn’t want to do this to you, but you had the right to know.

“Tetsu.” You called. Already back to nicknames? This is good, right?

“Yes? Y/n?” He was scared, to say the least, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do. He walked scarcely towards your figure sitting on the couch, not caring to drop his keys and jacket on the counter. He had a feeling this might go wrong.

“We need to talk.” Shit. This is exactly what he didn’t want to hear. Hearing those words he couldn’t help but think that you were going to make him pack his stuff and go. “So, I talked with your ex.” You speak slowly, not wanting your words to come out wrong. You don’t want him to take any of this in a bad way at all. Yet his eyes widen drastically, his heartbeat racing and his nerves pricking him. “You are just one big dummy, aren’t you?”

What? What are you talking about?

“What?”

“You didn’t sleep with her. She told me everything that happened that night. She’s not even into guys anymore. Tetsu-”

This couldn’t be happening. Not only did he accuse himself of cheating, he accused himself of cheating with his ex, and that he cheated with his ex at a party, while you two are married. And then it turns out it wasn’t true? What the hell was wrong with him? He jeopardized your entire relationship because he was too drunk to know what was going on.

“Wait, what?” He yells, angrily sitting down on the couch, “so you’re telling me-” you nodded and hummed an ‘mhm’ in response. His hands find their way to his hair, pulling at the roots and scratching his scalp, his low grunts of pain and fury seeping out of his throat as he frustratingly comprehends what he just did.

You rush over to him, grabbing his wrists and pushing them down to his lap as fast as you can, making his eyes find their way to your blown out pupils. You can see the hot tears prickle down his cheek as he frowns at you, completely and utterly defeated.

“Tetsu, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, it’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a happy smile. He wanted to smile back, but he couldn’t control the broken sob that escaped him. “Hey, hey,” you try to grab his attention as he pulls his head down, crying. “It’s okay, baby, it’ll be okay.” You wrap your arms around his head, protecting him as you softly coo and ‘shh’ him quietly in his ear. ‘I’m sorry’ kept coming out of his mouth as he clinged to you, not being able to help his want to be closer to you. The realization that he just almost broke your heart completely and he had worried about divorce for this shit made him want to just rip his scalp out. He was so stupid. So, so so, stupid. “Tetsu, look at me, please. Look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hand to his chin, dragging it up so you could catch sight of his hazel irises. His eyes red and puffy, his cheeks wet and his eyes droopy, you couldn’t do anything but frown at the sight. He hated himself right now, not wanting to face the embarrassment and the humiliation of the situation.

“You don’t deserve me, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered in your arms, gripping them tighter and tighter for comfort- you knowing that he needed it right now. You had already pulled him into your chest, feeling his wet tears soak your shirt, your hands rubbing his back and your fingers gently grazing his throbbing scalp.

“It’s okay, I forgive you, Tetsu, you did the right thing by telling me you did it instead of hiding it from me, and then it turns out you didn’t do it at all.” Your cheeks start to feel hot, and you don’t even realize your sniffles until you could feel a dam break at your water line. You couldn’t stop them, the tears of relief. You didn’t want to stop them. You were glad that they were her, glad that they were for him, glad they were because you knew the truth, glad because you knew you two would be okay.

You looked back at your ring, watching it bloom like a flower in the spring, the meaning coming back to your marriage. It wasn’t just metal and rock anymore, it was a gorgeous promise.

“I love you, Tetsurou. Don’t forget that. You’re staying with me, alright?” you whisper into his hairline.

“Thank you,” he cries.

taglist: @solar3lunar @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @toosharkinternet @hitosushi @alpha3113 @awmahleebkg

haikyuu taglist: @pies-writes-and-more @luvrboykento

REQUESTS: OPEN

reblogs are appreciated :))

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. III

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 17k (im sorry omg)

➵ warnings : oh boi we have aNgSt, serious familial issues, swearing, multiple fight scenes, mainly verbal but there is a slap in one, mentions of a wound, mentions of alcohol, (there’s honestly a lot that goes wrong in this chapter but at least tae and the reader have each other), sexual tension :o, bit of possessive!tae, (i mention a short reader a lot but i just wanted to say you’re beautiful even if you’re tall! tae is just very tall to me askldjs)  

➵ a/n: i’m back and hoLY is this chapter loaded (and a lil unedited forgive me!!) i’ve finally finished school and get a whole month off now! who knows what works i’ll release in that time 👀. as always, feedback is appreciated loves!

chapter three : “the window opened one time with you and me”

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“Mother?” You stood frozen, completely and utterly shocked as to how your mother was just opposite of you, smiling brightly as if she hadn’t done a single thing wrong in her life and loved you unconditionally.

How incredibly wrong that was. 

“Y/N! How are you? Oh dear, it’s been so long!” Your mother threw her arms around your neck, pulling you against her for a hug you just barely returned. 

“Good. You?” 

“Oh, I’m great!” She beamed.

“What are you doing here?” You inquired, shutting the door after her entry.

“Ah, I just couldn’t believe my daughter’s married now, I wanted to drop by and say congratulations!” Your mother cheered, grinning widely as she began scanning the grand interior of your house, leering as though you weren’t standing just before her.

“Drop by? You could’ve just came to the wedding, Mother...” You suggested despondently, plastering a pained smile onto your face. You attempted to meet her eyes, though they rather seemed to sparkle at anything that appeared expensive.

Anything but you. 

“Oh, I was in Ibiza. I couldn’t just leave while my resort pass still had benefits on it, you know me.” She flashed you a cheeky smile as she playfully hit you, propping her heels off.

You nodded half heartedly, trying extremely hard to not lose it on her because you were in your home; a place meant for peace and comfort and didn’t have room for negative.

Not to mention, Taehyung resided just upstairs in his study with most likely his door open, and you didn’t want to risk bothering him if you raised your voice. 

“Ibiza was more important than your own daughter’s wedding, huh?” You spoke to yourself, nodding in a manner that would somehow help you accept the sad fact, though instead called forth a feeling you should’ve grown accustomed to by now.

Disappointment.

She knew about the wedding, you knew your father informed her of the ceremony along with its date and time. Though as she audaciously ogled the embellishments of your front foyer and spoke to you carelessly, she practically screamed she gave 0 fucks about your wedding. That what really mattered to her was living out the full experience of an expensive vacation than attending a life-changing night for her daughter. 

Typical. 

“Oh, c’mon now. When you put it like that it makes me seem so bad.” Your mother pouted like a child. “It wasn’t a real marriage, anyway.” She waved off the conversation as she ventured further into the house, bold enough to strike another conversation . “My God, this is the house of the Kim Taehyung?” Your mother’s eyebrows shot up, drinking in the grand size and wealthy look of the home. “You got very lucky, Y/N.” 

You cocked an eyebrow, incredulous of what she was insinuating. “What do you mean, Mother?” 

“Y/N, you’re married to Kim Taehyung. Do you understand how fantastic that is? For you?” Your mother was on the verge of scoffing, smoothing over her dress as she looked elsewhere. “He’s an incredibly rich man, and considering that life of yours it’s a miracle he ever agreed to marry you.” Your mother relayed nonchalantly as she caught sight of an exquisite vase. 

And there it was, the belittling. You’d mentioned before you were often disparaged and received numerous insults when anything concerned your status as the runaway heiress. But what you failed to mention was the person who claimed the #1 position as your largest and most incessant hater. 

Your mother. 

“Mother, it doesn’t matter to me whether a man is rich or not.” You countered, trying to quell your snippy tone but it was as grand a fail your mother was at being a mother. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Unlike you, I’m not obsessed with my husband’s money.” You almost spat with crossed arms, only this comment causing her to turn towards you. 

“Excuse me? I’m your mother, watch your tone a little.” She scolded quite lightly, before returning to inspect a painting. 

You scoffed, “My mother...” you repeated under your breath, rolling your eyes. 

“No mumbling, Y/N. Speak up.”

“I said it’s funny you’re referring to yourself as my mother.” You voiced clearer.

“And why is that so funny?” You could visibly see your mother failing to control her temper with you, masking it all behind a fake smile she mastered ages ago. 

“Because you’ve been anything but a mother.” You retorted, knowing exactly what this conversation was leading into. 

An argument.

“And you’ve been daughter of the year?” Your mother countered, sarcastic tone cutting the air, and it only made you more irritated. 

“Here we go again, the bad daughter narrative.” You scoffed. “Find something new to argue, will you?” You narrowed your eyes.

“And you believe your bad mother narrative is any better?” She sneered back. “I’ve even come to visit you yet this it how you’re treating me. When will you ever learn to be grateful?”

“Please, you chose a vacation over your own daughter’s wedding.” You held a hand up, gesturing against her audacity. “And when have I ever been ungrateful? I don’t remember biting the hand that fed me.” 

“No, Y/N, you didn’t bite the hand that fed you, you completely neglected and abandoned it.” She claimed, drawing closer towards your direction. “You left this family to pursue your own selfish desires. You’re the very definition of ungrateful.” 

“Excuse me? Definition?” 

“Yes, definition. You threw everything your father worked so hard for away. All he ever wanted was to provide his family with a comfortable life, but you instead wasted his efforts and made everyone's lives so much harder. Do you really think I’ll forgive you for what you did to your older brother?” Your mother voiced in an accusatory tone, bringing up an age old argument you knew was going to ravage any peace between you two. 

“That was not my fault, he was already due for the same thing in Korea, it doesn’t matter if he’s in the U.S now.” You argued back. 

“It’s all your fault! You’re the reason Yoongi hasn’t been able to come home in years! You ruined his entire life by making him uproot and take over the U.S faction when it was your role. Your decision to leave forced him into it!” 

“So you’d rather have my life uprooted and ruined than your precious son’s?”

“Because my son isn’t like you! He isn’t selfish at all, Yoonie is a hard-working man who’s always listened to me and your father, always rightfully prioritized the company. But you? You’ve only ever made things worse. You’re completely useless, all you do is tear this family apart. Your father has to pick up your work, you keep your brother out of this country and give me years worth of stress!” Your mother shouted louder than she should’ve, angry as her eyes revealed searing frustration, contempt. 

You were trying to negate the hurt you felt by her words, having trained yourself to endure their sharp sting, though no matter how many times you heard them, it never made it any easier. 

“Oh please, your favouritism is showing, mother.” You remarked with near tears, her disregard for you so disturbingly apparent it left your eyes watering. 

“Yoongi has always loved his work and the company, but I never have. When will you understand that? If I’ve ruined our family so much why have I never heard these same words from Dad or Yoongi? They’ve always supported me, understood and loved me regardless of what life I chose. Why can’t you do the same? Why can’t you just try to understand me for once?” 

“Because there’s nothing to understand. You’re an heiress to this family, you are meant to live for this company and this company only. You owe your father and I your life, nothing has ever been yours. The least you could do to pay us back is by rightfully working at the company and not being as much of a disappointment as you are now.” You mother’s tone was strict and resolute, utterly fed up with you.

“Cry me a river, mother. I don't owe you a single thing. You’re one to talk about working alongside Dad and the company, all you’ve ever done is use his money without a single care for his work.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, Mother, all you do is use Dad for his money. You know next to nothing about business or the company and have the least amount of right to lecture me about it. At least I’m not a woman who mooches off somebody and lives recklessly!” You snapped back at her with tears just pooling your lash line, arms crossed tightly holding your chest where it felt your heart would collapse.  

“Do you understand who you’re talking to? Speak with respect, Y/N, I am your mother.” She tried to finalize, but you weren’t having any of it. 

“And I could care less. You’ve never once done anything to warrant that title. All you’ve ever done is travel the world and bathe in the luxuries your husband affords you without ever being there for me or Yoongi. It was always dad despite being so busy, it was never you. You weren't even there for my wedding, when I needed my mother the most. No, you’re someone who’d rather use your rich husband and forget he’s a person.” Your voice was shaking at this point, practically rattling. “You may not have been there for my wedding, but I would never do that to my husband.” You let everything out without a care at the point, flooding the tense air. 

Your mother seemed to completely lose it at this, her tone scarily still as she gritted through her teeth. “You wouldn’t do that to your husband, really? Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing right now?” 

You flashed her an incredulous look. “Pardon?”

“You’re married to one of the richest men in Seoul, and you think you’re not doing the same thing? Whose house do you live in? Whose food do you eat? Whose lavish lifestyle do you now get to relish in? It’s all your husband’s, not yours.” Your mother was practically spitting venom at this point, scoffing. “I must say, your quest for independence is interesting, having landed you in the exact same place you always berated me for. Look where you are now, mooching off your rich husband.” 

If words could dagger you in the heart and looks could kill, you’d surely be 6 ft. under by now.

Years, years you’ve been stuck in this constant loop of back and fourth with your mother, arguing the same 5 things you could never see eye-to-eye on. And no matter what she said, no matter the insults, the belittling, the verbal abuse she always spat your way; you’d grown used to it. Her words became normal, second nature to you and so you easily drowned them out. Her insults became useless weapons you simply dodged and avoided. 

But this, this was where your mother won. 

Her words dawned a laughable sense of irony on you, nearly physically reeling as though someone had punched you in the gut at the realization. It was raw agony, the very prospect you’d spent the entirety of this ordeal evading. 

To think the same independence you fought so gravely for, can so easily be erased and forgotten all due to marrying a rich CEO. It felt pathetic, unfair you had no choice but to marry Taehyung. It wasn’t his fault he was rich, neither was it yours. 

It was just coincidence, pure and utter coincidence. But to think this very coincidence would be the reason your stomach is churning and self-worth is collapsing; it was fucking unfortunate, miserable. 

“Leave my house, this instance.” There was no emotion in your voice, it was flat, vision clouded.

“What did you say to me?” 

“I said get out!” You yelled, the shrill in your voice evidence of tears. “I don’t ever want to see you again!” 

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me! I’m your mother!” 

“You’re not my mother at all, you’re the worst excuse of one. Leave my house!” 

“It’s not your house, Y/N! It’s your husband’s, and you will end up living the same life as me, using your husband for his money!” Your mother had somehow made her way over to you, having the audacity to push you back by your arms, driving her point home by the act of aggression. 

You gritted through your teeth, eyes teary. “I’ll never be like you, I’ll never be a cheap woman who only stays with a man for his money. A woman who probably cheats on her husband with wealthy men in other countries!”

This was the moment your mother gasped scandalously, becoming so irate she didn’t hesitate to raise her hand and slap you across the face. 

You stood emotionless, not even having the capacity to feel shocked or in pain due to how normal this was. There wasn’t a single unfamiliar thing about the sting of her hand, the way her manicured nails scratched against your skin and worse, the way her wedding ring usually cut into your cheek to produce a small wound. 

It was all too familiar, making you scoff as if this was exactly what you expected from her, exactly what you've always known. 

“You still hit your grown daughter, huh? The last 10 years of it weren’t enough?” You endured the ache, swallowing back tears. You weren’t letting them spill, not at this. 

Not at something as undeserving as your mother. 

“You give reasons to, Y/N.” Your mother simply crossed her arms and looked away, showing the slightest hint of shame though never allowing it to leak into the proud and egotistical persona she assumed around you. 

A suffocating silence pierced the air, looming for some time until you spoke. 

“Leave this house, mother. I beg of you.” You pleaded, not out of desperation, though out of sheer tiredness. Tiredness of the same argument and the same insults you always directed each other, tired of the same outcomes that only ever lead to more bitterness tainting your relationship. “Don’t make this any worse, we’ve probably disturbed Taehyung upstairs.” 

Your mother looked at you with lightly raised eyebrows, inquiring. “He’s home?” 

You nodded faintly. “Yeah, so leave.” 

“Am I not allowed to meet him?” Your mother seemed offended. 

“No, you’re not.” You stated firmly, not caring about the sliver of respect you thought you had for her and instantly pushing her towards your front entrance, nabbing her shoes along the way. 

“What are you-” She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before you swung the front door open, guiding her outside and shoving her shoes in her hands. 

She was about to retort until you shut the door on her, locking it. You leaned against the wood as you heard her protests, not minding her calls as you allowed your constrained tears to finally stream down your face. 

It was too much, she was too much. 

Why could your mother never see eye-to-eye with you? Why couldn’t she be a normal mother? Why couldn’t she be supportive? All she ever did was preach how useless you were, how selfish and ungrateful your very existence was.

Of course someone like her could never understand, never understand the value of autonomy and achieving something for yourself; she’s never once done anything along those lines in her entire life. 

Her words ran deeper today than they ever have, sending a stifling feeling to swarm your chest, your self-esteem and everything alike collapsing along with your pride.

It hurt, it really did. To hear those words from the very woman meant to love you so dearly, so unconditionally only exacerbated the pain. It made you jealous of every child you was gifted with a kind mother, not daring to curse anyone for it but simply feel it was unfair. Even Taehyung had such a warm and loving mother. 

Maybe that’s why Taehyung was so warm. 

Taehyung. 

You realized you were out in the open shedding tears where he could possibly see you, trying to silence the sobs that escaped your lips. You only failed, agony tightening your chest and growing more painful the more you held it all in. So you clutched your hand to your mouth and made straight for the kitchen sink, running the water loudly enough to drown out the sounds of you candidly crying. 

Your cheek still stung, your heart ached and your mind spun endlessly, all while trying to desperately rid yourself of the worthless feeling inside you. 

And it didn’t work. 

Taehyung had been working, scrolling through his laptop as he diligently reviewed status reports, only to have a notification brighten his phone screen. He flashed his occupied vision towards it and caught sight of his security system alerting him of his front door. 

He grew curious knowing the housekeepers were shopping for groceries at this hour, causing him to tap the notification and display the camera feed of his front porch. He was welcomed by a woman he’s never seen, peaking his curiosity. 

He almost rose from his seat until he saw the woman turn towards the door in accordance with you opening it, assuming you most likely knew her as she smiled brightly and ventured comfortably into the home. 

Taehyung shrugged it off and returned to his tedious reading, staring at the practically blurring lines of text until he eventually began hearing raised voices from downstairs, his ajar doors and grand home producing an echoing effect that reached his study. 

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow as he grew slightly worried, discerning it didn’t sound like a friendly conversation. He abandoned his work and made towards the doors of his study, peaking towards the direction of his stair railings that overlooked the first floor of his home. 

More of the conversation became apparent, and Taehyung instantly identified it sounded more like a negatively charged argument than a conversation. His eyebrows furrowed the more he listened, knowing it was bad manners to eavesdrop though finding himself doing so anyways. 

“You heard me, Mother, all you do is use Dad’s money. You know next to nothing about business or the company...” Taehyung’s eyebrows shot to the sky, realizing you were speaking to your mother; the same woman you explicitly expressed was to be avoided at all costs and even winced at the mention of. 

He couldn’t forget that from the first time he met you. 

“...Speak with respect, Y/N, I am your mother. ” The crudeness in your mother’s voice was already indicative of your ill relationship, the harshness sounding like second nature. 

Taehyung grimaced. 

“...All you’ve ever done is travel the world and bathe in the luxuries your husband affords you without ever being there for me or Yoongi...” Yoongi? As in your brother, Min Yoongi? Taehyung only loosely recalled Min Yoongi lived and worked in the States, where he headed your father’s lucrative faction there.

He’d only met the mellow, though diligent man a couple times before.

“...I would never do that to my husband.” Despite the intense situation, Taehyung felt the slightest tinge of pride hearing you refer to him as your husband.  

“You wouldn’t do that to your husband? Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing right now?” 

Oh fuck, Taehyung thought. This isn’t going anywhere good. 

“You’re married to one of the richest men in Seoul, and you think you’re not doing the same thing? Whose house do you live in? Whose food do you eat?...”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Taehyung became alarmed, silently drawing his index finger and thumb over his lips in frustration. You didn’t need to hear this, it was complete bullshit. Your situation with him was different, it was forced and coerced. Taehyung could tell you were someone who truly didn't favour using someone else’s money, and knew you were trying your damn hardest to adjust to the idea itself having to spend your life with him. 

He rushed out into the hallway where he began pacing, trying his hardest to contain himself and hope that you wouldn’t take your mother’s words to heart. Was this why you were so adamant about the fucking card? Because you had to hear shit like this from your mother? 

This was only going to undo the work he’d successfully laid out, thinking it would erase any convincing he had done about his money and what’s his is yours. This was bad news, he didn’t want you thinking any of your mother’s words were true. 

They simply weren’t. 

“Leave my house, this instance.”

“What did you say to me?”

“I said get out! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

Taehyung was becoming anxious, the argument was clearly escalating and he felt uneasy, an incessant feeling bothering his chest. 

There it was again, that same sense of protection he felt when he saw you practically shaking talking to that Kisoo guy. He didn't understand why it manifested, or why he felt it so emphatically. All he knew was after hearing the way your voice nearly cracked, unstable and troubled as you grew more emotional, he felt the strong feeling to oddly.. rescue you? 

It’s like he wanted to bolt down the stairs, physically stand in between the argument and force your mother out of the house, all while trying to persuade you what she said wasn't true. 

Why did he feel this way? This was none of his damn business, had absolutely nothing to do with him yet if it weren't for half the mind he had, he could’ve found himself racing down the stairs to defend you.

Taehyung shivered at the thought, shaking it off.

“... you will end up living the same life as me, using your husband for his money!”

“I’ll never be like you, I’ll never be a cheap woman who only stays with a man for his money. A woman who probably cheats...”

And not long after he heard the slap, evidently hard and painful in just it’s sound. Taehyung immediately froze in his tracks, halting his pacing as worry blossomed in his chest. He prodded over to hide against the edge of the wall that connected to his staircase, able to peak at the sight of both you and your mother stood before the front foyer. 

Taehyung felt pissed within seconds, again unable to decipher why he felt the need to protect you. Though what he did know was that he felt bothered, never wanted anyone to hurt you and he hated the very thought of it. 

Maybe it was because of his considerate personality again, or maybe it really was because of you. 

What made Taehyung grow even angrier, though, was the way you reacted, listening to you dub this as something that happened often, and he was uber pissed now. 

You didn’t fucking deserve that at all. 

It took him no time to understand your apprehension and natural disliking for your mother, wanting himself to never have to converse with her. He would most likely be rude and curt, replaying the same vile words she really had the nerve to say to her own daughter. Scratch that, his wife. 

Yeah, Taehyung thought. My wife shouldn’t be treated like this. 

He knew it was wrong, impolite of him to assume and judge a person so openly based on their cover, though Taehyung could tell these were your mother’s true colours, and any other persona she assumed would only be a farce. 

Taehyung watched as you simply shoved your mother out of the house, shutting the door only to lean against it and allow the tears you’d hidden to fall down your cheeks. Taehyung turned his back and leaned against the wall, concealing himself to give you privacy. 

He knew it was already rude to have eavesdropped, even ruder to look on at such a vulnerable moment. It was rude because he wouldn’t even be able to comfort you, only watch as a dumb-founded bystander; rendered useless because it wasn’t his place to console you.

He knew nothing about you.

He really didn’t know your situation, the relationship you had with your mother. He couldn’t step on your toes and give you advice as if he knew you, nor supply you with words that would make you feel better; contemplating he’d possibly never be able to. 

He wasn’t your remedy, he wasn’t your muse, just a man you were forced to marry and now have to live with. A man who stripped you of your independence, ruined your life all just by his mere existence.

 And so Taehyung found even more reasons to not rush to you, simply leave you on your own knowing he was partly the reason for your pain, your suffering. That your mother only said such things because of him, that she only insulted you because of him. 

So he found himself retreating, walking carefully back to his study to mind his own business and continue his work, complete it as though nothing happened. 

But as each step seemed to grow longer, heavier, he found himself unable to retreat. Unable to function knowing you were probably hurting, unable to ignore you and so blatantly turn his back on you. 

So in a hasty, irrational decision, Taehyung found himself turning on his heel and rushing towards the staircase. 

You continued to sob quietly, thinking if you just let it all out now, cried just about hard enough all the sorrow would leave your body. So that’s what you did, bit your lips to contain the aching feeling in your chest as your throat seemed to constrict, swallowing all your feelings down in an attempt to poorly control them. 

You were in your own world, the sink’s water masking any noise behind you, and so when somebody’s hand reached out to rest against your shoulder, you were completely startled. You jumped, quickly shutting the water in a flash and refusing to look back at the culprit to save your pride. 

Whoever it was, they couldn’t see you like this. 

Though when you heard his dulcet, deep voice calling your name, you knew exactly who it was.

“Y/N?”

You straightened yourself up, breathing out the emotions ravaging your chest and stabilizing your voice to address him. “Hey, Taehyung. What um.. what are you doing here?” 

Taehyung could hear your solemn attempt to cover everything up, feeling your sense of embarrassment practically fill the air. 

“Nothing, just.. wanted to see you.” Taehyung said, unsure of how to approach this.

“You’re probably busy. You should go back to work.” You tried hard to sound okay while you practically swallowed back tears, clutching the counter of the sink.

“It’s alright, not important.” Taehyung waved it off, letting his hard remain on your shoulder seeing you didn’t reject him. A beat of silence lingered until he spoke again.

“Can you look at me, Y/N?” There was no pressure in his voice, just the same soft consideration you’d heard at the hotel suite a couple nights ago.

And you hated it, hated that it made you want to give in, want to so easily follow his request and bare to him whatever he wanted.

Until your last braincell kicked in. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry if I interrupted your work. Please go back to your study.” You voiced just barely above a shaky tone, trying your absolute hardest to sound just fine, seem okay. But the more Taehyung spoke, the more you felt your defense mechanisms slowly coming undone.

And you knew he knew.

“I wasn't interrupted.” He stated normally, his voice natural and yet he sounded so.. comforting? He was simply responding to you and yet his voice and presence seemed to soothe the sharp ache in your chest. 

It was fucking poetic. 

“I’m sure I did, Taehyung. Just please, return to your work.” 

“I don’t need to, Y/N, I can stay here.” He was firm as he stood behind you, measly hand against your shoulder and his usually intimidating, towering figure reassuring.

It was odd.

“You shouldn’t. Just go back, Taehyung.” You attempted to voice with more strength, trying to blink tears away and it didn’t convince Taehyung in the slightest.

“I don’t want to. Look at me first.” His voice sounded calm, and it was really like honey. Thick yet sweet, so deep and yet it’s cadence harboured the ability to put anyone at ease.

You shut your eyes tightly, wiping at them hastily to rid any tears as you sniffled and turned around. You were met by his face that slightly softened at the sight of you, eyes seeming to melt as they swirled with consideration, different from his usually unreadable expression. 

“See, I’m fine. You can go back to work.” You plastered a smile on, trying to stand a little more confidently, though Taehyung didn’t budge. 

He only remained, gazing at the features of your face as he seemed to drape his own with a small sense of sadness, like he was upset, maybe even hurt? It was slight, though identifiable. It left you quite speechless, thinking it was all just part of your imagination.

It couldn’t be real.  

But it exactly was as Taehyung’s large hand came up to gently touch the cheek your mother slapped. You didn’t realize it hurt more than it should’ve when you felt a sharp sting at his touch, wincing.

You registered there was probably a visible mark and grew too vulnerable, downright embarrassed for your liking and so you deflected him, smacking his hand away from your face as you looked off to the side. 

“I’m fine, Taehyung.” You declared, and Taehyung didn’t know how to react as his hand came off you, feeling a bit disheartened. He simply wanted to help, and he didn’t want to leave without doing so.

So he still looked at you, eyes possibly growing sympathetic though it could’ve been a figment of your imagination again.

“You didn’t deserve that.” He voiced soft in sound, though resolute in nature.

Taehyung was having trouble choosing what he could say without overstepping, invading a part of you he probably shouldn’t. 

“I didn’t ask for a pity party, Taehyung. Go back to work.” You said with a more snippy tone than you planned, though found it befitting of your current emotions nonetheless. 

“I’m not pitying. I’m..” Taehyung struggled for a word until you answered. 

“What, caring?” You scoffed, “Please, Taehyung, you don’t have to care like my real husband, it’s only on paper-”

“But I am your real husband.” Taehyung emphasized, his serious eyes meeting yours. “It’s on paper and in real life, so I think I’m allowed to care.” Taehyung retorted with narrowed eyes finding he liked that sentence, liked what it had to convey because it was damn true. 

Taehyung decided on reaching for your arms to drive his point home, though watched as you again, naturally retracted from him. You still seemed to refuse him, didn’t see him in a good enough light to not cower away. 

And he still fucking hated it. 

Taehyung went for it anyway and gripped your arms when you began to draw away, catching you. The action nearly demanded you look into his eyes, and found yourself doing exactly so. 

“Y/N, first, don’t be scared of me, please?” His eyes grew soft. “I seriously-I really hate it. I would never..” Taehyung trailed as his vision fell to the side of your face, eyes seeming to reflect concern.

You were completely surprised, watching him unmask a plethora of emotion you didn't think he’d so candidly reveal.

Taehyung brought his hand to brush your slightly swollen cheek, continuing. “I would never do this, do anything to scare you. I just wouldn’t.” Taehyung was emphatic and genuine, gently touching the fresh wound on the apple of your cheek.

“I.. know that, Taehyung.” You again felt that same urge to touch his hand that touched you, but you decided against it. “Though I don’t need your pity. This doesn’t hurt, don’t break a sweat about it, please.” You were trying to turn away from his hold but Taehyung didn’t let go, maintaining you in his hands.

“It’s not pity, Y/N. It’s sympathy. This bothers me, okay?”

“I don’t need it. I’ve got myself-” 

“But you’re not alone.” Taehyung suddenly stated seriously, tone permeating the air and you just about froze. You only looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to decipher what he was trying to say.

“You’re not.. alone, okay? You have me.” He spoke as though he was trying to convey a meaningful message, trying to mark his own words. “In whatever way... you have me.” It was a hesitant claim, but it felt just like when he’d made his promise to you at the altar. 

And suddenly you found yourself giving in, sighing as you registered this was all pretty much an elaborate reflection of the lesson you learned not so long ago.  You and Taehyung are married now, and no matter how that status manifested itself, you had to accept what came with it.

Especially if it meant him.

“Okay.” You replied simply, multiple emotions masked by the plain word. 

Taehyung looked at you a little surprised you’d actually accepted that, but broke into a genuine grin you hadn’t really seen before. 

And you really did like the way he smiled.

He made you want to smile too, though as your facial muscles worked for the grin your cheek stung, wincing as a result. Taehyung exclaimed within a matter of seconds. “Ah, don’t move.” He cautioned, smiling a little when you chuckled at his overreaction. “Don’t worry, Taehyung. It’s alright.” 

“Alright, my foot.” Taehyung joked, bending down to inspect your wound closer than you expected, and you hid the feeling that shot through you because of his proximity with a nervous laugh, causing you to wince again. 

“Hey, what did I say?” Taehyung chastised you lightly, lips in a straight line as he shook his head disapprovingly. “C’mon, let’s treat this.” 

You immediately whined, feeling too lazy to get something so small and insignificant treated. “Taehyung, it’s not even that bad, why?” You pouted. 

“Cause it’ll leave a mark on your pretty face.” Taehyung smiled innocently, not even caring about the effect it left on you as he found your hand and tugged you along to the second floor. Your eyes only remained widened, never letting up the surprise that took you. 

Did he just call you pretty? 

You let Taehyung lead you to your master bathroom, where he situated you by the counter and shuffled around for his first-aid kit. He finally retrieved the box, dabbing some alcohol onto a cotton swab and bringing it to your face. 

Taehyung just about performed the action until he began struggling bending to your height, wanting to carefully apply the alcohol. So he tried different angles and maneuvered himself around, all coming up useless. “God, why do you have to be so small?” Taehyung huffed under his breath as he stood to his full height, contemplating how he’d accomplish this. 

“I’m not small, you’re just really-” You were about to complete your sentence until Taehyung’s hands suddenly grabbed your waist, lifting you in a single breath and propping you up onto the bathroom counter. You would’ve exclaimed, maybe protest though believed it would’ve made the heat in your face so much more apparent.

“That’s better.” He grinned, biting back a chuckle at your flushed face and widened eyes.  

Those fucking eyes. 

Taehyung then found it easier to apply what he needed, cleaning up the wound precariously before dabbing on some ointment to avoid any scarring, only missing a bandage to place on your cheek. Taehyung searched for one in his kit and drawers, though came up empty-handed. He became puzzled as to where he put his bandages, placing his hands in his pockets to think until he felt the familiar scratch of a wrapper.

He furrowed his eyebrows at first until he figured exactly what it was. 

And he suppressed a stupid grin. 

Taehyung pulled out the wrapper and watched as you avoided eye contact with him, cheeks still clearly warm as you swung your legs on the counter in anticipation of him.

Cute, he thought.

He ripped the wrapper, chucking the garbage aside as he drew close to your face. His breath suddenly fanned you, mere inches from your face with his lips so proximal you were stupidly remembering your kiss from a couple days ago.

He was just so close. So close that you could actually discern he had this pretty little mole on his cheek, even one just underneath his eye, lining his lash line. You smiled realizing he had such unique details, even seeing he had a mono-lid and a double eyelid. Then came his obvious features, his plushy, pink lips, his chocolate eyes, his soft hair and sculpted face structure. It made you want to hide your own face out of near insecurity.

He was just so beautiful.

You watched him as he focused on you, trying to calm down your oddly racing heart, feeling the sensation of his closeness shoot through your body. He smoothed the bandage over your cheek and drew away far too earlier than you wanted.

“There. Apply something before putting a bandage on, right?” He cocked an eyebrow and looked at you knowingly, crossing his arms. 

You immediately smiled at the sentiment, realizing it’s the same line you said to him during your first exchange, and you felt your heart just slightly, slightly flutter at the thought he remembered.

“Right.”

It had been a week since that incident.

Taehyung and yourself had assumed your regular lives, having to drudge back to work after a few days off.

Your mother’s words still lingered around in your head, spoiling your mood here and there though assuming the ever-so healthy manner of simply pushing the mentally detrimental thoughts away, distracting yourself with work. 

You wish you could detail anymore interactions with Taehyung, though they were scarce with how rarely you saw each other. You both either just missed each other, were too busy to pay attention or simply came home too late. Even sleeping together was hit or miss, usually either of you crawling into bed earlier than the other with no real exchanges.

You could say it made you feel just a little sad, though not entirely considering you two were genuinely busy people, Taehyung an even busier person.

That all came to a full stop though one Friday morning, you were seated by the island and staring at your most recent design for a building, iPad pen twirling in hand. You were sipping on coffee when Taehyung pulled out a chair and suddenly startled you, coffee almost spilling.

“Jheez,” you huffed, “you scared me.” 

“Sorry, you were just really focused.” Taehyung apologized as he placed his own iPad down, reading away.

It’d been like this the whole week, you either designing and leading projects at your own job with Taehyung the ever-busy CEO at his own company, causing you both to often sit in each other’s presence though never take your eyes off your screens.

“Hey, I wanted to tell you something.” Taehyung suddenly perked up, stopping his scrolling. 

“Hm?” You looked up. 

“I should’ve told you this sooner, but we have to attend a gala tonight.” Taehyung grimaced at how sudden this seemed, arms crossed as he leaned on the counter.

Did the action really have to make his biceps pop?

Anyway, you were nearly spitting out your drink for the umpteenth time because of Taehyung, eyes blown out at his abrupt news. 

“Wh-what did you just say? Tonight?”

“Yeah, one of friends’ companies. 25th anniversary since establishment.” Taehyung went to bite a piece of his toast with strawberry jam.

You noticed he liked strawberries and didn’t like bread crust, making you want to smile sometimes at the child-like charm he hid underneath his intimidating persona. “They’re holding a huge gala and he’s one of my best friends, we’ll have to attend.”

You eventually came to understanding him, trying to wrap your head around having to suddenly attend such a high-end event. 

“This event is also going to be our first public appearance together. It’s important.” Taehyung stressed, back to scrolling through his iPad. 

“That’s alright. I don’t mind going, it’s just...I don’t think I even have a dress for a gala.” You mentally sifted through your own wardrobe, coming up short once you realized you haven’t been to an extravagant event like that since you were a teenager.

“I know, I bought one for you.”

You should really stop drinking beverages around Taehyung because you can never seem to keep them in your damn mouth. “You bought one? Taehyung..” You whined. “What did I say about giving me things?” 

“Hey, what did I say about giving you things?” He scolded you lightly. “I give you things simply because I want to.”  

You pouted. “Still, you don’t even know my size, when did you even have time?”

“That doesn’t matter. It’ll fit you, don’t worry.” Taehyung sent a smile as he deflected your question and returned to his iPad, not wanting to reveal that he’d secretly referred to your other dresses in your shared closet for your correct measurements.

“But it probably wasted your time. I should’ve gone out and bought it myself.” You felt guilty, realizing it probably made him compromise his work.

“It wasn’t a waste of time.” Taehyung countered, not really liking how you considered yourself not worthy of spending time on.

“I- thank you.” You blurted out before his statement could effect you. “When does the event begin?”

“7. You should try getting off work early to get ready.” Taehyung suggested, sipping his tea as he looked at you.

“Oh God, I’m gonna have to doll myself up. I haven’t done that in ages.” You held a hand to your mouth, trying to digest the fact you’d probably have to look like a trophy wife. 

“I could get you a makeup artist and hair stylist.” Taehyung offered. 

“No, it’s okay. I think I’ll be fine. I just haven’t been to a gala in a long time.” You felt surprised about the fact yourself. “I’m gonna have to meet so many people.” 

“You will, but I’ll be there.” Taehyung assured, glancing up at you.

“Of course, but you won’t be with me the entire night. I’ll have to brush up on my rich people skills.” You blew a raspberry, knowing you had great interpersonal skills but just didn’t like acting so fake all the time. 

“I won’t leave, just stick with me the whole night.” Taehyung stated as he absentmindedly held his index finger to his lips reading an email, quite goddamn illegally if you had to say so yourself. 

“I will.” You confirmed, erasing at a line on your iPad. “Will you come home early too?”

Taehyung clicked his tongue disappointingly. “I will but just barely on time. Friday’s mean meetings for me, so I can’t leave early. I’ll get ready at work, come back inside the house to get you.”

“Okay.” You’re not sure why you felt suddenly sad he wouldn’t be home earlier. Maybe it was just the usual feeling of not wanting to be alone, because God forbid you actually started getting used to Taehyung’s presence. 

Taehyung rose from his seat and cast his iPad to the side, sliding on his suit jacket as he glanced at his watch, checking the time. You noticed yourself and flashed your vision to your iPad, gawking at the time and realizing you could be late. 

“Oh shit, I have to go.” 

“Me too, I’ll see you tonight, okay?” Taehyung confirmed as he made his way to the front door, fixing his sleeve. You propped off your own seat and began walking towards the stairs, just about ascending until Taehyung suddenly called your name. 

“Y/N!” He peeked out from the front door, seconds from leaving. 

“Yes?” 

“I hope you like the colour, it’s one of my favourites.” Taehyung smiled sweetly, sending his last farewell before he dashed out of the house. 

Your eyebrows shot up and practically gawked, immediately running up the stairs thinking of where to find this dress. He had to have hidden it from you considering he’s been doing so ever since he mysteriously bought it. 

You instinctively rushed into your shared bedroom to grab a scrunchy for the day, all distracted until you caught sight of a white box adorned with a black bow sitting atop your bed. 

Your eyes went wide just reading the infamous label. 

Chanel. 

You had to physically keep from flooring yourself, in disbelief he’d purchased you a Chanel dress. You were even more fearful to uncover it, the information of him buying it himself raking your brain. 

It was even his favourite colour, nearly swooning at the fact he chose for you to wear his favourite colour. So you made your way over to the box hesitantly, untying the ribbon and casting the lid aside cautiously, only to audibly gasp. 

Your eyes fell to a ruby red dress with a delicate V neckline, completely blown away he chose such a bold colour for you to wear. 

You carefully grabbed the dress to take it out of its box, revealing more to discover it was a floor-length gown. It produced a small train though lifted in the front to reveal the shoes you’d wear, the skirt of plain, thick fabric until you saw the torso area; light beading expanding from the stomach area eventually leading into the skirt. 

Shock wasn’t even the correct word to use, you were stunned, completely taken by his choice. The dress was simply gorgeous, beautiful in its own right and you were almost too afraid to wear it. 

Nonetheless, this event was important to Taehyung, so you took a deep breath, tucked the dress back into its box and mentally prepared yourself for the day ahead. 

It was bordering 6:30 now. 

You’d successfully left work early, around the 2 o’clock mark to come home and indulge in a 4 hour self-care routine. It’d seriously been too long since you last attended an event similar to this, grand in size and visited by at least a hundred people. 

It reminded you of your engagement party, though not entirely since there would paparazzi and would be your first real appearance with Taehyung ever since your wedding. 

And quite frankly, you really wanted look better than you did then. You labelled it pretty much a disaster since you were a catatonic mess regretting all her life choices, probably looking unappealing in all your photos. 

Along with knowing the impact Taehyung has, not only in the business world but in general also left you wanting to up your game. You were his wife now, and that came with a high amount of scrutiny and criticism having nabbed one of the most eligible bachelor’s in Korea.

You’d already given up ever checking any articles and avoided social media, knowing that there would be inevitably nasty and judgmental comments. This night was important though, where you’d flank him as the women he’s so-called ‘in love with’ or the ‘love of his life’. 

It also dawned on you Taehyung in fact had a high-valued reputation to uphold, and so did you as his wife. 

So as you stood before the mirror in the walk-in closet, inspecting your dress, you contemplated how you’d survive this night, how you would act as the perfect, most suitable wife to Taehyung. 

You really wanted to hide your face out of how dolled up you looked; your makeup was on the elegant side, not heavy but brushed up to look soft, completed with red lipstick that matched your dress and hair set around your face in loose waves. 

The dress looked almost embarrassingly good on you, Taehyung somehow having chosen the right sized dress as it hugged your every curve right, accentuating the right parts of your body and even the V neckline not dipping too low, but showing quite the generous amount of skin. 

You couldn’t stop blushing at all. 

Taehyung had finally arrived at the house, rushing inside quickly registering he was cutting the time close. “Y/N! I’m home!” he called for you, quickly checking his appearance in a mirror as he smoothed pieces of his parted hair, curling just before his eyes and revealing some forehead.

“I’m in our room!” 

He approved his own look in the mirror and jogged up the stairs, mentally preparing himself before he’d have to see you in the dress he chose, almost excited about it. 

He’d simply loved it at first sight, and couldn’t stop pondering what the striking colour would look like on you. So as Taehyung entered your bedroom, he became confused finding it empty. He then ventured further inside, catching sight of the ajar closet door and light beaming through. 

He sauntered over carefully, peeking inside and Taehyung’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor, almost stupidly. 

His eyes fell to you standing in front of the mirror, fidgeting as you looked at yourself in the dress with the back of it undone. 

And Taehyung had never seen anything more pretty in his life. 

He was speechless for the umpteenth time because of you, not even knowing how to begin a sentence because he might sound like a second grader if he did. So all Taehyung could muster up the literacy to say was “Wow.” 

You turned around instantly, eyes looking as though you were a deer caught in headlights. Taehyung’s eyes widened even more peering at the elegant front, jaw almost slack as he scanned over your body.

“T-Taehyung.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

Taehyung still seemed to be struggling a little, eyes glued to you until he cleared his throat and looked away. “Um, yeah?” 

“S-sorry, but.. could you actually..?” And you did it again, angling your back towards Taehyung to call to the zipper of your dress. You really couldn’t try zipping it yourself, which left it sitting comfortably just at your lower back, your skin exposed to Taehyung. 

You could visibly see Taehyung flash his eyes to your skin until he looked elsewhere, nodding as he licked his lips. “Sure.” 

You watched him near you, his face blank as he took a handful of your hair and softly placed in front of you. He then brought his hand against your side to hold you in place, his other working for the zipper. It was another case of his rather hot breath fanning your back, almost teasingly zipping up your dress by simple inches. 

He was close again, closer than he’s been in a week and you sincerely hated it always affected you in some way. It made your chest flutter, suck in a breath you didn’t even need to hold in. You relaxed when Taehyung finally finished, his hands gripping your arms from behind as he looked at you through the mirror.

And for some odd reason, he liked how your heights contrasted each other. 

He had the slightest hint of a smile, eyes seeming to gleam with something you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“You look pretty.” He said, gazing at you through the reflection and you had to physically stop from beaming like an idiot. Your chest fills with butterflies, face collecting with heat at his compliment. 

How could an Adonis like him call you pretty?

You bit your lip, gazing up at his taller, impeccably dressed reflection as you admired him, his every feature crafted to a degree of perfection that left you in awe. 

“You look really handsome.” You complimented, watching his lips just about curve into a smile that met his eyes, and you wish he didn’t have to look so handsome when he smiled too. 

“Thank you.” He voiced before turning you around by your arms to face him. “Make sure you wear a coat tonight, it’s cold.” He informed, you nodding until your quick eyes spotted his tie loosened by just a centimeter, throwing you off. 

“Oh, your tie.” You exclaimed quietly, reaching for it without a thought and pushing it upwards, angling it to perfection. Taehyung suddenly froze, unexpecting of you doing such a thing and so proximal his nose flooded with your perfume, liking the scent. 

Peonies. 

He tensed with an unknown feeling until your gazes locked on each other, simply looking to look while your hands remained on his tie. He realized more than a second passed and Taehyung scrambled for something to say, sputtering.

“I’ll uh.. I’ll be waiting out front.” He assured as he stepped away, exiting the room quickly and leaving you to your lonesome. 

This was gonna be one hell of a night, you thought.

“Remember, there’s going to be a lot of cameras and people here. We’ll really need to act like a couple.” Taehyung sat beside you in the back of an Escalade, manspreading in all his glory and you were sincerely glad he couldn’t read your mind.

“Got it, let’s give em’ a show.” You cheered with your little fists, determined as the car arrived at the lavish venue. 

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Taehyung mimicked your action. “Don’t worry about getting nervous, I’m there.” He assured for good measure, gauging your affirmation.  

You nodded as you took a deep breath, smoothing over your dress and fixing your hair. Taehyung unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned into you, speaking near your ear. “I’ll get out first and open the door for you, wait here.” You tensed at the action before nodding again, Taehyung making his way out the car. 

He then opened your door as promised within seconds, greeting you with a warm smile as he held out his hand for you. You grinned back at him affectionately as you took it, adjusting your dress to step onto the concrete. 

You were met by dozens of camera flashes and a yelling crowd, shouting various things you couldn’t quite make out. You were almost distracted by it and felt a small sense of anxiety creep up you, until Taehyung pulled you flush against his side, hand curving around your waist.

You smiled up at him in accordance, and he beamed back as he walked you two down the carpet leading into the venue, casually ignoring all the noise and people. 

Taehyung guided you inside safely to where you were welcomed by a beautiful looking hall, pristine and extremely elegant. It was surely fitting for a grand gala. Your eyes caught a small crowd of photographers in the foyer snapping photos at a certain wall with a backdrop, curiosity dawning on you as Taehyung led you towards the coat check. 

“What’s happening there?” You pointed towards the scene. 

“Oh, exclusive press.” He snuck a look, stripping off his coat. “They’re the ones I was talking about, they’re gonna take pictures of us.” Taehyung answered distracted as he retrieved your coat and gave both to the coat checker, smiling a thank you. 

You didn’t even have time to really respond as Taehyung dragged you to the very scene, the pair of you next to have photos taken. You tried to process the whole thing as he walked you over, mentally preparing to look your best until Taehyung suddenly whispered lowly in your ear again. 

And again, it sent shivers down your spine. 

“Just smile and hold me, okay?” Your chest fluttered for an odd reason, nodding back to him as he brought you in front of the line of photographers. 

You stayed true to your promise and tucked an arm around his torso as the other draped his chest, closest to him as you could. Taehyung almost settled next to you until he felt something at his feet, noticing he was nearly stepping on your gown. 

He broke away from you, unexpectedly bending down to catch the skirt of your dress and delicately fix it behind you. You heard the hushed exclamations of the photographers, most of them doting on his considerate act as you just about protested, though suddenly remembered Taehyung’s words from today. 

It was probably better to stay silent. 

So you simply smiled as you watched Taehyung adjust your dress, feeling a warm sensation spread across your chest when he returned even though it most likely was for show, his hands coming back on you. 

This time you didn’t try to suppress anything, allowing some of your feelings to manifest into a real smile, remembering you were to appear as a couple anyway. 

And whether or not there was some truth to your expressions, was anyone really keeping track?

You two began posing for the photographers, smiling in all directions and clutching onto each other closely. You occasionally tried different angles to look better, everything going smoothly until you heard someone shout out, eyes widening as a result.

“Kiss her!” 

It wasn’t long before the other photographers began agreeing, encouraging Taehyung to kiss you and you had no clue how he would react. You were slightly biting your lip as you were occupied avoiding eye contact, that was until Taehyung quietly called you.

“Y/N, look at me.” 

“Hm?” You instinctively responded and looked up at him, completely taken by surprise when Taehyung suddenly planted a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes visibly went wider, only his chest to stare at until he eventually disconnected.

He returned his eyes to you and grinned at your wide-eyed reaction, suddenly reminding you. “Smile,” he encouraged with the flash of his own boxy grin, wanting to see you smile. 

And it damn well worked. 

Taehyung was right about the size of this gala. 

Huge. 

It was grand, the entire hall seeming to be spat right out of a castle with about a hundred fancy-looking people inside. You thought it would’ve been uninteresting and difficult to communicate with others tonight and put on your best fake smile, though the night’s atmosphere amassed with champagne, good food and great conversationalists left you in a better mood than you expected. 

It was actually quite fun, finding yourself genuinely conversing with the people Taehyung dragged you to meet, keeping to your promise of staying right by his side the whole night, and he kept his, never having left you. 

You’d met various people, having gotten familiar to Taehyung’s high-status world of business and relations. Long story short, Taehyung knew a lot of people, and you were surprised at how extroverted he suddenly seemed.  

He was practically a social butterfly, not having forgotten a single name of who he spoke to along with somehow remembering personal details about their lives. It left you impressed, joining along with his light-hearted conversation with your own extrovert tendencies. 

Everyone you’d met had been nice so far, but by far the most amusing people you’d met had to have been Taehyung’s 5 best friends, the same ones you’d seen in his photographs. 

“Y/N, this is Kim Namjoon and Seokjin, they’re brothers.” 

Both tall and quite frankly broad men greeted you warmly, one of them having a nice dimply smile while the other was far too handsome to be looked at for free. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” They said after another, reaching out to shake your hand. “We’re co-CEOs of one of Korea’s largest private airline.” Namjoon of the two informed.   

“Likewise. And wow, that’s impressive.” You complimented. “Might I also say, you’re both.. tall.” You had to almost crane your neck to meet their eyes, thankful for the heels you were wearing as the group laughed at your remark. 

“Perhaps, though you’re quite short yourself, Y/N.” Seokijn commented light-heartedly, causing you to playfully pout and retort him. “Oh c’mon, I hear that from Taehyung already, not you too.” You giggled, absentmindedly leaning into Taehyung as he tensed, your body pressing into his. 

“It’s cause Taehyung likes short girls, teasing means he likes you.”  A built looking man with longer hair suddenly joked, nudging Taehyung with his elbow.

“Shut up, Jungkook. I was gonna give you a proper introduction, not anymore.” Taehyung scolded, though Jungkook persisted. 

“Well, you just said my name, that’s already half the intro.” Jungkook then gently took your hand, placing a chaste kiss against the back of it you didn’t expect at all. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Korea’s largest game development company.” Jungkook sent you a kind smile and it was hard to not compare him to a bunny, his teeth reminding you of one. 

“Yah, don’t do that” Taehyung swatted Jungkook’s hand away, protesting disapprovingly. 

“Woah, did Taehyung just get jealous?” Namjoon inquired shocked.

“Somebody get their phone out, we’ll need evidence I didn’t hit him first.” Jungkook held up his hands in mock surrender. 

“Jungkook, the only thing we’re finding in our phones is videos of you nibbling on carrots.” Taehyung quipped and it made the group chortle, yourself speaking up at the mention of a rabbit. 

“Actually, I was thinking you resemble a bunny.” You simply wanted to voice an observation, though it sent the whole group into a frenzy. 

“See Jungkook! Other people notice it too!” A man you hadn’t been introduced to yet suddenly burst out, though you could automatically tell he gave off this radiant energy that was infectious. 

He almost felt like the sun. 

“Whatever, Hoseok, you’re like a squirrel.” Jungkook countered and you digested the man’s name for information. 

“And you’re a rabbit, you better buy me what we wagered.” Hoseok scolded from what you could assume, was the younger of the two. 

“Wagered? I don’t remember anything about that.” Jungkook feigned innocence as he looked off to the side.

“Jungkook, we were all there that day, you owe Hoseok a vending machine.” Namjoon spoke up, laughing through the remark. 

“Guys. Y/N is literally right here, we didn’t even introduce ourselves properly.” A man with a fairly sweet voice interjected. He had such soft visuals, almost similar to an angel if you wanted to be honest. 

He then looked to you with a sweet smile, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Park Jimin, CEO of Park Hotels & Resorts”

“This is his event.” Taehyung informed.

“Ohh, nice to meet you!” You perked up, his aura making you feel all comfortable and giggly, there was just something about his bubbly energy. 

The man named Hoseok then extended his hand, “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Jung Hoseok. Sorry for the late introduction, but I basically own a bunch of famous clubs across Korea.” He laughed all dimply and warm, and he really did remind you of the sun. 

“Oh wow, hopefully we’ll get to visit sometime! Clubs are so fun.” You lit up, all excited about a good club scene until Taehyung ruined your fun. 

“Nuh uh, not after your little drunk scene at our engagement party.” Taehyung looked down at you and chastised. 

“Taehyung, it wasn’t even that much. Don’t be dramatic.” You scolded him back. 

“Alright Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, I almost had to carry you.” 

“I was walking just fine last time I remembered.” You crossed your arms and feigned innocence, Taehyung growing scandalized. 

“Oh really, now?” He cocked an eyebrow, just about to continue until Namjoon interjected. “Looks like married life’s been treating you guys well.” 

“Of course, they look practically in love.” Hoseok beamed sarcastically, gesturing towards you both.

“C’mon, Taehyung, tell us what you love about her. Let’s see the simping.” Jungkook playfully taunted Taehyung, egging him on.  

“Shut up. You all already know our marriage isn’t real.” Taehyung rebutted the younger man, eyes narrowed. 

You were taken aback, eyes flashing to Taehyung. “They know?” 

“Of course they do, your best friend knows too, doesn’t she?” Taehyung was referring to Hana, and you acquiesced realizing he had a point. 

“You know, you guys say it’s a fake marriage but you look pretty close to me.” Jimin pointed towards Taehyung’s arm still hugging around your waist, causing you both to realize and promptly disconnect. 

“No, we aren’t.” You and Taehyung retorted at the same time, vision snapping to each other with shocked eyes. 

“Oh c’mon, Tae, you’re really gonna say about your wife?” Seokjin teased him, playful lilt to his tone. 

“Yeah, Taehyung, just look at her, how aren’t you whipped already?” Jungkook remarked as he gestured towards you, feeling shy as your feet shuffled. 

“I’m not answering that.” Taehyung bit back with an irritated tone, folding his arms as he broke eye contact with the group. 

You decided to lighten the mood. “Guys, please, the only thing Taehyung’s whipped for is his company.” You joked, and despite the small sense of hurt saying that sentence, you felt joy making the men suddenly laugh so loudly. 

Taehyung’s shy and embarrassed expression was even more priceless. 

“Oh my God, Y/N, you’re seriously the perfect match for him.” Hoseok added on as he laughed and you couldn’t help but bite back a smile, not knowing what he meant by that though taking it as a compliment.

“Alright guys, remember we had a mission: operation make-Taehyung-and-Y/N’s-marriage-seem-real-as-fuck.” Jungkook suddenly put on the theatrics and halted the group, changing the conversation. 

“Oh yeah, we had a whole plan, didn’t we?” Jimin remembered. 

“Yup. Gotta prepare them for nosey press and annoying relatives. We should start with questions they’d get asked. Make it like a fake interview or something.” Namjoon suggested, leading along the others as he pretended to hold a microphone. 

“You’re all some of the richest men in Seoul yet you’re acting like children. I don’t know you people.” Taehyung tried waving the men off while you couldn’t help but laugh, finding them the most fun people you’ve encountered. 

Childish or not, they were completely unexpected of what you thought a group of CEOs. They didn’t live up to the cliché uptight and uber sophisticated stereotype, rather open and acted however they chose. 

It was refreshing. 

“It’s cause we’re friends with you, Taehyung.” Hoseok shot back and it made everyone snicker. 

“I got it. Let’s ask them to spill some details about each other only they’d know. Someone’s bound to ask that.” Seokjin reasoned, gauging agreeance from the others. 

“Oh my God, you guys already know our marriage is fake. Why would you make this up?” You asked through a giggle, still finding the situation comical. 

“Sorry Mrs. Kim, but that’s precisely why, and I’m afraid we don’t know what you mean by ‘fake’. Now tell the good press something about Mr. Kim we don’t know.” Jungkook began the skit as he held his fake microphone towards you, the others joining in as though imitating paparazzi. 

“Alright, this is gonna be exclusive, pens ready?” You decided to join them, and they all nodded in confirmation as Taehyung flashed his eyes to you, unprepared for you to play along. 

“Mr. Kim is quite something.” You addressed him formally for effect. “He acts all mysterious and cool, but he’s actually just a cuddler who likes tea and cuts the crusts off his bread.” You relayed with a wide grin, all of them suddenly exclaiming and reacting like a high schooler has just confessed the name of their crush. 

“Oh my God, Tae, seriously? Bread crusts? What are you, like, 3?” Seokjin teased. 

“Hyung, your ears literally turn red when people give you attention. Are you 3?” Taehyung retorted and it only elicited more noise from the group, Seokjin exclaiming defensively and Taehyung bringing a hand up to his forehead, sighing. 

“Guys! Okay, let’s get some real answers here. We gotta know what Y/N would say if someone asked her.. maybe some things she likes about Taehyung. Let’s hear it.” Jimin got everyone back on track, attention on you. 

You smiled nervously and flashed a look towards Taehyung, who still had this arms folded and vision looking off to the side, ignoring the entire situation before him. 

You could tell he was pissed with the way his jaw locked, though the fact that he wasn’t paying attention made you a little more confident. 

Taehyung wasn’t exactly pissed, though if he could bonk all his friends on the head a few times he would. He knew teasing and jokes were all common within the group, he just didn’t expect to be the sole target tonight, and so he decided to smoothly neglect the conversation altogether. 

He was succeeding, not expecting you to answer their question seriously until Taehyung suddenly heard you speak up, surprised eyes flickering to you. 

“Hmm, if I had to say..” You were hesitant, Taehyung shocked you were even answering. 

What would you say? 

“He has nice, big hands.” You admitted softly, Taehyung’s brows raising with surprise. “He has a nice voice, too, and... his smile.” You added as you nodded to yourself, confirming your own list and Taehyung was left damn near speechless once again. 

He didn’t really know how to act, acknowledging his face as the most common thing people liked about him, rarely ever hearing those aspects of himself mentioned. 

And he oddly felt.. nice.

“Awh, now that’s cute, good job, Y/N.” Jungkook praised you, Hoseok then pointing his make-believe mic in Taehyung’s direction. 

“Your turn, Chairman Kim, what do you like most about your wife?” He mimicked an interviewer and everyone followed in accordance, mics shifting towards him. 

“Uhh..” Taehyung became slightly nervous under everyone’s scrutiny, not knowing if he should assume his usual unreadable nature or answer their request truthfully. 

“Tae, dude, if you don’t say anything then I will.” Jungkook declared, just about ready to speak again until you cut him off, snorting. 

“Don’t sweat it, guys. He won’t say anything.” You really knew Taehyung would have nothing to say, so you crossed your arms and became uninterested in the conversation.

Until Taehyung spoke. 

“She does this pouting thing.. with her lips. It’s cute.” Taehyung started, coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly and peer at anything but a pair of eyes. “Her height.. and her eyes. She has nice eyes.” 

The floor had to be tired of you by now, because Taehyung seemed to make you want to fall hard pretty often. You didn’t know what to do, eyes blown and nearly on the verge of choking, unable to believe a Godly being like Taehyung just admitted to liking something about you. 

Is this what it feels like to win at life?

His words kept ringing in your head, melting into a shy mess with your cheeks beyond hot, avoiding eye contact with everyone while Taehyung grew slightly embarrassed, similarly looking off to the side. 

“Holy shit, you guys are actually cute.” Jimin remarked through a chuckle as he  pointed at you both, you and Taehyung mirroring the same look of horror while protesting at the same time. “No we aren’t!” 

And it only made the men crack up even harder. 

It was laugh after laugh as that conversation went on, finding a quick and pleasant liking to Taehyung’s friends. They’d made it clear as day they liked you as well, to be precise they seemed to love you, making playful nudges at Taehyung for saying yes to someone just right for him; and you seriously pondered what that exactly meant. 

It was further into the night now, the gala having picked up in activity and passed the long social hour, now leading into more of a party scene as upbeat music filled the hall. 

You’d stuck with Taehyung the whole night as promised, having met more of the people he knew. The evening had been quite calm, both you and Taehyung having silently, though mutually ignored the conversation from before for sanity purposes, only focusing on the additional people you met. 

Taehyung and yourself had been talking up a storm with Jimin for the past half an hour, Taehyung introducing him as his best friend and getting the full run down of how that came about. It was highly entertaining, listening to mentions of alcohol, 4AM fighting and even an incident with dumplings. 

It had you three laughing merrily while music played, Taehyung’s arm draped around you like it had been for majority of the night, practically hugging you to him. He was elaborating on a story that had something to do with a dream-catcher, all smiles and giggles. 

That was until Taehyung suddenly froze next to you, sight seeming to set on a person behind Jimin and he immediately changed his aura. 

“Jimin, what the fuck? Did you invite him?” Taehyung cocked his head in the general direction, eyes set hard. 

Jimin’s eyebrows shot up and and casually looked behind him, registering the culprit himself and turning back to Taehyung. “Holy shit, no, I didn’t.” 

“Then why is he here?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, Tae. My parents probably invited him, I’m sorry.” Jimin apologized as he rubbed the back of his neck, growing apprehensive.

“Don’t worry, Jimin. It’s just.. not him, not fucking him.” Taehyung’s voice grew a little darker, almost hateful as his hand gripped around you tighter.  

“Taehyung, what’s wrong?” You asked tentatively, though didn’t exactly get a response since Taehyung became distracted, talking more so to himself. 

“Why the fuck is he here of all people? Of all damn people..” Taehyung scoffed to himself humorlessly, clearly annoyed. 

“Taehyung, who?” 

“Nobody, we’re getting a drink. Jimin, please?” Taehyung and Jimin had a conversation with their eyes, Jimin immediately nodding and moving towards a certain man you barely caught sight off before Taehyung was pulling you away. You tried protesting, but the tightened grip around you and Taehyung’s frustrated expression was enough to shut you up. 

Something was seriously wrong. 

You followed him along quietly until you heard a bit of a commotion behind you, able to distinguish Jimin’s voice protesting. You almost looked back until a stranger suddenly snuck up on Taehyung, draping an arm over him. 

“Kim Taehyung! Where you going? Damn, it’s been long.” The man spoke as he lowered his hand to Taehyung’s back, nearly smacking it as though they were old time buddies. 

Though the expression that painted Taehyung’s face said completely otherwise; he looked extremely irritated, and not the playful type. 

“Hisung, yeah, it has.” Taehyung bleakly acknowledged him, said man with an arm still draped over Taehyung’s shoulders until he shrugged him off harshly, pulling you closer to him protectively.

It made the man direct his attention to you. “Oh, this is your wife, right? Nice to meet you, Han Hisung.” The man smiled and extended his hand, not knowing if you should extend yours until Taehyung blatantly cut the man off, physically blocking his hand. 

“Skip the pleasantries, Hisung, what do you want?” You were shocked to see this emotion on Taehyung; rarely having seen him frustrated, trying to manage his annoyance as he gave Hisung a dead stare, intimidating as ever. 

Though Hisung didn’t cower like everyone else did, seeming to rather thrive.

“I don’t want anything. I can’t just meet your wife?” He coated his tone condescendingly, gesturing towards you. 

“No, you can’t. We’re getting a drink.” Taehyung seriously seemed bothered as he began walking you away with him, the harder squeeze of his hand around you indicating he was either growing more irritated, didn’t want to let you go, or a mix of both. 

“Oh, c’mon.” Hisung pulled Taehyung back by the shoulder but Taehyung becomes irritated, shoving his arm away harshly. 

“Not now, Hisung. Not at Jimin’s event.” Taehyung warned him as though he was crossing a fine line, and you grew afraid of what would occur if that were compromised.  

“What, I’m not doing anything.” Hisung held out his arms, feigning innocence. “I gotta say though, if I wanted one thing it’d be to say your wife’s hot as fuck.” He cocked an eyebrow and began eyeing you in your dress, growing uncomfortable and sending him a dirty look, though you naturally leaned closer towards Taehyung and he took notice. 

“Say that again I’ll make you regret it, Hisung.” Taehyung’s jaw was locked, a protective feeling overwhelming him. 

“You’re seriously gonna introduce her to everyone but me?” Hisung looked offended. “She should know who I am, especially to you.” He tried making a point, eluding to something between them. 

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung flat out rejected him, his expression blunt as he seemed to radiate unbothered energy. 

“I think you should. She should know the kind of man her husband is, and what he’s done.” He said knowingly, in a daunting way that accused Taehyung of something that seemed deeper than it looked.  

“There’s nothing to know, and I never did anything.” Taehyung simply denied, as though he’s said this multiple times.

“Really? You don’t wanna tell her about how you sabotage people? Use your money to buy success?” 

Taehyung had to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing out frustrated. “For fuck’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ve never done shit like that. Leave.” Taehyung finalized, attempting to control his anger.

You were trying to remain calm and look on objectively, though felt a sense of worry for where this was going, only Taehyung’s seemingly instinctive guard on you keeping you from anxiety. 

Hisung scoffed, “You know, your wife should know how much of a fucking liar you are.” He spat, his vision suddenly growing narrowed as he eyed you both suspiciously. “Come to think of it, wife kinda sounds like a stretch.” 

This time it wasn’t even Taehyung responding, you beating him to the punch. “Excuse me? The fuck does that mean?” 

“Oh, so she talks.” 

You were just about stepping forward to give this asshole a piece of your mind until Taehyung suddenly gripped onto your arms from behind, pulling you to him protectively.

“Hisung, what the fuck do you want?” Taehyung’s tone was leveled with a sense of controlled rage, clear effort to contain himself and you were completely understanding of that. 

“Not much. I just find your marriage suspicious, and if I do then others do too. Wouldn’t want to taint the precious Kim reputation with that, now would we?” The remark was sly, causing Taehyung’s hold around you to tense.  

“What the fuck are you implying, exactly? Try making some sense.” 

“Your marriage isn’t convincing, jackass. There’s no way you two are really married, don’t think I don’t know there’s something behind it.” He stared squarely back at Taehyung, determined. “And when I get my hands on that information, don't think you're the only one who can sabotage someone.” Hisung was resolute as he declared his threat, only making Taehyung more resentful, more rash. 

“Your opinion doesn’t matter to me, jackass. Nothing you do does” Taehyung was confident in the argument and it oddly made you proud, now understanding why he was so successful and well-acclaimed. It’s like he truly didn't care what others thought and only lived for the purpose of what he found important to him, contributing to his confidence and composed approach towards life. He carried himself with an affirmed sense of self-worth that never bordered egotistical, and you were lying if you said it wasn’t hot sometimes. 

Because scratch that, it was incredibly hot. 

Hisung laughed humourlessly, hissing. “I don’t think we can say the same about Mrs. Kim, though, her opinion should matter to you, right?” He then suddenly turned his vision to you and drew closer, speaking in a superficially saccharine tone. “Jagiya, you should really look into who your husband is. He’s not half the man he says he is.” Hisung suddenly came too close and Taehyung immediately tugged you behind him, shielding your smaller frame as his tone dangerously darkened. 

“Don’t call her that, and never fucking come near her.” Taehyung was seething now, clutching one of your hands so tightly you became worried of his heightened emotions.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Hisung mimicked him. “She should know I’d treat her better than her asshole of a husband, make sure she’s nice and satisfied with how much of a man I am compared to you.” Hisung remarked without a single care, and you nearly felt the blooding searing in Taehyung’s veins. 

But you could tell that was exactly Hisung’s goal; to rile Taehyung up and it unfortunately worked. No longer was the calm, cool and collected Taehyung you knew, instead feeling him suddenly rush towards Hisung with a fist until you gripped onto his jacket from behind, calling his name. 

“Tae.” Your voice was soft, immediately stopping him as you clutched urgently. Taehyung could hear the frailty of your worried voice, could feel your little hold on his jacket as he came to his senses.

Taehyung grinded his teeth hard as his fist tightened for a mere second before steadily loosening, calming himself down before he made his last remark. “Go fuck yourself, Hisung.” Taehyung spat with pure disdain as he turned around and swept up your hand, leading you away from the situation as far as possible. 

He pulled you along hastily, walking with a sense of speed that almost had you tripping on your dress. You were seconds from telling him to slow down until he stopped you both in a hallway.

“Taehyung, wh-” You almost got out until Taehyung suddenly pushed you up against the nearest wall, breath hot and heavy as he huffed frustratedly, raw anger written all over him. 

Taehyung’s entire towering body was unexpectedly inches from you, his forearms laid against the marble tiling above your head as he hung his own low, almost trying to conceal his face into your shoulder. It’s like he was blocking you off from any other person, defensively caging you as his chest rose and fell shallowly with white hot anger, your face tucked into his shoulder. His heated breath was continuously tickling the exposed skin of your neck, so close your heart was beating faster than it should’ve. 

You were only left shocked, hands fallen slack by your sides and unable to move. 

“I’m sorry.” He huffed out suddenly. “Fuck, I’m so sorry I’m just.. really angry right now and I can’t calm down.” Taehyung seemed infuriated though worried, his hands clutching into fists above you as he leaned in even closer, mere centimeters between you two as he remained pressed into your personal space.

“Shit, don’t be scared I just-fuck, I hate him. He’s the only person who makes me so angry.” Taehyung breathed out frustratedly, eyes shut as he tried to control himself. “And fuck, I didn’t want him near you. I don’t want him to talk to you. I don’t want anyone to fucking come near you.” 

Taehyung’s confessions kept coming and you were simply taken aback, another show of his emotions on full display and you wondered how he always so neatly composed himself.

“Tae-”

“Just stay in front of me, please.” He begged. “Where I can see you, just stay here.” He stressed, trying his best to breathe properly but only failed. “I don’t.. think I like when other guys are around you.” He confessed out of nowhere, trying to work through the claim hesitantly at first until he eventually nodded, affirming it. 

“Yeah, I don’t like it.” He declared as he continued to lean in, his proximity allowing for you to constantly smell his intoxicating, Invictus cologne; its sexy scent paired with his perfectly tailored suit hugging the curves of his large, broad body only arousing your nerves. 

“God, fuck.” He huffed out. “No matter what, stay away from Hisung. Never talk to him. He ruins everything he touches, every fucking thing.” Taehyung was dead serious, still hiding his face from you as he spoke angrily near your ear. “He’s been trying to ruin me for years. He’s already tried with everything else and he’ll come for you. He can’t ruin our marriage, and I swear to God if he fucking does anything to you-”

“Taehyung, hey, shh.” You brought your hands up to his chest to try calming him down, able to discern Taehyung ever rarely grew angry and when he did, just needed someone to quell his troubles. “Breathe, Taehyung, breathe, okay?” You spoke with a soft tone, trying to contrast the white hot anger you could sense in him by rubbing his chest pacifyingly. 

Taehyung immediately tensed at the action, almost in shock until he ultimately tried to breathe, slow and steady. 

“There you go, that’s better.” You encouraged into his shoulder, hands resting and lightly massaging as you inquired. “Talk to me, Taehyung, what’s wrong? Who’s Hisung?” 

“Fuck, I’ll get angry again.” He warned, breath still hot and heavy as you smoothed over his dress shirt, trying to soothe him.  

“It’s okay. I’m here, Tae, you have me. Tell me anything.” You assured and attempted to mirror his own words from a week ago, worried about his open show of emotions and thinking you should be helpful, make sure you're supplying all the support he needs because he may never be this open again. 

Taehyung’s temper was still high, more of his hot breath on your shoulder as he spoke, lips still by your ear and the bass in his voice sending currents through you. 

“It goes back 3 years, rival companies.” He began. “His father was dismissed as CEO and they held a shareholders meeting to decide a new one. Long story short, he won the vote, but only by a 49-51 percent margin. He barely scrapped by, and after he was appointed CEO he found out his major shareholders voted against him. What made things worse was that right after, they pulled all their shares from his company and invested in mine, and he fucking-” Taehyung was growing frustrated again recounting the story, his body rising and falling faster until your hands snaked up to his jaw, fingers splaying across his cheeks as you held his face pacifyingly. 

“Taehyung, breathe again. You’re fine.” You felt him listen to you, breathing deeply as he became more composed again, continuing.

“He thinks I sabotaged him, that I colluded with his shareholders and used my money when I never did. I only had acquainted relationships with them at the time and never convinced them of anything. They told me they chose to invest because they saw me as the better company, the more competent CEO.” Taehyung was venting, and you let him exactly do so by attentively listening, holding him. 

“It wasn’t my fault, but he thinks it is. And now he’s made it his life’s mission to ruin mine, ruin anything he can get his hands on because he’s convinced I ruined his.” Taehyung sounded upset, clearly fed up with having to deal with such an incessant pain in the ass. 

“Just not you,” He sounded like he was pleading, a whisper. “Not fucking you, he can’t ruin us, or our marriage.”  

“He won’t, Taehyung. We won’t let him.” The pads of your thumbs smoothed over Taehyung’s skin, trying to ease him as he moved back slightly, vision meeting yours.

“Y/N, I don’t lie. I wouldn’t sabotage anybody, I don’t play dirty like that. Even if the business world is riddled with people like that, I would never do it. I’m not like that at all.” A hint of desperation leaked into his tone, eyes gentle as he so emphatically tried to convince you he was nothing like Hisung said. 

And you found your heart softening thinking about the fact that it affected him so much. That while he didn’t care what others thought of him, he somehow valued what you thought. 

“Taehyung, don’t worry, I know, okay? You’re completely fine. He just tries to rile you up because he knows you’re better, more competent.” You slid your hands back down over his neck, letting them rest over his strong chest again. It made your breaths uneven, registering how close he was to you, just inches from your face. 

“He probably knows those shareholders chose you because you’re the better CEO. He knows it, he just tries to deny the truth by looking for ways to ruin your life, so he doesn’t have to accept he’s inferior.” You offered earnestly, rhythmically smoothing him over. Taehyung’s eyes suddenly swirled with a sense of ease, his tense body now seeming to relax. “You think so?” 

“Of course, Tae. You’re nothing like that, I know you’re not.” You said determinedly, gripping his shirt lightly to drive your point forward, eyes conveying warmth. 

Though the response that met you was Taehyung gazing into your eyes boldly as he heard you address him so casually by a nickname already, his look containing something you couldn’t decipher, and it left butterflies swarming your chest. 

You didn’t realize how intoxicatingly close you both were in this position; Taehyung’s arms caging you against the wall, body pressing into you as he looked at you, not breathing hard anymore but hotly, like he was feeling something he was attempting to manage. Your hands funnily contrasted the size of his chest as he glanced at them, then up at him, clutching him a little tighter the more the tension seemed to build.  

It was obvious now, both of you were merely staring at each other, Taehyung’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and your eyes followed the movement, something unknown alighting inside you at the image. It called necessary attention to his sculpted neck and you found yourself wondering if you’d ever get to lay kisses on it, possibly even mark it

You bit your lip at the thought, hating that such an idea dawned on you, igniting with something unholy the more you breathed in his sexy scent, his large body enclosing you. It sent chills down your spine, trying to contain yourself by shifting and clamping down on your lip harder.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered to the very action, his undivided attention now on your mouth. He could feel every harder squeeze of your hands on his chest as the heat rose, fisting his own hands against the wall with the need to draw himself closer to you, especially with the way you looked right now. 

Taehyung already couldn’t keep his hands off you when you resembled the hottest, and yet most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen in that dress. Either a sweet angel descended from heaven or the right kind of demon he craved. It was even more difficult knowing it’s a dress he chose, adoring the way you were wrapped up in his favourite colour, and thought red has never looked better on anyone else.

It also made him think of some things he shouldn’t speak aloud. Though Taehyung knew you, and knew you weren't ready for anything of that sort, so he remained collected and only stuck to having an arm around you tonight, mindful of boundaries. 

But when you were under his scrutiny, smaller self tucked against a wall because of him and clearly hot and bothered yourself, your exposed skin raking his brain, he couldn’t keep from nearing your lips. 

He’s once felt how soft they were before, seeing on multiple occasions how plushy they truly are and desiring to feel that same soft sensation again. So he disregarded all thought, coming forward inch by inch as he gauged your response, and when he viewed you fluttering your eyes shut and lifting your head towards him, he fought back cracking a smirk. 

Taehyung was milliseconds from connecting your mouths, feeling the skin of his lips blissfully brush yours as his sweet breath invaded your mouth, only for a frantic voice suddenly calling out his name to interrupt, the very culprit tumbling into the hallway. 

“Taehyung! Y/N- oh shit.” Taehyung immediately ducked his face away from you and you hastily let him go, Taehyung puffing out frustrated air as he met his friends’ eyes. “Jimin.. what?” 

“I-uh. I’m sorry, but I got Hisung kicked out and we’re gonna start the last toast. You guys should um...be there.” Jimin cleared his throat and began shuffling, avoiding eye contact with the both of you. 

“Okay, we’re coming.” 

“Sorry, again.” Jimin bowed lightly and nearly made a break for it. 

Taehyung sighed heavily, pushing himself off the wall and straightening up as he freed you, finally able to breathe peacefully. 

“We should um.. go.” He voiced awkwardly.

“Yeah.. just give me a second. I’ll be back from the restroom.” You dared to make eye contact with him to seem unaffected, though panicked the instant your gazes locked.

“Okay.” He nodded, seeming unbothered.

You grasped the skirt of your dress and your heels clacked against the tiled flooring as you scurried off, needing to find the bathroom to see whether or not you appeared as much of a mess as you felt. 

You bolted inside and ran towards the sink, spotting two women possibly your age by the mirror though ultimately ignored them, patting over your cheeks to feel how warm they were. 

Were you really just seconds away from kissing Taehyung? Kissing him? What would’ve happened if Jimin never walked in? Would you have kissed him for however long, would you have stopped it? 

Even better question, why didn’t you stop it? Why were you so ready to kiss him, maybe even excited by the very idea? It sent a chill down your spine, even recalling that Taehyung stated earlier he liked your lips. 

Kim Taehyung liked your lips, the same ridiculously high-status, wealthy man people were on their knees for, practically Seoul’s most powerful CEO and Korea’s seemingly unattainable bachelor; that same Taehyung was the one who liked not only your lips, but your height, even your eyes. 

He said they were nice. 

You didn’t even want to unbox the entire Hisung situation. He so naturally defended you, even held you back out of consideration for your safety it seemed, and it frightened you how much you liked it, liked that he was so protective and made all those confessions about disliking other men around you.

It may have been possessive, but you fucking liked it. 

And you already felt doomed. 

You were simply imploding on yourself, having your own personal meltdown when one of the two women audaciously addressed you, tone light and airy. 

“Oh my God, are you Min Y/N?” She inquired. 

You flashed your eyes to her, answering with furrowed eyebrows. “Uh, Kim Y/N now, but yes.” 

“Wow, so you’re the woman Kim Taehyung married?” The other one perked up. 

“..Yes.” You answered confused.  

The other woman really scoffed here, scoffed, “Song-i, it’s the other way around. She married him.” The rather rude looking woman clarified, and you found out right after just how rude she was. “The Kim Taehyung would never willingly marry someone like her.” 

Your expression immediately contorted, unbelieving of her audacity. “Excuse me?” 

“Don’t think we’re stupid, everyone knows you seduced him into it.” She nearly spat, tone snobby as ever. 

You guffawed humourlessly, truly having it up to here with today because it seemed never-ending with bullshit. “Think what you want, but I didn’t seduce him.” 

“We know you’re lying, he wouldn’t marry some runaway like you. You came out of nowhere, you clearly got into his bed before you got him to the altar.” The other one added on, painting their twisted narrative together. 

“It wasn’t like that all, but if you want to think so because you’re not the one he takes home at night, then be my fucking guest.” You countered them, look sharp enough you were sure you could cut a diamond. 

They both took immediate offence, having the audacity to near you and invade your personal space. “You’re not the only woman he’s taken home, do you really think you’re special?” She insinuated something you weren’t dumb enough to not catch, heart sinking at the thought. 

“What exactly are you trying to get at?” 

“The fact that he married you as a favour, you runaway, and everyone knows your marriage isn’t love at all.” She relayed with a snippy tone. “Don’t you get you’re just charity to him? Everyone knows it, sweetie.” 

You were trying hard to think of a way to counter, though your stinging heart took the jab like it was white hot lightning. You felt crushed within seconds at the comment hitting home, sinking lower until you spoke up. 

“Our marriage isn’t your business. Maybe try getting a life before you revolve it around mine.” You spat as you sent them a petty look, making your way out and almost exiting until you felt a splash of water hitting the back of your hair, mouth falling agape at the sheer audacity of what just fucking happened. 

“Your life is fucking miserable. You’ll stay by his side but he’ll never love you. Keep acting like your his real wife and see what’ll happen. Everyone hates you and how you made him marry you out of pity. Watch your back, runaway, you never know when he might end it all and break your little heart.” You almost, almost turned around to land a right hook across the girl’s face until you decided against it, composing yourself with a breathing mantra and instead choosing your favourite way of leaving a bad situation. 

With a snarky last word. 

“Seems he’s already broken yours with this ring, huh? Stay mad at the ring bitches, stay mad at the ring.” You smiled condescendingly as you flaunted Taehyung’s twelve thousand dollar ring, walking out of the bathroom despite their exclamations and practically marching towards the hall, seething. 

You arrived inside and plopped down on your seat next to Taehyung bitterly, utterly vexed as you crossed your arms and grinded your teeth. 

“Hey, where were you?” Taehyung asked. “You missed the toast.” 

“Could’ve done it without me anyway.” You replied curtly, all the information you received in just 2 minutes ruling your thoughts and sending you into a storm of anger, spoiling your mood. 

Taehyung became confused. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Nothing.” You huffed and reached for your glass of water, taking a large swig and nearly slamming it back onto the table. 

Taehyung reacted surprised. “Seriously, what’s wrong?” He became apprehensive of your mood, grabbing your hand on the table gently as he searched for your eyes. 

Though he instead found your eyes flashing towards something else, someone else before you snatched your hand away, eyes set cold.  

“I said nothing.” 

Taehyung followed your previous line of sight and landed on two women finding their seats a few tables away, their own eyes immediately deflecting from him once he made eye contact.

And it really only took two seconds for Taehyung to connect the dots, recognizing their faces. 

Taehyung sighed heavily, feeling guilty and suddenly apologetic about the possible situation, knowing something must have been said to you. 

He turned back around, “Y/N, what happened?” He tried inquiring again, though you responded with absolutely nothing, completely crossed and avoiding him. 

He exhaled tiredly, this day having been the epitome of a joke. Taehyung was scanning over you again when he suddenly noticed the ends of your hair, distinguishing they were wet and he found it strange. “Y/N, why the fuck is your hair wet?” He was moving to touch the damp parts until you evaded him, tone rigid. 

“Nothing, Taehyung.” 

Taehyung sighed again, frustrated as he once again put two-and-two together, remembering you’d all come from the restroom and addressed you. “What did they say, Y/N? Tell me right now, is that why your hair’s wet?” 

“No, Taehyung, nothing happened,” You stressed, turning your body even further away from him and crossing your arms tighter. 

Taehyung determined he’s truly had enough of today and rose from his seat, you noticing though choosing to ignore him. Taehyung quickly resolved he was going to fix this, beyond agitated this entire day had been damned to hell. He was having a good time too, especially keeping in mind whatever in God’s name was happening between you two, and only knowing that it made him inexplicably happy for some reason. 

Though that mood was ruined now, Taehyung shaking away his thoughts as he began plotting his approach towards your situation, entirely pissed off as he made his way towards the bar, concocting his plan. 

It took Taehyung only a good 10 minutes to get what he needed, snatching the nicest bottle of champagne and trying to remember where he’d observed the two women sitting, strolling his way over to the table with his fakest grin.  

“Good evening, ladies.” He greeted with a saccharine tone as he neared them. 

“Oh my God, Taehyung!” One of the girls beamed. “We haven’t seen you so long, what are you doing here?” 

“Yeah, too long!” 

“It has.” Taehyung smiled. “I actually wanted to offer this.” Taehyung then revealed the bottle of champagne from behind his back, holding it out towards them. 

The two women became elated, practically cheering as they clearly admired Taehyung more than he liked. “Oh wow! Thank you so much!” One of them thanked, receiving the bottle bashfully. 

“You’re too kind, Taehyung, did you really get this for us?” The other inquired, a bright smile on her face. 

“Actually, I didn’t.” 

Both women looked at each other confused, eyebrows furrowed. “You.. didn’t?” 

“No,” Taehyung responded with a bleak expression in near offence they’d assume that, smile wiped from his face. “You both did.”

“Wh-what?” They both questioned, incredulous. 

“I put it on your tabs, geniuses. There’s 6 more bottles, by the way.” 

Both women’s eyes went wide, immediately protesting. “T-this is the most expensive bottle of champagne here!” They looked annoyed, and Taehyung was all about it.  

“I know.” Taehyung smiled condescendingly, drawing closer to the women and dropping his tone to a scarily low, threatening octave. 

“Say anything to my wife again and I’ll make sure you pay more.” Taehyung finalized and rubbed his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he walked away, smirking. He ignored their protests as he passed by the bartender, winking for the 6 other bottles of champagne to be delivered to them. 

Taehyung then made his way to you, now in a hurry to leave this awful night behind as he gently gripped your arm, speaking into your ear to not alert anyone else at the table. “Y/N, we’re leaving.” 

Taehyung didn’t really have to wait, you responding rapidly, “Don’t have to tell me twice.” You were already rising from your seat, done with this entire Godforsaken night yourself. 

You both stepped away together, just about reaching the hall doors until Taehyung stopped you in front, holding you by your arms. “Stay here, I’ll get your coat.” 

You nodded at him and Taehyung bolted off, wanting to nab your coat as fast as possible so he could drape it around you and practically flaunt your relationship in front of everyone. He didn’t care if it was fake anymore, didn’t care for the legitimacy of his actions; he simply wanted the world to know you’re his wife, purposely wanted those two girls and everyone to see him treating you affectionately.

And he most certainly wanted to squash any of the doubt Hisung called attention to earlier that kept bugging him, entailing your marriage already seeming fake to him, and could to multiple other people.  

So he retrieved the coats and came rushing back to you, having worn his as he approached you. You almost reached out for your coat until Taehyung halted you. 

“Don’t, I’m putting it on you.” He rounded the coat around your body, helping your arms into the sleeves. He pulled it snug around you and held onto the ends where it should’ve been buttoned, taking a moment to think. 

Taehyung simply gazed at you, licking his lips contemplating what more he could do in this moment that would be convincing enough, knowing there had to be people watching you two right now. 

He realized he was staring without having said anything. “Sorry, I’m trying to think of something to do for everyone watching but I don’t know what.” Taehyung flashed to your lips and his mind explored the idea, though ultimately fought against it. 

“People are watching?” You inquired.

“Yeah,” Taehyung clutched onto your jacket, trying to think as he looked at your little bundled up self. 

“But I’m not sure what to do-” Taehyung was cut off by you suddenly grabbing his tie and crashing your lips onto his in a single second. 

Taehyung’s eyes blew out, taken by surprise until he found himself quickly melting into your kiss, hands gripping your jacket tighter. He couldn’t help himself from opening up his mouth to catch more of yours, lips sensually kissing yours in a slow, unhurried pace. 

You instantly loved the way he kissed, Taehyung somehow having taken control when you were the one who initiated everything, completely taken by his pillowy, delicate lips. 

Taehyung didn’t care if your lipstick smudged onto him or how brash the public display of affection seemed; all he cared about was the soft feeling of your lips against his own, and the sexy way you wre tugging him by his tie.

He knew it would stay on his mind for weeks. 

You were getting lost until he disconnected your mouths, only looking at each other with undecipherable feelings, shimmering eyes that had no clue what just happened. 

Taehyung smiled before sweeping up your hand in an instant, pulling you out of the hall and eventually outside to quickly sent a text to his driver, guiding you to the curb of the venue. 

He held you against him to keep you warm while walking, suddenly speaking up when something occurred to him. 

“You called me Tae, you know.” 

“What?” 

“My nickname, you called me by it earlier.” Taehyung repeated. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just heard your friends say it and it slipped out, I didn’t mean to-”

“Say it all you want.” Taehyung was grinning to himself like an idiot, thinking you weren’t looking at him but that’s exactly what you were doing, admiring the curve of his perfect cupid’s bow with hints of your lipstick smeared on him. “It’s better when you say it.” 

And now it was your turn to smile like an idiot. 

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[lxngbottom]

i NEED more dominant neville!! maybe something to do with thigh riding idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

Be A Good Girl. | N.L.

in which neville makes the reader ride this thigh.

warnings: nsfw, smut, thigh riding, some degradation, dom!nev (lmk if there are more!)

you guys....... i fucking LOVE dom!neville

(edit: omg im getting to all of your requests so late pls forgive me i’ve had a lot going on in my life lately but i’m on that grind rn)

—

it was completely innocent, you see. the timing was bad, you assumed.

you and neville rarely ever fought, as he was never the one for conflict. but, the day before, you had felt like a last priority to the boy. and, maybe he didn’t mean to make you feel like that, but, he did.

so, when you two had screamed at each other for 45 minutes straight in his dorm, and you stormed out, you had decided to give him the silent treatment. and to get your mind off of things, luna had invited you to go to hogsmeade with her and harry.

harry sat in the common room patiently, waiting for your arrival. neville was there as well, because of course he had found out that you had been invited, and he was really hoping that he could try to convince you to not go, and just have a day for you two to make up for his absence the day before.

you finally came walking down the staircase, struggling to fit something into your purse as you did so. because of this, you didn’t notice the gawking stares you were getting from the most of the boys in the common room. neville stared at you, took in your outfit. a tank top due to the warm weather, and a high waisted skirt that showed off the top of your thighs deliciously. you pulled it up a bit, making neville lick his lips in hunger from how fucking sexy you looked.

but, that’s when he realized that he wasn’t the only one staring. and, the realization hit him that you were... punishing him? you? punishing him? you knew damn well that wasn’t how things worked, and on any other day, it would earn a smack on your ass cheek.

“hey, harry! ready to go?” you greeted the boy, zipping up your purse with a toothy smile. he looked you up and down, amazed at the fact that neville longbottom of all people was dating someone that looked like you.

“y-yeah! totally! let’s head out.”

neville stormed over to you, wrapping his hand around your wrist before you could go anywhere.

“we need to talk.” he demanded sternly, his jaw clenched as he witnessed harry practically eye-fucking you.

you rolled your eyes, and snatched away from him. he went to grab you again, but you stopped him with a slap to the wrist. you let out a “hmph!” and walked away with harry, and neville watched as the skirt fit perfectly around your ass.

a punishment definitely had your name written all over it for later.

—

“night, harry!” you waved, smiling at the boy. he waved back, and went up the stairs to go back to his dorm.

you did the same, relieved to finally just be able to relax. maybe, read a book before you fell asleep, or catch up on some journaling. yeah, that sounded nice.

you had a wonderful day. filled with laughs and small conversations between yourself, luna, and harry. you seemed to have completely forgotten about your boyfriend, and the argument you guys had just 24 hours before.

you entered your dorm, your head down to make sure that you locked it back when you stepped in. after your heard the sound of your door locking, you took the small cardigan off that you had brought with you, as the nighttime had made the air much chiller. you hung your purse up near the door, as that was a small system that one of your dorm mates had came up with. you kicked your shoes off, body still not facing your bed.

you went to take your tank top off, until something interrupted you.

“hm.”

the small mutter made you jump, and you turned around quickly to see who the culprit was. of course, it was neville. he sat on your bed, book in hand, and a dark look in his eyes as he stared at you,

you huffed, “what the hell are you doing here? i was changing, you know!”

he chuckled, the small laugh spiteful and low, “don’t stop on my account. it’s not like i haven’t seen you naked before, darling.”

you rolled your eyes, and stomped over towards your bed, “leave!”

he looked up at you, fake curiosity in his eyes. he slammed the book shut, and tossed it on your bedside table.

“why should i?”

you scoffed at him, “because, this is my dorm! and, i honestly don’t want to speak to you! so piss off!”

he found you adorable. your little tough act that you were trying to keep up. he knew it was only a matter of time before you would be wrapped around his finger once again, begging for him to be inside of you.

“you’re not still angry at me are you?”

he knew the answer to that. he just liked to tease you,

“yes! i’m very angry at you, neville! i was having a great day and of course... you come along to make me feel bad when you were in the wrong!”

neville grabbed your thigh as you tried to walk away, his fingers tightening on the sensitive skin, “me in the wrong? i wasn’t the one prancing around in this little skirt all day like a fucking whore.”

the statement made your stomach flutter, and you couldn’t help the blush that raised to your cheeks.

“i know what you’re playing at, petal. and, i don’t appreciate it. do you know how many guys were staring at your ass? staring at what belongs to me?”

the question made your cross your arms, “playing at? i’m not playing at anything, neville. i just wanted to feel pretty today. sorry that you’re angry that other guys find me attractive...”

that fucking attitude. oh god, you were in for it.

neville pulled you down by your wrist, settling you right on top of his lap. you felt his hard cock sticking out from his pants, just waiting to be touched. you couldn’t help but to sigh from the way it felt on your clothed clit.

“watch your fucking mouth, petal. you know i don’t like when you talk back.”

the tone in his voice made your panties dampen, and you tried to look away, avoid his intense gaze, but he quickly turned your face back by grabbing your chin,

“i saw the way harry was looking at you. you wanted him to see your pretty little ass... didn’t you?” he reached his hand up slowly, and caressed your cheek menacingly. you gulped, his dark eyes having a greater affect on you than you’d like to admit.

without warning, the hand that was settled onto the small of your back moved down swiftly, going underneath your skirt, and it came down with a harsh slap to your ass cheek. you whimpered, the burning sensation automatically kicking in.

“how many more slaps do you think you deserve, huh? cause... i think you deserve at least ten more, doll.”

you quickly shook your head, your clothed clit falling victim to his crotch. you bucked your hips up slightly, pleading for more friction.

he looked down, noticing the arousal leaking from your panties, staining his pants. he tsked and shook his head as he studied your desperate attempt to pleasure yourself,

“pretty sluts like you that like to show off don’t deserve my cock... isn’t that right, petal?” he cooed teasing, placing a single kiss on your neck.

“i—i’m sorry... please—“

“no begging. you know what’s coming.”

you sighed, knowing that no amount of pleading would lead you to get your way. you had made him mad, and you knew that there was no getting away with that.

“here’s what’s going to happen, petal. you’re going to get yourself off on my thigh. got it? and maybe... if you’re good i’ll fuck you until you can’t take it anymore. does that sound good?”

you quickly nodded your head, the thought of riding neville’s thigh always being so fun, in the most sinful way possible.

“alright, now be a good girl and do as i say...”

neville began to position himself up against the headboard, as he was not too keen on letting you fall back onto the floor. you waited patiently as he adjusted, beginning to take your tank top off.

he watched as the straps fell, and he licked his lips when he saw your bra covered breasts. he felt his cock twitch from the mere sight of your nipples as you took your bra off, letting it fall to the floor with a small noise.

you reached for the hem of your skirt, but neville interrupted,

“no. the skirt and your panties stay on. it looks too fucking good on you.”

you wanted to protest, as if you were going to do this you wanted to be able to feel all of him. but, you really had no choice. so, you simply nodded and crawled over towards your lovely boyfriend.

he patted his thigh as a sign for you to get on, and you did so shakily, not knowing what to expect.

“move your hips, petal...” he ordered, grabbing them and starting for you, “just like that.”

instantly, that fire in your stomach a-blazed. neville watched as you bucked your hips, trying to desperately not to miss his flexed thigh on your heat. he placed small, teasing kissing along your neck, going down to your breasts, and nibbling on your nipples gently.

you gasped, all the sensations beginning to hit you at once,

“look at my pretty girl, making me so fucking hard. merlin... you’re such a slut...” he breathed out, the movements from your knee cap stimulating him. in times like this, neville almost let the dominant mask slip off, but, he knew he had to keep it on.

“nev—fuck—c-cum...” you stuttered out, that familiar knot in your got trying ever so desperately to come apart.

he chuckled lowly at your state, and the way your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. “please... n—need y-your cock...”

he automatically shook his head,

“i told you, petal... dirty little sluts like you don’t get my cock... you know that already.”

you whimpered, only wanting the sensation of him inside of you, fucking you into oblivion.

as time went by, the urge to release was taking over your whole being. your thighs and hips were aching at this point, and neville as well could feel himself about to cum.

neville placed a sloppy kiss on your lips, “can’t get off, petal?” he teased, a smarmy grin on his face, “i’ll take over for you... even though you don’t deserve it.”

that’s when he held your hips once more, and flexed his thigh to his best ability. he moved you, your whimpers and moans only increasing with every feeling of friction.

“k-kiss...” you muttered, speech shaky and uneven. but, neville knew what you wanted. so, he pulled you in for a heated kiss, his tongue entering your mouth before you could even welcome it.

his cock was aching at this point, and he could feel himself about to release all in his pants.

“cum, flower. i need to feel you cum all over me like a good girl, alright?”

the tone in his voice was all you needed to let out a loud scream, and fall apart right in his arms. your thighs trembled, and neville felt your cum gather all in a pool on his pants. he as well came, a loud groan escaping his lips as your face fell into his neck.

“mhm... you make me feel so good, petal...”

[oddaodd]

· Maimed ·

Summary: Tommy finds out Y/n had to resort to prostitution while he was away at war and doesn't handle it well. 

Author’s note: This was requested by the lovely @idgaf2022  and I just gotta say I fell in love with this request and Im very happy with how it turned out . As always, I wish you all the loveliest of days. ❤️

Warnings: mentions of prostitution, war and an accident with a knife.

·

“When where you going to tell me?” Came his voice void of all emotion. His eyes piercing through her skin.

“Tell you what?” She smiled. Her mind refusing to believe she knew what he was talking about.

“I was at The Garrison today” he began There was a man, a man I had never seen before. He spun such yarns about you ” he paused and took a look at Y/n’s face. Her smile long gone. She knew what he was talking about.

“At first I though he must be stupid to come up with such stories about my wife in my pub, but then when nobody  believed him, he mentioned the scar you have under your ribs” he spoke pointing at the place where she evidently had a scar.

“Tommy… I..I” But she couldn’t find the words, they were all held back by the knot in her throat.

The war had been hell. Everyone had lived through it differently. Tommy and his brothers and many other men had had to go and fight and Y/n and Polly and Ada and many other women had had to stay behind and run the country while the men were gone. They were dark times abundant with need and scarceness.  Y/n had tried her best to keep her and tommy’s baby daughter, Josephine away from need and hunger. Having just gotten married and had their baby, Y/n had her hands tied. She tried to help Polly as much as she could at the shop but sometimes there just wasn’t enough money which lead Y/n to charging fro her company to the men who didn’t serve. All for Jo’s sake.

When Tommy came back she never mentioned it, ready to put it behind her and every night she prayed for Tommy to never find out. All her customers had been from outside of Birmingham after all.  

“Did you seriously think I’d never find out?”

“No” she began, taking his hands in her shaky ones she wanted to, but she knew she couldn’t hide it forever. “No, but I just… I just didn’t know If I wanted you to know. I felt so ashamed and I didn’t want to bring it up when I knew I would never have to do it again. Things were hard when you left …”

“ It must have been such a sacrifice” he muttered bitterly and snatched his hands away from hers.

“How dare you?” she spat “You have no idea of how hard it was when you were away, the money from the shop just wasn’t enough!”

“Oh I bet” he said sarcastically “You’ve never liked sleeping alone.”

“Thomas...” she warned dumbfounded on the verge of tears. She couldn’t believe her own husband was making her feel like shit.

But he ignored her tone and her hurt features “Needed someone to keep your bed warm while I was away” he spat mercilessly “Or maybe you just missed the feeling of someone between your legs”

At his venomous words Y/n saw her own hand moving in slow motion before it crashed against Tommy’s cheek. She couldn’t handle him to keep talking like that, digging up a past she tried so hard to burry deep down. Her lips parted at her own actions.

When Tommy’s unchanging face fixed upon her again he noticed the tears that had so vehemently threatened to spill had finally succeed in doing so. Triggering a feeling of deep guilt deep within his soul.

“Fuck you” she spoke in a maimed voice. Tommy prepared himself for more verbal retaliation from her, but she left the room without another word and a few minutes later he heard the engine of a car shortly followed by the sound of tires moving on the gravel.

It was only then when Tommy realized he had maybe taken it too far. He wasn’t acting out of hatred. When he heard the bloke talking about how well Y/N felt snd bragging about having fucked Thomas Shelby’s wife, he felt his anger rise to levels he hadn’t known till before that unfaithful night. The man, obviously was dead before Tommy began heading home.

Nasty emotions had been festering in his mind with every kilometer he drove and when he saw Y/n when he arrived home, it all exploded.He was angry, not necessarily at Y/n, but angry at what she had done, angry at himself. He hated that he couldn’t have avoided what lead to Y/n having to do what she had done.

Y/n avoided her husband to her best efforts for the following week. Polly took her and her daughter in when she knocked crying on her door. Y/n couldn’t shake the nasty feelings Thomas had awoken within her. She couldn’t stand more than an hour without breaking into tears and her heart broke every time her little Jo looked at her with worried eyes, ignorant of what she was going through. It wasn’t something a 7 year old should know about.

Polly understood Y/n’s pain and helped her take care of Jo when she couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed.

“Your mummy’s tired. Let’s let her rest”

She had been there with her all along and when Y/n had asked her to keep her secret all those years ago, Polly obliged without question. She knew her nephew wouldn’t comprehend.

Days went by slow, heavy and cold. One Friday evening, pol had taken Jo to the movies giving Y/n a little time for herself.

Oddly enough, she felt like cooking so she made her way downstairs and began making vegetable soup. After half an hour or so she heard the front door opening.

“Was the film good?” She asked loudly hoping to hear the sound of Jo’s voice, but when she heard the footsteps coming closer to the kitchen she immediately identified them as Tommy’s  

“Please go away” she asked in such a broken voice that made Tommy contemplate on going away to not cause her further discomfort, but he stayed because he knew he had to make it right.

“We should talk” he said in an uncertain voice standing at a respectable distance from his wife.

“I don’t want to talk” she spoke shakily. Goosebumps suddenly taking over her body.

“I’m so sorry Y/n, I..”

“You made me feel like dirt” she stated as she heard his footsteps drawing nearer to her with his uncharacteristic apology.

“I spent so much time forcing myself to be alright with what I had to do keep Jo and I alive  and then to try and forget all about it when you came back” a  heavy breath holding back her years as she began chopping a carrot.

“But now you brought it back up and I... I feel so filthy, I’ve showered three times today and I don’t feel any better.” She continued as the first tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Y/n “He began softly placing a testing hand on her waist. She shook it away.

“Look at me” he pleaded

But Y/n shook her head no. Knowing he was in no place to reproach, he respected her unwillingness to look at him and spoke.

“Im so sorry, Y/n. I was selfish and didn’t stop to think about what you were feeling”

Y/n’s body continued to shake with silent sobs

“I now know I was in no place to judge what you had to do to survive and  I won’t ever forgive myself for making you hurt like this”

“Yeah you were in no place” y/n spat with sudden anger as she continued cutting the vegetables with tears in her eyes “Not when you didn’t even stop to ask me and decided to just listen to the part of the story some bloke told you and not...” she hadn’t noticed the force she was putting into her cutting skills until the knife grazed her finger.  

She yanked her hand away from the cutting board with a wince and immediately went to grab a piece of cloth to  wrap her finger in.

“Fuck, y/n” Tommy said coming to her side when he heard her wince. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head no and he knew she wasn’t answering about the cut.

“Please look at me” he tried again and to his surprise this time Y/n did tilt her face to face him.

The sight of her bloodshot eyes tore cracks in Tommy’s heart. And his hands shook a little when he cupped her face, a few tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“I love you Y/n” he professed looking into her eyes.”I’m so sorry I was so crass about it. And I promise you’ll never have to do that ever again. I’ll keep you safe”

At his words Y/n’s hands went to his. She understood and accepted his repentance, but it did little to soften the pain she felt. Tommys hands then went to tuck a few strands of her loose hair behind her ear his eyes still set on hers.

Y/n then succumbed to the sudden need she felt for his touch and embraced him with uncertain arms. Tommy corresponded instantly wrapping his own arms around her fragile figure.  After a few moments of silence and much needed touch, he asked to her ear if she could ever forgive him.

“Yes” she spoke weakly but she wasn’t entirely certain she meant it. She wanted to forgive him but she didn’t know if she could ever forget his hateful words. Tommy knew it well enough.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @nyotamalfoy @peakyxtommy @writeroutoftime @lilymurphy03

[reidsnose]

completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly (spencer reid x reader)

overview: spencer helps his best friend talk through her emotions

genre: angst? and fluff

warnings: mentions of cheating, bad coping mechanisms, idrk what else reader being upset for a little bit

a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app FOREVER but idk how i feel ab this one im usually strictly fluff so yall lmk :)

masterlist

you hated talking about your feelings. you knew it was unhealthy to keep it bottled and and 'deal with it on your own' but that didn't stop you from doing exactly that.

the worst part about your feelings right now was that you isolate to cope with them. you didn't want to interact with anyone at all because more likely than not you would lash out at them on accident. it just slips out sometimes.

when you trudged into the bullpen with your head down and your hands fidgeting with your zipper, you didn't even notice all eyes on you. you werent your usual happy self. you weren't being loud, you weren't cracking jokes. you were just begrudgingly existing amongst your favorite people and they knew there was something wrong.

"good morning gorgeous, its a paperwork day! that means no traveling!" garcia informed you brightly, trying to lighten my mood.

"oh. cool. thanks." you answered back, flashing her as much of a smile as you could muster after realizing the harshness of your words.

she shot morgan a look, to which he raised an eyebrow.

"hey pretty lady," he began as he walked over to you, "whats going on? did you drink some grumpy juice for breakfast?"

"no. im fine." you replied flatly, making your way to your desk.

"what in the world.." he whispered to garcia, not knowing you could still hear.

or maybe he did know. maybe he was trying to get on your nerves. no. this is the irritability talking. morgan was just being a good friend.

you groaned at your computer, retyping the same password for the 4th time.

this time Prentiss shot you a look.

"is everything ok?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"yeah my computer is being stupid." you rolled your eyes as it finally let you in.

"oh i know the feeling. if you need any help-"

"I'm alright. thanks." you cut her off, eyes glued to the file you were working on.

JJ, who had witnessed the whole interaction unfold, stood with her mouth agape.

"spence, your bestie needs you!" JJ tapped his shoulder and motioned to you.

he watched your jaw rhythmically clench and unclench. your tell. thats what you always did when you were irritated or angry.

"hey y/n," he hummed, sitting lightly on the corner of your desk, crinkling some of your paper work.

"Reid! my files!" you cried, swatting his thigh. he got up and murmured an apology.

"are you ok?" he asked simply, crouching down to meet your height as you sat in your chair.

"why does everyone keep asking me that!"

you knew why. you were being a bitch.

"you just called me Reid." he stated.

"its your name." you replied, not meeting his gaze.

"yeah but you always-" he began.

"I'm not in the mood right now."

he sighed, "if you need someone to talk to-"

"i don't need anyone to talk to because theres nothing to talk about!" you interrupted, causing him to furrow his eyebrows at the tone of my voice.

'i shouldn't be mean to him. why am i acting like this?' you thought to yourself

"ok, ill be over there if you need me," he threw his hands up in surrender.

you mumbled an ok and went back to distracting yourself with work. you were so invested in filing these cases you completely lost track of time and before you knew it, it was just you, Hotch, and Spencer left in the office. you vaguely remembered waving goodbye to your other coworkers but you didn't remember it being nearly 6pm.

"guys go home, you've done a lot today," Hotch said as he crossed the bullpen, making his way towards the glass doors.

"yeah i will i'm almost done," you answered, not looking up from my screen.

"good night, Hotch," Spencer called from the break room.

you stared at your screen, eyes burning. you did enough. you cant escape confronting your feelings much longer. you sighed as you began packing up.

as if on cue, Spencer walked out of the break room with two cups in his hands, steam rising from the both of them. your mood softened just a bit.

"here," he handed you your drink which he had filled with your favorite tea and sweetened just the way you like it.

"you didnt have to." you replied, setting down the warm cup as you finished packing up. he mirrored your movements, resting his satchel across his torso before picking his drink back up.

"i know." he answered simply, a gentle smiling resting on his lips before he took a sip of his own tea.

"im sorry for snapping at you earlier." you apologized, finally meeting his gaze. his eyes were soft and sweet and you felt a pang of guilt in your heart as they looked into your own.

"its ok. do you want to tell me why?" he asked, walking to the elevator with you.

"no. yes? i dont know. its stupid." you replied, looking down at the floor as you recounted your reason for my anger today.

"its not stupid." he spoke softly.

you scoffed lightly, "you dont even know what it is."

"so tell me."

"but its dumb!"

"y/n." he warned.

"my ex boyfriend, Ashton, is getting married to the girl he cheated on me with." you sighed, walking through the parking lot with Spencer.

"ah so Trashton put my favorite ray of sunshine in a bad mood." he joked, breath swirling around the cool air as he spoke

you let out a weary chuckle, "its not like i miss him or anything, i just wish i had someone! not him- i just- i want- ugh i don't know how to word this!" you grew frustrated, furrowing your eyebrows and balling your hands into fists.

you knew exactly how to word it.

you wanted Spencer.

"its ok, take all the time you need." he whispered, leaning on the hood of your car. you joined him, resting as you took a sip of your tea.

"why am i not good enough to be loved." you stated the question rather than asking it, eyes filling with tears.

"you are good enough and i promise you that you are loved more than you know." he affirmed gently, turning to face you.

"do you know why we broke up?" you asked, knowing if you acknowledged his previous comment you wouldn't be able to continue without sobbing.

"because he cheated on you." he answered confidently.

"no." you shook your head, fighting back tears.

"what? he didn't cheat on you?"

"he did. and i was going to forgive him for that."

Spencer started getting riled up, "what! why? you're worth more than that scumbag! you shouldn't ha-"

"Spencer just let me finish!" you cut him off. he went silent, chest rising and falling more rhythmically than it had seconds earlier. "he wanted me to chose. him or you."

"him or me?" he furrowed his eyebrows, voice much quieter now.

"mhm." you hummed not meeting his gaze, your cheeks redder than you'd like to admit.

"i don't understand." he breathed.

"he thought i was cheating on him with you. he had no proof and it w-"

"oh this is all my fault. y/n i'm so sorry!"

"no! spence its not your fault!" you grabbed his arm to reassure him.

"it is! your boyfriend broke up with you because of me! and now you're sad and lonely and its all my fault!" he cried, looking worriedly into your eyes.

"first of all, i broke it off with him, he just gave the ultimatum. secondly, you did me a favor."

"how?"

"by showing me who i was really dating. a cheating, insecure scumbag who was quick to replace me when i left."

"i guess thats true."

"and id pick you over him any day." you admitted, looking back down at the ground. he nudged your shoulder playfully and you cracked a sad smile

"im sorry i made you sad and lonely."

"you didnt. id be sad and lonely anyway."

"why? you would still have a boyfriend if it wasn't for me."

"i don't want a boyfriend if it isn't you."

shit. shit.

the words toppled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"what?" he asked, wide eyes and looking a little shocked. spencer was sure in that very moment that if he heard you correctly hed simply explode.

"i- no this was a bad idea. i just ruined everything didnt i!" you were speaking more to yourself, exasperated at your own stupidity.

"no," you felt him place a finger to your chin and lift your gaze to meet his, "im glad you said it because now i can admit it."

"admit what?"

"that im completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly in love with you."

"spencer dont play with my heart like this. are you being serious?"

"yes. i am." he said with a strange confidence than you had never heard before. hesitant but sure.

"oh thats so lucky because i am completely and utterly, wholeheartedly and hopelessly in love with you too." you admitted, feeling about 100 pounds lighter, like you could fly. he pulled you into a bone crushing hug which you eagerly accepted. "i should talk about my feelings more often."

he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, "yes you should."

world littlest taglist:

@mac99martin

[katsumiiii]

When they’re mad at you

Katsuki Bakugou x gn! poc reader

Eijirou Kirishima x gn! poc reader

Denki Kaminari x gn! poc reader

Katsuki Bakugou

katsuki and mad go hand in hand

whenever you see his ass he’s always mad about something

and if he’s not...

well either you’re dreaming or he’s sleep

either way he’d probably still be mad tbh

but let’s say you got him actually upset

like ACTUALLY pissed

whew chile I pray for everyone in that room

so you and katsuki were in the common room arguing

both of y’all are throwing jabs below the belt bc you guys are petty af

“you think you can be a hero with that shitty attitude?”

“at least I have a strong fucking quirk, I don’t even know how your ass got in this school. fucking extra.”

anyways, you’re not showing it but katsuki is low key hurting your feelings

ofc you aren’t gonna let him know that

soooo you say something slightly outta pocket

“right so my quirk is ass, but aren’t you the one who got kidnapped....twice? oh alright.”

the look in his eyes is heartbreaking

and although he tries to hide it, it’s pretty obvious that you hurt him

“you know what, fuck off. if you come anywhere near me ill fucking kill you.”

and he stomps off

now everyone’s looking at you like you fucked up

“oh so he can be an asshole to me, but when im one back it’s an issue?? you know what mind y’all fucking business.”

now you’re even more upset bc everyone was taking his side

you hide out in your room for a while, thinking about everything

you then realize that what you said was triffling

“damnit!”

you try everything to get him to talk to you again

but he won’t even acknowledge your  existence

everytime you try to go up and talk to him he acts like you’re not even there

“katsuki listen, can I-”

“shitty hair, come one let’s go fucking work out or some shit.”

okaayyyy guess you have to try again

“babe I know you’re pissed but-”

“DEKU!! BRING YOUR ASS OVER HERE!”

oh, so he’d rather talk to Izuku

the disrespect

but you know you fucked up so you don’t stop trying

and eventually get him to talk to you again

“katsuki please, just fucking talk to me.”

“the fuck do you want?”

you’re elated, I mean he’s never fully ignored you before

plus you miss the cuddles, and food

especially the food

“im sorry babe, I was pissed at the stuff you were saying and I wanted to hit you where it hurt. I made you some hot ramen to let you know I’m really sorry.”

he looked you up and down, his face in that same goofy ass sneer

“tch, fine I forgive you or whatever. but im not eating this shit. it doesn’t even look edible.”

“are you crazy?! the packets are good as fuck babe.”

“YOU BOUGHT ME THE SHITTY PACKET?!”

Eijirou Kirishima

what the fuck did you do to possibly make this boy mad?

I mean seriously

you really had to fuck up in order for him to even be remotely pissed

I don’t wanna talk about it

but we gon talk about it OKAY

so you was in the kitchen searching for something to drink

at the top of the fridge, you see a bottle of cranberry juice right next to kirishima’s premium crimson riot protein powder

so being the smart bitch you are, you decide to climb up on top of the counter top to get your cranberry juice

“fuck why is it up so high?”

you stick your tongue out in concentration trying to get your juice

and finally you grab it

while also knocking over kirishima’s premium crimson riot protein powder

“oh shit.”

“Y/N?! ARE YOU OKAY? WHAT WAS THAT NOISE?!”

your baby walking in with his hair down looking all confused

he then looks down at the floor, noticing the powder pooling into the cracks of the tile

he looks at you

you look at him

he looks back down at the floor

then right back at you

“heyyyyy babyyyy.”

“what the fuck?”

he bites his lip in agitation, trying not to yell

“I spent hours in line for that babe.”

“I know....sorry?”

he literally could not look at you, so he turned around and left

“fuck! great job Y/N.....least I got my cranberry juice.”

the next couple of days he was visibly different

unresponsive, not as smiley

“he’s really mad at me over some stupid protein powder....”

bakugou would not stop staring you down

mentally telling you to fix this shit or he would skin you alive

yeah not gonna happen

so you trot your ass to the store

sighing at the long ass line in front of you

“fucking god.”

eventually you manage to get the powder, placing it in his room for when he gets back from training

the next day kirishima runs over to you, kissing you repeatedly on the face

“THANK YOU BABE!! IT WAS MANLY OF YOU TO FIX YOUR MISTAKE!”

“you’re welcome baby.”

“but how’d you manage to get 6 bottles?”

“I had to fight a couple bitches.”

Denki Kaminari

yeah he literally cannot stay mad at you

like at all

and there’s no POSSIBLE way you could even REMOTELY make him angry at you for a long period of time

he’s not petty like bakugou

he’d be mad for like 1 hour and then come back asking for cuddles

what he’s mad over is probably dumb af anyways

okay so you and denki were hanging out in his room

watching reality tv

bc that’s how y’all bond

and during the show the two main girls were arguing over some dumb shit that ppl on reality tv always do

and denki ofc wants to say his little two cents

“no way, she’s totally wrong for that. don’t you think babe?”

“no, I would’ve done the same shit.”

he’s very much betrayed

looks at you like you’re crazy

slowly gets up from the bed

inching closer and closer towards the door

“are you actually upset? you asked for my opinion.”

“yeah but you were supposed to agree with me!”

you roll your eyes bc atp you’re not even taking him seriously

“Y/NNN, im really mad at youuu.”

“yeah ok.”

“FINE THEN! DON’T TALK TO ME!”

“okay.”

he stomps away, his lips curled into a pout

meanwhile you continue to watch your show

he looks back every once in a while to see if you were coming after him

“IM LEAVING FOR REAL NOW!”

“okay.”

“GOING INTO THE ELEVATOR!!”

“yep.”

“NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN!!”

“cool.”

he’s definitely like 10 feet away from your door

you gave him about 30 minutes, deciding that you were sick of reality tv, switching over to a scary movie instead

you see denki’s head peep over the doorframe

“is that the conjuring?”

“yes.”

“mhm I guess I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“what an honor.”

taglist: @mypimpademia @blackweebtrash @xetou @sisifromthed @her-majesty-kiara @moxie-elle @angiebug101 @myhoodacademia @notfiveweenieskids @lilsparkyswife

—please let me know if I missed anyone, and if you would like to be added to the taglist just shoot me a message!

[amnxsia]

ilanga 

(n.) a person who will forgive anything the first time, tolerate the second time but never a third time.

A/n: Inspired by my brainrot. Everything that is said in German will be translated and bolded.

Taglist:  @shisoaya, @callmepromise, @namischild, @namrekcaivel, @icedkoffees, @erens-piss-cleaner, @sofi-yeager, @peachysimp, @fiaficsxo, @eremiie, @odmlevis, @weepinglevi​

Summary: Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction is what brought it back.

Content: dom and sub undertones, smut. nsfw minors dni

Trigger Warnings: manipulation, public sex, dacryphilia, branding, cigarettes, dedegration, slapping.

Word Count: 2241

Forgive anything the first time.

“Jean how many times do I have to tell you, Y/n isn’t allowed to drink.” Eren says staring daggers at him.

“And why the hell shouldn’t she? Just because you’re her boyfriend doesn’t mean you can tell her what she can’t and can do it’s a fucking party for god sakes Jaeger.”

“Ja, warum kann ich nicht etwas trinken Eren?” You say standing behind Jean. with big glassy doe eyes.

“Yeah why cant I have a drink Eren?” 

Eren ignores you. Knowing that this is your first strike.

“You know what fuck you Jean, and fuck this party. I’m going home.”

Ignoring whatever else Jean has to say Eren pulls you towards him and whispers.

“Dies ist dein erster Schlag, also viel Spaß Prinzessin”

“This is your first strike so have fun princess.”

Ah there it is, his dominance.

One of the many things that ran straight to your core. Making you clench your legs, one of the many things to love about Eren Jaeger.

Even if you manipulated him time to time you would always be running back to him like a lost puppy trying to find it’s lost owner.

“Jean I’m leaving the party too. Have fun.”

“Whatever.”

You walk out the door, seeing a figure sitting on the curb.

“So bald zurück? Ich dachte, du würdest Spaß mit Pferdegesicht haben und einen Sturm kichern” Eren saying with a smirk.

“Back so soon? I thought you would be having fun with horse face and giggling up a storm.”

“Eren we don’t have to talk in German all the time.” you say giggling while bending down to sit next to him.

“Oh? But I thought you loved it when I talked in German, you would always clench you thighs whenever I would speak, it’s cute that you actually thought I didn’t notice.” Eren says sliding closer to you dipping his hand at your cunt rubbing it very slowing.

“Du bist schon so nass und ich habe dich noch nicht einmal richtig berührt“ Eren whispers in your ear. Shoving your panties to the side and teasing your folds.

“Your so wet already and I havent even touched you properly yet.”

Now sinking a slender finger inside stretching you out, you bit your lip to contain the moans.

Eren smirks.

“What’s wrong baby? just because we’re in public doesn’t mean you have to be quiet, no as far as I am concerned you can say my name no you can moan it, and not in German in English for everyone to hear. I want everyone to know that this pretty cunt belongs to me and only me.” He says while laughing.

“Im sorry.”

Eren stops.

“What was wrong sweet pea?” He says no teasing or playfulness laced with voice just genuine concern.

“I said I’m sorry. I just don’t want other girls all over you .” You say with hot tears streaming down your face.

Ah.

Needy baby.

“It’s okay baby, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll stop bringing them.”

Eren kisses you and ruffles your hair.

“I’ll see you later.”

Tolerate the second

You were doing it again.

Pissing him off.

You said you were sorry the last time, but you also loved how angry he would get if you were around other guys.

Like now.

You were sandwiched between two guys who were getting handsy with you, but you could care less about Eren and his anger issues, you would win this bet and that would be it.

But unbeknownst to you Eren was staring at you with nothing but a loving smile at you. Sitting down in a chair with his legs crossed, he was wearing black all over, sliver rings to compliment his fingers, his hair pulled back into a man bun with a few baby hairs sticking out, and black leather boots.

You looked over to him to see if he reacted in any type of way, but you started to panic when you saw him looking your way with a smile on his face. You get up and usher everyone out.

“Party’s over.”

When everyone had dispersed you focus your attention to Eren who would still looking at you with a smile on his face.

“Oh? Party ist vorbei, wie kommt es, dass es gerade interessant wurde.”

“Oh? Party's over how come it was just getting interesting.”

“Warum benimmst du dich so?”

“Why are you acting like this eren?”

“Because you think I’m fucking stupid that’s why.”

“Excuse me?”

Eren ignores your statement.

“Lass diese Jungs und diese Wette nicht zu deinem verdammten Kopf gehen, denn ich werde dich wieder zur Relalität bringen.”

“Don’t let those boys and this bet go to your fucking head because I will bring you back down to reality.”

“Warum nimmst du teil, wenn du schon wütend wirst? Ich beweise jetzt schon einen Punkt und die Wette ist noch nicht einmal beendet.”

“Why are you participating if your getting mad already im already proving a point now and the bet is not even finished.”

Eren pulls you closer to him and spreads your legs with his knee

“You’ll figure it out tomorrow if you piss me off again.”

But never a third time

Today was the last day of your bet with Eren. And of course you wanted to see what he had planned for you, even if that meant burying your own grave. Today was your 2 year anniversary and later tonight you would be going to a dinner with Eren, family and friends so they could meet him. 

This was the perfect opportunity for all of Eren’s wrath to come down on you.

You decided to wear the shortest skirt you could find. You did your makeup, hair, and decided to put some rings on your fingers just like Eren.

After completing your look you walk downstairs to see Eren in a suit with rings on his fingers and a single earring dangling from his earlobe.

“Hey.”

“You look nice today.”

“Thanks.”

The car ride to the restaurant was very quiet, slowed and reverb music was playing from the radio.

Now at the restaurant Eren greets your parents and close friends.

Now everyone is in their seats before a waitress comes up and asks them what they would like to eat.

You look at your menu and say what you want and family says they want whatever you order.

Someone else walks in the restaurant with a smile and a box in their hands.

And it begins

Your mother pats you on your shoulder to tell you;

“Einer Ihrer Freunde hat etwas, das er Ihnen schenken möchte”

“One of your friends have something they want to give to you as a gift.”

Eren looks to the stranger with a concerned face, and then back to you.

“Wer ist er?”

“Who is he?”

You look at Eren trying contain a laugh.

“ein Freund.”

“A friend.”

Before Eren can say anything more the gentleman comes up to you and wraps his arms hugging you very tightly not to tightly just enough to give you affection.

“Hallo, es ist schon eine Weile her, wie geht es dir?”

“Hi it's been a while how are you?” He says with the biggest smile on his face.

“Ich war gut froh, dass es dir gut geht. Ich habe von einem kleinen Vogel gehört, dass du ein Geschenk für mich hast.”

“I've been good glad you are doing well I heard from a little birdy that you have a present for me.”

He blushes and he looks down at the floor, you take your hand and motions his head to look at you.

“Speak.”

And so he does.

“Ja, es ist ein Geschenk, es ist ein Ring mit meinem Namen, ich denke du wirst es mögen.”

“Yes it is a gift, it's a ring with my name on it i think you will like it.”

And thats when he takes out the ring and places it on your and then genty kisses your hand and wrists.

And thats when all hell breaks loose.

Eren quickly gets up from the table, dashes to your side and grabs your from the hem your shirt.

“Entschuldigung für die Unannehmlichkeiten, aber wir müssen jetzt gehen.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience but we need to leave now.”

Before either of your parents could say anything both you and Eren were out of the restaurant and heading to the car.

Eren throws you into the car, but his face is unreadable which is turning you on even more. He gets into the car and starts to drive, his knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. Unlike from before he doesn’t allow you turn on the radio to ease the tension.

Now getting out the car you and Eren walks towards your shared house, he lets you enter the house first after entering the house he slams the door, making chills run down your body.

“Eren was ist los?”

“Eren what’s wrong-”

Eren slaps you.

“Jetzt will die Hure plötzlich reden?”

“Now the whore wants to talk suddenly?”

“Kleidung aus und auf allen vieren auf dem Boden.” Eren says while walking towards the living room.

“Clothes off and on all fours on the floor.”

And without a thought you discharge all of the clothes on your and make your way to the living to see Eren staring down at the floor with a cigarette between his slightly chapped lips, momentarily exhaling and inhaling the puffs of air.

“Schau nicht ohne Vorahnung auf.”

“Don't look up without permission.”

Eren takes another inhale of his cigarette.

“Ich habe dir gesagt, lass diese verdammte Wette nicht zu und andere Jungs gehen dir in den Kopf.”

“I told you dont let this fucking bet and other boys go to your head.”

And with that Eren grabs both of your wrists and gently plants the cigarette on your wrist.

“This is where he kissed you at right? This is where he planted those disgusting lips on you.”

You buck your hips to try and loosen his grip on you but to no avail.

“Answer me.”

“Ja.”

“Yes.”

“Now answer me this. Why are you letting other asshole touch you.”

“Eren-”

He pushes the cigarette down more on your skin, burning you a bit.

“Answer.”

“I was just accepting a gift from him, it didn’t mean anything I swear.”

“Now why would I believe you? This whole week you’ve been trying to piss me off and you know what y/n, have you succeeded in doing that so I’m having a hard time believing in anything that you say right now.”

Eren let’s his grip on your wrist goes, and places the cigarette in the ash tray. And then grabbing your neck up so you were both eye to eye.

“Tell me the truth and I’m all yours baby.” He said lightly licking your neck.

“Explain it all in German for me.” He said adding on, crossing his legs.

“Ich wollte mich wütend machen, damit du mich so hart ficken kannst, so gut, ich liebe es so sehr, ich liebe dich so sehr.”

“i wanted to make mad at me so you could fuck me like so hard, so good, i love it so much, i love you so much.”

You exhale, tears running down your face, you start to rut your bare cunt against the hardwood floor.

Your crying and the sight of you trying to get off on the floor went straight to Eren’s dick.

Eren starts to unbuckle his pants, his freed cock slapping aganist his abdomen.

“You think you can handle it baby?”

“Mhm yes- I know I can, I’ll be good again I promise, I’ve been acting so terrible these past few weeks and making you angry m’sorry Eren.”

And with that Eren bridal carries you to your shared bed room and gently puts you down.

“Open.”

And you do opening your mouth wide, Eren sticks two of his fingers in your mouth.

“Do I need to prep you?”

You shake your head no.

Eren smirks “Good girl.”

And with that Eren enters your hole.

“I love you, you know that right?” Eren says playing with your hair.

“Yes I know.”

“And everything I do is for you remember that. From the way I fuck you, from the way I do all of acts of service to words of affirmation there all for you and no one else.” He says finally moving the once quiet filled house now turning into sounds of skin slapping, panting that would last all the way into the evening then into the night.

Next day

You woken to the morning rays that were peeking out from your windows. Turning over you see that Eren had left but to where you wonder. Not that it matter you don’t care about anyone else but him, only him and him alone matters.

Somewhere far away, Eren had a box in his hand and a note along with it. He was at a house your parent’s house. Now knowing that your parents didn’t ever want to you to be with him he knocks on the door before setting the box and the note on the welcome mat and then walking away, hopping into his car.

The box being a wedding invation and a note saying; “Wenn du versuchst, für mich zu kommen, blühe ich weiter <3″

“You try to come for me I keep on flourishing. <3″

© all content belongs to amnxsia 2021. do not modify or repost.

[nishisun]

suna rintaro is NOT a genius. (2)

part 1

summary: you loved the idea of soulmates. suna rintaro didn’t. it isn’t that hard to put two and two together to realize that maybe people with different opinions on things don’t belong together.

Summer 2021

[recording. patient: suna rintaro | session: 1]

[dr. natamoto] hello, rintaro-kun. how are you feeling this afternoon?

[suna rintaro] conflicted.

[dr. natamoto] ah. thank you for your honesty. so, what brings you here today?

[suna rintaro] team- ahem, my teammates.

[dr. natamoto] very well. (shuffles through notes) so, one of your teammates, miya-san, called me a little over a week ago and we discussed about your well-being.

[suna rintaro] ...i’m aware.

[dr. natamoto] do you have a specfic reason as to why you agreed to see a therapist?

[suna rintaro] i’ve.. been feeling down lately. I guess people noticed it, so i wanted to seek help.

[dr. natamoto] okay, (shuffles through notes) from my notes here, it seems that you’ve been feeling this way for a while. how long have you been feeling down altogether?

[suna rintaro] … a few months now. It’s gotten pretty bad these past few weeks. Alcohol has been my only escape. that’s kind of why i came.

[dr. natamoto] i see. Tell me, how often do you drink alcohol?

[suna rintaro] almost every day. i’ve been trying to reduce my alcohol intake because it affects the way i practice.

[dr. natamoto] i see. rintaro-kun, how would you describe yourself in one word?

[suna rintaro] (chuckles) irritable.

[dr natamoto] why did you pick “irritable”?

[suna rintaro] people say i’m an asshole, at least i’m aware. i know i get angry and annoyed easily, i’m not blind to my own actions.

[dr. natamoto] thank you for the explanation. so, miya-san also mentioned how you’ve been suspended from the black jackals team due to your behaviour recently.

[suna rintaro] (scoffs) if i knew that this place would make me feel shittier than i already do, i would’ve never agreed to come here.

[dr. natamoto] (chuckles) right, my apologies. (shuffles papers) so, growing up, miya-san mentioned that you lived in a destructive household? how so?

[suna rintaro] … (sighs) fuck. this is harder than i thought.

[dr. natamoto] take your time, please.

[suna rintaro] my parents didn't have the healthiest relationship with one another. my dad was an alcoholic and was abusive- still is i’m pretty sure. when he found out my mom was cheating on him he lost it i guess. (long pause) i don’t want to talk about my childhood that much.

[dr natamoto] i completely understand. last week, your father was taken into custody by the police, and you will have to speak at court, is that right?

[suna rintaro] ... yes.

[dr. natamoto] so, i’m guessing that ever since you heard the news, is when you’ve been feeling more down than usual?

[suna rintaro] yeah.

[dr. natamoto] tell me, rintaro-kun. at that specific moment, when you heard the news, what did you feel at first?

[suna rintaro] i don’t know, numb. i didn’t feel anything at first to be honest. It’s just been hard to be motivated to do things recently.

[dr. natamoto] okay, so you’ve been feeling numb, and haven’t gotten any motivation recently.

[suna rintaro] yeah.

[dr. natamoto] have you.. by any chance talked to someone about this?

[suna rintaro] (chuckles) i tried.

[dr. natamoto] and how did that go?

[suna rintaro] shitty.

[dr. natamoto] so sorry to hear that. who was this person you talked about it to?

[suna rintaro] someone really important to me, her name’s y/n—i fucked things up, again.

[dr. natamoto] how so?

[suna rintaro] she was concerend about my recent behaviour as well, i lashed out on her and said some hurtful shit that i didn't even mean. now she hates my guts, again.

[dr. natamoto] again? Explain.

[suna rintaro] i’ve known her since we were kids. our parents were childhood friends and we lived next door to each other our whole lives. we were never really close to one another, but we still talked every now and then.

[suna rintaro] i was into her in senior year of high school, though.that’s when we started getting closer. she acted like she didn’t want me but most girls act like that at first. they want you to chase after them, and i sure did even if i acted like a dick to her. it was worth it though.

[dr.natamoto] ... you must know a lot about girls.

[suna rintaro] sure do.

[suna rintaro] at her sister’s wedding a few years ago, i did some fucked up shit. She managed to give me another chance after meeting kimi and i fucked that up too. all i’ve ever done was hurt her. i keep coming back in her life and i bring her nothing but stress.

[suna rintaro] i want to be better—i really want to, but it feels like a never ending cycle. i just want to do something about it.

[dr. natamoto] well rintaro-kun, i am very glad that you’re willing to be better.

[suna rintaro] thank you. i needed that.

[dr. natamoto] anytime. now, why do you think you keep hurting her?

[suna rintaro] like i said, it’s ‘cause i’m a heartless asshole.

[dr. natamoto] what makes you think this way?

[suna rintaro] because all i do is hurt people.

[dr. natamoto] if you were heartless like you claim to be, you wouldn’t be seeking help to better yourself for you and your family. you’re far from heartless.

[suna rintaro] ... i guess you’re right.

[dr. natamoto] okay, (opens ipad) what do you see in this picture?

[suna rintaro] a baby.

[dr. natamoto] correct. now, what is the first thing you think about when you hear the word “baby”?

[suna rintaro] if i’m being honest? kimi.

[dr. natamoto] (laughs) makes sense. did you have any negative thoughts when you saw this picture?

[suna rintaro] no… not really.

[dr. natamoto] okay.. how come?

[suna rintaro] … what?

[dr. natamoto] how come you didn’t experience any negative thoughts when you viewed this picture?

[suna rintaro] … i don't know?

[dr. natamoto] so if i told you that i wanted to hurt this baby, how would that make you feel?

[suna rintaro] the hell?

[suna rintaro] concerned for you.. i guess. but why would you want to hurt a baby? Only a heartless asshole would do that.

[suna rintaro] … oh.

[dr. natamoto] exactly!

[suna rintaro] what’s the point?

[dr. natamoto] (shuffles through notes) you said “all i do is hurt people” a few minutes ago, but that isn’t the case rintaro-kun.

[suna rintaro] …

[dr. natamoto] i think that you claim to “hurt people” because you’re afraid of opening up, especially to y/n; you’re afraid to show vulnerability.

[dr. natamoto] when you said you lashed out on her when she was concerned about your behaviour. Is it maybe because you’re afraid that she’ll judge you for this?

[suna rintaro] no, she would never judge me. i know her.

[dr. natamoto] i thought you’d say that. so from everything i’ve heard, the only other reason i can think of is that you’re afraid of y/n and kimi getting attached to you, because you’re afraid that you’ll hurt her— them, again. am i correct?

[suna rintaro] ...

[suna rintaro] fuck. uh, yeah, you’re right. Shit.

[dr. natamoto] why is it that you don’t want them to get close to you?

[suna rintaro] .. they.. deserve better. i can’t give them both the happiness they deserve.

[dr. natamoto] and why exactly is that?

[suna rintaro] why is what?

[dr. natamoto] why do you think you can’t give them the happiness they deserve?

[suna rintaro] because everytime i’ve came back into y/n’s life, it was always me that screwed shit up. She’s been generous enough to forgive me everytime. i don't deserve all the chances she’s given me.

[dr. natamoto] rintaro-kun, do you want to hear my input on this situation?

[suna rintaro] well, obviously, you’re the therapist.

[dr.natamoto] here’s what i want you to do; i want you to talk to y/n, even if she “hates” you, which i’m pretty sure she doesn’t.

[suna rintaro] how do you know she doesn’t hate me?

[dr. natamoto] she wouldn’t be giving you so many chances. Don’t you think, rintaro-kun?

[dr. natamoto] i think the reason she keeps giving you chances is because she wants you to know that she’s hoping you’ll change for your good. she’s willing to stick with you through your ups and downs. and i don’t want to speak for her, but it seems like she’s in love with you.

[dr natamoto] may i ask, what exactly did you say to her the last time you’ve seen each other?

[suna rintaro] i… i told her to stop worrying about me.. and told her i wanted her out my life.

[dr. natamoto] did you mean that?

[suna rintaro] of course not. i’m a mess without her. i don't know why i said that.

[dr. natamoto] what caused you to say this to her in the first place?

[suna rintaro] i don't know, i guess i was already having a rough day and i wanted to be alone but she wouldn’t—she kept asking me what was bothering me. I’m a dick.

[dr. natamoto] it’s completely okay to want some alone time. Instead of lashing out, you can use a method called “I sentences”. It’s basically when you express the way you’re feeling, using “I” to start the conversation. for example, “I feel”. after you express how you’re feeling, follow it up with “I would like it if you’d please…” Try it.

[suna rintaro] okay…

[suna rintaro] i feel irritated right now and i don’t want to put it out on you. im grateful that you care for me so much, but I would just like it if you’d please give me some time alone for a while.

[dr. natamoto] perfect! since we’re running out of time, i want you to write down all the things you’re grateful for at the end of each day, just to end the night on a positive note. after doing this for a week, i want you to talk to y/n. If the conversation gets too heated, try to slow yourself down by using the “I” sentences. I know it may sound inconvenient at first, but trust me, they work. i want to see you in the next two weeks is that fine?

[suna rintaro] right, thanks doc.

[dr. natamoto] anytime! Have a wonderful day, rintaro-kun.

—welp this is the second part and unfortunately i never wrote a third part because this was just an old series that i gave up on a while ago. i hope you enjoyed it! i’m sorry i didn’t write anymore parts:( i’m just trying to empty up old things in my drafts

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Found (Outside the Screen) (CC!Dream x GN!Reader) Part 2

Request: That dream angst fuckin wrecked my heart..any chance for a part 2 with comfort(im not the og requester so if not thats fine its just OUGH my heart)

I have written this three times over because tumblr didn’t save it. THEN. Tumblr doesn’t show it to ANYONE unless they check my account. This happened to my Ranboo fic as well... I will honestly cry if no one sees this.

Once again. This is a completely fictitious story and version of Clay.

TW: Panic attacks, self deprecating thoughts,

"(Y/n)!"

His voice echoed through the house as you scrambled around corners to escape the possible wrath of your boyfriend. Or maybe even soon to be ex boyfriend.

Despite living in this house with him for a little over two years, it was beginning to feel like a maze. You couldn't tell which way was left and which way was right, your head spinning with panic as you gasped for breath.

He's gonna find you...

The house wasn't even that big, and quite an open concept, so you had no idea why you were finding it so confusing. All you knew at the moment was...

Get out.

Once your eyes landed on the door that lead out, you made a beeline towards it and flung it open. Maybe you should've known better than to attempt to run from the manhunt god...

The footsteps pounding against the floor not too far behind you startled you enough to jump outside and slam the door behind you in hopes of giving yourself enough time to run farther.

There were plenty of things failing to register in your mind as you ran down the empty sidewalks. Such as the poor choice (or lack) of shoes you were wearing, or even the heavy night rain pelting down on your shaking body.

Your lungs were burning.. But your brain had thrown itself so far into fight or flight mode that you had no care for anything around you, hardly blinking twice as the signs of unfamiliar street names flew past you.

Eventually, when you physically couldn't breathe any longer, you sat on a bench and took awhile to think. The consistent rain pelting down on your head was actually a decent grounder to help you snap yourself out of it... But that only caused more confusion and another wave of panic to wash over you.

Where... were you?

Doesn't matter. Don't go back.

Oh God... He hates you..

Why wouldn't he..?

He was too embarrassed to show you to his chat!

What did you do that was so embarrassing?

God.. What was so wrong with you that he stayed in his streaming room for days on end!?

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you choked back a few sobs, trying your best to keep what was left of your composure. Very quickly, however, you gave up on trying to hold yourself together and broke down, hiding your face in your knees.

Time seemed to pass by way too quickly but also way too slowly at the same time.. Like time itself was giving you the one finger salute. When you finally stopped crying, you leaned back against the back of the bench and gave a shaky sigh before you decided to attempt to think rationally again.

You had no clue where you were. Nothing looked familiar. What time is it? No clue, you don't have your... Your phone!

You quickly scrambled to your pocket to pull out the cellular device, and stared at the black screen for a few seconds. Anxiety was the reason for your hesitance as you stared into your reflection, frowning slightly. Without thinking twice, you pressed the button and the screen lit up with various arrays of colours.

78 Missed calls from Clay💚

2 Missed calls from George👓🇬🇧

7 Missed calls from Sapnap🔥

Was... He so mad that his friends were trying to yell at you too? You tilted your head slightly and scrolled through the other notifications on your lockscreen.

Twitter seemed to be losing their minds over your boyfriend's stream and wondering who the stranger was. Seeing the headlines flooded you with immeasurable guilt and you almost put your phone down again, if your phone didn't start buzzing.

You glanced down at the screen and say Clay was making call number 79... Man, he was persistent.. and he would probably continue to call until you answered...

Your finger hovered over the decline button, before slowly moving over and landing on the green one instead. "...Hello...?"

"(Y/n)...?" Had... He been crying...? "Oh my god! You're alive!" He gasped out with glee before giving a few sobs of... relief...?

"...You... Aren't... Mad?" You whispered very softly and hesitantly, your voice scratchy and sore from crying.

He sighed and there was a little bit of shuffling as well as a few male voices in the background. "No. Not in the slightest... Where are you? I want to apologize in person.. And when it doesn't sound like you're in a hurricane.."

You lifted your head up to look at the rain that was continuing to pelt down on you before looking around. "..I'm not sure.." You heard your partner echo your statement in question form as you looked for street signs through the rain. Glancing back at your phone, you saw the screen light up again, this time it was a warning label.

Your battery was almost dead...

"C-Clay.. My phone is going to die.." You murmured softly, your heart filling with dread as you turned down your brightness and closed any unnecessary apps.

There was a little bit of clattering and shuffling on the line as Clay hurriedly walked from the windows to the door, trying to see you from the home. "G-give me landmarks! Hurry!" He practically begged as you shot up from your bench, ignoring the burning soreness in your legs.

Spinning around quickly, you began listing off a few company buildings you saw, trying to shout over the rain and a few cars driving by. "Yeah-yeah! There's also that little sushi place beside the restaurant too.."

You heard the furious typing of his computer before another almost sob of relief. "You're on Rosewood Avenue... How the hell did you run that far? Okay, you're going to walk in the opposite direction of the sushi place until you reach a road called Miller Road, got that?" He waited for a verbal noise of agreement before continuing, "Once you get there, turn left and keep walking straight until you get to a steakhouse. I'll meet you half way, if you don't see me there, don't move unless you have to. Got it?" He asked firmly, with a small hint of desperation in his tone.

You rubbed your face as you mentally repeated the directions to yourself. "Yeah.. Yeah.. I got it." You began to walk along the sidewalks, your shoulders beginning to tremble from the water induced shivers trailing up and down your spine.

"..(Y/n)?"

"Yeah?"

"I lov-"

Your phone died..

Pulling the device away from your head, you pressed the buttons a few times before groaning and shoving it into your pockets as you began to walk.

Your mind was blurry but also hyper aware along the walk to the road where Clay told you to go. 'What was he going to say? If... He doesn't hate me... was he going to say- No.. no. He hadn't said that line in over a few months now.. No reason why he would say it now..' You mentally scolded yourself.

The rain didn't seem to be too keen on letting up as you walked through large rippling puddles. Your clothes were soaked, your hair completely drenched and you were pretty sure you were gonna need to buy a new phone with how much your current one was getting waterlogged..

You rose your arm to shield your face from the onslaught of water that a car had caused by driving through a large puddle before running your hand down your face.

Part of you was still a bit.. angry... at Clay... He had ignored you for so long and wanted nothing to do with you.. Then suddenly you spill hot coffee on yourself and then boom, you have the man more focused than when he has a good speed run seed. What about all those times you were begging him to come to bed, or at least eat dinner at the table with you? Did you only matter when you were in pain?

Biting your lip, you shook off the thought as you looked up again to see the steakhouse that you were directed to go to, the signs glowingly and people shuffling in and out through the doors...

Then there was another man, standing under a large black umbrella wearing a damp lime green hoodie...

Only you'd recognize that face anywhere where others wouldn't.. Standing in the street lights perfectly was your boyfriend, Clay.

Your heart trembled but also melted slightly upon seeing that he wasn't paying attention to his screen anymore. You. He was focused on finding you...

As you began to walk closer, you saw him lift his head and stare at you for a few seconds before dropping the umbrella and lunge forward to wrap you in a loving embrace. "I'm sorry.." Was the first thing he whispered, his voice almost as hoarse as yours. "I know.. that a simple apology will never excuse what I put you through... You cared for me, and even after a stupidly ignored you... You still didn't leave, or get angry. I don't deserve you, I know that, and you have every right to be upset, angry or whatever you're feeling right now.. Please, it doesn't matter how long it takes... Just let me make it up to you and let me prove myself worthy of your love again.."

Your lips parted in surprise as you stared at him, the streetlight poorly capturing his normal beauty, but still doing it well enough that you felt your heart soar. "Clay..." Your eyes traced his features, his puffy and reddened eyes and his cheeks stained with tear tracks, "You have a lot to work and make up for... I'm not going to forgive you immediately, but I'm not going to leave you.. We can work things out.. Together, okay?"

He eagerly nodded and gently held your face in his hands before pressing a light kiss to your forehead. "I'll break away from video editing and streaming for a while.. So I can focus on repairing things with you.."

You buried your face into the male's sweater, that was beginning to become soaked as well from the rain and you, and closed your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him.

"(Y/n)?"

"Mm..?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Clay."

[perfectly-imperfect82]

Jealous- uswnt

Y/N POV

"Where have you been? It's almost curfew?" Christen asked giving me a curious look and I saw Mal roll her eyes from her bed as I walked into my hotel room.

Christen and Tobin have taken me under there wing and have been very protective over me since I've started joining camps a couple months ago.  I'm pretty sure that why Mal hasn't taken a liking to me, being Preath kid and all, but I do my best I ignore it.

"I was hanging out with Kelley and Emily" I replied, doing my best to keep my compose and stay away from the so they wouldn't smell the alcohol on my breath from going out with them

"Well we just came to say goodnight" Tobin said giving me a smile

"Well uh goodnight" I said going to my bag to grab clothes,  hoping they wouldn't come over and hug me,which only caused them both to look at me with confusion

Tobin started to head to the door while Christen made her way over to me and I felt my heart to to beat faster. I knew I should have brought gum come or something.

She pulled me into a hug and I felt her freeze in my arms before she pulled away from me and kept her hands on my shoulders and looked me over.

"You've been drinking" she stated angrily and I just stared back at her

"(Y/n)" Tobin said walking up next to Christen and placing a hand on her back, trying to calm her down. I've seen Tobin do this many times to not recognize the action

"It was only a couple of drinks. We a free day tomorrow, so it's not that big of a deal" I said trying to get around them and towards the bathroom since I really didn't want to argue with them while I was buzzed.

I felt Christen grab my hand to stop me

"You are only 19" she exclaimed

"Why don't we talk about this in the morning? When we are all sober and have had time to think" Tobin said and I watched Christen nod

"No, this is the end of this conversation" I said, the alcohol in my system making me speak my mind more than I would have sober

I saw Tobin looked shocked, while Christen looked like she got even more angry.

"No?" She hissed out

"Im 19, not some little kid. I don't need you guys acting like my parents. I've being looking after myself for a couple of years now and have been doing just fine. I don't need your help" I ranted and I looked up to see hurt in both of their eyes which made me feel a little guilty but I stood my ground.

I watched as Christen rushed out of the room and Tobin gave me a look of disappointment and shake her head before quickly following her out.

I stood there for a second looking at the door with a sign

"Did you have to hurt them?" Mal said angrily which made me jump, I had completely forgotten she was here

"Shouldn't you be happy, you'll have them all to yourself again" I said rolling my eyes

"Of course thats what I want, but I didn't want them getting hurt to get it that way" she said

"Getting hurt is apart of life, you will learn that when you grow up" I said falling on to my bed and closing my eyes

"I'm older then you" she replied

"But you still act like a kid"

"No I don't" she replied defensively causing me to open my eyes and give the really look

"I don't" she said again

"You've been acting like a jealousy little kid about my relationship with Tobin and Christen since I've arrived and they literally tucked you into bed tonight and that's not the first time they've done it" I said looking at her to see if she try's to deny it

"I'm not jealous, you are" She replies causing me to laugh and I see that she is starting to get angry

"Me jealous of you? That's hilarious" I said continuing to laugh

"Yes, jealous that I got called up to play at 17 and have been apart of this team for years" she said which caused me to stop laughing and a feeling irritation and anger to start filling my body since I had been called up at the same time as her but I had to turn down that offer due to certain circumstances

"Not all of us have the luxury of not having responsibilities and being able to attend any camp, anytime time they want" I replied angrily as I got out of bed and started to head towards the door before I gave to much away in rage

"Where are you going?" I heard her ask worriedly

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell on you" I replied sarcastically as I shut the door

I knew it pretty close to curfew but I honestly didn't care as I made my way out into the lobby out the doors into the cold night air.

I just started walking, trying to get the anger out of my system and prevent the memory's of my mom out of my head.

I don't know how long I was walking for before I finally reached the hotel again after letting the anger leave my mind and time to think over the situation.

I quickly made my way up to my room and hoping I don't run into anyone.

I tried opening the door to my room quietly and enter but stopped when I saw the light still on.

"(Y/n)" I heard which caused me to open the door and stare at the room in shock.

All the veterans and Mal were scattered around the room. Everyone looked relieved to see me and I saw the christen and Mal were both crying.

That when I felt a a slightly smaller body fly into me, causing to wrap my arms around them.

"I'm sorry" I heard her cry into my shoulder

"It's okay" I said starting to rub her back in hopes of calming her down

"No it's not, I've been acting rude to since you've arrived and then tonight you left and then it was 1 am and you still hadn't return. I got worried call them. I'm so sorry" she kept rambling

"Mal, it's okay. I forgive you" I said still rubbing her back which caused her to pull back and look at me in shock which I only returned with a smile as I let go of her and she moved back to sit next Tobin and Christen as I looked around the room at the veterans

It was true, I could never have hard feels toward Mal. No matter how annoying she got, I still cared about her.

"I'm sorry" I said awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck

"Do you know what time it is?" Carli asked calmly causing me to quickly look at my watch and I my eyes widen as I saw it said 3 am

"By your reaction, I'm going to say no" Becky said

"We get it that you were upset, but you can't go running of into the night by yourself. It's dangerous for any of us, not just you" Carli continued and I nodded my head in understanding, I knew my actions were wrong

"Now that is out of the way, we need to have a talk about what you said this evening" Tobin said looking  at me and I felt my heart rate pick up at the thought have to talk about my past

"W-What do you mean?" I asked nervously

"That you've been looking after your self for a couple years now? What did you mean by that?" Tobin asked and that's when I found my shoes very interesting

That when I felt someone pull me into a hug and I instantly knew it Christen and I just broke down crying.

I felt her lower us gently to the ground and pull me into her lap and closer to her.

When I looked up I saw that everyone else had joined us on the ground

"We are all here for you" I heard Alex say as she grabbed my hand and held it which caused me to give her a weak smile

"My mom died from cancer my freshman year of college" I said quietly looking at my hands as more tears filled my eyes.

I felt Christen pull me closer to her as I felt her tears fall onto my shoulder and Tobin place a hand top of Alex and mine

"She was diagnosed with it when I was 16. She fought hard for two years until she lost her battle" I continued as more tears fell and I heard Mal gasp. I looked up at her to see tears falling down her face as she fully realized what my comment from earlier meant

"You got called up at sooner then we all know didn't you?" Mal asked bring the attention to her

"I got called up a few months after you, but turned it down to take care of my mom"

"Well I think that's enough sad talk for one night" I said getting out of Christen grasp and standing up which everyone quickly followed, wiping their tears

"I think it's time we all get some sleep" Carli said before she pulled me into a hug followed by everyone before they left the room, leaving Mal, Christen, Tobin and I

I quietly made my way to my bed, getting under the covers as exhaustion from everything hitting me.

That's when I felt the covers getting lifted and the bed sink on both sides of me, causing me to open my eyes as I felt people snuggle into my sides.

I looked to see Christen on my left, with Mal on my right with Tobin next to her.

I felt Christen wrap her arm around my waist and pull me closer to her as she rested her chin on my head as Mal cuddled into my chest.

I started to fall asleep, felling safe and protected.

"I love you guys" I mumbled tiredly which they all returned

"We are still talking about you drinking tomorrow" I heard Christen whisper in my ear causing to just smile and reply "I won't expect anything else" with a small laugh

[icarushasfallenfromthestars]

That dream angst fuckin wrecked my heart..any chance for a part 2 with comfort(im not the og requester so if not thats fine its just OUGH my heart)

So both you and the og requester asked for a part 2, which means I'm definitely gonna do it! (I'd do it even if the og didn't ask so lmao) I HAD TO REWRITE THIS 12 GOD DAMN TIMES BECAUSE TUMBLR IS SHIT AT SAVING THINGS

I'm honestly so glad people enjoy my writings! Feel free to request more! My inbox is open and I have no requests lined up yet!

Once again. This is a completely fictitious story and version of Clay.

TW: Panic attacks, self deprecating thoughts,

Part one

Found (Outside The Screen) (Dream x GN! Reader) Part 2

"(Y/n)!"

His voice echoed through the house as you scrambled around corners to escape the possible wrath of your boyfriend. Or maybe even soon to be ex boyfriend.

Despite living in this house with him for a little over two years, it was beginning to feel like a maze. You couldn't tell which way was left and which way was right, your head spinning with panic as you gasped for breath.

He's gonna find you...

The house wasn't even that big, and quite an open concept, so you had no idea why you were finding it so confusing. All you knew at the moment was...

Get out.

Once your eyes landed on the door that lead out, you made a beeline towards it and flung it open. Maybe you should've known better than to attempt to run from the manhunt god...

The footsteps pounding against the floor not too far behind you startled you enough to jump outside and slam the door behind you in hopes of giving yourself enough time to run farther.

There were plenty of things failing to register in your mind as you ran down the empty sidewalks. Such as the poor choice (or lack) of shoes you were wearing, or even the heavy night rain pelting down on your shaking body.

Your lungs were burning.. But your brain had thrown itself so far into fight or flight mode that you had no care for anything around you, hardly blinking twice as the signs of unfamiliar street names flew past you.

Eventually, when you physically couldn't breathe any longer, you sat on a bench and took awhile to think. The consistent rain pelting down on your head was actually a decent grounder to help you snap yourself out of it... But that only caused more confusion and another wave of panic to wash over you.

Where... were you?

Doesn't matter. Don't go back.

Oh God... He hates you..

Why wouldn't he..?

He was too embarrassed to show you to his chat!

What did you do that was so embarrassing?

God.. What was so wrong with you that he stayed in his streaming room for days on end!?

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you choked back a few sobs, trying your best to keep what was left of your composure. Very quickly, however, you gave up on trying to hold yourself together and broke down, hiding your face in your knees.

Time seemed to pass by way too quickly but also way too slowly at the same time.. Like time itself was giving you the one finger salute. When you finally stopped crying, you leaned back against the back of the bench and gave a shaky sigh before you decided to attempt to think rationally again.

You had no clue where you were. Nothing looked familiar. What time is it? No clue, you don't have your... Your phone!

You quickly scrambled to your pocket to pull out the cellular device, and stared at the black screen for a few seconds. Anxiety was the reason for your hesitance as you stared into your reflection, frowning slightly. Without thinking twice, you pressed the button and the screen lit up with various arrays of colours.

78 Missed calls from Clay💚

2 Missed calls from George👓🇬🇧

7 Missed calls from Sapnap🔥

Was... He so mad that his friends were trying to yell at you too? You tilted your head slightly and scrolled through the other notifications on your lockscreen.

Twitter seemed to be losing their minds over your boyfriend's stream and wondering who the stranger was. Seeing the headlines flooded you with immeasurable guilt and you almost put your phone down again, if your phone didn't start buzzing.

You glanced down at the screen and say Clay was making call number 79... Man, he was persistent.. and he would probably continue to call until you answered...

Your finger hovered over the decline button, before slowly moving over and landing on the green one instead. "...Hello...?"

"(Y/n)...?" Had... He been crying...? "Oh my god! You're alive!" He gasped out with glee before giving a few sobs of... relief...?

"...You... Aren't... Mad?" You whispered very softly and hesitantly, your voice scratchy and sore from crying.

He sighed and there was a little bit of shuffling as well as a few male voices in the background. "No. Not in the slightest... Where are you? I want to apologize in person.. And when it doesn't sound like you're in a hurricane.."

You lifted your head up to look at the rain that was continuing to pelt down on you before looking around. "..I'm not sure.." You heard your partner echo your statement in question form as you looked for street signs through the rain. Glancing back at your phone, you saw the screen light up again, this time it was a warning label.

Your battery was almost dead...

"C-Clay.. My phone is going to die.." You murmured softly, your heart filling with dread as you turned down your brightness and closed any unnecessary apps.

There was a little bit of clattering and shuffling on the line as Clay hurriedly walked from the windows to the door, trying to see you from the home. "G-give me landmarks! Hurry!" He practically begged as you shot up from your bench, ignoring the burning soreness in your legs.

Spinning around quickly, you began listing off a few company buildings you saw, trying to shout over the rain and a few cars driving by. "Yeah-yeah! There's also that little sushi place beside the restaurant too.."

You heard the furious typing of his computer before another almost sob of relief. "You're on Rosewood Avenue... How the hell did you run that far? Okay, you're going to walk in the opposite direction of the sushi place until you reach a road called Miller Road, got that?" He waited for a verbal noise of agreement before continuing, "Once you get there, turn left and keep walking straight until you get to a steakhouse. I'll meet you half way, if you don't see me there, don't move unless you have to. Got it?" He asked firmly, with a small hint of desperation in his tone.

You rubbed your face as you mentally repeated the directions to yourself. "Yeah.. Yeah.. I got it." You began to walk along the sidewalks, your shoulders beginning to tremble from the water induced shivers trailing up and down your spine.

"..(Y/n)?"

"Yeah?"

"I lov-"

Your phone died..

Pulling the device away from your head, you pressed the buttons a few times before groaning and shoving it into your pockets as you began to walk.

Your mind was blurry but also hyper aware along the walk to the road where Clay told you to go. 'What was he going to say? If... He doesn't hate me... was he going to say- No.. no. He hadn't said that line in over a few months now.. No reason why he would say it now..' You mentally scolded yourself.

The rain didn't seem to be too keen on letting up as you walked through large rippling puddles. Your clothes were soaked, your hair completely drenched and you were pretty sure you were gonna need to buy a new phone with how much your current one was getting waterlogged..

You rose your arm to shield your face from the onslaught of water that a car had caused by driving through a large puddle before running your hand down your face.

Part of you was still a bit.. angry... at Clay... He had ignored you for so long and wanted nothing to do with you.. Then suddenly you spill hot coffee on yourself and then boom, you have the man more focused than when he has a good speed run seed. What about all those times you were begging him to come to bed, or at least eat dinner at the table with you? Did you only matter when you were in pain?

Biting your lip, you shook off the thought as you looked up again to see the steakhouse that you were directed to go to, the signs glowingly and people shuffling in and out through the doors...

Then there was another man, standing under a large black umbrella wearing a damp lime green hoodie...

Only you'd recognize that face anywhere where others wouldn't.. Standing in the street lights perfectly was your boyfriend, Clay.

Your heart trembled but also melted slightly upon seeing that he wasn't paying attention to his screen anymore. You. He was focused on finding you...

As you began to walk closer, you saw him lift his head and stare at you for a few seconds before dropping the umbrella and lunge forward to wrap you in a loving embrace. "I'm sorry.." Was the first thing he whispered, his voice almost as hoarse as yours. "I know.. that a simple apology will never excuse what I put you through... You cared for me, and even after a stupidly ignored you... You still didn't leave, or get angry. I don't deserve you, I know that, and you have every right to be upset, angry or whatever you're feeling right now.. Please, it doesn't matter how long it takes... Just let me make it up to you and let me prove myself worthy of your love again.."

Your lips parted in surprise as you stared at him, the streetlight poorly capturing his normal beauty, but still doing it well enough that you felt your heart soar. "Clay..." Your eyes traced his features, his puffy and reddened eyes and his cheeks stained with tear tracks, "You have a lot to work and make up for... I'm not going to forgive you immediately, but I'm not going to leave you.. We can work things out.. Together, okay?"

He eagerly nodded and gently held your face in his hands before pressing a light kiss to your forehead. "I'll break away from video editing and streaming for a while.. So I can focus on repairing things with you.."

You buried your face into the male's sweater, that was beginning to become soaked as well from the rain and you, and closed your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him.

"(Y/n)?"

"Mm..?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, Clay."

[combat-wombatus]

YEAHHH YOU KNOW IM HERE!!! BC I LOVE YOU COCO!!

okayy so for my request 👉🏽👈🏽

can i get bakugo x f!reader and prompts: 14. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” + 24. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”

okay i love you!! 🥺🥺 thank you for doing this!

14: “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” 24: “Would you mind if I kissed you?” Character: Bakugou

ok so like...i may or may not have gone slightly overboard and turned this into a whole fic-

it’s like 2.2k words lakdjfhasjkdh enjoy-

thank u for requesting aves 🥺

“What? A party? I’m not fucking going.” Bakugou snarled. “Staying up past midnight is overrated. I need my sleep.”

“But Bakubro,” Kaminari whined. “We’re hosting! Mina planned it all, and she spent a lot of time doing it! You should at least go. You don’t have to stay up that late.”

“Tch. As if I care.” Bakugou shoved his hands in his pockets and slumped forward even more. “Pinky can waste all the time she fucking wants to. I’m not going.”

“It’s our last year at UA! Come on,” Kirishima joined in. “You can leave early if you want to! It’ll be mostly in the dorms anyways. Mina did plan a scavenger hunt though, in Gym Gamma. She says that she planted “mementos” of our school experience. Isn’t that fun?”

“Fun my ass. It’s stupid, is what it is.” He glared at Kirishima. “Should’ve visited my parents. Even the old hag isn’t as loud as all of you extras in the dorms.”

“You say that like you didn’t blast a hole in the wall just last week,” Kaminari pointed out.

Kirishima winced. “Denki-”

“WELL WHOSE FUCKING IDEA WAS IT TO PRETEND THAT THEY WERE FUCKING KIDNAPPED?!?” Bakugou waved a fist wildly in Kaminari’s face.

“Fair point, fair point. You should’ve seen the look on your face though! (Y/N) thought you’d murder her!” Kaminari cackled.

“I’D NEVER FUCKING MURDER HER! ARE YOU INSANE??” Bakugou’s palms started crackling.

“Hey, chill bro, we know that.” Kirishima tried to calm him down.

Kaminari was not so lucky. “Why? You joke about murdering us all the time. What’s so different about her?”

Bakugou turned, a quick retort on the tip of his tongue, before he realized that Kaminari was, actually, right for once.

“She’s…she’s…” He stuttered.

Kaminari let out a hoot of laughter. “I knew it!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bakugou’s face turned beet red. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Suit yourself. We know the truth.” Kaminari patted Bakugou’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, Bakubro! (Y/L/N)-chan is going to be at the party too! Why don’t you confess to her there? That would be fun! And then Mina will forgive you for leaving early too!”

Bakugou’s left eye twitched. “There’s nothing to confess, Shitty Hair. And I don’t give a rat’s ass what Mina thinks.”

Kirishima and Kaminari looked at each other, then turned back to Bakugou.

“Sure,” Kirishima smirked. “Nothing at all.”

“Hey! (Y/N)!” Mina ran up to you. “You’re coming to the party, right?”

You turned to face her. “Sure am! Who isn’t? It’s in the dorms anyways so there’s not much of a point in not coming, right?”

Mina sighed. “Kiri and Kami are having a hard time convincing Bakugou to come. Something about his sleep schedule?”

You were a little disappointed, but it was to be expected. Bakugou didn’t participate much in team-building activities anyways. “Can’t relate. My sleep schedule has been fucked to high heaven.”

“Right? What a crappy excuse.” Mina rolled her eyes. “Anyways, Sero’s waiting for me in the gym to help set the scavenger hunt up. See ya later, yeah?”

“Sure! Do you want more help? I can help you guys set things up if you’d like,” you asked.

Mina leaned forward, smiling mischievously. “Nope! It’s all good! And besides, I want you to participate in the game, so you can’t help!”

You smiled. “Ah, okay. Well, I’ll see you later then!”

“See ya!” Mina winked and gave you a little wave.

“So, the rules of the game are simple: whichever team finds and touches our very own 3-A New Year’s Ball, together, wins!” Mina exclaimed from her place on the couch.

“What kind of shitty game is this?” Bakugou growled, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Mina pouted. “Hey! Sero and I spent a lot of time making this happen!”

“Yeah! They were amazing!” Ochaco jumped up too. “Stop being ungrateful!”

“Fine, whatever.” Bakugou crossed his arms. “Get on with it already. We don’t have all night.”

“Actually, we do! Not everyone here has the sleeping schedule of an old man,” Kaminari piped in.

“Shut up, Dunce Face. Nobody asked.” Bakugou scowled.

“Hey! Back to the regular program. You get to choose your own partners! Isn’t that exciting?” Mina waved her piece of paper around wildly. “Now get to it! You have three minutes!”

You looked around the room. You would’ve asked Mina, but she and Sero weren’t participating since they were the ones who hid it. They had also apparently hidden clues all over Gym Gamma as to where the location of the ball was.

“Ocha-” Oops. She’d already teamed up with Iida.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, come over here!” Bakugou yelled across the room. You sighed. Of course.

“Sorry Bakubro, I already have a partner…” Kirishima said rather sheepishly.

“…you WHAT?”

“Yeah…Momo here didn’t have a partner yet and…well…Mineta was hot on her trail,” Kirishima tried to explain as Momo breathed a sigh of relief.

“Shuckers!” Mineta faceplanted onto the couch. “I never get what I want”

“Hmph. Karma’s a bitch.” Jiro smirked from her position next to Kaminari.

“Dunce Face, you got a partner too?” Bakugou sighed, exasperated.

“Right next to me!” Kaminari pointed to Jiro with his thumb. You smiled in satisfaction. They were honestly adorable.

You turned to the rest of the room. Hagakure had already snagged Ojiro, Midoriya had, unsurprisingly, paired with Todoroki. Shoji and…Tsu? Koda had paired up with Sato, and…you snickered a little at the last pairing. Tokoyami had been bombarded with Aoyama’s relentless chatter. Which left…you and Bakugou.

Huh. That was weird. You swore that not everyone had a partner just a minute ago. And it was awfully strange that Tokoyami would choose to pair with Aoyama instead of you or even Bakugou, but…you supposed that he didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

“So. (Y/N).” Bakugou cleared his throat. “Partners?”

“Uh…yeah,” you replied, fidgeting slightly with your hands.

“Ok! Everyone is paired up and ready to go?” Mina was practically bouncing.

“Yeah!” Most everyone chimed in unison.

“Let’s do it then! Sero, come on! Lead the way!” She jumped down from her place on the kitchen counter.

“What the fuck? Pinky and Tape Arms hung that thing all the way up there?” Bakugou swore.

“You can use your quirk to get up there though, right?” You looked at him, brows furrowed.

“Duh. But what about you?” He looked you up and down. “Last time I checked, you couldn’t fly.”

“Easy! I’ll just ride on your back!” You chirped. “Unless you can’t carry me?”

“Tch. As if. Get on.” He squatted down, letting you scamper onto his back. “Ready?” You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

You leaned into the crook of his neck, breath lightly fanning his face. “Ready,” you confirmed.

Cackling gleefully, Bakugou shot up into the sky, palms ablaze.

And as quickly as he flew, he was dropping to the ground even quicker.

“DAMMIT!” He glared daggers at the ice wall that had appeared over your heads. “Fucking Deku! And that IcyHot bastard!”

Spiraling, he tried his best to save the two of you from a hard impact on the ground, but he was only successful in twirling around in the air like a ballerina.

“Shit!” He tried to flip upside down in order to land on his feet, but the momentum was against him.

With an “oof”, the two of you landed in a pile on the (luckily) snow-covered ground.

“You alright there, idiot?” Bakugou said gruffly.

You groaned. You weren’t sure how, but you definitely sprained something with the way you landed. Ankle? Wrist? Perhaps both?

“Hey. Hey!” Bakugou climbed over the snowdrift to reach you. “Get up! The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Calm down, Bakugou!” You pushed his hand away. “It’s just a sprain,” you pointed to your ankle.

“Nothing else?” He seemed intent on picking you up, so you let him.

“Nope, everything’s fine,” you assured him.

“Sorry about that!” Midoriya called out from atop his perch on Todoroki’s newly-formed glacier. “We got a little carried away!”

Bakugou stilled. You winced. Midoriya was in for a rough time.

“Deku…” He ground out. “What the FUCK do you think you and IcyHot are doing?”

“I-I’m sorry! We didn’t mean to knock you down from the air!” Midoriya started gesturing nervously. “I-I swear it was an a-accident!”

Todoroki sighed. “It was an accident. Let it go, Bakugou. And (Y/N), we are very sorry for having injured you. Would you like for us to accompany you to Recovery Girl? The game is over now.”

“The fuck did you say, IcyHot? No fucking way. I’m taking her.” He stomped towards Recovery Girl’s office, you firmly nestled in his arms.

“Think we succeeded?” Todoroki turned to Midoriya. “They seem to be getting along fine.”

“I…I’m not sure. It’s not great that (Y/L/N)-chan had to get injured for this to work, but…Recovery Girl will fix her up fine and Kacchan might finally realize that he has feelings for her…”

“Hey guys! Great job!” Sero dangled Mina from a tree branch overhead. “Look at them go!”

“It’s all according to plan…” Mina clapped her hands together. “Now, we just have to wait for the clock to chime twelve…”

“Fucking assholes.” Bakugou hadn’t stopped muttering underneath his breath since you’d left.

You giggled. He was so angry over such a small thing. It wasn’t like the fall was intentional; you’d both just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Bakugou stopped walking and stared at you. “What?” He frowned at you. “Why are you laughing? Did you knock your fucking head on the way down too?”

You started full-on laughing this time. “No, Bakugou. It’s just…you’re so cute when you’re mad,” you tried to explain. “Your eyebrows scrunch up and you purse your lips and…”

By this point, Bakugou was a blushing mess. No one had ever called him “cute” when he was angry before.

After a while, he broke the silence. “So…I don’t scare you?”

You laid your head on his chest. “Not at all.”

“Tch. You should be scared of me, dumbass.” He turned your body so that you were facing him, shielding his tomato-hued face from your gaze.

“And why should I be?”

“Because…because…I’m Bakugou Katsuki, dammit!” He clenched his fists, bunching up your parka.

Snickering, you decided to tease him. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. I thought you were Midoriya Izuku for a second.”

“You WHAT?!?”

The two of you bantered playfully all the way to Recovery Girl’s office. She took one look at you and frowned.

“Tsk. I thought there wasn’t training today?” She rifled around for an ice pack.

“There wasn’t. We played a game and I just sprained my ankle.” You explained sheepishly. “And possibly my wrist.”

Recovery Girl tapped her cane on your knee and sighed heavily. “You guys don’t know how to take care of yourselves! Playing a game and getting injured?” She rubbed her temples. “The hospitals are going to have a field day with the lot of you once you become pros.”

“Sorry. I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” You held in a wince as she prodded your ankle.

“Minor sprains. I’m going to wrap those and give you some gummies. Take this ice pack with you when you go. Ice for 10, leave for 20, and repeat for 3 hours. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am!” You held out your wrist for her to bind.

“And don’t you go do anything else dangerous now, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear!” You hopped nimbly off the table, landing on one leg, and was promptly scooped up again by Bakugou.

“Hey! Let me down! I can walk!” You protested against his arms.

Bakugou turned to Recovery Girl. “Look at her. You really want her to walk?”

“As a matter of fact, I do not. Stay still, young lady, and let him carry you,” she admonished.

You slumped in defeat, and Bakugou carried you out of the room.

“Ahh…young love,” Recovery Girl stared wistfully at your fading silhouettes. “I remember…”

“3!”

“2!”

“1!!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR’S!!”

The class was situated in the common room, spread out over the numerous couches and munching on fresh cookies (courtesy of Momo and Sato).

And as the clock chimed 12, you looked to Bakugou, sitting right next to you.

“Can…can I…” You started nervously, fingers fidgeting with your ice pack.

“What? Spit it out,” Bakugou stared at you.

“Canikissyou?” You blurted out as fast as your tongue would let you.

He smirked. “What was that? I couldn’t understand you.”

You sighed. “Would…would you mind if I kissed you?”

Bakugou’s lips pulled into a wolfish grin. “All you had to do was ask, dumbass.”

Epilogue

“Do you think they caught on?” Mina whispered excitedly to Sero. “I wasn’t sure if they saw me leading Todoroki and Midoriya to the ball.”

“Nah, I think we’re fine. Besides, it’s not like he can complain. He got a girlfriend thanks to us, right?” Sero chuckled.

“Ok…if you say so…”

Suddenly, they heard a growl coming from the doorway to their left.

“Shit.”

“Run!!”

“I won’t let you bastards get away with this!!”

Coco’s New Year Celebration 20-21

Masterlist

[hoe-imaginess]

hostage | madara uchiha

Madara x Tobirama’s s/o

summary: Tobirama’s wife is held captive when the Uchiha invade Senju territory. She does what she can to keep the peace. It doesn’t last long.

word count: 9.5k 

warnings: sex as a bargaining tool, physical/emotional harm, heavy angst, mentions of miscarriage/abortion, brutal use of sharingan

a/n: part of a long and self-indulgent founders era fic I was writing, but recently gave up on. so this is just a very choppy rough draft. it’s all over the place. apologies for the poor & skimpy writing style. fair warning: bit of a darker rendition of Madara than what I usually write on this blog. IM me if you want more details before reading

⤰

They attack in the dead of night. 

With the main host of the Senju army battling in far-away provinces, Hashirama and Tobirama with it, few seasoned shinobi are left to protect the plot of land which the Senju call home. 

The Uchiha overwhelm the paltry resistance quickly and efficiently, then set about infiltrating the rest of the territory to claim as theirs. 

They’re met with little defiance. Of the Senju who don’t escape into the woods, slipping through Uchiha clutches before they can fully surround the vicinity, a majority left to endure the raid are civilians with no real experience or means to contend the invaders’ assault. 

Chaos ensues. Uchiha chase down fleeing families, drag them back to the center of the camp where hostages are corralled. They bark and shout orders at stubborn Senju who refuse to abide, sometimes resorting to violence to win obedience. 

Then come the fires. The Senju, in one final, practiced act of loyalty, set ablaze as much property as they can in an effort to destroy any intelligence on Senju affairs which the Uchiha might find and use to their favor. 

Some of these renegades are stopped before they can succeed, others manage to do their part before being apprehended. 

She is one among them, burning the room in her home which her husband uses so often to practice and hone his jutsu; where plots of war are imagined and scribed; where important records are stored. 

Tobirama would balk to see all his work going up in flames, but she knows that it’s what he would want her to do. 

The anguish that beats mercilessly in her chest as she watches her home catch fire is dreadful. 

Such a small little place, she thinks. Just big enough for the two of them. They hadn’t been married for more than a few months now. Arranged, like so many unions those days. 

Yet the little, perfect home held such memories in that short time; watching smoke rise from the walls and foundations makes her sick with sorrow. 

But it must be done. Whatever the invaders might pillage from her home, they would find nothing to their benefit, and nothing that might end up hurting Tobirama, or the Senju. 

Two Uchiha men grab her just as she watches the roof of her home collapse in on itself, pillars weakened and corrupted by flame. 

It’s a sodden and meager thing to find so fulfilling, but it’s the only thing from which to reap comfort. 

Doomed as she may now be to whatever her captors have planned, she, too, has plans: plans to remember Tobirama’s prudence, adopt it as her own. Whatever awaits her, she can face with her chin held high.

As she’s herded into a crowd of the Senju hostages, uncertain of their holistic fate, the cries and tears of anguish from men, women, and children alike hurt her beyond words. 

When the leader of the invaders stands before them and addresses them, with his coal-black eyes piercing every one of them even in the dark void of night, she feels anger beyond words. 

And when she learns of his plans to occupy their land, to keep them as prisoners of war, she feels determination. 

⤰

When she’s brought before Madara Uchiha in the coming days for the purpose of interrogation, he senses immediately that she isn’t a Senju.

Arranged marriages aren’t uncommon, and Madara knows Hashirama is quick to support alliances with clans he finds trustworthy enough. Madara wonders who, among the Senju prominent enough to be pursued for political marriage, might call this woman their wife. 

Feeling foolish for having not expected such a question in advance—though somewhere, she’s hardly able to blame herself, given the chaos of the last few days—her mind races for explanation when he inquires about her husband. 

“I’m a widow,” she lies. “He died months ago.”

She remains with the Senju to uphold the alliance her marriage created, she says, hoping he believes it. 

His gaze is startling, and she fears intermittently that he’s staring right through her with those merciless eyes, extracting the truth under her lies, truths that needn’t be spoken, only simmering underneath the surface for his scrutiny to grab. 

She feels apprehension like she’s never known when, after her explanations, he’s quiet. Utterly quiet. 

Then, just as she tries and fails to steel her heart’s rapid beating, he dismisses her. 

As she’s led out of the tent the Uchiha have constructed for their own purposes of war, she takes a calming breath. 

If she plans on putting her wits to use and curbing the punishments soon to be expounded against the Senju innocents, she needs to leverage herself with composure. 

She can’t let Madara Uchiha rattle her this much if she plans on contriving against him. 

If she plans on winning his trust.

⤰

It’s fairly easy to be granted an audience. 

She’s rigid in her loyalty to the Senju, and answers any of Madara’s interrogations about Senju information with silence or ignorance. Still, she’s compliant with otherwise basic facets of the Uchiha occupation; she tells him where best to find food and water in the land; from which fields they might find the most harvest; offers insight on neighboring clans that may contend the Uchiha occupation of Senju territory, loyal to the Senju as they were. 

In compensation, Madara is usually merciful with her requests. She asks that the Senju hostages be given more daily rations and more room in which to sleep and live, now that the Uchiha occupy most of their old homes. 

Generally, entreatments to the betterment of their well-being are met with leniency. Something for which she is glad, but the brother, Izuna, is not. 

She hears them arguing sometimes: Izuna claiming that his elder brother is being too forgiving on the enemy—she assumes she is the enemy in question—and Madara stating in response that he has no quarrel with Senju commoners, and that amending some of their grievances is no harm to their cause. 

These small victories continue to mount, until she finds herself at his side almost daily, discussing hostage afflictions, enduring his queries and, occasionally, even his frustration at receiving no answers. 

This frustration burgeons quickly, until she’s half-convinced that her play at ignorance is one he sees right through. But he always dismisses her when his irritation becomes visible and unavoidable, almost as if to save her from facing the brunt of it. 

It’s the first of the strange, apprehensive intimacies that he gives her. 

More apparent, soon after, are his long-held gazes. 

They sweep over her, inspect her while she talks, greedily scrutinizing her responses. He doesn’t miss the shiver that runs through her when his dark eyes linger for too long. 

She isn’t naive enough to think this prolonged regard is devoid of any suspicious undertone, nor is she naive to dismiss the lust behind his gazes; the careful inspections of her very body that describe something hidden and desiring under his facade. 

She doesn’t want him to look at her like that. She doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like the way it makes her skin crawl, or her heart stutter. 

But how can she be ungrateful for his dangerous admiration when it might prove profitable?

⤰

She reaps the benefits of his greed not long after their invasion. 

He’s taken up residency in one of the precluded houses near the center of the camp. No guards stand watch outside; he doesn’t need them. 

When she asks for entrance to his room he gives it, albeit cautiously. She doesn’t bother disguising her visit under any pretense; she’s there for him, and he knows this, apparently, judging by the careful look he gives her when she walks in and shuts the door behind her. 

Shame and irritation sizzles underneath her skin, but she ignores it. Her efforts have guaranteed the safety of the innocents under Uchiha rule so far, but those efforts won’t last forever. There’s more to be done. 

It’s not long until she’s pressed against him. Insistently her hand rubs over the space between his thighs. He’s soft, unaffected by her touch. It discourages her, but she continues, regardless. 

“What do you hope to gain from this?” he asks, eyes steely and trained on her, as if her eager hand isn’t even there. 

He hasn’t made a move to stop her, so she urges herself on. 

"Isn’t this what you want?” she implores.

“What makes you believe that?”

“The way you look at me.” 

It’s a calm declaration, though she’s still explicitly hiding something under her tone, he sees, something like frustration. 

“How do I look at you?” he inquires.

When she refuses to answer, he lifts a finger under her chin and forces her gaze to him. 

“Like you want to control me,” she answers bitterly.

The bulge under her hand twitches to life. She rubs harder. His face changes; his expression is tighter, more concentrated. 

“And that’s what you want?” His hand stretches across the back of her neck, keeps her head still. Fingers brush at the nape in deceptively gentle tandem. “To be controlled?” 

“No.” She squeezes her hand, hard. He replies with an angry, swift breath. “You could never control me.” 

The hand at her nape curls into her hair and yanks hard, so hard that her rubbing stops. 

“I already do.”

She’s infuriated by his words, he can see that plainly on her face. But he doesn’t care. She’s made the mistake of dangling her seductions in front of him, and he’ll rise to the occasion, if she's so determined to stir him. 

It shocks her how smoothly he maneuvers her to the futon at their feet, lays her down and climbs over her; how expertly his mouth captures hers and his tongue slides over her lips. 

She opens her mouth obediently, lets him explore. Shame courses through her when a hand between her thighs coaxes a pleased, albeit startled hum from her mouth. 

His fingers work her up quickly, pull her clothes off without a hiccup or delay. 

She had, foolishly, underestimated the strength of him. After she’s stripped bare, when he holds her arms down, there’s no room for her to fight back. As he looms over her, powerful and dangerous, she realizes she should be shaking in fear, in hatred, in uncertainty. 

Instead, her body is calm, forcefully calm. 

Sensing this, he sees it not as her resolve, but as a challenge. 

She refuses to close her eyes when he starts, and stares up at him, disputing his gaze. The pleased sigh that leaves his mouth when he starts rocking into her makes her shiver, despite her determination to keep her body still, keep it pliable for his pleasure but loyal to her convictions. 

His thrusts are deep and hard, reaching into her in ways she didn’t even know possible until now. Her breath catches with every snap of his hips, until those breaths are choking off into surprised gasps when he angles his body a certain way, hits a certain spot inside of her that makes her legs jolt with pleasure. 

One hand is planted firmly into the sheets beside her, keeping his body suspended over her. The other holds her thigh, keeps it pressed down to ensure she’s stretched as open as he needs her to be. 

When pleasure urges him to go harder, he takes her leg and curves it around his waist to dig into her deeper. With the new angle she can peer down, watch his cock spear into her with precise finesse. She tears her eyes away, the sight of it making her nerves tingle, making the unbidden pleasure that much more potent. 

Even if she wanted to vacate her mind, to numb herself to all feeling until she could be sure he was done and her task finished, it’s an impossible feat. Too many sensations; his heavy breath coming in low pants; strong thighs shoving against her legs with every thrust; his eyes, even when she turns from them, searing into her, pinning her down.  

A flush spreads over her body, hot and feverish and anxious. In the scant light she sees his skin giving way to his own pleasure; sweat lines the curve of his prominent clavicles, a drop on his brow as it furrows with the heightened pace of his thrusts. 

She starts to tremble uncontrollably as he roughly pounds into her, losing some of his rhythm, a basic need for release urging him. Rumbling, chest-born moans spill from his lips, and against her body’s wishes, she cums with a hard-fought whimper. 

As she shivers through the onslaught of pleasure, he stares down at her, his face an emotionless canvas.

She doesn’t even realize he’s near his end until he grabs onto her hard, grunts loud and staggered, then stops moving. 

He takes a moment to let the pleasure sink in, eyes closed to revel in the wet heat surrounding him, pulsing and twitching. Then he pulls out.

He leaves her on the mat, naked, curled into herself as if to hide the shame of her orgasm. Nothing in his posture speaks of an identical sentiment on his part. The sex she finds so monumentally impairing, he sees as nothing more than what it is: sex. 

No sooner than he moves away from her is he dressing, the raw muscle of his back moving with every motion, his sweat-glazed scars glistening in the moonlight that invades from closed curtains. 

Before he leaves, he says, “I assume you have herbs.” 

Her eyes open. 

The herbs. 

She had almost forgotten. She hasn’t needed to take them since Tobirama left, since there was no one else to share her bed…

The thought of Madara’s seed quickening inside of her makes her nauseous. She’s almost grateful he’s reminded her of the contraceptives. 

“Yes,” she says. She’ll take them first thing in the morning. They were made to work even after the fact. No need to panic. 

“Good.” 

He leaves her in his room, and she falls asleep despite her errant thoughts.

⤰

She draws a bath for herself and slips into the lukewarm water. 

The bruises and love-marks haven’t gone away. Every time they do, every time her skin is returned to its unsullied state, she’s in his bed again, tempering him, giving herself over to his rough desires in some hope it will continue to coax leniency out of him. 

She’s been bathing more often, she realizes: some meager attempt to wash his scent and his touch from her, no matter the pleasure she takes from it in kind. 

But there’s still much resistance in her thoughts when she gives herself over to him, a chiding reminder in the back of her head that says what she’s doing is shameful. 

She’s a married woman, after all; widow, in Madara’s eyes. 

But the masquerade doesn’t take away from the guilt she feels every time she opens her legs for his lust. It’s not even easy to imagine it’s Tobirama anymore. Tobirama isn’t so purposefully rough, isn’t keen on making pleasure so hard-fought with such domination that she receives from the Uchiha. 

A chill runs through her to think of the difference between them, to think she might never again know the softer, more loving touch of her husband. The possessive, taking nature of Madara’s intimacy might be all she ever knows. 

She touches the skin under her breast, feeling no texture on the flesh, but knowing the seal Tobirama left is still there: a risky, but comforting reminder of his caresses. 

She so misses them. She misses his voice, his touch, his earthy scent. The room around her is so devoid of it. The very air feels seized by the conquest of her Uchiha captors. Every breath she draws is more of their smoke, their fire, their danger.

She sinks underneath the surface of the bathwater, eyes closed, a calming air reserved in her lungs. 

The water is comforting, reminds her of Tobirama. She imagines it’s him surrounding and warming her skin, if only for a moment. 

She lets the world around her numb to nothingness, hoping at some point, so too will her anxieties leave her and make this dilemma all the easier to endure.

⤰

Izuna hadn’t meant to come across her this way.

The woman isn’t answering his brother’s summons, and the guards stationed outside her home say she won’t respond to the calls or demanding knocks they make at her door. 

Izuna isn’t a patient man. He has much better things to do than fetch his brother’s stubborn whore. 

The guards at the door had apparently been warned not to intrude on her sanctity more than necessary, and utter a protest when Izuna barges into her home unannounced. He ignores their murmuring, unfamiliar with the respect—or whatever it is—that keeps them compliant. 

The living area is empty and so is the kitchen. He calls her name once, then twice, irritation coloring his shouts. They garner no response. 

At the back of the house, he hears a sound, and goes to it. He hears it again once he’s closer, coming from the washroom, he thinks. 

He knocks once. 

No response.

He knocks again.

Still, no response. 

Sufferance all but worn, he pulls open the door. 

There’s a bath of water, her form distorted underneath its surface. His intrusion is apparently louder than any previous call for her attention and she folds up quickly from underneath the water, breaking the surface and sending splashes everywhere in her haste to glance around, size him up, and cover herself for modesty. 

Too late. He’s seen it. 

Never mind her naked body. Even if he needs to be forgiven for barging in on her later, he doubts, now seeing the mark that she quickly goes to hide under her breast, that she’ll be getting mercy from him or any other Uchiha from this point on. 

⤰

When Izuna drags her into the war tent, Madara is more startled by the interruption than irritated. 

She’s half-clothed, body and hair wet from the remnants of what he assumes was an interrupted cleanse; Izuna has a distraught look of fury on his face that never bodes well. What surprises Madara most, however, is the way she cowers into herself when Izuna throws her down at his feet. 

“What is this, Izuna?” Madara demands of his brother, mildly offended to witness this treatment of her, at his brother’s hand, no less. Madara’s intimacies with her are common knowledge, if not frowned upon by some of his Uchiha lieutenants. 

Izuna points an accusative finger down at her. “Look at it.”

Madara blinks through his confusion, waiting for clarity. Izuna hisses in anger, grabs her hair, and yanks her upright. 

“Show him,” he commands her.

She groans angrily in response. 

He yanks a little harder. 

“Show him.”

Madara’s suspicion gains with rapid unease. The doubt always tugging at the rear of his conscience comes to the forefront, ready to be fed with truths, ready to reap its victory. 

Izuna forces her to stay still, then claws at the hand she has wrapped about her stomach, hiding something beneath the haphazardly-adorned clothing. 

Madara catches on, and approaches. 

She slows her writhing when he crouches down in front of her. Then something like preemptive defeat rushes through her when he puts his hands on her, and she stills completely.

Madara doesn’t know what he expects to see beneath the fold of the robe he pulls away from her skin—the skin which is always covered by bandages when he strips her bare at night; courtesy, she always says, of a wound received during the invasion—but Tobirama’s Senju’s hiraishin mark is definitely the last.

The silence that ensues as he scrutinizes the seal is far more tormenting, she thinks, than any punishment he can possibly have in store for her. 

He’s enraged, of that she’s sure. And the indignant, defiant scowl on her face which receives him when he looks at her undoubtedly makes that worse. 

But she’s been found out, she knows. There’s little else she has to her aims at this point except her resentment, a resentment which she can now display with liberation. 

Her masquerade is extraneous now; any excuse she can possibly make redundant. She has to accept her fate, with her chin held high. 

Like Tobirama would. 

But the conviction doesn’t last long. 

“Hold her down,” Madara tells two of the Uchiha men in the room. 

She panics. 

When Izuna’s hands leave her and more vindictive ones take their place, she starts kicking away, trying to fight and make their hold on her that much more difficult to win. 

But it’s useless against the pure fear that runs through her when Madara slips out of the tent and returns a moment later, in his hand, an iron poker which had been mending the campfire outside. 

When he brings it over to her, she feels the heat radiating off of its glowing, orange, sharp tip. 

Her heart rate skips into the margins of delirium and she shakes her head. 

“Don’t—” she pleads, glaring up at him. “Don’t—”

Madara presses the singeing iron against the skin below her breast and she screams. Loud and ragged. He doesn’t care. 

Even before the deed is done, the smell of her own burnt flesh nauseates her beyond the limits of her endurance, and she passes out. 

⤰

The burn is so severe that it leaves her bed-ridden for days on end. 

Every twist and turn of her body stretches the thin, pink skin and leaves her whimpering in pain. 

Uchiha medics tend to her wound. She isn’t allowed the relief of healing jutsu; the burn is treated with oils and creams which alleviate only some of the pain, and none of the superficial scarring. Something for which she knows she has Madara to thank. He wants her to bear the mark of her deceit, wants the charred flesh to serve as a reminder of mockery. 

She had slighted him with her seductions, made a fool of him with her deception. The burn itself would be a meager sanction in comparison—he could have killed her, after all—if not for the scornful significance it held that did more justice to his condescension than any words could.

Any semblance of superiority her secret had once given her is all but crushed with the wound. Tobirama’s seal had soothed her, served as a pillar of faith and courage; a warm breath of comfort on her skin whenever the chill of her captors’ doujutsu fixed her, whenever Madara’s gaze searched her for weakness. 

Knowing her husband’s latent protection remained hidden from the eyes of the invaders had been enough, amidst all the turmoil, to shield her from fear. 

Now it was gone, rendered useless and indiscernible under corrugated skin. 

Like her home, her body now, too, at the hands of the Uchiha, denied her refuge. 

Yet in some twisted, ironic way, the wound still grounds her. The pain is a bittersweet reminder that her body is alive, and not a shell for the hopelessness she feels inside. 

It’s a degrading and pitiful comfort. But it’s all she has now. 

⤰

Madara makes infrequent visits during her recovery. 

The first few are made in silence. As she lies there, pitiful and motionless, he stares without a word to spare. His scrutinizing gaze, both spiteful to set eyes upon her and satisfied to see her agony, is the only acknowledgement he gives. 

The patronizing graduates to interrogation. He stands over her impotent form, leering down as he demands to know the reason for her having the seal on her skin, demands to know her relationship to Tobirama Senju. 

The line of questioning betrays the deductions he’s already made. He’s already decided that the woman is Tobirama’s spouse, or at the least, some sort of lover. The intimate placement of his seal is telling enough, and her previous elusion on the subject of her purpose on Senju land is further proof. All the suspicions piece together and exploit her lies. 

But he wants to hear the truth from her own mouth, the very mouth which conspired to deceive him with its pleasure, keep him pliant with its warm caresses on his body. Only then will he be satisfied, only when she admits who she is, what she is, who she belongs to—

Then he can remind her that it’s he who owns her now. He who conquered her home as easily as he had conquered her. 

Her silence isn’t as defiant as she thinks, not by a long shot. To patronize her is a pleasant notion, but the hooded, resentful gaze she gives him fails to stir him in any way besides to sing praises of his own power. 

⤰

“Kill her,” Izuna insists. 

His determined indignation on the matter comes like a chant in the days following the revelation. 

Madara’s commitment to deciding how best to deal with her is only marginally interrupted by his brother’s input, but it does disrupt his logic and feed his own fury. 

He should kill her. Should string her up for the rest of the Senju to see: let her be an example to whoever else among them may have delusions of defying him. 

“What point is there in keeping her alive?” Izuna presses on. “Kill her. Send her body to the Senju army. Let them know we won’t be trifled with.”

“No,” is Madara’s decisive reply. “She serves more use to us alive.”

“I fail to see how. She’s done enough to outwit you. I would’ve thought you eager to be rid of her.”

Madara resents the comment, but tempers his irritation. “I know your dislike for Tobirama makes you enthusiastic to do her harm. And why is that? Because you know harm done to her is harm done to him.”

“Precisely.”

“Then you should understand the benefit of keeping her alive.”

“Fine. Keep her alive. But not unscathed. If you want to use her as leverage, deliver a gift to the Senju. The correspondence between you and Hashirama has been pitifully civil so far. Send something with the next envoy. Something of hers. A finger will do.”

“No.” Madara’s tone is unequivocally firm. “We will do no such thing.”

Madara has little doubt that his brother’s enmity runs deep enough that an adequate offense on her part, no matter how slight, might be cause for Izuna to damage her. That’s not something Madara can allow. 

His conscience forces away the fact that part of his aversion to his brother’s threats are rooted in possessiveness; Izuna has no claim to her, has no entitlement to her punishment. 

That’s Madara’s. That’s his. And his alone.

⤰

How she finds herself sharing his bed again, she may never know, and will never be brave enough to ponder. 

She’s silent when he moves inside of her. Even when he makes her cum, as easily and powerfully as he always has, she barely lets the ragged, frustrated moan loose from her lips for a second before closing her throat and swallowing down the tightness.

When he rolls off of her he lies in silence. Where he would usually get up to bathe or leave, he remains, like he's done so often recently, to sleep beside her. 

He taunted her once, told her he had no fears of sleeping beside her now, because she knows what it would mean for the Senju hostages if she tried anything. 

That aside, she’s half-convinced that he’s awake at all hours of the night regardless, waiting patiently for the opportunity to catch her plots and punish her accordingly. 

But how difficult would it be? To kill him, leave him, save as many hostages as she can while he bleeds out in the room, alone and cold. 

It’s a fantasy she allows herself to imagine over and over again. A fantasy too opportunistic to ignore after their nights of scornful passion leave her weak and spiteful. 

The kunai she left under her pillow feels cold as ice when she slowly reaches for it, hiding the purposeful movement behind a comfortable stretch. 

It’s been a long hour since she first played at sleep. She never hears him breathing, but considers his silence as good a signal as any that he’s unconscious. 

When she carefully turns over, she confirms that his eyes are closed. He sleeps on his back, always, as most shinobi do. Alert and at the ready even in slumber. 

Slowly she rises from under the sheets, ever so careful not to let the fabric move an inch across his skin. She should just slit his throat, she realizes. But piercing into him will be swifter, and more profitable. 

The kunai wavers in her hand. Killing unwitting men in their sleep isn’t so difficult a task; shinobi and kunoichi alike do it all the time, don’t they? That was war. 

It should be easy to stab down into his heart and twist, to watch him wake in tormenting shock as the blood fills his lungs and chokes him. She would enjoy that. 

But the wavering in her hand worsens to a subtle tremor. 

He’s not an unwitting man, not some simple enemy to kill for convenience. That makes her confidence ever harder to steel, but she has to. She has to kill him. 

She won’t wait a moment longer. Kill him, destroy him, and be done with it. 

But just as she raises the kunai, a strong hand wraps around her wrist in an unforgiving grip.

His eyes are open, glaring at her. 

She shivers with fear and rage as his hand tightens to a bruising grip. Her panic sends her mind into a frenzy of action. 

She can still do it. Just one stab downwards and she can end it. 

But even pushing down with both hands doesn’t overwhelm his strength. He still glares and scowls, infuriated.

She tries again, putting her entire body’s weight down on the weapon, limbs shaking with the effort. 

He doesn’t budge. 

He flips them instead, and the kunai is suddenly in his hands, pressed against her throat. 

“There are easier ways to kill me,” he mutters. If his blood is boiling at her trespass, nothing in his bored, thin voice betrays composure. “You could be more creative.”

Tears prickle her eyes. Her hands press desperately against his, trying to push the cold blade away from her skin. But he keeps it there. Even the smallest movement will slice the flesh. 

“Remember that you are the one at my mercy. I could kill you and every Senju in this camp any time I wish.”

“You’re horrible,” she seethes, breath shallow in anger. "I hate you.”

“I’m aware. Yet you continue to share my bed night after night. You still think you’ll gain anything from it?”

The words sting her pride, split her open to let the doubts and faults and fruitless depravities spill in. 

“You do nothing but shame yourself. Look at you. Spreading your legs for me like a dutiful whore, thinking it will somehow save you and your people. It’s pathetic—"

She slaps him, hard. 

Though his cheek burns with redness, he’s otherwise unfazed by pain. He scowls and slams her arm down to prevent any more of her rage. 

“You may think you have control over me,” she says in a seething whisper. Even with the kunai pressed against her jugular, the expression on her face is nothing short of brazen. A lofty, defeated brazen that comes across as scorn. “But you don’t, and you never will. There’s only one man I’ve ever loved. When you’re on top of me I think of him and only him. It makes it bearable. You’ll never be half the man that he is.”

He scowls at her, his eyes like burning, silent daggers. She knows she might have sealed her fate right then and there. But so be it. Let her last moments of life be spent spiting him. 

Her body relaxes, unconcerned with fighting whatever comes next. 

She doesn’t expect him to laugh. 

“Tell yourself that, if you must,” he says, with a sadistic, grim smirk. “But you know very well the power I have over you.”

His eyes turn crimson and she gasps, but by the time she makes to look away, it’s too late.

In the illusion, Tobirama is frowning at her, eyes wide, a sneer of disgust on his face. 

She doesn’t understand why, at first. Why does he look so gloomy? She feels only joy to see him. Joy and unbearable relief. 

She tries to run to him. But burning hands at her throat summon her back. Despite no voice, face, or body to accompany the unforgiving grip, she knows it’s Madara who impedes her by the ferocious strength alone. 

“Whore.”

It’s not Madara’s voice, but Tobirama’s. It carries over to her, like they’re separated by a valley despite his being only yards away. If she could reach out to him, touch him, feel his embrace—

“Uchiha whore,” he barks at her again, scowling now. 

“No,” she pleads, eyes stinging with tears. She tries to pull the grip from her neck away and escape, but Madara locks her arms down to her sides, rendering her utterly trapped. 

“Tobirama,” she begs for his sanctity, for his forgiveness. But he’s backing away from her now. 

She cries and cries desperately, screeching in frustration when Madara’s grip tightens to a visceral degree, until she feels like her skin is alight with flames. 

She looks down, and sees that they are. And the skin which these flames scorch dies off to corrupted, pink flesh as it travels up her arm in a slow crawl. An agonizing, horrible, slow crawl. 

Hours elapse as she endures the torture. Hours of raw, inhuman pain and her husband slurring his vile insults at her. The sheer destruction it pillages on her mind and body makes her feel small, makes the flames which take their time in exploring her skin burn brighter and hotter until finally she feels like nothing but ash. 

The last of her willpower billows away with that ash, as she watches Tobirama’s form start to disappear on some horizon that defies logic. 

She still wants to touch him. Still wants to be held by him. She still wants him, despite how clearly he doesn’t want her. 

His obscenities circle her thoughts, all-encompassing, completely and finally defeating her. 

Whore. Slut. Traitor. Weakling.

She cries a voiceless cry when Tobirama disappears, and Madara takes the illusion away shortly after. 

She blinks for clarity, eyes adjusting back to a reality no less harrowing than the previous artifice.

He leers down at her, takes in her anguish and her seedy frame with gluttonous cruelty in his gaze. 

Numb, teary eyes stare up at him as they slowly read his form. Realizing her predicament, she starts to hyperventilate, and tears run down her face. 

She shuts her eyes in one last attempt of modesty, forcing the stream of salt to sluice more violently down her cheeks. 

“Tobirama,” she pleads weakly, the only thing that she can think of in her hazy pain. 

It angers Madara. 

“He doesn’t want you. Now look at me.”

She refuses.

His hand twists into her hair and snaps her head back so hard that she almost sees stars behind her eyelids.

“I said look at me.”

“No,” she cries weakly, though she obeys, regardless. Her bloodshot, desperate eyes feed his sadistic vengeance. Then she’s turning her head away from him. Meager defiance. “Please—”

Satisfied with the short admission of her defeat, he takes her face and forces her look at him. 

“Try anything like that again and I’ll make sure you spend an eternity in a nightmare of my making. Do you understand?”

She has no energy to respond. 

“Answer me.”

All she can offer is a weak nod, tears still streaming down her cheeks. 

In a moment of triumphant vindictiveness, his fingers press harshly against the burn under her breast, bringing to life a reminiscent pain, a crushing reminder of what he’s done to her. 

He pushes her face away and she curls into herself, thinking of Tobirama.

In these makeshift quarters he’ll find no sleep; his mind is a mess of anger, desperation, and confusion. He needed to hurt her, didn’t he? She had defied him again. What other choice did he have? 

Another moment spent in her presence is another pin of irrational emotion nudged into his chest. He needs to leave.

He catches her glaring at him when he climbs off and starts to dress. It’s a look full of pure, searing hatred.

But he says nothing. He’s extracted enough triumph from her. 

His silence is in victory; hers in defeat.

⤰

She feels less alive each passing day. 

She doesn’t see him very often, not since the incident in the night when she’d failed to take swift revenge. 

Occasionally she hears him on the other side of the door, inquiring the guards who stand watch outside about her disposition. Rarely does he enter and see for himself. 

When he does, they exchange no words. He examines the room for any plotting demonstration of escape or sabotage, disguising his observation of her underneath these sweeping inspections. 

However, sometimes he gives up on the pretense and simply stares, studying her, trying to decide how he feels.

His actions are regrettable, of that he’s sure and self-condemned, but there’s still a glimmer of insolence in her eyes when he catches her gaze: one which rekindles the spite within him, fans vengeful flames and reminds him that she brought this upon herself. 

She would see no pity from him. 

Any words of apology on his tongue fizzle away then, and his visits conclude as silently as they begin.

⤰

The fight in her dwindles helplessly, and as it dwindles, so too does all sense of reservation. 

The prodigious determination there once had been to contend Madara and his Uchiha conspirators is all but spent. What good does it do her now? She’s broken, subjugated, and without leverage. 

Her body, which had once enabled her to use its seductions to the advantage of her people, is now depleted and only a shell. A shell for the hollow, cold heap of defeat that she now is. 

How deluded was she to think she could save all the people here? How had she ever thought that she alone could protect the hostages from the evil at their door? 

And Tobirama, whose embrace was denied to her even in dreadful illusions—what would he think of her? Madara was right. What else was she now but an Uchiha whore? Obsolete, ruined, soiled. 

Tobirama won’t want her. Not now. Not ever again. 

What more is there for her?

As the weeks go by, Madara’s distrust ebbs away. Suspicions of subterfuge die with her audacity; the times he does happen upon her, she’s nothing but a husk of the sharp woman she had made herself out to be. 

House arrest soon becomes a superfluous precaution, and even when the guards leave their posts, she makes few attempts to leave her home. And when she does, she wanders aimlessly, meanders without direction and without purpose. 

She’s pitiful, Madara decides. Pitiful and crushed. He has nothing to fear or suspect from her. Her fire is gone. 

What he doesn’t expect is that the last ember of that fire holds one desperate dredge of scorn. One which she won’t allow to be extinguished. 

When she wanders into the Uchiha war tent that day, she isn’t stopped. 

She’s given no second-glance by any of the Uchiha shinobi. Even if they were to give her careful inspection, they would never know of the kunai in her pocket, the steel icy and begging to be utilized for one final, desperate fight.

Madara isn’t there. Instead, she finds Izuna.

“Where is he?” she asks weakly. 

Izuna pays her so limited attention these days, regards her as little else except the harlot his brother broke in and conquered, that her presence has nothing more than a fleeting impasse on his patience. Like a gnat buzzing around his head. 

“My brother? Who knows.” 

When he accords her his attention he sees that she’s looking lifeless as ever. Sometimes he ponders the nature of the unkind things his brother has done to her, with a fraction of a fraction of pity. Then he’s reminded of the trespasses she’s made, and the pity is gone. 

“What?” he mocks. “If you’re hoping to charm some leniency out of him, you’ll get nowhere looking like that.” He tsks, a sneer marring his lips as he pulls his eyes over her form, like it’s a harrowing task to complete. “You’re better off groveling on your knees... save him the displeasure of looking at your face, at the least.” 

Although she doesn’t react, he sees humiliation simmering underneath the hardened, broken surface of her expression. He would have favored a more promising response to his taunts, but he’s satisfied to see her tamed of her previous unruliness, nevertheless.

He turns his back to her. Her misery is pleasant only for so long; the more he looks, the more unsightly it becomes. 

The Uchiha sigil stares back at her, stitched proudly and delicately onto the back of his garb. 

It mocks her, does more to incite her than any of his degrading condescension can. 

Unthinking, she moves to him. 

Hearing her approach he turns to meet her, the same bored sneer on his face. 

The melancholy is still in full bloom on her features, but there’s something else there, too. Something that tells him she’s struggling to express a grievance on her tongue.  

He scoffs.

“What is it, woman?”

He’s not Madara, she decides, but he’ll do. 

Aimlessly, she yanks the kunai from her pocket, then brings it down on his neck, not caring for whatever consequences will follow.

⤰

She wondered why Izuna didn’t kill her the moment he wrangled the kunai from her grip.

Blood spills from his neck; thick crimson pours in rivulets down his shirt, down the hand that presses against his wound. 

It may not be fatal but it’s certainly critical. Sharingan had worked in his favor. An inch more of the dagger’s descent studied without the activation of his doujutsu might have guaranteed his death. He inched away just in time.

She doesn’t have time to lament her failure. 

He did throw her to the floor in his anger, but nothing else comes. If he hadn’t been so occupied with sealing his wound, she imagines his ire would prove much worse, if not terminal. 

She doesn’t bother pushing up from her place on the floor when another Uchiha, hearing the din of Izuna’s angry hollers, barges in, sees the chaos, and sprints away after taking orders from Izuna. She doesn’t hear the essence of these orders, numb to the world as she is. 

Had the kunai been in her hand, she would slit her own throat in defiance. Death would have been preferable to what comes next.

When Madara storms in, she’s still a pile of hapless defeat on the floor. 

He says not a word, but the pure rage boiling behind his gaze says all it needs to: She made a grievous mistake. 

She gasps when he grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her to her feet. She screws her eyes shut, unwilling to look at him. He doesn’t seem to care whether she does or doesn’t. 

She’s certain that he rips hair right from the roots when he whips her around, shoves her forward with enough force to break every bone in her body. A bookcase greets her as she barrels into it. That’s when her eyes open in pained shock, a rushed gasp escaping her as she struggles to regain the air thrown out of her lungs. 

She wants to collapse, but a hand clasps around her neck and keeps her standing. Then the fingers tighten around her throat. She chokes pitifully for oxygen. 

“I told you that if you ever tried something like that again that you would regret it.” His voice is cold with anger. “But to make an attempt on my brother’s life?”

She doesn't answer. Apparently, he doesn’t expect her to.

He shoves her back to the ground. It knocks the wind out of her, and when she pushes herself up on shaky limbs, a heavy boot in her back sends her to the floor again. 

She yelps as he digs his heel into sensitive muscle. A burst of hot and red pain spreads through her back. Her kidneys, maybe? She doesn’t know. But he’s damaged something internally, and she wishes she were dead. 

Her breaths are pitiful and scant when he finally takes his foot away. She says nothing. Thinks of nothing. 

“Get up,” he demands, in a rigid, thin voice devoid of anything except fury.

Even if she wanted to obey, her body refuses. 

“Get up,” he snaps, and the unforgiving hand returns to twist into her hair, sending webs of pan across her scalp as he hauls her to her knees.  

He crouches in front of her, a hand still fisted in her hair. Now he wants her to look. His other hand takes her face and squeezes, so hard she’s half-convinced he plans to crush her skull. 

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

Desperately, she tries. But it’s a task to keep her eyes open without nausea seeping into her gut. Her eyelids force themselves to shut in an effort to quell dizziness. 

But then he jostles her around by the grip in her hair, so hard and so viciously that her entire world blacks out momentarily. The motion sends her mind reeling and her vision swimming. 

“Open your eyes.”

Adrenaline shoots through her and demands her to obey. 

She isn’t surprised when the red of sharingan is there to greet her. 

Everything goes black in the world of his making. She almost expects to see Tobirama there, for him to shout at her and degrade her again. 

Instead, she feels pain. The worst pain she’s ever felt. So painful she can’t breathe, can’t think. The only thing that exists is the hot, searing flame of anguish that stings every inch of her skin, every gap of her insides, down to the very organs. 

A hundred kunai stab into her head. She hears them slicing flesh to ribbons and digging fractures into her skull. Her blood curdles until it’s set aflame. That too, she hears, bubbling underneath the surface of her skin like thick, boiling water.

Everything hurts. Everything is endless agony.

When air finally fills her lungs, she wails. 

So loud, so violently, so wretchedly, that it’s almost itself anguish to hear.

Then he takes it all away. 

The relief is heavenly. She crumples into a ball. 

She hates it. She hates the weakness. If Tobirama could see her…

Then the pain comes again. She screams in tandem, then bites her tongue so hard it bleeds.

The cruel routine goes on, for what to her deluded, frenetic mind seems like hours, but is in reality passed in mere minutes.

Izuna watches as his wound is tended to, his expression as devoid of any mercy or sympathy as his brother’s. 

⤰

Two weeks later, when her body and mind make the slow, pitiful climb back to equilibrium, she notices the change. 

It’s unlike one she’s felt before, but not entirely unrelated to an irksome nausea: a queasiness in her stomach that neither food nor rest alleviates; something new, like an aura, that swathes her and accompanies her every second of the day; an extra weight added to the burden of her body.

Then comes the fearful ascent of logic. 

Amidst her turmoil, she’s forgotten about missing her monthly bleed. Its absence could be blamed on the toll her body has taken, but she knows better. 

The revelation brings her into a spiral of hectic anxiety, of despairing conflict. 

It’s not long before she finds herself sneaking into one of the medical tents, decision already made on how best to deal with the new predicament. 

She shuffles through the stock of vials and herbs which the Uchiha medics keep at the back of the tent, finds what she’s looking for and almost escapes as covertly as she had infiltrated, when she’s stopped. 

“What is that you have?”

She pauses a foot away from the tent’s exit, her body in a mode of panic.

“Some herbs for my wounds,” she mutters.

An elder Uchiha woman, a medic, turns her around and inspects the filched items in her grasp. 

“That is ginger root,” the medic observes warily. “If you need something for the pain, I would suggest dried poppy.”

The young woman stares fretfully at the old woman; the old woman stares back.  

“Thank you,” the younger stutters blankly, unable to make a step in either direction; play along and heed the advice to go search for the proper herbs, or flee and risk suspicion? 

“You look ill,” the old woman says, eyeing her, putting a hand to her forehead.

She backs away. “I just need rest.”

“Let me examine you. I can help you find the right medicines.”

“No,” she says. Any medic will be able to feel the life inside of her, given the chance. “I’ll be alright.”

She tries to leave then, but the old woman doesn’t let her. 

⤰

When Madara answers the request for his presence at one of the medic huts, he’s surprised to find her there, sitting on a cot, hunched over and distressingly quiet. Two Uchiha men stand at her sides, supervising her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Madara asks. 

Recently, he’s appreciated any reason to stay away from her. The sight of her makes him sick, makes a conflict of rage and confusion and culpability dance angrily in his head. 

The old woman offers him the ginger root, and a small vial of clear liquid. “She was after these.”

Madara takes them into examination. “Am I supposed to know what this is?” His patience, already thin, dwindles considerably for the roundabout elucidations.

“A toxic mixture,” the old woman explains plainly. “Boiled with regular tea and these will certainly destroy whatever grows inside a womb.”

With subdued bafflement, Madara looks at the woman on the cot, understanding all at once. 

She doesn’t dare meet his eyes. Even now her body trembles with frustration, with fear, with defeat. 

Izuna, who had accompanied his brother, scoffs, incredulously loud. “So either you managed to put one in her, brother, or it’s the Senju’s.”

“Can it be determined?” Madara asks the medic, ignoring his brother, and never taking his eyes off the frail form on the cot. 

“In a month’s time the chakra should be durable enough for us to sense.” 

“Kill it,” Izuna insists, coming to stand next to his brother, a voice of frustrated reason. “If it’s a Senju, better off unborn. And if it’s an Uchiha... you would pass on the clan’s power to halfling filth.”

Unperturbed, Madara stares in silence. Finally she meets his gaze, unsettled by the look of dark concentration in his eyes. 

“Why attempt to destroy the life inside of you unless it’s a burden to you?” he ponders out loud.

She realizes his train of logic: it must be his, for her to be so adamant in her pursuit to terminate it. 

“If it was my husband’s,” she says, “and it is, I would do the same. You would kill my child the moment I bring it into this world. Why let life grow that is destined to be murdered in cold blood?”

“And if it were mine?”

“It isn’t."

Madara scowls. 

“And if it were,” she goes on dangerously. “All the more reason to destroy it.”

That visibly infuriates him. 

“Give her the herbs,” Izuna asserts again. “Let her solve the problem. Either way she’s doing you a favor.”

Madara doesn’t speak for a long time. 

His careful inspection of her lasts long enough to make her doubts rise afresh, make her feet fidget uncomfortably and her heart pound in desperation.

“She stays here tonight,” he decides ultimately, looking to the Uchiha guards at her side. “She doesn’t leave.”

Izuna looks muddled, and somewhat irritated by the decision. 

She just looks afraid. 

⤰

He doesn't return for many days, but his absence can’t be appreciated as much of a reprieve at all; her mind is a mess of anxiety and denial the entire time. 

This can’t be happening, she tells herself countless times. She can’t be pregnant. And worse, can’t be ignorant to the father. There’s no possible way. It can’t be happening.

Part of her reasons for the better: it must be Tobirama’s. No more than three months have passed since the Uchiha first conquered and occupied the land, no more than three months since she’s been with her husband. 

The other part of her, downtrodden and beaten into pessimistic depravity, knows that with the chaos Madara brought, so too came a negligence to her normal routines: was she taking the contraceptive herbs as diligently as she needed to, given their intimacies? Amidst the turbulence he caused, had she remembered each and every time they were together to make sure nothing was conceived from their depraved liaisons? How could she not, when the way he touched her and took her made her sick?

But then, doubt: leading her astray, reminding her that everything horrible and miserable that could happen already had, so what was a bit more to the mountain of suffering she already endured? What was stopping fate from deciding that the life inside her womb belonged not to her loving husband, but to her unforgiving captor?

Thinking about it drives her to depressive insanity. By the time Madara comes to see her, she’s depleted almost all of her brain power. 

“Leave us,” he commands the guards who have been assigned to watch her. 

They obey, and the pair are left in silence. 

Her mind pleads with her to run, to attack, to simply scream—anything. Anything that will quell the distress of the pause in the air, the distress of not knowing his intent. 

When he takes a step forward she inches back. Noticing this, he’s dissuaded from approaching any closer. 

“So long as the child is inside of you, you have nothing to fear from me.”

Her heart pounds so furiously in her chest that she’s sure it’s audible in the quiet of the room. 

The statement angers her, scares her, and much to her shame, relieves her. 

“It’s not yours,” she claims.

“Unless I’m miscalculating, the Senju host left a week before my arrival. And not long after that, a fortnight at most for the sake of assumptions, this child might have been conceived. Between us.”

Bile rises in her throat and she wants to protest, but he goes on, badgering her with the logic she’s thus far refused to entertain. 

“If it were his, you would be farther along. Visibly, for one. And more than likely, I would be able to sense the chakra, deduce which clan it belongs to.”

By now she’s trembling quietly with her fear, fighting the urge to deny him, to preserve the hope that the reality he speaks of is in fact skewed.

“The child inside of you is an Uchiha,” he says determinedly. 

She shakes her head.

“You know I’m right.”

“You’re not,” she argues. “You said yourself there's no way of knowing. Not yet.”

He cocks his head. “Then you really have no idea, do you? No idea who it belongs to? Normally mothers can read the chakra within them at this stage. Can you not?”

She won’t grant him an answer, instead stares down at her feet as they dig into the ground, as if in a desperate attempt to escape underneath. 

Madara watches her with careful scrutiny. “I suppose we’ll have to see, then. But somewhere in that head of yours, you know I’m right.”

You’re not right, she repeats in her mind. You’re not. You’re not.

Just as he makes to leave, he stops. 

“And let me be clear,” he says, menacingly. “If you make any attempt to destroy what grows inside of you, you won’t be the one suffering the consequences.”

The glare he gives her speaks volumes: The Senju hostages. The violence that would ensue. The atrocities he might commit if she disobeyed. 

He leaves her. She clutches her stomach, letting the first, long-suppressed tear roll down her cheek. A warm, wet trail is left in its wake. 

In the turmoil she finds evidence for and against his claims when she lets her thoughts run away with logic. A wash of anxious desperation enlivens her, makes her conscience grab for a reprieve to her doubts. But even that is denied by the crushing reality of her situation. 

The life inside of her might belong to the enemy, to the Uchiha. 

And still, it might not. 

She stumbles between one acceptance and the next, each clouding her ever more until the tears are spilling in streams down her cheeks. 

When she puts every morsel of her ability into sensing the life within her, she can’t tell if the faint trace of Senju chakra she feels is authentic, or a desperate manifestation of her mind’s making. 

[babylooneytoonz]

Trinity - [Tommy Shelby x Alfie Solomons x Reader]

A/N- Yes, I confess. I wrote this after two bottles of beer (which is a lot for me) and I couldn't control my freaking hormones? I couldn't choose one out of the two so I just picked them both. For those who are not a fan of Polyamory or the concept of having two men in bed, please do not read this or else you will definitely feel scandalized. Please do NOT hate, even if you do not like the concept.

Warning(s): A Scandal? (I didn't know how to classify this, atleast for the 1920s), SMUT, Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Casual Sex, Explicit language & Cursing

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

Camden Town, London, 1921

Alfie Solomons' voice, clear as a crystal, thick as mist, rang through the bakery; his volatility reflecting in his words. Thomas Fucking Shelby stood in a corner, unbothered, yet fazed by this sudden outburst he saw in this man.

"Jewish Women— " Alfie spat, pushing his thickly bearded face into a man's face, who was minutes back laughing at his own joke, but now looked like he could shit his pants. "You do not go anywhere near them for Jewish women for you are off the fucking menu."

Thomas rolled his eyes, almost inwardly, his cold, outer expressions remaining stoic as he brought up the lit cigarette stick to his plump lips and inhaled the smoke from it, smoke coiling around him. Alfie's grip was hard against his cane, his knuckles almost white as a sheet of snow when a sudden ruckus pulled him out of his little display of anger, causing both Tommy and Alfie to snap their heads in the direction of the door.

"Ollie, what the fuck is going on out there eh?" Alfie called out, his voice loud enough to boom all through the bakery, causing a sudden shiver run down the men's spines. Ollie ran down, his face literally puffy, his cheeks blown out, his eyes red, "We've got a fuckin' problem, one of yer lads 'ave been causing troubles."

"Fuckin' problems, all I hear about these days is FUCKING PROBLEMS!" Alfie shouted at the top of his lungs; especially when he said the last two words, words rolling out of his tongue like wildfire, full of venom. He then turned towards Tommy, all the rage disappeared, as though he never was angry, "They're all yours, Tommy Shelby, forgive me for interrupting." He then turned to Ollie and using his cane, pointing it in the direction of the door, he mumbled, "Bring 'im in." Tommy stood there, calmly, his hands buried into his trouser pockets, his eyes on the men, "Pick him up," he said, pointing in the direction of the man that Alfie had knocked down using his cane, to instill fear into these men's minds.

A few seconds later, Ollie dragged one of Alfie's lads, holding him by his arms, pushing him to walk, his face a bloodied mess.

"What the fuck happened to your face, lad?"

"He fuckin' tried to touch me with his filthy little paws is what happened." Your words spat out of your mouth, like missiles shot through the air as you were dragged into the basement by one of the boys, your arms locked behind you, tied with a rope. Your face had scratches and the hem of your skirt was ripped off, your bare thigh exposed.

Your feminine voice surprised the men in front of you, spreading a sudden silence amongst them all. The first to glance at your form was Alfie, but you also noticed the blue eyed man behind him, his pocket watch dangling from his waistcoat, a lit cigarette in his fingers. You noticed how sharp his blue eyes were, how calculating.

"Right, well, he fuckin' touched you eh?"

You noticed how this man's predatory eyes raked over your body, sending a shiver down the back of your neck, down your spine, causing you to stiffen slightly, your eyes even more enraged than they were, minutes back.

"You keep your fuckin' lads in control, Alfie, or else I will—"

"I see you do know who I am. Now where are your manners eh, pet?" You saw his hand flew up momentarily, hovering in the air, until it finally rested on his chin, scratching it lightly. "People here in Camden Town call me Mr. Solomons."

You smiled, crossing your arms over your chest, a sudden knot forming in your throat.

"And the coppers here in Camden Town call you a fuckin' cunt," Your words rolled of your lips, your voice and accent imitating that of his.

You bit back on your tongue; your father's words coming back to haunt you in the back of your mind. Your fast mouth will be the death of you love, he used to say, and maybe it will; but you didn't care, not when rage took complete control over you and your mind.

A click of a smirk crossed the blue eyed stranger's lips, and your eyes flew to him for a split second, before rolling back and fixing it on the Jewish gangster. You could see that Alfie was surprised, shocked and a little angry, you could see it in the way his lips contorted, as though he wanted to say something but had no idea what. He wasn't used to having women speak up to him in this way, and maybe that had pinched his ego, bruising his manliness. From the corner of your eye, you saw Thomas stub his cigarette, stepping on the cigarette butt as he made his way closer, fixing himself next to Alfie, his eyes on you, addressing Alfie, but his words meant as a chide remark for you.

"Since when did London start hiring women as coppers, Mr. Solomons?"

"I'm a copper's daughter." You deadpanned. A sudden silence and tension suddenly filled the air, all the men giving each other loose eyed glances, wondering what this copper's daughter's fate will be now, that she had landed into the gangsters' den herself. It was only when Alfie spoke, did the tension in the air seem to cease.

"Lad, why don't you apologize to the lady for eh, touching her without her consent?"

"Is that it then eh?" You kicked the man backwards who was holding you, causing him to lose his grip on your shoulders, giving you a minute to get free. You didn't run away, instead you went straight for the lion's den or should you say, the lions den, glaring at the Jewish gangster in the eye. "Is that all a lad should do when he tries to touch a fuckin' woman without her consent eh? Just apologize? Is that what he should say to your bloody sister when a fuckin' lad gropes her in public —"

A low, dangerous growl erupted from the man's mouth, his hand suddenly reaching out and grabbing you by your throat, and spat, "Ye don't speak to me that way, pet."

You wouldn't deny; the look in his eyes, the fire, the way he spoke and that accent, adding to it, the way he held you in a choke hold, you should have been mad, but here you were, starting to get all hot and bothered suddenly, sudden thoughts starting to creep into your mind, dirty thoughts.

"Mr. Solomons—" Thomas interjected, putting a full stop to your thoughts, his voice icy, causing him to let go off your throat. Your hand flew to your neck, where Alfie had just held you, your tongue sliding out, licking over your lips, rather seductively. It was this blue eyed man that spoke next as he stepped closer towards you, a sudden smell of cigarettes, blood and a strong eu de cologne wafting through the air, hitting your nostrils.

"Tell us then love, what would you have us do?"

"I've already broken his bloody face, I think the next time, it will be his fuckin' balls."

Your gaze was directed at Alfie's henchman, who had by now, his hands clenched tightly into fists by his sides.

"Well, you've heard the lady haven't ya lad? Now fuck off."

The man scurried away the way he had been brought in and a slow, uneasy silence took over the bakery, coming to a halt when you spoke again. You turned your back towards Alfie and nudged your hands that were tied together in a rope.

"Do you mind, Mr. Solomons?"

"Ollie" The man's voice called.

You felt Ollie loosen the binds that held your wrists and once the knot was undone, you pulled your hands to your front, watching in disdain at the marks of the rope that had blued your wrists. You winced slightly as you tried moving your wrists and shook your head. You then slowly lowered yourself, into a slight curtsy, taking one step backwards at one time until you reached the door. Then you turned on your tail and walked off, leaving the men spell bound as to what they had just witnessed.

"Looks like she knew you, Mr. Solomons." Tommy pointed out to Alfie who just turned around and swiped his index finger in the air, and all the men that were standing there started dispersing.

"Let's take the discussion to my office then eh?"

Tommy nodded and then once Alfie had walked out, he quietly walked out too, following the man. As the both of them made their way towards Alfie's study, both of them had the same thoughts running in their minds. Strangely enough, this small encounter with a woman; who had wits matching their own, a sharp tongue that they wanted to silence and the body of a seductress; had left a lasting impression on their minds. Unknown the each other, the both of them were thinking of you, as they were quietly walking towards Alfie's study.

Alfie stopped walking abruptly when he saw that the door to his study was shut. This alerted him a little and he straightened up, his grip on his cane tightening. Slowly, he placed his hand on the doorknob and the door croak open, very slowly, the first thing their eyes falling on; the form of a woman who was sat in Alfie's desk, her head resting against the comfortable backrest, her hand moving mechanically up and down as she inhaled the smoke from her lit cigarette.

"Come in, gentlemen, I was hoping you'd come." You mumbled, your eyes still shut but yet you knew they were here; the air had suddenly changed.

Alfie drew in a long, sharp breath, his eyes falling over the way your chest was moving up and down, in a rhythm while Tommy just noticed the outline of a tattoo that had managed to show a sneak peak through the neckline of the blouse you were wearing.

You fluttered your eyes open, and there in front of you, stood two of the most handsome men you had met— each having a contrasting personality and appearance; and yet appeasing and satisfying in so many aspects. You found yourself wanting to be manhandled by Alfie Solomons' rough form while at the same time, you wanted to feel Tommy Shelby's plump lips kiss you all over your body.

You slowly stood up, making an eye contact with the two devilishly handsome men standing in front of you as you walked up to them but instead, squeezed yourself through the distance between the two men and reached the door. You kicked it shut.

"You both have had two women in the same bed, haven't you?" You whispered, your voice laced with a sudden heaviness, and a budding form of desire. You had no idea who you desired more— but you wanted them both.

Tommy didn't answer, his cold, calculating gaze moving from you as he pushed past you and made his way to Alfie's liquor cabinet and grabbed three glasses, busying himself with filling them up. You figured Tommy Fucking Shelby was having a hard time digesting the fact that women were finally coming out of their shells and the city was moving forward. Or maybe, he thought that you were a woman of the night.

Alfie, however, seemed unfazed. He was almost leaning against the hardwood wall, shamelessly throwing you lustful glances. You closed the distance between you and him, fixing yourself so close to him, you could feel his hot breath on you. You were tall, but Alfie was way taller, still towering over you, making you feel weak and giddy in the knees.

"Y'know, darlin'—" You leaned closer towards him, your lips inches apart from his, "No one touches me unless I want them to."

"I must be special then, pet, you 'ave been practically throwing yerself into my fuckin' face." He growled back, at the same time, his hand coming to land on your hip, and with one jerk of a movement, he had you pressed to him, his hard body pressing against yours. You could already feel him get hard, and this didn't do anything to lighten the dull ache radiating through your core.

Perhaps, Thomas Shelby felt left out. From the corner of your eye, he slowly walked up to the door, downing the contents of his drink and reached for the doorknob when you reached out and grabbed his wrist, "Don't leave. I can't choose between a fucking Jew and a fucking Gypsy."

You pulled Tommy towards you, and this gave Alfie a chance to slide out from his cornered position by the wall. You could see that he was enjoying this. He plomped down on the couch, falling back comfortably, his legs wide open, his hand resting under his head, eyeing you. "How about fucking them both eh ? A fucking Jew and a fucking Gypsy?"

You slowly balled the fabric of Thomas Shelby's shirt, leaving a crease on it, pulling it out and leaving it untucked. You could see that the man was obnoxiously quiet, but his chest and the way he took his breaths betrayed him. He was turned on, no matter how hard he pretended not to be.

"I hope you're not religious, Mr. Shelby." You slid your tongue out, running it seductively over his left cheekbone, feeling his breathing hitch, and his hand finally lock around you, pulling you to him.

"Never was." He whispered back.

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

You felt hammered, but to say the least, it was the best kind of hammered. You could taste Alfie on your lips and the way his mouth had sucked on your sweet spot and of course, the stretch and the burn from Tommy's cock as he had slammed mercilessly into you, even more fuelled up by watching a combination of your ample arse in full view in front of him, and your mouth choking on Alfie's cock, until he had finally smacked your arse hard, a sudden burning pain shooting through your body.

He had pulled out abruptly, holding his twitching cock with his palm, only to grab you by your hair and pull you away from Alfie, shoving his pulsating cock into your mouth while Alfie had switched position, planting himself just where Tommy had been mere seconds back. Without a warning, he had slammed his thickness into you, like a horse on drugs, so powerful, you felt your insides throb. The bakery was filled with your lustful moans and you screaming at the top of your lungs.

With cum running down the corner of your lips and cum trailing down your thigh, you had watched the two men collapse on the couch, with only a silk duvet cover to cover their cocks as Alfie grumbled some barely incoherent words and Tommy went back to his cold, manipulating gaze and helped you light a cigarette.

You fell gracefully in the space in the middle of the two men, not caring to cover your modesty even if someone was to walk in. You hand flew up to your lips and you took a long, lingering drag of it before there was a knock on the door. Lucky, you had locked it.

"What the fuck Ollie? Get the fuck out of here."

"It's Sabini, there are two fuckin' men outside, claim they are Sabini's men." Ollie called out from the other side of the door.

You were the first to slide out from the comfortable position. Then it was Tommy. As you slid on your underwear, Tommy pulled up his pants ,grunting slightly as Ollie continued to speak.

"What do they fuckin' want eh?" Alfie stood up, reaching for his pants.

"They say his fuckin' sister was spotted around here, an hour back."

You bit your lip hard, not wanting to smile as you buttoned up your shirt.

Tommy was the first one to turn to you, having finally understood who you were.

"You're his fucking sister."

"Don't look at me like that. I'm nothing like my brother, to think I'm here to rat you all and your little secret out eh? What you two are fuckin' best friends now?"

Tommy grabbed you by your arm, his nails almost digging into you, unlike the way you felt his nails digging into your hips in need.

"I didn't know Darby Sabini's sister had a death wish."

"Oh love, I don't. I know you two won't touch a hair on my head, because if you wanted you would have done it by now." You pushed Tommy's hand away, straightening up your shirt and running a hand through your messy hair. When you looked up, you could see two sets of eyes glaring at you, their hands itching to be the first one to hold your throat and squeeze life out of you.

"You don't get it, do you? I don't work for my brother. You secret's fucking safe with me. All the more, I think you'll need someone on the inside to help you. Killing me will only silence me for now, but one day, my fuckin' brother's gonna come looking for you. And he's sure as hell not gonna like how you two 'ave been fucking putting your cocks into his fuckin' sister."

"Do you trust her?" Tommy turned towards Alfie, completely ignoring your presence, as though you weren't in the room.

Alfie's hand flew up to his moustache as he stroked over it, his eyes fixed on you.

"I think the woman's sayin' the truth."

"Well then fuck off before Sabini himself comes over to look for you." Tommy motioned to you, his index finger pointed towards the door.

You pouted dramatically.

"I think I'd love to keep having our little fucking unholy Trinity." You winked and placed your hand on the doorknob, slowly turning it around and letting the door open. You turned back, your expressions now serious.

"Don't worry, I was never here. And —" You walked back to where both the men were, heading first to Tommy. You grabbed him by his arm and pulled him slightly, making him look like you were kissing his neck but in reality, you were whispering into his ears, "If you wanna get Sabini, get Georgie Sewell first, he is my brother's most trusted right hand man."

You then walked up to Alfie, placing a hand on his chest, and leaned in to kiss his cheek, at the same time whispering, "It's a fucking lie, he would never let yer bookies into the Epsom races. If I were you, I'd be siding with the Gypsies."

You then hurried back towards the door, the slit on the hem of your skirt still there.

"Would you go out like that? Take my coat."

Your lips curled into a smile at Tommy's words and you gave him a side glance.

"I don't want Sabini to smell you on me, love, no matter how good the two of you smell today."

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •