#and my dad being always irritated by the fact that he has to come pick me up from college

[saturno-sol]

Yknow maybe it’s not a good thing to have kids with a ten year+ difference between them.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

slipping through my fingers

pairing: ex-husband! leon x ex-wife! reader

tags/cw: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, p-in-v (unprotected), breeding kink, chris and rose make an appearance, exes to lovers, periodic pov switch

summary: previously absent-father leon comes back into reader's life when he decides to step-up as a father to their daughter, june

a/n: this is a commission for @mikadayo !

wc: 5.3k

taglist:

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It was supposed to be over. It was over. You finalized your divorce with Leon and got full custody of your daughter, June. It's hard being a single mom, but making the choice to become one was an easy one. You'd do anything for your little girl, and that includes making sure she has a stable home life, which was something she'd never get with Leon.

He had his chances to see her. You were willing to let him have her on Father's Day and New Years Eve, even Spring Break once, but he never took you up on your offers. Work was always too busy.

Whenever your daughter asks about Daddy, you tell her, "he's busy working to make sure the world stays safe."

"He's gonna make sure there's no monsters under my bed ever."

"That's right, honey. No monsters can get you because your dad is gonna make them go away."

She doesn't know about Umbrella, STRATCOM, the DSO, or why he was sick for a little while and had to go to a special facility before he could come home. ‘Parasite’ is not a word in her vocabulary.

But one fateful Saturday morning, Leon - older and more sober - stands at your doorstep.

With a coffee mug in your hand and slippers on your feet, you open your front door, assuming it's a neighbor who got your mail by mistake or a kid selling girl scout cookies. But, luck isn't on your side today.

"Good morning," he says, all cheery and nonchalant.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

June - who seems to have phenomenal hearing this morning - chimes in, "that's a bad word, ."

"I'm an adult, so I can say bad words sometimes," you say, hoping it will be enough of a response for her, but her nosiness prevails.

Peering out from behind you, she realizes who you're talking to, and pushing past you to see him, she exclaims, "Daddy!"

"Hi, sweetheart," he says, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

Full of excitement, she talks a mile a minute. "I missed you so much. I have to show you my Barbies and my science project and - Oh! we're having pancakes for breakfast because  makes them on Saturdays with chocolate chips and-"

"Slow down, June bug," he says with a smile identical to hers. "Let's do one thing at a time. First we have to make sure that your mommy is okay with me hanging out with you today."

"Of course she is!" June says, turning to you. "Right, mommy?"

You sigh. "Of course I am." You make a face that only Leon can recognize as annoyance. Not anger, just irritation. You wanted him to make an effort, right?

Leon listens eagerly to everything about My Little Pony and the ant farm at school while you clean up breakfast and make yourself slightly more presentable. Leon looks better than you'd like to admit, and whether it's to spite him or to impress him, you decide you need to look decent in front of him too.

"Can I talk to daddy for a minute, honey?" you ask.

"Okay, but only for five minutes because we're gonna watch a movie."

You can't help but laugh at the fact that she tries to hog her father - your ex-husband. A man who was once yours, who you used to love. 

"Okay five minutes," you tell her, as you give Leon a nod in the direction of the kitchen.

From the kitchen, you drag him out the back door, onto the porch and you can see in his face that he is prepared for the talking-to that he's about to get.

"You can't just show up unannounced,” you whisper-yell at him in the way that parents do. 

"I know, but I was in the area and-"

"No. You should've called me."

"I did, but it went to voicemail."

"When?"

"A few hours ago."

"I was asleep."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"I always sleep in on Saturdays.” It irks you how he forgets the simplest things about you, and you almost let yourself get consumed by the urge to keep arguing, but then you remember why you’re both standing here. “This isn't even about me. You can't do this to her."

"Do what? Hang out with my daughter? She's happy. Look at her."

"She's happy now, but what about when you leave? What about when I have to calm her down when she's crying because she misses you?"

"Just tell her I'll be back."

"But that's not fucking good enough, Leon! That doesn't mean anything. You've been gone for years."

"What do you want me to do? Leave now?"

You peek inside to see your baby girl smiling to herself.

"No."

"We'll figure something out, babe, I swear."

"Do not 'babe' me. We're not doing that."

"Okay, sorry."

You can't tell if his ‘sorry’ is an apology or a way to get you off his ass for the time being.

Leon knows this isn't the ideal scenario, but he prays that the old adage, 'better late than never' proves itself to be true.

He really is sorry. 

Sorry. It never comes out quite right, his mouth is still learning how to mold itself to fit that word. He hopes the look in his eyes gives way to the fact that he means it. 

Regardless, you cut your lecture short after peering in the window at June who is patiently waiting in front of the TV for him to come back.

Leon rarely ever relaxes. His job puts him constantly on edge, waiting for the industry's latest bioweapon to tear his head off. But, with June in his lap, the two of them both fall asleep while Mulan remains on the TV.

You wake June up for lunch, which stirs Leon as well - he never likes having his sleep interrupted but when he finds out you've made macaroni and cheese (and he's allowed to have some), all is forgiven.

That afternoon, Leon feels you staring him down like he's an inmate and you're a prison guard. He feels a little guilty, though he's committed no crimes. He shouldn't be here, he should be home, away from the sacred space you've created for his little girl. If he loves her, he'll let her go.

No. He said that about you, and so far, it hasn't worked.

If he loves his little June bug, he'll hold her tight.

So, Leon comes back the next weekend, announced, like you asked, though maybe he should've been a bit more specific about his intentions.

"Are you guys gonna watch a movie?" you ask. "Or are you gonna show dad your new toy?"

"Actually," Leon cuts in, "I was thinking about taking her to the fair." 

Leon’s not a man who typically walks around with a mind full of adventures - you were always the one to plan the dates you went on together. This idea came to him when he looked up 'things to do near me with children', and found an article that mentioned the county fair. 

"The fair?" You look apprehensive. 

You were never this way with him, you would go anywhere with him - at least, in the beginning, back when you were absolutely smitten with him. God, he misses those days. 

But, maybe Leon should have considered the concerns that you might have about him taking June to the fair. However, the website he consulted didn't give him any instructions on 'how to convince your ex-wife to let you bring your child here' - the only directions consisted of an address that he could type into his GPS. 

"Yeah, I heard it's this weekend and I think it would be a fun time, you know, we could ride some rides, get cotton candy…"

"Cotton candy!" A voice from behind Leon calls.

"I'm worried about June getting on those rides, I mean, they can't be entirely safe."

"I promise, I'll make sure she's safe."

"Mommy, please." It seems to be June who convinces you, though Leon does mimic her pouty puppy dog face.

"Fine, but you need sunscreen, and I don't want you eating too much junk food." Leon tries his best to keep up with all your instructions, though he misses some, in particular, he forgets your insistence that he "keeps you updated the whole time."

"Got it," Leon tells you, overconfident in his listening skills when he's got an excited little kid pulling him out the door.

"And you better not be taking her on that bike, Leon Kennedy!"

"Can I have your car keys?" he asks sheepishly.

You grab them off the counter and hand them to him. "If you crash my car so help me God-"

"I won't." Not while his girl is with him. He drives under the speed limit with her buckled in her carseat. (You had to help him with that, and honestly, you seemed grateful that he asked you, rather than doing it himself and risking messing it up.) Leon knows you think he’s a fuck-up. 

The fair is a 5 year-old's dream. (Also, a grown man's dream, though Leon would be reluctant to admit that.)

"Can we get a funnel cake, daddy?"

“Hell yeah, we can."

"Mommy says 'Hell' is a bad word."

"She's right. I'm sorry for saying it." Maybe you'll accept a funnel cake as an apology, he thinks.

June gasps, and Leon's protective arm flies out of his jacket pocket to wrap around her, stopping in its tracks when she says, "they have fried Oreos!"

"They make those?" Leon has died and gone to heaven, he's sure of it.

The fried Oreos taste 'fucking amazing', though Leon stops himself from saying that in front of his daughter. They're truly the pinnacle of American cuisine.

The fair is like a casino, both in the sense that it drains your wallet and makes you forget how long you've been there. They have the spinning teacups, the petting zoo, the carousel, everything a child's mind could dream up.

"I remember your mom and I kissed at the top of one of these once," he tells June when they're on the ferris wheel.

"Ew! You could've given her cooties!"

"Cooties? You still believe in those?"

"Yeah, if a boy touches you, you can get it."

On second thought, cooties absolutely exist. His little girl isn't having a boyfriend until she's 25.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot - you can get it when you're a kid, but I was an adult when I kissed your mom, so we didn't get cooties."

He spares her the details of what really happened on that ferris wheel. His daughter will never hear that story.

That Saturday is one of the best days of Leon's life - second only to June's birth.

That is, until he drops her off at home. You are pissed like he's never seen before.

"Oh, you're alive!" You take June in your arms and kiss her on the cheek.

You do not look as happy to see him. "Leon, I was worried sick about y- her!"

He hears the almost slip of the tongue. You. You worried about them both. You worried about him.

"I'm sorry." And, he means it, really.

"Mommy, it's okay," June assures you. "Daddy won me this." She hands you a teddy bear.

"How'd he do that?"

You look at him, almost suspicious, but he gives you a proud smile, and says, "I won the game where you have to throw darts at the balloons."

"No way! Those are rigged."

"Nope. You're just not as good at them as I am." They probably are rigged but Leon's job has given him superior aim and reaction speed.

Your reluctant smile says you're impressed with his skill.

And, that smile widens when he says, "I got you something too."

"Oh yeah?" The look you give him is one he’s always treasured. He’s always dreamed about making your eyes light up like that again.

"Here." He hands you a styrofoam takeout box, and watches you as you open it.

"Funnel cake!" Though you always say June got her smile from him, he swears you smile exactly like she does.

A funnel cake? How are you supposed to stay mad at him like this?

When Leon is about to exit after saying his goodbyes to June, you stop him. "I'm gonna go put her to bed, and then we're going to have a talk."

A lecture. Not the kind of ‘talk’ he likes.

"Mommy, I want daddy to read me a story."

Leon might have a convincing face, one that works on you nine times out of ten, but June's works ten times out of ten.

You give Leon a pleading look - something you wouldn't have expected to do since your divorce - and he says, "yeah, of course."

"I expect you to be good," you tell June when you hug her goodnight. "You know the rules: brush your teeth, put on your pjs, one story, and then lights out."

She nods, though you expect her to push the envelope. And, you expect Leon to cave to her wishes. But you have a date with that funnel cake, and maybe even a beer - you never drink when June is around, but you realize, when you find one in the back of the fridge out in the garage, that you're beginning to trust Leon. If, God forbid, you ever got even the slightest bit drunk, you know he could take care of June. 

Leon finds you on the porch with a half-finished beer and an empty box where the funnel cake used to be. You smile like a child in that you're completely unashamed, or unaware even, of the ring of powdered sugar around your mouth. 

"I thought you'd save some for me," he says. 

"You thought wrong."

"It's kinda funny that you're the one with the beer in hand. It feels like it was always the other way around."

It’s not that funny at all. 

"That's 'cause it was."

He pauses - you half expect him to apologize, but he doesn't. 

"How was she?"

"Good. She fell asleep while I was reading to her."

"The first book?"

"Are there usually more books?"

"Unbelievable! She always begs me for 'one more story', and I'm such a softie. I always give in."

He laughs. A beautiful laugh. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

"She was probably tired from her long day out." You give him the 'you're in trouble' look that June never gets. 

"I'm sorry. We were having a great time."

"I almost called the police, Leon. I thought you two had died."

"Died? She's safe with me. Always." He pats his hip where Matilda resides, holstered under his jacket.

"You brought a gun into my house? Into my baby's bedroom? I don't want that thing anywhere near her!"

"Chill. The safety's on, and she can't get to it without getting past me, and I've got fast reflexes."

"Oh yeah? I could just-" You reach for the gun, but he grabs your wrist. Then, you think you can catch him off-guard with the other hand, but he's one step ahead, immediately grabbing your other wrist before it gets anywhere near the gun. 

"No, you can't."

"You expected me to do it."

"I expected the second hand after the first. I'm just paying attention."

"Let go of my wrists."

"Will you behave?"

You scoff. "Yes." 

You don't want to 'behave', you want Leon's hands pinning your wrists to the bed. You shake off that thought quickly.

To 'prove that you can outsmart him', you try to grab his gun again when he lets you go. Of course, he stops you. You've never gotten past him. Not when you used to 'play-fight', not when you tried to sneak up on him, not now.

"What do you think you're doing?" He's trying so hard not to laugh, you can see his lip twitching. 

"Fine. You proved your point."

But he doesn't let go yet. "Do you wanna know what I told June earlier?" he whispers. 

"What did you tell her?"

"When we were on the ferris wheel," he enunciates every syllable in 'ferris wheel' and you already know where it's going before he says it, "I told her we kissed on one of those a long time ago."

He must see your worry because he adds, "don't worry, I didn't say anything more about what happened."

About how his hands were under your skirt, and his fingers were knuckle-deep inside you.

“You better not have told her about that."

"I've always kept it a secret. Just between us... and probably the guy operating the ride and people waiting in line who saw your shaky legs and blushing face."

"Shut up!"

"That was my line." He lets go of your wrists, and you're too stunned to do anything. 

It becomes a routine - Leon comes and sees June on the weekends. You know it's going to end one day. He'll leave you both behind. He always does. Sometimes it's work, sometimes it's other things (though you always tell June it's work). 

You wait for him the next Saturday. You've never really set a specific time for Leon to come over because that would be setting expectations, and you've learned that with him expectations just lead to being let down. But, he's later than usual. The pang of anxiety is a familiar one. 

Finally, he shows up, and when he pulls into your driveway, you nearly cry. You care because June cares. At least, that's what you tell yourself. 

"I think my little girl should come stay with me for the weekend," Leon says, and you wonder if saying it in front of June is a strategic move on his part. You can say no to him, but not to her. 

She jumps up and down with joy. You'd think she was just told she's being taken to Disney World, not her dad's apartment. 

"I don't know about this..." You try to shut the idea down. "I mean, you don't even have a carseat, Leon, how can I expect you to have a toothbrush for her? Do you even know how to comb her hair? And, what about her allergies?"

"She's allergic to peanuts and bees, I remember. Her blood type is A positive. She likes watermelon-flavored toothpaste. And Chris told me what shampoo he buys for Rose and how he does her hair."

You're impressed to say the least. "And what about-"

"If I need anything, I'll call you. Okay?"

"I expect you to call me anyway."

"June bug, will you remind me to call  if I forget?"

"Yes," she says, standing up straight like a soldier. 

Would you normally trust your five year-old to remember something crucial? No. But, you know she'll want to say goodnight to you. You're surprised she's willing to stay over at someone else's house, let alone excited about a sleepover. She's always been attached to you. You and June have existed as a duo since she was born. 

It takes you at least an hour to pack everything. You fill two suitcases - and admittedly, it is hot to watch Leon carry them both to the car with no trouble. 

But that rush of arousal lasts for two minutes maximum. You watch them drive away and realize June left without hugging you goodbye. She usually hangs onto your leg like a koala bear and you have to peel her off of you. You only got a wave from Leon. 

It's like her first day of kindergarten all over again - when you teared up at the bus stop watching her climb onto the school bus. 

The only thing that gives you peace of mind is that your baby girl is probably over the moon right now.

She is, and so is her dad. 

There's a singular moment of nervousness on June's part when Chris comes over with Rose. His giant frame and resting face can be intimidating to adults, so he's like the boogeyman to children. Ironic because he's a good father figure, one Leon looks up to. 

Leon tries to coax June out from behind him where she hides from Chris, but the one who successfully gets her to feel safe enough to do so is Rose, who is only a bit older, and a bit taller than June. 

“Don't worry. He's not scary. He fights monsters."

"My dad fights monsters."

"He also plays Barbies sometimes."

Leon stifles a laugh. 

"Let the record show that I play as Ken," Chris insists.

June comes out of hiding to announce that, "My dad is Chef Barbie."

"Is that right?" Chris says, shooting Leon a look that says, 'who's laughing now?'. 

"Well, I would've been Lifeguard Barbie but she was already taken."

The afternoon consists of Lifeguard Barbie saving Chef Barbie, who cannot swim, and ends up in the hospital where she is taken care of by Doctor Barbie - played by Rose - and with a grand finale and a costume change, Chef Barbie and Ken get married. 

Dinner is pizza, which Leon did not expect to be as much of a hit as it was. You'd think he cooked a fancy steak dinner if you saw the look on June's face. 

"Mom never orders pizza at home!"

"Really?"

"She says it's bad for you."

"Let's not tell her about it then."

They also agree not to mention the ice cream sundaes that are served for dessert. 

Both girls fall asleep in front of the TV. Chris carries Rose to the car as she sleeps soundly in his arms. He's become accustomed to that, but it's new for Leon to get to tuck his baby girl into bed like this. He can't remember the last time he carried her. 

When the heartwarming feeling subsides a bit, he realizes he forgot to call you. Shit. He's going to be in trouble. 

Leon calls you from his bedroom, so he doesn't wake June. 

You sound eager to hear from them both, and he feels awful when he hears your disappointment that you're only going to get to talk to him. 

"Do you want me to wake her up?"

"No, no. If she's asleep, don't. I'm just glad you guys had fun."

"We did. Thank you for letting me take her."

"Yeah... Goodnight, Leon."

And, he can't hear the sadness in your voice, so he doesn't understand why you end the phone call so quickly. He expected you to want a rundown of the day, but sleep comes over him and he brushes it off. 

It was a bad choice to watch Mamma Mia that night. You have to pause the TV to grab the tissues when they get to Slipping Through My Fingers. It hits a bit too close to home.

Why aren't you like Meryl Streep? Would it be better if you didn't know who June's father was and you moved to a small town in Greece? 

Realistically, no. 

But halfway through the tub of ice cream you devour, you're convinced you've done it all wrong. 

You were the strict parent but you were also the fun parent because you were the only parent. Then, Leon comes around and swoops your daughter up - and with his ever-present charm, becomes the light of her life.

It's the next weekend when your heart is truly broken- when June is supposed to go to your parents house for the weekend. She usually loves staying with them because they live by the lake and she's finally old enough to swim - with floaties of course. Often, it takes some convincing to get her out the door as she's apprehensive to leave her mom behind, but this time, she says something different. 

"I wanna go see daddy," she cries. 

"You'll see daddy next weekend. Plus, you had me yesterday."

"I don't want you, I want daddy!"

Though she's the child, you're the one who sobs like a baby. You consider calling your own mother to calm you down. 

You don't even feel like yourself anymore, you don't feel like June's mom anymore. the woman your daughter looked up to, the person she loved more than anyone. Now, you feel like you're no more than a woman who lives in the same house, a woman who drives her to soccer practice and packs her lunches. Dad takes her on adventures and lets her stay up late. Mom is an evil dictator who enforces bedtimes.

You gave Leon a key to your house the weekend before. A familiar one, one with a keychain that used to be his. He used to live here. He missed it. He missed you. 

He comes over on the weekends for you both, though it takes him time to fully accept that. Leon remembers you saying that June would be at her grandparents this weekend, but pretends that he doesn't. 

When he arrives he lets himself in, and he finds you crying in the kitchen. He's not sure whether to feel better about being here or worse. He wants to cheer you up, but he worries he'll fuck up somehow. He usually does. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, though he knows he'll need to do more than that to drag the truth out of you. 

And he's right. You respond with a simple lie. A classic. "It's nothing. I'm fine. I just had a hard week at work, that's all."

He places a hand on your shoulder, comforting but begging you to turn to him. "You know I'm here for you, right?"

"You're not here for me. You're here for her. And that's all right, Leon. That's how it's supposed to be. You two still have a special relationship, but us - we have nothing anymore."

"That's not true. We might not be married anymore, but you're still my daughter's mother, and I'm still your daughter's father. We have the best baby girl. Both of us."

He looks into your eyes when he says it.

"And, I wish I could take credit for her being the greatest child I've ever met, but you're the one who raised her - up to this point."

He can tell that the last phrase throws you off. You don't cut him off, you don't try to push him away. 

"I want to be involved. I know I fucked up. Big time. I fucked up catastrophically. But, I want to be there for my girl… and for my other girl, if she'll let me."

"I'm not your girl."

But you were, and the spark is still there. The lack of passion was not your reason for divorce. Your immense love is what kept you together for so long. You were - are - head-over-heels for him. Love - it's incurable.

Now, Leon recognizes the situation for what it is, and swears he'll step up and be a father. But people lie sometimes. Leon has a thousand times now. 

Something in the back of your mind says, one more time. Hope, delusion, optimism. 

And, June, as much as her words hurt you, you've never seen her so happy. 

You explain it all to Leon while he holds you in his arms like you're his baby girl. Because you were. Because you are. 

"She doesn't love me anymore."

"She loves you so much. Just because she loves me, doesn't mean she doesn't love you. She's got a lot of love in her heart. She's a sweet girl like her mom."

Somehow, he always manages to make you feel flustered even when you're crying. 

"You're easy to love," he whispers. 

"Are you saying that-"

"Yes, I'm saying it. I lo-."

You kiss him to cut him off before he can say it. You don't want to have to say it back - because you'd be telling the truth, and sometimes the truth is hard. 

At first, he doesn't kiss you back, and you think you've fucked up, but for once, you've caught him off-guard. 

You make out like teenagers on your living room couch until Leon insists on carrying you upstairs. "I don't care if we don't go any further than this, but I'm old - and I want to take you to bed, in one way or another."

With Leon, it never stops at just making out even though you know he'd never pressure you to do more. He makes you feel insatiable. 

"Fuck, baby," Leon groans. "I missed being inside you."

Inside you - without a condom. You love him that much. 

"I missed this too," you say between moans. "I couldn't get off without thinking about you, about what you do to me."

He lifts your legs and hooks them upon his shoulders, and the new angle makes his cock rub against the most sensitive part of you with every stroke. Your mouth falls open and your head falls back onto the pillow as you let out a gasp of pure pleasure.

"Yeah? Tell me what you've been thinking about." He doesn’t stop fucking you while he speaks, the dirty talk only spurs him on further.

You can't tell him anything. The only word you have in your mind is ‘Leon’, and even that gets stuck in your throat. He's reduced you to downright pornographic moans. 

He slows the roll of his hips. "Want you to tell me," he says. 

"Leon," you whine and reach out to grab him - but your efforts are in vain, he has you at his mercy in this position. 

"Tell me."

"Every time I touched myself, I thought about when we were trying to conceive… It was the best sex I ever had."

"We can do that again, baby. Just say the word." 

There's nothing that Leon wants more than to cum inside you, you know this. 

"Please."

"You want me to put a baby in you?"

"Mm-hmm."

He doesn't even make you beg because he can't stop running his own mouth. His filthy, beautiful mouth. "I remember how gorgeous you looked when you were pregnant. God, I wanted to fuck you the whole time."

"I told you that you could have me whenever you wanted me, however you wanted me. I told you I wanted it rough and you wouldn't give it to me."

"I had to be gentle with you, baby. Couldn't risk it."

"You're still being gentle."

"'Cause you're so precious."

"You're not gonna hurt me, Leon. I want you to be rough with me."

And that's his cue to press your legs to your chest - you know he can fuck you faster and harder in this position, but you swear he manages to bury himself deeper inside you than before, too. 

It's a good thing you're alone in the house because otherwise Leon would have to find a way to shut you up. He could easily clamp his hand over your mouth, but he lets you whine unrestrained, begging him over and over for 'more'. 

"You're gonna wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, baby."

"I don't care. I need you."

"Fuck." He snaps his hips into you with increased vigor. He must not care either, not enough to stop. 

You try to tell him how good it feels, and moreover, how close you are to the edge, but it gets lost in a sea of moans. 

It doesn't matter, though, because your walls tightening around him tell him all he needs to know.

"You're squeezin' me, baby. Not gonna be able to pull out if you don't let up."

"Don't pull out."

"Yeah? You sure? You want me to put a baby in you?" 

It's all rhetorical but you nod at every question. You wrap your legs around him, forcing him to stay inside you, and you don't let him go until well after your high has subsided. 

In the post-orgasm haze, you say the words you meant to hold back before. "I love you."

And he doesn’t hesitate to say it back.  

[literaila]

I seriously love the relationship between Megumi and reader. He is in fact, a mama's boy lol

But Dadgojo and Megumi moments are cute as hell too

So herw you go a small oneshot: Little Megs would always go to reader's or Tsumiki's bedroom when he has nightmares. He already trusts you enough to see him vulnerable and goes to seek for your protection, and of course you never complain and comfort him.

But this time is different. He had a nightmare and you were on a mission and Tsumiki is staying at a friend's house.

There is only one person left in the house: Gojo.

So, with the greatest shame and irritation in the world at having to depend on his annoying and childish dad, he goes to Gojo's room because at moments like these he can't stand being alone. So he eats his shame and goes to seek for him.

You can imagine reader's surprise when she comes back home in the morning and finds Satoru and your son cuddling together on the bed, Megumi's hold on Gojo's shirt tight as both sleep peacefully.

You swear you are not like Satoru, but you can't help it but to pick up the phone and take thousands of pictures of this rare moment, knowing it wont happen again (because Megumi won't do it twice after Satoru didn't stop mocking him about it.)

honestly you might as well just write the series for me. like do you wanna look in my inbox? you can write all of the one shots currently rotting away (i’m not asking im pleading)

this is so correct though.

megumi’s just not used to not having you home. when this arrangement first began you took some time off, let satoru handle everything (as per usual) so you could take care of the kids. adapt.

when you resume your former busy schedule, both of the kids are slightly thrown off. and satoru too—because he misses you. he’s known the caress of your absence and isn’t fond of the feeling.

and now it’s megumi’s turn.

but the boy doesn’t start having serious nightmares till around seven or eight (despite the…lack of an upbringing, the rotting apartment and cuddling with tsumiki in bed so neither of them froze in their sleep).

when it happens the first time, he sits there, waiting for some answer to come. he’s a quiet, stoic kid—and he doesn’t get scared. he’s not like his soft, kind sister. he doesn’t even flinch when others would jump.

he lays there until he falls asleep again. and he won’t mention it. megumi doesn’t need to worry you or satoru (mostly you) with this.

then it happens a second time.

this time he’s woken up on the verge of tears—already passed that breaking point—and he can’t stay in bed. he can’t lay there and recall images of monsters no child should understand.

so he gets out of bed—but just for a glass of water. he’s still not scared.

though it just so happens that you’re already in the kitchen when he gets there, and it just so happens that you know things about him—just because you know—so there’s nothing he can do to hide any of it.

still, you’ll only tilt your head at him, giving him a half-sleepy smile. “hey, megs. you okay?”

“i’m thirsty.”

so you get him his glass of water and you watch while he takes tentative sips.

again, somehow you just know. the same way that megumi knows that you know.

“are you having a hard time sleeping?” you ask him, after a minute of silence.

megumi shakes his head on instinct.

you’re still smiling. “bad dreams?”

and he could lie—he’s so very used to lying about things like this. megumi doesn’t want people to see him as this little boy who needs their help. he wants an equal playing field, and he doesn’t want to be scared.

but he is.

and when it comes to you, and only you, megumi is a terrible liar.

so he nods, and your smile remains—sure as always.

“i get ‘em too,” you whisper to him. “even when i was a kid. especially then.”

“you do?”

“yup. all the time.”

“what…” megumi furrows his brows. “what do you do?”

“hmm…” you go and stand beside him at the counter, leaning your chin on a hand. “well, it depends on the dream. sometimes they’re… smaller. and i can usually sleep through those ones, but i always remember them in the morning.”

megumi nods; he has all sorts of dreams.

dreams of running around with tsumiki, of going on missions with gojo. he dreams of you in the kitchen, you telling him to keep going. and he dreams of the dark. of a house that could never be a home.

he dreams of being all alone, and when he wakes up, it feels so real that he can’t help it.

he begins to believe that it’s true.

“when i have bigger ones, though, that i can’t sleep though… well, usually i just wake satoru up.”

megumi frowns. “why?”

“he’s so irritating that i forget all about the dream.”

“oh. yeah.”

you laugh. “or i just ask him for a hug. he always says yes. or i wake him up and we steal a car and drive around for a bit,” you add, almost absentmindedly.

megumi blinks, about to interrupt, but you continue.

“sometimes i just lay in bed until i fall back asleep. or i get up and do something else—get some water,” you give him a pointed look, “so that it feels less real.”

“does it work?”

“most of the time,” you answer, so softly. and you’re right there next to him, still smiling. “wanna watch a movie or something? i’ll let you pick.”

megumi frowns. you don’t like to let them stay up late (despite satoru’s many attempts to go out for gas station ice cream at three in the morning). “really?”

“sure.”

and you sit with him on the couch, not cuddling, but close enough.

megumi listens to you laugh at the random movie he put on—something tsumiki likes—and it feels a little bit better. he feels a little less alone.

and later on, just when he’s falling back to sleep, almost slumping on you, you’ll whisper to him: “the thing about nightmares, megumi,” your hand is in his hair and your voice is almost a lullaby. “is that you can always wake up.”

so megumi gets in the habit of looking for you when he’s had a nightmare—the bad ones, like you mentioned. he doesn’t ask you for a hug, or ask you to sit with him, but you do anyway.

and somehow the two of you will end up on the couch, or in his bed, so close together that megumi can’t have another bad dream (because he’s suffocating).

but on this night—the one night where you’re not home—megumi isn’t sure what to do.

because he doesn’t want to be alone. he doesn’t want to feel trapped in his room, and there’s no way he’s falling back asleep now, and why did he forget that you weren’t going to be home tonight, and—

“psst,” a voice says, a little bit amused. “why are you awake, kid?”

almost immediately megumi straightens. his arms cross like it’s a habit. and when he looks to gojo, he’s already expecting the grin. “why are you?”

“i was calling y/n. or she was calling me. it’s hard to be away from me, you know,” gojo is sprawled out on the couch, taking megumi’s spot.

“it can’t be that hard.”

gojo shakes his head, pouting. “are you awake because the guilt from all of the cruel things you say is keeping you up?”

megumi rolls his eyes. says a curt: “no,” and then pauses.

if you’re not here then what…

“what else could it be?”

“nothing,” megumi answers, immediately defensive.

gojo purses his lips, considering megumi. “why do you look weird?”

“why do you?”

“is that the only insult you’ve got?”

and finally, the boy gives in. he steps over to the couch, sitting down next to gojo (ten feet away) with his arms still crossed. “it’s late.”

“that’s no excuse, young fushiguro.”

they both sit there for a moment, staring off.

then gojo speaks up: “you know y/n would kill you if she knew you were awake, right?”

“no. she would kill you.”

“that’s…” gojo huffs. “true.”

at this, megumi lets out a grunt—it could be a laugh, could be a cough.

he doesn’t want to tell gojo about the dreams, he decides. because he doesn’t want to be ridiculed, and he doesn’t want gojo to tell you and then—

he’s not even scared. you’re gone, tsumiki is sleeping, and gojo is… staring at him.

“are you going to answer my question?”

megumi merely grunts again.

“c’mon, don’t make this awkward.”

“can’t. you already have.”

gojo scoffs, leaning back again, crossing his arms in a poor mimic. “we’ve been letting nanami watch you too much,” he says, but continues. “fine. don’t tell me. i can call y/n back right now and you can talk to—“

“no,” megumi looks over to him, wide eyes.

“then speak, kid.”

he sighs, annoyed. at least you’re right about one thing. it takes a moment, but megumi relents because he has to. “i had a bad dream.”

gojo’s face goes slack. “oh.”

megumi feels like crawling into himself, for just a moment, and then: “do you want to talk about it?”

blue eyes meet blue, and megumi frowns. “what?”

“do you want to talk about it?” gojo repeats, but… weirdly, this time. awkwardly.

“um..” is all the boy says, feeling like he should move away. like to his room away. like he should probably find someone else to live with, a random stranger, even, because that would be easier.

“i don’t know, okay?” gojo blurts out, like it was killing him not to. “that’s just what y/n asks me when i have a nightmare.”

“you have nightmares?”

gojo is running his hands through his hair, looking like he’s about to go on a tangent. but when megumi asks his question, gojo pauses. he gives megumi a look. “doesn’t everyone?”

megumi scowls. “i don’t know.”

“huh. well, i have them. sometimes.”

“and you tell y/n?”

gojo snorts, shaking his head. “there’s no telling y/n anything. she just—“

“knows.”

gojo nods, giving megumi a small wink that makes the little boy want to throw up.

“so…” gojo taps his fingers on the couch. “do you want to talk about it?”

“why would i want to talk about it with you?”

“well you came out into the living room looking all… surly.”

“surly?” megumi repeats, with a face.

“down. upset. sad.”

“i’m not sad.”

“people who aren’t sad don’t need to deny that they’re sad.”

“y/n isn’t here,” megumi says, shaking his head. “i could hit you and be fine.”

gojo laughs, again, relaxing once more. because the man cannot be serious for any longer than three minutes. it’s biologically impossible. “i’d like to see you try,” he whispers, and it’s just enough.

megumi falls asleep on the couch that night. he spends another half hour arguing with gojo about whatever he says—forgetting about his dream, the reason for coming into the living room in the first place.

and when you get home, you open the door to the sight of two boys, both drooling.

megumi has his head pressed against satoru’s shoulder, hair smushed against his face. satoru is crossing his arms, face tilted towards the ceiling as he snores.

…it’s pretty obvious what happens next.

[sc0tters]

So Long | Luke Hughes

summary: Luke has always had a crush on Jacks best friend but when he’s called on to help her at a party he realises she feels the same way.

request: yes/no

warnings: mentions of being drunk, possible swearing.

word count: 1.28k

authors note: this was shorter than I wanted but I ran out of time before my dad has to be picked up and this is the best I could offer you guys since I wanted it ready for Luke’s birthday! In this universe we are going to act like Luke only went to New Jersey after the end of sophomore year rather than after the end of the season because I forgot about that fact when I wrote this out. Soft Luke was also a good place to be before the start of Angst week!

pt 2

Luke thought he was good at hiding it.

Truly the way his cheeks turned red at the mere thought of you was something he thought was only in his head.

You met the Hughes family during the summer when you were seven. Since you were two months younger than Jack it obviously meant that you became friends with him.

The two of you were as thick as thieves during your time growing up, staying up late under blanket forts as you gossiped about events, irritating Quinn as you wouldn’t stop laughing on the boat. From the moment summer started it was you and Jack against the world.

Quinn always loved you like the sister he never had as he watched you grow up from a child to a woman and how you were basically the first of the Hughes siblings to graduate from college, even if you weren’t really one of them.

Luke, your sweet little Luke always had a special space in your heart. During your junior year at umich he arrived and you two grew closer than ever.

Beforehand you had to admit that you saw him as Jacks little brother and simply just that. But when he joined you on campus you saw so many more sides to him. More times than Luke would like to admit he ended up in your dorm in tears as he got stressed out after games that didn’t go his way.

He also had a few times were you were called to take care of his drunken ass that actually made you laugh.

Most recently though just before you graduated it was his turn to take care of you.

Nick had called Luke after some guy had started trying to make a move on you whilst you were drunk off of your ass “I wanna see him,” you complained resting your head in Nicks shoulder as he laughed.

Your friendship was refreshing, you actually bonded over your shared dislike for a professor in your freshman year “Luke said he was coming.” Nick smiled wrapping his arm around you “you like him don’t you?” He added watching your face turn bright red.

The man who was easily your best friend on campus wasn’t an idiot “that’s Jack’s brother!” You whisper yelled somehow being mindful of the fact that you two were sat outside “doesn’t answer my question.” Nick pointed out as he tapped your nose.

He laughed as he watched you stay quiet “I think he’s a great person,” you shrugged still slurring your words.

Maybe it was because you guys were days out from graduation that Nick was pressing this topic “if Luke wasn’t Jacks brother what would you say to him?” Nick proposed turning to face you “I’d tell him I wanna fuck him.” You blurted out causing the boy to bust out laughing.

If there was one thing Nick loved about you was your lack of a filter “y/n!” He shook his head smiling as he locked eyes with Luke “there he is.” You gasped quickly getting up as you lost your footing “woah there.” Luke was quick to wrap his hands around your waist as he steadied your body.

Nick smiled as he watched you two “I’m going to let you two get going.” He announced sending you a salute.

You blew Nick an air kiss “you better get that girl you wanted.” You pointed your finger at him causing him to dramatically place his hands on his lips “only if you do the same thing with yours.

Luke unintentionally let his hand tense around your waist as you looked up at him with wide eyes “sorry,” the younger boy apologised as his cheeks turned pink.

This was one of the many times that Nick wished he could show you how you looked. Staring up at Luke like he was the only man in the world you smiled seemingly forgetting that you had been sat waiting for him for the last fifteen minutes “hi,” you grinned tapping him on the nose as you erupted out in a giggle seeing his face scrunch.

The Hughes boy didn’t say anything until he heard the front door shut “let’s get you home.” Now surprisingly you behaved on the walk him just following Luke as his finger stayed hooked in your belt hoop after the one time you tried to walk off the cafe on campus that had closed hours ago.

Luke had to admit though that he was close to laughing a few times as you sat on the counter in the kitchen. All of the boys were meant to be asleep so Luke knew he could take care of you up there “bout time I had to take care of you.” The hockey player confessed as he grabbed a makeup wipe from the pack you had left for when the guys had ladies over.

You nodded enjoying the feeling of the cold wipe against your cheek as you stared at Luke’s facial features “what is going through your mind pretty girl?” His voice was soft as he tried out the new nickname.

It caused a smile to form on your lips “you’re pretty.” You mumbled as he grabbed your chin so he could wipe the make up off of the other side of your cheek.

He kept quiet as he tried to think about the way he should respond “you’re drunk,” he sighed causing you to frown.

The pout on your lips was childish as you pushed his hand away so you could face him again “no I’m not,” you shook your head thinking about it “I’m only slightly.” You corrected yourself.

Luke found his place between your legs as his hands sat on either side of you “we can talk about this in the morning?” He offered feeling his heart pound out of his chest when your fingers ran along his jaw.

The tension between you two could have been cut with a knife as you huffed “want to do it now,” you confessed crossing your arms.

A part of you thought it was smart pushing yourself forward as you assumed that Luke would move away “woah,” the boys back hit the cupboard behind him as his hands landed on your hips.

Your eyes went from his to his lips as you smiled “oopsies?” You shrugged letting your fingers crawl in between his hoodie and his shirt “what am I gonna do with you?” Luke asked softly laughing as he shook his head staying in the same position.

This was the perfect moment for drunken you “you could just kiss me?” Even you were unsure of your words as you knew you were telling him how you felt about him.

Luke wanted to worry about what you would do when you were sober but in that moment he mainly just wanted to kiss you. It was something he had been waiting to do for years so the hockey player tilted your chin up as he leaned down to kiss you.

You melted into the kiss as you weren’t used to having those soft moments with anyone.

But of course the moment was short lived “get it Hughesy!” A cheer came from upstairs that was shortly followed by a slap to the back of someone’s head.

A laugh left your lips as you saw Luke turn pink “now you can tell Trevor you beat him to me.” The duo had an unserious competition as Luke had a crush on you and Trevor just liked flirting with you “you knew about that?” Luke’s eyes went wide as it was something that had gone on for at least eight months now.

“Please I told him to convince you to start it.”

[quicktosimp]

Save an Ilu, Ride a Na'vi

Kinkmas Day 05

Warnings: Sex on an Ilu, Fingering, Alien Genitala, Enemies to Lovers (Kinda), Aonung Sucks at Emotions, Aonung Redeems Himself, Anxious Reader, Panic Attacks, Aged Up

A/N: I have never written this before, and it was an amazing experience thank you @neteyamsyawntu 💕

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Come in, Forest Girl, you’re going to learn how to ride an ilu whether you like it or not,” Ao’nung’s gruff voice demanded.

I winced, and my ears folded back, knowing he was already angry today. We were separated into groups because of how volatile Aonung got with my brothers: those that Aonung could tolerate and those he couldn’t. As of right now, I am the only one in his group, this being due to the fact that I can’t tell him no. Confrontation makes me panic; I can’t even react. I just stay quiet and hope they go away. Back in Omatikaya, my brothers would stop anything from happening, and no one was stupid enough to mess with Kiri. But once we came to Awa'atlu, Aonung and his goons had it out for my family. We tried to keep the peace, but it ended in several fistfights, especially when Aonung realized that I wouldn’t fight back. This caused even more fights, and now, none of the boys are allowed around each other. To make it up to me, Aonung has to teach me how to ride an ilu. I think this is more of a punishment for me, but I couldn’t tell Tonowari that when he was already irritated at his son and my brothers.

It didn’t help when Dad tore my brothers a new one for getting into a fight while praising me for “keeping the peace,” which only infuriated them; Lo’ak tried to explain that I was scared of them only to be shut down by Dad. Neteyam attempted to get Dad to understand but wasn’t interested in listening to him either. Leaving me here, trapped with my tormenter until I learn to ride an ilu.

“Before eclipse, freak,” he snarled, stalking into the water, his tail swishing angrily.

I scurry after him now, wanting to make him any angrier. It always surprises me how warm the water is, not icy like the lakes and rivers back home. I easily wade into the water well past my waist as Aonung continues deeper, calling the ilu. The joyful creatures pop out of the water, swimming eagerly to Aonung as I stood back waiting. The ilu was already harnessed, ready to ride, as I stared at it nervously.

“Get on,” Aonung’s words were short as he held the ilu in place.

I timidly walked over onto the other side of the ilu, trying to put as much space between Aonung and I. I grabbed onto the harness and lifted myself on. I grasped onto the handle in front of me as my panic started to set in. Back home, I had never been able to complete my Iknimaya, too terrified of fighting the ikran, and even though I am not fighting an ilu, the same panic is there. My chest felt heavy, and breathing was becoming difficult. Each breath was short as my skin became clammy. I knew I had to make tsaheylu in order to learn to ride, but I couldn’t let go of the harness, my hands stuck in a shaky iron grip. 

“Oi, you need to make the bond,” Aonung reminded crossly.

I attempt to let go with one hand, only for nausea to crawl its way up my throat. I grip back on even tighter as a whimper tears from my throat. My vision became blurry. I'm not sure if it's from the lack of oxygen or from tears. Am I crying?

“What in Eywa’s name is wrong with you?” Aonung demanded.

I attempted to speak, but all that came out was choked-off breaths as my body trembled even harder.

“Oh fuck me,” I hear Aonung mutter under his breath.

The next thing I knew, his hands were on my waist; Aonung easily picked me up and held me close and away from the ilu.

“There, now calm down, and let's figure out how we can fix this,” I hear him mutter, his voice barely sounding over the waves in my head.

Once the ilu was long gone, I was able to start calming down. The fading adrenalin left me shaky and weak. As my vision cleared, I first noticed my grip on Aonung’s biceps, my nails digging in, creating crescents on his arm. I lessened my grip and let go, not wanting to hurt him. The second thing was that Aonung hadn’t let me go. The water here was just below my chin, yet he held onto me like I was well above my head. Almost protective?

“What in Eywa’s name was that about? You looked like the ilu was an akula,” Aonung asked, what sounded like concern.

“Bad experience,” I managed to mutter out; my throat still felt like there was a lump in it.

“Bad experience, my ass, it’s more than that, and I can’t teach you if you don’t tell me,” He snarked, but his arms were still firmly wrapped around my waist. 

I shakily sighed, “A couple of years ago, Lo’ak attempted his iknimaya, and to complete it, he must form tsaheylu with an ikran,” I swallowed the lump in my throat as tears came to my eyes, “It went fine in the beginning, but when he got on his ikran, it rolled him, sending Lo’ak off a cliff. It wasn’t good. I had to watch as my brother's broken body struggled to heal, as he couldn’t wake up,” Tears poured out of my eyes, and I couldn’t stop talking, “After Lo’ak healed, we could never talk about it, and then dad made Lo’ak do it again the following year, despite our Tsahìk saying he needed another year to heal fully. Lo’ak managed to do it, but it reopened several wounds, and he had to be taken off duty for months. I was the one who took care of him since the beginning of it all, but I can’t get the images of Lo’ak’s body at the bottom of the cliff.” I finished as sobs raked through me.

Warmth was pressed against my cheek; looking up, I noticed it was Aonung’s chest. His extensive tattoo was underneath my cheek. He was hugging me. 

“You are terrified of many creatures now; that is not your fault. This should have been explained to us before bringing you out here,” his large palm rubbed up and down my back soothingly; he paused before abruptly asking, “Is that why you were sleeping when your family arrived? You panicked like I just watched until you lost consciousness?” Aonung’s voice was panicked as he asked.

I nod my head, not wanting to answer verbally.

“Well fuck that, that’s not going to happen again. I’m going to make a new plan, and the first part is you’re going to talk with my mom. She is experienced with these traumas and will teach you different techniques to work through them. She is also a great listener when she needs to be, and only when she says it’s good will I work with her and you to teach you how to ride an ilu,” Aonung explained firmly.

Confused, I looked up at him, “Why are you doing so much for me?” I asked, confused.

His face turned lavender as he looked away from me, “I’m your teacher; it’s my job,” And he left it at that.

Many moons go by. I’ve worked with Ronal, and while I was too timid to say literally anything to her at first, she is now the first person I wish to talk to, well, besides Aonung. The months have brought us close, and after a while, we even started to court. Before that, I expected that he would apologize to my siblings, but instead, he did more. He apologized to my siblings and brought many gifts of jewelry, food, and weapons; he even explained everything to my dad, leaving him with no excuse to accept that my brothers weren't in the wrong. It seemed that everything was going well, even the ilu training. It started with simply being around them and progressed as I got more comfortable around them. Now, here I am about to do a joint ride with Aonung; he will make the bond with the ilu, and I will ride in front of him. Easing the pressure off of me. 

“Are you ready, Sumtsyìp?” Aonung asks me from atop the ilu, his hand reaching out for me.

I hesitantly grab his hand, and Aonung lifts me so I am sitting in front of him. I start to feel a bit of panic before I notice my ass firmly nestled next to his slit. I try to ignore it since we are here to ride the ilu, but thoughts keep coming into my head.

“You remember the breathing exercises I taught you?” Aonung asks.

“I remember,” I responded distractedly.

Aonung’s arm wraps around me firmly, “Alright, then, let’s go.”

With that, I took a deep breath, and we submerged. The lack of air panicked me at first, wanting to take another breath, but I was unable to. But it wasn’t long after that we emerged up top. I quickly took a breath before we dived again. This went on for a bit until, when I looked back, Awa'atlu was long in the past. I continued to take deep breaths as I examined my surroundings. Nothing but open sea could be seen. I pressed myself close to Aonung when I felt my chest start to become heavy.

“You did so good, Sumtsyìp. I am so proud of you!” Aonung exclaimed as he picked me up and turned me around. 

Now sitting chest to chest with Aonung, I can see the joy on his face as he litters my face with kisses. I can’t stop the giggles that flow from my lips. As Aonung kisses my face, I start to squirm from the ticklish sensations. Causing our slits to grind against each other, even with tewng in the way it sent pleasure radiating through our bodies.

“You can’t do that, Sumtsyìp,” Aonung gasped as he gripped onto my hips. 

I look up at him, my tail twitching playfully along his arm, “Why not?” I ask, tilting my head to the side and wrapping my legs around his waist.

His eyes dilate in response before he latches his lips onto mine, kissing me passionately. I moan into the kiss and lean in, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling my fingers into his hair.

Aonung pulls away briefly, “Oh fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” Before nipping my bottom lip, pulling on it before releasing it and licking the seam of my lips. 

I open my mouth for him, and his tongue slips in, coming to play with my own. Our tongues dance together as I grind my slit into his, becoming irritated by the feel of my tewng. Almost as if he could read my mind, one of Aonung’s hands travels down to my tail, uniting the straps starting there to free me from my tewng. Unable to leave it be, the moment Aonung’s fingers skimmed the base of my tail, he gabbed on and tugged. I arched into his touch as a moan was ripped from my lungs. My slit has started to open, and slick is leaking out of it. Aonung continued to play with my tail, pulling and caressing it as I continued to grind into him; each tug brought a sharp pleasure that I couldn’t ignore, and I needed more from Aonung. Backing away from his lips, a long string of saliva connects our mouths. 

“Please, Nung,” I beg, widening my cat-like eyes at him. 

Aonung rests his forehead on mine, staring into my eye as his fingers creep closer to my slit, “You have been such a good girl for me. You deserve a reward, don’t you, Sumtsyìp?” It may have been worded as a question, but it was a fact to him.

Slowly Aonung trails his finger up and down my slit, gathering the slick that has already escaped from me, gently urging me open for his fingers. Slowly, he sinks in one finger down to the knuckle. My inner tendrils wrapped around his finger, trying to draw it in more.

“You’re greedy today, aren’t you? Making yourself all wet for me, drawing me in, just to use my finger for your own pleasure. But that’s all I am here for, to serve you,” Aonung groans into my ear. 

I whimper at his words, my core throbbing in need as the heat travels through my body. As I went to reply, he slowly removed his finger, each of my inner tendrils fighting to stay wrapped around his digit, but slowly losing the battle and releasing, but continued to follow him until they could no longer reach him. When just the tip of Aonung’s finger was left inside, he pushed it back in, slowly fucking me with one finger as he did it over and over again, bringing me a slow-burning pleasure.

“Aonung! Please, stop teasing!” I pled with him, the slow pace maddening me.

A throaty chuckle vibrated Aonung’s chest, “Are you eager, Sumtsyìp? Does your greedy slit need more attention? Is one finger not enough for you? You’re lucky you’ve been so good. This behavior won’t be accepted any other time,” He says into my ear as he pushes in another finger.

The stretch was glorious as the two digits worked simultaneously. His fingers twisted and slicked inside me, spreading me further, and my inner tendrils followed his fingers, knowing that it would bring them more pleasure. I start to hump his fingers, needing more than this slow pace, and finally, his fingers curled inside me. I gasp as stars cross my vision, the pleasure shocking me from top to bottom, taking my breath away in response.

“Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung,” I chanted, the only thing that I could think of. 

“Such a good girl, saying my name like that. Now tell me, who makes you feel good?”

“Nung!” I responded.

Aonung’s fingers curled deeper this time, “Good girl, now tell me, who touces this slit?”

“Nung, Nung does,” I whine as the pleasure builds.

This time, he twisted his hand, pulling on my inner tendrils, and a squeal left my lips.

“Good girl, now, one more question. Who owns this slit?” Aonung hiss out.

My heels dig into Aonung’s back as I try to anchor myself, “You, Aonung! You own my slit!” I shouted into the open air.

The hand that was holding onto my hip moved to my tail, tugging on the base as he flexed and pulled his fingers inside me. The scream that felt my lips was feral and roar as my vision whited out. My toes flexed as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me, and my fingers scratched at his shoulders, leaving marks that would last for days.

“Nung, Nung, Nung,” I chant as I continue to cum, his fingers never ceasing their work.

“Did so good, Sumtsyìp. You came on my fingers perfectly. Such a good girl for me,” Aonung whispered as he slowly started to remove his fingers once my orgasm finished. 

Despite my brain being fuzzy, I knew that Aonung didn’t cum. I slowly reach my hand down to his tewng, wanting to return the favor, only for Aonung to grab my hand and pull it away gently.

“No, Sumtsyìp, this was your reward. This was all about you. Next time you can help, Yawne,” Aonung explained softly.

I wanted to argue but found that I was too fucked out to do so. Instead, I relaxed into his hold as we started the much slower journey home, thinking of all the ways I could return the favor.

[currymuncherxxx0]

Obey me demon brothers with a Chav! Mc

Okay so this hc is gonna be comedy lol. Its the obey me brothers with an mc who is such a chav. A chav is basically a very popular British girl in British schools or anywhere it doesn't have be in school lol. If you're British you'll understand lmao. #chav

As you arrived in devildom you had a very salty look on your face. Your fake lashes falling off, your face looking disgusted and your orange foundation and dark contour stands out.

Lucifer: Lucifer will obviously be very annoyed and irritated. This human causes more chaos than mammon himself. She's too loud and petty. And not to forget, the litres of Victoria's secret perfume sprayed on herself and in her room. It killed his airways. Lucifer comes to her to scold her about spraying too much perfume in the house of lamentation until she replies "Oh my god bruv, it actually bare stinks in this room yeah, you lot need to know what hygiene is." With that, Lucifer got frustrated. "MC! DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU CONTINUE TO SPRAY PERFUME IN THE HOUSE??! IT WILL DAMAGE THE AIR!!" "Okay and, I don't care fam. It still smells like clapped pussios." Lucifer gets more confused now. More and more confused. He don't know a single thing about British slang. But as time went on, the MC and lucifer did have a love hate relationship. In fact, Lucifer even wanted to visit London with MC.

Mammon: Being the second born tsundere, Mammon is obviously gonna be like, "Oi, I don't like ya, MC!" and then he blushes. But when the MC is like, "Okay and? You keep staring at me like a bare madman still. You're clapped anyways." Mammon got more confused. What is clapped? As soon as he finds out what it actually means, Mammon starts sobbing into his pillows every day and night. Although Mammon was an idiot, he was never insulted by someone he loved. Since all of his brothers treated him like shit and insulted him badly. He had to cope with that trauma. A few weeks later, the MC realises how much she's hurt his feelings. "Look bruv. I'm sorry, okay? Look, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings still. It's just that I grew up having to be a salty skept. Forgive me still." With that, Mammon is a bit skeptical but forgives mc. The next time any roadman try to shank MC up, Mammon is here with her in his demon form. And if any girl tries to steal Mammon away from the MC, MC will smoke them still.

Leviathan: Now we all know that Levi is always in his room, watching some random h3nt@1 shit or playing video games. And he probably didn't shower for weeks. And because of that, MC does laugh at him. "Oi you man. What the fuck did you do with your hair, why does it look like some purple bowl? Are you Justin Bieber on crack mate? You're butters! Take a shower as well, fam." With that, Levi was just like "w-well you're obviously not gonna l-like a-an o-otaku like m-me." I swear, this guy gives pick me boy vibes. But the second that Levi takes off his shirt and his toned, outlined 6 pack and chest is showing, the MC is more confused now and also intrigued. "O-oi, MC, s-stop l-looking at me!" "Alai, you're actually so fit icl. You're leng. Since when did you have a chocolate bar shaped body when you're in that prison all day just busting shit?? You're tasty, bruv." And with that, the two of them have hate love relationships again. Levi swears to protect the MC from the opps. And MC swears to scrap anyone who even steals her bf away.

Satan: Well, Satan does has anger and daddy issues. So don't fuck with him or else you'll get smoked by him innit. "Oi, you! Yeah you, you yeah! You look like Cat Noir from poundland still." With that, Satan gets angry. "Well at least I'm smarter than you, kid." He's a bit angry. "You're calling big man a kid?? Nah. I'm a big man, pussio. I'll chef you and your dad up, wait you have daddy issues lololol" Satan has turned intona green flash and then into his demon form. "WTF DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME, B***!! ILL FUCKNG BREAK YOUR NECK!!" Satan was destroying everything around him now. "Okay okay fam, calm down fam. No need to act mental and that, get a grip mate. Sorry fam. Geez, you're so sensitive blud." Throughout time, they're still enemies. Yeah.

Asmodeus: Asmo is gonna be the one that the MC hates the most. MC thinks that he's too feminine as a man. As Asmo applies a heavy amount of foundation, concealer, contour, blusher, face powder, glittery pink, orange and yellow eyeshadow, thick eyeliner, long long false lashes, highlighter, bronzer and purple lipstick, MC just looks at him, weirdly. "What the fuck are you doing, bruv? You look bare zesty." Asmo does not know a single thing about British slang so instead he says this. "Oh, sorry for stating the facts that I'm beautiful hun. You're just jealous that I can blend my contour and concealer better than you, you just look more orange than Donald trump, your crusty musty looking concealer lips." MC gets angry. "Oi, what the fuck did you just say to me, bruv?? Do you wanna scrap?? I'll smoke you fam, don't fuck with me innit." Asmo isn't scared at all. "Well try and do that, love. You won't be able to walk the next day, hun~~~ 😏" of course he's gonna be some horny ass mf.

Beelzebub: Tbh, I think MC would kind of get along with Beel. Yes, she would find it irritating that beel eats the whole fridge but still. I have a feeling tha MC would actually have a crush on Beel. "Oi, Ed Sheeran looking man! Yeah you! You're leng still! You look fit! Man eats the whole fridge and still has bare tits and biceps." And yeah, MC and beel just have a nice friendship. As time went on, Beel smoked more oops and roadmen who touched MC and MC scrapped any chav that would lay a finger on her bodybuilder bf.

Sorry I didn't add belphie, I'll try to do that in the next part 😭

[wokesoul999]

healing my trauma : part one

I used to be just a little girl with high hopes for myself once I became older. I couldn't wait to grow up so I could get away from my not so awesome home life and all the people who never really appreciated me or even really gave a shit about me and my well being to begin with. Those people consisted of my "family". I had friends I went to school with growing up that had great home lives with both parents and got everything they ever wanted because money was never an issue. I also had friends that grew up in the same neighborhood's I did that had very similar lives to mine. I grew up with an Opioid addicted mother and a step father that did not help my mom with her addiction, just made it so much worse. Other than my mom being married to my step dad she had different men come in and out the home every couple months. Sometimes she landed a boyfriend for a couple years but never longer than 3+ years. The men she dated was always the same. Barley holding a job or no job at all, did drugs or sold drugs or both. They were all wanna-bee white "thugs". Knowing damn well they couldn't last a day in a real Gantsa's life style. They all had "mommy" issues which isn't a shocker considering my mom had "mommy" issues too. Every single one of those men put their hands on her. Yelling and watching things fly across the room or hallway was the norm for me. Hearing all the bad things you do but never the good was the norm for me. I was a child being brought up in a home with no hope, no promise, no positivity and damn sure no love. The closest thing I ever got to "Love" was when my mom was loaded up on pain killers and gave me love every once in a blue moon when she felt like being motherly. I never made good grades throughout school, my mom was even a school teacher and I was failing every subject.. that's wild.

At a young age I always got very easily irritated and through a fit if something wasn't done the way I thought was correct. I remember being very emotional as a child not really understanding how to handle all the emotions I was feeling. I often asked "why me" as a child. I hated my life. I never understand how I could be delt such a shitty life. All I craved was happiness and peace and love growing up.

I have always loved hard and always saw the good in people no matter how many times they showed me the bad in them. I always gave people chance after chance. I never understood how I could give my all to the people I cared about but I was never enough. Every single person I've ever loved has left me. I ended up developing Abandonment Issues at a very young age because of everyone leaving me even though I loved them uncordially no matter how messed up they were.

I was S/A by my Grandma's second Husband. I was just a toddler when it started and it finally ended when I spoke to a friend about it at the age of 10 ,she was immediately concerned and told her mom about it. Her mom called the police and they picked me up that night. I was placed in Foster Care shortly after. They placed me in Foster Care due to being "Neglected" and "Abandoned" not once in the report did it mention S/A. I never was asked any questions by the police when I was taken from my grandmothers home. I had some therapy sessions about it , I went to 5 different offices that had this picture of a girl body (pg. rated) and they would ask me where I was touched and would want me to go into full detail about what took place. I repeated the story to so many professionals it started to get draining and I had to re-live it in my head every time. I realized quickly that these people keep asking me about a situation that they are going to do nothing about. I was just wasting my breathe explaining my traumatic experience to people that really didn't give a fuck. I never really gave a fuck until I was older. I grew anger at the fact that nothing happened to that man for doing what he did to me. How is it fair that I end up stuck with the trauma that comes from being S/A and the man that did it got to continue to sit in his musty ass chair and live his distrusting life with my grandmother that thought I was lying about the whole thing.

I've been misunderstood my whole life. I always heard something like..

"She is just a trouble making child."

"That little girl doesn't respect anyone."

"She is nothing but a liar."

"You were such a bad child."

"You never listened."

I was such a "troubled" child because I endured so much Trauma it developed into BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) I didn't become aware of it until I was 22 years old. I realized their was something wrong with me upstairs. It was more than just my shitty basic child hood or how I was never taught to express my emotions. I was always told to "suck it up" , "stop crying before I give you something to cry about." I never was able to feel what I needed to feel. I had to suck it up and hold my emptions in. I always had to be someone I never really was. I was a bad child because I craved Love, Affection and Appraisal. I saw that I got attention when I did bad things, even if it was not the attention I was seeking, at least I was getting something.

Today I am an adult who struggles with my emotions and expressing why I feel the way I feel. I don't trust anyone, because everyone always leaves. I struggle with not feeling good enough for anyone and then somedays I feel as if I'm too damaged for anyone to want me anyways. I come with a lot of baggage. I know this. I'm at a point in my life that I am completely aware of how I am and why I am the way I am, and yet that doesn't help me at all. I struggle everyday with who I am and my identity. I'm a mom of 3 young children. I don't want to mess them up because of my Trauma. I try everyday to make sure they don't go through anything I went through as a Child. Yeah I think I'm doing Okay with making sure I raise decent happy humans. I'm proud of the mom I've become. I learned at a young age what type of mom I wanted to be just by watching how my mother was. I never wanted to be anything like her. I would be a greater mother to my children than she ever was to me.

to be continued...

[erisdiamas]

A gasp could be heard as she dropped the plate at her father’s rare outburst spilling the delicious pancake tower that the man loving crafted early that morning just the way he knew Nora and the boys liked it.. residing all over the floors with nothing but a wet ‘splotch’.. she has seen him be stern like when she convinced Stevie to go camping with her in the middle of the night or when she scrapped her knee and wailed for her daddy to come and he came rushing in… she’s seen him crumble behind closed doors about their dead mother when he thinks they’re all asleep.. but she’s always by the door listening and hoping he knows that she’s here to pick him up the way he would after each of her swimming matches.. after a long stressful day of school- it was always just her and her Dad.. so to see him so.. freaked out and the tips of his ears gaining the same flustered pink as his face.. Nora found herself reaching out to try and reassure her that she’s still here.. she’s his daughter- just more independent now, she can handle this right?

“Dad, I love you… with all my heart but I can’t be in Beach City my entire life with the same people that know this mangled earlier version of me and I-I.. I need you to let me go… it’s what Mom would’ve wanted, for me to explore as she did and I need you to understand that I am still your daughter miles and miles away from you…and I am sorry that you don’t see that but ill keep telling you til you’re hit with the realization that I am here for you too, Paps.” Azuli, on the other hand seemed to be concealing an all knowing smug smirk under the guise of passive- blind to Nora’s navy tinted glasses but not to her own no bullshit detector father.

The leather clad woman found herself heading to the door, hands stuffed in her pockets- “Look. Nor’ you’re a sweet girl.. clearly you should be spending the day with your old man instead..clearly he needs it.” Her tone was dismissive and irritated at the fact that their plans got sidetracked by one emotional setback.. whatever, at least his Sultan had sweet parts being put to use on someone other than this massive sorry excuse that’s exists to bring her Northstar down.

“No! No! Okay, we can fix this.. I just…” She needed to be her own father right now and spin the positives out of the extreme negatives of this tense suffocating situation- “Kids leave the nest all the time and it’s perfectly natural for them to explore parts of themselves that they never could’ve possibly imagined they had in them… yet you know that so…” Nora felt as if the last piece of this entire ‘puzzle’ finally slot into place.. she adjusted her posture and crossed her arms- “Dad… she’s really sweet- I promise, you can trust her with me.. oh! I know you can come along with us to the newest gallery opening- I know you love art and Azu makes morphs… why don’t you tag along?”

To say the older woman was growing aggravated and the entire charade with Nora and her father felt like excessive coddling.. in Azuli’s family household, this many words wouldn’t fly at the table so to see them so openly wailing… it was really harshing the vibes that were promised last night.. they were planning this for the past three months, why would that girl jeopardize it for sake of some sentimental old lunatic thats way out of his bridges- it was repulsive.

continued | @erisdiamas

The doting father was happily cooking up blueberry pancakes for his three kids. His long locks tied back by a sparkly scrunchie that looked like it was made from the cosmos itself. He hummed out a tune as he served up three plates of blueberry pancakes, one for each of his kids, while he had the reject/sacrifice pile of pancakes deemed not perfect enough for his children.

The father heard the revving of a motorcycle and saw the irritated calico cats coming down the stairs. A slight grimace on formed on the 5 o'clock shadow on the mans face, his eyes hidden in the shadow of his bangs as he moves to cut up fresh fruit. It seemed inconsiderate for someone to be revving a motorcycle at 6am. But his mood seemed to brighten seeing his daughter come down the stairs from her room. "Good morning, Princess." He said with a warm smile setting out the warm steaming tower of pancakes. "I made blueberry pancakes... come and get them while they are nice and hot, syrups on the side, whip creams in the fridge, if you want ice cream I think we have a couple scoops of vanilla left."

Stephen was working on a whole slew of assignments ranging from math to science, to art to music, to after school activities he was trying to schedule his life around. He mumbled something along the lines of needing 5 more minutes to finish what he was doing before feeling the unseen gaze of their father before he let out a soft groan. "I know... what you're about to say." "Working hard is important, but feeling good is important to, so settle down with the work and enjoy time with your family." The both of them said in unison, before Stephen shoved a large pancake into his mouth, muffling the words "happy now?" He chuckled and ruffled his sons hair before looking over toward Stevie, and the mysterious person at the door. The man's parental instincts rang out as this leather jacket wearing woman just spelled trouble the moment she stepped a foot into the door with her

Stevie was in a whirlwind of emotions. He didn't like lying to their dad, but he made a promise to his sister to keep her out of trouble. He heard his father's tone and maybe he didn't notice that Nora's nighttime friend was over, but in his panic, he didn't think to tell her to go away and come back later, he blurted out. "Nope. Never met anyone named Nora... there's no Nora's around here.... nope, not here, she's been dead for 5 years... goodbye." He replied before getting startled by the smooch on the cheek, and before he could ask anything, suddenly there father was behind Stevie.

"Excuse me... where do you think you're going Mrs. Demayo." He replied gently holding her shoulder then turning her to face him. His eyes still hidden in the shadows. Nora, who is this?" His tone caried the cadence of an understandably worried father, wondering what his sweet daughter was doing with someone who screamed every father's worst nightmare.

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Blowing Off Steam

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Things have always been tense between the reader and Bucky, but what happens when things come to a head?

Word count: 4,269

Warnings: Mature readers only 18+ - minors do not interact! Vaginal sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, Dom/sub themes (who doesn’t love a bratty sub), unprotected sex (always use contraception), swearing.

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.

.

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“You’re lucky I saved your ass!”

“Well, no one fucking asked you to, did they?”

“No, so it looks like I’m not such a fucking prick after all, eh, Y/N?”

“Nope. You’re still a fucking prick, Bucky. Nothing in this world will ever make me change my mind about it either.”

“Need I remind you that -”

“Oh, shut up, the both of you!”

Steve’s voice cuts through the argument, effectively rendering the pair of you mute. It's surprising how long it's taken someone to crack, given the fact that your argument with Bucky started about an hour ago when the team entered the quinjet.

"Every goddamn time you're around each other you gotta argue about something," he continues, holding the attention of most of the team. "I don't want to hear another fucking word out of either of you for the rest of the ride home."

"Good job, Dad," Tony quips.

"But Bucky -"

"But Y/N-"

The pair of you speak at the same time, but Steve cuts you off again.

"Not. Another. Word." He punctuates each word with a jab of his authoritative pointer finger into the air between you. "This is the end of it. Silence. Now."

It takes a moment as you wrestle with the impulse to protest, but you ultimately sit back into your seat, folding your arms tightly over your chest. Bucky seems to do the same, his expression grumpy as ever as the two of you lock eyes.

"Fuck you," you mouth, extending a middle finger toward him.

"Fuck you," he counters silently.

You roll your eyes, settling back once more.

There has never been any real explanation, but from the moment you met him, you and Bucky have locked horns. He's stubborn, pigheaded, so full of himself and the way he operates that you can't help but be annoyed by him.

Then again, a good number of the team are cursed with the same qualities but you seem to get along quite well with them.

What is it about Bucky?

***

Per Steve's demand, there wasn't a single word passed between you and Bucky the rest of the way home. You stripped yourself of your gear after Steve's Dad Moment before sitting back and allowing yourself to take a nap the rest of the way home in your t-shirt and tactical pants. It wasn't until you got into the compound and to your desk in the team's shared office that any of your frustration boiled over again.

"Fucking asshole," you muttered between gritted teeth as you glanced over at Bucky's empty desk; his paperwork sits on the surface, needing to be done, but the man himself is nowhere to be found. Granted you are the only one at your desk doing paperwork.

Or so you thought.

"Thinking about me again?" you hear him say behind you.

You swivel in your chair to face him, his face smug as ever as steam rises up from the two mugs of coffee he holds.

"Well, not everything is about you, Bucky," you say. "Believe it or not."

"I would believe it if it were true," he grins; you make to reply, but he carries on. "I was gonna give this to you as a peace offering," he says, gesturing with one of the mugs of coffee, "but I don’t think you’ve learned Steve's lesson yet. So I'm just gonna keep it for myself. I am so tired, anyway."

He strides toward his desk, swaggering with each step, and it's almost as if you can't help the knee-jerk reaction of sticking your foot out into his path. His feet get caught up with yours, tripping him up enough that he loses grip of the mugs and stumbles forward; the mugs smash on the floor, but Bucky's reflexes refuse to let him fall too. He straightens up quickly, turning on his heel and staring daggers at you.

"Enjoy your coffee, Sergeant Barnes," you chuckle.

"What the fuck?" Bucky shouts.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you begin, wanting to taunt him but you get no further.

"Y/N, Bucky."

The two of you turn to Steve, who has finally returned to the office dressed in a basic t-shirt and jeans. He is more stern than you've ever seen him, standing with his arms crossed and his expression disappointed. He is very much the captain with his stance, staring the two of you down as if you were naughty children.

"Clean this up and then meet me in the conference room," he directs, his voice low and tone ominous.

You watch as he leaves, then switch your gaze to Bucky; you don't know what's about to happen, but something tells you Steve has had enough of the bullshit. It's possible you're about to lose your spot on the team, you think, and panic fills your chest as you stand from your chair, ignoring Bucky to the fullest as you reach for a trash can.

"Fuck," you murmur, picking up shards of mug and tossing them into the bin.

Bucky appears shortly after with several towels in hand, wiping up the coffee and smaller pieces before just chucking them into the bin, too.

With the mess cleaned up, the two of you silently march to the conference room where Steve sits at the head of the table.

"Oh, good," he says sarcastically, "you two managed to work together and accomplish something in a timely fashion, how about that?"

You take your seat next to him, wanting to ask what this is about but knowing full well what he's about to say. Bucky sits opposite you, quiet and brooding, and you feel a lurch of annoyance in your belly. You roll your eyes again, looking to Steve, trying to convey in your eyes the question, "How long do I have to stay here with him?" Steve doesn't look at you, though, his eyes fixed on his folded hands in front of him before he speaks.

"I don't know what it is about the two of you being around each other, but whatever it is, you need to cut it out," he says. "It's detrimental to the team working as a whole, not to mention it is fucking irritating."

Something in you rises to be defensive, but another, more rational side begins to kick in, keeping your mouth shut for a moment.

"The number of complaints I get from everyone else is almost ridiculous, guys. And it's only a matter of time before the two of you are bickering like an old married couple and someone gets hurt because you're not giving your full attention."

You had been so caught up with how much you and Bucky annoyed each other that not much else in your mind spared the time to think about how it might affect the team and your missions. Steve is right - and you know it - that one of these days, you and Bucky will be going at it and one of you will slip. You won't necessarily be the one who suffers, but it's likely that if the two of you continue on with your childish back-and-forth, you might lose track of a target, lose a mission, or worse, lose a teammate. With that thought, shame floods you, and you sit back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest and gritting your teeth to keep from saying anything stupid.

"With that being said," Steve continues, "you two need to figure this out as soon as possible. What really gets me is that you're both so valuable to the team, but you let your bullshit get in the way of your effectiveness." Steve glances at the door, his expression shifting ever so slightly. "Actually... I'm gonna leave you two here for a minute, something just came up."

The slightest surge of panic rears in your chest as Steve gets up from his chair. You watch him incredulously as he leaves you here with Bucky, closing the door behind him. If you're not mistaken, though, you hear the door lock and your panic peaks just a little more.

You rise from your seat, following Steve's footsteps to the door and trying the handle; it doesn't budge.

"Fuck," you mumble. "FRIDAY, unlock the door, please."

"I'm sorry, Y/N," FRIDAY replies, "the orders are to keep the door locked for the next thirty minutes, barring an emergency."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" you grumble, rubbing the palms of your hands into your eyes.

You almost don't register it, but you hear Bucky chuckle, a quiet laugh that brings your attention to him.

"What's funny about this?" you demand, just as quietly.

He sits back in his chair, strangely relaxed given that he's locked into the room with you. There's genuine amusement in his expression as he lounges, setting his hands on top of his head.

"Typical Steve," he says, looking at you with a sparkle in his eye. "Thinking he can save everyone."

You don't say anything, but shrug helplessly in agreement - probably agreeing with Bucky for the first time since you've known him.

"I guess he doesn't realize that he can't save everyone," you mutter, sitting back down.

Bucky shrugs this time. "That thought has never even occurred to him, I can promise you that."

Sparing a glance at Bucky, you fall into silence, unsure of what to say. He doesn't offer anything either, his smile slowly fading as the seconds tick on. The air thickens around you, the awkwardness growing more ungainly the longer neither of you speak. Though, it's possible that the whole thirty minutes have elapsed or that it's only been a few seconds before you figure out something to say.

"I'm sorry I tripped you earlier," you say quietly.

Bucky had been staring at the table, but he brings his gaze to you, studying you with a curiosity he has never once shown you before. He seems to take his time before he replies.

"I accept your apology," he says, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. "I'm sorry for... everything."

The moment hangs there, seconds ticking by as the two of you study each other; now that you look at him, finally confronting the reasons why you tease and antagonize him, you figure that maybe he's not always so grumpy-looking. There's a sparkle in his blue eyes, something witty and sweet that you've never allowed yourself to notice before. He's got a strong jaw, pretty pink lips, and a smile to die for. At once, it clicks why you've been so eager to step on every one of his nerves.

Something shifts in his expression, and he pushes his chair back, standing up. He doesn't take his eyes from you as he circles the table, but you push your chair back, too, taking after his lead. By the time he reaches you, you stand, facing him as the space between you shrinks.

Then, as if magnets pull you together, the pair of you collide; Bucky's flesh fingers curve around the back of your head, cradling it as he lowers his lips to yours. Despite how out of the blue this is, you melt into him, your hands finding his waist and pulling him close. His kiss is warm, his body taut under your touch as his other arm curls around your body, pressing your chests together. Your skin tingles in every place it meets his as the kiss deepens, each of you parting your lips for the other as your tongues explore new territory.

Then, as if your bodies can't get close enough, Bucky leans forward, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifts you onto the table. He doesn't once break the kiss, but as soon as you're settled, his hips knock your knees apart. Instinctively, your legs wrap around him, urging him closer to you. Your arms curl around his neck, too, making sure he doesn't get too far away from you. He responds, taking you in his arms in kind.

You don't know how long it lasts, and you don't care, especially when his lips stray, tracing your jaw and finding your pulse.

"Oh, Bucky," you sigh, your skin on fire from his touch.

"James," he says quietly against your neck.

For a moment, you pull back, staring into his eyes and smiling.

"James," you acknowledge, and he smiles too.

In the next second, though, a wickedness settles into his expression, a sly grin taking the sweet smile's place as his hands meet the button and fly of your pants. He pulls them open, his hand diving immediately into your panties.

"Fuck!" you gasp as his fingers slip between you lips, brushing over your clit to briefly dive into your heat.

"God damn," he groans. "Doll, you feel so good. You're so fucking wet for me."

You scoff, looking him dead in the eye. "Please. I'm sure if it were anyone else I'd still be just as wet."

"You sure about that?" he says, his eyes glittering with promise as he presses his fingertips to your clit, circling the singing nerves as if he's known how to all his life.

"Mmm," you hum, your fingers bunching into the front of his shirt as you pull him forward. "We'll just have to see, I guess."

"You're damn right," he says before crushing his lips to yours. He slips his fingers into you, his thumb working circles against your clit, and you moan into his mouth. "That's right, doll. I make you feel so fucking good, don't I?"

A sly smile of your own tugs at your lips as you pull your head back.

"Meh, I've had better."

He pauses for a moment, staring you in the face before he chuckles. He takes his hand from you as he uses his free hand to push you by the shoulder, urging you onto your back before he tugs your pants off, taking your panties with them.

"Spread those legs for me, Y/N," he orders softly, and you comply.

At once, his hand finds your heat again, his metal fingers diving in and curling against your g-spot as his flesh fingers work your clit. In no time at all, you writhe on the tabletop, the entirety of your energy focused on not coming, not giving in to his ego. It's no use, however, as he hits the right spots at the right time.

"Fuck!" you grunt, your toes curling as ecstasy explodes from your core; the orgasm rips through your body, rushing through your blood with a ferocity you've never known before as your heart pounds from your chest.

"I fucking told you, doll," Bucky teases, his hands slowing down before he removes them. "Look at you. All wrecked for me."

"You wish," you say, rising up onto your elbows to see Bucky's grin falter just slightly. "Why don't you really wreck me, James? Why don't you fuck the attitude out of me?"

Heat floods your body at the idea, but just then, Bucky smiles wider as the mischievous glint in his eyes seems to take him over completely.

"You want me," he begins slowly, his hands dropping to his belt, "to fuck," he undoes his belt, popping open the button on his pants, "the attitude," he pulls on the zipper, slipping his underwear down enough that his cock tumbles from its confines and into his hand, "out of you?"

Your eyes fix on his engorged, weighty flesh as he strokes himself, imagining what it would feel like to be split in half by it.

"You want it," he says; it's not a question at all, but an entirely accurate statement.

You meet his eyes once more to see the cockiest expression on his face.

"And what if I said yes?" you reply.

Bucky leans in, his lips close to yours.

"Beg me for it," he murmurs against your mouth.

"No," you say, pushing him away gently as you slip off the table; your hand just barely closes around his girth and strokes. "I won't beg for it." You get to your knees, coming face to face with his gorgeous cock. "But you will."

"You think so, Y/N?" he laughs, but moans the minute you take him into your mouth. "Fuuuuuuck."

You swirl your tongue around the head before taking him as far back into your mouth as you can. Bucky nearly whimpers the moment the tip enters the back of your throat and you swallow around him. It takes everything you've got to keep from laughing at him as he leans over, bracing himself on the table.

Bobbing your head along his shaft, you listen to him; he curses, making pleas to God as you work him up. He tries to hold it together, but the way you suck and lick and tease has him squirming. Before you know it, though, he yanks himself from you with a growl, picking you up off the floor and turning you around; his erection presses against your ass as he twines his fingers in your hair, pressing your hips against the table.

"Baby doll," he croons in your ear, his chest hard against your back. "You think you're so cute, eh? Just you wait, Y/N. Just you wait."

He presses you down onto the tabletop, his hand still gripping your hair. Almost instantly, you feel the tip of his cock brush your lips, sliding along your heat to press against your clit for just a moment. He does this a few times before he finally presses into your center.

The moment hangs in the air as your anticipation grows, your yearning to be filled finally being granted only Bucky doesn't continue. He stays, just the tip of his cock planted in you for a moment before it slips out again, and you let out the smallest whine.

"Oh, doll," he says, his tone mocking. "Did you want that? Did you want my big fat cock inside you?"

You collect your wits, unwilling to let him win.

"I bet you want to get inside me, James," you say, your hand finding his in your hair. "God, I bet you want to fuck me. I bet you've always wanted to fuck me, from the minute you met me."

He slips his cock along your heat again, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning as it meets your clit; he bounces his cock against it a few times before teasing it with gentle circles.

"I bet you've thought of nothing but this pussy since I joined the team," you continue, baiting him into giving in. "I bet that's why you're such a prick, because you could never have it. You wanna know what I think, James?"

"What do you think, Y/N?" he replies, replacing his tip back into your center as he leans over you, his face growing closer to yours.

"I think," you say, adjusting so you can see his face better, "that there have been so many times that you've imagined having me. Times when you found yourself imagining me in this exact position, with your dick buried inside me, and couldn't help but rub one out. You ever fucked yourself to the thought of me, James?"

Bucky chuckles. "Doll, you have no idea. But if we're placing bets, I bet you've done the same. You think I don't know? On all those missions we've been on, you think I didn't hear you fuck yourself in the next room? That I don't know that's how you blow off steam?"

You smile as he presses just a little further into your heat.

"Doll," he says, standing up and bringing you with him until your back arches against his chest, his lips brushing your ear as he continues, "you think I haven't heard you call my name?"

"Looks like we're at an impasse," you chuckle.

Bucky laughs too, dragging hot, wet kisses along your neck for a second.

"Nah," he says, letting go of your hair as he slowly curls his hand around your neck, pushing your head back onto his shoulder. "Because I've got the upper hand here."

"So you think," you quip as he presses just a little further into you; your body tenses, awaiting the full feeling of his cock.

"Oh, I know, Y/N," he says, retreating just a little. “I know for damn sure. Now, what do we say?”

“I don’t know, what do we say?”

He offers a dark chuckle as he pulls all the way out. “If you’re not gonna be a good girl, I won’t fuck you.”

“I wish I could believe you, Barnes,” you reply. “But seeing as how I haven’t complied with you yet and you’re still here with your hard-on poking me in the ass cheek, I just can’t take you all that seriously.”

“That’s fair,” he says before suddenly letting go of you. 

You turn around, fairly surprised as you watch him hitch his pants back up, putting his cock away.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you say with an incredulous laugh. 

“Well, I’m sitting back down until Steve gets back,” he says, checking the time. "There's still about fifteen minutes before he gets back."

Once more collecting your wits, you smile. With an idea coalescing in your brain, you stride to his side of the table, hopping up onto the tabletop right next to him to ensure that he sees everything you're about to work with.

"Well, then," you say, spreading your legs as your fingers meet your aching clit. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm a little worked up right now and I need to, as you said, blow off steam."

Bucky's smile falters as his eyes drop from yours to between your legs, watching you work. The very fact that he's watching sends another flood of arousal to your already dripping cunt, your need for release growing stronger by the second.

"Mmm," you hum, slipping your fingers into yourself.

Bucky doesn't look away once. On the contrary, he rises from his seat, looking pained as he witnesses your pleasure. You put on a show, your moans and whimpers growing more frequent; the move has the desired effect as Bucky's hand drops to the erection in his pants, palming it through the fabric.

"Fuck," he murmurs, yanking his pants down once more. He moves forward, hand around his cock to position himself inside you, but you were waiting for this; you lean forward, pressing your hand against his chest to stop his progress toward you.

"I'm sorry," you say, "but what are you doing?"

"I'm fucking you," he says, stepping forward once more, but you hold your ground.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

He moves forward again, but you still keep him at bay.

"And what do we say, James?" you purr.

"What?" he replies.

You lean closer to him, your lips almost brushing his as you say, "Beg me for it."

"Are you serious?" he says, getting impatient.

"Damn right I am," you reply.

Bucky struggles with it for a moment, but seems to decide to fold.

"Y/N," he says, stroking his cock, a drop of precum beading on the tip. "Please."

"Please what?" you reply, relishing in the frustration showing through his features.

"Please, please, let me fuck you."

You grin, satisfied that you won, as you let your hand slide around the back of his neck from his chest, pulling his mouth against yours as he immediately buries himself inside you.

"Ah!" you moan against his lips as he fills you to the hilt.

"God fucking dammit," he groans. "You feel so fucking good, Y/N."

At once, he begins thrusting, his hands holding tight onto your hips as he moves. You lean back onto one arm, your other hand finding your clit once again, pressing circles against yourself.

"Fuck, Y/N," he says, his thrusts growing quicker.

His cock drags along your g-spot, the perfect sensation to accompany your clitoral stimulation. In next to no time, you snap, your body bombarded by your next orgasm.

"Oh, fuck," Bucky says through gritted teeth as you pulse around him.

His grip tightens on you as his hips press quicker, harder than ever, before they stutter; he pulls out, his hand grasping his cock and stroking it until he comes. Spurts of cum land on your thigh, thick and warm, as Bucky tries to get his breathing under control, his forehead landing on your shoulder for support.

He takes a moment, straightening up once he’s gotten control of himself. As he backs away, his eyes fix on yours, a soft grin pulling at his lips. He puts himself back together, zipping and buttoning his pants deliberately.

“You win,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“I know,” you laugh, watching as he moves around the table to grab your pants and underwear from where he pulled them off of you. He walks them back to you, handing them over. “Clean it.”

Once more, his mischief is written all over his face as he bends down, using his tongue to mop up his mess. The sensation tingles along your thigh to your core, and you wish you had longer than just the thirty minutes allotted to the two of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, staying put as he stands back up.

“Good boy,” you say, pulling his face to yours for a kiss.

“Looks like I’m your bitch now,” he says with a chuckle.

“Oh, doll,” you say, taking delight in the look on his face as you use his word. “It was bound to happen.”

[scuttling]

Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

[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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tags : @thedarkwinterrose​ @ayujaded​ @couldbeyourlast​ @ladyarmanto​ @anpanman-sonyeondan​ @apollukee​ @blueevelvt​ @taesluttt​ @scalubera​ @laurynne5​ @dreamsindreamss​ @thequeen-kat​ @awsome-small-k​ @wrecklesssly​ @kweenhu​ @jalexad​ @staerify​ @bangforever​ @dyriddle​ @aianloveseven​ @waves-and-woods​ @hoefortaeshands​ @veronawrites​ @nightapple4jk​ @wataemelonz​ @aomi-nabi​ @katbonv​ @hantaev​ @jinpuddin​ @usamizuki​ @wooya1224​ @bambuzlee​ @jenotation​ @tangledsparkles​ @pcyxljh​ @forbts-only​ @dumplingley​ @ccmemoirs​ @kleritata​ @thelilbutifulthings​ @maygem2780​ @lachimolala95​ @betysotelo18​ @prettycoolting​ @opaljm​ @jeonlovers​ @honeyboocal​ @preciouschimine​ 

[andrea-lyn]

look at me, I am old, but I’m happy

(for @christchex because I truly believe her to be #1 Sanders supporter)

The damn kids are keeping something from him. None of them are good liars at the best of times, but every time Sanders shows up when Michael’s friends are around, suddenly they go real quiet. At first, he writes it off as stupid youthful hormone shit. It’s probably something to do with that Manes boy that Michael doesn’t want to talk about. Only, then Alex Manes starts coming around, Michael’s a lot happier, and the weird behavior keeps going. Something’s up, and it’s something Michael’s actively not telling him. “You know, I ought to fire you,” Sanders says one Sunday, when he and Michael are working on the sunflower fields. Michael scoffs, glancing up from the seeding mechanism he’s been working to fix, but he avoids meeting Sanders’ eyes. He’s known this boy since he tripped out of a pod and he knows when he’s about to be lied to. “I’d like to see you try,” he mutters, but his curiosity is sparked. “Why are you bothering to do that when most of my time is volunteered?” “Because you and your friends are keeping something from me.” “We’re not,” Michael lies. “You’re a terrible liar, boy,” Sanders warns, but he lets him get away with it. Just this once, he lets him. Michael waves him off and grabs his bundle of sunflowers to take back to the Airstream. He doesn’t say what or who they’re for, but Sanders knows. It’s the Manes boy, who’s been lurking around and grinning like an idiot all the time. With Michael gone, Sanders is left to consider what it is that’s being whispered about behind his back. There’s enough alien secrets in this town to fill a gossip rag, but Michael’s been fairly honest with him recently, even if he’s been trying to hide how gone he is over his thing with Alex Manes. The truth is this -- he’s an old man. The boy he used to be is a memory and a distant one at that. He’s taken Walt and locked him away behind mountains of bottles and liquor. There’s so much trauma related to those days that he actively works as hard as he can to forget it, and that’s why it takes him so long to realize that maybe he actually knows a bit more than he realizes when it comes to one of those alien secrets.

The secret they’re keeping comes to roost soon after. Well, roost ain’t exactly the word. “They still allow relics like you in this place?”

When Sanders had still been a child and had been happy with Miss Nora and Miss Louise, he’d always recalled their tension around the man they called Jones. They tried to keep it a secret from him then, too, and it’s irritating as hell that history’s repeating it-damn-self. “Relics like me belong more than you do around here,” Sanders scoffs, tossing the wrench into the toolbox. “I’m looking for Michael.” Sanders turns to take in the look of him. He blames his age on the fact that Max Evans never made him feel that icy chill down his spine to spark recognition. All those years with that face in front of him and he never remembered Jones, not until the alien himself busted out and started scaring Sanders all over like he’s a kid. He’s not a kid, though. He’s an old man tired of this bullshit and he’s not about to let an asshole push him around. “Michael,” Sanders says sharply, “ain’t none of your business.” “He’s none of yours either,” Jones says calmly. “Besides, you’re right. It’s not business. It’s family.” It comes back in fits and starts. Miss Nora’s discomfort with Jones’ hand on her shoulder, but the possessive way Jones held onto her. The way Jones had always seemed more occupied with one of the pods. The possessive and keen look in his eye when he’d looked at Walt dismissively, like a human child that Nora took a liking to could never pass muster. There’s only one explanation that Sanders sees, but as far as he’s concerned, it’s crap. “You’re not that boy’s father,” Sanders scoffs. “Or, you might be by blood or whatever alien junk flows through those veins of yours. That boy needed a father growing up and I sure as hell didn’t do the job well enough, but at least I’ve been here. At least I’ve been trying. That’s a hell of a lot more than you can say.” He’s an old and very stupid man, seeing as he knows how much Jones can hurt him. That raised alien hand glowing furiously red is a bad sign, but Sanders decides that if this is how he’s going out, defending Michael is the way he wants to go. “I might have been late getting my act cleaned up, but I still gave him everything I could. I’d die for that boy,” Sanders vows. “For my kid.” Jones scoffs, amused by Sanders’ loyalty like it’s a joke, but then, he always has been an ass, hasn’t he? “Funny you should say that, because today’s your lucky day for getting what you want.” He approaches swiftly, but before he can seal that glowing hand on Sanders’ chest, he just … stops. Sanders refuses to blink. He’s going to stare down his death as long as Jones wants to kill him, which is why he doesn’t notice that he’s being held in place by someone else’s alien powers. “Try,” Michael Guerin snaps at Jones, where he’s holding a bundle of sunflowers in one hand, and holding Jones in place with the other. “You’re not gonna like what happens to you.” Sanders is pretty sure Michael’s bluffing and that when it comes to these two, Michael’s not the one with the upper hand. Still, Jones is playing some kind of long game, because he steps back and lifts both hands up, stepping back and away. “Just two old friends catching up,” he insists, a look in his eyes that says he’s coming back to find Sanders when Michael’s not around. Still, he goes. He goes and he doesn’t look back, leaving Sanders to exhale, slumping over the pick-up truck he’s been working on. “What the hell were you thinking?” Michael demands. “Taunting him like that? He’s an evil dictator! He’s…” “Yeah, yeah, I got the gist decades ago,” Sanders cuts him off. “All I know is what he’s not, and that’s any kind of father to you. Because I might not be the world’s best Dad, but when it comes to it these days, he doesn’t get to swan in and make you feel like you owe him anything. He doesn’t get to make you feel like you belong to him.” This is all getting too damn emotional for him, but he wants to make one thing clear. “I know I didn’t manage the way I should’ve, but if anyone’s a father to you these days, it’s me.” With that said, he gives a firm nod, and hopes that he’s not going to do anything embarrassing like start crying about it. Well, he might not, but Michael’s struggling to keep it together, by the looks of it, so maybe that’s exactly what it is he needs to hear. “What the hell are you doing back here anyway?” Sanders grunts, when the awkward silence drags on too long. Michael clears his throat, gesturing to the Airstream with the flowers (and conveniently wiping at his nose). “I forgot some papers that I wanted to go over with Alex,” he says, “Lucky I did, or you would’ve been alien dust.” “I got a few tricks up my old sleeves,” Sanders promises, even if he doesn’t have them yet. “So. You and Alex Manes, huh? You ready to admit to me that it’s a thing yet?” Michael wrinkles his nose, but he’s clearly not thinking about Jones anymore, so Sanders considers it a mission accomplished. “How about you start worrying about how much of a thing it is when Alex needs to come get permission from my Dad to marry me,” Michael quips, and he sounds free and happy and brazen and goddamn high. It’s the most that Sanders could ever hope for. “That likely to happen anytime soon?” Michael shrugs, ducking back out of the Airstream with the papers. “You know I don’t do things slow.” “Don’t I ever,” he mutters. “Just warn me before I got alien grandchildren running around the damn scrapyard, will you? The place needs to be alien-proofed.” The look of sheer glee on Michael’s face settles something in Sanders’ chest. He knows he’s happy. He knows he’s settled. He might have missed too many damn years when he was younger, but at least he’s trying now. “Go on,” Sanders encourages. “Go be with your friend,” he teases. “You gonna be okay?” “I’ve survived worse,” Sanders promises. “Now, get,” he insists, and watches Michael leave the scrapyard, off to woo his paramour. As for him? Well, he’s got a hell of a long drive ahead of him to get to the reservation if he wants to pick up some pollen, but after tonight, Sanders figures he ought to protect himself. He’s got a family to worry about, after all. 

[arvinsescape]

Never too late.

A/N: I hope you enjoy!! I have not proofread this so i apologise in advance!! 💕💕

Summary: Tom messed up a long time ago but can he fix it?

Warnings: Swearing.

W/C: 4.2K.

When Isabelle had asked you to be her maid of honour you took the role immediately, wanting to be there for your best friend. It wasn’t until a few days later that you realised who you may have to interact with throughout the planning and on the day. You were currently getting coffee with Isabelle when the question slipped from your mouth, you hadn’t meant to spoil the atmosphere as you discussed flower arrangements.

“So, um, who did Haz pick as best man?” The question came out before you could stop it. Isabelle carefully placed her coffee down and looked at you with a sad smile.

“I was gonna tell you Y/N/N, I’m sorry.” She said, confirming that it was indeed the man you’d hoped it wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” You apologised, guilt settling in your stomach as she reached over and took your hand in hers.

“No, I should have said. I just, well I don’t know, it’s been what? Three years? I thought you’d have gotten over it, no offence.”

“We never had closure, we just argued and that was it. We haven’t spoken since.” You shrugged and Isabelle smiled sadly again.

“Did you want it? Closure?”

“Not at first but then every time I saw him afterwards just brought it all back up, brought up how much I loved him and how much it hurt when we ended things.” You said as you bit your lip, sadness now settling in your chest. It wasn’t often you spoke about Tom, you couldn’t, every time it would make you cry and you could never explain why.

“Y/N?” Isabelle asked quietly and you looked at her, telling her to continue. “Are you? Do you still have feelings for him?” She asked and you shrugged before finishing your now luke warm beverage.

“I don’t think so, like you say it’s been three years. I’ve always put it down to not getting closure.”

“Maybe talk to him? This would be a good opportunity, you’re going to have to see each other a lot.” She suggested and you shook your head.

“No, after the way we left things, I’m not sure that’d be a good idea. I’m not doing anything to ruin your big day, I’ll be civil, I promise.”

**

You were meeting Haz and Isabelle for a meal to discuss how they wanted the day to go, making your way into the restaurant. You knew he’d be there and you were already prepared for your mind to throw you back to that night but of course all the preparation meant nothing when your eyes fell on him. Your heart twisting as you swallowed thickly and made your way to the table, doing your best to stay composed and civil.

You’d seen Tom several times after the break up, you ran in the same circles, same friends and your respective best friends were getting married. You’d seen him but always managed to avoid him, this time you couldn’t. You exchanged pleasantries and sat down, zoning out as your mind wandered back to that night.

“You’re such a fucking dick Tom.” You huffed as you shut the door to your flat. Tom making his way into the living room.

“I’m here aren’t I?” He fired back, irritated, you’d already argued over text.

“After having to be reminded yeah.” You said and he rounded on you, eyes holding anger towards you.

“I forgot okay? I’m a human being. It’s perfectly human to forget things.” He snapped back. You wish he hadn’t come over now, wish you hadn’t have reminded him of your movie night you’d planned.

“This is the third date you’ve forgotten.” You pointed out and he huffed as he rolled his eyes.

“I’m busy, you know that.”

“So am I and I still turn up to things we’ve planned. Believe it or not Tom, I actually remember I’m in a relationship.” You said as you stormed past him and into your living room.

“Can you just drop it? I’m tired and I’ve had a long day, I’m here now.” He said following after you.

“Sure. I’ll drop it, I’ll just bring it up next time yeah?” You shouted and his nostrils flared as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Stop being so difficult.”

“Difficult? Me? You’re the one who’s seemingly unavailable all the fucking time.”

“That’s not true. I make time for you.” Tom snapped out as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Bullshit. You used to, I’ll give you that but recently? It’s like you’d rather be anywhere else but here.” It was true that in the last month you’d hardly seen him.

“Maybe I do want to be elsewhere.” He shouted and your stomach dropped a little, it was different hearing it confirmed.

“What?” You asked a slight sadness to your voice but he was too angry to notice.

“You heard. You’re so needy and fucking irritating at the minute. It doesn’t matter what I do, you start a fight anyway.” He ranted and your heart stopped. Needy? Irritating?

“Well you’re hardly Mr fucking perfect.”

“You’re right I’m not. I’m fucking human. I know you want me to be this man who does nothing but put you first all the goddam time but that’s not always how situations work Y/N. I have a life outside of this relationship.”

“Yeah I get that, I do. But fuck Tom, I ask for one night of your time and you forget. Or is that even true? Is that you forgot or you just can’t be bothered?”

“You’re ridiculous. You know what? I don’t know if I can do this anymore?” What?

“What?”

“This, us. All we do is fight, I can’t do a single fucking thing that makes you happy. God damn Y/N, last week you got angry with me because I arrived a few hours later than I was supposed to. I would’ve understood had it not been for the fact that I got held up, my flight got delayed.”

“All you had to do was text, that’s all I wanted.” You said, sadness settling in your chest whereas Tom just seemed angry at the situation.

“I did! That’s why I was so fucking pissed off, it’s not my fault you never received it. What else could I have done?”

“Maybe you’re right.” You said.

“What?” Tom snapped out and you let your eyes brim with tears.

“Get out Tom.” You said.

“So I come over to get kicked straight back out, well fan fucking tastic.” He snapped with another roll of his eyes.

“No, I mean get out and don’t come back.” You said and Tom’s face fell.

“Wait, Y/N/N, are you,”

“Yeah,” you interrupted. “This isn’t working anymore, you’re right. Now can you please just leave?” You snapped as you looked at him, he looked at you hesitantly as if he was about to say something but he never did. He composed himself as huffed as he left with a slam of your flat door.

You’d always wondered what he was going to say, you knew he was going to. Maybe that’s why you found it so hard when you saw him, that wonder about what he would have said, would it have changed anything? Was he going to say something nasty, something to try and fix it? You never contacted one another afterwards, returning each other’s belongings through Isabelle and Harrison.

“Y/N/N?” Harrison asked as he waved his hand in front of your face, pulling you from your thoughts as you looked at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Long day.” You said, you could feel Tom’s eyes on you but couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“So, wedding guests.” Haz continued as he clapped his hands together. “You guys are gonna spend most of the day together.” He said as he gestured between you and Tom.

“If that’s okay?” Isabelle added as she looked at you with concern.

“Of course, it’s your wedding day.” You smiled as you tried to ignore the pounding in your head at the thought of having to spend an entire day interacting with the man across from you.

“Brilliant.” Harrison said, he knew you and Tom had ended on bad terms but probably assumed you’d both gotten over it. You wondered deep down if you had.

The dinner flew by and you couldn’t have rushed off to your house soon enough. Wanting to leave behind the awkward tension between you and Tom, maybe this was going to be harder than you first thought.

**

It was the day of the wedding and excitement was bubbling around the church. You were all made up in your bridesmaid dress, hair pulled up into an intricate style as you watched Isabelle pull on her wedding dress.

“You look beautiful.” You gasped as you handed her the bouquet of flowers. “If Haz doesn’t cry I think I might snatch you up for myself.” You joked and Isabelle smiled shyly. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, pins with diamonds twinkling under the lights, beautiful white wedding dress that fell elegantly around the floor.

“I’m nervous.” She admitted as she squeezed your hand.

“Don’t be. Harrison loves you, you’re gonna be so happy.” You said as you squeezed her hands back. A knock pulling you from your moment. It wasn’t long before Isabelle’s dad made an appearance, stopping as he saw his daughter.

“You look, oh my goodness, you look beautiful.” He said in awe as he embraced her, wiping at his eyes that were now full of tears.

“Thank you dad.”

“That boy has no idea how lucky he is.”

You followed her to the alter, her hand firmly grasping her father’s forearm as they linked arms. You were behind her as you made your way up the aisle, you couldn’t stop your eyes drifting to Tom and you watched as his widened, he was already looking at you. Harrison and Isabelle had made the decision to have the dress rehearsal but keep everyone’s attire a secret for the day, Tom hadn’t seen you in your bridesmaid dress.

The ceremony was beautiful, Harrison cried, well almost everyone cried as they watched the loving couple say their ‘I do’s’ and share their first kiss as a married couple. They made their way down the alter and you let out a shaky breath as Tom approached you, offering his arm out for you to take. You looped your arm through his as you plastered possibly the fakest smile you’d ever given.

“You look beautiful.” You heard Tom’s voice and you looked at him as you continued to follow Harrison and Isabelle. All bridesmaids now having been paired up with another of the groomsmen. Of course you and Tom had to pair up being in the positions you were.

“Thank you.” You said as you bit your lip and he gave you a small smile. You’d always been able to read Tom, always had a connection with him that was unexplainable. He seemed almost sad. He wasn’t giving off his usual vibe, not that anyone else would notice, he really is a good actor, just not good enough to fool you.

The lunch had gone really well, no hiccups, everything ran smoothly. The décor looked amazing, blue and white flowers decorating the table in beautiful glass vases in the middle of each table. You were sat next to Tom, making conversation with Tuwaine who was placed at your other side. The room falling into silence as the speeches started. Harrison’s was beautiful, Isabelle’s father’s just as much and now it was Tom’s turn. You wiped at your eye, the speeches having been so beautiful they’d brought tears to your eyes.

“I’m very happy to be here today and share this happy couples day with all of you. I am beyond grateful that you asked me to be such a huge part of it Harrison, being your best man has been and always will be an honour.” Tom started and Harrison smiled up at him.

“You just have to promise I’ll be your best man.” Harrison teased and Tom breathed out a laugh.

“Done. Your wife looks incredible I want to add, such a beautiful couple. I’ve known Harrison since we were kids and I let me tell you, I have an incredible amount of embarrassing stories involving this young man. Like the time he got so excited when we went bowling that he fell onto the alley, got a strike but of course it didn’t count. Or the time he got so angry playing golf that he threw a club at the floor and almost knocked himself out when it bounced back up.” Tom said which pulled a laugh from the room.

It did a strange thing to you, you were there that day he almost hit himself on the golf course, god knows how he’d done it. The memory of you and Tom laughing as Tom had his arms locked around your waist, you shook your head from the thoughts.

“I could go on but I’ll save his dignity.” Tom teased as Harrison flipped him off, Tom read the paper in his hands before stuffing it back into his pocket, you assumed he’d almost finished.

“I’ve always been jealous of Harrison in a way. He found something good and he kept hold of it, he fought for it and made sure he kept it. These guys have been through some tough times, they truly have and they’ve both seen the other side of it. Harrison has always been better than me when it comes to admitting fault, taking responsibility for his actions, something I’ve never been good at. Watching these two and how in love they are with each other has made me really think about myself as a person and all the stupid things I’ve done in life, the things I’ve lost through my own stubbornness. You really have taught me a lot about love and soulmates, I’m just glad you didn’t make the same mistake I did.” Tom said and you found yourself staring at him, as if he was the only person in the room.

Your eyes met Isabelle’s and she looked just as blown away as you did, Harrison looking up at his best friend with a knowing look. Tuwaine leant over and placed a handkerchief in your hand.

“Here, you’re gonna smudge your makeup.” He said and it only just occurred to you that you were crying, more than you had at any of the other speeches. Was he talking about you? You doubted it, he’s had plenty of girlfriends in the three years since you’d split. You only half listened as Tom finished his speech as he sat back down next to you, the room applauding him as they fell into their own conversations.

“That was,” you said as you cleared your throat. “That was really beautiful Tom.”

“Thank you.”

**

The wedding party continued on, it was now the evening do, the night drawing closer to the first dance, the last interaction you had to have with Tom and you felt nervous. The tension between the two of you thick after his speech, you weren’t sure if he felt it too and you had got it al wrong. Maybe you just wished he was talking about you, he clearly was referring to someone.

Tom took your hand in his as you joined the married couple in the first dance. Couples slowly joining as Tom placed his hands on your waist and you placed yours on his shoulders. To say you weren’t an actor you were doing well at hiding your feelings.

“You really do look beautiful.” Tom said, eyes finding yours.

“Thank you. You’re speech really was beautiful.” You always were one to give credit where it was due. He shrugged.

“Thanks, I read it online somewhere, I’m no good at writing that soppy shit.” He laughed and you breathed out a laugh. Oh.

It wasn’t long before you finished, Tom leaving you instantly and you missed being in his arms instantly. He disappeared most of the night, you only catching glimpses of him every so often.

“Y/N, you look beautiful.” Sam said as he joined you on the dancefloor.

“Thanks Sam.” You’d not seen him in a long time.

“How’d you like Tom’s speech?” He asked and you furrowed your brows, why was he asking you that?

“It was beautiful.” You admitted and Sam smiled.

“Yeah, I helped him write that.” He admitted. What?

“He said he got help online.” You said utterly confused.

“That’s bullshit.” Sam laughed. “I helped him write that whole thing. That part about being jealous of Harrison? Not what I helped him write, that was completely off script.” Sam said and you stopped your dancing as you looked at him.

“What?”

“Oh come on, that was completely pulled from his heart. You know Tom, that was completely unscripted.”

“Yeah, but he’s had a lot of girlfriends, why would I care?” You said and Sam burst into a fit of laughter at that.

“I thought you knew?” Sam said and you looked at him seriously.

“Knew what?”

“About Tom? About what happened on the stag do?” He said matching your seriousness.

“No?” You fished and Sam huffed.

“He was hammered okay. But he got all emotional and said some stuff about you.” Sam admitted and your furrow deepened.

“What did he say?”

“He regrets the way things ended. Regrets letting you go, said he wished he’d have stayed, told you how much you meant to him. Fought for you. Y/N, he was thinking about asking you to marry him.” Sam continued and your eyes blew wide at that.

“We were twenty-two Sam.” You said and he shrugged.

“We said that but he said it was irrelevant, he knew he’d found his person in you. He said he doesn’t think he’ll ever love anyone like he loved you, he’s tried.” Sam informed you. “I honestly thought someone had told you.” He said as he took in your shocked state.

“No.” You squeaked out.

“Y/N, he’s my brother and trust me, he’s an idiot at the best of times. But I know he loves you, it shocked all of us when he turned into an emotional mess over a relationship that ended three years ago. I think seeing you and the whole wedding put a lot into perspective for him.”

“But why now?” You asked and Sam looked at you seriously.

“Y/N, I think he realises this could have been your wedding. You were both young and stubborn and I stand by that fact but if things had turned out differently. If he’d stayed that night this could have been you and I think he’s realised that.” Sam said as he brought a hand to your cheek and wiped your tears out of your eyes. “Go find him. Talk to him.” He said and you realised you had to, after that revelation you had to. You owed it to the both of you.

“Thanks Sam.”

**

Half an hour it took you to find him, half an hour of running around looking for him until you eventually found the curly haired boy. He was on the roof, sat on the edge, looking out over the grounds of the manor house Harrison had booked for the wedding night. You had a room booked along with most of the guests.

Your heart was pounding as you let the door shut and your palms felt sweaty but your heart felt lifted at Sam’s revelation.

“I’m not so sure the best man is supposed to disappear.” You said and Tom snapped his head to look at you as you approached. Holding out a hand for you to take as you very carefully placed yourself next to him. The view was breathtaking, he’d always found comfort in the countryside, a complete juxtaposition to his life in cities.

“Probably not but I don’t think Haz will notice. I am planning on going back, just needed a breather.”

“Are you okay?” You asked seriously, you noted his slightly dampened mood all day.

“I never could get past you could I?” He asked with a breathy laugh.

“Nope.” You laughed in return and he smiled at you.

“Just thinking.” He admitted and you hummed.

“I spoke to Sam.” You said after a while and Tom sighed as his ran a hand through his hair.

“Figured it’d be him that told you. How much did he tell you?” Tom asked and you looked at him, admiring how beautiful he was and he really was, always had been.

“Everything, well I assume so. Is it true?” You asked and Tom looked back at you.

“Which part?”

“About the proposal thing?”

“Yeah.” He admitted and you furrowed your brows.

“Why’d you never come back? Say something?” You asked and Tom sighed.

“Because I was a fucking stupid child that’s why. Completely fucked up my chances with you.” Tom said and you nodded slightly in agreement with him, you weren’t blameless.

“Maybe not completely.” You said and Tom’s eyes widened.

“You mean?”

“I don’t think I ever really stopped loving you. I always thought it was closure I needed and then Sam said wat he said and I realised it was everything I wanted to hear. I tried to find the same connection with other men but I just couldn’t and I wondered if it was because I wanted closure with you. It took me until today to realise that deep down it was actually just you I wanted.” You said as a tear slipped from Tom’s eye and you were quick to catch it.

“I’ve never found that connection either. God, fuck, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” He said your heart soared.

“Still?” You asked and he nodded. “Me too.” You admitted and he smiled.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You do. We deserve to be happy in life Tom and you made me so happy. The happiest I’d ever been.” You said. “I was difficult because I was so scared, scared that you’d leave me, find someone else. You got this whole knew life, you were Spiderman, meeting models, all these women I couldn’t compete with.”

“You were never in competition. It doesn’t matter how many other women I met, they were never you, they could never be you. They didn’t understand me like you did. Y/N, there was and is never gonna be anyone else like you.” You were both crying now, happiness surrounding you.

“What were you gonna say? That night?” You needed to know.

“I was about to get on my knees and fucking beg you to let me stay. My stubbornness got in the way, I thought you could do better, have someone who was there for you all the time. Someone who didn’t forget dates and keep you waiting.” He admitted before he continued. “But if I ever got a do over in life that’s where I’d go, I’d get on my knees and beg you to let me stay, let me keep you.”

“Oh Tom.” You sighed out and he smiled shyly as you leant your forehead against his.

“I should have tried, should have fought for you but I was an idiot. I didn’t realise how much so until it was too late.”

“It’s never too late Tom.”

“I hope not because I want you Y/N, I want you back.”

“Kiss me.” You practically begged and he complied, his lips finding your own. His arms slipped around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. Your hands finding his hair as you threaded your fingers though it. The kiss was sweet but fiery, a kiss of two lovers reuniting as he pulled away and his lips found your neck as he kissed it, you moved your head to give him more access.

“I love you.” He said as he peppered his kisses back up to your lips.

“I love you Tom.” You returned as you deepened the kiss. Missing the way he felt, loving the way you molded against him and the amount of passion behind the kiss, something you’d not experienced in almost three years. No man had ever ignited you the way Tom did.

“Oi, oi! I fucking knew it.” You heard screamed from far below you as you both pulled apart and looked down at Harrison. He was outside smoking a cigarette and he’d obviously caught you both.

“Piss off.” Tom laughed back down as you placed your head on his chest and laughed.

“Izzy, baby, we don’t have to pull that bullshit about double booked rooms, you can let your cousin know there’s a free room.” Harrison shouted in his wife’s direction and you and Tom laughed.

“Wanna go back in princess?” Tom asked and you nodded as he stood before making sure you got up safely. “I owe you a proper dance.”

[ackerfics]

the parent trap — levi ackerman (i)

— levi ackerman x female reader (modern au | the parent trap au)

— warnings: none, just two adorable little boys being idiots

— summary: two boys discovered that they are connected in more ways than they expected.

— word count: 6k (oops i regret nothing)

— author’s notes: i watched the parent trap recently and i had to do this. everything in this multi-part fic will be based on the parent trap and most of the dialogue can be found in the movie. this chapter doesn’t contain that much levi and the reader (they’re mentioned tho) but it contains bickering between two kids. happy reading !!

part two

Bright gray eyes stared out the window, onyx hair being ruffled by the wind, as the bus’ engine finally stopped at its destination with dozens of boys excitedly finding friends under the cooling canopy of trees of Camp Eldia for Boys. It was a good kind of chaotic, a boy of eleven thought even though he wasn’t used to so many people in one place at the same time (his dad hated it), as he kept his eyes peeled for an orange duffel bag. It was a bright shade and he couldn’t afford to lose it in this horde — he didn’t want to damage it, knowing that his dad specifically bought it for this summer getaway. A shoulder bumped into him, causing the young boy to lose his footing, but not before directing an icy glare at the person, who scurried away after getting a glimpse of his face. Huffing under his breath, he steadied himself while patting his shorts and denim jacket, catching a familiar orange in the pile of duffel bags as he rose his head. 

“There you are,” he whispered under his breath with a smile pulling on his lips, his feet carrying him to the pile. The moment he caught hold of the straps of the bag, a scowl replaced his smile, exclaiming, “For fuck’s sake!” as the camp’s staff dumped a lot of bags on top of his. Noticing the incredulous stare given to him by the green-eyed adult, the boy directed his irritated glare from the pile to him. “Do you need something? Or are you going to dump more bags in this pile?”

The green-eyed man rose his hands as if surrendering. “Chill, little dude, you can always get it out.”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“Okay, rude,” the staff murmured, walking away from the struggling kid. “Kids these days, having undercuts and piercings at a young age.”

The black-haired boy continued pulling on his duffel, occasionally cursing in various volumes. He didn’t realize someone timidly coming up beside him, looking between him and the orange bag. Right when he was about to call for help from the adults, the silver-eyed boy turned around, only to jump with his back on the bags at the sight of a boy his age looking at him curiously. Damn it, his lessons in social interaction with his nanny weren’t getting to him at the moment. “Hi,” he muttered, wary of the boy still staring at him with a tilted head. “Can I help you?”

“I think you’re the one who will be needing help,” the boy replied, nodding at the bags. “You know, with that.” A stretch of silence rang through while two pairs of eyes continued staring at each other, one narrowed while the other kind, the owner of the latter now walking to the pile of bags. “Here, let me help.” The boy effortlessly pulled on the strap of the orange duffel, the bag now free from the confines of the pile. The silver-eyed boy looked at the other person with wide eyes. Okay, maybe he wasn’t the same age as him, maybe he was a little older. The boy was taller than him by inches and it made him feel small. “First time in camp? I can tell since you weren’t fast enough in getting your bag from the staff.” The boy nodded at the adults flitting through the throng of pubescent boys. “My name’s Michael. What’s yours?”

As the black-haired boy opened his mouth to give it to his newly found friend (surprise for his dad because he made a friend hours after telling him he will have trouble getting one with his snappy attitude), the brown-haired, green-eyed man from earlier shouted, “Altair Ackerman!”

He rose his hand, “Right here!”

“You’re in the Ehrmich cabin!”

Altair nodded, turning back to Michael, who was grinning. “We’re in the same cabin.”

“Awesome.”

It wasn’t meant to be sarcastic but given the fact that he grew up with an always annoyed man as his father (though his dad was never seen with a scowl when he was around), Altair picked up some of the older man’s habits. The silver-eyed boy took in a deep breath and roamed his eyes around the camp, the countryside of his hometown reminiscent inside his mind, clogging his chest with nostalgia out of nowhere. He was starting to miss the hectares of small tea trees surrounding their estate that seemed to clear the air whenever he took his morning walks, even their quaint little tea shop boring their last name in the middle of their town (well, it was quaint but their numbers are increasing around their state, which is insane). After eight weeks of being with people he barely even knew, Altair was in for a wild ride. He would much rather race through their estate on his horse, Nox, than participate in friendship rituals or whatever camps do during the summer (don’t forget the camp sing-alongs that his father warned him about, giving him second thoughts at the last minute).

Every hour of his flight to Maine was spent thinking about why his father decided to ship him off to the other end of the country. For what? Altair will never know.

A honk interrupted Altair from his thoughts, eyeing the sleek black car entering the camp’s premises with furrowed brows. He can hear Michael express his awe beside him. Who in their right mind would choose to ride a borderline limousine inside a summer camp?

“Dang, the person in that must have a lot of money,” Michael stated.

Altair only narrowed his eyes in slight scrutiny. His small family also has a lot of money but he never once suggested to his dad that he will be arriving in camp with his horse. Plus, poor Nox wouldn’t want to be cooped up inside a ship just for that. “Maybe,” he muttered in reply to his friend. “Hey, do you play poker? My dad gave me cards for this trip.”

“I don’t know how to play poker but you can always show me the ropes.”

“Great.”

As the two boys went inside their cabin and greeting some of their roommates, the black car opened, along with a lean man surveying the camp with a watchful eye. Most of the children had their eyes curiously stuck on the vehicle and the man with light brown hair had to hold in his smug smile at their dashing entrance. Ducking down to address the person inside the car, he opted for smiling encouragingly at the onyx-haired boy — he doesn’t want to bite down his tongue in front of young children because that would be embarrassing. Feet enclosed in dress shoes stepped outside of the black car, beholding the sight of an eleven-year-old boy clad in a gray suit jacket and matching short pants. His hair fell right past his ears and touching the nape of his neck in tidy wavy locks, his hand clutching his stationery box.

The man behind the boy smiled before saying, “Here we are — Camp Eldia for Boys.” The man followed the boy, who was walking towards the side of the car with wide, admiring eyes. “We traveled all the way from London for this.”

The boy of silver eyes chuckled, the sound twinkling in the air. “It’s rather picturesque,” he glanced at the man with a huge grin, “don’t you think?”

The light-brown-haired man swatted a mosquito hovering close to his face, turning to the child with a sigh. “Not exactly the term I would use in describing this,” he paused, looking around the vicinity with narrowed eyes, “place.” He didn’t want to be rude now that he saw how the young boy stared at the cabins with bright eyes. He took the box from the boy’s hand, the latter giggling at his friend’s unamused face, and took out a small notebook and a pen from the inner pockets of his suit. Opening it to a checklist, he started, “Now, let us review your mother’s list.” At the sound of the young boy humming lightheartedly, he continued with a small smile, “Vitamins?”

The boy grinned. “Check.”

“Minerals?”

“Check.”

“List of daily fruits and vegetables?”

“Check. Check.”

The man stopped, staring at the onyx-haired boy with a raised eyebrow.

The young kid laughed. “Check for the fruits and another check for the vegetables. Go on.”

With a satisfied smile, the man continued listing items from the list — sunblock, lip balm, insect repellant, and the stamps that the boy will be using for the weekly letters. Then, he also gave reminders for the photographs if ever the kid misses his family members. All of this was answered with a huge smile, claiming the young boy had all of those in check, adding a, “You don’t need to worry. I got everything handled and packed safely in my luggage.”

“Oh, and before I forget, here’s a little something from Hange.” The older man presented something from his suit with a smirk. “Spanking new deck of cards. Maybe you’ll actually find someone on this continent who can whip your tush at poker.”

“I doubt it,” came the reply. The black-haired boy swayed on the balls of his feet, an endearing smile plastered on his face. “Thanks for bringing me here, Oluo.”

Oluo Bozado, the butler of the esteemed [Last Name] family was a dear person to the little boy and the extended members of the household, seeing as he witnessed how the mistress of the household took care of the young boy all by herself until he was a bright child ready for all sorts of adventures. Looking at the child of bright stormy eyes and hair as dark as midnight, the brown-haired man felt his lips tremble with the thought that his young master was starting to experience what it was like away from family. It was only a week before that the boy’s mother decided to present more opportunities for her son while she was away for a business trip in Greece. 

It was a great decision to bring along the child but it was more suited for him to mingle with people his age, knowing that he was homeschooled all his life. Now, Oluo was trying hard not to bawl his eyes out in the middle of this blasted summer camp so instead, he spread his arms for the little boy to give him a goodbye. Sniffing occasionally, Oluo muttered with conviction, “Now, you remember, if you ever change your mind and want me to come here and collect you at the end of the camp — we’re all only one phone call away.”

Chuckling at the antics of the butler, the dark-haired boy pulled away and patted the man’s back. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. You, Hange, and Mum shouldn’t worry too much. Though, Hange wouldn’t worry that much since they’re responsible for this suggestion. Nevertheless, I’m a big boy now. See you in eight weeks, Oluo, old pal.”

Oluo huffed lightheartedly. “I’m not that old, you know. It’s just the face. Keep safe, Caelum.”

Caelum grinned knowingly. The two then started doing their signature pact of friendship, which the child orchestrated the moment he started to be aware of his surroundings. Their hands clapped against each other, bumping their hips along an imaginary beat, sliding past one another, and ending the small show with a firm handshake and a smile on their faces. Oluo smiled softly and affectionately ruffled Caelum’s hair, making the wavy curls more pronounced. “Have fun, little prince.”

“I will.”

-

One week in camp and everything was going the way Caelum expected it to be. He made friends with a few campers, who were all chattering about how cool he was while entering the camp a while back, saying that he looked like a noble. All of their remarks will always be brushed off by the dark-haired boy. There was partial truth in what they were saying, his mother’s family solely responsible for why he acted like the way he is — regal. For a shorter explanation, Caelum was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Plus, he was spoiled a lot by his Mum’s best friend, Hange, who lived with them for he could remember.

(“Do you want to know why I live here, little bean? Except for being a freeloader—ow, I’m just having a laugh, [Name]! If you’ll excuse that interruption, I live here because this has been my home. Your Mum’s family accepted me after I came out to my parents. Aaaand, I get to see your cute face every day!”)

There were so many things that he loved while being on this little escape. One, this place was full of sunshine and laughter compared to his home back in London, not that he hated the gloomy thunderstorms and the sounds of the city back home, but it was nice to finally relax under the blinding rays of the sun. Two, the games were glorious, having to play alongside children around his age. It was exhilarating in the smallest of ways and it warmed Caelum’s heart. After getting their lunch inside the cafeteria (which consisted of a strange encounter from one of the camp directors, Nile Dok, saying that he saw someone who looked a lot like Caelum seconds before acknowledging him), the little boy roamed around the camp beside his friends. Ahead of them was a small gathering of campers and a staff, Eren Jaeger, Caelum learned. The adult was saying along the lines of challenging the reigning champion of fencing.

Caelum had to hold back his scoff.

He had a fencing teacher once and he was told that he could best anyone even if he would do it halfheartedly. Maybe it was the nostalgia bringing in the drive to be the said challenger but the silver-eyed boy found himself saying, “Can I challenge him?”

Eren didn’t look up from his clipboard as he answered, “Finally, someone stepped up. Okay, you can suit up there, buddy. Your fellow campers will help you get ready.”

“Got it.”

Once he was fitted with the white fencing suit, Caelum wiggled his arms as he released a deep breath. It’s been a while since he prepared for another spar, almost a year now, and he could only hope that he wasn’t rusty. Running his hand through his thick hair, Caelum placed the helmet snug around his head. Without waiting for their referee (who looked like they wanted to be at another place at the moment), the onyx-haired boy faced his opponent. He sized up the boy in front of him with blank eyes. It looked like they were of a similar build, with the boy bouncing at his feet every few seconds, which irked Caelum in the slightest. Maybe this would be the moment to be serious in something he thought he used only to pass the time. Lowering his stance with bended knees, Caelum neutrally positioned himself so that his opponent wouldn’t know if he was in the offense or defense. 

“Fencers ready?” Eren asked the two of them, eyes flitting between the two boys.

The boy in front of Caelum said, “Ready,” in the exact voice as him that it unnerved the black-haired boy.

Shaking his head, Caelum flipped his saber expertly in the air. “All set.”

“Tch, show-off.”

The silver-eyed boy felt his insides churn with annoyance.

“En garde, fence!”

Caelum immediately forwarded a couple of steps, taunting his opponent with light jabs as the other person defended his torso against Caelum’s attacks. Once he had the boy in the green fencing suit backed against the trees with nowhere to turn, the last thing Caelum expected was to have his adversary dashing for one of the trunks, gaining momentum for a second and jumping on the surface of the tree in a graceful turn, the other boy’s saber slashing the direction of the silver-eyed boy’s stomach. Caelum backed away with a jump at the last second, successfully dodging the boy’s attack, to which he failed to notice the glint of metal shooting towards his head. With his instincts, Caelum ducked down and made a counter-attack, zoning his attention on the opening on his opponent’s knees brandishing for his attention. Annoyance once again prickled Caelum’s being, bubbling in his stomach and reaching towards his head in migraine, as the other boy parried his consecutive offensive maneuvers until they circled the entire area for the camp’s games.

The onlookers could see how the two mirrored each other. When Caelum went for the overhead jab, the other boy would strike his rival’s lower body. It was a dance of parries and counter-attacks that some of them were starting to feel dizzy from all the constant back-and-forths between the two children. Even Eren, who was starting to think that accepting this job for the summer was a total waste, perked up while the two boys continued meeting their weapons in parries as their little feet brought them to where the pavilion was situated. The green-eyed man even called for one of his friends, Reiner Braun, to watch the exciting fencing tournament. With bated breath, every pair of eyes watched as the boy in green had his saber thrown away by a flick of Caelum’s sword, leaving the former with nowhere to go and no weapon to deflect the point of the saber’s tip on his chest.

Right when the audience thought the two were done (Eren was about to announce the winner), the boy in green lost his balance from Caelum’s push, his body going over the railings of the pavilion and into the small washing area by the side of the establishment.

“What the fuck?!”

Caelum swore he heard the entire audience gasp.

The only question in his mind was ‘what was the reason?’ Was it the curse words or the fact that he just pushed his opponent in a tub of water that could’ve seen better days?

Pursing his lips, the silver-eyed boy leaned over the railings and reached out a hand. “Sorry about that, let me help you.”

“No, let me help you.”

Water entered Caelum’s helmet as he toppled over from the force of the other boy’s pull. He slowly looked over at the other person occupying the tub of water after sitting up. He could feel his eye twitch from behind the soaked helmet. There was a distinct chatter in the background, asking both boys if they were alright. Eren might have called over his friends and now they were fussing over the two with concerned and amusing questions. And yet, Caelum never strayed his glare from the person in front of him. 

“What did you do that for?” Caelum seethed.

“Me?!” The boy all but screamed at his face, his hands gesturing between them. “You pushed me in, you idiot!”

“I did not!”

“I’m sorry I ruffled your feathers, gentleman,” the boy spat.

“Okay!” Eren interjected, coming forward and crouching to meet the boys’ eyes. His earlier expression of boredom was now switched into something bright as he looked back and forth the two boys. “That was awesome, little dudes! Are you sure you two didn’t enter any kind of fencing competition?” When he saw that the two had opposing answers, he grinned. “Campers,” he called out to the children surrounding him, “I think we have ourselves a new camp champion, from London, England — Caelum [Last Name]!” Eren stood up to his full height, watching as the two boys took off their helmets, backs facing one another. The said champion shaking his head and splashing water droplets like a dog while the other boy raked his hand over his short hair, slicking back his haircut. The green-eyed man noticed something from the two but he extinguished his curiosity with a, “Alright, dudes, shake hands. We love and promote sportsmanship in this household.” Preventing a chuckle from coming out since the boys didn’t budge from their positions, Eren once again tried, “Come on, little dudes.”

Altair has never been surprised even once in his life but the moment right now shook his entire world.

It was like viewing himself in the mirror.

Even though the boy in front of him had longer hair, there was no mistaking how his heart was pounding inside his chest, breath taken away at the uncanny resemblance between him and this boy from England (posh accent and all). He vividly read somewhere that seven people around the world looked exactly like a single individual, remembering how he thought that was cool enough for his seven-year-old brain. Maybe this was it. But he knew better because the more he stared shell-shocked at the boy with waves for hair, the more the feeling like he knew him bubbled inside his stomach. The boy seemed to think similar thoughts as him at the moment, stretching his hand for a tentative handshake that was long overdue (probably a couple of minutes, like Altair cared). 

A zap.

A bolt of electricity.

It trickled in Altair’s whole arm until he pulled away from the boy’s grasp.

He was never big on physical contact, to begin with. Yeah, that’s the reason why he pulled away so quickly and not the possibility of sharing something common with the boy who looked like him. Brushing everything off just like his dad always did, Altair scoffed, purposely wiping his hand on his pants exaggeratedly as he stated, “Why is everybody staring at us?”

The boy stared at him like he grew a second head, which sparked irritation in his veins. “Don’t you see it?”

Altair lazily looked around. “See what?”

Furrowed eyebrows graced the pretty boy’s expression (by calling the boy pretty, he was practically calling himself pretty, and Altair had no complaints about that). “The resemblance between us, you tosser.”

“What?”

“I said—“

“I heard what you said.” Altair stepped forward a little to glare at the boy. “What did you call me?”

The boy rose his chin a little in the air. “A tosser.”

“I swear to God,” Altair murmured under his breath, a smile of disbelief painted his lips, “if you don’t stop calling me names in your slang, I’d really be a tosser because I will fucking toss you and your stuck-up ass in the lake right now.” He continued surveying the boy with eyes full of disdain. “And what resemblance? I don’t see a thing because you look nothing like me.” The other boy’s face contorted into that blank mien that he was sure only him and his dad could pull off. The bags under the boy’s eyes became prominent as he matched Altair’s stare. Huffing indignantly, Altair continued, “For your information, your eyes are much closer together than mine. Your ears … it makes you look like a rat. Your teeth are crooked. Oh, and that nose? Don’t worry, those things can be fixed.” Satisfaction made Altair’s chest puff in confidence at the offended look on the boy’s visage. “You want to know the real difference between us? It’s—“

“I know how to fence and you don’t?” The boy taunted. He placed a finger on his chin as if contemplating something. “Or I have class and you don’t? Just take your pick, good sir.”

“You little shit—“

“Try me, you fu—“

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Eren interrupted, placing a hand on both boys' shoulders. “Let’s break up this little lovefest of yours. Caelum, Altair.” Then, at the next second, the man became confused. “Altair, Caelum. Caelum? Altair? Oh, holy shit, this is giving me a whiplash.”

-

The following weeks were pure hell that Caelum was convinced this was his punishment for eating Hange’s stash of their favorite butter cookies. He could remember how they screamed bloody murder for whoever finished their special tin, with Caelum’s mother calming them down and saying they probably forgot eating them. Nobody knew who ate them, well, except for Oluo since the butler caught the young master in the act.

That Altair kid definitely knew how to handle a grudge, throwing pranks at Caelum left and right, causing the latter to retaliate in the most mature way possible — giving the boy who looked like him a taste of his own medicine. It all started when Caelum was defeated at poker the night after they had their fencing competition, defeated by Altair to be precise. That pompous idiot thought it was funny to taunt Caelum into diving into the lake naked and leaving him behind while Altair’s little posse took away his clothes. It was mortifying, walking back to his cabin stuttering because of the cold, no clothes to keep him warm. That spurred him to take revenge, asking for his cabinmates’ help in getting out the Ehrmich cabin’s beds for all the campers and camp directors to see. It only got worse after that. It was all fun and games until Altair got Nile Dok and his assistant, Floch Forster, in his ultimate prank to humiliate Caelum, turning the Mitras cabin into a mess of honey, whipped cream, water balloons, and feathers.

While Nile was screaming for Caelum and Altair to pack their bags, the former turned to look at his doppelganger with lifeless eyes. “You are without a doubt the lowest, most awful person on the planet.”

Altair couldn’t help but smirk devilishly. “Thank you, thank you very much.”

Nile decided that the fitting consequence was to put the two of them in the isolation cabin. Caelum doesn’t know if that will help with their situation. He was convinced they will kill each other if they’re cooped inside a smaller cabin. 

The first night in the isolation cabin was turning out quite nicely for the longer-haired boy, taking out his journal to write the significant events that happened during the day. He was peacefully enjoying his solitude that he didn’t notice Altair huff every second while glaring at the overhead light bulb that served as their only light source. At the umpteenth wordless complain, Altair had enough of it, sitting up in his bed and turned the lights off. The whole cabin was bathed in darkness, making Caelum flinch since he was immersed in writing out his inner thoughts of decapitating the person sharing his space at the moment. With an incredulous stare directed at the boy across the room, Caelum turned on the lights, which resulted in a battle between the two boys and making it seem like the isolation cabin was infested with ghosts.

After an entire week in the isolation cabin, there was a thunderstorm warning around the camp. As some of the campers screamed while looking for shelter one afternoon, Altair was organizing the posters plastered on his side of the room. The other person occupying the cabin was trying to distract himself by playing solitaire. The short-haired boy wanted to make casual talk since the silence has been stifling for the past hours but his anxiety-ridden gut got the best of him so he chose to stay quiet while fiddling with the poster of his favorite show. A strong gust of wind then blew from the opened windows, making his posters fly around the room.

Caelum looked up from putting a card on one column and immediately stood up to help the boy struggling with closing the window. “Oh, no,” he murmured when he saw the mess. With occasional glances, he planted his hands on one side of the sliding window and pushed. He didn’t miss how Altair looked at him with a weird face. The longer-haired boy didn’t care as he pushed the window, stopping the howls of the wind. Feeling the stares drilled at the side of his head, Caelum met Altair’s stare with a small half-smile before nodding towards the posters scattered over the floor. “Need help with that?” A nod was all Caelum needed to pick up the posters with Altair, a comforting silence blanketing the two boys. In the midst of their tidying up, he noticed a stuffed toy lying on top of some newspaper clippings. Thinking that Altair will act rashly again, he hesitated, “Oh, here’s your…”

Altair turned to the other boy, breathing a laugh through his nose and taking the stuffed bunny from Caelum. “Snuffles. For having a tough-boy persona, I don’t look like the kind of person who owns a stuffed toy, right?”

“Not at all, I think it’s pretty normal.” Smiles were shared, with the longer-haired boy fidgeting with his fingers, needing to break the silent atmosphere. “No pictures were ruined, right?”

“You don’t have to worry,” Altair replied with a slight smile, eyes still on the posters. “You were fast enough in helping me with the window.”

“Home has pretty much had this weather most of the month. I guess I developed the reflexes there.”

Altair hummed, looking inquisitively at the wavy-haired boy. “How far is London anyway?”

“Well, from here it’s 3,000 miles, but sometimes it seems much further. How far away is your home?”

“California’s at the other end of the country.” Altair looked at the side and picked up a photo. “Here’s a picture of my house.”

Caelum peered down at the picture and immediately thought it looked, “Amazing.”

“I know, right?” Altair flashed a proud smile. “Dad built it when I was a baby, at least that’s what he said. We got this incredible porch that has a cool view of the tea tree plantation and then there’s this pool in our backyard. Petra, my nanny, will always scold me for staying too long in the water or for walking around the plantation until nighttime. I also have this beautiful horse that Dad gave me for my tenth birthday, she’s amazing, her name’s Nox, by the way.”

“Who’s that?” Caelum pointed at a black-haired man, who only had his back on the photo. The man was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and some jeans. Even though he never saw the man in person, there was something about that physique that screams familiarity, very much like how he first met Altair. 

The other boy blinked before grinning. “That’s my Dad. He’s like my best friend since nobody wanted to befriend me for being snappy. We kind of did everything together. He didn’t know I was taking his picture or else he would turn around and tell me to take a picture of the house instead. He doesn’t like his picture taken, says he doesn’t like the sound of the cameras or how it exposes him.”

“Why?” Caelum asked curiously with a pinch in his chest. Must be complete to have someone you can call Dad. 

Altair shrugged. “Beats me. Every time someone wants to take a picture of him and our teahouse, he would decline. But, the only pictures that he was in were the ones that have my mom in them. That disappeared when I found out about it though.” At the expression on Caelum’s face, the boy tried asking what was wrong, only to be told that the room was getting chilly. As Caelum stood up from the floor and went to his bed, Altair followed suit and opened the trunk at the end of his bed. Taking out something that always cheered him up, he lifted it so that the wavy-haired boy could see it. “Want some Oreos? I know you’ll find this weird but I eat them with peanut butter.” He then took out a jar of peanut butter from his things.

“That is weird.” Caelum saw how Altair’s face slightly dropped, so he continued, “That’s weird because I eat Oreos with peanut butter, too.”

Altair took a seat on Caelum’s bed, a few feet separating the two boys. “Finally someone who appreciates the combination. Dad always told me it’s disgusting even though I’ve seen him eat Oreos with peanut butter a couple of times for his midnight tea.” Opening the box of Oreos, Altair offered one to his newfound friend, to which Caelum took gratefully. “So what’s your dad like? Is he one of those workaholics who always go home late and leaves the house before you wake up? Or is he those types who spoil you with all the time in the world while still keeping up with his job?”

With a small smile, Caelum answered, “I don’t have a father. I mean, I had one once, I suppose, but my parents divorced years ago.” He looked down thoughtfully. “My mother never even mentions him. It’s like he evaporated into thin air or something.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair before taking another Oreo from the packaging.

“It’s scary how the way nobody stays together anymore.”

“Tell me about it.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m turning twelve on December 24.”

Altair choked, swiveling his head to the boy beside him. “That’s my birthday, too!”

“We have the same birthday,” Caelum trailed off, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How weird is that.”

“Extremely,” the short-haired boy answered, looking out the window the next second. “Hey, would you look at that? It finally stopped raining.” Standing up from the bed, he stretched his arms into the air and sighing in satisfaction. “Come on, Cae, let’s get some popsicles from the mess hall. It’s always good to eat something cold in this weather.” He went outside the cabin until he noticed that the door didn’t open after him. Curiously, Altair looked up from the bottom of the stairs, meeting the stare of his perturbed friend. “Hey, are you alright?”

Caelum was fidgeting with his sweater, looking at anywhere except for the boy at the bottom of the stairs. He leaned against the railings before speaking out what was bothering his mind since he saw the picture of Altair’s father, “Al, what’s your mother like?”

Stuffing his hands inside his pockets, Altair answered, “She’s not exactly in the picture in our little family. I mean, she and Dad split up when I was a baby or even before that. I never met her and Dad never talks about her every time he’s at the house.” He then remembered the picture he stole from his father’s nightstand after trying to find the photo album with his parents in it. “But I know she’s really, really beautiful. Probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, even if it was just a picture I stole from Dad’s nightstand.”

“Do you have that picture right now?”

“Yeah? Hey, I’m getting hungry, let’s get some lunch.”

The wavy-haired boy turned around, leaving Altair outside of the cabin. “Don’t you realize what’s happening?” When he faced the boy following him, he saw how Altair jumped an inch at how quickly he turned around. Holding back a snicker, Caelum continued his theory, “Look, I don’t have a father and you’re also missing your mother. We’ve also never seen our missing parents. You have one picture of your mum and I also have one picture of my dad. Well, at least you have one whole picture, mine’s a pathetic crinkled little thing and ripped down the middle ...” He stopped his rambling when he saw Altair dashing his trunk. “What are you rummaging in your trunk for?”

“This.” Altair pointed at the picture in his hands. “This is the picture of my mom and it’s ripped down the middle, too.”

Caelum also went to his desk, taking out a tin box where he kept all the photos of his family members. He slid out a ripped photograph and went back to his friend’s side. “On the count of three, let’s put it together.” 

“One.”

“Two.”

Together they shouted, “Three!”

Like puzzle pieces, the two ripped parts became a whole picture again, like the two boys inside the small cabin as they looked at each other and realized they share more than just their birthdays and love for peanut butter Oreos.

-

“I have this crazy yet genius idea!”

“I hope this doesn’t concern another dip in the lake.”

“No, this is better.” A crazy glint in Altair’s eyes appeared. “Let’s switch places when we go home.”

[realcube]

msby boys finding out their s/o is pregnant

navi | masterlist | taglist  

thank you to anon for this wholesome request 

content warning ♡ pregnant! reader, sexual references, swearing & fluff

characters ♡ sakusa, atsumu, bokuto & hinata

kiyoomi sakusa 

♡ he faltered

♡ there was half a minute of silence between the two of you; him just staring at your stomach while you gazed into his eyes

♡ he was almost certain that he misheard you, so he felt inclined to inquire, ‘huh?’ as indifferently as he could, though he wasn’t doing a good job of concealing the shocked expression on his face 

♡ ‘i said i’m pregnant, sweetie.’ you giggled, admiring the emotions he displayed on his face as it wasn’t a sight you got to see often

♡ sakusa continued to stare at you, eyes wide 

♡ though he knew what you meant, apart of him insisted that he was mishearing you 

♡ his wide-eyes were fixated on you, his lips slightly agape as he tried to process what you just said and what this meant for the both of you 

♡ the only emotion you could read of his face was shock. at first, you were sure that he was happy but he was just taking a while to accept it, but now that a few minutes had passed and he was still yet to say anything or even smile, you were starting to second guess yourself

♡ despite the fact sakusa had already agreed that he was on board with the idea of having a child many times before - in fact, there were nights where he’d admit that he can’t wait to start a family with you - but you still worried that perhaps he has now that had a change of heart

♡ that was until you noticed his eyes become unusually glossy and red, along with his cheeks adapting a somewhat red tint, ‘if this is a joke, (y/n), it’s not funny.’ his ordinary, monotone voice was now slightly shaky and low 

♡ ‘it’s not a joke, ‘iyoomi.’ you laughed, feeling your own throat go dry and your cheek flare up upon seeing how emotional sakusa had become

♡ before the tears spilled from your eyes, you felt sakusa’s arms slowly snake around your waist, place an elongated kiss on your forehead then rest his chin on your shoulder 

♡ he held you close enough that you could feel his rapid heartbeat thud against your chest and his wobbly breath tickle the back of your neck

♡ he stayed like that, silent, for a good few minutes 

♡ when he finally pulled away to admire your stomach, you noticed how his damp cheeks glistened in the light and you couldn’t help but smile

♡ although he wasn’t very vocal about how happy he was, his actions spoke a thousand words

♡ he’d insist in home-cooking all your food now because he didn’t want to risk you getting food poisoning 

♡ when he’d come home from practise, absolutely exhausted, the first thing he’d do when he gets home is  wash his hands then cut you some fruit 

♡ when he has free-time, he used to just watch TV but now he’s picked up a few hobbies of reading childcare books, tending to your every need/want and researching good baby names

♡ also, he’s so gentle with you - like, he was gentle with you before but this is a new extreme

♡ excluding the time he almost tackled you to the ground when you suggested atsumu as a baby name

♡ like he baby-proofs the house like a month into your pregnancy lmao 

kōtarō bokuto

♡ the corners of his lips slowly curl into a bright smile, ‘pregnant?’

♡ you cocked your head to the side slightly, then hummed, ‘yeah. pregnant.’

♡ ‘like..with a kid?’

♡ you snorted, playfully rolling your eyes, ‘i’d hope so.’

♡ ‘like..with my kid?’

♡ ‘our kid - but yes.’

♡ a while passed and he had yet to do anything besides stare at you in pure adoration so you prompted him by opening your arms 

♡ to which he immediately responded by throwing himself onto you, ‘I’m gonna be a dad?! like seriously?!’

♡ luckily you were sitting on your bed so you fell back onto that but you were still being smothered by his chest 

♡ ‘bo!’ you squealed and squirmed under his weight and tight grip, glad that he was as cheery as you had hoped but not appreciating being suffocated 

♡ he suddenly pulled away but kept his large hands glued to your shoulders, revealing the tears that were already streaming down his cheeks and dampened your shirt, ‘really?!’

♡ ‘yes, bokuto. i am 100% pregnant.’ you declared for the final time before bokuto cupped your face with his hands and pulled you in to a passionate kiss, not stopping until your lips were basically swollen

♡ he’s just so hyped during the first few days of your pregnancy and he’s just super duper ready to become a dad!

♡ like he’s already practising his dad jokes 

♡ but then you remind him that he’s gonna have to wait around 9 months before he can actually see his baby and his hair literally deflates 

♡ ugh how rude of you 

♡ can you not like...make it grow faster?? please??

♡ once you explain to him that’s not how babies work, he kinda accepts it and just focuses his attention on you

♡ he kinda does some research on babies/pregnancy but not prior, he just does a quick google search when he needs to 

♡ but the intention is definitely there bc he googles the most trivial of things like ‘what to make pregnegant ppl for breakfast?’

♡ ‘what do pragnant ppl need from the supermarket?’

♡ ‘can my pregenunt wife have peanut butter?’

♡ ‘how to spell preaignant’ 

atsumu miya 

♡ DEEP denial

♡ he thinks you are playing a prank on him bc you don’t ‘look pregnant’

♡ even when you show him your positive pregnancy test he’s like ‘and how much did that cost?’

♡ he deadass acts as if he wasn’t the one who’s been trying to get you pregnant and raving on about how much he wants a family with you for the last few months 

♡ but he just doesn’t want to believe you bc he know he’ll get way too happy for his own good and he’s afraid to be let down

♡ plus, it was one of those ‘a blessing of this magnitude couldn’t have happened to me - of all people - so this is probably either a cruel joke or a hallucination.’ moments 

♡ he’s just so far gone that after your eleventh attempt at trying to convince him that you’re pregnant for real, you just give up

♡ so y’all just go around your business somewhat normally - except atsumu was more skittery - until your baby bump started to become more prominent

♡ one day, he came back from practise, noticed your bump and pulled you into the most passionate, heartfelt kiss before placing a gentle kiss upon your stomach, a buoyant grin gracing his features

♡ though he doesn’t say much since he is at a loss for words, he mutters a few sweet nothings into your ear as he carries you to the bedroom

♡ for a joke, he pretends to be gutted if you’re libido production decrease but really, he couldn’t care less

♡ but if it increases tho- 

♡ expect him to take full advantage of that 

♡ also, if he didn’t already treat you like his goddess, he does now 

♡ work has moved down his list of priorities and you + his baby are now at number one 

♡ usually he keeps his phone on silent/stuffs it into his bag while he is practising but now he insists on keeping it on full volume, out on the bench, just in case you call him for an emergency 

♡ same goes for texts; he will literally stop mid-set to rush over to his phone if he hears it vibrate 

♡ bokuto thinks it’s sweet but the rest of them get pretty annoyed of his antics quite quickly but whenever they try to call him out on it, he’s like ‘is your wife 6 months pregnant? no! i didn’t think so. i should be on paternity leave right now so be glad i’m blessing you with my presence.’

shōyō hinata

♡ he cannot stop thanking you

♡ as if you’re doing him a favour, which - depending on how you view it - you are

♡ he’s literally on his knees with his hands clasped together, tears of joy streaming down his face as he looks up at you in pure adoration, ‘thank you, (y/n)!’

♡ you tilted your head to the side and stared at him with a perplexed expression, ‘you’re welcome?’

♡ it’s a while before he moves from that position but when he does, it’s only so he can press his ear against your stomach to see if he can hear the baby 

♡ ‘shō, i don’t think it’s body has even formed ye--’

♡ ‘shh! it’s speaking to me.’ he chuckled then proceeded to squeeze his eyes shut, intensely listening to whatever the baby had to say 

♡ you quirked a brow, waiting for him to finish and once he did, he sprung to his feet and threw his arms over your shoulders to pull you in for a hug - in which he had to stop himself from squeezing you too tightly in fear of hurting you, as if pregnancy meant that your bones were now made of glass

♡ he’s just so happy that you agreed to bear his children 🙏

♡ also, seeing how excited you were to tell him about your pregnancy really prompted him to step up his husband-game 

♡ from now on, he loads the dishwasher, does both of your laundry, cleans the house on his own and cooks most of the food 

♡ he acts as if being pregnant means you are no longer able to do basic tasks but his real motive behind doing these things was not only to take the pressure off of you but to also prepare himself for father life 👍

♡ also, to prepare him for shopping for his kids’ clothes, he goes out and buys you maternity wear 

♡ he does this like...3 weeks into your pregnancy though so the clothes just sit and catch dust until a few months later when you actually need them 

♡ and although he is a bit of a pain to go stroller/pram shopping with (he just says buy whichever one goes the fastest), you let him take the reins when it came to buying/preparing the baby’s room and it came out beautiful!

♡ like the cradle was good quality and firm, the rug wouldn’t irritate the baby’s skin, the walls were painted expertly and the plushies/toys he picked out - unbeknownst to you at the time - kept the baby entertained for ages

♡ oh and no matter what day/week/month you are in of pregnancy, he will always look at you and your bump with the same amazement and gratitude as he did the first time you told him

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬:  Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦:  psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

My previous account was deleted so I’ll be posting the stories again. I’ll be changing this one, so yeah.

Inform me if y’all wanna be tagged!

As the Winter Soldier entered the house, his instincts kicked in. The house was too quiet for his liking. He kept the bags on the sofa and started climbing up the stairs towards your bedroom. Oh, how much he loved you. You had never left his side, not when he lost his arm, not when the guilt became too much to live with and he cried his eyes out near you while you said sweet nothings into his ears. He wanted to keep you by side always, he wasn’t ever letting you go. Soon he was going to ask you to leave your job and stay at home looking after him and Iris.  

He couldn’t stand to see the tired look in your eyes, how you managed everything, your job, your kid, the house and most importantly him. In the beginning he was afraid you wouldn’t love him, that you would only love Bucky, but you loved him just as much; though you were unaware that he existed in Bucky. Bucky was an idiot to let you roam free and be away from him, especially when the world is filled with cruel people. He was a fool to let you be friends with Thor or any man in general. You were only his and Bucky’s. He was Bucky only, but he was much stronger and capable than Bucky. He was the one who would protect you, not Bucky. The Soldat loved you much more than Bucky ever could.  

As he opened the door, he noticed you were in the bathroom. As he entered inside, for a second even he was shocked. You were sitting with your legs folded and staring wide eyed at his computer. He noticed you were watching his files and videos and you were so dumbstruck that you didn’t even notice him standing at the door.  

But seeing you watch him do the deed sent a weird wave of pride through him. He wasn’t ever going to tell you any of this, after all it was highly confidential and your life could have been jeopardized. But seeing you now, watching his skilled work with awe, made his chest swell with pride. He deserved to get his work appreciated by his wife; after all, he had put sweat and blood in it, and you weren't even aware, but not anymore. What he failed to notice was that it wasn’t awe on your face, it was unadulterated fear.  

He could clearly see as your eyes filled with tears and you pressed a hand on your face. He knew you were scared, but he would tell you not to be. For you, there was nothing to be afraid of him. As you started to puke, he went and held your hair in one hand while with the other he quietly shushed you. The last thing he wanted was to see you suffer. He wanted to protect you, keep you safe from the world, not hurt you.  

After you emptied your stomach, you slouched besides the toilet and huffed loudly. The tears from your eyes weren't stopping. “Peeking in other people’s stuff ain’t a good habit, doll.” he said calmly as he folded his hands while leaning against the door frame.  

Your eyes widened when you realized that it was Bucky shushing you all this while. But why would he do that, now that you had found his secret. Maybe he was being merciful before killing you. Wait, he was going to kill you!!! You had seen top secret information and there was no going back. You averted your gaze from him as you stared at the laptop. Another video of Bucky’s murders running on it.  

You couldn't exactly make out what the video was as your eyes were filled with unshed tears. “He had a big ass fence and four huge dogs guarding the house. But well, all dogs can be lured by treats.” he said shrugging as if he was talking about your neighbors' dogs and not of the person he had killed. And you realized he regretted nothing; he was talking about murdering people with pride rather than guilt.  

“Make it quick.” your voice was barely audible as pathetic sobs escaped your eyes. The Winter Soldier titled his head in confusion, “And what made you think that I’m going to kill you?” you looked up at him with even more fear. “I wasn’t supposed to see all this. And I’ve seen enough movies and read enough books to know what happens when you see stuff you aren't supposed to.” you shivered violently at the thought.  

The Soldier chuckled dryly “You are right, if they know that you’ve seen all this, then they wouldn’t bat an eyelid in executing you. But... who is going to tell them? Not me for sure. I just need one promise, you aren't ever going to tell this to anyone, no matter what, no matter whose life is at stake. You are going to pretend you never saw any of this. Delete all this from your brain right now!” he ordered.

His commanding voice sent shivers down your spine, “I promise, I promise not to tell anyone....... I'm sorry, please.” you had no idea for what you were apologizing or pleading for. “It's okay.” he said with a faint smile as he picked you up gently and you wondered whether it was the same man capable of killing people in the blink of an eye. As you quietly sat on the bed, you dared not look at him; he on the other hand was lovingly staring at you.

You wanted to tell him to give up this job and start anew, but you knew this wasn't the right timing. “Don't worry, I’ll keep you safe. You don’t have to do anything. Just sign your resignation and I'll turn it in. You'll be safe in this house. You don't even have to ever leave it. The hospital doesn’t even pay you enough for your handwork.”

You looked at Bucky with shock and betrayal, you absolutely adored your work. You wouldn’t ever give up being a surgeon and saving lives. You had spent years trying to reach where you were today, and you loved doing what you did. How could Bucky ever say something like that. He was always so supportive but well, he wasn’t the same Bucky he once was.

“You wouldn’t ever meet any other man. Doll, you don't know how this world is, there are lunatics, murderers and all kinds of bad people. But I’ve vowed to keep you safe and I will. Just don’t, just don’t stop loving me.”  

“You are joking right? You don’t mean that... do you?” You asked unsure of his words. “Why would I joke about this?” Your heart beat so loudly that you knew he heard it. To keep you inside your house like a prisoner, had he lost his mind? You enjoyed your freedom more than anything. And at that exact moment you realized that Bucky had utterly and completely lost his sanity.

“You can’t do that! I love my job and I’m not resigning anytime soon. I have friends for Christ’s sake. I have a goddamn life James! What the hell do you mean I won’t see any other men?” You lost your cool. Enough was enough. He couldn’t control your life; you wouldn’t let him.

You took a deep breath; you didn’t want him to misinterpret your next words and ignore you. “James, I believe it should be the other way around. I think it’s time you drop being a hit man. It’s not safe...” at your words he tilted his head and squinted his eyes. But still you continued, “It’s clearly dangerous. The things you’re doing, they could jeopardize all our lives, you, me, Iris. And the way you kill...” you cleared your throat and shook your head.

“It’s not safe for your mental health too. Look Buck, you think I don’t know, but I know you secretly cry at night. You feel guilty, so just stop now. We’ll work it through before it’s too late.” You said while rubbing his arm.

“Think about Rissie, she misses her dad so much when you are gone. Maybe take a job where you won’t have to leave and you can be with her so much more. Also... the lives that you’ve... umm.... they are taking a toll on you. You are not present with us anymore Buck, you stare off and don’t give a shit as to what we say. And it’s not just me that notices. You get irritated so quickly, it’s difficult Bucky. But it can all change if you want, Buck.”

Soldat’s talented ears ignored every word you said and only paid attention to the fact that you care about him so much. He doubted that you would get hysterical knowing what he did, but instead you were worried for him. You were ready to forgive him. He was the luckiest bastard.  

You saw his love-struck expression and you knew he wants listening to you. “Bucky...!!??? Listen to what I’m saying! Leave that goddamn job!” You lost your cool and yelled at him.

“Do you know why I took that job? They gave me a chance! They gave me my arm back. I would’ve hated being a burden to you and now look, I’m capable to taking care of you. You don’t understand, I can’t leave that job. They gave birth to me.” Your heart ached at his words.

“Bucky, nothing matters if I’m gonna lose you...!!! You are all that matters. And working for Hydra hasn’t fixed you; it had broken you even more. I miss my Bucky. Please, ple....”

At your words, the Winter Soldier snapped his head towards you, “What did you say? Huh, you miss who?” You narrowed your eyes and you couldn’t quite get the meaning of his words. “What? I said I missed Buck, you were so sweet not controlling, I just...” you stopped talking seeing the deadly expression on his face.

“That idiot Bucky is not going to save you! It’s me! I’m the one who will keep you safe. I love you so much more than Bucky ever has. Don’t you understand. Bucky is weak and he is not coming back.” You winced at his cruel words.

“James, you are the Soldat right now? You.... you need help.” You stuttered. At your words Soldat lost his cool, couldn’t you understand and accept his love for you. He raised his flesh arm and slapped you across the face. What was in Bucky that wasn’t in him. He was right, you only loved him as you thought it was Bucky; you didn’t love the Soldat. But he was Bucky, too right?

“Bucky!!!” You held your stinging cheek. You might have tolerated his words but how dare he hit you? You weren’t the one going to sit back and take his shit. In the heat of the moment, you slapped him back. “How dare you?” you screamed at him. He just closed his eyes and took a deep breath; he knew he had messed up big time. The Soldat was scared of one thing: your anger and resentment in him. He hated when he upset you.

“James enough is enough. I’ve had too much of your shit! All I try to do is support you and care for you. I literally handle this house, a job, I look after Rissie, and I take care of you like you are a child. Not once have I ever complaint.

James, I love you so much, but it’s so taxing! Love is not supposed hurt; it’s not supposed to be one sided. I try everything I can to help you. But you? You just don’t care! All you do is come up with stupider excuses. Keeping me home? Making me leave my job? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shook your head and pinched your nose.

“Look James, I can’t do this anymore. I think we should take a break. We both need to breathe. We need to take a look at things from a different perspective....” before you could continue, he snapped.

On moment you were trying to talk some sense into him and the next you were pinned to the wall with his metal arm squeezing the life out of you. Your eyes widened and you desperately tried to breathe, but he had blocked your windpipe. “Jame...” you couldn’t even continue your sentence.

The Soldat was furious. How could you? How could you suggest that he leave you? You didn’t need a break, you needed him. Only him. And he was going to prove it to you. He wouldn’t let you leave. You started banging your hands on his arm but it was of no use. His eyes were dead, like in the videos. And that scared you more.

Finally, your arms gave out and you were on the verge of passing out. Yet that didn’t stop him, he was a madman with a point to prove. But then a small blood vessel burst open in your left cheek. And when Bucky noticed that, he came back to his senses.

He quickly left his grip and ran back, bumping into the bed. You sagged back down the wall, wheezing. For minutes or for hours you couldn’t tell, you both didn’t dare move. You were shivering and sobbing. And he was contemplating everything, how could he?

He wasn’t the Winter Soldier right now, he was Bucky. Why did the Soldat had to ruin everything? He was fine till it was limited to killing, but ruining his marriage. What could he ever possibly do to make up to you?

Bucky was the first one to speak up, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I... that wasn’t me; or maybe that was. I don’t know. I’m so confused. You were right, I shouldn’t have joined Hydra. I... I don’t know what to say, what to do.... ,,.... please say something, don’t stay quiet. Please.!” He pleaded with tears in his eyes.

“Tell me, tell me what shall I say so that you wouldn’t snap.” Your voice was hoarse and it was hurting to even say one sentence. “You are right, we should give each other space.” His heart broke to million pieces, but he knew it was right. The Soldat could come back any moment and he was too unstable to stay with you and Rissie.

“I’ll... uhmm.. I’ll leave. I can come here for an hour everyday till...” he suggested. “Please, please don’t. You are too scary. Think about Iris. Just go to Rachel, you’ve denied it for too long and look at us. If she says you are stable enough, come back anytime. But... not before.” Rachel was your friend and an excellent psychiatrist. “Oh, okay. Forgive me please. I’m sorry...”

“Leave please!” You quietly observed as he picked up his duffel bag, which was packed all the time for emergency, and left the room. You got up and followed him, all while thinking of the beautiful moments you shared with Bucky. “Goodbye.” He said and you nodded as he left the house in his car.

“Umm, are you okay? I was worried, I don’t mean to pry. I just heard some commotion.” Sam said as he entered your front yard. Sam was neighbor and a dear friend. He had moved in soon after you had. But you had known each other much before that. He used to frequently visit your hospital with one reason or another. You guessed he had a thing for one of the nurses but he never agreed. He was a light hearted person and you enjoyed his company.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I appreciate your concern.” you tried your best to smile. His eyes quickly went to the bruises on your neck. “You don’t have to be formal, tell me. We are friends. Are you fine? Do you need something.” You couldn’t stop your tears at his concern.

“I’m not fine, but I don’t want to talk about it right now.” You said wiping the tears off. “If you need me, anytime, I’m just one call away.” He gave you a warm smile. “Thanks Sam. I’m so glad you are my friend.”

“You are hell bent on giving me diabetes with your sweet words, lady. Take care of yourself. I’ll be right next door.” He said as he saw you walk into the house.

He quickly exited your house and removed his phone from his pajama. He had to make a call.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

You were in your own thoughts. Bucky hadn’t once called you or showed up in the past six days. You had expected him to come back the next day or at least call.

As you walked back home from the hospital, you didn’t notice the huge Greek god of a man walk straight into you. “I’m sorry.” You said out of instinct without looking up.

You stopped right in your tracts when you heard a familiar yet much affirmative voice calling your name. You turned around and stared right into his eyes. He had changed, become much much bigger and stronger than before. But his eyes, they were the same.

“Steve?!” you asked with sudden excitement. He gave you a radiant smile which instantly improved your day.

Lost in the joy of meeting your long-lost friend, you were both unaware of the pair of eyes keenly observing your every move.