#i cannot imagine having this conversation with someone i disliked this much

[cerastes]

This might be too broad of a question and sorry if it is (also sorry if it's been asked before?), but I wanted to ask if there are any particular books you may recommend to someone learning about psychology?

Also what did Rosmontis do if I may ask

Rosmontis: here.

Psychology: I personally recommend learning about second-order cybernetics, in which the observer is circularly and intimately involved with/connected to the observed. The observer is no longer neutral and detached, and plays an active role in system. This is key to Brofenbrenner’s Ecological Model. Basically, this stands conceptually opposite to the Lacanian take on Freud’s psychoanalysis, as Lacanian purists will insist you exist as an extraneous entity to the focal point being observed. You, as a psychologist, are still human and a mutable, mutation-inflicting aspect of any life you wander into. The psychologist as an outside-above observer is a flawed concept in my opinion.

All this prelude is to say: Read Ludwig von Bertalanffy’s “Organismic Psychology and Systems Theory”, 1966, and get to know the General Systems Theory. One cannot work with one part of a system, micro or macro, if one hopes to truly help someone. What people often call “illness” tends to be symptoms of something else, and each person is a whole world.

Specifically about working with kids, I like Donald Winnicott’s works. “Playing and Reality”. Winnicott puts lots of emphasis on how creativity and play are incredibly good tools in understanding and communicating with babies and children, and this can and should be used alongside other techniques to create a platform of conversation, if needed, with older kids that for one reason or another struggle with conventional communication. Winnicott also proposes the “Good Enough Mother” theory, which is to say, the best parent/caretaker is one who is good enough to healthily provide for the kid in all areas, and still messes up or lacks some skills overall to provide children a safe, controlled space of adversity; it is through this safe adversity that children learn to be self-sufficient by learning to make up for what the caretaker lacks or doesn’t do perfectly. Overprotective parents, then, run counter to healthy development of the child, something that proves right more often than not.

Finally, Humberto Maturana’s “The Tree of Knowledge: The Biological Roots of Human Understanding”. This is also about second-order cybernetics, more focused on how we learn, the science of knowing how we know. You know how someone telling you “two plus two is four” is meaningless, but if you add two and two, you get four, and now that has any meaning to you because you got to that realization through internal processes that organically lead to the answer? Ok, you know how it does jack shit to tell a depressed person to think happy thoughts, but if lived experience and rationale eventually leads you to “life is worth living”, then that a life-changing effect on you? Well, it’s got to do with techniques on understanding this process and being an active agent in doing this with others.

I dislike psychoanalysis but it is worth reading Freud’s stuff, especially to understand where all of this comes from originally, and the technique isn’t necessarily bad as much as it was a technique used in a place and time that is not where and when we currently live. Second-order cybernetics is something I especially like in psychology, because of how closely it relates to actual lived experience. A simple example is, if you throw a basketball to the hoop, you likely will miss, but your second attempt will be closer, and the third attempt, you’ll likely nail it. This is because the previous attempts have given you input and information that you then incorporate to throw more accurately. This is first-order cybernetics as you are the sole, individual variable, but imagine you have a coach, and the coach isn’t teaching you in a way that helps. The coach then changes their approach to suit your way of learning how to handle the element (ball), so the observed system (you, ball, act of throwing, hoop) is now changing, but so is the system observing entity (coach), as observer cannot be separate from observed system if aiming to meaningfully change it.

These should set you out to a good start, in my opinion.

[yuurei20]

Translation from Twst the 2nd novel: Cater, Grim, Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Grim and the prefect split up into pairs to ask about the accidents befalling Spelldrive players:

"‘Yuu will come with me.’

‘Eh? 'Yuu will come with me?’’ Yuuya echoes Riddle’s words back at him with a puzzled look. ‘The two of us will be doing the investigation together?’

‘Yes. I believe that this is the best arrangement.’

‘Eh, but, no, uh…I can’t use magic, so I think I will only be a burden for you.’

‘That is precisely why I am pairing you with myself. The best possible solution is us working together so that you will have my support, as the person with the strongest magic and the deepest understanding of the school.’

‘I was thinking that I might do all right with one of the others, though.’

Riddle points a finger at each member of the group, in turn, as he explains: ‘Cater is to pair with Grim. Cater can get along with anyone, and he will cover for Grim’s erratic behavior. Ace and Deuce are to investigate while seeing to their various tasks around the dorm. The first-years are busy with dormitory work this time of year, as the upperclassmen must prepare for the Spelldrive tournament.’

Riddle’s plan makes perfect sense. But there is no allowance to be made for Yuuya, who can already feel himself becoming overwhelmed.

Yuuya and Riddle have hardly ever held a conversation. And those rare times that they have interacted have not been on particularly friendly terms. And now they are to be alone together, and Yuuya cannot tell how he is even supposed to interact.

He is uncomfortable about approaching Riddle casually, like Ace and Deuce, and he cannot imagine Riddle initiating a friendly conversation, as if he is no different from Trey and Cater.

‘Do you object?’ Riddle asks with a curious look, in response to Yuuya’s stuttering. Despite Yuuya’s frankness, Riddle seems oblivious to the possibility that he may be disliked.

Yuuya is, honestly, somewhat afraid of Riddle. Possibly even more so than he had been back when Riddle was called the tyrant. Because, now, he has seen Riddle’s overblot form.

How can a human possibly harbor such forceful rage, such crippling sadness?

As someone who avoids all conflict in favor of going about his life as peacefully as possible, Yuuya has difficulty understanding this ruthlessness. Does Riddle feel nothing towards these people with whom he clashed barely a month prior? Is Yuuya the only one uncomfortable with the idea of being alone with him?

Yuuya glances to Ace and Deuce for help, but they both shrug. While nothing is said aloud, Yuuya manages to deduce what they mean through the movement of their lips: ‘Sorry, Yuu.’ ‘We can’t stop him.’

Flustered, Yuuya looks to Grim, who is quite happily focused on his tea and cookies. Blissfully oblivious to Yuuya’s situation, Grim is most content.

While looking a bit uncomfortable where he sits at Riddle’s side, Cater manages a smile. ‘Well, not much we can do. If you insist, Riddle-kun, then…’

Riddle gives a firm nod in response.

‘Our hands are tied,’ Cater says, with a wink and a wry smile for Yuuya. ‘It’s true that, for efficiency and to keep Yuu-chan safe, this might be the best option. Leave Gri-chan to me.’

‘Good. No objections?’

‘Can’t be helped. I’ll look out for Cater for ya.’

‘Got it! Understood!’ Ace’s reply is enthusiastic, and he spares a side glance to the flustered Yuuya. Ace has been grinning all the while, likely entertained by the combination of Yuuya and Riddle.

‘In that case, let us go our separate ways. Everyone get an appropriate amount of rest in order to be prepared for tomorrow.’

The three groups set their rendezvous locations, and the strategy meeting ends.

While they are, admittedly, making progress, Yuuya leaves Heartslabyul with a heavy heart.”

[keets-writing-corner]

One thing I noticed is that Lucifer doesn't disassociate when singing, and what's one common factor in his songs? Charlie, so I like to imagine that in these instances he's so focused on her that his depression temporarily takes a back seat because he loves his kid so much that he forgets why he's sad in the first place.

ooh I like your headcanons!

hmm I guess we could look at this a couple of different ways (some of what I'm about to say comes from personal experience which may be different than what some other people experience so idk feel free to agree or disagree with my musings)

So dissociation doesn't [technically] affect your ability to speak, it affects your ability to focus. The way I was talking about it in my analysis was that it nerfed Lucifer's conversation comprehension, with him being unable to follow along the entire time (and consequently either has NO idea what anyone is talking about or only gets half the picture).

The only times Lucifer really fumbles his words is when he gets nervous around Charlie either cuz he's trying to make a good impression

Or when he realizes his depression is biting him in the ass and he just missed crucial pieces of information and cannot bluff his way through the conversation

Although shout out to that one time we caught him realizing he needed to bluff and stumbled a little

But otherwise, he articulates himself perfectly fine, cuz again, dissociation isn't about speaking ability so much as it is about focus. Even in my bouts of dissociation I can verbalize myself just fine for the most part, it's whether or not what I have to say is relevant to the conversation, which uh Lucifer also showed off at some point when he thought Charlie was asking him about the hotel's appearance rather than her actual plan to redeem sinners and comments on the railings. (Or idk there is another interpretation that he was avoiding the subject, maybe it was both he disassociated while Charlie was explaining everything to him but did catch that she wanted to redeem sinners at some point, but didn't quite understand what she was asking until she clarified? he didn't seem surprised when she did clarify so I'm assuming he ended up catching it at least once)

So I'm bringing this up because it ends up being kinda hard to tell whether or not he is or is not disassociating when he sings, cuz the dissociation wouldn't affect the singing at all.

When he's having a sing battle against Alastor, sure he's articulating himself well and presenting his points, but we don't actually know whether or not he's following along what Alastor is saying. Honestly, Lucifer vs Alastor just seemed like 2 territorial chickens yelling at each other trying to be louder than the other one. Maybe Lucifer is catching everything cuz his jealous and rage helped him focus for once, maybe he's not catching everything but he doesn't need to catch everything to know that he doesn't like Alastor and he doesn't need to focus to tell Alastor how much he dislikes him.

But what about the other two songs, "More than Anything" and "Finale"?

He is technically outright having a conversation with Charlie in the first one and in the second one, he seems fully aware of the context of the situation and is focusing more on a lifting spirits role

Well it could be a lot of things I think. I don't think it's that the depression or the sadness took a back seat, that's still present. From my own experiences, it is possible to get yourself to focus in a dissociative episode when the subject matter is something you're passionate about or in Lucifer's case, someone that he loves. We know the dissociation was unfortunately strong enough that it was making him miss out on a lot of things Charlie (aforementioned loved one) was telling him, especially in the beginning.

But looking at "More than Anything" what changed in that scene? He was with Charlie the entire episode but that was the first scene where he really managed to hold a conversation. I think it was a combination of: Okay his baby girl is there and she NEEDS him, and he opens up as to why he's hesitant about her plan. He's not explicit with the mention of his trauma, but trauma does make someone more alert. I'd also like to give a special shout out to @in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene who made these lovely tags on my analysis post

Specifically, I want to talk about that they mention that Lucifer is being a lot more genuine in his song with Charlie, aka he's not masking. He's not trying to hide or bluff how he's doing. He's not putting on a show, he's not being goofy or larger than life, he's being genuine and his genuine self is tired, sad and resigned. Let me tell you, my dissociation is 100% worse when I'm masking.

I think in "More Than Anything" a mix of things are going on, he's not needing to mask for a minute which boosts the focus, he's opening up about trauma and it's being gently received which boosts focus, and he's talking to someone he loves about something he was once passionate about which boosts focus. So ye! It could entirely be that in that song he was not dissociating!

As far as "Finale" I legitimately can't really tell whether or not he is? He's not really having a conversation with anyone, he's just trying to uplift his daughter, and again, in my experiences, dissociation doesn't necessarily nerf your ability to speak. We also know that he knows how to put on a show even in the depths of the dissociation like in "Hell's Greatest Dad" soooo as for that song... -shrug-?????

There is an element here that we have to take into account. Hazbin Hotel is a traditional musical, so we must look at a theater saying, "When the emotion becomes too strong for speech, you sing." Which is more or less what happened in all the songs Lucifer was a part in, so there's definitely some meta technical things going on in that a song wouldn't be very dramatic if the person singing it was dissociating the whole time? I mean I guess it could be done, I've just never seen it? Usually the musical number has to be clear in its purpose. The protagonist of Dear Even Hansen can sing just fine when any other speaking parts he fumbles with his words a lot.

AAAAAAALLL of this to say: Does Lucifer stop disassociating when he sings? -shrugs- I think it really depends on the context, but I wouldn't at all be surprised cuz high emotion can lead to greater focus in a moment. Although it's really cute to think that he doesn't dissociate cuz singing with Charlie is just that much of a boost for him cuz he loves his wittle girl

[froms8nsashes]

Crime Down 10

Read it and weep suckers!

I'm joking. I'm currently watching Gotham and have a fixation on Batman, his family, and his rogues, and all media pertaining it. I highly disliked the most current Batman movie but that's irrelevant. So my friend said, hopefully jokingly, that if I were in Gotham crime would be down 10% so I decided why not write about it yk.

Reader giving my favorite rogues (from gotham) the care and affection they so desperately needed to lead them away from the life of crime, or hopefully lead them away. I don't truly believe that love and affection will ever change a criminal but this is strictly fanfiction and yeah.

Edward Nygma

You were new to the GCPD.

They needed a medical examiner because the previous was suspended. You would have figured they would pick anyone other than a forensics student, but you were surprised.

There wasn't anything of yours to bring into the office so you figured you would get acquainted with everything. Some officers stopped by but due to the awkwardness of a barely passable conversation they'd written you off as weird and strange. Normally, newbies in the joint were all talk and left very little to the imagination but you didn't exactly like talking to them. Didn't look them in the eye, and whenever someone would stop by you started tapping your fingers either on your arm or the counter, missing your ring finger.

"What do you answer even though it never asks questions?" Ed didn't knock or say hello, he just started with a riddle. A nice, neat looking man. He was holding files. A big smile on his face.

"Huh?" You stopped tapping your fingers. Your brain switched back on from dissociation as you tried to fish for the words that were sadly muffled in your ears.

"Do you give up?"

"I didn't hear you."

"Oh." His eyes seemed to light up, the smile got brighter. "What do you answer even though it never asks questions?" He asked again.

You muttered it again to yourself.

"Is it a phone?"

"You sound unsure."

"Okay, then it is a phone."

"Final answer?"

"Yeah, a phone."

"Correct!"

That's how the conversations have started since. All because you enjoyed answering his riddles he's become a friend. You noticed that on top of the gcpd officer's treating you like a nuisance they also treated Ed like a nuisance. It wasn't really a problem until you realized that no one really stopped by the medical examiner's office other than Ed, and at first you just figured most people were busy.

You didn't hate spending time with Ed. He was kind, and mostly as passionate as you were about the things that interested him. He especially had a passion for dead things and riddles, two of your favorite things, although dead things topped the cake.

Nor did you expect to find yourself falling for him.

It actually hit you like a brick. Something that was least expected.

Once you figured it out your gaze filled with love and admiration once you'd finally realized for yourself that you really did like him very much.

So you decided to give him a riddle of his own.

"It's mine, but you can only keep it. What is it?"

He was working in the lab when you entered, it was a habit to refrain from knocking. So, when others knocked on his door he knew to put on that mask of his when talking with others that aren't you. His face lit up once he realized it was a riddle.

"Oh, this one is too easy. It's... It's..." That cute smile dropped from his face, he started to scratch as he wracked his brain.

"I'll let you think over it a bit."

"Well, it can't be a physical object because one cannot own it if it's manufactured in a factory..."

"Do you want a hint?"

"No, no, I can figure this out."

"I know you can, Ed."

Then there was a knock at the door causing both of you to look up. It was Kristin Kringle, holding some files. You knew the way Ed looked at her, but couldn't help wishing that it was different.

His posture had already changed, that mask slipped back on unnoticeably, but those puppy dog eyes were hard to hide.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

"No- "

"Yes! I was just asking Ed, here a riddle. You haven't quite answered yet."

"Right, right. Your riddle." Ed clicked his tongue.

"That's okay, I just came to drop these off for detective Alvarez." She chuckled awkwardly, adjusted her glasses, and then left rather quickly.

"I give up... I'm not quite sure as to what it is. I'm sorry."

"My heart."

"Uhm... Excuse me?"

"That's what the answer is."

"You uh... Are- What does this mean?"

"Ed, I like you. I figured I would tell you in a way that you would enjoy, mostly because you almost always are telling me riddles every day. I'm sorry. Should I have been straight forward?"

"I don't..."

"I'm not sure what to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

"This isn't rejection, but, erm... Can we discuss this after work?"

"Of course!"

Oswald "Ozzie" Chesterfield Cobblepot

He worked in that night club across the street. Always out in the Gotham rain with an umbrella. The bigger guys would hurt him, kick him while he was down. He had this little waddle to him.

He was bloodied and bruised in the alleyway beside the bakery. You loved how quite and quaint the bakery was. The last thing you wanted to see was someone bleeding out in the rain, blood mixing with the water and running down the sidewalk.

Now, it was bad enough already that he was out here, but getting your apron bloody and dirty because you wanted to pick him up and move him inside was another story entirely. Another bad thing.

When he opened his eyes and saw a ceiling that wasn't at all like the sky of Gotham he got a little panicked and started to freak out.

When you carried in a tea tray with breakfast he stopped struggling with the blanket and fell off the bed.

"Woah, woah, woah, hold on. I'm not the best at dressing wounds so I don't think you should get up!" You set the tray down and quickly helped him back into bed.

"Who... Who are you? Why'd you do this? What did you do?"

"Relax, I found you on the sleep and helped you."

"You... You helped me?"

"Yeah,"

"Oh, my friend! How I hoped someone as kind as you could find me!" He tried to leap from the bed but he was immediately holding his side and wincing.

"Hey, hey. You shouldn't just get up yet! I have to... to stitch the wound closed."

"Oh-" His smile sank.

Then Oswald wouldn't leave your side.

He was stuck to you like glue from then on. Like, he would not let you go somewhere on your own. All because you helped him when he was hurt. It was odd, but you didn't mind.

Thanks to Fish Mooney's place, not many customers came by the bakery leaving you alone to make new pastry ideas and such. So it was nice to have some company.

Of course, you taught him how to decorate pastries since you were afraid that if he tried to make them with the machine he would almost kill himself. He started off easy with simple cookie and cupcake designs.

He was always in your line of sight while you worked on your little project. It was a bird themed line of pastries, currently you were working on penguins, all kind of penguins though. There were so many types and you wanted to make each on unique. Emperor penguins were on cupcakes, Gentoo penguins were on cookies, Chinstrap were on truffles, and Adelie on brownies.

You noticed he was blankly staring at the penguins on your work bench when you looked up from the cookie you were desperately trying to get right. You'd printed out a picture and stuck it to the wall next to you. At first you thought he was just being creepy and staring at you but, no, he was staring at the penguin made out of icing.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Don't like penguins?" He tensed up at that. Looking back down at the cupcakes he was decorating, the frosting was a nice purple color in a large swirl.

"I can do them in another room if-"

"No, no! It's okay!" You were starting to get used to his little outbursts but it still shocked you how loud his voice could be. "You- You can keep working! I don't care!" He was shaking.

Then he avoided you after that. It was a small place so it wasn't like he had anywhere to go, especially because he didn't want to go back to Fish.

So you approached him later that night, he was sitting on the couch holding his umbrella. When the floor board creaked he had gotten up and brandished it like a weapon.

"It's just me!" You held your hands up like he was pointing a gun at you.

"Oh, you." He sounded so deflated, unenthusiastic. His demeanor changed so quickly.

"You think I'm a penguin just like the rest of them. Don't you?" You didn't say anything so he took the opportunity to speak. His voice was level and he wasn't shouting, at least no yet.

"Huh? You think I'm your flappy, flippered, defenseless friend?!"

He raised his voice but didn't move. You didn't either.

"No... I just think you're Ozzie..." You hesitated.

"You're the only one who does, well, except for my mother." It was apparent he seemed to calm down, setting his umbrella to lean against the couch.

"Do you want some tea? Maybe we could talk-"

"I really like you. So it hurt when I thought you were like the others."

"Oh, you're talking about Fish and those guys that beat you up."

"I don't want you to leave. You're so nice, and so kind unlike all the other rotten souls in Gotham. Please, I'll do anything for you to stay!"

"I'm not going anywhere, just in the kitchen to put the kettle on." He'd hugged you around your middle as he pleaded with you. You didn't think he actually was crying until now.

"I don't want to go back. I don't want to see her again. Let me stay! I can be useful!"

"Ozzie, I like you too, which is why I'm not kicking you out. I'd rather you stay here then see you get kicked and punched out there." You didn't try to move because he had a grip like a snake on your mid-section. You stood there and petted his hair softly as he sobbed into your clothes.

It wasn't a lie, you actually did really like him and didn't want to see him go back to getting hurt. You knew nothing about the crime of Gotham, mainly because your dad dealt with it all to keep you innocent and naive. He was gone now, so this was the situation you're in.

"Can- Can you make some tea?" He was sniffling and pulling away awkwardly.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll make some tea and then we can talk."

"Talk about what?"

"What's going to be happening from here on out."

[templegate]

Why ate you brainrotting me into a ship that dosen't doesn't exist nooooooooo

Imposter×izuru my beloved

YEAH. I AGREE. Here I'll talk more about it and drag you deeper into the hole

I feel like im despair Izuru hated the Imposter because they had become a perfect imitator. Any of their actual personality being suppressed for the sake of imitation. Like a sort of Ego Death. Izuru hated it because it was too reminiscent of himself. But after the NWP I think they begin to bond.

I mean this is all headcanon-

but I always saw Izuru as a pretty subservient being. I mean the Hope's Peak people probably wanted a good amount of control over him. So he's not really an active person. Needing someone to point him in whatever direction.

Contrasted with the Imposter who is naturally a leader. They care a whole lot about people because they're so good at reading people. And despite their feeling that they lack an identity, they still have aspects that shine through.

Izuru is supposed to be a new personality. A metamorphosis after Hajime Hinata had been completely erased. But Izuru cannot seem to form an identity. Think about it. He never really has anything he cares about, people he cares about, likes or dislikes. Even his constant stating that hes bored is just a statement of fact. Not really said with any malice

While the Imposter is supposed to be nothing. Supposed to be someone who can become anything. And despite it. They have so much personality. They care about people, have a pension for leadership, love food and love their body. This isn't a person with no personality.

So they both fucked up what they were supposed to do. A person meant to be a void cares, and the person meant to care is a void.

That might be a source of jealousy between the two. It might not. But they're kind of polar opposites. The Imposter's understanding of people leads to them caring more for them. Willing to sacrifice themselves to save someone who they knew was dangerous. While Izuru understands people on such a deep level that he finds them boring. Disliking most people he interacts with and being generally apathetic. Being perfectly willing to sacrifice people around him.

And I think after the NWP, The Imposter starts to come into their own, since constantly pretending to be someone else is terrible for your mental health. They're not used to it at all. They take up a leadership role and kind of have a workaholic duo with Hajime and Izuru. Maybe the imposter also has a better time dealing with the Despair version of themself. Since they already are pretty good at compartmentalizing their identity.

While Izuru- I've spoken before how I think the return of Hajime Hinata to his headspace causes Izuru to like... Be able to be someone. Since the parts of his brain that were suppressed to destroy Hajime are reactivated- suddenly Izuru is like... Capable of feeling and caring for people, and having opinions and a personality. And i see them as a system too. So now Izuru is feeling all these things- is super overwhelmed and can't interpret any of them. And his headmate is there too and his emotions are even stronger.

And i imagine that Izuru has only one person who can possibly understand what it's like- The Imposter. So they have weird conversations with 12 layers of context and subterfuge. And then maybe they kiss as well.

It's literally because they are such great foils to eachother too. Like i wish it was brought up in canon cause they're sooooo similar and yet so different.

[shivunin]

kissing them to shut them up for wen 💖

ahh this one ended up sweeter than I'd initially intended c: thank you for the prompt!

(Kiss prompts)

Whatever May Come

(Arianwen Tabris/Zevran Arainai | 877 Words | No warnings)

“Well,” Zevran said, nudging Wen’s elbow with his own, “you are a fine lady now, it would seem.”

Arianwen grimaced and took a sip of her wine—which was, to her annoyance, better-tasting than the acidic stuff she’d once bought from the alienage shop. She should’ve known that being given charge of an arling would bring jokes from him, but she’d been too preoccupied by…everything else to prepare herself properly.

The grand hall in the palace was full of noise and people. They danced in the center, gowns in eye-popping colors swirling together into a massive mosaic, talked in huddles about the room, waited in line for an audience with their new king…Arianwen was glad to sit above it all with Zevran. They’d found a deep window opening on the upper level and perched there now, obscured from the room at large. 

“Very soon,” he went on, gesturing grandly with his lovely, scarred hand, “you will be demanding that the guards cut off someone’s head instead of doing it yourself.”

Wen grimaced and polished off the last of her cup, setting it aside on the window ledge.  

“You will likely have stables full of fancy horses before the year is out—and special stables for all of your other creatures.” 

She tried to imagine herself swanning about a set of stables full of horses she’d no idea how to ride and could not do it. For most of her life, she’d despised the nobility; she did not like the idea of becoming one of them, with their frivolous feuds and absurd customs. Could such a transformation even be possible, after everything else? She didn’t like to think it would happen to her, but what if…

“Perhaps you we become so preoccupied with baubles and jewels that I will be obliged to go and steal some for you instead of—”

Wen interrupted him by leaning forward and kissing him, leaving the end of the sentence unsaid. Zevran laughed against her lips, but leaned closer and curled his hand along her jaw. When she pulled away, it was only to rest her forehead against his. 

“I am not,” she told him, her voice a low whisper, “going to ask you to steal for me. If I want someone’s jewels, I will take them myself. You can stay behind and cover my tracks.”

“And let you have all the fun without me?” Zevran asked, eyes twinkling in the well-lit hall. “You are a cruel mistress indeed, mi vida.”

“I cannot win,” she grimaced. “Very well, then. What other ridiculous things will I do once I am arlessa?”

“Well,” he told her, and kissed her cheek, “you will have a scandalous affair with an assassin from Antiva.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. And you will have every knife you could possibly want. They will all but bristle from your bed.”

“That doesn’t sound awful.”

“Mm,” Zevran agreed, and kissed her other cheek. “And speaking of your bed…”

“Yes?” she said, eyes drifting slightly closed. 

Something about the way he spoke to her made the rest of the room fade away, made the glittering celebrations feel dim in comparison. 

“You will have a bed,” he said, and kissed her nose. “Not a bedroll or a cot, but a bed where you can sleep soundly.”

His voice had softened somewhat—the way he only ever spoke to her. Arianwen heard it and held very still, not wanting to chase it away with hasty words or movement. She disliked conversation, was profoundly annoyed by too much sound, but sometimes she felt she would do almost anything to make Zevran keep talking to her like that.

“But all of that can wait, yes? I believe we have more immediate plans.”

“We do,” she agreed, her voice just as soft. 

Zevran kissed her, gentle and slow, and she could feel the relief in it, the gratitude. His hand curled around the side of her face as tenderly as if she were made of glass, and for once it did not scare her. When he angled his head to the side, his lips slid over her cheekbone lightly and she shivered. 

“You will come with me to Antiva,” he murmured against her ear, “and I will show you everything that is best about it. We will run across the rooftops under the moon and dance in the streets, and we will leave all this behind for a time.” 

He kissed her cheek, the pressure so soft she might not have felt it if she wasn’t focused so entirely on his touch. 

“And I will have you all to myself.” 

“Yes,” she sighed, and leaned her cheek against his. “Go on.” 

His chuckle was quiet. One of his hands found hers, fingers twining together in her lap, and his voice went on, tender and full of a quiet hope. 

Wen focused on him and him alone, shutting out the rest of the world. For a time, there was only the window ledge and the two of them. No heroes, no Crows, no titles or Blight to worry over. For a time, they were only Arianwen and Zevran, and the hands that they had used for so many long days of violence rested joined and quiescent in their laps. 

And Arianwen closed her eyes and listened.

[drbased]

Thank you so much for answering ! I was so hesitant about sending that ask because to me it was just an unnecessarily morbid and sad vent, so imagine my surprise when you said it was lovely to receive 😹

I have watched the alt right playbook series when it came out ! I used to be very involved in skeptictube back in the day and everyone recommended it. I'll need to rewatch it ! I was wondering if you had recommandations about the satanic panic specifically, as you mentioned listening to/watching something about it ?

Your paragraph about conspiracy theories is SO on point! I definitely need to translate it and show it to my mother, you worded perfectly what I've been trying to explain to her. Q anon really is a good example of these things because it is exceptionally stupid and extreme.

A few things about the Emmanuel Macron theory :

My father didn't come up with it, he never does. I'm not sure how to say it in english but my father is very influencable, he is very easily convinced by people trying to sell him products (or ideas...). Most of his ideas come from people he follows on twitter and odyssee. As for the theory itself : the idea that Brigitte Macron is actually male is very popular amongst french conspiracy theorists, and I suppose you are not aware, but even without that she is quite the controversial figure. She was the president's teacher in high school and if I remember correctly, when he got his diploma she left her husband for him and they have been together even since. I'm not giving my opinion on this whole debacle because it's above my paycheck lol, but as long as my father has known who this woman is, he has hated her with a burning passion and made it very clear from how he talks about her. Long story short he wants her hanged on the time square 👍. This is all very hypocritical of him considering he never had any moral issues with his sister (my aunt) marrying a man she started dating when she was 12 and he was 28. And never acting up and doing something to help her when he turned out to be abusive. (Shocker I know)

For your answers : I agree with everything apart from the fact that Macron is a right wing politician and my father also wants HIM dead 👍 he wants everybody dead. He used to be anti death penalty and a profound pacifist, but now he cannot dislike things or people normally. Everything becomes extremely violent.

Writing all this has been very cathartic! This situation has been harder and harder to live by the day (I still live with my father after all) and I've been having a bit of a breakdown because of it. It's hard to remain cordial and polite with someone like this everyday, because every activity, every subject of conversation is tainted. It has taken all the joy out of our home life, mine especially. So thank you for hearing me out :) you're really cool

Nice to find another informed and cultured fellow like myself! I'm very glad you're familiar with the alt right playbook. Imo it should be standard 'reading' for any wannabe leftist. My favourite video is the one on 'controlling the conversation' which has entirely shifted how I engage with people online, and is responsible for why you don't see me argue much on here.

Don't worry about being morbid, I'm used to all sorts of things I probably shouldn't burden my fragile mind with. Regardless, I think it's so important that women speak out about our experiences with each other. What I find so fascinating about feminist analysis is that literally every subject you can name will inevitably relate back to some patriarchal ideology/practice - which makes sense because women are 50% of the population and male oppression is so universal that of course it would permeate everything.

Huh, Macron's wikipedia page mentioned associations with the socialist party. And I also figured that it would make sense him being considered left wing, since right wingers are obsessed with emasculated, 'soft' men having left wing politics. However I did originally intend to put 'left wing' in air quotes because I'm aware that even self-proclaimed left wing parties are liberal at best.

Here's the video that sparked my thoughts - it's a much more standard exploration of the history of satanism so there's not much in terms of analysis, just history. I'm getting slowly used to it but now whenever I hear a man speak on a political/philosophical subject, the absence of feminist analysis is palpable. I'm a big fan of breadtube and skeptictube but since I started engaging with feminism I can't help but notice those glaring gaps where they'll say stuff like 'trads want women to go back into the kitchen because they believe that men and women should have certain roles' - they're so deathly afraid to address what those roles are and why they exist, it would be funny if it wasn't frustrating. If I find any better resources on satanism I'll let you know; it would be cool if anyone has any good book recommendations on things like satanism, conspiracy theories etc. from a feminist point of view. (I think Gyn/ecology might touch on it? I've not got a copy unfortunately).

I am very unsurprised that your father is fine with a age gap between an older man and woman but not the other way round. It's one of the oldest double standards in the book, I'd wager! Also unsurprised about the sharp turn to loving violence in all forms. It's funny isn't it, how the absurdity of qanon is so obvious - it's been said before by women on here that there seems to be something so enticing about these farcical ideologies. I think people like confidence, they like the idea of being sure against all odds, and the more ridiculous the assumption the more you have to take it in on faith - and then you're locked in, because admitting it was wrong will eventually require you admit it's also patently absurd. I think a lot of people just don't want to take that leap. There are a lot of books on how to escape cults that might be of interest? Combating Cult Mind Control by Stephen Hassan comes to mind - I haven't read it but I've heard good things about it.

I didn't know you still live with him - that's incredibly tough. I can strongly imagine how difficult that would make day-to-day life. I have experienced something similar before. Not being able to talk freely with loved ones in your own home really does change something inside you, I think. I'm glad writing it all out has been cathartic for you - we women need to do this more, our experiences need to be heard and documented. I hate the fact that because of our visibility online we can never give too much away, but there are ways around it I think. It's been so incredibly cathartic for me to write - it's made me feel not crazy, it's given me focus and purpose. Anyway, best of luck to you, I hope you get out of that situation as soon as possible, or at least find some way of making it more palatable for yourself.

[scripted-downfall]

*RISES FROM THE DEAD* OMG HI ITS RAMBLING ANON I'M BACK!

OK so I have to ask... Why is Jensen and Jared MaxiPadalecki's PR teams so adamant about trying to convince everyone that they still are like brothers when they're clearly not? And trust me, it SHOWS. They can honestly just say "Yeah we don't hang anymore." And I'm sure there will be some fans (like us) who will not be surprised. Friends drift apart, it happens. It's not the end of the world. Tho we all know why J2 isn't not a thing anymore and it's bc of Jared's abysmal behavior. Matter of fact, notice how anybody who gets close to Jared drifts off and away from him after a period of time except for a handful of people...

Hello!  Welcome back :)  I’ve been off Tumblr — or at least spotty — for a bit now myself, so good timing on your return!

Yeah, I don’t really know.  I mean, I confess that I don’t spend much time on the real-life bits of Supernatural (or any show) and that most of what I hear stems from those around me — especially my closest fandom friend… whose name I’m not dropping as a line of defense against stan harassment (those who spend much time on my profile can probably guess who I mean though) — but J2 really doesn’t come across as genuine friendship, much less brotherhood.  I’ve never had much taste for bts stuff, and I’ve lost most of the little I did have.  

I have, however, seen some of their con photos, conversations, etc, and those don’t seem very natural; similarly, much of what I hear about their interactions in general is very… performative?  I guess?  I’d expect much more closeness if they were actually friends.  The most recent example is from that string of show renewals and cancellations: if I were close friends with someone who just got big news like that — whether positive or negative — I’d respond to that with either congratulations or commiserations well-nigh immediately.  (I’d certainly not wait almost a week — that is, from 11 May to 16 May — before posting a save-the-show hashtag.  Maybe that’s just me.)  And nor is this the only example of the performative closeness, natural distance to which I refer, so the argument that “eh, they’re busy, it doesn’t mean anything” doesn’t hold much water long-term, even if it’s accurate in this particular case.

Pragmatically, I’d wager that the brother dynamic is an attempt to play to the show’s perceived fanbase, and that’s why the bts brotherhood is being played up.  It doesn’t make much sense to me — from what I’ve seen, it feels like most of the fandom is fractured between them anyway; I recognize that this is only my experience and not true in its entirety, but I only ever run into people who love Jared and those who hate him, and there’s rarely a middle ground — but that’s the impression I’ve gotten from the PR.

I honestly think it’s backfiring though.  I mean, it just comes across as fake and duplicitous, and I feel like they should both just cut their losses and, as you described it, drift apart.  It happens, and I tend to feel that trying to avoid that just makes things worse for all involved.  (And yeah, I certainly cannot defend JarPad’s actions and I don’t even know him/have any stake in it, to the point that I can just ignore him for the most part; I can’t imagine having to deal with him in close-quarters like a “brotherhood”, friendship, or even just as colleagues.)

Anyway… I feel like I’m rambling at this point, so I’ll wrap it up… It was good to hear from you again, and thanks for the ask!  I hope this answer was decent enough, and all the best until next time!

However, before I completely wrap up, a message to any stan who might be reading this… I recognize that much of the above is freely admitted to be speculation.  All of those statements are marked as such.  Don’t come at me about stuff I outright admitted myself.  I also recognize that I’m posting this and not being the kindest person ever to JarPad.  This is because I dislike him.  You are not going to change my mind with threats or slurs.  You are definitely not going to change my mind by cowering behind the anonymous ask feature.  I will report anon asks of this nature if I have to.  Cheers :)

[donnerpartyofone]

I love this from him, not only because it feels like almost no one else wants to admit that That Episode of That Show was cheesy and condescending, but also because when I first saw this screencap it was in a tweet where the user added something like, "Trying to imagine the person who recommended this to Paul." I also tried to imagine them! I want to assume it's like a younger relative who doesn't know any better or something, but first of all it doesn't take intimate knowledge of Paul Schrader to imagine that he probably would not enjoy The Last of Us; secondly, he JUST TOLD YOU he doesn't want to watch anything zombie-related, clean out your ears!; and third, please for the love of god don't badger people with your petty, meaningless subgenre distinctions. You can't even trust that every single nerd wishes to debate you on whether there is any point at all in separating out all the slightly-different shambling, infected mobs of ex-humans which are all used to tell the exact same kind of story--please don't do this insufferable thing to normal people. Especially not to someone who just told you they don't like the main form of shambling, infected ex-human mob, you're not going to trick that person into approving of your favorite show on the technicality that the mob is shambling for a new and novel reason. This all reminds me of:

1. How people just cannot allow anyone to dislike Their Thing no matter what. One time I posted this quote from Werner Herzog saying he prefers the artifice of pro wrestling to the broad, ridiculous imitation of emotion that you get from contemporary theater, and somebody reblogged it with a string of angry tags about how many innovations and revolutions have occurred in the world of live drama up to the modern age, concluding with "KNOW YOUR HISTORY". Which is so funny and pretentious, like "know your history" is how you scold people who don't know where their privilege comes from, it's not for bullying people who just don't enjoy something, by suggesting that they have to inspect every single available version of the thing before they're legally allowed to say "I don't like that, it's not fun for me."

2. I once worked for this comic book business where we had to come up with genres, subgenres, and tags for all the titles. Pretty much all of us employees were ex-"gifted and talented" students, and this one particularly pretentious dude argued that we should categorize a graphic novel of the New Testament as a zombie book because of Jesus's resurrection. He thought he was being soooooo clever as if he were the first person in the universe to think of this dumb joke, but the conversation was also a big waste of time because fancy thought experiments are simply not useful for merchandising. Like, if a customer walked into a bookstore, told you they wanted zombie comics, and you gave them the fucking King James Bible, they definitely would not appreciate your marvelous ability to Think Outside the Box, and also you'd be dangerously close to becoming a living *youth pastor voice* meme. You're not in third grade anymore and you're not getting extra credit for creativity, shut the fuck up and stop saying Jesus is a zombie. No one is impressed.

PS In that same project at that same job there was a whole controversy about how to label "adult content" because we didn't have any hardcore stuff, but we did have sort of R-rated books that served a similar purpose, and nobody knew what to call them because it was felt that "adult" or "mature" or whatever could be misleading to actual porn consumers. The Jesus-zombie guy suggested that we name this genre things like "bawdy", "ribald", and "tantalizing", as if that would actually be more helpful. He just wanted to show off words that he knows, as you can probably guess by now--but like accuracy of description aside, I dunno man, if I were in a physical bookstore, I would be WAY more embarrassed to be standing under a sign that said "TANTALIZING" than to be caught walking through the curtains to the ADULT section. (I don't know if any bookstores would have that or if it's only a video store thing but you know what I mean)

[janeeyreheresy]

Richard Mason

Rochester says this about Richard:

"The elder one [brother], whom you have seen (and whom I cannot hate, whilst I abhor all his kindred, because he has some grains of affection in his feeble mind, shown in the continued interest he takes in his wretched sister, and also in a dog-like attachment he once bore me), will probably be in the same state one day."

Nah. Nothing wrong with Richard. He's just a guy. He's not even feeble minded. He seems to be quite a successful merchant, he's friends with Jane's uncle who we know has made a fortune, and they have to be quite close, otherwise Mr Eyre would not trust him with the important task of stopping the illegal wedding. A person blowing up your dishonest plan does not make them bad or mad, Edward. 

Having said that, though. I appreciate the fact that Rochester appreciates the fact that Richard cares about his sister. So you see, I did find something positive about our Edward.

Richard might admittedly be a harder character to redeem than Blanche, but he's lived in my head as one of the good guys for a few years now, so my mind rejects any other idea. I've never disliked him, from my first reading (back in that ancient time known as the 1990s), at worst I'd felt neutral about his character.

Whilst I can argue that Rochester is lying about the circumstances of his marriage to Bertha--based on his previous lies--I can't do the same for Jane's narration. I have to trust her at least to some extent. But what is her narration with regards to Richard Mason? The day he arrives at Thornfield, when the merry company are present, she spends three paragraphs describing his appearance. She rates him as handsome, but thinks him vapid. I can happily dismiss this as Jane justifying herself for loving an ugly man by demonising a handsome one--we know she has tons of baggage regarding beauty. She's trying to listen to the conversation between Richard and the gentlemen--she's intrigued as Richard introduced himself as an old friend of the Roch--but she can't hear much because Mary Ingram and Louisa Eshton sit between her and the men and gush over how handsome Richard is. 

Burn them at the stake for it, eh, Jane? Because gods forbid someone else find someone who you don't like attractive... 

Where does she even get this from?

His manner was polite; his accent, in speaking, struck me as being somewhat unusual,—not precisely foreign, but still not altogether English: his age might be about Mr. Rochester’s,—between thirty and forty; his complexion was singularly sallow: otherwise he was a fine-looking man, at first sight especially. On closer examination, you detected something in his face that displeased, or rather that failed to please. His features were regular, but too relaxed: his eye was large and well cut, but the life looking out of it was a tame, vacant life—at least so I thought.

Forgive me, Jane, but what you thought means shit to me. (The fuck is a "well cut eye"??? Just one?)

"You detected something in his face"--no, YOU detected whatever you imagined in his face, Jane. Not me. Don't drag the reader into this.

But I liked his physiognomy even less than before: it struck me as being at the same time unsettled and inanimate. His eye wandered, and had no meaning in its wandering: this gave him an odd look, such as I never remembered to have seen. For a handsome and not an unamiable-looking man, he repelled me exceedingly: there was no power in that smooth-skinned face of a full oval shape: no firmness in that aquiline nose and small cherry mouth; there was no thought on the low, even forehead; no command in that blank, brown eye.

This coming from someone who puts Edward Rochester on a pedestal.

"Odd look, such as I never remembered to have seen." She's talking as if she's met thousands of people with thousands of different looks in their eyes, when we know the exact opposite is true. Reminder, item #7 on the list: She has seen nothing of society; the only people she ever had anything to do with were the teachers and pupils at Lowood and the live-in staff at Thornfield Hall. She's not even met any men before Rochester!

What does she want men to look like anyway???

Remember Jane and Rochester's first encounter, when he fell off his horse? Jane could have continued on her way but decided to help him. And the reason she did so was because she could see he was ugly. No kidding, it's right there:

He had a dark face, with stern features and a heavy brow; his eyes and gathered eyebrows looked ireful and thwarted just now; he was past youth, but had not reached middle-age; perhaps he might be thirty-five. I felt no fear of him, and but little shyness. Had he been a handsome, heroic-looking young gentleman, I should not have dared to stand thus questioning him against his will, and offering my services unasked. I had hardly ever seen a handsome youth; never in my life spoken to one. I had a theoretical reverence and homage for beauty, elegance, gallantry, fascination; but had I met those qualities incarnate in masculine shape, I should have known instinctively that they neither had nor could have sympathy with anything in me, and should have shunned them as one would fire, lightning, or anything else that is bright but antipathetic.

Someone get her a therapist.

I'm confident that Jane's descriptions of Richard can be discarded. As for the rest, well what is it that he does that is so wrong? True, he does come across as weak, but nobody is perfect. We don't know what happened in the past, what Rochester did to him to make him fear him. (Edward If-you-won't-listen-to-reason-I'll-try-violence Rochester.) I mean, Briggs has to act like his cheerleader that time in church to get him to speak out. Jane never wonders what makes Richard so afraid of Rochester. To be fair to her, she has other problems at that moment. But, spoiler alert, she doesn't wonder it afterwards, or even think: "well, that makes sense now." Previously, she had seen him in a very vulnerable position--wounded. We're told Bertha is dangerous and violent, so he must have been really seriously wounded, right? Once again, you can't have it both ways. Either the injuries were severe in which case it's understandable he's so shaken, or he's weak and the injuries weren't so severe--but then Bertha is not as dangerous and violent as you try to present her. Personally I think it was more the shock than the injuries.

Like, Jesus. If Bertha is so violent, why the heck does he enter her room unprepared and unarmed? 

Actually...

Did Richard even know her husband kept her locked in the attic? 

Rochester nearly fainted when he heard of Richard's arrival to Thornfield. By his own admission, he was not afraid that Richard would do him any harm, not intentionally. He tells Jane a chance remark by Richard to one of the guests could destroy him. Basically, Richard could casually slip out that he and Edward are brothers-in-law and that, of course, would mean game over for Eddie-Boy. But... why would Richard say anything? Surely he'd rather keep quiet about having an insane sister? Surely it wouldn't be good for his business if it was known there is madness in his family? So why is Rochester worried? 

What are you afraid of, Eddie? 

After the gypsy episode, the two men shut themselves in the library. Did Edward concoct a story about Bertha, justifying why he had to keep her under a lock upstairs? Did Richard not buy the story, and, wanting to satisfy himself, go upstairs to check if it's true? Well, he found out, you can say, but that doesn't negate anything that I've been saying on this blog. And he still cares about her. I know I keep saying it, but it needs to be repeated. Even after she attacked him. Even after she, we are told, sucked his blood. That's canon. Not something I made up. Word of God type of canon.

Charlotte shot herself in the foot for writing him that way, making it so easy for me to disprove her own story--but hey, I ain't complaining. Even the wandering look in his face that Jane describes earlier could be explained by Richard's confusion over the absence of his sister in the drawing room. Or just confusion over there being a party at Thornfield in the first place. If Bertha was mad and he knew she was mad and he knew she was locked upstairs, why were all these important people there, and did they know about their host's marriage? 

It really is rich of Jane to so confidently assert that there was "no thought in his forehead" and "no meaning in his wandering eye". How the fuck can she know that? SHE'S NOT IN HIS HEAD!!! Why has nobody ever questioned this? Why has no clever academic or scholar, in the 175 years the book has been out ever cast doubt over Jane's claim about what goes inside another person's head, a complete stranger's head at that, someone who has literally just walked in, and who she established might not be a native of England? Why does it take someone with no education past high school and complete ignorance of English literature, whose first language is not English, to notice this???

I like to think that after Bertha's attack, Richard finally realises he needs to get his shit together and get her out of there. He contacts someone of the merry company and asks them for help. Sir George Lynn would be the most useful, obviously, but I also like the idea of him becoming friends with the Ingrams.

I like siblings. I enjoy a good sibling dynamic more than a romance. Especially if it is a brother and a sister. And here I have two pairs to play with (Bertha and Richard, and Blanche and Theodore.)

Isn't writing character developments great?

[umbralsound-xiv]

I cannot imagine how she is feeling. To learn that her Mother yet lives, after so long apart. She scarcely spoke a word on our walk back to the apartment.

We will visit again before we return for the West, she tells me. For a kinder, more pleasant conversation.

...Perhaps i will find a gift for the girl, in turn...

Eir Fellfrost opens the door to the apartment with a gentle push, Sayuri's hand tightly in his other as he lead her through the door. No sooner was it closed and latched behind them does he turn and slowly wind his arms around her shoulders. "...How... How are you feeling?" He asks, head tilted down to observe her, concern writ plain on his features.

Sayuri Aoki had gone in silence after delivering the news to Eir, struggling to process what he had been told the entire way back to their room. She leaned against him as his arms draped around her, a deep exhale leaving her. ".. I.. don't know." She mumbled, her gaze moving up to his. ".. It's.. such a mixture of things.."

Eir Fellfrost: "...You have no reason to distrust him. I know this much." A hand traces through her hair, gently brushing it from her features. "...I can imagine it will take time to process. You must have many questions..."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. No. He's.. not that kind of person.." She shook her head lightly - not disturbing the brushing motion. "He would not spread lies of a person he respected, even if it was to harm someone he disliked.. Which to my knowledge, he never truly did dislike anyone enough for such a thing." She raised her arms to coil them around his waist, brows furrowed. ".. I do. I have so many questions I can't.. form a single one.."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Take time. We have plenty of it... I cannot imagine the storm your thoughts are travelling through. But i am here, to weather it with you." A comforting smile is offered to her, in a hopes it would settle her somewhat. "...We will make time to visit before we depart for the West... If... This is what you wish for? I am assuming so."

Sayuri Aoki's concern glued features ease up at his smile, her head leaning forwards to press against his chest gently in return. ".. I couldn't leave without seeing her.. I'd never forgive myself."

Eir Fellfrost dips his head to press his lips to her crown. "...I think it would bring you ease. I... Will gladly accompany you, should... You wish me to."

Eir Fellfrost: "I do not know if this was something that... You wished to do alone."

...I did not wish to intrude on a sensitive moment. Surely there were things she would speak of that she might not wish me to hear. Painful things. Difficult memories. And... So many questions.

...But of course, i would be there if she wished.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. I-.."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. No."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. I need you with me."

Sayuri Aoki raised her hands to cup his cheeks, gently brushing her thumbs along them. ".. I don't think.. I can do it on my own.."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Then i will be here. With you. Always." He smiles, even if worry tugs at his brow. "...I... Will admit i am a little nervous..."

Sayuri Aoki eased further, a weak chuckle leaving her. ".. I.. am no calmer."

Eir Fellfrost: "My hesitation pales in comparison to yours, likely. You have much to discuss. I... I am simply just..." He gives a half shrug of his shoulders, an arm lacing around her own to move back to sit somewhere a little more comfortable. "...I have never met the parents of anyone close to me."

Sayuri Aoki scooted herself into his side as they found an area to sit, squinting at him with her ears pinning back a touch. "You are the person I love." She gave a small pout, leaning her head over to settle it against his shoulder. ".. Neither have I."

Eir Fellfrost tucks his arm around her back, a fleeting frown in response. "Well, i regret to inform you that is unlikely to change. I would not know my parents if they stood before me. I never met my father, and i have long forgotten the face of my mother." He considers a little longer, gaze slowly turning to her despite their close embrace. "...What... Is she like?"

Eir Fellfrost: "I remember some. From the drawing."

Sayuri Aoki: "... Well, hopefully, you'll never meet X'aoki or X'thynira either, so I can live with that." She huffed, gaze moving to meet his. ".. She's very kind, gentle.. Patient.."

Eir Fellfrost nods faintly, as though committing those words to memory. "...And... Should i bring anything on the sun i am to meet her? Is... There anything i should do? Or... Otherwise?"

Sayuri Aoki makes a straight face at you.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Just.. be yourself."

You express your worry with Sayuri Aoki.

Eir Fellfrost: "...Are... You sure?"

...I should make an effort to speak, at the very least. I would not want her thinking i was disinterested, or standoffish. But... In such a situation, i know words are unlikely to come to me...

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Why wouldn't I be?"

Eir Fellfrost: "...I am not... The best with people. I am... Shy. And reserved, and am not often so good with conversation with those i do not know..."

Sayuri Aoki: "... Eir."

Sayuri Aoki: "... How do you think I was, when Yasu first met me?"

Eir Fellfrost: "...I do not know. You... Were a child, yes? And one who had newly left a most horrific circumstance. Quiet, i would assume, at the very least of it."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Quiet, scared, hostile. I tore holes in partitions because I woke up to the door shut, every little sound made me panic.." She reached a hand towards his, seeking to gently grasp it and intertwine their fingers. ".. Despite all that, I received nothing but kindness from her."

Eir Fellfrost takes the hand and slowly curls his fingers around her own, brushing over it softly with his thumb. "...You were afraid. I am glad she was patient." The tale seems to put him at some sort of ease. "...I hope she does not take my quiet as offense. You know well that i am..."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Not so good with words."

Sayuri Aoki: "She won't, Eir." She reassured, offering a small smile. ".. She did not get angry often, she knows that sometimes people are just.. quiet."

You smile weakly at Sayuri Aoki.

Eir Fellfrost: "...I do not... Mean to be."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. I can be pretty quiet, too. I don't judge you for it."

Eir Fellfrost: "I... Know. And it is appreciated. It is." His head turns, to kiss gently at her cheek. "...I always wished i was better at it. That i could talk more, that i could find proper words for many different things, rather than having the words slip through my fingers and remain as a muddle in my thoughts."

Sayuri Aoki's ears wiggled slightly at the cheek kiss, a small smile settling on her lips. ".. Well.. I, for one, am happy for your company.. Word-filled, or silence-filled."

...I wish i could find the words. So many i could say, and none that would ever come close to what i wished to say.

I read so many books, and yet, it has never seemed to help.

Why? Why can i not just...

Eir Fellfrost merely glances to her, then. His silver eyes settle on her own, as the passing glance turns into a stare, as he slowly parts his lips to talk, and closes them all in the same moment. He even looks sad for a moment, as though some thing lodged deep in his being had smothered him in a muted turmoil he refused to speak of. He instead wordlessly moves in for a kiss, approaching slowly before meeting his lips with her own, refusing to draw back until she had.

Sayuri Aoki lowered an ear at the sight, her features softening and head nudging against his shoulder firmly. She lift it up as he leaned in, gently pressing her lips against his as he seeks them out - having no intentions to move away from it anytime soon. In fact, she scoots herself closer.

Eir Fellfrost curls an arm around her back to pull her closer as she moved; a waver of breath as her comforting chill settled against him before closing the kiss once more, a soft, warm and wanting gesture that saw his heart beat that bit faster at the culmination of it. He slowly draws back after many long moments, seperating the deepened kiss from her own with a faint, muted gasp... And lingers, wordless.

...Why can i not just tell her? Tell how much she means. How much i love her. How i want to...

...How much i wish to stay with her for the rest of her cycles. How every moment with her is precious, and... Why? Why can i not...

Why can i not find the words?

Sayuri Aoki was quite content to linger in the kiss, exhaling a deeper breath as it broke.  She leaned her head over to press her forehead against his gently. ".. I love you, Eir."

Eir Fellfrost: "...I love you too." He whispers; the hand that saught her own in the middle of it all tightening it's grasp. No further words opt to leave him, a long wavering exhale stealing them away before he kisses her again, much more briefly with a single peck to the lips.

Eir Fellfrost: "...Suppose i should spend some time tomorrow practising. My performance is... Soon."

Eir Fellfrost: "...They took my measurements. I assume they will fit me with clothing, but they did not mention what..."

...I am to perform soon. There is no worry for what i will do; the routine is in my thoughts, and i have practised and danced many a time before this. The stage and the crowd are different, but the principle is the same.

The coin i will gain for such a performance is more than i have ever made in a single evening in my entire lifetime.

...I already know what i will spend it on.

Sayuri Aoki gently grasped at his hand, exhaling a content sigh before leaning in to meet his lips with another kiss, a soft smile lingering. "Mm..? I'm excited for your performance."

Eir Fellfrost: "...Just... Do remember that the man on stage, and the man that sits beside you now, are... Not wholly the same person."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. It's the man I love."

Sayuri Aoki pouted.

You smile weakly at Sayuri Aoki.

Eir Fellfrost: "Yes, well, the man on stage is confidence incarnate who has all faith in his abilities in everything that is expected of him."

Eir Fellfrost: "And on the stage is where it remains, long after i have departed it."

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Well. Confidence or no.."

Sayuri Aoki raises a hand, gently prodding at his jaw.

Sayuri Aoki: ".. Same person."

Sayuri Aoki: "Who I love."

Eir Fellfrost turns his head to softly bite Sayuri's finger; not with any kind of pressure, more for a playful reprimand for prodding him. He draws back and kisses her fingertip, giving a quick grin. "...Well, do not expect that confidence to translate into other situations. It will not."

Eir Fellfrost: "...For the most part."

...I pray that it visits me when the time comes. When i find the words. When i find a place suiting. When the time is right...

I will need it, then.

[mingot-studios]

Look, dude, all I am saying is that you're allowed to ship something and other people are allowed to not like it. I personally don't ship LawLu because I see Luffy as being Ace/Aro and I cannot imagine Law being attracted to someone he cannot have an intelligent conversation with. To me Luffy angers him and disregards him too much for Law to be even slightly attracted to him. But that's my opinion and I have no intention of forcing you to think as I do.

I will repeat, you can ship a relationship and people can dislike it. There is nothing wrong with that and you're wasting energy getting upset about it.

asdfghjk what are you talking about????

[commaclear]

I genuinely think the relationships between Dream, Tommy, Fundy, and also a little bit of George are really really interesting.

Dream and George’s friendship kinda stems from Dream wanting to fit in. George is your average peer pressure kid. George probably lives a way different (probably better) life than Dream and because of that Dream will just go along with what George wants because he cannot lose that friend. That friend makes him feel important and so when George makes fun of people because he really doesn’t have much exposure to different families and situations, Dream tags along.

Their friendship is why Dream bullied Fundy and Tommy. Because George saw a kid who’s just going through it and clearly has issues and decided that was their target. Tommy was also probably bullied because of the fact he’s so reactive.

I feel like the bullying from Dream to Fundy was more because Dream is mad at the world and Fundy was an easy target. George also heavily encouraged it. It’s also because of the fact from the outside it looks like Fundy’s just as privileged as Tommy.

The bullying from Dream to Tommy was due to the fact that Tommy got lucky. He has dreams and goals and access to what he needs to reach them. Tommy is supported financially and gets whatever he wants. And I imagine that is why Dream dislikes him so much.

It’s really apparent in the hospital because Tommy brags about how much more successful he’s gonna be and Dream just fucking snaps. (Which is valid btw. Been there done that.)

I really do think it’s interesting that Dream started bullying was because he was mad and wanted to fit in and in return Tommy bullies Dream because he doesn’t like being vulnerable so instead he goes for Dream’s vulnerabilities. They’re just two teenagers who’ve been through shit but don’t know how to cope or express how they feel so they take it out on others.

I think Fundy and Dreams relationship is so important because it shows that getting to know someone can change your whole perception of them. Dream didn’t like Fundy for a few reasons, mostly home life, money, and privilege. But I think Fundy finding Dream in that blizzard changed Dreams feelings towards him. In Dreams eyes, Fundy won. He got to brag. He got to embarrass the shit out of Dream, something Dream started bullying to avoid. Yet Fundy didn’t. And I think it’s such a big deal to Dream because he would’ve stayed behind and continued to talk shit.

Fundy chose to help someone who had hurt him so much over the last few months and that was more than any of Dream’s friends had done for him.

After that they talked and Dream realized Fundy really wasn’t who he thought he was. In fact, Fundy was more like him than he expected.

One of the conversations they had that really stood out to me was when Dream was at Fundy’s house and he gives a suggestion on how to deal with the nightmares. Dream says Fundy’s family sucks, and Fundy replies saying that’s not true. Dream elaborates on it and gets no response because Fundy just really doesn’t like talking about it.

(by the way, dream has some black and white thinking issues going on. I get that he’s still a kid and that kind of emotional maturity comes later in life, but still. Fundy is also different in the way that he tries to justify things even if he doesn’t want to. Both are probably from issues with their family. Still tho.)

Dream goes on to ask abt his mom, then when Fundy says he wouldn’t chose her, Dream asks about Wilbur’s drinking. And then the line “parents get scary when they drink”

And god that chapter just unpacks so much.

First was the mention of Foolish and his legos. They share a room and Dream is clearly not a fan of having to share. Then there was the talking abt Fundy’s family, especially the stuff about Wilbur. Dream also mentions that his dad was a big drinker and is in prison now. Which really begs the question of holy hell what happened to this mf.

When the conversation gets tense and quiet, Dream quickly moves on. The kid is definitely a people pleaser when he thinks he needs to be. Like when he’s with Fundy and sally and he texts Fundy saying you need to talk about what the adults want to hear.

Dream just wants attention. But he doesn’t want attention for his trauma. He wants people to just look at him and see him for him. To him, any attention is good attention. Especially when it’s validation from an adult. Honestly just attention from adults.

It’s not even that he doesn’t get attention. He just feels out of place and has no clue where he’s going or what he’s doing.

Puffy tries really hard to help him and she is trying her best to be what he needs, but she can only do so much.

Dream is definitely jealous of a lot of kids. He’s embarrassed by his personal life. When Fundy goes to his house it’s very obvious that Dream is insecure about a lot of stuff.

He’s a problem child, a smart kid without the resources to reach his full potential, a kid with insecurities who wants to fit in.

Kids who feel out of place tend to mimic the behaviors of the people around them who seem in control or in power. And I think that��s honestly a big part of why he acts the way he does.

I think him meeting and becoming friends with Fundy changed a lot of that. Dream finally got to know someone who didn’t want to judge him. Someone who despite how rude he was sees him for him.

George is a very controlling friend, but Fundy treats dream with fairness and it makes a big difference. He’s so willing to ditch George right now because for one he has a real friend. Not just someone who likes him for the act he is constantly putting up for the people around.

It’s nice to watch them get to know each other and have a sense of understanding for the things each of them are going through. Them getting along has honestly helped both of them grow as a person.

I might come back and add more to this later but for now this is all I’ve got

- The Quackity analysis anon

(Also I’m gonna cry. I was writing this on my phone and my teacher was behind me and asked “are you on tumblr?!” And it was so loud. Quitting the inbox after that shit)

Hmm yes... This pleases me. Very well, I accept your offering. Htid!Quackity will not die by hitman.

Fr tho this was excellent, you have not at all lost your touch, A+ analysis of my boy whom I love, and honestly I don't have much to add (except maybe the question of what the fuck he thought he was doing with that blackmail scheme)

Also.... Fucking RIP, my guy. I understand if you need some recovery time before your next ask (please file a wrongful injury report with our insurance office to receive compensation)

[dr-dendritic-trees]

'Look, all I wanted to say was - that I never meant to hurt him.'... Alucard shook his head, eyes escaping to the steady blue line of the sea. His jaw locked, body revolting against the truth. The truth had claws, and they were sunk into his chest. It would be easier to let it go unsaid, but when Kell turned again to go, he forced it up. 'I left,' he said, 'because my brother found out where I was spending my nights - who I was spending them with.' Alucard kept his eyes on the water, but he heard Kell's steps drag to a stop. 'Believe it or not, not all families are willing to put aside propriety to indulge a royal's taste. The Emerys have old notions. Strict ones.' He swallowed. 'My brother, Berras, told my father, who beat me until I couldn't stand. Until he broke my arm, my shoulder, my ribs. Until I blacked out. And then he had Berras put me out to sea. I woke up in a ship's hold, the captain ten rish richer with the order not to return to London until his crew had set me right. I made it off that ship the first time it docked, with three lin in my picket and a fair bit of magic in my veins, and no one to welcome me home, so no, I didn't turn back. And that's my fault. But I didn't know what I meant to him.'

Is Kell the first person Alucard has told this whole story to?

Alucard hasn’t told Rhy yet. He hasn’t told Lila, or, as far as I can tell, the rest of his crew. I don’t get the sense that Tieren knows (although I could be wrong). Anisa almost certainly didn’t know; she was old enough that I can’t see her being sad he was staying away if she knew. 

Alucard and Kell don’t even like each other. I’ve read this passage through a few times and I don’t know why Alucard chooses this time and this person to give this account to.

Is this just a case of him not being able to hear the untrue version where he just ran off even one more time, no matter who from? Or is this more of a need to have some form of external account. Rather like Holland earlier, Kell probably isn’t who Alucard wants to talk about this with, but they’re doing a dangerous thing, and Rhy has already refused to have this conversation until its concluded, and Kell is probably Alucard’s best bet to make sure that the truth gets back to Rhy even if Alucard doesn’t.

[ladyartemesia]

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff  • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa​ • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 

To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 

To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced. 

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 

You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin. 

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. 

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?” 

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin. 

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways. 

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children. 

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend. 

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).  

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder. 

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another. 

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds. 

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face. 

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before. 

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus. 

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs. 

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard. 

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous. 

A woman. 

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it. 

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone. 

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate. 

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens. 

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back. 

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you. 

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen. 

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears. 

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage. 

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees. 

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served. 

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation. 

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste. 

“Okay... What about Kang?” 

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.” 

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed. 

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation. 

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly. 

You shrugged. 

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit. 

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly. 

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.” 

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.” 

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before- 

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily. 

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom. 

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi. 

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you. 

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan. 

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response. 

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus. 

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin. 

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man. 

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket. 

Jungkook picked up on the second ring. 

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!” 

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver. 

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him. 

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch? 

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts. 

You picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker. 

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened. 

“Are you alone?”

You snorted. 

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red. 

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages. 

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

He almost choked on his tongue. 

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.  

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie. 

You were exquisite. 

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it. 

Desire. 

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch 

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh. 

Your head tilted in confusion. 

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true. 

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie. 

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming. 

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers. 

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned. 

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them. 

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION 

“The Park Angel?” 

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled. 

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand. 

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!” 

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation. 

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child. 

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively. 

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream. 

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing. 

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape. 

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet. 

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits. 

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked. 

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz. 

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee. 

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing. 

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter. 

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else. 

Something that felt an awful lot like longing. 

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly. 

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost. 

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.” 

Disaster struck at dinner. 

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence. 

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip. 

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern. 

“I-I need—” 

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried. 

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall. 

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged. 

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically. 

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked. 

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his. 

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream. 

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat. 

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge. 

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.” 

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response. 

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain). 

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice. 

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped. 

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed. 

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.) 

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice. 

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped. 

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away. 

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively. 

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.” 

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset. 

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.” 

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again. 

“Hold on to me.”  

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life. 

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing. 

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice. 

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin. 

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath. 

“Do it.”

He nodded. 

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once. 

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset. 

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets. 

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest. 

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you. 

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this. 

He gulped again. 

“I can explain.” 

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles. 

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen. 

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars. 

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define. 

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring. 

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful. 

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves. 

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that. 

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation. 

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

I made it home safely. 

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions. 

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time. 

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief. 

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung. 

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response. 

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle… 

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different. 

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow. 

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth. 

 “Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color. 

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him. 

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper. 

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through. 

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare. 

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest. 

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE 

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one. 

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante. 

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner. 

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily. 

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?” 

“WHAT?!” 

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation. 

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in. 

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!” 

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically. 

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress. 

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin. 

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses). 

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant. 

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard. 

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you. 

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table. 

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning. 

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit. 

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity. 

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess. 

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you. 

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible. 

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you. 

Milo nodded. 

“I—I figured.” 

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.” 

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate. 

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.” 

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm. 

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed. 

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. 

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another. 

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off. 

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. 

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed. 

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.” 

You grinned. 

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.” 

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.) 

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?” 

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. 

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing. 

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way. 

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort. 

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him. 

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself. 

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you. 

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded. 

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it. 

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?” 

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed. 

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak- 

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you. 

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet. 

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately. 

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.” 

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season. 

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines. 

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them. 

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it... 

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were. 

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame. 

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel. 

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass. 

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. 

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully. 

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before... 

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view. 

Lord have mercy. 

“Of course not,” he coughed. 

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well. 

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event. 

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails. 

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest. 

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd. 

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.” 

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go. 

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!” 

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend. 

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars. 

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.) 

Then it was your turn. 

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay. 

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach. 

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was. 

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray. 

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink. 

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest. 

No. 

Milo was still bidding. 

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her. 

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine. 

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet. 

“One hundred thousand dollars!” 

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening. 

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you. 

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation. 

And hope. 

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company. 

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey. 

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it. 

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship. 

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction. 

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart. 

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it. 

The next move was yours and you intended to make it. 

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts. 

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?” 

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours. 

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost. 

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra. 

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely. 

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one. 

He bit back a moan. 

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You nodded. 

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch. 

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago. 

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you. 

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it. 

It was for you. 

He wanted you. 

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving. 

Touch me… please. 

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath. 

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank. 

“Taehyung—“ you moaned. 

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens. 

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill. 

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno. 

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls. 

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you. 

And you wanted it. 

Oh how you wanted it. 

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled. 

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast. 

“Speak up.”  

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.�� 

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice. 

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands. 

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed. 

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse. 

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room. 

You grinned. 

Greedy boy. 

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration. 

She would be a tease. 

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease. 

He shook his head. 

I have officially gone insane. 

The phone buzzed again. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we… 

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture. 

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe. 

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast. 

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa. 

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child. 

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs. 

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink. 

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him. 

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph. 

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back. 

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms. 

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead. 

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed. 

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains. 

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!" 

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air. 

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce. 

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling. 

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket. 

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear. 

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable? 

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast. 

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp. 

Both men winced. 

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed. 

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details. 

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped. 

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily. 

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand. 

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face. 

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled. 

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment. 

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.  

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed. 

Your dress tonight was deadly. 

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg. 

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long. 

Oh help. 

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say. 

So he didn’t say anything at all. 

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation. 

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline. 

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that. 

She is definitely trying to kill me. 

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin. 

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately. 

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion. 

It was like stepping into a fairytale. 

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking. 

You were breathtaking.  

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago. 

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened. 

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged. 

“I don’t really talk about it much.” 

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness. 

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away. 

The Governor just shook his head and laughed. 

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty. 

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening. 

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up. 

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman. 

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner. 

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned. 

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word. 

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back. 

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow. 

“Some other time perhaps.” 

Aubrey pouted prettily. 

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look. 

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you. 

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly. 

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned. 

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile. 

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous. 

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction. 

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good. 

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head. 

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it. 

Alas. 

You tilted your head speculatively. 

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me. 

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand. 

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.  

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi. 

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels. 

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play. 

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile. 

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket. 

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching. 

Oh boy. 

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him). 

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily. 

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate. 

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move. 

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink. 

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid. 

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence. 

You glared. 

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.  

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply. 

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second. 

Yet you made no move to stop him. 

You should have. 

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t. 

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing. 

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties. 

“T-Taehyung—” 

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork. 

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.” 

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this. 

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot. 

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness. 

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment. 

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering. 

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb. 

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward. 

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy. 

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive. 

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it. 

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there. 

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking). 

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt. 

Emotions were a funny thing. 

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior… 

And occasionally eroded your common sense. 

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects. 

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor. 

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown. 

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said. 

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious. 

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—  

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now. 

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same. 

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing. 

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life. 

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you. 

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man. 

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple. 

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms. 

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him. 

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again. 

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become. 

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open. 

Well that’s great. 

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides. 

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod. 

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls. 

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy. 

You almost giggled when you got a look inside. 

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors. 

Reflection suite indeed. 

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours. 

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things. 

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost. 

He had to kiss you then. 

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more. 

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need. 

Finally. 

Everything was him. 

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn. 

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it. 

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him. 

But not today. 

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure. 

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—” 

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good. 

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife. 

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication. 

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss. 

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed. 

“You’ve been saying that for years.” 

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed. 

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear. 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it. 

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered. 

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening. 

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you. 

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin. 

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart. 

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him. 

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off. 

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing. 

Almost. 

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything. 

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?" 

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate. 

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily. 

He grinned. 

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit. 

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were. 

Underneath a giant mirror. 

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction. 

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life. 

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face. 

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core. 

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart. 

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered. 

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half. 

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face. 

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high. 

Then he was kissing you again. 

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more. 

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure. 

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space. 

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency. 

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered. 

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.” 

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft. 

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching. 

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered. 

You gasped against him and he smiled. 

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him. 

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?” 

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper. 

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation. 

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you. 

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response. 

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward. 

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive. 

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him. 

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it. 

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss. 

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal. 

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response. 

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did. 

You wanted it so so bad. 

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance. 

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him. 

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust. 

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm. 

Then your world caught fire. 

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes. 

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name. 

The feel of him was indescribable. 

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality. 

He was bloomin’ magnificent. 

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal. 

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close. 

You were his. 

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more. 

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors. 

And now… he couldn’t look away. 

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass. 

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness. 

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind. 

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it. 

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound. 

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen. 

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.   

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.” 

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed. 

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart. 

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed. 

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust. 

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed. 

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him. 

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again. 

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.” 

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else. 

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision. 

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped. 

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.  

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash. 

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned. 

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin. 

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous. 

Taehyung groaned. 

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance. 

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion. 

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass. 

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin. 

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.” 

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence. 

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding. 

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. 

Taehyung groaned again. 

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked. 

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face. 

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. 

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes. 

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling. 

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. 

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day. 

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

[imagineyourworld]

The Wife

Wolffe x Fem!Padawan!Reader

Summary: When visiting a backwards village Plo Koon’s Padawan has to pretend to be married to Commander Wolffe in order to get the residents to back off

Warnings: Misogyny, a bit of nudity, a bit spicy making out

Check out my other work here

-------

You had been walking for what felt like hours when your Master, Plo Koon, received a message and asked you to join him at the front of the train of walking soldiers.

“(Y/N), my dear, I have some unfortunate news”, he started.

You looked at your Master expectically. Unfortunate news could mean basically anything and you could only hope that it wasn’t anything that would massively complicate your relief mission.

“As you know we’re going to deliver supplies to the Gonchee people here, and we don’t know much about them.” You simply nodded, not wanting to interrupt your Master, who continued just a moment later. “Master Yoda just forwarded me recent information we gained about the Gonchee. It seems they see human women as nothing more than, for a lack of a better word, prices or trophies to be won or taken.”

Your curious expression morphed into one of shock and disgust. Of course you knew that not every planet had the same standards when it came to equality between the sexes, but this level of misogyny was something you hadn’t expected to be confronted with.

“If I had known earlier I would have offered to let you stay on Coruscant or accompany another battalion”, Plo tried to apologize. But you just shook your head.

“It’s quite alright, Master. If I am to be a Jedi knight soon I will have to learn to handle situations such as this one, though I cannot say I am happy.”

Plo put a heavy hand on your shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. He knew you were capable of handling yourself and could fight off a couple of Gonchee if necessary, but as your Master he still felt responsible and worried for your safety and wellbeing.

“Master Yoda also said that the Gonchee usually don’t bother married women, they consider them to be claimed by their husband.”

You looked up to your Master, expecting him to continue, but he just stared straight ahead, his expression never betraying his thoughts.

“I am not married, though”, you finally said.

“No, you’re not. You’re a Jedi and shouldn’t have attachments”, he answered. 

Part of you wanted to correct him. You were not a Jedi, not yet at least. But the other, bigger, part was overjoyed your Master considered you a Jedi and not just a Padawan.

“I suppose I could ask Commander Wolffe to pretend to be your husband. Just for your safety, of course”, Plo continued. 

For a fraction of a second you lost your balance, but quickly managed to catch your footing again. He couldn’t know about your crush on Wolffe, could he? Sure, your Master was a great Jedi, strong in the force, and he knew you better than anyone, having raised you like his own daughter, but you have been so careful to hide your feelings for your commander. 

“Only if that’s what you want, of course.” 

You took a moment to consider the proposition. Feelings aside, it was a good idea. If being ‘married’ would make sure the Gonchee wouldn’t bother you and ensure you could do your job that was a good thing, the rational thing to do. 

Finally you nodded. “Only if Wolffe wants to, though. Otherwise I’ll ask Sinker.” 

-------

-------

Wolffe hasn’t been watching you and the General, that would be ridiculous. And of course he hasn’t noticed how your hair shines in the sun or how you smile at your Master with love and trust in your eyes. And when Plo Koon asked to talk to him a while later he wasn’t hoping to find out more about your conversation with him, that thought never crossed his mind. 

“Wolffe, I have a favour to ask you.” 

Wolffe simply nodded. He would to anything for the kind Jedi who treated him and his brothers like actual people, who never showed them anything other than respect. 

“Of course, General. What is it?” 

“I want you to be married to (Y/N).” 

It took all the self control Wolffe could gather not to look at the Jedi, not to blush and not to let his feelings show. 

“Is this a test?”, he asked. Though it seemed out of character for Plo, maybe he was trying to get Wolffe to confess his feelings for you. Feelings he had spent months and months trying to deny and repress, feelings that would get him in more trouble than he could ever imagine if anyone were to find out. 

“No, no”, the General reassured his Commander. He then told Wolffe about the situation and why he was asking this of him. 

Wolffe nodded along with the explanation before finally daring to look at Plo. 

“Did (Y/N) suggest me as her fake husband?”, he asked, trying his best to keep his voice even and steady. He knew it was a arisky question that might tell the Jedi more about his feelings than he should know, but he couldn’t help but wonder and he wouldn’t agree if you would rather be fake married to one of his brothers instead of him. 

“It was my idea, though she seemed to be quite happy with you as her ‘husband’“, Plo answered in a tone that told Wolffe the Jedi had to be smiling under his mask. “I just thought you were the obvious choice, considering how close the two of you are.” 

Wolffe nodded, not knowing what to say. 

“That makes sense”, he finally said. 

Plo looked at the young man next to him. Though Wolffe’s expression was usually stoic, now it was even more so. It seemed forced, as if he was trying his best not to let any feelings show. The General couldn’t help but realize just how similar the clone’s expression was to yours just a bit earlier. 

“Maybe you should go to (Y/N) to discuss how you’re going to handle the situation. I’ll inform the others to play along”, Plo suggested after a few moments of awkward silence and with a quick “Yes, sir” Wolffe turned around to find you amidst the soldiers. 

-------

By the time you were nearing the village, you and Wolffe had just finished your plan. 

“Let’s go over it one last time”, he suggested. 

You opted not to tell him that that would be the third ‘one last time’, partly because you knew he didn’t like being corrected and would not hesitate so snap at you, partly because going over this plan like any other mission made it easier for you to let it sink in that this was just that, a plan, a mission, pretend. You were not married to Wolffe, nor would you ever be. The two of you were friends, nothing more. Because no matter how you felt, how you’ve been feeling for quite some time now, you could never be together, even on the off chance that Wolffe reciprocated your feelings. 

“The Gonchee don’t know anything about Jedi, other than that we’re here to help, so they won’t find our ‘marriage’ suspicious. We’ll them we met at the beginning of the war and have been married for a couple of months. Really, Wolffe, it’s not that complicated, I’m sure we’ll both be able to remember to play the part.” 

The snark reply you had been expecting didn’t come. Instead Wolffe simply nodded and stared straight ahead. 

“Just remember to keep physical contact to a minimum”, he reminded you for the fifth time. 

You rolled your eyes. Sure, Wolffe had never been one for hugs and cuddling, unlike many of his brothers, who often seeked you out for a comforting hug, but he really didn’t have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself every couple of minutes, you were not some hormonal teenager. 

“Will do, Commander.” 

Without another word, or even so much as a nod, Wolffe speeded up his steps to join Master Plo at the front. 

“What’s gotten into your husband?”

You turned around to find Sinker looking at you with an amused expression, Boost right beside him sporting a smug grin. 

“Guess he’s just not too thrilled about being fake married to me”, you tried to joke, even though just the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. Of course you knew nothing could ever happen between you, but you’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t hoped that this mission would allow you to pretend for just a little while, to maybe get closer to him. 

“If he really didn’t want to do it, he wouldn’t do it. I heard him talking to the General, Plo asked him, he didn’t order him. Wolffe could have stepped down and let one of us take his place. And I’m sure most of us would have happily done so”, Boost claimed, laying a hand on your shoulder and sending you a warm smile. 

Maybe it would have been better to do this with someone else, someone who would put his arms around you to really sell the story and who you could laugh about the whole affair with afterwards. And yet you knew that being in a ‘relationship’ with anyone other than Wolffe would have been worse than Wolffe’s obvious dislike of the whole situation. 

“It’s fine. Wolffe’s just being Wolffe, he’ll come around once we arrive at the village”, you tried to reassure both the troopers and yourself. 

-------

Wolffe had, in fact, not come around by the time you reached the village. He had spent the rest of the way talking to your Master and completely ignoring you. It was moments like this that made you question why you even had feelings for him, he was so hot and cold, sending you gentle smiles and sharing inside jokes one moment and acting like you didn’t even know each other the next. But it was those few moments when his gentler side, which you alway thought was more his true self, showed, that kept you hooked. 

It was Plo Koon who interrupted your thoughts by asking you to join him and Wolffe at the front to greet the Gonchee. 

The small creatures were no bigger than Jawas, had greenish fur and ears that reminded you of Loth cats, other than that they looked pretty human. 

“Good evening. I am General Plo Koon, these are Commander (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Commander Wolffe and the 104th. We were sent by the Republic to deliver supplies and help you reset your village.”

The Gonchee at the front, who seemed to be an older man, bowed his head slightly, the others, all male you realized, followed suit. 

“Welcome, Jedi Koon. I see you have brought a female with you, I don’t suppose she’s here to stay with us?” 

The way he licked his lips with his yellow tongue made you shudder. You could sense resentment practically rolling off your master at the Gonchee’s words, but more than that it was Wolffe’s arm around your shoulder that calmed you. 

“My wife will most certainly not stay with you, she’ll be by my side, always.” 

Maybe you imagined that his arm tightened around you as you leaned into him, but you certainly didn’t imagine the growl coming from his throat as the Gonchee looked you up and down. 

“Such a shame. Having a human woman is an honor to us, you know and this one seems to be a fine specimen. You’re lucky to have her.” 

Though his words sounded as if he was buying your lie and letting go of the thought of having you, whatever that meant, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that he, or any other male Gonchee, would leave you alone. Not even Wolffe looking at you from the side, a small smile on his lips, could relief you of your anxiety. 

“I feel like the luckiest man in the galaxy every minute I have her next to me.” 

His words were directed at the Gonchee, but somehow they felt like more. Like something one would whisper to a lover in private. 

It was only when Plo spoke up again that you could tear your eyes away from Wolffe, from his warm gaze and full lips. 

“The men will bring in the supplies now, if you’ll allow, and then we’ll settle for the night.” 

The Gonchee at the front nodded. 

“Of course, of course. Though the lady should stay with the other women. You see, we don’t allow women to do any physical labour. 

-------

Several Gonchee had offered to accompany you to the hut the women of the village spend most of their time in, but you had declined. That didn’t mean you could go alone, however. The entire 104th seemed to have noticed the glances the male Gonchee shot you and had silently agreed to never let you out of their sight while you were in the village. Which is how you found yourself with your hand in the crook of Wolffe’s elbow, being lead to the ‘women’s hut’ as it was called. 

“I’ve been to many planets and have met people of many cultures, but none of them were as backwards as the Gonchee. If they could see you in action they would know not to look at you like that”, your companion grumbled. 

You swallowed down the urge to tell him that quite a few shinies have made their moves on you in the past, though you had shot all of them down and had to admit that none of them reduced you to your body the way the Gonchee did. 

“It’s only for a couple of days. It’ll be like a mini vacation for me, not having to do any work.” 

You could feel Wolffe eying you from the side but refused to look his way. 

“I wish I could stay with you”, he said, more to himself than to you. “I mean someone. I wish someone, one of us, could stay with you.” 

You chuckled. It was rare to see this side of Wolffe, the side that corrected his words, that stuttered and almost seemed nervous. 

“I’d like you to stay. But you have a job to do and I can defend myself, should anything happen.” 

You placed a hand on his arm, and though you were sure he couldn’t feel it through the plastoid armor, he seemed to relax just a little bit. 

“We both know that I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s only for a couple of hours, I’ll be with you again before you know it.” 

He nodded, but the frown never left his face entirely. 

“I’ll have someone come in and check on you every now and then. It’s not without reason that we have to pretend to be married, we cannot be careful enough.” 

Wolffe’s tone told you that there was no use in arguing. And maybe he was right, if even your Master, who you knew would never disregard your ability to fend for yourself, thought it would be safe to always have a man, to always have Wolffe, with you, it couldn’t hurt to be safe rather than sorry. 

“Sounds reasonable.” 

Just as soon as the words left your mouth you stopped in front of the the small building the Gonchee had told you to go to. It looked ancient and primitive compared to the skyscrapers on Coruscant and shining starships you were used to, but through the open door you could spot pillows and blankets and a roaring fire inside. At least you’d be comfortable.

The women inside seemed to have heard you approaching, because most of them stopped their work and conversations to catch a glance at you and Wolffe. 

“I guess this is it”, you said more to yourself than your fellow Commander. He nodded nonetheless. 

“Be careful. Don’t do anything reckless.” 

You tried your best to swallow any remark since your usual answer to something like that would be exactly what Wolffe would describe as “reckless”. 

“I’ll see you soon”; you replied instead. And because you could still feel the eyes of the Gonchee women on you, you lifted yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to Wolffe’s cheek. After all, you had to make your marriage believable. 

The low noise Wolffe made shocked you for a split moment. It was a mixture between a grunt and a sigh that didn’t speak of surprise as much as... disbelief? You couldn’t quite place it. Though you tried not to think about it too much as your turned away from him and entered to hut, where the women started questioning you immediately. 

-------

True to his word Wolffe had sent someone of the pack to check in on you every ten minutes or so, but despite their reports that you were perfectly fine and just talking to the women of the village, Wolffe only felt a sense of relief when he saw you again himself. 

You were sitting next to Sinker on one of the many logs surrounding the fireplace. The rest of the pack as well as Plo Koon were either on logs or the ground nearby while the Gonchee, mostly the men but a few women as well, sat on the other side of the fire. 

As Wolffe stepped closer you lifted your head, and as always he couldn’t tell whether you had heard his footsteps or felt his force signature. 

The old Gonchee who had greeted you was the first to speak up. 

“Ah, the husband returns. Such a shame, I had thought I might have a chance with that lovely woman of yours after all.”

Wolffe knew that the polite thing to do would be to answer him, but one of the first things General Koon taught his men was that it was better to say nothing at all if you didn’t have anything nice to say. So he simply walked over to where you were sitting and squeezed himself into the space between you and the end of the log, which resulted in you being squished between him and Sinker. A scenario Wolffe, being the overly protective man he is, usually wasn’t too fond of, but in this the more of the Wolfpack were around you, the better. 

It was only when he felt you moving impossibly closer to him, when he smelled the last clinging bit of your sweet perfume, that had somehow endured the walk to the village and your time in the women's’ hut, that he was finally able to relax. You’d be right next to him, or at least one of his brothers or the General, for the rest of the night, meaning you were safe from the Gonchee for now. 

Suddenly he felt your lips right next to his ear, your breath hitting his skin. 

“If we wanna sell this marriage you cannot just sit there like a droid, Wolffe.” 

The way you whispered, almost purred, his name made shivers run down his spine. And though he tried to suppress it, your soft giggle told him that you’d noticed. 

With a small sigh he put his arm around your waist and pulled you even closer to him. So close that he could practically feel your body melting into his, though he tried not to think about how right it felt to have you in his arms, how your body seemed to perfectly fit right next to his. 

“Is this better?”, he whispered in your ear. Out of the corner of his eye he could see you biting your lip and even pressing your thighs together. He shook his head, he must have imagined that. It was probably just you trying to get comfortable in this new position. 

“How long have to two of you been married?”, one of the younger Gonchee asked. 

For just a moment you tensed beneath Wolffe’s arm before relaxing again. 

“Just a couple of months”, you replied. Your smooth lie impressed Wolffe, being raised by Plo Koon you were usually a fan of telling the truth and he couldn’t help but wonder where you learned to lie like that. 

“And you let your wife fight?”, another Gonchee asked, the disbelief clear in his voice. 

Wolffe sneaked a glance at you. How could anyone look at you and not see a warrior? Sure, your appearance might not be the most threatening, but wasn’t it obvious that the way you pressed your lips together spoke of determination? That you eyes told anyone who looked into them how much you’ve been through and how deeply you cared? That your hands were calloused from holding a lightsaber and yet soft enough to comfort a clone in distress? 

“It’s not up to me whether she fights or not.” 

A grumble of disagreement was heard from the assembled Gonchee, or at least from the men. 

“We are very fortunate to have a warrior as great as (Y/N) fighting besides us every day”, the General said after a while. For anyone who knew him it was obvious that he was trying to end the subject while defending you at the same time, but the Gonchee seemed to think of his statement as a challenge. 

“But what about children? How will she carry children if she is fighting? 

From the way your shoulders tensed underneath Wolffe’s arm he could tell that you were close to telling the Gonchee of once and for all, and apparently SInker on your other side could tell as well, because now he jumped into the conversation. 

“They’re still newly weds, children can wait until the honeymoon phase is over, don’t you agree?” 

The oldest Gonchee leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. 

“We do not care for such sentiments. Our women cook our food, sow our clothes, take care of our children and warm our beds, believe me, it’s easier that way. Perhaps you should try it, Commander.” 

For what felt like the thousandth time that day Wolffe looked at you. Of course you knew that you had to represent the Republic wherever you went, but usually that didn’t stop you from speaking up for what’s right. He wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed by or concerned about your self restraint. 

“It’s very different in our culture. We marry for love, most of the time at least”, you finally said. And if he hadn’t been staring at you already Wolffe would never have noticed the way your eyes flitted over to him when you said “love”. 

Several of the Gonchee opened their mouth to argue, but lucky for the entire 104th a few women carrying trays with various foods and drinks appeared and rendered the men silent. 

-------

Shortly after a near silent meal your Master stood up. 

“I suppose it would be best for us to call it a night. We will have to be up early tomorrow if we want to reach out ship again before nightfall.” 

The Gonchee leader stood up as well and slightly bowed his head before the Jedi. 

“Very well. We have prepared our assembly hut for you, I will show you the way.” He stopped for a moment and looked over to where you were still sitting between Wolffe and Sinker. “Though I know you follow different customs, we Gonchee do not allow women to sleep in a room with people they’re not related or married to, which is why we have also prepared an empty hut for the Commander and his wife. And I suppose they will need privacy so she can perform her marital duties. My son will show them the way” 

You were quite certain that at one point throughout the day your own rank as Commander had been mentioned, but even though you really wanted to correct the old Gonchee, you were tired of dealing with them all day and decided against it. Though the same could not be said for the Wolfpack. Several of them, including Wolffe and Sinker next to you as well as Boost next to Sinker, spoke up to correct him. 

A younger Gonchee, who you assumed was said son, stood up and looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Alright, Commanders”, he said. The ironic way in which he pronounced the word made Wolffe roll his eyes, which by now you could tell even if you weren’t looking at him. “Follow me.” 

The two of you bid goodnight to the others and did as the Gonchee had said. The thought of probably having to share a bed with Wolffe crossed your mind for a moment, but it was gone as soon as it came. Though as soon as the son opened the door to a small hut, smaller than any you had seen before, it returned. 

The ceiling was low, the room was small and the only pieces of furniture were a small bed and a single bedside table. 

“It’s not much but it’ll do for the night”, the Gonchee said. Though the words were probably supposed to be apologetic, his tone was anything but. 

Wolffe, bowing his head due to the low ceiling, stepped into the hut while you remained outside. That, however, proved to be a mistake just a moment later, because the Gonchee stepped closer, closer than you would have wanted, and looked up at you. 

“You might rather spend the night in my room, it’s bigger and more comfortable and I could really use someone in my bed, especially a pretty human woman such as yourself.” 

Due to his words and the way he eyed you, especially with your private parts almost in his eyeline because of his short height, you wanted nothing more than to punch him. Maybe kick him. Maybe cut off something of his with your lightsaber. And if it hadn’t been for Wolffe you would have, and ruined your mission within a split second. 

But there was Wolffe, knight in plastoid armour protecting you from any rash decisions. He had left the hut and was now standing behind you, from where he put his arms around your middle and, you were sure, glared daggers at the Gonchee. 

“I suggest you leave my wife alone”, he growled and tightened his grip on you even more. 

You weren’t sure whether it was his words, the growl or his arms around you and your back to his chest, but something about his behaviour did something to you. Something that would make it a million times harder to share a room, share a bed, with him tonight. As if your crush on the Commander wasn’t already bad enough...

“I thought in your culture you love the one you marry and if you love this woman you wouldn’t want her to miss out on spending a night with a real man, would you?” 

If the situation wasn’t so tense you would have laughed. A real man? He was covered in fur! 

“Wolffe gives me everything I need and more. I wouldn’t leave him for any man in the entire galaxy.” 

It was only when the words left your mouth that you realized just how true they were. You really had to get that under control, having a crush on your fellow Commander was bad enough, you would not allow yourself to actually fall in love with him. You couldn’t jeopardize your friendship, your future as a Jedi knight, everything and everyone you’ve ever known for a man who you knew thought of you as a friend. 

The Gonchee looked you up and down one last time before glaring at Wolffe. 

“Then I suppose I should bid the two of you good night.”

And without another word he turned around and left the two of you alone. 

As soon as he was gone Wolffe let go of you and put some distance between you. 

“You should lie down, you must be tired after dealing with those idiots all day.” 

His words made you turn around to face him. Once again you just couldn’t read him. One moment he made your heart beat faster by actually acting like your husband and the next he pretended like you were nothing more than acquaintances. But for once you grew tired of this behaviour and refused to oblige, instead you stepped closer to him again and put a hand on one of the arm he had crossed across his chest. 

“I’m sure you’re just as tired, if not more. Let’s both go to bed.” 

He raised one eyebrow, but other than that he didn’t make a move to break contact with you again. 

“There’s only one bed.” 

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, a gesture you had often copied from Wolffe himself. 

“I know that. But we’re old enough and trust each other enough to sleep in the same bed for one night”, you argued. You didn’t know what made you do it, but you couldn’t resist the urge to lean even closer, stand up on your tiptoes and whisper into his ear. “You’re my husband, after all. And husband and wife usually sleep in the same bed. And how else are you supposed to protect me from the Gonchee?” 

You were too close to his ear to actually see his face, but you were sure he was smirking as he scoffed. 

“I thought you were plenty capable of handling the Gonchee yourself, Commander.” 

The way he said your title did something to you you’d rather not investigate any further. He was teasing, of course he was, but though two could play that game you were simply too tired.

“Just join me in bed when you’re ready. Otherwise you’ll have to sleep on the cold floor and I’ll have to explain to Master Plo why his Commander is sore all over tomorrow.” You could have left it at that, you should have, but you just had to add one more sentence. “And I can think of more pleasant ways to make you sore.” 

As you left him standing and entered the hut you could hear a choked noise coming from him. 

-------

“Finally decided to join me?”, you teased when Wolffe slipped underneath the cover. 

Wolffe didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of an answer, couldn’t think at all. Not with you so close, laying beside him, trusting him to sleep next to you, to defend you if any of the Gonchee were to try something while you were in your most defenseless state. 

“Wolffe”, you whispered after a moment of silence. 

Now he had no choice but to answer. 

“What is it?”, he grunted. And instantly regretted his gruff reply. This was his one chance to have you close, to forget that there was no way the two of you could ever be more than friends. 

“Thank you, for today. And tonight. I’m glad you’re my ‘husband’.” 

Wolffe wasn’t good with words, but in that moment he really had no idea what to say. 

“It really showed us what we’re missing, didn’t it? The chance to be in love, to be married and not have to hide your feelings”, you continued. 

For a second Wolffe’s heart stopped beating. Could you be talking about him not having to hide your feelings or was is just a general statement? Or did you maybe mean that you... No, that was impossible. 

“Anyways, we should get some sleep now, we have an early start tomorrow”, you concluded. 

From then on it only took a few seconds for your breathing to even out and just was Wolffe was about to sigh in relief that he no longer had to pretend that being near you wasn’t affecting him, you rolled over from your back onto your side and were now pressed up against Wolffe. 

It wasn’t just his heart that stopped now, his breathing did as well. How could he move even to take another breath with you so close, with your head resting underneath his chin, your legs intertwined with his and your arm lazily thrown over his torso. 

“Damn it”, he mumbled, though he instantly came to regret having made a sound. Luckily you were still fast asleep, if anything you cuddled up even closer to Wolffe. 

Slowly, more careful than he had ever been, he lifted his own arm to wrap it around your waist and pull you even closer. He let out a content sigh, breathing in the scent of your shampoo in the process. 

Wolffe knew for a fact that he wouldn’t get any sleep that night. This was his one chance to share a bed with you, and even though he would have loved to fall asleep and wake up next to you, he preferred cherishing every second of the night. 

-------

The next morning you were woken up not by the sun shining directly in your face, nor Wolffe’s sort snoring or the birds chirping outside, but by the unfamiliar voices speaking in what you recognized as the language of the Gonchee. 

You decided that it might be best to pretend to still be asleep, which is why you moved even closer to Wolffe and buried your head underneath his chin. In turn he pulled you closer to him, which made you realize that he had had one arm around you the entire time. You were almost too distracted by the warm and comforting presence of Wolffe next to you and the safety his arm around your waist guaranteed to notice that his breathing changed as he slowly woke up. Though like you Wolffe must have decided not to make it known that he was awake, it was only the more uneven breaths and the stiffening of his body that made it obvious. 

“Might I ask why you have invaded my commanders’ privacy?”, a familiar voice cut through the Gonchees’ conversation. And though you knew that it was safe to ‘wake up’ not that Plo Koon was here, both you and Wolffe still pretended to be fast asleep. Which had nothing to do with the fact that you simply didn’t want to face a reality where you weren’t cuddling in bed with Wolffe, nothing at all.  

“We... I....”, one of the Gonchee stammered. 

“We were here to wake them up”, another voice, who you recognized as the leader’s son, tried to explain. 

You both heard and sensed you master coming closer, and though part of you was worried what he may say, or worse think, about the position you and Wolffe were in, the bigger part was comforted by the fact that the Gonchee were either afraid enough or had enough respect for the Jedi to hurry out of the hut within seconds. 

“I know you’re awake.” Your Plo’s voice sounded amused rather than mad, though to be fair, in all your years of being his Padawan you had only seen him angry a handful of times, and almost never at you. 

It took a lot of self-restraint to fight the urge to cuddle closer to Wolffe for one last second before opening your eyes, but you managed. In moments like these you really wished Plo wouldn’t have to wear a mask, it would make it worlds easier to guess his feelings if you could just see his face. 

“I take it the two of you slept well?”, he asked. “The Gonchee certainly seemed to think so.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Was there anything you could say without letting either Wolffe or Plo Koon know just how well you slept with your fellow commander by your side? How much you never wanted to go to sleep without him in your arms again and how much you already missed him, now that he was just a few centimeters away? 

“Did you understand them, sir?”, Wolffe asked. It didn’t escape your notice that he didn’t answer the question either, though that could simply be due to the fact that Wolffe despised small talk, even with the man who was like a father to him. 

“I understood enough to know that they believe the two of you to be very much in love. As well as a few comments I’d rather not repeat, or think  about ever again”, Plo replied. As he spoke his eyes shifted between you and Wolffe, though you tried your best not to meet his gaze. You knew that he could already tell more than enough about your emotions through your force connection, if he saw your face, saw the love and admiration that must be visible in your eyes, he would know just how much you cared for Wolffe. 

“I’ll let you get ready then. Be outside in 10 minutes, we’re leaving in 20.” With those words Master Plo turned around, left the hut and left the two of you alone. 

You looked over at Wolffe, who, same as you, was leaning against the wobbly headboard. 

“For what it’s worth, I really did sleep well. Better than I had in a long time”, you said with a slight smile on your lips. Maybe this was overstepping a boundary, but right now you didn’t care. 

All Wolffe, in a very characteristic yet disappointing, fashion did was nod before standing up and starting to put on the first pieces of his armour. Other than you, who had actually changed into a pyjama while Wolffe had still been outside the hut last night, he had slept in his blacks and didn’t really have to change, or rather undress. 

You, however, did. At first you glanced around the hut, looking for some sort of privacy you knew you wouldn’t find. Then you considered your options: You could ask Wolffe to leave, or to simply turn around, while you would change and he’d do it with probably only an amused smile, or you could just change real quick while he was still busy with his armour. In the blink of an eye you decided on the second option, partly because Wolffe, as well as the other clones in the 104th, had seen you bloody and sweaty, with torn clothes and in various states of undress before, either in the medbay or when you had been in a particular hurry, but mostly you just didn’t want to send Wolffe away, not after having spent the night together. 

It was only when you had already changed into your regular trousers and just put on your bra when you came to regret your decision. 

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing?”, Wolffe asked, his tone mostly shocked, though there was an emotion in there you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“What does it look like? I’m changing.” 

You had previously had your back turned to Wolffe, but his question, or rather the way in which he asked, gave you the confidence boost needed to turn around and face him. 

“Would you rather I went out in my pyjama?” 

This trip really was proving to be most unusual, since Wolffe seemed to be speechless. 

“Of course not”, he finally said, though his voice did sound a bit off. “But you could have asked me to leave.” 

By now you really didn’t know where your confidence was coming from, but as if an autopilot you stepped closer to him, close enough to see the way his eyes, as well as his pupils, widened. 

“Maybe I didn’t want you to leave.” 

It was a bold statement, and maybe not entirely true, but it seemed to do the trick, since a smirk found its way to Wolffe’s lips. His eyes, previously focused on your eyes, flitted down to your chest for a moment before going back up again. 

“Then what is it you wanted me to do?”, he asked. “What do you want?” A clear challenge to either back down or take a leap. A challenge you shouldn’t accept, but found yourself really wanting to. 

“I want you to be here, with me. I want you to be with me wherever I go. I want you next to me in bed when I go to sleep at night and when I wake up the next morning. I want you to always look at me the way you’re doing right now. I want you to touch me and kiss me and make me yours. Maker, Wolffe, I want you!” 

The words were out of your mouth without thinking. Just like that, you had voiced every thought running through your brain, made yourself vulnerable to Wolffe’s reaction, whatever it might be. Though you had never expected it to be an arm, already covered in plastoid, to wrap around your waist and a hand, warm and steady, on the back of your neck.   

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that”, he mumbled before crashing his lips against yours. 

Though you didn’t have much experience, you knew that this was what a kiss was supposed to be. It was not a clashing of teeth, like your first kiss, nor hesitant and barely there, like your second, but a perfect mixture. Wolffe wasn’t rough, though there was just enough force to tell you that he could be if that’s what you wanted. His lips worked against yours as if they were made to, teeth softly grazing your bottom lip a few times before biting down. He nibbled on your lip, then caressed it with his tongue before giving the same treatment to your top lip. Some time during the kiss your hands had found their way into his hair, pulling it and pulling him closer at the same time, finally feeling the soft strands between your fingers and causing Wolffe to moan at the sensation. By the time his tongue made its way into your mouth you could have sworn that your legs were made of jelly, that you had moved on to whatever came after this life, that this was a dream. 

Even when Wolffe pulled away to catch his breath you didn’t dare to open your eyes, afraid of the reality you would find if you did. 

You heard Wolffe’s low chuckle before his lips were on you again. This time he gently kissed your cheeks, the corners of your lips, before making his way down. He spread small bites on your jaw and then followed his teeth with his tongue, soothing the slight sting. Though it was a spot high up on your neck, just beneath your jaw, that finally got a reaction from you. You tightened your grip on his hair as his lips ghosted over the spot and moaned when they pressed harder. 

“So needy”, Wolffe chuckled.

All you did to reply was pull his head up again for another kiss, one that was faster and more heated than the last. Though as soon as you pulled away his lips found their way to the same spot again. He began to suck while at the same time pulling you back to the bed. You wondered how he had enough sense to sit down and pull you into his lap, all your thinking had abandoned you the moment his lips first met yours. 

“Wolffe, I - kriff, stop -”, you panted. 

As soon as you said the word he pulled away, though his hands still had a grip on you, it loosened and he looked at you with nothing but love and lust in his eyes. 

“What is it, mesh’la?” 

For a moment you leaned your forehead against his shoulder before straightening up again and looking at him. 

“As much as I’d love for you to leave hickeys all over, we both know that you can’t. No one can know this ever happened”, you told him, making sure to put just enough authority in your voice to make him take you seriously. 

A sly grin was on his lips as soon as the words left your mouth. 

“I know, cyare”, he reassured you. He leaned closer again, though this time his lips didn’t move to your neck, but to your ear. “But later I’ll mark you in places where no one but me will see.” 

The thought alone send shivers down your spine and heat to your core, but it also placed a smile on your face. 

“Looking forward to it”, you said and placed a quick peck on his lips. Though you should have known that Wolffe wouldn’t leave it at that. He pulled you closer once again, the hand on your waist now moving upwards and to the front until it cupped your breast. Gently, in stark contrast to the way he bit down on your lip, he squeezed and massaged in before moving on to the other one. 

Another moan escaped your lips, this one even louder. 

“Careful, we don’t want anyone to hear you, do we?” 

You were about to nod in agreement when an idea popped into your head. 

“I bet hearing me would make the Gonchee really believe that we’re married.” 

Wolffe chuckled as he once again moved his hands to your waist. 

“I think they already believe us, cyare.” 

-------

It had taken the two of you a while to finally separate and make yourselves look presentable, and only when you heard Sinker calling for the last men to hurry up did you finally leave the hut. 

Now, on your way back to the ship, the two of you were finally together again after you had talked to Plo Koon and Wolffe to the other clones for a while. 

“You know, I’m really glad it was you I was fake married to”, you confessed in a whisper. 

Wolffe’s hand brushed against yours for a second while he chuckled. 

“You know, maybe one day we can scratch the ‘fake’.” 

He saw the surprise in your eyes as you looked up to him. Truth be told, he hadn’t meant to say that in that moment, but he knew he wanted it to be true. Some day, when the war was over, if you would still want him by your side by then. 

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much”, you said with a smile. “But first, I think there’s something else we need to do, once we have some time and privacy.” 

Wolffe knew exactly what you were talking about, and though he couldn’t wait to feel you, to hear you and touch you again, he also couldn’t wait for the day he would get to call you his wife for real. Maybe, after such a long time of denying his feelings and then refusing to act on them, this trip to the Gonchee village and pretending to be married had been good for something after all. 

I tried to put a little bit of everything (and by ‘everything’ I mean some of my favourite tropes) into this story, I hope you enjoyed it. 

As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. <3