#like- shut up please all you do is talk about a group of straight white men who do stupud shit togetehr get a lofe

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

a certain type of (typically white lower support needs speaking) autistic people: autism is not a disorder because there’s nothing wrong with me and a disorder implies there’s something wrong with me that needs to be cured��😫people treat me bad because they see it as a disorder instead of the correct thing of difference or a neurotype!!!

half of this type of people: autism is not a disability because there’s nothing wrong with autism i’m not disabled i can do everything just like a nondisabled person and disability is Bad and i’m not bad

(which. disability is not a bad word and all but i at least applaud you for the consistency??)

other half of this group, somehow: autism is a disability because autism is disabling and there’s nothing wrong with disability! disability isn’t inherently bad it’s how society treat us that disables us!!! —but autism is still not a disorder! it’s not a disorder it’s a disability and a neurotype!

(disability isn’t bad but this group also perpetuated a lot of misinformation about the social model. i only have to fight them on one subject (autism as disorder) instead of two (autism as disability and disorder) but somehow this group is even more frustrating to deal with because the sheer cognitive dissonance is going to explode my brains. like so you can separate disability from societal ableism but you can’t separate disorder from societal ableism???)

bonus. all of them: *will come onto the post of a higher support needs autistic person talking about why autism is a disability AND a disorder and half complain half dissecting why some (lower support needs) autistic people are so fucking keen on speaking over higher support needs autistic experience. and then have the fucking audacity to say “well i don’t think autism is a disorder because” and then performatively say “if i misunderstand you’re welcome to educate me” as if the entire fucking original post isn’t an education and as if i owe explaining my entire experience to you*

for the record and for the last fucking time (narrator: it would not be the last time). disorder is not a bad word it’s not an inherently wrong thing it’s not a bad thing and if you think it is please for the love of god work on your internalized ableism instead of externalizing it to a more marginalized person. yes the construction of disorders especially in the realm of psychiatry is shit and a mess but that doesn’t mean what you think it means please. a disability a disorder an impairment is limiting by definition it’s a fact it can be neutral it doesn’t have to inherently mean the societal stigma associated with it is true. a disorder and how society and ableist people treat that disorder is heavily intertwined but the second is not inherent to the first.

if you don’t see your autism as a disorder i’m not going to argue over your own experience but stop fucking implying or straight up saying all autism is not a disorder. stop trying to erase the disorder part of autism spectrum disorder. please get out of your tunnel vision and actually shut up and listen to higher support needs / nonspeaking autistics for once in your life without adding any of your comments please.

disability is not an inherently bad thing. disorder is not an inherently bad thing. impairment is not an inherently bad thing.

[chiiyuuvv]

xikers interview ★

idol!xikers 1.1k words

notes! very different formatting than my usual hcs.. credits to @andteamsluv because i would never thought to write something as if you're watching it, nice idea!

▸ 𝘱��𝘢𝘺?

action!

“hello youtube!” a girl says, turning her direction to face the cameras pointed at her. “my name is user chiiyuuvv and today I will be interviewing these lovely ten boys: xikers!!” the camera pans to the boys sitting in a curve, each waving to the camera with a smile. “I'm sure our users are very familiar with kq’s youngest boy group, so let's head straight to the questions, shall we?”

question : describe y/n in one word 

the boys ooh and ahh at the question, some looking at the other members with a puzzled look on their face, others deep in thought as to what to say. the host starts talking again.

“i’m sure their fanbase, roady’s, are very familiar with y/n, xikers manager. i am very curious to hear what you say,” the interviewer stops to chuckle. “we will go from oldest to youngest, and please, explain why you chose said word.” the host smiles, before the camera shifts to minjae, xikers oldest member and leader. 

“what are hard question..” he chuckles, looking up at the white ceiling as he ponders about his answer choice. “i’d say she’s very.. reliable.”

“oh?” the host hums, tilting her head, “why do you choose that word?”

“well, she’s always there for me, even on my darkest days,” he stops when the members start awwing, making small hearts at minjae. he blushes, “shut up! anyways, she helps me unwind and is basically the second mother to these overgrown kids. she cares, even when she does have to.”

the room breaks into a series of claps when minjae finishes, the camera traveling across the members to land on junmin.

“hii,” he waves to the camera before starting. “y/n is very worrisome and i don’t understand why. she always asks if i showered, ate, practiced, etc. she says it’s because i’m bad at taking care of my health but that’s obviously not true, i feel completely fine!!” ironically, junmin starts coughing violently. he stops when one of the members fetches him a water bottle in which he chugs. he clears his throat, waving at the camera, “like i said, fine.”

user chiiyuuvv and the rest of the members look at each other to see if they witnessed the same thing. she clears her throat, “anyways, sumin! your turn!”

right on que, sumin turns dramatically to the camera before jumping up and running towards it, shaking the lens. “she’s a freak!!” he yells, the camera getting a close up of the inside of his mouth. 

“how so?”

“she keeps making these random, high pitched noises. either that, or she randomly bites me!”

“yeah, i think you’re describing yourself, min,” junmin chimes, the room erupting in laughter. sumin shakes his head like a mad man.

“and no one believes me either!!”

the host shakes off her giggle, pointing her finger at jinsik, gesturing that it’s his turn.

“oh, y/n’s supportive! she’s like my number one cheerleader!” jinsik says, looking ecstatic in front of the camera. “she even sent me a good luck message for today’s interview! love you y/n!!” he shapes his hands into two thumbs up, before forming it into a heart.

“we love supportive besties,” the host adds, jinsik nodding profoundly at her. “hyunwoo! your turn!”

“she’s weird,” hyunwoo deadpans, shrugging at the camera. “yeah, that’s all i have to say.”

“can you elaborate??” the host cranes her neck.

“i.. i really don’t know why i find her weird, if i'm being honest. maybe it’s because we get along strangely well. i dunno,” hyunwoo shrugs again, before pointing at junghoon. when junghoon gets the nod from the host, he begins.

“well unlike hyunwoo,” he answers snarky, side-eyeing the boy, “i find her very comforting. she’s always been super nice towards me and the other members, and she’s also very observant. she got yujun the bracelet he’s been eyeing for a week and a half,” on que, yujun shakes his wrist, showcasing the jewelry.  

“oh, it’s so pretty!!” user chiiyuuvv gasps, before turning to seeun. the camera follows her direction. “your turn!”

“my turn, eh?” seeun looks around with a smirk. no one says anything though, just stares blankly at the boy, waiting for him to continue. “no takers?? huh.. tough crowd. anyways, dudee she’s so annoying!”

the boys jaws drop as the host looks at him confused, “how so?”

“she keeps stealing my food!” the members take turns sucking their teeths, some unballing their fist like they were going to gang up on the boy for his words. “it’s okay though, since i have a way of getting back at her!” seeun shushes like what he’s going to say is top secret. “i just call her cute! she steals a chip, i say “what are you doing, cutie?”, and her cheeks puff up everytime, works like a charm! but seriously, she’s so cutee!!” seeun gushes like a school girl, covering his face with his hands as he kicks his feet. 

the host chuckles before nodding to yujun.

“y/n’s mean,” yujun huffs, crossing his arms. he continues before the host gestures to him to resume. “she keeps snitching on me to junmin! i keep getting in trouble because of her,” the boy pouts, junmin sighing.

“he thought he could get away with oversleeping when we had a full schedule today,” junmin informs to the group.

“i would have! if y/n didn’t say anything,” yujun rolls his eyes. of course he doesn’t actually mean it, because after all, you did gift him a brand new bracelet. 

the host chuckles at the boys behavior before pointing to hunter, “your turn!”

“y/n is tiny,” hunter says with an adoring grin. “it’s so hard taking her seriously when she’s nagging me about something. i mean, she’s half my size, the only thing i can think about is–”

“how cute she is??” seeun finishes his sentence, his eyes lighting up like he just hit the jackpot. hunter nods, before standing up and dapping up his best buddy.

the host chuckles again, “okay, very last member, yechan!!”

“y/n is my best friend,” yechan starts confidently, shrugging with a grin as he leans against his chair in a cool manner. “she was one of the very first people i met and like junghoon said, has been so kind. what makes me special, though, is that we share the same humor, therefore have plenty of inside jokes,” yechan nods, the members playfully rolling his eyes at him. 

“that sounds lovely, yechan,” user chiiyuuvv claps, before dusting off her legs, “well folks, looks like that's all the time we have today! i hope you enjoyed this very silly interview with 10 amazing boys! be sure to stream their latest comeback, give this video a thumbs up, and hit that follow button for more interviews with more kpop groups. before we end the video, xikers, anything you want to say?”

the host looks over to the boys standing up, eagerly facing the camera. “we love you, y/n!!” they shout in unison, before the cameras turn off.

cut!

︴bonus! it's been so long since i've written about xikers

▸ taglist 📬 @lil-elle , @hyunukitty , @cake1box , @nenede , @yuniniverse , @hunchan444 , @s00buwu , @cherrycolaberry , @yoiiwonn , @kookieswithjung , @wonootnoot , @pinievsev , @lis4lipsi , @everythingboutkpop

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

[iloved1lfs]

FIRST ENCOUNTER

PAIRING: thomas shelby x reader

SUMMARY: Takes place in season 1 of peaky blinders, you are grace’s sister. She was hiding something from you, so you followed her to where she works, the garrison. When you run into someone Grace has been hiding you from.

WARNINGS: age-gap (reader early 20s), no smut.

A/N: It’s a fluff nothing much is going on, but I think I am going to turn this into a series, comment and let me know what you think. If I should or not.

SONG: West Coast by Lana Del Rey

In a blink of an eye everything changed, you along with your sister Grace lived in Galway for awhile. Until one day your sister put news upon you that you’ll be moving to Birmingham for some time. You left everything behind, your friends, your things, the memories. You both were starting anew, you never recieved an answer as to why you had to leave your hometown. Grace would avoid the answer to that question many times, she was always leaving the house her job, which she never talked about. Grace overall seemed extremely overprotective especially since moving to Birmingham, she would always bring up these so called “peaky blinders” what a funny name. She would tell you to do what you got to do and come straight back home not getting distracted by anything else, or don’t go out at all. Which scared you, you needed answers. A conversation wasn’t going to get you the answers you need so you had to take matters into your own hands.

You were reading a book as you sat there on the couch, Grace was gathering her purse, curious to where she was going. “Where you going?”

“Work.” She replied keeping it short, you nodded your head.

“Grace,” She looked at you. “Where do you work exactly?” She paused her movements and hesitated to answer that question.

“The Garrison.” The Garrison. You asked what that was. “It’s a really good job I help doing finances for important people, an office job.” She gave you a smile, and you returned the gesture. She came up to you placing a kiss on your forehead and hugging you.

“Stay home I won’t be out too long okay.” You nodded your head and she opens the door, but stops to turn to you. “Don’t open the door for anyone alright?” You nodded quickly shooing her away and she smiles, while shutting the door behind her, leaving you alone.

You quickly drop your book beside you on the couch, running towards the window, opening the curtain slightly. Seeing where Grace was going you waited until she was no where in sight, today was the day you’ll find out what she is hiding or at least find out where she works.

You wore a collared white shirt, with a blue skirt and a black sweater, and putting on your shoes. You stepped outside the house, the gloomy chilly weather hitting you as you stepped outside. You made your way down the steps, and made your way to where you saw Grace heading.

You got lost after a few minutes of wandering around, you had to ask someone for help. You look around and see this man with his back facing you.

“Excuse me sir?” He turned to look at you as he smoked his cigarette. “I was hoping you can tell me where the Garrison is?”

He started laughing, you were confused at his reaction. “What is a pretty lady you going to the Garrison for?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” You grew impatient, just wanting to know where the place was. “Now please can you tell me the Garrison is at before I grab that cigarette of yours and burn it against your skin.”

He puts his hands up in surrender and huffing out smoke. “You go down that street there,” he points as you look at his gestures, as he continues to give you directions.

You thank him and make your way to the Garrison. The more you kept walking you felt more out of place, there was men everywhere that were looking at you like your candy. You saw a group of men come out of a building all drunk, laughing and causing chaos. You look up from the building they came out of and in big written letters it said ‘THE GARRISON’.

You took a deep breath and made your way through the big brown doors of the Garrison. Upon walking in there were loud chatting, many men sitting down at tables drinking their hearts away. This didn’t look like an office job that Grace mentioned. There was a sea of people in the place, smelled like alcohol everywhere making you scrunch your nose. You look around and see a glimpse of blonde hair, with a red sweater, you took a few steps closer and stop in your tracks.

It was Grace, serving drinks to a couple of men who looked that if they drank anymore they would pass out. She hadn’t seen you yet since she had her back turned towards you, you clear your throat. “This doesn’t look like an office job Grace?”

She quickly turned towards the direction of your voice, and her eyes widened upon seeing you.

She excused herself from the men, and made her way towards you. She reached you looking infruriated that you didn’t listen to her. “What are you doing here?”

“Grace you’re a bloody barmaid? YOU LIED.” You said loudly, she shushed you quick pulling you away from the middle of the pub, trying to not get the attention of the men, and bringing you near the far end of the bar counter. “Are you going to explain why you lied?”

“Please, Y/n go home and I promise I will explain everything to you.” She put her hand on her temples, stressing out.

“No Grace,” You shake your head and she is shocked. “I am done being kept in the bloody dark. This clearly doesn’t look like a fucking financing job or an office doesn’t it?”

“Y/n you can’t be here there’s dangerous people here,” You scoff.

“Please Grace I’m not falling for your stupid warnings, you clearly just want me to leave.” She grabs your arm tightly and you try to pry her hand off your arm.

“Leave now.” She said sternly, trying to take you out the pub, but you kept fighting against her tries.

“No I’m not leaving until you tell me everything.” You were both causing a scene that everyone around you were now looking at you. Screaming at you two to fight.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” Everyone stopped their cheering and screaming. Grace stopped and sighed, while closing her eyes. “You need to leave now Y/n.” she whispers at you, you shake your head.

“Fuck,” She said under her breath displeasingly. You were confused at her reaction.

The sound of footsteps got closer towards your direction, and you look behind you. You saw a man who looked a few years older than you, dressed up in a nice black suit, and a newspaper boy hat. He had light blue piercing eyes, and the most intimidating stare ever, his presence seemed powerful, but overall he was quite handsome. He looked at you up and down no emotion on his face, then looked at Grace.

“Who are you?” Before you had the chance, Grace stepped beside you and he looked at her.

“My sister, she was visiting me today.” You scoff at the lie she came up with, he glanced at you at your sudden reaction.

He turns around towards everyone who was surrounding you three. “Everyone go back to what you were doing. Nothing to see here.” Everyone does as they are told, and he turns his attention back to you two standing before him.

Grace grabs your arm pulling you beside her, you shake off your arm away from her. “I hope it’s not a problem, Mr. Shelby.” He stayed silent looking at us, and shook his head.

“Just don’t cause any more ruckus in my pub Grace, it’s quite simple.” She nods her head and you scoff in disbelief. The fact that he was setting orders to your sister, you couldn’t stay quiet.

“We weren’t causing a ruckus, your people are just nosy sir.” You challenged him. Grace looked at you with wide eyes and shushed you. He looked at you amused that you dared to speak back to him.

“Excuse her, Tommy." He took out a cigarette from his pocket, and placed it on his lips. He took out his lighter from his back pocket, then lit up the cigarette, and inhaled the smoke, all while looking at you. Usually if someone talked back to him, and challenged him he would put a bullet between their head, but he found you amusing instead.

He was intimidating, his stare is intimidating it felt like you were staring not his soul, but at the same time he looked quite attractive while doing so.

Grace got called over to serve some people. “Stay here don’t leave when my shift is done we’ll go home.” You looked at her as she left, leaving you alone with Tommy.

You looked at him as he observed you, he was curious about you. His stare was so intense that you had to look else where.

“I’m Tommy Shelby,” He said and you glance at him.

“I figured,” He chuckled softly, tapping off the ashes on the bar counter with his finger.

“You’ve got quite a mouth eh?” You’ve always been more opinionated than Grace, she was more of taking everyone’s shit. However, you were the complete opposite you weren’t going to take everyone’s shit and stay silent.

“Is that a problem?”

He smoked before answering. "No woman has ever spoken to me the way you do."

"Well I'm not most women Mr. Shelby." All he did was stare at you with an amusing smile. The way his name rolled off your tongue did unexplainable things to him, he was interested in you.

"I'm guessing you haven't heard then eh?" You look at him confused at his response, before he can even manage to get a word out, Grace cuts into the conversation, with her purse on her right shoulder.

"Tommy can I get off earlier, so I can take her home, I don't want her waiting for me late at night here." Tommy stares at you and purses his lips, then nods upon Grace's request.

She thanks him and Grace grabs your arm gently leading you away, not giving him enough time to say bye to you. You both make it out of the Garrison, making your way home in deafening silence.

After minutes of walking you both made it home, and before you can go to your room, Grace speaks to you. "Why did you go against what I said?" She said calmly which was quite intimidating, and you pulled your hand away sitting on the living room couch.

"You want the truth or a made up lie dear sister?" You sarcastically smile at her, and she sighed in annoyance.

"This isn't a game Y/n." She kept her cool.

"Well then, I wanted to know the whole truth as to why I have to be locked up here as a prisoner everyday, I didn't come with you to Birmingham out of the blue just to be a fucking prisoner," She opened her mouth to speak, but you cut her off. "I wanted to see where you worked and clearly that financial job you said was a fucking lie, so, instead of lying some more tell me the fucking truth I want to know everything. Why can't I be roaming the streets like a normal person or hang out with my friends?" She stayed silent and took a seat beside you.

"I can't tell you everything, but trust me everything is in control," You rolled your eyes. "All I can tell you is that I was trying to protect you from the peaky blinders." You furrow your brows in confusion.

"The man you met, Tommy," You nodded your head. "He is part of the peaky blinders, him along with his family and a couple other people they are apart of this gang, he's the leader of the gang."

"They are dangerous people they aren't as nice as they seem, HE isn't as nice as he seems, they kill people. I was protecting you from encountering them, but now you've caught HIS attention." Your mouth has gone dry and you regretted going out today, you felt guilty for not listening to her.

"I understand that you want to protect me, but I can't be a prisoner here," She looked down at her fingers. "I won't go to the Garrison no more, but I want to be able to go out to the cinema with my friends."

she stayed silent looking at you, you sat there pleading with your face. "Fine." You smiled and gave her a huge hug, as she hugged you back slightly laughing. "Don't back on your word then."

"I promise I won't."

However, that little encounter wouldn't be the last, it was just the beginning.

Originally this was going to be a fluff one shot, but I think I'm turning it into a sequel, what do you all think? Also I just finished school so I'll be able to write the ideas, I've been having recently. Next thing I'll be publishing is this Diego lainez x reader x Sebastian Cordova one shot! Stay tuned.

[vemaro]

how the tables have turned

Summary: “Are we seriously delaying our day so she can pleasure herself? Have you all lost your damn—”

He’s suddenly being yanked back by his shirt. On instinct, he pulls out a dagger, ready to attack, but Jaheira, the perpetrator, takes out her own and holds it at the ready. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Little Star,” she says cheekily.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav (female Tav)

Word count: ~1800

Notes: Here I am on my day off wanting to write fluff and I end up writing about the whole Haarlep ordeal. That situation is bizarre and uncomfy, but full of so much angst. As per usual, this is written with the context of my AU, so Astarion and Tav aren’t actually together (yet) and this takes place within the context of the game plot. The vampy boy just got back from the ditching the posse in a hissy fit and discovers some disturbing changes.

…

“Rendezvous back here at the Elfsong when we’re all through, got it?” The party converges on the door of their suite, Tav at the lead, but just as it opens, she freezes. A tingle runs down her spine and a flush comes over her cheeks. No no no. Not now. Not again. “Oh no,” she mumbles before shoving her way past her friends and running straight to her bedroom. The door shuts with a resounding thud and a loud silence follows.

Karlach grimaces. “Fucking Haarlep,” she says, spitting the fiend’s name.

Astarion, who was at the back of the group, looks between Tav’s door and the tiefling. “What … was that about?”

No one gives him an immediate answer, but something about their silence feels off. He’s the only one who appears lost. In other words, they know something and they don’t want to tell him. Most likely as payback from when he left their group. Even he has to admit it’s somewhat warranted, but he’s here now, damnit. Then again, it’s been less than 24 hours since he came back.

Gale, unofficial second in command, awkwardly steps into the center of things. “Tav requires a, er, moment of privacy.” He clears his throat. “We should allow her that by going out and doing as she asked of us. Supplies won’t collect themselves.”

Astarion stares at the door. “But is she alright?”

The wizard falls silent once more, pointedly looking down at his boots and clearly done talking. Okay … Astarion can’t tell if he’s more annoyed by the situation or concerned for the person locked in the room. Fine. If they’re not going to provide him any information, he might as well get it from the source.

His expression must’ve given away his intention because Wyll grabs his shoulder before he can move. “Don’t, Astarion. Leave her be.”

“Don’t touch me.” He shrugs off the warlock's hand and continues on his way. Just as he touches the door knob, a noise escapes the room. A moan. A moan? And he knows that moan. He’s made people do it before. This—this can’t be right. He must be delusional. But then there it is again, a sound of ecstasy passing through Tav’s lips. “What in the fucking Nine Hells is going on in there?” he demands out loud.

Gale's face is bright red and he’s white knuckling his quarterstaff. “I told you she needed a moment,” he mutters, eyes pleading. “Now please kindly step away from the door.”

Astarion does move away from the door and gets right in his face. “Are we seriously delaying our day so she can pleasure herself? Have you all lost your damn—”

He’s suddenly being yanked back by his shirt. On instinct, he pulls out a dagger, ready to attack, but Jaheira, the perpetrator, takes out her own and holds it at the ready. “Don’t tempt me with a good time, Little Star,” she says cheekily.

As frustrated as he is, Astarion is in no mood to fight. Although he has apologized for his dramatic departure, he’s not so naive to believe everyone has entirely forgiven him. He stashes his knife and holds up his hands. “I yield.”

She snaps at the others. “You all have a job to do, don’t you? Shoo.” They all file out slowly, a couple of them tossing a final glance in Tav's direction. Once it’s just the Harper and the vampire, the former gestures signals for him to follow. “Come.”

He grits his teeth, but obeys. Jaheira leads him downstairs into the tavern. It’s still mid morning, so there’s not much business yet, only a handful of people sprinkled across the space. The pair bypass the bar entirely and find an empty table in a secluded corner. She sits down first then nods towards the empty seat. “Sit.”

Astarion doesn’t fancy being told what to do yet again. “Tell me now; are you actually going to explain or should I just walk away?”

In lieu of properly answering, Jaheira lets out a world weary sigh and instead asks, “You are aware that we now possess the Orphic Hanmer, yes?”

He rolls his eyes. Perhaps he should leave. “Yes, I’m aware. How is that relevant to this conversation?”

“You recall where it was being held?”

His patience is wearing thin. “The House of Hope; that devil, Raphael’s, domain. I was told you lot took care of him.”

“Indeed. Raphael was defeated by our hand when we tried to escape with the hammer,” Jaheira says plainly. “However, prior to that battle, there was an incubus, Haarlep. He agreed to help us, but it came with a steep price.”

He reaches for his dagger again. “Is he up there right now?”

She shakes her head. “No, fortunately not.”

“Then what are we even talking about?”

Jaheira has never been one to mince her words, something Astarion respected her for. So it isn’t a good sign if she hesitates before speaking. The elder woman clasps her hands together and rests them on top of the table. Still, she pauses first. “Haarlep gave us a code to a safe and the hammer in exchange for having his way with Tav.”

Astarion feels his stomach drop into the sewers. “What?” He bangs his fists on the table. “Why the hells didn’t you kill him?”

“Honestly, we weren’t around to stop it from happening,” she confesses. “Tav split off from the group at some point and by the time we found her, a deal was struck and the deed was done.”

He points towards the stairs. “That still doesn’t explain whatever that is.”

Again, she hesitates, which is very unsettling. “He is a shapeshifter, much like that bloodthirsty Orin girl. Whenever he uses Tav’s form to seduce someone, she can feel everything with her own body.” The High Harper scowls. “It seems he’s been using it quite frequently.”

Astarion comes to a horrific realization. He covers his face in shame for her and finally drops into the open seat. “So right now, he’s fucking somebody else as her?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. This is too much. This is too familiar. Cazador is dead. Cazador is gone. Astarion stabbed him himself. This isn’t even about him, it’s about her. That stupid, selfless woman. He always warned Tav that her acts of heroism and martyrdom would eventually bite her in the ass one day, but he never thought it would be something like this. This is so much worse. What was she thinking? Jaheira allows him some time to gather his thoughts. When he does, he lets his hands fall away. “And … how often does this happen?”

“If I had to guess, every few days.” She sighs yet again. “You know how she can be though. It could be more. It hasn’t happened during a fight.” There’s an implied yet that hangs heavily in the air.

By now, a few guests have started to trickle in. Their private conversation won’t be so private for much longer. “How is she? Really.”

Jaheira stands. “Well, with an incubus violating her body, a mind flayer invading her mind, and a vampire spawn who wished her dead, how do you think, Little Star?” She doesn’t give him the opportunity to answer. She just walks away and out the front door, leaving him to stew in his thoughts and emotions. Which can be perfectly summed up as what the fucking hells.

It doesn't take too long for the druid to descend the stairs. At the bottom, she scans the room and her eyes connect with a familiar red pair of eyes. For a split second, she breaks into the sunny smile she’s known for, but one look at his expression sours hers. Tav heads for the door.

“Tav!” Astarion scrambles up from the chair and chases her outside. “Wait!”

She does not wait. “They told you.” It’s not even a question.

He catches up and puts himself directly in front of her. “I was going to find out eventually.”

Tav starts stabbing him with her finger in the chest. “Hey, you don’t get to judge me. You weren't there and it was the only way that no one would get hurt and—”

He lets her do it. “Out of everyone here, I have the least right to judge you.”

She laughs, but the sound lacks any humor. “Out of everyone here, you’d have the most right to judge me.”

Astarion frowns at the accusation. “Why would I judge you at all?”

“Because I had a choice, and you didn’t.”

Technically, technically, she’s not wrong, but that doesn’t make this any less fucked up. “I’m not judging you, Tav.” Gods below, is this what it was like for her when she was trying to get him to open up? “Your body is being used in such a dirty, nefarious way against your will, the toll on your mind and body is unfathomable. I’m the only person here who truly understands that.”

“I’m fine.”

Her nonchalance on the subject is pissing him off, but a small voice (that sounds awfully close to hers) reminds him this isn’t about him. “No, you’re not.”

Tav crosses her arms. “You went through this for two hundred years. I’m not going to compare my tendays of discomfort to your literal centuries of torture.”

“By the Gods, Tav, it’s not a bloody pissing contest for trauma!” He wants to grab the druid and shake some sense into her. If the issue at hand was literally anything else, he would. “Whether it’s been happening for a day, a week, a month, or a thousand years, it’s a shit predicament for anyone.”

He notices her fists clenching and unclenching. She’s digging her nails into her palms. “I appreciate the concern, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”

That’s a lie, plain and simple, but he won’t push the subject any further. From his own experience being on the other side of things, specifically during their discussions, it made him dig his heels in the dirt and shut down. Ironic how the tables have turned. “Alright,” he concedes. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m willing to lend an ear.”

Tav closes her eyes, takes a very deep breath, and lets it out very slowly and loudly. When she looks back at him, she seems slightly less frazzled. “Thanks, but I’m—”

“Fine?” he says with a smirk.

She snorts. “I am.”

“Of course you are.”

With an unimpressed eye roll, she pushes him away in jest. “I am, for the millionth time. Now drop it and let’s go. We’re already running behind.”

“Coming, dear.”

As they walk side by side, Astarion can’t help but wonder when he became the emotionally mature one in their friendship. The one attempting to crack open the shell of the other person. Ugh, he fucking hates it. Being the petty and bitter one is much easier. And yet he wants to try to be supportive and open. For her.

The things you do for love, right?

…

Thanks for reading!

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Comfort person

Requested?: yes

Synopsis: y/n is your average girl, just living her best life- one night she goes to a club just expecting to have fun and chill but that all gets twisted when a group of guys hound her and try to take her home with them, but one man who’s kept his eyes on her for the entire night won’t let that happen.

Trigger warnings: talk about drugs/ alcohol, douche-y guys, attempt of spiking a drink. If any of this makes you uncomfortable please read at your own discretion.

Harry x fem! Reader + famous! Harry

Trope: strangers to lovers

“Oh yeah you’re definitely dressed like that for a reason… wanna hook up,” the group of men around you were practically saying the same thing over and over again, your heart was beating out of your chest. You were full of anxiety. These men had been hounding you for a good 10 minutes and no one had said a thing, two blondes were sat either side of you and three guys were inches away from touching your back, keeping you blocked in practically. You felt sick to your stomach. “You’re actually so pretty…” one of them said with a little grin, “I’m Daniel and you are?” He held his hand out for you distracting you completely from your surroundings and you gulp harshly of course his name is Daniel you then slowly reach your hand out shaking his hand “nice to meet you…” you murmur unsure, “I’m y/n. Just here to chill. I don’t want to hook up” you state simply, a look of disappointment forming on Daniel’s face “shame” he spoke, and unbeknownst to you the other blonde on your other side had poured a white powder into your drink, his mates egging him on further but you didn’t really focus on that too focused on how uncomfortable they were making you feel.

However you also didn’t notice the curly haired man, sat down on a table just behind you, his green eyes full of concern as he had watched the whole entire thing. He was going to help a long time ago but he wasn’t entirely sure whether you were actually in trouble or whether they were your friends, but upon seeing the white substance float into your drink, and he knew in an instant that friends most definitely wouldn’t drug each other… Harry was quick to stand up as he moved to where you were sat his tattoos glimmering in the light as he got closer and closer to the bar before he tapped one of the brown haired guys on the shoulder making him move before Harry’s arm wrapped around your waist as he gently pulled you up from your sitting position “sorry to disappoint, I’ve got to whisk this one away… she’s not feeling too well. An early night is in order for her.” He chuckled out as you looked up at your saviour his jawline sharp, eyes a beautiful green colour and face the exact beauty of an Angel. You recognised him well- he was Harry styles but right now wasn’t the time to fangirl about that…

“Aren’t you from that boyband? One direction.” One of them laughed out, “oh yeah you’re so right! The band that’s so gay. Try to convince everyone they’re straight but really they’re all fucking,” the man chastised clearly trying to get on Harry’s nerves “ha ha very funny. You all look like you give each other blowjobs in the bathroom… don’t you? Got no woman to help you out so you do what bros do, yeah? Is that why you drugged her drink? Yeah I saw that.” He said immediately shutting the rowdy group up as you looked up to him shocked… they had drugged your drink? Shit your heart sank into your stomach. That knowledge made you feel sick and vulnerable. Harry then picked up the glass that had been drugged before he threw the red liquid into Daniel’s face watching as he clutched his eyes fear seemingly being knocked into all of them at the same time, once a man stands up for a woman they all become weak. Huh. Funny. “Disgusting, all of you. Buck up your fucking ideas otherwise I will press charges… if I really wanted to I could get the cops to arrest your dumb asses right now but I like to think you’ll all change.” He said knowing they wouldn’t change, Harry didn’t like using his fame to his advantage but knowing these men were going to hurt you an innocent vulnerable woman made him feel sick. “C’mon” he soon murmured looking down at you as he lead you out of the club, hand remaining on the small of your back as he guided you outside to safety. Harry would’ve done so much more if it weren’t for the fact that he wanted to comfort you, his breathing slightly unsteady with anger. What he had done wasn’t enough but was enough at the same time, his actions were completely justified. He found it incredibly disturbing and humiliating how no one else stepped in to help you… knowing this most likely happened to other people and people just sat and watched it. Allowing it to happen.

Soon you both stopped walking Harry turning to look at you “have you got a way home?” He asked studying you carefully, almost analysing you “I can call a taxi… don’t worry.” You assured immediately pulling your phone out of your pocket but he shook his head “no… I want to make sure you get home safely.” He said and you blinked confused… why did the Harry styles want to make sure you got home safely? So it was true? He was the kindest man to exist… “you don’t have to.” You said softly but he shook his head “I want to. I’m Harry by the way.” He held his hand out for you to shake, the rings that adorned his fingers were the first thing you noticed and you gently took his hand into your own giving his hand a light shake “pleasure to meet you Harry… my names y/n.” You said softly keeping eye contact with him as he didn’t let go of your hand giving a tight but gentle squeeze as he smiled “likewise, y/n.” He said calmly and kindly his eyes scanning over your features for a few moments “are you okay? They didn’t hurt you did they? Here… let me take a look at you.” He murmured letting go of your hand just so he could rest his hands upon your shoulders, his green gentle eyes full of worry as he seemingly looked you over for any wounds or such: the way he said it made your stomach flutter with butterflies. A man you barely knew- personally- offered more care and kindness than any man you had known for years. “I’m okay I promise.” Your words were soft and gentle as he silently looked at you making sure you were okay and unharmed and once he had realised that you were unhurt and just fine a small tight lipped smile tugged at his lips as he nodded “just a bit shaken up. If they tried to touch me I would’ve you know… put up a fight.” You said honestly and Harry nodded starting to walk with you to his car and he opened the door for you, like the gentleman he was and once you got in you buckled your seatbelt before letting out a soft sigh… that was most definitely the last time you ever went to a club alone.

You soon told Harry you address and he began driving his large hands resting on the steering wheel, you felt nervous not because of who he was of course not but rather what had just happened and he seemingly noticed that his free hand immediately dropping just next to the gear stick his palm faces upwards his fingers spread as if welcoming you to hold his hand and you quickly did just that taking a hold of his hand in yours intertwining your fingers with his. You held his hand in your lap your free hand gently tracing over his tattoos. No words needed to be spoken to understand what you were feeling and how the simplicity of him allowing you to hold his hand comforted you enough to help sooth your nerves. As he slowed down at a red traffic light his head turned to look to you his eyes scanning over your worried expression his hand gently squeezing yours “you’re okay.” He said softly and you turned to look at him nodding your head as you smiled gently “I know… thank you… I just can’t help to think what would’ve happened if you didn’t step in.” You murmured softly and he stroked his thumb against your skin, not even realising the traffic light had turned to green “I’m sure your gut instinct would’ve gotten you out quick enough… I like to think someone else would’ve stepped in but… as you said… I’m sure you would’ve put up a good fight and scared them all off.” He said with a soft chuckle, the traffic light flicking back to red but he didn’t seem to notice or rather care all he cared about was you in this very moment. “Yeah… what I’ve learnt is if you act just as crazy as them they become terrified… one guy barked at me so I barked at him and ran after him, he ran so fast he ran into a pole.” You said the funny story making Harry throw his head back as he laughed a curl of his hair gently resting against his forehead another curl doing the exact same thing creating a little heart shape on his forehead “you barked at him? That’s top notch… hilarious. Good for you” he said grinning at you as he gave your hand a squeeze before he finally began to drive again but he didn’t dare let go of your hand keeping your hand in his… he quite liked holding your hand. It was nice.

~

As he pulled up outside of your apartment you let out a soft sigh “you live alone?” He asked softly and you nodded your head, you weren’t looking forward to stepping into the empty apartment by yourself… you were slightly paranoid. Of course it would pass but still it was unnerving and Harry seemed to sense that “here I’ll walk you in” he said and you shot a grateful look his way as you got out of the car waiting for him and once he was by your side he rested his hand on the small of your back as he began walking with you towards your front door, his fingertips lightly rubbing against your back in a comforting manner and once the door was open you held your breath “I’ll go first” he comforted without even questioning or asking you why you were so worried or even beginning to humiliate you like most men would… most men wouldn’t understand it and would tell you to just move on with your life but you couldn’t… even if they weren’t there you were still scared. You followed after him flicking on the lights and once in the living room you sat down your heart racing, Harry without even saying anything doing a quick sweep around the house- checking in wardrobes, under your bed, everywhere… just to sooth your anxieties. He was truly boyfriend material.

You were quick to put on some tv, some happy tv and once Harry returned he stood just in front of you, his eyes searching yours silently “is it okay if I stay? Even if it’s just till you fall asleep?” He asked not wanting to leave you alone not for tonight at least, you were clearly scared and traumatised. “Yes of course” you quickly obliged nodding your head and a small smile formed on his face before he sat just beside you the both of you watching the tv silently and soon enough his arm wrapped around your shoulder pulling you into him your head lightly resting on his shoulder and he just held you wanting to make sure you knew you were safe. No words were said once again, it was simply silence knowing you were safe with him and soon your fingers began creeping towards his, your index finger hooking with his thumb, his fingers doing the same as he held your hand lightly your head slowly lifting to look him in the eyes the realisation in both of your eyes proving both of your thoughts and he without even saying anything cupped your cheek with his free hand pulling you in close to him as he kissed you gently but deeply, his other hand keeping a hold of yours before you pulled yourself onto his lap wanting to be close to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the both of you kissing… making out for a good long while the kiss passionate but loving. Not too fast but not too slow either. Just right. The way he placed his hands… his hand placement… gods it drove the butterflies in your tummy wild and soon Harry pulled away, just enough so his forehead could rest against yours “I’m sorry if I got into that too fast but… gods… couldn’t help myself.” He murmured but you shook your head smiling “I loved it” you whispered before pulling him close again as you kissed him once more deeply but gently, he made you feel safe and secure… you didn’t want to leave his side… maybe this journey of strangers to lovers wouldn’t end up so bad… maybe just maybe you had found your comfort person.

[lorynna]

I've been seeing the term "old white cis men" being used as an insult for a while now. From what I've observed it seems to have become a part of overall mainstream feminism aswell as liberal feminism.

Again only talking from my own experience, it's thrown around mostly by women with either mainstream or liberal feminist views or by trans identified people, specifically belonging to the group that believes in gender ideology.

They use as some sort of a quick "shut-up" towards men mostly in contexts like "but what else to expect from a straight, cis-white male", in order to invalidate their opinions or simply to degrade them and i said they "throw around" this term because most of them just adapted to using it without (seemingly) putting much thoughts into it. What some men did enraged them and in their minds it's a smart, quick comeback where they can feel assured to have striked the nerves of the male they said this to.

This is just a quick post of me gathering my own thoughts about something that has been bothering me for a while. I can't really say for sure, but hearing this term upsets me a lot. I can understand why you experience rage towards men, I really do and I can emphasize with you. I just wonder, is the answer really to target someone for their sexuality, skin-color aswell as them "identifying with their sex" to point out their privilege?

Obviously I know that these men are not endangered and them getting upset by this "insult" will be all. They are not oppressed and I agree they experience social privilege for these things but this feel wrong, especially when these people using this term then go on to talk about oppression based on skin-color or sexuality, general discrimination etc.

I would really like to hear some of your takes and hear your opinions concerning this topics. Please don't hesitate to share and I apologize if my post was a bit hectic, I am still pondering.

[acutiewithagun]

if we were friends irl (please just delete if this makes u uncomfy 😣)

You would be that white duck and i would he the yellow one on top of you

I would follow you around like a little duckling or a shadow just watching you quietly and occasionally offering funny words

You would be my cool older friend who I honestly see as like a very older sister or some type of not so old mother figure

I would be the silly little quiet child that follows you making the O_O face the entire time

Honestly you might forget I was even there until I say something crazy like "that guy was annoying. He wouldn't shut up 🙄" and you he like 😦 "amor ur still standing there??"

I would go to you for advice on almost anything

Probably more than my real mom

i could totally imagine us chilling in a quiet library

Like i come straight from school, drop my backpack down and IMMEDIATELY start spilling the tea about my day

"And then he had the audacity to say I had no personality! And he wonders why I don't like him 😐" "amor, you have algebra homework to do" "oh yeah right."

I would do my schoolwork while you do work or write or whatever you might do. I would probably ask you for help on homework but you seem you are better at English which I am as well

i feel like we would probably atop for pretzel or another quick snack on the way to dropping me off home

I would be all excited and happy to talk to you, rambling all the way there. But sometimes I might get a little bit quiet and I'll just stare at you waiting for you to talk

I say some very random things and I have shower thoughts throughout the day so I would just ask random out of the blue questions or say something weirdly wise

I love this. Absolutely.

Gonna add to this-

I could see us, in the case we know each other irl, having nights we just call. Like for you to vent or just chill as we do something.

I'd definitely have introduced you to the Person family and added you to the group chat.

Oh, absolutely would try and schedule little hangout sessions in public places and drag you around.

Rip, you'd probably be subjected to the jealousy from my platonic wife. Or adopted. Maybe both.

Honestly I'd buy you little gifts that make me think of you.

[ddrqoyote]

A Big Fat 🇺🇸🎆🍔-Centric Identity/Heritage Vent

i'm so fucking sick of hearing "if white culture makes you feel empty, identify as what your family was before they assimilated into the social construct" I CAN'T DO THAT THEY'RE ALL ENGLISH.

i don't know where everyone is pulling these 20th century immigrants from but for me everyone going back at least 5 generations was already in the US and assimilated. i have scottish heritage somewhere based on my name but fuck if i know where. my grandma's been maintaining her ancestry.com account for years. it's not in there, which means i probably can't ever find out.

i don't even feel connected to english people. i barely know anything about pre-US english history and most of what i do know is king arthur, the worst kind of christianity, and poverty. there's an english historian in my family, so that's a bad sign.

and apparently everything decent about this country's culture was made or brought in by other people and everything my people made is tainted somehow. the good things always turn out to be exaggerations or just lies. i know that sounds excessive but i just found out dunk tanks were originally racist. fucking DUNK TANKS. even the littlest things. power and business are nice to have but they don't make much of a culture.

my heritage seems to be "cheat and kill better than anyone else, take credit for all our lucky breaks, tell everyone we were pacifist heroes later and if anyone tells the truth, make them shut up". and if i choose not to embrace that i have no heritage at all.

and again, english, so i can't pull some "nope, not me actually" card and hop over to a culture i like better than "generic white". i know that's insulting but it reminds me of when i was in high school and i was mad at myself for being straight and "part of the problem". it turned out i was queer so it wasn't my problem anymore, but i never actually solved my issues with it, i just found an escape hatch.

also i'm jealous and salty. the rest of yall (another word i thought was ours but isn't), even if you can never get back what you lost, at least you know there WAS something. it's a tragedy but it's not your people's fault. for me... was there ever anything of substance at all?

oh yeah. i'm queer so most of my ancestors would probably hate me anyway, or have values i think are disgusting. joy.

"why not queer english then?" besides the fact a lot of them haven't treated me right? because honestly, when i hear about our history from just 40 years ago i feel like it was a completely different world. i don't feel continuity from stonewall or the aids crisis to my own life. even today, i see some homeless gay teen whose parents kicked them out and i'm furious for them as a human being, but i'm not their people and i know they wouldn't think a middle-class CPA hopeful with supportive parents was theirs either. we've had completely different lives.

and frankly, thinking about our recent past and the injustice of it all makes me want to projectile vomit.

i've tried talking this stuff out with my friends but... my girlfriend has a god complex (/gen /pos) and doesn't understand why i need a heritage, or any culture larger than a friend group. my next-closest political friend is both european and kinda using communism as a replacement for heritage, and everyone else i'm either not close enough to talk about this or they don't care about this stuff.

(also, and this is a genuine question so please reblog and explain if i'm wrong, why is, say, blackness more real than whiteness? they were both manufactured at similar times by english people, a bunch of groups lumped together regardless of heritage, but i consistently hear people say one is real and the other is not.

i know most black people can't find out their original ancestries anymore but identifying as black is clearly more than "the only available option" for people. it feels like the unspoken answer is "ours is good and yours is evil" but of course no one wants to say they think that way out loud.)

the point is. i feel like i've been in a culture of one my whole life. i'm not proud of my heritage and without it i feel a gaping emptiness without roots and a pinch of essentialism to tell me what to be. no, i shouldn't, my girlfriend never stops telling me BUT I DO.

does anyone else have this problem.

[bugcatcherwill]

Rage Against the Calamity - Chapter 58: Hylian and Rito Hospitality

Bokoblins, Moblins, Lizalfos, and Wizzrobe. One of each has managed to break free from the Malice that binds them. With their tie to Ganon gone, these monsters must fight to survive in a world where everything wants them dead. Yet, things are not always what they seem. For as unforgiving a land as Hyrule, it will continue to surprise even the most hopeless hearts. This is the story of those four monsters, and all their unlikely allies…

Also on AO3

It was a few hours into the afternoon and all of Akkala Stable was in a ruckus. Rudi's loose lips had keyed everyone in on the Lab's little secret before they planned on breaking the news, and the stable's reaction was exactly what Hoz had been trying to avoid. The residents and travelers alike yammered on and on about the situation, the implications, and most importantly, what to do. Hoz's pencil-thin mustache twitched in aggravation as the mini-crowd refused to settle down. Desperately he tried to gain control.

"My fellow Hylians, can we please simmer down?" he said, getting completely ignored. He removed the steel soldier's helmet on his head, a relic of the past that was still in pristine condition, and clanged against it with his fist several times.

"Again, can we please have some quiet to discuss this?"

A few members of the crowd softened up, but the loudest ones only raised their voice - too enraptured by their own conversation to notice.

"HEY!!!" Rudi, the stablehand next to him, shouted as loud as he possibly could. That inflection was only used when he really needed to get control of the horses, but it worked on Hylians well enough too. The entire stable turned white-eye, even those that had stopped talking long ago, and brought their attention to Hoz and Rudi standing atop chairs.

"Now then," Hoz said, pinching his dark brown goatee, "let's try our best to come to a consensus civilly and quietly. Of course, we wouldn't have to shout if Rudi kept his damn mouth shut until now, but I digress."

The grizzled dirty-blond Hylian twirled one of his hair tassels bashfully. He couldn't help but blab, with his whole job involving shooting the breeze with the entire stable. Still, looking at the panicked faces below him, he felt quite a bit of regret.

"Since no doubt everyone has a different account of what happened in their head, despite only us two even being there, I'm going to clear the air and tell you all exactly what I saw. Alright?"

Hoz was already preparing for the worst. When you have the job of the only "soldier" in that region, a lot of your dealings with the public involve wild goose chases and petty squabbles where nobody could get their story straight. Weakly, several faces in the crowd silently nodded, letting him finally speak his mind.

"Good. Okay, this all happened during my morning patrol. I heard a commotion at the Lab up the hill, and I found Robbie and a few Sheikah trying to wrangle an Eldin Ostrich around. You all know Robbie, right?"

Those that lived around the stable and the regular merchants all let out a round of staggered 'Yea…'s, having seen the man come down for food and supplies numerous times. Although most interestingly, his grocery list had amplified nearly tenfold in recent weeks.

"I also, however, saw an assortment of monsters run out of the Lab, too. But the shocking part was their demeanor. None of them acted like usual monsters, and they seemed to help the Sheikahs wrangle the bird, yelling words of their own, though I couldn't hear what they were saying. I saw a Lizalfos, a Blue Moblin, and two Wizzrobe amongst them. Once they managed to get ahold of the ostrich, they all grouped together and walked to the back. That was the last I saw of them today. Rudi can vouch for me because he saw most of it, too…"

Eyes turned to the stablehand and he nodded confidently, his bushy handlebar mustache covering his slight frown. Hoz continued.

"To tell you the truth, it was actually…pretty funny to witness. Never seen a Moblin panic like that before, heh," he said to a very tepid crowd, forcing him to awkwardly clear his throat, "But as you can see, there's been no monster attack on the stable, or anything of the sort. There were no burnt crops, poisoned wells, or mind-controlled Hylians. I'm sure we would have noticed some of the outlandish things I've heard this morning, and I'd like to remind you all that rumors are dangerous. They can very easily lead to unneeded panic and mass hysteria, which is why I try to do my job as best as I can - to prevent these misunderstandings."

A few members of the crowd tugged at the collars of their shirts - embarrassed that they did exactly that.

"But that still leaves the unanswered question of why we saw non-hostile monsters seemingly living with Robbie and whatever other Sheikah were up there. I'm sure if I just paid him a visit, we could get an answer straight from the horse's mouth."

Like steam erupting from a kettle the entire crowd exploded with negative rebuttals - nearly screaming at Hoz to let him know their opinion on his idea. The soldier recoiled back holding his open palms out while fists were raised in objection.

"What are you, crazy?!"

"You got a death wish, Hoz?"

"No! Don't go up there!"

Hoz finally raised his voice loud enough to carry over the rest.

"Whoa, whoa, HEY!" he shouted, Rudi nodding with a stuck-out lower lip showing even he was impressed with that one, "Now I've known Robbie ever since I got stationed here! He's been nothing but kind to all of us and even solved a few of our problems. It's hard to believe he'd be up to anything malicious after all he's done to keep this stable safe…"

He deliberately left out the fact that Robbie had recently used the de-aging rune on himself, knowing it'd only seed more panic and crackpot theories. Rudi gave Hoz a side-eye, knowing the Sheikah man's secret too, but let it slide for now. That still did little to temper the growing mob. Many voiced objections, with one in particular patiently raising their hand to have the floor.

"Didn't you hear about what happened at Hateno? You used to live there didn't you, Hoz? It was all because of the Sheikah Lab there, and they were hiding monsters, too! The woman responsible and the monsters were never found in the wreckage, either! It must be the same group, and the same might happen to us!"

More jeers were hurled that made Hoz wince painfully. He just knew this would come up if he had this meeting.

"I've heard the stories, yes. It's nearly impossible to get anywhere in Hyrule without hearing it," he said, crossing his arms and desperately trying to maintain the voice of reason, "But remember what I just said about rumors? Or do you think they did exactly what we're doing now? Riling ourselves up over nothing but assumptions!"

He was met with immediate anger, an unknown patron going so far to hurl a crumpled up piece of paper at Hoz - bouncing harmlessly on his head.

"You're calling children almost getting eaten an assumption?!"

This was already spiraling out of control. Fists balled with exasperation, Hoz stomped his leather boot on the chair and nearly cracked it. Just enough silence broke for him to speak.

"Remember the Fang and Bone incident? The whole reason I came up to Akkala? Eeeeveryone was coming to me terrified of some evil dark-magic wizard that was selling severed monster heads and trying to kidnap children in the night! And because of all that I almost cut down some weird eccentric, but ultimately harmless, Hylian in cold blood! What an awkward apology that was, right?! And I feel like the only one still feeling guilty about it! Sound familiar to you?"

For the briefest of moments, the mob felt a modicum of shame. The near-trance they were snapped out of forced them to look at each other's panicked ghost-white faces and actually think about the logical next steps. Thankfully for them, a stray voice was not so easily swayed by reason and enabled them to throw the blinders on their brains once again.

"But this time it's an actual monster! Scratch that, monsters! More than one! We have to do something!"

The steaming kettle whistled again, the crowd now all yelling their various ideas - none of them particularly pleasant. Hoz threw his fists downwards and glared into each and every face he could see.

"Well I'm not giving any of you the key to the munitions shack until I see some proof that we should resort to that!" he shouted so forcefully his helmet went askew, squinting his eyes nearly shut and pointing his finger so fiercely it could poke an eye out, "And the key isn't even on me - it's hidden well. So good luck with…whatever you plan to do unless you convince me those monsters I saw are an actual threat! I was sent here to keep you all safe, and that includes stopping you from yourselves!"

The bloodlust in the Hylians' eyes finally relinquished, if only for a moment. While they were an angry mob, they were an angry mob confined by the superficial barrier of politeness. They could, for all intents and purposes, simply bust down the walls of the shack and grab whatever torches, swords, and bows were stocked there. But that would go against their idea of law - regardless of whatever they were going to do with them immediately afterwards that directly broke said law. Almost acting like a representative, a lone Hylian separated from the sea of the crowd. He was one of the permanent residents of the Akkala Stable that went by the name Khini.

"Well you can twiddle your thumbs and wait for something bad to happen! We will find the evidence ourselves to ensure our children can sleep safely each night!" he said with a huff, practically dismissing the crowd by himself.

Some Hylians dispersed entirely, realizing they still had their daily work and schedules to keep track of. A decently sized portion stayed, however, following Khini almost like how ducklings follow their mother. Exhausted bags under his eyes, looking as though he missed several nights of sleep, Hoz turned to Rudi who just morbidly chuckled in response.

"Now do you see what I put up with on a daily basis before you got here?" the stablehand said.

The soldier rolled his eyes, getting a sudden desire to reach for his flask normally reserved for nightly fun and take a long swig.

"I don't know why you didn't side with them considering how you reacted this morning," he said disdainfully. Rudi scoffed and readjusted Hoz's helmet with a petty flick of the finger.

"Tch. I'd sooner try to keep a Lynel in the stables. Besides, now that I've had time to think, all of this seems…off. I've seen monsters. Too many monsters. Those monsters I saw…they were monsters, all right, but they weren't monsters. I would like to know what really went down at Hateno."

Hoz wearily sat down in his chair and pouted, his thin mustache shifting to the left and to the right.

"You could come up with me and ask them, like my original suggestion."

"Do you think they will let us get further than ten steps?" Rudi said, motioning to the rowdy circle of Hylians plotting around a nearby table.

"Grrgh…fair point."

…

While Teba properly led Kobb up and down the village, the Bokoblin nearly gave itself whiplash from spinning its head around. It hadn't gotten the chance to admire the scenery when it was led around bound by rope, but now that Kobb could go as it pleased its hands spent a good amount of time gripping the wooden railings as it gazed across the lake and every which way between. Its large snout vibrated in content with every breath, desperate to keep that fresh breezy pine smell. Many of the other Rito denizens found Kobb pleasantly endearing, often laughing or smiling at its reactions. It'd been quite some time since there was a new visitor to the Village, let alone a special case like Kobb - and it was always entertaining to see someone's first experience. 

Before long the sweet and savory smells of cooking all around it started to get to Kobb, its mouth subconsciously watering. It had missed lunch due to this whole debacle and Teba could hear the angry complaints of its stomach. Stifling a grin, he led Link and the Bokoblin all the way down the spiral boardwalk to the floating fish farms that encompassed the rock archipelago of Rito Village. Kobb was in awe at how well everything was seemingly built into nature. For a while it forgot about the hunger pangs and just watched the Rito fishers walk all around the bobbing wooden platforms, peering into the square holes that led to the netted tanks, occasionally pulling a fish out to measure and weigh it, before taking notes and tossing it back in.

When it was ready, all Kobb had to do was pick out a fish from the tanks deemed "ready to eat", and the Ritos there would gut and prepare it on the spot. Link was there to help it choose a nice healthy one. From there all they had to do was walk back up and either cook it themselves, or pay someone at the inn to cook it for them. With a hearty wave Teba took off to meet them at the top - using the updrafts from the lake to soar all the way up. Kobb and Link had to take the grueling stairs.

But the effort it took made the first bite of seared Hylian Trout all the more divine.

Kobb softly squealed in delight the moment the flaky buttery fish passed its lips. The tips of its ears twitched in delight, leaning its head back with eyes closed, ready to dive in for more. It had to hold back its ravenous appetite just to savor every bite. Zayl's cooking was objectively better, but the fish being as fresh as can possibly be was hard to beat. Although it made sure to take notes watching the dish get prepared - ready to ask Zayl to replicate it as soon as it'd return. Both Kobb and Link ate at the table in Teba's house, sharing their meal with him and his wife Saki. She had been brought up to speed long ago, but there was a difference between that and actually sitting this close to a Bokoblin. Regardless, she welcomed Kobb with a smile and gave it a wide hug with her bright purple wings, telling it that every guest always gets a "mom hug". Link tried to tiptoe away, not exactly the most touchy-feely with most people, but was grabbed by the shirt collar and hugged all the same.

"You know, I never expected Bokoblins to look so adorable up close…" she whispered to Teba, who playfully rolled his eyes and pushed her on the shoulder. There was still an empty seat, one higher up and smaller than the rest, and Saki's impatience soon showed.

"Oh where in Hyrule is that boy, he disappears like a falcon in an updraft, I swear…" she grumbled, getting up and sticking her head out of their open-wall house. Link gave Teba a smarmy little eyebrow raise, who rolled his eyes again. He never liked to raise his voice, personally.

"Tulin! I told you already, dinner's done! Don't let it get cold!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the whole village and giving Kobb some secondhand embarrassment.

Less than a minute later it saw the spitting image of Teba, only much smaller, bobbing up and down as the Rito child ran as fast as his tiny legs could carry him. Unlike Teba, the little one's eyes sparkled like his mother's. His wings were mostly developed, but Kobb doubted he'd be able to fly like the grown Rito for at least another few years. That didn't stop him from trying - taking a big leap every few steps and flapping his wings frantically to slow his descent ever so slightly.

"Aw, c'mon, mom!" Tulin whined before getting promptly scooped up in her wings, "I was on a mission!"

Saki giggled and nuzzled her beak into her child's feathers, tickling him as he kicked his talons playfully.

"Ohhhh is that so? Well your new mission is to finish that plate in front of you, so my little fledgling can grow big and strong like your father!" she said, plopping him down in his seat and tying a handkerchief around his neck. Tulin immediately began scarfing his meal down, needing a little correction on manners, before finally looking up and nearly jumping out of his seat when he saw the familiar Hylian at the table - somehow completely glossing over the Bokoblin also across from him.

"Link!" he cried, the Hylian giving him a little wave, "You're here again! I've done so much since last time!"

Link leaned forward with an elbow on the table and the hand on his chin, giving Tulin his undivided attention.

"Oh, you have?" he said with a warm smile, playing the role of a visiting uncle, "What have you been up to since I've been gone?"

Tulin's eyes lit up again and immediately began talking a mile a minute.

"So first I flew all around Hyrule three times! And then I beat up a Stone Talus with my friend Molli all by ourselves! And then I used my bow to hit an apple from a THOUSAND steps away! And then…"

The Rito child chirped on and on but Link stayed attentive the whole time, egging on Tulin to go into the thrilling details, which he did with great embellishment. Teba and Saki couldn't help but smile when they looked at each other, seeing Tulin's beaming face. Eventually he was running out of his 'missions' to talk about and his attention strayed, finally noticing Kobb that had been sitting at the table the entire time.

"Whoa! You're a Bokoblin!" he said, pointing his wing towards Kobb's large snout. Teba and Saki tensed up a little, wondering what either of their reactions would be. Kobb simply straightened its back and puffed out its chest slightly.

"Yes I am!" it said matter-of-factly, having at least some experience with the boundlessly energetic youth thanks to Ashen. Tulin's eyes sparkled with intrigue as he had never actually seen a Bokoblin in real life before - only in picture books and stories.

"That's so cool! …Can I fight you?"

"Tulin!" Teba and Saki shouted in unison, their feathers ruffling from embarrassment as they tried to quell his loose beak. Meanwhile Link and Kobb nearly choked trying not to laugh from the sheer brazenness of the child.

"What? I could see what it's like to fight a real Boko-mmph mmpph!" he tried to say before Saki covered his beak.

"Heh, kids can be pretty blunt sometimes, huh?" she said, blushing through her purple and white feathers, trying to deflect from the faux pas.

Kobb just laughed it off, much to their relief.

"Heh. It is fine. I am used to bluntness - though mostly from ones much older than this one…" it said with a morbid chuckle before turning to the Rito child, "Tulin, you hopefully will not need to fight any Bokoblins, but when you are old enough to hold a sword on your own we can have a friendly spar."

A muffled "Woo-Hoo!" could be heard behind Saki's wing, causing both the mother and the father to sigh. Thankfully that day seemed far enough away that they wouldn't have to worry about it for a while.

Once dinner was finished, Teba took Kobb and Link over to Revali's Landing - which offered a beautiful view of the sunset. The whole time Kobb sat itself next to Link on one of the benches, it was approached by several of the Rito children. Before one even walked up, Kobb spotted the whole gaggle of them watching from a distance - arguing amongst each other over who should go up to it first. One-by-one they took their turn running up to Kobb and either saying some childish quip, or making a playfully rude gesture and running away frantically giggling. Sometimes Kobb would return the gesture or stick out its tongue and make a raspberry sound, causing the small Rito to laugh even harder and sprint back to the group. With every visit it'd look back at Link and exchange a knowing glance.

"You'll get used to it, they don't see non-Rito that often - especially in times like these." Link said, having dealt with this exact bombardment of nosy fledglings, himself. Just as he said that, another one ran up to Kobb.

"If…if you're a Bokobwin, where's your cwub?" she said, leaning forward and back on her talons with wings politely held behind her back.

"I do not have one!" it said with a shrug, "I prefer a sword, like how some Ritos do not use a bow."

"Oooooo…pwefer…that's neat! Mother warned me not to talk to the Bokobwin, but you're pwetty nice!"

That last comment especially broke Kobb's heart and it had to restrain itself from showing too much emotion as the child bounded back to the group, the rest of the fledglings cheering her on and patting her on the back before finally running off somewhere else. With a deep breath Kobb stood up and looked out from the landing across Hebra. But it didn't have a chance to dwell for long as it was interrupted by stomping footsteps and a loud AH-HEM.

It turned to see exactly what it hoped wouldn't be there: a very pissed-off Thrush standing before it with his wings crossed in a withheld rage. Kobb's attention turned to a spot on the Rito's leather tunic. It was pristine and unblemished unlike the rest of the uniform - with holes around the outline where stitching once was. The shape was that of the crest Kobb has spotted throughout the village and on the other Rito guards. The two stared each other down - Kobb matching Thrush's scowl as it had yet to hear a genuine apology from him. And it didn't think that was why he came. Once again several other nosy Rito perched around the landing, waiting to see the conclusion of this altercation.

Without a word Thrust reached his wing up and behind his head, prompting Kobb to instinctively grasp at its sheathed sword. However the disgraced Rito Captain didn't reach for his bow. With a near silent poink he yanked a good-sized feather out of his plumage. It was a beautiful deep sea green, perfectly uniform in hue. The feather was then whipped towards the Bokoblin with a sharp fwish. The pointy end stuck perfectly between the wooden planks of the landing right at Kobb's feet. The crowd gasped and murmurs filled the surrounding pine air. Kobb looked down then back up at Thrush, feeling more out of loop than ever, its scowl replaced with a surprised confusion.

"Well?! What is your answer, monster?" he shouted, beak quivering in rage, "I cannot sink lower than I already have so I might as well take you down with me!"

The Bokoblin's perplexed stare continued.

"You're being challenged to a duel of Rito combat…" Teba muttered, leaning over into Kobb's ear.

"...to the death?" Kobb asked back, shocked at the assumption that Thrush would risk his life to prove a point like this. Teba burst in a deep laugh, not expecting that question.

"No, but close! To establish the pecking order. To claim yourself as the superior fighter. Although for non-Ritos, I wouldn't-"

"I accept." Kobb said, snapping its head towards the challenger without even hearing the rest. While it wasn't the vengeful type, the prospect of knocking Thrush down a peg or two was too tantalizing to ignore especially when the memories of that morning were still fresh and bitter in its mind.

"Wait, Kobb…don't-" Link tried to say, knowing the Bokoblin was being hustled and it knew none of the details involving Rito duels. But it was too late now that the growing crowd had heard it say yes. Another gasp followed, along with Thrush beginning a quiet chuckle that grew to a roaring cackle.

"Hah! Haha! Ahahaha! I can't believe it! You actually accepted! No backing down now! See you at the range in two days, hope you can grow wings before then! You probably should have listened to your Hylian friend!"

Thrush leapt up into the air triumphantly and circled around the main spire several more times before flying off out of sight - his maniacal laughter carrying throughout the air. Feeling more sheepish than ever, Kobb turned with purple-flushed cheeks towards Link and Teba, who both looked at the Bokoblin with unamused frowns.

"I…what should I do now?" it asked, knowing better than to make excuses for the situation it sprinted head-first into.

"Now," Link said, pinching the bridge of his nose with an all-too-familiar migraine, "we get your archery up to snuff and somehow teach you to fly because your mouth talked faster than your brain…"

[angelkittycore]

not to invite discourse but after i've been on tumblr solely for a few months after leaving twitter i've sorta let go of a lot of things that i was vehemently against and my opinion HAS shifted a bit.

(just saying straight away that you're welcome to engage with me on this topic but i am not seeking to incite arguments, fighting, or heated debate whatsoever and you're not likely to get me to change my mind on this. also if you're going to yell at me for using the term monosexuality please shut up and stay in your lane. if your first thought to reading that word is "bisexuals are being homophobic" then you have a biphobia issue.)

so it's not that bi lesbians/gays don't exist, i think their experiences are very much real. it's just the choice of contradictory labels, and the inherent biphobia, lesbiphobia, and taking self-autonomy from both bisexual men and women by attributing our entire bi rights movement to being a product of terf lesbian separatists, that i have a problem with.

terfs/political lesbians/gold star lesbians did spur an exodus of bisexual women from the umbrella of lesbian, but what came after was all us. and i both feel and think that it was a natural evolution of the communities because bisexuality is more than just women who love women and men, it's also men who love men and women. and nonbinary, abinary, trans, cisn't, gnc, and whatever else. (not to say that the last few aren't also included in monosexuality but i'm talking about bisexuality here.)

attributing the fight for our rights and voices to be heard solely to terfs is ahistorical and insulting. the want to be seen as a whole, valid, separate identity and community than both lesbian and gay has absolutely 0 to do with terfism and similarly aligned political bullshit (such as fascism/white supremacy/plain ol transphobia.)

wanting to go back to lesbian being an umbrella term for all lesbians and bi women feels way too traditionalist and downright conservative (in terms of the literal meaning of the word) for the lgbt/queer community. it's not about challenging cishetalloamatonormativity by simply existing or being unapologetically queer in a word that wants to stamp us out violently in this regard, it's wanting to reclaim a space and label that is no longer theirs because they feel entitled to do so.

to me, lgbt/queer progress is about growing and changing, and adapting to the world, and thriving in spite, and despite it all. and not clinging to relics of the past, however recent or not it was. as some examples, the meaning of asexuality has changed from its original coining. same as bisexual, and pansexual has gone through it's fair share of bullshit as well. why can't and why shouldn't lesbian do the same? however i do not feel that a change backwards is a change for the better.

as an another example, lesbian also used to mean homosexual women exclusively attracted to homosexual women but now it includes every flavor of nonbinary you can think of, who may or may not be women, women aligned, or even feminine at all.

lesbian no longer includes bisexuality under it and that should be okay. lesbian is a monosexual label, and that's okay. you do not experience bisexuality by also being attracted to similar/same genders, regardless of binary or nonbinary umbrella. because bisexuality, inherently, means attraction to similar/same AND opposite/different genders. (note, my descriptions here also includes xenogenders, alternative alignment systems, etc. it's up to the individual if they want to be included in any attraction, including lesbian, gay, bisexual+, and straight. grouping a wider group under lesbian attraction just because they are nonbinary is inventing a trinary and misgendering at worst.)

on the reverse, having a preference, however strong, does not make you a lesbian, or a monosexual gay. you are still experiencing bisexuality, you just have a preference. that is all. not everybody is bisexual, and not everybody is monosexual, and that's okay.

(should also note that comphet doesn't make a lesbian bisexual.. that's comphet.)

anyway tl;dr i think the language, terms, and labels you use you justify your valid experiences is.. not great, to put it politely, lol. i think your insistence that you should be able to call yourself bisexual or a lesbian when you're the other has problems stemming from misunderstanding both labels and attractions, and misunderstanding what exactly nonbinary is. i've also seen definitions of bisexual lesbians that say they are bisexual because they are also attracted to trans women which is.. do i have to say it?

anyway bisexual is not a dirty word or attraction. bi is beautiful, and the convoluted ways people try to get out of identifying as bisexual or solely as bisexual (if they are allo) is internal biphobia, which is not something to celebrate or be proud of. you should work through it.

[robertsbarbie-archive]

i hate that women in the music industry get so much flack for having feelings

[eddies-slut]

Before My Parents Come Home

The grabber x female reader

Warning: smut, obsession, stalking, choking, age gap (reader is 19), dirty talk

Summary: the grabber had become obsessed with you after he heard you talking 18+

You and your friends were walking home from class (you're in college). You all were talking about the grabber. This person had been kidnapping and murdering people left and right.

"I heard he wears a mask?"

"Some people say he's hot"

"I heard he got caught"

The group of girls started talking about how'd the escape but y/n was quiet. She was focused on the black van that was parked down a street to her left. The group stopped.

"Y/n how would you escape the grabber" you best friend asked smiling.

"I don't think I would try an escape. I think I'd stay with him. Let him have his way with me. Suck his cock. Maybe even become his perfect princess" y/n said with a straight face. The girls all busted into laughter. They walked away leaving y/n and her best friend.

"Would you really?" Her best friend asked. She nodded.

"I want to suck his dick so bad" y/n said smiling. She even made hand gestures while making her eyes roll back. Her best friend started to laugh uncontrollable.

"I bet he'd have you like 'ouuu yes just like that'" your best friend joked with you.

"I'd want him to choke me. Spank me. I want him to be buried inside me for days" y/n said smiling and her best friend rolled her eyes.

"You're so nasty" She replied laughing. Y/n shrugged.

"What a girl got needs" y/n explained. They finished walking to her house. What the two girls didn't know was the grabber heard everything y/n said. He had become hooked on her. He stalked her for months. He hadn't kidnapped anymore people he just wanted you. Badly.

He heard around town your parents were leaving for a day he knew this was his only chance. He had waited for you to come home all day. You had spent the night at a friend's house and hadn't come home till 5pm.

He was waiting for you inside. He had heard the door open and shut. He was in your kitchen sitting on a chair. He heard you go to your room before he went and locked your front door. He made a loud nosie so you'd come look. When you did he caught the look in your eyes when you saw him.

"What are you doing in my house?" She asked trying to act brave.

"I heard you bunch of months ago. Talking about me. Things you'd do with me. Things you wanted me to do with you. Figured I'd help you live them out. And if you like it maybe you can let me keep you around." He said his voice coming out deeper than normal.

"Your the grabber?" She asked gulping. His hands came up as a surprise gesture. He had looked you up and down multiple times. You were in the cutest little shirt ever. It was white with black shorts sleeves and cropped. You were wearing a white tennis skirt that barley covered your ass. You had on black knee high socks and no shoes.

"Suprise" he stated and she smiled face turning red.

"Why didn't you come after me sooner" She asked

"Didn't want to scare you away. But you always knew I was around didn't you? You knew I was watching and listening to you. It's why you talked about what you wanted me to do to you. Its why you bend over so I can see perfectly under your skirts. Or perfectly in your shirt. You're going to love what I have planned for us doll" he explained.

Y/n didn't know what to do. But he knew what to do. He walked towards her and she backed up knowing it was gonna be cat and mouse for a couple seconds. He stepped forward and she stepped back. They did this till she slipped on the rug. He caught her.

"I got you bunny" he said and y/n whimpered.

"Please" She whispered as he pulled her to stand up. He pushed her on the couch.

"I've been watching you for a long time y/n. I've been waiting for the perfect time to fuck you. To pound you" he said taking off the bottom part of his mask.

Somehow they were kissing. The black was on y/ns face from kissing him so messy. Y/n was leaving marks all up and down the grabbers neck. He was doing the same. The grabbed pushed y/n to sit up. His hand slipped under her white skirt and pushed her underwear to the side.

He slide a finger in pushing in and out. She whimpered at the feeling. He added another finger. His index and middle finger were going at a fast pace into you. It was making your eyes roll back when they curled inside you. Your moans were music to his ears. He's dreamed about what you'd sound like. He had added another finger which cause y/ns vision to go black for a second from the pleasure.

Her back arched and the grabbers other hand flipped the skirt up and leaned his head down. He started sucking and licking your clit while fingering you.

"Fuck daddy. Right there" you moaned out without realizing and when you did you turned bright red.

"Sorry-" you said but before you could finish he started pumping his finger into you faster.

"Say it again baby" he said mumbling in your pussy before going back to sucking your clit.

"Fuck daddy" She cried out which made him groan. Y/n was close and the grabbed let her rotate her hips to get more pleasure. Her legs snapped shut around his head and hand. He pushed her legs opened and went faster. She was totally blist out from pleasure. He kissed up her stomach leaving a trail of marks.

"My dirty little slut" he mocked in her ear wanting her to be embarrassed but instead she whispered.

"Say it again it sounded good"

Y/ns skirt was off within seconds and so was his mask. They were sitting besides each other and y/n leaned over to kiss him. There kiss became more heated again as y/n moved to straddle him. She grinded against his boner as they made out. The physco gripped her ass tightly causing her to moan a bit.

Y/n had moved to the floor kissing from his stomach to right at his v line. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into his lap but this time she was straddling his left thigh. As he kissed her again their tongues fighting for dominance y/n started to grind onto his thigh.

She loved the feeling so she moaned in his mouth. He gripped her waist and moved her back and forth on his thigh. She wanted to feel him in her anywhere. So she moved and started to unbutton his pants. She slowly unzipped the zipper and reached in for his cock. It was big and y/n moaned at the sight. He wasn't wearing underwear too which was even more hot. Y/n licked his tip before starting to suck him off.

The grabbers head fell back in pleasure as you deep throated him all the way. You barley needed to jack him off with your hand. The grabber licked two fingers before reaching behind you. He moved your thong to the side and stuck a finger in you. That caused you to moan around his huge cock. Which made you choke a bit. He whimpered at the feeling.

He smacked your ass which made you pull away from his cock to cry out. You started jerking him off faster.

"You want to taste my pussy baby?" You said in a low tone before you went back to sucking him off. He didn't get to answer but yes he did. You swallowed around his cock making him cry out a bit. He smacked your ass again.

"Stand" you told him still jerking him off. He did as told. You pulled his pants down a bit further before you went back to sucking on him. This time when you looked up at him he was staring at you. The eye contact caused you to whimper around his dick.

His hand fell behind your head pushing you slightly down. You swallowed around him trying to not choke on him. But he continued. It had got messy when you started to drool.

He couldn't stop himself from fucking your face for a minute. But he was about to cum so he stopped. He pulled away and fully took his pants and sweater off. You removed your panties and threw your legs up a bit. He was kneeling in front of the couch to fuck you.

"I want you to fuck me in so many positions" you said biting your lip. The grabbed rubbed his dick along your folds before shoving himself in you. You moaned loudly loving the feeling of being full.

He grabbed his knife and cut your shirt off. Leaving you in a bra and knee highs. He started to thrust in and out of you. You were both making pornagraphic noises. He felt you clench around him as he licked his lips.

"Your cock is so huge. I can feel you so deep in me" you moaned to him which made him thrust deeper. Y/n sucked on her fingers before reaching down to rub her clit. After a couple seconds the grabbed stopped her. He gripped her wrist tight. He brought his other hand down to run her clit for her. He pinned her wrists above her head. He fucked her faster wanting to hit her spot.

When he did he almost came. She screamed out for him. He rubbed her clit faster and y/ns moans were become louder. He knew she was close by her biting her lip and clenching around his cock. He flipped her over almost immediately. He had her in doggy style now and he loved to view. He shoved it in her but didn't move.

Y/n became desperate for him so she started fucking herself on his dick.

"That's right princess fuck yourself on daddy's cock. Yes baby" he encourages her. Smacking her ass hard causing her to scream. He knew she had to be quiet cause the neighbors. He reached forward and wrapped his hand around his throat.

"Cmon baby keep fucking yourself on my dick. Good girl but daddy needs you to be quiet so the neighbors don't tell your parents or call the cops." He said and that made you get a ping in your pussy.

"Oh my sweet baby likes the idea of getting caught huh?" He said tightening his hand around her throat. He started fucking her hard and faster.

Y/ns was whispering yes, mm, fuck right there, faster, harder, feels so good the entire time they started.

"Fuck baby you're so tight around daddy's dick. Come on princess. Make yourself cum. I know you can do it" he said smacking her ass with the other hand that wasn't around her throat.

"I'm so close. Please be more rough!!" She cried out. He knew what he needed. He reached over grabbing his belt and smacked her ass with it. That drew y/n over the edge for the second time.

He didn't stop though. No he kept going. He didn't stop until he pushed himself over the edge.

"Stop please" She begged. He didn't listen.

"I want to ride you stop please daddy" She begged again this time he listened. He sat on the couch and she straddled him. Moving his cock to slide in her. She started to bounce up and down he groaned throwing his head back. His face paint was sweating off at this point. She rode him until she came again. She didn't stop though. She rode through her own orgasm to get him to his.

His hands were wrapped round her pretty little throat as he came deep inside of her no his pussy. She cried out as they were both over stimulated. He stayed inside of her as she went limp in his arms. They both were breathing heavy. Trying to come down from their highs.

The grabbers hands rubbed y/ns back to help her come down from her high. Y/n kissed the grabbers neck a bit before pulling away.

"Sorry I left some marks" She whispered smiling a bit. He smiled widely his face paint smeared all down his face.

"S'okay princess. You're my good girl right?" He asked moving her hair out of her face. She nodded humming slightly.

"Okay princess. We are gonna take a bath together okay? Does that sound nice?" He asked her trying to be gentle as possible. She nodded.

"Perfect. Then after I'm gonna feed you" he told her and she hugged him tightly. Since he'd been watching her he didn't have to ask her where anything was. He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. He filled the bath up and they both got in. She laid between his legs. They both gave each other after care.

After the bath he dressed her in cute underwear and his sweater he was wearing when he got there. So now only thing be had on was his pants. He made her some food and they both ate quietly. While she finished the food he cleaned the livingroom up from their mess. She held herself tightly when she was done with dinner. He went to check on the now quiet girl.

"What's wrong princess?" He asked quietly moving her wet hair out of her face. She shrugged.

"No. None of that. Where's my good girl? Tell me baby?" He warned her and she whimpered at his tone.

"Don't want you to leave..I don't want this to he a one time thing. I meant everything I said that day. About being yours and not leaving. I don't want you to leave" She explained biting her nails. He moved her hand away from her mouth.

"It isn't a one time thing baby. Trust me I will be seeing you more. And if I have to I will play boyfriend for your parents so you can come live with me. Or stay with me sometimes. How does that sound?" He asked trying anything to get her to smile again. She did while nodding.

"Promise I will see you again?" She said holding her pinkey finger up. He chuckled a deep laugh before wrapping his own finger around hers.

"Promise princess. Plus that's my favorite sweater you got on. You look better in it than I do so I have to come see you in it again" he explained kissing her head.

She nodded. They both went to y/ns room to lau down before her parents got home. Y/N had bruises and marks everywhere on her body. But so did the grabber.

"Hey you know my name but I don't know yours?" Y/n said nervously.

"Albert baby. Albert" he told her and she smiled.

"Albert" She repeated. She tested the way it felt on her tongue. He smiled and groaned as she said it. It felt good to hear her say it.

"God baby I'm gonna cream in my pants if you say my name again" he joked and she smiled. He held her tight not wanting to let go. They didn't let go of one another until they heard her parents. He kissed y/n passionately before leaving through her window like a teenage boy. Y/n pretended to be asleep when her parents came in.

All she could smell was him. And all Albert could smell was her. But only cause he stole her panties and a her ripped up shirt.

[gukyi]

love me or we both go down | kth

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

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

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

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

Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The doors open. 

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

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

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

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

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

There can be no sneering here. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, finally.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the place is nice, right?”

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

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

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

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

“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 

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

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

“I mean…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s our plan for tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You resist the urge to scoff. 

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

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

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

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

“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, a camera flashes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your grandmother.”

Your mouth shuts. 

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

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

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

You freeze in your tracks. The will?

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

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

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

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

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

She hangs up. 

Well. 

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

At least the feeling is mutual. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 

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

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

“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 

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

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

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

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

Fair enough. 

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

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

“Deal.”

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

Like right now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you respond. 

“You look nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just life. 

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

And that makes you happy. 

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fall asleep instantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He wasn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 

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

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

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

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

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

“There,” he says, a moment too late. 

“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until—

“Y/N? You still up here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin. 

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

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

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

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

“That sounds nice,” you force out. 

“Okay. Your usual?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at him skeptically. 

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“Maybe a couple of years ago.”

You narrow your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung looks positively scandalized. “What? ‘Chinese food will make it better’? But not your loving, doting husband?” 

You pretend to think for a little bit, tilting your head up to the sky as you tap your chin with your finger. “Okay. Maybe that, too,” you cave after a bit of waiting, just to be extra bothersome. 

“That’s what I thought,” Taehyung says proudly, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. You can feel his grip tighten as he presses you against his body, letting you rest your head on his side. It feels like the longest hug ever, like you’re wrapped up in a weighted blanket. Only it’s not a blanket. It’s Taehyung. It’s your husband. 

He’s your husband.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. 

You nod against him, letting your eyes drift shut. Things are pretty awful right now. Your grandmother’s dead. The funeral was the saddest family event you have ever attended. You have no idea what’s supposed to happen next. 

But he’s right. He seems to be right a lot these days, actually. 

Tomorrow will be better.

Taehyung lets you sleep in for the next few days. Next several days, actually. Every time you wake up it’s close to noon and your husband is nowhere to be seen, the right side of the bed cold to the touch. It’s nothing to be worried about, though, because you can still see the noticeable dip in the bed from where he lies upon it, sinking his weight into the mattress. Taehyung’s an early bird and you’ve been having fitful nights ever since your grandmother passed. 

Today, you pull yourself out from underneath the covers around noon, sluggish and still tired, squinting as the near-afternoon light streams through the enormous windows of the bedroom. Taehyung must have thought to keep the curtains open today. 

You pull on the first casual clothes you see in your shared closet, some wide-leg sweatpants and a drapey t-shirt, and trudge downstairs like a raccoon to a trash can, hoping to fish through the kitchen cabinets to find something to eat. 

Taehyung is, as far as you can tell, nowhere to be seen. You can’t seem to hear him anywhere, and a part of you wonders where he’s at when you stumble upon the note left on the granite counter. 

Had a meeting downtown, be back around 1! There should be smoked salmon and some cream cheese and bagels in the fridge. 

Taehyung.

You chuckle to yourself as you read his flowy handwriting, amused that he thought to let you know of, of all things, the available breakfast foods in the kitchen. You check the clock. It’s nearly noon. Which means you have just over an hour of the house all to yourself. 

Having the house to yourself for five minutes is infrequent enough as it is, let alone for a whole hour. So often is Taehyung around, somewhere, holing himself up in one of the dozens of rooms or mindlessly wandering down the hallways. And for how much Taehyung is present, the funny part is that you still have no idea what he gets up to most of the time. Despite your voluntary abandoning of the separate bedroom rule, the two of you are still firm proponents of the sanctity of your personal spaces. There are rooms in the penthouse Taehyung has never been in, rooms filled with your clothes and makeup and accessories for when stylists come over before an event. A sewing room that you had specifically asked your parents for, because a part of you never let go of that childhood dream of being a fashion designer. 

And there are rooms in the penthouse that you have never been in. Rooms with dark wooden doors that have always been kept closed, that you have never stepped foot in. It’s not that you aren’t curious as to what Taehyung gets up to. He could have a goddamn evil lair in one of those rooms and you would be none the wiser. But you don’t go, because he doesn’t go into your rooms. Because you two, despite all the vows you have broken, promised each other you wouldn’t.

An hour to yourself is almost a good enough excuse for you to head back up to the bedroom and take a nap. Not that you don’t get enough sleep on a regular basis, or that you even had a fitful night last night—hell, you woke up near noon today and already you want to go back to sleep—but what else is there to do when he’s not around? What new freedoms have suddenly been given to you?

You head back upstairs, much less groggy after that delicious bagel of yours, when you catch a whiff of what smells like wet paint coming from down the hallway. It’s potent and immediately invades your senses, prompting you to wonder if that has always been there, or just magically appeared. Maybe you were so sleepy earlier, you didn’t notice it. 

Well, you notice it now. Unable to help yourself, you start to wander down the hallway, towards the source of the smell. God, it stinks. It takes you back to those days in middle school, when you would spray paint projects inside a tiny little classroom, have to step outside for fifteen minutes while you cracked the windows and aired it out. It gets stronger the further down the corridor you go, like a thick, smelly cloud stationed firmly within the walls of the penthouse. And then you realize where it’s coming from. 

It’s an art studio. 

A very messy art studio, you amend to yourself, as you peek inside. The door is wide open, and all of the windows are popped too, but the extra air circulation doesn’t seem to have made a dent in the scent. And all over the floor, the walls, and the tables are canvases covered in paint, denim jackets and pants and shirts with these wide, unafraid brushstrokes. Open cans of spray paint lie discarded on the hardwood floor stained with splotches of red, yellow, and green. 

Is this what Taehyung does in his free time? Is this where he goes, this bright, sunny room at the end of the second floor hallway? Is this what he is making?

You look down in awe at the clothes resting on the floor, splayed out to maximize dry time. Abstract faces, landscapes, and words are painted onto the backs of jackets, the fronts of old white t-shirts. What hasn’t made it onto the clothes has been put on canvases instead, blurs of color mixed together in this purposeful pattern, confidence emanating from every stroke, every dot. It’s not art in the way that the gorgeous landscapes of Monet, the picture-perfect portraits of Kahlo, the messy, unplanned splatters of Pollock are. It’s art in a different way. In a Taehyung way. 

Who knew he loved it so much? 

You almost feel like an invader encroaching on his territory when you lean down to start cleaning up some of the mess, throwing out empty spray-paint cans and tossing out grey paint water. You don’t dare touch any of the work, don’t dare try to move it. You do what you can, washing out the brushes resting in the water and cleaning up the wet splotches of paint on the hardwood. Over time, the thick scent of still-wet paint slowly fades, disappearing out the window as the fresh afternoon air seeps in. And you stand there, in a room full of art, in a room full of pieces that Taehyung has undoubtedly poured his heart into creating, and you smile to yourself. 

That’s how Taehyung finds you ten minutes later, peering into the room after declaring that his meeting had ended early. 

“Thought I’d find you in here,” Taehyung says with a grin as you jump at the sound of his voice, eyes widen when you turn around to see him standing by the door. 

“Oh, hey,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Maybe because this is the farthest room in the house from the front door,” Taehyung teases lightly, coming up behind you. “I see you found my studio.”

“I know I’m not allowed in here,” you admit. 

Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”

“Didn’t we both agree on that?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. I think we just reached an unspoken understanding we wouldn’t invade each other’s personal space. But it was not in the fine print, no.”

“The fine print of what?”

“That deal we made.”

Right. That deal you made, four months ago, That deal, where the two of you agreed to pretend to be in love with each other during public appearances so you wouldn’t get burned at the stake by your families. Where the two of you agreed not to interact with each other otherwise because you hated each other so much. 

“Oh, yeah,” you say distantly, feeling naive for already forgetting about it. It doesn’t seem to have slipped Taehyung’s mind whatsoever. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind that you’re up here,” Taehyung says, interrupting that piercing little voice in the back of your head that is asking you why on earth you forgot about that deal in the first place.

“Yeah, I—” You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to find the words to say. “It just smelled like paint, so I wanted to see what you get up too. And it’s this, apparently.” You motion vaguely to the entire room.

“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 

“I guess I am,” you surmise. “I’m rather impressed, too, actually.”

“Really?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to sound surprised. 

“Yeah,” you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. “I—you know, I just came in here because the entire hallway smelled like wet paint and I wanted to know why. But I didn’t know you loved art so much.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Taehyung points out. 

You suppose that’s true. You don’t know his favorite color. His favorite song. His favorite book. For a long time, you didn’t know what he got up to on his side of the penthouse. You don’t know how he met his friends. What he studied in university. Who he has loved in the past. Who he loves now. You don’t know why he does the things he does, and why he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t do. 

But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 

And you do know his hobbies. Well, one of them, at least. 

Who’s to say you can’t learn more?

“Well,” you start with a smile. “I’m your wife, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I begin to learn?”

Taehyung picks up what you’re putting down instantly, grinning in response. “Only if you’ll tell me things about you, too,” he requisitions. 

“I will,” you promise. It’s the easiest one you’ve ever had to make. 

His face is light, bright, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmer as they meet yours, golden flecks more pronounced like this, in this gorgeous, open space, daylight streaming through the windows. Looking at him makes you feel like you are surrounded by warmth, makes you feel like the sun is opening its arms out to you. He has always been gorgeous. Beautiful. But looking at him like this, standing in the middle of a room filled with all the things he loves, a yellow halo surrounding him—he is ethereal. 

Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”

The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.

The funny thing is, actually, you don’t need to hold hands at this gathering. It’s not an event. Or a public appearance. It’s not even a business dinner. It’s your aunt’s sixtieth birthday party, reserved exclusively for family. Isn’t that strange? That Taehyung is, technically, family now?

For so long you had vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. Vowed to stick it to him whenever and wherever you could, do anything you could to get on his nerves, rile him up. Vowed that when you, one day, took over your family affairs, you would never, ever invite him. Make it known that he wasn’t to be a part of your life. And yet, here you are. Clinging to him despite being well-acquainted with—loved by, even—every other person in the room. Holding his hand like a goddamn lifeline. 

To be fair, Taehyung doesn’t look a hair out of place here. Dressed relatively casually, a smart sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, he smiles warmly at all of your relatives and presents your aunt with a beautiful and very expensive scarf the two of you had commissioned from a designer in Italy, which she absolutely loves. She pinches his cheek and proceeds to wear it for the rest of the night. 

“Damn,” you murmur to yourself as you wander around your aunt’s house, hand wrapped around his arm. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”

“When was the last time you were here?” Taehyung asks. 

The question actually makes you think for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe five years ago? Last couple of birthdays I was overseas or in school. Had to send her a card.”

“Bet your parents were real pleased with that,” he jokes, making you both laugh. At least you two will always be able to share your experiences of domineering and influential parents with each other. 

“Oh, I’m sure. Just as pleased as they were when they realized how much we hated each other.” You expect that little jest to elicit a laugh out of Taehyung as well, but he just smiles tightly, huffing out a breath of acknowledgement. 

“Eh, it’s not like that now, is it?” He offers up. 

“I suppose not,” you muse, sitting down together on her ancient grandma couch in the living room. No matter how rich your family gets, she’ll never get rid of this thing, that’s for sure. 

One thing you’ve picked up over time is that, for every second Taehyung spends basking in the spotlight, he spends an equal amount of time lingering by the wall, watching the rest of the world turn without him. He’s an observer. He is one by nature, feeling an irresistible pull to understand humans in a way only artists could ever do. He sits down next to you and watches your family in an environment where they can relax, where they can feel comfortable and be casual with one another. 

Very seldom have you ever brought friends to events like these. Small family affairs. But Taehyung isn’t a friend, is he? No, he’s your husband. He belongs here just as much as you do. 

“My family seems to really like you,” you point out. Not that anybody has ever harbored as much disdain for him as you. Your parents called him respectable and polite when they told you you were to be wed. Your grandmother had said he was a dashing young man. He doesn’t exactly have to reach far to be loved around here. 

“That’s my job, isn’t it?” He replies snidely. 

“Oh, just take the compliment,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Taehyung always has to be so difficult. “I’m surprised you aren’t nervous as hell. Last boyfriend I brought to meet my parents was shaking in his Louis Vuitton shoes.”

“Last boyfriend, huh?” Taehyung’s interest has been sufficiently piqued. “And, uh, how many of those have you had?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, smile twitching on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Heartbreaker.” Pretty rich of Taehyung to be asking you such a question when he’s probably had more girlfriends than you can count on both hands. “Not as many as you’ve had girlfriends, that’s for sure.”

“Guess I’m a lot different than all those trashy guys you’ve dated, aren’t I?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he looks at you. 

“You are?”

Taehyung nods assertively. “Well, yeah. First of all, I’m your husband. Second of all, your parents love me. Third of all, you love me, too.”

You scoff. “Don’t humble yourself. You don’t know me that well.”

“Speaking of which,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as he points to you knowingly, “how about you tell me a little fact about yourself? It’s my job to learn about you, isn’t it?”

“That is my line, watch it,” you sneer, pointing back at him. You wrack your brain for a fact that you can tell him, something more exciting than your favorite color but less weird than one of those terrible icebreaker exercises you had to do in college seminars. Something that has pertinence to who you are. Who you’ve become. “Alright. I used to want to be a fashion designer when I was little.”

Now that catches Taehyung off guard. “Really?” He says, genuinely intrigued. 

You shrug. “Yeah. I learned to sew when I was really little. Been tailoring and hemming clothes all my life. But I always wanted to design my own stuff.”

“Is that what’s in your room?” Taehyung asks. “A sewing machine?”

“Bingo.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says. “I didn’t know that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?” You say, just to be smart. 

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 

“What about you?” You ask. You can’t imagine what he’ll say. Astronaut. Veterinarian. Or, if he really wants to surprise you, a business executive. 

“A museum curator.”

It is an answer that simultaneously surprises and doesn’t surprise you at all. 

“Fitting,” you muse. “You could have put your own art on display.”

“Pretty sure that’s, like, super unethical,” Taehyung reminds you. 

“So? You’re rich. Start your own museum. Put your own art on display. Live your dream,” you amend. “It shouldn’t be holed up in that studio of yours forever. It deserves to be seen.”

Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”

You nod. “Of course. You create beautiful things, Tae.” It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. And that is not lost on Taehyung, either.

“Thank you,” he says softly, blinking as he looks at you. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.

Later that night, when everyone’s gotten a few drinks into their systems and Bruce Springsteen is playing low on the stereo, Taehyung disappears off towards the bathroom, no doubt because of the excellent soup that was served that night. All by your lonesome, you feel a little stranded, surrounded by your old relatives dancing on the hardwood floor of the dining room, your other cousins too young to actually spend time with. 

In the commotion, your mother comes up to you, swirling a rather large glass of red wine in her hand. 

“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 

“Bathroom.”

“No wonder you were alone,” she says with a hearty laugh. “The two of you have been glued to each other’s sides all evening.”

“He’s my husband,” you offer as an explanation. 

“I know, I know,” she says, shaking you off with a smile. Your mother is a lot more casual once she’s had her fill of wine, no doubt her favorite, Bordeaux. A lot more loving, too. “You really made your grandmother proud, you know? She loved you so much.”

“I know,” you say, trying not to get choked up at the mere mention of your grandmother. 

“She was so happy to see you with Taehyung. It made her feel safe that you would be taken care of,” she continues on, barely paying you and your swimming eyes any attention. “She would be so happy to see you with him now, too. How much you love her.”

“I miss her,” you hiccup out, trying to compose yourself. Nothing kills a birthday party like some sad sack crying over her deceased grandmother. 

“I know, darling,” your mother says, calling you by a nickname she has hardly used ever since you turned eighteen. She squeezes you tightly, a small hug of comfort. “I miss her, too.”

Someone calls your mother’s name, distracting her as she wanders off to your uncle, who is asking what the best way to cut the three-tiered cake on the dining room table is. She bids you a goodbye before disappearing towards the kitchen, no doubt ready to make the cutting of the cake an affair all on its own. 

Taehyung comes back soon after, spotting you instantly as you stand around in the living room. 

“Hey,” he says, noticing the wet shimmer of your eyes. “You alright?”

You nod, feeling better already now that he has returned. Now that he is by your side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I hope those tears aren’t because you missed me,” he says, wiping away a stray one that has escaped from your eyes. You close them as his thumb brushes against your upper cheek, your eyelashes, opening them only when you’ve felt his touch vanish from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. 

“No,” you say. But the night makes you honest, and a couple of drinks, even more so. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”

For all those days you have spent together, never have you and Taehyung had a night in. Which isn’t necessarily completely surprising, considering how many evening events the two of you have had obligations to attend, considering your differing work schedules and meeting times. Considering that, for a very long time, the two of you had no desire to spend any time with each other at all. 

But tonight, there is nothing on your calendar. No galas, no dinners, no meetings, no schedules. There is only Taehyung, who has spent the entire afternoon up in his studio, inhaling spray paint fumes and doing what he loves. And there is only you, who has spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to do tonight when there is nothing else planned. 

You knock on the door to his studio, catching him right as he’s finishing up another piece. This one is a single flower, painted in broad, confident strokes, bright green and red and sunflower yellow decorating the canvas. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, turning around to face you. 

“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 

Taehyung grins. 

Thirty minutes and your favorite Chinese food later, you and Taehyung have settled onto the couch, trays of dumplings and noodles and rice in front of you, an unfunny movie playing in the background. 

You can’t remember the last time the two of you sat on this couch together. Maybe that night you had made the deal? Perhaps not even then. It wouldn’t at all surprise you if you found out that this was the very first time you and Taehyung have sat together on your couch, in your living room, in your house. So often is it occupied by others—Victoria, who sometimes comes over to ooh and ahh at your closet, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who sit on this couch and play FIFA like it’s their job, your mother, when she wants to make herself at home in a place that doesn’t belong to her—but never you. Never you and him. 

“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing a bite of dumpling. 

“Chinese food is always nice,” Taehyung responds over a mouthful of cold noodles. 

“Not that,” you say with a sigh, “this. Sitting together. Watching this shitty movie.”

“It’s not that shitty,” Taehyung tries to reason. On screen, the main character is getting pied in the face during some weird college fundraiser. “Okay, it’s a little shitty. But it’s good background noise, right?”

You nod halfheartedly. “I guess.” Silence. You take another bite of your dumpling, not really sure how to continue the conversation. “We don’t really get to do this a lot, you know? Sit and eat dinner and watch a movie together. Like a date.”

“We’re on a date now, are we?” Taehyung muses, eyeing you snarkily. 

“Isn’t that what this is?” You retort. 

He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”

“Tell me another fact about you,” you request, looking over to him where he sits on the opposite side of the couch. 

“About what?”

“Anything.”

Taehyung pauses, ponders for a moment. But he could never say anything wrong. Not when there is still so much you don’t know about him. Still so much you want to learn, so much you want to commit to memory. For so long you have stared at the planes of his face, the curve of his nose, the twinkle in those dark brown eyes. Those you will always remember. But what about who he is? What he loves? Those are things you still don’t know. 

“The very first time I met you,” Taehyung begins, “I asked Jimin what your name was.”

“When was that?” You ask. Despite you being someone who has spent the better part of the last several years vowing never to give Taehyung the time of day, you sure don’t remember when it all started. 

“That debutante ball,” Taehyung remembers fondly, “when we were fifteen. I asked Jimin what your name was because I wanted to ask you to dance.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you say with a scoff. 

“It’s true. You were standing there in that poofy white dress and I wanted to ask you to dance,” Taehyung points out. The fact that he even remembers what you were wearing is shocking. 

Who knew. Who knew, back then, that you would one day grow up to marry him. 

“And what did I say?” You demand more. 

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “I came up to you, and I asked you if you wanted to dance, and you said, and I quote, ‘Who are you?’”

“No,” you say, aghast at your own behavior. Were those really the first words you ever said to KIm Taehyung?

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

You think back. Think back to every year you have ever known Taehyung, every year you have spent scowling at him from across ballroom floors, making some snide remark as you pass by each other in the hallway. Every year you have spent cursing his existence, willing him away from you so he could bother someone else. Every year you have listened to rumor after rumor of girlfriend after girlfriend. You think back and somewhere, somewhere in there, in those dusty corners of your brain and cobwebbed boxes of your heart, is that first memory of Taehyung, too. 

Of him standing there in some generic black suit, black hair swept over his forehead, shoes too big. Of him coming up to you, trying to be as suave as a fifteen year old could be. Of you saying to him, instead of a hello, or even a what’s your name, “who are you?” 

Of him saying—

“And you said, ‘your dream come true’.” Like a dam bursting open, the memories flood back to you all at once. “I remember that.”

Taehyung laughs out loud at the thought of him saying something so cheesy. “Unsurprisingly, you didn’t want to dance with me.”

“You were so—” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Don’t have the words to express how you felt about him that night. Don’t have the words to express how you feel about him now. Thinking about this, talking about it, it is a bridge. A bridge between what was then and what is now. A bridge between who Taehyung was and who you were and who Taehyung is and who you are. “—so unthinkable. I couldn’t believe you had come up to me and said that. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity. But something about that night made me remember you. Made me remember your name.”

“You thought about me after that?” Taehyung asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“There is something about you that is unforgettable,” you say, honest and real and true. What else can you tell him? The truth is that you have always thought about him. Whether you liked him or not. 

You finish your dinner and place your trays on the end tables next to you, stacking your empty bowls and plates on top of one another as the movie rumbles on in the background. 

“It is kind of a shitty movie,” Taehyung admits after a while of being wholly unenthused. 

“Yeah,” you agree. “But it’s good background noise.”

Taehyung laughs at your little mockery, warm and deep and from his belly. You look at him. He feels so far away, on the other side of the couch. Feels like he’s miles apart from you. You have spent countless nights clinging to his harm, hand gripped tight in his. And sitting like this, a full couch cushion of space between the two of you—it isn’t enough anymore. So you inch closer. 

And closer. 

And a little closer. 

Until you’re pressed up against his side, legs touching as they rest neatly in front of you, backs stick straight as you stare at the television. 

Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 

Without asking, you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, in the space right underneath his jaw. You pull your feet up onto the couch and curl into his frame, pressing yourself against him. He is warm and firm and inescapable. He smells of coffee and paint and Chinese spices. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in, as if there were any other place you’d rather be. 

You sit like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Lazing around on the couch as the stars twinkle above your head. The movie ends and the two of you don’t even bother skipping the credits, letting them and the cheesy 80’s pop song play on, a distant soundtrack. 

“I never thought any of this would happen,” you breathe out. 

Taehyung looks down at you curiously. “What? This?”

“All of it,” you admit. “Us. Getting married. That stupid tabloid picture. My grandmother. This. It’s all so new.”

“New things will happen all the time,” Taehyung muses aloud. “We can’t help when things change.”

“You don’t have any regrets?” You have plenty. Regrets that you’ll never become the CEO you wanted to be in college. Regrets that you’ll never become the fashion designer you wanted to be as a little girl. Regrets that you will come to resent this marriage, resent Taehyung more than you have in years past, all because you had no choice. Regrets that your grandmother couldn’t see you now. Regrets that there were so many things in your life you could have changed, but didn’t.

“I thought I did,” Taehyung tells you. “I wanted to spend more time with my friends. I wanted to major in art in college. I didn’t want to marry you. I know you didn’t want to marry me.” He looks down and you look up at the same time, eyes locking, inches apart. “But looking back on it, I’m happy where I am. With what I have.”

“I never thought it could ever be like this,” you say, words falling off your tongue before you even ask them to.

“What?”

“Us.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Taehyung understands. He understands that, half a year ago, you both would have thrown yourselves into a volcano before holding hands with each other. He understands that getting over your hatred for each other seemed like an absolutely insurmountable task. He understands that you had never wanted to marry each other, that you couldn’t believe you would have to spend the rest of your lives with each other. 

And he understands that now, things are different. 

“I’m glad things happened the way they did,” Taehyung begins. “I’m grateful for us.”

You press yourself impossibly closer to him, feel his grip tighten around you. Like this, you can hear his heartbeat. Hear it thump like a drum, steady and firm and unwavering. His heart beats against his chest and you wonder. 

You wonder if he can hear the way yours beats for him, too.

There were lots of things that made your night in together special. But one of them is the glaring fact that you don’t get them very often. That their infrequency makes them all the more valuable. 

This has become blatantly obvious to you, because right now you are not spending a night in together. Right now you are stuck at a gala that you have to attend for the sake of business, drinking thin flutes of champagne and mingling with people you barely speak to. 

The one good thing about nights like these is that Taehyung looks positively gorgeous in suits. He sort of always has, but you’d never admit that to his face. At least not until now. And as his wife, you are lucky enough to have a front-row seat. 

“I can feel you staring at me all the way from over here,” Taehyung deadpans as he helps himself to a chocolate-covered strawberry from the buffet table. 

You’re too obvious to have any shame about it. “What can I say, I like the view.”

“Hard to believe I was the once the one being shouted at for being inappropriate in public,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. He bites into the strawberry and eats it all in a single go, tossing the stems into a bin nearby as you join back up in the heart of the crowd. 

“It’s only inappropriate if other people hear,” you tease, letting him guide you, hand intertwined with yours, towards an empty corner where the two of you can snuggle up to one another in (relative) peace. 

“I don’t think the champagne was very good for your filter, Miss Y/N,” Taehyung hisses into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 

“Don’t you mean Mrs. Kim?” You pose, an eyebrow raised. 

That seems to do something to Taehyung. It’s not very bright in here, with it being nighttime and all, but even still you can see the way his eyes darken. See the way his lips curl upwards, feel the way his grip on you tightens. It sparks something within you. Something deep in the pit of your belly. 

Something that makes you want more. 

You test the waters. “Mrs. Kim has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tae?”

Taehyung looks about a moment away from losing control. But instead of slamming you against the wall in front of all of these people and giving you what you really want, he growls out, low and powerful, “Home. Now.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 

You hail your car outside of the venue and it’s all the both of you can do to not jump on each other right then and there, in the backseat of this giant black van, overcome with want, with need, with everything in between. Taehyung’s leg bounces impatiently the entire ride back, and the feeling of your hand pressed against his doesn’t seem to be calming him down. He pulls you close to him in the backseat of the car, a hand resting on your thigh. You eye him carefully, as if challenging him to be any more daring. He grins. 

Home cannot come soon enough. The two of you tumble out of the backseat and into the elevators, where you mash the top floor button after entering in the security access code, desperate and shameless. The ride seems to take hours, and the heat that surrounds you practically smothers you, covers you, fills up your lungs and chokes you. 

There is nothing left by the time you reach your door. The moment it slams shut behind you Taehyung presses you up against the back of it, pins you against the wood as he hovers over you, eyes tracing your lips. 

“Tell me something,” he demands. 

“What?” 

“A fact. Something I don’t know.”

It doesn’t take much thinking. “I want you,” you breathe out, watch it hit his skin, watch the way his eyes glint in the light of the entranceway. “Please, Tae. I want you.”

It’s enough for him. 

This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed. The first time was nearly five months ago, in a chapel, at an altar, surrounded by hundreds of people. It was so unfun that you seem to have eradicated the mere thought from your memory. But you remember that feeling from that day. That feeling you got when you pressed your lips against his, cemented your marriage with a kiss. That heat. That sting. 

Kissing him now—that feeling has returned tenfold. When his lips meet yours, it feels like fire is rushing through your veins, setting alight every nerve it passes, unforgiving and relentless. His enormous hands come up to cup your jaw, fingers pressing against the skin of your cheeks as they pull you close to him, keep you trapped in his hold. This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed but it feels like it is—it feels like there is a lotus blooming on a lilypad in your heart, it feels like you have been struck by lightning, it feels like nothing else you have ever felt before. It feels brand new. 

Pressing back against him, he slowly releases you from the cage he has created against the door, spinning around so the two of you can tumble up the stairs and into your bedroom, unable to resist sneaking in pecks here and there as you make your way upstairs. Every step you take you stop, giggle as he presses you against the railing just so he can steal another kiss from you, put his hands all over your body. It’s a wonder the two of you even make it into your bedroom at all. 

When you do, however, all bets are off. Taehyung presses you against the still-made bedsheets with a glint in his eye and a growl on his lips, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, at your body.

"Aren't you a sight? Laid out so pretty for me," he purrs, robbing a breath from you.

It's a tone you have yet to hear from him. You find yourself growing impossibly hot under his stare, burning with an uncharted desire.

You can hardly wrap your brain around it. Here you are, craving the man you had spent the better half of your young adult life loathing. Maybe it’s the champagne; maybe it’s the way his fingers are running slowly up the length of your clothed torso. Whatever it is, your stomach does flips, unfamiliar to the way your body preens under his touch.

"Don't let it go to your head," you tease, simply because you could.

Taehyung hums disapprovingly, pressing kisses into your neck as he grabs one of your thighs and wraps it around his waist, riding your dress up in the process.

You sigh, exposing your neck further for him as he paints bruises into your neck. It feels like just yesterday you had called him out at the altar for his habit of sporting the very same marks you were soon to wear.

Perhaps you should have thought twice about letting the man you had married purely under business pretenses press his hips against your clothed center, but as he rolls his into yours, your mind falls blank, silencing any and all reservations you should have.

Whimpering, you beckon his mouth back onto yours, tongue meeting his wantonly. 

You feel his fingers creep up the outside of your bare thigh, thrilling you in the most primal way. Reaching the band of your underwear after what felt like entirely too long, he runs the pad of his thumb against the lacy fabric.

 You could scream. He is doing this on purpose. He must be. Surely he knows how badly you were aching for him? For him to fill you– whatever the manner may be.

You let out a whine before you can help yourself, frowning as Taehyung looks pleased with himself, confirming his knowledge of your prolonged pleasure.

"What's that? Did you say something?" he mocks, looking cruel and yet strikingly gorgeous as he smirks above you.

"God, you're irritating,” you huff, hips jerking up against his as he pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back into the flesh of your hip. "Just fuck me already."

He tuts, clearly unimpressed by your impatience, "Now, where is the fun in that?"

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers suddenly snake their way between your thighs. Mouth falling ajar, you grip his shoulders as he runs his middle finger against your clothed slit, trailing up and down your warmth. To think he was still dressed while he was touching you like this...

"No... I think I'll take my time with you," he says.

You mew against his hand, arousal forming against his long digits' ministrations. You have to hand it to him. Taehyung knows what he’s doing. The life of a bachelor has seemingly served him well.

You aren’t usually vocal in bed, but the way he’s purring words of filth to you, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he tells you how hot and slick your pretty pussy felt against his hand, has you gasping and sputtering, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.

The fabric of your panties provides a friction that toys the line of pleasure and pain, making you thrust up to meet his motions, your humility slipping from you.

Taehyung watches you intently, cock growing hard under the constraints of his dress pants. You look better than he could've imagined, eyes watering and body shivering under his touch, his fingers soaking with your arousal. He can only imagine what you'd feel like with his fingers fully buried into you, rocking them against your velvety walls.

He lets out a groan of his own, turned on by the idea of you fucking yourself onto his fingers, whimpering out his name in ecstasy.

There’s this part of you that faintly recognizes that Taehyung has done this plenty of times before. Plenty of times with plenty of other lovers. But there is a different part of you, that part that bursts with light and hope, that reminds you that he was never married to those other ones. That his allegiance lies with you. And that thought, knowing that deep within you, he is yours, makes your jaw fall slack, pretty noises tumbling from your lips and your thighs clamping around him.

You were close, closer than you care to admit. Every touch against you is careful yet deliberate as he reads the signs of your body, the way it keens and arches into him, offering you words of encouragement as your climax finally hits.

"That's right. Good girl. Let go for me," Taehyung coos, eyes dark and focused on your writhing form.

You cry out into the familiar space of your shared room, head thrown back as you ride out the high, letting it wrack your body, send jolts throughout your veins.

You barely have time to catch your breath when he presses his mouth back onto yours, kiss still as eager as it was when you both first entered your home. You are alight with satisfaction as he pulls away to press a trail of kisses against your jaw.

"I want—f-fuck," you stutter as he finds your already hypersensitive clit once more, rolling his thumb over your now soaked panties in tantalizing circles, "want to make you feel good, too."

Admittedly, this fantasy had crossed your mind once or twice, brought on by the way he carried himself in a suit and the way his large fingers wrapped around the champagne glass; confident, collected, and entirely charming. Who are you to shy away from a man like him? He certainly has always been rather good-looking. 

He pauses his motions, pulling his hand back to sit on your waist. Your dress is of the finest, most delicate satin, and after tonight's activities, completely wrinkled. You can almost hear your stylist's cries of dismay. Whatever. You have a steamer. And why focus on the dress when it’s obvious the two of you are focused on what lies underneath it?

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod, skin still burning from your past climax.

Helping you back up, Taehyung stands. You lick your lips as you sit back up on the edge of the bed, watching intently as he unbuckles his belt, audibly hissing as his pants fall to his ankles, cock visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. Thank God you don’t have to stand. With the way your thighs still felt weak and how your husband looks like a goddamn Adonis towering above you? Your legs surely would give out underneath you if you rose.

Brows furrowed, Taehyung palms over himself briefly before pulling down the waistband of his underwear, his painfully hard member slapping against his torso.

Your eyes widened on instinct. While the last thing you wanted to do was help inflate Taehyung's already large ego, you were certainly impressed at his size; thick and girthy, his tip red and shining with precum.

He couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly pleased by the way you stared at him unabashedly, chest rising and falling heavily.

"Open up for me," he orders.

And who are you to deny a request from your dear husband?

Your pretty lips wrap themselves around his engorged tip, all remnants of lipstick long gone by now. Taehyung hisses, a hand finding the side of your jaw as you run your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts, fighting off the urge to grip the back of your head and fuck your throat. As much as he'd love your have you choking and drooling all over his cock – and boy would he – he lets you set your own pace, not wanting to overwhelm you.

It doesn't take long for you to sink your mouth further down, however, clearly set on making Taehyung feel as good as you could.

A low moan erupts from his throat, digits pressing into your jaw in request to take more of him in, which you happily oblige.

You had your eyes trained on him, completely obsessed with the way he panted through pink lips, hissing slightly every time your tongue rolled over his sensitive tip.

Lolling his head to a side, his eyes meet yours, gaze primal and wolfish as he watches the way you worked his cock.

"Doing so good, love. Doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs.

You hum against his skin at the sound of the sudden pet name, an unfamiliar feeling fluttering in your belly. You push aside the feeling, focusing instead on the way he grunts at the new sensation you had just given him.

Giggling, you pull off his cock, opting instead to press a kiss against his leaking tip, making sure to hold his eyes as you run kitten licks against it.

"God, you're such a tease." He shakes his head in disbelief. 

He looks so good above you, shivering and cursing out praises on how good your mouth feels, how well you take his cock. Running your tongue along the length of his shaft, you become certain that this is a display you can’t imagine yourself ever getting tired of. But you have all the time in the world, right?

"Y/N,” he gasps suddenly, hips jerking towards your face. "Love, I'm gonna-- gonna cum."

"Cum in my mouth, please." Your voice was pleading and desperate. Taehyung had never heard such words spoken more sweetly. 

"Fuck's sake."

You let out a yelp in surprise as his fingers work their way through your hair, bringing your head back down onto his cock. You relax, though, when you feel the hot ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you do your best to swallow it all down.

Pulling yourself off him, you let out a small cough, eyes watering slightly as you hadn’t managed to prepare yourself with a breath before his release. His large palm runs across the top of your head as you caught your breath, expression flickering with something unfamiliar. Could it be... fondness? 

Your heart stammers at the thought as you stand, slowly stepping out of your dress, letting it drape off of your figure. Taehyung looks absolutely gobsmacked, pupils dark as he gazes at you, eyes unabashedly raking your body. He’s shameless. 

You both are. 

Slowly, you step towards him, fingers reaching out towards his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons as you gaze at each other, expressions unreadable. 

"Tae?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him. “Fuck me?" 

Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 

"Please?" You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes blinking up at him adoringly for good measure. You reach the last button, let his dress shirt drape open. He brushes it off himself, stands there for a few seconds just to let the way you’re ogling his toned chest go to his head. At least he’s good-looking. 

He sighs, probably contemplating some clever rebuttal, but eventually decides against it as his cock is already twitching back to life.

"Alright, love. Turn around. On your knees for me," He orders, making your stomach flip.

To your surprise, you are hardly in place when the warmth of his large hands finds the soft of your tummy, pressing you back into his chest as he pressed a peck to the back of your neck.

You squirm in his hold, whining as that same hand of his grabs hold of your breast, long digit rolling your nipple between their tips. You can’t help but press your ass back into him. His cock feels hot and heavy, pressing against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench in anticipation. 

You want him.

You want him so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself, shuddering as his free hand runs along the side of your ass, leaving scorching hot trails on your skin wherever he kneads into your flesh. He's touching you everywhere – everywhere but where you need him the most, and the arousal that drips down your thigh mocks you.

"Dammit, please!" You exclaim, running out of patience.

"Please what?" He says, an eyebrow arched.

You shiver, committing the way his middle finger traced your pelvic bone to memory forever.

You puff out a frustrated breath, nearly at your wit's end. "Please fuck me, Tae."

Taehyung pauses, grip on your breast and hip tightening as he lets out a moan. You let one out yourself as you feel him readjust, cock pressing against your slick entrance.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name," He grunts. "Okay, baby. I'll fuck you. Begging so nicely for my cock."

You let out a squeak as you're suddenly pushed down onto your hands, back arching as he pushes his fat cock inside your heavenly cunt. He's thick, so thick, that you instinctively grip the sheet underneath you, fingers curled around them tightly as if it means to hold onto your sanity.

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, angling your hips up so that you could take more of him.

"You feel—feel so good," he admits above you, and suddenly you wish you could see him. See the way his bangs stick to his damp forehead—see the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip wickedly.

You let that thought go, however, as he thrust into you, making your jaw fall slack and eyes flutter shut. Profanities roll off your tongue unabashedly, helpless under the way his thick member pulls out of you, only to slam back into you.

You weren't expecting this. The way he stretches you out further than anyone had before. Your pussy clenches around him, reveling in the sweet, sweet burn.

He digs into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as you mew and cry out, pushing your hips back in time to his, trying your best to meet his movements.

"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"

He was filling you to the brim. Filling you tight and deep.

God, the way he was panting behind you was music to your ears. His cock pulses every time you call out his name, voice muffled and buried as you had your head pressed into the mattress, hair messy and bouncing with every hard thrust.

"S'good! Fuck... so, ah, big..." you cry out.

You feel drunk. Intoxicated off this beautiful man and the way he makes you feel a way only he can.

You nearly let out a sob as the rough pads of Taehyung's fingertips suddenly reach around you and find your neglected clit, rolling light circles on the soft and swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.

You are a mess, whimpering and drooling into your expensive sheets, and he filled every inch of you, leaving no place undiscovered. Your high nears, stewing on low heat somewhere near the pit of your belly, waiting for a chance to erupt and wash all over you. Taehyung must be close to, you realize, as his thrusts began to slow down, slamming into you roughly as if chasing after his high.

"Gonna take this load? Huh? Gonna let me cum inside your pretty little pussy?" His voice is straining, as if trying to breathe evenly but merely moments from falling apart.

If only you could formulate an intelligent response, but instead, you are a blubbering wreck, thighs shaking as they threatened to give out underneath you. But somehow, Taehyung knew. He had you. Quicking his motions against your delicate pearl, he could tell you were close too, and he was going to make sure you got there.

Suddenly, you're crying out and convulsing, tears brimming at the ends of your eyes as you feel Taehyung empty into you, collapsing onto his hands as well.

You feel his hot breath against the back of your neck as he pants, breath growing more and more even as the two of you regain control of your bodies and minds.

Pulling out of you, he plops down beside you, and for a moment, the two of you hold each other's gazes, eyes speaking in ways words never could.

Finally, after what feels both like an eternity and just a moment, you work up the courage to say something, moving closer to him as you place a hand on his chest, cushioning your chin as you rested on top of it.  

"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.

"I’m grateful, too."

"Huh?"

"I’m grateful for us, too."

Taehyung's gaze is soft, and it lingers on you for a second before the sides of his mouth curl up tenderly. He grins down at you, eyes drifting shut. You feel him squeeze you closer, pressing you against his skin. And then, you hear his breathing steady, see his lips part slightly. 

You lean into his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Thank you, Tae.”

Not unlike the many other mornings you have awoken in this bed, when you open your eyes as the morning sunlight streams through the windows, Taehyung is nowhere to be found. The sheets on his side of the bed are flipped aside, revealing that soft outline of his body from the night before left imprinted into the sheets, a dip in the mattress where he slept. You had fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other, tangled up like vines, but must have separated sometime during the night. Distantly, you register Taehyung’s voice outside, notice his phone missing from his bedside table. He must be on an early morning call. 

You check your phone for the time. Ten o’clock. 

A late morning call, then. 

Still basking in the afterglow of the night prior, you slowly inch your way out of bed, shivering as you pull the covers off you and scoot your legs around so they hang over the edge of the bed. You rub at your eyes until you faintly remember you did not take your makeup off last night, and when your hand comes away covered with black streaks and flecks of mascara, you wince to yourself. There goes five hundred dollars worth of a skincare routine. 

After washing yourself up and applying as many serums as you can to your skin, you wrap yourself up in one of his button-up shirts, the torso so wide that it drapes over you. The tips of your fingers peek out from the ends of the sleeves, and you cross your arms lightly over your chest as you make your way to the door, ready to entice your husband back to bed for round two. What? It’s Saturday. 

You peer around the door to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, facing away from you. He’s shirtless, and as his wife you have absolutely no problems ogling him, the toned curves of his back, the muscles in his arms. He’s always been a looker. You just finally have an excuse to look for yourself. 

You approach him quietly, not wanting to interrupt nor broadcast your sex life to anybody on the other side who may be listening. Already, the idea of crawling back in bed together sends goosebumps along your skin, makes you giddy with anticipation. You’re just about to tap him on the shoulder, lips curled upwards in suggestion, when he says—

“And my inheritance? That’s secured now, right? Because I said I would pretend to be in love with her in public—?”

And it is as if Medusa herself appeared in this room, turning you to stone as your heart thuds to the floor, a hollow, empty noise. 

You don’t hear the rest of Taehyung’s conversation. You don’t even hear the sound of your own heartbeat. This terrible, aching sound rings in your ears, silencing everything in its wake, drowning out even the sighs of your own breath. It is as if you have been frozen solid. As if you have been shot in the stomach. You stand there, feeling absolutely nothing, and all you can do is brace yourself for what is to come. Taehyung’s words were the knife but his next actions will be its removal, leaving in its wake an irreparable wound. 

He turns around, casual and cool, voice still hushed. As if you were still asleep. As if you hadn’t heard anything at all. But when he twists his body and sees you standing there, staring back up at him, lips parted in shock. 

“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever was on the other side of the line, looking more panicked by the second. He opens his mouth so he can explain himself, but you don’t need him to. You’ve heard everything already. 

“I should have known,” you say, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at once. “I should have known it was all an act.”

“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”

“What is there to tell me, Taehyung? What are you going to say? That you didn’t mean it? That you thought I wouldn’t find out? That last night was just a one-off?” You demand. The heat from your veins hasn’t left. Still, it simmers through your blood, burning you up from the inside out. “That you didn’t want to lie to me?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Taehyung says defensively, brows furrowed. “Just give me a chance to explain myself.”

“Explain yourself? How you pretended, every day and every night, just so you could get some more money in your bank account? So you could make sure you would get your father���s business when he died?”

Taehyung bites back easily. “Don’t act like you weren’t also faking it at some point. I know you were almost removed from your grandmother’s will.”

Your tongue is bitter at the mention of your grandmother. As if Taehyung ever even knew her. “My grandmother has nothing to do with this.”

“Really?” Taehyung challenges. “So you wanting to stay in her will was just a little bonus, right?”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “It’s different.”

“Different how?” Taehyung spits. “Because right now, to me, it looks pretty similar to what I’ve done.”

“My grandmother died months ago,” you remind him. Her will is no longer the question. It has been written, settled, and executed. There was no reason for you to continue playing along once she took her last breath. No reason—unless you wanted to. “Meanwhile you’ve been keeping your inheritance a secret from me this entire time.”

“We made a deal,” Taehyung says. “A deal that said we would both act happy and pretend to be in love because we both had things we needed to worry about. Family things. Money things. You were a part of this, just like I was. You pretended, too.”

“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 

You can’t take it anymore. All this anger, all this emptiness, it’s been bubbling up inside you ever since you heard those first words come out of his mouth. It spills out of you all at once, an eruption from your lips, your heart’s doors bursting open. You have held his hand tightly in your own. You have pressed your lips to his. You have laid yourself bare in front of him. What is there left to protect? What part of you has not already been stained by him, by his touch, by the feeling of his fingers against your skin?

The hallway is silent, but you can hear your cry echo down the corridor. Hear the way it bounces along the walls before fading away. 

“Maybe I stopped pretending,” you repeat, softer this time. You blink and already can feel the streaks along your skin, the tears falling from your eyes. “Did you ever think about that?”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Taehyung looks like he’s in disbelief. Like he cannot believe the words you are saying to him. 

Well, that makes two of you. 

“Can’t you see, Tae? Can’t you tell?” You ask, the nickname falling from your lips before you can even help it. You must remind yourself to change that, later. “I’m in love with you.”

They are words you have never said to someone before. Not even your old boyfriends. Words that you always knew you would reserve for someone special. Someone who would touch your heart and make it their own, someone who would leave imprints of their fingers against your chest. Someone who would brighten you up from the inside out, leave you bursting with light. 

Ironic, that Taehyung has become that someone. When he is the one person you never thought could. 

When he has proven, time and time again, that you two just cannot mix. Oil and water. Pastel and acrylic. Satin and silk. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you spit out quickly, before Taehyung has a chance to respond. “I know it doesn’t matter to you.”

“Y/N, yes it does,” Taehyung begins, desperate and pleading. “I know you heard what I said, but I swear, it stopped being an act for me, too. Things are different now, just like you said.”

“Don’t. Please.” You pull away as he reaches out towards you. Faintly, you remember that it is his shirt you are wearing. Remember that no matter what you do, he will always surround you. “Please, Tae.” You have nothing left. You can’t bear to look at him, but where else will you go? You cannot believe the things he’s said, the things he’s done, but where else would you go?

“I love you, too,” Taehyung says, and a part of you wants so badly to believe him. 

A part of you wants so badly to ingrain those words into your head, carve them into your heart, let him wrap his arms around you and promise that everything will be alright. But things are different now. Just like you said. You and Taehyung are not the same people you were six months ago. Or six weeks ago. Or even six minutes ago. You are helpless and he has proven that he does not care. 

“I have to go,” you say, looking away. You don’t think you could handle turning back to him again. “Please, Tae.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, and he reaches out once more but you are not there to meet him halfway. Were you ever?

“I know,” you whisper back.

You duck into your bedroom and pack a suitcase of everything you need. Being here is suffocating. Being with him is like setting yourself alight. 

Victoria has no questions when you show up at her door later that day, suitcase by your side and this ridiculous bottle of Merlot in your hands. You had picked it up on the way over. You sort of figured you might need it. 

“You don’t wanna talk about it, do you?” Victoria asks. 

“Tell me about your streaming service,” you hiccup in response.

Victoria is happy to oblige. She even tells you that she still hasn’t picked a CFO, and that the position would be open for you if you ever wished to take it. 

Funnily enough, what will become of you once your father retires and passes along the company is the furthest away from your thoughts. 

You remember being so worried about that. Being so worried that, once they married you off like every good daughter should be, you would be absorbed into your husband’s life, cut out of your family’s. Your father would choose a cousin, an uncle, or even a friend to take after the business, bestowing upon you a thoughtful inheritance but nothing more than that. All of those years of schooling, finance in college, your MBA soon after, would be wasted, just so you could hang on the arm of your husband for the rest of your life. 

It’s thoughtful of Victoria to think of you for the position. She knows just as well as anyone else that you would be an excellent fit. And if things were just a little bit different, you would be jumping at the offer. 

But your future career plans are on the backburner, along with the rest of your life. 

All you can really do, right now, at this very moment, is wait for things to change. As they always do. 

“Don’t you have an event tonight?” Victoria asks about three days into your stay. She’s given you her favorite (her words, not yours) guest bedroom and an enormous closet to match, despite you only coming over with a carry-on’s worth of clothes. 

You scoff to yourself. “Like I’d want to go to anything with him.”

“Have you even called your parents?” 

“No,” you say, not even caring about the repercussions. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll be ringing you soon. And when they do, maybe then you’ll finally work up the courage to tell them what really happened. Tell them that you can’t go back there. Not yet, at least. 

“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Victoria says as she hands you a bowl of vegetable soup, homemade from a couple of days ago. You nod to yourself, sniffling as you curl into the couch cushions and wish they would absorb you whole. 

There’s no need to ask her what she means by ‘this’. Everything. From your engagement to the marriage, from those tabloids to the deal, from your grandmother’s death to now. It has all been unfair. Life is unfair. And while you’ve always known that, it has been particularly cruel to you as of late. 

Still, when you wake up sometimes, you can still feel him tracing over your skin. Feel his lips hovering over yours, breath fanning out over your cheeks. You turn over and expect to see him lying there, on the right side of the bed, sheets mussed as they cover his figure. You wake up and for a brief moment, for that split, split second, there is peace. And happiness. And love. 

And then there is nothing. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”

Maybe he really does love you. Maybe things really did change. But you have always been a pragmatic person, always let your head guide you rather than your heart. The secret’s out. Taehyung had an inheritance he needed to secure. You were his path to doing so. Those things haven’t changed. No matter if his feelings did. 

“Hey, look at this,” Victoria says, brows furrowed as she holds out her phone in front of you, revealing a livestreamed interview from the event tonight. 

You peer over. 

It’s Taehyung. 

Of course it’s Taehyung. Who else would she be showing you?

He stands in a clean-cut gray coat, draping over his figure, black dress shirt and slacks underneath, belt wrapped neatly around his hips. He holds his hand up in a wave and smiles politely to the cameras, to the reporters, letting the flashes wash over him like waves in the ocean. 

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Someone calls. “Where’s your wife?”

Oh, God.

Taehyung grimaces a little, pursing his lips. “My wife won’t be joining me tonight.”

“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 

“Sorry, no more questions. Thank you for asking though. She’s well,” he says, quickly ushering himself along, entering the venue so no more reporters can bombard him. When he disappears, the livestream immediately moves on to the next guest, but you hardly pay them any attention. 

“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 

Indeed. Taehyung’s response strikes you as rather odd. Why would he tell the public that? Why not make up a lie, say you’re sick, or you’re overseas, or you’re just late? Why simply tell them that you won’t be there? Surely, Taehyung is just as aware of the consequences of arriving at an event without you as you are. There’s no doubt that his parents will be in contact with him soon, too. No doubt that this will leave a stain on his family. His image. It might even threaten his inheritance after all.

So why not lie?

You frown to yourself, nose scrunching up in confusion. You don’t like where this train of thought leads.

“You okay?” Victoria asks when she sees the bewildered expression on your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say. Just completely befuddled. It escapes you, why Taehyung wouldn’t just make up some sort of excuse as to reasoning behind your absence. Why he would even show up at the event at all. Certainly, going to the event without you is worse than not going at all. It prompts questions. It spreads rumors. 

Later that night, you get a call from your parents, demanding to know why you weren’t there with him. You say you got sick. You plead with them not to question anything. 

You wonder what happens next. You and Taehyung still have two more events this week. A dinner and a ball. What will you do then?

Taehyung goes solo for the dinner. You suppose you could have predicted that, considering his apparent willingness to arrive alone for the first event, too. He hasn’t made any efforts to contact you and for once, you’re glad for his silence. Not that you even know what he would say to you, anyway, but at least he isn’t begging you to come back to him. 

The sad truth is that if he did, if he got down on his knees right in front of you and willed you to come back home, you probably would. He has always been impossible to resist. Even when you first met him, when he sauntered up towards you and told you he was your dream come true. You didn’t know it then. But he was. He was everything you would ever want. 

Why would he lie? 

Why would he do that?

You can’t wrap your head around it. What is he getting out of it by telling the truth? By admitting to the paparazzi, to the reporters and the cameramen, that you won’t be there with him. That you will not be joining him. Nothing, certainly. His parents must be furious. His inheritance may be on the rocks. His image might tank. 

So then, why do it at all?

Could it… could it be?

Is it true?

You have loved Taehyung for a long time. Longer than you probably even care to admit. You have always held your head high at events, spoken loudly and without fear, but being with him made you feel safe. Secure. You would hold his hand and know, know that he was holding yours, too. It grounded you. It soothed your worries. 

Does he really love you back?

Taehyung smiles politely and laughs when he needs to at these events, but he doesn’t look the same. Even through the screen you can see those bags under his eyes, that spark that has faded. You hardly recognize him. He looks so lonely, without someone by his side. So distant. 

When you know the dinner has ended, you almost pick up the phone and call him. 

Almost. 

Instead, when the ball rolls around, you ask Victoria if she’s got a spare dress she can lend you.

 Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen covered in paint splotches, wearing old college hoodies, and fresh out of a restless night’s sleep, cleans up pretty well. For a married man, at least. 

You wonder what the past few days must have been like for him. If they have been as empty as your own. Wonder what it was like, riding alone in a big black van to this hotel ballroom, no one to tease, no one to laugh with, no one to hold. No one to poke him awake if he accidentally fell asleep. No one to make sure he’s okay. 

Taehyung stands right outside of the entrance, waving politely to all of the paparazzi, smiling as the cameras flash, giving them the time of day for a moment before he heads inside and muscles his way through another event without you. 

Or so he thinks. 

You spot him just as he opens his mouth, ready to repeat those same lines all over again.

My wife won’t be joining me tonight. She’s well, though.

And maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Maybe it’s just because he is about to lie to those reporters once more, ready to face whatever consequences come his way. 

Or maybe it’s just because you miss him. Miss him terribly, have been missing him terribly. Being away from him was necessary, but that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Not getting to hold his hand, see his smile, meet his eyes. You and Taehyung may not have always liked each other, but you saw him every day regardless. He became a constant in your life. Not an if, but a when. If everything went to shit, you always knew he would still be there. 

And there he is. 

“Wait! Taehyung!”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as he hears your voice, gaze darting around wildly, mouth parted in surprise. He looks around desperately, scanning the crowd, meeting the eyes of every single person in front of him until he finally looks to the left, sees you rushing up towards him, hiking up the skirt of your dress as your heels tap against the sidewalk. 

And when he spots you, sees you running up to him, his body relaxes, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he beams back at you, relieved and thankful and filled with joy, all at once. And you know, then. 

You know that everything will be okay. 

“Sorry I’m late,” you say sheepishly, cheeks burning as he looks at you, takes in every inch of you, breathes you in and lets you fill him up. 

Taehyung doesn’t respond. You reach out to hold his hand but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, presses you against his body as he presses his hands against your cheeks, palms burning as they meet your skin, and he kisses you. In front of all these people, he kisses you. 

And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 

It feels like lightning, like a thunderstorm, like the waves of the ocean are crashing against your heart. It feels like fire, like flames are licking at your veins, sending sparks through your blood. It feels like home. 

You and Taehyung ignore the shouts of reporters, the flashes of cameras, the honks of the cars on the other side of the road. When you part, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the tip of your nose meet his. And you smile. 

“Don’t be alone any longer, Mr. Kim,” you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear. 

“When I’m with you, I never am, Mrs. Kim,” he murmurs back. 

You wonder what those tabloids will be saying about you tomorrow. 

The rest of the night finds the two of you pretty much inseparable. You wrap yourself around his arm and for the first time in a long time, he presses his hand against the small of your back, keeping you close. Like he’d ever lose you again. 

One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny. 

But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now. 

The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along. 

“I missed this,” you say softly. 

“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”

“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn. 

“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”

“They always do,” you muse with a grin. 

“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”

“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin. 

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”

You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too. 

“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”

“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”

“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 

You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become. 

Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay. 

It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress. 

There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.

The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.

Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.

Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?

It makes it all worth it.

"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.

You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

Taehyung swallows.

"Do you?" You tease.

His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you. 

Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.

"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.

You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow. 

"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too. 

"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.

"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.

"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."

"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.

You giggle.

It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed. 

"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."

“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure. 

"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."

God, you love this man.

You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display. 

"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.

Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.

"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.

Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.

Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?

Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.

"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.

"Yes, please."

The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.

Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.

You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.

"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.

You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.

Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.

He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.

"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.

His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.

His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.

“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.

Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.

“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman

Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.

“Taehyung?”

You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.

Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.

“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.

You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love. 

“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.

He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.

Faintly, you realize. 

That was the first time you had ever told him that.

You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells. 

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.

Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.

It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.

You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.

Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.

You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 

Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.

Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.

“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 

“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 

Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”

“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”

“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”

“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 

“And you are mine,” you murmur.

As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 

“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 

He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”

And so it was. 

don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!

[eremiie]

hi PLEASE i neee stoner eren amd stoner reader😩

high off of you

❥ 8k words | nsfw | eren x reader

❥ you’re dragged to a smoke session by your roommate, and you actually enjoy yourself— maybe a little more than you should have; and eren jaeger is to blame.

❥ content: choking, lowkey breeding kink ish, praise kink, slight orgasm denial, overstimulation, drugs (weed)

content.

content is how you were feeling.

you had just gotten done with your shower, your covers were finally draped over your almost bare legs, your laptop was sat in your lap and you had put your hair up to get it out of the way. you were relaxed, you were calm, and you had decided you were gonna finish off your night with an episode of your favorite show, no matter how many times you had saw it.

"c'mon, we're going to get high."

your peaceful vibe was interrupted, and in the most abrupt manner your roommate could muster; he swung the door open not even bothering to knock, leaned against the doorframe and let his eyes survey your slightly mess room before landing on you and giving you the most goofy grin.

"connie, what the fuck?" you frowned and went to pause your show only to realize you hadn't even started it. with a sigh you looked back up at connie with clear irritation written across your face.

"what? don't you want to get high?"

"i just got out of the shower, i'm in bed now," you moved your laptop and threw the covers off of your legs and pointed to your shorts. "i have pajamas on and i was about to watch my show, no i don't want to get high right now." wasn't that the obvious? you couldn't lie, the offer was tempting since you weren't the one paying, and it gave you the opportunity to see your friends again, but the getting ready process had made you shove the offer down.

as if on cue connie seemed to read your mind. "you don't have to get cute or anything. it's literally just our regular smoke circle. just throw on a jacket and let's go."

you groaned and leaned your head back letting your arm drape over your eyes. "didn't we just come from sasha's house earlier this week? who the hell is supplying y'all this fast?" you tried to come up with an excuse to stay home, but connie was clearly one step ahead of you.

"it's not sasha's house it's eren's." the stupid sly grin on his face appeared and he leaned further into your room already knowing he had you trapped. he knew, much like the rest of the friend group about the undying tension between you and eren, but nobody could pinpoint exactly what it was. it wasn't that the two of you necessarily liked each other but you were... friendlier than friendly best friends. eren and you would flirt with each other more often than not and were very hands on. not to mention how excited you'd get when you got to see him, and vice versa.

connie didn't even give you the chance to respond to that comment, your answer was evident just by the way your attention spiked at the mention of eren's name, and the way your body stiffened in the slightest. he shut the door to wait for you and couldn't help but laugh at your feeble attempt of getting out of a session with your circle.

you lost, and you were slightly upset. any other words in your defense were stuck down your throat, and connie was already long down the hall. the only thing you were able to mention was a loud, "and knock next time, dumbass!" before you did as he said, grabbing your jacket and slipping out the door with connie.

that's how you handed up where you were now, at eren's shared apartment with mikasa and armin, although mikasa's car was missing from the parking lot.

"i love the outfit. it's giving me very much... hobo." connie looked you up and down stifling a laugh while the two of you waited at the door after the first ring.

you followed his eyes looking yourself up and down as well. you did look a little silly, black crew socks with crocs over top. you didn't even take it upon yourself to zip up your jacket all the way, the black fabric draping off your shoulder on one side revealing your shoulder only adorned by a single white strap to your cropped tank top. of course the jacket was a little big, covering your sleep shorts slightly. you weren't even sure if the jacket was yours.

"shut the fuck up." you kicked connie with your croc and he hissed, grabbing his shin before being a fool and hopping towards the door some more, spamming the doorbell.

"help! i'm getting abused!" and in that moment you wondered how you managed to share an apartment with the clown.

connie's ringing only stopped when the door flew open, sasha's figure standing there with a small smile. "hey!" her tone was cheery and loud as she grabbed connie's hand pulling him into a dramatic hug before reaching a hand out to you and pulling you into one too. "i missed you guys!"

"sasha we saw you earlier this week." you forced yourself out of her grip with an apologetic smile just in case your gesture came off as rude. connie nodded in agreement and stepped aside already heading towards eren's room. i mean seriously, wouldn't it have made more sense for you not to come if he was that eager to smoke? they could've had more rounds!

"that doesn't mean i couldn't miss you." her hand embraced yours once more and she slammed the door shut, locking it and leading you to the door opened ajar on the other end of the hallway, of course eren's as he always had those red led lights bleeding from underneath the doorway. "connie told me you didn't want to come also, so this is a surprise."

you rolled your eyes. "so he knew i didn't want to come and still asked?"

"well it was worth a shot; and look where it landed you, you're about to be faded." and she wasn't wrong. she finally let go of your hand and opened the door, the bright LEDS hitting you straight on making you squint for a second before your eyes surveyed the room. jean was already chatting with connie on the futon while eren was sat on his bed with a tray in his lap, rolling the blunt.

what you didn't see was the glance he gave you when you first started scanning the room, immediately trying to look focused on rolling the blunt while attempting to hide his boyish grin. you likewise, you bit the inside of your cheeks to stop from smiling at the sight of the pretty boy; his brown locks pulled back into the sloppiest ponytail, and the hairs in the back of his head skimming the black top he wore.

"so she actually came?" jean voiced looking over to you and making his way over to you from his position on the futon to embrace you in a side hug.

"jean boy," you used his nickname to mock him before returning his hug causing him to grimace at you and pull his arm back. you started to laugh and rolled your eyes at his dramatic actions once more. "yes, yes i did come."

"doesn't she look stupid?" connie looked up from his phone at you and jean giggling under his breath. jean took in your appearance and tried not to laugh, a small smirk on his face that was wiped off when you slapped his chest then flipped connie off.

"shut your bald ass up, connie." you retorted.

"i'm growing hair, i keep telling you that!" and the whole room burst into laughter, sasha doubling over because there still wasn't a trace of growth on his head.

"connie, you have no room to talk you are actually stupid." sasha added before going over to sit with the boy after grabbing a bag of chips from the desk next to the open door.

you shut the door behind you and continued to stand awkwardly until eren spoke, "you're laughing but as soon as she takes that jacket off you're gonna try to jump on her, kirchstein." he said with a raise of his eyebrow before letting his eyes wander over your frame.

now you were really trying to hide your smile, and you cursed yourself when one graced your face anyways. "eren," you dragged out his name walking over to him on his bed before plopping yourself down and resting your head on his shoulder. "get me away from these idiots." you faked a sigh before eren chuckled and gave you a side hug much like jean’s before continuing to roll his blunt.

"damn jaeger, you were so quiet i forgot you were here." connie said, not looking up from his phone that sasha peered over as well.

"and stop making slick jokes and hurry up with the blunt." jean huffed scooting off the futon and resting his head on his palm. "i'm tryna smoke."

you watched eren look down at jean with a negative expression before continuing to roll, and you watched intently loving the way he looked while he did it. the way he let his tongue slide over the gutted blunt was enticing  and you looked from your position on his shoulder.

he let his eyes drift over to you without moving his head and then he placed the blunt on the tray grabbing the grinder and holding it out in front of you. "you wanna grind it for me?" he asked with a small smile and it caught you off guard. you took a minute to process what he said before you grabbed the grinder and let it come apart in two.

"i mean, i guess." he slid the tray over to your lap and did that chuckle again.

"do you even know how? i bet you've always had someone roll for you, huh?"

you couldn't help but break out into another smile, this one out of slight embarrassment before you bumped his shoulder playfully and setting down the grinder on the tray. "bye... i've only rolled once."

"she doesn't know how, and plus just earlier she asked me who our supplier was. even sasha knows that!" connie looked over and you met his eyes with a glare, a deadpanned expression crossing your face and the group broke into laughter again besides you.

"connie i'm gonna fuck you up." you muttered. your mood shifted once more though when eren began placing the weed into the grinder and closed the lid handing it to you.

"work some magic, babe." you were really trying not to show how excited you were, butterflies flapping their wings and flapping them hard in your stomach, especially at the nickname. you began twisting the small container and eren's calloused hands stopped yours from grinding too much. "that's good, that's good." he took it from your hands then pulled the tray over. "i got it from here."

"yeah cause she's gonna fuck it up." jean laughed and connie joined in his eccentric laugh filling the air as well causing you to groan.

"can y'all shut up? damn. you can't roll either jean."

ooohh's from connie and sasha bounced around the room and jean looked up at you amusement dancing in his eyes. "better than you."

"at least i look good while doing it." you sassed playfully while moving invisible hair behind you ear. you could've sworn eren nodded his head from next to you, and those dumb butterflies in your stomach began moving again.

"got that right." jean snapped back just as quick a flirtatious tone to his voice that caught you off guard and you raised an eyebrow at the sudden demeanor. eren looked up for a split second before glancing at you again, his eyebrows furrowed in... confusion maybe?

"weren't you just making fun of me earlier?"

"chill, we were just playing around, girl." jean responded with a shit eating grin before forming a heart with his hand and pouting at you.

"you better stop for eren gets on your ass, you know that's his girl." connie scrunched up his nose then looks towards you and eren for a reaction that he succeeded in getting. both you and eren looking up at him; eren's eyes holding more of a curious stare and yours more threatening. eren continued sealing the blunt soon after seemingly unfazed by connie's comment.

sasha gasped and widened her eyes at you. "stop! you know they don't date." she winked at you and wiggled her eyebrows and you pretended not to see her.

"yeah, they don't even date." jean added on, wondering how the conversation flipped from you to your relationship with eren so fast. it was annoying to him in the least, the group constantly commented on how you and eren should just get together and were clearly not just best friends, but the two of you seemed to haven't taken action yet.

"might as well." connie shrugged his shoulder. "anyways, jaeger finished rolling, let's get high." connie sat up, sasha lifting her head off of his arm as he did so and clasped her hands clearly ready to hit the blunt much like everyone else.

"you want the first hit?" eren rolled the blunt between his fingertips while letting the flame singe the end looking at you with those jaded green eyes, flecks of blue dashing across them in a way that made your heart melt.

"she gets the first hit too?" connie exclaimed staring at you and eren with a bored look on his face.

"who rolled the blunt?" eren asked raising an eyebrow at connie before letting his tongue run over his bottom lip and lifting the blunt from the lighter to watch the smoke float into the air, and ugh did he look good. when connie didn't answer he answered for him, "i rolled it, i choose who goes first."

"plus shes low key a newbie, this is what? her third session with us?" sasha chimed in grabbing the pillow that connie was laying on previous and rolling onto her stomach on the floor in front of the futon.

you pursed your lips before grabbing the blunt from eren, not even noticing that his arm was placed behind you until he rubbed your side in slight encouragement, his warm smile aimed at you. you put the brown wrap to your lips and inhaled the smoke, the gas irritating your airway causing you to let out a cough you tried to hold back.

eren began to laugh at you as you broke out into a fit of coughs, your throat attempting to clear up for you, and the worse the coughs got the more of your friends started to laugh, the only thing you could do was stick your middle finger up while sasha crawled to the same desk near the door to grab you her water bottle.

"i'm crying!" sasha laughed as she rolled the bottle over to the foot of eren's bed. eren's laughs died down too after he hit the blunt and then bending down to pick it up for you, untwisting the cap and passing the drug towards connie.

"woah, chill." he said before blowing the smoke from his mouth in your face causing you to suppress more coughs and fan it away. he tilted the water bottle to your lips and you let it swim down your throat, relishing in the sweet gesture from the boy next to you.

"eren," you mumbled his name taking the water bottle from his hand. you didn't get time to finish your sentence before his door opened revealing armin standing there in his pajama pants and sweatshirt.

all gazes turned towards him as he scanned eren's room growing accustomed to the new faces and scenery. "hi." he mumbled rubbing his eyes. "when did you guys get here?"

"did you just wake up?" eren asked slight concern lacing his face.

"yeah... i heard laughing. don't forget we share a wall." armin gestured towards the wall in which eren's futon laid against.

"i didn't even know you were here. i didn't see mikasa's car so i thought both of y'all just dipped." connie passed the blunt to sasha and fanned the air of the smoke letting the rest disperse after speaking.

"mikasa is at the library. she can't stand the smell of smoke and how loud you all are. i don't blame her." armin chuckled before walking over towards sasha who hit the blunt and gave it to armin's outstretched hand.

"armin you smoke?" you couldn't help but ask, the last two smoke sessions you went to with connie, armin wasn't there. as a matter of fact you never saw much of him because he excelled above you by some and the two of you didn't share any classes, yet you definitely knew him through eren.

"everybody hear smokes except for you." sasha said hoping her words would coerce you to come to join the smoke circle more indefinitely, not just pass by a few times here and there.

armin let the smoke inhale his lungs then removed the blunt from his soft lips. "i smoke with eren sometimes. not usually with all of you guys but... sometimes?" his response came more like a question than an answer as he bent down to give the blunt to jean.

"let armin hit it a couple times." eren used his head to motion the blunt in jean's hand to armin and armin nodded in agreement.

"yeah, i'm about to go back to my room anyways." armin took the blunt back holding it between his lips while leaning against the doorframe.

"why aren't you staying?" sasha pondered sitting up and cradling her pillow to her chest. armin took one last hit then walked over passing it to you which you accepted with a kind nod.

"i should be studying with mikasa but i fell asleep. i have a test tomorrow, eren does too."

"so eren's here getting high and he has a test tomorrow?" you give eren a playful disappointed glance that lasted a little longer than it should've. he met your eyes and then let his drop down to your lips before breaking out into a smile and leaning forward, burying his head into your neck. his chain dangled almost touching your lap and you felt the strands of his hair brush against your chin causing you to twitch at the tickling feel while inhaling the smoke from the blunt. when your hand dropped down to your lap he replaced your hand with his and put the wrap in his mouth while nuzzling into you.

"mikasa made me study with her for like a week straight, i'll be fine." he whined. you let a sigh leave you and found yourself stroking the hair on eren's nape while fiddling with the clasp of his gold chain adorning his neck. the smell of his cologne was mixing in with the weed, but yet that woody pine still overpowered the plant and you couldn't help but rest your head on top of his in efforts to get closer to the source of the fragrance.

"i still don't understand why the two of you haven't gotten together." armin announced eyes flickering back and forth between you and his roommate.

sasha flailed her arms out and her expression was relieved, although her eyes went wide and her eyebrows went up, "that's what i been trying to say! they already act like they date." armin nodded his head agreeing with her.

"we don't like each other, we're just friends i don't know why you all say that." you said a little too quickly, eren pulling away from your neck finally and giving you a once-over. you missed the warmth he brought but then turned your head back towards armin.

"yeah, yeah." he giggled rolling his eyes. "okay well goodnight." eren stood up and passed the blunt to armin who took one last hit then handed it back to sasha, then the rest of the room murmured a goodnight to the blonde relaxing in silence for a minute after his leave.

eren took it upon himself to scoot back on his bed until his back was hitting the wall once he sat back down, using his hand to beckon you to follow him. "c'mere." and you obliged until you were next to him, shoulders touching.

jean looked over to connie and sasha, connie still scrolling through his phone aimlessly giggling at his home screen for whatever reason and sasha looking up at the ceiling on her back now, bag of chips on top of her stomach as she got lost in her thoughts.

"remember when we used to like each other?" jean took it upon himself to abruptly reminisce on the past in the presence of his friends. he took a hit of the blunt thats length was beginning to falter, it on the verge of becoming a roach. he leaned over and passed it on to you, eyes trained on yours, completely ignoring eren's gaze

you furrowed yourself eyebrows trying to recall the time once you figured jean was talking to you, his stare telling, which you actually could. "...oh yeah, last year. i guess i did."

eren pulled one of your legs overtop of his and let his hand settle onto your thigh.

sasha's head perked up at the sudden conversation. "oh my gosh... you did like jean for a little bit. you used to gush over him-"

"sasha! i know, i know, but that was last year."

"i wonder why we didn't get together if we both liked each other, hm." jean looked upwards and tapped his chin in almost a mocking manner. "we used to hang out a lot actually now that i think about it, me, you, sasha and connie."

connie let out another burst of laughter and let his phone to drop to his chest. "yeah, remember that one time we got kicked out of the library because sasha got caught eating like four times and she wouldn't stop after that lady told her to?"

you chortled and sasha's mouth dropped open. "i don't even remember that, i thought you got kicked out because you wouldn't stop fucking laughing and that same lady told you to shut up like seven times!" and more laughter erupted from the ones who were there that day.

you passed the blunt to eren for the umpteenth time watching him take a quick drag then beckon to sasha to grab it as he didn't want to get up. "you both got kicked out, those were two different days." you shook your head at your friends antics and looked up at eren. "they're so dumb."

eren returned your stare and only then did you notice the way his eyes were half lidded, you were sure red was rimming them even though you couldn't really tell because of the red emitting from the lights in the room. he squinted at you and scrunched up his nose. "you look high." he ignored your last sentence wanting to stray away from the conversation he was barely apart of.

"i am high, stupid."

a small 'hmph' came from the back of his throat and it happened again, his eyes dropping to your lips causing him to lick his before he brought those same eyes back up to yours. you could've kept getting lost in them if you didn't jolt at the sound of jean clearing his throat and holding the blunt out to you.

you leaned over to grab it once more. "careful, it's a roach. don't burn yourself." he warned you, so you pinched it between your pointer finger and thumb and started to put it up to your lips but eren grabbed your wrist.

"wanna try something?" he asked you, plucking the faltering blunt from your hands and using the lighter beside him to fire it up a bit more. "wanna shotgun it?"

you had to trace back where you hear those words again... like a shotgun when you get to sit in the passengers seat? no, that wasn't it... you couldn't recall, but by the way sasha widened her eyes for the several time that night, the way connie's mouth dropped into an 'O', and the way jean's features were exasperated, him looking down to the bright light of his screen, you could only wonder eren's intentions.

he didn't even wait for a response from you, pulling through with his actions anyways. "inhale slowly, okay?" he inhaled as much smoke from the blunt storing it in his cheeks, the skin expanding from the inside and then leaned over his face mere inches from yours. he grabbed your chin with his fingers and you opened your mouth slightly watching as he opened his and let the smoke pour out of his tinted lips. you followed his instructions; inhaling very slowly hoping the moment could last a little longer, both of you staring at the transition of the smoke from one mouth to the other.

eren glanced to the side for a second to see if the others were watching, mainly searching for one pair of eyes. you saw his upper lip curl upwards slightly and you inched forward a little more subconsciously. eren watched the smoke grow thinner and felt the way your hands grabbed at his shirt tightly. he watched your eyes flutter and felt your noses brush together.

eren watched both of you lean in a little more until your lips brushed and came together, and felt the fireworks go off in both of your bodies, electric like sparks getting sent through his.

he ignored the gasps and groans of your friends and instead focused on the gasp that left your lips when they first connected with his, and the groan you elicited from him, lips meeting so fervently. he couldn't admit it until today but he wanted your lips on his so bad, your body on his so bad. he was so infatuated with you and the two of you being around each other majority of the time didn't help. he could only reminisce in the little touches and flirtatious gestures you passed back and forth on a regular day and use that to fuel his thoughts at night.

"eren," you mumbled against his lips your voice coming out like a whimper that went straight to his dick, causing him to wrap his arms around your body and pull you into his lap letting your legs swing over either side of him. eren didn't forget about the guests in the room, and as much as wanted to put on a little show in spite of jean, he pointed towards the door snapping his fingers twice.

"five dollars that they fuck?" sasha nudged connie's shoulder as they stood up and walked towards the door while she rolled up her chip bag bringing it with her. jean's figure was already halfway out the door, slamming it hard and making his way to the living room with the other two following.

"hell no, you're gonna owe me five dollars instead. i'm betting that they fuck."

"no, cause you know they're going to that's why i said the bet first, peanut head." sasha stuck her tongue out at connie and he shoved her out the door closing it softer than jean.

he kisses you even harder just basking in the feeling of your smooth lips against his slightly chapped ones, lips working in synchronization like they were made for each other and he felt so needy. his hands roamed your hips and waist, going underneath the jacket now hanging off your shoulders and feeling the bare skin of your stomach. your skin was so hot underneath his hand, just like the air surrounding the two of you.

you ground down into his lap and he hissed stilling your hips at the feeling, his mouth dropping into a circular shape, his eyebrows pointing up until a sigh left his lips once yours disconnected from his. you studied his face; his eyebrows scrunched up in lust and his lips parted slightly already missing the feeling of your lips. his nails dug into your hips as if you would run for whatever reason.

"_____... fuck." his tone was low and light and he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your cheek, his skin warm on yours. "you're so pretty,"

your face grew hotter than it already was and you leaned your forehead against his while your arms draped around his neck. "thank you,"

"i want you."

you closed your eyes and relished in his grip that became impossibly tight on your hips. "i want you too-"

"i wanna fuck you... i wanna feel you." eren's eyes fluttered shut as well, his forehead moving from yours to the crevice of your neck, planting his lips and nibbling on the thin skin. your breath hitched and your hold on his neck tightened. "i wanna have you."

"i'm right here, eren."

he held back a moan at how gentle and soft your voice was when you said those words, but you caught on and wanted to actually get one out of him. you wanted to pleasure him, you wanted him to shudder because of you, and you wanted your name to leave his lips like a song; but he wanted the same from you.

he was high, and high, and high off of you.

"lay down."

eren obliged with a smug smile, turning himself to the side while steadying you on his lap until his head hit the pillow, his flyaways bouncing to the sides of his face. "c'mere." just like earlier you listened to his words and leaned down so he could press his full lips against yours. his hands cradled either side of your face as you rutted your hips against him and swallowed his groans. his tongue swiped against your bottom lip and his teeth pulled at it as well until you gave him entrance to slip his tongue inside your mouth. you moaned at the feeling of your tongues colliding and dancing around each other even though both of your mouths were somewhat dry from the earlier smoke session, it still felt all good.

you felt fuzzy and your body felt like it was melting into his. when you pulled back for air eren gave you that same smile he gave you earlier, and you moved your kisses down his neck. once you reached the crevice between his shoulder and neck you moved his chain aside and licked at the spot, the feeling of your warm tongue against the shy skin causing eren to hold you a little tighter. you nibbled at the pretty skin and wondered if the mark you proceeded to leave would even be visible under the gleaming red lights.

"i don't know why you're trying to give me a hickey, they already know we're fucking." eren taunted letting his hands travel up your spine until they reached your neck, smoothing his fingers over it. you bit down on the mark as a way to punish eren for his comment then kissed it, finally pulling back.

"shut up."

eren let out a low laugh, and his low eyes raked over your figure with his lip trapped between his teeth. "when did you get my jacket?" he raised and eyebrow and began to remove the fabric that was resting at your elbows after unzipping it the rest of the way to reveal your top.

oh, so it was his jacket. you let out a laugh at your idiocy; you knew it was a couple sizes too big. "you look cute in it, but i want to see you now." he threw the fabric off of his bed and let his warm hands travel up until they cupped your breasts, your back arching in the least. his thumbs ran over your nipples, the feeling making you clench on top of eren. "like this," he pulled them hem of the white top up until you lifted your arms, now only left in your shorts and socks. he didn't even question the fact that you weren't wearing a bra. "shit..." he pushed you down until he could latch onto on of your breasts his tongue swirling around your nipple and you let the tingling feeling go down your spine until he popped off. eren begins to remove his shirt swiftly throwing it somewhere near his jacket.

you make work of your position on top of eren, scooting down on his legs and pecking his chest, abs, then v-line until your head was leveled with his dick. he stared down at you with a look of sultry while your hands worked to pull down his sweatpants. his hips lifted to help you out and you palmed at him with your hand watching him throw his head back when such a simple gesture relieved some of the tension he was feeling.

your mouth connected with his dick through the fabric, feeling for his tip that rested on his thigh and smirking against it when he hissed, hand flying to your ponytail that you threw up earlier that evening. "fuck, don't tease me like that baby."

"i wanna take my time with you." a pout formed on your face and your hands made their way to his waistband, the elastic material detailed with 'calvin klein' circling his hips.

eren's hands grabbed your jaw forcing you to look up at him before you could pull down his boxers. "and i want to fuck you... make you feel good."

your stomach twisted and even though you were just trying to do the same you couldn't help but rush pulling down the brunette's briefs until his cock slapped against his lower abdomen, your pussy squeezing around nothing at the view. his tip red and leaking and you knew that it'd be heavy on your tongue.

"eren..." he watched the way you eyed his aching dick, and he took it in his hands rubbing himself up and down with his hand while basking in your expression.

"hm?" you didn't even know what you wanted to say, you were just mesmerized and wasted no time prying his hands away to replace them with your own. your nimble fingertips ran over his tip to gather his precum and slide it over his length and he twitched, no, his dick twitched, and his fists clenched in anticipation for your hot mouth on him.

he decided to be courageous, to look down and try to watch you without spilling over himself too fast, i mean could you blame him if he did? your hands, the feeling of you over him, the way you would feel around him... he'd had wanted this forever and now it was in front of him.

in a way, he wanted to ruin you, not let this moment go in fear it wouldn't happen again.

so you finally attached your lips to his throbbing member, and he sucked in a breath hand trying to choose between flying to your head or to keep his hands to his self for now, but he chose the former his fist keeping a grip on your locks while you began to bob your head up and down. small sounds of pleasure left him and his eyes closed again, him trying to focus on not fucking your pretty throat so early in. he just wanted you and him to be one in every sense for as long as possible.

a mantra of 'yes,' and 'fuck,' left eren's mouth while your worked around him slicking him up and drawing lines up and down his cock with your tongue watching his reactions for a particular sensitive spot he might have; and you found it.

you went back up to his tip kissing it gently before letting the heat of your tongue slide down a vein on the side of his dick. "_____," eren moaned lifting his hips although he wasn't engulfed in your mouth. "i need it, shit, i need your mouth."

you giggled and placed his heavy dick back where he liked it for now. you felt it brush against your throat and you wondered if you could go any farther, sucking fervently and coming back up to spit on his head, adding more slick to him. when you went back down eren couldn't help it, he had felt when his tip touched your throat earlier and he most definitely wanted to feel that again.

his grip on your hair tightened when your swollen lips were wrapped around him again. he pushed your head down a little bit causing your hands to put more pressure on his thighs. eren opened his eyes to stare at you again, your mouth stretched out so lewdly over his cock, saliva starting to slide down his length from your mouth and your eyes shut as you tried to focusing on breathing. this only encouraged him further.

"i know you can take more, c'mon, go a little further." he said in a tone near a whisper while he lift his hips up more so that he could feel that ridge of your throat and hear another gag.

you pushed yourself, letting him take more control and then he felt it again; "mhm, right there baby, right there." he moaned when you whimpered, groaned and gagged, but this only pushed his animalistic fervor and he tried to push you down more but you lifted your head to catch your breath. "fuck, that feels amazing, angel."

you let the praise run over your body and went back down on him seeing how far you could go without his extra nudge then focused some more attention on his tip.

eren could feel the curdle in his lower abdomen but he tried his best to ignore it, letting your work him more. he let you swirl your tongue around him and pepper kisses down his length. he watched you try to deep throat him again and watched the tears spring from your eyes before you came back up, and all of this built up further until he tumbled over the edge spilling white heat into your mouth with a shout.

you were satisfied.

aching for him? yes, but satisfied at your job.

eren's thigh twitched and his eyes screwed shut as you didn't remove yourself from his length yet, cupping his balls and paying attention to his tip, overstimulating him, watching him shudder and gasp under you like you wanted. his dick hardened again while he contemplated whether to remove you from his length or let the over sensitivity go until he had no choice but to stop, and once again he picked the prior. "_____, please i want to be inside you now, wanna fuck you still."

you slipped off of him and crawled forward only now aware of the wet spot on your panties.

eren brought your face towards him kissing you with no hesitance despite him just being in your mouth. he pecked your lips and you smiled as he praised you. "you did so good, so good..." another peck and then his hands trailed down to the shorts you were still wearing, giving your ass a squeeze and spreading them. "but now i want to see that pretty pussy on my dick, yeah?"

you let him slide off your shorts and underwear simultaneously until your slick heat was exposed to him and to the air, feeling it brush over you before eren's hands could. your head fell to his chest feeling the cold metal of his chain underneath you, and your sore jaw parted when you felt his rough fingers gather up your wetness on them, rubbing through your slit. "eren..."

"c'mon, sit baby. we're not done yet; fuck yourself on me." he placed his lips on your the top of your head. "please?"

you picked yourself up and scoot back taking eren's dick in your hand once more. you didn't even care that he didn't have a condom, you trusted him, and you trusted the birth control you were on too.

finally you slipped down onto him and for him it felt like you were sucking him up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside of you. "so fucking tight... you're so wet." he groaned with his hands on your hips and yours on his chest steadying you. it had been awhile since you had been fucked and feeling so full again felt good, the stretch felt good and the slight pain subsided so quickly.

slowly, you guided yourself up and down eren's cock until you could find a good rhythm. your chest bounced above him and your ass clapped together, mixing in with the sound of your slick getting pushed in and out of you. "yeah, like that," eren hummed watching you focused, your pussy squeezing around him and you putting in the efforts to fuck yourself on him for both your pleasure.

eren's hands helped guide your body up and down him, and you leaned forward a little to add some more pressure to your clit. everything felt so good, the way he hit your cervix, the way your bud rubbed against his lower abdomen, you could definitely say this was one of the best fucks you had in a while. eren slapped your ass for encouragement before massaging the same area and relishing in your gasp.

"this feels good... and so much better when you're high." you sighed out while your face contorted in pleasure.

"or is my dick just that good?" eren joked looking up at you after your comment.

"shut it, eren.. and," you leaned forward some more. you were somewhat exhausted from riding already, thighs aching and body shivering from the pleasure. "i’m tired..." you admitted almost shamefully.

"you're tired?" he spoke in the way you would to a child while turning you around so you were on your side. his chest was against your back, the cold gold material resting between your shoulder blades and your ass snug against him. he lifted your leg and held it up while you guided him back inside of you until he was buried deep once again, this angle hitting even better.

"i got you," eren murmured against your neck while starting his pace slow. his hand trailed up to your neck and he gave it a light squeeze while pushing you further against him. he loved the way your ass bounced against his lower stomach when he started going faster, making him speed up his pace. "'m gonna fuck you so good."

you let out a slutty moan at his dirty talk, bringing a hand over to your mouth and shutting your eyes. he found that sweet spot inside of you and you couldn't help but react as well as he hit it over and over again. eren's hand on your throat went up to pull your hand off of your mouth. "don't try to hide that pretty voice, i want to hear you, i want them to hear you. get loud baby."

you were sure he felt the way you clenched around him, suffocating his dick as it slid in and out of you at a steady speed, and this time when you let out a moan you let him hear it, you were loud like he asked and tried to put your leg up even further so he could hit deeper.

"eren, fuck!" you were left pondering why you didn't think about this earlier, why you didn't listen to everybody who told you to get with eren. you could've been getting the best dick you'd gotten in years but both your stubborn, wavering feelings got in the way. "yes, oh my god, yes!" you cried out while eren bucked his hips up into you tightening his grip on your neck.

he turned your head towards him and engaged your lips again swallowing your cries and whimpers as he abused your pussy. your hand shakily made its way down to your clit to give you another push but he was quicker, dropping your leg and grabbing your wrist causing you to yelp. "eren, please."

"beg me." that same fervor from earlier returned. being edged on by your cries and shouts of his name, knowing how good he was fucking you and making you feel was such a turn on. "tell me how you want me, how you want my cum."

your breath was ragged and your leg was aching but you wanted it stretched out again where you could feel it deep. you were on the verge of tears. your hips rutted against eren for any boost, any pressure that you could get you to your high. the hand around your neck only gripped further as you didn't respond yet.

"c'mon, beg me baby."

"eren," his name came out broken, your back leaving his chest as your arched hard. "please fuck me, fuck me... please," he started to move again in the least, after all he was on the verge of cumming as well. "fuck, cum inside me, i want it, please." the sobs that left your mouth were so hot and of course he gave you what you wanted.

he fucked up into you after lifting your leg again and letting the fingers that were choking you slip into your mouth while he kissed and nibbled at your neck, speaking in between, praising you and marking you. his hand slipped from your mouth and he brought his wet fingers down to your clit rubbing for you until you toppled over the edge with a loud cry of his name. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your cunt gripped him like a vice over and over again as if you were trying to milk him.

"ah, fuck," the way you were squeezing around him caused him to unravel himself, white painting your walls as he filled you up with his cum, shaking himself. "_____," he heaved as the two of you tried to come down from your escapade.

your breathing was beginning to steady again but you could still feel yourself pulsing around him causing him to pull out before it became too much. "eren.." you answered back as your head relaxed against his pillow while you rested in his grip. you felt his lips against your neck again, then stopping at your shoulder blades.

you were blanking out from tiredness, only then did you realize the state you were in, hair in somewhat of a mess, a sheen of sweat covering both of your bare bodies, and marks littering your body. not to mention the cum trying to ooze out of you. you didn't even realize when eren had gotten up until he came back, wiping you clean and only assuming he did himself too. he locked his door on the way back in and slipped his boxers back on, reciprocating on you with your underwear.

you could feel the bed shift, eren crawling in bed beside you after drawing out the covers from underneath both of you and wrapping them around you and him, bringing you against him before you fell back asleep.

༄ ༄ ༄

you woke up to a hand shaking you, your eyes lazily opening.

"wake up, _____."

"eren?"

the pretty boy smiled at you and studied your features as you tried to wake up completely. you were no longer naked, or in the same position you were from last night, now wearing a plain white shirt and your underwear.

"morning, i gotta head to class soon, remember i have a test, or did i-"

"don't finish that sentence." you rolled your eyes as you sat up completely eren laughing at you. you followed his eyes, them resting on your lips like always and you took it upon yourself to lean up and kiss him, this time quite innocently, domestic almost. "sorry, morning breath, but,"

eren this time cut you off with another soft kiss, his cheeks rising from his smile as he pulled you closer to him.

you didn't want to talk it out yet, you were somewhat fine with where everything was at now, although you knew your friends and eren wouldn't want to coax a direct answer out of you sooner or later.

but you were content with the way eren kissed you just seconds ago, content with his jacket and sweats you had to wear, you were content with having to use spare bathroom products at his house, you were content with the wave armin and mikasa gave you out the door, content with the walk you and eren shared to the college, content with the last kiss he gave you before his class.

content is how you were feeling.

content.

[urlexaprohoe]

Please can I request a Tommy having a hard time dealing with his daughter growing up when she goes to her first house party?

Keeping me young (One shot)

Thank you for submitting this! I loved this idea so much and I had so much fun writing this down! :,)

Thomas deals with his daughter Y/N growing up

Warnings: Fluff, modern! Thomas Shelby, single parent, slight mentions of alcohol, slight mentions of death

1213 words

“Hurry up, I’m late!” Y/N was banging on the door of her father’s bedroom, hoping to make him dress himself faster. “Since when do you care about being somewhere on time?” Thomas finally opened the door, wearing his typical combo of a white button-up and greyish jeans. Y/N shook her head.

“Dad, there’s no reason to dress like that, you don’t even have to get out of the car!” Thomas said nothing even though he would’ve wanted to meet the parents of the party host. “There are no parents for you to meet, Andy is home alone, his parents are on vacation.” “And what if something happens and you guys need to call for help?” A thousand different situations raced through Thomas’ mind but his daughter casually waved it off. “I got a phone, dad. Remember?”

“Well, at least you would use it for something useful then…” That earned him a slight push as he walked out of the front door up to his car.

“Be outside at 12 sharp, or I will come inside.” Y/N got goosebumps just from thinking about the embarrassment of her father walking into the ongoing party. “Alright, dad.” “Have fun. And remember, don’t drin-” But Y/N had already slammed the car door shut, running up to her friends who were waiting for her in front of the big house.

Thomas tried to clear his mind as he drove back home. This was her first time at a party all by herself and he just couldn’t figure out if it was the right time for her to make such a big step into adulthood. Something inside of him told him that it was himself who was keeping her from going out at the age of sixteen. She was the most important thing in his life since her mother had passed away a few years ago. It had just been the both of them the whole time and even though being a single parent wasn’t easy at all, they were the bestest of friends. Now it was time to let her go, step by step. She needed to make her own choices and memories. Thomas wondered if letting your children grow up was just as hard for every other parent.

His brother Arthur had always been more chill with everything than he was. He had no kids but he loved to give Thomas parenting advice, most of which he definitely read about on those internet forums that he roamed around in during most of his freetime. “Oh, come on! When I was her age, mom and dad used to chase me around with a stick because I wrecked the family car during one of my nights out!”

If there was one advice Thomas took from his brother, it was that he would make sure that his daughter would never turn out like Arthur did.

“I still can’t believe that your father actually let you go to a party for once.” “Yeah, me neither.” Y/N forced a smile, though she didn’t really like her friends talking about her father and his ways of parenting. For some people, he might’ve come off as strict but she knew that he just wanted to protect her at all costs. The last few years hadn’t been easy for him or Y/N herself.

She turned around to a hand grabbing her shoulder from behind. Andy grinned at her, waving a bottle in his free hand. “Care to try some?” “No, thanks…” She politely declined, drinking definitely wasn’t something she was ready for just now. “Oh, come on! Your father isn’t looking…for once!” Y/N shot an angry glare at one of her friends while the rest of the group started to laugh.

But after a little bit of discussion, she finally gave in.

Y/N felt awful. It wasn’t even like she drank much but the liquor tasted disgusting and it burned in her throat. Her friends, on the other hand, seemed to have the time of their lives, drinking out of the bottles as if alcohol tasted like straight tap water. She had to admit, some of them became very funny people as the alcohol started to set in. Y/N regret that she didn’t meet those “new people” earlier, they were making the evening so much funnier that she started to forget the time.

tap, tap, tap…. Thomas fingers were pounding on his steering wheel. He had been waiting for 20 minutes now and even though he brushed her being late off as her having fun, he started to become more and more worried by the second. Finally, he got out of the car and decided to check on his daughter. The people in the corridor looked at him as if he didn't belong there at all…well, to be fair, he didn’t. It didn’t take long for somebody to lead him to Y/N since everybody knew that there could only be one parent who would crash a party to search for his daughter.

Y/N was embarrassed, to say the least. She nearly dragged him out of the house, slamming the car door so loud that everybody on the front porch turned their heads.

“Look, I’m sorry…” “Yeah, dad. I know. I just forgot the time, like every other normal kid my age does sometimes, alright?” This had been the first in a long time. She usually wasn’t angry at him, they never fought. This time, it wasn’t like Thomas could even start a fight between them, he knew that he was in the wrong.

And so the drive back home remained silent.

Thomas slowly opened the door to Y/N’s room and sat down on her bed. She didn’t turn around, simply deciding to ignore him for now.

“You know…since your mother died…” Y/N let out a groan which made him chuckle. The old story. “Having you by my side is the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me! Did you know that people tend to feel like they’re coming closer and closer to death when they’re having children?” “Yeah, that’s why I don’t want any.” Y/N mumbled into the pillow. “Well, that isn’t the case with you. It’s almost as if you’re keeping me young.” “Yeah, I’m keeping you up with the newest stuff so that you don’t end up like grandma.” Thomas started to laugh and got ready for his best impression. “You can use this thing for visiting the world wide web?” Y/N snorted as he pointed at her phone. They both spent quite a lot of time laughing at Thomas’ on-spot impression of her grandmother and after they were finally tired from laughing, Y/N put her head down on his leg. “I know that it isn’t easy for you, dad… I keep telling the others! But you have to let me live, or I’ll end up as neglected as uncle Arthur!” The both of them looked at each other and started to laugh again.

“But seriously… Just because I go out from time to time or even will have a boyfriend some day, who knows, doesn’t mean that I’ll leave you behind. I’ll always keep you young, dad. You’re the coolest dad ever! I love you…”

Thomas smiled. “I love you too, darling. But we’ll have a talk about that boyfriend thing…”

[h0tchner]

go team hotchner!

pairing: dad!aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron is coaching jack’s soccer game & reader is in the crowd! aaron & reader are happily married, but another woman’s mean comments and blatant flirting makes the reader jealous. fluffy shenanigans ensue!

word count: 2.5k

includes: FLUFF, jack hotchner is the sweetest, you & aaron are married, jealous!reader, kissing, family planning, & AARON IN A GREY T-SHIRT

rating: 18+ (for VERY brief mentions of sex and a little smidge of cursing)

a/n: i wrote this for @ssahotchswife​’s soft hotch saturday! this is my first published fic, so i hope y’all enjoy. PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron yells from the side of the field, clapping his hands as his son scores another goal.

Beaming, you holler from the benches along with the crowd. You watch as your husband jogs up and down the sidelines with ease, keeping up with Jack’s soccer team. It’s a stunning Saturday morning and you are thrilled to spend every moment of it with the Hotchner boys. Your Hotchner boys.

When they asked Aaron to coach the team, how could he say no? After losing Hayley, he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to be there for Jack. When you first started dating, Aaron was hesitant to introduce you to his son. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you in Jack’s life, but rather he didn’t want to scare you away. You were a 26-year-old NCIS agent and he was a 40-something FBI agent. You knew he had a son, you knew he was a widow, and you knew he was older than you: but you didn’t care. You loved him. It took a little coaxing to get Aaron to open up to you about his fears, but once he did, you assured him then and there that you weren’t going anywhere. He introduced you to Jack the very same day. Four years later, you and Aaron are stronger than ever.

The ref blows the whistle, calling a break. Aaron motions for the kids to huddle in. He squats on the floor to get on their level, enthusiastically whispering, walking them through the next play. Your heart swells watching him talk to the group of children. Aaron Hotchner, always the hero, the role-model, the leader. Gentle yet powerful: he was intoxicating.

Your eyes dart over his crouched figure; the soft, heather grey of his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders. You draw in a breath, a memory of last night flooding your senses, remembering how you held on to those shoulders for dear life as he pounded you into the bed. You feel your cheeks blush red, and you look up to the sky, shutting your eyes to collect yourself. Damn. Even just the thought of touching him gets your blood up.

You open your eyes, letting your gaze travel back to Aaron’s body, admiring how good his butt looks in those black Adidas track pants. You bite your lip a bit, feeling overwhelmed with joy, knowing that beautiful man, inside and out, was all yours. God, what you wanted to do to...

“Damn he is HOT. Way hotter than the old coach. I think his son is on the team?” A woman’s voice rings out from behind you.

“Yeah, I think so. Did you hear what happened to his first wife? So sad, lost her when his son was little. Apparently he’s shacked up with some 20-something-year-old now.” A second woman’s voice chimes in.

“No way. Him? Married to that? He needs a real woman, not some child. A man that experienced should be with someone his own age. I’m gonna talk to him after the game, see what his deal is.” The first woman replies, voice dripping with venom.

“I think you should!” Agrees the second.

“Oh, I will. I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Snickers the first.

They both laugh as you sit frozen in your seat, blinded by a wave of anger and sadness.

Some child? Someone his own age? Their hurtful words pierce right through your heart as you furiously blink back tears.

The ref blows the whistle, and the team scatters back onto the field. The ladies cheer behind you as the game starts back up. It takes all your strength not to break down under the crushing weight of their conversation. You take in some deep breaths, mulling over their comments. You weren’t “some child!” You were a grown-ass woman! You had a job! You were a federal agent! You loved Aaron and Jack: they were your whole world!

As you continue to give yourself a mental pep-talk, the hurt begins to dissipate as you realize how stupid those woman sounded. They didn’t even know you, or Aaron, or anything about your relationship. In that moment, you tell yourself that instead of wallowing in self-doubt, you would stand up to them and make it known that you were the only one for Aaron.

Just like that: you begin to feel a bit better. You focus all your attention on Aaron and Jack, letting the game fly by. You ignore the ladies gossiping behind you, and, by the time the kids are lining up to give the other team high-fives, you had pulled yourself together and come up with a plan to put these ladies right back in their place. You just had to wait for the right time to make your move.

“Wish me luck!” squeals the first woman. You can feel her getting up from the bleachers behind you.

“Go get him, girl!” sasses the second.

You watch as the woman walks down the aisle, her straight blonde ponytail swishing as she goes. She’s wearing blue-jean shorts and a white lace top: an outfit you’ve seen before on a hundred women who looked just like her. In any other circumstance you’d applaud her efforts (girls supporting girls, right?) but this was your man she had her sights on. No way. Not a chance. She wasn’t going to lay a single pink manicured finger on him.

Aaron is talking to the ref and the other team’s coach when she taps him on the shoulder.

Oh HELL no. You think, frowning.

He turns around and gives her a small, polite smile. You can’t hear the exchange, but after a few moments, she sticks out her hand to shake his, laughing. Aaron curtly returns the shake and turns back to finish up his prior conversation; but, this time, the blonde woman puts a hand on his arm again, lightly pulling him away. Your blood begins to boil. She gestures to the pack of kids, now getting drinks and snacks from the fold-up table next to the bleachers. Aaron nods, pointing over to where Jack is standing, sipping on some lemonade. She puts her hand on his arm again and tilts her head.

You decide it has been long enough. It’s go time.

You walk down the bleachers, picking up the hem of your baby blue floral sundress so you wouldn’t step on it as you descended.

The woman is still all over Aaron, clearly flirting. Aaron’s arms are crossed over his chest, lips in a terse smile. It didn’t take a profiler to know that his behaviour screamed “get me out of here.”

You fluff your hair a bit, letting it fall loosely around your face. With confidence, your feet hit the soft grass and you head towards your husband.

“Aaron!” you call out, waving and smiling as you near him, shooting daggers at the blonde woman by his side.

The moment he sees you approaching, you watch his entire demeanour change.

“Y/N!” he grins, excusing himself from the woman.

She whips around to face you with a vengeance as Aaron scoops you up, tanned arms firm around your middle. He spins you around as you laugh, surprised, looking down at him with pure elation.

He sets you down and, before you have a chance to say anything else, grabs your face in his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. You throw your arms around his neck and card your fingers in his hair, kissing him with the same fervour.

You can practically feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s hot and dominating: something about winning a game makes Aaron primal and giddy. You certainly aren’t complaining.

He breaks the kiss and lets his hands fall to your waist, squeezing lightly.

“Congrats on the win, Coach Hotchner.” You smile as you brush a lock of sweaty black hair off his forehead.

“Couldn’t have done it without my favourite cheerleader, Mrs. Hotchner.” He winks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh yeah?” You prod, cocking your head, looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Who would that be?”

“Hm.” He pauses, looking up pensively.

He wraps his arms even tighter around your middle and dips his head down, whispering one word in your ear: “You.”

You laugh, swaying with him for a moment, capturing his lips in another kiss. As you pull apart, out of the corner of your eye you watch as the blonde woman stands frozen to the same spot, mouth agape. You smirk, feeling satisfied and self-assured knowing your little scheme was a success.

Then, like a rocket, you see Jack running towards you with a mile-wide grin on his flushed face.

“Y/N! Did you see? Did you see me make two goals?” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah buddy, I saw the whole thing!” You capture him in a bear hug, kissing the top of his head. You ruffle his hair and kneel down, looking into his soft brown eyes.

“I’m so proud of you. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! I love soccer!” Jack nods.

“You did a great job Jack.” Aaron says, helping you stand. He wraps an arm around your waist and looks lovingly down at his son.

“You’re our soccer superstar.” You add, glancing between Jack and Aaron with unbridled joy. “Now go! Go back to your friends!” You laugh, shooing him away, back to the group of sweaty 8-year-olds and their snacks.

You stand there with Aaron, snaking your arm around his back to match his around yours. You both watch as Jack bounds off. A quick glance to the side shows that the blonde woman is long gone, probably stomping back up to her friend to whine and call you more names.

“Is she gone?” Aaron murmurs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You stutter, “How... how did you?” You trail off in disbelief.

“Oh please,” he smirks, “I had to stop you from practically biting her head off when you walked over.”

“Aaron!” you yelp, mocking upset. “You should’ve let me at her.”

He chuckles, lips twitching into a smile as he quirks one eyebrow up. “I couldn’t have my wife fighting with the aunt of one of my players. It’d reflect poorly on me.”

“She called me a child. Said that you should be with someone your own age. I think that warrants a free pass.”

His joking manner stops abruptly at your declaration. “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” he furrows his brow, shaking his head lightly.

You reach up and run your fingers over his scrunched forehead, soothing the lines into something softer.

“I know,” you nod.

Aaron pulls you into his side, wordless. Fingers tracing lightly over your hip. You knew he was thinking the same thing: no matter what they said, you knew in your heart that you and Aaron were meant to be. Age be damned. He was yours and you were his: forever. Simple as that.

“Mmm,” you sigh, taking in the beauty of the moment. You smile at the clear sky, the fresh air, and the feeling of the man you loved, right by your side. You two watch Jack as he talks and laughs with the other kids. He looks so happy to be surrounded by them: a natural conversationalist. You can’t help but start to think about how he would be the best big brother in the whole world. It makes your breath hitch in your throat a bit.

“What is it?” Aaron gives your side a squeeze.

Of course he could sense when your thoughts began to wander. Aaron was a man of many talents.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You look up at him with a reassuring glance, returning the squeeze.

“Y/N...” Aaron trails off, hazel-brown eyes searing into yours.

Damn your gaze, Hotchner.

You look away, letting your arm drop from his waist and move to step away a bit: he grabs for your hand instinctively, keeping you next to him. His big hands engulf your small ones, fingers entwined.

You know he is still staring at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet. Your eyes refocus on Jack.

“I was... I was thinking,” you begin. “I love you. I love you so much, no matter what anybody else says. And I love Jack like he’s my own.”

You breathed in, prepping yourself mentally for what you were about to say next.

“Jack is so good with other kids.” You continue, “He loves being social, being a teammate.”

You gather the strength to meet your husband’s famous glare.

“And watching you coach these kids? You’re so good with them, Aaron. You make every one of them feel special. You give 110% of your heart, and I am so lucky to be your co-coach in life.” You tell him in earnest.

“Aaron,” you carry on, emboldened, “I think it’s time we added a new member to the Hotchner team” you finish, searching every inch of Aaron’s face for recognition.

You watch as he takes in the information. After a few beats, it clicks.

“Y/N,” his expression softens, “Do you want to have a baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, eyes wide and hopeful.

Aaron nearly explodes with happiness; his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, unable to speak. And then, his warm body envelopes yours, solid but soft: unmistakably Aaron.

You let out a shaky laugh and bury your head in his neck, breathing in the smell of cologne and light sweat.

He pulls back a little, one hand tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, in a small voice.

Aaron laughs again, letting out a sigh. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger on your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“Yes,” he says, giddy. “Let’s have a baby.”

The sound of children laughing fills your ears as you grab the back of his head and pull Aaron into a soft kiss. The kiss is full of promise: a gentle pact, sealing the deal. You and Aaron were going to have a baby. Jack was going to have a little brother or sister.

You pull away, arms still around his neck.

“I love you, Aaron.” You breathe out.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers back.

Nobody on this planet could shake the bond you and Aaron had. Suburban soccer moms be damned.