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chateautae · 4 years ago

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maybe i do | kth. III

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

↳ part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

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

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 17k (im sorry omg)

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

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

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

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

How incredibly wrong that was.

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

“Good. You?”

“Oh, I’m great!” She beamed.

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

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

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

Anything but you.

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

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

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

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

Disappointment.

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

Typical.

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

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

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

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

Your mother.

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

“No mumbling, Y/N. Speak up.”

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

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

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

An argument.

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me? Definition?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

You flashed her an incredulous look. “Pardon?”

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

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

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

But this, this was where your mother won.

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

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

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

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

“What did you say to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not at something as undeserving as your mother.

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

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

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

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

You nodded faintly. “Yeah, so leave.”

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

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

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

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

It was too much, she was too much.

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

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

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

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

Maybe that’s why Taehyung was so warm.

Taehyung.

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

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

And it didn’t work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung grimaced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

They simply weren’t.

“Leave my house, this instance.”

“What did you say to me?”

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung shivered at the thought, shaking it off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t fucking deserve that at all.

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

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

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

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

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

He knew nothing about you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until your last braincell kicked in.

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

And you knew he knew.

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

It was fucking poetic.

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

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

It was odd.

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

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

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

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

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

It couldn’t be real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he still fucking hated it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need it. I’ve got myself-”

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

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

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

Especially if it meant him.

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

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

And you really did like the way he smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

Did he just call you pretty?

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

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

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

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

Those fucking eyes.

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

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

And he suppressed a stupid grin.

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

Cute, he thought.

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

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

He was just so beautiful.

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

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

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

“Right.”

It had been a week since that incident.

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

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

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

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

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

“Jheez,” you huffed, “you scared me.”

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

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

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

“Hm?” You looked up.

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

Did the action really have to make his biceps pop?

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

“Wh-what did you just say? Tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I bought one for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh shit, I have to go.”

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

Your eyes went wide just reading the infamous label.

Chanel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was bordering 6:30 now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t stop blushing at all.

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

“I’m in our room!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could an Adonis like him call you pretty?

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

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

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

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

Peonies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And again, it sent shivers down your spine.

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

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

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

It was probably better to stay silent.

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

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

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

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

“Kiss her!”

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

“Y/N, look at me.”

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

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

And it damn well worked.

Taehyung was right about the size of this gala.

Huge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He almost felt like the sun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is his event.” Taehyung informed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was refreshing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would you say?

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

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

And he oddly felt.. nice.

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

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

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

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

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

Until Taehyung spoke.

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

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

Is this what it feels like to win at life?

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

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

And it only made the men crack up even harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why is he here?”

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung, who?”

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

Something was seriously wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, so she talks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because scratch that, it was incredibly hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tae-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, we’re coming.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” He nodded, seeming unbothered.

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

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

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

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

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

He said they were nice.

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

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

And you already felt doomed.

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

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

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

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

“..Yes.” You answered confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What exactly are you trying to get at?”

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

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

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

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

With a snarky last word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing, Taehyung.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, too long!”

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

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

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

“Actually, I didn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“People are watching?” You inquired.

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

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

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

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

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

He knew it would stay on his mind for weeks.

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

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

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

“You called me Tae, you know.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

#thebtswritersclub #bangtanhq #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #thetruthuntoldnet #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #taehyung scenario #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung arranged marriage au #kim taehyung

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worth-more-than-two-thousand · 3 years ago

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Returning from the Dead is Easier Said than Done...

Request: Welcome, Shiny! May I request an x Reader (can be fem or gender neutral) where Echo (post-citadel) comes up to their s/o's doorstep to give them flowers and ask them on a date? A plus if the Bad Batch teases him for dressing up nicely and buying flowers. Thank you! (@handmaidenthesimp)

Author’s Note: Enjoy! If anybody wants me to repost with a gender-neutral reader, just let me know.

Story Notes: Some swearing, not much else to warn you about. Take place in-between Season 7 of CW and The Bad Batch. No Omega this time, sorry!

🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑 🖑

Being declared dead was uncomplicated. Your Republic file was branded with a "KIA" stamp, everyone stoically mourned, and someone just a bit shinier would step in to fill your shoes.

Being declared undead, however, was decidedly more complicated. Oh, Echo was reassigned to Clone Force 99 easily enough. But it was the little things that seemed to get mired in red tape. Getting his few personal effects back. Re-opening his modest credit account.

Approving a rental application.

Admittedly, it wasn't that Echo really needed his own place; clones were conditioned to be accustomed to share minimalist, often-cramped quarters. And they were always on the move, so it hardly made any financial or practical sense, in the long run.

But right now, oh, did Echo dearly wish that he was dressing up in the privacy of his own space...and not the shared cabin area of the Havoc Marauder.

He kept his face stoic, as though readying for battle, refusing to acknowledge his teammates goggling in the background. They had returned early from their supply run. Echo had meant to be out of here an hour ago, but (somehow) hadn’t counted on just how difficult it would be to get dressed into multiple clothing pieces with a scomp link for a hand.

So that’s how his comrades found him: trying to wrangle a neck accessory into submission by sheer will.

Oh, if Fives could see him now.

“You look funny,” Wrecker had declared decisively after an unbearably long silence. “What’s that thing you’ve got on?”

“It’s a suit,” he grumbled, refusing to look any of them in the eye. “I’m going to see Y/N.”

Wrecker gasped like a fishwife. He leaned forward, and pitched his voice low. As though the others couldn’t still hear him in the tinny space. “Your girlfriend? You mean you’re going to see her for the first time....since…” Wrecker made a muted cartoonish sound with his mouth, clenching then expanding his fingers in a gesture for ‘explosion’.

Echo stared at him for a moment disbelievingly, before nodding slowly, forcing the sarcastic response he really wanted to say back down. He couldn’t fault Wrecker for being...well, Wrecker. He had all the tact of a rampaging bantha.

“An’ what’s that? Around your neck?”

Echo opened his mouth, but someone cut across his response. “A bowtie,” Crosshair drolled, though his eyes glittered with amusement. Echo tensed, knowing that he wasn’t going to like what was coming next.

“Fifty credits says he chokes, and he ends up strangling himself with it in shame."

“No way!” Wrecker exclaimed, always the optimist. He clapped Echo on the back, who was unprepared so his knees buckled. He felt his metal joints strain. “Don’t worry, Echo,” his brother rasped in the loudest whisper known to man. “I bet she’s gonna love it!”

“You know,” Tech piped up unhelpfully, “Your strategy may backfire. The current deviation from your usual appearance may be so jarring for your beloved that she refuses your offer out of simple self-preservation instincts.”

Echo gritted his teeth. “Right. You have stats to back that up, I suppose?”

Tech blinked at him owlishly. “Of course I don’t. This is an obvious possible outcome.”

“I’m trying to look nice,” he snapped, scowling.

There was a loaded pause. “...’trying’ being the objective word here,” Crosshair smirked.

Before Echo could wipe the look off his comrade’s face with a well-placed ARC trooper punch that would’ve made Hardcase proud, Hunter wedged his way in between them, hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

“All right, laugh it up, fellas. Personally, I think you’re all jealous because you don’t have a girl waiting for you like Echo does.” Hunter turned to face their newest member, took the bowtie that was clenched in Echo’s fist, and smoothed it out before proceeding to tie it around his neck with surprisingly deft hands.

Crosshair ‘hmphed’ while Wrecker verbally agreed, looking slightly put out by the undeniable truth. Tech simply nodded in neutral confirmation. The group lapsed into a somewhat awkward (but not unwelcome) silence as Hunter finished tugging at the folded ends of the bow, then double-checking to ensure it was straight. He stepped back to assess his work.

“You look good,” he said sincerely.

Echo thought he was in the clear.

Hunter frowned. “But...it looks like you’re missing something.”

Or not.

“Like dignity?” Crosshair drawled from a dark corner of the ship that Echo frustratingly couldn’t glare at.

“A sense of self-confidence,” Tech suggested. He wasn’t joking.

“FLOWERS!” Wrecker boomed confidently. “All girls like flowers. You gotta get her some before you see her!”

“I...fine.” Echo relented, anything to get his teammates to shut up. He shoved his way through them towards the bridge. “I’ll get her some flowers. You all stay here until I get back. I mean it, Fives!” he warned.

An uneasy silence followed him, which he didn’t register until he reached the landing ramp.

He shot an exasperated look back at them. “What?’

“...Your former comrade is not here, Echo.” Tech finally spoke. His words were clinical, as always, but there was a touch of understanding underlying his tone.

Echo froze, just for a moment, then shook off the shock of his faux pas as best as he could.

It wasn’t the first time that had happened, after all.

Echo descended the landing ramp, squared his shoulders, and marched into town.

Y/N lived in a run-down but culturally distinct district of Coruscant, characterized by food stalls from species and ethnicities all over the galaxy. Children often ran through the streets, sellers in colorful robes and attire shouting their wares and art for all to peruse. It was one of the nicer markets, he thought, having come here once. He had been accompanying Y/N on her usual run for specialized ingredients that made the diner she worked at the talk of the galaxy.

Echo elbowed his way through the crowded street, content to simply blend in with the crowd, to forget about being a soldier for a moment.

He paused at a flower stand and was mindful not to draw too much attention to his scomp-link hand as he ordered a dozen sunflowers, which he remembered were Y/N’s favorite. When his credit chip was declined, however, he sighed and reached into his pocket to see what spare change he could muster up. Being that he was wearing a never-worn suit, however, meant that there was no change to be found, and the unimpressed florist snatched the bouquet away.

That’s okay, Echo. Y/N doesn't need flowers. She just wants to see you.

At least, he hoped that was the case. He hadn’t exactly written to her yet, unsure that he could sufficiently explain his sudden non-death in typed words...

Surprise! I’m not dead! Hey, you know that explosion on the citadel? Well, I survived! And out of it, I got an all-expenses paid trip to the Techno Union research facility! Why didn’t I write? Well, I was in stasis most of the time and that part’s a bit fuzzy. I also was responsible for killing my brothers by using their own battle plans against them. Oh, and you might notice that I’m missing most of my fleshy bits these days…

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, which were more rapid these days thanks to his enhancements. He was good at compartmentalizing, though. He had to be. He was still a soldier, through and through, and no one wanted a soldier who was about two seconds away from a mental breakdown.

Yeah, a letter to Y/N wouldn’t have cut it. But he still felt like maybe he could have sent ahead some sort of...heads up? A warning? A ‘Please don’t scream when you see me because I don’t think my heart could take it?’

His feet finally guided him to the front entrance of the building where he knew she lived on the 14th floor. Glancing around, he spotted some blue flowers sprouting in a planter near the entrance. He yanked a fairly healthy-looking handful from the soil, shaking the roots to get most of the dirt off. He tucked the strangled roots into his fist so that they would be less obvious.

It was time. He nodded to himself, squared his shoulders, and entered the building.

A short elevator ride later, Echo could feed the sweat beading at his forehead and neck. At least his fight or flight response seemed to be healthy and alive, and Echo tuned out everything but the door in front of him, adorned with a purple wreath of lavender flowers.

He stood in front of the door, and raised his hand to knock.

He stood…

In front of the door…

...and raised his hand…

...to knock, you coward. Just fucking knock.

His raised knuckles, however, refused to move. Echo caught a glimpse of himself in the curtained window panes on the sides of the door, and at the sight of his bloodless face, suddenly felt a whole lot less sure of himself.

He looked ridiculous.

He and Y/N had barely gotten to know each other before his untimely death.

What if she was with someone new?

This was a terrible idea. Echo should leave now, before he caused himself any more embarrassment. Crosshair might get his fifty credits, after all.

Echo had just convinced himself to turn around and admit defeat, when the door suddenly swung open.

Two Y/C/E eyes met his.

There were points during Echo’s battle career where time slowed to a crawl. When an explosive grenade was thrown just a bit too close, or the comrade you had just exchanged banter with received blaster fire to the face.

Echo was experiencing the same sensation now, but he would voluntarily stay in this moment forever, if he could. He fervently hoped his nightmares would be replaced with the sight that was etched before him.

She was wearing her yellow work uniform, white apron pressed crisply with starch...and was as beautiful as ever. Her hair was up in a messy ‘late-for-work’ up-do, a smudge of blushed color not quite within the lines of her lips smearing her cupids’ bow where she had applied it in a rush.

He couldn’t determine whether her reaction to his sudden appearance was positive or not, and so didn’t dare speak first, breathlessly afraid that if he did, the moment would shatter.

He saw her swallow hard, glancing at him from head to toe, gaze landing on his right hand.

He guarded his heart.

“Ech? Echo, is that you?” she whispered. Her eyes tore away from the scomp link hand, and began searching his face as though just as afraid he would disappear.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”

The silence stretched out, and the fight or flight response was creeping back.

“I know I look a bit different.” He tried for a light-hearted joke, but couldn’t quite get his tone to match. “Had some work done. What do you think?” He winced slightly.

She stepped forward and he froze as Y/N lifted her fingers, hesitating briefly before gently touching one of the metal bolts by his left temple. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“...do they hurt?”

He gasped a little as he remembered to breathe again.

“No,” he reassured her, raising his undamaged hand to steady hers. “No, it doesn’t hurt.”

“...good.”

The wind was knocked out of him as Y/N flung her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, tardiness to her job completely forgotten.

She began sobbing. It wasn’t neat little sobs, like in the scripted holovids, but heaving sobs that wracked her whole body, and he worried slightly that she was going to faint on him. He forgot about his scomp link for the first time as he rubbed it in circles against her back, murmuring nonsense words of comfort in her ear.

After several minutes, she sniffled, stepping back. She rubbed her nose ungracefully where snot was leaking out, but Echo could have cared less about any of that. He only kept his arms out to steady her, in case she needed support again.

Y/N glanced down suddenly, and flushed.

“Oh. I’ve crushed them.”

Echo followed her gaze and saw that he was still holding the blue flowers from the planter in his good hand, the bouquet having been caught in between their bodies when she had thrown herself at him. They did look a little worse for wear.

He shrugged unconcernedly. “They were free,” he said, not wanting her to feel guilty.

She stared at him for a moment before a bubble of laughter burst from her lips. She still looked like she was about to sob at any moment, but she smiled tremulously at him through shining eyes.

Desperate to make her feel better, he began rambling.

“I can get you better ones! N-not right now, though,” he stuttered. “Actually, it turns out that I don’t have any credits on me at the moment. Everything’s still kind of backed up at the bank regarding my accounts. Also, this suit is new. Well. Not new. It used to belong to this woman’s father who we rescued during a mission on Bith. Long story.” His brain, which worked faster than usual these days anyways, still couldn’t seem to catch up to his mouth.

He forced himself to get back to the task at hand. “I was actually here to ask you for a date. I mean, assuming there’s no one else at the moment…oh, but you have your job to go do…bantha spit, I forgot about that...” He would have to ask Tech if it was possible for his brain to actually short-circuit.

Echo finally trailed off. Now he was the one blushing.

The whole of Domino Squad was probably having a good laugh at his expense right about now, wherever they were.

But Y/N was still smiling at him. And her chin had stopped wobbling. She gently took the flowers from Echo’s hand and placed them on one of the side tables in the hallway before intertwining her fingers with his and grasping his right hand without hesitation.

“Forget about my job. Let’s go on that date. My treat. Though, if I know Dexter, he’ll give us a free meal, on the house. And the rest of the day off."

For the first time since he had joined Clone Force 99, since he had been rescued on Skako Minor, and even before the Citadel...Echo allowed a true grin of happiness to spread on his face.

“A free meal,” he echoed. “Sounds like a plan.”

#fic request #echo #arc trooper echo #tbb echo #the bad batch #star wars tbb #star wars the bad batch #tbb #echo x reader #echo x you #echo x fem reader #sw tbb #sw the bad batch

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dollwritesarchive · 3 years ago

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love through suffering : NL

fandom black sails

featuring ned low x reader (f)

rating sfw, no smut but not meant for younger audiences & potentially triggering, heed the warnings please.

content warnings toxic relationship, suggestions of abuse, conditioning, manipulation/gaslighting. ned is a bad bad man.

summary part of you hoped you’d never see him again, but that would’ve been too good to be true.

word count 1.4k / mini musing

attention this wasn’t supposed to be my first black sails fic BUT i’m a simp for terrible men, so enjoy this piece for one. please reblog and leave feedback if you enjoy! do not repost or translate.

your heart was pounding like the relentless surf against the beach as the storm painted the skies an inky darkness, the same darkness you felt consuming you. you’re standing at the end of the dock, dress whipping in the angry winds as raindrops spear your cheeks and blur your vision. even in the Nassau heat, you feel icy. you hug your arms tighter to your frame, squinting against the haze of the storm. out in the distant horizon, lightning cuts through the blackness of the sky and a booming of thunder knots your stomach, instinctively you draw back from the pier as a raging and foamy wave smacks into the side. the salt clings to your skin and your garments, heavy against you, and even wiping at it would not clean it off.

staring straight ahead, you watch the familiar men unloading from the familiar ship. painfully familiar. you hadn’t seen him yet, but you knew that he was close.

the storm was pulling him closer, as much as you wished it would’ve dashed his ship and sank his wretched body to the bottom of the sea. you wished for it upon every departure. that he would sail away and never return.

and you cursed the winds when he did come back, each and every time. cursed the ocean for not swallowing him, for not ridding you of this torment. if he were dead, you would be free. loving him would be much easier if you could do so from the furthest distance— if you knew that he was rotting in a watery grave, it wouldn’t hurt to love him as you did.

a handful of his men gave you less than sympathetic looks as they trudge by you, their boots so heavy on the dock that there’s a faint quake after each step. you feel sick, rainwater running over your countenance and soaking your clothes, watching each one depart the ship with smiles on their faces.

then, as if the growling thunder summoned him, Ned steps on to the pier. golden tendrils look brown as they’re soaked from the storm, the leather he wears glistening as if studded with diamonds, head dipped low. even so, you can see that he is not smiling, like the rest of his men, his expression is a bitter one— twisted into malcontent.

though such an expression is the norm for Ned, you still feel your heart pick up speed, your stomach tying itself in knots. you didn’t want him to be angry, if he must come back could he at least do so with a smile on his face? you can feel each of his bootsteps, hear them through the rhythm of the rain on the waves and the wood of the pier, carrying him closer to you. if you had been a stronger woman, you thought, perhaps you would turn and flee. run into town, up to Guthrie’s tavern and convince Eleanor you needed a job and a place to stay. she would understand, she would help you escape him if you asked. when his icy gaze rose, and squinting his good eye against the obstruction of the storm, focused in on you, your feet cemented themselves in place. it was a stiffening of your legs that was so hopeless and under his control, that you knew you wouldn’t do any of that. you wouldn’t ask for Eleanor’s help, you wouldn’t run away. you’d do exactly as he expected you to, exactly as he’s conditioned you to— remain with him.

even a smirk upon his scarred lips seemed more akin to a grimace, and he wore a wicked one as he approached. when his heavy steps stop just short of your feet, and he was looming in front of you, face angled downward and his gaze fixed. his other eye remained stagnant and cloudy. if his good eye scours your countenance to read you, then the other most certainly must stare into your very soul. for several moments, the two of you stood there, him staring at you and your eyes focused on the soaking wood beneath your feet. he was waiting for you to speak, challenging you. “Welcome home.” you utter, soft and defeated as your eyes flicker upwards. you blink and squint to keep the rain from them, but he’s close enough to see him clearly, to hear the pitter patter of rain on his chest.

“That any way to greet the man you love?” he asks, head cocking to one side. those drenched tresses have begun to flap like fringed sails in the wind, a couple plastering to his temple and cheek, while the rest fly free in the storm. “You must’ve missed me while I was away for so long, hm?” his brows furrow as he takes a step closer. your heartbeat is thunderous, like a stampede of stallions, when he does so, and you shy away from the advance. one of his hands, dingy and stained brown with old blood under his fingernails reach for your face. you recoil on instinct, attempting to careen just out of his reach without seeming like you were doing so. your cheek already felt tender, a phantom pain from the last time he’d reached for you, before he’d left. Ned sees your cowardice, and his smile seems to soften, not in order to grant you a calmer version of himself, but most likely out of approval. he enjoyed being the object of your fear, relished in the way your muscles tense and your eyes widen, the way you have trouble breathing and can’t look him in the eye when he comes near. the callouses on his digit tips make them jagged against your skin, as they brush along your cheekbone, starting close to the hair line so he may toy with a dripping tress. “I’ve missed you. Thought about you night and day, wondering how you were surviving without me here. It must have been frightening, yes?”

you shudder at his touch, exhaling an uneven breath through your parted tiers, past a quivering, bottom lip. regardless of how gentle it was in this moment, you couldn’t help but be reminiscent of the damage it’s caused. to you, to others, to himself. you fear this docile caress more than the swing of his fist or the cold kiss of the blade you’ve felt against your neck. he knows this, and that is why he enjoys it. the display had begun to garner an audience; mostly his own men, who’d seen it before, but a few stragglers on the beach were also watching. most pretended they weren’t. you nod, clenching your teeth behind pursed lips to steady them as you stare up into his eyes. you wonder if, once upon a time, there was any humanity in them, any emotion that wouldn’t frighten you. you would never know, because when you looked into them now, you see nothing but your own decimation.

“I’ll bet it was. Poor, little thing needed your captain here to take care ‘a you.” his smirk widens, the corner of his lip twitching, “so if I were you, I’d be showing a bit more enthusiasm now that I’m home. Go’on, love. Give me a proper welcome.” a couple of his men sneer amongst themselves, and Ned’s eyebrow quirks, his arms open for you.

your stomach tumbles, nerves on fire within your frame. you didn’t want to hold him, because if you did, he would feel the love you harbor. you couldn’t disobey him, either, and risk his wrath. unhooking your grips from your own arms, your hands are shaky as they press flat to his back, enveloping him within your frail embrace. his own fists like rabid dogs, snapping at your back to haul you tight against his frame. the ferocity knocks the wind from your lungs, and you dig your chin into the crook of his neck, staring at the black horizon through the storm. you can feel him leave a string of kisses along your neckline, they burn your skin. your nails dig into the thickness of his coat, but you wished you could claw the very flesh from his shoulders. hatred manifests in the form of a hiss against his ear, “I wish you would’ve died out there.”

for a moment, you’re petrified. it had taken as long for you to realize that your thoughts had been spoken aloud, and you cling to him, waiting to hear or feel any sort of retaliation. your heart pounds against your rib cage so hard it hurts, your lungs refuse to fill with air, and every muscle in your body is tense and awaiting some horrific assault.

Ned chortles. it is, by far, the most egregious of sounds, more obscene and terrifying than any curse he could’ve thrown your way. you freeze, time itself seems to follow, and Ned pulls back from the embrace. he takes hold of your chin with thumb and forefinger, and you’re staring up, with wide eyes, at his grinning lips. they meet yours in a tender kiss, with only the scratch of the blonde scruff on his face to render any discomfort. “I know you do.” he murmurs against your lips.

#ned low #black sails #ned low x reader #ned low x you #black sails imagine #black sails x reader #black sails x you #tadhg murphy #tadhg murphy x reader #tadhg murphy x you #tadhg murphy imagine

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wildernessuntothemselves · 4 years ago

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Oppa Knows Best | Part 6

Word Count: 2.3k (short but super sweet) Genre: Angst, minimal smut Summary: How will Jaehyun react when you suggest that the two of you separate?

Warnings: violence, blood, manipulation, abusive relationship, suicidal thoughts, dub-con

Gif credit “I think… I need some time to think about this.” You say, wrapping your robe tighter around your naked body and warily glancing at Jaehyun who was now dressed in his boxers and pacing around the room. Just as predicted, he stops abruptly at your words and turns to you with barely contained wrath and exasperation. He was at the edge of his rope and you could tell. “You’ve had your time! I’ve waited years for you!”

You gulp, staring down at the knot tying your robe together, and seeing the thin fabric vibrate over your skin with the power of your erratic heartbeat. “I know but---can’t you wait just a little bit longer.... This is all too much for me and I-- I don’t know what I should do.”

“It’s always been too much for you. You’ve always run away from confronting this and I won’t let you run again. This ends tonight.” The finality of his words suffocates you. He has you trapped, forcing you to make a decision that you don’t even know if you can make.

“I didn’t know...I never wanted to hurt you, oppa.” You put your head between your hands, but his accusations still cut their way through to you easily. “You knew. No one is that fucking oblivious. You must’ve seen how you pulled away from me every time I tried to confess to you.”

Guilt eats away at you as you remember all the times you had inexplicably shied away from him every time you seemed to get close to getting what you’ve always wanted from him. You never understood it. You would just close up--the blood in your veins drawing back to your heart and pooling into your abdomen, leaving your limbs cold and shaky. You’d feel so imperiled, like any utterance of his potential love for you would make you bleed out. It didn’t make any sense but it was just so overpowering, a survival instinct, that you were forced to follow it. You couldn’t even discuss it with him, because how could you without revealing your true feelings for him? A prospect that terrified you just as much as the other one.

You shake your head, feeling your mind swelling up with confusion. “I can’t think right now, oppa.”

“There is nothing to think about. You’ve been running from this for years and look where it led us. You tried going after someone else, and look where it led us. You want me and I want you. We are made for each other. There is nothing else to think about.”

“But what if we’re not good for each other?” You whisper quietly, fearing the blasphemy your own tongue was speaking. “What if it’s not healthy…”

“And who told you that, your barista boy?” Jaehyun accuses indignantly, “What the fuck does he know about us? You had no business involving him in our lives. We were doing just fine before he came along.”

“No, we weren’t!” You can’t help your outburst when he’s always refusing to acknowledge the flaws in your relationship. Just because he ignores them, doesn’t mean they’re not there. The least he could give you is to acknowledge your problems and reassure you that he sees them too and wants to solve them. “You were controlling my life and treating me like a slut for sleeping with other guys.”

“You were whoring around. I was protecting you!”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about! You keep hurting me, and you don’t give a shit! You are so obsessed with getting me that you are willing to break me down so I’d only have you to turn to.” You shrill, unable to hold back your emotions.

“And you chased away any woman I could possibly be with so I’d only have you!” He shouts right back at you, not missing a beat.

The two of you are at a standstill, anticipating the other’s next attack, and you’re tired of it. You can’t keep doing this. So, full of worry and trepidation, you suggest, “Then maybe we should just stay away from each other for a bit. Take some time to look at things from a---”

“Don’t…” He grits out, fury coiling under his skin.

“I just think it might do us good if--”

“Absolutely not.” He barks at you, making you flinch back, and a thought like a parasite springs up into your mind, taking over you and forcing itself out into the world. “If you can’t even handle me stepping away for a bit then maybe we should just...stop.”

He stares at you in shock and betrayal, hardly believing what you were suggesting. “Don’t you dare.” He hisses, eyes red with tears.

“We can’t keep hurting each other, oppa.” You futility try to explain yourself to him, and perhaps to yourself too.

“No. You can’t do this to me. Not after everything I’ve been through for you. I won’t let you.” He grabs you by the arm, shaking you roughly and jostling the tears out of your eyes. “I love you so much, oppa, but--”

“No, fuck you!” He throws you on the bed, the veins in his neck bulging out as he screams at you. “You promised. You said you’ll never leave me.”

Your fingers dig into the blanket under you, trying to find something to tether yourself to as your world spins into chaos around you. “I was a child back then. I didn’t know how bad things would get.”

“No, you just didn’t have anyone else to latch onto back then, but now that you do, you’re throwing me out like yesterday’s garbage and hiding behind your bullshit excuses. I stayed loyal to you all this time. I never tried to replace you. I dumped Miyeon for you. I never pursued another woman for you. Everything I ever did was for you, and you're abandoning me the minute someone else gives you any attention?" He grabs your face and presses his forehead against yours. "I can't let you go. I won't. You're mine."

"You're hurting me, oppa." You tremble as his fingers dig into your jaw, but he doesn’t let up. "Maybe you deserve it. You're a selfish fucking bitch. All you do is take, take, take! You made me dedicate my entire life to you and now you want to leave? Fuck that."

“That's not fair! I waited so long for you.” You cry out, reaching out to him, needing him to reassure you that he believes you. You’re not some evil person that was playing with him all this time. You don’t want to leave him just because you have someone else now. No one could ever replace him.

But he throws you back against the bed before you can touch him and he whirls around the room like a hurricane, grabbing whatever he can get his hands on and chucking it against the wall, breaking anything and everything. “God-fucking-dammit!”

Soon the entire room is in disarray, but it does nothing to buffer his anger. You gasp in horror as his hand collides with the mirror, his skin breaking along with the glass. Seeing crimson blood gushing down his pale skin, you jump off the bed and run to him, your fear for him overpowering your fear of him.

But when you get close, he grabs you by the neck and slams you against the wall, the back of your head bouncing back against the concrete and the shock of the impact making your vision go spotty and your ears ring for a few seconds.

When you come to, you feel the warmth of his hand being replaced by something cool and jagged pressing against your neck, and you stare at him in horror, hardly believing what is happening, but there is no denying the resentment and malice murking up his warm brown eyes.

“I have no one else but you. You think I’ll just let you leave?” He asks, voice as jagged as the glass he has pressed against your throat

You close your eyes, a small part of you wishing he’d just do what he’s clearly threatening to do. You’d rather die than live in a world where your oppa would ever try to hurt you. You’ve been struggling for too long and you just want it to stop. This will be easier. You won’t have to fight anymore.

But you feel the glass move away from you and hear a thud as Jaehyun falls to his knees in front of you, sobbing loudly. “I love you so much. Why are you doing this to me?”

You feel a twinge of disappointment as you open your eyes and look down at the destitute man in front of you. He looks so small, so scared, resembling the little boy you had made that promise to so long ago and it makes you feel wretched. You were telling him you are going to take everything away from him again after promising him that you’d never leave--after telling him for years and years that you love him and that he’s the most important person in your life. You’re abandoning him just like his father did.

You feel the cold shard of glass on your skin again, this time in your palm as Jaehyun places it in your hand and closes your fist around it. “Kill me then. I’m already dead without you.”

You gasp, shaking your head and trying to pull your hand away. “Stop, please.”

But he tightens his hold around your fist, making your hand close tighter around the glass, the edges of it cutting into your palm. “No. I’ve shielded you from the consequences of your actions for so long. It’s time that you face what you’ve done to me.”

"I never meant to hurt you.” You wail as your own blood seeps between your fingers. “Please, oppa, stop this. I'm scared. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re killing me.” He insists, poking the skin of his neck with the sharp point of the glass, nicking a small area. “This is just quicker.”

"I won't leave. I swear I won't leave.” You choke out desperately, panicking at the trail of blood running down his neck. “Just stop it, please!”

He finally loosens his hold on your fist and you immediately drop the glass and pull your hand up to your face, watching the shaking, bloody mess it had become in horror.

"I love you so much, angel." You hear him say and feel his face nuzzling against your lower belly. You look down at him numbly and see him pulling your robe apart so he can lay kisses directly on your skin.

You can’t feel the warmth from his lips, not when your hand is gushing hot blood still. He doesn’t care though, continuing down your body towards your heat, seeking another warmth all-together.

You gasp when his tongue slides between your lips and your hand shoots out to clutch at his hair, not caring that you’re messing it up with your blood. Jaehyun’s mouth on you manages to warm you up a bit, and you focus all your attention on how his tongue feels licking around your clit, trying to drown out everything else, trying to pretend that this is just a normal day.

You almost fool yourself too--if it wasn’t for his quiet sobs that drift up to you every once in a while and the way his hair becomes matted and discolored with your blood, you could almost believe it. But when he stands up, his dick nudging between your legs, you can’t bear to look at him.

So you turn around and face the wall, feeling more than hearing the strained sound of pain emanating from his chest and flowing into your back. "I'll make it up to you, angel. I'll make us happy again. I promise you." He grunts, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he pushes inside you.

“It will be just like before.” He promises lowly, his words are a hiss in your ear, making you shudder. You bite down on your lip to keep down your own cries as he fucks you against the wall like he intends to prove to you just how much he means his words.

And you stand there and take it. You’re just so tired of fighting back. You don’t want to hurt anymore.

__________________

You lay in his arms in the bathtub, the hot water running down your bodies and carrying the blood with it making it look like a crime scene. And maybe it was. Here lies all your will to break free and every hope that things could change. They wash away from your body like cheap paint to reveal the scars Jaehyun has permanently etched on you, reminding you that he will never go away.

When the water stops running red with blood, he carries you out of the tub and into the bedroom where he dresses you up and bandages your wound, pressing a gentle kiss onto your palm once he’s done. With not a single evidence of the night’s violence on the both of you, he kneels down in front of you, and grabs your fidgety hands in his bigger ones, squeezing down on them and prompting you to look at him. When you do, you see the determination strong in his eyes and you wonder how he could possibly have the energy to fuel it when you were all dried up.

You decide that he must’ve stolen it from you.

"You will not communicate with that boy again. And it goes without saying that Soojin is out of my life too." He informs you.

You stay quiet, staring straight at him and he sighs, kissing your hands again before getting up to lay the both of you on the bed under the blankets. Pulling you in his arms, he rubs a hand up and down your side soothingly as he whispers quietly to you and smiles his dimpled smile, just like he always does, but it doesn’t look the same to you anymore.

"I won't let anyone tear us apart… even you."

________________________

A/N: I know this is super short but like there ain’t much else to say :’) I went with the ending that made the most sense so I hope you guys like it

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #nct smut #nct angst

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years ago

Text

A Helping Hand

A/N: I know someone suggested this, but I can’t remember if it was an anon or if it was someone else??? My brain is trash as we’ve all probably realized. Also also, this is my first time writing Sherlock!Henry so please be patient with me.

Warnings: none, just fluffy

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Your dear husband helps you dress for a party.

***

“Sherlock!” You called out for him, your voice a little panicked.

He left his study and quickly moved down the hall to the bedroom.

The detective expected to find you in trouble, perhaps even hurt, but what he found was you sitting on the edge of the bed with nothing but your undergarments on, a chemise and drawers. Your feet and ankles were bare of any stockings.

“What’s the matter, my dear?” He asked, stepping into the room hesitantly.

“My head hurts. If I try to lean down to put my stockings on, it hurts even more.” You frowned, holding the stockings out to him.

Without needing an explanation, Sherlock approached the bed and held his hand out for the stockings. He knelt down at your feet.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t go if your head is hurting.”

“No, no. It’s just a dull ache. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you excited?” He looked up at you as he pulled the sock up your calf.

“Very.” You nodded. A smile found its way to your lips. “The music they’re going to have there is fantastic, Sherlock! Oh, we could dance all night long!”

He chuckled, looking down to watch as he pulled the stocking up over your knee. Then he tied the ribbon to hold them up.

“Unfortunately, my dear, I’m not sure how much dancing I’ll be doing.”

You drew your brows together, looking down at him.

“What? Why? You love to dance, Sherlock.”

“With my wife alone in the solitude of our home.” He kissed your stocking covered knee and then started on the other foot. “Not in front of my peers.”

“Oh, but I’m sure your peers would be amazed to know the grand Sherlock Holmes is quite the dancer.” You sighed, leaning back on your hands. “Such a shame. Now I fear I’ll be bored to death with you and your peers, discussing cases and boring detective work.”

“My work isn’t boring.” Sherlock scoffed.

“Well, I think it is.” You couldn’t hide the grin that came to your lips.

He tied up the stocking and then stood to his feet.

“Can you help me with the rest of my clothes?” You stood up too, reaching out to put your hand on his shoulder.

He answered you with a kiss to your forehead.

“What’s next?” He asked, looking to the bed. There were numerous different articles of clothing and other items laying out on the bed.

“The petticoat.” You reached for the skirt that rested on the bed closest to you.

Sherlock took it from you and guided it down over your head. He moved it around a little, twisting it on your hips until it looked correct.

“Now that monstrosity.” You sighed, looking to the hooped petticoat that rested on the bust across the room.

Sherlock followed your gaze.

“I don’t understand why these ever came to be considered fashionable.” He commented. “It looks horrendous.”

“Well it’s not meant to be seen.” You said. “But it is because men like a nicely rounded woman.”

He grinned slyly, piercing blue eyes finding yours.

“I happen to think your natural curves are more appealing than that thing.”

“Oh, you're obliged to say that, dear husband.” You teased, passing him the hooped petticoat.

“I am not obliged to say anything.” He was careful with pulling the hooped petticoat over your head, not wanting to catch your neatly styled hair with the material. “I say what I believe. And I believe you are absolutely stunning.”

As the petticoat was put in place at your hips, he leaned forward to kiss your head.

“You’re a charmer, Mr. Holmes.” You grinned a little.

“Only for you, Mrs. Holmes.”

Your corset was next to go on. With his fingers being so big, it was a little difficult for him to thread the ribbon through the eyelets. He cursed under his breath and even sat down on the edge of the bed to see if it would be easier that way.

“Is that too tight?” He asked, pulling the ribbons.

“No. It needs to be a little tighter.”

“I don’t want to crush you.”

“You aren’t going to crush me, Sherlock. Just tighten it. It has a purpose and if it’s loose, that purpose will not be served.”

He sighed but did as you requested. He tied the ribbons in place and then helped you finish getting on the rest of the outfit, the part of the dress that would be seen by everyone.

The material was a luxurious dark blue that matched Sherlock’s suit and brought out the blue in his eyes. You adored the color on him.

After you’d finished getting dressed, Sherlock turned you around to face him. You smiled up at him, your hands resting on his biceps.

“Thank you, dear husband.”

“You are welcome, dear wife.” He leaned down to kiss you but just before your lips met, there was a knock at the door.

“Sherlock? Y/N? Are you two almost ready?” Watson called from the other side. Sherlock sighed heavily. “We’re going to be late!”

“We’ll be down in a minute, John.” Sherlock called.

“John will dance with me.” You patted your husband’s chest and moved so he could finish helping you dress.

Once you were dressed completely, you turned to go towards the door but Sherlock stopped you, his hand on your arm.

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” He leaned down to kiss your lips. His arms slipped around you, drawing you closer to him.

“Thank you.” You giggled against his lips, hands sliding up his massive biceps. “And thank you for helping me.”

“Anything for you, my dear.”

“Anything?” You quirked a brow.

He nodded.

“Dance with me.” A grin tugged at the corners of your lips.

He sighed heavily through his nose as he looked down at you. How had he fallen so easily into your little trap?

“Perhaps.” He planted one final kiss on your lips and then started for the door.

“Perhaps?” You repeated, furrowing your brows together. You followed after him. “Perhaps you’ll dance with your wife?” You were messing with him, teasing him.

“Mhm.” He nodded, hiding his grin almost perfectly.

“Well then, perhaps I will die of boredom.”

A/N: I have yet to add Sherlock to my list thingy on my taglist form but I will shortly. If you’ve already filled out that short little taglist form by going to this link, then just let me know if you want to be added to the Sherlock taglist in the comments down below!

#sherlock!henry x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock!henry holmes #sherlock!henry fluff #henry cavill #enola holmes #queenxxxsupreme

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Night Part XXIX

It was still a few hours until dawn when Cordelia woke with a stubborn kink in her shoulder and with all of her fingers numb and tingly in her left hand where it was trapped underneath James's arm. His slow, even breath tickled the hairs at the top of her head and his diaphragm pressed against hers. Her nose was pressed against his chest, breathing in the delightful smell of cedar, mint, and the unique sweet scent that only belonged to James. It was like standing in a garden after it had rained. She inhaled deeply and traced the pale outline of a rune that had been carved just below his right clavicle.

“Did you just—“ She could hear the smirk in his voice. “—smell me?”

Cordelia stopped her tracing and slid her hand up and around his shoulder, drawing him closer. “I did. Is that odd? I thought you were asleep.”

The arm that he had lazily draped across her waist tightened. “Do you often smell people in their sleep?”

Cordelia blushed. “No, that is reserved only for you. I very much like the way that you smell.”

For the moment, they allowed themselves the chance to pretend that in a few short hours that they would not have to face a battle that might define the rest of their lives or the end thereof. For the moment, they were merely two souls in love; not bound together by propriety or social ingenuity or lies or secrets, but because they saw past all of those things to the core of the other person.

Any moment they would be called to fight; come what may, because that was who they were. Fighters. Hunters. Guardians. They were stories told at night to young children to make them feel safe from the monsters that not only lurked underneath their very beds but also from the monsters that haunted the night. They were myths and legends, born into a society that trained them to fight so that the mundane could live, but never something they chose for themselves.

For now, they got to choose to be something different— to be ordinary.

Cordelia pressed her forehead into his chest as he drew lazy circles on her bareback.

She was surprised at how little she cared when it came to modesty. She wanted to feel every part of him; to memorize the feeling of his jaw underneath her fingertips. To trace the bands of muscle around his arms down to the callouses on his hands received from hours of training with knives. She slowly explored every scar, every freckle, every part that made him tense or groan with pleasure.

She tilted her chin up and brushed her nose along his chin. He met her mouth with his and she memorized the feeling of his lips against hers. The sound that emanated from the back of his throat as she slid her foot up the inside of his calf sent a swirl of pleasure through her center.

“Everyone is probably still asleep or in their bedrooms,” she said against his mouth. “I should slip away before we’re found.”

James dragged his hand from where it’d tangled in her hair, down across her jaw, and cupped her cheek. “You’ll stay close during the battle? And if things start to turn against us, I want you to grab my mother and run. Run as far away as you can. If Belial— if his plan works, then he will not hesitate to kill you or use you in some heinous way against me. I need to know that there is a plan in place. I need to be able to hold onto that.”

There were a hundred things she wanted to say; things she wanted to promise him. Belial wouldn’t win. He couldn’t. He’d been defeated before and he could be defeated again. They would see each other after.

“We’ll go together,” she said.

James’s grip tightened. “If I can’t. If for whatever reason I am detained or— or if I’ve fallen, you must promise me that you will run.”

“James—“ Surely, he couldn’t expect her to make such a promise. “Do you not expect us to win?”

“Please Cordelia,” he pressed his forehead against hers.

She started to move away from him, a weight pooled in her stomach. “Is that what this was about? Just in case we didn’t have another chance?”

“What?” His hand slid back into her hair. “No, God, Cordelia. Is that what it was for you?”

“No,” she scoffed. “I told you, I told you the night I left how I felt about you. It has not changed.”

“And I told you last night that I am yours.” He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her mouth, her neck. “I’m not asking you not to fight. I’m not asking you to run. I just— I need to know that if something happens to me and I cannot get to you that you will do what you must to stay alive.”

Cordelia felt as if she could hardly breathe. She needed him to fight and if that meant that she had to make a promise that she may not fully intend to keep, then she would.

So she swallowed and nodded.

They dressed quickly. While he was lacing his boots, she slipped into just her dress and gathered her broken corset into her arms. She didn’t like it much anyway. She found the newly fashionable brasiers to be vastly more comfortable, but they could hardly afford them and her mother did not approve. She said they were for "girls of questionable morals".

She bent at the waist as he lifted his head to look at her and kissed him. A sweet, leisurely kiss that felt all too much like a goodbye.

“I’ll meet you in the drawing-room in twenty minutes,” she said and kissed him one more time before she slipped from the doorway.

The Institute was empty except for Bridget singing in the kitchen a somber Irish tune. The sound followed Cordelia up the stairs to her bedroom. She pressed her back against the door, closed her eyes as her clothes tumbled from her arms onto the floor. She felt trapped between both the feeling of complete elation, misery and fear in a web that she could not easily untangle herself from.

But she didn’t have time for all that.

She set her chin and went about removing her dress.

After cleaning herself up from a basin in the bathroom, she found her gear in a drawer and dressed. A pair of black, leather trousers that hugged her curves and made it easier for her to kick or run. A black blouse that swooped across her chest and a girdle that protected her center, held in place by straps that concealed an assortment of weapons. She went about braiding her hair and then twisting it into a knot at the nape of her neck and secured it with pins.

She dug her boots out of the small closet and fastened the leathers with just enough room left to secure a few throwing knives.

Cortana rested against the wall beneath the window where she had left it. She picked it up and drew the blade out of the scabbard relishing in the harmonic sound it made upon being set free. With her hand wrapped around the hilt, the balance was perfectly even.

It had never let her down before; it would not let her down now.

She slid it back into its scabbard and slid her arm through the strap, so the blade lay across her back.

Commotion came from downstairs as she descended into the foyer. She looked to her left into the drawing-room and saw Matthew’s golden head of hair first. He was applying runes to James where they stood by the fireplace. Thomas and Christopher sat on the sofa while Christopher applied runes to Thomas. Anna stood on the opposite end of the room with a dark-haired girl that Cordelia quickly recognized as Ariadne Bridgestock. They were standing close to one another as if whispering in each other’s ear as Anna applied a rune to Ariadne’s forearm.

When she looked to her right from her place of the stairs, Will, Tessa Charlotte, Cecily, Gabriel, Gideon, and Sophie were all huddled in the foyer talking or rather listening to Charles who stood in the center of the group. Will kept his arm around his wife. She looked like something that could at any moment shatter at the harshest of sounds. Will looked moments away from shoving Charles into a wall for something he was saying to the group. Even Charlotte’s mouth fell open at what her son was suggesting.

Cordelia suspected that it had something to do with Lucie and imagined Will finally hitting him in the stomach. She smirked at the image and turned to her left when a hand caught her arm.

Alastair turned her and looked her over quickly. He untwisted the strap on her shoulder and smoothed the leather. “You look tired. Did you not sleep?”

Cordelia balked and crossed her arms defensively. “Yes, I slept peacefully while my best friend is trapped with a greater demon that wants to use her as a host to imprison the entire world and all of my friends and family are about to face a terrible, bloody battle to end him which might also mean the end of my best friend.”

“I’m sorry,” said Alastair.

“Don’t be sorry,” seethed Cordelia. “Help me with my Marks.”

He drew a stele from his pocket as Cordelia began to roll up her sleeves.

“How is mum?” She asked as the tip of the knife touched her skin.

“Worried,” said Alastair as his dark hair spilled into his face. “I had to give her a calming rune and dose her tea with a sleeping serum Brother Zachariah gave me to get her to rest. It’s not good for the baby.”

“Will you stay with her?”

Alastair looked up at her. “Do you think that I should?”

“I think one of us should,” she said. “If she loses one of us it will be devastating, but if she loses both of it, well, it could destroy her.”

Alastair pulled down her sleeve as he finished the swiftness rune on her right arm. She could feel its power thrumming through her veins and she suddenly felt more sure on her feet. He pushed up her left sleeve and started working on a strengthening rune. “Mother knew the world that we were being born into. She knew we would not grow to be lawyers, bankers, fisherman, seamstresses, simpletons, or the like… when I was three I held a blade in my hand and learned to disembowel Raum demons.”

“You were three?” Cordelia looked up at him. “Mother wouldn’t let me hold a blade until I was done with my first year of primary studies. She insisted I learn how to spell my name before I killed a demon.”

They both laughed. He finished with the strengthening rune and rolled down her sleeve. He twirled his fingers for her to turn around. She faced the wall and he pulled aside her collar to expose her left shoulder blade.

“What on Earth!” hissed Alastair as he pushed her head to expose her neck. “Cordelia, you have a bruise underneath your— Cordelia.” His voice hitched. “Tell me this is not what I think it is.”

Cordelia instantly clamped her hand over her neck and spun back around. She had not seen it there. She barely had time to look in the mirror as she dressed and she was too preoccupied with her hair to notice.

Her cheeks instantly turned red and she fought for a valid excuse. “I burnt myself with a curling rod.” She surprised herself with how quickly she’d come up with it. “I’ve been so preoccupied lately that I haven’t applied an iratze. It’s fine. Why? What did you think it was?” She kept her voice sweet, convincing.

Alastair narrowed his eyes and glanced over her shoulder to where James now applied runes to Matthew. He cleared his throat. “Well, it looks like—Nothing. Be more careful. Turn back around so I can finish.”

She spun back around and pressed her chilled palm to her cheeks to help cool the blush.

As the strength, fearless, and multiple other fighting runes sank into her skin and sang with her blood, she felt significantly less vulnerable. When she finished applying runes to Alastair, Charles appeared in the foyer and called to gather everyone in.

Alastair sheathed his stele and grumbled something under his breath that Cordelia could hear but the words “power-hungry” and “fraud” stood out. She nudged him with her shoulder and they walked in.

Cordelia’s eyes wandered around the faces in the room. The air hummed with anticipation and power, like the minutes before a cannon burst. She stood between Will and Alastair. Across from her stood James and Matthew. She caught his eyes and held them for a long moment before Charles began to speak.

“Here is the plan—“ he started.

Under his breath, Cordelia heard Will mutter. “Fuck this plan…”

She had heard him curse before but never intentionally in her presence. He was in the kitchen alone when he burnt himself on a fresh meat pie and yelled a string of profanities that would have made a bar fly blush. Lucie and Cordelia giggled and scurried away before he could see them.

“You all may not like it,” said Charles, “but it is how it is going to be or you can face the judgment of the Clave.”

“Fuck the Clave,” muttered Will.

Cordelia glanced at Alastair who had his head down and was noticeable smirking.

“Is there something you would like to say, Mr. Herondale!” Charles stuttered. “Or can I continue?”

“If you think I am going to let you give them the order to target my daughter,” started Will, clearly unable to contain himself any longer. "Then you are sadly mistaken. You a poor excuse for a Fairchild."

“What?” Cordelia said and stepped forward into the circle. “Target her how?”

“Our mission is to detain, Lucie Herondale,” said Charles as his voice started to rise. “By whatever means necessary.”

“What does that mean?” said James. “Whatever means necessary. Are you talking about killing her?”

“Of course it is not our intention, but if the situation deems necessary,” said Charles as voices continued to build. He closed his eyes and his mouth pinches into a thin line. “Listen to me! Listen! I understand that you all wish to save the Herondale girl, but—“

“Lucie,” said Cordelia. “Her name is Lucie. You can try to dissociate from that fact, but the rest of us cannot.”

“Lucie,” repeated Charles, “is for all we know gone already. We have no idea the kind of power that she now wields after being merged with Belial. We have no idea what she is capable of. She may not hesitate to raze us all to the ground. All that I am asking is that you extend her the same courtesy.”

“You are talking as if it would be her intent,” said Matthew. “She wouldn’t be the one choosing to raze us to the ground it would be Belial inside of her.”

Charlies rolled his jaw. “It won’t matter, she will be consumed by him.”

"That doesn't make them the same!" shouted Will.

“What if we can somehow separate them?” asked Thomas and looked to Christopher.

“It’s possible,” said Cordelia. “It’s been done before. You heard Tatiana or Tatiana’s ring rather.”

Will visibly flinched and Tessa exhaled.

“She’d have to end herself,” said Magnus. “If his host is no longer alive, then neither is he. It would mean suicide.”

The room grew quiet and the power and anticipation evaporated, replaced with an icy chill that settled into Cordelia’s bones.

“Not every bit of a good story is true,” said Lucie. Her cheeks were bright pink. “It’s the story that important.”

“If there is any way to save the—Lucie, then, by all means, do so,” said Charles, interrupting Cordelia’s thoughts. “But if the moment arrives, when it comes between ending Belial’s rampage and saving her… then do the right thing. Or suffer the consequences in the end, whatever they may be.” He glanced at his watch. “It is nearly dawn. We should all start to prepare. Magnus said the contact points could be central London, the Thames, or the Tower Bridge. I want people stationed at all of those locations and the back-up will follow upon his arrival. If there is no activity in ten hours then we will reconvene here.”

He pushed past Anna and Ariadne as he left the circle and stalked towards the door. Will had turned and was holding Tessa. Matthew had his hand on James’s shoulder who was staring with intent down at the floor.

She turned to Alastair. “Where were we when we were attacked by the demon while in the carriage?”

His eyes searched hers. “Just before we reached the bridge over the Thames. Why?”

“I think that’s where he’s going to come from,” said Cordelia in a low voice. “And that’s where we should be. I’m not going to let them kill her.”

“Cordelia—“

“The brave princess Lucretia raced through the marble halls of the palace. "I must find Cordelia, " she gasped. "I must save her."

“I must save her,” she said and hugged him so only he could hear. “Will you help me try?”

A/N: The italicized sentences are paraphrased quotes from Chain of Gold by Cassandra Clare. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I know I said we would see what Lucie is up to but there was still much to be done! We will see her again in the next chapter. Love you all!

#the last night fanfiction #the last hours #chain of gold fanfic #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #jordelia fanfiction #james x cordelia #the ship is sailing my friends #lucie herondale #the merry thieves #belial #alastair carstairs

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liladiurne · 3 years ago

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Brighter Than Bright - extract from chapter 14

Look at me, with chapter 14 already underway barely a week or so after posting 13. Isn’t that a good omen?

Once more, here is the beginning bit, because I don’t have anything at this point that wouldn’t spoil too much for you. I thought this would be perfect, because it announces a little what’s coming in the chapter without actually introducing the new characters. There is so much good stuff coming this chapter! I may share another extract before it’s finished, but we’ll see, because this is a bit longer than what I normally share, I think. Either way, I think this is going to be a long chapter!

This extract may change and differ a little in the finished chapter, as I tend to move things around when I edit. I have proofread this a bit quickly, so there may be some typos, which you can disregard because they will surely be fixed at some point. I hope you enjoy!

EXTRACT FROM CHAPTER 14

While Harry’s second heat does not last quite as long as the first one did, a few more days must pass before he feels strong enough to leave his bed. Charlie remains by his side throughout, drawing while Harry reads or sleeps. From the way he dutifully attends to Harry’s every need, constantly asking if he is hungry or thirsty or tired, it is evident that he still feels guilty at having left his little brother to such torment, regardless of how many times Harry has told him that it was probably for the best.

When Harry thinks back to those dreadful few days, he is filled with a combination of fury and shame. Perhaps worse than the memory of his suffering is the knowledge that, although he does not remember it, he seemingly called out for Mr Snape. Fanny said that the heat is meant to coerce him into mating, and he tries to console himself with these words. He suspects that this irrepressible, forceful longing does not discriminate between one Alpha and the other, and for this reason, he is nearly grateful that Charlie was absent. As he is so often reminded, he is not truly related to Charlie after all. If his reason can be so addled, if this strange instinct inside his chest, this part of him that does nothing but crave and crave, can resort to yearning for a despicable Alpha such as Mr Snape, Harry dares not imagine what could have happened if his brother’s scent had been nearby when he was in the throes of the heat. The oestrus has a mind of its own. If it can turn abhorrence into attraction, who knows what it can make of brotherly love.

Most of what occurs during the heats does not stay with him for long. He cannot recall much apart from the pain and some vague, feverish recollections of waking up and then sleeping again. He knows that he dreams, sometimes vividly, sometimes rather hazily, in wisps of thoughts and images, but all remembrance of what those dreams contain leave him swiftly as the fever fades. He is unsure whether these lapses in memory are caused by the fever itself or simply by the laudanum. Perhaps it is a combination of the two. But it is just as well that he cannot remember. Harry has no desire to know what feverish delusions might have resulted in him saying Mr Snape’s name.

At least he did not ask for Mr Malfoy. He does not think that he could live with such ghastly knowledge.

When Harry finally leaves his room for good, he finds that a thick blanket of snow has covered the world, thus putting an end to horseback ventures with his brother until spring. He is somewhat disappointed at having missed the last days of autumn, but as soon as he is well enough to leave the house, he heads outside with Charlie and the two of them engage in a great snow battle, to which even their father participates. Later in the afternoon, as the sun sets, they construct a great snowman in front of the house and dress him in a scruffy hat and scarf before retreating inside for some mulled wine.

Harry usually finds winter most inconvenient. As beautiful as snow can be at the beginning, it never takes long for him to miss the smell of the warm summer air, the loud humming of the cicadas, the wide, green expanse of his field. Unable to retreat to his habitual refuge under the shadow of the beechwood tree or to go on long walks by the river, Harry must spend most of winter confined to the house, forced to read every book he can find, often ones that he has already read countless times before. When he is truly unable to find entertainment, he sometimes sits at his desk and writes short little stories for his own amusement, or he plays with Hedwig, sprawled on the floor and throwing a ball of twine around for her to catch.

This year, of course, with Charlie present, there is no such lack of distraction.

On the first week of December, after a particularly heavy snowfall, Charlie spends at least an hour rummaging through the shed behind the barn until he finally unearths the old sleigh that Hagrid made for them years ago. It needs a little fixing, having been buried under some tools and refuse for nearly a decade, but as soon as it is good to use, it is attached to one of the draft horses’ harness. Once they are dressed thickly and warmly enough, Harry and Charlie settle on the sleigh, which is barely big enough to hold them both now that they are grown, and spend the afternoon being dragged around speedily through the snow, laughing and yelling and causing quite a raucous through the village, for which they are promptly scolded at supper. Their mother is not shy in expressing her disappointment at finding out that she has not, as she believed she had, raised respectable young men, but rather careless little ruffians.

As much as he loves the warmer weather, Harry is rather looking forward to the colder days, hoping that the river might freeze, because Charlie has also found their old ice skates hanging in the back of the shed. At present, however, the water still flows merrily, with no sign of stopping.

“It is so unfortunate that you were not here last winter. It was frozen for months,” Harry says regretfully one morning as they stare at the river, having taken advantage of the sunny day and the melting snow to walk alongside it.

“It is not cold enough yet. Perhaps in January.”

Harry shrugs. “It may not even harden enough for skating.”

“Do you remember that big pond in Hampstead, behind the marketplace?” Charlie muses, nudging Harry with his elbow to try and shake him out of his sombre mood. “It was always fit for skating. Do you remember? Grandfather would take us there when we visited in the winter.”

“I remember,” Harry says distractedly.

His mother never wanted him to go. She would insist that his brothers and cousins were too rough and that he would get hurt and that it would be better if he remained at the house with the girls. But Grandfather would not hear it. He had never once left Harry behind, even if it meant arguing ceaselessly with his daughter. It is true that the boys were terribly rough, however. Harry remembers how they darted around dangerously on their skates, crashing into one another at terrible speeds, and Grandfather was aware of the danger their carelessness posed for Harry, who was much smaller than they were. He would pretend that he was afraid to fall and hurt his old bones, and he would ask Harry to remain nearby and please not let go of his arm while they skated around the edges of the pond safely. Harry should perhaps have been upset at being subjected to this protective treatment while his brothers were free to play however they wanted, but he took a sort of pride at being kept close as the favourite. He still remembers how Grandfather’s steady hand would hold him up whenever he lost his balance or whenever the blade of his skate would catch into the ice and threaten to trip him. All of his brothers and cousins would get regularly hurt whenever they went out skating, but even if Harry had never been a good skater, he had never fallen once with Grandfather by his side.

“It must be nearly ten years since I last saw him,” Charlie adds disbelievingly. “Eight years, I believe. Yes, since I joined the military. It will be good to see him again.”

Harry turns to his brother in confusion. “Again? Are you going to Hampstead?”

“Yes. All of us shall be visiting for Christmas,” Charlie reveals with a grin.

Harry grips his arm suddenly, a bit roughly perhaps, but Charlie only laughs. “What? When was this decided?”

“I told Father that I would need to leave for a few days next week,” Charlie says in a more serious tone. “I was going to perhaps find a room in Hatfield, but he suggested I go to Hampstead. I have done so in the past, after I came of age, if you recall.”

Harry nods, looking away in embarrassment. When they were younger, Bill and Charlie both would visit their grandfather whenever the time for their rut was near. Harry has always felt a certain guilt over this, especially now that he knows how much easier it is to be at home during such a trying time. But they would both rather leave The Burrow than have Harry being sent away, even for a few days. Besides, Grandfather Prewett is himself an Alpha, and he was always in the best position to provide a comfortable environment for them.

“And so, I wrote to Grandfather, and he was the one who suggested everyone should follow suit after me. I shall be leaving on Monday, and Mother, Father and you should join us the week after. Everyone will come for Christmas as well. Uncle Fabian and Aunt Mable, with Catherine and Caroline. And Ron and Ginny. And Percy, Fred and George will certainly come as well. I believe even Robert will come with his wife and the children. Are you happy?” Charlie asks, quite unnecessarily, because surely it is obvious from Harry’s wide eyes and grin that he is ecstatic. “We shall have a big family Christmas, just like when we were little.”

“I am happy,” Harry can only mumble, holding Charlie’s arm tightly still and pressing his cheek against his brother’s shoulder. “It will be just like before. As if nothing had changed.”

Harry is nearly certain that his brother smiles sadly at this, but Charlie does not reply as they continue walking, the soggy ground squelching under their feet.

#snarry #snarryfanfic #myfics #ficextracts #brighterthanbright

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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

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Hey darling, for prompt weekend can I have B1, C4, and F14 with either Roger or Ben? You’re the best and the greatest!

her you go darling! I went with Ben since most of the requests have been for Rog and I wanted somethign a lil different lmao Hope you like it!

Extensive talking during foreplay and sex + In costume + In a bath tub

The party had been fun, right up until your friend and her boyfriend snuck off together, leaving you in a room full of strangers. The host was one of her friends that you’d met in passing once or twice but couldn’t pick out of the mass of costumed people, and that was the strongest connection you had to anyone there. You were contemplating leaving, texting your friend so she knew where you’d disappeared to and just calling an Uber or something. You even had your phone out, composing the text, when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Cher right?”

“Sorry?” you turned, hoping the man in denim overalls and a short sleeved red shirt that you’d come face to face with, could hear you over the noise.

“You’re dressed as Cher from… fuck I had the name a second ago…Clueless,”

“Correct on both counts. Good spot Mario”

He laughed and shrugged, “It’s an easy costume to throw together. But my friend is dressed as Luigi so I’m not the only unimaginative one,”

“My friend is dressed as Dion but she ditched me to make out with her boyfriend,”

“Group costume then?”

“Yeah. One we’ve used a couple of times now, but shhh,” you held your finger over your lips.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Can I get you another drink?”

“That’d be lovely, thanks,”

“I’m Ben by the way, probably should have said that earlier,”

“Y/N,”

“Pretty name. Give me a minute and I’ll be back with another,” he indicated your mostly empty cup and then turned and disappeared into the crowd congregating near the alcohol.

You slipped your phone back into your purse. Maybe the party could still be fun.

When Ben returned he handed you a fresh drink and you found yourselves heading outside where it was a little easier to talk.

“So, your friends ditch you to make out too or?”

“Not quite. I ditched them to talk to you,”

“Well I’m flattered,”

“I take it you don’t know anyone else here,”

“Nah, you?”

“Not really. But at least we can be the weird outsiders together,”

You laughed and held up your cup, “cheers to that,”

For a while you stayed out in the cool night, finding a spot on the lawn to sit and chat. Ben was nice, sweet. He asked about your job and your friends and your pets, made dumb jokes you found hard not to laugh at, told you about himself. And he flirted. Openly and shamelessly. It was cute though. He shuffled closer so you were practically sitting on top of each other, his hand slipping behind you, palm to the ground for him to lean his weight on as he reached over to brush a strand of your hair back. The conversation was full of suggestion and innuendos, said with a boyish smile and an easy laugh, once or twice a bitten lip. It was hard to resist. Especially when you hadn’t expected anything like it to happen. But being chatted up by a cute boy was definitely an improvement on the night before he’d introduced himself. And really, getting a little action would be very welcome. So you flirted back, a hand on his arm or his chest as you laughed at his jokes. Licking your lips to draw his gaze. So, when he leaned in to kiss you, you let him and you kissed him back and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him there.

It was clear where things were headed so you suggested finding somewhere a little more private. Unfortunately there were people spread throughout the entire bottom floor.

“Upstairs?” Ben asked, pulling you by the hand back towards the hallway.

“Isn’t it roped off so people don’t go up there?”

“No one’ll notice if we’re careful,”

You giggled and agreed, Ben climb over first and then gave you a hand stepping over too. That was when you saw it.

“You have a tattoo!”

“Shhhh,” Ben laughed, trying to tiptoe up the stairs, “Yeah I do,”

“Can I see it?”

“Let’s find a room first. What about,” he pushed open the first door and found a bathroom, “Will this do?”

“Absolutely.” You shut and lock the door behind you.

Ben’s first thought was to lift you onto the sink but he stopped with his hands on your hips, and frowned. The bench wasn’t really wide enough to be comfortable and what space there was, was taken up by discarded makeup and hair products. But what was lacking about the sink was made up for by the size of the bath. You indicated it instead and Ben shrugged and held out his hand to help you in.

“Uh uh, you gotta get your kit off first. How am I meant to ride you though fucking overalls?”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, unhooking the first strap and throwing it over his shoulder with a pout worthy of a model. You took your blazer off and then your knickers but left the skirt on as Ben discarded the overalls.

“So you wanted to see,” he pushed the sleeve of his shirt up so you could see the ink marking his shoulder, “You like it?”

“I do. Simple but really cool.”

“You don’t have any?” this time he stepped into the tub first before offering his hand and getting comfortable himself, legs stretched out in front of him, leaning against one end, “oh, cold on my arse,”

“That’s what you get for wearing a one piece. And, no, I don’t.”

“Technically two pieces with the shirt. God I hope this bath is clean,”

You distracted him by kissing him again as you settled on his lap, your knees wedged between his legs and the sides of the bath. But Ben was at least somewhat of a gentleman because you feel his hand on your arse and then on your thigh and then between your legs. You sighed into the kiss as he found your wetness, spreading it over your pussy lips and up to your clit.

“I – mmmh – I wouldn’t mind getting a tattoo actually,”

“Tattoos are hot, especially on attractive women,”

You hum, half because you agreed and half because you felt him press two fingers into you. It wasn’t not long before you wanted more, wanted what you’d been promised, so you dropped your hand between you to stroke his dick. He gasped softly at the contact.

“So how come you haven’t got any tats?” his voice was slightly strained as you worked your hand over his shaft.

“I don’t know, I guess- you’ve got condoms yeah?”

“Back pocket,” he pointed at his discarded costume and you released him to grab the overalls.

“I guess I just haven’t properly looked into it yet.” You ripped the condom open with your teeth and began sliding it onto him, “S’pose I don’t really know how to go about it,”

“Yeah, the first one’s a bit dau-nting,” his voice hitched as you lowered yourself onto his dick, “But it’s pretty simple really.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, you feel amazing,”

“Meant tats, do they h-hurt as much as people say?

Ben chuckled, his hands finding a place on your hips and squeezing as you began to raise and lower yourself, “I mean it’s needling ink into your skin, it’s not painless. Guess it, uh fuck, guess it depends on pain tolerance and stuff. Any idea what design you’d want?”

“Not really. Maybe something like a sunflower,”

“Cute,”

“Thanks,” you braced your hands on Ben’s chest so you could take him a little faster, “My friends got one of a fox, looks like watercolour,”

“Yeah I’ve se-een them online. Really cool,”

“Maybe something like that, but a bird. You want any, ohh, anymore tats or just the one?”

“I’d l-ove more. Not sure of what yet.”

“My name?”

He laughed again though it turned into more of a moan as you clenched, “You could get mine too,”

“Make me cum and I’ll think about it.”

Ben took the hint and brought his fingers to your clit again, rubbing it firmly as you tried to keep the pace of your bouncing despite the way your knees were beginning to hurt.

“Just like that Ben, don’t stop,”

Ben nodded and kept up his ministrations until you stilled, mouth falling open and fingers tightening on his chest. He followed quickly, head falling back against the side of the tub.

“Fuck,” he laughed, pulling you into a kiss “You look ridiculously sexy right now.”

“You think this is sexy you should see what I sleep in,”

“If that’s an invitation then I accept.”

“Put your pants back on and we can call and Uber,”

“So,” Ben said as he was pulling his overalls back on, “where are you going to get it?”

“Get what?”

“My name when you get it tattooed on you? I was thinking it’d look good on your arse but up to you,”

“Think I’ll still to the sunflowers,”

#my writing #my blurbs #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x reader #ngl this was one of the ones i was struggling to come up with something for #my initial thought was like costumes for a movie #but i couldn't figure my way into the story #so i changed it lmao #misc-incorporated

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years ago

Text

Roguish Women Part 48

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 48: Kate and Tommy’s wedding. During the reception, Alfie asks a serious question.

“Tommy and I are getting married tomorrow. I still can’t believe it. Even saying it out loud is like a surprise.” Kate laughed softly to herself. She was in the stables, taking her time grooming Blue. It was spring and his winter coat was shedding off and Kate wanted to see his black coat gleaming in the warm sun again. She spoke softly with the gelding as she combed his made and brushed his coat.

Although she was happy about finally getting to the altar after such a long time of waiting, nerves were starting to get the better of her. With her past and with Tommy’s, it was hard to tell what the future held. But what Kate wanted was to at least try to guarantee a good life for their children.

Besides, she decided that maybe she was still clinging to the idea that she didn’t deserve love. Something that she knew Tommy struggled with too.

“I’m sure everything will go alright. At least Tommy’s already gone through a wedding before.”

“Oi, heard that.”

Kate poked her head out of the stall and smiled. Her fiancée was walking down the stable aisle. “I’m just stating facts.” She replied with a smug look. "Out of the two of us, you're the one with wedding experience."

Tommy chuckled and pecked her lips. “You might want to duck out while you can, the boys are coming soon.” The day before the wedding, Arthur set up to go hunting in Warwickshire to celebrate with just the lads. “And they’ve already had a go at some champagne.”

“Well, I’ll make myself scarce. I don’t want to ruin the fun.” She teased.

“Oh please, they’d get a kick out of you coming along.” Tommy stroked Blue’s nose as he poked his head out of the stall to greet him. “Want me to take him?”

“What do you think?” Kate cooed to the gelding. “Do you want to go along for the hunt?” She patted his strong neck. “I think he’d have fun. Lord knows I can’t entertain him much.” She rested a hand on her stomach. It was more than obvious that Kate was pregnant. At five months she had gone through a variety of getting dresses rehemmed or buying new clothes all together.

“I’ll take good care of him,” Tommy promised and began to head to the tack room. But his fiancée stopped him.

“Y’know, I was talking to Frances today,” She said. “Um, about the nursery.”

The two had talked plenty about the pregnancy and subsequently the child or children, depending on if Polly was right. They had even discussed names. But the upstairs of Arrow House had become like a minefield.

Grace’s room was locked and only Tommy had the key. The unfinished nursery that adjoined the room was still under debate. Kate felt as if it was her duty to make sure she wasn’t forcing him into anything. The estate had more than enough rooms to accommodate them if he wanted to close off that part of the hallway.

Yet Tommy had pushed his feelings down. Deep down. As if he was trying to force everything to be okay.

“The nursery is half done.” He replied. “All the furniture is new; we’d just need another cot if it’s twins like Pol says.”

“If it’s twins then maybe we should use one of the bigger rooms?” She moved cautiously through the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was put a damper on his day. But she still thought it was important.

He met her eyes. “Kate, we talked about this.”

“I know I just worry that you’re not addressing how you feel.” She touched his cheek. “The more honest you are with yourself; the easier life is.”

“We have time on another day to discuss it further.” He kissed her cheek. “Go on back to the house and rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I think you’re right about twins, Pol,” Ada said.

“When have I been wrong?”

Kate chuckled softly. She turned right and left to look at herself in the mirror. Ada wasn’t joking. She remembered seeing Ada and Esme pregnant and they didn’t show nearly as much as she did. Especially in a wedding dress, it was hard to conceal. Not that she particularly meant to. She didn’t think anyone who was coming to the wedding that day would be openly critical. “Are there twins in your family?” She wondered.

“Maybe a pair on the Strong side,” Polly recalled and walked over to place a dazzling barrette in Kate’s hair to hold back the curls from her face.

“I didn’t know my mother’s side of the family very well,” Kate admitted. “It may be from her family.”

Polly pivoted the conversation. “Are you sure about walking down the aisle alone? Arthur said he would walk with you.”

“Yeah, he talked to me about it yesterday.” Kate mindlessly adjusted her dress in the mirror, smoothing a hand over her baby bump. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be alright.” There was never a point in her life where she pictured anyone giving her away. She never pictured herself walking down the aisle, to begin with. Her father was never fit enough to be that sort of figure in her life before his death. She felt much more comfortable making the short walk by herself. That's how she found her way to Tommy, all on her own.

“Here.” Ada helped Kate step into her heels so she wouldn’t have to bend down.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m sure Arthur won’t mind the short notice.” Polly smiled and made sure every Kate’s hair was in place.

Ada glanced up as she fixed the straps of Kate’s heels. “Is it true you invited Alfie Solomons?” She wondered.

“I know his popularity in the family is mixed but he’s a good friend.” Kate asserted so there would be no confusion on the matter.

“It’s your day. Whoever you want at your wedding, you can invite.” Polly nodded in agreement. Although in the back of her mind she hoped that Tommy had prepared the others to see Alfie. She didn’t want the wedding erupting in chaos over some old bad blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m leaving.”

“Brother, easy.” Tommy grabbed Arthur by the suit sleeve before he could storm across the lawns and out of sight.

The guests were starting to take their seats and it just so happened that Alfie Solomons had a near front-row seat to watch the affair. He had a beautiful woman on his arm, Mabel. She looked less like the painfully shy thing that Kate had met at the boxing match. In fact, she was positively glowing with happiness as she exchanged kisses with her sister and the other ladies of the Forty Elephants.

“You invite him to your fucking wedding? Your home?” Arthur seethed under his breath trying not to cause too much of a scene until he had an explanation.

“Kate invited him,” Tommy replied quietly, not to draw attention to them. “And I won’t have you fighting with him on my fucking wedding day. I’ll keep him away from you if you promise you won’t kick-off. If you upset Kate, you're dead.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes and reached into his coat pocket for his flask. “Could’ve warned me.” He muttered.

“I did tell you. Not my fault you were too high on snow not to remember.” Tommy let go of Arthur’s sleeve, confident that his threat had done the trick. “He’s retired, anyways.”

“Men like that don’t retire.” Arthur tucked his flask away.

"Men like us don't retire." Tommy clarified.

The sun had come out, thankfully, for the wedding. Although Polly wanted the union to be under God’s watchful eye, Tommy and Kate had balked. Kate was unsure if she wanted to step on a nerve and get married in the same church Tommy and Grace did. There was no use in being forced to relive painful memories on what was supposed to be a happy day.

Kate suggested perhaps getting married outside. Arrow House had plenty of room out in the lawns. And it reminded her of John and Esme’s wedding. There was something so romantic to her about the beautiful countryside in the spring.

Tommy agreed and a suitable wedding venue was arranged. They were just fortunate that the weather had held and it hadn’t rained like the week before.

So many times, Tommy had thought he’d lost Kate for good. On his journey to bring her home, he was restless as they crossed the Atlantic.

He hardly slept at all, spending most of his time, smoking on the deck of the ship. In the night, he waited until land came into view. But the inky black expanse of the waters and the night sky gave him nothing.

He tried to think of what to say to her. The last words she spoke to him still cut so deep. He knew they weren’t true. She still loved him. But she was trying to keep him safe, trying to sacrifice herself.

He pictured beating Santo Leoni into a bloody pulp. The sound of the gun as he put a bullet through the man’s head.

Finally, the coast came into view. Exhausted but the drive to bring Kate back to safety kept him awake and alert.

On the phone, Frank told him that Kate was fine and that she had killed Santo herself. Tommy hung up and could barely stand still as he waited. The wait at the port felt longer than the entire trip across the ocean. Every second dragged on until the car pulled up.

Kate threw herself out of the car before it had even stopped. Tommy felt so much relief he could’ve cried. He vowed to himself that he would never let her go from that point on.

“You look like you’ve gone into a dream state,” Kate murmured to him when Tommy took her hand.

“I’m trying to convince myself it isn’t a dream.” He replied with a soft smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, they’ve been inseparable since he left for Margate. Lillian said Mabel hasn't come back to Camden since she first visited him. She simply had her stuff sent to her. Been there ever since and has no plans of leaving.” Alice loosely held the champagne flute in her hand. She and Kate were speaking on the edges of the dancefloor. "Of course, everyone's talking about it, but nothing to change. They seem to be in love, far as Lillian says."

Arrow House was abuzz with energy after Tommy and Kate married. The reception was considerably less proper compared to Tommy’s first one with Grace. With no cavalry members in sight, it was a little more relaxed. Not to mention the number of criminal masterminds in attendance. But truthfully, they were the most fun.

Kate looked smug watching Alfie and Mabel talking across the dance floor. “Well, I won’t say I told him so.”

Alice smiled and finished her champagne. “Alfie handed over some paperwork to me this morning.”

“Oh?”

“Wants me to take over the bakery.”

Kate tried to play it cool even though she was excited for her friend and even more excited that Alfie had gone through with what he said. Maybe this was his final act of retirement and his acceptance of his new life with Mabel. “Well, you have the support of the Peaky Blinders.”

“Just can’t wait to see Sabini’s face when he finds out.”

“Ha,” Kate snorted. “I’d like to see that too.”

“Mind if I interrupt?” Tommy stepped into their conversation.

Kate beamed. What had been such a beautiful ceremony was melting into the ideal she never knew she wanted. A life forever by the side of the man she loved.

“Of course.” Alice smiled. “I’m going to go find Lillian and Ruby.”

Tommy took Kate’s hand and led her to the dancefloor. Holding her close, they began to sway together to the soft jazz music.

“You haven’t gone off to meet with some crazy Russian duchess again, have you?” Kate teased.

He chuckled. “For a Shelby wedding, this has been very uneventful.”

“The night is still young.” She murmured in his ear with a smile.

“I like it better this way.” He admitted. “I didn’t want anything to happen, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“You’ve always treated me like I’m some sort of royalty.” She lightly ran her fingers up the nape of his neck.

“That’s how you deserve to be treated. Every day I was apart from you, I promised I would make it up to you.”

“Tom, you don’t need to beat yourself up because of the past. I’m here, we’re finally married. We’re going to be parents soon. Everything that happened, happened. And despite all of it, all my paths lead back to you.” She stopped dancing a moment so she could look him in the eyes. “And they always will.”

Tommy saw the world in her eyes. A world very unlike the one he had planned for so many years. In Kate’s eyes, he saw himself walking away from everything. Moving into Arrow House permanently. Raising the children, they would have. Spending his days riding horses, hunting, and being the best father, he could.

Those blue eyes invited him to do all of that and more. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

He gently kissed her, hoping that he could hold steady onto his given path.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Thought I’d find you out here.” Tommy sat down on the front steps next to Alfie. “Mabel was asking around for you. Kate had me come look for you.”

Alfie seemed to snap out of his thoughts. “Oh, congratulations, mate.” He hadn’t really heard what Tommy had said to him. “Kate’s very happy. Y’know, before all this she’d come into me office. I figured it was because she was doing her fucking job but then she’d start lamenting to me about you. Like I were her gossip buddy.” He snorted and shook his head. “She wanted nothing more than to have you but didn’t think she deserved it. Of course, you and I both know it’s the opposite way around, innit?”

Tommy shrugged.

“I don’t deserve Mabel. Not in a million years. Not even if God himself came down and told me we were meant to be.”

“I thought you two were hitting it off. That’s what Kate said.”

“I ain’t never been so happy.”

Tommy raised an eye at him. “Then what’s the problem, Alfie?”

The man beside him took a heavy deep breath. “I’m dying, Tom. I told Kate at the boxing match. I’ve got skin cancer and it’ll kill me in a couple of years if I’m lucky. That’s why I want you to kill me.”

After two blows, Tommy was a bit speechless. Alfie was dying and he wanted him to kill him. In what world were they living? This certainly wasn’t the man who had threatened to shoot Tommy on many occasions.

“I’m not going to kill you, Alfie.”

“Oh, c’mon you know you’ve wanted to fucking put a bullet through me head ever since we met. I ain’t blind. Now I’m giving you the option and you turn it down like a scared little boy?” Alfie wasn’t angry. When he was angry, everyone around him knew. No, this was fear. Fear coming from a man who claimed to be fearless.

“What would that do to Mabel? Aye? And d’you think Kate would ever speak to me if I did?” Tommy questioned harshly. “You’ve got another part of life to appreciate, try not to skip out on it.”

“Yeah, how much you think I’m gonna enjoy that while I’m rotting away?” Alfie demanded. “While Mabel watches?”

Tommy shook his head. The logic wasn’t lost on him. How many nights had he been wide awake wondering how long he had to suffer? How much longer would he tolerate the pain and weight of the world? How many times had someone held a gun to his head? How many times was he completely at peace with the cold metal of a gun pressed against his skin? How many times had he waited patiently for that click and then….nothing.

“I’m not killing you.” He said again. Because if Tommy had given in, he wouldn’t be sitting there. Married and about to be a father. “We’ll get the best doctors in London to help.”

“Oh, right. So now you’re my saving grace?” Alfie rolled his eyes. “Fucking ridiculous. I don’t want some fucking doctor drugging me up. I ain’t gonna roam around life high like you lot.”

“I know you don’t think you deserve Mabel. Maybe you don’t. Maybe I don’t deserve Kate. But look at us, aye? They’re still here with us. You fucking need God to come down and explain that to you?”

Alfie grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. “I knew you’d be no fucking help.”

“Take it up with Kate. See how she reacts and then you’ll realize how much easier I was on you.” Tommy replied and lit up a cigarette. “She’d go ballistic.”

The two men sat out in the breezy spring night. Past the gravel drive was nothing but dark countryside with the sounds of nocturnal life.

“I saw the ring Mabel was wearing.” Even at his own wedding reception, Tommy was perceptive. He could never turn it off even if he wanted.

Alfie merely muttered something incoherent under his breath.

“So, I invite you to my wedding but I’m not given the same courtesy.”

“It were a gift.” He grumbled crankily. "Can't I buy jewelry for her without people getting their knickers in a twist?"

Tommy tapped the ash off his cigarette to the step beside him. “So, no plans then?”

“Her mum threw a fit when she found out. Even in retirement, I’m still the devil of Camden. No one wants their women near me. Her mum hated that we were friends when we were kids. Guess she thought she was in clear, that I wouldn't ever go near Mabel again.” He let out a humorless laugh. "Guess she were wrong and now I'm corrupting her thirty-four-year-old daughter. S'fucking ridiculous."

“Since when have you cared what anyone else thinks?”

“I don't. But Mabel's getting an earful every night. Ain't fair to her." Alfie shrugged. “Just know there won’t be no blessings coming my way, that’s for sure.”

“Except for Kate.”

He laughed. “It’s tough to disappoint her, innit?”

“I think she’d be disappointed if I killed you especially if she found out you asked me to do it.”

“There’s just no pleasing some people.” Alfie shook his head.

“Come on.” Tommy stood up. “Don’t want Kate thinking you’ve skipped off without saying goodbye to her.”

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years ago

Text

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 10

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M for reasons.

Ao3 | FFN

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More Chapters

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TW: non-con, although nothing explicit

[Hermione]

Hermione leans on the bar table for support, one hand clutching her drink and the other rubbing at her temple. The room is spinning, and she's dizzy, nauseous, and unable to focus her eyes on anything.

With one blinding exception, of course. In her peripheral vision, she can see the security guard dragging Ron Weasley from the venue, his arms flailing as he stumbles alongside. Against all odds, his vibrant red hair always draws her attention, even when it's entirely inappropriate.

"Can you believe him?" growls Cormac, massaging his eye. "Bartender, ice."

The bartender abruptly stops wiping down the table to stare back at Cormac, her eyebrows raised in amusement. "Bartender?"

"Yeah. Ice."

Hermione takes a long swig through her straw and glances between Cormac and the bartender, who seem to be sizing each other up.

The bartender flashes her name card at Cormac and offers a smile that looks more fake than genuine. "Sure, you can have some ice," she says sweetly. "But for next time, my name is Rosmerta."

Rosmerta turns away from the bar, muttering something about rude tourists. Hermione makes a mental note to leave her a good tip at the end of the night.

Once Rosmerta's out of earshot, Cormac turns to Hermione. "Why is everyone being so rude to me today? First your ex-boyfriend, now that old broad?"

His comment, and more specifically, the way he says it feels slimy to Hermione, as if his 'woe is me' attitude is nothing more than an effort to rack up pity points.

"Aww, you're almost done with your drink," he says, right as Rosmerta returns with a pack of ice. He snatches the ice from her hands and demands, "Another for the lady."

Hermione's cheeks heat up in embarrassment. No 'thank you' for the ice, no 'please' for the drink — what does she see in this guy? Other than the fact that he's conveniently interested in her, and he's not Ron, of course. Hermione mouths an apology to Rosmerta when the bartender saunters off to refill Hermione's glass.

"Rosmerta has been lovely to us. She's not an old broad," says Hermione to Cormac, who's now pressing the packet of ice to his bruised eye. "And he's not my ex-boyfriend."

Cormac chuckles. "It sure looks like something happened between you and ginger. By the way you dumped ice water on him, you'd think he cheated on you or something."

Hermione stiffens at the reminder of Lavender's mischievous look as she buttoned her blouse in the hallway, followed by the nonchalant way Ron waltzed up to her just now, as if nothing had happened between them. She covers up her shaky hand with another drawn-out sip of her strong drink, forcing down the bitter taste with a grimace.

"I'm glad you never dated the ginger because you can do so much better. Like me, for instance." Cormac motions to himself, a smug smile on his face.

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione puts the straw back to her lips — she really should have asked Rosmerta to hold the straw, but thanks to Cormac, they were already the most demanding couple at the bar, and she didn't want to put any more stress on the poor woman.

She glances over to her companion. So far he's been quite rude — embarrassingly so — and has only talked about himself. He spotted her on the dance floor a short while before and seemed kind enough, so she'd agreed to get a drink with him. She hadn't let herself get a good look at him earlier, so her eyes trace over Cormac's body now, his biceps bulging from his too-tight polo, his chiseled jawline. Underneath the bruise, his eyes are nice. They're not impossibly blue, like tropical seas she can get lost in, but they're not bad.

He's actually quite good-looking, but he'd be even easier on the eyes if he didn't know it. Pompousness is not a trait Hermione looks for in a man.

But she's not looking for anything serious with Cormac, so maybe she can turn the other cheek to some of his more unpleasant qualities. A bit more alcohol might help. She's just here to have fun, after all. Cormac seems to be an appropriate option for that.

As if reading her mind, Cormac leans over to her and whispers, "What do you say? Want to get out of here?"

It's the memory of Lavender fastening her blouse, her smug 'Give him a chance to get dressed first' that gives her response all the permission needed to slip from her lips.

"I guess."

"I'll take that as a yes," says Cormac, rising to his feet and tugging at Hermione's arm.

She stumbles out of her chair, somewhat surprised by his constricting grip on her wrist. It almost cuts off her circulation and would feel unnecessary in any other circumstance.

But she also stood up too quickly and is momentarily flustered and dizzy, so maybe she has his support to thank for not falling down.

"Oh my god, I'm drunk, aren't I?"

Cormac scoffs, sliding his arm around her waist to support her. His hand lands a little too low on her hips for comfort. It doesn't feel anything like Ron's did — caring, gentle, and responsive to communication. Yet, she's hesitant to say anything and bring his attention to what lies beneath his fingers, just in case his hand placement isn't intentional. She might ruin something innocent. That, or he might read too much into her taking notice. She's unsure which is more likely.

"You seem perfectly in control to me," says Cormac.

His softly-spoken comment flushes out some of her self-consciousness — before, she feared that she looked sloppy, messy, unattractive. But it also irritates her, invalidating her difficulty standing and walking in a straight line without the support of his body up against hers. Plus, the fact that it's nearly a whisper, and she can barely hear him suggests that she's not the one he's trying to convince.

Maybe she's reading too much into everything, and it's just the alcohol talking.

They continue across the dance floor and out the doors, his thick hand steady on her hip. When they reach the stairs and the music quiets down, he picks up the conversation again.

"For real. What did that boy do? You said he lied to you?"

Right. Hermione glances at Cormac, who's smirking at her, and decides he doesn't need to know the details.

"Oh, that? It was nothing."

"Nothing gets a drink in the face?" laughs Cormac. "Well, lucky for me, I like them a little feisty."

His words immediately make Hermione uncomfortable. He likes them feisty? How many feisty notches are there on Cormac's bedpost? Is she sensing an attraction to a woman who fights back? Her head spins, and again, she has to remind herself that it's probably just the alcohol talking.

Still, something feels off.

When they make it to the top of the stairs, Hermione places some reluctant trust in her instincts and uses the flat ground as an opportunity to pull away from Cormac. In doing so, she accidentally slides her backside against his hand. As predicted, he interprets her movement incorrectly.

"I see what you're doing, Hermione," he growls. With a hum of appreciation, his fingers clench down through the fabric of her skirt and firmly grip her bum. He turns his body toward her and presses her back to the wall.

Hermione opens her mouth to speak up, but she doesn't know what to communicate. She's not sure if she wants him to stop or if she just wants assurance that he would if she told him to, but her racing mind has no clue how to phrase that request without ruining the possibility of a casual, consensual encounter.

He'd probably prefer the benefit of the doubt, as most men have come to expect it, but then there's the problem that he's nearly twice her height, his hands are as big as her face, and he likes them feisty, which might cause him to interpret dissent as a flirt or a challenge.

Hermione internally chastises herself for wasting time overthinking everything, again, because she instinctively knows that the longer she's quiet, the more her silence will sound like permission. It only takes a few seconds for her to run out of time to decide where she even falls on the spectrum between yes and no before his lips crash roughly into hers.

He presses his hips against her, and she can feel his erection digging into her leg. It's prepped and ready, and she's anything but.

He runs his tongue across her lips, and his grumble of pleasure reverberates into her throat. It takes effort, but she turns her head to the side. As she feared, he interprets this as an invitation to tug at the soft flesh of her neck with his teeth and slide his free hand up her dress until it cups her breast.

"Cormac—"

"Couldn't even wait until you got to my room, could you?" he muses, his lips dragging hungrily along her shoulder. "I could tell you wanted me, but damn."

A storm of anger boils up inside of her — his supposed confidence in feelings she herself has yet to identify is beyond invasive.

She can't get her hand between them for leverage. "Cormac, please—"

"You're welcome," he chuckles back, completely misinterpreting her meaning. Again.

His pinned hand tugs at the fabric of her dress, inching it up and over the curve of her bum and exposing her lacy knickers. "Ahh, you came prepared to fuck, didn't you?"

Another burst of anger and the following rush of adrenaline gives Hermione just enough strength to push him off of her, even if it's only for a second. "Cormac, please get off me."

He removes his mouth from her neck and narrows his eyes at her. "What?"

"I don't want to do this."

He doesn't move. "You serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious," says Hermione, her tone steady and firm.

"You agreed to leave the bar with me. What do you think I meant by that?" Cormac's face is reddening, and Hermione's palms respond by breaking out in a sweat. "Fucking tease."

"Hermione!"

A familiar voice — one that typically irritates her to her core — draws Cormac's attention away from Hermione for a split second, long enough to take a breath.

"We're busy here," he quips but pauses when he sees Lavender Brown, clad in a tight pink skirt and sparkly kitten heels. "Oh, hello there—"

"I can see that," says Lavender, narrowing her eyes at Hermione, who sends her a pleading glance. "But I have to steal Hermione away. It's an emergency."

Hermione's shoulders instantly relax — the irony of this being Lavender's second "emergency" excuse of the day isn't lost on her.

"It's not the best time," says Cormac. "But you're welcome to join us."

"Tempting. What's your room number?" she asks, batting her eyelashes while simultaneously reaching for Hermione's arm. "Maybe we'll meet you there in a bit."

Cormac grins as Hermione slips out from between his body and the wall. "I'm in room 407. I'll be waiting."

"Perfect! See you soon," says Lavender, looping Hermione's arm over her shoulder and turning her down the hall again.

Hermione can hear Cormac's content chuckles as they round the corner. As soon as they're out of his sight, she slips from Lavender's arm, instantly annoyed by her again.

"Why did you do that?" She tries to hide her irritation, but it escapes into her tone.

Lavender raises her eyebrows. "Um, you're welcome."

A tingle of guilt almost causes Hermione to apologize, but the uncomfortable notion of owing Lavender stops her. "I didn't need you to swoop in and save me. I had it under control."

Lavender scowls at her. "Well, from my perspective, it looked like he was going to take advantage of you right there in that hallway, so my instincts kicked in. Next time, I just won't bother."

They slow to a stop at room 210, and Lavender whips out her room key. "You're welcome to come in — I didn't think you'd want him to know where your room was. Especially since it's on the same floor as his."

The floodgates holding back Hemione's guilt break, and she's suddenly overwhelmed with appreciation for the girl holding open the door. She smiles sheepishly at Lavender as she passes her and enters the room.

"Thank you, Lavender. I'm… I'm sorry."

Lavender follows her in and lets the door shut behind her. "It's fine. I know we don't exactly get along, but I'd like to think you'd do the same for me."

"I would." This, Hermione is sure of. At least, she thinks she is. If not, she should self-reflect, but that's an ordeal for sobriety.

"I'll make tea," says Lavender.

Hermione takes a seat at the kitchen bar, and silence fills the room. Her head collapses into her hands, and she gets lost in her thoughts while the water boils.

Tonight could have been an utter disaster.

Although thankful for Lavender's intervention — she shouldn't have left the bar with Cormac in the first place — there's a part of her that blames Lavender for it all. It was Hermione's jealousy that drove her to cling to the first guy to show interest tonight. She's hesitant to thank Lavender for fixing a problem she created in the first place.

The tea kettle whistles and jolts Hermione away from her thoughts.

Lavender pours her a cup and slides it over to Hermione, along with a bottle of aspirin.

"That will help you sober up."

"Thanks," grumbles Hermione.

Then Lavender takes a seat next to Hermione and says something that changes everything.

"I didn't have sex with Ron earlier today."

Hermione freezes, her mind overwhelmed with a tidal wave of rioting thoughts that can somehow be stripped down to one single word.

"What?"

Lavender sips her tea, her hand trembling. From nerves? Jealousy? Anger? Hermione doesn't know.

"When I came out of Ron's room and buttoned up my blouse, I was pretending." She glances away as she says it, her cheeks reddening under a blanket of foundation.

Hermione sighs, doing her best to steady her breath as to not give away the sheer amount of emotions Lavender just ignited. "Why… why did you do that?"

Lavender shrugs. "Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. I went to his room with the intention of flirting with him. We'd just slept together a few days ago, and I thought it would be the same. It wasn't the same."

Hermione's sudden envy doesn't make sense, and she knows that; she had no claim to Ron a few days ago. She has no claim to him now, really, so her relief that they didn't sleep together today has no bearing.

So is the fact that she just poured water over him and paraded around another bloke to 'get back at him' for something he never did. Hermione's stomach bubbles with nausea, and not from the alcohol.

"What happened in his room?" Hermione asks, aiming for a neutral tone.

Lavender sends her a sideways glance before answering, and according to her expression, Hermione's casual questions aren't fooling her at all.

"I saw you two at the bar, and I got jealous. I want him back so badly, and I thought this week in Vegas would finally make it happen. But his eyes have been on you since day one, and I don't understand. You and I are so different."

Different we are, thinks Hermione as she pulls another sip of tea to drown out her sudden self-consciousness.

"I can tell he's interested in you. He's expressed interest in other girls since we've broken up, but they always looked like me, and I would just pretend that was the reason he was looking. I can't do that with you."

Lavender's not straight-up insulting Hermione, but it feels that way, so her defenses start to rise. All Hermione can hear is, 'How can Ron be interested in someone like you?'

She's still avoiding Hermione's eye contact when she continues, "I got so jealous and insecure, and thought, 'why would Ron be interested in me, when he could have someone like Hermione?' Someone smart, successful, someone who doesn't need male attention to feel good about herself."

Hermione nearly drops her tea. She was way off the mark.

"I gave it one last-ditch effort. I followed him to his room, tried to flirt, and he rejected me. It confirmed he was interested in someone else, and he didn't have to tell me who. So when I saw you in the hallway, my instinct was to try and sabotage it."

Lavender finally looks at Hermione, and there are tears glistening in her eyes. Clearly, she feels awful.

She's not the only one.

"When I saw that guy basically forcing himself on you, I felt awful. I knew something bad must have gone down between you and Ron."

Hermione's eyes sting with tears, and Lavender notices. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." Lavender smiles and wipes away the remaining tears from her eyes. "Okay, get out."

"What?" says Hermione, affronted, but then looks to see that Lavender's still grinning.

"You seem sober enough now, and we're still not friends. But at least you know that… it's not about you," she laughs, and finally making sense of Lavender's dry humor, Hermione can't help but laugh back.

"Men," says Hermione, and it's all she needs to say for Lavender to snort.

"Are the worst," she continues. "But Ron's a good one. Go find him at the bar. He's probably looking for you."

"About that," says Hermione, and Lavender's eyes narrow in curiosity. "He got kicked out. I splashed water on him, and then he punched Cormac."

Her eyes widen. "Wow."

"Yeah," says Hermione, swirling her tea.

"So he's probably wallowing in his room," she grumbles. "I'd tell you to go there, but seeing as he's my ex-boyfriend and I still want him, it's a conflict of interest."

Hermione gets to her feet. "Then I'll go somewhere else."

"And I don't want to know."

Hermione sends a thankful smile Lavender's way and turns toward the door.

"Lavender?"

"Yeah?"

"I misjudged you. I'm sorry."

Lavender contemplates her for a moment, then nods. "I misjudged you too."

It's enough closure for the pair to part peacefully — no admissions of friendship, but clarity on where they stand. And it's more than Hermione can hope for.

Lavender turns away to wipe a tear, and Hermione smiles again as she passes through the door and into the hall. The pit in her stomach has morphed into something else entirely — empathy, gratitude, and a small nugget of guilt.

As for right now, she only has one pressing matter on her to-do list.

#Ron Weasley #Ron and Hermione #ronweasley #ron x hermione #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #cormac mclaggen #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #hpromione #be11a_vegas

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ihatetosayitoldyouso · 4 years ago

Text

august

masterlist

content warnings: some cursing? mentions of alcohol and drinking

word count: 5,189

Chapter 1

I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try.

He was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. And I know that’s a cliche statement, but in this case, it was one hundred percent true. He walked past me with a gait that both intimidated and intrigued me. He walked as though he knew he would never falter, never trip, and never fall. He had a jawline that looked as if it were chiseled by Zeus himself. His curly brown hair fell right above his eyes, not completely masking his bold eyebrows. And his eyes. Oh my god, his eyes. The more I looked at them, the more I got lost. They were a deep hazel, with specks of green and gold, that could surely be seen from space. His hands were encapsulating, as if they had a magnetic force emitting from them, pulling me towards him. The way he briefly touched his beautiful lips with the tips of his fingertips did something to me I couldn’t explain.

I realized I was staring and quickly tried to pull my attention back to the book I was reading, but I continued to glance up at him. He walked by me, close enough that I could feel the slight breeze he caused to blow past me. It vaguely smelled like cedar, cotton, and- was that vanilla? I looked at him briefly before he walked completely out of my eyesight and let myself dream for a second. Who was that? And why have I never seen him before? Okay sure, campus is about 40,000 people large, but still. He was in my vicinity now, so surely he had a class around here.

Okay, that was enough daydreaming. I tried to inhale his scent once more before checking the time. My watch said 12:36 pm which meant that my next class was in twenty-four minutes. I spread myself out on the ground by the tree I was at and continued to read. Today was the first day of my Criminology class, so I wasn’t too nervous about getting any studying in beforehand. Plus, the class was huge, so I didn’t need to worry about getting called on to answer a question if I didn’t want to. I checked my phone before getting up and making my way to class. It was a beautiful day out, as if that boy- excuse me, man, I saw earlier created the perfect environment for him to walk in. The sun was shining but there were just enough clouds speckling the deep blue sky. The trees were a vibrant green, going perfectly with the freshly cut grass. It felt impossibly perfect, considering it was the middle of August. Shouldn’t it be excruciatingly hot? But no, the breeze felt perfect on my warm skin and didn’t cause a chill as I picked up the pace into the Behavioral Sciences Building.

As I walked through the glass door, I felt the chill of the AC hit me as soon as my foot graced the tile floor. It immediately sent a shiver down my spine, similar to the one I felt earlier when that immortal in human form glided past me. I felt myself lose focus and completely miss the elevator I planned on using. I shook it off and pretended like walking to the stairs was what I had intended all along. I opened the door to the corridor and began ascending the stairs that seemed to never end. I checked my watch one more time, to assure that I was still on time, and I was actually ahead of my own extremely strict schedule. As I reached the floor I needed, I took out my phone to scroll mindlessly while I waited for my professor. Of course, I was here before anyone else. My mom always told me “on time is late and early is on time,” so I always made sure to be early by her standards: at least fifteen minutes before any event was supposed to start. But not for parties. I promise I’m not that much of a nerd. Maybe.

Anyways, I took a seat in the third row, close enough that I could see the front without straining my eyes, but not so close that I would be able to eyefuck my professor throughout the lecture. Not that I would. But I’ve seen some try. I don’t understand why people have a professor kink, but to each their own I guess. I stuck my nose into my twitter feed and waited for time to pass. About thirty seconds later, I heard the door open. I expected to see another student, but instead I saw the God that had graced my presence earlier. I tried to stop my jaw from flying open, but I failed miserably. Trying to play it cool, I tucked my hair behind my ear and started to organize my things for class. I looked up at him, seeing that he was already, was he? Staring at me? But I managed a meek smile and basically whispered the word “Hi.” His mouth moved and he spoke the word “Hello” before taking a seat at the front of the class. This kid was the professor? What was I supposed to do? Not stare at him the whole class? I just decided to keep my head down and try to focus solely on moving around my things, whether purposeful or not.

About fifteen minutes passed and as more students strolled into the lecture hall, the man I am definitely not staring at, began to write his name on the large whiteboard at the front of the class. “Dr. Reid.” Hmm. Sounds pretty formal. I instantly began to wonder if he was going to be a hardass and to dread the drudgery that I may encounter throughout this semester. I was taking six classes with a course load that could make a grown man cry. Or in my case, a 19-year-old girl. I do my best to pay attention throughout the lecture, rather than staring at the beautiful man in front of me. The class’s material genuinely interested me, but I couldn’t get over the fact that this man, who I thought was a (gorgeous) student, was my professor. He looked too young to be a professor. Far too young to be a Doctor. How quickly was he able to get his degree? Or maybe I’m just terrible at guessing ages, which I usually am.

Before I got too lost in thought, I heard a firm voice come from the top of the room. “Hello everyone. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and I will be your Criminology professor this semester. You can call me Spencer, Professor Reid, or Dr. Reid, I really don’t mind. Before we get started today, I want to tell you all a little bit about me.” He clears his throat and leans back on his desk, laid in perfectly in the center of the room, and I see his dress pants crease slightly. I shake myself in desperate need to pay attention to the words he was saying, rather than his legs, which I could only assume were as perfect as the rest of him. I tried not to aim my gaze around his waist but it seemed to land there all on its own.

“I have a full-time position at the FBI with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They allow me time off on Mondays and Wednesdays to teach, which is how I’m here today” He chuckles lightly. “We work on serial cases and the occasional kidnapping case across the country. We use our knowledge of human behavior to analyze the serial killers we chase down. It helps us understand why they do what they do and what their next move might be. I’ve always found human behavior extremely interesting, which is what brought you all here today I hope.”

He walks around his desk and gathers a large stack of papers in his hands. Oh god, those hands. His fingers were long and slender, and his veins were so prominent, it should be illegal to have hands that attractive. I, once again, caught myself before he made his way down the middle of the row of seats, handing a small section of the papers to the student sitting at the end of each row. He made his way to the third row and handed me a portion of the papers. I took the stack from his hands and briefly looked up and found him looking right into my eyes. My breath hitched as I tried to focus myself and not fumble the papers everywhere. I collected myself and took a syllabus for myself and passed them down my row. Soon enough, I found myself looking back at him as he handed the rest of the syllabi out, hopefully not drawing attention to myself. He walked back down the steps and placed himself at the front of the lecture hall. “I understand that the majority of you will find it strange that I am handing out physical copies of the syllabus, but I have always preferred hard copies to digital ones, and I believe that should apply to students as well. In fact, direct mail requires twenty-one percent less cognitive effort to process than digital media, suggesting that it is both easier to understand and more memorable. Post-exposure memory tests validated what a cognitive load test revealed about direct mail’s memory encoding capabilities. When asked to cite the brand of an advertisement they had just seen, recall was seventy percent higher among participants who were exposed to a direct mail piece than a digital ad. Long story short, handwrite your notes.” A small wave of laughter settled over the class. I found myself smiling like a giddy schoolgirl, staring at Dr. Spencer Reid. How am I supposed to focus when he looks like that? I guess I’ll have to figure it out.

The rest of the class went smoothly. The handsome professor went over the syllabus and his expectations for us in his class. The clock struck 2 pm and I found myself writing down the reading assigned for tonight. Reading? Who assigns reading on the first day of classes? No matter, I read the beginning of our textbook ahead of time, so I didn’t find myself too worried. I stuffed my papers and my journal into my bookbag and tried not to stumble as I gathered my things to walk out of class. I walked past the man I had been trying, and failing, not to stare at for the entirety of the class period. I smiled a small smile and softly said “Thank you” as I walked out the door. He smiled back and waved softly as I melted into the hallway.

I had three classes on Mondays and I always tried to end my day as early as possible, so I walked back to my on-campus apartment; Criminology was my last class of the day. Yes, I start my day earlier than 8 am and I can probably be classified as certifiably insane. At least, according to my roommate’s standards. As I entered the cramped apartment, I found my roommate, Amber, asleep on the couch, a tv show playing softly on her laptop. I laughed at the sight of her, limbs everywhere and mouth agape, wondering how she could sleep like that in the middle of the day. It didn’t matter, she knew what worked best for her. She was one of the most accomplished people in our class. She majored in Political Science and International Studies and she seemed to ace every class with ease. I was in awe of her in that regard, as well as her ability to nap at any time and anywhere. We met each other last year in our Freshman Honors lecture and we had been attached at the hip ever since. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as close and safe with a person as I did Amber. I trusted her with all of my secrets and she trusted me with hers. I was extremely grateful to have her in my life.

Scoffing at Amber, I made my way to my bedroom and sat my stuff down in the corner of the room. I jumped onto my bed and began to scroll mindlessly on my phone. About fifteen minutes passed before Amber barged into my room. “Amber!” I jumped, embarrassingly startled by her entrance, “Jesus Christ, you scared the fuck out of me, I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” she started, “but now I’m not. Funny how sleeping works like that.” I roll my eyes at her. “Anyways,” she continues, “I heard there was gonna be a big party tonight in honor of the first week of classes and I was thinking we would go!” She bounces on the balls of her feet, smiling innocently at me.

“Amber, you know I don’t really party” I say.

“I knowwwww but… I thought I could drag you out tonight?” She clasps her hands dramatically. “Please? I just want to have some fun with you before we’re both consumed by homework. Please? I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” She smiles her stupid smile again.

“Okay fine, I give in.” I say and she jumps up and down.

“Thank you Y/N!! You won’t regret this!” She says as she exits my room. I sure hope not, I think to myself as she closes the door. I go back to scrolling on my phone before setting it down to take a nap before getting ready to go out tonight. I never stay up late so I needed to prepare myself if I was going to stay out all night. I know Amber will want to get drunk and party until at least 5 am, and I wasn’t about to abandon her just to get a good night’s sleep. This could be fun, right?

---

I stare at myself in the mirror as I put on my tightest fitting dress. It was a red bodycon dress that I never felt especially confident in, but tonight I felt pretty good! I put on a pair of simple black heels to go with it. Normally I would wear something more practical, like shorts and a crop top, or something a little more moveable, but Amber insisted we go all out. “If this is the only party you’re going to this semester, you need to look your best! Why not?!” I couldn’t argue with her, she was right. I might as well look good, who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone tonight. I hadn’t had a real relationship since, well, ever. I was never one to put myself out there. I always focused on my studies and I worked part-time jobs whenever I could. Relationships and romance were never a top priority for me. Sure, it would be nice, but I could live without it. I had much more important things to tend to. Amber was helping me forget about all of those responsibilities tonight, which I admit, was a nice feeling. I sat down at my desk to finish my makeup and touch up my hair before I presented my look to Amber. I stood up, smoothed out my dress, and walked out of my bedroom, doing a dramatic twirl for her. “Ooooh, GIRL! You look hot!!!” She squealed and I smiled wide as I bounced over to her.

“So do you!! Bitch you always look good, how DARE you!” I said teasingly as I dramatically fawned over her. We grabbed our phones with our ID’s (real and fake) and some money tucked in the cases of them, not wanting to carry much else with us. I double-checked to make sure I had everything put away and everything with me that I needed. Amber stood in the doorway, checking her wrist as though she was checking the time, silently telling me to hurry up and that I was worrying over nothing. I sighed, “Okay, okay!” and ran out the door behind her. I triple-checked that we locked the door and followed Amber down the stairs of the apartment complex.

We made our way down to the lobby and out of the building’s front doors, the temperate climate and humid breeze hitting us as we walked to the edge of the street. Amber and I turned our heads to see our Uber approaching from the left and I double-checked to make sure that the car was definitely ours and that the driver inside matched the picture from the app. Amber always told me that I was too skeptical and cautious, but I don’t think that’s even possible, being a woman in the twenty-first century. An Uber driver could be a kidnapper or a serial killer, who knows! As soon as I verified the Uber’s identity, Amber climbed over to the far side of the car as I trailed behind her. I sat down on the covered seat and looked over as Amber gave the driver the location of the bar we were headed to. A feeling in my gut started to arise but I wasn’t sure what it was. Probably just nerves, I told myself as I took a few deep breaths and looked out the window. I tend to get nervous about almost any event, regardless of the severity of the situation. Amber asked the man sitting in front of us if she could play some music from her phone and he obliged. She proceeded to put on “Party in the U.S.A” by Miley Cyrus and I looked at her and grinned. This was always our going out song. We danced in the back of the car and sang obnoxiously loud in preparation for the night.

We finally arrived at the bar in which one of the biggest parties in the school was happening. Honestly, I’m more into house parties, but the only house parties here are the ones happening in frat houses and I am not down for getting drugged and harassed by rich, white, republican frat guys. We paid (and tipped) the Uber driver and made our way into the club. The line wasn’t long at all, considering most people had gotten there as early as socially acceptable to maximize their partying time. The bouncer let us through (thank GOD because I spent enough money on that fake ID) and we danced our way through the crowd and to the bar. We met up with a group of friends from our shared freshman year English 101 class and proceeded to get a round of tequila shots. One round turned into four and into ten. One could say I was officially wasted. I don’t normally party, but when I do, I party hard. Go hard or go home, right? Thanks to my not-completely-ruined inhibitions, I made my way to the bartender and asked for a large glass of water. “Party-pooper!” Amber slurred as she grabbed my shoulder for leverage.

“Hey! I just don’t wanna be super hungover tomorrow. It’s literally-” I hiccupped and giggled as I stared into Amber’s eyes, trying to gain some semblance of solidity in my footing, “It’s literally only Monday. I have three classes tomorrow and I always start my days earlier, you know this! I don’t wanna be drunk at my 8 am lecture!” I basically yelled at Amber’s face because the music and bass were so loud, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts.

“Okay, okay!” Amber shouted back at me, “Take a seat at the bar lame-o! I am gonna dance with that cute guy over there and maybeee you and I won’t be leaving together.” She pointed to a tall, blonde-haired man who was smiling and staring at Amber. She waved a flirty hand at him and started to walk away but her hand lingered on my shoulder.

“Amber!” I grabbed her wrist before she walked away, because I was not standing up right now. “Just… Be careful, okay? Text me if you do leave with him because I do not want anything happening to you. And I expect you to update me with texts with your location when you leave and if anything else happens okay? I love you, you know that right?” My fears were sobering me up quicker than the water was.

“I know! I love you too, silly. I promise I will be careful. I’ll make sure I know he is who he says he is before we leave and I won’t let him drive, we’ll take an Uber or something, okay? I don’t even know if I will leave with him, I was just thinking about it.” She paused for a second. “Thank you for caring about me, Y/N. I really do love you.” She smiled at me and I smiled back as she walked away to go dance with the handsome stranger across the floor.

My happy feelings dwindled for a moment as I sobered up and realized I was no longer a part of any group. Mine and Amber’s friend group had dispersed across the bar and the dancefloor, all trying to go home with someone. I would make that my mission too but frankly, I was too drunk to be completely aware of the goings on around me. I took out my phone and pulled up the Uber app, ready to go home. My plans changed when I looked around me and saw a familiar face at the very end of the bar. Dr. Reid? Why is he here? This bar is mainly occupied by college students, plus today was a huge party day, it didn’t make sense. Against my better judgement, I found myself standing up and walking towards him. I tried my hardest to walk straight and keep my eyes focused. I didn’t want to make my first real impression with him, one of me being blackout drunk. I downed the rest of my water before making my way to him. “Professor?” I questioned as he stared off into the distance.

“Oh! Hi. I’m sorry, what was your name again?” He asked nervously. Why did he seem nervous? I don’t think I ever told him my name. In fact, I barely think I even said hello.

“Oh, it’s Y/N.” I smiled at him. Normally, I would extend a hand to greet someone of authority, like him, but my hands were clammy and probably dirty from being in a bar like this. I hope he doesn’t think I’m weird. He looked down, expecting me to extend a hand as well, I assume. He looks back up and meets my eyes.

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” He says.

“You too.” I say and smile. We’re both quiet for a moment and I look around, trying to think of something to say. I’m so awkward. I take a deep breath, in hopes that it would spur a thought or initiate something to come out of my mouth, but it doesn’t.

“You look very nice.” He says and I come short of shaking my head in surprise.

“Thank you! My friend insisted we dress up tonight.” I laugh softly and smooth my dress down with my hands. Should I compliment him too? Would that be weird? “Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” I continue, “why are you out at a student bar tonight? I assume you knew about the party happening?” I don’t know where the confidence came from for me to ask him a question, but I was curious nonetheless.

“Um,” He chuckles and looks at the ground for a moment. “My friend and I were out with our coworkers and he insisted on coming here afterwards. I mentioned the parties that are thrown during the first week of classes and he couldn’t resist, I guess.” He nodded his head to point me in the direction of a very handsome man, dancing with a woman who couldn’t be much older than me.

I laugh and turn back to him. “Are you not the partying type, Dr. Reid?” I don’t know where these conversational skills were coming from. I had a hard time opening up to people my own age, much less authority figures.

“Not really. I mostly teach, work, and go home, to be quite honest.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Please, sit down, you don’t have to stand. I’m sure those shoes aren’t really meant for standing.”

“Thank you.” I laugh at his comment about my shoes. “Yeah, I wouldn’t say they’re the most comfortable pair I own.” I take the seat next to my professor. “And me too, for the most part. My friend kinda dragged me out here tonight.”

“And where’s your friend now?” He questions. I point to the far corner of the club, where Amber was grinding on the man she was telling me about earlier.

“She’s a little more outgoing than me.” I laugh and ask the bartender for another glass of water. I can tell he’s looking at me from the corner of my eye. Why does that make me so nervous? I instinctually start to bite the nails on my left hand. I barely noticed I had started doing that, so I didn’t expect my professor to notice it at all.

“Are you nervous?” He asks and I pull my nails away from my mouth.

“Um, I guess so? I don’t go out too often and new places and people tend to make me anxious, I guess.” I look down at the bar and the glass in my hands.

“I get that.” He says.

“Um, do you mind if I ask how old you are? I’m sorry if that’s a little bit out of nowhere, I just remember you introduced yourself as Doctor this morning in class, and I initially thought you couldn’t be much older than me.” My curiosity got the best of me, I suppose.

“Uh, I’m 28. I have three PhDs in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.” He rattles the list off as if he says it every day.

“Woah, what are you, like a genius or something? How the hell did you get three PhDs before 28?” I cover my mouth almost immediately. “I’m sorry for cursing, I don’t know, is that not appropriate?” I blush and look down again.

He chuckles, “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. And I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words per minute so, yes, I guess technically, I am a genius.” He smiles at me and- is that a smirk I see?

My jaw practically flies open. “Wow, I guess I’ll have to try extra hard in class to impress you.” I find my courage again and look into his eyes. I almost immediately get lost in the swirls of gold and green. I find myself blushing again and somehow more words leave my mouth. “Would you, um, like to go talk outside? It’s really loud in here and my throat is getting sore.” I begin to stand up after he nods. I look for Amber and as soon as I make eye contact with her across the room, I mime typing on my phone as a signal for her to text me and that I’ll text her with whatever I’m doing. What am I doing? Am I going to talk to my professor and leave? Or am I going to leave with him? No, I can’t even think about that, that’s ridiculous. Whatever, Y/N, just worry about getting outside of the bar.

I push the heavy wooden door of the club open, exiting while Dr. Reid follows. I make my way towards the edge of the building, the music muffled by the walls. I lean up against the stone wall of the building and fiddle with my phone in my hands.

“Is this weird? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt but, you’re my professor. Do you normally talk to students at bars or was this just a weird coincidence? Or is this not weird, considering we’re not too far apart in age, I guess, and I mean, we’re both adults, right? I’m sorry I’m rambling I just feel awkward I guess I’m not sure what to say, um…” I cut myself off and look away, trying to find solace in the air around me.

He laughs again. Why is his laugh so attractive? “No, I don’t think it’s weird. It’s nice to have a conversation every once in a while, even if it’s with a student. Even if it’s outside a college bar. I don’t find much time to talk about topics that aren’t serial killers or behavioral analysis.” I jump as he uses his hand to bring my face and my eyes back to his. What was that? “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t want you to feel nervous or like you can’t talk to me. I really do enjoy talking to students, and just other people in general. Most people don’t enjoy talking to me so it’s nice when I find someone that does.” He blushes. Wait, he blushed? Why are his cheeks turning red?

“Well, I enjoy a good conversation too. And it’s okay, I just didn’t expect you to touch me, I guess.” I pause for a second. “Why wouldn’t someone want to talk to you? You must have so much knowledge to share, being a genius and all.”

“I guess that’s why,” he begins, “people find my rambling to be annoying. I want to share the knowledge I have, but that’s not always what constitutes a good conversation in some people’s opinion.”

“Well, not in my opinion.” I say boldly. I feel sober but drunk at the same time. Sober me would definitely not be having this conversation in the first place. But I don’t feel drunk, I feel… grounded. And focused. But I feel tipsy, like this conversation is affecting me the same way as alcohol. Maybe I shouldn’t think too much about it. You’re blowing it, Y/N. Blowing what?

He smiles and looks down at the ground. I find myself reaching my arm out and placing a finger below his chin, gently nudging his head back up to look at me. He looks surprised. I quickly pull away and begin to play with my hands again. I check the time on my phone: 5 am. Has it really been four hours? It barely felt like fifteen minutes. “I should probably get going soon, I have class in, holy shit, three hours, and I would like to get at least a little sleep before then. It was really nice officially meeting you, Dr. Reid.” I begin to make my way back to the entrance of the bar to find Amber and get us both home.

“Please, call me Spencer.” He says and turns as I start walking away. I pause my movements.

“Okay. Spencer.” I smile and disappear into the bar.

#m #mari writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #cm #august

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yandere-daydreams · 5 years ago

Note

if request slots are open: consider. i know you don’t like shoto but listen listen. royalty!au in which the darling is also a royal, of an opposing kingdom. shoto just thinks they’re so soft and lovely and why won’t they accept his marriage proposal?

This is pure self-indulgence, really. I just want to use fancy language and imagery and say nothing bluntly ever because straight-forwardness was only invented in the 1900s, and this is a reality I accept.

TW: Dehumanization, Abuse of Power, and Metaphors.

Your kingdom was known for never refusing a guest.

It was a state more than a nation, really, a wonderful city that relied on trade and unity to sustain itself. As such, you were more of a diplomat than a ruler, a host dressed in jewels and made to entertain true leaders from the allies held in such high-esteem by your advisors. You’d mastered the art of meaningless conversation, your patience taught to you by decades of being talked-over, and although many royals had seen fit to test your policy, there was always a free room ready when they were prepared to humble themselves and accept it. You adored that part of your occupation, how kind you got to be, to your people, traveling peasants, kings and queens and anyone who crossed your path. You liked to be generous.

But, Shoto was not a Prince known for bringing out the best in people. And you were certainly no exception to his contagious aversion.

Usually, you would make an effort to greet your visitors in the courtyard, but his visits were too frequent and too impulsive for you to do so much as stand before his entourage was in your throne room, the young Prince standing before you. He didn’t seem to mind your lack of enthusiasm, the boy smiling so brightly as he stepped in front of the elevated platform. You didn’t doubt he would run to your seat, if given the chance, but your personal guards made their aggression known as soon as his foot touched the first step of the short flight. “My Songbird,” He greeted, instead, not seeming to notice the way you cringed at the nickname. “You haven’t been responding to my letters, but my yearning still persists. Have you grown tired of singing to me so quickly?”

“I do not see why it’s necessary to respond to inquiries I have already answered.” Your voice was cold, at best, frigid at worst. You didn’t have it in your heart to be cruel to anyone, much less a friend you had once held so dear. Even with how appealing he made cruelty seem, these days. “I am not your songbird, but if I was, I think you would dread having to hear the same two notes play on a never-ending loop. God knows my throat has grown sore from delivering them.” You paused, glancing towards the advisor on your left, positioned there on the chance your behavior slipped into something less than agreeable. She waited a moment, pondering, but a nod was all you needed to proceed. “You must be tired, Todoroki, please allow my valet to show you to your chambers. A long journey deserves an even longer rest.”

You saw Shoto falter, a hand unconsciously coming to rest on the sword at his belt. You guards mirrored the gesture, although you didn’t take it as a threat. “I am thankful for any note you grace me with,” He assured, taking another step forward. “But, there are three that would make me euphoric. Isn’t that what you should want? Why would you sing at all, if not to make someone happy?”

Straightening you back, you leaned forward, uncrossing your legs to better fill your throne. “I sing for my own joy, no one else’s. Be glad I am forgiving enough to let you listen from a distance.” He opened his mouth, but you carried on, drawing circles in the velvet under your arms. “My answer is no, and there is nothing you can do to change my mind. When I find a shelter I can roost in, one I choose to roost in, then and only then will make my nest. I have no desire to make my home a cage, regardless of how golden the bars.”

At that, he smiled, and you dug your nails into the soft fabric. “It would be a beautiful cage, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re intolerable,” You mumbled, deflating. It was hard to be angry, now, the disappointment cutting through you more deeply than the knife of loathing ever could. Marriage was not a necessity, to you. Unlike his own clan, your’s had never placed an emphasis on blood. You’d been an orphan most of your life, and you had no issue with continuing the tradition your childless parents had started. Children who’d never known love always seemed more appreciative when receiving it, although you’d admit Shoto’s existence contested that theory. “I cannot–”

“And a beautiful cage deserves a stunning creature to inhabit it,” Shoto continued, speaking over you without hesitation. Another step was taken, then another, leaving Shoto towering before you, too close for comfort. You were tempted to stand, if only to put the two of you at an equal height, but Shoto would’ve simply found another way to place himself above you. He was good at that, especially if it meant making you feel small. “Think of it as an alliance. Your country would have my father’s army behind it, and I would have you. Is that not a worthwhile sacrifice?” You weren’t given time to answer his question, Shoto dropping to one knee unceremoniously, suddenly. It caught you off guard, enough so for you to lean forward, moving to help him up. But, Shoto only took your extended hand, holding your palm to his cheek as he spoke. “Visits aren’t enough, this isn’t enough. I wish to have you as my partner, and if I don’t, I can not guarantee my next action will be one of peace.”

You jerked back, not asking for permission before pushing yourself onto your feet. It took more of your self-control than it should’ve to keep from telling him to leave, to get out of your castle and never come back. Your anger must’ve been visible, because your advisor reached out as soon as your fists had a chance to ball, a steady palm coming to rest on your shoulder. It was a small consolation, but it snapped you out of your rage nonetheless, even if your calmness was still volatile when regained.

“Rest, Little Prince. Exhaustion has clouded your better judgment.” His eyes widened, lips contorting into a frown, but you didn’t give him a chance to refuse. Instead, you made the first move, waving for your guards to follow as you descended the short staircase. “If I hear one more word about marriage, I fear I may be the one to abandon our treaties. This songbird wishes to sing in another court, for now.”

Shoto was quick to stay on your heels, his excuses following just as closely. “But–”

“One more word,” You warned, his troop of guards and servants parting to let you through. “I don’t wish to make an enemy out of you. Please, enjoy my city and take advantage of my hospitality, but do not approach me with the same attitude. I have made up my mind, and my decision is final.”

And with that, you left. That was the advantage of his petname, you supposed.

Flying away was much easier when you were given wings.

But, Shoto was a beast of the ground, unfortunately.

He stayed as you fled, watching you run from him like prey from a predator. Part of him acknowledged your feelings, or the lack thereof, rather. He knew you didn’t love him, not truly, and he knew you didn’t care for him as he cared for you. He knew you didn’t want to be with him.

And yet, you were kind and welcoming and genuine. You were loving towards him, even if you didn’t love him.

Shoto took a moment to scan over the room. His guards surrounded him, as faithful as ever, each buzzing for an order. His father had never allowed him to travel lightly, even when Shoto was more than capable of protecting himself. Your nation didn’t have the same strength. With no standing army, no way to defend yourself, you relied on neutrality and alliances for protection. It was a symbolic security, but one that would stand unless a very powerful, very feared kingdom attacked.

Unless Shoto’s kingdom attacked.

He decided he would bring the idea to his siblings, as he waited for the room’s doors close behind you. It would be a controversial suggestion, but there was territory to be gained, resources that could help more deserving people. With their forces, it would be over in a matter of days, hours, even. He doubted your ‘allies’ would care, by the end of the week.

Besides, Shoto had a pet who needed to be put back on their leash.

You seemed to think you’d outgrown your cage.

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lockefanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Business Trip - Part 9: It Was You

Your hands reach down, grasping the hem of Momo’s short black dress before drawing up the flimsy, thin fabric until it is bunched up around the small of her back. With each palm you grasp the firm, full cheeks of her ass, and find, much to your delight, that she isn’t wearing any underwear. You smile, mid-kiss, and she notices your reaction to your discovery.

“Just making it easier for your mouth,” she says softly into your ear. At that, she places a hand on your chest and separates herself from you, taking a half step backward until she is lying on your bed, supporting upper body with her elbows. Then, slowly, she spreads her legs.

“Women are crazy.”

Park Choa gives you a look - a look that says she is debating whether or not to enact some physical violence on you for your statement.

“...present company excluded,” you add quickly. Choa appears to be appeased by your apology, and the threat of physical violence subsides for the moment. The both of you are working on some paperwork related to the acquisition in your office, and you decided you both needed a short break from the spreadsheets and legal paperwork littering your desk and hers.

“Women are crazy,” Choa admits, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of her coffee, “but only because men drive them so.”

“Point taken,” you admit in turn.

“I bet you’re driving Miss Hirai crazy on a daily basis?”

You smile slyly to yourself as you recall the rather intense evening you shared with Momo the night previous.

“I guess I am driving her crazy, in a way.”

Choa catches on quickly to your tone, and gives you a smirk.

“I trust, then, that everything is okay between you two? No more worries about a certain other Japanese girl, whom, I might add, is now thousands of miles away and should no longer be an issue in your relationship?”

“I don’t know. We’ve both been so busy with work and other things to talk about it, and we didn’t really do much talking last night. We were busy with… other activities.”

Choa’s smirk deepens. “Do you want some advice?”

“Always,” you answer.

“I think you should do something special for her,” she suggests, “something that will get her mind off the whole Sana thing. I think she needs you to show her that she’s special. She might seem like she’s okay with it all, and she might even tell you so, but I’m sure you know women don’t always say what they feel.”

“Something special, huh? I guess I could take her on a nice date or something. We’ve only really been cooking at home and having delivery or take-out since we got back from Seoul. I guess a dinner someplace fancy would be nice.”

“I could look into getting you a table at some fancy place downtown. But if she’s the right girl for you, and something tells me Momo is, I don’t think she’d care how fancy the place is. As long as she’s with you.”

---

Hirai Momo was wearing the fanciest, most expensive dress she owned - a slim, short black cocktail dress - and she had spent hours on her hair and makeup. She looked ready to prance into the most pretentious, Michelin-starred restaurant in town and enjoy an overrated, stupidly-expensive dinner.

With a satisfied grunt and an “aaaah,” Momo slams her empty pint down on the bar table.

“Fuck yeah, this was the right choice,” she says, wiping away the beer foam from her lips with the back of her hand, “I really needed this. Who needs caviar and lobster when you’ve got honey mustard sauce and chicken strips?”

She was dressed like she was about to walk down a red carpet somewhere, but here she was, in a comfortable-but-still-classy downtown bar, grabbing a few more french fries and stuffing them into her mouth, the grin on her lips made even cuter by cheeks full of fried potato. You process the entire thing, watch this incredibly beautiful woman devour the greasiest food on the menu while wearing a thousand dollar dress, and you couldn’t help but smile. She was perfect.

You had picked her up an hour before with the intention of going to said pretentious, stupidly expensive Michelin-starred restaurant, but when you both passed by your favorite bar on the way downtown, she gave you a look that told you all you needed to know. Tossing your turn signal on, you pulled over into the bar parking lot, a wide smile on both your faces.

You watch as Momo raises her hand to flag down a waitress and order another pitcher of beer, and you wonder how she could be any more amazing than she was at that moment.

---

Your stomachs full of greasy fried food, you both settled back into your chairs, intent on ordering some dessert at Momo’s insistence - you couldn’t have all this junk food and not go the extra mile with an equally sinful dessert, she said.

The cherry cheesecake, chocolate brownie, and creme brulee arrived a few minutes later - Momo couldn’t decide which of the three she wanted, so you ordered them all - and you dug in.

“MMMmmmmmmmm!” Momo exclaims, her mouth full of cheesecake. There is a look of pure bliss on her face, her eyes narrowing to inverted half-moons and a smile threatening to tear her puffy cheeks in two.

“I’ve never seen you so happy,” you say.

“You make me so happy, baby,” she says adorably.

“Do I?” you ask, and as soon as the words leave your mouth you wonder if perhaps you were too sudden in asking such a serious question in the midst of what was an otherwise carefree evening.

Momo’s expression turns a little more serious, and she chews a little slower on her dessert.

There is a silence that lingers between you for a little while, both of your pairs of eyes cast downward at the desserts on the table between you, both of you searching for something to say amidst the sugar and icing.

“I’m sorry, Momo,” you say quickly, “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no,” she interrupts, her voice suddenly quiet, “I’ve… I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile. I guess you… You make me happier than I’ve been in a long while. I guess. Do I.. make you happy?” Momo asks, her eyes still locked on the cheesecake, her fingers playing nervously with the silver fork in her hand. She had started saying ‘I guess’ again, and you know what that meant.

“Of course you do,” you answer, “why would you think you didn’t?”

There is a silence that lasts only a few seconds as Momo considers her answer, but it feels like hours. You are intensely occupied by her fingers as they play nervously with her fork, pushing a small piece of cheesecake crust back and forth on her plate.

“I guess I wonder sometimes,” she says, her eyes still cast downward, her words coming slowly from her lips as though every syllable is difficult to say, “if maybe you made the wrong choice.”

“Wrong choice?” you ask, although you already know what she meant.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean,” she says, her eyes searching for yours - and you are suddenly struck by the intensity of the sadness you find there. “I mean, between me and Sana. I think she was in love with you. And I guess…. I guess I wonder sometimes if maybe you would’ve been happier with her. Happier than you are with me.”

It is your turn to consider your answer. There is more silence between you, although whether it was seconds, minutes, or hours, you couldn’t tell. The idea that Sana was in love with you was a bit of a shock, although considering what she told you when you last saw her you suppose you should have seen that revelation coming. You hazard a glance to see Momo’s eyes glistening with tears, and you realize then and there that you had to tell her how you really felt.

“I made the right choice,” you finally say, taking perhaps a little longer than you wanted to, “but it wasn’t really much of a choice to begin with. It was you, Momo. It’s always been you.”

Momo’s lips show the hint of a smile, although it is a sad one, and it breaks your heart to think that you caused any pain to the wonderful young woman in front of you.

“I believe you,” she says, her tone still low and soft, “I guess this is all in my head. I’m crazy.”

She pushes the cheesecake crust around a little more on her plate, and absently you wonder if that particular piece of crust would ever be eaten. You search for the words to remove the sadness, the uncertainty from her mind, and you surprise yourself with the sincerity and weight of the words that leave your mouth.

“You’re not crazy. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Hirai Momo.”

A smile appears, followed by eyes watery with tears searching for and finding yours. There is nothing but sincerity there, nothing but genuine affection for the person she is looking at.

“I guess you’re okay,” she says, finally spearing the piece of cheesecake crust with her fork and stuffing it into her mouth. She smiles at you, her face still soft and affectionate.

You smile back, and despite yourself you find your own eyes watering slightly at the sight of happiness returning to your girlfriend’s face - what did you do to deserve someone so amazing?

“I guess you’re everything I’ve ever wanted too,” she says softly, her tone genuine, “I guess. Maybe.”

You both share a small laugh despite the seriousness of the conversation, and you reach forward to grasp the back of her hand on the table; she returns the gesture and interlocks your fingers with hers.

Momo wipes the tears of happiness from her eyes and sticks her tongue out at you cutely - her eyes are red and still a little watery but are nonetheless filled with a sincerity and happiness that made you glad to see. You both return to your desserts, all doubt having fled from your minds; for the rest of the night you were only a young couple on a date, eager to share more of your hearts with each other.

---

That Momo would be spending the night at your place was pretty much a foregone conclusion; she had practically lived in your apartment since you both returned from Seoul. But this night had a little more weight to it than usual, given the serious conversation you had had over dinner. And so while the possibility of sex was never really in doubt, the reasons for it, and the emotions that accompanied it, were lent new meaning.

Every step from your front door to the foot of your bed was heavy with kisses and touches - tongues and hands searching, exploring, reacquainting themselves with a body that they had grown familiar with over the past months. The familiarity did little to damper your enthusiasm, however, your mouths locked together and your hands roaming eagerly over skin and annoyingly-still-present clothing.

Your eyes take in the sight of her long, milky legs parting to reveal the glorious space between her soft thighs, her mound shaved clean, her tender, inviting pussy glistening ever so slightly in the dim light of your bedroom. Momo takes her right hand and gently runs her middle finger between her folds until it reaches the bottom, then drags it slowly upward, the pad of her finger tracing the outline of her lips. Using the moisture she has gathered, she swiftly finds her clit, engorged with new arousal, and touches it softly.

Her eyes slowly close at the new pleasure that courses through her body, and a soft gasp escapes her open mouth. She breathes out slowly, and when she recovers she finds you still standing there, enraptured by the display she is putting on for you. She opens her mouth and whispers, every syllable full of wanton desire.

“Taste me. Now.”

You are not one to refuse such a request, and to that end you go to your knees between your girlfriend’s spread legs, taking a moment to divest yourself of your button up shirt and your pants. A part of you wants to dive right in, so to speak, and you know Momo would have been more than receptive to you doing just that - but you fought that desire, knowing this evening deserved more than simple oral sex.

To that end you start with her right leg, planting soft kisses near her knee, before slowly making your way towards her core, enjoying the feel of her soft, tender skin beneath your lips. With both of your hands you caress her legs, marvelling at the wonderful mix of strong muscle and tender skin; this was a girl that earned her body with long hours at the gym, but all the weights and cardio didn’t take away the soft tenderness you were currently enjoying with your hands and lips.

But you’re not as patient as you think you are; not when there was a delicious looking treat mere inches from your face. Before you knew it you were face to face with Momo’s pussy - you take a moment to admire the soft, glistening flesh. Every part of this woman was beautiful.

Unable to contain yourself any longer, you lower your head, sticking your tongue out simultaneously, until the tip of your tongue is in line with the bottom of her slit. This brings your nose in contact with her lips, and the Japanese girl lets out a soft gasp at the skin to skin contact. It is a gasp that turns into a long, sultry moan, as you press the tip of your tongue against her lips and then drag it upward, giving her pussy a deep, strong lick.

When you reached that wonderful area between her legs you wanted to go slowly, to savor every bit of the experience - but the long, erotic melody that escapes the young woman’s mouth chases away all the patience from your mind. And so you dive in, so to speak, taking a few more long, slow licks of her soft, quickly dampening flesh before settling in to suck and lick her clit between your lips - just the way she liked it.

Momo reacts to your actions the way she always has when you started going down on her - by grasping the back of your head with both hands, her nails digging almost painfully into your scalp. But the pain pales in comparison to the knowledge that you are creating pleasure in your partner’s body, and the sultry gasps and moans that escape Hirai Momo’s mouth with each lick and suck are enough motivation to keep going.

At some point your fingers enter Momo’s body, her pussy lips spreading easily, her flesh warm and soft and hot and so very wet. Just your middle finger at first, until you can feel her wet pussy tightening even more around your digit - then your ring finger joins its neighbor. You twist your wrist until your palm is facing upward, allowing your questing digits to scratch the front of her pussy, searching for and finding the walnut-textured patch of flesh as though it were marked with an X on a treasure map.

“Fuck!” Momo shouts, the fact that she was able to form a coherent word surprising the both of you, so intense and overwhelming is the pleasure wracking her body.

Normally it took more than a few minutes, but there was something about tonight - skipping the pretentious dinner for a comfortable neighborhood joint you both enjoyed, the emotional conversation over dinner, and above all, the newfound knowledge that the man currently pleasuring her possessed feelings for her well beyond those of a simple fuck buddy - it was all combined to create a heady mix of pleasure that overwhelms her.

The orgasm that wracks her body is sudden, and unexpected, and came ridiculously quickly - not that Hirai Momo gave a damn, because the pleasure burning through her nerves is intoxicating, and she gets a stupid high off it, a high no drug on earth could hope to match.

It might have been hours that she lay there, her body tensed and her limbs taut with pleasure. For you it was less than a minute since she came, not that you cared, contenting yourself with slow, passionate, soft kisses on the most private area of her body, waiting patiently for the young woman to recover well enough to put a coherent sentence together.

“Fuck. I-... That… fuck.,”

Well, maybe not coherent enough to form a sentence, but the words were a start.

You smile to yourself and lick the bittersweet taste of Momo’s body from your lips, enjoying the taste of her juices on your tongue. Satisfied that she had recovered enough for you both to move on to the next phase of the evening’s events, you place one last, almost chaste kiss on her inviting pussy lips, before starting to trace equally soft kisses upwards on Hirai Momo’s body. First, her lower stomach, then her firm, flat lower abs- then, finally, you reach the bottom hem of her black dress, bunched up around her midsection.

Momo grips the end of the dress and, lifting her back from the bed momentarily, lifts it up and over her body. She knows you are watching, knows you have done your part to pleasure her and that it was your turn to experience the same; but she takes her damn time, revealing inch after inch of soft, perfect, milky skin with all the speed of a turtle running a marathon.

There is a devilish smile on her beautiful lips as she strips the dress off her body. It is the look a woman has when she has a man wrapped around her finger.

The ridiculously expensive piece of cloth reaches the bottom of her breasts, and you watch as finally her breasts are exposed, the perfectly shaped mounds of flesh appearing from beneath black silk with a small bounce, her small nipples already erect with the pleasure still coursing through her body.

The dress finally comes off her completely, and she tosses it away, off the bed, and for the rest of the evening and most of the next day, no more clothing would adorn her body. You have done so many times before, but you do it again - you take a moment to savor the sight of Hirai Momo’s naked body on the bed, every nerve of her filled with need and lust and desire, knowing that on a deeper level there was so much more than just lust. Here was a woman who truly cared for you.

She was so much more than a sexual partner, so much more than a body to fuck - she was your girlfriend, the woman around whom your entire world revolved.

Eventually you lower your face to hers, happy to find a soft, emotional smile on her lips as you press your own lips to them. You share a passionate kiss, her arms wrapping themselves around your neck even as her legs spread wantonly around your hips. You break the kiss, but only for a moment, your lips searching for and finding her beautiful neck, adoring the warm, soft skin with kisses that trail down the young woman’s body to her upper chest.

You bring your left hand up to her right breast, and your mouth quickly finds its way to her left mound, and before you know it you have the stiff peak of her nipple in your mouth, teasing the hard bud with your tongue even as your fingers do the same with its counterpart. Her breasts are so delicious, so inviting, and you savor the taste of her skin on your tongue, the sultry moan that she gives you proof that that was exactly what she was enjoying it just as much as you. Was there any greater feeling, any sexier act that men lusted after, than enjoying a woman’s breasts?

You correct yourself - tasting a woman’s chest was wonderful, but so was sex. Momo seems to read your thoughts, and amidst the soft gasps and moans that have escaped her mouth since you descended on her chest, she manages to give you an order.

“Put it in me now, baby. Fuck me, please.”

Your head rises from her chest, giving her nipple one last long, slow lick that elicits a long, lusty moan from the young woman.

“From behind,” Momo finishes, and to that she squirms from beneath you, twisting her body until she is on her hands and knees in that position which is familiar but no less arousing. Her body is perfect - perfectly proportioned, perfectly shaped, toned with muscle but still feminine and soft in all the right places. And here she was, on her hands and knees in front of you, asking - no, needing - you to fuck her.

“Take me,” she says, her words a needy whisper, “take me now.”

Momo always knew the right words to say - not that you needed convincing. But she always knew how to take your mere arousal and turn it into lust. She knew how to take you from merely wanting to fuck her to needing to fuck her.

You take your shaft in your right hand, lining it up with Momo’s wet, slick pussy, and you drive yourself forward into her body with a soft, smooth stroke. There was no better feeling than the feeling of first entering a woman, both for the pleasure it brought and the pleasure it promised. You had had sex with Momo almost every day over the past few months, and often more than once a day, but you never grew tired of that moment when you first enter her body.

Eventually Momo shakes you from your reverie, moving her hips and ass around your impaling cock, savoring the feel of the hard flesh inside her pussy.

“Fuck me... Fuck me... Fuck me, baby.”

You weren’t one to disappoint your girlfriend, or keep her waiting for long. And so you pull your shaft out from her body, delighting in the sight of her glistening juices already lathering your cock as it appears from between her ass cheeks. Just as your cockhead is about to leave her body you drive back inside, your shaft spearing through her warm, inviting flesh.

Before you know it you are fucking Momo from behind with a rhythm that has become almost routine but not at all boring - the opposite, in fact. Each time you had sex seemed to be even better than the time before, even if the position remained the same. This time felt especially good, the affirmation of your relationship you had established earlier in the evening lending new feelings, new emotion to the simple physical act of sex that translated into more pleasure.

Momo is wriggling her hips with every thrust you make into her body, making each thrust unique and even more pleasurable for the both of you, as if the steadily increasing volume of her moans and the slick, wet, hot feel of her pussy wrapped around your cock were not enough.

You move your hands from her hips to her ass, squeezing the firm, round cheeks with both hands, delighting in watching the soft ripple of each impact of your crotch against them. With your right hand you give her a small spank, eliciting a surprised gasp from the young woman.

“Fuck me… fuck me harder,” Momo gasps - she is no longer simply getting used to getting fucked. Now she wanted pleasure.

You oblige her, and thrust deeper and harder into the wanton young woman, driving your cock in and out of her tightly grasping pussy with each thrust.

“Oh! Oh yes!” she gasps, throwing her head back at your new increased pace, “just like that! Fuck me just like that!”

You have found that sweet spot wherein you are pleasuring Momo as much as possible without the threat of your own orgasm approaching, and you decide to follow her orders, maintaining the speed and depth of your thrusts. Momo appears beside herself with pleasure, and you can see the telltale signs of her approaching orgasm in her body - the increasing volume of her moans, the way her fists are grasping the sheets as the pleasure courses throughout her body, and most obvious of all, the tightening of her hot depths around your cock.

“I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum on your cock, baby!”

“Do it, Momo. Cum for me. Cum!”

“Yes! Oh! I’m cumming!”

Momo’s body goes almost rigid as the pleasure overtakes her, and her pussy clamps down almost painfully on your shaft. You slow your thrusts, almost out of necessity - she is almost too tight to continue to fuck with the same pace. Momo’s fists have your bedsheets in a deathgrip as she finally sinks down into your pillow, her arms giving out beneath her and allowing her entire upper body to collapse onto the bed.

The sound that escapes her mouth when she orgasms is, you decide, the single most erotic thing in existence.

It takes a few minutes for her to recover, not that you minded, enjoying the sight of her young body bent over in front of you, your cock still impaling her vice-tight pussy, the skin of her lovely, toned back slick with sweat.

“Fuck, that was good,” she says.

You smile to yourself, caressing her ass with both hands as you do so.

“Fuck me, baby.”

You begin to draw your shaft out of her body, ready to resume your session, but as you pull your cock out halfway, Momo moves her hips forward, allowing your shaft to leave her body completely.

You smile as your cock accidentally pops out of her body, and you grasp your slick shaft with your hand and get ready to re-enter her, but as you place your cockhead back between the wet, drenched lips of her pussy, you feel Momo’s left hand reach back to your left thigh.

“Not there.”

Momo lowers her hips slightly, letting your cock rest between her ass cheeks. You watch as the tight, round ring of her anus brushes against the underside of your shaft.

“Fuck me there.”

A hard object pokes you in the thigh, and you realize that Momo has a small vial of something in her hand - and it all becomes clear. You experience a flood of emotions overtake you as you finally realize what is about to happen - anticipation, need, and above all, an overwhelming sensation of desire.

You take the small tube of lubrication from Momo’s hand, and squirt a healthy amount onto the fingertips of your right hand. Slowly, as tenderly as you are able, you spread the lube around Momo’s rear entrance, dipping into the tight ring of muscle slightly to spread some of the slick gel inside her. Slowly, carefully, you place one of your lubricated finger tips inside her ass, spreading the lube as far as you can, relishing the tightness of her anus around your finger as you penetrate that part of her body for the first time.

You had never had anal sex with her before, and hurting her was the last thing you wanted.

“Momo, if it hurts, we can stop. You have to let me know.”

“I will,” she responds quickly, “But don’t worry about it. Just go slow. I’ve never done this before.”

The fact that she wanted to have her first anal sex experience with you was a little overwhelming, and only strengthened your need to ensure she had a painless, comfortable time.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Momo.”

Momo lets a small giggle out before she responds.

“What makes you think I don’t want this?” she replies, a soft smile on her lips, “I want it. I want you to take me. I want you to take every part of my body. I want you to have every hole.”

The softness of her smile is replaced with lust and need as she presses the side of her face against the pillow beneath her. She turns her head slightly to look you in the eyes, her features drunk with desire.

“Fuck my ass.”

You’ve heard Momo say a lot of things during your time together, things that turned you on and made you want her body, but that single phrase was perhaps the most erotic of them all, and you found yourself thanking whatever gods may be that this woman was in your life.

Not wanting to wait any longer, you press the head of your cock against the hard ring of muscle, and slowly push forward.

There is some resistance, and it takes some time, but the lubrication of Momo’s juices on the head of your cock and the lube you placed around her anus help your cockhead penetrate her, and after some effort, you finally enter her ass, claiming her anal virginity and the last part of her body she had yet to offer you, or any other person.

Momo lets out a short gasp, one that is lined with surprise and more than a little pain at the new sensation. You stay there, not moving, your cockhead impaling her. You caress her ass cheeks and waist lovingly, trying to comfort her.

“I’m sorry, baby. Do you want to stop?”

“No,” she replies, almost instantly, “I want this. Don’t stop. Keep going. A little deeper…”

To that end you press on, inserting more and more of your hard shaft into her back entrance, delighting at the intense tightness of her anus wrapped around your cock. The entrance of her ass was leaps and bounds tighter than her pussy, the tight, tense ring of muscle pressing hard against every inch of your shaft. It was a different sensation, but not any more or less pleasurable - whereas her pussy was tight and wet around your entire cock, the tightness of her ass was focused on that tight ring of muscle at her entrance.

Soon your cock is halfway inside her body, and you decide that would be a good place to stop for now. You take a moment to settle there, allowing Momo time to adjust to the new feeling of fullness, before slowly, carefully withdrawing your cock until only the cockhead remains inside her ass. Then, just as slowly, you thrust back in.

“Yes… baby… you’re so big inside me…. Oh… just like that… go slow…. Oh!”

You are content to move just as fast and deep as she wanted you to - hurting her was by far the last thing you wanted to do. Soon you reach the same point where you stopped with your last thrust, with half of your cock inside her, where you pause for a moment. Then, equally slowly, you start to withdraw.

The moans and sighs that escape Momo’s mouth are of higher pitch than when you were having normal sex, and you take this to mean that the experience is a little more uncomfortable than usual, but when you stop enter her ass for the third time, you notice a softer tone to her gasp.

“Oh… oh fuck. Baby… you can… you can go faster.”

You are unwilling to increase your pace without her consent, but Momo’s words urge you to move slightly faster in and out of her body, enjoying the sparks of pleasure radiating from your shaft with every thrust into her tight, hot ass.

You are almost afraid to look down, for fear of the visual of you penetrating her asshole would be too much too handle, but you are unable to resist for long. You glance down and watch as your shaft enters and exits Momo’s ass, the tight ring of muscle of her anus gripping your shaft so very tightly, the combination of the juices from her pussy and the lube she gave you allowing you entrance into this most forbidden areas of her body.

Your hands caress her perfect ass cheeks and waist lovingly, seeking to make the experience as comfortable and as passionate as you could. You feel Momo trying her best to let you inside her body, trying to let you deeper inside her butt..

“Momo,” you say, your eyes closing involuntarily as your shaft impales her ass once more, “you’re so fucking tight.”

“Mmmm… keep going baby…your cock is so big inside me... I’m okay…. Go deeper… Keep fucking me… keep fucking my ass.”

With your next thrust you penetrate her a little bit deeper, your shaft piercing into her tight, hot hole, savoring every single millimetre of movement inside her ass, savoring the feel of the tightest part of her young, perfect body. With the thrust after that you push even deeper, and before you know it your entire cock is inside her from tip to base, fully embedded inside Momo’s ass. Your balls slap against Momo’s wet pussy, each thrust making a wet sound as they crash against her slick flesh.

The both of you let out a sharp gasp at the feeling of fullness, and Momo clutches the sheets a little tighter than she already was, a light, erotic growl escaping her lips at the feeling of fullness that is both new and exciting for her. You feel her ass squeeze even tighter around your shaft, as if it were even possible; you let out a gasp of your own, the pleasure quickly becoming unbearable, quickly becoming too much to handle, the pulsing of her tightest hole sending shivers of pleasure up and down your spine.

“Oh fuck… you’re so deep in me, baby. Keep going… don’t stop… don’t stop fucking me!”

You are unable, even if you wanted to, to disobey her. You start to withdraw your cock, then before you know it you are thrusting inside her again, your self-control and patience worn thin by the combination of Momo’s soft pleas and the intense tightness of her body wrapped around your cock. Before you know it, you are truly fucking her ass with long, smooth strokes. Your pace is not nearly as fast as if you were fucking her pussy, but your thrusts are just as strong and deep.

Momo’s ass shakes erotically with each entry you make into her body. Her back is fully arched, her entire upper body down against the bed, the beautiful curve of her spine impossible to ignore. Her skin is glistening with sweat, her hair matted to her skull by it. All of it - the sight of her bent body, the feel of her tight ass wrapped around your pumping shaft, the sound of her moans begging you to keep fucking her - it was all too much to fight, too overwhelming.

“Baby,” you begin, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it!” she answers quickly, her words almost a plea, almost begging, “cum for me!”

“Where…”

“Inside me, baby! Fill me. Fill my ass with your cum! Make my ass yours, baby… take every part of my body… cum inside my ass!”

You give up - you let yourself go.

With a sharp exhalation of breath that you didn’t know you were holding, you let your orgasm hit you harder than you thought possible, and you bury yourself as deep as you can inside Hirai Momo’s ass before you let shot after shot of hot, thick cum shoot into her body. Your hands grip her waist tightly, almost too tightly, but for a single, fleeting moment, you don’t care - all that exists is the pleasure radiating from your crotch, a pleasure so intense that for a second you think you might black out.

The first thing you are aware of is the long, sultry moan that Momo lets out at the feeling of hot semen flooding the most private part of her body, the only part left of her you had yet to mark as your own. It is a warmth, a heat that she has never felt before, and she decides, right there and then, that it was all worth it - all the discomfort, all the unease - and a warm feeling of pleasure suffuses her entire body at knowing you had, at last, claimed every part of her as your own.

The feeling of semen inside her depths, and the pleasure it brings with it, is almost indescribable. She realizes, at that moment, that this wouldn’t be the last time she took you in her ass.

It takes you awhile to come down from your high, but when you do, you find yourself bending over Momo’s still upraised butt, bracing yourself with your hands around her upper body.

You want to say something, want to describe with human language what had just happened, and the intensity of the pleasure that is still radiating from your crotch. But as it so often was with Momo, you were rendered wordless.

With some effort, she turns her head to look back at you, her hair plastered to the side of her head by sweat, her cheeks flushed pink with exhaustion.

“I want more of that,” she says softly, and your only answer was to smile back at her.

---

“I can barely fucking walk,” Momo says, as she eases herself, gingerly, into the chair opposite your desk, “I blame you.”

“If I recall correctly, you quite literally asked for it,” you reply, a sly smile on your lips.

Momo makes a face at you as she finally succeeds in sitting down. Even then, she looks a little uncomfortable, and she decides to sit on an angle. She sticks her tongue out at you, and you smile back.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” says a voice at your office door, which swings open to reveal the form of your boss. He is all smiles, as he often is.

“No worries at all, Mr. Par- I mean… JYP,” you say awkwardly, glancing at Momo, who stifles a giggle. JYP smiles widely at you in approval at your usage of his nickname as he sits down in the other vacant chair in your office.

“I have another meeting to get to, so I’ll make this brief,” he begins, “I have two things I want to discuss. Firstly, I’ve heard rumors that you two are a thing now, is that true?”

You immediately lock eyes with Momo, both of you scrambling to find the words to explain everything to your boss. You both knew that professional relationships weren’t outright banned in your company, but they weren’t exactly encouraged, either.

“Sir, Momo and I… we…” you begin.

“Say no more,” JYP answers, the smile once again on his lips, “I knew you two would get together eventually. You guys look great together. As long as you keep it professional in the office and it doesn’t affect your work, I’m all for it.”

An expression of relief washes over both of your faces.

“It won’t affect us at work, sir,” Momo says, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Great!” JYP replies, appearing genuinely satisfied with the admission of your relationship, “now for the second thing I came here to discuss - you’re both going on another trip.”

Both Momo and you tense with excitement.

“Where to, boss?” you ask, eager to know.

“Taiwan,” JYP answers, “There’s a really, really big industry conference going on over there next week. All the top companies are gonna be there, and naturally I want our company to be there too. I want you both to keep a look out for what our competitors are up to… and I want you to make sure they know we’re ready to beat them at it.”

Momo licks her lips, her competitive spirit roused. “We’ll show them who the top company in the industry is, sir,” she says, genuinely enthusiastic.

“That’s what I wanna hear from my two best people. Alright, make preparations when you’re ready. As usual, Choa should accompany you for logistical support. I’m sure you’re both familiar with Miss Miyoui, who has joined our legal team for the next few months. She should also join you, in case we need her to advise on any legal matters.”

“Sounds good, boss,” you say, noticing the slight look of consternation on Momo’s face at the prospect of spending some time overseas with her ex.

“Awesome. Get to it, guys! As usual, I expect daily reports and a full debrief when you get back. I’ll leave you to it. Kick some ass over there!”

With that, JYP rises from his seat. Momo gets up too, a little more gingerly than usual - this doesn’t escape your boss’s attention, and he reaches out to Momo’s forearm to keep her from stumbling.

“Are you okay, Miss Hirai?”

“Yes, I am,” Momo answers, “Sorry, boss. I… pulled a muscle during a workout last night. Tried a new… stretch for the first time.”

“Alright, well, don’t strain yourself. We need you healthy for Taiwan! Take care, you two.”

With that, JYP leaves your office, and Momo starts to head out the door after him.

“See you after work,” she says with a wink, before she exits your office, leaving you smiling at yourself in anticipation for the week to come. The smile still on your lips, you reach for the button on your phone for Choa’s line, ready to instruct her to start preparations for the trip.

Before your finger reaches the button, your phone vibrates - a text message.

KimSeolhyun says: Do you remember that deal we made?

You say: What deal?

KimSeolhyun says: The deal we made in the shower. While your duck was still inside me and your cum was still hot in my pussy.

You say: I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Ms. Kim.

KimSeolhyun says: You get to buy my company… But you fuck me whenever I want.

You say: Oh, that deal. What about it?

KimSeolhyun says: I’ll be in Taiwan. See you there.

You smile to yourself as you put your phone down. The smile is still there as you finally push the button for Choa’s line, and begin to instruct her to book a few flights.

---

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #pov smut #smut #male reader #twice #twice momo #momo #hirai momo

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akitokihojo · 5 years ago

Text

Delicate - Chapter 5

Miroku gripped Sango's arm and shoulder, having to have physically braced her against him when she'd sprung to stop the fight. It looked as if it was ending when Inuyasha walked away, but the moment he turned around, his cheeks a blustering shade, she lurched forward to run interference. Typically, with anyone else, he wouldn't have prevented it, especially when things seemed as out of control as they were. In this case, Miroku knew it was already too late. Sango would only literally end up stuck in the middle.

The two of them watched as they screamed back and forth, Sango's hand flying to hold the tops of Miroku's fingers that gripped along her arm, much like a reflex to seek support while all they could do was stand by and watch. And, then it got quiet. Inuyasha and Kagome stood so close and Sango's stomach twisted with prickles of unnerving anxiety, seeing Inuyasha's mouth move but not able to hear the words he spoke. She saw Kagome's reaction, though. She witnessed the wound form and spread over her like paint irresponsibly dropped on a canvas.

"What - what did he say?" She asked, still staring helplessly.

"I don't know." Miroku breathed.

As Kagome turned and walked away, her pace quickly hastening, Miroku released his hold on Sango. She spared him a brief glance before running to catch up with her friend, and he didn't linger in place, following suit to get to Inuyasha.

"Finally, something shut her -"

"You've said enough!" Miroku pushed him, sending the half demon stumbling to the side. Inuyasha's mouth hung open, brows furrowed but his expression one of shock. "What the hell's wrong with you!?"

He'd been prepared for Inuyasha to swing or retaliate, but the hanyou’s lips merely sealed and his body straightened. It was like he was damaged. He looked away, and his jaw clenched, the muscles in the sides of his face flexing harshly. His swallow was thick, visible, and his chest rose and fell heavily. He was still on the defense, but Miroku could tell the speed of his thoughts had to be slowing.

"How bad was that?" The question was barely spoken, his tone so dispirited, carrying the weight of his regret. He couldn’t help it. Everything she’d said had been so powerfully sworn, each word like a tick that burrowed deep into his skin. It was impossible to ignore. Even worse was the look on her face as he’d crushed her. So quickly, it had burned into his mind, framed in the forefront, heartbreaking, and the evidence of how despicable he could truly be. He couldn’t not see it. He couldn’t fight through it. It brought his natural guarding to shut down.

"Bad." Miroku stated.

"Did you hear everything?" Still, the words were hardly audible, hushed with shame.

"Everything up until the end."

"I called her a waste of time." He said clearly, leveling his gaze to meet Miroku's. "That outta do it, right?"

There was a falter in Inuyasha, an evident one. Anyone would have picked up on it; no one needed the skill to read people. He felt contrite. He didn't mean that. He probably didn't mean anything he'd said, but he knew the consequences of his mistakes.

"You can apologize." Miroku suggested, the tension in his shoulders dropping. "Take it back. Tell her you said all of it in the heat of the moment and -"

"No."

"- You never meant to hurt her."

"I can't." Inuyasha was resolute, a little panicked, muscles showing jittery agitation. "I fucked up. That's it."

"That doesn't have to be it! If you don't like the turn of events, do something about it!"

"How do I just take something like that back, Miroku!? I threw everything in her face! I made her feel worthless! I know too goddamn well that you can't just say sorry for something that low and expect everything to be fine!" He yelled, irate. He'd turned into the person he shouldn't have. Like all the people that belittled him for being what he was. Like his brother. He tore down a person who cared about him because he was more afraid that she wouldn't, and in preventing his own future pain, he only broke himself sooner.

"Well," Miroku began. "If that's the case, if someone were to apologize to you then how would you like them to do it?"

Inuyasha didn't reply, his head only shaking in disbelief. How could he have let himself do that? Who was he becoming? There were people in life that pre-evaluated their future, that swore they'd never become like the ones who did them harm. Inuyasha never had. He never worried about it. His solution was to dismiss it all, act like it never happened, isolate himself, fight back. This time, he realized, he fended off the wrong person.

He muttered a curse under his breath, feeling so heavy he could have sunken into the earth. Swaying on his heel, Inuyasha veered right, ducking down an alley to head home.

—

Kagome sluggishly rolled out of bed, her head pounding. It had been hard to stop crying, and once she did, it was even harder not to start up again. She was exhausted but couldn't sleep, and the tea her mom had brought up mid breakdown was now bitter and cold. The silence was annoying and only contributing to the pungent thoughts that kept her emotions active. She wanted to stop feeling angry, and sad, and hurt, and defensive, and anxious, or anything else her mood shifted to depending on what way she was going to overthink the scenario that time, and just mute everything for a while. Since sleep wasn't an option at the moment, she decided she'd use the TV as a distraction.

After grabbing the remote and hitting the power button, she turned off the overhead light, showing an ounce of pity for her throbbing head. It was past midnight, so she kept the volume low, sitting on the foot of her mattress as she flipped it over to Netflix and resumed her show. Two solid taps on her window caught her attention, and Kagome looked over her shoulder, silver hair catching the glimmer of light from the illuminated screen. An unsettling chill sank down into her abdomen, like the feeling of fingers steadily teasing their grip over her organs, and her breath trembled, heat flushing her face.

Inuyasha crouched outside her windowpane, his expression relaxed but his gaze overtly cautious. He had a lot of guts showing up, time hardly a cushion to the blows she'd taken. But, on the other hand, he had to have come for a reason, right?

No, that didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. Kagome needed to draw the line, she needed to respect herself. As difficult as it was, and it was very difficult for her, she walked over to the window, avoiding his stare while she yanked the curtains shut.

The hanyou sighed defeatedly. He deserved it, he knew, but that didn't make it any easier to handle. He smelled her tears before approaching her window, he knew she had to still be hurting. Of course, she was. There was no way a person would recover from what he'd said in the span of a few hours; he, of all people, understood. He didn't come here on a whim, though; he came here to talk. It took a lot of effort, too much even, to swallow his pride and mentally rehearse what he had to say on his walk over. Kagome deserved an explanation for everything. She deserved insight, answers, his own, personal vulnerability, and above all else, she deserved to know just how fucking sorry he was.

"Kagome," Inuyasha kept his tone softer than usual, though the gruffness was inevitable. "Open the window. Please. If you don't, I'll just go to your front door."

She froze, huffing at the unfair ultimatum. Begrudgingly but swiftly giving in, she pushed the curtains aside, sliding the window open but propping herself before him to block his entrance. "If you're here for round two, now's not really a good time."

Her voice was low but dangerous. Inuyasha kept steady, his expression hardly wavering, amber eyes unable to hold on her and drifting low as he gave a gentle nod to ask if he could come in. There was a moment of tension, the silence only filled with the mumbling from the show she'd put on, her sigh signifying her reluctancy even though she moved and allowed him entry.

Carefully, Inuyasha climbed through, resting his low back against the frame of the window. Kagome stood in front of her bed, fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt as she pulled them to cover her hands. It seemed like a nervous tick; just trying to keep her fingers busy while she stretched and dropped and bunched the cotton over and over. Her eyes were red and puffy, the makeup she'd worn earlier cleaned off, though a thin smudge decorated the lines of her lids. She was dressed down in pajama bottoms, the shirt she wore not long enough to hide her midriff, and her hair was still just as beautiful as before.

Reaching over, he quietly glided the window shut behind him, not wanted the chill of the night to bother her.

“What do you want?”

He hated how sad she sounded, how lifeless her voice was.

“I didn’t mean it.” Inuyasha finally admitted, hesitation on his tongue. Still, he found it hard to make eye contact with Kagome.

“What part?” She asked, crossing her arms, fingers remaining covered. The inquiry was justified; he’d said a lot. The clarification was necessary at this point.

“Any of it. I didn’t mean anything I said.” He heard her exhale. It was rocky and short, troubled, exactly as he would expect. Then why the fuck would he say it in the first place, right? He pushed himself to meet her eyes pleadingly, calm. “Five minutes. Give me five uninterrupted minutes to explain.”

Kagome could feel his sincerity, the light from her show flickering on his skin as scenes played through. The emotions swirling in her head were conflicting; fifty percent wanting to hear what he had to say and the other fifty wondering if he even deserved the chance. It wasn’t difficult to know which way she’d lean, though. Even for herself. Everyone should have an opportunity to open up about how they felt and why they’d acted the way they did. Especially given how guilty he looked at this point in time. Reaching to the side, Kagome grabbed her remote off the top of her comforter, muting her show and trusting him to keep a level tone so her family wouldn’t be woken up. Tossing the controller back down, she gave Inuyasha her undivided attention.

The half demon nodded in appreciation, breathing out unsteadily as he ducked his head and crossed his arms over his front. He was naturally inclined to stay quiet, the apprehension and tension of the entire predicament overwhelming, but he couldn’t allow himself to shut down, to expect this all to blow over on its own just because he’d presented an apologetic version of his being. He gave himself a mental shove, as hard as it was, urging himself to open up for once in his goddamn life. It was warranted. He had to. Even if, in the end, he wasn’t offered redemption for his mistakes, which was a sour thought and pained him enough to swell his throat, Kagome would still have the knowledge of the exhausted beliefs that made him travel the route of countless burned bridges.

“You know about my parents.” He started, eyes on the carpet beneath his shoes. He ignored every pressing shockwave that conveyed for him to keep to himself, to lockdown all his personal information, opening a door that hadn’t been opened in years. It didn’t matter anymore. Not when he’d seen how he’d made her cry. “How they died. I don’t remember my dad all that much, but my mom’s passing took a huge toll on me. I was very close with her. She was human, and she still managed to protect me as if she had the strength of a demon. From other demons. From internal demons. When she was gone, I didn’t have that shelter anymore. Having someone that’s pushed on you to be considered family, someone who’s supposed to be there for you but then turns around and makes you feel like shit for something you can’t control takes a toll, too. It wasn’t just Sesshomaru, though - my brother. There were plenty of people I’ve met that shun me, talk shit, think I’m unnatural. After experiencing it enough, you learn to expect the worst of everyone. Not gonna lie, Sesshomaru’s voice is what I hear every time. So, instead of waiting for backs to turn, I just turn mine. It stopped bothering me after a while. I wasn’t even numb anymore, it just didn’t matter.” Inuyasha was concerned the thunderous beating of his heart would be detected by Kagome. It was difficult not to show how his breathing increased in pace, the topic one he’d never spoken about to any other living soul. In his mind, he kept repeating the importance of all of this. Over and over, he told himself to keep going, to tell her everything, actively refusing to let himself stop. “No one knows this, Kagome. I figured the more I keep locked up, the less vulnerable I am. Then, you walked in. You’re right. You scared me. I unintentionally gave you too much of my background when I initially intended to give you a bland explanation that night that I was upset. Safety isn’t something I’ve been fortunate enough to experience in a few years, and I think that’s what I began to feel with you. Like before, though, safety can be taken away very quickly, and I - I didn’t want to go through it again. You aren’t the first I’ve dropped like that. You’re the first to fight back, though. You were the first to ever show that it made you sad. I mean, yeah, people would get offended, but then they’d turn around and drop me and pretend it was their idea all along. I expected the same from you,” Finally, finally, he glanced her way. “and it hurt when I didn’t get it.”

Her dark eyes were large, the lighting showing the sadness in the glimmering tears building on her bottom lids. Her lips were pouting, parted slightly, her chin giving a quiver that made him feel unstable, as her brows pressed together in concern. Was she compassionate for his history, or was this the affliction he’d done? Maybe both? He didn’t deserve the former, but given what he’d learned about Kagome over the months, he wouldn’t doubt her empathy.

“I didn’t want to lose you, but it was too late by the time I acknowledged it. Everything about you was a warning to me of the damage you could potentially do. I was too susceptible, so I took myself out of the picture. I’m being honest when I say I didn’t know I was hurting you. It was confusing. I was used to apathy, and you don’t have an apathetic bone in your body. Even now, I don’t know what to do or where to go from here. If you’re done, I get it. I don’t fucking blame you. Tell me to go and I’ll go. But, before you do, let me just say that I don’t think you’re stupid, or self-righteous, or anything else I said. I don’t. I was throwing out whatever came to mind to try and push you away.”

Kagome was quiet, holding her breath as her chest constricted. Beneath the treatment he’d handed her, she completely understood his reasoning. It didn’t make it right, and in her gut she could tell he knew that. That wasn’t his purpose. It gave her perception, though, and that accounted for something. In the silence, she’d noticed his breathing ceased too, and his eyes had fallen back down to the floor. His chest was still, and he was just as nervous as he was when he’d first entered, if not more. It was her turn to speak. And she was so scared of saying the wrong thing. She was fearful of having it used against her like before. In her heart, Kagome wanted to give him another chance. She deeply wanted to trust him like she had, maybe even better now that he’d opened up a part of himself that had never been accessible to anyone before.

“Tell me the truth, Inuyasha. What do you want?”

He looked over, apprehensively. Cautiously.

How was it he was so fearless in the face of aggressive and violent confrontation, but so terrified of this one girl? She had more strength in her compassion than fists would ever have against him. A tear fell from her eye, gliding over the curve of her cheek, acting as the sledgehammer that slammed down against his cinderblock walls, each teardrop serving as each strike. The half demon swallowed thickly, feeling a profound softness for Kagome strengthen with each uneven inhale of her comforting scent, laced with sadness that he wanted to dissipate. That’s what he wanted. He wanted to fix everything. He wanted to see her smile again, hear her laugh, make her laugh, help her study because he was the one that needed the excuse to see her. He wanted to make sure he kept the bridge between them sturdy and unbreakable. Because of her, for her, he wanted to be better. What he’d done to her, said to her, he’d never do it again. Inuyasha wanted Kagome.

On any level he could attain, Inuyasha wanted Kagome.

Words wouldn’t work for him in that moment. He couldn’t speak. His abdomen was tighter than ever, a lump solidifying in his throat, his jaw clenching as he experienced the debilitating anxiety involved in the realization that he had been falling in love all along. That’s why it crushed him when she cried, he was happy when she expressed joy, he trusted her with the parts of him he’d never talked about before. It hurt when she didn’t react the way he’d grown to expect, because it complicated everything so much more. Because he didn’t like losing her, and the thought that she didn’t want to lose him either made everything so much fucking harder to process.

Inuyasha was still scared. He couldn’t shake it. His own muscles inadvertently tensed through the emotional stress he was under, the weight of his feelings intensifying. What could he do if he couldn’t speak? He had to tell Kagome he wanted to stay by her side in some other manner. He couldn’t lose the opportunity, or let the silence build and settle in the shadows of her mind; he couldn’t risk any negative thoughts intruding on her any further, or making her feel insecure for opening up the floor to him. He’d put her through enough. And he knew what he wanted.

Slowly, the hanyou reached over to her, his fingers gently grazing the soft sleeve of her shirt, pinching the loose fabric to give the tenderest of tugs his way. He was afraid she’d resist or shrug him off, but she didn’t. Kagome’s face crinkled slightly as she stepped his way, easily following his guidance as she opened herself up to him. There was no way he would permit himself to freeze or hesitate at this point, so he pulled her into his chest where she glided her arms over his front and around his shoulders. She clutched onto him, her face nuzzling into the crook of his neck where her hot breath almost brought him to falter, small hiccups from her silent cries rocking against his torso. Steadily, Inuyasha wrapped her into him, his hands large against the small of her back, one slipping beneath her shirt to lay flat against her hot skin and the other firmly gripping the cotton to keep her there. He felt her ease, and it didn’t take long, following the natural curve of his body as he effortlessly supported her weight. In that moment, to add to it all, he felt the growing and undying hunger to protect her from anything or anyone that could devastate her this way again. He didn’t care what he had to do, who he’d have to fight, or even if it was swallowing his own pride to make sure he never overstepped a boundary. Inuyasha would keep Kagome safe. One step at a time, he planned to make sure she understood he was reliable.

“I’m sorry.” Inuyasha breathed, holding her tighter. She nodded against him, her body seeming to have calmed considerably. Her arms relaxed, and though he wasn’t ready to let her go, he released his hold, allowing her to back away. Kagome didn’t look at him, not directly, her dull stare landing on his stomach. He was almost desperate for her smile to return. He missed it horribly, feeling it would be the only thing to give him relief from his own turmoil. Like something else had control over him, his hand reached up, barely stroking her jaw with his thumb. “Are we - are we okay?”

“Mhm,” Kagome hummed, leaning into his whisper of a touch.

“You’re not okay.” He whispered, dropping his hand. Things didn’t just disappear with an apology, he got that. As much as he didn’t like it, the bitterness building on the back of his tongue, Inuyasha knew it’d take time to get over their fight and the ruthlessness of his insults. I’m sorry merely served as the bandaid. Actions in show of his regret was the ointment that sealed the wound. All too well, he knew how it went. He wouldn’t push her to pretend she was fine when she was still fighting off tears. No matter how relieved her sighs against his chest seemed, that was just the surface layer of a wound scabbing over. “I’ll go. If you need me, I’m available. I won’t disappear again.”

As he opened the window to climb out, a wild fluttering built in Kagome’s diaphragm, bringing her to bite her bottom lip hard as her nerves prickled and stung. “Can you - um,” She trembled, scared to see how he’d react to her upcoming question. There was no fending it off, though. She had to hear the opposite of what had sunken into her heart, the density of the statement holding her hostage. Inuyasha turned around, ember eyes watching her, observing her. With a mental push, her fingers hidden beneath her sleeves as she bunched and clenched the cloth within her fists, she forced the remainder of the question out, disregarding the fear evident behind her breath. “Can you tell me that I’m not a waste of time? Please?”

Inuyasha thought he’d known the repercussions of that volatile sentiment, but as he watched her crumble all over again, her frown deepening heartbreakingly and tears staining her cheeks once more, it was only then that he realized just how awful the blow was that he’d spoken so unthinkingly. He wished he had less walls to break down. He wished he wasn’t already at his limit, having pushed himself so far passed the boundary that had solidified overtime. He wished the work he knew he’d have to conduct on himself to be what she deserved could be done instantaneously, so that he could bring himself to touch her again, but he couldn’t. Inuyasha’s arms were stuck at his side, muscles tense and difficult to move. God, he wanted to be capable of fucking grabbing her and holding her without so much as having to think it through; like a normal fucking person. Words couldn’t describe the desperation behind the helplessness he felt that he physically couldn’t handle it right now, his fear, his anxiety, his thoughts rushing so fast that his blood coursed through his veins at the same damn cursing speed. Even when he tried, his hands only reached up so far, seeming more like they were braced before him heedfully; like he was worried about breeching her own boundaries. Which he was. He didn’t know what to do. When his actions failed him, how could he be believed? With a heavy sigh, the half demon stepped forward, as close as they’d been before when he’d first spoken those destructive words. He felt broken knowing what he’d done to her, and if the frown on his face was the proof of this feeling, the last thing he would do was hide it. If this was what he could give her at this point in time, he’d happily hand her his remorse on a silver platter. She was crying, her entire body shaking just inches before him, and he hated that he couldn’t physically take that pain away from her. If what she wanted was to hear the contradiction of his earlier statement, though, he could manage that much. He didn’t care if it was hard, he’d give her anything he fucking could right now.

“You’re not a waste of time, Kagome.” Inuyasha spoke, genuinely, his voice husky. “I lied. I would have never come back if I actually thought that.”

She smiled. Despite it all, she smiled. If he could touch her, he would have cradled her face and wiped away the tears that fell until there were no more to clean, but it felt like there was a bulletproof glass separating them; like Inuyasha was locked away in prison, speaking to Kagome during a moment of visitation, desperately wishing he was free from his mistakes and the confinements that restrained him. Soon. This was his wakeup call. He wanted to be the one that was there for her, that reassured her everything would be okay, that held her, that made her feel so comfortable she could fall asleep on his chest. What more verification would you need of a person trusting you other than them sleeping in your arms? He’d never experienced that before, but he’d be a goddamn liar if he said he hadn’t once dreamt of someone sleeping by his side, or drifting off while watching tv. When he’d woken up from those types of dreams, he felt hollow. He was convinced it’d never happen. He knew now that in order for anything to happen, anything at all, he’d have to rebuild his mindset to be more open. It was no secret by now that he had been sealed shut, but now that the door was pried open, he could see the possibility of warmth entering through. There was always a chance of being hurt, and the scars ran deep, but there were risks that were worth taking. She was worth it. No matter how nauseous he felt right now.

“Thank you.” She sighed.

“Go to bed.” He said, turning back around and soundlessly crawling out the window. “I’ll see you later.”

Kagome gave a tired nod, sauntering over to the window behind him. Her crying had just about stopped, the remnants of it all wiped away on her sleeves.

He gave a soft grin, his stomach half in shambles. “Goodnight, Kagome.”

She smiled, watching him venture over the small area of roofing before grabbing onto the overhanging branch of a tree. “Night.” She said as he spared her one last glance, sliding the window shut when he climbed down.

—

As soon as he walked through the school gates, Inuyasha felt a sickening twinge ignite in his entire torso. He’d thought realizations of your own feelings were supposed to lessen the burdens, but all he’d felt since that night was horrible nervousness. Now more than ever. They hadn’t spoken since. She needed space, and he respected it. Even though they’d left on a relatively good note, he felt pressured as he walked through the campus, making his way to his locker. Was she going to be in school? How would she react if he said hello? How would he react if she said hello? Was it allowed? Were they on speaking terms? What about their study dates? Did they still exist or was he supposed to go through the humiliating process of reinstating them? Did she even want them anymore? If things were awkward, how did he proceed from there to properly reconcile? How could he make things normal again? Fuck, he would have stayed home if he knew he was going to end up this much of a basket case.

“What’s up?” Miroku said, approaching from the side and effectively startling the hanyou. His friend flinched at the notable tension that crawled up Inuyasha’s spine, his reaction out of the ordinary. “You good?”

“Yeah.” He grunted in an attempt at recovery. “I was just spacing out.”

“You? Spacing out? Man, that argument really did do a number on you.” Miroku mentioned, leaning against the neighboring locker. “I probably know the answer to this already, but have you talked to her?”

Inuyasha didn’t respond, shutting the small, metal door and shrugging his arm to adjust the strap of his book bag to sit properly over his shoulder. He felt the length of his ponytail wag to the side with his motions as he sluggishly began to lead their way down the hall.

“Thought so. So, what now?” His friend asked.

In his peripherals, he could see the guy comb his fingers through his hair, shaking his head in a defeated motion. He couldn’t blame Miroku for expecting this from him, but he was a dick for doing so anyway. “What do you mean, what now?”

“I mean, what now? You burned her, you regretted it, and then you just left. I want to know what you plan to do, or if you’re just gonna blow it off like usual.”

“What if I say, nothing?”

“I might call you an asshole. Pretty sure Sango may have some colorful, choice words for you too, so watch out for that. I’ll secretly wish for better for my best friend in the entire world, I’ll be a little salty because you ruined the one chance at happiness you’ll ever have, I’ll watch a RomCom and cry over a box of chocolates in your stead, then we’ll all move on and get over it by next week.”

“Why are you so dramatic?” Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

“Oh man, the amount of questions I could counter that with is endless, my dude.”

There she was. Everything inside Inuyasha jolted to a stop, his legs halting as the breath left his lungs. There was no sense of relief whatsoever in discovering you were falling for someone. If his mild episode of panic at his locker wasn’t evidence enough of that, the sensation that his stomach had dropped into his pelvis, carried itself back up to its original spot, then plummeted again as she smiled to her friend definitely was. He now understood why Miroku was such a goddamn mess in front of Sango. All Inuyasha wanted to do was vomit at the mere thought of Kagome looking over at him; mostly because he had no idea where they stood with one another.

She clutched an old, small book to her chest, one that apparently had been read many times by the stress on the spine, cocking her head to the side as the opposite person thanked her for letting them borrow it. As they walked away, Kagome’s brown eyes flowed right over his way, her smile only wavering minutely before coming back to greet him. Her shoulders noticeably relaxed, her gaze shied downward, and her own ponytail flicked to the side as she turned and followed Sango into her class. She was okay. He didn’t sense any ounce of animosity roiling off of her. Finally, he breathed out his first, full exhale since before their fight.

“Question,” Miroku trepidatiously spoke, interrupting the pleasant thoughts going through his head. “Is Kagome secretly insanely evil? Because, given the circumstances, what the fuck was that smile for? Maybe it’s not Sango you actually need to worry about, because Kagome is going to sit you like a dog.”

Inuyasha’s features twisted into a grimace, slowly swiveling to fully face Miroku. The deeply concerned expression on his friend’s face was enough to crumble his natural facade. “Joke’s on you, I talked to her already.”

“You what!? How long were you just gonna let me talk shit for?”

“Until you felt like an ass and I could rub it in your face.” The hanyou shrugged, continuing on until they met the doorway of their classroom. “I went over that same night. We talked it out.”

“Just like that? You talked it out?” Miroku pressed, following closely behind. He pursued Inuyasha straight to his seat, knowing he had several minutes until the bell rang, and therefore, plenty of time until he had to drop the subject and head to his desk across the room. If they had to bounce dialogue off of each other as quickly as the Gilmore Girls did just to get his answers, he’d keep the ball rolling smoothly. “Well, that doesn’t sound anything like you.”

“Thanks. Nice talking to you.” Inuyasha remarked, sarcastically.

“No, seriously. In all the time that I’ve known you, you’ve never done anything like this. How’d you - I mean, what’d you tell her?”

“Everything.”

“You gotta give me a little bit more than that, bro.”

“I told her everything. Things you don’t know, things I don’t plan on telling you, and other things you’ve probably figured out on your own but don’t know the history behind. I told her I didn’t mean what I said, I apologized, and she forgave me.”

“Nope. Too bland. Inuyasha, I’m getting a little stir crazy here.”

“I honestly don’t plan on telling you, so let it go.”

“Okay, no, I get it. Fair enough. You’re a private person. Honestly, I’m glad you’ve found someone you’re comfortable opening up to, especially in the face of losing them. Really.”

“Ulterior motive of that comment?” Inuyasha dryly asked.

“You were scared of losing her, right?”

“Miroku.”

“Why won’t you tell me? What’s so wrong with admitting the truth to me, of all people? I’m not asking for your depressing background story, I’m asking for current events here. Were you afraid to lose her?” Miroku asked, his tone a bit firmer than before, though still on the hushed side. Intentionally, he avoided using names. Their classmates were steadily filing in, and he wasn’t in the business of throwing someones personal affairs out into the open.

Inuyasha tensed. Openness. He wanted to be more open. For Kagome. If he practiced with Miroku, maybe it’d be simpler in the long run. The idea didn’t make the notion any easier, though. He felt like all he’d end up doing would be giving Miroku what he wanted, and though he wasn’t a gloater, the possibility was still there and made Inuyasha want to clam up all over again. In order to comply, he had to look away. It was too difficult to discuss private matters with direct eye contact to further enhance his discomfort. Inuyasha’s amber irises went left and right, his head swiveling along with them, giving a simple nod in the mix to say yes. If Miroku caught it, great. If he didn’t there was no way he’d repeat the motion.

“Alright.” Miroku grinned, the hint of positive affirmation on his tone. He’d caught it. “Do you like her?”

Again, Inuyasha indirectly nodded, shifting his head from side to side in a casual manner to hide his confirmation.

“Do you want this to go somewhere?”

“Define, somewhere.” Inuyasha spoke, unsure of the broad aspect that question provided. It really wasn’t all that broad, but he was embarrassed enough not to know how to properly answer him without specification narrowing the field.

“Passed friendship. More than friends. A relationship of sorts. You know, hand-holding, kissing, cuddling, sweet nothings, nookie.”

“Nookie!?” Inuyasha hissed a little too loud, attracting the unwanted and skeptical attention of a nearby classmate. Miroku played it off, giving the guy an expecting smile that read for him to mind his business before turning back to the hanyou. “No one calls it that anymore, and no, that wasn’t on my mind.”

“Not now, anyway. Boners are natural.” Again, noticing the guy had overheard what he’d said and turned their way with a curious expression, Miroku looked at him, this time leveling the nosy prick with a straight face. When he twisted forward, Miroku turned back to Inuyasha. “But you know what, I like that. If woohoo isn’t the first thing on your mind, that must mean you’re really in deep here. Like, on what level are we talking?”

Inuyasha massaged his temples with his thumbs, blocking his line of sight with the rest of his hands propped on his forehead, begrudgingly bringing himself to answer. “A, uh, romantic level?”

“Yeah, kind of figured that one already. Do you want to take her on a date and see how things go, or do you want to take her on many dates and never let go? Very different; the latter being more expensive.”

“Well, where would you rate your feelings for Sango?” Inuyasha nervously asked, feeling heat begin to pool in his cheeks.

“On a terribly inconvenient, I-want-to-die-because-I-can-never-stop-thinking-about-her-and-I-don’t-think-I’ve-gotten-a-full-night’s-sleep-in-weeks level.” He answered with a distasteful grimace, his expression blanking as he watched Inuyasha slowly nod, the color in his face paling. “O-oh. You feel sick?”

Inuyasha nodded.

“Gonna puke?”

“Might.”

“That’s rough, buddy.” He sympathized, patting the half demon on the back as the bell chimed. “Welcome to my hell. Nice to know you’ve got a heart, though.”

And, it really was hell. Inuyasha, of all people, didn’t know the first thing about what to do with the overwhelming emotions that cluttered his mind, his throat, his chest, his stomach, fuck - every inch of him. He knew he had to take action if he wanted anything to come from this, or so it goes, but the thought of asking Kagome on a date was so nerve-wracking that he’d shut down and talk himself out of it every time the thought occurred. It was difficult enough picking up where they’d left off since he’d pulled his douche move. He practically had to break the ice all over again just to make typical hello’s and goodbye’s feel natural like before. That was his responsibility, and he understood that; the pressure shouldn’t be on Kagome for making conversations flow naturally again. Though, she was perfectly compliant and made it seem so easy. She was obviously better in the socializing department, and her smile worked to soothe his rigidness.

In all honesty, Inuyasha had never been so exhausted in his life. It was the end of the week, and he felt like he’d ran a marathon everyday since Monday. How do people willingly put themselves through this? Clearly, feelings weren’t something a person could control, but he knew of people that actually enjoyed the pursuit of romance, even going so far as to call the endeavor, “exciting.” It wasn’t exciting, and he was insulted that they thought so. It was stressful. So fucking stressful.

Miroku had given some unsolicited advice, and considering his recent luck in the dating department, the hanyou wasn’t very inclined to take any of it to heart. Beyond his measure, some of what his friend had said rooted into his mind. Inuyasha shouldn’t be aiming to go back to the way they were when he had an opportunity to build something better. He has feelings for Kagome. Kagome has feelings for him. Why would he try to go back to a stifled friendship where all he did was pine - resentfully so, since he was attempting to fight off any affection he had for her - and build from there when he now had leverage to progressively work for something better? It made sense. He hated that it made sense, but it made sense. Miroku also suggested the half demon be upfront with his feelings, but he was going to have to pass on that one. He felt, for his own sanity, he had to take things slow. Inuyasha liked the idea of the steady construction of something significant and solid.

If Kagome would ever have him, he wanted to be worthy of her.

But then the whole deserving aspect went out the window when he walked out of the school building to see that stupid ass wolf flirting with Kagome. Again. An undeniable urge to separate them in whatever manner he had to flooded through his veins. Who had the fucking time to wait on personal growth when the persistent fucker was constantly interrupting and getting in his way? Inuyasha gritted his teeth, annoyed as all hell at the relaxed way Koga leaned against a wall, his eyes promiscuously looking over Kagome whenever she wasn’t paying attention.

“Do it, do it, do it, do it.” Miroku mildly chanted from next to him, egging the half demon forward.

Inuyasha had barely picked up Sango’s approaching scent, his attention flickering to her just before she stopped at his opposite side. She didn’t pay him much regard at first, observing the scene ahead of them. Then, her stare bounced to him, a slight slant in her eyes. It was almost like she was testing to see if he’d flinch, her gaze boring into him, through him, her lips giving the smallest downward curve in disapproval.

“We have a math test on Tuesday.” She finally spoke, a smirk growing.

Inuyasha readily took the hint, trudging through the courtyard to make his move.

“Wow. I’m surprised.” Miroku cocked a brow. “You condone him going after Kagome?”

“Kagome can hold her own better than I can, believe it or not. Besides, I’m sick of that longing look he’s had going all week. I wanted to see if he’d do something about it if the opportunity presented itself.”

“Sango, my dear, I couldn’t appreciate you more.”

The half demon refused to lose his momentum. The closer he got to the two, the more empowered he felt to do something to work in his favor. Kagome glanced over at him curiously as he neared, and he intentionally kept his eyes glued to her, blowing the wolf off entirely.

“Hey, what’s up?” She coolly greeted. He loved the pink that faintly brushed over her cheeks just by him coming over, painting her shy and him a likable person. God, above all, he loved the advantage he had over stupid ass Koga.

“You busy tomorrow or Sunday?” He asked, rolling with his sudden bout of confidence.

“Um, no. Neither. Why?”

“Study date.” The word date was intentional, mostly to sit sourly in Koga’s stomach. “Heard you’ve got a test coming up.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” Kagome politely assured, feeling a little timid. “I-I don’t want to take up your day. And, I still have your notes from last time.”

Check and mate.

“You absorb the information better when I’m there with you. Let me help.” Inuyasha grinned crookedly. “I want to.”

“Okay.” She breathed, her smile steadily growing. “When?”

“I’ll text you tonight. We’ll figure it out then.” He responded. As he went to turn away, he spared a look towards Koga, smiling arrogantly as the fucker glared with his light, blue eyes. Inuyasha gave a challenging cock of his brow, sauntering off in Miroku’s direction.

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