#the only love i ever feel is from a psych team and maybe i should just live there and have my meals dictated and autonomy taken away fr | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gukyi · 4 years ago

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love me or we both go down | kth

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

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

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

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

Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The doors open.

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

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

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

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

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

There can be no sneering here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, finally.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the place is nice, right?”

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

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

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

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

“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical.

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

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

“I mean…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s our plan for tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You resist the urge to scoff.

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

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

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

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

“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, a camera flashes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your grandmother.”

Your mouth shuts.

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

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

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

You freeze in your tracks. The will?

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

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

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

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

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

She hangs up.

Well.

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

At least the feeling is mutual.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As in…?” Your interest in piqued.

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

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

“Public only,” Taehyung specifies.

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

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

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

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

Fair enough.

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

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

“Deal.”

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

Like right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, have they, now? Interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you respond.

“You look nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just life.

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

And that makes you happy.

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fall asleep instantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He wasn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests.

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

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

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

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

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

“There,” he says, a moment too late.

“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until—

“Y/N? You still up here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin.

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

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

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

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

“That sounds nice,” you force out.

“Okay. Your usual?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at him skeptically.

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“Maybe a couple of years ago.”

You narrow your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s your husband.

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

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

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

Tomorrow will be better.

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s an art studio.

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

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

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

Who knew he loved it so much?

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

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

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

“Oh, hey,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Maybe because this is the farthest room in the house from the front door,” Taehyung teases lightly, coming up behind you. “I see you found my studio.”

“I know I’m not allowed in here,” you admit.

Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”

“Didn’t we both agree on that?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. I think we just reached an unspoken understanding we wouldn’t invade each other’s personal space. But it was not in the fine print, no.”

“The fine print of what?”

“That deal we made.”

Right. That deal you made, four months ago, That deal, where the two of you agreed to pretend to be in love with each other during public appearances so you wouldn’t get burned at the stake by your families. Where the two of you agreed not to interact with each other otherwise because you hated each other so much.

“Oh, yeah,” you say distantly, feeling naive for already forgetting about it. It doesn’t seem to have slipped Taehyung’s mind whatsoever.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind that you’re up here,” Taehyung says, interrupting that piercing little voice in the back of your head that is asking you why on earth you forgot about that deal in the first place.

“Yeah, I—” You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to find the words to say. “It just smelled like paint, so I wanted to see what you get up too. And it’s this, apparently.” You motion vaguely to the entire room.

“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly.

“I guess I am,” you surmise. “I’m rather impressed, too, actually.”

“Really?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to sound surprised.

“Yeah,” you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. “I—you know, I just came in here because the entire hallway smelled like wet paint and I wanted to know why. But I didn’t know you loved art so much.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Taehyung points out.

You suppose that’s true. You don’t know his favorite color. His favorite song. His favorite book. For a long time, you didn’t know what he got up to on his side of the penthouse. You don’t know how he met his friends. What he studied in university. Who he has loved in the past. Who he loves now. You don’t know why he does the things he does, and why he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t do.

But you do know his Chinese takeout order.

And you do know his hobbies. Well, one of them, at least.

Who’s to say you can’t learn more?

“Well,” you start with a smile. “I’m your wife, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I begin to learn?”

Taehyung picks up what you’re putting down instantly, grinning in response. “Only if you’ll tell me things about you, too,” he requisitions.

“I will,” you promise. It’s the easiest one you’ve ever had to make.

His face is light, bright, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmer as they meet yours, golden flecks more pronounced like this, in this gorgeous, open space, daylight streaming through the windows. Looking at him makes you feel like you are surrounded by warmth, makes you feel like the sun is opening its arms out to you. He has always been gorgeous. Beautiful. But looking at him like this, standing in the middle of a room filled with all the things he loves, a yellow halo surrounding him—he is ethereal.

Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”

The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.

The funny thing is, actually, you don’t need to hold hands at this gathering. It’s not an event. Or a public appearance. It’s not even a business dinner. It’s your aunt’s sixtieth birthday party, reserved exclusively for family. Isn’t that strange? That Taehyung is, technically, family now?

For so long you had vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. Vowed to stick it to him whenever and wherever you could, do anything you could to get on his nerves, rile him up. Vowed that when you, one day, took over your family affairs, you would never, ever invite him. Make it known that he wasn’t to be a part of your life. And yet, here you are. Clinging to him despite being well-acquainted with—loved by, even—every other person in the room. Holding his hand like a goddamn lifeline.

To be fair, Taehyung doesn’t look a hair out of place here. Dressed relatively casually, a smart sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, he smiles warmly at all of your relatives and presents your aunt with a beautiful and very expensive scarf the two of you had commissioned from a designer in Italy, which she absolutely loves. She pinches his cheek and proceeds to wear it for the rest of the night.

“Damn,” you murmur to yourself as you wander around your aunt’s house, hand wrapped around his arm. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”

“When was the last time you were here?” Taehyung asks.

The question actually makes you think for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe five years ago? Last couple of birthdays I was overseas or in school. Had to send her a card.”

“Bet your parents were real pleased with that,” he jokes, making you both laugh. At least you two will always be able to share your experiences of domineering and influential parents with each other.

“Oh, I’m sure. Just as pleased as they were when they realized how much we hated each other.” You expect that little jest to elicit a laugh out of Taehyung as well, but he just smiles tightly, huffing out a breath of acknowledgement.

“Eh, it’s not like that now, is it?” He offers up.

“I suppose not,” you muse, sitting down together on her ancient grandma couch in the living room. No matter how rich your family gets, she’ll never get rid of this thing, that’s for sure.

One thing you’ve picked up over time is that, for every second Taehyung spends basking in the spotlight, he spends an equal amount of time lingering by the wall, watching the rest of the world turn without him. He’s an observer. He is one by nature, feeling an irresistible pull to understand humans in a way only artists could ever do. He sits down next to you and watches your family in an environment where they can relax, where they can feel comfortable and be casual with one another.

Very seldom have you ever brought friends to events like these. Small family affairs. But Taehyung isn’t a friend, is he? No, he’s your husband. He belongs here just as much as you do.

“My family seems to really like you,” you point out. Not that anybody has ever harbored as much disdain for him as you. Your parents called him respectable and polite when they told you you were to be wed. Your grandmother had said he was a dashing young man. He doesn’t exactly have to reach far to be loved around here.

“That’s my job, isn’t it?” He replies snidely.

“Oh, just take the compliment,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Taehyung always has to be so difficult. “I’m surprised you aren’t nervous as hell. Last boyfriend I brought to meet my parents was shaking in his Louis Vuitton shoes.”

“Last boyfriend, huh?” Taehyung’s interest has been sufficiently piqued. “And, uh, how many of those have you had?”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, smile twitching on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Heartbreaker.” Pretty rich of Taehyung to be asking you such a question when he’s probably had more girlfriends than you can count on both hands. “Not as many as you’ve had girlfriends, that’s for sure.”

“Guess I’m a lot different than all those trashy guys you’ve dated, aren’t I?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he looks at you.

“You are?”

Taehyung nods assertively. “Well, yeah. First of all, I’m your husband. Second of all, your parents love me. Third of all, you love me, too.”

You scoff. “Don’t humble yourself. You don’t know me that well.”

“Speaking of which,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as he points to you knowingly, “how about you tell me a little fact about yourself? It’s my job to learn about you, isn’t it?”

“That is my line, watch it,” you sneer, pointing back at him. You wrack your brain for a fact that you can tell him, something more exciting than your favorite color but less weird than one of those terrible icebreaker exercises you had to do in college seminars. Something that has pertinence to who you are. Who you’ve become. “Alright. I used to want to be a fashion designer when I was little.”

Now that catches Taehyung off guard. “Really?” He says, genuinely intrigued.

You shrug. “Yeah. I learned to sew when I was really little. Been tailoring and hemming clothes all my life. But I always wanted to design my own stuff.”

“Is that what’s in your room?” Taehyung asks. “A sewing machine?”

“Bingo.”

“Wow,” Taehyung says. “I didn’t know that.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?” You say, just to be smart.

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling.

“What about you?” You ask. You can’t imagine what he’ll say. Astronaut. Veterinarian. Or, if he really wants to surprise you, a business executive.

“A museum curator.”

It is an answer that simultaneously surprises and doesn’t surprise you at all.

“Fitting,” you muse. “You could have put your own art on display.”

“Pretty sure that’s, like, super unethical,” Taehyung reminds you.

“So? You’re rich. Start your own museum. Put your own art on display. Live your dream,” you amend. “It shouldn’t be holed up in that studio of yours forever. It deserves to be seen.”

Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”

You nod. “Of course. You create beautiful things, Tae.” It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. And that is not lost on Taehyung, either.

“Thank you,” he says softly, blinking as he looks at you. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.

Later that night, when everyone’s gotten a few drinks into their systems and Bruce Springsteen is playing low on the stereo, Taehyung disappears off towards the bathroom, no doubt because of the excellent soup that was served that night. All by your lonesome, you feel a little stranded, surrounded by your old relatives dancing on the hardwood floor of the dining room, your other cousins too young to actually spend time with.

In the commotion, your mother comes up to you, swirling a rather large glass of red wine in her hand.

“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks.

“Bathroom.”

“No wonder you were alone,” she says with a hearty laugh. “The two of you have been glued to each other’s sides all evening.”

“He’s my husband,” you offer as an explanation.

“I know, I know,” she says, shaking you off with a smile. Your mother is a lot more casual once she’s had her fill of wine, no doubt her favorite, Bordeaux. A lot more loving, too. “You really made your grandmother proud, you know? She loved you so much.”

“I know,” you say, trying not to get choked up at the mere mention of your grandmother.

“She was so happy to see you with Taehyung. It made her feel safe that you would be taken care of,” she continues on, barely paying you and your swimming eyes any attention. “She would be so happy to see you with him now, too. How much you love her.”

“I miss her,” you hiccup out, trying to compose yourself. Nothing kills a birthday party like some sad sack crying over her deceased grandmother.

“I know, darling,” your mother says, calling you by a nickname she has hardly used ever since you turned eighteen. She squeezes you tightly, a small hug of comfort. “I miss her, too.”

Someone calls your mother’s name, distracting her as she wanders off to your uncle, who is asking what the best way to cut the three-tiered cake on the dining room table is. She bids you a goodbye before disappearing towards the kitchen, no doubt ready to make the cutting of the cake an affair all on its own.

Taehyung comes back soon after, spotting you instantly as you stand around in the living room.

“Hey,” he says, noticing the wet shimmer of your eyes. “You alright?”

You nod, feeling better already now that he has returned. Now that he is by your side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I hope those tears aren’t because you missed me,” he says, wiping away a stray one that has escaped from your eyes. You close them as his thumb brushes against your upper cheek, your eyelashes, opening them only when you’ve felt his touch vanish from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake.

“No,” you say. But the night makes you honest, and a couple of drinks, even more so. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”

For all those days you have spent together, never have you and Taehyung had a night in. Which isn’t necessarily completely surprising, considering how many evening events the two of you have had obligations to attend, considering your differing work schedules and meeting times. Considering that, for a very long time, the two of you had no desire to spend any time with each other at all.

But tonight, there is nothing on your calendar. No galas, no dinners, no meetings, no schedules. There is only Taehyung, who has spent the entire afternoon up in his studio, inhaling spray paint fumes and doing what he loves. And there is only you, who has spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to do tonight when there is nothing else planned.

You knock on the door to his studio, catching him right as he’s finishing up another piece. This one is a single flower, painted in broad, confident strokes, bright green and red and sunflower yellow decorating the canvas.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, turning around to face you.

“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest.

Taehyung grins.

Thirty minutes and your favorite Chinese food later, you and Taehyung have settled onto the couch, trays of dumplings and noodles and rice in front of you, an unfunny movie playing in the background.

You can’t remember the last time the two of you sat on this couch together. Maybe that night you had made the deal? Perhaps not even then. It wouldn’t at all surprise you if you found out that this was the very first time you and Taehyung have sat together on your couch, in your living room, in your house. So often is it occupied by others—Victoria, who sometimes comes over to ooh and ahh at your closet, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who sit on this couch and play FIFA like it’s their job, your mother, when she wants to make herself at home in a place that doesn’t belong to her—but never you. Never you and him.

“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing a bite of dumpling.

“Chinese food is always nice,” Taehyung responds over a mouthful of cold noodles.

“Not that,” you say with a sigh, “this. Sitting together. Watching this shitty movie.”

“It’s not that shitty,” Taehyung tries to reason. On screen, the main character is getting pied in the face during some weird college fundraiser. “Okay, it’s a little shitty. But it’s good background noise, right?”

You nod halfheartedly. “I guess.” Silence. You take another bite of your dumpling, not really sure how to continue the conversation. “We don’t really get to do this a lot, you know? Sit and eat dinner and watch a movie together. Like a date.”

“We’re on a date now, are we?” Taehyung muses, eyeing you snarkily.

“Isn’t that what this is?” You retort.

He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”

“Tell me another fact about you,” you request, looking over to him where he sits on the opposite side of the couch.

“About what?”

“Anything.”

Taehyung pauses, ponders for a moment. But he could never say anything wrong. Not when there is still so much you don’t know about him. Still so much you want to learn, so much you want to commit to memory. For so long you have stared at the planes of his face, the curve of his nose, the twinkle in those dark brown eyes. Those you will always remember. But what about who he is? What he loves? Those are things you still don’t know.

“The very first time I met you,” Taehyung begins, “I asked Jimin what your name was.”

“When was that?” You ask. Despite you being someone who has spent the better part of the last several years vowing never to give Taehyung the time of day, you sure don’t remember when it all started.

“That debutante ball,” Taehyung remembers fondly, “when we were fifteen. I asked Jimin what your name was because I wanted to ask you to dance.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you say with a scoff.

“It’s true. You were standing there in that poofy white dress and I wanted to ask you to dance,” Taehyung points out. The fact that he even remembers what you were wearing is shocking.

Who knew. Who knew, back then, that you would one day grow up to marry him.

“And what did I say?” You demand more.

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “I came up to you, and I asked you if you wanted to dance, and you said, and I quote, ‘Who are you?’”

“No,” you say, aghast at your own behavior. Were those really the first words you ever said to KIm Taehyung?

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

You think back. Think back to every year you have ever known Taehyung, every year you have spent scowling at him from across ballroom floors, making some snide remark as you pass by each other in the hallway. Every year you have spent cursing his existence, willing him away from you so he could bother someone else. Every year you have listened to rumor after rumor of girlfriend after girlfriend. You think back and somewhere, somewhere in there, in those dusty corners of your brain and cobwebbed boxes of your heart, is that first memory of Taehyung, too.

Of him standing there in some generic black suit, black hair swept over his forehead, shoes too big. Of him coming up to you, trying to be as suave as a fifteen year old could be. Of you saying to him, instead of a hello, or even a what’s your name, “who are you?”

Of him saying—

“And you said, ‘your dream come true’.” Like a dam bursting open, the memories flood back to you all at once. “I remember that.”

Taehyung laughs out loud at the thought of him saying something so cheesy. “Unsurprisingly, you didn’t want to dance with me.”

“You were so—” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Don’t have the words to express how you felt about him that night. Don’t have the words to express how you feel about him now. Thinking about this, talking about it, it is a bridge. A bridge between what was then and what is now. A bridge between who Taehyung was and who you were and who Taehyung is and who you are. “—so unthinkable. I couldn’t believe you had come up to me and said that. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity. But something about that night made me remember you. Made me remember your name.”

“You thought about me after that?” Taehyung asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“There is something about you that is unforgettable,” you say, honest and real and true. What else can you tell him? The truth is that you have always thought about him. Whether you liked him or not.

You finish your dinner and place your trays on the end tables next to you, stacking your empty bowls and plates on top of one another as the movie rumbles on in the background.

“It is kind of a shitty movie,” Taehyung admits after a while of being wholly unenthused.

“Yeah,” you agree. “But it’s good background noise.”

Taehyung laughs at your little mockery, warm and deep and from his belly. You look at him. He feels so far away, on the other side of the couch. Feels like he’s miles apart from you. You have spent countless nights clinging to his harm, hand gripped tight in his. And sitting like this, a full couch cushion of space between the two of you—it isn’t enough anymore. So you inch closer.

And closer.

And a little closer.

Until you’re pressed up against his side, legs touching as they rest neatly in front of you, backs stick straight as you stare at the television.

Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation.

Without asking, you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, in the space right underneath his jaw. You pull your feet up onto the couch and curl into his frame, pressing yourself against him. He is warm and firm and inescapable. He smells of coffee and paint and Chinese spices. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in, as if there were any other place you’d rather be.

You sit like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Lazing around on the couch as the stars twinkle above your head. The movie ends and the two of you don’t even bother skipping the credits, letting them and the cheesy 80’s pop song play on, a distant soundtrack.

“I never thought any of this would happen,” you breathe out.

Taehyung looks down at you curiously. “What? This?”

“All of it,” you admit. “Us. Getting married. That stupid tabloid picture. My grandmother. This. It’s all so new.”

“New things will happen all the time,” Taehyung muses aloud. “We can’t help when things change.”

“You don’t have any regrets?” You have plenty. Regrets that you’ll never become the CEO you wanted to be in college. Regrets that you’ll never become the fashion designer you wanted to be as a little girl. Regrets that you will come to resent this marriage, resent Taehyung more than you have in years past, all because you had no choice. Regrets that your grandmother couldn’t see you now. Regrets that there were so many things in your life you could have changed, but didn’t.

“I thought I did,” Taehyung tells you. “I wanted to spend more time with my friends. I wanted to major in art in college. I didn’t want to marry you. I know you didn’t want to marry me.” He looks down and you look up at the same time, eyes locking, inches apart. “But looking back on it, I’m happy where I am. With what I have.”

“I never thought it could ever be like this,” you say, words falling off your tongue before you even ask them to.

“What?”

“Us.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Taehyung understands. He understands that, half a year ago, you both would have thrown yourselves into a volcano before holding hands with each other. He understands that getting over your hatred for each other seemed like an absolutely insurmountable task. He understands that you had never wanted to marry each other, that you couldn’t believe you would have to spend the rest of your lives with each other.

And he understands that now, things are different.

“I’m glad things happened the way they did,” Taehyung begins. “I’m grateful for us.”

You press yourself impossibly closer to him, feel his grip tighten around you. Like this, you can hear his heartbeat. Hear it thump like a drum, steady and firm and unwavering. His heart beats against his chest and you wonder.

You wonder if he can hear the way yours beats for him, too.

There were lots of things that made your night in together special. But one of them is the glaring fact that you don’t get them very often. That their infrequency makes them all the more valuable.

This has become blatantly obvious to you, because right now you are not spending a night in together. Right now you are stuck at a gala that you have to attend for the sake of business, drinking thin flutes of champagne and mingling with people you barely speak to.

The one good thing about nights like these is that Taehyung looks positively gorgeous in suits. He sort of always has, but you’d never admit that to his face. At least not until now. And as his wife, you are lucky enough to have a front-row seat.

“I can feel you staring at me all the way from over here,” Taehyung deadpans as he helps himself to a chocolate-covered strawberry from the buffet table.

You’re too obvious to have any shame about it. “What can I say, I like the view.”

“Hard to believe I was the once the one being shouted at for being inappropriate in public,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. He bites into the strawberry and eats it all in a single go, tossing the stems into a bin nearby as you join back up in the heart of the crowd.

“It’s only inappropriate if other people hear,” you tease, letting him guide you, hand intertwined with yours, towards an empty corner where the two of you can snuggle up to one another in (relative) peace.

“I don’t think the champagne was very good for your filter, Miss Y/N,” Taehyung hisses into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin.

“Don’t you mean Mrs. Kim?” You pose, an eyebrow raised.

That seems to do something to Taehyung. It’s not very bright in here, with it being nighttime and all, but even still you can see the way his eyes darken. See the way his lips curl upwards, feel the way his grip on you tightens. It sparks something within you. Something deep in the pit of your belly.

Something that makes you want more.

You test the waters. “Mrs. Kim has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tae?”

Taehyung looks about a moment away from losing control. But instead of slamming you against the wall in front of all of these people and giving you what you really want, he growls out, low and powerful, “Home. Now.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice.

You hail your car outside of the venue and it’s all the both of you can do to not jump on each other right then and there, in the backseat of this giant black van, overcome with want, with need, with everything in between. Taehyung’s leg bounces impatiently the entire ride back, and the feeling of your hand pressed against his doesn’t seem to be calming him down. He pulls you close to him in the backseat of the car, a hand resting on your thigh. You eye him carefully, as if challenging him to be any more daring. He grins.

Home cannot come soon enough. The two of you tumble out of the backseat and into the elevators, where you mash the top floor button after entering in the security access code, desperate and shameless. The ride seems to take hours, and the heat that surrounds you practically smothers you, covers you, fills up your lungs and chokes you.

There is nothing left by the time you reach your door. The moment it slams shut behind you Taehyung presses you up against the back of it, pins you against the wood as he hovers over you, eyes tracing your lips.

“Tell me something,” he demands.

“What?”

“A fact. Something I don’t know.”

It doesn’t take much thinking. “I want you,” you breathe out, watch it hit his skin, watch the way his eyes glint in the light of the entranceway. “Please, Tae. I want you.”

It’s enough for him.

This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed. The first time was nearly five months ago, in a chapel, at an altar, surrounded by hundreds of people. It was so unfun that you seem to have eradicated the mere thought from your memory. But you remember that feeling from that day. That feeling you got when you pressed your lips against his, cemented your marriage with a kiss. That heat. That sting.

Kissing him now—that feeling has returned tenfold. When his lips meet yours, it feels like fire is rushing through your veins, setting alight every nerve it passes, unforgiving and relentless. His enormous hands come up to cup your jaw, fingers pressing against the skin of your cheeks as they pull you close to him, keep you trapped in his hold. This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed but it feels like it is—it feels like there is a lotus blooming on a lilypad in your heart, it feels like you have been struck by lightning, it feels like nothing else you have ever felt before. It feels brand new.

Pressing back against him, he slowly releases you from the cage he has created against the door, spinning around so the two of you can tumble up the stairs and into your bedroom, unable to resist sneaking in pecks here and there as you make your way upstairs. Every step you take you stop, giggle as he presses you against the railing just so he can steal another kiss from you, put his hands all over your body. It’s a wonder the two of you even make it into your bedroom at all.

When you do, however, all bets are off. Taehyung presses you against the still-made bedsheets with a glint in his eye and a growl on his lips, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, at your body.

"Aren't you a sight? Laid out so pretty for me," he purrs, robbing a breath from you.

It's a tone you have yet to hear from him. You find yourself growing impossibly hot under his stare, burning with an uncharted desire.

You can hardly wrap your brain around it. Here you are, craving the man you had spent the better half of your young adult life loathing. Maybe it’s the champagne; maybe it’s the way his fingers are running slowly up the length of your clothed torso. Whatever it is, your stomach does flips, unfamiliar to the way your body preens under his touch.

"Don't let it go to your head," you tease, simply because you could.

Taehyung hums disapprovingly, pressing kisses into your neck as he grabs one of your thighs and wraps it around his waist, riding your dress up in the process.

You sigh, exposing your neck further for him as he paints bruises into your neck. It feels like just yesterday you had called him out at the altar for his habit of sporting the very same marks you were soon to wear.

Perhaps you should have thought twice about letting the man you had married purely under business pretenses press his hips against your clothed center, but as he rolls his into yours, your mind falls blank, silencing any and all reservations you should have.

Whimpering, you beckon his mouth back onto yours, tongue meeting his wantonly.

You feel his fingers creep up the outside of your bare thigh, thrilling you in the most primal way. Reaching the band of your underwear after what felt like entirely too long, he runs the pad of his thumb against the lacy fabric.

You could scream. He is doing this on purpose. He must be. Surely he knows how badly you were aching for him? For him to fill you– whatever the manner may be.

You let out a whine before you can help yourself, frowning as Taehyung looks pleased with himself, confirming his knowledge of your prolonged pleasure.

"What's that? Did you say something?" he mocks, looking cruel and yet strikingly gorgeous as he smirks above you.

"God, you're irritating,” you huff, hips jerking up against his as he pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back into the flesh of your hip. "Just fuck me already."

He tuts, clearly unimpressed by your impatience, "Now, where is the fun in that?"

Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers suddenly snake their way between your thighs. Mouth falling ajar, you grip his shoulders as he runs his middle finger against your clothed slit, trailing up and down your warmth. To think he was still dressed while he was touching you like this...

"No... I think I'll take my time with you," he says.

You mew against his hand, arousal forming against his long digits' ministrations. You have to hand it to him. Taehyung knows what he’s doing. The life of a bachelor has seemingly served him well.

You aren’t usually vocal in bed, but the way he’s purring words of filth to you, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he tells you how hot and slick your pretty pussy felt against his hand, has you gasping and sputtering, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.

The fabric of your panties provides a friction that toys the line of pleasure and pain, making you thrust up to meet his motions, your humility slipping from you.

Taehyung watches you intently, cock growing hard under the constraints of his dress pants. You look better than he could've imagined, eyes watering and body shivering under his touch, his fingers soaking with your arousal. He can only imagine what you'd feel like with his fingers fully buried into you, rocking them against your velvety walls.

He lets out a groan of his own, turned on by the idea of you fucking yourself onto his fingers, whimpering out his name in ecstasy.

There’s this part of you that faintly recognizes that Taehyung has done this plenty of times before. Plenty of times with plenty of other lovers. But there is a different part of you, that part that bursts with light and hope, that reminds you that he was never married to those other ones. That his allegiance lies with you. And that thought, knowing that deep within you, he is yours, makes your jaw fall slack, pretty noises tumbling from your lips and your thighs clamping around him.

You were close, closer than you care to admit. Every touch against you is careful yet deliberate as he reads the signs of your body, the way it keens and arches into him, offering you words of encouragement as your climax finally hits.

"That's right. Good girl. Let go for me," Taehyung coos, eyes dark and focused on your writhing form.

You cry out into the familiar space of your shared room, head thrown back as you ride out the high, letting it wrack your body, send jolts throughout your veins.

You barely have time to catch your breath when he presses his mouth back onto yours, kiss still as eager as it was when you both first entered your home. You are alight with satisfaction as he pulls away to press a trail of kisses against your jaw.

"I want—f-fuck," you stutter as he finds your already hypersensitive clit once more, rolling his thumb over your now soaked panties in tantalizing circles, "want to make you feel good, too."

Admittedly, this fantasy had crossed your mind once or twice, brought on by the way he carried himself in a suit and the way his large fingers wrapped around the champagne glass; confident, collected, and entirely charming. Who are you to shy away from a man like him? He certainly has always been rather good-looking.

He pauses his motions, pulling his hand back to sit on your waist. Your dress is of the finest, most delicate satin, and after tonight's activities, completely wrinkled. You can almost hear your stylist's cries of dismay. Whatever. You have a steamer. And why focus on the dress when it’s obvious the two of you are focused on what lies underneath it?

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod, skin still burning from your past climax.

Helping you back up, Taehyung stands. You lick your lips as you sit back up on the edge of the bed, watching intently as he unbuckles his belt, audibly hissing as his pants fall to his ankles, cock visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. Thank God you don’t have to stand. With the way your thighs still felt weak and how your husband looks like a goddamn Adonis towering above you? Your legs surely would give out underneath you if you rose.

Brows furrowed, Taehyung palms over himself briefly before pulling down the waistband of his underwear, his painfully hard member slapping against his torso.

Your eyes widened on instinct. While the last thing you wanted to do was help inflate Taehyung's already large ego, you were certainly impressed at his size; thick and girthy, his tip red and shining with precum.

He couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly pleased by the way you stared at him unabashedly, chest rising and falling heavily.

"Open up for me," he orders.

And who are you to deny a request from your dear husband?

Your pretty lips wrap themselves around his engorged tip, all remnants of lipstick long gone by now. Taehyung hisses, a hand finding the side of your jaw as you run your tongue against the underside of his cock.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts, fighting off the urge to grip the back of your head and fuck your throat. As much as he'd love your have you choking and drooling all over his cock – and boy would he – he lets you set your own pace, not wanting to overwhelm you.

It doesn't take long for you to sink your mouth further down, however, clearly set on making Taehyung feel as good as you could.

A low moan erupts from his throat, digits pressing into your jaw in request to take more of him in, which you happily oblige.

You had your eyes trained on him, completely obsessed with the way he panted through pink lips, hissing slightly every time your tongue rolled over his sensitive tip.

Lolling his head to a side, his eyes meet yours, gaze primal and wolfish as he watches the way you worked his cock.

"Doing so good, love. Doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs.

You hum against his skin at the sound of the sudden pet name, an unfamiliar feeling fluttering in your belly. You push aside the feeling, focusing instead on the way he grunts at the new sensation you had just given him.

Giggling, you pull off his cock, opting instead to press a kiss against his leaking tip, making sure to hold his eyes as you run kitten licks against it.

"God, you're such a tease." He shakes his head in disbelief.

He looks so good above you, shivering and cursing out praises on how good your mouth feels, how well you take his cock. Running your tongue along the length of his shaft, you become certain that this is a display you can’t imagine yourself ever getting tired of. But you have all the time in the world, right?

"Y/N,” he gasps suddenly, hips jerking towards your face. "Love, I'm gonna-- gonna cum."

"Cum in my mouth, please." Your voice was pleading and desperate. Taehyung had never heard such words spoken more sweetly.

"Fuck's sake."

You let out a yelp in surprise as his fingers work their way through your hair, bringing your head back down onto his cock. You relax, though, when you feel the hot ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you do your best to swallow it all down.

Pulling yourself off him, you let out a small cough, eyes watering slightly as you hadn’t managed to prepare yourself with a breath before his release. His large palm runs across the top of your head as you caught your breath, expression flickering with something unfamiliar. Could it be... fondness?

Your heart stammers at the thought as you stand, slowly stepping out of your dress, letting it drape off of your figure. Taehyung looks absolutely gobsmacked, pupils dark as he gazes at you, eyes unabashedly raking your body. He’s shameless.

You both are.

Slowly, you step towards him, fingers reaching out towards his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons as you gaze at each other, expressions unreadable.

"Tae?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him. “Fuck me?"

Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle.

"Please?" You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes blinking up at him adoringly for good measure. You reach the last button, let his dress shirt drape open. He brushes it off himself, stands there for a few seconds just to let the way you’re ogling his toned chest go to his head. At least he’s good-looking.

He sighs, probably contemplating some clever rebuttal, but eventually decides against it as his cock is already twitching back to life.

"Alright, love. Turn around. On your knees for me," He orders, making your stomach flip.

To your surprise, you are hardly in place when the warmth of his large hands finds the soft of your tummy, pressing you back into his chest as he pressed a peck to the back of your neck.

You squirm in his hold, whining as that same hand of his grabs hold of your breast, long digit rolling your nipple between their tips. You can’t help but press your ass back into him. His cock feels hot and heavy, pressing against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench in anticipation.

You want him.

You want him so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself, shuddering as his free hand runs along the side of your ass, leaving scorching hot trails on your skin wherever he kneads into your flesh. He's touching you everywhere – everywhere but where you need him the most, and the arousal that drips down your thigh mocks you.

"Dammit, please!" You exclaim, running out of patience.

"Please what?" He says, an eyebrow arched.

You shiver, committing the way his middle finger traced your pelvic bone to memory forever.

You puff out a frustrated breath, nearly at your wit's end. "Please fuck me, Tae."

Taehyung pauses, grip on your breast and hip tightening as he lets out a moan. You let one out yourself as you feel him readjust, cock pressing against your slick entrance.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name," He grunts. "Okay, baby. I'll fuck you. Begging so nicely for my cock."

You let out a squeak as you're suddenly pushed down onto your hands, back arching as he pushes his fat cock inside your heavenly cunt. He's thick, so thick, that you instinctively grip the sheet underneath you, fingers curled around them tightly as if it means to hold onto your sanity.

Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, angling your hips up so that you could take more of him.

"You feel—feel so good," he admits above you, and suddenly you wish you could see him. See the way his bangs stick to his damp forehead—see the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip wickedly.

You let that thought go, however, as he thrust into you, making your jaw fall slack and eyes flutter shut. Profanities roll off your tongue unabashedly, helpless under the way his thick member pulls out of you, only to slam back into you.

You weren't expecting this. The way he stretches you out further than anyone had before. Your pussy clenches around him, reveling in the sweet, sweet burn.

He digs into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as you mew and cry out, pushing your hips back in time to his, trying your best to meet his movements.

"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"

He was filling you to the brim. Filling you tight and deep.

God, the way he was panting behind you was music to your ears. His cock pulses every time you call out his name, voice muffled and buried as you had your head pressed into the mattress, hair messy and bouncing with every hard thrust.

"S'good! Fuck... so, ah, big..." you cry out.

You feel drunk. Intoxicated off this beautiful man and the way he makes you feel a way only he can.

You nearly let out a sob as the rough pads of Taehyung's fingertips suddenly reach around you and find your neglected clit, rolling light circles on the soft and swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.

You are a mess, whimpering and drooling into your expensive sheets, and he filled every inch of you, leaving no place undiscovered. Your high nears, stewing on low heat somewhere near the pit of your belly, waiting for a chance to erupt and wash all over you. Taehyung must be close to, you realize, as his thrusts began to slow down, slamming into you roughly as if chasing after his high.

"Gonna take this load? Huh? Gonna let me cum inside your pretty little pussy?" His voice is straining, as if trying to breathe evenly but merely moments from falling apart.

If only you could formulate an intelligent response, but instead, you are a blubbering wreck, thighs shaking as they threatened to give out underneath you. But somehow, Taehyung knew. He had you. Quicking his motions against your delicate pearl, he could tell you were close too, and he was going to make sure you got there.

Suddenly, you're crying out and convulsing, tears brimming at the ends of your eyes as you feel Taehyung empty into you, collapsing onto his hands as well.

You feel his hot breath against the back of your neck as he pants, breath growing more and more even as the two of you regain control of your bodies and minds.

Pulling out of you, he plops down beside you, and for a moment, the two of you hold each other's gazes, eyes speaking in ways words never could.

Finally, after what feels both like an eternity and just a moment, you work up the courage to say something, moving closer to him as you place a hand on his chest, cushioning your chin as you rested on top of it.

"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.

"I’m grateful, too."

"Huh?"

"I’m grateful for us, too."

Taehyung's gaze is soft, and it lingers on you for a second before the sides of his mouth curl up tenderly. He grins down at you, eyes drifting shut. You feel him squeeze you closer, pressing you against his skin. And then, you hear his breathing steady, see his lips part slightly.

You lean into his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Thank you, Tae.”

Not unlike the many other mornings you have awoken in this bed, when you open your eyes as the morning sunlight streams through the windows, Taehyung is nowhere to be found. The sheets on his side of the bed are flipped aside, revealing that soft outline of his body from the night before left imprinted into the sheets, a dip in the mattress where he slept. You had fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other, tangled up like vines, but must have separated sometime during the night. Distantly, you register Taehyung’s voice outside, notice his phone missing from his bedside table. He must be on an early morning call.

You check your phone for the time. Ten o’clock.

A late morning call, then.

Still basking in the afterglow of the night prior, you slowly inch your way out of bed, shivering as you pull the covers off you and scoot your legs around so they hang over the edge of the bed. You rub at your eyes until you faintly remember you did not take your makeup off last night, and when your hand comes away covered with black streaks and flecks of mascara, you wince to yourself. There goes five hundred dollars worth of a skincare routine.

After washing yourself up and applying as many serums as you can to your skin, you wrap yourself up in one of his button-up shirts, the torso so wide that it drapes over you. The tips of your fingers peek out from the ends of the sleeves, and you cross your arms lightly over your chest as you make your way to the door, ready to entice your husband back to bed for round two. What? It’s Saturday.

You peer around the door to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, facing away from you. He’s shirtless, and as his wife you have absolutely no problems ogling him, the toned curves of his back, the muscles in his arms. He’s always been a looker. You just finally have an excuse to look for yourself.

You approach him quietly, not wanting to interrupt nor broadcast your sex life to anybody on the other side who may be listening. Already, the idea of crawling back in bed together sends goosebumps along your skin, makes you giddy with anticipation. You’re just about to tap him on the shoulder, lips curled upwards in suggestion, when he says—

“And my inheritance? That’s secured now, right? Because I said I would pretend to be in love with her in public—?”

And it is as if Medusa herself appeared in this room, turning you to stone as your heart thuds to the floor, a hollow, empty noise.

You don’t hear the rest of Taehyung’s conversation. You don’t even hear the sound of your own heartbeat. This terrible, aching sound rings in your ears, silencing everything in its wake, drowning out even the sighs of your own breath. It is as if you have been frozen solid. As if you have been shot in the stomach. You stand there, feeling absolutely nothing, and all you can do is brace yourself for what is to come. Taehyung’s words were the knife but his next actions will be its removal, leaving in its wake an irreparable wound.

He turns around, casual and cool, voice still hushed. As if you were still asleep. As if you hadn’t heard anything at all. But when he twists his body and sees you standing there, staring back up at him, lips parted in shock.

“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever was on the other side of the line, looking more panicked by the second. He opens his mouth so he can explain himself, but you don’t need him to. You’ve heard everything already.

“I should have known,” you say, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at once. “I should have known it was all an act.”

“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”

“What is there to tell me, Taehyung? What are you going to say? That you didn’t mean it? That you thought I wouldn’t find out? That last night was just a one-off?” You demand. The heat from your veins hasn’t left. Still, it simmers through your blood, burning you up from the inside out. “That you didn’t want to lie to me?”

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Taehyung says defensively, brows furrowed. “Just give me a chance to explain myself.”

“Explain yourself? How you pretended, every day and every night, just so you could get some more money in your bank account? So you could make sure you would get your father’s business when he died?”

Taehyung bites back easily. “Don’t act like you weren’t also faking it at some point. I know you were almost removed from your grandmother’s will.”

Your tongue is bitter at the mention of your grandmother. As if Taehyung ever even knew her. “My grandmother has nothing to do with this.”

“Really?” Taehyung challenges. “So you wanting to stay in her will was just a little bonus, right?”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “It’s different.”

“Different how?” Taehyung spits. “Because right now, to me, it looks pretty similar to what I’ve done.”

“My grandmother died months ago,” you remind him. Her will is no longer the question. It has been written, settled, and executed. There was no reason for you to continue playing along once she took her last breath. No reason—unless you wanted to. “Meanwhile you’ve been keeping your inheritance a secret from me this entire time.”

“We made a deal,” Taehyung says. “A deal that said we would both act happy and pretend to be in love because we both had things we needed to worry about. Family things. Money things. You were a part of this, just like I was. You pretended, too.”

“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!”

You can’t take it anymore. All this anger, all this emptiness, it’s been bubbling up inside you ever since you heard those first words come out of his mouth. It spills out of you all at once, an eruption from your lips, your heart’s doors bursting open. You have held his hand tightly in your own. You have pressed your lips to his. You have laid yourself bare in front of him. What is there left to protect? What part of you has not already been stained by him, by his touch, by the feeling of his fingers against your skin?

The hallway is silent, but you can hear your cry echo down the corridor. Hear the way it bounces along the walls before fading away.

“Maybe I stopped pretending,” you repeat, softer this time. You blink and already can feel the streaks along your skin, the tears falling from your eyes. “Did you ever think about that?”

“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Taehyung looks like he’s in disbelief. Like he cannot believe the words you are saying to him.

Well, that makes two of you.

“Can’t you see, Tae? Can’t you tell?” You ask, the nickname falling from your lips before you can even help it. You must remind yourself to change that, later. “I’m in love with you.”

They are words you have never said to someone before. Not even your old boyfriends. Words that you always knew you would reserve for someone special. Someone who would touch your heart and make it their own, someone who would leave imprints of their fingers against your chest. Someone who would brighten you up from the inside out, leave you bursting with light.

Ironic, that Taehyung has become that someone. When he is the one person you never thought could.

When he has proven, time and time again, that you two just cannot mix. Oil and water. Pastel and acrylic. Satin and silk.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you spit out quickly, before Taehyung has a chance to respond. “I know it doesn’t matter to you.”

“Y/N, yes it does,” Taehyung begins, desperate and pleading. “I know you heard what I said, but I swear, it stopped being an act for me, too. Things are different now, just like you said.”

“Don’t. Please.” You pull away as he reaches out towards you. Faintly, you remember that it is his shirt you are wearing. Remember that no matter what you do, he will always surround you. “Please, Tae.” You have nothing left. You can’t bear to look at him, but where else will you go? You cannot believe the things he’s said, the things he’s done, but where else would you go?

“I love you, too,” Taehyung says, and a part of you wants so badly to believe him.

A part of you wants so badly to ingrain those words into your head, carve them into your heart, let him wrap his arms around you and promise that everything will be alright. But things are different now. Just like you said. You and Taehyung are not the same people you were six months ago. Or six weeks ago. Or even six minutes ago. You are helpless and he has proven that he does not care.

“I have to go,” you say, looking away. You don’t think you could handle turning back to him again. “Please, Tae.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, and he reaches out once more but you are not there to meet him halfway. Were you ever?

“I know,” you whisper back.

You duck into your bedroom and pack a suitcase of everything you need. Being here is suffocating. Being with him is like setting yourself alight.

Victoria has no questions when you show up at her door later that day, suitcase by your side and this ridiculous bottle of Merlot in your hands. You had picked it up on the way over. You sort of figured you might need it.

“You don’t wanna talk about it, do you?” Victoria asks.

“Tell me about your streaming service,” you hiccup in response.

Victoria is happy to oblige. She even tells you that she still hasn’t picked a CFO, and that the position would be open for you if you ever wished to take it.

Funnily enough, what will become of you once your father retires and passes along the company is the furthest away from your thoughts.

You remember being so worried about that. Being so worried that, once they married you off like every good daughter should be, you would be absorbed into your husband’s life, cut out of your family’s. Your father would choose a cousin, an uncle, or even a friend to take after the business, bestowing upon you a thoughtful inheritance but nothing more than that. All of those years of schooling, finance in college, your MBA soon after, would be wasted, just so you could hang on the arm of your husband for the rest of your life.

It’s thoughtful of Victoria to think of you for the position. She knows just as well as anyone else that you would be an excellent fit. And if things were just a little bit different, you would be jumping at the offer.

But your future career plans are on the backburner, along with the rest of your life.

All you can really do, right now, at this very moment, is wait for things to change. As they always do.

“Don’t you have an event tonight?” Victoria asks about three days into your stay. She’s given you her favorite (her words, not yours) guest bedroom and an enormous closet to match, despite you only coming over with a carry-on’s worth of clothes.

You scoff to yourself. “Like I’d want to go to anything with him.”

“Have you even called your parents?”

“No,” you say, not even caring about the repercussions. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll be ringing you soon. And when they do, maybe then you’ll finally work up the courage to tell them what really happened. Tell them that you can’t go back there. Not yet, at least.

“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Victoria says as she hands you a bowl of vegetable soup, homemade from a couple of days ago. You nod to yourself, sniffling as you curl into the couch cushions and wish they would absorb you whole.

There’s no need to ask her what she means by ‘this’. Everything. From your engagement to the marriage, from those tabloids to the deal, from your grandmother’s death to now. It has all been unfair. Life is unfair. And while you’ve always known that, it has been particularly cruel to you as of late.

Still, when you wake up sometimes, you can still feel him tracing over your skin. Feel his lips hovering over yours, breath fanning out over your cheeks. You turn over and expect to see him lying there, on the right side of the bed, sheets mussed as they cover his figure. You wake up and for a brief moment, for that split, split second, there is peace. And happiness. And love.

And then there is nothing.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”

Maybe he really does love you. Maybe things really did change. But you have always been a pragmatic person, always let your head guide you rather than your heart. The secret’s out. Taehyung had an inheritance he needed to secure. You were his path to doing so. Those things haven’t changed. No matter if his feelings did.

“Hey, look at this,” Victoria says, brows furrowed as she holds out her phone in front of you, revealing a livestreamed interview from the event tonight.

You peer over.

It’s Taehyung.

Of course it’s Taehyung. Who else would she be showing you?

He stands in a clean-cut gray coat, draping over his figure, black dress shirt and slacks underneath, belt wrapped neatly around his hips. He holds his hand up in a wave and smiles politely to the cameras, to the reporters, letting the flashes wash over him like waves in the ocean.

“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Someone calls. “Where’s your wife?”

Oh, God.

Taehyung grimaces a little, pursing his lips. “My wife won’t be joining me tonight.”

“Can you tell us why?” They shout.

“Sorry, no more questions. Thank you for asking though. She’s well,” he says, quickly ushering himself along, entering the venue so no more reporters can bombard him. When he disappears, the livestream immediately moves on to the next guest, but you hardly pay them any attention.

“Huh,” Victoria says aloud.

Indeed. Taehyung’s response strikes you as rather odd. Why would he tell the public that? Why not make up a lie, say you’re sick, or you’re overseas, or you’re just late? Why simply tell them that you won’t be there? Surely, Taehyung is just as aware of the consequences of arriving at an event without you as you are. There’s no doubt that his parents will be in contact with him soon, too. No doubt that this will leave a stain on his family. His image. It might even threaten his inheritance after all.

So why not lie?

You frown to yourself, nose scrunching up in confusion. You don’t like where this train of thought leads.

“You okay?” Victoria asks when she sees the bewildered expression on your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say. Just completely befuddled. It escapes you, why Taehyung wouldn’t just make up some sort of excuse as to reasoning behind your absence. Why he would even show up at the event at all. Certainly, going to the event without you is worse than not going at all. It prompts questions. It spreads rumors.

Later that night, you get a call from your parents, demanding to know why you weren’t there with him. You say you got sick. You plead with them not to question anything.

You wonder what happens next. You and Taehyung still have two more events this week. A dinner and a ball. What will you do then?

Taehyung goes solo for the dinner. You suppose you could have predicted that, considering his apparent willingness to arrive alone for the first event, too. He hasn’t made any efforts to contact you and for once, you’re glad for his silence. Not that you even know what he would say to you, anyway, but at least he isn’t begging you to come back to him.

The sad truth is that if he did, if he got down on his knees right in front of you and willed you to come back home, you probably would. He has always been impossible to resist. Even when you first met him, when he sauntered up towards you and told you he was your dream come true. You didn’t know it then. But he was. He was everything you would ever want.

Why would he lie?

Why would he do that?

You can’t wrap your head around it. What is he getting out of it by telling the truth? By admitting to the paparazzi, to the reporters and the cameramen, that you won’t be there with him. That you will not be joining him. Nothing, certainly. His parents must be furious. His inheritance may be on the rocks. His image might tank.

So then, why do it at all?

Could it… could it be?

Is it true?

You have loved Taehyung for a long time. Longer than you probably even care to admit. You have always held your head high at events, spoken loudly and without fear, but being with him made you feel safe. Secure. You would hold his hand and know, know that he was holding yours, too. It grounded you. It soothed your worries.

Does he really love you back?

Taehyung smiles politely and laughs when he needs to at these events, but he doesn’t look the same. Even through the screen you can see those bags under his eyes, that spark that has faded. You hardly recognize him. He looks so lonely, without someone by his side. So distant.

When you know the dinner has ended, you almost pick up the phone and call him.

Almost.

Instead, when the ball rolls around, you ask Victoria if she’s got a spare dress she can lend you.

Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen covered in paint splotches, wearing old college hoodies, and fresh out of a restless night’s sleep, cleans up pretty well. For a married man, at least.

You wonder what the past few days must have been like for him. If they have been as empty as your own. Wonder what it was like, riding alone in a big black van to this hotel ballroom, no one to tease, no one to laugh with, no one to hold. No one to poke him awake if he accidentally fell asleep. No one to make sure he’s okay.

Taehyung stands right outside of the entrance, waving politely to all of the paparazzi, smiling as the cameras flash, giving them the time of day for a moment before he heads inside and muscles his way through another event without you.

Or so he thinks.

You spot him just as he opens his mouth, ready to repeat those same lines all over again.

My wife won’t be joining me tonight. She’s well, though.

And maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Maybe it’s just because he is about to lie to those reporters once more, ready to face whatever consequences come his way.

Or maybe it’s just because you miss him. Miss him terribly, have been missing him terribly. Being away from him was necessary, but that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Not getting to hold his hand, see his smile, meet his eyes. You and Taehyung may not have always liked each other, but you saw him every day regardless. He became a constant in your life. Not an if, but a when. If everything went to shit, you always knew he would still be there.

And there he is.

“Wait! Taehyung!”

Taehyung’s eyes widen as he hears your voice, gaze darting around wildly, mouth parted in surprise. He looks around desperately, scanning the crowd, meeting the eyes of every single person in front of him until he finally looks to the left, sees you rushing up towards him, hiking up the skirt of your dress as your heels tap against the sidewalk.

And when he spots you, sees you running up to him, his body relaxes, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he beams back at you, relieved and thankful and filled with joy, all at once. And you know, then.

You know that everything will be okay.

“Sorry I’m late,” you say sheepishly, cheeks burning as he looks at you, takes in every inch of you, breathes you in and lets you fill him up.

Taehyung doesn’t respond. You reach out to hold his hand but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, presses you against his body as he presses his hands against your cheeks, palms burning as they meet your skin, and he kisses you. In front of all these people, he kisses you.

And goddamnit, you will kiss him back.

It feels like lightning, like a thunderstorm, like the waves of the ocean are crashing against your heart. It feels like fire, like flames are licking at your veins, sending sparks through your blood. It feels like home.

You and Taehyung ignore the shouts of reporters, the flashes of cameras, the honks of the cars on the other side of the road. When you part, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the tip of your nose meet his. And you smile.

“Don’t be alone any longer, Mr. Kim,” you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear.

“When I’m with you, I never am, Mrs. Kim,” he murmurs back.

You wonder what those tabloids will be saying about you tomorrow.

The rest of the night finds the two of you pretty much inseparable. You wrap yourself around his arm and for the first time in a long time, he presses his hand against the small of your back, keeping you close. Like he’d ever lose you again.

One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny.

But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now.

The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along.

“I missed this,” you say softly.

“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”

“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn.

“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”

“They always do,” you muse with a grin.

“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”

“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin.

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”

You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too.

“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”

“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”

“I am, too,” you say. And you are.

You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become.

Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay.

It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress.

There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.

The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.

Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.

Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?

It makes it all worth it.

"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.

You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

Taehyung swallows.

"Do you?" You tease.

His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you.

Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.

"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.

You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow.

"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too.

"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.

"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.

"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."

"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.

You giggle.

It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed.

"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."

“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure.

"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."

God, you love this man.

You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display.

"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.

Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.

"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.

Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.

"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.

Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?

Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.

"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.

"Yes, please."

The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.

Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.

You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.

"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.

It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.

You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.

Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.

He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.

"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.

His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.

His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.

“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.

Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.

“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman

Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.

“Taehyung?”

You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.

Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.

“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.

You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love.

“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.

He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.

Faintly, you realize.

That was the first time you had ever told him that.

You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells.

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.

Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.

It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.

You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.

Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.

You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know.

Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.

Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.

“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time.

“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart.

Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”

“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”

“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”

“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says.

“And you are mine,” you murmur.

As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball.

“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small.

He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”

And so it was.

don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!

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hotch-stufff · 3 years ago

Note

hiii 47 and 7 for angst hotch

i love ur writing btw <3

Drunk

gif by hoe-tchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings!: mentions of abuse, stalking, and death, past abusive relationships, normal criminal minds things, angst, crying, pining, but a fluffy ending

Promtps: Angst #7 "Are you drunk?", Angst #47 "You flinched"

Author's Note: Thank you so much <3, hope you enjoy reading!!

---------------

In hindsight, it probably wasn’ the best idea to get drunk at a bar. Especially alone. But you weren’t exactly thinking straight when you had stepped off the jet after a long case. And it had been a LONG case. Nearly a week of going through the same evidence over and over again scouring for a lead. Finally finding a lead, and coming to a dead end.

The eventual lead that you did catch, led to the unsub already standing over her next victim’s body. At least you got a full confession. But you had been the one that had found the unsub. If that wasn’t enough, this case had already been hitting way too close to home.

A woman was murdering victims of domestic abuse to “save them” because her mom was never “saved” from her father’s abuse. She had grown up watching it. Her victims had all had y/h/c hair, with y/e/c eyes. The same height as you, same style, just overall very similar. The only difference the team saw had been that you were never abused. At least that was what your file had said.

You had been able to keep it on the low for as long as you had been at the BAU. But you were terrified one of them would figure it out. That you would flinch at the wrong time, or you would do something to give it away.

You had gotten lucky and no one seemed suspicious. You ended up hiding in the back of the jet, curled up. No one bothered you. They all assumed that the case had just hit you harder. The one thing you hadn’t known though was that Hotch had been keeping a very close eye on you.

You two had become close, and would often hang out at each other's apartments. Spending tjme just talking about nothing and everything for hours. He had quickly become one of your best friends. You always went to him when you were upset.

But tonight, you just needed to get away.

Which is how you found yourself in this bar, downing your fifth drink. In the back of your mind, you knew that you wouldn't be able to drive home, or even walk without tripping over your own feet. You needed to call someone, and your drunk self called Hotch. While the phone rang you checked the time. 3 am. He was going to kill you.

“Hotchner.” You giggled drunkenly at his formal response.

“Why so serious bossman?” He recognized your voice immediately.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

“M’great. Havin a blast.” You slurred.

“Are you drunk?” He asked and you giggled again.

“Mayyybe.” You slurred, concerning Hotch even more.

"Where are you?”

“Mabel's I think. But let me tell you. I think you need to come get me because there is no way m’drivin home.” He huffed as you heard noise coming from the phone.

“I'm on my way, stay there!” But you hung up. You were so excited to see him. Truth was you had definitely developed a crush for the man. Telling him that was going to be difficult, mainly because of your past, but also because he was your boss, and about 12 years older than you.

You waited for about 10 minutes before you heard the door ring as it opened and Hotch ran inside, frantically searching around. He found you and was quickly at your side.

“Y/n, are you okay?” You nodded sleepily. You always did get sleepy after your sixth drink. He gave you a concerned glance before reaching for your arm. You flinched slightly, but Hotch didn’t say anything about it. He picked you up because there was no way that you could walk, and carried you out to his car.

“You’re staying with me tonight.” He had said once on the road. You lazily watched out the window as buildings went by.

“M’kay.” You mumbled. Hotch sent you another concerned glance. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite figure out what. Usually when a case hit you hard, you would spend the night talking with him. He had been surprised when you hadn't shown up at his apartment. Even more shocked when you had called him drunk. He cared about you and it hurt him to see you like this.

Soon he found himself pulling into his driveway. He parked and quickly ran to your side of the car to help you out. He opened your door, and reached his hand over to unbuckle you when suddenly you shifted back. Your arms came up as if to block a blow and a whimper escaped your lips.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise!” You let out, sounding much more sober now. Hotch stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to do.

“Y/n, it’s me, can you hear me, its Aaron?” You moved your arms from your face, peeking out wide eyed. You pulled your arms the rest of the way down.

“Sorry Hotch. That was just, um, that w-was-” But he cut you off.

“You flinched.” He paused looking at the tears in your eyes, realizing that he needed to get you inside before you broke down in the car. “C’mon, let's go inside.” You bowed your head and nodded.

“Okay.” You said softly. He helped you out of his car slowly, and walked you up to his apartment. Once there, you plopped on his couch, sobering up for the conversation you knew was going to happen. He walked in the room, a glass of water in hand. He handed it to you, sitting next to you. he waited a few moments before beginning the inevitable conversation.

“Y/n, why did you flinch?” He asked hesitantly. He didn't want to push you, but he was concerned and he wanted to know. So you told him. Every detail, every heartbreaking moment. The bruises, the scars, the hospital trips. Everything. The reports, the disbelief, the arrest, the divorce. Then the even worse parts. The escape, the stalking, the attack, the death. Every little thing. You could feel the tears falling down your face as you spoke about your ex-husband.

Hotch sat as he watched the beautiful woman sitting in front of him break down. He didn't know any of this, none of it was in your file. He knew that Strauss had to know though, because you never would have been accepted without background checks and psych evals.

His heart broke a little more every time you shared another detail. On one side it felt so nice to get it off your chest. On the other hand, it was weird opening up to Hotch like this. He was seeing so much more of you than you had ever allowed anyone since your husband. He sat in silence once you finished speaking.

“Y/n. I'm so sorry. You never should have had to go through that.” And the tears came even faster, until they were silent sobs. Hotch, well he was more Aaron in that moment, brought you into his arms holding you tight, bringing you a comfort you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Shh, shh. It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay to cry.”He silently whispered into your hair. You looked up at him then, sighing softly at the beautiful man before you.

“Thank you Aaron.” He loved the way his name sounded coming from your lips. But before he could tell you, he looked down to find you asleep in his arms. And that's how he stayed until morning.

* * *

The next morning you awoke to a strange bed, with strange sheets, in a strange room. But one sniff and all you could smell was Hotch’s cologne. You soon recognized that there was a warm body behind your own, an arm wrapped around your middle.

You almost didn't remember what happened last night, but once you did, you began to panic. What if he hated you? What if he was disgusted by you? He probably had just pitied you.

He must have felt you shift, because he was waking up. His arm tightened around you, and he leaned up looking you in the eyes. He saw your panic and was alert rather quickly for someone who had just woken up.

“What’s wrong?” He asked quickly, eyes scanning you frantically.

“You must be disgusted with me.” You paused taking a deep breath. “I'm sorry Hotch. I ruined your night and then cried all over you with my pathetic life story. And you probably just pitied me. I'm sorry.” He shook his head.

“Y/n, look at me.” You looked into his eyes. “I am and never will be disgusted by you. I am amazed by you. You are so strong and beautiful and you never deserved a thing that disgusting man did to you. I don’t pity you, not at all. All of this has just made me fall more in love with you than I already was.” You looked at him wide eyed.

“You love me?” He leaned a little closer.

“Of course I do. It's impossible not to.” You dared closer still as he moved a piece of hair from your face. The loving gesture warming your heart.

“Thank you. For everything. I love you too Aaron.” And he sealed your lips. It was intimate and explosive at the same time. And in the most cliche way, fireworks exploded as you kissed him.

You moved together passionately. Your noses bumped ever so slightly as he kissed you deeper than you had ever been kissed. He was an amazing kisser, to say the least. He broke away a moment later, smiling down at you.

“Give me a chance to show you what real love is, what it's supposed to be.” You nodded.

“Of course Aaron.” And you kissed him again, sliding your hands around his neck into his hair. It was the happiest you had been in a very long time.

So in hindsight, maybe getting drunk wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

---------------

Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If i don't get to yours, I'm sorry!! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#aaron hotchner x reader #imagine #angst #fluff #hotch x reader #reader insert #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner imagine

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citrusfield · 1 year ago

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“i hope so. you should sleep for however long you need to, it’s okay if you can’t make it in time for lunch. i’d rather you took care of yourself first and if that means staying in bed for half the day, that’s perfectly fine with me.” they usually use the last hour or so at the office to transfer their notes from that day onto their computer, to track patient progress and figure out the best path forward for each individual, but really, that’s something that can be done at any time. knowing that carter is at home, they would happily leave a little early if it meant they could spend a few more hours with him unimpeded. “you know, i think that just proves that your stubbornness almost rivals mine, doesn't it? everyone can see that you deserve a break except for yourself.” only he would run himself into the ground and still insist on pushing through, going against the advice of his own chief for the sake of everybody else. “that’s okay, love. whenever you can find the time for me, i’ll take it. i know things were rough for everyone today and i wouldn’t expect you to leave when other people need you. but when they’re finally willing to let you go for a little while… i’ll be here.” it would feel awfully selfish for ella to demand so much from him when his team has just gone through something so traumatising and taxing on the psyche. she needs him in her life, possibly more than she’s ever needed anyone before, but so do they. as much as she misses him, she would never guilt him into leaving now. “i won’t lie and pretend that it’s always easy to let you go because it’s definitely not, but… like i said, as long as you’re mine, i’ll wait for you however long i have to. i don’t want to lose you either, carter. you’re too important to me. i couldn’t imagine my life without you in it.” if they could find a way to protect him from all the threats he has to face out there, they would never let him leave their home without being enveloped in bubble wrap first. it’s beyond terrifying to remember just how easily he could be taken from them. “oh, i don’t think she’ll mind... despite what she might say, you know she loves you really. it’s very difficult not to.” of course she’s slightly biased in this situation, but she sticks by what she said regardless. it’s a wonder how nobody else had the same determination to work their way into his life the way she had, refusing to take no for an answer because they knew he was worth all the effort in the world. “i know it’s difficult for you both, but i think all we can do now is make sure to support ishara and be there if she ever needs help with this whole thing. as awful as it is, the baby is at least in the care of professionals we can trust right now. that's a small comfort. then after that… i don’t know. sadly, there still isn’t very much any of us could do in our positions. i mean, it’s not like we can… foster the child ourselves.” maybe if ella had chosen an easier career path — one that didn’t require so much of her time and dedication — she would’ve considered the possibility of fostering at some point in the future. though she’d been one of the lucky ones and had only been in the system for a few years before making it out, she knows how difficult it can be for so many and if she could protect even one child from that experience, she absolutely would. it just… doesn’t seem very feasible. cooking this late at night with carter’s arms wrapped around their waist may be unconventional, but they wouldn’t have it any other way, savouring the closeness even if it does make their task a little trickier. “yeah? i better be,” she teases as she watches the eggs begin to fluff up in the pan. “you might’ve broken my heart if you said otherwise and i don't think you want tears in your dinner.”

Carter knew that he could not conceal his fatigue from Ella, but that did not mean that he would be willing to give up these little moments they got to share either. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to apologize for keeping me up. God knows that I've kept you up for more nights. Don't worry about me, baby. I'll get a good night's sleep. Knowing me, I'll be completely knocked out until noon that I wouldn't even notice you being up." He pointed out, another soft chuckle bubbling out of him. Carter had never been the heaviest of sleepers by any means. After a night like this one, however, he was certain that he would be able to sleep through just about anything, given the exhaustion that he had felt - both physically, and emotionally. But for now, he was going to enjoy being taken care of by such a doting partner. He knew how lucky he was. "Then why don't I get started on that when I go back to work? I'll have to get the Chief to approve my vacation, which shouldn't be so hard... considering that she's been telling me to take a break for so long. I'll have to get one of the Lieutenants to be fill-in as Captain while I'm gone, which is the one thing that might take some more time. I'd say we could wait until Lola's out of the hospital, because I can't leave anytime soon. The morale's not that great right now. But I'm sure they'll understand when I tell them. Today was so hard that no one would blame me for wanting to spend some time with you." Truth be told, the entire firehouse had been insisting that he take some time off for months now. While he could not get himself to leave right now, when they needed him the most, he knew that he could rely on his Lieutenants to hold down the fort for a few weeks while he was gone. "Well, I'm definitely the only one who can view your stubbornness as a good thing, considering the fact that I've benefitted so much from it." He remarked, another soft chuckle escaping his lips before he shook his head. "You're the most patient, understanding, wonderful partner anyone could ever have. You're so good to me, Ella. I don't want to lose any of this." He admitted. "So, instead of sitting around, and feeling guilty about all of the things I couldn't do in the past, I'm going to show you... I'm going to use my time wisely from now on." It was a promise that Carter should have made a whole lot sooner, but it was better late than never. "You know what? I think I can do that. As long as she doesn't mind having my company while you're working, of course. Knowing her, she'll probably get sick of me by the end of the day." Or she would see him as a kindred spirit, considering that he had been the one to find that baby. Perhaps she would find it in herself to lean on him, which Carter wouldn't mind all that much. Anything for his loved ones. "I wish there was another way to go about this. I wouldn't say that I'm particularly a big fan of the existing protocol, even though I have no choice but to follow it. I know that my job is done when I bring that baby into the hospital, and have them take it from there. But knowing what that kid might go through, having been through it... it's never easy. You know how it is. It takes one foster kid to know one. But you still have to do your job." Regardless of their respective professions, it cannot be denied that they all had some sort of personal connection as to why they had chosen that path for themselves, which was why they all leaned on each other. "Oh yes, I do know that." He remarked once he returned their kiss. "You're my favourite person ever." With his arms still wrapped around her waist, he watched as she turned her attention to the eggs once, and planted a soft kiss on the top of their head, wishing that he could stay like this forever.

#script / ella hastings.#threads / ella & carter.#hcrdknocklife

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gentrychild · 4 years ago

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Do you have any advice for writing a fight scene that was also present in canon?

I really love your take on the Midoriya vs. Todoroki fight in Anyone and how you managed to use the expectations set by canon and twist and use them to your advantage!

I have trouble writing the fight from the first hero training inside my fic (I swapped Ochako with Shinsou to spice it up a bit more and for changed friendship dynamics). I know the direction I want it to go and I know how I want it to end but for the life of me I don't know how to make it interesting... every time I sit down and write it I think it's boring writing it. And if I think it's boring while I am writing it I don't even want to imagine how boring it is to read.

🙏

Okay, first rule about rewriting a fight that was already in canon: if you're not changing anything and if you're not interesting in writing it just for writing it, just skip them.

Instead of writing ten pages you're simply not vibing with, a "X was still thinking about Y and Z fight. The way X had just hit Z with that fire extinguisher had been a sight to behold. [Insert how he feels for one or the two participants". He breathed in, then out. It was now time to focus." will be much simpler for everyone involved.

Only writing the consequences is also a valid approach.

That way, you and your readers directly get to the juicy part.

But that's if you're not interested in writing the fight in itself. If you really want to write a fight scene, think about two things: 1. What changed in your AU and how does that affect the characters? What's the differences? 2. Who needs to win?

Once you know that, you can focus on the fight. Do you want a character to almost lose but to win because they simply refuse to stay down? Do you want them to win because they are smarter? Do you want they to win because they are an enraged gremlin that has no chill?

I have four tricks when it comes to writing fight scenes.

1. Focus on emotions.

People are made of different motivations. Why do they need to win? Do they respect their opponent? Do they hate them? Do they look for their respect? Are they friends?

For example: Bakugou and Iida vs Midoriya and Uraraka

Bakugou doesn't respect anyone and is focused on Deku. He wants to prove that he doesn't belong in UA and he wants to know what Deku really thinks of him (since he thought he had lied about not having a quirk and he is completely unhinged at the time because nothing makes sense.)

Izuku wants to prove that he belongs in UA, wants to stop being afraid of Kacchan, and wants him to know that he isn't his punching ball anymore.

Ochako wants to win with Midoriya but she doesn't have an emotional stake in this.

Tenya wants to win but also shows that he understands all the rules of the exercise (since he failed to notice that there were rescue points in the entrance exam), hence why he is completely in character as a villain. He also has to win despite Bakugou.

2. Remember that the reader doesn't live in your head

I won't ask you to keep things simple when you write a fight scene but please, always keep in mind that your reader has to understand what is going on. They have to follow what you're saying, and preferably, they don't have to hurt their brains while doing so.

So, if you reread an action and have to pause to remember what it was about, rewrite it.

3. POV switches, my beloved

That's a me thing. Maybe it won't agree with you. But oh boy, I do love my POV switches. That way, you can surprise the reader since A doesn't know what B is about to do. You can also explore the psyche of both characters in the same fight.

Another thing that is fun to do is the Outsider POV. You're writing about the Sport Festival, an event that is on TV and that your readers are already familiar with. Introducing some novelty by having outsiders react to the fight will bring some spice and is good for your story.

For example: Bakugou vs Uraraka in the Sport Festival.

Tomura noticing that Bakugou has a powerful quirk, real instinct when it comes to fighting, and how the public is quick to turn on him because he isn't winning like a hero should, even though winning is the whole point of the fight. Society is hypocritical! He is ostracized because of his quirk! It might be fun to recruit him!

Other example in the first Hero lesson this time: All Might, a new teacher, noticing what the students lacks and what their strengths are.

4. Write what you would have wanted to see in the fight

We're fanfic writers! Being self indulgent is the whole point!

For the First Hero Lesson, I always have Izuku dominating the fight by being OP.

I could also have him winning by booby trapping the entire building and playing Katsuki like a fiddle.

For the Sport Festival, Todoroki vs Midoriya, I focus more on Todoroki actually harming himself (not to Izuku's extent but he flirts with hypothermia to prove a point) and I researched the side effects of hypothermia to show how he kept weakening himself, and I focus on Izuku being angry because he, a boy defined by his past powerlessness, is fighting someone extremely powerful who is limiting himself, which is simply disrespectful.

For the Sport Festival again, if I ever write Bakugou vs Uraraka, I would love to use Uraraka trash talking Bakugou to get inside his head.

So, to conclude this, things about what interests you in a Shinsou and Midoriya team up, then work from that.

Good luck.

#writing advice

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atlafan · 4 years ago

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The Tutor - One Shot

a/n: based off this ask! I’m real happy with this one y’all. I’m happy to present tutor!Harry x hockey player!y/n, a nice little college au. Friends to lovers if you wanna categorize it. Enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are always super helpful. (semi-proofread, sorry in advance for any mistakes)

Warnings: fluff and smut, partying, alcohol consumption

Words: 24.5K

Part Two Part Three

“This psychology professor is out to fucking get me!” Y/N groans as she plops down on her couch. “I don’t understand the books we’re reading, and he doesn’t even lecture from the powerpoints so I never have any idea what to write down.”

“Y/N, who the fuck told you to take a psych class anyways?” Amanda says to her.

“I thought it would be an easy gen ed for my science requirement. I didn’t want to take a fucking lab science, that would have been worse!”

“It’s only the beginning of the semester.” Gina says. “You should sign up for a tutor now before it gets so bad that coach benches you.”

“Goddammit!” She yells as she gets up. “I’m headed to the tutoring office, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Why there wasn’t an online form for tutoring she’ll never know. Y/N couldn’t risk getting a bad grade in her psych class. Hockey was her life, and she was a sophomore now so that meant she had more of a chance for playing time. Not to mention she worked her ass off over the summer, and her coach has been noticing her improvements at the few practices they’ve had.

She enters the tutoring office and the woman at the front desk gives her a form to fill out. She has to put down the class, who’s teaching it, and what she’s specifically having trouble with.

“Thanks, Y/N.” The woman smiles brightly. “We’ll email a student that received a B+ or better in this class, and then they’ll email you to coordinate a time to meet. You can meet in here, or the library, or wherever works best for you.”

“Okay, thank you.” She sighs and leaves to go back to her student apartment.

She felt lucky not to be in a dorm this year, but Y/N couldn’t wait to get an off campus apartment with the other hockey girls next year. For now, the on campus apartment will do. Her and her friends change to go to the gym, make dinner together when they get back, and head to the library to do their homework. This was another thing that Y/N liked about being on the hockey team, no one was ever left behind.

From: Harry Styles

To: Y/F/N Y/L/N

Subject: Tutoring

Hello Y/N,

My name’s Harry, the tutoring office sent me an email saying you needed help with Mind, Brain, and Evolution. That’s definitely a tricky class! I’m more than happy to help, I managed to get an A- in that class somehow. When works best for you? I’ll do my best to work around your schedule.

Best,

Harry

Harry Styles

Sociology Major/Applied Ethics Minor

Student Senate

Y/N rubs her eyes to check the time the email came through. 6:30AM. Who the fuck wakes up that early to send an email, and what normal student had an email signature? She rolls her eyes when she sees he’s on student senate. Curiosity gets the better of her, so she looks him up on Instagram. His account was private so she heads over to Facebook. She could only see his profile picture. It looked like it was from over the summer. He has a huge smile on his face, sunglasses on, a white t-shirt and short, yellow swim trunks. He was holding up a fish he caught.

“God help me.” She groans.

To: Harry Styles

From: Y/F/N Y/L/N

Subject: Re: Tutoring

Hey Harry,

I’d like to start ASAP. I’m on the hockey team, so I have ice times early in the morning, and evening work outs. I’m usually free from 2-4PM most days. We could meet at the library at 2 today if that works for you. Also, just feel free to text me, I’m not always great with email, tbh. xxx-xxx-xxxx

Thanks!

Y/N

Y/N stretches and gets out of bed. Her, Amanda, and Gina all head down to the ice arena for their early ice time. Once that’s done the three shower up, and head back to campus for their first class. Luckily, they were all business majors, so they were able to sign up for a lot of the same classes.

“Hey, did your tutor reach out to you yet?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah, it’s Harry Styles. He emailed me super early this morning, like right when I woke up for practice basically. He’s on student senate, so I’m not surprised.”

“Well, at least he reached out already.” Gina says.

The three sit down, and Y/N checks her phone before throwing it in her bag

Unknown Number, maybe Harry Styles: Hey Y/N! It’s Harry. I got your email, so I wanted to text you like you asked. 2PM works great for me today. Wanna meet in the café first and then we can find a spot?

Y/N: hey, yeah, sounds good, see you then!

The day goes by mostly normal. Y/N gets through her couple of classes, has a large lunch with the team, takes a quick power nap, and heads to the library café to meet Harry. She could certainly use an afternoon pick me up to get through the tutoring before her evening workout.

When she walks into the café she smirks to herself seeing Harry already there. He was wearing a pair of khakis and a blue t-shirt. His hair was a little longer than in his profile picture, Y/N could really make out his soft curls. He was wearing a pair of glasses and looking down at his phone.

“Um, Harry?” She walks over to him and he looks up. He gives her a warm smile. She takes a moment to notice he has a number of tattoos on his left arm. Much more prominent now than in the one photo she was able to view.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“Great to meet you. Your first coffee’s on me, what can I get you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that?”

“I insist.”

“If anyone should be buying coffee it’s me. You’re gonna have your work cut out for you with me.” She sighs.

“Nonsense, I think it’s great you reached out for help. Now tell me, what’s your drink?”

Y/N tells Harry she’ll have an iced coffee and he nods. He gets them both an iced coffee, and he gives her a moment to add her cream and sugar.

“You seriously drink that black?”

“Yeah, it’s how I have it at home, I’m just used to it.” He shrugs.

Right, he was an international student from England. She follows him into the main area of the library and they find a table to set up at.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“Be my guest.” She says flatly.

As he sits down she’s able to get a whiff of his cologne, and it actually smelled good. Like vanilla, but spicy? She now sort of wished she wasn’t in her workout clothes, and dressed a little nicer.

“So, what’s your major?” He asks as he pulls his laptop out.

“Business…I saw that yours is Sociology?”

“Mhm.” He smiles and opens his computer.

“What is Applied Ethics?”

“Oh! Glad to know you actually read all the way to the bottom.” He chuckles. “It’s just ethics, but with practical ways to apply it. I just picked it up this year so I’m taking a class called Creative Problem Solving in Ethics, and then I can take classes about business ethics or medical ethics or whatever else. I like it a lot.”

“What made you want to add that?”

“A lot of the classes double count in my major so I just figured why not?” He shrugs. “Enough about me. Why business?”

“My mom owns her own business and I’m hoping to take it over when I’m older.”

“What type of business is it?”

“It’s just bar.” She shrugs. “But she’s owned since I was a kid, and we want it to be a family business. I have a couple of younger siblings in high school and they feel the same way. I work there on breaks.”

“You’re allowed to work in a bar?”

“You can be eighteen to serve alcohol. I’ve only got another year and a half to go until I’m twenty-one anyways.”

“You’re a sophomore?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, me too.” He smiles. “And you said you’re on the hockey team?”

“Yup.” She squints at him. “You’re on student senate, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What is with you guys always going to the men’s hockey games? You guys never come to ours. It’s a little annoying, to be honest. I noticed it last year.”

“Well, to be fair, I never go to hockey games, I don’t really care for the sport.” He runs a hand through his hair as her mouth forms into a straight line. “But I can certainly talk to the group to see if they’d be willing to go to your games too. Everyone deserves spectators.”

“Do you like any sports?”

“I don’t mind soccer…but other than that, not really. Oh! I love the Packers, but I only watch their games.”

“You seem to be a fit guy, so you must do something to stay in shape.”

“I run on the treadmill at the gym.” He blushes slightly. “And then I’ll lift a few weights, nothing crazy. Do you, uh, have your books with you? We should probably get started.”

“And here I was thinking I could distract you with small talk.”

Y/N takes her books out and sets up her own laptop. She explains that everything just feels confusing, and that it’s difficult to follow along in class. Harry listens and tries to give her some tips on how to deal with the professor. He takes out his old notes, and she sees the units are the exact same. He explains what he found helpful to remember for the tests.

“Now, I can’t just give you these, but we can use them to help you study. He may have updated the tests since I took them, but we can use my answers to give you an idea of what he’s looking for.”

“How were you able to do so well?”

“I have to take a couple of psychology classes for my major, so I took this as a gen ed. I already knew a ton of stuff about the brain, and the rest wasn’t too difficult, but I know psych isn’t for everyone, so I hope you don’t feel…stupid or anything because you’re not.”

“How do you know?” She smirks. “I could be a real buffoon.”

“To make it through this school’s business program I’m pretty sure you need a brain.” He nudges her. He checks his watch and sees it’s ten of four. “Wow, I can’t believe we used up the two hours.”

“Sorry.” She mumbles as she packs up.

“No! It’s great, actually. I get paid by the hour so it’s no skin off my nose. When do you want to get together again?”

“Maybe we could do this on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

“Works for me, I’ll put you in my calendar so it’s a standing thing. I can send you the calendar invite too.”

“You’re very…professional, Harry.”

“Thanks.” He smiles and stands up.

She didn’t exactly mean it as a compliment, but she wasn’t going to correct him. They walk out of the library together and then go their separate ways. Harry was nice enough, and he was a decent tutor so far, so it wouldn’t be totally painful to meet up with him. It just annoyed Y/N that a fucking gen ed was stressing her out so much.

A couple of weeks go by, and Harry puts in the hours with Y/N. She had her first big test coming up, and her first home game. Harry was a great study partner, he really helped put her at ease.

“You’re going to do great, I can feel it.”

“Thanks.”

“So…your first home game, are you excited?”

“I’m super excited! I’m starting this season. I just hope we have some people in the stands to cheer.”

Harry hums his response and nods.

“Well, I hope it’s a good game.”

The next day, Y/N takes her test, and she was surprised to see that she actually knew her stuff. For once she left the classroom feeling good. This helped pump her up for her game. When the team leaves the locker room they’re all stunned to see the arena packed. It was never like this for their games. Y/N looks around and sees all of the kids from student senate, including Harry, cheering for them. The arena was full of their school colors and signs. It was quite a sight to see.

Needless to say, the girls won. With all that support and cheering, who wouldn’t be able to play their best? The older girls on the team say there’s going to be a victory party at their apartment tonight. Y/N couldn’t wait. She changes quickly in the locker room, and heads up to campus with Amanda and Gina to get ready.

“I love when Ashley hosts parties, she invites the hottest girls.” Amanda says.

“Oh, is someone hoping to get lucky tonight?” Y/N teases her.

“Don’t I deserve it? I did score a goal.”

“You sure did, with help from me.” Y/N grins.

“Alright, so then maybe you deserve to get some head then.”

Y/N and Gina burst out laughing.

“Right, because guys are just dying to get on their knees for me.” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh! You should invite Harry out. He must have had something to do with why so many people were there, right?”

“I have no idea. I only mentioned once that it annoyed me, but now that I think about it some girls from the soccer team said they had a lot people at their home game the other day.”

“Same with the field hockey girls.” Gina says. “I hope some of them come out tonight. There’s this one girl, Leigh, oh my god I wanna wife her up.”

Y/N laughs and shakes her head. She puts on a black, short pencil skirt and pairs it with a black lacey crop top. She straightens her hair and does her makeup. Amanda and Gina make noises and tell her how sexy she looks. They do a couple of shots, and then make their way to Ashley’s. Once all of the hickey girls are there, they cheer and do shots together.

The apartment was getting more and more packed. Y/N notices the senior class president talking with Ashley, and it made her wonder if anyone else from senate was there. She ends up slamming into something hard. When she looks up she sees Harry in front of her. Although, he looks much different. No glasses, an almost see through white t-shirt so the tattoos on his chest and stomach were more visible, and black jeans with some tan boots.

“Hey, Y/N! That was a great game!”

“Thanks! I was surprised to see you there!”

“We…! Hold on!.” He grips her wrist and tugs her into the kitchen where it was slightly less loud. “Jesus, could barely hear myself think.” He chuckles. “Anyways, yeah, you sort of inspired me to start an initiative.” She watches him grab two red cups and go into Ashley’s freezer. “Want some vodka? We brought our own.”

“As long as there’s something to mix it with…”

“Cranberry juice?”

“Works for me.”

She watches him carefully as he makes the drinks, and hands her a cup. They clink them together and they both take a sip.

“Tell me about this initiative.”

“Well, I sort of felt bad when you said no one ever comes to your games, and it made me think of the other women’s teams. The senior class president is a girl so I brought it up to her first, and she told me it would be a great idea to try and get other clubs to come cheer on the teams. It took a lot of planning in a short amount of time. We definitely had the largest turnout at your game, I think it’s because you can actually sit down and get snacks.” He takes another sip of his drink. “Were you surprised?”

“Very, that was really nice of you.”

“And we’re going to keep doing it too. Definitely wasn’t a one time thing. I actually enjoyed watching you. Um, all of you.”

“Right.” She smiles as she takes a sip. “Can I ask…how did you get an invite here?”

“Kelly made it happen. She spoke to your captain…uh, Ashley? She sort of filled her in and asked if we could pack the arena if senate could come to the party.” He looks out to the living room full of people. “Are there usually this many girls? I’m not complaining, I just figured the hockey guys would be here.”

“They usually show up later, a lot of them end up in the basement where the beer pong and dancing is. There’s a lot of girls here because more than half the team are into girls.” She laughs and takes another sip. “Damn, you really know how to mix a drink, this is good.”

“Thanks.” He takes another sip of his own. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Into girls.”

“Not in that way, no. Although, sometimes I wish I was.”

“Why’s that?” They’re closer to the wall near the doorframe, and Harry places one of his hands on the wall so he can stand a little closer to her. People were walking by them so it’s not like they were the only people in the kitchen.

“Because guys always assume I’m a lesbian or something because I play hockey, so they don’t even bother looking at me.”

“That’s too bad.” He looks her up and down. “You’re quite a sight to see, and I don’t just mean because you’re all dressed up tonight.”

Y/N blushes slightly. She was suddenly painfully aware of how close Harry was to her. Was he flirting? Making a move? Did she want him to? Was he just drunk? Was she drunk?

“You…you look nice tonight too.” She tugs on the hem of his shirt. “You have a lot of tattoos.”

“Does it surprise you?”

“A little. I’m even surprised to see you out like this.”

“Just because I take school seriously doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun.” His lips curl up as the song changes. “Do you wanna go downstairs and dance?”

“Yeah.” She smiles.

She leads him down the stairs to the stuffy basement where a ton of sweaty people were dancing and playing pong. Whoever had the aux tonight was a genius, playing bop after bop after bop. Traphouse was just starting to play. Y/N was hoping for less of a slow grind to start off with for her and Harry, but oh well. She downs the rest of her drink and tosses the cup somewhere. Harry’s eyebrows raise, but he does the same. If she didn’t care, why should he?

Harry easily was a foot taller than her, especially with him wearing his boots. His hands find her hips and hers hook around his neck. He steps to put his leg between hers so she could grind on his thigh. He clearly knew what he was doing, and she was sort of impressed. Even though he was right there in front of her, it was still hard to think of Harry as someone who partied.

She presses her head into his chest as they get going, and his head dips down to rest against hers. Getting to smell his cologne this close was making her feel even more intoxicated then she was. The song fades into Shake It by Metro Station and they both start giggling. Y/N steps away and starts singing the lyrics and so does Harry, not that they could hear each other. They dance like idiots and laugh a lot. That songs fades into Acquainted by The Weeknd. Y/N turns around and grabs Harry’s hands to put on her hips. He presses his pelvis to her ass, bending slightly at the knees so they were lined up. She moves her hips in perfect rhythm to the song and he follows right along with her. He feels himself growing tighter in his jeans, but he doesn’t do anything to suppress it, and she doesn’t mind one bit. If anything, it makes her press back harder on him. That song was just too powerful. Her head rolls back to chest as they continue to grind, and he hides his face in her neck. In a moment of bravery he starts kissing on her. One of her hands hooks around him so she can tug at his hair. He bites down and a slight moan leaves her lips. He pops off her and she turns around to face him. She presses her body close to his and keeps her arms around his neck. His hands are low on her back, just above her bum. He looks down at her and she leans up further so their lips can touch.

He tastes like the vodka cranberry that he was drinking earlier as she licks at his bottom lip. He opens up for her and she licks into his mouth. His tongue meets hers and he pulls her as close to him as he can. Things were getting heated quickly, especially as they continued to grind on each other. When the song ends they stop to look at each other. He leans down to her ear.

“Do you wanna go back to my place?”

“Yes.” She nods and he smiles.

He takes her hand in his and they both go upstairs. Y/N finds Gina and Amanda to let them know she was going over to Harry’s. Now, not that Y/N was living a lie, but she was definitely still a virgin. She had made out with plenty of guys, but that’s all. Her friends knew this so they both ask to make sure she was certain she wanted to go back with him. She assured them that she did. As they leave, Harry puts his arm around her shoulders, and she puts hers around his waist.

“I don’t live too far from here.”

“You’re off campus?”

“Mhm.”

“How?”

“I live with some of the other international students. Some of them are older, it just worked out.”

“Must be nice, I can’t wait to get off campus next year.”

“The privacy is definitely nice.” He says as he pulls her closer.

They walk up the steps to his apartment and he keys in. He pulls her up a set of stairs and down a hall that leads to his room, and he unlocks that door as well. Just as she thought, his room was neat and tidy. Even his bed was made. It was a decent sized bed too, a full, way better than her extra-long twin.

“Wanna listen to some music? I have, like, every record you could think of.” He walks over to his record player and she crosses her arms.

“Of course you have a record player?” She rolls her eyes.

“What? The sound quality is better.” He side eyes her. “Come here, come pick out what you want to listen to, I’m gonna grab us some water.”

“Okay.”

He slips out of the door and she hears him do down the stairs. She flips through the various records, rolling her eyes once in a while, and then she settles on Marvin Gaye.

“Subtle.” He smirks as he comes in with two glasses of water.

“What? I didn’t like anything else.” She takes a glass from him and takes a decent sip.

“Sure.” He chuckles and sets his glass down on his desk, she moves to do the same.

One of his hands finds her hip, and the other cups her jaw. He leans in to kiss her and it was like they never parted in the first place. She tugs him back towards his bed and they both fall onto it. She gets herself back so her head is on his pillows. He kicks his boots off, (her flats fell off when she got on the bed), and he hovers over her. His lips find her collar bone and he starts to suck on her skin. She gasps but lets him continue. He plants wet kisses around her upper chest and throat. Her hands were running through his hair. What’s Going On was playing in the background, and Harry’s hands were running up her thighs.

Her legs are parted, and Harry grinds himself against her. She pulls his face to hers so they can kiss. She didn’t know how many roommates he had so she didn’t want anyone to hear her moan out. He sucks on her bottom lip as his bulge continues to press against hers. How was he so good at this? How much action did he get? He was a sophomore like her, but how old was he actually?

“How, how old are you?”

“What?” He laughs.

“How old are you?” She repeats.

“I’ll be twenty in February, why?”

“Just wondering…um, you said some of your roommates are older so…”

“Y/N, I promise if I were a lot older, I wouldn’t be trying to fuck some nineteen year old.” He smirks. “You are nineteen, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiles.

A wave of relief covers her body as he starts to kiss on her neck again. She couldn’t believe the guy that’s been tutoring her was doing this to her. She could feel how wet she was getting. He groans into her neck as he grinds into her again. She feels his hands go up under her pencil skirt and grab onto her panties.

“Harry, wait!” She gasps. “Don’t!”

He lets go immediately and sits back on his calves so he can look at her. She closes her legs and sits up against the wall.

“Sorry, was I moving too fast?”

“No, it’s just…I thought I was ready for this, but I don’t think I am.”

“Oh…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Well, that’s okay. We don’t need to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“Are you sure? You’re not mad?” She chews on her bottom lip. He was probably hoping to get laid tonight and she just ruined that for him.

“Mad?! I’d be pissed if we did something you didn’t feel comfortable with. I’m not mad, Y/N. It’s really no problem. Do you want me to take you home?”

“No, I wanna keep making out.” She mumbles and it makes him smile. “I like the way you kiss.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He sits next to her and pats his thighs. She swings her leg over so she can straddle him. She pecks at his lips as her hands tug at his shirt.

“I wouldn’t mind if your shirt came off either…if you wanted.”

“Sure.” He stretches to get it off and he tosses it aside.

She runs her hands up and down his torso, tracing his tattoos, as his hands clasp around her back. She presses her lips to his neck and he sighs. She sucks on the spot just below his ear and he pulls her closer. He presses his hips up to hers so their grinding against each other again. She kisses along his jaw until her lips are on his again. He sucks on her tongue and it makes her moan against him. She tugs at his hair again and he has all he can do to not lose it in his pants. She was rubbing herself on his bulge in just the right way, she could feel the knot in her stomach growing more and more.

“Oh god.” She grunts and hides her face in his neck.

“Almost there?” His hands move to her hips to help her move on him.

“Y, yeah, I think so.” She was panting. “Shit, H, Harry.”

“Don’t fight it, it’s alright.” He grunts as he presses her down as close as possible on him.

She cries out into his neck and she slows her own movements as she works through it. She twitches on top of him during her aftershocks and then she just clings to him. He rubs her back to soothe her. He wasn’t sure if someone else had ever given her an orgasm before so he didn’t want her to feel freaked out or anything.

“Kiss me.” He whispers.

She presses her swollen lips to his and she whimpers. He was incredibly hard and he needed to go relieve himself before he got blue balls.

“Y/N?” He says against her lips.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I just go use the bathroom quickly? And then I’ll come right back to you.”

“Okay.” He gently lifts her off of him and her eyes grow wide when she sees his bulge. She was also slightly embarrassed because even though he was wearing black jeans, she could see where her wetness got onto him. “You can wear this if you want…” He rifles through his drawers for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

“Oh, um, thank you.”

“Be back in a sec.”

He quickly leaves the room and she changes into his clothes. She really needed to pee herself, but she didn’t want to walk around his apartment alone. She patiently waits for him, scrolling on her phone, and he returns. There was a new sheen of sweat on his chest, and his bulge was gone. He goes into his drawer for a new pair of boxers.

“Would you care if I just stay in these? It’s a little hot in here.”

“Yeah, I don’t care. Um, would it be weird if I asked you to walk me to the bathroom?”

“Not at all! Come on, love.”

She smiles at the pet name. He used it a couple of times when he was tutoring her, but now it felt especially good. Harry thought she was cute. His big bad hockey player had gotten all soft around him. He walks her down to the bathroom and he changes in the hallway quickly, feeling relief from his clean pair of boxers. He also couldn’t help but smirk to himself thinking of how large his clothes were on her. Y/N uses the toilet and then uses some of the mouthwash on the sink before opening the door.

“All set?” Harry whispers.

“Mhm.”

She tries not to stare at his almost naked body as they walk back to his room. He flips the light off as she crawls into bed, and he grabs his laptop. She watches as he opens up Disney Plus.

“I’ve been watching Hannah Montana, do you feel like watching that?”

“Are you serious?” She laughs.

“Yeah! I’m fucking sick of people making references and me having zero idea what they’re talking about. Her songs are all over tik tok and I never understand.”

“Well, lucky for you I love this show, so I’d be happy to watch.”

“Good.” He smiles and hits play. He sets the laptop up at the end of the bed, and throws an arm around her. He strokes her arm lightly with his fingers that she noticed he painted black tonight.

“So…that wasn’t weird?”

“What?” He asks without looking at her.

“Um…me…doing that on you?”

“You mean when you came from grinding on me? No, it wasn’t weird.” He smirks and looks down at her. “It was pretty hot actually.”

“Did you…take care of yourself?”

“Yeah, is that weird?”

“No.” He kisses the top of her head. “You’re okay that I didn’t offer?”

“You pretty clearly said you weren’t ready to do that, so it’s fine.”

“I’ve never, um, taken my pants off for someone before…my top either.” She blushes. The alcohol in her system was making her a little too honest.

Harry sighs and reaches forward to pause the show. He sits back and looks at her.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. Whether you’ve had sex before or not, you didn’t want to tonight and that’s okay. I should have asked first before grabbing at you like that, so I apologize.”

“No! No, it was okay, I just got nervous. I thought…I mean…when we were at the party I really thought I wanted to, I don’t know what happened. It got real all of a sudden and I panicked.”

“I like you, Y/N, I don’t mind waiting.”

“What do you mean you like me?”

“I mean I’ve had a fucking crush on you since the first time I tutored you. I didn’t know if you’d feel the same way, so I just kept it to myself.”

“Oh.” A boy had never liked Y/N like this before. Sure, she had found random drunk guys to make out with at parties before, but a boy had never openly said they liked her. “This is all so surprising, I’m a little overwhelmed.” She looks up at him and kisses his cheek. “But…I really liked what we did tonight, so maybe when I’m more sober we could talk about these feelings of yours more?”

“I’d like that.” He smiles and pecks her lips.

“Hit play, this is a good episode. She thinks her dad wrote a song about a bunny that stole his money.”

“Do hijinks ensue?”

“Oh, yes, many.”

“Fantastic.”

He leans forward to hit play, and she cuddles up with him.

The next morning, Y/N wakes up with Harry’s arms wrapped around her. It was early. She squints and sees his clock says 7:15. Her head and stomach didn’t feel great, but she easily could have felt worse so she wasn’t complaining. She adjusts against him and turns over to lay on her back. His hand moves to the side of her neck, and he gives her cheek a few smooches, making her giggle.

“Morning.” His morning voice ripples through her. Harry was sexy, it was official.

“Morning.” She whispers.

“Wanna go to the dining hall for breakfast?”

“Could I stop by my apartment first?”

“Sure.” He gets out of bed and looks for something in his dresser. “Here.” He tosses her some sweatpants. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower.”

When he comes back she’s wearing her crop top paired with his sweats. She put his other clothes in his hamper. His towel was hanging low on his hips. He grabs some clothes and changes in his closet. He comes back out in a hoodie and joggers. He cleans his glasses and puts them on.

“You won’t be cold?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine.”

They leave his place and walk to hers. Campus was always interesting this time of morning. There were other people walking back to their dorms and apartments. Y/N felt lucky she wasn’t walking alone.

“This is me.”

“Oh cool, you have student app. I’ve been to a couple of these, they’re nice.”

“Yeah, I have my own room, it’s just annoying that we still have to follow all the rules.” She unlocks the door and he stands outside with his hands in his pockets. “You can come in if you want? You can come up and wait in my room.”

“Alright.”

They both go in and head up the stairs. She was thankful her room was mostly clean, but her bed certainly wasn’t made. She grabs another shirt to change into and tells Harry she’s just gonna be in the bathroom. He sits on her bed and looks around her room. All of her hockey gear was piled up in a corner, she had posters of different teams she liked, and she had a poster of Dylan O’Brien from when he was on Teen Wolf.

She comes back shortly in a sports bra and his sweats, and her hair up in a messy bun. She throws on a hoodie of her own, and smiles at him.

“Okay, I’m all set.”

“Great, I’m starved. Definitely need a coffee too.”

“Oh, for sure.”

Just as she opens the door to go outside, she sees Amanda.

“Wait, I thought you stayed at his place.” She says.

“I did, we just came back here so I could change.”

“Those aren’t your pants.” She smirks. “Hi, Harry.” She teases.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Amanda.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Where’s Gina?” Y/N asks.

“Passed out in her bed, I think. I made sure she got home before hooking up with this girl from the soccer team. My god, Y/N, she-“ Amanda stops herself. “I’ll tell you later, I need to shower. Where are you headed?”

“Dhall.”

“Okay, see you later.”

Y/N smiles and shakes her head at her friend. Her and Harry walk to the dining hall and swipe in. They decide on where to sit before going up to grab food.

“So, what other Disney shows are you going to catch up on?” She asks as she sips on her coffee once they’re at their table.

“I think That’s So Raven is up next.”

“Oh, excellent choice.” She smiles. He rests his elbow on the table, chin in his palm. He can’t stop smiling at her. “What?” She asks, shoveling eggs into her mouth.

“Nothing, I just think you’re cute.”

Y/N nearly chokes on her food, and takes a large sip of her iced coffee. He gives her a concerned look as she calms down.

“Oh, yeah, you have a thing for me.” She blushes. “Still need to get used to that.”

“The real question is, do you have a thing for me? I mean, you must a little bit with how you were kissing me last night.” He gives her a coy look before biting into his toast.

“You’re…I mean, yeah, I have a thing for you. I like you, I like when we get together for tutoring. I even started looking forward to it.”

“How’d your test go yesterday, by the way?”

“I think it went really well…he said we should have our grades Monday.” Harry hums his response. “You’ll still tutor me, right?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know…I just feel like I made things weird…”

“Would you stop with that? I had plenty of fun last night, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then.” He shrugs. “I really don’t care that I didn’t get my dick wet, Y/N. I care more about you being comfortable.”

“But you could have taken someone else home and-“

“I didn’t want to take anyone else home. Just wanted you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.”

“But…why?”

“Well, for starters, since we met you’ve just been utterly yourself. You’re not afraid to say what’s what. I like when people speak their minds. I’ve tutored a lot of athletes, and I’ve never seen one work as hard as you. Usually they want me to do everything for them, and I don’t because I can’t be there to take the fucking test for them, but you genuinely wanted to understand the material.”

“I just always look like such a schlub when we meet, though.”

“See, what you call schlubby, I call sporty. You usually go to the gym after our meetings, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. I like all people, but I’ve never really been attracted to frillier girls. I like when girls don’t feel the need to impress others all the time. You’re just comfortable, and I like that.”

“I dress up for class sometimes, I just-“

“You don’t need to justify anything, Y/N. I mean, you looked insanely hot last night, but even if you had shown up to that party in sweats, I still would have wanted you to come home with me.”

“So…you wanna, like, date me? Is that it?”

“Date, hang out, whatever.” He shrugs. “I’m not picky about labels.”

“And you’re not talking to anyone else?”

“I haven’t had the time. I’ve been tutoring this really needy girl that has to see me twice a fucking week.” He smirks at her and she nudges him.

“I may be small, but I could beat the shit out of you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, babe.” He winks and takes a sip of his coffee. “I have some stuff I have to do today, I like to get my homework done on Saturdays, but are you free tonight?”

“Yeah, we have the weekend off since we won. I don’t think the girls are doing anything, if they are I could always skip out, why?”

“My roommates and I are having a movie night if you’d like to come over.”

“I wouldn’t be crashing?”

“Not at all. They bring dates all the time.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds nice.”

“I can come get you too so you don’t have to walk alone.”

“What movie?”

“We haven’t decided yet. Nothing scary, I can tell you that.”

“Works for me.”

“Spill it, bitch, let’s go.” Gina says as she pins Y/N down on the floor of the living room.

“You guys are annoying.” Y/N giggles from Gina tickling her. “Okay, okay!”

Gina gets off her and helps her up. She gets on the couch and lays her head in Amanda’s lap. Amanda strokes her hair and she sighs.

“We went back to his place, we made out, and then I got nervous so I didn’t take my clothes off, but we ended up dry humping, and things didn’t stay dry very long.”

“Oh my god, did he jizz in his pants?” Gina asks.

“No, but I did. I can tell he’s big, and we were grinding really hard on each other and I came.”

“Oh my god!” Amanda squeals. “What did he do?”

“He took care of himself in the bathroom, and gave me some clothes to wear. We ended up falling asleep watching Hannah Montana. God, and he likes me, like he really likes me, and I think I like him too. He invited me over for a movie night with his roommates later.”

“You know what was a good sign? The fact that he wanted to get breakfast with you, and walked you to and from the dining hall. That’s a man right there.” Amanda says.

“No, what makes him a man is that when Y/N said stop he stopped.” Gina remarks. “I like him already.”

“He was seriously so chill about it, I was honestly shocked. I appreciated it, but I wasn’t expecting him to be so okay with me not wanting to go further.”

“That’s the shitty thing about college. Good people are a dime a dozen.” Amanda says

Y/N straightens her hair and puts a little makeup on. She settles on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt with the school’s logo on it. She takes a shot with the girls just to take the edge off, and hears a knock at the door. She grabs her jean jacket and opens the door.

“Hi, Harry.” She beams.

“Hey, love, how was your day?”

“Good.” She giggles and leans up to kiss his cheek, taking him a bit by surprise.

“Now, young man…” Amanda says, walking over with Gina. “What time can we expect our girl home?”

“Who said she’s not spending the night again?” He raises an eyebrow at them. “Quite liked waking up next to you.”

“Oh my god.” Y/N says, clearly flustered. “I’ll text in the group chat so you know what I’m doing, bye!” She pulls Harry out the door. “Don’t add fuel to their fire.” She nudges him.

“I was just being honest.” He throws his arm around her. “I hope you’ll stay again, but if you don’t want to I’ll bring you home, no big deal.”

Instead of going right up the stairs when they get to Harry’s place, he leads her down the corridor, passing by the kitchen and a hall bath, and into the large living room. There was a giant sectional sofa and even more giant TV across from it. There were a couple of guys sitting down already.

“Oi, there you are.”

“I said I was stepping out to get my girl, didn’t I?” He rolls his eyes. “Y/N, this is Louis and Niall.”

“Hi.” She says, trying not to melt into a puddle from being called his girl.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get some popcorn made. Do you want a beer or anything?”

“Beer’s fine, thank you.”

She sits down on the edge of the sofa and leans against the arm rest.

“You’re on the hockey team, right?” Niall asks.

“Mhm…you look familiar, are you on the soccer team?”

“We both are.” Louis says.

“Oh, cool. Is it just the three of you here?”

“No, we have two other roommates, but they practically live at their girlfriend’s places.” Niall explains. “We have some other friends coming soon, though, it’s good for you to claim your spot now.”

“Yeah, some of the other senate kids usually join us.” Louis says. “So you’re the girl Harry’s been tutoring, huh? He won’t shut up about you, it’s pretty cute.”

“Oi! Don’t embarrass me or I’m not sharing the popcorn.” Harry says, tossing them each a beer, and handing Y/N one. He sits down next to her with the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

A few of the student senate kids show up and Harry ends up pulling Y/N into his lap to make room on the couch. She didn’t mind one bit. They had settled on Napoleon Dynamite for a movie, which was perfect. There was one girl, though, that had sat right next to Harry, and she had sort of been flirting with him. Take the hint, I’m in his lap, not you, Y/N thought to herself. Harry notices Y/N finish her second beer.

“Want another?”

“I can get it.”

“You’re my guest.” He kisses her cheek and lifts her up so he can get up.

“How long have you known Harry for?” The girl asks.

“Um…like a month? What about you?”

“We met last year.” She flips her hair.

“Here we are, a fresh beer.” He hands one to Y/N and tosses a couple out to his friends. He lifts Y/N up and plops her back in his lap, making her giggle.

Everyone was having a good time, laughing at the hilarious movie. The lights had been dimmed when the movie started, so Harry was able to discretely kiss on Y/N’s neck once in a while. When the movie ends, Louis and Niall let Harry know there’s a party at the soccer house and he can swing by if he wants, and out the door they go. That leaves Harry and Y/N with the senate kids. They get into a game of Cards Against Humanity, which ends up being pretty fun. It was starting to get late, though, and it was clear that Harry wanted to be alone with Y/N.

“One more round.” The girl says.

“Nah, come on, Ari, we should go.” A boy, Billy, says.

“Yeah.” Another boy, Andrew, agrees. “I’m beat, and we need to walk you home.” They both stand up, and he extends a hand to her. She groans, but stands.

Harry walks them all to the door and says goodnight. He walks back over to Y/N who was cleaning up the living room.

“You don’t have to do that, I can clean up, love.”

“It’s okay, it’s just a few cans.”

“Follow me, we have a recycling in the kitchen.”

She follows him in and he opens the door for the pantry where the kept a bucket for empty cans.

“That girl has a crush on you, yeah?”

“Who? Ari?! No way.”

“Come on, Harry.” She scoffs. “If I wasn’t sitting on top of you I’d say she was.”

“Aw, it’s cute your jealous.” He wraps his arms around her waist.

“I’m not, I’m just saying.” She wraps her arms around his neck. “I picked up on the vibe.”

“Well, even if she did it doesn’t matter because I don’t like her like that. I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“I should fucking hope so.” He chuckles. “Wanna come up to my room?”

“Yeah.”

He pecks her lips and then leads her up the stairs. He flops onto his bed and she crawls on top of him. His hands find her hips and she rids him of his glasses, gently putting them on one of his pillows. She leans down so their chests are pressed to each other and they start kissing. One of his hands moves to the back of her head so he can tug at her hair.

“Can I…touch your butt?” Y/N laughs against him and nods yes. His hand slides further south and he squeezes her right cheek. “You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?”

She sucks on his bottom lip as her answer and he pushes his hips up to hers. They grind against each other just as they did the night before. Both of his hands knead her cheeks as her hand slide up under his shirt. They were both starting to sweat. She sits up on him and lifts her shirt off. His eyes grow wide as he sees her breasts practically spilling out of her bra.

“It’s hot.” She whines and tugs at the hem of his shirt. He sits up so she can pull it off him.

“Let me turn the fan on, yeah?”

She nods and lets him get up to turn his fan on. He snatches his glasses and puts them in their case on his desk, and then he gets back on the bed, sitting up against the wall, and she crawls back into his lap. He kisses on her necks and down her chest, biting on the fleshy parts of the tops of her breasts. She tugs at his hair and rolls her hips down on him.

“You…you can take it off if you want.”

“Are you sure? Is that what you want?” He looks up at her. “Last night…”

“I was really drunk, I have more of my wits about me now. I’m okay if my bra comes off.”

“Okay, but if you wanna cover back up just let me know.”

“I will.”

He reaches around and gets her bra unhooked in a couple of swift movements. He tugs it down her shoulders and tosses it to the floor. He gazes at her bare chest and licks his lips. His large hands cup both of them and he kneads them at first, just getting a feel. His thumbs rub circles into her nipples, getting them nice and hard. He kisses down her chest again, and just uses his tongue to lick and swirl around her nipple. Who was he? Y/N’s head was swimming. She thought Harry was just a stuffy, studious college kid, but fuck, he was almost…devious. He blows on her now wet nipple before wrapping his lips around it to suck on.

“Oh!” She gasps and presses his head closer to her. She grits her teeth and closes her eyes, loving the new sensation he was bringing her. He pops off and does the same to the other one.

“So,” He says, kissing his way back to her neck. “No one’s ever had the privilege of seeing you like this?”

“No.” She swallows.

“I feel really lucky then.” He nips at her bottom lip. “You like the way it felt?”

“Mhm.” She nods. “Felt really good.”

“Good. I always wanna make you feel good.”

He puts his face between her breasts and press them around his cheeks, making her giggle. He mumbles something.

“What?” She laughs and he looks up at her.

“Just feels so nice, they’re so big.”

“Sometimes I have to wear two sports bras so I’m not bouncing around on the ice.”

“I bet.” He starts kneading them again.

“I feel like I just wanna do everything with you.” She says as she rolls her hips on him again.

“God, I feel the same way, but only when you really feel ready, Y/N.”

“I know, you just make me feel so comfortable.”

“Have you…I mean you said you’d never taken your pants off for someone before, but have you ever seen someone else?”

“Um, no…”

“So you’ve never gotten a guy off before.” He doesn’t ask, he’s more so confirming.

“Right.”

“Okay.” He smiles and kisses her. “Think we should cool it for the night then before I get a little too excited.”

“Oh, alright.” She was hoping to maybe come again. He lifts her up and sets her down. She crosses her arms over herself as he gets up, he looks over his shoulder at her.

“No need to cover up, babe, I’m just changing outta these pants.”

“I just feel a little exposed right now.”

“Want one of my shirts?”

“Yes, please.”

He tosses her a t-shirt and she puts it on. He strips down to his boxers and gets back on the bed. He furrows his brows at her leggings.

“You’re not gonna sleep in those, are you?”

“Well…I’m only wearing a thong underneath, so I’m not sure what else to do…”

“Christ.” He blushes and gets up, searching for a clean pair of boxers. “You can wear these if you want.”

“I feel like I’m going to own all of your clothes at some point.”

“I like the way they look on you, so I don’t mind.”

She stands up and turns around to change while he lays on the bed. He wants to respect her privacy, but he’s nineteen, so he sneaks a peak. She climbs onto the bed with him and snuggles up. He falls asleep before her, and she can’t help feeling restless.

“Harry.” She sits up nudges his shoulder. “Harry, are you awake?”

“I can be.” He says softly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…I just…um, would you…take care of me?”

“Y/N…” He sits up and caresses her cheek.

“It’s so hard just laying here next to you, I want you to touch me or something. You made me feel so good last night, and you got me all riled up before.”

“Left you hanging?”

“Yeah.” She pouts.

“What do you want me to do specifically? I only wanna do something you wanna do.”

“I don’t want to have sex, but I do want these boxers to come off, and I think I want your head between my legs…if you’re up for it, that is.”

“Oh, babe.” He smirks. “I’m more than up for it. Just tell me to stop if you get nervous.”

“I will.”

He shifts to get between her legs, and he tugs on the boxers, slowly sliding them down her legs. Once they’re gone he gently opens her legs up for him. She was shaking slightly.

“Hey, hey.” He leans up to kiss her. “You’re alright, yeah? Do you not want to do this?”

“No, I do, please it’s okay. I really wanna feel you on me.”

“Okay.”

He gets back between her legs. It was dark, so it was a little hard to see, but it wasn’t rocket science, so Harry licks up from her center to her clit. She gasps, and he does this a few times.

“Doing alright?”

“Yeah, keep going.” She bites her bottom lip.

He licks and sucks around her folds and then he sucks on her clit. This causes her hands to fly to his hair. He flicks the tip of his tongue on the small bundle and then sucks again. Y/N tries to stifle her moans by biting her lip, but it’s starting to hurt.

“No one’s home, love, just let it out.” He says against her. “Can I use my fingers?”

“Please, yes, need it.”

He smirks up at her, not that she can really see. He sucks his middle finger into his mouth before slowly inserting it. She gasps out a moan. He’s slowly lapping away at her clit while his finger goes deeper, to his knuckle. His hips press into the mattress, trying to get some relief of his own. She was so warm and inviting, and it was killing him. He was taking it slow with her, not wanting to hurt her, but he couldn’t help himself from twisting and curling his finger. He was looking for that special spot.

“Oh my god.” She gasps. Bingo. He’s got it.

“Right there?” He rubs his finger against it again.

“Yes, oh shit.” She groans.

Harry sucks on her clit while continuing to use his finger inside her. She can’t help the way she’s breathing and panting, it just makes him work faster and harder.

“H, Harry, I think I’m going to c….oh my god!” She throws her head back as she feels her release.

He retracts his finger and laps away at her center. He kisses her inner thigh to help calm her down. He sits back up slowly to look at her. He couldn’t tell, but her cheeks were flushed.

“Would you, um, walk with me to the bathroom?”

“Of course.”

She doesn’t bother putting the boxers back on. The shirt she was wearing covered her plenty, and he was just nose deep in her crotch so she didn’t need to be shy. Once she’s done he tells her to go wait for him in his room. He needed to take care of himself.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” He teases as he gets back into bed with her.

“I feel bad…”

“About what?” He pulls her close to him so she can rest her head on his chest.

“I should have taken care of you.”

“One step at a time.” He kisses the top of her head. “When you feel ready we can do that. I feel happy that you trusted me enough to do what we just did.”

“I feel happy too.” She yawns.

It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep after that.

Monday, Y/N got her test back from her Mind, Brain, and Evolution class. Her eyes grew wide when she saw her grade, an 88%! She was ecstatic, and couldn’t wait to tell Harry. She didn’t get to chat with him too much Sunday. He walked her home, kissed her goodbye, and then had to get some things done before his student senate meeting. Why they met on Sunday evenings was beyond her.

It was just her luck that he was at the dining hall for lunch at the same as her. She sets her food down and snatches the test from her bag.

“I’ll be right back ladies, gotta go tell my man how well I did.” She grins.

They all cheer her on as she struts over to him. She was clad in a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, but she still felt cute. She’s felt incredibly cute ever since Saturday night. Harry was deep in conversation with his friends Y/N goes right over to him and wraps her arms around him, shaking the paper in front of his face. It takes him completely by surprise. He snatches the test and he looks up at her.

“Oh my god!” he nearly squeals and stands up to hug her. “This is amazing! I knew you could do it.”

“A B+, I couldn’t believe it! I still can’t, and it’s all thanks to you.” She wraps her arms around his neck, not giving a fuck that his friends were watching, especially that girl Ari.

“It was all you, I’m so proud of you.” He kisses her forehead.

“I better get back over to them so I can eat, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you.”

“I’m glad you came over here. I’ll see you tomorrow at two, right?”

“Mhm.” She smiles.

“Great, celebratory coffee on me then.” He smiles back and kisses her cheek before she walks away.

“So, you’re, like, dating the hockey girl?” Billy asks.

“There’s more to her than that.” Harry says as he sits down. “We’re hanging out.” He shrugs.

“What class are you even tutoring her in?” Ari asks.

“Mind, Brain, and Evolution. She’s actually really smart, she’s a business major. This class is just tricky.”

“I remember taking that last semester with you!” Andrew chimes in. “Think I only passed because we sat next to each other.”

“Now that she’s got a good grade you don’t still need to tutor her do you?” Ari asks.

“No, I’m definitely going to tutor her.”

“Why?”

“You know how when you go on antibiotics and you start to feel better, but you may have like half your pills left to take? You don’t just stop taking them until you feel better, right? You have to take all of your medicine.”

“Yeah, and Harry’s for sure gonna give her that medicine.” Billy teases him.

“Oh, stop. I like her, and she likes me. Thank god, thought I was going to explode from it being one sided.”

“When’s her next game?” Andrew asks.

“Wednesday. We have to make sure we go again.

Harry already has the iced coffees ready to go when Y/N meets him in the café of the library Tuesday afternoon. She was clad in her workout clothes, hair up in a messy bun.

“Thank you.” She smiles and takes the coffee from him.

“I even put the cream and sugar in it for you.”

“I noticed, how kind.” She smirks.

They find a table to go study at and set up. She goes over the new unit and what’s already sort of not making sense to her. Harry goes over his notes, and does his best to explain things to her. After an hour or so, they take a break.

“How have you been feeling?” He softly asks her.

“About what?”

“What we did Saturday night…we haven’t even texted about it, so I didn’t know if you were avoiding the conversation.”

“Oh! I feel really great. Um, I guess I just didn’t know what to say. I’m glad we did it.”

“Me too.” He looks down and then back to her. “It’ll be nice to do it again, right?”

“Mhm.” She smiles and a slight blush covers her cheeks. “Um, I don’t know if you’re coming to the game tomorrow or not, but-“

“I’ll be there.” He cuts her off. “Go on.”

“When we have games during the week we can’t exactly party all night, so we usually go downtown and order a bunch of food. Some of the girls invite their significant others, and, well, if you don’t mind being out a little late I was wondering if you’d wanna come too.”

“I’d love to.”

“Really?!”

“Sure.” He smiles. “Gotta be there for my girl.” He clears his throat. “Let’s get back to it, I don’t wanna make you late for the gym.”

Y/N liked that Harry was always so serious, she may not have before, but now she just thought it was cute. He lets her do some reading for class while he works on his own homework.

“This is nice.” He speaks up.

“What is?”

“Just doing homework together. We could do this more if you want. I’d obviously still tutor you on the clock, but we could get together sometimes to do other homework.” He stops typing and looks at her. “Then we could, uh, see each other more…if you wanted.”

“I’d like that.” She smiles. “I end up doing homework with the girls a lot, but you’re more than welcome to come over and join.”

“Sounds like fun.”

She looks at the time and sighs, closing her laptop and packing up.

“I have to get going.”

“I’m gonna stay here a bit longer, otherwise I’d walk you out.”

“That’s alright.” She leans down and pecks his lips before slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the game?”

“You will.” He smiles brightly. “Bye, love.”

“Bye.”

Y/N had butterflies. This was a dream come true.

The ice arena wasn’t as packed as the first home game, but there were still a lot of people there. The thing about women’s ice hockey is that you aren’t allowed to fight, so it’s less exciting than men’s ice hockey. Or, that’s what people say. It was annoying that they couldn’t fight. There were plenty of people that Y/N just wanted to deck while she was out there.

She looks out to the stands and sees Harry with the student senate crew holding up a sign for her. It had her number on it and everything. Harry looked cute in his beanie and sweater. Y/N played great and she loved looking over to see Harry cheering, not that she let it distract her. She was able to assist two goals, and the team won 4-1. It was an incredible game.

After the coach goes over what their next practice will consist of, and his congratulations, he leaves to let the girls change.

“Dinner down at the pub in twenty ladies!” Ashley yells.

Everyone runs to the showers to clean themselves up. Y/N throws on a pair of jeans and a black top. She grabs a light windbreaker and puts some product in her wet hair so it dries nice.

“Is Harry coming down?” Gina asks.

“Mhm, he’s going to meet us down there.” She smiles.

All of the girls walk down together. Ashley called ahead so there were a ton of tables pushed together. Harry was waiting outside the pub, along with some of other significant others. Y/N practically jumps on him.

“Great game.” He says into her neck.

“Thanks! I loved seeing you out there. It’s nice to actually have people cheering for us.” She kisses his cheek and lets him go.

Everyone finds their seats. Ashley and some of the other older girls order different pitchers of beer for the table. It was a college bar so no one was really double checking ID’s, especially on a Wednesday, so Y/N poured herself and Harry a glass of beer. They all cheer and clink their glasses.

Nachos, mozzarella sticks, chicken wings, fires, and anything else that could be thought of were ordered for everyone. Harry fit right in with everyone, already having a small report with Amanda and Gina.

“I still can’t get over this.” Ashley says. “Our little baby Y/N bringing a guy to dinner.”

“Didn’t you come to the party at our house?” Megan asks. “Is that how you two met?”

“No, he’s been tutoring me for a class.” Y/N explains. “He just happened to be at the party last weekend.”

“Well, Harry, you can come anytime. I know it was your idea to get more people at the women’s games.” Ashley says.

“Y/N told me how much it bothered her that senate goes to a lot of the guys’ games, thought it was only fair to support the girls too. Your games are way more fun to watch. You’re really fighting for it out there, you can feel it.”

“Oh, he’s a keeper for sure.” Megan says.

Y/N leans in to Harry and he puts his arm around her. She looks up at him once the attention is off her a bit.

“Do you want to come back to my place for a little bit?” She asks.

“I would, babe, but I have an 8AM, I need to go home after all this, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I have an early practice anyways…”

“I can hang out tomorrow night, though. I usually go to the soccer house with Niall and Louis, I’m sure they won’t care if you come.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She smiles and so does he. Damn him for being so responsible.

“Plus, I’ll see at two for tutoring, right?”

“Right.”

“I could come to your place for that.”

“I don’t think we’d get much tutoring done if we do that.” She winks at him and it makes him laugh.

Amanda and Gina give a few minutes to kiss Harry goodbye before they need to part ways.

“Sorry.” She tells them, wiping the corners of her mouth. “He’s such a good kisser.”

“Apparently on both sets of lips.” Amanda teases her.

“Stop! I told you that in confidence.”

“I still can’t believe it didn’t make you want to fuck him right after.” Gina says.

“Believe me, I think I’m getting ready for that, but I’m nervous to see it.”

“His dick?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah, I’ve never really seen one before, and I can tell his is big. What if it breaks me in half?” She jokes.

“I bet he’d love to hear that, ask him to break your back.” Gina bursts out laughing.

“You two are annoying.” Y/N groans as they continue their walk to their place.

It was hard to get through tutoring for both Y/N and Harry. She wanted him, and he could tell. Every time she looked at him he could see it in her eyes. She was being especially pouty and touchy and it was getting to him. Somehow, they both made it through, and he told her he’d pick her up around nine to bring her to his place to pregame before going to the soccer house.

She gets her workout in, showers, and then makes dinner with Amanda and Gina. The three all get some more homework done before going upstairs to get ready.

“Alright, what am I wearing? Jeans and a crop top?”

“What if you wore like a bralette and some high waisted mom jeans?” Gina asks. “That’s always a look.”

“I don’t know what the vibe is at the soccer house, I don’t want to be too exposed.” She pulls out her mom jeans and a black short sleeve crop top. “I think this could be cute, and I’ll put some waves in my hair.”

“I like it.” Amanda asks. “You’re going to his place first, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Assert your dominance and pack an overnight bag. Bring your own toothbrush and pj’s. Show him you’re not afraid to get comfy.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. I feel like I’ve been stealing his clothes.” She snatches a string backpack from the floor. “Plus, my drinks won’t clink the bag with some clothes in there. What are you two up to tonight?”

“I think we’re going over to the field hockey house for a bit, and then we’ll see how it goes from there.”

“Nice! That’ll be fun, they always throw great parties.”

The three all finish getting ready, and Y/N packs her hard seltzers into her bag. Harry knocks on the door right at nine, and she flings herself onto him. He chuckles as he kisses her.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hi.”

“Ready?”

“Yup, bye girls!” She yells as she swings the door shut.

When they get into Harry’s she moves to go right up the stairs to his room, but he clutches her wrist.

“Pregame is in the kitchen, babe.”

“I know, I just wanna put my bag in your room first, is that alright?”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” He goes upstairs with her and he watches as she pulls out shorts and a t-shirt, her toothbrush, and her hairbrush.

“It’s okay I brought this stuff, right?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? I want you to be comfortable.”

“Just making sure.” She grabs her bag and they both head downstairs.

She cracks open a seltzer and they all listen to music while they get a little buzzed. Niall and Louis were funny. Harry leaves her down in the kitchen with them for a few minutes while he goes upstairs to put his contacts in. He didn’t like wearing his glasses to parties because one time someone pushed him, they fell off, and broke. His mum wasn’t too happy when she had to ship him a new pair.

“Did you all live together last year too?”

“Nope, I met Harry from class, and we were already on the soccer team together.” Niall says. “They have these mandatory international student meetings, so the three of us sort of just started hanging out. Lou’s a couple years older so we were able to get off campus. The other two, who are literally never here, are international students too. It all sort of just worked out.”

“Harry’s a great roommate too, he cooks a lot.” Louis chuckles.

“Because if I didn’t.” Harry says as he comes back in. “You two would waste your money on shit all the time.” He throws his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and finishes off his drink.

“We ready? It’s ten, gotta get there before they start turning people away.” Louis says.

Everyone agrees, so Harry loads up Y/N bags with some drinks, and out the door they go.

”I have to warn you, the soccer house is gross.” Harry says. “Those guys leave it a mess. It’s huge so it’s great for a party, but you’re better off having a wee in the bushes than using one of their bathrooms.”

“Well, I’m glad I went before we left then.” Y/N chuckles.

They all get inside, and music is already blaring. Y/N recognizes a few of the guys and she gives them hugs. They congratulate her on her win from the night prior. The house packed already, it smelled like various types of smoke, the floors were sticky with god knows what, and there were a fuck ton of guys.

“Y/N you need a drink?” One of them asks.

“No, I brought my own, but thanks!” She follows Harry into another room where things were a bit more chill. They each take a drink out of her bag and crack them open.

The party was fun for the most part, good music was playing, and Harry looked fucking hot. Y/N liked that he clearly had outfits for partying and outfits for school. Tonight he was wearing a blue short-sleeve button up with the first few buttons undone paired with a black pair of skinny jeans that had a few rips in them. He had rings on his fingers and his nails were painted a pastel purple.

Y/N wished she hadn’t been drinking so much because she desperately needed to pee. She wondered if what Harry said was true, if the bathrooms were really that gross. She searches for another girl and leaves his side.

“Hey, this is random, but you wanna go to the bathroom with me?”

“OMG, sure!” She says brightly. The girl had long blonde hair and a tight dress on.

“Thanks!”

That was the one good thing about drunk girls, they were always willing to be a bathroom buddy. The girl tugs Y/N up a set of stairs.

“Less people using this one!” She says over the music.

She was right, no one was upstairs. It was nice to take a break from the loudness. Both girls go into the bathroom and grimace.

“I don’t get this, boys need to sit down to shit, wouldn’t they try to keep it clean?” The girl scoffs and checks her makeup in the mirror.

“Guess I’ll be squatting.” Y/N sighs, and unzips her pants. She squats over the toilet and pees. “Thanks for coming with me, I wasn’t about to ask my…uh, my date to come with me.”

“No problem girl! I need a pee break myself.”

Y/N flushes and stands up all the way, switching spots with the girl so she could pee. Y/N washes her hands and checks her own makeup.

“Who are you here with?” The girl asks as she pulls her panties back, moving to wash her hands.

“Harry Styles.”

“Oh! I’ve seen him around, he’s cute.”

“Very.” They both giggle. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Karina.”

They smile and both head out and down the stairs. They wave goodbye to each other as they make their way back to their people. Y/N walks right up behind Harry and wraps her arms around him. He’s surprised at first and then relaxes when he sees it’s Y/N.

“Where’d you go with that girl?!”

“To the bathroom! We used the one upstairs!”

“Did you know her?!”

“Nope!” She laughs and so does Harry.

As the night goes on, Y/N starts to feel dancey and notices other people dancing in one of the larger rooms, so she tugs Harry over and wraps her arms around his neck so they can grind front to front. His hands go right to her hips, and his lips find her cheek and then her neck. One of her hands slides up to his hair to rake through. She noses his jaw to get his attention and suddenly her tongue was in his mouth. He pulls her closer and backs them up towards a wall, pressing her up against it. She wondered, briefly, how many girls Harry had made out with at a party. She knew he had to have fucked a lot. No guy could be that good at eating out without some practice. The jealousy she feels seeps in and she bites down on his lower lip a little too hard. He winces and pulls away for a moment. He catches his breath and looks down at her, moving some hair away from her face.

“Alright?!”

“How often do you do this?!”

“Do what?!”

“Make out with girls at parties! Take those girls home and fuck them!” She wasn’t sure where this was all coming from. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was starting to sink in that she gave up a part of herself to someone that she had only known a few weeks.

“Hey! Whoa! Where is this…” He leans in to speak into her ear. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’m just feeling…weird all of a sudden. You have so much experience, and I don’t have a lot, so-“

He moves back to look at her. He cups her jaw and leans in to kiss her. He gives her a few kisses before moving his lips to her ear again.

“Let’s get out of here, then we can talk more, okay?”

She nods yes and he takes her hand. He leads her out of the house, and the chilly night air hits her like a ton of bricks.

“Can you walk alright?” He asks her.

“Can I? Yes. Do I want to? No.”

“Alright, well hop on.” He crouches in front of her.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, all aboard.”

She giggles and hops onto his back. She rests her chin on his shoulder and nibbles on his earlobe, making him giggle.

“Thought you were upset with me for a second.”

“I got jealous.”

“Of what, babe?”

“Anyone that’s ever been with you.” She shamelessly admits. “I know that’s dumb.”

“I haven’t been with that many people.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“It is if it’s bothering you, Y/N.”

“You’re just really good at it, and it made me think that you’ve had a lot of practice. Not to mention that everything you do surprises me. I’m still shocked that you’re the type of guy to make out openly at a party.”

“I mean, yeah, I’m a nice guy, but I’m like any other guy sometimes. I’m respectful, but I still wanna have fun.”

He gets to his place and sets her down so he can unlock the door. They both go straight to his room, and they sit on the edge of his bed.

“We were having such a good time, walk me through what happened?” He asks as he gets up to take his contacts out.

“I don’t know, it was like while we were kissing it made me think of how many times you’ve done that sort of thing before. Doesn’t that happen to you with me?”

“Not really.” He sits back down next to her, running a hand through his hair. He kicks his boots off and looks at her. “I’m more or less just lost in you.”

“I think I’m just feeling vulnerable since we haven’t been alone since I was so exposed to you.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you last night when you asked me to come home with you.”

“No! It’s okay, we both had to get up early. I’m being dumb and needy.” She shakes her head.

“You’re not being either of those things. We can wait a while to do something like that again if you want.”

“No! I don’t want to wait. I really liked it. I guess, I mean…”

“Are you worried that you’re not the only one?”

“Maybe a little…”

“Babe, I’m not talking to anyone else, I thought it was pretty clear. I’m not in a rush to put a label on anything, but I’m not fucking anyone else, I swear.”

“Okay…”

“I’ve only ever fully been with like six people if that makes you feel better.”

“Harry, I really don’t need to know.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m some sex maniac. I had sex in high school, and then there were a couple of girls last year, and then a couple people this past summer. If I seem good at it, it’s only because I’m vocal and I ask to make sure things feel good, that’s all.”

“Alright, I’m sorry for being so stupid. I ruined the entire night.”

“You’re not stupid, and you didn’t ruin anything, okay? I’m gonna go get us some water, feel free to change and then we can just watch TV or something.”

“Oh.”

“What?” He asks as he stands up.

“I just thought, you know, you’d want to take my clothes off for me.”

“I mean, I do, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. We both had a lot to drink, Y/N.” He gives her a soft smile and leaves to go downstairs.

She sighs heavily and then changes into the pj’s she brought. He comes back and hands her a glass. He starts unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way.

“I really like what you have on tonight.”

“Yeah? I liked your outfit too. Although, you look pretty cute right now.” He smirks and drags his jeans down his legs and gets onto the bed with a sigh.

“Oh, do I?”

“Mhm, very cute.” His eyes trail down her body and they grow wide when they get to her legs. “What happened here?” He points to the various bruises on her thighs and shins.

“Oh, it’s just from going to the gym and games and stuff. I always have bruises on me.” She shrugs. “No big deal.”

“Poor thing.” He rubs his hand over one of her thighs.

“It’s really not a big deal.” Goosebumps raise on her skin from his gentle touch. She lays down fully next to him, rolling onto her side to face him. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

She nuzzles into his chest and he rubs her back. They stay like that for a while, and she starts to hear her breathing level out. He carefully gets up to turn his light off, and goes back to the way he was.

The next morning, Y/N wakes up pressed into Harry’s side. He was out like a light. She gets up and grabs her toothbrush and pads out to the bathroom. She gets in and locks the door behind her. She splashes some cool water onto her face, and brushes her teeth. She tip toes back to Harry’s room, and crawls back into bed.

“Where’d you go.” He mumbles as he moves to spoon her.

“Just to the bathroom.” She whispers.

He nuzzles into her back, pressing his pelvis to her ass. He pushes a leg between hers to get especially cozy. She adjusts against him, and things sort of just sped up from there. He started moving against her and the second she whimpered, he was dipping his hand into her shorts.

“Is this okay?” He asks, kissing on the exposed part of her neck.

“Yes.” She breathes.

His fingers rub on her clit at first before going between her folds. He groans when he feels how wet she is. He drags it up to her clit to rub circles on her. She turns over onto her stomach and he follows her, continuing to grind himself against her ass, and rubbing on her clit.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

Hearing him moan her name was doing things to her. She moves her hips along with his, and she starts to feel warm all over. She was moaning into his pillows, and he feels her writhe under him while she comes. He takes his hand away once she’s done, and she rolls onto her back.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I…give you a hand job?”

“You really want to?”

“Yeah, I really do.” She bites her bottom lip and he moves to lay next to her.

“You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

He starts to lower his boxers and he looks at her again. She nods and he gets them of all the way. Her eyes widen. He really was big, and thick too. She sort of knew what to do. She had seen enough porn to know she at least needed to make sure her hand was wet, so she spits into it, and carefully grips him. He hisses from her touch.

“Wanna know what I like?” He asks her.

“Yeah.”

“While you do it, put these fingers over my tip.” He moves her fingers he wants them and then she moves them back and forth while her hand works around him. “Shit, just like that, it’s perfect.”

Y/N can’t help but look at Harry’s perfectly sculpted happy trail that leads down to the small tufts of hair right at his base. His balls weren’t hairy, he clearly did a lot of manscaping. In a bold move she uses her other hand to cup his balls, and his head rolls back into the pillow.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, just, like, massage them a little, but not too hard.”

She nods and gives him gentle squeezes while her hand continues to work on him. This wasn’t so bad. She wasn’t sure what she was so nervous about, it was just a penis. She licks her lips and looks at him.

“Can I…put my mouth on it?”

“Fuck, yeah, please.” He grips the sheets as she wraps her lips around his tip. “Just no teeth!” He reminds her at the last second and she pops off.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Unhinge my jaw?”

“No.” He chuckles. “Just try to keep your lips around your teeth or keep your mouth wide. Use your tongue more than anything.”

She nods and goes back down. He has to fight to buck up into her. She only keeps her mouth around his tip, not wanting to go crazy. She pumps the rest of him, drool dripping down her chin.

“Y/N, I’m getting close.”

She keeps sucking on him. When she looks up at him, making eye contact, he loses it. She spurts into her mouth and her eyes widen at the taste. It didn’t taste bad, but it certainly didn’t taste good either. She takes it all, but she sure as shit wasn’t going to swallow. She looks around his room for his trash and when she spots it, she gets off the bed and spits into it. She grabs the glass of water from his desk and swishes it around her mouth before spitting again.

“Sorry.” She breathes. “I just-“

“You’re apologizing? Get your ass over here.” He smirks. She gets back onto the bed and he holds her close. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to swallow it unless you really wanted to. I know it’s a lot to get used to.”

“So, you’re not offended?”

“You just gave me a blow job, I’m not offended at all.” He kisses her forehead. “I’m just gonna go use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” He grabs his boxers and slips them on and leaves the room.

Y/N snatches her phone and texts in the group chat letting Amanda and Gina know what just happened. She couldn’t wait to get home, she needed to talk about it now. When Harry gets back she nearly throws her phone. She puts her phone down gently and cuddles up to him when he lays back down. He kisses on the top of her head a couple of times and rubs her back.

“That felt really good, by the way.”

“You’re not just saying that?” She pouts up at him.

“Not at all, I’ve been dreaming about you doing that. It was nice to feel the real thing.” His lips curve up as he looks down at her. “You’re a natural, sure you’ve never done that before.”

“Never, I swear.” She giggles. “I’m glad it was good for you.”

“It was fantastic.” He sighs.

After snuggling a little longer, they both decide to get up. Harry makes Y/N some eggs and toast for breakfast before walking her home. They get to her door and he has trouble saying goodbye. His lips just won’t leave hers.

“You have practice today?”

“Mhm, and then an away game tomorrow. We leave early in the morning. I’ll text you when I get home, maybe we can meet up.”

“I’d like that.” He smiles. “So I won’t see you at all tonight?”

“No, we’re not allowed to go out the night before an away game.”

“Fair enough.” He sighs. “Alright.” He kisses her against, sucking on her bottom lip before letting her go. “Can’t wait to hear how the game goes.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

She goes inside and runs upstairs. She knocks on Amanda’s door before going in and they both squeal. Gina comes in and squeals with them.

It was a rough game. They lost by one goal. The bus was quiet at first, but the coach ended up farting and it made everyone laugh, lightening the mood. They wouldn’t be going out to celebrate tonight, but Y/N knew a few of the girls would be getting together. She was pooped and didn’t feel like drinking. She was sitting in the window seat on the coach bus next to Gina, who was turned talking to one of the other girls, so she takes the opportunity to call Harry. Now that she thinks about it, they’ve never spoken on the phone before. She puts her headphones in and dials his number.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hey! How was the game, babe?”

“We lost…by one goal.” She sighs.

“I’m sorry, that must not feel great. I watched the live stream, but I was only able to catch the beginning.”

“You…you actually watched part of it?”

“Yeah! I wanted to support you. I had to tutor this afternoon so that’s why I wasn’t able to watch the whole thing.”

“Well, thanks for watching a little…”

“Of course, babe.”

“Um, we should be back to campus in an hour. I need to shower and stuff, and I don’t really feel like going out, but would you wanna come over and cuddle?”

“I’d love to. I’ll bring my laptop so we can watch Disney movies.”

“That sounds amazing. I’ll text you once I’m all set.”

“Sounds good, see you soon.”

Y/N hangs up and taps Gina on the shoulder. She tells her that Harry’s gonna come over and she nods excitedly. She takes the second shower once Amanda is done, and then puts on a pair of comfy sweat pants and throws on a t-shirt. Harry comes over, and she takes him right up to her room.

“What are your roommates up to tonight?”

“Not sure, they’re probably just hanging out too.” They both get onto her bed. “Sorry there’s not as much room as your bed.”

“Are you kidding, this is going to be a great cuddle.”

He sits up against the wall, and has her sit in front of him, placing the laptop at the foot of the bed. They decide on The Goofy Movie. Although, Harry is being very distracting. He rubs Y/N’s shoulders and neck, and then his arms wrap around her waist. He gets up under her shirt, one hand kneading one of her breasts, and the other dips into her sweatpants. He starts kissing on her neck and her head rolls back to his shoulder. She bites her bottom lip as his fingers get inside her underwear and start rubbing at her clit. His middle finger slips inside her and she gasps.

“Alright?” He nips at her earlobe.

“Mhm, don’t stop.” She bites her bottom lip. They’ve both forgotten about the movie, almost thankful it’s just background noise to help muffle things. “M’getting too hot, Harry.” She whines.

He nearly rips her shirt off, exposing her full chest to him. She gets up and wiggles out of her sweatpants. He gets his own shirt off, and then she straddles him. She kisses down his neck and sucks where she pleases.

“I did some thinking last night while you were gone.” He says between pants.

“Oh yeah?” She rolls her hips down on him.

“Yeah.” He grips her hips and moves his up to meet hers. “If I’m only seeing you, and you’re only seeing me, then I think I should just cut the crap and ask you to be my girlfriend, don’t you think?”

“You…I thought the labels-“

“I was being stupid about that. I wanna be your boyfriend, Y/N. Can’t risk anyone else scooping you up. I need you to be mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

“Like, officially though.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I want you to be my boyfriend too.”

He grabs his phone out of his pocket and goes to change his Facebook status when he realizes something.

“We’re not even friends on here…”

“We’re not?! Could have sworn that happened when you started tutoring me.”

“No, I guess not. Think that was just insta.” He sends her a friend request, and she accepts, and then they both change their statuses. “There, now there’s no question about it.” They both set their phones on the floor, and get back to it.

Their tongues slide against each other as he gropes various parts of her body. Things were getting hot and heavy fast.

“Want you, please.” She whimpers against him.

“What?”

“Please, Harry, fuck me.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m ready, I swear. We’re both sober, I want this. Please, Harry, please fuck me, don’t make me beg.” She pouts. “Fuck, I don’t have any condoms.”

“I…have some in my backpack.” He blushes. “I just keep them in there, I didn’t think anything was going to happen tonight.”

“Well, I’m glad you have some. Do you wanna do this?”

“I do, but only if you’re really sure.”

“I am.” She smiles and he nods. She gets off of him and lies down on the bed while he searches through his backpack.

“Do you want me to finger you some more?”

“No, I really just want your dick.” She slides her underwear down her legs and tosses them to the floor.

His mouth was watering. He strips himself of the rest of his clothes and snatches a condom. He makes sure her door is locked, and closes his laptop before getting on top of her. He opens the foil packet, and rolls the rubber down his length.

“You’re positive?”

“Yes, Harry, I swear.”

“I’ll stop at any second, okay? You just need to speak up.”

“Okay.”

She spreads her legs apart for him, and he leans down to kiss her. He rubs his tip against her clit and through her folds, making sure she’s wet. He starts to push inside her, and all she feels is pressure and stretching. It sort of burned a bit as he did it. She takes a deep breath and digs her nails into his shoulders.

“Almost all the way in, can you take it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can take it.”

He groans once he’s all the way in. He was so fucking snug inside her, it was a miracle he didn’t nut right then and there.

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah.” She had a couple of tears in her eyes.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t hurt?”

“It hurts a little, but not enough that I want to stop. I’m just getting used to you. Try moving.”

“Okay.”

He slowly rocks in and out, watching her face to make sure she wasn’t in too much pain. It was crazy, it was a like a switch went off because as soon as he got going with a good pace, it started to feel good. Even the stretching, she liked how it all felt. One of his hands kneads her breast and tweaks her nipple and his lips attach to her neck.

“Okay, babe?” He says into her ear.

“So good, Harry.” She wraps her legs around his back and digs her heels into his ass.

He couldn’t do much with her tonight, he knew that. He couldn’t fuck her from behind or even let her on top, but he could make her feel amazing. He snakes a hand between them and rubs her clit.

“Oh!” She gasps.

“Like that, baby girl?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes, Harry.” She arches up into him. She’s breathing heavily and scratching at his back. She almost felt like she needed to pee, but she knew it was just her orgasm getting ready to wash over her. “Shit, oh fuck, shit!” She cries out as she comes around his cock.

He spills into the condom shortly after, not being able to hold on much longer himself. He pulls out of her slowly, not wanting to hurt her and she winces.

“I know, baby, I know.” He feels terrible, he knew she had to feel sore. He gets up and throws the condom out in her trash and gets back over to her quickly, caressing her cheeks, applying kisses all over her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She smiles and practically melts at his tenderness. “I really need to pee.” She chuckles.

“Alright, let’s getcha to the bathroom then.”

“I can go on my own. Just need a shirt.”

“Take mine.” He grabs it off the floor and hands it to her. He slips his own boxers back on, and helps her stand up.

He watches her waddle out of the room. She winces as she uses the toilet, and she grimaces at the toilet paper when she sees a light pink color. He was so careful with her, extremely gentle, but she was still a virgin at the end of the day. Well, not anymore. She just gave something major to Harry. She waddles back to her room, and smiles when she sees him still half naked, waiting in her bed.

“Do you want the side with the wall, or-“

She practically jumps on top of him, and she attacks him with kisses. They both giggle and then she settles to lay on top of him for a bit. He rubs her back and soothes her as best he can. He gets up to use the bathroom, and when he comes back they decide to finish their movie and spoon before falling asleep.

Harry held Y/N all night. She felt extremely safe in his arms, and it was exactly what she needed after doing something so big for her. She adjusts against him, and he gives her kisses on the back of her neck and she smiles. She turns over and buries her face in his chest. He strokes her back and kisses the top of her head. He was being careful with her, knowing that she would need some extra reassurance.

“How are you feeling?” He finally asks, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m okay.” She mumbles. “A little sore, but I’ll be alright.”

“I tried not to be too rough with you, I’m sorry.”

She looks up at him and smiles.

“You weren’t rough at all…I probably should have let you finger me a little more beforehand. I just really wanted you.”

“Can’t blame you for that.” He smirks and she swats a hand at his chest. “Kidding.”

“Mhm, sure you were.”

“Do you have plans today?”

“Just homework and stuff. I’m dreading our practice tomorrow morning, the coach is gonna ride us for losing.” She sighs.

“It was your first loss, right?”

“Yeah, so it’s not terrible, but it could easily be the start to a losing streak, so we need to prevent that.” They both shift so Harry’s on his back, and she’s got her head on his chest. “Why? Did you want to do something?”

“Well, I was thinking I could go back to my place and shower, and then I could come back here to do homework or something…we could get brunch at the dining hall.”

“God, I love brunch at dhall. Could I invite Amanda and Gina? They’ll be jealous.”

“Sure! I don’t care.” He kisses her forehead and gets up. She watches him stretch, and he gets his clothes on. “Wanna just meet over there in, like, an hour?”

“Works for me.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.” He leans down and pecks her lips before slipping out.

Just as she’s getting out of bed, and putting some shorts on, Gina and Amanda burst into her room.

“You guys wanna come to the dining hall with us in a bit?” Y/N asks with a smug look on her face.

“Yes, but we have more important things to discuss.” Amanda says. “What the hell happened in here last night?”

“Oh god, did you guys hear anything?”

“Only a little.” Gina says. “I just put headphones in.”

“Okay, so this is going to sound like he and I have bene moving fast, well, I guess we have been, but…we had sex last night.”

“Like full on?!” Amanda asks. The three sit on the bed together.

“Yeah, he was like rubbing up on me and stuff, and we were making out, and I told him I wanted to. He was so sweet, he kept asking me if I was sure and everything.”

“Did you make sure to pee after?” Gina asks.

“Yeah…and I think I bled a little…I’m a little sore. He was so sweet on me, though, like he took it really slow.”

“Did it hurt while he was doing it?” Amanda asks.

“A little in the begging, like when he first put it in, and then all of a sudden it started to feel really good. I think he was hitting my g-spot or something. He rubbed my clit too, I didn’t know an orgasm could feel so good.” She blushes. Her and the girls have had plenty of these conversations, so it wasn’t that weird to be so open, but just thinking about the previous events was making her feel an ache between her legs.

“Good for you! And he asked to go to the dining hall with you?” Gina asks.

“Yeah, he asked me if I had plans today. He held me all night too. We, like, made things official last night…on Facebook…”

“Oh shit!” The girls say and both take their phones out. They like the status update.

“I’m gonna go shower quick, and then we can get ready to go?” Y/N asks.

“Definitely.” Amanda says.

They both watch Y/N stand up. She breathes funny for a second and then she sneezes.

“Ow! Oh my god!” She grabs at her lower stomach.

“What happened?” Gina asks, concerned.

“Felt like my vagina was gonna fall out.” Y/N says and they all start laughing. “Fuck, this is going to be a long day…”

Harry really liked Y/N’s friends. They were chill, but blunt. He knew Y/N must have filled them in on the night prior, but he didn’t mind. He knew the first time was a big deal for anyone, his certainly was, even if it was when he was seventeen.

“Harry, you’re on senate right?” Gina asks.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Why?”

“Is it true you guys have these really long meetings on Sunday nights?”

“Mhm.” He sighs. “We meet up at five, and we all have to be dressed up because sometimes different staff and faculty come to the meetings, so we need to look professional. I’ve been there as late as 10PM sometimes. Certain motions take forever to get through, it’s annoying. The only perk is that we get food provided.”

“And that’s why you get a lot of your homework done on Saturdays, right?” Y/N says.

“That’s right.” He smiles at her.

“How come you wanted to on senate and not join a normal club?” Amanda asks.

“I wanted to be involved with how things are done on campus.” Harry shrugs. “I was on student senate in high school, so I wanted to continue with it here.”

“What made you want to study at an American university? Aren’t schools way less expensive where you’re from?” Gina asks.

“They can be. I just thought this would be a good time for me to get away and travel. It makes me appreciate home more when I go back.”

“Makes sense.” Gina says. “I’m actually from Florida, and only came up here to play hockey.”

“Same here, I’m from California.” Amanda tells him.

“I think I’m one of the few in-state students on our team.” Y/N says.

“That’s cool though that this school has such a good hockey program that you wanted to come here.”

After lunch, Harry comes back to Y/N’s apartment, and they all hang out to do homework in the living room. When 4PM hits he explains he needs to go home so he can get ready for senate.

“Thanks for hanging out today, it was nice.” Y/N says as they stand in the doorway.

“Yeah, it was.” He puts his thumb and forefinger on her chin to tilt her chin up. He leans down and gives her a nice, slow kiss. “When do I see you next?”

“I don’t know…Tuesday for tutoring?”

“Works for me.”

“I mean, I’m sure we’ll talk before then.”

“Most likely.” He grins.

“Okay, well, have a god senate meeting.”

“Thanks.” He gives her another kiss before heading out.

“He’s, like, dreamy.” She says to the girls when she walks back into the living room. “I think I’ll keep him around.” She giggles with them.

Harry was just finishing getting his tie on for the senate meeting, and he thinks to send Y/N a mirror selfie so she could see what he has to wear. He puts a pout on his face and puts a caption on it asking her to just kill him. Joking, of course.

When she gets the DM, she bites her bottom lip. She thought he looked really good. So she told him that, well she told him he looked really sexy, and that was just about all he needed to stay distracted for his entire meeting.

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your vote on giving Awesome Weekends more funding?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Um, I just think if we do this we need to see some return on investment. I want to make sure that students actually go to the events they put on. The money should go towards more advertising and stuff like that. I mean, but just word of mouth we were able to get more people at sporting events. The events Awesome Weekends put on aren’t exactly always awesome.”

“They’ve proposed more free skate nights.” Billy says. “Off-setting the cost of rentals. That’s why a lot of students don’t go to that normally. They’re also working on more movie nights, and late night dining.”

“Alright, I vote yes then, but it needs to be a trial basis. We need to see how it works. If they want the same amount of money next year then they can say why they deserve it in allocations this spring like everyone else.”

“I agree with Harry.” Ari says. “I say we boost it now, but let it be clear that if they want more next year, they’ll have to ask for it during allocations like everyone else.”

“Thanks.” He whispers to her.

“No problem.” She smiles.

“Alright, let’s take a fifteen minute break.” The senior class president says.

“You’re a little distracted tonight, are you alright?” Ari asks Harry.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He says, taking out his phone. Y/N had sent him a selfie of her own, snuggled up in bed, and he smiles at it. “These meetings just go on forever sometimes. My girlfriend’s already in bed for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s only 9:30…wait, did you just say girlfriend?”

“Yeah, made it official with her last night.” He smiles dreamily.

“The girl from the hockey team?!”

“Um, yeah…why?”

“I…well, no offense, but she just seems sort of frumpy for you, Harry.”

“Frumpy? That’s sort of rude, Ari.” He frowns. “I think she’s really pretty.”

“I just meant, like, she’s always wearing sweats and stuff.”

“A lot of people on teams do that. What do you care how she dresses anyways?”

“I just think people should care more about how they look before they leave for the day.”

“You’ve never seen her dressed up for a party then, because-“ He cuts himself off. “You know what, I don’t need to do this. I like her, she’s my girlfriend, and that’s it. As my friend, I hope you’d be happy for me.”

“I’m ecstatic.” She huffs and gets up to grab some more water.

“I don’t like her attitude at all.” Harry says to Andrew.

“Dude…she has a thing for you, and you just rubbed a new relationship in her face. I was sort of hoping she’d stop liking you when you brought Y/N over for that movie night, but I guess not.”

“She what?!” He whisper screams. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

“Probably because she knew you didn’t like her back. She’s had a thing for you since last year.”

“Shit, I feel terrible.” He looks over at Ari and then back to Andrew. “Should I talk to her?”

“No, she’d probably just be embarrassed. You said you’re official with Y/N now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then she just need to accept it. She’ll move on now that she knows she really doesn’t have a chance.”

“Ari’s really nice, and pretty in her own right, I just like sportier girls, I always have.”

“Hey, I think Y/N’s hot, so you don’t have to explain it to me.” He smirks.

“Don’t ever say that to me again…but thanks.”

It was nearly 10:30 by the time Harry got back to his apartment. He goes straight to his room and flops onto his bed. He groans and then changes out of his nice clothes, and goes to do his nightly routine in the bathroom. He gets settled in bed, and takes his phone out.

Harry: goodnight, Y/N, sweet dreams <3

Y/N gets the text and nearly squeals. Harry was so sweet.

Y/N: night! <3

Y/N groans when her alarm goes off at 6AM. Sometimes she really hated having early ice times, but nonetheless she gets up and puts her warm ups on. She grabs her phone and decided to be a little cute.

Y/N: morning, Harry! Hope you have a great day :)

She gets her gym bag together, and meets Amanda and Gina downstairs. They each grab a granola bar, and head out the door.

Harry wakes up at 6:15 to get ready to go to the gym. His heart skips a beat when he sees Y/N’s good morning text, and the smile on his face grows wider as he rereads it.

Harry: morning, love, hope coach doesn’t go too hard on you

He looks outside and sees that it’s pretty nice out, and decides to just go for a run. Harry liked getting his workout over with in the mornings. It gave him a lot of energy for the day, and once it was done, it was done.

Coach had the girls sprint across the ice way too many times, and then he had them work on their slap shots. They scrimmaged until they couldn’t scrimmage anymore. He said that they better get it together for their next away game Wednesday. They needed to be able to win on the road, not just at home.

Y/N was drenched in sweat, as were the other girls. She peels her padding off and the rest of her clothes, and hops into the shower. She needed to look nice for one of her business classes today, so she puts on a pair of tan nylons to cover her legs. It was getting colder, but it wasn’t quite black-tights seasons yet. Then she puts on a green short-sleeve blouse, and pairs it with a black pencil skirt that comes to right above her knees. This was her “fancy” skirt for presentations. She straightens her hair and puts some makeup on, and then slips in her black flats. Amanda and Gina were dressed up too.

“We better get points for looking so nice, or I’ll kill this professor.” Gina says.

“Right? Like, there has to be style points.” Y/N says.

“Let’s just get up to campus and get this over with.” Amanda says. “A presentation at 8:15, who the fuck thought that was a good idea?”

The girls crushed their presentation, of course, but Y/N didn’t have time between her other classes to change, so she just toughs it out. She figures after lunch she can run home quickly to change into her workout clothes.

Andrew and Ari were in line at the dining hall, waiting to get sandwiches when they see Y/N walk by with some of the other hockey girls.

“What were you saying about her being frumpy?” Andrew says to her, nudging her arm.

“Stop it.” She groans. “I’m embarrassed enough for how I acted last night. I’m lucky Harry’s even sitting next to me.”

Y/N accidentally bumps into someone while she’s getting herself a glass of water.

“I’m so sorry, I…oh, hi, Harry.” She beams.

“Y/N, hi.” He blushes when he looks her up and down. “You look, um, nice.”

“Thanks, I had this stupid presentation for my marketing class this morning, and I haven’t had a chance to change yet. Hoping to after lunch.” They both walk into the dining area together. “I have like an hour before my next class so I’m gonna eat quick and head back.”

“Do you…want some help changing out of all that?” He asks, stepping close so no one hears him.

“Um…”

“I’m sitting right over there, come grab me when you’re done eating, yeah?”

“Okay.”

He smiles and kisses her cheek before walking away. Y/N goes over to sit down with her friends, face completely flushed.

“Are you alright?” Ashley asks.

“Yeah, um, I think I just made a dick appointment, so I can’t stay long.”

“Oh my god!” Ashley squeals. “Damn, with Harry?”

“Yeah.” Y/N smiles. “I told him I was going to change after lunch and he just asked me if I needed help.”

“Oh, shit!” Amanda laughs. “What a fuckboy thing to say, but damn, I don’t think I’d say no either.”

“He’s, like, way more smooth than I ever would have thought.”

Y/N only eats about half of her lunch out of nerves, and then says goodbye to everyone. She walks over to Harry’s table, and clears her throat. He looks over at her and smiles, getting up with his empty dishes. He says goodbye to his friends and walks out with Y/N. They put their dishes away, and then he grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers.

“This is okay, right? I’m not being too pushy?”

“No, I…I want you to come over.”

“Okay.” He smiles and they both walk a little faster to the student apartments.

Y/N nervously keys inside and they both run up to her room. She slams it closed and locks it, and the next thing she knows she’s being pinned up against it. Harry presses his front to hers, and groans into their kiss.

“Is this okay?” He breathes before moving to suck on her neck.

“Yes.” Her hands move to undo his pants. “Is this?”

“Yes.” He steps back to take his shirt off and wiggle out of his pants.

He grabs her and his hands slide to her ass to unzip the back of her skirt. It falls to the ground, pooling at her feet. He lifts her shirt overhead, and quickly unhooks her bra.

“Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He leads her over to her bed, and lays her down. His fingers hook into her panties and he slides them down her legs. He licks his lips when he’s presented with her center. “You don’t mind if I have a little dessert, do you?”

“Please, indulge.” She leans up on her elbows to watch as he dives right in. “Oh, fuck.” Her head rolls back, and her hands rake through his hair.

He licks her up and down and moves his face from side to side. He sucks on her clit, and slides his middle finger inside her. She winces for a moment, and he pops off her to look at her.

“Are you still sore?”

“Um…only a little…but I really want you to keep going.”

“I don’t wanna do it if it’s gonna hurt.”

“Please, Harry? I really want you to fuck me again.”

“I just wish I had some lube or something to help soothe you…we’ll have to buy some.” He says more so to himself than to her before licking over her clit again. He does the next best thing, and just wells up some spit and lets it fall from his tongue to her center. She whimpers and he looks up at her. “Like that?”

“Yeah…it was sort of sexy…”

He does it again and then slides his middle finger back inside her. He’s able to get a second finger in, and he curls them both up against that spongey spot of her front wall. He uses his other thumb to rub around her clit. He looks up at her and can’t help but smirk when he sees her head rolled back into the pillow.

“Can tell you’re close, love, you gonna come for me?”

“Shit, oh my god, yes!” She cries out. His words put her over the edge and she comes around his fingers. He goes over to his backpack to grab a condom, and takes his boxers off so he can roll it on. He gets back on the bed between her legs.

“You know, I never asked, are you on the pill or anything? I don’t mind using condoms, I’m just curious.”

“Yeah, I’m on the pill.” She puts her hands on his shoulders and smiles.

He hums his response and lines himself up with her. He starts to push inside, but he stops.

“Why’d you stop?” She pouts.

“Just wanted to make sure you still wanted to.”

“I do! Please, just keep going.”

He nods and slowly pushes inside her. He grunts once he’s all the way in, and stays there a moment before pulling out and pushing back in. Her mouth falls open from the pleasure.

“That feels really good.” She says, pressing kisses to chest.

“Yeah? Like it like this, babe?”

“Mhm.”

He continues to carefully thrust in and out of her. She bites her bottom lip, and decides to let him know how she’s feeling.

“Could we…could I…um…”

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“What if I got on top?”

“You sure you wanna try that now? When’s your class?”

She looks off to her clock.

“I’ve got thirty minutes, plenty of time.”

“Alright.” He pulls out and switches spots with her. He sits up against the wall and waits for her. She gives him a funny look. “What?”

“Aren’t you supposed to lay down?”

“Not necessarily, I wanna help you, just come here.”

She crawls into his lap, and lines herself up with him. They both look down as she slowly sinks down on him. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment to get used to it. He helps her wraps her legs around his waist, and his hands grip her ass. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and he slowly thrusts up into her. Her eyes snap open when she feels how deep he’s able to go.

“Oh my god.” She looks at him. “Do that again.”

He slots his lips over hers and gets a rhythm going. She does her best to move along with him, but she doesn’t mind that he’s doing a lot of the work. She sucks his bottom between her teeth before moving to nibble on his earlobe.

“Harry.” She whines.

“Feels good?”

“Feels so good.” She bites down right on the crook of his neck and he groans.

His hands grip harder on her ass he moves her a little faster. Her clit was rubbing against him in the most perfect way, and she could feel another release approaching. She grips at his hair and tugs hard as she cries out into his chest. He spills into the condom as she comes down from her high. They both take a minute to sit there. He holds her close to him and rubs her back. He kisses her temple and then moves to her now puffy lips. He gives her a soft smile when he sees her mascara had run a bit. He uses his thumbs to help clean up under eyes, and it makes her giggle.

“I’ll just use a makeup wipe.” She pecks at his lips and slowly gets off him. “Blegh, I don’t like the way that feels at all.”

“It’s cause you’re so sensitive, babe.” He gets up and rids himself of the condom, putting his boxers and other clothes back on. He watches as she grabs a towel to wrap around herself.

“Mm, right, I forgot you were a sexologist.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just gonna pee, I’ll be right back.”

She’s back in a couple minutes and he watches her rifle through her workout clothes. She settles on a pair of cropped leggings, a sports bra, and a t-shirt. She flips her hair over and puts it up in a messy bun, and then grabs a makeup up wipe to get everything off. She sits down next to him to lace up her sneakers.

“I’m not a sexologist.” He mumbles.

“I know, I was being sarcastic.” She smirks.

“I’m aware.” He sits back on her bed and she looks at him. “I did take a women’s health class last year, though, and we talked about things that can happen after sex, so that’s the only reason why I know that.”

“Why in the fuck did you take a women’s health class, Harry?” She nearly laughs.

“I don’t know, my mum said it would be a good idea…and it counted towards one of my gen eds. I actually learned a lot. You ladies, uh, have a lot to deal with.”

“Were there other boys in the class?”

“A couple. I mostly kept to myself, I didn’t want anyone thinking I was there just to meet girls or anything.”

“Tell me, what else did you learn?” She was intrigued now.

“Basically everything that goes on with your body from birth to death.”

“Is that how you learned to be so go in bed?” She blushes.

“No, but please, keep inflating my ego.” He grins. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Good, I may refrain from doing squats because my legs feel like jelly, but other than that, no complaints.” She leans back to kiss his cheek. “I have time to get it together during class anyways.” She looks over at her click. “Which I need to get to now.”

She stands up and so does he. He wraps his arms around her from behind and gives a squeeze before letting her go. As she walked to class she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. She could definitely get used to having a boyfriend.

Things went on like this for a few a weeks. Harry and Y/N would meet up when they could for homework dates, keeping their actual tutoring sessions at the library so no funny business would happen. When they were alone, it was on just about every time. He tried to livestream her away games, and he was at every single one of her home games. When she gave him one of her jerseys from the previous year to wear, he tackled her and showered her with kisses. He wears it to all her home games now.

“You don’t have a game Saturday night, right?” He asks her one evening while doing homework.

“Nope, just during the afternoon, why?”

“There’s going to be free skate Saturday night, would you wanna go? I sort of have to be there for senate. I’ll understand if you won’t feel like it.”

“No! That sounds like fun. I never get to skate just for the hell of it. What time does it start? My, um, mom is coming to the game Saturday and she’s going to want to get dinner afterwards.”

“It starts at eight, and you’re mum’s coming?”

“Mhm.”

“Will I get to meet her?”

“Do you want to?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I think I should, you’re my girlfriend after all. Does she know about me?”

“Of course she does! I told her a week or so after we made things official. She’s going to sit in the parent’s section most likely…”

“I don’t mind not sitting with the usual people I go with. It would give me some time to chat with her if I sit with her. I wanna make a good impression.”

“You’re so sweet.” She smiles.

“Your siblings aren’t coming?”

“Nah, they’ll hang back to watch the bar.”

“Cool, well, I’m excited. What have you told her about me?”

“I told her how smart you are and how we met because you’re tutoring me.” She shuffles his papers and laptop away to crawl into his lap. “And I told her how sweet you are, and how you always walk me home when it’s late, and stuff like that.”

“Oh.” He wraps his arms around her waist.

“And I told her about your major, and how you’re on senate, and that you’re an all-around good person. I sent her a picture of you and she agreed that you’re very cute.”

Harry can’t help but smile while he presses his lips to hers.

“The tattoos didn’t throw her off?”

“Not at all.” She scoffs. “My mom is pretty chill for the most part. She just wants me to be happy, and I am, so it’s no skin off her nose.”

“I told my mum about you too, you know. I told about how nice you are and how passionate you are about hockey, and how bright you are.”

“Oh, stop.”

“I mean it! I really admire you, Y/N. It takes a lot of work to balance being a student-athlete.”

“Thanks, Har.” She pecks his lips and nuzzles into his neck.

On Saturday, Harry explains to his friends that he’ll be sitting on the parent side of the arena to meet Y/N’s mom. He has the jersey that Y/N gave him on, so he wasn’t hard to find. He feels a tap on his shoulder just as he’s getting some ketchup onto his hotdog. He turns around and looks down to see a woman who sort of looked like Y/N.

“Hi, are you Harry? I could only assume since you’re wearing a jersey with my daughter’s name on it.”

“Yeah! Hi, are you Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“Mhm, please, just call me Angie.” She gives Harry a gentle hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N told me so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. Did you want anything from concessions before we go in?”

“Oh, no, I’m all set, but thank you.” She smiles. “I’m so excited, this is the first game I’ve been able to get to all season. I heard you’ve been to every single one.”

“It’s important to support the women’s teams just as much as the men’s.”

“Well, I know how much it means to Y/N, so thank you.”

He follows her into the arena and they sit in a row a few up from the glass. Harry finishes his hotdog and tosses his trash into a nearby bin. Everything goes dark, and lights start flashing. The crowd cheers for both teams as they come onto the ice. Harry cheers and claps for Y/N, and so does her mother.

Y/N assists a goal, and the crowd goes wild. Later on she’s sent to the penalty box for knocking someone over, to which she argued with the ref about, to which Harry had to fight the blood rushing to his dick watching her get fired up. She sits there for the two minutes, and gets back on the ice. Harry chats with Y/N’s mom between periods, and the girls end up winning 3-1. It was a good game.

“I’m glad it’s over, I was really starting to get cold.” She chuckles as they go out to the lobby. “I was planning to take Y/N for a bite to eat once she’s done, would you like to join us?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna impose on your alone time…”

“Don’t be silly! You’re welcome to join, I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Thanks, yeah, if she’s cool with it I’d be happy to join.”

Twenty or so minutes go by before Y/N emerges in the lobby. She had some ice wrapped around her shoulder, and a huge smile on her face when she sees her mom.

“Mum!” She runs over to her and they hug.

“Hi, sweetie.” She kisses her cheek. “What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

“Nothing, the trainer just wanted it wrapped up.” She shrugs and goes over to hug Harry.

“Great game.” He says.

“Thanks.” She smiles and kisses his cheek. “Do you wanna join us for dinner?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Perfect, how does Chinese sound?” Her mom asks.

“Works for me.” Y/N says.

“Sounds good.” Harry says.

“Harry, I’ll need to go ready at my place before free skate. Ashley’s having a…get together tonight.”

“That’s fine, I’ll wanna change to.”

They tell each other as they climb into Angie’s car. She laughs to herself and shakes her head at Y/N.

“What?”

“You can just say you’re going to a party. You just won a game, of course you guys are gonna celebrate tonight.” She nudges her.

The three enjoy a nice Chinese buffet. Angie is able to get to know Harry a little more, and Y/N eats it up. Harry knew how to speak with adults since he had to do it often for student senate. He was definitely making a good impression.

“Want to just drop you off at your apartment, honey?”

“That’d be great mom, thanks.”

Angie gets out of the car to give Y/N a big hug and kiss goodbye, and she gives Harry a hug as well. Y/N keys into her apartment, and brings Harry upstairs with her.

“It shouldn’t take me too long, and then we can go to your place.”

“Take your time, we don’t need to be the first people there.” He says, settling to lounge on her bed.

He watches as she picks out a pair of ripped mom jeans and a long sleeve white crop top. She heard him laugh and she turns her head.

“What?”

“What’s the point of that having sleeves if half your stomach isn’t covered?”

“It’s going to be cold on the ice, and hot at Ashley’s. I’m just trying to help myself out for both scenarios.” She takes her hair out of its messy bun and shakes it out. She runs her straightener through it quickly, and then changes. She puts a little makeup on and looks at Harry. “Well?”

“Look good enough to eat, babe.”

“Don’t start.” She giggles. “Let’s go, you take longer than me to change.”

“I do not.” He says with fake offense.

“Yes, you do.” She boops his nose and tugs him out of her room.

“We’re going to free skate tonight, and then we’ll come to Ashley’s.” She says to Amanda, peeping her head into her room.

“Okay, we’ll see you later, have fun!”

Y/N and Harry make their way to his apartment, and head up to his room. He puts his contacts in, and peels his jersey and undershirt off. He finds a short-sleeve button up in his closet and throws that on with some jeans. He finds a jacket to wear over it and puts his beanie back on.

“Alright, ready?”

“Mhm.”

They make their way to the ice arena and get their skates. There was a small line which Harry was happy to see. He watches as Y/N nimbly laces up her skates, and she looks at him.

“Do you want some help with those?” She asks.

“Would you mind? I feel like I can never get them tight enough.”

“The trick is tug them down here first.” She kneels in front of him and it makes him blush to see her basically on her knees before him. “See? Feel the difference?” She looks up at him innocently.

“Um, yeah.” He swallows and she ties up his other skate. “Thanks.”

“No worries.”

She helps him up and they make their way onto the ice. There was a good amount of people skating, and there was music playing. Harry looks over to see his friends from senate.

“Hold my hand?” He asks and she giggles, taking it without question. They both gently glide their way over. “Nice turn out, huh?” He says to Andrew and Billy.

“Yeah! Awesome Weekends really pulled it together.” Billy says.

“I think the free cocoa and popcorn was nice a touch.” Andrew points over to small station off to the side of the arena. “Hi, Y/N, that was a great game earlier.”

“Oh! Thanks.” She smiles.

“I thought your penalty was bullshit, that girl nudged you first.” Billy says.

“That’s what I said! This is why they should just let us fight each other, it’s so annoying.”

“Where’s Ari?” Harry asks, looking around.

“Ah! She’s here with Scott Paxton.” Andrew points to the other end of the rink. “My jaw dropped when I saw her walk in with him.”

“Oh good, I’m glad she’s got a date.” Harry says relieved.

“Well, are we going to stand around, or are we skating?” Y/N asks.

“Aren’t you tired?” Billy asks.

“Not at all! I never get to just fuck around on the ice.”

She starts skating backwards to the beat of the song that’s playing, and Harry glides towards her, taking her hands in his.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Skate backwards.”

“Oh! It’s easy!” She frees her hands from him and skates around him so she’s behind him, hands on his hips. “It’s just like skating forwards, only backwards.”

“You’d be a horrible tutor, Y/N.” Harry chuckles.

“Shut up! You’ll see what I’m saying, just move with me, I’ve got you.”

He looks over his shoulder so he can see what they’re doing, and he watches as she moves her legs and he tries to do the same.

“See! You’re getting the hang of it.”

“Just don’t let go.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Y/N ends up skating around a bit while Harry talks with some of the student senate people towards the end of the event, but all in all they had a great time together. She helps him get his skates off, and he sighs with relief.

“I don’t know how you wear these all the time.” He says he gets his boots back on.

“You just get used to it.” She shrugs and stands up. “Ready to go have some more fun?”

“Mhm.” He takes her hand as they walk out of the arena, and towards Ashley’s apartment. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! It was great.”

“It was like being on a little date, huh?”

“Mhm.” She smiles up at him. “You looked cute skating.”

“Did I? Thought I looked like an idiot.”

“Oh stop, you’re decent enough for someone who doesn’t skate every day of their life.”

“Last year I took one of those one credit courses so I could take a skating lesson. That’s the only reason I didn’t fall flat on my ass.” This makes Y/N laugh and loop her arm through Harry’s to keep him close. “I liked the way you hung onto me to show me some stuff.”

“See, I ended up being a pretty decent teacher after all. Our methods are just different.”

They get to Ashley’s and head right in. She tells them they can leave their jackets in the hall closet if they want, and then head into the kitchen. Y/N was allowed to have whatever alcohol she wanted, and by proxy, so could Harry. He makes them up some vodka cranberries, and they both head downstairs to join a game of beer pong.

Y/N goes off to hang out with her friends, and Harry does the same, knowing a few people at the house. She does some shots with them and makes her way back over to Harry, tugging him away to come dance with her. She grinds her ass against his pelvis, and his hands press into her hips. She loved that Harry wasn’t one of those guys that was too scared to dance. It made going to parties with him so much more fun. After a couple of songs, she can feel how incredibly hard he is against her.

“Yours or mine tonight?” He asks as he nips at her neck. Her arm hooks up around him so she can tug at his hair. Her head falls back to his shoulder.

“Yours, want the bigger bed.”

“Yeah? Wanna have a little more room, babe?”

“Mhm.” She nearly whines.

“You ‘bout ready to go?”

“Yeah, take me home, baby.” She pouts at him.

He lets her walk in front of him to hide his boner as they grab their jackets. He gives her a piggy-back ride back to his place, and he gets her inside, up the stairs, and into his room. They both kick off their shoes, and once their jackets are off, she’s on him. Her tongue licks its way into his mouth and he happily sucks on it, loving the way he could taste the cranberry juice from her mixer.

Her hands slide down his torso, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, and then she tugs at his belt. His hands grope her ass and then her breasts before pulling her shirt off. He places needy kisses down her chest before getting her bra off, and tackling her onto the bed. She giggles as she gets a little more comfortable.

“Want me to suck on it first, Harry?”

“Please.” He flops next to her and she straddles him. She kisses down his chest and undoes his pants. She tugs his hard cock out and puts her mouth right on him.

He bucks his hips up slightly as she pumps what she can’t fit. She tugs his pants and boxers down further so she can grip onto his thighs. His hands rake through her hair to keep it back for her.

“So fucking good, Y/N.” He bites his bottom lip as he watches her bob her head up and down. She moans around him as a response, and he nearly loses it. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that, and I’d like to fuck you, so.” He pulls her head off him, and his mouth falls open when he sees the string of spit between his tip and her bottom lip. “Christ.” He yanks her up to him and crashes their mouths together.

He bites and sucks on her bottom lip, and she rolls her hips down on him. He winces, not liking the way her jeans feel against his bare dick. He gets her on her back to get her pants off. Once they’re both naked, he hovers over her so he can kiss her lips again, sliding his fingers between her folds. She gasps when she feels two fingers slide inside her. He twists and curls them and it has her moving her hips along the same way. He watches her face and love the way she makes eye contact with him.

“You like that, babe?” He asks.

“Yes, fuck, don’t stop.” She pleads with him as if he would ever be so mean to tease her and pull his fingers away. He’d give her anything she wanted, she never needed to beg.

He kisses on her neck while his thumb rubs against her clit. She scratches at his shoulders, and she moans out his name. He takes his fingers away and kisses her before reaching for a condom.

“Har?”

“Yeah?” He asks as he rolls it on.

“Would you bend me over the bed?”

“Y/N, if you’re fucking with me I’m gonna be super pissed.” He glares at her.

“I’m not! I mean it, please! I like when we do it from behind, I just wanna try it this way.”

“Alright, get up.” He helps her off the bed, and then she bends over in front of him, propping herself up on her elbows. She wiggles her bottom at him, and he gives her a little smack, making her giggle. “Ready?”

“Mhm, give it to me.”

He lines himself up and pushes inside. She moans out lowly. He starts out by gripping her hips, rocking in and out of her. He wanted to ease her into it.

“I can handle more, Harry, it’s okay.”

“Want it harder, baby?”

“Please.”

He pulls out almost all the way and slams back inside her. Her mouth falls open, and she grips the blankets as he does it over and over. He has to grip onto the back of her neck to keep her in place once he gets an even pace going. All she could hear was his skin slapping against hers. His other hand slips around to rub on her clit and she backs up against him.

“Think you can fuck yourself on my cock while I rub on you?”

“I can try…” She was so fucking wet just from hearing him say that. She moves forward and back, on and off his cock while he rubs on her clit.

“That’s it, babe, use me.”

“Jesus, Harry.” She groans, and bites her bottom lip so she could concentrate. “Oh my god.”

He presses further into her while she backed up on him. She loses it then. He has to move one of his hands over her mouth to muffle her screams. He spills into the condom, the feeling of her squeezing around him did him in. He kisses the backs of her shoulders before pulling out and getting rid of the condom. She collapses onto the bed.

“Alright?” He rubs her back and helps her the rest of the way up.

“Yeah, that was just…wow.” She looks up at him. “I need to pee.”

She looks around and finds her jersey that he was wearing earlier. She was much more comfortable going by herself now, so she waddles out of his room. He can’t help but grow hard again. She just looked so sexy only in her jersey. She comes back in looking freshly fucked and she raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“Nothing…um…” His face was flushed and her eyes flick down to his hard cock and back to his eyes.

“Are you already hard again?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” She chuckles.

“You look so fucking hot like that. I can wait if you don’t wanna go again so soon.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Come sit on me, bounce up and down?”

“Okay.” She bites her bottom lip.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m still pretty wet, see?” She lifts the bottom of her jersey so he could see. “Even with going to the bathroom, I just couldn’t help but think about how good it felt.”

“You’re soaked.”

“Mhm.”

“Get over here.” He leans over to his desk and grabs a condom, but she takes it from him. “What are you doing?”

“Do you…I don’t know…maybe not want to use one?”

“That’s how accidents happen.”

“I’m on the pill, I never miss one. I have them with me so I can take it in the morning like I usually do. You could come on my stomach of you feel more comfortable with that. I just wanna feel you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She goes to take the jersey off but he shakes his head no. “Leave it on.” He says lowly.

She crawls onto his lap and sinks down on him. He lays back and lets her go to work. She moves around in a circle at first and then starts to move up and down. His hands grips her hips and then smooth over the globes of her ass.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this, you have no idea.”

“You feel so good, Harry.” She throws her head back as she bounces up and down on him.

“Shit, so do you.”

He wasn’t going to last long, but he wanted to make sure she got hers before he did, so he lifts the jersey a little to rub her sensitive clit.

“Harry!” She gasps and claws down his chest with her nails. “Shit, oh my god!” She comes around him much sooner than she thought.

He pulls her off him, and press her front into the mattress. He lifts the jersey up so he can come on her ass and back. He sighs with relief once he’s done.

“Let me get a towel, babe, one second.” He slides his boxers on and rummages in his closet. Once he finds a spare towel he leaves the room. She was confused but when he comes back she feels warm water on her. He flips her over and wipes between her legs. Her eyes grow wide. He had never done that before. He looks at her and blushes. “Sorry, was that weird?”

“No! I just…you’re just always a gentleman, Harry.” She chuckles.

He tosses the towel into his hamper and practically rips the jersey off her so they could lay skin to skin. He pecks kisses to her lips and chest and rubs her back as they settle in. He pulls the blankets up over them and they both sigh.

“I like your bed so much better than mine.” She nuzzles into his chest. “So cozy.”

“Your bed is cozy too.”

“Yeah, but we have way less room, and as much as I love you, we both get too sweaty in my dinky bed.” She didn’t realize what she said until she feels his body stiffen under hers. She props herself up to look down at him. “I mean, I just meant, um-“ He cups one of her cheeks.

“Don’t you dare try to take it back.”

“It just slipped out…I-“

“Stop.” He shakes his head. “You love me?”

“Harry, I…yeah, I do, I love you.” He pulls her face down to his so he can kiss her.

“I love you, too.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” She smiles. “Well, this is nice for us.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “It’s very nice.” She starts laughing too. “What is it?” He asks as he turns them both over so he can spoon her.

“Nothing, I’m just really fucking glad I had no idea how the brain functioned so I could get you as a tutor.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles college au #college!harry #tutor!harry #tutorry

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fearofahumanplanet · 3 years ago

Text

D.N.R. (short story by me)

I've been just venting with this blog lately and that's kinda cringe so I'm going to compensate by venting with a story instead, something I wrote a long time ago to help cope with my BPD and process it. I hope it can help someone understand people with this condition or help those with this condition find something to relate to or smth.

I'm okay right now, I'm just really proud of this story and wanted to actually share some of my work to maybe cope with how I've been feeling today better. I wrote this story a year or two ago and I'm doing a lot better now - I have a therapist, treatment, a small support system, etc. I don't want this story to prompt worry, I just want to share for anyone who needs it. It's dark, but it's how I heal.

TW: Suicide references/suicidal thoughts, self-harm, BPD symptoms & references to unstable relationships, light blood, self-hatred (lmk if I should add any more). If you're in a bad place, I would not advise reading this (unless raw emotion like this helps you personally).

General Taglist: @aohendo, @athenswrites, @impaledlotus, @bardic-tales, @carefulpyro

I live my life in a waiting room.

I wait, they wait, we all wait. It’s supposed to bring us together. It’s supposed to make some sort of fucking team out of us. That’s the funny thing about people, really. You could glue us together, and we’d tear ourselves in half just to get away.

Don’t take that as a criticism free of hypocrisy.

With that thought in mind, I can only thank the heartless gods above for sentencing me solace, over and over and over, and I’ve never been so compliant and happy with a decision I loathe and regret.

My name doesn’t matter, never has. I’m a therapist of sorts. Real funny, I know – People can always tell, even past the pessimism that drenches every word, the agoraphobic misanthrope at my core.

You wouldn’t think I’d manage it, but it’s fascinating, how far you can get with a broken smile.

I mean, it’s a broken smile – Of course it’s a lie. Of course it’s a fallacy, of course it’s forced, fit for a fiend. But no one’s noticed yet. That’s the strength of a well-timed joke, one calculated mask. You hide everything you are, and you find something that’s real likeable. A real people person, someone sent to save.

And I save. Some days, I don’t feel I can manage that, but they tell me so. In this room of four walls, of a blank floor and ceiling, of nothing but a clean, inviting chair – I find the writings on the walls, the notes in the margins, little hopes from the haughty heavens.

You’re not alone. You are loved. You are valuable. You save so many. You are funny. You never run out of things to say. You are loved. You have saved lives. You have redeemed every sin. You are loved. You know how to bring a smile. You aren’t going to die alone. You won’t ever be alone again.

The angels of my idyllic fantasies surround me, chanting, touching, holding.

You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved. You are loved.

And every day, I remember to stop slamming my head into the wall with every recitation. Every day, I lean down low, where all is familiar. I soak the blood in my fingers, let it run down the skin, let it fill out the cracks in my psyche. And when it’s all buried, when it’s all swept out of sight…

I slap on my broken smile, and greet the droves devouring.

It’s another broken woman, meek behind a mismatched mask. Her smile is broken, and I’m the only one who sees. They never mean to find their way to me, but they do.

It’s the same game every bloody time. I say hello. They say hello. They wonder how I got here. I just tell them I have a knack for showing where I’m needed. They don’t think about it. They never think. They don’t even know who I really am, my mask a memorable masterpiece. It’s always small talk at first. Music, video games. They tell me they don’t understand, my compassion, my kindness, my understandings. I shrug, and flash another humble, hollow smile.

Why wouldn’t I be this way, I say. Every damn time. I never need to adjust the script. There are no plot holes to cover, no rusted gears. The system grinds on without deviation.

I try not to let them in. I try to keep them above surface level, make sure they only meet the mask. It never works, but I’m going to try again. Spin the hamster wheel.

It’s not that I wish to keep them away, you see. I’m only an isolationist by incident, a misanthrope by mistake, a pariah by punishment. I’m sick, hopelessly sick. It seeps out from beneath my skin, hiding behind my sunken eyes, lurking under my serpent tongue. I try to swallow it down, treasure the venom. No one needs to know, no one that doesn’t already. No one I’ve yet to fail.

And this woman, like every one before her, she doesn’t know a thing about me. But the venom is alluring, and I know everything about her. I see it in her lying eyes, and she breaks down and spills her guts out on the floor. I just mop them up and listen, cradle her when she cries, pet her hair when she can’t spit out any more. And I just smile and embody the angels.

It will be all right. You are loved. You are not alone. There is someone out there for you. You will not die alone. You are loved. No one is beyond redemption. No one is without hope.

And I can say every word with absolute belief, every scene in my script without error. I have had thousands of years to practice, and I will have thousands more.

This next bit always happens. Actually, I could say that about everything here, but this I resent the most. She thanks me, and tells me she’ll be back tomorrow. I smile and tell her I’d love that. She says she will never abandon me.

I keep the smile on, let loose no levity. And I tell her, like I told all the others. These things never last. She will grow to hate me, and I tell her so. She will grow to loathe the mere thought of me, and I tell her so. She will grow to rue my name, to curse the ground I walk on, to panic and stab and burn until there is nothing left of me before her.

And I tell her so.

And without a waver, taking no time for hesitation, she just says she’s not like the others. That she isn’t going anywhere, this time. That there is hope this time. And not once she wonders why the theoretical therapist is the one breaking down every fucking night. Why would she? It’s all out of sight.

And she’s gone, away from me, and I know she will spend every minute thinking about me. And I know I will spend every one of those minutes regretting them.

This pariah paces her pen, praying for a pale horse.

The silence overwhelms. The silence snuffs, the silence sneaks in when you think you’ve found a sure fate.

I contemplate, turn and roll over in mud and dirt. The day slips away, and night nuzzles in. I think about my newest woman. I have seen it happen so many times, over thousands of years, hundreds and hundreds of times.

But I am naught but a full circle, and I allow myself hope again. I allow myself one more forsaken breath.

The silence slips down low, rejuvenating my venom, strengthening my sickness. I try to eat, and I vomit it up, hoping my heart will come up with it. The thought is fast and sudden, just like that. It no longer shocks, no longer ignites alarm. I cannot fathom concern.

I rock back and forth in the dark, empty room. I put on one of countless records, watch movies of malicious murder and horrific hatred, write another story no one will ever read. I pace the room, I kick the walls, I scream my lungs out to the tune of my favourite song. With every meaningless minute, I forget myself. With every severed second, I lose track.

And it always hits me, every night, the same sudden thought, the same onset of dread. Isn’t that funny?

Every night, I feel I’ve lost my mind.

I can’t lose it over and over, of course. It must have left me long ago. But if I’m going to lose my mind, couldn’t it take all of its malignant maladies with it?

The second thought is always the same too. This fate feels like forever.

And that’s even sillier than the first. Of course it’s forever. It will always be forever. There is no escape.

There is a third thought. Don’t worry, this is the last one, and it too, happens every night.

It’s that this thought should be the last one.

So, I make it so. I take the knife, and I try to find out what makes me tick, scout out a new avenue, plot out some new elaborate method I have yet to attempt. Every night, that is how I go, cradling the knife like a stuffed teddy, showering myself in a bottle of vodka, popping my pills like candy.

I find every way to numb my nagging nuisance of a mind, and it still keeps coming. Because I know, deep down, this new hope is nothing new. It is a resurgence, a repetition of centuries past. It is a false flare, a lost lighthouse. And I swim and I swim, even as I tell myself to sink. And every night, I do. I sink, drenched in my own blood, seeping out through freshly torn slits, the aroma of alcohol affecting every word I regret. I spend minutes debating, searching, no inch of skin untarnished.

It comes to something when you run out of room for scars.

I’ll say not a word, not to the aiding angels, not to the compassionate client. I am alone, I have always been and always will be. I was born and thrown away without the aid of another, abandoned with abject apathy, and I am content with my lot.

I am not content because I am happy, but I am content for I know there is nothing better.

Sometimes, if I’m particularly unlucky, the angels will hover in, finding my bloodstained, drunken corpse stretched out across the floor. They will tug the bottles from my hands, hide the knife somewhere else, knowing I will find it again. I am determined, I am without limit, waning in this war simply for a will without want.

If they’re there, they always tell me. I am loved. I am wanted. I am needed. I am of worth. I am of benefit. I have saved. I have redeemed. I am not alone.

The angels smile around me, fading with every flicker of the candle. They are real, but they don’t know a thing. They are so far away, holding me to their chests.

They are scared. I am loved. They are scared. I am loved. They are scared. I am loved.

They need me. They can’t live without me. They can’t. They can’t imagine a world without me.

It’s a shame I have proven to be so uselessly useful. It is a shame I have found a way to chain worthy souls to my empty body. It is a shame I always manage to find a new person to save, when I can’t even save myself.

It is a shame they can’t imagine a world without me, because I no longer want to imagine a world with me.

Every time I die, I fear at the fall. Not for my soul, for the promise of hell is a welcome relief. Not for the ones left behind, because I know they’re better off without.

And every night, I write it on my neck, over a thousand purple scars.

D.N.R.

Instructions no one will abide by. I hope they do this time. I hope they abide. I hope they forget. I hope they respect.

Tonight is like every night. I pass away and fall, embrace the empty, find there is nothing beyond the void, realize the devil below or the salvation above are simply manufactured dreams.

There is nothing, and I am nothing.

Every morning, air ambushes my ambivalence. I remember to live again, remember I have a job to do. I roll out of bed, stitch the wounds, pry shattered glass loose of skin. I feel for my heart without hope, and see with no amount of surprise that beats once more.

I loom over the mirror, and search the dirtied floor for my abandoned broken smile.

I stitch on my savior’s smile.

And I meet the woman again, the name of who matters not. They orbit my ouroboros, like every one before her, and they are identical in naught but function.

Like all the others before her, I embody her anchor. She comes to me, day in, day out. She sees the fresh scars and beating bruises, but I tell her to worry not. I reassure her with promises and encourage, and I get closer and closer.

And every time I learn to love again, I forget why I chose to let that knowledge go.

The longer we lay together, the less she’s convinced. As weeks whistle by, I have to let my mask slip, loose my serpent’s tongue. The venom crawls down her skin, and I can see what I am doing, but I am too selfish to care. With every drop, my scars and sins come clearer in view, like blurred photographs rendered in clarity.

And I can see her eyes break with every passing month, but I am too selfish to care, too lonely and lost to let her go.

I tell her of the ocean, of my wistful love for the waves. I tell her of beaches, of abyssal depths only I know. I tell her I will take there, I tell her I will never let her go. And I know I never will.

And with my hand in hers, every longing lie is a cross easier to bear. My will wears away with every passing night. Every moon, I re-iterate my instruction.

D.N.R.

Because maybe they’ll listen.

D.N.R.

Maybe someone above will practice mercy.

D.N.R.

And with all this hate I’ve spread, this venom I’ve made a virus, you’d think one victim would find a way to strike me down.

Tonight, months into this ouroboros, she joins the angels, the hundreds of angels. She is still solid yet, not like them, fading and translucent, hazy and flickering. She has found me with a fallen mask, met me in my correct configuration.

I always want to tell them not to lean on me. Because when they do, I lean on them, and I know the disease will spread.

But she joins the angels, like all the real ones did before, pleading with me, making me promises I know will fade away. She fails to see them around her, crowding, begging.

I am loved. I am wanted. I am needed. I am valuable. I am of worth. I am helpful. I am funny. I am the highlight of your day. I am clever. I am insightful. I am a blessing.

And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying. And you are lying.

And I wish you fucking knew that.

And I beg her not to leave me, as the blood fills my lungs. And she says she never will.

Not like every love before her, not like every ally before her, not like my mother before her, not like my home before her.

And the promise is a cushion, even as I know she’ll change her mind. But I hold onto hope. Because that’s what the angels tell me every day.

There is hope. No one is beyond saving. You still have time.

Time is not a comfort. Time is a sentence. Time is the promise of life. Time is something I do not wish to handle.

And I scream out every one of these words, roar out many more.

Because when the mask falls, I am the venom. I am sick, I am violent, I am overcome, I am lashing out.

And no matter how hard I try, I find no healthy option to shuttle it all away.

How do you help someone hidden away in the waiting room? How do you help someone buried from birth, silenced from the start?

Why do they tell me they want to hear my words, when every single letter leaves a scar?

I am never alone. My shadow hangs over me, and it never leaves me a moment’s peace.

And so I die again, choking on my own poisonous bile.

This is not the first incident the woman sees. It happens again, two weeks later. Again, four days after. Again, two days after. Again, three hours after.

Because once the mask drops, I can never seem to find it again, and I fail to dig up another broken smile.

The sickness wears on her, paling her skin, bags beneath her eyes, cold resignation beneath more and more words. And I have seen it happen a thousand times, and I cannot help but remind her that it is my fault she grows sick. I remind her that I am at fault for my contagious nature.

And it takes so long. It takes months, and months. But she finally lets go.

I hold her all night long, and we talk of the ocean. I hold her, and she tells me of the places we’ll go, and the things we will see. And I dream of broken promises.

I dream of the ocean.

I wake up, and she is gone.

I scream and I thrash, and I drench her side of the bed with my blood.

The sun comes and goes without care, hidden out of sight. I shiver and vomit, cradling my broken body, tracing every well-deserved scar. And I wake up dead that morning, once more, routine inescapable.

I stare my newest angel in the eyes, pale and flickering like the rest, a ghost to the reasonable soul.

A mangled memory.

I am loved. I am needed. I am wanted. I am helpful. I am clever. I am helpful. I am a blessing. I am-

I shoot the angel, knowing she will return, knowing the ghosts of my criminal past are this pariah’s penance. I take another drink, gulp down another pill, come up with another broken smile.

I know not whether this will ever end. But this is my lot in life, and I have learned to welcome my lonely road.

I hear the chime of the bell, another clueless client, the ouroboros coiling anew.

I consider my options, consider the dead woman, staring back at me from the mirror with empty eyes.

And I know I will keep fighting. I know this is a war I will always wage. It is not out of want, nor out of will. Not out of spite. Not out of hope, not out of hate. Not out of love.

I stand up again, and again, and again, because I have nothing left to fear. I continue to fight because there is no terror found in a predictable cycle, no horror in a novel with a spoiled ending. To want to live, to want to die, I’d have to care.

And if I cared, I’d collapse under the weight of every single thing I’ve ever done.

So I stare down these sunken, apathetic eyes, resigned in their duty. I carve the instructions in my forehead once again. Not out of hope, but out of habit.

D.N.R.

Do not resuscitate.

Maybe one of these days, lightning will strike.

If not, I am content with waiting.

#writing #writeblr #bpd #vent story #short story #personal work #old shite from my archive #it's a lot better than i remember

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ssahotchhner · 4 years ago

Text

i’ll crawl home to her (LRPD part two)

PART ONE

hello again! thank u all again for paying attention to my first work! this has been a lot of fun for me to write the last few days. please feel free to send me any requests. if anyone was curious, the title of the first part was the title of a song by hozier, the title of this part is taken from another hozier song: work song (: i hope you guys like it and thank you again for reading!! pairing: hotch x reader

words: 7k

warnings: again, usual cm stuff, rape mention, kidnapping, knives, guns, bombs, cursing, some smut

chat with me!

You’ve been laying on your hotel bed, staring at the ceiling for hours. You thought you’d be sad, upset with yourself, but instead you’re angry. After you’d been stewing in it for a while, you stand and leave your room, ignoring the digital clock at your bedside that tries to remind you it’s nearly 2AM.

You storm all the way down the hallway until you’re outside Aaron’s door, knocking aggressively with no reprieve until the door opens. You ignore the feeling in your stomach at seeing him shirtless with pajama bottoms hanging low at his hips, his hair mussed from sleep. You feel a pang of guilt at waking him. You storm past him before he can invite you inside.

“Take back the suspension, now.” You demand, spinning to face him.

He slowly closes the door, “Agent, it’s 2AM. Have you slept?” He looks you over, answering his own question, “You haven’t slept in over 48 hours, we can talk about this in the morning.”

“Why are you punishing me for something I didn’t do?” Angry tears entered your eyes.

Hotch looks exhausted as he pulls a shirt over his head and sits on the edge of the bed, “I’m not punishing you--”

“Well it sure feels that way. What, you couldn’t stand to be around me, working with me anymore because of the other night so this is how you get rid of me?” The tears overflow, pouring down your cheeks, “Is that it then?”

He shakes his head sadly, “You know that’s not true.”

“Then what?!”

He takes a breath, “I can’t have you working in the field right now knowing you lied during your psych eval and you know that. You put yourself and the team at risk when you’re out in the field, keeping things from all of us.” You start to protest, but he holds up a hand to stop you, “When we get back, you can go through another evaluation without lying. And then, if you pass, you can have your gun and badge back, no questions asked.” You’re quiet and he has to ask, “Why did you lie?” He can’t hide the hurt in his voice, “You could’ve told me.”

Your face crumples, “I lied because I didn’t want you to look at me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like a victim. Like damaged goods. Broken.”

He finally stands to come over to you, “I’ve never thought that, not for a single moment. I think you’re incredibly brave, stronger than you know.” He takes your face in his hands and gently tilts it up until you’re looking at him and brushes away your tears with the pads of his thumbs, “This doesn’t change any of that.”

You push him away and his arms fall to his sides again, “Then why do you keep treating me like an inconvenience?”

He decides now he should finally be honest with you, “Because the way I feel about you scares me, it’s inappropriate and I don’t know how to handle it. Haley’s the only woman I’ve ever been with, I don’t know how… I didn’t know if you even wanted me.”

You manage the smallest of smiles, “Thought you were supposed to be a profiler.”

He smirks and looks down, relieved that you’re finally, finally not upset with him, “I’m not good at profiling when it comes to you.”

“Well?” You ask and he looks back up at you again.

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?”

You smile, “If I want you.”

He smirks again, his brown eyes looking you up and down as he walks to you until he has you backed against a wall, “Do you want me?” He whispers in your ear, his breath against your skin sends chills down your spine.

You can only nod as he pulls back to look at your face and then his mouth is on yours. Soft and gentle at first, but then as his hands explore your body, his lips become needier, more insistent. You moan softly when he begins kissing and biting your neck, hands traveling lower until he’s rubbing you over your pants, “Is this okay?” He sounds so calm and in control, unlike the breathy mess he’s made you.

“Yes,” You say and bring his face back to yours.

He pulls away to look in your eyes, “I can stop, if you want.”

“No.” You say quickly, “Don’t stop.”

So he carries you to the bed, carefully removing your clothing as he kisses you all over. Soon, you’re both naked and he lays on his side, pulling away a bit as his eyes roam over you. “What’s the matter?” You say.

He shakes his head and runs his fingers along your shoulders, “Nothing, you’re perfect. I just want to look at you.”

You smile and run your hands down his chest, then back up to his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to him. “We can go slow,” You murmur and then slide a hand between his legs as he nearly gasps, “If you want.” You pump him once, twice, and he’s practically growling at you, quickly flipping the two of you so he’s kneeling between your legs.

He slowly pushes himself inside you, burying his face in your neck. You feel his smile against your skin when you moan with pleasure at being filled up. He thrusts slow and gentle, his eyes locking on yours, half to make sure you’re still okay and half for his own pleasure. It’s bliss watching how your mouth parts open that little bit, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head. Everything you do drives him absolutely crazy. Watching you and hearing the sound of your moans that he had imagined so often when he was alone is what sent him over the edge, and just like that you think it’s over. But just moments after finishing, he slides out of you and whispers, “Your turn” before his face disappears between your legs.

All you can really think as his mouth makes quick work of you, digging his fingers into your thighs and sneaking glances at you, is how you’re ever going to be able to work with him again without thinking of this. It’s that sight, the sight of your boss, normally so dominant, submissive to you now as he lays between your thighs, has that knot in your stomach unraveling as your back arches.

Once you’ve ridden out your high, he climbs back up next to you. You both lie on your backs, out of breath next to each other. When you both catch your breath, Aaron immediately pulls you to him until most of your body rests on his chest. He presses a kiss to your forehead, “I can’t tell you how long I’ve thought about doing that.” He says.

You smile, “Me too.”

“Really?” You can tell from his tone you’ve fueled his already inflated ego.

“Yeah, Aaron, everytime you roll up your sleeves, or shoot a gun, or wear a bulletproof vest,” You let out a low whistle and he laughs. You smile again, “I’ve missed making you do that.”

You’re both quiet for a while and you would think he was sleeping if not for the way his fingers kept stroking your arm, “Aaron?” You say after a while.

“Hm?”

You hesitate, knowing that once you say this you can never go back. But, you spit it out, “I love you.”

His hand stills on your arm and the silence feels so loud, you can hear your own heartbeat, “You should get some sleep.”

You’re glad for the darkness so he can’t see the pain on your face, or notice the way your heart shatters. You have no right to be upset, you know this, and yet… You turn away from him and you feel the bed shift as he does the same. And once his breathing evens out, you dress and sneak out to head back to your hotel room. You think he’s asleep, but he’s not. He’s too busy beating himself up for not saying it back to you when he knows he feels it.

Quickly, you pack your suitcase all while brushing tears from your eyes. You book your own flight home, not able to bear the jet ride home. Not only had you been suspended, but you’d been so vulnerable with your boss and he had rejected you.

You send a quick text to JJ to let the team know you won’t be on the jet and ignore all the texts that follow asking you what’s going on. Aaron doesn’t bother contacting you. Why would he? He knows why you’re not here.

He’s quiet and resentful the entire plane ride back and everyone knows better than to ask him what was wrong.

***

When you get back to your apartment you immediately head for your bar cart, pouring a heavy amount of tequila over ice and chugging it back. You knew halfway through you would regret it, but you finished anyway. Then, you carefully locked your door and headed to the shower.

***

“Maybe we should go check on her.” Penelope was telling JJ and Emily two days later at the bullpen. “She’s still not answering her phone.”

Aaron feels incredible guilt overhearing this conversation. He had eventually tried to call you as well to no avail. He was starting to get worried, but he wasn’t sure if he should be the one to go. It would be better if the rest of them went.

“What happened with the two of you that night?” Rossi comes to stand next to Aaron.

“Nothing,” He lies, “She’s still upset about the suspension I suppose.”

“I know she went to talk to you that night, Hotch.” He adds at Aaron’s look, “She’s not the only one on this team with insomnia. She didn’t leave again for hours and then she bought her own plane ticket. What did you say to her?”

He sighs, “It’s not so much what I said, but what I didn’t say.”

***

There’s a knocking at your door, you think. It’s hard to hear it over the record player that’s blasting the saddest songs you know of. But, sure enough, definitely knocking. You have half a mind to bury yourself under your weighted blanket and go back to sleep. You’re sure it’s Penelope’s voice you hear outside though, and how could you ignore her?

Reluctantly, you drag yourself out of bed and to the door. Swinging it open, you see Penelope, JJ, and Emily, standing at your door with takeout and several bottles of wine. There’s also a vase of red roses which causes you to frown, “Roses?”

“Oh, not from us,” Emily says quickly, “They were just sitting out here when we got here. Can we come in?”

You wish you could say no to them, but you know it’s your own fault that they’re here. After all, you hadn’t answered anyone’s calls or texts for two days. You step aside and they file in. You pick up the vase of flowers and bring them inside. They’re wilting a bit, meaning they had probably been waiting outside for you for at least a day. You set them on a table, knowing your colleagues are watching you closely and pluck a card from the flowers.

I’m sorry. -A

Wordlessly, you toss the card on the table, pick up all the roses and plop them in the trash. Nobody says anything and you pretend to ignore Penelope as she puts new water in the vase and then carefully takes the roses out of the trash and back in the vase. “Hotch?” JJ asks as you climb back in bed. Emily turns off the music.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You say quietly.

“That’s okay,” JJ says, sitting on the edge of your bed, “Can we talk about why you’re not at work, then?”

“I’m suspended, you guys know that.”

“Hotch said if you did another psych eval you could come back.” Emily says.

Penelope has scooched herself next to your head and tries to run her fingers through your hair, “Oh, honey, when was the last time you brushed your hair?”

You swat her hand away, “I won’t pass another psych eval.”

Penelope gets off the bed to find a hair brush. “If you tell us what really happened… with Bobby Tiller…” You flinch when JJ says his name, “We can help you through it.”

Penelope’s back and starts gently working her way through your tangles. You sigh, “Penelope can’t handle hearing about that kind of stuff.”

“If it’ll help you, yes I can.” She says quickly.

You frown, “Garcia--”

“I know what you guys deal with everyday. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t let you guys unload on me about it every now and then?”

You squeeze her hand, she was so good. “I’ll need some wine first, then.”

***

“A sexual sadist, where would he keep them?” You murmur to yourself, “He’s stayed in his comfort zone this whole time,” You make a circle on the map around the places where the victims were taken and then dumped, all within a five mile radius, “He needs somewhere no one would hear their screams…” You take out your phone and dial Penelope, “Garcia, can you triangulate the location of the last three body dumps and tell me if there’s any sort of abandoned building in the middle, maybe a church? A warehouse?”

“Can I?” The sound of her rapid typing fills your ears, “Y/N, you wound me so.”

You smile, waiting for her answer. “Bingo, you genius girl. There’s an abandoned factory right in the middle, sending you the address now.”

You’re already grabbing your coat, “Don’t tell anyone, Penelope, but you’re my favorite person on this team.”

She laughs, “Should I call you some backup?”

“No time,” You’re running to the SUV outside the police precinct now, “I’m the closest, everyone else is spread out. If I wait for them, the other girls will die.”

“Y/N, you can’t go there by yourself, I’ve seen those bodies, those victims--”

“Garcia, I’m fine, I can handle myself, just tell the team where I’m going.” You hang up before she can argue further, plugging in the address she gave you to the GPS in the car.

***

Aaron’s phone rings on his way back to the police department with Derek in the passenger seat, “Garcia, what’ve you got?”

“Sir, I’ve just sent an address to everyone, you have to go there now.” The panic in her voice has Hotch immediately making a U turn without question.

“What’s going on?” He demands as he drives, turning on his sirens.

“Y/N figured out where he’s keeping the girls, she left without backup,” Both Derek and Aaron visibly tensed at this news, “I told her I’d call backup and not to go without it, but she insisted there wasn’t time.” Garcia was nearly on the verge of tears.

“You did what you were supposed to do, baby girl, we’ll go get her.” Morgan reassures before Hotch hangs up and immediately calls you.

“Y/L/N.” You pick up on the third ring. You had considered letting it go to voicemail, knowing Hotch was going to order you not to do what you were about to do and knowing you were going to disobey him.

“I’m ordering you to wait for backup before you go in there.”

You sigh, “You know if I do that, they’ll die.”

“They might still die and you’ll just be another body to add to the pile.”

“Or I might get there in time.”

“This is not a request, it’s an order, agent. We’re on our way.”

“Would you wait?”

“Excuse me?”

“If it was you sitting outside where there might be two girls still alive inside, would you wait?”

He’s quiet for a moment, “I don’t fit his victimology the way you do.”

“I don’t recall ‘armed FBI agent’ being included in the victimology.”

“Don’t do this.” His voice is a desperate whisper and it’s almost enough to get you to stop.

“Just drive faster.” You say and take the phone away from your ear, hearing your boss yell your name until you hang up.

But you didn’t make it to the girls. He was waiting for you, you didn’t even have a chance. He came up behind you only moments after you hung up with Hotch and hit you hard enough on the head to knock you unconscious.

He had your hands tied and packed you away in his pickup truck, driving away long before Hotch and Morgan arrive on the scene.

“Hotch!” Morgan yells, as Aaron’s running back from the building. You weren’t inside. Morgan shakes his head when Hotch meets his eyes, “He’s got her.” He says resolutely, pointing to your badge, gun, and cellphone that lay in the dirt by the tire of your SUV. “She didn’t even make it inside.”

Aaron’s head is spinning, only moments away from losing control. He has you. “Hotch, keep it together, we’ll find her, okay?” Morgan says quietly.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Morgan!” He shouts, “A sexual sadist has her right now--”

“And you’re wasting time letting your emotions get the best of you, man! Come on now, look-- LOOK!” Derek directs his attention to the dirt road, “He couldn’t have gotten far with her, look at the tire tracks. Let’s go, we’ll call the team on the way.”

They drove only two minutes before they couldn’t decipher the tire tracks anymore, Hotch bangs on the steering wheel, cursing before dialing Spencer, “Reid, where else would he go? He knew we were coming, where would he bring her?”

“I-- I don’t know, somewhere he’s familiar with, he could have had a backup location, it has to be nearby. If he knows we’re coming he knows he won’t have a lot of time with her, he’d want it to be close so he could--”

“That’s enough boy wonder, call us when you have an address.” Morgan says, taking the phone from Hotch and hanging it up. “She made the choice to go, she knew what she was doing. She’s smart, she’s resourceful, she’s gonna make it.”

Hotch ignores him, only drives further. His knuckles turn white with how he’s clenching the wheel, just barely keeping his anger in check. If he has to find your body, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

***

When you wake, you’re only aware that you’re being carried. You do a quick assessment while pretending to be unconscious and find your hands tied. The weight of your gun is missing from your hip. You’re still outside, you can tell from the wind and the sun, but you won’t be for long. Your guess is this will be your last shot to escape.

You count to ten and then you roll from his arms. You’ve surprised him and you’re able to kick up at him once you’ve fallen, hitting him in the groin. With your hands tied, you struggle to get to your feet, but you do and you run like hell, looking for a road.

Your head still hurts from where he hit you and you’re dizzier than you would like, so eventually he catches up to you again. You can no longer deny your human instincts and you scream, hysterical as he tackles you. “Aaron!” You yell, “I’m here! Help!”

To your horror, the unsub only laughs, “Will you shut the hell up?”

And then he chokes you, not to kill, but to get you unconscious. It works. And then he drags you to the bunker.

***

“If this call isn’t to tell me where she is, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hotch, we talked to the unsub’s parents, they talked about an abandoned bunker just a mile south of where he was holding the girls. He used to go there when he was a teenager, probably to do drugs or kill animals.”

Hotch is already swinging the car around, “Give me an address.”

***

When you wake again, first everything’s only white. Then, you see his face.

“I can smell the fear on you.” He smiles.

You manage to keep your face neutral. What would Emily do? Hotch? Spencer? “I’m not afraid of you.” You manage, and to your own surprise, your voice doesn’t shake.

“You know what I am,” He traces a knife along your face, “What I’ve done to those women. You more than anyone… You should be terrified of me.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s alright, sweetheart.” He rips the buttons of your shirt loose and you try not to flinch, “We’re just getting started.”

***

“Morgan, take the back, I’ll take the front.” Hotch orders, “Prentiss, you’re with Morgan, Reid you’re with me. Let’s go.”

From the profile, they all knew he was planning on being caught. He would come quietly. All they could hope was that they got to him before he finished his final job. You.

They entered quietly, but they could hear soft crying deeper in. Alive, you were alive. Hotch and Spencer carefully cleared each hallway until they got to the room you were in. The unsub had you pulled to his chest, your clothes ripped and barely covering you. You were whimpering, tears shining on your cheeks and it took Aaron absolutely everything not to abandon protocol and tackle him.

Instead, he points his gun steady, “Bobby Tiller, it’s over, drop the knife.”

“Why?” He says, smiling, “Why shouldn’t I kill her in front of you?” His smile widens, “You’re Aaron, aren’t you?” He laughs now, “She cried out for you. Outside. Where were you, Aaron?”

Aaron’s restraint is hanging by a thread, he tries not to let this information get to him. “I said put it down!” He yells.

At that moment, he sees Morgan and Prentiss coming in from behind, guns raised.

“I bet it would just destroy you to watch me kill her, I can see it in your eyes. Wouldn’t that be a fun way to go out? I would win.”

“You haven’t won anything, you either die here or you rot in jail.”

“Exactly, which means I have nothing to lose by killing her.” He was done talking, was about to slit your throat when a shot rang out from behind. It was Morgan and he had hit Bobby square in the back.

You fall forward, hyperventilating a bit as Spencer rushes to you, pulling you into his arms and telling you it’s going to be okay. Hotch watches you, but keeps his distance, careful not to let the enormous relief he feels show except in the way his shoulder slump forward. “I need a medic.” He relays to the backup that’s on its way here and then he walks out of the bunker, letting Morgan and Reid help you out.

On the plane ride back, he sits by you as you look out the window, “Are you alright?”

You spare him a glance and then gaze back out the window, “I’ll be fine.”

He’s quiet for another moment, not wanting to ask what he has to ask. “Did he…?”

“No.” You answer quickly. “He didn’t have time.”

A small victory, he knows, but a victory nonetheless, “You’ll have to undergo a psych evaluation before I can allow you back in the field.”

“I know.”

“Take at least a week off and then we’ll schedule the evaluation and if you’re cleared you’re welcome back whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, “Okay.”

He lets a few minutes pass before he says anything else, “Was he telling the truth? Did you call for me by name?”

You shrug indifferently, smiling, but he can hear the tears in your voice, “I knew you and Derek were probably nearby. We were still outside and I could see the road. So I tried. That’s all.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, fists clenched beneath the table between them, “I’m sorry.”

You’re already shaking your head, “Don’t do that. You got to me in time. It was my decision to go inside.”

He nods, “And if you hadn’t shown up, those girls would be dead.”

You manage a smaller smile. Bobby Tiller had had to abandon the other girls when you showed up so Morgan and Hotch were able to call them an ambulance before they left to find you. “I know.”

“I would have done it.”

“Hm?”

“You asked me before you went if I would’ve gone in alone. I would have.”

You smile again, but your eyes are sad, “I know.”

***

“But he did, rape you, didn’t he?” Emily said quietly.

There were silent tears streaming down both yours and Penelope’s faces. You nod, “Yeah. It didn’t last very long, but yes he did.”

“Did he… Did he torture you the way he did with the other women?” Emily has to ask, has to know if you’re hiding anything else from them.

You’re already shaking your head, “No,” And at Emily’s insistent stare, you repeat yourself, “No, I swear. He held me at knifepoint while he did it which, you know, cut me a little bit,” You rub at your chest, though the shallow cuts had long ago healed, “But I swear, he didn’t have time for much else before you guys found me.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that,” JJ reaches out and squeezes your arm.

You shrug, “It’s alright. It was my choice to go in there alone, I knew what might happen.”

“That doesn’t mean you deserve what happened.” Emily says.

“I know.” You nod.

Penelope’s been quiet since she finished brushing your hair, now just mindlessly running her hands through it, “How have you just been functioning as usual since you came back after that?” Her voice shakes and you feel terrible for exposing her to this.

You squeeze her hand and shrug, “You just… learn to adapt. I knew you were all watching my every move. I didn’t want anyone worried about me and so I made sure they had nothing to worry about. Until this case.”

“What happened in the interrogation room that had Hotch so shook up?”

“Well,” You sighed, “I played the role of potential victim, made him like me, forgot he was uncuffed and egged him on until he tried to strangle me.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” Penelope chided.

“You could pass another psych eval.” Prentiss said, “You seem to be coping better than most people.”

“I have nightmares.” You admit, “It’s why I don’t sleep on the jet anymore. I don’t want any of you to see that.”

“We’ll help you through,” JJ says, “If you want to come back you should come back. The team needs you.”

You scoff, “You guys don’t need me.”

“Excuse me, fairy queen of the universe, but you don’t get a say in that.” Penelope tugs on a piece of your hair.

“We miss you.” JJ says sincerely.

You sigh, “Okay. I’ll, uh, go see Hotch tomorrow.”

“There will be black SUV parked here if you haven’t gotten your butt in the office by 10AM, understand?” Penelope teases.

“Yes, yes, now everybody out of my apartment so I can sleep.”

The girls laugh on their way out and when you close the door you sigh and lean your back against it, only to see the roses sitting on your table again. You chew on your lip for a moment before shutting off all the lights in the apartment and climbing into bed. You would deal with Hotch tomorrow.

***

You ignored the whispers of your colleagues as you walked into the bullpen, marching straight into Hotch’s office and closing the door behind you. The smell of his cologne filled your nose the farther you walked into his office. You tried to ignore the memories it triggered.

He looks up and for a moment he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Y/N.”

You smirk, “Bet you thought you got rid of me.”

“You cut your hair.”

It was true, you had decided to give yourself bangs in a fit of insomnia last night. You thought they looked cute, “Nothing gets by you, unit chief.”

He hasn’t cracked a smile this whole time and he still doesn’t, “If you want to transfer to a different unit, I can make that happen.”

You’re shaking your head before he can finish, “Regardless of whatever happened between us, this team is my family. I don’t want to work anywhere else.”

He watches you carefully, “Then it’s time for your psych eval, I can have someone meet with you in an hour. In the meantime, I’m sure the team’s missed you, you can go chat with them.” He looks back down at his work, not waiting for you to leave.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

He looks back up, “I thought you maybe threw them away.”

“I did, actually, Penelope took them out of the trash. So on my table, they stay.” He almost laughs. “What are you sorry for, Aaron?”

His jaw clenches when you say his name. “For your suspension, for humiliating you in front of your colleagues, for crossing a line with you that I never should have even toed.”

You nod slowly, “So you regret it. What we did.”

Hotch glances out the window of his office, making sure no one’s around, “I… regret hurting you. Not what we did.”

“Spencer thinks you’re in love with me, you know?”

He frowns, “Does he?”

“He said you lost your mind when I was taken. I told him you would act that way had any team member been taken, but he insisted that it was different.”

“Is that all, agent?” He says after staring at you for a moment, dismissing you.

“Yes, sir.” You swallow, “That’ll be all.”

And just like that he’s back to his paperwork. You try to tell yourself it doesn’t bother you, but your heart aches all the same as you leave his office and head towards your colleagues. Spencer is the first to run to you, making you smile as he crushes you into a hug and catches you up on everything you’ve missed. Everyone talks to you for a while, but then they soon get back to work. “Did you talk to Hotch?” Emily asked when everyone had gotten back to their work.

“Yeah. We talked.” You say flatly.

“I don’t like that tone.”

You shrug, “Maybe he doesn’t love me or maybe he’s not ready, but he won’t tell me which, so. It doesn’t matter, it’s probably better this way.”

Emily doesn’t tell you, but she’s noticed that since you left his office, SSA Aaron Hotchner hasn’t stopped watching you. He was definitely in love with you, it was just a matter of time before he admitted it.

***

You passed your psych eval and practically skipped to Hotch’s office to get your gun and badge back. When he saw you walk in, he immediately reached into his desk drawer to retrieve them for you and placed them on his desk. “I’m thinking about requesting a transfer.”

“Hotch, I already told you, I don’t want--”

“Not for you, for me.”

You pull your hand away from your gun and badge as if you’ve been burned, “You can’t.”

“It’s irresponsible for us to be working on the same team together like this.”

You shake your head, “If anything we make this team better for it, you can’t…” You let out a shaky breath, “I swear, Hotch, I’ll never cross that line again if it means you staying--”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.”

The world seems to sort of tip on its axis, “What are you talking about?”

“Do you even understand how difficult it is to be in this room with you right now and not touch you?”

You stare at him as if you’ve never seen him before. Slowly, you sink into the seat across from his desk, “Hotch, you can’t leave. The team needs you.”

“They’ll be just fine without me.”

“I need you.” You’re staring at his desk, unable to meet his eyes after the admission, “Please don’t take away one of the only things in this job that help me to cope with what we see everyday.”

He’s quiet and you risk a look at him. He’s watching you and you swear he’s looking at you tenderly, but it’s only for a moment before his usual stoic mask falls back into place, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, agent. JJ should be briefing us on a new case soon, you should go get resettled.”

You debate staying, arguing with him until he promises to stay, but you know from how vulnerable he’s been with you already that you’re on thin ice. Reluctantly, you take your badge and gun and leave his office.

***

You’ll admit it, you’re distracted as JJ debriefs you all in the conference room. This time, it’s a serial bomber and you hate to say it, but you’re relieved to not be dealing with a sexual sadist again. Bombs are Morgan’s specialty, so he speaks through most of the debriefing.

“Everyone, get your things together. Wheels up in twenty.” Hotch says before leaving the room.

“Y/N.” You look up to see Derek watching you, “What’s going on now?”

You tense at the hint of annoyance in his voice, but he should be annoyed. Yours and Hotch’s personal relationship has thrown this team for more than a week now. You clear your throat, “Hotch is thinking of transferring out of the BAU. Because of me.”

The room goes still, “He can’t.” Reid says first.

You can’t meet any of their eyes. This was all your fault.

“I’ll talk to him.” Rossi says quietly and leaves the room.

“If it comes to that, I’ll resign first.” You try to assure them, “I won’t let him step down.”

“We need both of you on this team.” JJ said firmly.

You nodded, but you knew it wasn’t true. Aaron was more essential to the BAU, it wasn’t a secret. He knew everyone’s strengths and weaknesses better than they did. His authority was able to demand respect and admiration, while also being a friend to everyone here. He couldn’t be replaced.

Rossi and Hotch sat in the back of the jet, voices low as they argued back and forth. The rest of the team pretended to not eavesdrop, but you were just watching Aaron. He was stressed, more than normal when working a case. You hated that you were the source of that. You wish you could drape your arms around the back of his shoulders, squeeze them, kiss his temple, promise him it would all be alright.

But he didn’t want that. You shift your focus to the window on the jet.

***

When the house exploded in front of you and Morgan, you kept running until he grabbed you, “Stop, stop! They’re gone!”

“They could still be in there!” You scream and fight against him, but he’s stronger than you.

“They’re gone, Y/N.”

You angrily push him off and walk in the other direction, feeling the need to break something. There were kids in that house.

“What the hell was that?” Hotch is fuming when you and Morgan come back to the precinct, but his anger is directed at you. The entire room goes silent, all eyes on the two of you.

“Hotch, back off.” Morgan warns.

“You should’ve gotten there in plenty of time, what happened?”

You glower at him, not in the mood to be humiliated again in front of everyone, “We got there as fast as we could, the bomb went off earlier than expected.”

“There were children in there.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” You yell now, your angry tears finally spilling over, “What, do you think I wanted this to happen?”

“Y/N, enough.” Morgan whispers harshly.

“You’re out of line, agent.” Hotch is calm again and it makes you feel crazy, how he can so quickly turn off his emotions.

You shake your head and walk by him, “This is bullshit.” You mutter.

You expect him to continue yelling at you, but instead he puts a forceful hand on your back and ushers you into a private room, “Is there a problem, agent?” He asks once he’s closed the door.

“Me?” You raise your eyebrows, “You want to know if I have a problem? You’re the one who attacked me for no reason as if I don’t feel shitty enough already for not getting to that family fast enough.”

“Why did you tell them about the transfer?”

“Oh,” You nearly laugh, “Oh, is that what this is about?”

“It wasn’t your place.”

“Oh, it wasn’t? What was it you said to me about keeping things from the team? It puts us all in danger.”

“This is not the same and you know it.”

You scoff and throw your hands up in the air, “Well, lesson learned, I guess you shouldn’t tell me things anymore. Can I go now?”

He’s watching you with his arms crossed. He knows he should apologize, but he can’t bring himself to. He nods and you leave the room, slamming the door on the way out. He watches Prentiss reach out to you and you brush her off as you storm out of the precinct. He wishes he would stop doing things to upset you, but for some reason he can’t seem to stop himself.

***

You avoid him the rest of the day and after finally calling it a day at nearly midnight, the team heads back to the hotel. You spend the night making coffee and going over the suspect list when there’s a knock on your door.

You open it without checking the peep hole, thinking it has to be Spencer or Emily, wanting to talk about the case. Instead, Aaron stands at your door. His suit jacket and tie are missing, but otherwise he’s still in his work clothes. “May I come in?”

You take a step back and wordlessly allow him inside before closing the door behind you. “You should really check who’s outside the door before answering.”

“Did you come here to lecture me, sir?”

He glances around the room, “You should be resting, not working on the case.”

“Yes, well, someone reminded me today what a terrible job I’ve been doing so I’m trying to make up for it.”

His eyes dart to yours and you think you see shame there, “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I’m sorry. I know you’re doing your best--”

“Well obviously, my best isn’t enough.” He opens his mouth to argue, but you stop him, “Do you need something, sir?”

He sighs and shakes his head, looking at the floor, “It’s… driving me insane being around you and knowing how we left things.”

You sigh and turn away from him, “I don’t want to talk about this, Hotch--”

“Please stop calling me that.” He says breathlessly.

The desperation in his voice makes you turn back to him, “Aaron,” You say slowly instead, “I shouldn’t have said what I said to you, I understand now that you don’t feel the same and that’s fine, I can deal with it--”

“The problem is that I do feel the same and I have felt that way for longer than I care to admit.”

You frown, “Then… why?”

“I don’t want to ruin your career and I worry that this would. You’re a woman in the FBI, there are men in the bureau who would… tear you apart for being romantically involved with a superior.”

“So what? I’ll prove them wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time a man in the bureau underestimated me, but you know that.”

He sighs, “Yes, I remember when you applied to the BAU. You were from Hostage and Rescue, the only woman there at the time and they practically benched you. But you knew you were more than capable.”

“I’m not afraid of them, Aaron. Now say it to me.”

He steps close to you, his proximity overwhelming all of your senses, “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure.”

“In that case,” He brings a hand to your face and you lean into his palm, “I’m in love with you.” He gives you that small smile, the one where his eyebrows relax for once, out of their permanent scowl.

You smile, but you don’t answer, giggling a bit when he leans in to kiss you. “I like the new hair, by the way.” He says between kisses.

You hum contentedly as he runs his fingers through it, “I love you, too, Aaron.”

He stays in your hotel room all night and this time, neither of you sneak out in the middle of the night.

***

You and Aaron aren’t overly affectionate in front of your colleagues, but they notice the change between you immediately as you board the plane. When you sit next to him while still in discussion with Emily, he looks at you and smiles. And then, when you finally fall asleep on the jet, your head rests on Aaron’s shoulder. If your colleagues look under the table in front of you (they do) they’ll see Aaron’s hand resting on your thigh.

Emily is shaking her head at Aaron while you sleep, “What?” He asks without looking at her.

“Nothing, I’m just happy you guys finally figured it out.”

“Agreed,” Spencer interjected, “I was beginning to think you’d kill each other first.”

Aaron simply chuckles and kisses your forehead when he thinks no one’s looking. “Hotch,” Morgan says and Aaron looks over, “I know you’re my boss and all, but you ever hurt her we’re gonna have to fight it out, you understand?”

Hotch only smiles again, “I would expect nothing less.”

Nobody notices how you’re also smiling, quietly faking sleep as an excuse to cuddle up to Aaron.

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