#I always got to writing other things instead and eventually this dropped off the list of priorities

[invisibleraven]

"Thanks, now leave." for Carrie?

Carrie surveys her dressing room-ignoring the bustle of assistants and crew rushing about before her show. Instead she pays attention to the flowers sitting by her mirror-bouquets from friends, fans, and admirers alike. But there's nothing from her dad.

That's okay, he promised to come tonight, and hand delivered always meant more to her. Plus her dad always got her gerber daisies-her favourites. Most people assumed she'd want roses, but she actually liked simpler things when it came to florals.

Eventually she was alone-blissfully, blessedly alone, letting herself center before she went on stage. Taking the time to say her affirmations, ensure she looked perfect, and go over the set list in hr mind.

A knock sounded on the door, making her scowl as it interrupted her pre-show routine. "Miss Wilson? I have a message for you?"

Carrie snatched the piece of paper from him, trying to keep up a calm facade. "Thanks, now leave," she replied, waving the boy off, waiting for the door to close before opening the message.

Hey baby, chakras weren't aligning for me to make it tonight, but I know you don't need your old man there to shine like the diamond you are. Next time okay? xo Dad

Carrie was sure she felt her face crumple, though she wasn't sure if it was because her dad wasn't coming, or because the handwriting proved he couldn't even be bothered to write the note himself.

Or maybe it was because this wasn't the first time he had pulled something like this. More often than not he missed her performances for some inane reason or another. He was always apologetic, praising her performances that he could watch via video after the fact. But that was no substitute to having her dad be here for her when she wanted-no needed him.

But at least one part of his note was true-she didn't need him to shine. She'd been doing this without his support, his name, his money for ages now. She didn't need anyone but the other Candis to make it big.

She quickly swiped a tear away-there was no denying she was hurt, disappointed. But not surprised, and it didn't do to show weakness when she had a legion of fans cheering for her, who expected a kickass show.

She squared her shoulders, made sure her make up was still on fleek, and plastered on a smile. She was Carrie fucking Wilson, and she was going to go rock this crowd like it was her calling.

She crumpled the note, dropping it in the garbage as she went to the stage. Told the crew to fill the reserved seat she asked for with a glare that told them not to ask questions.

"You all good Care?" Kayla asked as they took their places on the raising platform below the stage.

"Never better, let's rock this joint."

Carrie went on to sing her heart out-and ignored how the shattered remains of her heart rattled around in her chest as she looked out into a crowd of strangers, especially the seat that was supposed to contain the one person who was always supposed to be there for her.

Who needed him? She could get along fine, and vowed to let this be the last time she even bothered to ask-no matter how many apology bouquets he sent.

[socialmediasocrates]

i can't believe i'm writing fo4 fic in this the year of our lord 2024

if you're here for the bg3 fic it's on its way i promise

transcript under the cut

first screenshot:

every day, filomena woke up at five in the morning to catch the casualty lists on the news.

they rolled twice a day, at five in the morning and five in the evening, and she sat on the couch watching, nursing a cup of coffee and a cigarette. there were ten nathans on the list that morning; two of the last names looked familiar, both of them nearly gave her a premature heart attack. nathan farrier, nathan feltman, nathan fielder. she finally released the breath she’d been holding. nathan fasciani never showed up. twelve more hours of planning a wedding instead of a funeral. then she’d watch the five pm news, and the clock would reset. this was the rhythm of life while he was off fighting in alaska. twelve hour cycles hoping the name fasciani never showed up, a mounting sense of dread bitter in the back of her throat in between.

(that last name did appear, eventually, but it wasn’t nate. it was his brother, gianni. killed by chinese door gunners on a vertibird run over the position where his unit had dug in, body never recovered. they buried an empty coffin. nate’s parents aged a decade in a week. there would be an empty chair with a smartly folded american flag and a photo sitting in it for gianni at the wedding.

god, was it ever worth it?)

second screenshot:

“so, at the very bottom of hell, there’s this huge lake, right? and lucifer’s in the middle of the lake, frozen from the waist down-”

“the devil’s a popsicle?”

“no, he’s the ultimate sinner, trapped in a prison that he’s constantly refreshing by beating his wings, which are attached to his chin, by the way-”

“the devil’s a winged popsicle?”

“you’re the worst.” she readjusted the phone, cradled between her shoulder and the side of her head, as it began to slip.

“i’m the worst? dante made the devil a wing-chinned popsicle.” even his laugh sounded tired, but there he was. laughing. his mom always said he’d be laughing when the bombs dropped, and part of filomena hoped he would. the world always seemed less big and scary when nate was laughing at it.

“he’s only half a popsicle, the top of him isn’t frozen. he’s got three faces, and he’s chewing on judas iscariot, brutus-”

“-of et tu, brute fame?”

“-yeah, that one, and also his brother-in-law gaius cassius longinus, i guess he was also big into the stabbing caesar thing-”

“-damn, can’t trust anyone in the roman senate-”

“-you can’t trust anyone in the american senate, either; it’s not like they’ve changed much.”

and there he went, laughing again. she stopped working on her paper for a moment to just listen and pretend he was sitting next to her, his chin hooked over her shoulder, reading it as she wrote it, making running commentary on the poem.

“i miss doing homework with you,” she admitted, softly like saying it quietly enough would trap the admission in the moment, make it private even though she was sitting at her desk in a dorm room she shared with two other young women.

“i miss you, i don’t know about the homework.” and then a shift. voice lower, “i don’t suppose you’d appreciate me asking you to worry less.”

“it’s not about appreciating the sentiment, so much as it’s just impossible. you’re in anchorage. i’m going to worry.”

“i know. but it’ll be okay, cross my heart. i’ll be back for the wedding by june.”

he was not back for the wedding by june. it happened in mid-august, a week before his birthday.

[tubby1]

Tubby Graffiti

What is tubby graffiti?

If you found this page, you may have searched for 'tubby graffiti 'tubby1 graffiti', and wondered about my tag or sticker. I created this page to show up on Google so there is less misinformation about me, and write more about the purpose of my tag.

I am a graffiti writer/urban explorer from Sydney, Australia. I primarily enjoy painting in 'hidden spots', like drainage tunnels and under bridges.

I got arrested several times within the span of a year or 2 for various charges of vandalism and trespassing. The last time I got arrested in Australia for vandalism, I was sentenced to do community service and I really didn't feel like doing much more graffiti in Sydney, because I kept getting caught.

But as it turns out, I am extremely thankful for the day I was arrested, because that day changed the course of my life forever.

My friend invited me to travel overseas with him, and I ended up travelling some of Asia and Europe with him. I didn't paint graffiti on these first trips or go anywhere off the beaten path, I just put up stickers and just enjoyed living happy and free, and doing as regular people do in their early twenties.

Later on another friend invited me to travel to India. This was my first time travelling to a 'non-touristy' place, and the catalyst for what made me want to drop everything and see the world as so much happened in just a couple weeks, and it ended up with us forgoing our flight to the party destination of Goa and instead going hiking in the Himalayas for 5 days and living among gypsies.

While it was great fun, I also saw huge amounts of poverty and visited the slums. This is really the first time I really saw things like that first hand.

When I returned to Australia, I realized that normal life would never quite feel the same. After getting restless, I ended up selling my car, getting rid of most of my belongings, packing what I needed into a duffel bag and setting off to see the world and write graffiti.

It started off as just fun and games. Backpacking through Asia and Europe, staying in hostels, meeting other travellers, while also writing graffiti and just enjoying life.

As I travelled more, I started seeing more and more in the way of poverty, crime, economic disparity, etc...

When you are painting graffiti in a country which doesn't really have a graffiti scene, it often strikes up conversations or even altercations.

I would always talk to people and they would always ask me 'what is the purpose of the graffiti.' I didn't really have an answer, I just said it was a fat, happy character.

I would eventually start painting countries which are advised as 'do not travel' places, and painting graffiti in these countries would start getting increasingly dangerous, and I would see the effects of war, meet refugees, meet many people just trying to survive in atrocious living conditions.

It would begin to feel distasteful, me just being a tourist, going to these places of extreme poverty with terrible living conditions to write graffiti for a couple days and move on to the next place.

Sitting at 94 countries at last count, I still have not completed even half when it comes to the goal of 'visiting every country in the world'.

About half of the countries left are in the African continent.

I have analysed the list and possibility of visiting every country in the world, and a large portion of what I have left to visit are countries which are considered extremely dangerous/in war/very bad political situations.

At the moment I am not travelling due to real life catching up with me and having a child.

I do not intend to visit all 197 anywhere in the near future, but I do intend to spend a few more months when I can travel again and eventually write a book about the complex social-economic and geopolitical issues which face our world.

My graffiti doesn't really benefit anyone, and is relatively pointless. All my stickers and tags will fade or get painted over, and in a while it will be as if I was never there.

If there is one thing I wish to leave behind, I wish to write and spread awareness about the world issues I have seen first hand. I want to share my views and write about the good and bad I have seen. Unless you see the bad, you can't really appreciate the good.

I'm from Sydney, Australia, a place which consistently ranks as one of the best places to live in the world. I have a passport which allows me to travel to most countries without difficult visas/invitation letters. I come from a place of privilege which allows me to travel with ease.

No one chooses where they were born and I don't want to waste the advantage I was born with, so I will endeavour to write a book and tell the stories of what I've experienced and the things I've seen.

[kirliao]

evermore: short series 

fandom: top gun maverick

character(s): various members of the dagger squad

a/n: okay okay listen. one: i was gonna do the whole album but my brain shorted out so really it’s about .. six tracks? idk im gonna be listening to this album all season so who knows. um.. two: i got carried away writing them so they’re longer than my usual brief notes and hcs. uh third: i started with my man. i larb him. and without further ado, my second attempt at writing tgm fics. 

track one: willow ( aka “wreck my plans, avalone” )

to others, you're a one-track mind from a small town who worked her way into the best law firm in the state. stern, collected, and with nerves of steel that have faced many challenging cases -- and won more than half.

your girlfriends think you're one icicle short of being an actual ice queen, but even they don't know your one weakness. one of the few sources of warmth in your life.

lieutenant billy avalone. well, he was just billy to you.

you've known him for years. your families always crossing paths with each other. you were in the same school district, attended the same church, and even hung out in the same few family friendly spots in town.

there was a part of you that thought that he was the coolest guy you've ever met. not just his looks or what you thought of the people he hung around, but just the way he was.

everything he did always just seemed so..interesting.

you'd told your sister this one time and she just laughed. "i think you like this guy."

you shook your head. you don't do crushes. it was never really your scene.

for most of your life, you've dedicated yourself to working hard and staying on track to success. planners, to-do lists, moodboards, and even watched a ted talk or two.

it was no surprise that you were voted 'most likely to succeed' during your senior year, though you'd pretend to not have peeked into others' yearbooks and saw that some had scribbled 'most snobby' on it too.

but -- and you'd never really admit it to anyone -- for billy, you'd drop it all.

he brought out your silly and your most normal. spending late nights out just to drive around and look at the world differently. photobooth pictures and screaming while on the rides at the town fair. 

red exes and erased penciled plans in your planners was what came out of your time with billy. you could always reschedule a meeting or two. could afford to finish homework a few hours later than initially intended.

none of that changed when you would see each other years later.

even with your busy job, you'd call out from work if it meant getting coffee or spending a night in with him to watch movies. block out weekends to go on spontaneous road trips or catch the earliest flight to whatever vacation spot he swore was paradise.

he’d even gotten you into a musical festival or two, even if wasn’t typically your scene.

and you'd really think other people were none the wiser until your sister, of all people, pointed it out when she was staying over at your place one time.

she was over for the weekend and you had agreed upon learning that billy's shore leave was pushed off to a later date.

it was the way you'd look at your phone just a tad bit too much while the two of you were supposed to be gossiping that your sister pushed and pushed for you to talk about one thing and another about him. just enough pieces for the little puzzle she'd eventually piece together to conclude that you were hoping that billy's shore leave would be right as planned.

"i'd be offended if i didn't think it was cute. and also, i called it. years ago!"

again, you refused. though the blush on your face was harder to hide and you grabbed your phone to sit on the couch instead and opted to hide your face behind a pillow.

"i mean, really, what's the worst that could happen if you just..asked?"

and you looked at her, blinking. you've pondered about a confession quite a few times. often concluding that it was best to retain a friendship instead of risking it all. you voiced this to her, though you weren't quite sure you trusted your own voice right now. you sounded vulnerable and my god, did that feel foreign.

"i don't wanna gamble on what we have."

she scoffed, "honey, with all the years i've known you, this is the only person i've seen you take a gamble on. i mean, you don't take days off for me. you don't push plans around when i'm here and again, not offended, just .. kinda means he's special, you know?"

you nod, before feeling the couch shift as your sister joins you on the couch and grabs the remote to look for something to watch. she'd settled on a rerun of this one show.

"when is he free again?"

"he said he'll be coming next weekend." you look down at your phone again.

she hums. "it's time." though she puts a hand up defensively when she sees you staring. "just saying."

'i learned that when something dope comes along, you gotta lock it down!'

"jason's right, you know. you gotta lock that dope man down."

you just shook your head and buried it on your pillow. "what does jason know?"

"well, for starters. he kinda looks like your man. so that oughta count for something."

and while it was ridiculous, it helped you lighten up a little. and while you didn't quite know what would happen next weekend, it didn't matter.

maybe it was really time for him to melt the ice queen down completely, no matter what happens.

[seyaryminamoto]

Matching Heartbeats: Sokkla Saturdays 2020

Day 4: Lost in a Forest and Feelings

On FF.net//On AO3

Trudging through the thick trees, staring at that broad, strong back, Azula couldn't quite keep at bay her suspicions that, regardless of her stubborn companion's claims of the opposite, they were lost in the woods, with no salvation in sight.

He wasn't a woodlands savage, she'd told him, he was a snow savage: she'd believe him if he said they weren't lost while they traversed a large, frozen continent, but she wouldn't quite be so lenient if he said the same while in a forest, of all places. And of course, there was no chance they'd find his missing sword in a large, frozen continent unless someone had already retrieved it from these woods and taken it there, for whatever reason.

Not for the first time, she asked herself why she had bothered coming along for what everyone, even her brother, had deemed a pointless, doomed enterprise. Guilty as she appeared to feel about the matter, Toph had been far too busy with her budding police department in Republic City to join Sokka's quest. Aang was ever ferried from one end of the world to the next by his Avatar duties, and Katara had to cover for him in the city while he was gone: Zuko, of course, was the Fire Lord, and there was no chance he'd take any sorts of flights of fancy and disregard his duty to his nation just on a personal trip that might yield no results… well, that is, if the trip was for a friend's sake rather than his own, Azula had interjected, and her reminder of how he had been perfectly willing to leave their nation in their uncle's most undependable hands while they searched for their mother had been as unwelcome as she could have expected.

All in all, she had meant to offer some moral support to the tall Water Tribe man by cutting down Zuko's excuses and dismissive attitude towards Sokka's plight… but nothing she said seemed to work. Sokka kept looking at her with those dead-like eyes that only convinced her that she wanted to be dead, too. She wondered, truly, if he was different while she wasn't around. If he was happier, cheerful, relaxed… rather than miserable, awkward and tense. If so… why had she even bothered coming along for this trip? Was it merely pity over how he'd sworn he'd go alone if no one wanted to give him a hand? If so, it was no true wonder he had been so aloof and irritated so far, for no man as proud as him would ever accept pity and charity without consequence.

Yet she had decided to come along indeed. And now, it seemed, she reaped what she had sowed, in more ways than she had expected to: it wasn't merely that she was uncomfortable about hiking through nature this far from civilization – she found herself missing the train-tank, with which she had traversed large territories of the Earth Kingdom in the past without the slightest inconvenience –, but Sokka wouldn't travel on the vehicle, not when their mission was explicitly about rummaging throughout Wulong Forest until they finally came across his beloved Space Sword.

Her strained muscles had seen plenty of exercise over the ten years that had passed since the end of the war, but not quite in this manner: she forced herself to walk behind him, keeping up with his pace as best she could, until at last that strong back, that at this point was nearly a beacon in the darkening forest, slowed to a halt as Sokka assessed his surroundings in a clearing within the woods. Azula damn near bumped into him, but she managed to stop right behind him anyway.

"Seems like a good place to camp for the night," he announced. "It's getting too dark to keep going anyhow."

"Just how much further are we supposed to go, anyway?" Azula asked, as Sokka approached the larger tree in the clearing, setting down his bags at its foot. "Have you narrowed down the searching area at all, or are we merely going blind all across Wulong Forest…?"

"I've narrowed some of it down, yeah," Sokka huffed, opening his pack to show her a map he had brought with him. "We'll search thoroughly throughout the area once we get there. But we're still too far north to be near Space Sword's location."

"Of course," Azula sighed, setting down her own bags next to his. "You do realize this might be a longer venture than you hoped?"

"Why would it be? Your brains and mine, together? Who's ever going to stop us, huh?" Sokka said, though there was no humor in his tone upon uttering those questions.

Azula tensed up beside him as he rose fully to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. What was he thinking? Why had he spoken as he had just now? Yes, it was a certainty that they were smarter than most people, and joining forces might just be enough for them to find his sword… but it didn't seem he was all that pleased for it anyway. She let herself wonder, briefly, if he wished they wouldn't find the sword all that fast so they could spend more time together… did he begrudge their intelligence for such a fickle reason?

Oh, what nonsense. Of course that wasn't it. She was a fool to so much as indulge in such a possibility.

"I think I see some water beyond these trees," Sokka said, gesturing at the cluster of vegetation behind the tree they had stopped at. "Could be we can wash up there. It's one of the reasons I thought we should slow down here for the night…"

"Ah. So, we truly aren't lost in this forest, are we?" Azula asked. Sokka tensed up. "You knew there was a river up there?"

"Uh… well, I didn't know, I just decided we'd stop at the first place with water we came across once it was sunset," he said. Azula huffed.

"So we are lost."

"I didn't say that!" he squeaked.

Despite herself, Azula smiled. Eliciting such silly reactions from him was strange, but very welcome. It almost felt as though she hadn't pushed him away when she had… as though things could go back to the way they once had been.

"Ugh, anyway, you can go clean up if you want, I know all that dirt and sweat must make you uncomfortable," Sokka said, waving a hand towards her. "I'll set up my tent in the meantime. If you need help with yours, I can give you a hand after I clean up too…"

"Why would I need help?" Azula said, raising her eyebrows dismissively. "I'm perfectly capable of assembling a tent by myself."

"I didn't say you weren't," Sokka raised his hands defensively before starting to rummage through his bag for the implements he'd need for his tent.

His tone was disappointingly non-confrontational. Just after giving her hope, he took it away: she had expected a whole throwdown about how there was nothing wrong with asking people for help, or how he was sure she was a pampered princess who had never had to do anything mundane for herself… but nothing. He had shut down yet another possible conversation, and she was left high and dry, waiting for nothing.

"If that's how it is, then… yes, I'll go clean up," Azula declared, attempting to hide how disappointing his response had been. "Make sure not to peek, alright?"

"Nothing new under the sun there, is there?" Sokka said. Azula froze. "You have nothing to worry about, I won't do that, I'll only go after you're finished. Ten minutes will probably be enough."

"You know just how long I spend bathing, then?" Azula nearly hissed by now. Sokka shrugged.

"I remember, is all," he said. "Ten minutes might even be too much in these circumstances, I'd say…"

"I'll take as long as I please, thank you very much," Azula scowled, searching her own bags for a change of clothes. Suddenly, the last thing she wanted was to hold a conversation despite having spent the whole day fishing for one.

"I'll go after I'm finished setting up my tent, then," Sokka said. "And if you're not out yet, don't worry. I'm not going to look anyway."

She snapped her tongue before storming off without another word. Well, that was his loss, if so.

The words rang hollow in her mind as she walked thoughtlessly towards the water source… a lake, not a river, as she discovered upon reaching it. She wasted little time disrobing, despite she was far from accustomed to loosening her clothing in the middle of nature as she just had. But with a mind as troubled as hers, sometimes even the notions of dignity and pride went forgotten once she had something else to worry about.

No, truthfully, it wasn't his loss. It never had been his loss. He was as good as the perfect guy, without embodying some impossible, unreasonable ideal: Sokka had been kind, thoughtful, intelligent, unyielding… he was the perfect rival for her many instincts and impulses. Just so, each of those factors drew her to him in ways they shouldn't have… but the one thing that drew her most was his honesty. So many people were capable of lying to her face, they'd done it for years, without her awareness… others lied far less effectively, pretending to care about her, but she could tell, by their actions, by their behavior, that they were merely telling themselves as much, to chase away their own guilt about having abandoned her when she had needed them most. She couldn't trust anyone, that was what she'd told herself…

And yet, against all common sense, she had grown to trust him. Upon scheming a mischievous prank to torment her brother – her special kind of birthday present, as she'd thought of it at the time –, she found her plan had overlapped with his: in the end, they joined forces and Zuko had quite an unforgettable day chasing off turtle ducks in the Palace, and tripping over the droppings they had left all over the place while panicking while attempting to find their way out of the building. From that day forward, they had been allies, messing with their friends and family whenever the chance arose, not realizing they were drifting together in more ways than they'd originally planned…

She never did expect to wake up in his bed one day, and she suspected he never expected that, either. She kept her distance for a few days afterwards, and he didn't complain… which bothered her, of course. Upon cornering him for answers, he admitted he wouldn't push her for more than they'd had, considering she ran away from his bedroom even before he woke up. He had assumed it was a one-night-stand for her… and he had teasingly remarked that he wouldn't mind if she decided to make it a two-night-stand instead.

That number, of course, only continued to increase upon each of their encounters. Every time he paid a visit to the Fire Nation, on any official business, she'd find a chance to sneak into his room, or to drag him into hers, and they would both be in the highest spirits on the next day, trading silent smirks whenever they crossed paths again. For a time, Azula had thought this was the greatest of all pranks they had pulled so far, for her whole family, and his, would be so appalled to discover what they'd been up to in secret…

… Until one night, as he laid in bed behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, he had uttered words that shattered her whole world in a single instant:

"I love you."

She thought to pretend she was asleep, though her eyes were still open, and she knew he could see it. He sensed her breath hitching too, her heartbeats picking up speed… there was no way she could pretend she hadn't heard him. And yet, as he nestled behind her, fingers caressing her hair, she couldn't bring herself to answer. She couldn't say the words that were crossing her mind… because there was only one word, truthfully. And that word was simply: why?

Why would he love her? Why would he admit that he loved her? Why would he even think it was a good idea to say such words to her? Why on earth had he decided to say it right then and there? Why, why, why…?

And yet she knew she couldn't say any of what she was thinking. She didn't dare. She didn't truly want to hear his answers to those questions.

For he was honest, yes, that was the first thing she had known she liked about him. He wasn't the type to lie, whether to spare her feelings or his own. He hadn't said those words on a whim: he had likely carried them inside him for ages, blurting them out as he had, unthinking, because he couldn't contain the emotions anymore. And yet… she couldn't accept it. She simply couldn't accept it.

Instead of lying quietly there, of staying put in his bed, silently enduring the panic attack his words had triggered in her, she sat up and left. She avoided him for the rest of his visit, pointedly… and she didn't even say goodbye, when he finally left.

She needed time. That was it, she guessed: time to process his affections, time to understand how on earth he had ever reached such levels of devotion towards her. And she should have simply told him that, right? And yet how on earth does someone answer an "I love you" with "Give me time to think about it"? She didn't dare do that. And yet perhaps, if she had dared, he wouldn't have been hurt. It was almost a whole year before he returned to the Fire Nation again, and when he did, he scarcely spared her a few glances. She had sent him no letters while he was away, and he had sent her none either. Was he confused? Was he angry? Was he depressed? She couldn't tell anymore. All she could tell, however, was that he seemed to have decided he wouldn't dwell on the past anymore, and he wouldn't indulge in any hopes that something genuine could come from their casual relationship.

She had tried to interpret that as a sign to move on and forget about him. Perhaps he truly hadn't loved her at all – not that she had truly believed he could have loved her, she believed he THOUGHT he did, but she was quite certain that was, all in all, implausible on every possible level. So she had decided to shake it all off, to continue with her life… and yet it wasn't easy to do so. They had met a few more times since then, and every cold shoulder, every dismissive word, every plain interaction between them, with no hint of the old affection he used to line his words with, had felt like a frozen dagger digging deeper through her heart.

And that was, ultimately, why she had offered to travel with him to retrieve his sword. It was a strange way to attempt to mend fences, she knew… but she hadn't known what else to do to stop the pain she felt when she saw him. She hadn't known how else to tear down the walls that he had built between them… walls she had as good as asked him to build, in the first place.

Suffice to say, it wasn't going as she had planned, not in the least. She had hoped to entice him, perhaps… but he seemed to be completely invulnerable to her charms by now. He knew all her tricks, and was utterly unwilling to fall for any of them. Had she really pushed him away that hard, that violently…? Or was it, perhaps, that he had already found someone else? Maybe that was it, and she was wasting her time here…

"If so, why isn't he here with his new girlfriend instead of me?" Azula reasoned out loud, just before dipping one toe in what turned out to be a near-freezing lake. She snarled before raising her hands, quickly warming the water with her bending.

She managed to warm the water she would use, spreading the heat through the small lake until she found a comfortable enough spot, with her torso still above water. He wasn't wrong, she didn't quite enjoy all the dirt that clung to her after their whole day of hiking in this forest from the city of Garsai… but that he dared even comment on how long she usually bathed had surprised her. It was the first time he had acknowledged their relationship in any way, if just by admitting he knew Azula a little more intimately than anyone else was aware. Fool that she was, she had wistfully wondered if perhaps it meant he wasn't that unwilling to return to what they'd had… then he had shut everything down all the same, no thanks to her foolish responses.

She had no patience for these matters. She was far from the most sociable person there was, to begin with, and she was more than a bit tired of chasing after him, when every passing day further convinced her that he wanted nothing from her anymore. It was outrageous, though, wasn't it? If he truly had loved her at all, which no, she didn't think he had, why would he begrudge her for not saying the daft words right back at him? She was far from a connoisseur on the matter, but conditioned love didn't appear to be true love at all. Her relationship with her father was supposed to be the clearest example of that, or so every damn expert at that wretched asylum had insisted on drilling into her head until she had begrudgingly accepted it as a reality.

So, as far as she could tell, he was a selfish hypocrite, and he was trying to guilt her into loving him. Ha! That was utterly stupid, and he was playing a losing game, if so. He prized honesty as much as he did, didn't he? Why would she bother lying to his face to make him feel better? He would know it was a lie immediately, so he'd only grow more frustrated with her if she played the mild-mannered, sweet girl who could become a housewife and live happily that way, if only to spare his thrice-accursed feelings…

Caught in her thoughts, she often forgot to warm the water again, and in the process of overthinking and warming the water, she had damn near forgotten, too, what she was supposed to be doing in this damn lake in the first place. She returned to shore, gathered some soap, and traversed the lake to the spot she had liked once again… only to hear rustling of tree leaves that indicated someone was approaching.

She almost wished it were a wild animal, then she could have merely set it ablaze and been done with it… but upon quickly turning her head around, she found, of course, that it was him. Sokka glanced at her but raised his hands defensively before turning around. Azula gritted her teeth and tore her eyes away from him too, knowing he was disrobing… knowing she wanted to see it happen, too. Curse him for being such a sensitive idiot…

Or was she the sensitive idiot, instead? She hadn't known for sure who was at fault back then, and she didn't have any clarity on the matter now, either.

She heard him slipping inside the water, and she only endeavored to continue rubbing the soap over her arms and torso, pointedly ignoring the urge to glance at the body she had grown used to caressing and gazing upon for as long as their dalliance had lasted… just how long had it been, really? She barely knew anymore. A little more than a year, maybe? Who the hell said "I love you" within less than a year of secretly dating someone, if what they were doing could amount to dating?

Ugh, well, how was she supposed to know that, truly? Mai had outright spat to her face that she loved Zuko more than she feared Azula, and those two had only been together for months at the time… had she told Zuko she loved him, directly, by then? Maybe she had. Such nonsense…

"You sure take your time bathing out in nature, huh?" he said suddenly, startling her. "Didn't take you for the type to be that bold when the whole world could see you…"

"Bold? Hardly," Azula rebuffed, and she chided her own heart for beating that fast upon being addressed by him again. What nonsense was that, too? "I'm taking my time because we were quite filthy after a whole day of hiking, don't you think?"

"Fair enough… though the water's colder than I'd think you'd be comfortable with," he said. "Though… heh. You're warming it up, aren't you?"

"Sharp as ever, I see," Azula said, rinsing off the soap already. Sokka chuckled.

"And you're either being sarcastic, which is just like you, or you're being flattering, which… is new. Just as taking baths that last longer than ten minutes would be new for you."

"You're awfully hung on that matter, aren't you?" Azula asked, rolling her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I've taken longer baths than that…"

"Sure you did. When you took them with me."

His words froze her anew. Again, that stupid, weaseling hope, needling through her body like a snake, seeking to dig its fangs into her damn heart… poisoned fangs, as far as she could tell. He had to stop it. He really did. At this rate they'd end up having the argument of the century, and she wasn't sure she cared to endure that, not when she was miles away from civilization with only him for company…

She'd tell him not to do that anymore, then. She would. She wasn't sure their conversation wouldn't escalate into an argument even if she said so, but if she spoke earnestly, surely he'd back off…?

She turned her head towards him, finding he stood about fifteen feet away from her. Again, that strong, muscular back was the sight that greeted her, and oh, what a sight it was…

But before she could utter a single word, a most unwanted, unfamiliar and distressing sensation on her arm stopped her from speaking.

She had no idea what it was at first, but it was uncomfortable from the first instant: something had latched onto her skin, tugging at it, as though sucking it… and her immediate instinct was to trash the affected arm into the water, instinctively panicking and seeking to get rid of whatever this strange offender was.

Only upon shaking her arm did she identify whatever clung to her arm as a purple, round being… a living being: there was an animal stuck to her arm.

"What's…?! Oh, no, no, get off me!"

She pushed it, smacked it, attempted to force it to loosen its grip on her skin, and yet it seemed her every violent reaction only compelled it to cling tighter. Curses, was it some sort of leech? Was it clinging to her now, only to stick some poisonous, murderous sting into her body…? Her eyes widened at the possibility, and she slammed it harder into the water, to no results.

"Go away, go away, you stupid, damned…!"

"Woah, Azula, what's going on?" Sokka called to her. Her first shouts had been alarming enough, but he had briefly taken her silence to mean she had dealt with the problem… apparently not, though.

"It's nothing, it's…! Shit, what is this?! Get off me, damn it, go away already!"

"Ugh, okay, you know what? I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on, and I think I need to," Sokka sighed, turning towards her. "I promise I'm not doing this to peek, just to help…!"

"W-well then, help! Find your damn sword and slice this wretched thing off me!" Azula almost shrieked, turning towards him and gesturing at him with her afflicted arm.

Yet to her surprise, there was no sign of urgency in Sokka's face when he identified the creature on Azula's arm. She damn near snapped at him for being so nonchalant when, for all she knew, her very life could be in danger… yet he surprised her by wading towards her and reaching for the creature.

"What are you…?" she asked, nervously, until her nervousness was replaced by sheer outrage… when Sokka scratched the strange, purple being's head. "Are you kidding me?! What are you doing?! Do you hate me so much you're congratulating the damn thing for…?!"

Sokka's deadpan stare didn't change in the least when the creature's five, flat tentacles released Azula suddenly. Her eyes widened as she stared at it, and Sokka snatched the creature off her body, showing it to her deliberately.

"This, Princess, is a pentapus," he stated. "And that's how you get rid of them. It's as simple as that."

Oh, to hell with it. Her outburst had been more than unwarranted, if the solution was truly that easy… and now she felt utterly idiotic for it, which she had no doubt her blush was transmitting to Sokka. She didn't even dare meet his eyes… hence, she was surprised upon hearing him laugh softly.

"Don't feel that bad, Azula. I reacted the same way when they stuck to me the first time, too," he said. "And it was way worse than this, if I may…"

"Worse?" Azula repeated. Sokka nodded solemnly.

"You know, a story worthy of a savage like me, of the sorts you love to make fun of me for," Sokka grinned. She had dared gaze up at him, and that he'd smile genuinely at her was… well, not unpleasant. For once. "It happened… in a sewer, of all places."

"In a… a sewer?" Azula asked, grimacing as Sokka chuckled, shaking his head.

"My dear sister and her beloved Avatar… those two jerks took to diverting the waste off themselves with their bending. And who's the guy who couldn't possibly get away with doing the same thing? That's right, the stellar non-bender who took all that… literal shit, straight to the face, in many cases."

"That's… ugh, that's so gross, Sokka!" Azula exclaimed, horrified as he laughed carelessly.

"It's okay, I've cleaned up many times since then, you don't have to worry that the gross waste still clings to me somehow…" he smiled. "Took me about ten rounds of proper soap as soon as I had a chance to clean up to get rid of the stench, but it worked in the end. No need to be too grossed out anymore."

"I only hope now that your creepy story is no sign of… well, of this lake being less pure than we expected it to be," Azula said, eyeing the waters warily. Sokka chuckled and shook his head.

"It's a bit too dark already to tell, but hey, this place is in the middle of a forest and it doesn't reek of waste… so it might not be that bad, huh?"

Azula gazed at him wistfully, at that smile… it was charming, she knew that from the start. She liked him well enough serious and brooding, there was more than enough charm in that too… but that smile. The chance to make him happy, even if just by being foolish, careless and clumsy, was a surprising blessing… one that now soothed her heart despite she had been troubled and anguished mere moments before he entered the water too. To think such a small, simple creature could have served as a harbinger of harmony between them… though, again, she shouldn't get her hopes up. That wouldn't be a good idea, no matter what…

"You're all done washing now, though?" Sokka asked. Azula snapped back to her senses upon those words. "If so…"

"I'll go fix my tent, yeah," Azula said, though Sokka bit his lip.

"I was actually going to ask if… if you could do me a favor," he blurted out. Azula frowned.

"A favor?" she asked.

"Well… the water's kind of chilly," he smiled awkwardly. "Can you, maybe, warm it up a little further? I mean, I would've asked all along if I'd thought we could just bathe at the same time without consequence, but I figured you wouldn't want that, so…"

"I wouldn't want that…?" she asked again. Sokka shrugged.

"You did tell me not to peek," he said. "I said there was likely nothing new for me to see, but if you didn't want me looking at you, I wasn't going to bother you…"

"That's… that's what you meant?" Azula asked, surprised. Sokka nodded.

"Why? What else did you think I meant?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Azula opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. She was such an idiot when it came to this sort of thing, oh, she really was, and yet… how to speak at all? How to tell him that she kept saying things she didn't mean only to elicit reactions from people? But where she had once been able to read him like a book, now he was undecipherable to her…

The silence between them continued… until suddenly Sokka flinched, turning his head, hopelessly glancing at his back.

"Uh… crap. Oh crap. Azula? Is there a pentapus on my back too?" he asked, spinning in circles as he struggled to glimpse the creature. Azula blinked blankly before shaking her head rapidly.

"S-stop moving around, I can't get it if there is one!" she said, grabbing his flanks to stop him… and trying not to think of the implications of touching him. No, that was best stashed on her mind for later.

The pentapus was on his lower back: she nudged it with her finger at first, sighing before settling for caressing it properly instead… and then she felt another set of such tentacles around her ankle. Startled, she fell into the water when she lost balance, and that could only be bad news for her…

Sokka clasped her wrist and pulled her to him: their bodies slapped together, not with the erotic intent with which they had been in contact in the past, especially while naked. And while the thought crossed Azula's mind, it was but a fleeting thought nonetheless: Sokka's hands relocated to her shoulders, though he kept her close all the same.

"Did another one get you?" he asked. Azula grimaced and nodded.

"It's on my ankle," she said. Sokka huffed.

"Maybe we should just get out of the water, get rid of them on land," he suggested, before flinching. "Ack, another on the back of my knee and… woah, that's dirty! It's on my asscheek!"

Despite her own discomfort, that final claim of Sokka's caused Azula to burst into laughter as they stumbled towards the lake's shore together, squirming at the discomfort of the tentacles that stuck to their bodies, and wincing every time a new one caught either of their legs.

"Okay, okay! We're going to get rid of them all, one by one!" Sokka squeaked, once they reached the shore indeed: Azula had two more in one calf, and she grimaced while raising her leg, but Sokka pulled it towards him without even asking: he rubbed the two small pentapi until they detached, and then he cast them powerfully towards the lake, prompting Azula to chuckle at his powerful heave. "That's what you get! You can't touch a lady without permission, damn pentapus!"

"You didn't exactly ask for permission either, did you?" she smiled. Sokka blinked blankly and smiled guiltily at her.

"I figured, since it's an emergency…?"

That Azula was amused by the situation seemed to have defused some of their lingering tension: she reached for the pentapus that clung to his rear, and Sokka grimaced as Azula succeeded at pulling it off his body. He continued working with hers too, ridding her of the pentapus on her ankle, and Azula did away with the one behind the knee he couldn't flex anymore because of it. It was a gradual process, and one that forced them to reacquaint with each other's body in a less intimate manner than intended… and yet it felt intimate in its own way too.

"Is that all of them?" Sokka asked her, after removing the final one that had latched to her upper thigh. "None got your ass, did they?"

"You'd rather they had?" Azula asked, amused.

"I didn't say that, but… I wouldn't have minded too much, is all," Sokka smirked a little, more shameless than he had allowed himself to be for a long time.

"How about you?" Azula asked, biting her lip as she gazed upon his body, trying to focus on the task at hand, on the many strings of concentric red dots over his skin now, especially in his lower body's area. "Anything I missed?"

"I think not?" Sokka said, glancing about himself with uncertainty. "Though now we look like we've got pentapox, heh. Did I ever tell you about that? How we got all the people out of Omashu…?"

"You… didn't tell me, no," Azula said, staring at him keenly through narrow eyes. Sokka chuckled and shrugged.

"I got the idea of using a fake disease to pretend there was an outbreak in the city," he said. "It happened after the pentapi got me in the sewers, the Fire Nation soldiers thought who caught us in the city thought I was sick, Katara told them I had pentapox, and they panicked… and then, when we met up with Bumi's resistance, they had no idea how to get out of the city and I suggested they used pentapox as an excuse: the soldiers panicked about the outbreak and let everyone go, and they were free from Fire Nation tyranny for it."

"You… are either an idiot or a genius," Azula said, smiling and shaking her head. Sokka huffed, raising his head haughtily.

"Wrong, Princess, for if other people's perception of me is to be accounted for, I'm actually both things at the same time," he declared, prompting her to laugh, despite herself.

"I gave Ukano such a hard time for that foolishness," Azula acknowledged. "Now I can see I was right to do so: pentapox, seriously?"

"Hey, fooled your people, even if it didn't fool you," Sokka smiled. "For an idiot, I'm not really that stupid, am I?"

"No, I guess you're not," Azula admitted.

Her smile was far more affectionate than she intended for it to be, and yet she didn't contain it. She didn't restrain herself. The very chance to swap stories with him, to talk at leisure, to smile and laugh… how she had missed that.

Oh, she had missed him, terribly so. It wasn't something she could deny to herself any longer.

"Don't feel bad, though, Princess," Sokka smiled. "The suction dots fade away after a while. Kind of like a hickey does."

"Heh. Those didn't fade away all that quickly, as far as I recall," Azula said, raising her eyebrows. Sokka chuckled and shrugged.

"Guess not all of them would, no," he admitted. "But you know, these are way smaller, and most are on our lower bodies, so it's not like there's going to be much to worry about. Unless, I don't know, you had a gig modeling naked for some sculptor within the next, what, ten-to-twelve hours…?"

"If I did have one, and you'd pulled this on me, I'd make you pay for this humiliation for as long as we lived," Azula assured him. Sokka grinned too honestly, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Fine, then. No trips to weird lakes with Azula right before she has an appointment with the royal sculptor," he decided.

It was so natural, so easy… she almost felt like sitting at the edge of the lake with him, and merely talking for as many hours as they'd had failed to talk throughout their journey so far. Though she also felt like doing something else, as she allowed her eyes to gaze at his still-glistening skin… at the body she had grown so accustomed to once, and that she had deprived herself from, by her own foolish mistakes. Suddenly, all the bad blood seemed to be irrelevant, and she wanted nothing but to touch him, and not merely just to rid him of another pentapus anymore…

"Here I thought I wasn't allowed to peek… yet you're checking me out, Princess?"

She froze, shooting a glare at him as he smirked in her direction. Azula rolled her eyes at his reaction, though she smiled before long.

"Fine. What's fair is fair. You're free to ogle me if you so wish."

"Ah, thanks for allowing it. I mean, I already had looked at everything I wanted to look at, but knowing you allow it does lighten my heart's load…"

"You're the worst," Azula smiled, glancing at him again as Sokka chuckled. "Here I thought you weren't stealing any glances at me, that all this pentapus business was very professional…"

"It was, Princess, of course it was. If I'd broken protocol, you'd be moaning your lungs out by now," he said, nonchalantly. Azula gasped, and he smirked proudly.

"And what makes you think I would've allowed you to get away with that?" she asked.

"That you were checking me out just now, of course," he determined.

"Heh. And what convinces you that it'd be me moaning instead of you?" Azula huffed. Sokka raised his eyebrows and smiled at her, biting his lip playfully.

"Then… you want to make me moan as badly as I want to make you moan?" he asked. Her cheeks flushed violently. "Are we going to play it fair that way, too? A glance for a glance, a touch for a touch, a kiss for a kiss…?"

"Who said anything about kisses?" Azula whispered, though her eyes didn't leave Sokka's: she offered him a challenge, and the Sokka she had always known had been unable to resist one… she only hoped he'd be just as unwilling to hold back this time as he ever had been in the past.

"I just did, didn't you hear me?" He smiled as he leaned closer to her: Azula's heart raced gaster still. "Because something tells me you wouldn't mind it if I kissed your pentapox marks better…"

"There's no such thing as pentapox," Azula retorted. Sokka smirked.

"Funny thing to focus on, when I just said I wanted to kiss your legs all over," he said. Azula shivered visibly, breaking their eye contact by drawing her eyes down, almost bashfully.

It was not too surprising that she'd be that flustered, though it disappointed Sokka to a fault, all the same. Back in the day, she would have merely responded with her own crude remarks until they wound up in bed, thrusting wildly at each other. Now, though… she hesitated. Just as she had run away that night. It was no surprise, not really…

"Just the legs?"

Her question threw him off, just as he had been about to make up his mind to stand up and return to their campsite, once he told her not to make much of their flirty teasing. He blinked blankly, as Azula raised her face again, with fierce determination.

"You just said… what, now?" he blurted out.

"Didn't you hear me?" Azula said, despite her voice trembled. "Is it just the legs you'd kiss… snow savage?"

A title that had started as a mere jest at his expenses had eventually gained another meaning, after their third opportunity to sleep together: she had determined the true reason Water Tribe people were thought to be savages wasn't that their civilization was underdeveloped… but rather, that their erotic inclinations were so wild and unrestrained they stood out from the rest. She couldn't speak for a whole culture, of course not… but she could certainly speak for Sokka's skills. And after making such surprisingly flattering claims, Sokka had pinned her to the bed and proven himself a savage more proudly than ever before – and Azula had some trouble walking the next day because of it.

She had called him a snow savage before in their journey: had it been to evoke that night, or had it been, again, just a jest? All possibilities were on the table when it came to Azula. Yet right now he couldn't possibly doubt what she was suggesting… he couldn't second-guess it. He knew he wasn't getting a better deal than this one, and he had been too selfless as it was: he couldn't resist her, let alone her striking, gorgeous body, for another moment.

Sokka's hand shot to the back of her head, and when he pulled her closer to press his lips to hers, he found her own hands had clasped his neck: so violently they joined that their teeth crashed, and yet they didn't stop because of it. They had wasted too much time, worried about too much nonsense… it was enough by now. There was but one solution for their predicament, and the best prelude for it was heated, savage sex of the sort they had enjoyed before their relationship had fallen to shambles.

His arms surrounded her waist, compelling her to wrap her legs around his body: he rose to his feet, fearing he'd lose balance, but he remained determined to kiss her deeper and longer. Azula's heart raced ferociously, her fingers tight around his smooth hair locks as every familiar, blissful sensation he elicited in her body tore through her very soul. He wasn't kissing her halfheartedly, as he might have if he no longer cared… as he might have, if he no longer loved her. Then… he had distanced himself from her because he had believed, again, that that was what she had wanted? He hadn't chased after her… because he had taken her behavior as rejection, rather than an invitation to try harder? He had given her space, assuming she needed it, taking for granted that she didn't love him back…

He was kissing her wildly, walking naked through a forest with her, despite he probably thought she didn't love him back.

And now her heart ached, even if she didn't know why. She couldn't understand it, try as though she might. He interrupted their kiss briefly, only to ensure he was on the right track towards the tent he had pitched, and he stole a few more kisses from her lips before reaching their destination: tugging the flap aside, he knelt before the entrance, setting Azula down atop the sleeping bag. He kicked the tent's flap closed clumsily, and quickly returned to worshipping her body, his full weight crushing her delightfully.

He certainly hadn't expected her to return his passion as she did: even now her legs seemed unwilling to let go of him, and her long nails dug into his skin, proving she had wanted this desperately. He had found it odd that she would tag along for a trip with him, eventually he took for granted that she only wanted to torment him, and relish in a rare chance to leave the Fire Nation Palace, seeing as Zuko scarcely ever let her set foot outside it, let alone outside her nation… but if she had merely wanted to escape, using him as a stepping stone for it, she wouldn't have stayed with him once they reached the Earth Kingdom. He had half-expected to wake up and discover his traveling companion was gone, on the previous night, which they'd spent in a modest inn at Garsai… but she was still there. Then, he had expected her to take off through the forest, leaving him to his own devices… and again, she didn't do that. She seemed to genuinely want to come with him… though why, he didn't know for sure, not until now. He had pondered that she might have wanted to make amends for breaking his heart, but he hadn't thought she'd wish to rekindle their affair at all…

Now, as she thrusted upwards at him, one of her hands dashing between their bodies to pump his manhood, he realized the most wishful of all possibilities was, despite his rational mind had constantly claimed otherwise, the true explanation for Azula's actions.

He didn't hold back, not in the least: he drilled into her fiercely once they joined their bodies, thrusting with as much strength as he could muster while still kissing her as often as he could. She was breathless, her body strained, her heart still racing… and yet she wanted more, as she proved by rolling them over on the sleeping bag once he was finished, straddling him as she strived to make him hers for the thousandth time. More savage thrusting, and this time her head nearly crashed with the tent's ceiling as she sat up, riding his shaft recklessly: the tent truly could have fallen down upon her, she wouldn't have cared one bit. Then it was him who took over yet again, and they spent hours taking turns to lead their savage coupling, decorating each other's bodies with as many hickeys and bite marks as they could lavish each other with… and it would make quite the spectacle come morning, once they saw in full daylight the full score of reddened marks their bodies would sport, paired with the many dots the pentapi had left upon them.

The final round found them lying together on their sides, face to face, thrusting slowly into each other while they shared countless kisses after their last climaxes. Sokka closed his eyes, overwhelmed by pleasure: they hadn't eaten dinner yet, and his body appeared to resent him for it, seeing as they'd exercised rather extensively just now. They had also left their clothes behind by the lake, and he certainly hoped they'd still be there by morning… but he didn't dare let go of Azula to deal with any such matters, not just yet. Not while her body was wound so tightly around his own, not when it might be one of the last times it ever was… for he had no foolish hopes that this rekindling would last longer than this trip to find Space Sword. Not when Azula had already ran away from him before… when she might just do it again if he ever overwhelmed her ever again…

"You're… not going to say anything?" her voice broke through the darkness and silence, and Sokka damn near wished she hadn't spoken at all. Silence, uncertainty, were better than the mistakes he was likely to make while attempting to read her once again.

"Didn't think you'd want me to," he whispered, simply. He had thought that would be enough for Azula to understand how scared he was, how unwilling to let go of her… but naturally, the proud princess couldn't make anything easy for him.

"Since when do you do whatever I want you to?" she said. He huffed: he should know better than to fall for her verbal traps and tricks… and yet he plunged headfirst into this one, hating himself for it as he uttered his response.

"Since always," he said, bluntly. Azula frowned, but fell silent again. "Since the first night we spent together. For every minute and every moment of my life since then."

"That's… not true," Azula said, though her voice trembled lightly. "How… how could you even know what I wanted without asking me, anyway? If you didn't know…"

"I fucked you when you wanted me to. I walked away when you wanted me to," Sokka said, simply. "And I shut up now, because I know that if I dare say what I'm really thinking, you'll take off again and I don't think my stupid heart will be able to take that anymore."

Azula tensed up next to him. He didn't attempt to soften his words, which he had spoken far more bitterly than he had intended to… but it was true enough that he had seen more than his share of heartbreak throughout his life. There was only so much he could take before he came crashing down for good, unwilling to love ever again… frankly, he had thought he was there already, after she had ran off on him that night. He had been so anguished for the next months, doing his best to stay out of her way, to never inconvenience her… and in the process, he had nearly self-destructed. He was dead sure the reason no one wanted to take a road trip with him wasn't because everyone was too busy… but rather, because none of his friends thought it was a good idea to spend long stretches of time with the moodiest, least fun Sokka they had ever known. To this day, none of them understood why he had changed so much, so suddenly… and to this day, he refused to explain, too. How to explain he had finally found the right person to spend his life with, only to discover he didn't embody the same thing for her…?

"S-Sokka…" she called for him suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts. Sokka breathed deeply and rubbed his face with a hand, as though trying to shake off the emotional words that had tumbled out of him. What a fool… he wasn't supposed to tell her any of that. He wasn't supposed to guilt her into a damn thing, what was wrong with him?

"Don't mind me, Azula, don't… don't worry. I'm okay," he said, simply.

She seemed rather determined to prove him wrong, however: her hand reached for his chest, touching his heart, feeling its powerful, yet fragile beats. He gritted his teeth, trying to find something to say, anything to defuse the charged situation, far more tense now than in the rest of their awkward days on the road, combined…

"You said you loved me," she whispered. His breath caught. "You said so… and I left. But it wasn't because I… b-because I didn't want to see you anymore."

"What?" Sokka said, and the confusion did nothing to help his current discomfort.

"Sokka, I… I'm sorry. I know you believe you loved me, and because you did, I ruined everything, but the truth is…"

"Woah, what's that supposed to mean, 'I believe I loved you'?" Sokka snapped, eyeing her dark silhouette with a scowl. "There's no 'believe' about it, Azula. I loved you: I still do."

"You… no, Sokka, no," Azula said, shaking her head promptly. Yet her tone, the nervousness with which she spoke… it gave him pause, where he'd had none before. While he certainly didn't appreciate being told by anyone that his feelings couldn't be what he knew they were, he also knew Azula well enough by now to understand there was more going on underneath the surface than she wanted to admit right now.

"No what?" he said, softening his voice. "What are you trying to tell me, Azula?"

"You can't love me. And if you truly did, t-then… you shouldn't," she said, shivering against him. "I can't be… I can't be loved, not like other people can. I can't love, either, so maybe just…"

"What the hell? What's that supposed to mean?" Sokka asked, and Azula shook her head.

"That's what they said. In that damn asylum," she swallowed hard. "They diagnosed me, and tested me, and decided I was… incapable of I don't know how many emotions. They said I couldn't feel them, that I only pretended to, that I… that I copied what I saw in others, but was incapable of truly feeling those emotions myself."

"What sort of…? That's bullshit!" Sokka exclaimed, frowning. Azula shrank in her spot beside him, pressing her head to his chest. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?! You're capable of emotions alright, of so many of them, for crying out loud… who the hell paid those pieces of shit to say that about you? I'll go gut them as soon as we find Space Sword…"

"My mother thought I was a monster," Azula spoke against his chest. Sokka's wild rant stopped cold suddenly. "Why would she love Zuko but not me? Why would she say something was wrong with me if nothing had been wrong at all? Even now, she looks at me funny, no matter if Zuko's taken me back. Like she thinks any moment I'm just going to snap, and set the whole damn Palace on fire. Somedays… somedays I actually do want to do that, Sokka. Whenever I'm too frustrated, I just…"

"Then you can be frustrated? Isn't that an emotion?" Sokka huffed. "Azula… I can't say I know anything for sure, but it sounds like those damn assholes at that institution weren't trying to help you at all. If anything… they tried to convince you that you weren't human. They made you think emotions were worthless, and well, your damn family doesn't help one bit either…"

"But emotions are… they're not good, Sokka," Azula said, shaking her head.

"Says who? Ozai's far from a reliable source of information, you know…"

"It's not just him. It's… I've let myself be swayed by stupid impulses so many times now," Azula said, gritting her teeth. "I mean… if that's what emotions are, they just… they make you do things you shouldn't. They make you lose sight of your rational mind, and then…"

"The more you fight them, the worse it gets," Sokka finished for her. Azula flinched beside him. "Which… sounds like you understand and know emotions pretty well, for someone who allegedly can't feel them."

Azula breathed with difficulty against him, and to her surprise, his arms wrapped warmly around her, pulling her as close as she could be to him. He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"What did you feel… when you heard I was visiting again, the first time I visited the Fire Nation after all those months without seeing you?" he asked. Azula tensed around him. "Nothing wrong will come from telling me, Azula. I'm not going to hurt you. I just… need to know. And I think you need to say it even more than I need to hear it."

She swallowed hard before making up her mind. There was no trace of joking in his voice… no hint of mockery, of forcefulness, of bullheaded stubbornness. He wasn't trying to make her accept his feelings… he was trying to help her understand her own. Tears surged in her eyes, and with her face pressed to his bare chest as it was, she knew he would feel them directly on his skin.

"I… wanted to see you," she whispered. "I hoped you'd want to see me too. But when we crossed paths, you simply… walked past me. You barely even glanced at me. I… I thought I disgusted you. And it… it hurt. It did."

"I thought I was the one who disgusted you," Sokka said with a trembling voice, tightening his embrace further. "When you ran off, and avoided seeing me, I… I was sure it meant you'd never wanted things to go as far as they did. So I… decided to leave you be. Because I figured you didn't love me back. I thought… you'd be better off without me."

"I wasn't. I'm not," Azula admitted with far more honesty than she ever thought she'd muster, shaking her head against his chest.

"I'm sorry," Sokka whispered, and she gasped. "I should've… guessed I couldn't understand what was going through your head. Doesn't matter how smart I think I am, you're always much more complicated than I can figure out…"

"You… you're not the one who should apologize," Azula said, shaking her head again, and by now the tears did stream down her face. "I'm the one who… who left, and I hurt you, because I didn't know how to tell you that… t-that you shouldn't have loved someone like me…"

"I'm afraid that's never going to stop me," Sokka smiled sadly, raising a hand to her cheek, wiping the tears away as best he could with his thumb. "Love isn't that easily given and taken away."

"But I…" she gasped, shaking her head. "You can't… y-you shouldn't love me, Sokka. No one has ever…"

"I don't know if no one has ever loved you, Azula," Sokka whispered, raising her chin delicately: despite how dark it was, she could see his shape looming closer, so close he found her lips with his own, but far more softly than earlier. Her breath hitched as he pulled away, and she remained desperate, eager for more. "But if no one did before, I'm proud to be the first person who ever did. Whatever mistakes you made… we'll fix them, if they can be fixed. We'll move past them, if they can't be. And you know what's the best part? You don't have to love me back. I didn't tell you how I felt because… because I thought you'd respond with the same thing. I said it because… because I couldn't hold back anymore. Because you made me so happy, you still do, and… I needed you to know that. If you never feel the same way towards me, I'll accept it… but that won't change my feelings for you. It won't erase my truth. And that's still my truth, to this day: I love you, Azula. And as far as I can tell, I always will."

She couldn't hold back anymore: a torrent of tears streamed down her cheeks as she embraced him tightly, just as tight, if not even more so, as she had earlier that day. He held her the same way, pressing gentle kisses around her face, on the top of her head, on her temples… and she only cried further, overwhelmed, overcome by the onslaught of emotions she was supposedly unable to experience.

Had she truly been incapable of those emotions at all… or had she merely locked them away, in all the trauma of her childhood and teenage years, until they finally had broken free upon hearing Sokka's words tonight? Had his sincere, selfless feelings given wing to hers…? Or was she truly just emulating feelings she had seen someplace else…?

Ha. She was sure she had never seen anyone crying this pathetically over a love confession, so copying such an emotional outburst was ruled out.

Which meant… they were wrong. The diagnosis had been wrong. Maybe she was capable of much more than those damn mental experts had decided she was…

Those thoughts calmed her, despite they were anything but tranquilizing, as they would mean she had been living her life halfway for years now, abiding by that damn assessment as though it owned her, attempting to trick herself into believing her inability to feel emotions was a good thing somehow… but there was a lot she needed to do right now instead of crying, in the wake of such a revelation.

"H-how… how do you know you love me?" Azula asked, her voice fragile and unsteady. Her question took Sokka by surprise. "How does anyone know… that they're feeling love for someone else? I… I'm not trying to copy it, I just want to know if…"

"I didn't think you'd be copying anything in the first place," Sokka whispered, rubbing her back gently. "But if you're worried… how about you tell me how you feel, and I'll tell you if that sounds like love or not?"

"Then…" she said, breathing deeply. "I was… happy to see you, but then you didn't seem to want anything to do with me. M-my chest felt hollow, somehow… and when I talked to defend you when Zuko was being an ass about your quest for your sword, I thought you might be grateful, but you looked unaffected, as though it didn't matter… it hurt, too. I felt like an idiot, because I… I thought maybe you were happier whenever I wasn't around. That I'd messed up so badly that now you were better off without me, but I was so hung up on you, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I wanted to fix things between us… because I wanted you to smile the way you always did before. It hurt that you wouldn't, but I hoped… and then the damn pentapus thing stuck to me and you were back to your old self for a moment, and we were laughing, and helping each other, and my damn stupid hollow chest felt full again…"

Sokka's hands didn't stop rubbing against her back gently. Azula gritted her teeth, clinging to him, to her every word, as she spoke with far more honesty than she remembered doing in her whole life. It seemed she had learned that from him, somehow…

"I never wanted to lose you," she said. "I never wanted to push you so far away you'd never want to come back. I thought… I thought you'd come back and fight to stay by my side because… isn't that how love works? I never thought… I never thought you were walking away because you loved me. B-because you thought that was what I wanted… I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't… I didn't want to push you away, Sokka…"

"I get it," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I understand now. I… I'm relieved, you know? I thought I'd spend the rest of my life alone…"

"You…?" Azula said, puzzled. Sokka chuckled.

"No one knew I was with you… so my damn sister kept trying to set me up with people. I always said no, she'd always find a way to throw them at me, I'd always make myself scarce as soon as I knew there was yet another girl waiting to meet the great hero Sokka…"

"Pfft… great hero?" Azula smiled, amused.

"See? I don't want or need a girl who worships me" Sokka chuckled, kissing her brow. "I'd rather have one who thinks all that stuff is nonsense… because she sees right through me, and knows deep down I'm just a dork who wants to spend time with his friends, talk nonsense, joke around, pull pranks on people…"

"We need to do it again… pulling pranks on everyone," Azula smiled, pressing her own lips to his chest. "I miss that."

"Well… I don't know what this really means for us, going forward," Sokka whispered. "Maybe you're not ready for anything too demanding anyway… but what you said you felt for me did sound quite a lot like love, you know?"

"It… did?" Azula said, the hopeful inflection of her voice brought a gentle grin to Sokka's face.

"That's right," he said, pressing his brow to hers. "So… going back to civilization, and telling everyone we're together now? Sounds like the culmination of the greatest prank of all time to me."

"Though it's not just a prank," Azula smiled, closing her eyes. "We are together. Or at least, we should be."

"If we both agree on that… then I guess it means we are," Sokka sighed.

She hadn't known what to make of his tone with the last words he spoke… until a soft laugh shook him, and then he was squeezing her so tight she lost her breath: tears fell upon her skin, just as her own had fallen on his. Azula gritted her teeth but hugged him back, burying her face in his shoulder as he sobbed quietly against her.

Just one silly development, one chaotic afternoon spent battling against strange but harmless invertebrates, had turned into a wild evening of relentless trysts until they had released their everything together… and then it had become an emotional night, where they had finally talked thoroughly, finally understanding each other's fears, weakness, insecurities and thought processes. It hadn't needed to come this far, they both knew it… and yet they were so grateful to recover what they'd lost that they didn't stop to reason with how much time they had wasted: instead, their lips met in a tearful kiss, and their bodies joined anew for one more time that night, but in a warmer, loving manner, slow and gradual, until they both reached their final culmination and fell asleep soundly in each other's arms. Just as there had been no violent solution to fend off the pentapi, there had been no such solution for their relationship either: a gentler approach, far more sincere, where they had opened their hearts, regardless of the painful risk it represented, was the only true way to resolve their conflict.

The long-standing tension between them was gone, completely, by the next morning: they couldn't seem to stop smiling together, not when they made love again by dawn, not when they ate a hefty breakfast to make up for the dinner they had missed, not when they rushed back to the lake to find the clothes that they had left lying about by the shore. Once they packed the tent and took off, following Sokka's map, they did as much with hands linked, casting countless teasing comments at each other with every new step they took together.

After a week and a half of long, heartfelt nights and blissful, bright days, their journey appeared to be one that should have lasted a lifetime instead… and yet Azula's luck dictated otherwise.

She spotted it amidst bushes while she foraged for food, as their reserves were near depleted by then: it didn't glow as brightly as it had long ago, but that golden pommel still caught her eye. She pushed the plants out of the way, slowing by the weapon to find it sunken to the hilt in the soil. She breathed deeply and wrapped her hand around the handle's leather, and without much struggle, the weapon came loose… and that black blade nearly glistened under the sunlight once she had withdrawn it completely.

It was over, then. Their long trip, their chance to reconnect and make amends… Azula gritted her teeth as she gazed at the weapon, almost begrudging it for not having taken a little longer to show up, despite she had practically found it by sheer chance as it was. She briefly pondered stashing it away someplace safe, to make sure she and Sokka would continue to travel together for a little longer… but his words, his many decisions and sacrifices for her sake, convinced her otherwise. He had taught her what love looked like: selfishness wasn't part of it. He had come here to find his sword, and she had no right to deprive him from it for a moment longer.

"Sokka?" she called for him, and he raised his head from the small venison he'd been able to catch earlier, thanks to his boomerang.

"What is it?" he asked. "Found anything that looks too bright and funny? It's probably poisonous, if that's it…"

"Well, that sure explains why it was that dangerous all along, huh?" Azula smiled, returning to the clearing they were resting at that morning. She raised her right hand, showing the weapon she held to Sokka, who froze in place immediately. "Didn't think you'd play so underhandedly back in those days, coating your weapon in poison, but…"

"AZULA! YOU FOUND IT?!"

Azula laughed as she offered the sword at her lover, who clumsily jumped to his feet and rushed towards her. He took Space Sword in his hands, smiling brightly enough to cry yet again… and then he dropped the weapon, to her utter astonishment, and embraced her so tightly he raised her from the ground.

"S-Sokka!" she gasped, embracing him right back in fear of falling… especially in fear of falling on his insanely sharp sword.

"You're the greatest, smartest, cleverest, most amazing woman in the entire planet!" he squealed. Despite her previous apprehension, Azula couldn't hold back a trickle of laughter as she pressed her face to his neck. "Oh, hell…! I was starting to think we'd never find it! Which, to be fair, I didn't mind too much? I was having so much fun being on the road with you as it was, that I…!"

"You forgot you were looking for a sword?" Azula smiled, as he set her down at last. "I think I could tell. Seeing as you kept making plans about what we'd eat for our next meal, or what position we'd try for the next night…"

Sokka snorted and laughed, pressing his brow to hers. Azula grinned, breathing out slowly: that was the face she had relished in. That expression of pure, undoubtable bliss… the genuine smiles she had never been deemed worthy of until Sokka had decided otherwise. Her heart ached pleasantly at the sight of it, at the gentle bliss that permeated them both right now.

"Thank you, Azula… thank you so much," he said, pressing many quick, enthusiastic kisses to her lips. Azula's smile only widened further. "Goodness, I owe you so much more than you can imagine…"

"No, you don't…" Azula whispered, caressing his chest. "Whatever debts we owed each other… I think they're settled after this trip. I'd hurt you… now I've made up for it, somehow, I hope…"

"You've more than made up for every bit of pain, Azula… you didn't even have to, but you have," Sokka smiled, caressing her face kindly.

"I did have to…" she said, as another of those impulses she couldn't repress bubbled to the surface: "Because I love you, too."

He had never expected her to return his feelings… let alone for her to say it aloud, if she did. He was sure he'd spend his life with her, regardless of whether she ever said those three words to him at all… and yet now that she had, it was as though his entire world had expanded, exploded, becoming greater, larger and better in a single moment. Tears surged in his eyes, as did in hers… and the next thing she knew, they were back in the tent, reprising every blissful night and morning they had spent making love relentlessly together. After so long of fearing she'd always be alone, fearing she had alienated the only person who genuinely had cared for her, now she knew she'd live every day ahead with the bright awareness that she would have him by her side…

No one had truly expected Sokka to return with his sword. Zuko, personally, hadn't expected him to return with Azula, to begin with, having even set up a whole squad to track down his sister once she inevitably escaped…

Yet what no one could have ever anticipated was for Sokka and Azula to not only have found Space Sword, but to have found their way to each other just as well: Zuko spent months convinced their engagement announcement was but another of their joint pranks… even up until the very wedding ceremony. Teasing him further, after first kissing her new husband, Azula had promised Zuko that their first child would be called 'Prank', in his honor… and only then did the reality of the situation hit him, despite he was still quite far from being able to process it fully. Katara, of course, wasn't in much better shape… and yet, to everyone's surprise, she eased up on them faster if only because of Sokka's genuine happiness. Seeing him back in good spirits, even if they mostly were related to the woman he couldn't seem to stop holding in his arms ever since they returned from their long journey, was enough of a relief that she managed to overlook, at least most times, that her new sister-in-law was none other than who she was…

And as fun as their reactions were, nothing pleased either the princess or her new consort as much as their relationship itself did. Opening their hearts to each other fully, thoroughly understanding what their feelings were, had changed their worlds for the better. It had started as a quest for a sword… and instead it had shaped into the reforging of a love and the beginning a blissful journey that would span for a lifetime.

[gukyi]

love me or we both go down | kth

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

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

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

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

Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The doors open. 

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

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

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

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

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

There can be no sneering here. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, finally.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the place is nice, right?”

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

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

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

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

“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 

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

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

“I mean…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s our plan for tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You resist the urge to scoff. 

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

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

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

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

“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, a camera flashes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your grandmother.”

Your mouth shuts. 

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

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

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

You freeze in your tracks. The will?

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

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

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

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

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

She hangs up. 

Well. 

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

At least the feeling is mutual. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 

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

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

“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 

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

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

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

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

Fair enough. 

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

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

“Deal.”

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

Like right now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you respond. 

“You look nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just life. 

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

And that makes you happy. 

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fall asleep instantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He wasn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 

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

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

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

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

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

“There,” he says, a moment too late. 

“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until—

“Y/N? You still up here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin. 

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

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

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

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

“That sounds nice,” you force out. 

“Okay. Your usual?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at him skeptically. 

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“Maybe a couple of years ago.”

You narrow your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s your husband.

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

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

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

Tomorrow will be better.

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s an art studio. 

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

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

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

Who knew he loved it so much? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”

“Didn’t we both agree on that?”

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

“The fine print of what?”

“That deal we made.”

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

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

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

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

“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 

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

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

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

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

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

But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 

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

Who’s to say you can’t learn more?

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

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

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

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

Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”

The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bingo.”

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

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

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 

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

“A museum curator.”

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

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

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

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

Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 

“Bathroom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”

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

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

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

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

“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 

Taehyung grins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”

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

“About what?”

“Anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

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

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

Of him saying—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And closer. 

And a little closer. 

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

Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Us.”

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

And he understands that now, things are different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something that makes you want more. 

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

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

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 

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

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

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

“Tell me something,” he demands. 

“What?” 

“A fact. Something I don’t know.”

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

It’s enough for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Open up for me," he orders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck's sake."

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

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

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

You both are. 

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

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

Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 

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

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

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

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

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

You want him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.

"I’m grateful, too."

"Huh?"

"I’m grateful for us, too."

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

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

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

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

A late morning call, then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 

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

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

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

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

Well, that makes two of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you whisper back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you even called your parents?” 

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

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

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

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

And then there is nothing. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”

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

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

You peer over. 

It’s Taehyung. 

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

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

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

Oh, God.

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

“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 

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

“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 

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

So why not lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why would he lie? 

Why would he do that?

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

So then, why do it at all?

Could it… could it be?

Is it true?

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

Does he really love you back?

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

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

Almost. 

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

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

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

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

Or so he thinks. 

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

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

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

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

And there he is. 

“Wait! Taehyung!”

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

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

You know that everything will be okay. 

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

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

And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed this,” you say softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes it all worth it.

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

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

Taehyung swallows.

"Do you?" You tease.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

God, you love this man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Faintly, you realize. 

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

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

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

Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.

It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.

You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.

Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.

You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 

Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.

Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.

“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 

“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 

Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”

“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”

“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”

“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 

“And you are mine,” you murmur.

As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 

“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 

He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”

And so it was. 

don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!

[adonis-koo]

Strictly Business

↳ Summary: When the price of your apartment shoots through the roof, you and your roommate become desperate for money and go to extreme measures to make it possible to afford living there. But it’s all strictly business in the end. Right?

↳ Genre: porn with some plot if you squint, it’s a pornstar AU essentially, sex worker au??? Roommates AU, it’s all platonic, or is it?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/Reader

↳ Word Count: 13k

Tags: dom!kook, sex tapes obviously, dirty talk, pussy slapping, good girl!MC, sir kink, degradation, like if you aren’t into degradation just skip, vaginal fingering, size kink 😌, a little dumbfication, ruined orgasm, breath play, oral (m & f), sex toy, overstimulation, bondage, theres elements of BDSM but not hardcore,

Note: I never thought I’d write pwp ever but here we are you horndogs, I feel like this Oneshot probably deserves a part 2 tbh

“What!?” 

Jungkook cringed at your shouted words, you hadn’t meant to of course. Truth be told, you didn’t really know your roommate that well. But he was good in terms of keeping the apartment fairly clean, he was quiet, never brought any one night stands home. You did the same. But outside of talking over bills, a few mutual friends and occasionally watching a movie together you both didn’t really hang out much.

“...Look I know,” Jungkook sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, “They just spiked rent last month too…Maybe we should look for a different place?” He offered as you slumped on the couch. This place was perfect though, it was close to campus, close to your and his work and all while in range of plenty of fast food restaurants and the grocery store. You couldn’t get any better than this.

The apartment was already rather pricey when you and Jungkook found it, but you both made enough together that with that and making sure to grocery shop together it would be fine. But then your tenant had retired and gave his business over to his son who had spiked the rates last month and to be fair he warned he was doing a finalized rent this month but still…

Five hundred extra? How could you afford nine hundred rent a month when both you and Jungkook worked regular college level jobs? 

“I’m sure we could but…” you frowned as you fumbled with your fingers, “It won’t be nearly as close to campus or work…” 

Jungkook didn’t like the idea anymore then you but...what other options were there? He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, “Well let’s not worry about it tonight. I’ll start looking for other places. Who knows, maybe we can find somewhere better.” He offered you a tiny smile that you weakly returned before sighing, lips quivering before you stood up, running a hand through your hair before going back to your room, looking rather upset.

Jungkook frowned before sighing as his gaze lingered in your direction before making his way to his room. Jungkook began his search for different apartments but much to his irrigation everything was either the same price which neither of you could afford or it was nearly a half hour drive to uni. 

It was well into the early morning until Jungkook eventually gave up all together, to make matters go from bad to worst he inhaled sharply in annoyance at the strained feeling of his cock strapped inside the confines of his jeans he had yet to change out of. Seriously? He looked down at the bulge in his pants that decided to greet him at nearly twelve at night.

He looked back at the house listing before back at his pants he clacked his tongue exiting out of the page, seeing as he obviously wasn’t going to find any apartment options tonight and he had a raging boner he knew he could at least fix one of these things.

Kicking off his jeans he sighed in relief before typing away on his computer, putting on his headphones as he eagerly scrolled through Playhub.

Instead of finding a good video to jerk off too he paused at the side bar that usually held porn ads, instead it was advertisement for working on playhub...Jungkook gritted his teeth together, ignoring his hardened cock that was throbbing in need to be touched as he clicked on the ad...Maybe this night wasn’t such a bust…

Should he tell you? He felt nervous as you finished up drinking your smoothie, you were getting ready for work this morning, your hair tied up and you still looked pretty tired. Jungkook felt himself gulp, staring without even realizing it. But the longer he stared the more he felt his ears burning, sure he thought you were pretty when he first met you but…

“Are you okay?” He jumped at your soft voice, tilting your head a little as you glanced at your roommate, feeling slightly odd given he was usually still in bed or was already on his way to work, or even class. It was rare you shared breakfast together. Jungkook swallowed thickly as he rapidly shook his head without even meaning too. He was trying to get the courage to bring up his solution to you.

“Y-yeah I’m good!” Jungkook flashed you a strained smile but he was positive his cheeks were flushed. You pressed your lips together but said no more as you glanced back down at your phone. Jungkook could feel himself slump a little, he usually wasn’t this nervous around girls, god he felt like he was in middle school again. 

But again, he had never thought of you in this way before...I mean sure...Jungkook was a man, he had thought about it a time or two in passing thought. But he had never extensively thought about it. About you. About having sex with you. And it was frighteningly arousing, he wouldn’t lie. Had he always been so blind to how tight your sleep shorts were? Or how short they really were and how they strapped against your ass? 

Or the way you’d flash him timid sweet smiles when you’d pass one another in the house. Jungkook was thinking with his hormones now. But still...if he was going to do this, he wouldn’t want anyone else to be his partner going into it. 

Before he knew it his opportunity was gone as you left the table making him groan in defeat. To be fair it wasn’t exactly an easy question; ‘Hey would you consider making porn with me since we’re desperate to pay rent and can’t afford to stay anywhere else?’

Because that conversation could go well...Jungkook didn’t even know your favorite color, how the fuck was he supposed to go about this? He nibbled against his lower lip as he sunk in his seat, this was going to be more challenging then he anticipated…

Jungkook has spent most of his day at work mopping around and fretting about how bad your reaction could be, the worst would be making things awkward but...that wasn’t going to solve anything and this was a solution...sorta...It could also flop but this could work! Jungkook knows it can! 

He continued to affirm himself the whole day and even when he got off shift at nine o’clock at night and headed home. Yes! He’d go and he’d ask you if you were willing to do this because you both needed rent money by the 29th and that wasn’t going to happen unless you did something this something just so happened to be porn…

Jungkook gulped a little as he took his shoes off at the entrance before headed inside, making himself some cup noodles as he tried to calm himself. 

What Jungkook didn’t expect was for you to come out of your room, sweatpants hiding the nice sight of your thighs but the tank top was loose and low enough to spot the lacy bralette you sported that Jungkook never looked twice at until now. God he felt like a total pervert! He could already feel his ears turning red as he hurriedly slurped his noodles trying to ignore your figure the way you bent down to grab juice from the fridge.

You were about to leave when Jungkook jumped the opportunity, “Um-! Y/n!” He almost yelped, wincing at his tone. God why did he sounded like he was going through puberty again.

Usually when Jungkook wanted to get with a girl he was a lot more subtle, a few smirks here and there, some playful flirting. Smooth. So why wasn’t he being smooth? Probably because this wasn’t exactly what one would consider a one night stand…

You turned around as you tilted your head, giving him your full attention as you asked, “Yeah?” Jungkook felt himself freeze before he forced a cough from his lips. You could tell he had been acting up since this morning and for some reason it put you on edge...did he not want to be roommates anymore? Was something wrong?

Noting he hadn’t said anything yet you took the opportunity to sit down across from him as you raised your brows.

“I...um…” Jungkook sucked in a breath of air, calming himself down, “So...I found a way that could help us get rent….”

Jungkook felt bad at watching the way your eyes lit up in excitement as you bounced in your seat a little, clapping your hands as you asked, “What? Really!? What is it? I'd hate for us to have to move somewhere else…” Of course this little nerd Jeon Jungkook found a way for you both to get side cash! God you may not have been close to him but he really was a genius! 

Oddly enough Jungkook didn’t seem to share your sentiment as he dropped his gaze, looking somewhat ashamed which made your brows furrow. 

That was weird…”Well...here’s the thing…” he gave you a funny smile as he rubbed the back of your neck, “...Did you know Playhub pays users who put up content.” Jungkook wasn’t even sure how he managed to get those words out but he could tell that was the last thing you expected him to say.

It looked like your brain was frozen for a good few minutes before as you opened and closed your mouth several times...He did not just say what you think you heard him say…”You’re...you’re joking...right?” You forced a smile on your lips, feeling like something was caught in your throat as you forced a laugh despite your face suddenly feeling hot.

Jungkook sunk into his seat a little which only confirmed he wasn’t joking about this, he ran a hand through his hair as he looked away apprehensively, “I understand if you don’t want to do it but…! Just give it a thought-“ 

“Jungkook that’s insane! Who would sell porn?” 

“I would,” Jungkook replied somewhat defensively before he realized what he said, his ears burning as your jaw dropped a little and your brows rose, “...If I’m desperate enough and I’m pretty desperate right now Y/n...I’ve already checked for different apartments but anything in a half hour radius is around nine hundred as well and unless you wanna find two other housemates in the next two weeks we’re gonna be living in your car.” 

Jungkook’s brows were pinched and you wanted to whine at how serious his expression was. Porn? Together….Seriously? Just the idea was making you flush. You wouldn’t lie, Jungkook was an attractive guy, extremely attractive guy, you’d be dumb to not acknowledge that. Or the fact that you had a tiny crush on him when you first moved in together. But eventually you got over it, that didn’t erase the fact that it was once there though! If you slept with him...Dear god…that only crossed your mind when you were desperate while masturbating…

“Oh my god…” you sighed as you pressed your hands to your face.

“Like I said!” Jungkook replied hurriedly, “You don’t have to do it if you don’t feel comfortable but...we should start sending out advertisements for other roommates soon.”

Porn...Together…

You melted into your chair feeling somewhat embarrassed by the idea, what if somebody you knew stumbled across a video or what if your work found out…? “I…” You pressed your lips together before rubbing your temple, “Can I at least think it over tonight…?”

Jungkook’s lips parted, you...you were actually considering? Jungkook felt his face burn as he nodded rapidly, “Of course! Yeah! Just let me know in the morning.” Holy shit you were considering!

Holy shit, you were actually considering this…

But Jungkook had a point, you were kind of desperate as well...You really loved this apartment and you didn’t want to give it up…

It was nearly seven in the morning and you had a horrible time sleeping last night, there were too many thoughts in your mind that kept you awake. If you were to do this then...you’d have to lay out a lot of ground rules and would have to talk a lot of things over…

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the couch with Jungkook both of you sitting on the opposite end turned to face one another, “...How do we even do this? Setting up an account?” You flushed as you asked, hugging the couch pillow against your chest.

Jungkook was still waking up, steam wafting from the cup of coffee he had as he took a sip, oddly not looking as flustered as he did the day before, “Well first off we’d make an account then we’d apply for their amateur program, they’ll have an admin verify us and we’d go from there.”  You pressed your lips together as you nodded, “If we do this,” Jungkook continued carefully, “We should stop by the bank and set up a joint account so we can both access the account we use for this.” 

That was definitely agreed and the smartest decision, that way there was no fighting or over spending any money you’d make on this...God you were actually considering this, “That's if you actually wanna do this though.” Jungkook finished as he took another sip of coffee, his expression neutral but the way he eyed you made your face feel hot again.

Sighing you pressed your hand to your face, what was the worst that could happen? You bang your roommate and this flops and then you go on with your life pretending it never happened? “Ah fuck it. We need money, and now.” Jungkook looked a little surprised by your words making you more flustered, “What!? Do you want me to say no!?” 

“No…! Well...Yeah, if you really don’t want to sleep with me…” Jungkook looked a little awkward as he rubbed his head, he wouldn’t lie, his pride would be a little hurt if you didn’t but he handled rejection all throughout his school years, he had survived before and could do so again.

“Do you wanna sleep with me?” You countered cautiously as you both awkwardly looked at one another.

Jungkook felt as if he’d break out in nervous sweat any moment, “...Yes…?” It was posed more like a question than an answer as you groaned making him rush, “It wouldn’t be a bad thing! I think your um-! I think you're pretty and I wouldn’t mind- I’m just gonna shut up. Let’s talk

sex, condoms or pill?” You looked at him bewildered as he scratched his cheek before murmuring, “Most people find it hot when it’s raw...we should discuss all of this before we do anything at all.” 

It was embarrassing though! You groaned as you shoved your face into your pillow, this was going to be a long conversation, “Condoms. I don’t have a reason to be on birth control but I mean…” You weren’t a stranger to Pornhub you knew most people went raw on there but…”Actually- before we even discuss condomless we should both get checked out. If you have STDs this plan isn’t going to work. We can talk about birth control afterward.” You’d be willing to go on pill but you wanted to make sure both of you were clean before you do anything else.

Jungkook nodded, “Alright fair enough- I don’t have STDs by the way,” He watched a smile tug on your lips for the first time all morning, yeah...this could definitely work, “You know I already have a good camera so we don’t have to worry about that. No faces though?” 

You immediately nodded, feeling a little better at the idea of keeping your face out of any kind of porn just to make yourself feel better, “Yeah definitely….And I guess we should probably talk about Uh…” you coughed a little, “...Kinks and stuff…For entertainment purposes.”

“Are you vanilla?” Jungkook immediately quizzed, making your gaze dart away from him, suddenly becoming mute, “Because we can keep it vanilla if that’s what you want.” He really was a sweetheart, not just like this but his whole personality. He was always thinking about others.

You rubbed your head as you sighed, forcing yourself to speak, “I uh...Not really…” you offered him a weak smile when you noticed he seemed confused.

You...you weren’t into vanilla? Jungkook didn’t want to say he assumed your tastes but well...he did a little, you were considerably quiet and timid, only open with your friends but over all a kind and sweet person. Jungkook figured girls like you probably liked something slow and sentimental. And there was nothing wrong with that! 

“And even if I was vanilla it wouldn't get views. Just throw me around and shit.” You laughed at the way Jungkook choked on his coffee, coughing as he pressed a hand on his chest, “Degradation, pain, bondage, all that stuff. Unless…! You’re not into that…” What surge of confidence you had suddenly wilted at the idea of Jungkook not being into these things.

Rather it was the opposite, the more you spoke the more aroused Jungkook felt, “...Are you saying you’re a submissive?” Jungkook could feel his cock throb in excitement. Sure he could find people who liked rough sex but not everyone was a submissive and the idea that he had been living with one for a year and a half was driving him up the wall. 

“Are you saying you’re a dominant?” You suddenly felt nervous at the idea, you could label yourself a sub but you had never actually been with a dominant before. Sure you had a great time with plenty of people but...The air in the room shifted a little, Jungkooks gaze a little more sultry then before, those usually innocent doe eyes looked lidded in the moment and the air around him suddenly looked a thousand times more confident as he gave a nod with a shrug, “Yeah, I am.” 

You wanted to screech at his words, his voice sounding a tone deeper than before.

Three words and it felt like you were squirming, of course he was dominant! Of course! You should’ve known! “So does that mean you like getting thrown around and shit?” Jungkook tucked his tongue into his cheek before offering a cocky smile that made him look a little more predatory than you were used to, he didn’t make a move to get closer to you but your body felt hotter then you remembered.

You managed a stiff nod, refusing to meet his gaze anymore and you were sure you looked embarrassed, you had to…You had never met someone that considered themselves formally a dominant but the energy just continued to ooze from Jungkook. 

“Oh? What about overstimulated,” Nod, “Toys?” Nod, “What about title kinks? I prefer to be addressed as Sir.” Jungkook wasn’t even hiding his arousal or interest anymore. His pupils looked dilated and he was licking lips at the way you squirmed in your seat, lips tugging into a pout and you refused to look at him anymore. Cute. 

“Sir is fine.” You mumbled as you rubbed your hand against your cheek, trying to stop your thighs from rubbing together in excitement. Maybe this wasn’t a terrible idea as you thought…

Finding out that you and Jungkook were both sexually compatible seemed to really fast track your progress. You both went out the same day, opened a joint account together, you went to get tested and meanwhile bought birth control for you to start taking. Things seemed to be going well the last few days but you couldn’t help but feel nervous, the 29th would be arriving soon and if this flopped you’d either be cramming two extra people in the apartment or you’d be sleeping in by the back of your car. 

“Well I don’t know, I guess we’ll just have to play around with camera positions,” Jungkook frowned, messing with his tripod as you laid on his bed so he could try to frame it without your face in the shot, “I think this should work.” He seemed satisfied with his work as he leaned back on his hands as he sighed in contentment. 

“Have you heard back from them yet?” You glanced up at Jungkook as he frowned, shaking his head. You had created a pornhub profile together the same day you agreed to do this and you had yet to hear back about getting verified. But a part of you wondered if you’d have to build a following first. God this sounded time consuming…

“Hey, come on it’ll be fine.” It was like Jungkook could sense your nervous energy as you sighed, rolling into your stomach as you buried into his pillow, “If the video does well we’ll still get a cut regardless of verified or not. Verified probably just means more exposure.” 

The bed dipped a little as Jungkook sat on the edge as you sighed, mumbling into the pillow, “If it does well. Pornhub is like any other platform, there’s millions of videos on there. What’s one more have to offer?” It was true, the likelihood that this was going to work was….not high.

Jungkook frowned as he shrugged, he had been the more optimistic one about this then you and he’d continue to do so, “Well maybe…” You could hear the hesitation in his voice as you glanced up at him in front of your slumped position, his eyes a little nervous as he shrugged, “Maybe we should try a practice run.” 

You could immediately feel your face become hot at his words, there wasn’t any reason why you couldn’t. You got your test results back and you were both clean of STDs and you had been making sure to take birth control every day for the past four days and today as well, “Maybe we should…” you mumbled letting your face press against the pillow once more. The fact was nobody was going to watch to two awkward college kids act like they were virgins, you needed to have confidence in having sex with Jungkook and vice versa, right now that wasn’t looking too hot, “We can’t make anything decent until we’re used to banging each other.” 

You could hear Jungkook laugh a little, sounding a little less nervous as you felt the bed shift again, a hand hesitantly rolling your over into your back to look up at him, his cheeks were pink despite hovering on top of you, “I think we could make something decent right now.” Jungkook offered a little smirk as you glanced at the camera, realizing the screen had been flipped and record was on making your ears burn as you squirmed beneath him a little, “We’ll take it slow.” Jungkook was going to be the dominant in this scenario so he felt obligated to be the one to lead you through this despite not being experienced himself.

“Listen...ah...If you wanna stop at any time just tell me okay? Remember, we’re just getting used to one another.” 

You swallowed thickly despite looking away from him, feeling too embarrassed to look at him directly, “Same applies, if you wanna stop then we do.” Jungkook felt reassured as his lips quirked into a little smile, but admittedly all business aside, he was aroused by the sight of you beneath him. Jungkook was eager to get you naked and soaking wet beneath him, he had a lot of things he wanted to experiment with today and he had the feeling you’d be a good girl and let him.

Your breath hitches a little at his hands immediately pushing your top over your head, you felt semi embarrassed you weren’t wearing any sort of lingerie, just your usual bralette and panties that weren’t even matching but Jungkook didn’t even seem to mind as he quickly undid your bra. 

Your first instinct was to shy away from him attempting to cover yourself but shockingly Jungkook’s hands were faster, “Dont.” His voice was husky and deeper as he spoke causing your core to ache with a gush of arousal, “Let’s make one thing clear,” Jungkook let his lips press against your ear as he purred lowly, “I’m the dominant here. So be a good little girl and obey.” He growled lowly keeping your arms pinned to the bed as his mouth dragged down your neck, a whine suddenly escaping you at the feeling of his mouth capturing your sensitive nipple between his lips. Suckling it as a soft moan escaped you, your back arching a little to try for a little more friction.

Your panties were practically soaking and you hadn’t even started yet, Jungkook held your wrists over your hand with one hand and the other squeezed against your waist before petting down to your hip, his lips suckling against your tits before you squeaked at the feeling of his hand cupping your cunt, “Fuck,” Jungkook grunted at the feeling of your hips immediately thrusting into his hand for friction, “So fucking needy.” He growled against your skin, letting go of your wrists to tug his shirt over his head, “Should’ve known your little ass was a good girl,” He cooed snidely, a sharp sting against your pussy as he spanked it making you moan louder then you wanted too as he his smirk widened, “What a cute little sub.” You whined as you felt a sharp slap against your clothed clit, throbbing in excitement as pain flushed against it. 

“Sir! Please.” You hadn’t even consciously realized what you said but it made Jungkook’s muscle tense and a growl to suddenly escaping him at being formally addressed. His cock suddenly throbbing in need as he bit against your skin, “Please what? You desperate whore.” He wanted to hear you say it, to listen to that sweet little voice beg to be fucked. How could Jungkook life with you for this long and never think about how nice and wet your little cunt was?

“Ah!” Your hips bucked at the harsh slap against your clit, pleasure making you whine and squirm as you fumbled, “Please! Please sir!” Jungkook gritted his teeth as he roughly cupped your cunt, massaging against it as your panties soaked with arousal.

“Answer my fucking question,” Jungkook growled against your ear lowly, his thumb pressing against your covered clit harshly, your loud surprised squeak like music to his ears, “What do you want? What do you think you deserve? Hm?” 

Jungkook wanted to moan at just the sight of your fucked out submissive face as your hips kept needily grinding against his hand, “Tongue! Sir! Please! Want fingers! Anything!” Your eyes squeezed shut as you whined feeling his fingers pinch your clit, “Ah Sir…!” Jungkook was already stuffing his hand down your panties his long thick fingers dragging over your soaked cunt before pushing a single digit inside you, your lips immediately parting and your little hole clenching around him with a whine.

“Is this what my little slut wants?” Jungkook cooed out mockingly, a wicked smirk on his face as your eyes met, your expression twisted between shy and needy as various whines escaped you as his finger roughly hitting up against your g-spot, “Fuck you’re so tiny baby, I don’t think you can take my cock. It’ll split you right in half.” Just to emphasize Jungkook squeezed another finger inside you making your body jolt and walls clamp with a loud cry as your hips began to fuck yourself with them.

Jungkook paused his movements just to watch your hips buck up against him, your tiny walls squeezing so tight and snug around his fingers that covered in your arousal, “Do you like fucking yourself with my fingers you desperate little whore?” Jungkook growled with lidded eyes, watching your tits bounce with each thrust of your body and your little squeaked moans. 

“Y-yes! Mm love it!” Jungkook licked his lips at the feeling of your walls squeezing as you whimpered, “Ah! F-feels good! Sir, cum! Want cum!” Your body withered due to edging yourself with his fingers that teasingly brushed up against your g-spot each time. Jungkook shoved his fingers inside you all the way causing you to whine as you scrambled to frantically fuck his fingers making him growl, his non working hand finally releasing your wrists only to grab your hips with a sneer, “Be still you needy bitch.” 

You whimpered but stayed still obediently as he used his free hand to peel off your panties, a low moan escaping him and his cock was pressed thick and bulging against his sweatpants at the sight of such a pretty wet cunt stuffed full of his fingers. Your legs immediately spread as your hips couldn’t resist rolling into him, having full motion to feel his fingers drag against your g-spot as you cried out with a moan, “I said stay fucking still,” Jungkook snapped, his hand spanking harshly against your thigh making you jump with a cry, body squirming against his fingers as he shoved them back deep inside you, “You like getting fucked by my fingers? Say it. Say how much you don’t fucking deserve it.” Jungkook demanded, he shifted your body slightly more towards the camera as he kept your legs spread, in perfect few for watching you get stuffed with his fingers, “Say it.” Jungkook snapped, his fingers roughly thrusting inside you causing a loud moan as his jammed his fingers up into your g-spot pleasure was rapidly blossoming in your body as you cried.

“I-I don’t deserve it! I’m a dumb needy slut that doesn’t deserve your fingers Sir! Ah! I’m worthless and shouldn’t be allowed to cum! Sir please…!” Your body was withering as his fingers pounded into you, his thumb skillfully rubbing circles into your clit as your walls rapidly clenched and relaxed, “Sir!” 

“That’s right,” Jungkook growled his fingers harshly rutting up into your g-spot sloppily and his thumb rubbing into your clit as he snarled, “You don’t deserve it you worthless cumdumpster.” Your body was so close, Jungkook could feel it, you were squirming and mornings hotly escaped you before a loud cry left your lips the glorious feeling of his fingers escaping you just at the edge of your orgasm, a sob escaping your lips as your body began to tremble. 

“Sir please! Please! Let me cum! Sir!” You sobbed with blurry eyes as you glanced up at Jungkook’s dark daunting figure, his fingers in his mouth as he licked them clean, as if he didn’t so much as care about your sobbing figure that trembled beneath him. 

His hand suddenly wrapped around your throat with a harsh squeeze, “Shut up you pathetic bitch. You said it yourself, you don’t deserve to cum,” Jungkook gave you a lopsided smile, “But if you really think you deserve to cum get on your knees.” He growled, getting off of you as he pulled his shirt over his head. Your mouth was watering at just the sight of his body, thick and taunt muscles all up and down his arms, his sweat pants hung low enough to show off his v line and you could even see the distinct display of abs when he crunched slightly before sitting with his feet on the ground at the edge of the bed, right in front of the camera. 

You scrambled to get off the bed, kneeling down between his parted legs as you folded your hands glancing up at him for direction, Jungkook snorted as his hand came to touch your hair a pleasant noise escaping you as his hand stroked down to your cheek.

A harsh smack against the same skin he previously brushed as you jumped with a whine, your cheek flushing with a delicious sting of pain as Jungkook gritted his teeth, “Don’t sit still and look pretty baby take out my cock.” Obediently you fumbled with his waist band before tugging it down. Pausing for a moment as his cock bounced and laid against his abdominal, he was so thick, perhaps not the longest you had seen but certainly not the shortest either. His head was bulbous and round weeping with precum. You didn’t stare for long, wanting to cum more than anything as you let your lips get to work.

Gently licking the precum off his head as you heard a moan of approval from him, delicately you let your tongue press against the base of his cock, squeezing his balls as you let your tongue work it’s way up his cock, another moan escaping his lips as he growled, “I said suck baby not tease.” 

Whining a little you huffed, gripping his cock a little tighter then necessary earning a grunt from him before you obediently parted your lips, slowly taking his thick tip into your mouth as you heard a sigh of relief from him. Your hands tugged against his base as you let your head bob against his tip, letting your tongue messily rub into his slit causing his hips to buck a little, “Fuuck, guess that bitchy little mouth is useful for something.” Jungkook moaned, pride swelling in your chest at making him feel so good, a whine suddenly escaped you at his hand tangling in your hair, pushing you to take more of his cock. You obediently let him, taking more of him into your mouth but not without a vibrated whine. 

Jungkook began to guide your movement with his hand into a slow bob as he moaned, pushing you to take further of him as his cock hit the back of your throat. 

Pausing a moment Jungkook moaned, “Can you deepthroat sweetheart? Fuuck.” He’s brows scrunched together as he glanced down, another breathy moan escaped him at the sight of your watery eyes glancing up at him a small nod making him moan again as he regripped your hair, somewhat more tender this time as he guided your mouth down his cock. Your throat burned and your jaw ached as you felt tears begin to well in your eyes as you hollowed your cheeks and let his shaft slide further into your mouth.

“Mmm shit, good girl,”Jungkook moaned his hips lifting a little as his hand tangled in your hair, his hand eagerly encouraging your head as you whined, letting your head bob against his thick shaft, gagging a little as his hand pushed you further down until your nose was pressed against his pubic bone, “You take me so well baby fuck.” Jungkook moaned lowly, his hand yanking your hair making you muffle a cry against his cock as he sloppily made you bob your head, saliva dripping down your chin and tears beginning to trickle down your cheeks as you gagged.

A loud moan escaped Jungkook at the feeling of your throat squeeze around him, “Fuck baby. That’s it. Good girl.” Your head was becoming light as you continued gagging on his cock, your nails digging into his thighs pleasantly and you could feel his cock throb and his hips lift. 

Jungkook harshly pulled you up from his bobbing cock that looked ready to cum from even the slightest contact, “What a good girl,” Jungkook rasped, cupping your cheek as he thumbed away the tears that trailed your cheeks, “C’mere.” 

You squeaked as Jungkook grabbed you, pull you up into his lap before shifting you onto the bed, your body trembled in excitement as Jungkook placed you on all fours, suddenly shoving your back against the bed and your face on the mattress as you whined, your ass presented for him as he moaned, “Such a good fucking girl. I should’ve fucked you sooner then this if I knew what a good little slut you were.” Jungkook let the tip of his cock sink inside you as let out a muffled moan, even being stretched wasn’t enough to prepare for his girthy cock.

Jungkook grunted was he pushed further inside you until his hips met yours, your walls squeezed snug around him but took him well as he moaned, “Fuck baby.” It’s all he said before he suddenly slammed into the bed, your weight completely thrown off and you had no choice but to let your face bury against the bed as you let out moan after moan, your walls excitedly clenching around him as he thrusted roughly inside you. Just hearing his balls slap against your skin, his cock splitting you open as he moaned, “Who knew my little slut would be so tiny. I’m gonna fucking break you baby, you want that?” 

Jungkook leaned down as his hips roughly rolled yours, his hand wrapping around your throat making you wheeze before you could even answer.

“Hnngh! S-sir! Sir!” You could hardly even speak when Jungkook roughly squeezed your neck once more, your walls clenching around him in excitement as his cock rubbed into your g-spot pleasantly, “Fuck me please. Harder. Ah! Harder!” You whined, needing friction desperately.

Your wish was his command and it even fully expecting it Jungkook’s hips became sharper and faster with each thrust, “This what you want baby? You wanna be my little fuck doll now?” Jungkook growled in your ear, his hand squeezing around your throat once more making you moan as your upper body completely collapsed, letting Jungkook pound into your cunt as he moaned, “Thats it fucking take it you worthless bitch. Are you gonna cum all over my dick?” 

Jungkook let go of your throat in trade for your clit, his thumb rubbing against your sensitive bud making you cry out, walls rapidly clenching around him as his cock slammed into your g-spot, your body withering at such an intense speed you weren’t sure you could stop yourself from cumming, “Ah! Sir! Sir! Ah!” Your walls were rapidly squeezing around his cock as your face scrunched, a loud muffled scream escaping you at your orgasm that snapped.

“Mmm fuck that’s it. Good girl.” Jungkook growled as his hips rolled into yours, letting himself sink inside your body milked his cock. His hands squeezing tightly against your waist as he moaned, hot cum shooting inside you as his hips grinded against yours, coaxing a few more spits of cum as he moaned. Your body trembling and exhaustion setting in as Jungkook inhaled sharply, his cock beginning to soften inside you before he pulled out. 

Your body slumped as you felt the bed shift his weight no longer on the bed. You glanced his way only to realize he turned off the camera before laying back down, collapsing on top of you as you whined a little. It was quiet as he pressed his face into your shoulder as he sighed, “Well, at least we don’t act like virgins.”

“I’m glad that’s what you took away from that.” You huffed, you could hear a muffled laugh from Jungkook making a smile tug on your lips as well, he certainly wasn’t wrong.

“Fuck me please. Harder. Ah! Harder!”

That...was you…? You couldn’t help but cringe, you couldn’t even stand your own voice let alone making a whole porno, Jungkook’s eyes weren’t trained on your sinful words or even your sloppy body movements in sync. He was too into his videographer self to care about the actual content.

“At least I sound like a pornstar.” You wrinkled your nose as you looked over his shoulder. This seemed to pull Jungkook out of his thoughts as he snorted, a smile tugging on his lips as he glanced up at you with a shrug.

“I don’t think it’s bad honestly, I mean I think we’re past TMI at this point so truthfully? Out of all the home made porn I’ve watched this is pretty good. We have nice camera angles, microphones make the sound high quality-“

“Oh yes,” you replied sarcastically, “Just what I wanna hear- your balls slapping me at the speed of light.” That earned a rather proud look from Jungkook as you huffed, looking away from him.

“I think we should post it, just to test the waters. I cut out any clips of our faces, we could still use a little work on making sure to not show our faces with our angles but I think that will take time.”

You frowned a little as you wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling unsure if this was a good idea, “...You really think it’s that good?”

Jungkook raised his brows as he turned his chair around to look at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor as he relied, “Well we don’t have too if you don’t feel comfortable with it,” he offered a small smile, “But personally? I don’t see why not. And if it doesn’t take, we can always make more, feel out what people enjoy watching more.”

In most cases you would’ve said you didn’t feel comfortable with this, with the idea of strangers on the internet masturbauting to your private sex life but...there was something so sincere and comforting in Jungkook’s eyes, maybe it was just the dom in him wanting to prioritize your comfort over anything else. You weren’t sure, but it was that look that made it okay, “Alright, what the hell.” You sighed, “I didn’t let you blow my back out for no reason.” 

Jungkook snorted as he turned his chair around, “Maybe it’s just me but I felt you clenching around me hard when you came all over my-“

“Shut up! Just because you fuck me doesn’t mean you can go into graphic detail about it! Jesus Christ!” You covered your ears, feeling hot all of sudden as you glared are Jungkook’s dumb coconut hair, though you couldn’t see his face fully you were positive there was a dumb little smirk on his lips as he hummed. God what did you get yourself into? 

You had a hard time going to bed that night, rolling around as you briefly wondered the what if, what if it was an overnight sensation? What if someone you knew recognized it was you? What if...god you’d never show your face at campus again…

“Well?” You hadn’t gotten a blink of sleep as you bounced behind Jungkook who hummed, logging in as he yawned.

“It got ten views.” Jungkook clacked his tongue before shrugging, “But I mean hey! We got two dollars!” You deflated as you smacked your forehead. That would be great if your rent was only two dollars higher rather than two hundred!

“Hey remember what I said,” Jungkook rubbed his eyes as he offered a sleepy smile, “We can always try different things, the more we post the more a viewership will build. Overnight sensations never happen anyways.” He seemed more relaxed about this then you. Sighing you collapsed on his bed as you curled up, “Well what do you propose we try next?” 

Jungkook gave it some thought as he spun his chair around to face you before shrugging, “I don’t know...I mean, not to sound sexist or anything but I think we both know pornhub is pretty male dominated in viewership…” he offered a weak smile as you shrugged, “So...I don’t know, how would you feel about forced orgasms and bondage.” 

Your head shot up to look at Jungkook’s pink cheeks as he gave a sheepish smile, choosing to not look at you as he rubbed his neck, “That took a sharp turn real fast...Maybe you shouldn’t be so vague though, a lot could happen during a scene like that.” It never failed to amuse you the way Jungkook would straighten up at the sight of your interest.

“Well, do you have any toys?” Jungkook asked as you gave him a face, “Oh come on, I won’t judge you,” he curved a brow as he gave a cocky smile, “It’s not like I haven’t blown your back out already. Do you even own any toys?” He decided to take on a new tactic as he held challenging mock in his tone, “Or were you just in that big of a drought-“

“Okay you asshole!” You glared at him as he gave a cheeky smile, “Yes I have a one. Just a bullet vibrator. Do you even own any bondage gear?” You curved a brow as he parted his lips, brows pinched almost in defense but no words escaped him.

Sighing Jungkook dropped his head in defeat, “No...but I bet we could prime some!” He suddenly jumped back up as you buried your hands against your face, “Hey I can’t help it! Most girls usually get freaked out when I try and start tying them up, I figured I’d just get proper bondage when I found someone to do it with.” 

“Oh great.” You muttered under your breath as you curled up, “Glad I could offer the opportunity.” To that Jungkook gave an endearing smile. What had you gotten yourself into? 

Despite the bondage handcuffs only taking two days to arrive, each day that passed made you more anxious, you really didn’t have a lot of time to be wasting. You and Jungkook and respectively kept your hands to yourselves meanwhile, but had discussed plenty of things, mainly camera angles, future ideas. Jungkook was sure this would work and hey, if he had that kind of faith, the very least you could do was admire it.

“You wanna use any safe words or?” Jungkook was currently straddling on top of you as he grabbed the cuffs that were laying beside you. They were leather, or faux leather- not the most comfortable feeling but durable for the next fifteen minutes.

You frowned before shrugging, “Why don’t we just use traffic lights?” It was fairly common in BDSM, “Unless you forget to check in…” you squinted a little suspiciously as Jungkook snorted, looking somewhat offended at your words.

“I always check in on my partners thank you very much-and yes that’s fine. Alright top off,” He gestured at your oversized sweatshirt, you glanced away from him as you shuffled a little, hearing him sigh as he spoke up, “It’s not like I haven’t seen boobs before- especially yours.” You scowled at him, “It doesn’t make it any less embarrassing!”

Jungkook’s nose scrunched, “How's it embarrassing?” He tilted his head looking oddly innocent despite having a vibratior laying next to him and a pair of handcuffs in his hands.

“Just take it off for me!” You blurted out before realizing what you just said, swallowing thickly before whining a little at the noise he made of contentment.

“All you had to do was ask, princess.” Jungkook’s hands were already pushing under your sweatshirt before pulling it over your head, “Awwh you were ready for me? Not even wearing anything underneath.” Jungkook was obviously setting the mood now despite the camera not being on, or maybe he was getting into his dominant head space, whatever it was it was working wonders on you.

Jungkook grabbed your hands before putting them above your head as you whined a little, “...maybe…” you squeezed your legs together in excitement, you had never had a partner use any toys on you before and, you couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d cum in this session. Jungkook had already proven himself good in bed just by making you cum all over his dick.

You had discussed the scene in further detail yesterday, Jungkook had asked if it was okay to use fingers and tongue as well spanking and- you had embarrassingly said yes a little too fast, fast as in before he could even finish his sentence...you felt warm at just the memory or maybe it was from your binds being tightened as Jungkook hovered over you, “Is that good princess?” He whispered in your ear, you could feel the smirk coiling on his lips as you shifted.

Your thighs rubbed together and you had come prepared today in pink lacy panties that were undoubtedly wet now, “Yes...sir.” You mumbled as you heard his deep chuckle against the shell of your ear.

Sitting up right Jungkook licked his lips as his eyes slowly raked from your face, to your lips, all the way down to your chest were your nipples hardened against the cool air of the room, “Always so obedient.” He hummed as he say off of you, parting your legs a little so he could sit in between them as he asked, “Are you excited? Your clits gonna be numb by the time I’m finished.” His smile was cocky and arrogant, long gone was the sweet room mate you knew.

You wiggled your arms against your restraints as you whined a little, Jungkook’s body straightened a little before he pressed play on the camera which was held in a tripod at the edge of the bed right where you were placed.

He said it would...be perfect to see everything. 

His hands placed against your thighs as he chuckled once more, “You’re so squirmy, are you excited to cum princess?” Your thighs were practically shaking in excitement and if your face was anything to go by the answer was obvious.

You nodded frantically, opening your legs a little more for him as he clacked his tongue, “I can’t hear you princess.” 

“Please!” You immediately whined, a small smirk tugging on his lips as you continued, “I’ll be a good girl! I’ll cum when you want…!” Jungkook hummed as he pushes up the small skirt you were wearing, letting his fingers stroke against the lace as you jumped a little, trying to keep yourself from bucking against him.

“I’ll hold you to those words, little girl.” Jungkook gave you a sadistic grin and briefly, you realized he was right. Your clit wasn’t going to survive this, “I’m gonna edge this little clit of yours until you’re begging to cum. But you aren’t going to do a thing until I say so. Understand?” 

He picked up the small bullet vibrator, usually you were excited when you heard the buzz of it coming to life, today however, you knew was going to be rough, “Yes sir.” You mumbled as he pulled down your panties, tossing them to the side as he pushed your skirt up, opening your legs as he moaned a little.

“Look at you, all wet and excited at the idea of this. You know what princess,” You jumped a little at the vibrator dragging along your inner thigh, “I think you’re looking forward to this. I think you’re excited to be edged until you’re crying. Isn’t that right princess? Are you gonna be a good girl and listen to me?” 

You nodded frantically as you squirmed at the vibrator getting closer to your throbbing cunt, arousal was gushing from your entrance as Jungkook dragged a finger up your slit, inspecting his glossy finger pad before letting it drag over his tongue, a devilish smirk on his lips as you whimpered are the vibrator pushing against your entrance, “So wet baby, I could just push it right in.” 

He pushed the tip inside you, the thrum of vibrators making you squeak a whine as you tries to instinctively close your legs, Jungkook immediately stopped you, forcing your legs back open as he chuckled, pushing it a little further inside as you clenched around the small pulsing toy, “Sir! Please! Please!” You whimpered as his thumb began to circle your clit, your toes curling and your lips parting as you went to grab his hand to grind it. Your range of motion was immediately cut off by your binds as you whined.

“Oh you like that baby?” Jungkook’s lips tugged into an animated pout as he mocked, “You like your clit being rubbed while you get fucked with your little vibrator.” He pushed the vibrator half way inside you as you squeaked loudly, jamming the tip into your g-spot as you let out a loud squeal, goes curling once more as your eyes snapped shut. His thumb tenderly stroking your clit until he found your sweet spot that forced breathy whines from your lips.

“Please! Please sir! Sir! Need cum! Please! Cum!” Your body withered and it was difficult to focus on anything when the vibrator was being jammed against your g-spot and Jungkook had a certain lazy touch against your clit that had you begging.

Jungkook as if sensing you were close, immediately pulled all contact against you as you whined in objection, “Oh we’re just getting started sweetheart.” Jungkook let the smirk tug on his lips as he shifted your legs back wide open for him, “Look at this mess sweetheart,” He growled, placing the vibrator back against your wet folds as you whimpered.

Dragging it against your slick cunt you let out a sharp cry at Jungkook placing it against your delicate clit, pleasure deliciously burning in your body as you squeaked and whimpered, “Ah! Sir…! Ah please…!” You squeaked, your toes curled as you whined, your eyes snapping shut as you tried to focus on anything but cumming immediately.

Jungkook, not feeling merciful pushed a finger inside you as you whined a loud moan, your walls clenching harshly as he shoved a second finger inside you, “That’s right baby, clench. You wanna cum yeah?” He growled once more, his voice even deeper then voice. Your back was arching and your legs thrashed as you choked on your moans.

“Please! Please! Let me cum sir please!” Your voice was bubbling and frantic as your hips jerked up to meet his second finger that pushed inside you, your hips trying to fuck your self on those thick long fingers he was slowly fucking in and out of your clenching tight cunt as he slowly dragged the vibrator along your clit in search of your sweet spot.

Jungkook chuckled at the pathetic sight of your hips, “Look at you, you’re so fucking despesate to be fucked you’re even willing to do it yourself, this little pussy is clenching so hard baby do you need to cum that bad?” His lips twisted into a mocked pout as he roughly jammed his fingertips into your g-spot, the vibrator pausing on your clit as he heard the loud shriek escape you, your back arching and toes curling at the overwhelming wash of pleasure that struck through your body.

Your lips parted and your walls were rapidly clenching as you cried out, “F-fuck….! Please! Sir! Fuck! Ah…! Ah! Cum…!” Your legs were kicking as his fingers shoved back inside you, his pacing picking up a little more as pleasure burned against your sensitive bud. 

“Mm fuck, I can feel how bad you’re trying not to cum baby.” Jungkook licked his lips as the smirk formed on his mouth, his cock nearly rock hard at how tight your walls were becoming making it nearly impossible to move his fingers.

Your head was moving and your arms kept shaking as gasps and moans escaped you, it felt like a fucking demon was possessing your body due to this mans fingers shoving their way against your g-spot roughly while this vibrator continued drilling into your clit, your mind had turned to nothing but frantic cries and moans, “Cum! Please! Sir…!” You weakly begged.

A sudden gasp escaping you at the height of your pleasure, there was no way you’d be able to hold back, not with his fingers stuffing your cunt full and knowing just how to hit your sweet spot while he carefully hovered the vibrator over your clit, your thighs were jerking and your eyes snapped up before you let out a cry at everything suddenly being removed.

You kicked your legs in frustration as tears welled into your eyes, “What did I say princess?” Jungkook chuckled, leaning up to grab your face as he squished it between his hand, “You aren’t cumming until I say so.” His face went cold as he grabbed your thighs, forcing them back open as you whined, “Don’t be so fuckinf patehtic.” You jolted at the wad of spit that smacked against your dripping cunt, a loud cry escaping you ag the vibrator being shoved back inside you and aimmed directly against your g-spot, your back immediately arching as you whined as his lips attached to your clit.

His moans vibrates against your sensitive clit causing you to twitch and squirm as your lips parted at the feeling of his tongue flattening and rubbing against your bud as he stares up at you with a cocky lidded expression at the noise of your loud moans. Jungkook felt like it was music to his ears that he just needed to hear more of as he began thrusting the little bullet inside you making sure it was jabbing into your g-spot each time.

It illicted the exact reaction he had hoped for, that being your head being thrown back against the pillow and your thighs twitching as streams of moans escaped you while pleading, “F-fuck! Sir- please…! Please! Ah! Ah!” Your body was twitching in ungodly positions and he kept hearing your bonds rattle as you whimpered beneath him.

“Mmm that’s right baby, are you gonna give me your first orgasm?” Jungkook moaned as he pressed his tongue back to your little clit, flicking and playing with the little bud, “That’s it princess, I know you wanna cum.” And you sure did, your voice was high pitched and needy as your walls were rapidly clenching around the vibrator that was drilling into your g-spot.

Jungkook’s wet, warm tongue playing with your clit as he suckled against it, purposely prodding against your sweet spot before your body nearly went into shock at the orgasm you experienced. Your back arching and loud shines escaping you as you moaned, “Fuck! Fuck! Mmm! Ah! Ah…!” You had never in your life came as hard are you were right now, in fact, you were sure you blacked out for a half a second due to how amazing it was.

“Aah! Sensitive! Ah! J-sir! Sir! Yellow…!” You whined out as your legs squirmed at the overstimulation. At the sound of the yellow marker Jungkook pulled the vibrator from your cunt, letting out a soft laugh as he pressed a kiss on your inner thigh, “Mmm yellow baby? What about just another orgasm for me while you recover your guts?” Before you could even process his words his tongue was already back on your clit was a moan.

You squeaked loudly at the overstimulation once more which hurt but was admittedly much more tolerable especially after the first twenty seconds of whining before they quickly turned to moans and your legs kicking against his back as he hauled your lower body up, his fingers pushing back inside you as he moaned, “Fuck baby c’mon cum, cum all over my fingers princess I can fucking feel it.” Your eyes scrunched closed as you whimpered loudly, your body was frantically becoming overwhelmed at the feeling of his fingers fluidly thrusting, letting his pads drag over that little spongy spot that had you kicking your legs as your hips brokenly jerked against his tongue that lathed against your clit.

Your body was frantic and quickly becoming overwhelmed as you came hard once more, your toes curling and loud cries and moans escaping you as your back arched and your muscles rapidly contracted at the pure overwhelming pleasure your body was experiencing at the moment. Jungkook suckled your clit tenderly, his fingers sluggishly pumping inside you a your walls twitched and tightened around him deliciously making his cock throb in his pants, “Mmm that’s it baby, feel your tight little cunt wrapped around my fingers. How are you feeling baby?” 

Jungkook pushed his fingers fully inside you once more making you whine a little as your walls clenched around them once more. Fuck you could hardly even think with his fingers stuffing you full, “Princess,” Jungkook said in a teasing sing song voice, a third finger tracing your little hole that was stuffed with his other two fingers, “How are you feeling.” He chuckled under his breath at the feeling of your cunt rapidly squeezing around his fingers at the feeling of his index finger teasing your entrance.

Your lips were parted and drool was nearly dripping down your lips as your hips lifted a little at the feeling, wanting to be stuffed as full as possible by this man, his third finger suddenly pushing inside you making you squeak out, “Green! Ah mmm! Green fuck!” Your hips tried to fuck up against him desperately in need to be filled by more then just fingers, your body was now fucked to the point of want that fat cock inside you and at this rate you knew you were going to start begging.

“Awwh my little cum whore wants to keep going?” Jungkook mocked a baby voice as he picked back up the vibrator, purposely pumping his fingers slow as your eyes snapped shut at the feeling of being nice and full of his fingers. Cries suddenly escapes you at the vibrator feathering over your clit making your squirm, “Please…!” You legs kept clenching and your clit was hypersensitive so even the slightest touch.

Your hips jerked and squirmed as Jungkook placed the head of the vibrator back against the sweet side of your clit, nearly moaning at how harshly you reacted your walls desperately clenched as pleasure seeped into your clit with every little thrum.

Your hands were trembling and weak having given up against your restraints as you whined weakly at the feeling of three fingers roughly shoving against your g-spot. This man was wrecking your body alive and you had no choice but to take it like the little bitch you had been turned into.

Your eyes were becoming watering and your squeaks breathy and whimpered as your body twitched violently at the slight shift in the vibrator pressing into your gorged bud. It had you spiraling out of control paired with Jungkook’s rough fingers making you cry and yelp, “ah….! Fu-fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Cock! Need cock! Need!” You were kicking and sobbing, fat tears trickling down your face as you moaned rapidly at your body violently cumming, almost too much for you to handle but Jungkook skilled as ever carefully guided you through your orgasm, “That’s it babygirl, that’s it.” He cooed out, your hips following each stroke of his fingers as your body came down from its peak it had hit.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl. What was that about my cock princess?” Jungkook’s smile was cheshire-like as he quirked a brow, just drinking up those big eyes brimmed with tears as you sniffled.

Kicking your legs a little you whined, “I- I need more! Please!” You managed to roll yourself onto your stomach, the chains twisted at the bar now but you had enough room to still be comfortable as you somehow managed to push your knee’s up to support your lower half to display your destroyed pussy.

Your legs were trembling and you admittedly felt pathetic right now, one thrust and this man was probably gonna make you collapse, especially after experiencing that dummy thick fire hydrant once already.

Just the idea had your legs trembling that much more though, you were ready to be destroyed. Your body stiffened at hands cupping both cheeks of your ass, “This is pretty fucking pathetic baby.” Jungkook chuckled, a loud smack rang out as you wiggled your ass a little at the sting of his palm meeting the soft flesh, “You need my cock that fuckin’ bad?” 

“Please…!” You whined as you pressed your face against the bed, your pussy felt too empty right now clenching against nothing and you needed this man to rail you until you physically could not stand.

After a moment you let out a surprised squeal at the familiar fat cock smacking against your pussy, “Shittt baby, are you always gonna be this hungry for my dick?” Your face was burning at his whispered words in your ear, you could feel his smirk as you whined, backing against him as he moaned softly, letting his cock coat in your arousal before he lined himself up.

Jungkook wasted no time pushing inside you with ease, even anticipating it you forgot just how thick he was, biting your lip you moaned in relief at finally being filled the way you were craving. Even if you didn’t cum again you just wanted this monster cock to fill you up until you were leaking cum.

Jungkook pushed all the way inside you as he groaned, pushing his hair back as he gathered himself, “How are you feeling baby? How hard do you want me to go?” 

You were so impatient you truly couldn’t help yourself when you began fucking yourself on his cock, your lips parting at how much your walls were clenching around his large size that kept sliding inside you with so much ease, “Hard…! Fuck! Fuck me until I’m leaking your cum please sir!” 

You nearly screamed a moan at the force you were met with, your legs just as you suspected nearly crumbling like a two week old pack of crackers at the bottom of a purse from the god tier power this man was using to thrust.

His cock was slamming into you, his fat bulbous head continually jamming into your g-spot in a way his fingers couldn’t compare too as you rapidly clenched around him. The sound of his balls slapping on your skins and moans mixed together could beat your hands any day of the week, “You’re such a horny little slut.” Jungkook snapped as he slammed his hand against your ass making you cry out. Your legs violently trembling and aching in pain as he growled, “I made you cum until you're about to pass out and it isn’t enough baby? You still need this fat dick filling you up? You cock hungry little whore.” 

Jungkook, keenly noticing how excited you were vocally but your body failing to keep up he quickly eliminated this problem. Grabbing both your thighs you were confused for a brief moment before letting out a loud squeal at the way he picked them both up leaving your upper body in the air and left mercilessly at his force allowing him to thrust into you that much harder.

Your lips fell open at the way he was forcing your hips to bounce on his clock roughly, his fat shaft sliding in and out of your soaked cunt that sucked him back in desperately each time, “Fuck! Fuck…! Ju- sir! Sir! Mmm! Cock! F-fu-fuck.” 

You couldn’t even spew a sentence out anymore with your head filled with only thoughts of how he was holding your entire lower body up by your thighs and just kept drilling into your cunt like you were a feather weight. Drool was spilling your lips and you could no longer speak. Only able to make whined and moans now.

“That’s it baby, are you too fucked out on my cock to speak? Hm? Are you turned into a brain dead little cock monster now? My insatiable little cum dumpster.” All of his degradation was just fueling your further and further to the brink of an orgasm that your body was in no shape to handle.

His cock didn’t relent though, contially drilling into you like no tomorrow as he growled, “Fuck! You want me to use this little hole like a cum dump baby? Want me to make it nice and full.” You were filled with excitement all different kinds of whines escaping you making Jungkook’s moan, forcing your hips to bounce on his cock, his shaft rubbing against your g-spot with each stroke causing your body to contort and squirm, the orgasm flooded your body had you sobbing and whining, briefly black filtered your eyes before you opened them to feel hot liquid entering your body as Jungkook moaned, his hips lifting in chase of your cunt that sucked every little drop form him body. His body was floating on a euphoric high he had a difficult time coming down from when your cunt was clenched around him so hard.

He let his head drop a little as his cock began to soften, slowly slipping out of you before he set down your thighs, tucking himself back into his sweatpants Jungkook leaned over to grab the key off the nightstand he moved up a little more to undo your bonds and a small smile threatened to break on his lips at the sight of your completely fucked out face.

Your thighs were harshly trembling and you could hardly formulate a sentence let alone a single word, Jungkook whistled as he laughed, a hand tenderly rubbing into your hair, “You are so fucked out sweetheart.” He leaned down pressing a kiss against your forehead, “Let me go get a cloth and a towel to clean you up with okay baby? How does a nice hot bath sound.” 

“I’m- I’m not completely useless…” you somehow spewed out an objectification making him laugh, “I- I can…” you grabbed the toy before slowly wobbling out of the bed.

“Woah woah woah.” Jungkook scrambled out of bed after you, your legs wobbling and you immediately knew there was no way you could possibly stand. Jungkook quickly scooped you up as he looked down at you bewildered, “I just rearranged all your intestines, you seriously think you could walk after that let alone stand.” 

You pressed your face into his shoulder letting out a muffled giggle, embracing the skin ship that was much needed, “Yeah I just have this massive chicken brain that needs proof that it was good enough.”

“Good enough…?” Jungkook scrunched his face not understanding.

“Yeah it’s like my head needs proof that my body actually got destroyed.” You giggled against at Jungkook’s expression that was so obviously at a loss of what to say, having obviously never heard that before.

“...and was it proved…?” He quirked a brow.

“Clearly.” You looked at him before his arms that had you scooped against him causing you both to laugh once more as he placed you back on the bed were you nearly crumpled up immediately.

“Then stay there for real, I don’t wanna come back to seeing you sprawled out all over the floor because you needed hardcore proof.” You waved him off before shouting for him to bring water.

When Jungkook came back shortly after he snorted at the sight of you having made yourself comfortable on his bed, not only that but wearing his sweatshirt as well, “I turned off the camera by the way. My throat is so dry! Gimme.” You raised your arms as you grabbed the bottle from him as you opened it, closing your eyes as the cool liquid slid down your throat as Jungkook sat between your legs as you felt the urge to smile.

“...Did you get cum all over my bed?” Jungkook’s eyes darted around his comforter suspiciously as you shrugged, making him eye you suspiciously.

“Please- I feel like I’m a fucking gyno appointment right now, do I need to clean myself now too?” You whined kicking your legs a little, your pussy was literally right out in the open and this man could only focus on why you weren’t leaking?

Jungkook reluctantly began cleaning what left over cum remained in your thighs as he asked, “Did you stand up again?” 

“I didn’t!” You protested, lips parted in offense that he really thought you’d pull another chicken brain moment. Jungkook only rolled his eyes, a smile threatening to tug on his lips as he stood back up, tossing the rag into his laundry hamper before walking over to his dresser. Putting the bottle of water on the nightstand you briefly admired Jungkook’s physique, his waist narrow compared to his broad shoulders and muscles sculpting his back….you knew he was kind of a gym rat but given he was always in such billowing clothes you never realized how defined he was. 

If you were gonna make porn for the next two years you were glad you at least had a hot partner to do it with. Jungkook pulled the large shirt over his head.

You popped up into your forearms when he began disassembling the camera equipment making you pout, “Hey! What happened to my aftercare and bath I was promised?” 

“God you are such a pillow princess after sex, I never would’ve thought.” Jungkook crawled up onto the bed before collapsing on top of you, making you laugh as you closed your eyes, “You know I did all the work this time.” 

“Voluntarily might I add-“ you pointed as Jungkook rolled off you only for you to attach yourself back against him, “Also I didn’t realize you were THAT fit like seriously, you fucked my entire lower body up in the air. It really was a porno moment.” You snorted at the sight of Jungkook’s ears turning red and his cheeks looking a little pink at the compliment.

He shrugged a little, unable to say anything or more like he was just too shy to. Regardless he pulled out his laptop and lap stand already excited to edit the video despite just creating it. Yawning you crawled on top of him, collapsing against his chest as you closed your eyes, really wanting that bath but also incredibly tired. 

Jungkook had straight away begun editing through the clips, watching them back over before his mind began to wander...Sliding through the time stamps Jungkook let it go at the end of the clip, watching you wobble as you stood on your knees on the bed. He furrowed his brows in confusion though a little amused at the way your legs wobbled up to the camera. Oh you must’ve been going to…

He mouth parted at watching you take the camera off the tripod, aiming it at your legs before spreading them to show off the white sticky substance leaking from your cunt before your fingers scooped it up, pulling the camera up to your neck and only your mouth was visible showing off the cheeky smile you had as you plopped your fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean before popping them out of your mouth before the screen went black.

Jungkook was partially speechless and admittedly a little hard, it was tempting to not ask if you genuinely didn’t have any experience in sex work. Jungkook twisted to look down at you, deciding to interrogate only for his expression to fall at the sight of you slumped on top of him, your eyes shut and he felt a little bad at how much you wanted aftercare. 

Pushing a strand of hair from your face he made a mental note to make up for it in the morning. Going back to editing he placed one hand in your head as he tenderly stroked your scalp. This would be posted in no time.

You loved aftercare, you always craved it after a nice round of rough sex even if it was a one night stand. It was just payment for letting a man spit in your face and call you a whore- quite literally. Jungkook, wasn’t the greatest aftercare but hey, he was making it up this morning. He had gotten you a bath drawn first thing in the morning, massaged your back, gave little kisses all over your skin. You were in heaven. 

“Is this making up for me being a horrible partner last night,” You were laid out, sleepily with your eyes closed as Jungkook tenderly worked his palms back on your shoulder blades, “I saw what you did by the way. Not impressed.”

You tucked your tongue into your cheek as you smiled playfully, looking up at him over your shoulder, his head shaking as you giggled, “I thought it was a great touch to end the video. And yes, this makes up for it but I’ll only let it slide once, I’m a big aftercare slut which means you put me first before our videos. No exceptions.” 

“Even if we’re desperate for money and need a video up quickly?” Jungkook raised his brows, obviously amused at your dim expression, a wad of the blanket was set for your chin to rest on as your lips jutted a little. 

“No exceptions. Especially after a session like that!” You whined, admittedly you didn’t care that much, it was late at night and you were passed out anyways but still, you needed to make that clear if this continued in the future, you liked being held and told a lot of praise. It was the only way you didn’t feel gross after sex. 

“Fine fine! I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you were such a needy baby,” You squirmed at Jungkook pinching your waist making you jump, “What? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“No! No! No!” You screeched at his fingers relentlessly prodding your sides as you squirmed up, pulling the sweatshirt down as you glared at him, “Get off of me!” You whined pushing him away, “I’m fine! I’m great! No need for anymore.” You rubbed your sides with another pout. 

Jungkook snorted as he leaned back on his hands, “That’s what I thought.” Leaning over he grabbed his laptop off the nightstand, crawling over you collapsed against his side as he typed in the password for your account. 

You didn’t expect much truthfully until your eyes lit up at the 10+ notifications you had, “Looks like our luck is up this time!” You bounced in excitement as Jungkook clicked on it only for yours lips to drop. 

33,623 Views

“No way!” Your jaw dropped as you scrambled for your phone, Jungkook just as shocked as you as he scrolled down through the notifications of people commenting and sharing the video. There was no coming back from this at all. You couldn’t help but feel daunted at the greasy comments people left. 

Your brows shooting up as you logged into your joint account, “How much did we make?” Jungkook asked, his lips parted as he clicked through the account attempting to find the salary you both had made. 

“We...definitely covered the cost of our rent.” You could hardly even speak as Jungkook leaned over your shoulder to peer at your screen, over six thousand dollars in the account at the moment, you could do a lot with that kind of money…

Jungkook could hardly believe it himself as he leaned back on his hands, letting out a breath before running a hand through his hair, “Holy shit.” 

It was silent between you both, still staring in disbelief at the money piled in your bank account before you looked at him, “We’re totally eating out tonight, at one of those bougie ass restaurants. My pussy earned it.” 

Jungkook let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he gave you a smile, “Fair, not too fancy though, they’ll think we robbed a bank.” You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling relieved as you collapsed against the bed. You could totally do this, and when it was all said and done. You could just delete your account and it’d all be over

[miyagihawk]

“idfc; blackbear (again it’s so easily related to hawk vibes, maybe he’s afraid to open up again for a relationship after moon so he acts like he doesn’t care about the reader but the mfs actually so in love😩✋🏻)” - @hawkwhore

ugh i love this sm and blackbear 😛 ty for the request as always <3

idfc | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

warnings: just cursing?

summary: based on idfc by blackbear :) hawk doesn’t like you and you don’t know why

a/n: soooo i kinda strayed from the song LOL sorry but this is kinda more cutesy and less angsty than the song. i actually like it though :)

You don’t know why he seemed to hate you.

Ever since you walked into the dojo for the first time, it was like you couldn’t escape his death stare.

Eventually, you got closer to Miguel, his best friend, so you two started going to the same parties and hanging out more often. But he never seemed to warm up to you.

Miguel said Hawk was just intimidated by you because you always beat him when Sensei calls you both to spar. So you let him win one time, but he seemed to hate you even more after.

Which is why you started Operation Get Hawk To Like Me.

It seemed like a fun challenge to get the broody boy to enjoy your company, but you also sincerely wanted to be friends with him. When he would laugh with Miguel and he smiled like the sun, it made you sad that he was so cold towards you but so warm towards others. You wanted the sun.

You decided that the first part of O.G.H.T.L.M was to subtlety be nicer; you didn’t want to be desperately kind out of nowhere and make him dislike you even more.

“Hey!” you called after the red haired boy who was about to open the door to the dojo.

Hawk turned around slowly at the sound of your voice, and you winced at the annoyed look on his face.

“I- uh, I got this for you,” you held out a blueberry smoothie. When everyone hung out at Golf N Stuff, you saw that he got that flavor and took a mental note.

The boy stood in front of you with a twisted face, not reaching out to take the drink. “Why?” he asked.

You shifted awkwardly, feeling nervous under his stare. Was this too forward? “Um... I accidentally got an extra one?” you made the excuse lamely. “Just take it.”

“Give it to Miguel,” Hawk turned around and sauntered into the dojo, leaving you with a frown. But you wiped off any trace of your disappointed expression and walked into practice too.

-

You tried everything.

You waved at him every time you passed each other in the halls. You got him drinks at parties and you even offered to be the designated driver so that he could get wasted with Miguel.

When you two sparred, you lost on purpose each time. Sensei even pulled you aside to ask if something was wrong. “Hawk is getting better,” was all you said, but he didn’t seem convinced.

The list of things you were trying to do for Operation Get Hawk To Like Me seemed endless and you were totally kissing his ass. His feelings about you weren’t budging, and it seemed like this was just a hopeless mission.

“I just don’t get why he hates me so much. I’m trying so hard,” you groaned.

“Maybe that’s why. You’re trying too hard,” Miguel said across from you with a mouthful of fries.

“Well I don’t know what to do then. I want him to know I’m trying.”

“He knows,” your best friend nodded his head nonchalantly.

Your face scrunched up in confusion, causing Miguel to give you an amused look. “Then why doesn’t he care? I’m starting to think there’s just something wrong with me,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“You should just talk to him if it’s bothering you so much,” Miguel shrugged.

“I guess I should,” you slumped, feeling intimidated by the thought of confronting Hawk. Was it even worth it? If he didn’t want to be your friend now, then what would change if you talked to him? If he would even agree to talk.

-

Tonight. The final step that would determine if you were going to give up on Hawk.

The truth is, it really hurt your feelings how little he cared about you. And it hurt even more when you went out of your way to get him to even acknowledge you as an acquaintance.

You don’t know why it affected you so badly; maybe you’ve always had a teensy crush on him. And maybe this little plan you formulated was actually motivated by your subconscious desire to really get to know him, even though you passed it off as wanting to simply be his friend.

So tonight, at the party you were all going to, you were going to talk to him. And get the truth on why he was so persistent in shoving you away.

“Woah, slow down Y/N. Miss lightweight,” Miguel eyed you cautiously when you downed another cup of beer.

“I just need some liquid courage to face Hawk,” you licked your lips, already feeling the effect of the alcohol clouding your mind. You started to sway without noticing, making Miguel laugh at you amusingly.

“Well good luck with that. But that’s enough, or you won’t even get any words out,” he took the cup from you and you pouted. Miguel subtly motioned behind you, and you turned around to look.

It was the red haired boy you’ve been avoiding all night; the one who made your palms sweat when you thought about the conversation you were planning to have.

But with the alcohol giving you a rush of confidence, you walked up to him with no anxiety. His eyes widened when he saw you rushing forward, and he almost looked afraid.

“Can I talk to you?” you said solidly, feeling braver than you usually are. Hawk looked at you, confused, but nodded to his friends before following you to go somewhere quieter.

He traced behind you as you opened the door to go outside, where there were less people and the music wasn’t so loud.

“Um... is something wrong?” Hawk stood awkwardly in front of you, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“Of course there’s something wrong,” you replied in a meaner tone than you intended, but you brushed off the guilt.

“Well what is it?” he asked in his usual annoyed tone that he used only when he needed to speak to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up with frustration. “Why don’t you like me?” you blurted out, and the expression on his face told you that he wasn’t prepared for it at all.

“W-What?” Hawk stuttered, his previously composed persona was gone.

“Why don’t you like me?” you repeated, more forcefully. “I am so nice to you. But you just hate me and I have no idea why! And you’re just best buds with everyone else, so I know you aren’t incapable of having friends. Do you know how shitty that feels? Especially when I try so hard to just get you to treat me decently!” your mouth ran on and on and words were coming out without you thinking.

Your blurred vision from your anger cleared after you caught your breath, and you focused on his shocked expression. It was the most expression he’s ever shown you.

“I-I-” Hawk stammered, but you cut him off.

“Look, I’ll leave you alone if you just tell me to. But tell me why, so I can give up. I’m sorry, okay? For whatever I’ve done that makes you not even want to be near me. And I don’t even know why I feel like I need you to like me, I just-”

This time he was the one to interrupt you. “I do like you.”

You blinked in confusion, taken aback by his words.

Hawk licked his lips anxiously, taking a breath in before speaking, “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a dick. The truth is... I’ve been... um... catching feelings for you. And I guess I was trying to protect myself by pushing you away.”

Your mouth dropped open at his confession. Out of all the responses you were expecting when you were overthinking about the conversation, this one was one you could have never seen coming. But surprisingly, it made your stomach turn and your heartbeat accelerate.

He continued, this time looking into your eyes with his blue ones. “I don’t hate you at all. I just... I just felt like last time I caught feelings for someone I just got hurt. And I was all in, but they weren’t. That’s why I keep myself from getting close to you. I’m sorry Y/N,” Hawk confessed his whole heart, leaving you speechless.

After barely getting a few words out of him everyday, his confession of feelings was overwhelming. But you finally understood him. You knew about his relationship with Moon and how it went down from all the school gossip, but for some reason you never pieced together that it was why his guard was up so high.

“I don’t really know what to say,” you admitted, still feeling woozy from both the alcohol and his speech. You weren’t sure about your feelings and you didn’t want to say something you didn’t mean. Yes, you had feelings for him too, but everything was going so fast.

Hawk gave you a smile that calmed you from your worry. “It’s okay, sorry. It was a lot. But if you still want we can be friends.” He reached out his hand for you to shake and confirm your partnership.

Instead of taking it, you took him by surprise by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He melted into the hug after a few seconds, and you smiled from behind his view. “Friends,” you pulled away and he beamed at you warmly.

You finally got the sun.

a/n: omg bye this was not like the song at all SORRY there wasn’t that much action it was just fluffy IVE BEEN WATCHING TOO MUCH MIRACULOUS LADYBUG like they r so soft and u can see the influence of it on my writing lmaoo anyways hope u enjoyed!! :)

[writing-in-april]

Erotica Explained

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Summary: Spencer discovers his girlfriend’s writing.

A/N: Hey Heyyy- this is my twenty-sixth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! It’s based on this request- and I did end up using a small snippet from one of my other fics! Sorry this ones out late too lol had a very difficult day. Feel free to leave me an ask here (I promise I don’t bite) Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Sub!Spencer, Unprotected sex, A little bit of grinding, A little bit of overstimulation, Creampie

Main Masterlist Word Count:1.7k

I don’t use technology often, if I can help it I don’t use it at all. But, I had to use it right now, there was something I needed to look up on the computer. It wasn’t for a case or anything, I was just too curious and too impatient to wait to go to the library.

Because I don’t use technology often at all, I didn’t own a personal laptop. The only one I regularly used was the one I was given at work, and that was done begrudgingly. Though I couldn’t use that one right now as I was at my apartment I shared with my girlfriend. My girlfriend however, happened to have a laptop that she wouldn’t mind me using.

When I opened up her laptop, it was already unlocked with a tab already opened. My eyes unintentionally quickly glazed over the page, my eyes widening as I flitted across the page. It was some sort of story, one that contained things that made me blush. At the end of what was visible without scrolling down it read,

His fingers twitched at his side when you blew cool air onto his length, you sneered again, “If you touch me I’ll stop.”

My own trousers started to grow a little tight after reading that, then confusion made its way into my face, wondering what in the world I was reading. I clicked around, not really knowing what I was doing and I fell into a wormhole of reading. It wasn’t until I glanced up to see who owned the documents it all clicked together. They were my girlfriend’s stories.

They were her stories about a slew of characters that already existed in other media, the first one I had read even happened to be about a Star Wars character- Poe to be specific. Once it all clicked together I slammed the computer shut, feeling like I had invaded her privacy. Then I swiftly got into a cold shower, ready to freeze my arousal and wash off my shame.

—-

My foot was tapping even crazier than normal as I sat next to my girlfriend. We had decided on a night in, choosing to order take out and watch a few movies on a rare night off for me. It was her turn to choose, and unsurprisingly she chose Star Wars.

“What’s wrong?” She asked me when I started to basically vibrate when Poe came onto the screen. I couldn’t keep it in any longer, the guilt was eating me alive sitting here while I watched a constant reminder of what I read.

“I’m sorry-“ She was about to open her mouth to probably ask me why I was apologizing, but I steamrolled over it by ranting, “I looked at your writing- the erotica you write. I- I think it’s about already existing characters? Which I hadn’t heard about before-“

She finally did get a chance to cut me off by calling out my name, getting me to stop my nervous rant, “Are you mad- that I umm am writing about someone who’s not you?”

“No! It’s natural to be attracted to different people even while you’re with someone…” I was already falling down into another rant, this time however I caught myself and found the point I had been looking for, “I actually think it’s kind of hot.”

“Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows had shot up almost high enough that they were up into her hairline. I flushed a little at that, feeling vulnerable under her gaze even though I knew she always kept me safe.

“I- um actually was wondering if you could do to me-“ The words died on my tongue when my eyes met hers again, and just by her eyes I could see that she knew what I wanted. She just wanted me to say it out loud.

“What do you want me to do to you?”

“Wh-hat I read- can you umm-?”

She didn’t let me stumble any longer, cutting off my stuttering, “You want me to do the things you read about to you?”

I nodded vigorously, but that wasn’t enough for her. She leaned forward, grabbing my cheeks between two of her fingers, then prompting me, “Use your words.”

I whimpered at that, remembering seeing it in one of her writings. I learned from the character, who had mouthed off in the fanfic, instead breathily answering, “Yes, I want you to use me like you wrote.”

Soon enough my clothes had been taken off by me as I had to follow her command to ‘strip’. She did so as well, then straddling me, starting immediately to grind on my cock. I moved my hands to her hips to try to get her to do something more, but they were quickly pushed off. She then pinned them above my head, leaning forward to whisper into my lips, “No you don’t get to touch unless I tell you too.”

“Yes, Miss!” I gasped out instantly, wanting to be perfect for her.

“Mmmm good boy.”

That made me keen even more, loving the praise she gave me a dash of, I craved her showering it onto me. She kept her course of action, grinding onto my cock until her own arousal completely soaked it. All it would take was for the head of my cock to notch at my entrance, she was so wet I could slip in easily. But, all I could do was wait until she let me have her. I’m sure if I begged she’d only smirk at me, so I kept my mouth shut and took what I was given.

She finally sunk down onto my cock, though it was excruciatingly slow. I tried to fight my instincts, keeping my hips flush with the couch so I wouldn’t get scolded for moving without permission.

When the backs of her thighs finally hit the tips of mine, I groaned unintentionally. She seemed to love it, starting to buck her hips enthusiastically at my response. My hands balled up into fists, knuckles turning white from how hard I was gripping them. It was taking so much to not cum already, her hands pinning me and how beautiful she looked above me making it overwhelming.

“Awww are you already so close? You love getting used like this don’t you?” She goaded once she realized how much I was fighting my release with my squinted eyes.

It took me a minute to find the words, as all my mind could focus on at the moment was how she felt around me. My IQ was completely slashed to 60, but I did eventually get out, “Yes miss”

She sped up her pace at my words, alternating from grinding down into me hard and bouncing vigorously on top of me. When she lent forward to give me a bruising kiss, she swallowed all the noises I was making, until she dipped her head down to mark up my collarbone. It was all too much; I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on.

“You’re such a good boy for me Spencer.” She gasped above me, writhing on my cock while she continued to bounce. It was getting so hard to bear, especially with more praise, but I wanted to wait until she came. She looked like a goddess, especially just as she was about to cum, which she soon signaled by saying, “Oh god baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

All I could do was watch as she removed one hand from where they were wrapped around my own to rub circles into her clit. She tipped her head back, mouth dropped open in a moan, and thighs shaking as her orgasm washed over her. She shook above me for a minute, hips stuttering as she tried to continue the pace she built while her orgasm was ripping through her. Once she had come down from her release she then focused on mine, building the pace back up to be even faster than her original one.

“Go ahead and cum baby boy.” With one more swivel of her hips, I fell off the edge at her command, filling her all the way up with my release. She held my hands up above my head still and still moved her hips while I rode out my high. When she stopped her movements once I whimpered loudly out of overstimulation, she finally let go of my hands.

I let myself relax as she slumped over onto me, resting her head onto my still somewhat heaving chest. With my hands once again free I wrapped my arms around her middle, entrapping her this time.

Looking up I then noticed the movie was still going, completely unobstructed by our actions. It was towards the end of the movie already, telling me how long we had been going at it. Though I didn’t care that I missed it, I got to act out a partial storyline from it, even if it was a made up one. The movie could only hold my attention for so long, there was someone far more interesting with me.

“So are you gonna write some with me?” She giggled out while tracing her fingers up and down my chest, lingering over my sternum. Her proposition was an intriguing one for sure, especially now that she explained some of it to me. Though, I think my writing style is more suited for more of an academic setting.

I snorted a little, giggling a little myself, then brushing my hair out of my eyes so I could see them more clearly. When I tipped her chin up with my fingers and their eyes met mine, they were full of mischief. She was definitely trying to get me riled up again, but I had a quip back of my own, “I don’t think I’d be good at it- but maybe you’ll let me read from now on? I wouldn’t mind editing some as well, it sounds fun.”

Ask Me Anything

——

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[etherealeeknow]

vocal lesson

• rated m for mature, slight angst

• pairing: vocal coach!seungmin x fem!reader

• wc: 2.3k (confession: writing long fics isn’t my forte)

• tw: underlying toxic relationship, masturbation (m), grinding, groping, unprotected vaginal sex, explicit language, creampie- i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: i have a love hate relationship with this fic. i have a few goals i’d like to achieve from this fic and whether or not i’ll succeed is based on your feedbacks 🥺 so please don’t hesitate to drop them! also, enjoy!

• tag list: @es-kay-zee @formidxble @bobateastay @vogueinnie @sailorhyunjinz // leave a comment, dm, or an ask to be tagged! thank you ♡

—

seungmin despises the way his heart dropped when he sees your name flashing on his phone screen instead of you flashing upon his eyes. by this time, he’s fully aware that a chatty girl like you isn’t the type to text. in fact, you only do it on one occasion, which is when you’d like to cancel the class. just like what he has expected, the text says you won’t be able to make it that day and that you’re sorry; but he knows you’re not sorry. he knows you’re doing this on purpose—to torture him—and it’s working perfectly.

honestly, the suffocating pain in his chest isn’t because he has been losing sleep, tossing and turning in his king size bed for hours over the thought of you being all dolled up in the baby blue dress he has gifted you; neither is it because he missed his favorite orchestra playback this morning just so he could find the most perfect white shirt out of his collection of other white shirts just so he can appear pleasant for you, but because you’ve been cancelling the lesson for three times in a row. if your mother ever finds out about this, she would definitely fire him. to prevent that from happening, seungmin has been silencing your maids with credits, but he knows too well they’d soon go for more if you keep this up. 

fiddling with the handkerchief that you had purposely left for him a few weeks back, seungmin gloomily shoves it into his pocket before dragging himself to the grand piano to warm his throat up. the first few notes started off slow and stable according to the piano keys, but with constant fear running on his mind, his fingers slipped and pressed the wrong one. the awry sound makes him cringe and shuts his eyes in annoyance. he hates it, mistakes, he hates it to the fullest, yet he has managed to keep up with it all this time just because he adores you more than anything, even when your cracked voice sometimes haunts him at night. see, seungmin’s giving his all to you,

but why are you doing this to me? where are you? i miss you.

“heh, pathetic,” he mutters to himself as he slowly lies down onto the piano bench, facing the chandelier which lights would usually illuminate you when sitting on the same bench while waiting for him to get to the music room, running your delicate fingers along the black and white wood. your side profile’s exactly like a goddess—breathtaking.

sighing over the imagery of you, he begins unbuckling his belt; eyes closing momentarily when he slips a hand into his unbuttoned pants and starts palming his clothed member. three weeks. it’s been three weeks since he last got off, since he last felt your touch, and he’s been trying his best to hold back because he believes you’ll eventually come around. he believes you won’t leave him just like that, yet you aren’t here again today, and he’s dying to release his pent-out frustration.

a heavy sigh escapes his lips when he takes out his dick, the tip leaking from precum and it makes him let out another sigh when he begins pumping it; another one follows, then another one, and it carries on as seungmin’s hand goes faster by each second. even in the peak of his pleasure, all he can think of is you. oh, how heavenly it would’ve been to have both your soft hand and pretty lips around him instead. his free hand is quick to slip into his pocket, snatching your handkerchief. despite only briefly smothering himself with it, your lingering scent alone is enough to make his head spin. with the sateen now wrapping around his throbbing cock, it feels as if you’re there, skin to skin with him.

“fuck!” he hisses, but eyes widening right away over his own volume as he quickly raises his head to check on the slightly opened door.

he’s so close and pausing in the middle just to lock the damned door would ruin everything. should he just bet on his luck today? it’s not like any of his well trained maids would rudely barge into his music room, right? but who knows?

screw it.

his back automatically arches when he feels the increasing tension in his pelvis, and it pushes him to fasten his hand move—pumping his dick rapidly to release. with eyes rolling to the back of his head, seungmin begins chanting your name desperately and that’s your last straw. the moment seungmin ejaculates is the moment you slam the door open and run towards him. the poor guy who’s barely riding out his high jumps on the bench as he sits up.

“y/n—”

“shut up,” you cut him off and crash both of your lips and body together, causing him to fall back down onto the bench, and creating a somewhat deafening screech on the floor, but it’s nothing compared to his loud moan in between the kiss.

the feeling of you straddling his lap instantly makes him hard again; the feeling of his warm hands running wild all over you and the stickiness on your inner thigh coming from your ruined handkerchief has you wetting your already damped panties—the effect of rubbing yourself when peeping on his little show. as the kiss deepens, so does your hunger for each other. of course, there’s no way you’ve gotten over what he did, and he’s surely still upset for being ghosted too, but for now, lust is winning. one squeeze on your thigh is all it needs for you to throw your baby blue dress across the room.

“you’re always so hot when you do that,” says the now naked seungmin who gets back onto the same position, looking at you with his half lidded eyes as his arms stretch out to fondle your breasts, his favorite part.

“the only time you’d compliment me is when we have sex,” you scoff before going back down on him, slowly yet easily pushing his cock inside of you, and both of you grunt in unison.

“y/n, ah— shit! i told you it’s because i know you can do better.”

snorting, you call him a liar before grinding mindlessly, movement starting off slow just like how your breathy moans starting off low. as much as seungmin enjoys being taken care of, patience doesn’t exist in his dictionary today. his hands leave your chest for your hips, guiding you to slip in and out of him at a faster pace. but that’s still not enough—he needs more. in a blink of an eye, you go from being on top of him to under him. seungmin bangs you down loudly on the grand piano, your buttcheeks and hands hitting the keys and filling the entire room with jumbled notes while you yourself are filled by him to the fullest, right at your g-spot.

“seung— fuck!” 

“louder,” he commands while thrusting into you, hips moving in a rhythm, and strong hands bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders before holding onto your ass, supporting you from slipping down—multitasking is indeed his second best talent besides singing.

“what’s the p— point?” you breathe out, trying your best to sound coherent while maintaining eye contact, “so you’ll compliment karina instead again? pat her on the head and caress her cheek again?”

“you know i only did that to motivate you.”

“bullshit.”

if seungmin has to name anything you can do best, it’ll definitely be your ability to drive him crazy—disobeying him. again, he believes he has been going all in, keeping up with your lack of talent and bullshit for the past half a year; the way you’d fight, then fuck him, and fight again only to fuck him again, and the cycle continues. whenever he tries to talk things out, be it about your vocal lesson or your tangled relationship, you wouldn’t give a damn. today, that has to change.

“and i’m the one to blame? karina always listens to me,” he replies, slowing his thrust as he can feel your walls clenching around him even more and more.

“faste—“

“i said louder, y/n. tear your mouth wide open,” he grunts, thrusting into you so strongly that you jump and land back on the piano, creating such messy harmonies.

“seungmin, faster!” you yelp, voice raspy yet a little louder this time with your hands finding their way on his shoulders, and it makes him sneer as he leans in to kiss you, biting your lower lip before he lets go, and stop dead on track.

“hoarse voice, dry lips. don’t i always tell you to stay hydrated?”

you find it unfair. seungmin’s energy doesn’t make sense. the fact that he still has the power to put up with fucking while carrying you even after his solo session is unfair. and the way he has the audacity to give you a vocal lesson in the middle of everything, then stopping just because you aren’t complying is way too cruel, but perhaps, this is what you deserve.

“i’ll never cancel our lessons again. i’ll— i’m sorry. i will really listen to you,” you beg desperately, almost sobbing as you grind on him, refusing to let the tingling sensation on your core die down.

seungmin shakes his head. he knows you too well. normally, seeing you surrender like this softens him and makes him think that perhaps, he’s being way too demanding, or maybe, he should be even more understanding.

“that’s not what i asked for, love.” is what he says before resuming, putting all the remaining pressure he has left to snap his dick deeper into you.

that’s when his name falls out of your lips ever so gracefully, followed by endless ah’s, jaw hanging open. this is the loudest and clearest you’ve ever been—no holding back, no hitching breaths, no cracking—pure perfection. 

seungmin doesn’t even need to ask for more because you’re already repeating it on your own.

“fuck yes. just like that. such a good girl,” he grunts right beside your ear, picking up his pace.

it only takes a few moments till you feel the familiar knot in your abdomen coming back along with him twitching inside of you, and this time, you make sure to hold onto him so tight, afraid he’d pull the same stunt again.

“shit— please let me cum. please cum with me, come inside me, please, please, please,” you blabber, voice turns husky once more, but seungmin couldn’t care less, there’s always another chance for another vocal lesson. right now, all he wants is to,

“cum.”

the two of you reach together. name chanting, legs shaking, fingers digging, and body fluids mixing into each other—drenching not only your lower bodies, but also the extravagant bösendorfer piano seungmin shipped all the way from austria. but that’s another thing to worry about. right now, he can barely keep his eyes open while you can barely feel your stiff spread legs across his shoulders. once he’s made sure you’re over your high, seungmin gently pulls out and lets you down. he sits himself first on the bench before pulling you by the waist to seat you on his lap, and the two of you let silence take over for a little while.

“i know you’ve been bribing my maids,” you start off, “they have a big pay, but it’s impossible for their designer bags to double up in just a week, you know,” you continue while pushing his damp hair aside, revealing the remaining half of his sweaty forehead.

“they were gonna snitch on you to your mom,” he replies, pausing in the middle to mirror your action, pushing strands of hair to the back of your ear before averting his gaze back on your eyes.

even with your smudged eye makeup and cracked lipstick, you’re still as shining, dilating his pupil.

“and?”

“and she’s gonna fire me.”

“isn’t that what i should worry about? you’re a world winning award soprano. there are hundreds of talented people waiting in line to be your students. money isn’t the problem. plus, i know you hate my voice. i also never listen to you, never call you sir, and am ninety nine percent horny throughout our lessons. in short, i’m a bratty and disrespectful pain in the ass.”

your punchline makes him snort and he can’t help but to pull you into a hug, closing the already small space in between so he can indulge in your body heat and feel your chest beating calmly alongside his.

but what happened to changing things? don’t you wanna be in charge? you can’t just let her have everything she wants. 

despite hearing the faint voices in his head, mocking him for having the weakest heart for you, seungmin doesn’t care. for all he knows, he was a train wreck earlier this day; he surely didn’t expect he would go from reminiscing the memory of you under the chandelier to it actually coming true. 

“this is real, you’re here.”

“it is. i am.”

“and you’re gonna—“ pausing, he breaks the hug to cup your cheeks, “you have to stay.”

“what for? for you? for the vocal lessons? for… what?” you question, unconsciously tilting your head as you place a hand over his, slightly squeezing it, hoping he wouldn’t let go.

silence.

“i might be a bitch, but i’m not dumb. it isn’t about money and it isn’t about sex either. so what is it, seungmin?” you ask, eyes searching for an answer before adding, “i bring no good to you.”

you’re right. his best friends have said the same thing. they can’t seem to wrap their heads around how a collected person like him can break so easily over a random, spoiled, daddy’s little princess. it doesn’t make sense, he knows—i know. he’s been trying to figure it out, only to meet the same dead end.

“i’m a mistake.”

yes—yes you are, and seungmin hates it, mistakes, he hates it to the fullest, yet he has managed to keep up with it all this time just because,

“you’re the only mistake in my life that i can take, y/n.”

—

gen’s masterlist

[hookingminor]

invisible string - cale makar

a/n: another old fic rewritten for our fav defenseman sorry the gif I found is so large I could not find any horizontal ones I liked that fit my aesthetic rip

word count: 3.6k

warnings: alcohol, very brief mentions of blood/injury

summary: based on taylor swift’s invisible string

-

You were going to miss this park.

Every Saturday afternoon you come here. Most of the time, you spent your day underneath the large oak tree planted in the center of the park, nose deep in whatever book you were currently reading. This month’s choice was I’ll Give You The Sun. Occasionally, you would do homework or take a nap, but your favorite thing to do was read. This oak tree was your favorite spot in all of Calgary, and you were really going to miss it.

After five years in Calgary, you were finally moving back home to Denver. Your family moved around a lot as your dad was transferred frequently, but your true home was Denver. You hadn’t been back there since you were six, but it was still home.

Calgary was always temporary. You knew eventually you’d pack up and leave, your parents dragging you along with them because you were only sixteen and had no choice, but it got exhausting after a while. You just wanted to stay somewhere.

Even though you knew your time in Calgary was limited, it didn’t stop you from falling in love with the city.

On the Saturdays that you spent tucked away underneath the tree, you always let your mind wander into daydreams of meeting someone there. You dreamed of being swept away in a whirlwind of a romance, and it all started with meeting someone at the park. All your daydreams could probably be tied back to the numerous romances you continuously read or due to the fact you longed for a teenage love, but what could you say? You were a hopeless romantic. Maybe it would be someone walking their dog or an afternoon jogger running into you or a lost tourist asking for directions. Either way, you thought it would be the most romantic meet-cute, under your special tree.

Five years passed, though, and your dreams of meeting someone dwindled until the only reasons you went to the park were purely for peace and quiet. Now, you were spending your last day in Calgary in your favorite spot, soaking up the sunshine as you finished your latest book.

On the last page, five paragraphs from being done, you heard a loud scream.

Your head snapped up, concentration broken as you searched around for the origin of the noise. Lo and behold, off in the distance, you saw the form of a boy rollerblading down the bike trail. There must have been some sticks or rocks on the path because the boy kept shouting as he wailed his arms around, unable to stop.

You watched as he continued stumbling for a few seconds before he careened off the trail and into the grass, tumbling onto the ground before rolling into a nearby tree.

Initially, your jaw dropped in shock, a soft gasp escaping as you covered your mouth with your hand. You waited a few seconds, watching for movement, and then you heard the pained groans coming from the injured boy.

The boy gradually pushed himself up by his hands, and you could see the bloody scrapes on his forearms even from your distance away. He slowly got back up on his feet, limping across the grass as he made his way back to the trail.

Not being able to help yourself, you began laughing at his misfortune. Now that you knew he was okay, the screaming and fall replayed in your mind, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

You thought you were far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you were sadly mistaken. The boy’s head turned to the sound of your laughter, and he followed it until his eyes met yours. You stopped laughing, but the smile on your face refused to fall as you took in his disheveled state.

He watched you try to hide your amused smile to no avail. It only took a few seconds of chuckling while directly staring at him before he returned your smile with one of his own. You saw a flash of teeth and the corner of his lips pulled into a smirk. He gave you one last glance, shaking his head slightly before turning back towards the direction he’d come from. You watched his figure rollerblade back down the path, avoiding the obstructions this time, and disappear from your vision.

The boy rollerbladed to the park the next Saturday. He skated by the same spot where he fell last week and glanced over to the centered oak tree, hoping to see you again, but you were nowhere to be found.

-

Cale couldn’t sleep. It seemed like no matter what he did, he just couldn’t fall asleep. The team had put him in a hotel for a few weeks while they worked on finding him a more permanent residence, but despite the comfort of the hotel bed, he didn’t find the mattress agreeable.

He’d been in Denver for two weeks now and he’d yet to see anything in the city besides the arena. His days were full of hockey practices and meetings, and his evenings were full of extra training at the gym. The latter was his own personal choice; he didn’t want to squander his chance at playing in the NHL and felt that he needed to train a little harder, being new and all.

He tossed and turned in bed for two hours before finally giving up. Sleep obviously wasn’t going to come to him soon, so he might as well kill some time instead.

Pulling out his phone, Cale searched ‘diners near me’ into Google and scrolled through the list of options. He selected the one nearest to him that was also open twenty-four hours, entered the address into maps, threw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and was out of the door within three minutes.

The chilly, brisk walk to the diner took ten minutes from the hotel. Cale hadn’t been in Denver long, but he knew the weather was going to agree with him, if only because he had so much experience with the bitter cold Calgary winters.

A bell dinged above his head as he entered through the front door. Cale glanced around the small diner, noticing a few old truckers at the counter, a young teenage couple near the window, and a girl his age tucked away into a corner booth writing into a notebook.

A middle-aged woman with graying hair approached him at the front, a menu in her hand.

“Just one?” She asked him, noticing his lost puppy look. Cale nodded his head in agreement, following the lady to a secluded booth.

She set down the menu in front of him before pulling out a mug to pour him a cup of coffee.

“New around here?” She asked him as his eyes read the menu slowly.

“Is it that obvious?” He replied with an awkward chuckle.

“We usually have a small group of regulars. Your ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look is a dead giveaway,” she said with a warm smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide.”

The woman walked back behind the counter, serving more coffee to the truckers. He saw one cook in the back kitchen ,but other than those two, no one else was working. Probably because it was a little past two in the morning on a Wednesday.

He took his time reading over the menu; he couldn’t decide if he wanted a breakfast platter or a nice burger with fries. He’d narrowed it down to two options when he saw you shuffle out of the corner booth, backpack slung over your shoulders.

You walked his way, the only path to the front door was past his table. His eyes connected with yours, and you gave him a warm smile.

Pausing next to his booth, he watched you as you leaned over his shoulder.

“If you’ve never been here before, I highly recommend the caramel and cream cheese French toast. It’s not on the menu, but they’ll make it anyway if you ask. Oh, and get tater tots instead of the hashbrowns, they’re a lot better,” you suggested.

You flashed him a bright smile, and Cale’s eyes lit up. It felt like he’d seen that smile before, an old memory from a dream that he couldn’t quite remember. He wanted to say thank you or maybe ask what your name was, but you continued on your way out the door before he got a chance to reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the swinging bell above the entrance long after he’d watched you turn down the corner and fade into the night.

His trance was broken when he heard the voice of the waitress call out to him.

“So, did you decide on something?” She asked, a knowing grin on her lips.

The two choices Cale was torn between suddenly vanished from his mind; he couldn’t even remember what he wanted to order before you said something. Cale bit his lip and thought about it. French toast really wasn’t on his diet. All he could do was hope that the extra hours he spent in the hotel gym would pay off and negate the sugar-filled and fatty calories he was about to consume.

Closing the menu without a second glance, he turned his attention towards the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll have the caramel and cream cheese french toast with tater tots, please.”

-

Cale was riding high. The team had just made it to the Stanley Cup finals, and no one could contain their excitement.

Going against the advice of their coaches, a few of them had decided to go out to celebrate. It was nothing big, just a small dive bar on the edge of the city. They wanted to celebrate their hard work, not get so trashed they’d be completely useless for practice tomorrow. They still had their toughest games ahead of them.

The bar was quiet, only a few local patrons were there besides the team. If anyone knew who they were, no one approached them about it. The night passed quickly, laughter and cheers filling the small space as pints of beer were drained.

“Makar, grab the next round,” his captain ordered, and he was too happy to do so. Cale was the resident golden retriever on the team. Someone would say ‘jump’ and Cale would ask ‘how high?’ but he didn’t feel used. He loved being a part of a team. So, he made his way across the room to the bar and ordered two more pints.

For you, it had been a hell of a week. And not in a good way. You finished your Bachelor’s degree almost two weeks ago, but the stress didn’t end when you turned in your last finals. Work was awful, but you still had another couple months until you began your life as a real career woman. You were stuck there for the rest of the summer, promising your supervisor that you wouldn’t leave during their busiest season just because you’d graduated even though you really wanted to put in your two weeks. It was a mistake to make that promise.

After spending a day running numbers and creating spreadsheets that a ten year old could’ve done, all you wanted right now was a drink: the strongest drink you could think of. Perhaps an entire bottle of whiskey if they’d allow it. Or if you could afford it.

The minute after your shift was over, you were out the door and removing the suffocating blazer before you’d even hit the sidewalk. You began the familiar route to your favorite bar, being that it was close to work, cheap, and almost always empty.

When you entered the small bar, you noticed it was slightly busier than normal. Still relatively quiet, but busier than you were used to. You didn’t let it deter you as you walked directly to the bar.

However, it seemed the universe wasn’t done punishing you because when you were five steps away from the countertop, someone turned around abruptly. A hard body slammed into yours along with half a pint of beer.

“Oh, fuck me!” You exclaimed in distress, throwing your hands up as the beer splashed all over your blouse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” The culprit said, setting the beers back on the bar behind him. He reached over to grab a handful of napkins and then began patting furiously at your top.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, “Today just really isn’t my day.” You took the napkins from one of his hands to dry yourself off.

You looked up to face the man who’d drenched you with cheap beer, and you were met with a dazzling pair of blue eyes. They looked familiar, as if you’d seen him before but couldn’t remember where.

He caught your stare, his lips quirking into a smile at the sight of you. Cale felt a tug inside him, like the feeling of butterflies, when he saw your face. Waves of coolness washed over him, and he was lost in your eyes.

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” he said in a daze, unable to look away from you. He really hoped it didn’t come off as creepy, but little did he know you felt the same way.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t attached to it anyway,” you said, all your previous anger leaving your body. It was actually one of your nicer tops that would cost way too much money to dry clean now, but you weren’t thinking about that.

“Do I know you?” You both asked at the same time. The coincidence caused you two to burst out laughing, and he swore he’d heard that laugh before.

“How about I buy you a drink to make up for this?” He asked, beaming from ear to ear.

Your eyes twinkled as you nodded your head, and Cale felt his heart burst at your smile.

-

A year passed in a blurry haze. The night out at the bar turned into a two hour conversation with the stranger who’d spilled beer all over you. He apologized profusely the entire night and introduced himself to make up for it. He only ordered you two drinks, but you spent hours together laughing.

You told him about your hellish day and complained about work, and he recalled the wins and upcoming games he had in the next couple weeks. Soon, you were exchanging life stories and you found out he was originally from Calgary. You discussed your hobbies and interests outside of work, the best movies you’ve seen recently, and where in Denver you could find the most authentic Mexican food.

Eventually, it neared one in the morning, and Cale had to get home for practice in the morning. As much as he wanted to stay longer to talk to you, he knew he had to get going before his teammates ratted him out tomorrow.

“Do you mind if I walk you home?” He asked, the drinks between you finished long ago. It sounded a little odd asking a stranger he just met if he could essentially follow her home, but he hoped he didn’t give off stalker vibes.

“I’d like that,” you replied with a smile. It sounded a little odd agreeing to let a stranger you just met have your address, but something tugged at your heartstrings and told you to take the leap.

When he dropped you off outside of your apartment, he had asked for your number. That night turned into a first date and that first date turned into many dates. Cale easily swept you off your feet, and it was even easier to fall in love with him.

After years of dating the wrong guys, of being burned and cheated on and lied to, the world had sent you the perfect man. A man with a soul equivalent to a thousand beaming rays of sunshine all wrapped up in perfect blonde hair and blue eyes and rosy cheeks.

He did everything for you. He sent you flowers randomly, surprised you with your favorite takeout, and took you on the most extravagant dates. You went to his games, house sat his plants when he was on roadtrips, and left him little notes in his suitcases to find when he was away. You knew within two months of dating that he was the one you were going to end up with. Cale was your forever.

There were no awkward phases in your dating life, no uncertainties or questions about what you were as a couple. Cale was as taken with you as you were with him, and you both knew what you wanted out of your relationship. It felt like you knew each other for years, like he’d always been there in the back of your mind, just out of reach and waiting for you to find him.

You didn’t know how much you believed in fate, but it felt like the universe made him specifically for you. He understood you like no one did and you could communicate with him without ever saying a word. If soulmates and other halves did exist, there was no doubt in your mind that Cale was your missing piece.

It was a year after you began dating that Cale invited you back home with him. He wanted you to spend a few weeks over the summer with him and his family in Calgary.

Cale was elated to introduce you to his family. He planned on marrying you one day, and he wanted everyone to meet the woman who’d stolen his heart. Everything about you consumed him: your hair, your eyes, your smile. There wasn’t a single part of you he wasn’t madly in love with and there was nothing about you he’d change. It was a long time coming, you going home with him, and you couldn’t be more excited about it.

He spent the first few days showing you around his favorite childhood hangouts, the rinks he used to skate on and the pizza places he used to frequent with his friends. He showed you his high school, secret hidden spot near a small lake, and the best ice cream shop in all of Calgary.

It was one day when you were walking through the old park you used to read where you shared your favorite spot.

“When I lived here, I used to spend every weekend under that oak tree,” you said randomly, pointing out to the large tree across the grass.

“Really? I used to rollerblade through this park sometimes. One day I completely ate shit on this path,” he chuckled, remembering the painful memory. “I sprained my wrist and arm. Couldn’t play hockey for three weeks.”

“How old were you?” You asked curiously, thinking back to the day you saw a boy fall.

“Sixteen, maybe?” He replied, brows furrowing in thought. You and Cale were the same age.

“This might sound crazy, but I think I saw you fall that day,” you said. Cale turned to look into your eyes.

“Were you the girl laughing at me under the tree?” He asked skeptically. The blush forming on your cheeks and the way you broke eye contact answered the question for you.

“It was you! I always thought it was rude how you didn’t offer to help me,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“To be fair, I was worried when you fell down. But then you got up and seemed okay, so I didn’t bother,” you said defensively.

“Still, you sat there and laughed at me while I bled on the grass,” he teased, slugging your arm lightly.

“Well, it seems that everything turned out okay for you,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, it did,” he replied wistfully, reaching down to hold your hand with his.

The two of you walked through the rest of the park, but your gaze kept flickering back to the center field where your tree sat, your brain replaying the daydreams you had about meeting your true love underneath that tree. A nostalgic smile spread across your face, and Cale noticed your suddenly cheery mood.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked, a playful grin of his own appearing. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you smile.

“Nothing,” you replied, keeping the tender secret to yourself.

+1

Three years later, Cale took you home with him over the short winter break he got while the All-Star Game happened. You walked through the park together, a tradition that you created ever since that first summer back.

The air was cool and crisp, the skies a beautiful shade of purple and pink against the blue background. He led you over to your favorite tree, pulling you from the usual path you took around the park. In all the times you’ve been to the park with him, you’d never actually taken him to sit under your tree.

You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach at the feeling of being in your favorite spot with your favorite person. Your heart rate began to pick up as Cale dropped your hand to stand across from you, giving you a knowing smile.

When he took a step back, you felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes as if your heart knew where this was heading before your brain could process it. Cale lowered himself onto one knee before he pulled out a small velvet box from his coat pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring.

The fantasies you created in your mind all those years ago finally came to fruition that snowy day in January. All along you knew that one day you’d meet the love of your life under this tree even if you hadn’t realized it at the time, and you thanked whatever gods existed for the invisible strings that tied you to Cale.

[dancingaliensfics]

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

[itsclydebitches]

I kinda wonder, what could bakugou do (hori write bakugou to do) to make him less popular with the "anti" crowd. Like He was a horrid child no doubt and people who try to put blame on Deku or lessen the terrible shit bakugou did aren't great. But as we don't rly see it, we have to assume bakugous behaviour wasn't stopped, we only ever saw his mum "punishing" him when he was being rude after getting kiddnapped. Nothing will excuse what bakugou did, but he has stopped? He's overall a harsh person but he's not harrassing and bullying people anymore, specifically not deku, he's trying to attone for what he did to deku and has now apologised for it. His behaviour was never viewed as justified or good in the series, he's a scary figure in middle school, we're not meant to like his behaviour, so the series itself hasn't justified his actions.

As someone who relate to both bakugou and deku more than I'd like to admit (never told someone to jump tho, that's fucked lol) so I can 100% understand not liking or even hating bakugou but as someone who's not 15 anymore, looking back I also made a lot of really shitty decisions and like bakugou have tried to make up for it, and like deku I was 'friends' with people who hurt me.

Is there anything he can do for the "antis" to just dislike him rather that be "anti"?

(I'm very sorry if you've talked about this somewhere, you can just tell me to look for it if you have, I'll continue to look for your posts on the subject)

Hey there, anon! I think I’ve spoken about this only tangentially and/or in my main Bakugo meta, which is too big for anyone sane to read. So yeah, let’s chat here!

For me personally—and that’s all I can ever do: speak personally. I think it’s important to keep in mind that there is no single solution to please the “anti” crowd. Each fan will be looking for something slightly different in Bakugo’s character, much of which might contradict what a “stan” is currently enjoying. Given how charged a character he is, I'm not sure it's possible to get the entire fandom to like him—what I’m looking for hinges on having a different reading of the story than you seem to. Meaning, I think the series does justify his behavior. Not in any overt, super obvious way like having all the characters go, “Wow, Bakugo! I sure do love how you threaten people all the time. That’s super cool and heroic!” Things are rarely that straightforward. Rather, it’s in a more subtle, but consistent manner that paints a rather conclusive picture across hundreds of chapters.

Simply put, Bakugo is continually rewarded for his actions. Or, if not outright rewarded, his actions are ignored in a way that implies silent acceptance. Characters may not always like what he does... but they're willing to let it slide because Bakugo's heroism was always treated as a given, not something he had to earn and prove.

With the ever necessary disclaimer that I’m not fully caught up yet, here’s a list of some of the things that stood out to me in the first half of the series:

Bakugo’s bullying made him the most popular kid in school.

Bakugo’s bullying was ignored by/outright supported by the teachers.

Bakugo’s bullying did not hinder him from getting into U.A., one of the most prestigious hero schools around.

Despite acting horribly throughout his time at U.A. too, this behavior was continually ignored by the teachers and other authority figures around him.

Bakugo’s struggle to realize that other people aren’t “trash” doesn’t hurt his achievements in any way. He still gets top scores, still wins the tournament, etc.

Bakugo’s behavior gets him special attention from All Might, the greatest hero and Bakugo’s personal idol.

His behavior doesn’t make others dislike him in any manner that’s taken seriously. Everybody is still willing to not just put up with Bakugo, but—in time—start treating his behavior as a quirk (no pun intended lol) that they’re secretly fond of, rather than something he should legitimately be striving to change. Kirishima is the most overt example of this.

This is compounded by his behavior constantly being framed as humorous. Much like with Mineta’s perverted actions, characters might superficially go, “No, that’s bad!” but the story never demands any significant development because then we’d lose the “joke” of Bakugo screaming in rage at the slightest inconvenience, threatening to murder someone over nothing, constantly belittling everyone around him in a “funny” manner, etc. When fans talk about development of a manga character as archetypal and extreme as Bakugo, most don’t really want to see significant change to his base personality. Because then that would result in someone who doesn’t look like the “real” Bakugo: someone nicer, more even-tempered, more mature, etc. But for those of us who were never drawn to that personality in the first place, the continued acceptance of his rude, egotistical, and violent behavior is discomforting. The easiest comparison I can draw is between this and Bakugo’s mother slapping him. That slap is meant to be another “joke”—we see it constantly in shonen anime, something "humorous" you shouldn’t take too seriously because haha, it's just an overprotective mother—but many fans do take it seriously, using it as the basis for a whole “Bakugo was abused and this explains his behavior” reading. Well, I take the “joke” of Bakugo’s threats and insults seriously, especially in a story that starts with something like telling Izuku to jump off the roof. In the same way that many fans want others to treat Bakugo’s mother as a serious topic that has had a negative influence on his development, I want the series to take Bakugo’s everyday actions seriously as a negative influence on… well, everyone around him. But it doesn’t. His base personality is grudgingly adored.

The above two points are seen most overtly in Izuku, who never wavers in his respect for Bakugo despite how Bakugo treats him. Not just prior to U.A., but during their training too. Izuku, as the protagonist, is the emotional heart of this tale, so when he talks about how inspiring Bakugo is, it encourages the reader to see his behavior as inspiring too. Rather than, as said, something that needs to change. Izuku's continued friendship with Bakugo, his adoration of him, and his acceptance of the way he's treated has severely warped how the entire story sees Bakugo's actions. After all, if #pure Izuku can see the good in Bakugo, why can't everyone else? He must not be that bad after all.

I could get into detailed analyses of all the above—like how Bakugo was the one comforted after attacking Izuku outside the dorms at night and how the messed up relationship he has with Izuku is upheld as something to nurture; how the remedial courses he had to take were made to be rather silly, thereby undermining their supposed importance to his development; how Bakugo’s kidnapping had nothing to do with his flaws, but much of the fandom uses it as a way to dismiss any appropriate consequences because, “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” etc.—but in the interest of keeping this within a readable length, I’ll leave it at that. The point is that Bakugo has always been privileged when it comes to his behavior, resulting in others either outright praising it, ignoring it, or demanding that he change a miniscule bit, which always keeps him far below the standards of both his peers and the expectations of a hero. Everyone in 1-A must learn to be even better than the good people they already are... Bakugo needs to learn that other people aren't dirt at the bottom of his shoes. It's never been a particularly impressive development when pit against the rest of the class. All of which can make something like an apology feel pretty hollow. Yes, he’s apologized and I say with all seriousness that that’s great! But how does that apology stack up against 300+ chapters of content? As Bakugo’s words highlight, he's been a really awful person up "until now": he was consumed by Izuku being “miles ahead of [him],” he “looked down on [him]” because he didn’t have a quirk, he “didn’t want to recognize that,” he “hated that,” “grew distant,” “tried to beat you down,” “opposed you and tried to show my superiority over you,” and ends it all with, “it probably doesn’t mean anything telling you all this” before finally getting to the “I’m sorry.” This is basically a laundry list of how horrible a person Bakugo has been for the entire series, with an acknowledgement that this apology is coming really, really late. This is the moment where I could START to like Bakugo, depending on how he acts form here on out, but that pivotal moment arrived after six years of content and in the final arc of the story. It’s too late. Bakugo needed this kind of self-reflection and positive action 250+ chapters ago so he could (hopefully) grow into a better person across the story, not at the story's end. What we got instead is 322 chapters of him being a really horrible person, but the story going out of its way to excuse or even praise that behavior the majority of the time.

As a quick comparison to end on, I think what Bakugo needed was what Soo Jin got in True Beauty. You don’t need to have seen the drama to follow along. The tl;dr is that she has a lot of the core qualities of Bakugo: an all-consuming drive to win that was created due to abusive parents with high expectations, resulting in her bullying a peer to a pretty horrific extent. The difference between them is how the story frames their actions. When Soo Jin becomes the bully she loses everything. Rather than succeeding academically, her grades plummet, making it clear that this anxiety and self-doubt (things the fandom keeps insisting Bakugo is struggling with, but that rarely ever show up in the text) is actually impacting her day-to-day life. Her best friend drops her because she’s not going to support her choices. The boy she likes rejects her. She’s eventually forced to start over somewhere new - which importantly separates her from the girl she was bullying - and get some distance from her parents, resulting in the growth needed to become a healthier, happier, good person again. So when Soo Jin apologizes to the girl she hurt, it feels earned. The story continually recognized how horrific her actions were and put her into a place where she either had to change, or continue losing at everything else that was important to her. Bakugo? Bakugo doesn’t lose. Oh, he claims he does because he’s comparing himself to Izuku constantly, but that’s just him thinking in extremes. He still wins academically. Still wins many battles. Still wins at having friends. Still wins by maintaining the prestige of being a U.A. student. Still wins by getting All Might’s attention. Still wins by receiving Izuku’s respect and an agreement to maintain this rivalry that Bakugo is so obsessed with. Bakugo comes out well 99% of the time, he just thinks he's "lost" because he can't stand not being the absolute best.

For me, the story needed to have Bakugo face consequences for his behavior, not receive rewards and/or have others ignore it, and that revelation/apology needed to come way, way sooner. For me the issue is not a specific action that Horikoshi can have Bakugo do in the next chapter and them bam, I like him now. The problem is Bakugo’s entire concept, how he’s received by the entire cast, and his run across this entire series. "Entire" is the key word there. Which is why the “But he’s apologized. What more do you antis want?” reactions don’t sit well. What we wanted is a better written redemption arc across those 300+ chapters, not a single scene that’s meant to have us forget all the other problems inherent in the story. At this point it’s a far more complicated situation than, “Bakugo just needs to do X, Y, and Z and then we’re golden.” At the end of the day, Horikoshi failed to make me like him as a person and I’m pretty sure he isn’t going to change Bakugo enough to make him likable to me. Bakugo was never the sort of character I’d be inclined towards without a serious, nuanced redemption arc, but sadly, a core, crucial part of that redemption arc took six years to arrive. At this point there’s no way to change the problems in Bakugo’s writing for that huge chunk of the series and not enough time left in the series, it seems, to do the work we should have seen across the entire run. Honestly, idk if the Bakugo we'll get going forward is someone I can just dislike as opposed to being really uncomfortable with, but my money is on there being too little story left and too much investment in upholding Bakugo's base personality for that to happen. I could absolutely be proven wrong! But I think the problems are structural and needed to be better dealt with from page one, not hastily patched over in the final hour.

[cloudywriter]

a trip to target

rowaelin month - september 6th

prompt: firstborn arrives

i literally have no idea where this idea came from like it’s so weird but i think it’s funny so i just had to write it. honestly though pregnancy freaks me out a little so it was a little uncomfy to write at times but i pushed through and i like it. enjoy!

(warning for some minor language)

masterlist, AO3

~~~

Rowan was working on one of his client's cases, a rather nasty divorce that he knew was going to be an absolute dumpster fire when his wife called him again. Rowan couldn’t help but smile a little at her name lighting up his phone screen but admittedly she was bothering him so much he barely got any work done nowadays. 

He picked up anyway, he’d never decline her. “Hey, Fireheart.”

“I’m bored, buzzard,” Aelin deadpanned. 

“I know, baby, but I’ll come home after my meeting later, I promise. Then we can watch Bachelor reruns all night and eat ice cream,” Rowan assured her, leaning back in his office chair. For some reason, all she wanted to do nowadays was watch bad reality tv and eat ice cream from the carton. As much as Rowan hated reality shows and wasn't keen on sweets he did anything to make her happy.

“That’s too far away, I’m rotting away on this couch,” Aelin whined. 

Aelin’s work had forced her on maternity leave a few days ago as she was due any day now with their first child, a little girl, and Aelin was not taking it well. She was the kind of person who liked to always be busy and now she had nothing to do but sit on the couch and wait for their child to decide she was ready to enter the world. She was constantly phoning Rowan seeking some form of entertainment but he was still working on this damn case. 

Rowan thought her restlessness had something to do with the fact she was terrified at the thought of giving birth and caring for a newborn. If she were distracted she wouldn’t have to think about the daunting task at hand. So, he did his best to keep her happy and preoccupied but he desperately needed to wrap up this case before his daughter arrived. He wanted to be there for every moment of the beginning of her life, he didn’t fancy any legal cases looming over his head vying for his attention as well. 

“I know, I’ll be home as soon as I can. Hang tight, my love.” 

Aelin huffed from the other end of the line. “I’m ready for her to be out, Rowan. This sucks.” 

Rowan stifled a laugh, he knew being pregnant had lost its charm a long time ago. At first, she enjoyed Rowan fetching anything she asked for and waiting on her, but then that started to get old, and Aelin's pregnancy symptoms made her miserable most of the time. So, the last couple of months hadn't been her favorite. 

“I’m ready to meet her too. Any second now.” 

“Okay, I’ll stop bothering you now," Aelin concluded. She likely finally found something on Netflix that piqued her interest. "Good luck with your meeting, I hope they settle. I love you,” Aelin told him. 

“I love you too, see you soon,” and with that, the call ended. Rowan looked out the window of his office, thinking. Maybe he could send someone to keep her company?

He ran through a list of their friends in his head. Elide, Aedion, and Lysandra were all working as far as he knew and didn’t want to ask them to leave their job to entertain Aelin. He thought of Lorcan, Connall, and Fenrys, they all worked for him so technically he could let them off. Except, Aelin didn’t particularly like Lorcan and he didn’t think Connall would be very keen on that arrangement either. Fenrys, though, Aelin and Fenrys were best of friends, a force of nature all on their own. 

So, Rowan rang his assistant requesting that Fenrys be sent to his office. Not much time passed before Fenrys was standing in the doorway, knocking lightly on its frame.

“What’s up?” He asked, plopping himself down on a chair opposite Rowan, making himself comfortable. 

“I have a favor to ask,” Rowan confessed. 

“A favor?” Fenrys raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 

“Can you go keep Aelin company while I’m trying to settle with the Westfalls?” Rowan probed. 

Fenrys frowned. “As much as I love Ace I can’t take a day off work to hang out with her. I have bills to pay and ladies to take out.” 

Rowan nearly groaned, fighting an internal battle with himself. “I’ll let you do it on the clock,” he finally spit out. 

“You’re going to pay me to go entertain your wife?” Fenrys looked bewildered. “I feel like is almost insulting to Aelin, you paying people to hang out with her. You’re the one she should be paying people to hang out with.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not like that. I feel bad because I know she’s struggling and I can’t be home right now. I don’t want her to have to be alone, just take her to Target or something.”

“Aelin’s a grown woman, can’t she take herself to Target?” Fenrys disputed. 

“Yes, but she’s a grown woman who’s nearing 40 weeks pregnant. I’d rather she have a chaperone,” Rowan admitted, before backtracking. “Don’t ever tell her I said that.” 

Fenrys looked amused as Rowan continued. “Are you really going to say no?” 

“Of course not, getting paid to go to Target with Aelin is a hell of a lot better than getting paid to do paperwork,” Fenrys conceded. 

Rowan blew a sigh of relief as Fenrys headed to go pick up Aelin. 

+++

Fenrys had successfully gotten Aelin to Target. It wasn’t a hard task to accomplish, the woman loved Target but Fenrys noticed she seemed rather uncomfortable and he asked her multiple times if she just wanted to stay home instead. Aelin always said no, pushing on with their trip. 

He supposed having a watermelon-sized bump on one’s front would cause a certain degree of discomfort, though. Naturally, the pair find themselves in the baby section, gushing over tiny onesies and shoes small enough to fit in the palm of their hands. Fenrys was swiping through a display of onesies, “Do you think they have any of those onesies that say like 'broken condom 'on them or something?” 

Aelin turned around from where she was staring at baby headbands. “You’re nasty. My daughter was not the result of a broken condom.” 

Fenrys made a face, “I don’t want to know.”

Aelin snorted and they continued their browsing making their way through every aisle that had anything remotely baby-related. By now, Fenrys noticed Aelin was growing increasingly uncomfortable, he could see her stamina slowing, and the difficulty walking was beginning to pose. 

Eventually, he shifted to face her as they browsed the small, dollar section at the front of the store. “Do you want to head home and get off your feet?” he finally proposed. 

“No,” Aelin responded without looking at him, picking up a small, fake succulent. “Walking is supposed to induce labor and that’s what I’m aiming for right now,” she stated, smoothing a hand over the front of her round stomach. 

Fenrys shrugged, picking up a pair of cheap fuzzy socks before throwing them back into their bin. 

He allowed Aelin to mill about the store, spending a healthy amount of time at the nightgown section before moving towards the back of the store. Aelin always said it wasn’t a trip to Target without going to the back and sniffing their extensive stockpile of candles. 

That’s exactly where they ended up. Fenrys had his nose stuck in a deep violet candle, making a face at its scent. He checked the label. Cosmic starlight. What the hell was that supposed to smell like? 

He turned to Aelin about to make her smell the atrocity when she braced herself against the shelf, putting down the candle she had been holding. Her mouth popped into an ‘o’ and her brow furrowed. 

“Aelin?” Fenrys reached out a hesitant hand placing it on her shoulder. 

Aelin breathed deeply, taking a moment to reply. “The baby must really hate the smell of sandalwood,” she finally vocalized. 

Fenrys’ dark eyes widened. “Did you just have a contraction?” 

“I think? It’s hard to tell if it was just a strong fake one or not,” Aelin panted eventually loosening her grip on the candle display shelf. 

Fenrys wasn’t taking any chances, if Rowan wanted him to deal with a woman going into labor he’d have to raise his pay significantly. “How about we get you home, Ace.” 

Aelin didn’t object, just nodded her agreement waddling towards the front of the store with Fenrys hovering around her like a fly. 

They made it out to the parking lot without any further incident and Fenrys helped Aelin into his low, expensive sports car that was his prized possession. Aelin’s face scrunched up then a sharp gasp left her mouth, her hand flying to her stomach. 

“I think squatting down trying to get into this thing just broke my water,” her eyes were wide with fear as she looked up at Fenrys. 

Fenrys face was comical, his own eyes widening like saucers and his mouth dropped. Sure enough, the bottom of her dress was wet. Fenrys was frozen for a second his mind completely emptied out, then the panic set in sending a million thoughts racing through his head. 

Fenrys audibly gulped, “Okay, um, I’m calling Rowan.” Fenrys grabbed his phone out of his pocket, fumbling with the device as he dialed Rowan’s contact, willing him to pick up. 

Fenrys leaned slightly against the open passenger door as the phone rang. “You’ve reached Rowan Whitethorn-Galathynius, I’m sorry I couldn’t answer your call, please leave a message and I’ll -.”

Fenrys hung up and groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. Beside him, Aelin whimpered. “Holy shit, that was not fake,” she groaned, her grip tightening on the seat beneath her.

“Oh, gods, Aelin, please don’t give birth in my Mercedes,” he begged. 

“Really, Fen?” She narrowed her eyes at him, she’d probably kick him in the groin if she wasn’t incapacitated. 

“You know I love you, but I don’t want baby juice on the leather.”

“Just call Rowan again,” Aelin growled. 

Fenrys did just that, silently pleading with the universe for Rowan to pick up his gods-damn phone. Relief washed over him as the call connected. 

“Fen, I’m in a meeting this better be worth my while,” Rowan whispered harshly, he hated to be interrupted at work by anyone except Aelin.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your wife’s water did just break but I guess I’ll call back later,” Fenrys spat, growing increasingly flustered by the minute. 

Fenrys heard a sharp intake of breath. “Fuck, shit, okay, where are you? I’m coming right now,” the jingle of keys filled Fenrys’ ear from Rowan's end of the call. 

As Fenrys surveyed his surrounding the urge to laugh crept upon him, he fought his smile as he replied, “The Target parking lot.”

Aelin watched the exchange closely cluing in on Fenrys’ suppressed laughter. “It’s not funny, Fen!”

“It’s a little funny. I mean if anyone was going to have a baby in a Target parking lot, it’d be you. Or Lysandra. One of you two.”

Aelin snatched the phone out of Fenrys’ hand, pressing it to her ear. “Rowan,” she panted, resting her head on the side of the car. 

Fenrys couldn’t hear much of what Rowan was saying, he spoke in a low voice trying to calm Aelin, assuring her he was coming and he loved her and she was okay. 

They were sickeningly in love, Fenrys would admit. 

“Okay, I love you too,” Aelin breathed, hanging up the phone and handing it back to Fenrys. 

Fenrys leaned against the side of the car as they awaited Rowan’s arrival. “Cross your legs, Ace. Remember, no baby juice in the car,” he reminded her, trying his best to keep her mind off of what was happening while they waited.

“Go to hell,” Aelin murmured in the midst of a contraction. Fenrys wasn’t sure what to do so he bent forward to rub Aelin’s shoulder in an attempt to do what, he wasn’t sure. Aelin didn't yell at him though so he rubbed circles on her shoulder as she clung onto the seat. 

Rowan showed up only a few minutes later, tearing into the parking lot like a bat out of hell, so at odds with his usual slow and steady driving style. He jumped out of the car, his tie loosened around his neck as he rushed to Aelin’s side. 

He kneeled down next to the open car door, picking up her hand and brushing away the stray blonde strands of hair from her splotchy face. “I’m here, Fireheart. How far apart are your contractions?”

“I don’t know,” Aelin hissed. “Okay, okay, let’s just get you in the car and to the hospital,” Rowan decided, supporting Aelin as she eased out of the car, leaning heavily upon him. 

Fenrys and Rowan successfully got Aelin into the passenger seat of his car, Rowan buckled her in and continued whispering words of love and support. Rowan rounded the car and hopped into the driver's side ready to book it to the hospital when one of the back doors opened and Fenrys slid in. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Rowan asked, shifting in his seat to look back at Fenrys. 

“I’m coming, obviously. I’m about to be an uncle,” Fenrys stated clearly. 

Rowan internally debated with himself on whether to kick Fen out of the car or not but ultimately decided he needed to prioritize Aelin, if Fen wants to tag along then fine. 

The ride to the hospital was tense, Rowan held Aelin’s hand across the center console, kissing the back of it and consoling her. Fenrys felt as though he was intruding but he refused to miss the birth of his niece. 

Of course, once they were admitted to the hospital Fenrys was kicked to the waiting room while Rowan supported Aelin through the duration of her labor. 

It progressed surprisingly quickly after her water broke, it was only a few hours later when a nurse told Fen he could come see the baby. 

Fenrys pushed open the door to the room softly and peered in. On the bed was Aelin, her golden hair a fan around her and despite the traumatizing ordeal she was glowing. A small baby was wrapped up in a blanket, laying in Aelin’s arms. Rowan was at her side, peering down at the bundle in her arms with so much love Fenrys felt as though he should look away. The new parents were already smitten with their little human, running their fingers over her cheek. 

Aelin perked up as Fenrys stepped into the room. She ushered him over and he too inspected the baby. She was so small, sleeping contently in her mother’s arms. Fen thought she had Rowan’s nose and he could see wisps of blonde hair from beneath her wool beanie. 

“Is her name Target? Or Bullseye like the dog?” Fenrys quipped with a playful smile. 

Aelin rolled her eyes as he interrupted the tender, intimate moment and shoved his shoulder with a shocking amount of strength for a woman who’d just pushed a whole baby out. 

“No,” Rowan answered, his eyes not leaving Aelin or the baby, “Her name is Elora.”

“Elora,” Fenrys repeated. “She’s beautiful, Aelin.”

Aelin gave him a soft smile and Elora yawned, her little eyes fluttering open. She gazed up at Fenrys with eyes the color of a pine forest. 

Fenrys beamed at the small girl and he liked to think she almost smiled back.

~~~

kinda leaning on the side of an aelin and fenrys brotp fic but i couldn’t not publish it, it’s so cute.  it’s not as fluffy as i’d like it to be but it was supposed to be more funny, nonetheless, i have more rowaelin baby content planned that is very fluffy. 

[wiypt-writes]

Soft Landing

One Shot

Summary: Vacation get-aways don’t always let you escape the past, but maybe you can help bring Andy back to the present. Just be careful not to pick up too many bumps and bruises along the way… Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Angst, language!

A/N: So this is another entry for @imanuglywombat​ ‘s  “Is That Even A Sex Position” weekly challenge. This position is called “Louise”. See here for more information. This is my first time writing for Andy, and it appears I can’t even do a single smutty one shot for Lawyer daddy without inserting a fuck tonne of angst so…sorry!!!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this story bar the reader and other mentioned OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Tagged my permanent tag list.

Masterlist

*****

 You stirred in your bed, turning over and reaching out for your husband only to be met empty space, your fingers grasping at the cool sheets. Blinking, you propped yourself up on your forearms, squinting as your eyes grew accustomed to the low light in the hotel bedroom before you sat up, stretched a little and swung your legs out of bed.

You made your way out of the bedroom, poking your head into the next room down and, satisfied everything in there was as it should be, you made your way through to the living area of the suite and glanced around, spotting that the curtains covering the door leading to the balcony were blowing a little in the soft breeze.

You padded over to the door, pulled back the curtains a little more and you could just make out Andy’s frame, his broad, bare shoulders silhouetted against the early morning sun. Shoulders which carried a much heavier burden than when you had met almost six years previously.

You had been fresh out of law school back then, and he was not-so-fresh out of a break up with his wife. Neither of you had been looking for anything, but as is always the case, you always find the best things when you’re not searching.

Simply put, Andy Barber had swept you off your feet.

At almost 10 years his junior, the comments at first had been unkind but not unexpected. You’d been labelled “the rebound”, his “early midlife crisis”, a “convenient way to keep his dick warm whilst he got over Laurie.” But talk is cheap, as you had both proven when three years to the date you’d met he got down on one knee and you became relabelled his fiancée.

A year post that you relabelled again as his wife. And some twenty one months ago you’d relabelled once more as the mother of his child. A daughter he claimed looked just like you.

Ironically, you’d actually fallen pregnant on the last vacation you had taken. A family getaway to Mexico following Jacob’s acquittal when you’d all wrongly assumed the horrific dream was over, and you could finally wake up and get on with your lives.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

In some sick twist of fate, you’d discovered you were pregnant the day of the accident that had claimed Jacob’s life, and later that of Laurie’s. The elation you and Andy had felt at the fact you were going to be parents together had been wrenched away from you in a single phone call from the police, and once more that shroud of dark despair had descended on your life turning the dream into a nightmare once more.

And for Andy the nightmares still continued, some two years post Jacob’s death and you knew without even seeing his face that was what had woken him and why he was now sat on the balcony of your stunning ocean view hotel suite in Cascais, Portugal instead of being in bed besides you.

“Hey.” You spoke softly as you slid the door open and he turned to look at you, his eyes carrying the familiar warmth that they always held for you, as you stepped into the balcony, taking care to leave the door open a crack just in case your daughter woke.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He gave you a smile as you approached the sun-lounger he was perched on, facing out over the Atlantic, the first glimmer of the mid-June sun peeking over the horizon. “I didn’t wake you or Lia did I?”

Lia, or Halia to use her full name. Chosen by you and Andy for its meaning. A Hawaiian name for remembrance of a loved one. In this case the brother she would never meet.

“No, I checked in on her. She’s flat out.” You assured him, as he moved his legs, dropping them either side of the lounger allowing you to sit in between them, cross legged as you faced him. You studied him for a moment, cocking your head to one side as he gave you a gentle smile. “Get out of there, Bubs.” You gently reached up, tapping the side of his temple and he took a deep breath, his hand curling round yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Sorry, just got caught in a memory.” He offered as explanation. And to be fair, you didn’t need him to clarify any further. You knew, you always knew.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” He swallowed, so you didn’t press further. You respected his wishes, just like he did to yours.

“Do you want a hug?” You offered instead, and he gave a soft smile, opening his arms. You shifted onto your knees, scooting forwards a little, wrapping your arms around him as he pressed his face into your neck, taking a deep breath as your hand ran through his soft hair and down his neck in gentle, sweeping arcs. You sat in silence for a moment, the lapping of the waves against the shore the only noise you could hear as you held him close, feeling him nuzzle further into you.

“Thank you.” He mumbled against your skin and you pulled back a little, sitting back on your heels as you looked at him

“What for?”

“Everything.” He shrugged, his hand reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes soft as he studied your face for a moment, his gaze flicking to your lips before it went further down and he arched an eyebrow. “And for wearing that.”

You chuckled a little as you glanced down at the pale blue silk slip, one of the thin straps had slipped down your shoulder slightly, your nipples pebbled against the thin fabric. “Well, someone bought it for me.” You looked back at him, smiling as you tugged your bottom lip in between your teeth.

“Yeah?” Andy’s eyes moved back to yours. “Anyone I know?”

“No, just someone very special to me.” You leaned forwards to press your lips to his.

“He’s a lucky man.” Andy whispered against your mouth

“I’m the lucky one.” You mumbled back. “And, whilst we’re on the subject, I would also like to thank you for what you’re wearing.” You grinned, your hands flat on his chest, smoothing down a little before they trailed back upwards, curling over his strong shoulders.

“I’m not.”

“Exactly.” You smirked, kissing him softly again.

Eventually the teasing pecks flowed into something much stronger, Andy’s arms curling round you, pulling you closer, domineering swipes of his tongue against yours set every single nerve in your body on edge. Your hand moved back down his chest, tracing his soft abs before you palmed his growing bulge through the sleep pants he was wearing, causing him to grunt a little.

Without a word, one of his hands trailed up the outside of your thigh, the other making its way along the inside of your opposite knee and you shifted a little, parting your legs, as his fingers delicately danced upwards to where you wanted him the most. When they softly parted your intimate lips he gave a little groan as he realised you were wearing no panties, and you swallowed as his fingers swirled in your slick, the pad of his thumb grazing your nub ever so gently.

“Always so ready for me.” He hummed.

“Yeah, it’s a curse.” You whispered back, as his spare hand slid the other strap of your slip down, his lips pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder as he pulled the front of the garment down, freeing your breasts. As he kissed his way along the swell of your cleavage, his tongue softly teased each taught nipple and your whimper caught in your throat, emerging as nothing but a soft squeak of delight. You felt his mouth curl up into a smile against your skin and you gently wrapped your hand around his wrist, halting his teasing fingers.

“Andy, I want you.” You whispered, your head falling back as you rocked your hips forwards against his hand as you held it in place. “Please.”

Andy didn’t reply, but with a grace unbefitting a man of his stature, he moved, kneeling up as he pulled his sleep pants down, his gorgeous cock springing free and slapping gently against the thin strip of hair that led down from his belly button. He drew his knees apart slightly as his hands grabbed your hips and he hauled you towards him, his lips pressing back to yours.

You positioned yourself over him, your knees hugging his torso as you lowered yourself down, both of you giving a groan as you took him in. Your feet remained by his knees, one hand sliding round his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other gripping at his forearm.

Andy rolled his hips upwards as you pressed your forehead to his, noses bumping together as he moved you gently, his rhythm slow and needy from the off. Large hands slid along your thighs, gently palming your ass before they slid up the back of your silk slip, coming to rest tenderly on your spine, holding you close. As he rocked upwards, you let your head fall back slowly and let out a soft sigh of delight as his lips caressed your throat, barely there kisses moved down your neck, that beard you loved so much scratching your skin as he went. Your grip on his arm and neck tightened a little, your nails softly grazing the nape of his neck as he once more lavished affection on your chest, and this time it was his turn to let out a soft groan into your skin. He loved when you touched him there, you’d often made a joke about how if he was a cat it would make him purr.

His mouth moved upwards again, tongue dipping into the hollow of your throat, tracing a path up to your jaw before his lips caught yours again, the kiss deep and needy, like he was at that moment. Your tongues danced lazily together, matching the slow, steady roll and rocking motion your hips were making. With a low grunt, Andy broke away, pulling back a little, his nose nudging your chin as he placed a soft kiss once more to your neck, his rhythm never changing as his hands pulled you even closer, pressing your chest into his.

“Baby, look at me.” His voice was a whisper, and it was a request not a demand, but a request you were more than happy to meet. Your eyes locked onto those deep, ocean blues which were blown with love and lust and you simply held his gaze as he continued to rock up into you, stroking that spot inside that drove you wild.

You could feel the burning, deep in the pit of your stomach, and your hips started to move a little more as you ground down against him, desperate for the friction against your clit and you let out a little cry as you found it, Andy bucking up a little deeper and faster, reading your body language perfectly, just like he always could.

Moving your hands, you cupped his face, the pads of your fingers tangling in his beard as he closed his eyes, those ridiculously long eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks and you pushed down again, rotating your hips, watching with satisfaction as he tipped his head back, a groan flowing freely from his lips, the softly whispered “don’t stop” barely audible, his voice was that deep.

Seeing him so suppliant was something you would never get tired of, because you loved this beautiful, wonderful man with everything you had. You’d both been through so much, yet still made it through the other side as strong as ever, the ultimate sign of your love sleeping in the room inside as you gave yourselves to one another whilst the dawn continued to break over the ocean, tendrils of light purples, oranges and yellow snaring around the pair of you, enveloping you in their warmth, heating the very depth of your souls.

“I love you.” You pulled his face back to yours, kissing him once more, your lips resting against his as you told him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, so fahkin’ much.” His Boston twang grew more pronounced as did the movements of his hips, his rolls turning into thrusts as you met him movement for movement, pushing down, rocking yourself against him. The burn you had been feeling was now boiling hot as it bubbled to the surface, and you knew that any moment now you were going to erupt into flames.

“Fuck, Andy, I need…”

“Take it, Honey, it’s all yours…” He surged upwards, his hands flat against your back, pulling you to him as you kissed him deeply, before you’re head tipped back as the world around you tilted on its axis, your stomach tightening as you clenched down around him, your release crashing over you like the waves on the shore below. Your entire body went rigid, his name on your lips became nothing but a choked, strangled moan as he continued to rut up into you, his face pressing into your neck as he chased his own bliss.

"Fuck, Sweetheart..." Andy growled as with one final thrust upwards, his body stiffened and he spilled himself inside you, his cock twitching as the aftershocks of your orgasm kept your walls clamping down on him. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut and his jaw clenched before he relaxed a little, chest sagging as his arms clutched you to him, as if he never wanted to let you go.

Which, if he didn't, that was perfectly fine by you.

You leaned forward gently, sliding your nose along his, your lips brushing together as he gave a soft smile. With a satisfied sigh he leaned back, taking you with him as he made to settle you down against the back of the lounger you were laying on. Only he didn't stop, he kept going, his eyes flying open with surprise as the back of the lounger collapsed and you were suddenly pitched forward as the other end tipped up sending Andy crashing backwards onto the balcony with a loud bang as the metal frame of the lounger hit the sandstone tiled surface, you still clutched securely to his chest.

There was a pause as the pair of you looked at each other in surprise before Andy's head fell back and he gave a huge bellow of laughter and you hastily clamped your hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise, trying to supress your own giggles. One of Andy's hand's moved from your back as you sat up a little, legs still straddling his waist, his softening cock still stuffed deep inside you. He curled his fingers around the wrist of the hand you had pressed over his mouth and he pulled it away, pressing a kiss to your palm,  his beard twitching as he continued to chuckle softly, his eyes crinkled at the corner.

"You okay?" He asked, his lips curling up into a smile and you nodded, running your hands through his hair as his fell to your hips.

“Yeah, I had a soft landing.” You teased, causing him to snort out another laugh. "All these years and you can still make the Earth move for me, Barber."

"Well, I aim to please." he quipped as you leaned down to press your lips to his.

"Is everything alright?" You head a voice say which stopped you mid kiss. Your eyes flew open, as did Andy's and the pair of you looked at one another, as Andy started to laugh again.

"Yeah, fine, just a little...mishap with the sun lounger." You called over to where the voice had come from, the next room down to yours.

"But thank you for asking." Andy added, polite as always.

"No problem!" The male voice shot back, before you heard the sliding of a door and the click of a lock as it shut.

"Reminds me of that time at my parents when we broke my old bed." You giggled and Andy snorted, his hands smoothing over your thighs.

"In my defence, that thing was almost as old as me.”

"Well that's a load of shit." You grinned, looking down at him, your hands sliding through his rumpled, fluffy hair. "I only got it when I was eighteen, and given that you're ten years older than me that would mean-"

"Yeah, okay, shut up." He mumbled as his hand reached round the back of your neck, pulling you back down to him.

[tommybaholland]

may I have some hcs for how noya, suga, suna, and maybe??? tsuki (I didn't see him in your list of characters you currently write for, so I wasn't sure if you would write for him if I requested him, so I understand if you don't) react to their s/o who's in a sports team (in high school if possible unless you prefer to age them up I understand!) too (I'm not specifying/choosing so other readers can feel included!) injuring their knee during practice, but not taking it seriously and they just limp around everywhere instead of going to the doctor or trying to do something to feel better. I went too hard on badminton practice yesterday and I literally cannot bend, or put weight on my knee right now so I'm just limping around cause I'm too scared to ask my mom if she can take me to the hospital sjjjdjshs. Don't be like me pls🧍‍♀️as someone who's injured several muscles over 2 times I am begging to take this seriously if you ever get injured, I hope you're taking care of yourself!! :))

when their s/o tries to hide an injury

featuring: nishinoya, sugawara, and suna

yes, unfortunately, i don’t write for tsukki right now, but here are the other three :) i’ll let the writing do the talking, but take it easy and i hope you feel better soon! 

nishinoya

he’s probably the least observant and that doesn’t mean he can’t take a hint when something’s wrong with you

but he usually doesn’t find out about it until after something happens 

you two have quite the playful relationship and are no strangers to playing fighting or jumping onto each other

one day at school, he snuck up behind you to hop onto your back as he often did 

and normally you wouldn’t mind and can handle it because he’s as light as a feather 

but today your back didn’t take it so well as you let out a strained gasped at feeling his weight put pressure onto it 

“hey, my beautiful, sweet, gorgeous-- hey, are you okay? did i hurt you?”

you knew you were going to have to have this conversation with him eventually but of course, you were too late

you wince as you try to stand up straight again, explaining that your back was already hurting from practice

“oh, well, then you should probably go see the nurse. can’t have you hurting, gorgeous.”

you promise him that it’s okay and you probably just need to stretch it out later

he hesitantly accepts your answer, but worries about you all-day long

it makes him usually quiet 

so he decides that he can’t let you tolerate your pain

on your way to the gym after school for practice, you find him waiting outside 

“you can’t practice today, babe.”

you actually get a little annoyed at him for trying to tell you what you can and can’t do

“oh, you’re fine? okay, then-- oops, i dropped my pen. can you pick it up for me? it’s closer to you.”

you knew where this was going 

but your back said otherwise and you barely hinged forward before it felt like someone was literally stabbing you in the back

“see? you can barely bend over. i’m taking you to the nurse or a doctor or something so you can get better.”

he grabs your hand and starts leading you away when you stop and ask him about your practice and volleyball

“i talked to the coach before you got here and they agree with me. i can miss one day of practice. the rest of them would probably do the same for their s/o and besides most of them still suck at receiving so they can practice that and serving at the same time!”

you still don’t look convinced so he brings you closer to him by tugging lightly on the bottom of your school uniform

“don’t worry, beautiful. i got it all sorted out, okay?” 

you finally nod and he seals his promise with a small kiss 

“listen, you’re my strong, beautiful, gorgeous, smart s/o and i love you! i’ll try to pay more attention to you but i need you to let me know when you’re hurting..”

he couldn’t let you get away with a small scolding bc his oblivious ass loves you too much 

sugawara

he observes but tries not to make a big deal out of it or bring it up in a confrontational way 

you had a slight limp on the way to school and on the way home with him after both of your practices finished

he invited you over to hang out for a bit before your curfew and he notices that you struggled a little to sit down next to him on his bed like you were in pain

“sugar, are you alright?” he asked, his hand rubbing across your back

you tell him you’re fine

“okay...are you sure? i’m pretty sure you’ve been limping this entire day and just now it looked like it hurt to sit down.”

you admit that your hip has been bothering you ever since practice the day before and you thought it would just get better over time 

“well, how bad is the pain?”

it’s not too bad, you think

he has you lay down and he tries to examine you a bit himself

“does it hurt when i lift your leg like this?”

he slowly tries to lift it to a ninety-degree angle but a sharp pain shoots right into your hip 

you wince and tense up at the pain 

he frowns as he immediately puts your leg down, “it’s only your hip, right? your knee doesn’t hurt or anything?”

you shake your head, still tense from the pain that it’s causing you 

he lays down next to you, rubbing a soothing hand up and down you arm, “aww, i’m sorry it hurts so much, sweetness, but-- wait, you didn’t go to practice like this did you?  

well, the karma was certainly hitting

he sighs, “babe, why would you-- never mind, i think you need to go see the doctor.”

that’s when the tears start to fall

he pulls you into his arms upon seeing your tears, “i know you don’t wanna go, sweetheart, but you need to get this checked out. i just hate seeing you in so much pain and they can help you feel better.” 

you hate the doctor

it just makes you just feel like more of a helpless burden 

“you’re not a burden, sugar. this looks serious and you shouldn’t be in so much pain. i don’t think we should let it go any longer so let’s get you bundled up in some of my sweatpants and that one sweater you like. i’ll take you and be there for you the entire time, okay?” 

gives you a few reassuring kisses and lets you lay there with him for a bit longer before you get ready to go

he would never let his sweet s/o suffer and always stays true to his word 

and you bet that he’ll be there when you’re confined to bed rest, making sure you’re not overexerting yourself so he can see your beautiful smile again

suna

he’s the most observant out of these three and won’t hesitate to ask about it

he didn’t see you much during the day at school but he walked you home almost every day after practice and usually ended up staying for dinner

so he always had that to look forward to

he was surprised when he got a glance of you outside the gym earlier than normal 

and he really got curious when he saw how off-balanced and wobbly you seemed

you waited outside for him, not wanting to interrupt practice 

you had skipped your own practice that day, seeing that nobody knew you had hurt your knee 

but you knew suna would find out eventually so you were just trying to figure out what to tell him 

“hey, so when were you going to tell me that you’re hurt?”

he was so quiet and stealthy that you didn’t even notice him standing there with all his stuff, ready to leave for the day

he was never less than confrontational

“and don’t try to hide it from me, babe. i can see the limp in your step.”

your knee has been hurting since practice the other day and it wasn’t getting any better

“i see. have you tried icing it or anything?”

the habitual blank expression in his face had turned downward as you shook your head

“baby, how many times do i have to tell you? you can’t just let things like this go. it’s not good for you.” 

you tell him not to tell your parents or make you go to the doctor because it doesn’t hurt that bad

“of course. i can’t make you do anything, but let’s at least try putting some ice on it and elevating it first, okay?” 

you agree and then he tries to pick you up, insisting on carrying you all the way home 

“babe, i can do it. i’ve got a strong core, remember?”

you’re still refusing him like, ‘pls chill, i’m not dying’

“okay, but hold onto me when you need. and here, do you want to wear this? it’s a bit cold out.”

he gives you his team jacket to wear 

you begin walking and you realize you’re more unsteady than you thought

he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, and has you wrap an arm around his shoulders so he can steady you a little more

once you get to his house, he gets you all set up in his bed with ice and your leg propped up on a few pillows 

then he makes sure you’re all cozy with plenty of blankets and him snuggled up beside you

he doesn’t look like it but he loves to dote on you even when you’re being stubborn <3

hold on haikyuu night!! there’s more if you want to request..