#depending on how fast/how many asks i respond to/receive

[crushedsweets]

does Connie know it’s Toby leaving the flowers?? What does she think of him now? I’m in tears

connie believes its toby, but has no evidence! smth abt a mothers intuition. she's left letters filled with money on the front porch around the holidays he visits. he doesnt come consistently, so she often has to bring the letter back inside. he also never, ever takes the card, even if he sees it. she'd eventually put his name on it, and that would freak him out. he'd wouldn't come for the next year cuz of it scaring him off. she wouldnt do it again, but that would be her confirmation that it was toby. she wouldnt put up cameras or try to catch him, she's not ready to confront him either - nor does she want to scare him off for good.

in the same way toby blames himself, connie blames herself. smth abt "i never shouldve married him, i shouldve divorced him early, i shouldve fought more, i shouldve been there for toby, i shouldve picked toby up from that appointment, not lyra, i shouldve made sure toby was taking his meds, i shouldve-" and it eats her alive. she could never hate toby, thats her baby.

she watched him get beat, watched him come home bawling from bullying, watched him suffer from hallucinations/delusions, suffer through days in the hospital all his childhood, mourn his sisters death, be bleeding from franks abuse and tell her not to worry cuz at least he cant feel it. she knows objectively what toby did was wrong and part of her is scared of him for it. she knows that the cops associate his name with some murders that happened in colorado after his disappearance, but she doesn't believe it in the slightest. "my toby would never hurt an innocent soul. he's a good boy, you should've seen him with his sister. whatever happened with his father was not the same. he'd never do that." even though he did

[yourimagines]

hi, if you are still accepting requests, could you please make an nsfw alphabet for Khabib or Islam? Of course, only if you are comfortable with it💗

Of course, I will do them both for you

What they like

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Triggers: 18+, Smut, NSFW

Khabib Alphabet:

A - Aftercare,What he likes after sex: he likes to stay in bed to relax and holding you close to his body.

B - Body part, his favourite body part of himself and yours: his favourite body part of himself is probably his hands, they are much bigger than yours. His favourite body part of you is your eyes, he sees everything what you want or feel by just looking at your eyes.

C - Cum, Anything to do with cum: he’s respectful to you so he doesn’t like to cum on your face or something like that, but he likes to cum in your vagina, mouth or on your stomach when he pulls out to late.

D - Dirty Secret, A dirty secret of himself: he secretly loves it when you send him those flirty pictures, especially he’s away from you for a while and needs to clear his mind 😉

E - Experience, How experienced is he? Does he know what he’s doing: He’s religious and doesn’t know a lot but he knows how to please you, he asks a lot if you like that or he watches you how your body responds to his moves.

F - Favourite Position: he likes old school missionary, it’s intimate for him, he can look at your face and eyes, he’s wants to be close with you.

G - Goofy, Is he more serious in the moment, or is he more joking around: he’s a serious guy but likes to make you laugh so sometimes he will make a joke to make you feel safer with him.

H - Hair, How well groomed is he: he likes to keep it short but not to short, he finds it manly. He does sometimes shave it all off if you ask him to do that.

I - Intimacy, How is he during the moment, on a romantic aspect: he likes to take his time with you, he wants to please you, he wants you to feel safe with him and wants to share these intimate moments with you. He doesn’t like the quickies and the leaving you alone afterwards kind off stuff.

J - Jack Off, Masturbation: when he is alone or you are not in the mood he does Jack off. Sometimes he asks you but if you are not there he does it on his own, thinking and fantasising about you.

K - Kink, One or more of his kinks: Size difference and that he’s much more stronger than you. He likes to be the one in charge and that he’s bigger than you.

L - Location, his Favourite places: his or you bedroom, he likes to do it privately. He wants it to be intimate.

M - Motivation, What turns him on: the way you look at him, when you touch his chest with your small hands, when you say to him you need him.

N - NO, Something he wouldn’t do: hit you, spit or something like that. He doesn’t want to hurt you or disrespect you in anyway.

O - Oral, Preference in giving or receiving: he’s more in giving, he likes to please you more than you please him but of course he likes it when you jerk him off or give him head but he always makes sure you cum first.

P - Pace, what is his pace: he’s more like slower kind of a guy but sometimes he’s fast and rough if you ask him nicely.

Q - Quickie, His opinions on quickies rather than proper sex: he doesn’t like it, he want to take his time to show you how much you mean to him.

R - Risk, Does he likes take risks and game to experiment: No not really, he likes to try things out but not when people can here or see you guys, he’s a very private person.

S - Stamina, How many rounds can he go for, how long can he last: he has a good stamina, he can last for a solid hour and a half. Than he needs a small water break (lol). He probably cums 2 or 3 times depend for how long he’s pleasing you.

T - Toy, Does he own toys, Does he use them on you or himself?: he doesn’t has any toys but likes to use yours on you during the foreplay. He doesn’t use toys on himself, he’s uncomfortable with that idea.

U - Unfair, how much he likes to tease: he likes to tease you, he likes how you look at him and beg for more but he knows his limits and doesn’t want to go to far with that, he wants to keep it fun and safe for both of you.

V - Volume, How loud is he and what sounds does he makes: he’s loud, he likes to grunt, moan, he likes to moan some dirty words in his native language. He also moans your name and talks mostly in his native language, calling you beautiful.

W - Wild Card: he likes to do it at night, it’s convenient for him, you guys can stay there and fall asleep. In the morning you can’t otherwise your morning is gone.

X - X-Ray, what’s going on in his pants: he’s huge, thick veins on the sides, bit of hair but not to long.

Y - Yearning, How high is his sex drive: Almost every time he’s with you cuddling and getting all cosy he gets hard but he also likes to just hold you and not go further than that but he’s always ready.

Z - ZZZ, how quick he falls asleep afterwards: he’s tired but waits a bit before he sleeps. He takes care of you first and then he closes his eyes, knowing your comfortable and safe in his arms.

Islam alphabet:

A - Aftercare, What he likes after sex: he likes to take a shower or a bath with you before you guys go to sleep.

B - Body part, his favourite body part of himself and yours: he likes his arms, you always grab them. He likes your hands, they are soft and small.

C - Cum, Anything to do with cum: He will cum everywhere on you, in you but also over your breasts, stomach even your face.

D - Dirty Secret, A dirty secret of himself: he wants to fuck you when you’re peacefully sleeping but he never does it because he doesn’t want to invade your privacy or make you feel unsafe with him.

E - Experience, How experienced is he, Does he know what he’s doing: he’s been with someone before so he knows already some things, he knows what he’s doing and how to make you cum.

F - Favourite Position: Doggy, he likes to grab your ass, squeeze in it, playfully slap it. Seeing his dick going in and out. It’s his favourite position.

G - Goofy, Is he more serious in the moment, or is he more joking around: He’s joking a lot, likes to hear you laugh even when you guys are intimate with each other.

H - Hair, How well groomed is he: He likes to let it grow but shaves it for you if you think it’s to much. He doesn’t really care.

I - Intimacy, How is he during the moment, romantic aspect: he’s a joker and likes to try new things out but he wants you to have a good time either, you always cum, before or after him he will make sure of that.

J - Jack Off, Masturbation: He Jacks off a lot, when he’s away or when you posted a hot picture.

K - Kink, One or more of his kinks: Language kink, breeding kink, he has a few kinks but those two as the most important ones for him. He likes to cuss in his own language, saying filthy things to you without you knowing what it means, he also likes to cum inside of you, thinking about you being pregnant, caring his child.

L - Location, Favourite places to do: Bedroom, kitchen, living room, in your walk-in closet and even in his private locker room at the gym. Everywhere except public places like an Airport. He likes a bit of a thrilling feeling but doesn’t like that, people watching or maybe worst recording him.

M - Motivation, What turns him on: you in his clothes, that’s something that’s turns him on big time. Looking all cute and comfy, he loves it.

N - NO, Something he wouldn’t do: Using his mma stuff on you, like flipping you over and choke you, hit you that it will bruise or something that isn’t fun for you, he wants you to like it as well.

O - Oral, Preference in giving or receiving: he likes both but he loves it when you jack him off or give him head. Seeing and feeling you all over him makes him go crazy.

P - Pace, what is his pace: Fast and rough is what he likes the most, just fucking you. He does sometimes do the slow and intimate pace but only if you ask for that otherwise it’s fast and rough.

Q - Quickie, His opinions on quickies rather than proper sex: he likes them, just a quick one before a training, releasing his frustrations out on you. But if he had to choose he would choose the proper way, way more fun if you have way more time.

R - Risk, does he likes to take risks and game to experiment: he likes to try things out but he’s still careful with the doing it at public places, he does like to try things out in bed but he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.

S - Stamina, How many rounds can he go for, how long does he last: he can go for three solid round, he’s cums fast so it’s a challenge sometimes if you want to cum multiple times

T - Toy, Does he own toys, Does he use them on you or himself: he doesn’t have them and rarely uses the one you have, only if you have a hard times to cum than he uses your toys. He likes to please you without the backup help.

U - Unfair, how much he likes to tease: he’s a teaser, he’s teases you so much you get overstimulated, he likes that your get all whining and stuff.

V - Volume, How loud is he and what sounds does he makes: he’s a moaner, he moans and talks a bit but not to loudly, he hates his voice and likes to hear yours instead.

W - Wild Card: he’s a morning person and likes it if he wakes up with his cock inside of you, his little cock warmer.

X - X-Ray, what’s going on in his pants: a thick dick with a few veins on the sides, he has some hair down there.

Y - Yearning, How high is his sex drive: he’s always ready, always ready to go down on you.

Z - ZZZ, how quick he falls asleep afterwards: He always falls asleep afterwards but he tries to take care of you, he knows how important aftercare is so he makes sure you’re comfortable enough with him before he falls asleep.

[askthehedgehogs]

To Mod, will you be turning off asks when the wedding 2.0 is near so you can answer all the ones you want, or will you leave them on the whole time?

[........................ Good question 😅 I honestly hadn't planned that far ahead. I had the vague idea that I would do Something Special for the wedding, maybe an animatic, and open the floor before/after the wedding for specifically wedding related questions to answer during that week.

I guess it depends how many asks I'm getting in July as well? Like, if the asks happen to slow down then I won't need to do anything. But if they're coming in at the rate they are currently... I say glancing nervously at the 40 unanswered asks in my inbox... Then I may need to close asks periodically just to catch up 😅

It's tough because I don't WANNA turn off asks, I love to receive asks, and last night having people respond to the glitter event as it was happening was super fun... But I also feel bad that people are having to wait several days for an answer to their asks. I have been prioritising asks that are responses to things I've posted, so the context doesn't get lost, which means some people must be waiting a while. I feel bad about it, but also, I can only draw so fast haha

Anyway in answer to your question. Maybe. Remains to be seen. Maybe I'll just get y'all to send in what you wanna see of the wedding the week before and try to load up my queue and then get back to non-wedding posting after?]

[lassify]

Is Twilight a good therapist?

[Spoilers for SxF Ch.77 if you haven't already read it!!]

I am a huge fan of seeing representation of what it's like to be in the therapy room, but there are always soooo many things that the media get wrong, and I really wanted to draw attention to Twilight's portrayal as a therapist. (This is coming from the POV of someone who works in a clinical setting in the UK/Scotland).

Before I get stuck in, I also want to make it clear that Psychiatrists and Psychologists are VERY different, and in this scene Twilight is very much acting as a Psychologist.

("What's the difference?" you may ask.

WELL:

It's easy. A Psychiatrist is trained as a medical doctor, specialising in mental disorders largely from a biology perspective, and they are qualified to prescribe drugs and medication.

A Psychologist on the other hand delivers talking therapies, and is trained to see mental health from multiple perspectives. Basically, exactly what we see Twilight doing in this scene!)

So, we have a spy who has received next to zero medical training and, as far as I can tell, has whizzed through textbooks in his spare time - no placements, no clinical training, no assessments or exams, no clinical supervisor to assist in reflection or case management.

So, how does he do?

Normalising responses to traumatic events ✅

Mr Austin has done the brave thing and turned up looking for help, and Twilight/Dr Forger responds by putting his problems into context, and normalising the experience for him. We love to see it. This is SO important to trauma-informed working.

2. Providing reassurance and expectations for recovery ✅

I love this even more because what Twilight is saying is true. Only 10% of people who experience a potentially traumatic event actually develop PTSD symptoms, and of those, 70% will recover within the year. Twilight is reiterating the message that acute trauma is absolutely recoverable.

3. Teaching and demonstrating coping skills ✅

It's not enough for clinicians to simply tell their patients about coping skills, it is essential to demonstrate them too. Bringing the practice of coping skills into the therapy room is so important for helping the patient to build their skills, and to build the therapeutic alliance as well.

Here, Twilight is teaching a simple breathing technique, but I would also commend him for teaching other coping skills: grounding, distraction, progressive muscle relaxation, visualisation, and more - although all/most of these rely on breath control as a foundation.

4. Encouraging guided self-help and making medical reccommendations ✅✅

Just trying a breathing exercise once does not make recovery easy. Twilight knows it's important to encourage patients to do this in their own time.

And, finally, we see him acting as a psychiatrist, and reccommending medication. (Although, let's temporarily ignore that as a spy he has NO TRAINING in psychopharmaceuticals).

5. Breaching confidentiality ❌ Confrontational approach ❌

Oh, Twilight... You have fucked up. Big time. This is the biggest fuck up of the entire session.

It's his SECOND session with this patient, and not only does he take a confrontational approach (putting Mr Austin on the defensive, definitely not conducive to a good therapeutic relationship), but he has BREACHED CONFIDENTIALITY. Depending on severity this is A FIREABLE OFFENCE (even in the UK!).

6. Positioning oneself as the 'expert' ❌ Telling the patient to confront their abuser❌ Not taking into account patient's readiness for change ❌

Oh HELL no. Absolutely not. Confronting fear is a delicate and lengthy process requiring many steps, and always checking in with the patient at every step of the way. It cannot go too fast.

The therapeutic relationship is an alliance, and it's important to empower the patient to make their own choices in therapy, especially if it's something that is a source of fear.

Not only that, but telling anyone to confront their abuser is straight up the worst advice ever. It's not safe.

6.5 Providing rationale and reassurance✅

Okay, I'll concede on this point. Twilight's rationale is sound: in the 'Cycle of Anxiety', Avoidance is a key factor in maintaining one's fear of something, and it is a core criterion in PTSD. Learning how to face a fear is really important to PTSD recovery.

And it's good that Twilight attempts to reassure Mr Austin's concerns.

7. Giving unsolicited relationship advice ❌

This is NOT your role, Twilight. You are outside the bounds of your job description. It's an admirable effort to connect with the patient, but, alas, not appropriate at this time.

8. Not taking risk into account ❌❌❌

This is a BIG one. It is not normal for a person to be so afraid of their spouse to be showing all the typical symptoms of a fight-or-flight fear response (sweating, shaking, racing thoughts, muscle tension, pupil dilation, etc.), and Twilight is missing some pretty obvious cues to indicate that Mr Austin is in a clearly unsafe situation.

HE IS LITERALLY TELLING YOU TO YOUR FACE!!

AND if its bad enough that Mr Austin can't even speak, that means his fear is bad enough to completely shut off his pre-frontal cortex (the centre of executive function, rational thought and decision making), which means that his fear is THAT bad. Add this up with the insomnia, chronic fatigue, frequent dissociation, irritability and mood swings, and suddenly it is bad enough to be considered a trauma response - and Twilight still doesn't question the source of this trauma.

Also, Twilight, you can afford to put the judgement aside. Please.

9. Facilitating an unsafe exercise ❌ Risking psychological safety ❌

Here Twilight is attempting a basic exercise inspired by exposure therapy (which Twilight is NOT trained in because he is a spy). While it is a therapy that has a decent evidence base, you don't to therapy to a patient, you do it with them, i.e. it's a process that needs to have a clear goal with informed consent.

In this instance, Twilight didn't prepare Mr Austin for the exercise, and he ended up in an actual flashback with very high levels of emotional distress. Unsafe.

And, again, psychiatrists do not typically deliver talk therapy - that is the job of psychologists.

Conclusion

Why did I make this thread?

I'm really happy that Endo put in the effort to illustrate a really interesting therapy session, bringing psychology and trauma into the forefront. These are sensitive topics and I applaud Endo for giving a really complex topic airtime, and doing the research into what a proper therapy session looks like - because, for all my criticisms here, it is a pretty decent represention of what therapy can look like. [Especially the good bits!]

I also think this scene/chapter alone does a great job of reducing the stigma of seeking help for mental illness. It's great to see in mainstream media, especially something as popular as Spy x Family, since Japan does have a high suicide rate and intense stigma for those suffering from mental illness.

However, I still felt the criticisms of Twilight's therapy session were important to voice.

We cannot forget that he is not a trained clinician. He is there to gather information on his patients and their families and connect him to the upper classes, which explains his confrontational approach and disregard to psychological safety.

As much as Twilight has truly absorbed the psychiatry textbooks and committed their content to memory, the effects of the lack of training is obvious, showing up as major errors in his clinical practice - some of which could get him fired in today's system.

TL;DR Twilight is a GREAT spy. But a therapist? Not your calling, my friend.

[muffinsin]

Greetings! Decided to do the NSFW alphabet challenge with Daniela! ;)

Let’s get into it!

Masterlist

A- Aftercare

Cuddling!! She loves to bask in her lover’s warmth and even fall asleep cuddled up under the heavy covers and blankets, often still naked

B- Body part

Favorite body part of hers: her Chest and thighs. Having the largest cleavage of her sisters and the softest and fleshiest thighs, she knows how to work them quite well

Favorite body part of others: their Chest also, her partner’s nipples especially in the case of breasts

C- Cum

Dani’s a creamer and squirter at times and can make quite a mess! She has a huge thing for swallowing cum too

D- Dirty secret

Despite seeming like the sweet, innocent youngest daughter of Alcina Dimitrescu, Daniela likes to try a variety of new kinks at times, especially in public

E- Experience

Has the most experience out of her sisters, on both, the receiving and giving side. She enjoys both almost equally much, but can be a massive brat

F- Favorite position

She loves to be taken from behind, but goes crazy when she is teased from under the table

G- Goofy

Extremely goofy most of the time, even during punishments, she will giggle every now and then

H- Hair

Completely dependent on her feel and motivation for the day. Might be a trimmed or full bush for one week, then be completely shaven the next, even have it trimmed into

I- Intimacy

Very intimate, with many kisses and cuddles, during and after the experience

J- Jack off

Dani’s sex drive is very high, unsurprisingly, as she loves to read filthy stories and scenes in her romance books. She barely uses her fingers to get off though and often retreats to her room at random times during the day to get off using her toys

K- Kink

Given her curious nature she has many kinks, although she loves exhibitionism and voyeurism and would probably state those are her favorites among a praise and bondage kink

L- Location

Public places! Especially the dinner hall, if she is played with and stimulated from under the table

M- Motivation

Dirty talk or teasing. Whether dominant or submissive, she responds to dirty talk and teasing, especially if toys are involved. Additionally, she often gets random sexual fantasies during the day that have her squirm

N- No

Scat or urine, otherwise she is open and curious about nearly everything, every kink and location

O- Oral

Loves giving it! She won’t ever turn down the offer of receiving it

P- Pace

Very slow and sensual, although if she is teased or especially needy, she will hope for a fast and rough session of lovemaking

Q- Quickie

A big fan of them!! She’ll want them as often as she can!

R- Risk

She is an extreme risk taker as it comes to things in public. She thrives off the humiliation and risk of getting caught with her loved one

S- Stamina

It varies, although she has a lot of it. She will easily ask for round after round when she is on top, and simply demand and take what she wants if she is particularly worked up. Being the one on the receiving end, she can go for a few couple of rounds

T- Toys

Has the biggest toy collection out of her family members. Her favorites include a strap, vibrating dildo and vibrating nipple clamps

U- Unfair

Although she behaves quite seductively and like quite the siren, teasing is her favorite past time ;)

V- Volume

She manages to stay surprisingly quiet, even the toughest orgasms only draw quiet moans and whimpers from her

W- Wild card

Has a surprising liking towards petplay, as a dom, yet also as a submissive

X- X-Ray

Smooth, lean skin with a few muscles here and there. She’s overall very soft

Y- Yearning

Very high, very often ;)

Z- zzz

Loves to cuddle up and sleep after a long session with her partner

[diary-ofamadwoman]

Thank you for tagging me @mothboypoison♥

Fanfic Writer Interview

How many works do you have on AO3?

30.

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

make me feel like your whole world - BSD, Fyodor/Nikolai

why would you make out of words - BSD, Fyodor/Nikolai

Love for you is like a religion, it’s terrifying - BSD, Fyodor/Nikolai

Don't be a Fool for the Devil, Darling! - BSD, Fyodor/Nikolai

Meow chances - Buddy Daddies, Kazuki/Rei

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, I'm trying to respond to everyone as fast as I can. It truly makes me so happy to know someone out there has enjoyed my work enough to leave a comment!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I find it quite a challenge to write angst and to be honest I start 95% of my works with the intention of making them fluffy, or simply not angsty in general. Maybe the easiest way for a work of mine to turn into angst is if there's smut too, but not always

Anywayy, for the angstiest ending: wanna fade away with you (T; Waka/Shion from After God) and You won't hear me Singing (M; Fyodor/Nikolai), although it might not seem like it at first glance

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I think most of my works have a somewhat happy ending. My favourite ones must be: remember the view, streetlights in the dark blue (E; Imori/Wani from After God), there's a big change in their relationship at the end of it, ✨a new beginning✨ And my four Fyolai modern AU winter fics, there's lots of fluff!

Do you write crossovers?

Nope

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep, m/m

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so

Have you ever had a fic translated?

The only one that's translated is by me (into my first language) A while ago someone asked if they could translate another one, but I've no idea if they did in the end ;(

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope but it sounds like fun

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Fyolai will always have a special place in my heart! But there are too many other ships I LOVE, from different series; the first ones that come to mind are AkiAngel and Obikawa/Tokinaga (After God)

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

All of my wips tbh ;( It's a bit difficult to continue something I haven't worked on for a long time, unless it's just small changes here and there or proofreading (eg for my unfinished Fyolai longfic)

What are your writing strengths?

Hmm, I've received many comments saying how easy it is to experience the emotions my characters are, so I guess that's one of them

What are your writing weaknesses?

As funny as it might sound since my works are in English - English in general. I wish I could use it the way I use my first language, to know all the rules and to be able to express myself the way I truly feel/want to. Another thing I want to improve is the dialogue and possibly adding more characters to a single work

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I think I've tried to? It definitely could be done really well, depending on the context and the characters

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

There are so many! Some of them are Given and HGSN, which I really want to write something for next year

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

My newest fic must be one of them! I took me more than a decade to create something for No.6 and I'm glad I finally have a fic written for it: a winter's tale; Untitled (To Nikolai), my first epistolary attempt, purely self-indulgent; A winter stroll under the stars, because it always makes me feel better

[saints-who-never-existed]

Bamboo, daffodil, mahonia, and papyrus for the flower ask game

Some loooong answers here, I'm afraid. I simply couldn't help myself! :)

Bamboo - Do you change into a different outfit when you get home?

Oh, 1000% percent yes!

The second I get home my jewellery is chucked in a box, my shoes hoofed into the nearest cupboard, my bra goes flying across the room like a slingshot to hit the floor with an audible thump, and my jim-jams are on for the evening!

Daffodil - Do you have siblings? If yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them?

I'm sandwiched in the middle of two brothers. We're close in age - one is two years older, the other two years younger and we get along great!

My big brother is a little more like me personality-wise, I reckon. We're both very solid and dependable sort of people whereas my younger brother, god bless him, is and always has been the flakiest, most chaotic wee bastard on the planet.

I'd say the biggest thing we all have in common is our sense of humour which is absurd, filthy, and pretty sick at times if I'm honest. We're especially big fans of creative insults often rich in word-play and so silly that they can never actually be taken to heart, just begrudgingly appreciated. It was my birthday the other week and I received some lovely cards from the pair of them - one calling me a "chuckling fuck-biscuit" and the other calling me, simply, "weasel-tits".

Call me crazy but I find a delightful sort of poetry in nonsense like that!

Mahonia - What place/thing/activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?

Well, one thing I've always found hugely inspiring is nature in general and more specifically, the landscape around the loch near my home back in Scotland.

I've always been interested in mythology and religion and folklore but often found difficulty when it came to actually, truly believing in any of it. So I asked myself - 'Well, what do I believe in? What does inspire that level of devotion and ecstasy in me?' - and the answer was the land itself.

I was at art school at the time and found expression in planning and conducting a personal pilgrimage through several key locations around the loch. I created my own mythology of sorts weaving lots of different ideas and material together - fire and earth, stone and water, mothers, maidens and crones. My trek culminated in climbing my own personal 'Holy Mountain' - the highest in the region. And when I came down again, I made all sorts of things including a short film (which was shite lol), a series of sculptures in a variety of materials like stone, wood and wax, and the pièce de résistance - a pilgrim's guide/bible/grimoire.

I made the paper itself from scratch, I wrote the whole thing laboriously out by hand, and bound it lovingly together and it's still one of my favourite things I ever made.

Papyrus - If you put your ‘On Repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? What do you like about it/associate it with?

A lovely version of a song I've loved forever!

Not only is it just rollicking good fun, it's also a very entertaining challenge to see just how many verses you can add and how fast you can sing them before you run out of breath entirely!

It's a great song for drinking to but I discovered years ago that, oddly enough, babies also go absolutely wild for it? I think it's the rhythm and repetition they respond well to.

I've come to associate it with my nieces in particular as I have a lovely memory of singing it to them when they were younger. There I was - 4 month-old niece cradled expertly in one arm, lulled to sleep by my dulcet tones, and 5 year-old niece hanging from my other arm, spinning me round in an exuberant jig and having the time of her tiny wee life. <3

[getblackout503]

1776, New Clover City

Today was a terrible day so far. Asta just received word that his application for Golden dawn college was just rejected, on the account he was too young. Not to mention he had just got into a fight with a bursar, ending with Staria punching him. Not a good day indeed. So as he walked down the streets of New Clover City, he was shocked yet excited to see the very man he was looking for. As he prepared himself to talk to the brunette man, he walked behind and asked the question.

“Pardon me,” Staria began. “Are you Gauche Adlai, sir?”

The man turned around, having a book in hand.

“Well that depends, who’s asking?” He said in an unreadable expression and tone.

“Oh right, sure sir,” Asta bowed. “My name is Asta Staria I’m at your service, sir”

“I’m getting nervous,” Adlai said as he watched the staria closely.

“Sir, I heard your name at the Golden Dawn college. I was seeking an accelerated course of study, but I may have gotten out of sorts with a buddy of yours. I may have punched him!” He puts his hands up in defense. “I may have punched him, it was a bit of a blur sir, he handles the finances?”

Gauche seems to take a moment and think for a bit before it hits him.

“Oh, you mean the bursar?”

“Yes!” Asta answered a bit too loudly. “I wanted to do what you did, graduate in two years then join the revolution!” He seemed to get louder, much to Gauche’s dismay. “But he looked at me like I was stupid, I’m not stupid”

Gauche chuckles a bit at that, as he puts his book in his bag he thinks for a bit. Before he is brought back out of them by Asta.

“How did you do it sir? How did you graduate so fast?”

Gauche paused at his question, normally he wouldn’t disclose personal information but something about Asta made Adlai trust him.

“It was my parents dying wish before they past”

“You’re an orphan?” Asta asks, he then seems to get excited. “Of course! I’m an orphan! God I wish there was a war so we could prove we’re worth more than anyone bargained for”

Gauche turned to face the young man.

“Can I buy you a drink, Staria?”

“That would be nice, sir.” He responded gratefully.

“Now, while we’re talking let me give you some free advice,” Gauche started walking to a nearby bar, with Asta in tow. “Talk less,”

“What?”

“Smile more,” Gauche said to the ash blonde man. Who responded with nervous laughter. “Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”

“Sir, you can’t be serious?”

“Do you want to get ahead?”

“Y-Yes, sir”

“Well, fools who run their mouth wind up dead.” Gauche says, as he opens the door of the bar to let Asta in, to which Asta is immediately met with three men in the tavern making a ruckus.

“Yo, what time is it?” One of the obviously intoxicated men asked two of his comrades, one of which Asta knew. But the man who asked the question had black hair, golden eyes, and a pendulum around his neck.

“Showtime!” All three men said at the same time.

“Like I said.” Asta heard Gauche say as they began to walk closer to the men.

“Yo, my name is Yuno Grinberryall, in the place to be, had two pints of sam adams. But I’m working on three.” He cheered as his friends hyped him up. “Those redcoats don’t want it with me, because I’ll Pop-chicka-pop these cops til I’m free!”

“Oui Oui, mon ami, je m’appelle Leopold Vermillon.” One of the redheaded men said in french, he wore clothes that showed he came from nobility. As all his clothes were made from expensive materials. “The lancelot of the revolutionary set, I came from afar just to say bonsoir, tell the king casse toi, who’s the best, c’est moi!”

Asta laughed slightly at Leopold just said for the king to go away, as Asta understood French alongside many other languages.

“Brrah! Brrah!” The final man began, and Asta already knew he was for he was the man who suggested he looked for Gauche. But he still listened to his friend's ridiculous banter. “I am Zora Ideala. Up in it, Lovin’ it. I heard your mother say "come again.” The joke made the other two men laugh. “Lock up your daughters and horses, of course it’s hard to have intercourse over four sets of corsets.”

“Wow,” Responded Leopold.

“No more sex, pour me another brew son,” Yuno grabbed his glass before raising it into the air. “Let’s raise a couple more to the”

“Revolution!” All three said at once, that is until they spotted Gauche. While Zora spotted his friend Asta.

“Well, If it ain’t the prodigy of Golden Dawn college.” Yuno stated, walking over to Gauche.

“Gauche Adlai.” Zora said in a low playfully mocking voice.

“Give us a verse, drop some knowledge.”

“Yeah, right.” Gauche chuckled lightly. “You’re taking a stand, you guys spit, I’mma sit, we’ll see where we land.”

“Boo!” Both Zora and Leopold said in disappointment.

“Adlai, the revolution is imminent, what do you stall for?” Yuno asked.

“If you stand for nothing Adlai, what will you fall for?” Asta said, now grabbing the attention of Leo and Yuno.

“Oh, who are you?”

“Who are you?”

“Who is this kid, what is he gonna do?” They asked together.

“Gentlemen, that’s Asta Staria, a friend of mine.”

They turned to Asta to see what he had to say.

‘I am not throwing my shot’

“It’s nice to meet you gentlemen.” He started. “I plan on getting a scholarship at Black Bulls college, I know I shouldn’t brag but dang do I amaze and astonish. But the one problem I have is I have a lot of brains but no polish, I got to holler just to be heard. But with every word I drop knowledge. I’m a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal trying to reach my goal, my power of speech? Unimpeachable. I’m only nineteen but my mind is older, and as these New Clover streets get colder and I shoulder everything burden and every disadvantage I have learned to manage. While I don’t have a gun brandish I walk these streets famished.”

“Phew” leopold exhales, this kid was rapid fire. But he had so much confidence with every word he said.

“But the plan is to fan this spark into a flame, but damn it’s dark so let me spell out the name, I am the A,S-T,A S,T-A-R,I-A and we are meant to be a colony the runs independently, and yet Old Clover keeps shitting on us endlessly, and essentially they tax us relentlessly then King Kira turns around and runs a spending spree, he ain’t never gonna set his descendent free, so there will be a revolution in this century. (Enter me)”

“He says in parentheses.”

“Don’t be shocked when your history books mention me, I will lay down my life if it sets us free and eventually you’ll see my ascendancy. And I am not throwing my shot, I’m just like my country. I'm young, scrappy, and hungry, and-” Asta was cut off by Yuno.

“Not throwing my shot.” Yuno smiled back, as well as Zora and Leo. “Gentlemen, it’s time to take a shot.”

“I dream of life without a monarchy, the unrest France will leave to onarchy, onarchy?” Leo said, as he struggled to find the right word as he was still new to the English language. “How do you say? Oh! An-archy.” He says, still with some struggle but he manages. “But when I fight, I make the other side panicky with my shot!”

“Yo! I’m a tailor's apprentice, and I got y’all knuckles head as a loco parentis, but I’m joining the rebellion cuz I know it’s my chance to socially advance and instead of sewing some pants Imma take a shot!” Zora said loud and comfortably.

“Yeah, But!” Yuno starts off. “We will never be truly free unless those in bondage have the same rights as you and me.” Immediately Asta agreed with Yuno. “You and I, do or die. Just wait when I sally in on a stallion with the first black battalion. Have another Shot!”

They all cheered until Gauche came in.

“Genius’ lower your voice, you have to keep out of trouble and you double your choices. I’m with you but the situation is fraught, you have to be carefully taught, if you talk you’re gonna get.”

“Shot.” The other four men said, solemnly.

“But Adlai, look at what we got, Mister Vermillion hard rock like lancelot.” Asta turns to Zora. “I think your pants look hot,” Then to Yuno. “Grinberryall I like you a lot, let’s hatch a plot blacker the the kettle calling the pot! What are the odds the gods would put us all in one spot! Pop a squat on conventional wisdom whether you like it or not! A bunch of revolutionary, manumission, abolitionists? Give me a position, show me where the ammunition is!” Asta says in a flash, but soon realization and embarrassment hits him. “Am I talking too loud? Sometimes I get over excited and shoot off at the mouth. I’ve never had a group of friends before but I promise I’ll make you all proud.” Asta really liked them, they were his first friends ever, and he wanted them to like him. Soon Yuno broke the silence.

“Let’s get this guy in front of a crowd!” He yelled, his voice full of approval.

Soon the four guys ran into the streets gathering people as Gauche opted to stay behind. As the crowd grew the more anxious Asta got, he had to speak in front of them all, he had to leave a good impression. Yuno was already rallying the crowd.

“Rise! When you’re living on your knees you rise up! Tell your brother he has to rise up! Tell your sister she has to rise up!”

So once they arrived at town square he prepared himself.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I…I imagine death so much it feels like a memory, when is it going to get me in my sleep? Or seven feet ahead of me? If I see it coming do I run or let it be? Is it like a beat without a melody? I never thought I would live past twenty, where I come from some people get half as many. We live fast, we laugh, and we reach for a flask. We have to make this moment last, that’s plenty. But no! This is not a moment, it's the movement, where did all the hungriest brothers with something to prove went? When foes oppose us we take an honest stand. We roll like Moses taking our promised land. And if we win our independence, does that guarantee freedom for our descendants? Or will the blood we shed begin an endless cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants? And I know the action in the street is exciting, but between all the bleeding and fighting I’ve been reading and writing. We need to handle our financial situation, are we a nation of states? What is the state of our nation? I’M PAST PATIENTLY WAITING! I’M PASSIONATELY SMASHING EVERY EXPECTATION! EVERY ACTION IS AN ACT OF CREATION!” Asta screams out, inspiring everyone in the square. “I’m laughing in the face of casualties and sorrow, for the first time I’m thinking past tomorrow.” He was on the verge of tears, he was feeling so many emotions. “And I am not throwing my Shot!”

[thesimplyluxuriouslife]

How to Find Love: Be Love Instead of Look for Love, as taught by Jay Shetty

"We think love has to be obtained, earned, achieved, and received. We look for it in the form of attention and compliments, and people acknowledging us. But actually the greatest way to experience love is to give it." —Jay Shetty, author of 8 Rules of Love: How to Find it, Keep it, and Let it Go

A simple formula to love is to be it and it appears. However, this seems either too simple for some of us or to not produce the 'type of love' we had in mind. Such thinking, to have a narrow definition of what love has to be in our lives to be fulfilled, or to refuse to let go and just be instead of chasing, demanding, swiping or requiring, is to get in our own way when it comes to living a life, every single day, full of love.

Because guess what? Such a life is possible, and it is part of what living simply luxuriously is all about. In fact, it is at the core, because as I will share today, it all comes down to finding peace with ourselves, embracing our true selves and engaging fully with the world without expectation. But again, we are being asked to do less, not more, to look inward so that we can engage lovingly outward as well as lovingly toward ourselves. We are being asked to be honest about what makes us feel loved and stop engaging in practices that result in anything but.

With all of that said, it was with great appreciation that I picked up Jay Shetty's second book that was released in January of this year, 8 Rules of Love: How to Find it, Keep it and Let it Go. However, as I often let my mood or energy determine what I am ready to explore between book covers, I didn't begin reading the book until earlier this June, and as soon as I did, beginning with the very first page, I didn't put it down for one day until I had read it entirely.

The first page of the Introduction prepares you for what Shetty is trying to prepare the reader for when you finally reach the last couple of chapters, revealing what living a loving life, being love, is really all about. Shetty begins with an anecdote of a student asking what the difference between like and love is, and the teacher responds by sharing, "When you like a flower, you pluck it. When you love a flower, you water it daily."

Of course as someone who loves gardening and delights in all that gardening can and does teach us about life if only we choose to be her student, this analogy held fast my attention and gained agreement. Shetty goes on to explain how cutting a flower is equivalent to attraction, something that we covet, but quite quickly lose interest in symbolized by the wilting of the flower after it can no longer be sustained in the vase. But love is when we choose to keep the flower alive and give it what the flower needs - the proper sunlight, soil and water. And as every gardener knows, every plant has different needs when it comes to these three fundamentals. As well, a flower doesn't share its full awesomeness the first year, not even the first, second or third year, and the years could go on, again depending upon the flower, which is why care, over time, "doing our best over time" is when we "fully experience [the flower's] beauty—the freshness, the color, the scent, the bloom. You notice the delicate detail on each petal. You watch it respond to the seasons. You find joy and satisfaction when a new bud appears and feel a thrill when it blossoms." There are many different types of relationships that involve love that parallel with this analogy of caring properly and lovingly for a flower, and at the core of all of them is choosing to give daily effort, and giving what the loved one needs as you get to know them over time. But just as this is being given, in a loving relationship, this is being received so that you too can flourish and bloom into your fullest and most true self and potential. It's a two-way street and so it takes awareness to make sure we bring knowledge about ourselves to every relationship.

Before I get ahead of myself, in today's post, I am drawing on the knowledge of Jay Shetty as shared in his book, 8 Rules of Love, and sharing the key components about the four ashrams of love which when we consciously engage in each, teach us how to be love at the deepest level and thereby elevate the quality of every single day of our life. I highly recommend picking up his book if anything today speaks to you. It is a wonderful resource full of specific examples, tools and practices paired with his experience and guidance.

Let's get started.

How to Be Love:

The first ashram of love is about preparing for love by learning to be alone and learning from past relationships so to improve our next one.

1.Unlearn what we thought love meant

Conditioning begins early and is relentless. If we don't bring critical thinking about what love really is, we begin making decisions - small and significant - that prevent the real love that will deepen the quality of our life to occur, be experienced and shared.

2. Savor the gifts of solitude as an act of self-love whether in a relationship or on your own

"Solitude is the antidote to loneliness . . . The difference between loneliness and solitude is the lens through which we see our time alone, and how we use that time. The lens of loneliness makes us insecure and prone to bad decisions. The lens of solitude makes us open and curious. As such, solitude is the foundation on which we build our love."

When we discover the importance of solitude, we learn who we are, and in truly understanding ourselves, we become more clear about where to explore to find our purpose. And when we find our purpose, we become more secure within ourselves because we "learn how to display our values, not how to advertise ourselves". We begin to "let go of any anger, greed, ego, self-doubt, and confusion that clouds our heart and interferes with our ability to love".

By letting ourselves be alone, we begin, if we allow ourself to be honest, to be honest about what has made us insecure. Is it the fear of feeling loneliness? Or have we made an assumption based on what we've been told about when and how loneliness is felt? So long as we have feelings of insecurity, fear and "anxiety around loneliness . . . these very feelings prevent us from finding love".

"Solitude is not a failure to love. It is the beginning of love."

Study after study has demonstrated that we often become more in tune and aware as students of life. We can hear ourselves, observe what grabs our attention, learn new skills more completely and swiftly, and so whether we are in a relationship or not, regularly giving ourselves time alone is healthy and powerfully nourishing for a better relationship with ourselves and those we love.

When we learn how to love ourselves through embracing solitude, we also learn how to love others. Not just a romantic partner, but all other people. When we learn how to be less critical with ourselves, we discover how that nourishes rather than belittles and thus builds trust. When we are honest with ourselves, we learn how to honest with others when it may be difficult to do so, and to do so in a loving way. When we learn patience, compassion and empathy, "we can use [these] qualities to love someone else. In this way, being alone—not lonely, but comfortable and confident in situations where we make our own choices, follow our own lead, and reflect on our own experience—is the first step in preparing ourselves to love others."

However, we must be careful to not stop giving ourselves love even if we should choose to step into a relationship. Which leads to another way to be love that we will talk about down the list.

3. The Power of Presence

A fundamental skill of mindfulness, something talked about in episode #350, is being present. And simply because we are in our own company doesn't mean we are practicing presence. As Shetty points out, to distance ourselves from what we discover when we are fully present we may distract ourselves, always keep ourselves busy. The reasons for doing this will only be known to each of us, so it is in being present that we can be honest with why we are fearful of being present, and with time, we begin to discover the gifts, the many gifts of being present — discovering what we value, discovering if we are being who we truly are or have put up walls or facades and in time (and with help if we choose to seek out a therapist), we discover why we did this and how to shed these 'selves' that are not us and begin to embrace what we love, embrace and explore our curiosities and find a voice and/or a direction that fuels us.

It is this self-knowledge that we begin to gain self-awareness and we can acknowledge that yes there are weaknesses and if said weaknesses are something we want to improve, we can choose to do so, but just as powerful is knowing our strengths and beginning to play to those and not diminish ourselves, shrink or accept limitations that may have been conditioned and thus believed by either certain people, institutions or whatever environment is fine with us being less of ourselves. And then we begin to make choices that serve us better.

The Skill of Presence and Why It is At The Core of True Contentment, episode #350

The foundational gift of solitude is discovering ourselves, and when we know ourselves, "we'll be more willing to spend time pursuing our interests without needing the safety net of a companion. The activities you choose and what you learn about yourself from those activities will expand your self-awareness" and deepen your self-confidence.

4. Understand the Law of Karma

"Karma is the law of cause and effect. Every action produces a reaction. In other words, your current decisions, good and bad, determine your future experience. People think karma means that if you do something bad, bad things will happen to you . . . but that's not how it works. Karma is more about the mindset in which we make a decision. If we make a choice or take action with or without proper understanding, we receive a reaction based on that choice . . . You made a choice and you have to live with the consequences/outcomes of that choice. Punishment and reward are not karma's purpose. Rather, karma is trying to teach you."

Each choice we make prompts an outcome or an effect. And during our time of solitude is the time to be honest about ourselves and learn from past relationships. Not to analyze the other person, but our choices that lead to what worked, what did not. In other words, to examine as objectively as possible how we contributed to the events of the journey of each relationship. What can we learn? What do we need to learn? What decisions need to be approached differently? This is where we choose to be the student and live consciously, not by habit.

Shetty points out that when we are young, we are shaped and influenced by choices of others that we don't necessarily, or at all, have control over - our parents, environment, schooling, religious instruction, etc. . But as we step into adulthood and have the agency to make our own choices, we can, and it would be wise to do so, evaluate the impression of these influences that have shaped our thinking, behaviors and responses. If we don't like the impressions, we have the ability to "gain the intelligence to curate our impressions by choosing what we watch and who we listen to. We also have the opportunity to revisit, edit and unlearn past impressions." In other words, if we don't like the outcome of certain choices, we simply need to make different choices and those choices can do with anything and everything in your life, which of course includes not only the people you choose to date or potentially partner with, but also whether or not you choose to grow and step into your fullest potential, finding your purpose and thus finding and experiencing contentment.

Shetty goes on to conclude that "karma is a mirror, showing us where our choices have led us . . . First, when we learn from the past, we heal it. And second, this process helps us to stop making the same mistakes."

One last thought on karma, and this can be applicable to anything in our lives and how we choose to live, "If you put something into the world, you get it back." This can be looked at for positive and negative outcomes as we discussed above, but let's start with the approach of trying to find love. What are you putting out in the world? If you are depending upon your looks, your clothes, anything on the exterior to be the determining factor in attracting 'love', you will attract someone who values what you have presented. Conversely, if you choose to simply be love, and practice all that is shared in today's post/episode, step back from expectation and simply live your life, live your purpose, that is also who and what you will attract - other people - some potentially a partner, most people simply platonic - who value sincerity, who value similar passions and the ethos you bring to your daily life.

"The promise of a happily ever after turns out to be an obstacle to happily ever after."

5. Fill Your Own Gaps

"What you want from someone else, first give to yourself."

When we wait and look outward for someone else to bring into our lives what we feel we are lacking, we are beginning from a place of insecurity and dependency and that, in the long-run doesn't contribute to a healthy relationship. We all likely need to heal something in ourselves, but that is not the responsibility of someone else. As I will talk about below, our partner can and should be our guru (hang on to discover what exactly this means) and we should be theirs, but we have to know how to heal ourselves in order to receive the support. They cannot do the homework for us - that is what gradually weighs down a relationship unhealthily. Shetty shares, "Once we fulfill our own needs, we're in a better place to see what a relationship can give us."

Once you have done your homework of embracing solitude and self-examining your past choices, i.e. the karma you created and how it served you, acknowledging what choices need to be made differently in order to create different outcomes, then we can bring with us valuable knowledge that will help us be love more truly, stepping ever closer to experiencing what love really is. This is not to say you stop spending time in solitude or stop self-examining. No, no, no, no, no. You now have the skills of each and to be effective must be practiced regularly as life's journey unfolds.

The second of four ashram's of love is "the stage of life when we extend our love to others while still loving ourselves".

6. Understand the four stages of love

Repeatedly, it is shared in this chapter that to know if we love someone takes time. Plain and simple. Time with each other, again and again. Choosing to share time and withholding expectations and a rigid timeline. After all, if we enter with these two as guidelines, then it isn't love we are looking for and we are not 'being love'.

The four stages do not necessarily need to be experienced in order, but they all need to be experienced with our partner in order to know love is being practiced - given and received.

Attraction

Dreams

Struggle and Growth

Trust

Each of these stages takes time, some time events will be unwanted but will play a hand in helping us experience a particular stage, but Shetty assures, "If we gradually unveil our personalities, values and goals, we start to see if there is a connection." And the key is that this gradual unveiling be reciprocal.

What is important to keep in mind is that even if a relationship doesn't meet all four stages, for example, when you hit stage #3 and struggle occurs and boundaries are made clear, if one person doesn't respect the boundaries even after there is clarity about what the other needs, it doesn't mean it's a failure' in fact, it is a very good thing because you have learned that you are not a good fit to live a fulfilling life that will make you both happy, and that is wisdom that benefited you both. However, if after reaching stage #3, communication is exchanged, knowledge is learned you and both engage in a manner that aligns with each other, now with a better understanding of one another, then more clarity has been gained and the relationship is deepened.

7. Be trustworthy

To talk a bit more about the fourth stage mentioned previously, in order to find someone we can trust, we must be someone who is trustworthy. Again, we cannot control another's choices, only ours, and we attract what we put out into the world. Remember, karma is a mirror, so if we are untrustworthy, we actually attract untrustworthy behavior to us because we think others are untrustworthy because we are! See how we create what we say we don't want by simply being that! So simple, so powerful, and the change is quite simple. All of this ability to find people to trust begins in the first ashram - becoming comfortable with solitude and becoming knowledgeable of ourselves and changing what we know is not constructive. This builds the trust in ourselves that we will then connect with others.

And again, it is important to remember, that trust takes time to build, and is revealed through the stages above, especially during the third stage of love. Shetty shares there are three types of trust - physical (feeling safe in their presence and you feel good being around them, seen, etc.), mental (trusting their mind, ideas, and thoughtfulness. Not necessarily an across the board consensus on all topics is their agreement, but you trust how they make decisions), and emotional (their values and who they are as a human). So again, you cannot observe or experience all of these in a short period of time, so take time to observe but also to be yourself and be truly seen by the person you are getting to know.

8. Put your purpose before your partner's

"You want to go on a journey with someone, not to make them your journey."

In a post I wrote a couple of years ago, inspired by Jay Shetty's book Think Like A Monk, the concept of dharma is shared: Passion + Expertise + Usefulness = Dharma. Shetty doubles down on this truth that will lead each of us to contentment when he talks about the necessity for both individuals in a partnership to put their purpose first for themselves, followed by the relationship and any other values that they may have. Why is honoring your dharma (your purpose) vital to do in a relationship just as much as it is if we are not in a relationship? "Dharma clarifies your values and priorities to yourself and your partner." Shetty goes on to explain the other three fundamental pursuits that drive us forward in life, thus shaping our choices and actions (dharma being one of the four). When you have found your dharma, you "spend money with a clearer sense of how it should be spent, and you pursue love with a desire to create a meaningful life with your partner. Eventually these three pursuits lead to the fourth - moksha, where all we do is devoted to a spiritual journey."

"Your purpose has to come first for you, and your partner's purpose has to come first for them. Then you come together with the positive energy and stability that come from pursuing your purposes."

Finding and continuing to pursue your dharma "insulates and protects our self-esteem" and it is because we continually value and prioritize our dharma that we can remain more stable during the ups and downs of life which benefits our relationship.

By maintaining your identity outside of the relationship, you are not in danger of letting the relationship define you. You bring your full self and love of life to the relationship, choosing (not needing) to be with this other person. "Dharma helps you live a passionate, inspired, motivated life, a life you want to share with someone. You also have the pleasure of living alongside someone who is fulfilled. There is great joy in seeing the person you love doing what they love."And the gift of knowing what it feels like to pursue your own dharma gives you insight into the struggles and elevating highs that come with the choice to do so enabling you to be a truly supportive partner.

But before we move ahead too quickly. What happens if I am not pursuing my dharma? Or my partner isn't pursuing theirs? Simple answer: "When we aren't pursuing our purposes, troubles arise."

Shetty explains that often when we may think the relationship has a problem, it is actually a result of one or both of the partners not following their purpose. Simple and true.

So just to remind, to take us back to the first ashram discussed above, finding your purpose, preparing for love, is often the hardest part of knowing how to be love, but is, he underscores, the most important. Why? "If we don't learn the lessons of the first ashram of love, then we won't know how lovable [we] are and what [we] have to offer."

This works both ways, as each partner does this for themselves.

9. Be each others' guru

First, what is a guru? Shetty explains that we must think of it as how our actions impact our partner. A guru offers "guidance without judgment, wisdom without ego, love without expectations." And this is vitally important to understand lest it be misinterpreted: "Being a guru for your partner doesn't mean imparting wisdom to them, but it does require patience, understanding, curiosity, creativity and self-control."

This is an approach I think is often misunderstood, and can be easily misapplied if we don't come into the relationship knowing what our purpose is and valuing it, having a clear separation of who we are apart from our partner. Which is why we must know ourselves well, continue to give ourselves self-love and honor our purpose whether we are in a relationship or not. Just as our partner should do for themselves. For example, if we want our partner to change in any way, that is not being love. Shetty reminds, "That is ownership. Ownership is born out of control." We are not in a relationship to control the other, nor do we want to be controlled.

As a guru, you give because you love the person. What you give is being love in your actions, words, thoughtfulness and considerations and not seeking a particular 'reward'. Much like most investments worth their substantial value, they take time to show the results we might hope will occur, but we don't give to get. We give to be love to our partner. Letting your partner pursue their purpose and lovingly supporting as they need and you can provide builds trust and bolsters confidence not only in your partner toward their purpose but in the bond you are building with each other.

Another example is to lead by example, not to dictate. In other words, don't preach. Instead just practice what uplifts your life without the expectations that your partner do the same. Again, these are actions that are part of the stages of love that will help you learn if you are compatible. Even if you are not, it doesn't mean they are a bad person or you are a bad person. You are merely avoiding unnecessary incompatibility down the road that would lead to a fissure later.

Lastly, a guru, being a guru, is not about helping our partner become the best we think they can be, but the best version of themselves they want to be. What we must know inside ourselves is if we want to support this person as they grow, whatever that growth may be, because if we focus on what we want, we begin to deteriorate any trust that has already been built. "Your partner is your guru, not your god. They help you become better, but they aren't better than you." Which is to say, your story can only be written by you and you must not lose your identity even as you change and grow together. "Remember your own personality, values and goals. Don't lose the thread of your own story."

All that has been shared above needs to be experienced in reverse as well. Do you feel support without expectation or judgment or ego from your partner? This is a two-way street of engagement which again is why it takes time to know if this person is a good fit for you both. To both reside in a growth mindset is crucial, and that is nurtured by being curious about what they are passionate about, helping how you can, being open-minded as well as humble (setting the ego aside). An important finding to keep in mind when we consider offering criticism is that "critical feedback has been identified as one of the most common triggers that send us into a fixed mindset". To further this point of choosing to let go of criticism and using fear as a motivator, Shetty writes, "Criticism is lazy communication. It's not constructive, compassionate or collaborative. Look for ways to communicate so that the other person can consume, digest and apply your input effectively . . . give suggestions instead of criticism."

The gift of being each others' guru while coming with some "discomfort of change is offset by the delight of shared understanding. The growth that a guru and student cultivate keeps a relationship exciting and new even as it matures and you grow more familiar with each other."

~The third ashram of love is knowing how to lovingly protect love while going through struggles.

Simply because we are in the third stage doesn't mean we forget the previous two. In fact, we continue to bring those skills with us because it is during struggling times, that we must know how to self-reflect and self-examine to understand what is blocking our ability to be loving as our relationship grows and evolves. We must also know how to give ourselves self-love and not neglect what we need. In either the instance of navigating lovingly forward with our partner or realizing the partnership will come to an end, we deepen love regardless. Why? Because we have practiced lovingly how to navigate struggle without losing ourselves but also trying to understand and love our partner as we travel forward.

I could detail this Part three of the book, but I think it would be most helpful to read it on your own as it will be very specific to each of our journeys and where we find ourselves. For example, you may currently be in a relationship and are seeking skills and tools on how to fight well - because this is a necessity - and there is a loving way to do it. Or you may be in need of ending a relationship, but are scared to do so. Or maybe you are trying to give yourself permission to speak up, but in a loving, yet clear way that honors you, this chapter is a wonderful resource for all and more ways to protect both the love of a loving relationship and the self-love that should always travel with you through relationships and in between relationships and after relationships.

~The fourth and final ashram of love is connection by extending our love to each and every person and area of our life, having compassion for all living entities. This is the highest expression of love, and all previous stages are preparing you to be able to live in this stage.

One of the aspects and in fact, fundamental points of Jay Shetty's book is one I found to be deeply enlightening and a breath of fresh air. This book, 8 Rules of Love, is actually not about learning how to find your 'love match'. Nope. In fact, it is about realizing that each and every relationship we choose to be in or have been in is actualality providing us an opportunity to learn how to be love in every single moment and day of our life during our one and only life on this planet. Which is to say, "The way you perfect love is not by waiting to find it or have it, but by creating it with everyone, all the time . . . it's the great gift that love has to offer." Shetty goes on to say,

"We want love in our lives, and we naturally assume it should take the form of romantic love. But it's a misconception that the only love in your life is between you and your partner, your family and your friends. It's a misconception that life is meant to be a love story between you and one other person. That love is just a stepping-stone. Having a partner isn't the end goal. It's practice for something bigger and life changing, a form of love that is even more expansive and rewarding than love."

If we are in a romantic relationship, our partners give us a change to practice being love, but "we don't have to fulfill our romantic desires to get there. It is available to all of use e very day, and it is infinite." And that is just the point, being involved romantically is a desire, but it is not something that is required to live a fulfilling life. A life of love is a core component of a fulfilling life, but "love means noticing that everyone is worthy of love and treating them with the respect and dignity their humanity automatically makes them deserve."

10. Understand the skill of a Radius of Respect

"When someone is toxic, we can love them from a radius of respect."

But wait, you might be saying, I am not into this idea of Radical Acceptance. I am not going to subject myself to destructive relationships whether that be caused around family or friends, etc. And you are certainly correct, you should never do so. In fact, it would not be loving toward yourself to put yourself in situations that are harmful, emotionally or physically.

If the person who we acknowledge is toxic, is also someone we don't want to entirely eradicate from our lives, this is where all of our skills of how to be love both to ourselves and them are put into practice. Shetty teaches that when we encounter someone who is hard to be around - known or unknown to us - "the first step toward loving them is to understand what, if anything, our reaction to them reveals about ourselves". He goes on to share examples, but our lives are a constant mirror of what we have put out into the world, and our life journey is full of lessons that if we choose to see them as lessons can improve the quality of our daily experience. In such instances, you may not ever come into contact with the person who raised your hackles, but there is a lesson to be learned about yourself regarding why your hackles went up if you choose to see it.

When it does come to someone who, say a family member, or an ex-partner who you are co-parenting with, etc., the radius of respect entails "standing at the distance where we can still respect and support them, than to be too close and have our resentment grow." Only you will know this distance. Honor what you need. It may change with time - more is needed, less is needed - but when you create a loving environment for yourself in your daily life, you will know what the right distance is each day.

By putting into place the radius of respect, you can continue to be loving because you are "protected from feeling used and you are allowed to wish them well from afar until you are ready to love them up close."

11. Experience love in its different forms

"When we expand our radius of love, we have the opportunity to experience love every day, at every moment."

It is when we broaden our definition of love, and step away from the narrow ideals that have been placed into our minds unconsciously and we accept, that we, through our actions of being love, begin to experience feeling the love we at first were searching for. "Love is available whenever you want to feel it by giving it to others."

12. Give love

"Giving love solves the human need that is even greater than romantic love. I need to be of service. There is no greater ecstasy than that."

And this is why holding your purpose, your dharma, first, finding your dharma, needs to be the leading priority in your life. It is crucial to continue to give yourself self-love throughout your life journey, and to be of service does not me you ignore your needs or your boundaries because when you are unable to give what you can uniquely give because you haven't nourished yourself regularly with what fuels you, protects you, supports you, the world is missing out.

"You can seek love your whole life and never find it, or you can give love your whole life and experience joy."

13. Be love

"We impact one another in all we do."

Through small actions and thoughts that involve practicing understanding, support and belief in what those around us are doing, accepting, and extending appreciation, we are being love in our everyday lives. They need not be grand or big or even cost-expenditure gestures; they just need to be sincere and with the recipient, not the giver, in mind.

"Instead of expecting love, we have to find ways of expressing love . . . We've been taught to believe that the only way [we] can experience love is when [we]receive it, but you can feel love anytime you want to simply by connecting with the love that is always within you."

Shetty breaks down the various zones of love we have in our lives: family and partner, friends, colleagues, community, strangers, organizations, the Earth. we can be love in each one of these situations according to their needs and our relationship with each one through something as simple as a smile, by being respectful, following through on promises, connecting in a way that shows we were listening or see them as an individual if it is for example, a colleague at work, caring for our Mother Earth with thoughtful choices as to how we go through our days and appreciating the gifts she gives us all.

"The greatest way to experience love, is to give it."

We've talked about it before here on the podcast/blog in episode #287 - 5 Things to Do to Build Healthy Relationships, we all innately seek the five A's - appreciation, affection, attention, allowing, acceptance, and here is the key to finding each one: be them. Be appreciative, be affectionate, give your full attention, allow others to be themselves, accept others for being who they are. You may not want to strike up an intimate romantic partnership with everyone, but in choosing this action every time with every person you come across, you are being love.

14. Embrace the paradox of Love

"Experience [love], practice it, and create it instead of waiting for it to find you. The more you do this, the more you will experience the depths of love from different people through every single day for the rest of your life."

For too long in my own life, I sought love. I made mistakes up and down this list of teachings Shetty provides because I didn't know what love really was. So many influences had made an impression on me that it wasn't until I started to acknowledge that what was purported to be love didn't feel loving and so I began began to be a student first of myself, and then of putting into practice what I have learned from those far wiser than I on this topic - Jay Shetty being one such person. To experience love, real love, is to be it in our everyday no matter our relationship 'status'. If we are in a romantic relationship, we can continually be a student and be practicing being love. If we are not in a romantic relationship, we are still in many other relationships, and love can be expressed and exchanged there as well. Our life, today, has the potential to have as much or as little love as we wish to bring to the world, and it is far easier to love when we put the expectations of needing to find it first aside.

In my morning meditation, I close each session with the following intention expressed audibly: May you be content, may you be safe, may you be healthy, may you be kind, may you be love, may your life be filled with peace. I have included inspiration for this phrasing of choice from mindfulness teachers and then included my own regarding what I need to remember to practice in my daily life, so it was important for me to remind myself each day to "be love". Be what I want to experience. Give without the expectation of receiving.

I hope today's episode/post offered insight and inspiration into how to cultivate a deeply fulfilling life full and grounded in real love. Be sure to explore Jay Shetty's latest book The 8 Rules of Love: How to Find it, Keep it, and Let it Go.

8 Rules of Love

Copyright January 2023

Petit Plaisir

~Sautéed chopped chives for finishing a French Omelette, sunny side up egg or anything that pairs well with chives.

Watch the full episode from Season 1 of The Simply Luxurious Kitchen cooking show, episode #5 to learn how to make your very own French Omelette, and be sure to listen to this podcast episode (#360) as we step into my kitchen and listeners can listen as I show the steps for sautéing chives. In fewer than 30 seconds add a punch a flavor that amplifies the yum of an everyday dish.

Watch me cook a French Omelette paired with a green salad live on Afternoon Live, KATU-ABC.

~Explore more Petit Plaisirs here in TSLL's Archives.

Tune in to the latest episode of The Simple Sophisticate podcast

[orthodoxydaily]

SAINTS&READING: SATURDAY, JANUARY 18, 2025

january 19_january 6

Eve of the Theophany

THE HOLY MARTYRS THEOPEMPTOS BISHOP OF NICOMEDIA AND THEON (303)

These Holy Martyrs lived under the rule of the Pagan emperor Diocletian of Rome, known for his persecution of Christians. Saint Theopemptos was a Christian bishop who denounced the worship of idols and preached the word of Christ. Under the anti-Christian laws of the time, he was summoned to the imperial court and told to offer sacrifice to Apollo. When he refused, his persecutors threw him into a burning furnace. The emperor came several times to ensure the stove was afire and to check on the saint, only to find that he was spared from all harm by the miracle of God. The emperor then ordered the martyr killed by hunger, but after 22 days with no food or drink, Theopemptos was alive and well.

Unable to kill the martyr, the emperor attributed his vitality to witchcraft and hired a sorcerer named Theon to dispel the supposed charms. Theon put poison in a cake and offered it to Theopemptos, but the martyr was not affected. He put deadlier poison in the cake and again made the martyr eat it. Still, he was unharmed. At that point, Theon repented, confessed to Theopemptos, converted to Christ and asked the bishop as his spiritual father.

Finally, the Roman emperor summoned Theopemptos for the last time to convince him to renounce Christ. The saint refused and suffered multiple grievous tortures before he was beheaded. Theon died as a martyr as well. Diocletian ordered him to be buried alive in a deep ditch in the year 303.January 18, 2024

Source: St Elizabeth Convent

THE NUN SYNCLETICA OF ALEXANDRIA (350)

Syncletica was well educated, including the writings of desert father, Evagrius Ponticus. When her wealthy parents died, she sold everything and gave the money to the poor. With her blind sister now dependent on her, Syncletica moved to live as a hermit in the cave tombs outside of Alexandria. Women visited her for spiritual counsel, which would have been one-to-one. The visitor would share a spiritual issue with her, but instead of immediately responding, there would have been extended, silent contemplation. She shared the fruit of her own spiritual struggles.

She counseled women who were seeking more profound friendship with the Lord, advising:

“In the beginning, there are a great many battles and a good deal of suffering for those who are advancing towards God and, afterwards, ineffable joy. It is like those who wish to light a fire; at first, they are choked by the smoke and cry, and by this means obtain what they seek…. so, we must also kindle the divine fire in ourselves through tears and hard work.”

The Mind

Syncletica counseled that our struggle with our thought life is vital to growing toward God.

She encouraged us to grow in self-awareness and to understand our passions and desires. Her counsel speaks to us today about the Power of Thought, which can move us toward discouragement, despair, anxiety and depression (the dark spirit) or toward joy, hope, love and peace (consolation). She recommends fasting and prayer as help to break the cycle.

The assaults of the dark spirits take place in the mind, our mental focuses direct the actions that we take. The mind is like a ship that can be assaulted by waves coming from outside of us and overwhelmed by water rising within, distorting the habits of our mind...CONTINUE READING : The desert Mother Amma Syncletica

1 Timothy 3:14:4-5

14 These things I write to you, though I hope to come to you shortly; 15 but if I am delayed, I write so that you may know how you ought to conduct yourself in the house of God, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth. 16 And without controversy great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifested in the flesh, Justified in the Spirit, Seen by angels, Preached among the Gentiles, Believed on in the world, Received up in glory.

1 Now the Spirit expressly says that in latter times some will depart from the faith, giving heed to deceiving spirits and doctrines of demons, 2 speaking lies in hypocrisy, having their own conscience seared with a hot iron, 3 forbidding to marry, and commanding to abstain from foods which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and know the truth. 4 For every creature of God is good, and nothing is to be refused if it is received with thanksgiving; 5 for it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer.

Matthew 3:1-11

1 In those days John the Baptist came preaching in the wilderness of Judea, 2 and saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!" 3 For this is he who was spoken of by the prophet Isaiah, saying: "The voice of one crying in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the LORD; Make His paths straight.' " 4 Now John himself was clothed in camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist; and his food was locusts and wild honey. 5 Then Jerusalem, all Judea, and all the region around the Jordan went out to him 6 and were baptized by him in the Jordan, confessing their sins. 7 But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to his baptism, he said to them, "Brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? 8 Therefore bear fruits worthy of repentance, 9 and do not think to say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father.' For I say to you that God is able to raise up children to Abraham from these stones. 10 And even now the ax is laid to the root of the trees. Therefore every tree which does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. 11 indeed baptize you with water unto repentance, but He who is coming after me is mightier than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.

[the-silent-pen]

The Courtesy Crisis: How Lack of Timely Responses Affects Workplace Dynamics

In today’s fast-paced, interconnected work environment, collaboration and mutual respect should be non-negotiable. Yet, many of us encounter situations where basic courtesies, such as responding promptly to requests or acknowledging emails, are neglected. This creates a ripple effect that not only hampers productivity but also demotivates individuals who rely on timely inputs to perform their roles effectively.

Take, for instance, the experience of working remotely. It’s a double-edged sword, while it offers flexibility, it also means that tasks requiring collaboration often move at the pace of someone else’s priorities. You may be in a productive mindset, fueled with creative energy, but when responses or inputs are delayed for days, that momentum is lost. Creativity doesn't always wait, it thrives in the moment.

When people are physically present in the office, barriers like these are easier to overcome. You can walk over, have a conversation, and resolve issues in real time. However, in a remote setup, the absence of this immediacy makes communication gaps more apparent. Repeated follow-ups, unanswered emails, or delayed responses become the norm, and it’s frustrating.

The Impact of Neglecting Courtesy

This lack of promptness doesn't just affect workflows, it deeply influences morale. Individuals often start questioning their value and the significance of their contributions when their needs are deprioritized. For someone striving to show value in their role, unnecessary delays or outright neglect can feel like a deliberate roadblock.

This brings up an essential point, why should treating others with respect and courtesy depend on their position or influence? Why should a person's "power" in the organization determine how seriously their requests are taken? Isn’t professional courtesy about fostering a culture of mutual respect, regardless of hierarchy?

It’s not uncommon to hear people justify their inaction by claiming they were “too busy” or “missed the email.” But is that acceptable? Would we want to be treated the same way if roles were reversed? As the saying goes, “Treat others as you would like to be treated.” This isn’t just a moral imperative; it’s a professional one.

Breaking the Cycle

When someone asks for information or help, it’s not because they enjoy bothering others. It’s because they need assistance to meet their objectives and contribute meaningfully to their work. Ignoring or delaying a response is not just a minor discourtesy, it’s an act that actively disrupts their ability to progress and succeed.

If we, as individuals and professionals, don’t pause to reflect on how our actions—or inactions—affect others, we risk perpetuating a toxic culture. Ignoring someone’s request might feel like a small oversight, but for the person on the receiving end, it can signify a lack of respect or value.

A Call for Self-Reflection

So, what’s the solution? It starts with self-awareness. Take a moment to look in the mirror and ask yourself,

Do I respond to others in a timely and respectful manner?

Am I treating colleagues with the same level of courtesy I expect in return?

Am I contributing to a culture of collaboration, or am I inadvertently creating barriers?

It’s simple, treat others with dignity and empathy. The workplace isn’t just about tasks and deadlines, it’s about people working together toward shared goals. If we want to build a thriving and supportive environment, we need to hold ourselves accountable for how we interact with one another.

By being intentional about our actions and respecting each other’s time and efforts, we can foster a culture of trust, productivity, and mutual growth. It’s not just about getting the work done, it’s about doing it together in a way that uplifts everyone involved.

Let’s do better.

[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!

[satanwritesfanfiction]

Karl Heisenberg x f!reader || Unbecoming ∆SMUT∆

Title: unbecoming

Ship: Karl Heisenberg x f!reader

Triggers:  smut, oral: male receiving, still no cute happy ending, Stockholm syndrome

Characters: Reader, Karl Heisenberg

Wordcount: 2791

She knew what it was, could taste it on her lips by the mere thought. Image, a presence. Captive.

Objectively she could see the effects, her analytical mind pointing at the flaws and the effects but still, that did not really matter in the moments, did not change the emotion hiding just beneath her skin. No, there was one thing that seemed to matter now.

She thought it might be been the absence of all else, stripped away with only one thing to hold onto- logically, that thing would gain importance but even with the weak excuse, she knew, the importance shouldn't have made itself as it had.

Dependence, understanding or even attraction, whatever one would name it. The effects still remained the same, the need and dark thoughts. All swirling inside to a toxic degree and he knew, oh how he knew.

Sickened every time lucidity would vaguely visit as she looked over the railing at the fruits of his labor, it was questionable to say the least and yet, when he chose to show his face, she fell into the same rhythm they had recently adopted. The thought of him made her stomach turn, a vague feeling of longing between the dark and delicious images that plagued her mind. He was at the root of it all.

She was not his captive for a while now and yet she was captivated. She hadn't been outside these walls for weeks, an unknown fear keeping her feet planted but she could never linger on that thought for long. It was as if Heisenberg sensed the turn and just like the times her mind turned on her before, his touch pulled her back from the edge.

It was soft, a simple hand placed at her lower back that made her slightly jump as she looked back at the man, smirk playing on his lips as he removed his glasses and hooked them on his shirt.

"Lost in thought?" He asked but didn't quite look as interested in the answer as the words might've alluded to.

"You could say that." She responded promptly, hands crossing over her chest. This was done more as an automatic response as she felt a bit exposed at the sudden jolt from her thoughts, thoughts she wished to hide from him.

"Hmm.." he hummed in response, hand staying ever present. "I hope you're not having second thoughts again by what you have to do."

She visibly cringed at the new thoughts. Two are better than one, many hands make light work, whatever saying you'd like to use, they were true and thought the acts disturbed her in more ways than Heisenberg could soothe, she knew what she was doing had purpose. It was better than the alternative, it was better than doing nothing.

"I wasn't thinking about..them." she clenched her jaw. Her helping hand mattered, all she had to do was believe that, it would be all worth it. Just a little more time and it could be over, forgotten even.

"Good." He stated. "Hate to drag you back from the edge when I came here for another reason entirely.. though, I guess it will distract you all the same. "

She frowned, turning to him fully. "Why did you come."

He chuckled. "Funny you should word it like that." Hand slithered up her back and rested firmly at the back of her neck as he pressed his lips to hers. There was a second pause before she once again surrendered to him, palms pressed against his chest as lips worked against each other, his hand on her neck, an easy way to hold her against him as the other rested leisurely on her hip.

Her stomach flipped, hands gripping at his shirt softly. A small act and she craved so much, his closeness left her intoxicated and needing so much from him. It had an air of wrongness, how fast she'd fall under his spell when normally she thought of herself as level-headed but perhaps that was the lie.

He broke the kiss, her eyes looking so innocent when she looked up at him in question. She didn't fit here but why then did she fall so perfectly into his wants and needs. She never recoiled from him, always willing to go with whatever his mood dictated.

He suddenly turned, hand wrapping around her much smaller wrist as he pulled her with him into an adjacent room, effortlessly swinging the metal door closed once they were both inside.

Hand on her cheek, he pressed their lips together once more, body pressing her to the chilling wall. He broke the kiss, eyes roaming over her as she bit into her lip, awaiting his next move. She wondered what he was thinking, perhaps he was thinking of taking her against this wall or perhaps face pressed on his workbench as he took what he wanted from her or maybe he'll sit in his rusty metal chair as she bounced on him with his eyes solely on her and where they'd be connected.

She shifted involuntarily at the thoughts, wanting to rub her thighs together as a reaction to her thoughts but she dared not move under his gaze.

"Now just what will we do with you." He hummed as his head dipped down, pressing his lips to the pulse point on her neck in a soft kiss. Her eyes closed momentarily, it had been almost sweet. Not exactly an attribute she'd willingly place on him but in moments he made it hard, he turned her thoughts upside down and she found it hard to make sense of them.

His thigh pushed between her legs, pressed but not nearly close enough to where she wanted. It was provoking but not giving either of them anything other than the satisfaction of seeing the evidence of her want as she tried pressing closer to him.

His fingers wrapped around the hem of her thin shirt, pulling it from her body and discarding it without a care. For a moment his eyes wandered, a perfect specimen one might say. His eyes traveled over her collarbone and across the shape of her breasts and over her abdomen, bare skin craving his touch as much as he craved to touch her but today he had something else in mind than his most basic instinct though he'd get to that eventually too.

His fingers quickly unbuttoned her pants, zipper pulled down and his hand disappeared into her pants. It was fast, much more direct than his usual approach of picking at the threads until she came undone.

She gasped, hands wrapping around his arms as her body jolted. He chuckled, fingertips moving through her folds as she bit into her lip at the feeling.

She pressed herself to the wall, it had been an awkward angle and she craved more, a little more, a little harder, a little more substance, a little more she could get lost in, something her cunt could grab onto opposed to the nothingness it was pulsing against.

She sighed appreciatively when he pressed a single digit into her, greedily accepting the intrusion. He pumped leisurely, finger curling inside of her. It wasn't nearly enough but at least it was a step closer to what she wanted from him.

A few moments passed until he found what he was looking for, evident from the way her body jolted and eyes stared back at him, paired with an indignant cry. He chuckled lightly. He pressed at the spot again, her fingers tightened the hold they had on him as she moaned his name. He liked the way it rolled off her tongue, liked how it filled the room with warmth, liked how she seemed lost in it.

"You like that, don't you?" He murmured, words that almost got lost on the wind as hips bucked against his hand, furiously searching for a release from her wound up muscles. She was alluring, searching for her pleasure within him. She didn't recoil but in stead sought him out, when she had first arrived at the factory, he would've never guessed he'd enjoy her as much as he did.

The only answer he got for the question was her whimpers and cries, unashamedly pressing her body into his hand over and over, thumb rubbing at her clit as the other pressed against the spot that made her cry out ever so often.

Her eyes clenched shut as her body finally broke down, pleasure shooting through every cell in her body. She held onto him for dear life while his thrusts had slowed until he stopped the movement entirely. He retracted from her, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she came back down. "Good girl." He said softly

She wished she hadn't been standing, feeling a bit lightheaded for a few moments though she knew he'd catch her if she did end up tipping over. She blinked a few times when she came back to herself, still caged to the wall, awaiting his next move.

He had watched, breasts rising and falling rapidly. He remembered the way she looked at him, how it sounded when she called out to him. It made his pants feel impossibly tight as he thought of all the things she'd allow, all she could do and just how she'd look while doing them.

"Oh kitten." He murmured taking her hand into his own. "The things you do to me " he placed her hand against the bulge in his pants and clenched his jaw as his cock jerked at the touch. She bit into her lip as she looked up at him, cheeks flushed that had made her look almost innocent. Plump lips pulled between her teeth.

"On your knees." He stated, letting go of her hand.

Her stomach fluttered at the command, she fell to her knees unceremoniously, hands hung at her sides as she looked up at him and licked her lips.

He could've came right there at the image and willingness if he really wanted though it would be nicer if he was inside her when he did. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pulling his cock into her view and pumped a few times.

"Open your mouth for me."

She did as he asked, waiting for him to push into her wet mouth. His hand left his cock as she took in his tip, tongue moving along the underside as her head moved shallowly, hand wrapping around the base and pumping that which she did not reach. She looked so good like this, eyes looking up at him as she took him into her mouth over and over, a little further every time until he felt the back of her throat contracting against him.

Her eyes had begun to water but she didn't stop, her own sounds reverberating against his cock. His hand held onto her hair, hips bucking into her slightly. It would be so easy to come into her mouth, watch as she swallowed all he gave without a complaint but he wanted to be inside her tight cunt for that, feeling her squeeze his cock as he took what was his.

His hand grasped her hair tightly, pulling back roughly. A thread of saliva still connecting them as he pulled from her mouth.

"Fuck." He breathed, taking a moment to compose himself as she looked at him questioningly but stayed in place with the hold he had on her hair. "I need to be inside you."

He pulled her to her feet, harshly pulling at her pants until they pooled at her feet. He took hold of her and seemingly effortlessly placing her on one of his workbenches, metal clattering to the ground as he cleared it with a wave of his hand.

Eyes lingered between her open legs as he took himself into his hold, leisurely pumping a few times before meeting her eyes. She was perfect like this, under his command. He pressed to her entrance, slowly disappearing into her. She moaned softly, enjoying the stretch. Legs fell more open as she leaned back a bit.

He held her hips firmly, he clenched his jaw as eyes roamed her almost bare body. It amazed him how easily she took to him, how little push she needed to have her begging underneath him. Furthermore, her body felt molded to his every time he pushed into her heat. She had been a distraction that had started as a momentary lapse in judgement. He felt captivated when she was in the room, wanting to be close to her but nothing ever felt close enough.

His hips bucked, shallowly at first. Slowly pushing in and out of her heat, burning just beneath the skin at the thought to just relent and fuck into her but he enjoyed this, the slow drag as she closed her eyes and submitted to him. The way her legs wrapped around him, the soft sound of her voice as she moaned softly. He wanted to watch her fall, watch the threads come undone as she let go and gave into him completely.

He clenched his jaw, hand reaching across her body to wrap around the bra that still covered her breasts. It hadn't quite been a priority until this moment but now he wanted her inhibited, bare for his eyes to indulge in. He pulled roughly on the material.

Her eyes opened at the action, breast only partially free as she looked at him. Though it annoyed her slightly for the change of angle when she had to sit a bit more straight to remove the material, she was rewarded when his fingers rolled the bud between his fingers.

Another image for the mental gallery, he decided as he took in her now bare form as she moaned, legs open and inviting as he moved within her. She would be the death of him.

His thrusts became purposeful and rough as be took hold of her thighs, hips snapping against each other as the wet sound reverberated against the walls. She cried out what he could only assume was supposed to be a version of his name, the perfect accomplice the the array of sounds the filled the air.

She was so close, she laid down fully, back pressed against the bench as she watched him thrust almost violently into her. She couldn't quite see where they were connected but his expression was enough to push her ever further into the depths. His hair was sticking to his forehead in places, perspiration covering his body as he grunted. He had still been mostly clothed, shirt sticking to skin as the ornaments around his neck clinked with every movement.

She cried out his name when she finally did come to her end, white hot pleasure shooting through every cell in her body as she clenched around his cock. Her back arched, giving quite a view for Heisenberg to appreciate.

Though the act had interfered with his movements to a degree, he still moved against her. The way she tightened, pushing him into his own release. He groaned as he pushed into her one last time, filling her with his seed.

"Good girl." He praised, hand rubbing soothing circles on her thigh as he came down from the high, not pulling out of her immediately. She had whimpered when he did, their combined highs leaking from her.

She had been especially beautiful like this, half lidded eyes looking up at him as her chest rose and fell rapidly, face flushed and perspiration covering her skin. It made him want to scoop her up in his arms, give into his most base feelings but that could never happen. He couldn't let it. He knew where this was headed and there would be no happy ending in this village. The only way he could ever truly have her was in a world void of Miranda.

It brought a sting to leave her like this, like the most recent times have. He wanted to be near her, wanted her body pressed to his as she fell asleep. He wanted many things he couldn't have and couldn't ask for. A sigh left his lips as he buried himself back into his pants and left without another word. These moments always ended too quickly..

Her eyes trained on the ceiling, body relaxed while her mind was not. Once again she had given herself to him entirely without question and she couldn't fathom why. After a few moments she had gathered herself and her things, falling into the metal chair as she mulled over the pressing thoughts in her head. He was going to be the death of her one way or the other.

[animeyanderelover]

3,00 Follower Special

Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs Hc's

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, paranoia, delusions, stalking, clinginess, manipulation, blackmailing, guilt-tripping, threatening, violence, controlling behavior, degradation, sadism, torture, violence, death, aged up characters

I still have a few requests where a few other characters were asked in such Hc forms so I only did the ones that weren't requested and I've been wanting to write about.

Nakajima Atsushi

🐅Above everything, Atsushi’s delusions, clinginess and his overall paranoia and desperation stands out. He has low self-esteem to put it positively, he often sees himself as a burden and doesn’t believe himself to be very strong like all the other Agency members. He’s tried multiple times to prove his worth to others, that he has the right to exist. So what exactly happens after he’s been confronted with such a kind soul like you? He falls in love and holy smokey, he falls fast and hard. Deluding himself into thinking that as long as he has his darling and they love him, his life will be worth something. And they will love him hopefully.From there on this guy pretty much starts dedicating his whole love and attention to his darling, treasuring them to the extent where he successfully breaks through as a worshipper. Extremely needy to receive love and to show his own love as well. Separation anxiety and the fear to be replaced force him into a position where he can’t stand being too long away from you without hearing your voice and touching you and the scapegoat of his crushing hugs and affection will always be you.

🐅Growing from this vast illusion of his that he is worth something as long as he can stay by your side and this quickly devouring paranoia of his is something much darker that doesn’t match with his usually bashful and lovesick behavior. A possessiveness and urge to protect you that will result in fatal violence. Atsushi has two sides to him and he probably isn’t above using manipulation on his s/o as well. Insecure, so terribly insecure as he is with his possessiveness whispering sinister things into his mind, he won’t exactly shy away from using his past and his submissive nature against you to keep you away from the people he can not help but view as rivals and a danger for your relationship. There he is, crying and sobbing why he still isn’t good enough and what he can do to make you stay, a sight that twitches your heartstrings in a way you can’t ignore.

🐅This jealousy of his steams rather from his own low confidence and even with his delusions that at one point you love him just as much as he does, he can’t get rid of the thought that you might find someone better than him. He has met so many persons who he deems to be cooler, maybe even more fitting to protect you yet only the faintest thought of this has his heart screaming and crying in terror and agony. How could he ever lose his sweetheart without fighting? As much as he respects Dazai as his sensei of some sort, he knows that guy is charming and certainly might mess with his darling to get under Atsushi’s skin a bit which is why the weretiger boy can’t ignore this slight feeling of dread whenever he sees his s/o and Dazai talking alone. About this constant tingling of his jealousy Atsushi feels often rather torn apart, on the one hand he loves seeing his darling happy and on the other he never is able to push away his fear when seeing you enjoying yourself with someone else. Monopolizing your time is a common respond of his, never straying away from your side and making it a habit to glue to your side.

🐅Here comes the truly dark aspect of Atsushi as a Yandere, he has a tendency to grow extremely violent and brutal. Mostly a shy boy who is easily to tease by his darling, the utter obsession and adoration, the way he just worships his darling to the point where he believes that his worth depends on how much they love him and how happy he can make them is what ends up as a downfall to everyone who stands in the way for this. Atsushi just has to have his darling, otherwise he’d just want to die. And his ability to transform into a tiger reveals a more animalistic side of his, one that merely runs on the instinct to kill everyone who threatens what he loves most. His emotions tend to get the better of him, especially his anger which will be his opponent’s demise in the end. Be it just someone who tries to court his darling and ignores the fair red flags of Atsushi’s warning growls or someone who was dumb enough to attack you, Atsushi will protect what is his with teeth and claws, leaving only bloody shreds in the end.

🐅In the end it’s one simple thing that might push his last buttons to abduct his darling and that is this paranoia, like a cold and constant shudder that never truly leaves him alone. Only those peaceful times he gets to spend with his darling, in their warm and welcoming presence with their natural scent surrounding him that always manages to melt his fears away with ease, frees him temporarily from his fear. But as soon as he is away or doesn’t know where s/o is, it starts again. The paranoia that you might just meet someone you prefer over him, that in this very moment you’re being attacked. It’s why this boy here spams his darling incredibly often with messages and if a reply in the next few seconds doesn’t happen, he already is on high alert. There are attempts to lead a normal relationship with his darling, though it is on a more toxic and unhealthy side due to Atsushi’s constant guilt-tripping and his paranoia. Yet there is only one thing needed to make him snap and that means game over for his darling.

🐅His little obsession grows to be a nightmare for you even if Atsushi on first glance looks like a really cute and friendly guy. He’s grown to memorize your favorite hobbies, food, colors, animals and so much more and even if he can’t effort expensive presents, he often gifts you sold flowers he’s picked up himself or whatever he can buy to hopefully bring a smile to your face. As much as he’s ready to do about anything you ask him to do, never try to use him for his naivety like this and only pretend to love him. Even if he might need a long time to catch on or someone else tells him before he even noticed, it’ll only end in a nightmarish experience. Betrayal that is eating his heart away, tears that won’t stop falling as his whole body shakes before he releases a feral cry that doesn’t sound human. That’s when he suddenly explodes, his wrath getting the better of him and he starts destroying in a blind frenzy everything around him, partially transforming. His darling gets for the most part unharmed away, though they might suffer a few scratches in the process. Normally a sweetheart, the monster that you don’t recognize as one is supposedly the scariest. Yet it is gut-wrenching to leave him when he is at your feet and begging not to abandon him.

Kunikida Doppo

📓Kunikida is a man who has his own order and structure in life, he has neatly written down all his ideals in that little book of his and wants to stick to this rules he has. Yet his darling had to interfere with this daily routine of his, get into his very head until he couldn’t get them out of his thoughts anymore. He is aware of his own obsession which he doesn’t see himself to be fit but he can’t get rid or ignore his emotions either which almost vexes him as much as Dazai’s constant suicide attempts. He eventually comes to accept his feelings after some time and that is the main core where his possessiveness grows from there on. This man doesn’t stray from his ideals and so as soon as he has decided that his darling will be his lover and spouse in the future, he will remain determined until the very end. His darling doesn’t have to exactly fit into his ideal picture and that is what makes Kunikida so possessive after all, darling just broke his firm wants in a perfect partner.

📓As a gentleman who chooses the way of pursuing you normally at first, he quickly grows obsessed and he will remember and most likely note down every bit of information he can get about you. It’s all neatly written down somewhere and the more this obsession grows, the more he tends to go into detail with it. He turns, without surprise, out to be on a more controlling side. He might not catch his darling in like some other Yanderes would do it yet there is a certain restriction put on his s/o, certain expectations and ideals Kunikida still values and wants you to listen too. A few rules won’t hurt after all, they only will help a harmonious relationship between you two. Kunikida also has is not above manipulation as well if he believes that it is needed. He won’t use guilt-tripping like Atsushi, but he is a smart guy and as the keen observer that he is, it isn’t too hard for him to point out things that only end up making him look more trustworthy in the end. You might suddenly seek suddenly more advice and protection from him and his manipulation is so subtle that it’s not easy to notice. But it will have most likely some influence on your life and your daily routine.

📓Trust is something Kunikida has put high on the list of things he would like to achieve and have in this relationship, without trust anything will be useless in the end. And jealousy is something he hopes that will be under him, he doesn’t wish to ridicule himself in front of the s/o or others. He wants his darling to socialize as well. The easiest way to push his button is still the one guy who probably would drive many over the edge, his name is Dazai. Naturally someone who can get on Kunikida’s nerves, it’s relatively easy for the ex-Mafia to force a jealous feeling out of Kunikida, especially if he does it on purpose. Kunikida will probably have his most temperamental jealous reactions in front of Dazai and oh lord, he’s always so embarrassed afterwards. It’s never like this with other persons, though he probably can’t rest fully easy with letting you meet a person you see often without knowing the full relationship between you and them. A wish to meet a person that is slowly starting to scratch him because they seem to like you in a way that isn’t platonic is his initial reaction. A wish to ask this person a few questions, to clarify a few things. In about 9 out of 10 cases it ends in an interrogation.

📓With his strict and harsh attitude he won’t really hesitate to hand out punishments when someone committed something against the law or against personal human right, especially not when it involves s/o. He is a virtuous person, his desire to protect others is a strong one. Yet he doesn’t search for bloodshed and death. Kunikida has seen innocent and young people getting killed in front of him and that resulted in him sticking to a certain belief. That killing someone isn’t always the only way so he will always try to look for a way to solve a problem without having to rob someone of their life. Most punishments others receive are legal, made by laws and rules from the government and a court. Kunikida isn’t someone who is into tormenting others so he’s exerted to make a punishment quick and without much suffering. Even when in a raging frenzy where he might end up killing someone, he’ll never overdo it.

📓I wouldn’t say that the idea of kidnapping is something that would cross Kunikida’s mind initially and even if he is possessive and protective, he’s still far away from the paranoia Atsushi harbors inside of him. His ability is to keep a relatively calm and logical composure on himself and as long as his mental state doesn’t deteriorate, he won’t use force. He has things planned out after all, the wooing, the dating up to the point of marriage. That might turn out to be the thing that poses to be a threat since within his ideals are certain chains that will end up trapping his darling a bit into certain things. Breaking this plans of his and bending his own rules a bit is what causes a mental breakdown within Kunikida so he strictly avoids kidnapping. He couldn’t really bear with himself if he were to really abduct his darling due to his awareness over his feelings. Unless it isn’t an emergency and your life is at risk, the furthest he would do is isolating you a bit.

📓Kunikida likes to organize things so he always will schedule dates neatly on days where the two of you have some free time to spare. Holds huge respect for his darling and he actually is willing to leave some free space in between his expectations or even be convinced into changing things a bit, that is if s/o hasn’t given him a reason to tighten his grip on them a bit. After all despite his strictness, Kunikida can tend to be on a more soft side. It’s still not his style to spoil and cuddle his s/o, he doesn’t want them to believe that they’ll just get everything they want. Sure, he has his moments where he feels in a generous mood and would be willing to spend a bit money on you, but don’t expect it to be the norm. He probably wouldn guarantee that you at least get the things done that you have to do, for your job or something you promised to do, including certain household chores. He’s no slave driver but he will push you if laziness keeps you from doing something important. His whole intelligence aside, it’s actually not unlikely that you might be able to fool him sometimes since he tends to be a bit naive.

Yosano Akiko

🦋Yosano is aware, protective and shows slight hints for some sadistic traits. She’s highly respected in the Agency for her calm and nonchalant behavior, staying under composure even under pressure and always taking some sort of leader role when someone needs advice. Quite perceptive, she has figured out after a while that this crush of hers goes beyond the norm of healthy love and even if it concerns her, she’s able to deal with more responsibility and less twisted darkness the given situation, differently from some of her fellow Agency members. She’s able to stay fair in terms of her darling and the rights they get, not letting her own obsession interfere and control too much. Though she has those sadistic phrases of hers which will give her s/o quite the startle, gleeful when they accidentally hurt themself and showing a morbid fascination, maybe pressing down a bit too hard whilst examining the wound. Yet she’s also protective and values as a doctor human life so at the end of it all she’ll always snap out of it and patch the wound up, take care of whatever needs to be taken care of.

🦋A huddled yet balanced mix of lovestruck and strict. As I mentioned it, she doesn’t let her intense love get in her way of seeing things as they are which means she’ll never be too spoiling and pampering nor will she be too stern and controlling. You’re your own individual who can look after yourself and unless she thinks you can’t, she’ll never step too much into your personal life to play mother hen. She’ll do it if she thinks that she has to be which does mean that she’ll have to grow more controlling. Especially with your health she’s petty if needed and so she’ll be quite strict when it comes to taking care of your own health, physically or mentally and advices given from her are meant to be followed, no playing in such areas. At the same time she’s also quite often in a good mood and likes dragging her s/o in her shopping tours where she tends to buy them the one or another thing. It’s not enough to be counted as her pampering you yet it’s safe to say the lady can be generous as long as she isn’t given a reason to be mad or disappointed in you.

🦋Prides herself on being a strong woman who has her very own ability to not be easily befallen from jealousy. She’s contend with having her darling be free enough to keep in contact with family and friends and socialize, isolation would only be a damage to their mental well-being and even if she’s sadistic, she draws a limit. Yosano is not completely sure immune against this feeling that sometimes creeps up on her though. Smart enough to observe whether her jealousy is justified or not, she’ll only really show her discomfort when she believes that her feelings are justified. Now if someone were to ignore her additionally to all of this or have the audacity to call themself more fitting to be with you, this doctor here is very content in exposing a far more eerie side to her. Making her jealous is one thing, belittling her on top of that and plainly turning an eye to the fact that she’s your girlfriend is a completely different one. And instead of subtly warning and reminding someone that you’re in a relationship with her, she’ll make that person remember this in a far more different way.

🦋I do believe that she has a soft spot, she puts life in a high place after all. However, belittle her or her s/o or push the wrong buttons and you’ll come to realize quickly that she is a force to be recognized. Don’t forget that she has a very sadistic side to her and she won’t hesitate to break someone’s fingers if they dared to mistreat her or her darling. When confronted with an asshole she won’t be very kind and it’ll be almost like a switch was turned inside of her. The normally calm and composed attitude of here will be replaced by the one of a young maniac who will give others a perfect scare. Mistaking her kindness she shows her darling for forgiveness and thinking that she will be lenient is a mistake, one that can end in broken bones and blood spilled all over the place. Whether she only uses someone as a punching bag to heal them after with her dreadful treatment or leaves them all broken and cut is up to the act they committed. She’ll never kill someone, but they’ll be left on the edge of eternal darkness.

🦋Despite her occasional sadistic waves of emotions the relationship with her is relatively normal and even if Yosano can appear to be a bit too harsh from time to time, she’s always fair. It’s not like she puts her darling higher than herself nor is she someone to put herself above her darling either. Content enough to create a love where both of you are equal and important. It would be against certain morals of hers to advice her darling since she has put a lot of work and pride into this love life she created with them despite her Yandere side. Being that desperate isn’t a corner she wants herself to be pushed nor would she expect that you’d be able to see her in the same light as before if she’s actually do it. So I don’t see her taking her s/o by force into her house, with time things will flow naturally and even if she might have her phrases of paranoia where she sticks her darling to her side or isolated them for a bit, she’d never do anything out of the line.

🦋She kind of doesn’t let her friends in the Agency on about her crush and relationship at first either, though not for quite the possessive reasons as Dazai would. She just wants to have worked and figured things out before she lets others on about her new relationship. If you observe her calmly and closely, you might be able to do notice that she might just act the tiniest bit out of the usual, seemingly thoughtful when no emergency is keeping them busy. She won’t let her love and thoughts interfere with her work. Casting aside her roughness, over time her and you developed quite a few sweet couple things you two do with each other. Sweet morning and good night messages, some cute notes or small letters to cheer the other up when they feel a bit more down or sad and wearing something to symbolize that you two are lovers. Maybe some sort of bracelet. When not in her formal attire for the Agency, couple outfits might happen every once in a while as well. She wouldn’t use her ability on her darling as long as they really are in great danger, though as a protective doctor lover she’ll always have to check twice if she hears that you’ve suffered an injury that isn’t just a minor scratch.

Tanizaki Junichiro

🧡This poor guy here, sane enough to know that his darling probably won’t even notice him since he is quite shy around them yet delusional enough to not view his own feelings as wrong, making him a semi-delusional Yandere. Tanizaki is also a possessive and obsessive Yandere, though both are very subtle traits at the beginning. Especially his obsession manifests quickly and it’s bad enough to escalate to the point where he ends up stealing something from them. His sense of morality is a weak one to say the least, it makes him quite menace in certain situations. He’s smart enough to not constantly take away your things, but he’s stolen more than a handful already, keeping them somewhere only he, and probably his sister as soon as she’s let in on her brother’s love, can find them. His possessiveness isn’t quite outstanding unless it’s when he is being confronted by a love rival or is lead to the belief that you’ll leave him or are in danger.

🧡Junichiro is protective, though here as well he can keep himself subtle as long as he isn’t given a reason to feel otherwise. He loves and cares for his darling and with time he finds himself falling into the habit of wanting to baby them a bit, though he himself can be a very clumsy guy. Protective can turn quickly into overprotective the moment you suffered for the first time a severe injury in the relationship, a memory that leaves a bad and lasting scar on his mental health and it’s afterwards that he turns overbearing and careful and cautious with everything and everyone. Clingy as well, though his physical affection pales next to Naomi’s, though it’s still counted as strong smothering. Especially in private he can and will be very affectionate, in public he’s mostly more gentle and respectful. Lovestruck is a good word to describe him, though he has a bubbly and pure love on him as well as the possessive and bloody one.

🧡Whilst not sharing the same insecurities as Atsushi, Tanizaki still views himself as an average college student. There’s nothing to special about him, though his sister often tells him that this isn’t true. Yet there is no denial he has the fear that there will be someone that might be better than him, he knows that such people exist. Even if he doesn’t tend to go as quickly jealous as Atsushi, he isn’t someone to be exactly confident either. The orange-haired boy still gets fairly quickly jealous, cue sign for his possessiveness to be triggered. Now don’t think of him as some jealous meanie, he does attempt to stay silent whilst squirming uncomfortably at first as long as he knows who the person is you’re talking to. The same does not count for strangers who think flirting and flustering you is a good idea, instead he’ll only step possessively in front of you with a pissed and furrowed expression on his face.

🧡His sense of moral is a questionable one since Junichiro doesn’t hesitate to take a immoral approach which included harming others if it means protecting those he cares about. Just look at how highly bloody and violent he turns whenever someone endangers his sister Naomi and you’ll probably can picture how it’ll turn out with his darling. He’s without a second to hesitate ready to take death of people through his one hands on his shoulders if it means he can protect the s/o. He said that he’s ready to burn the world for his sister and the same counts for him his treasured darling. Living a life without them is like the world just lost it’s color and anxiety tends to get ahead of him. So even if he feels like he’s only second-best in comparison to the people in the Agency and shares some insecurities, it’s a bold mistake to underestimate him. His ability Light Snow is a perfect ability to kill someone without the average person knowing what even hit them. Pushing him into a corner and harming his s/o is the best and quickest way to truly let him reveal his dark colors and feelings.

🧡Naomi as the main supporter of this relationship might just be a bit more impatient than Tanizaki himself is. She’s somewhat possessive over her brother so she’ll still insist on living together with him, only that she wants you to move in with them now. Her brother, even if deep down hoping and wishing the same, would probably still decide to take things a bit slower and to not make you feel pressured. Junichiro was never someone to rush the things in this relationship, his darling kind of gets to decide the pacing and he’ll just match their tempo. He isn’t a very possessive guy unless there are certain triggers and if he were to ever kidnap his darling, it’ll either be because of his possessiveness or overprotectiveness being pushed over the plank, in the worst case scenario it’s even both. The boy isn’t keen on the idea though, he wouldn’t be able to take their possible hatred or tears afterwards. It’ll only get to his head and bother him for weeks after. He dreams of a normal relationship.

🧡Naomi, even with slight initial jealousy, honestly just becomes your best friend by more or less her own persistence. Because if her brother is helplessly in love, she’ll help dear Tanizaki of course. She gives him advice on how to approach you, talk to you and what he can do to make you happy. With her more possessive behavior over her brother here the question is if her advices are always good or not. The college student can’t effort much gifts with the money he has, but he likes cooking for his s/o a lot. It’s one of the very few things he feels he’s decent enough to be called good in. He probably cooks for Naomi quite often anyways so he’ll start cooking for you as well. Won’t be able to hide you as his crush and lover for too long from the preying eyes of his fellow members in the Agency because he’s so bad at it. Quite ready to embarrass himself if it means that he can put a smile on your face, if you were to buy him something or craft something for him to wear he will do so, even if it’ll cause others to chuckle when seeing it.

Izumi Kyouka

🌸She has started removing the impassiveness that she used to carry around during her time with the mafia which reveal a somewhat childish side of hers since she’s still a teenager. Loving someone romantically is yet something she has to experience for herself and it is frightening as much as it is wonderful for her. She is more of a delusional Yandere who won’t think I’ll of her emotions, though she has a small twist with her. Kyouka is very aware that she did wrong and that her darling might just see her as a serial killer as soon as they would find out that she has murdered 35 people as an assassin. A girl that becomes as delicate as a flower under the light of love fears the hatred, the fear you might throw at her upon receiving those news. It’s the main reason she doesn’t dare to approach you yet, though part of it is her own bashfulness. As a stealthy person, she most likely ends up stalking her darling a lot. She won’t break into their house, but she trails silently behind them in public or secretly escorts them on their way back home.

🌸Only after she can tell herself for certain that her darling loves her, will she become more delusional. Her s/o and her are from now on after all a happy couple, aren’t they? She’s protective and she has reasons to be paranoid (most characters have tbh). I wouldn’t say that she’s as terribly overprotective and babying as some people like Chuuya are, but her occupation is a dangerous one and she certainly won’t let anyone or anything lay a wrong finger on her s/o. You have your freedom and she isn’t as overbearing as to always want to have you with her, but walking late at night and suspicious places always gives her a bad feeling. She never really has the heart to argue strongly against darling though, she still has her own insecurities and always gets struck with anxiety when she makes s/o mad. That brings her back to stalking them if she isn’t able to convince them into staying somewhere safe or they don’t want her company. She only wants love after all and even if she finds herself a bit skittish with sudden affection, with time to grow accustomed to it she’ll want more.

🌸What a new and annoying feeling jealously is for Kyouka. She has never really experienced it before and differently from the feelings she has for you, warm and giving her a strong feeling of security, she would describe jealousy as the complete opposite. She feels insecure and a bit scared. Kyouka finds herself on a bit possessive side as well, though she tries to fight the darkness in her mind. The girl does allow herself to be more altruistic in situations, she loves putting a smile on her darling’s face after all. Being less insecure than Atsushi is, she beats him in ensuring people you’re very affectionate better. Her delusions keep her often in control as well, she sticks to her belief that her s/o and her are a loving pair. It’s not like you haven’t seen her limits either, she can snap easily if someone tries to flirt and woo you. Not someone to be very talkative, she isn’t someone to be noisy and catch attention since that’s the last thing she would want. Do not underestimate the heavy glare she always shoots at the counterpart. This blankly dark expression of hers gets under their skin one or another way. She’d never kill someone for jealousy reasons, although it did happen that she frightened the excessively annoying people with her skills a bit.

🌸There are improvements for a healthy sense of morality. Kyouka’s morality on the other hand is still in development despite her trying to prove that she isn’t only worth something as long as she kills others. Trying to not give in to her sinister and killer instincts is hard from time to time, but the dark-haired girl tries her best. If she had to choose, she’d still decide to bloody ways if it means protecting the people in her Agency and her love. She’ll have to be secretive about it, not wanting the Agency, her s/o nor someone else to find out. Kyouka does genuinely conquer the darkness in her mind so even with her past, she’s never someone to kill without having a good reasons. She also thinks about it in order to have a plan unlike Atsushi who always lets his rage consume him. A graceful killer who will give a quick death. She doesn’t enjoy seeing people in agony or tormenting them, she merely justifies it as getting rid of a person that has been a pain and torture in your life. She does what she needs to do.

🌸To be very sincere, I do not see Kyouka doing something like this. As I mentioned earlier, she can be a very selfless Yandere and only care for what is the best and makes you happy. With her paranoia and possessiveness that is a trait to be acknowledged. I won’t say that she is an innocent angel either, the thought has crossed her mind before when her will was a bit shaken yet she never had the heart to do this. Even if the paranoia of you being hurt is strong, the fear of you not loving her and loathing her is equally bad in her eyes. She has her manipulative moments where she influences the surroundings around her to somehow trick you into staying in one area where you’ll hopefully be safe, but that’s it already. Finding a balance between her own protective side and your joy leads to her becoming a permanent stalker after all, no matter how far this relationship has already progressed. She finds herself calming down a bit the moment you two would move in together and to be frank, she would totally love that.

🌸Poor Atsushi turns out to be her personal dating advisor since she is extremely close to him, though other members from the Agency kinda hinted that he might not be the best person to ask either. Kyouka is a rather blunt person as soon as she has gotten over her initial shyness in regards of you, though she’d never say something that might hurt you. Why? Because she is drunk on love. All her stalking aside, she loves taking her s/o on a walk through Yokohama and often she finds herself going to buy some Crêpes with her darling. She loves those after all and wants to share them with the person she loves. Atsushi might end up tagging along so he can pay, but by now Kyouka earns her own money which she’ll also use for such delicious traits. Given her sweet tooth, with time a hobby of you two becomes baking cupcakes, cookies and whatever you two want to try out.

Nakahara Chuuya

🟠Chuuya is possessive and overprotective. He has never been happy about the life he’s had so far. His connection to Arahabaki that made him question how much humanity he actually has in him, his failed position as a leader for the Sheep and their betrayal and his current position as an Executive in the Port Mafia. All he asks for is being able to keep a stable relationship with his darling, one that isn’t tainted and ruined by something or someone. He has confidence in himself that he’ll be able to court his darling normally, though he has a paranoia deep inside his core as well which will be especially triggered if Dazai were to come into the picture. It’s pretty cannon that Dazai loves testing Chuuya’s limits and s/o won’t be an exception for this. In general Chuuya is rather trigger-happy and due to his hot tempered nature, it’s not that unlikely that he’ll lose his cool over something which will only worsen his possessiveness and overprotectiveness. His protective side is indeed something that can cause him to treat his darling like a Chinese doll sometimes, made out of fragile porcelain who he wants to dote on.

🟠For the biggest part, Chuuya is rather aware of his actions. His profession is not one that’s morally right nor is his little obsession about his darling. So deep down there is the chance that he feels somewhat bad for what he sometimes puts you through, though never in a way where he harms you directly. More in an indirect way by ripping away those you might love as soon as they’ve done something that successfully has made him see red out of rage. Chuuya isn’t very manipulative, he just has to keep some things a secret that he knows would made you petrified of him, so you’ll never know what kind of lifestyle he has until something spills the tea. Yet there is always the chance for a switch to a rather delusional turn for him, partially he has already deluded himself into thinking that way. That is in regards of your well-being which he puts about as high as the fact that you’ll stay with him. Telling himself that he can protect and cherish you best has awoken the illusion inside of him that brutally hurting and killing other people if one of those two conditions were to be broken is the only right thing.

🟠A grown-ass man sometimes tends to be like a child, annoying you to get some affection out of you. Chuuya isn’t terribly clingy, not to the same extent Dazai can become, though his affection is somewhat above the average as well. The redhead needs his cuddles as well from time to time so when he’s alone with his darling, he can be quite silly. But for the love of him, do not try to make him jealous because he’s possessive as hell, his protective side will most likely play part in it as well. Chuuya tends to get jealous quickly as soon as someone has stared at his s/o for too long and he’ll be vocal about this annoying and itching feeling inside of him. Quite brash and impolite with his pick of words and the tone he spits them out, an irritated and mad look on his face. He’ll let it slip if the other person leaves with their tail between their legs then and there, though further testing his already crossed limits or even having the fucking audacity to talk or flirt with you is the final line to be drawn. Don’t you even dare! Chuuya will explode and chances are that he’ll already be out of instinct a bit violent, though the true bruises and agony awaits this idiot as soon as he’s sure no one will catch him.

🟠Fuck with his darling, hurt them or try to court them and take them away from him and you’re in for something. The Executive will, without sugarcoating it, break your bones and crush your jaw, beat you up until you’re beyond recognition. He ain’t playing or joking around at all, threats have to be removed after all and most of the time he’ll leave them either half-dead with the chances that they’re either unable to recover fully or will die soon after. Or he’ll kill them, going easy on someone is never the case, the most merciful he’s been was when he smashed someone’s face with his knee, breaking their jaw, nose and knocking about half of the front teeth out. He’s put your family and friends into a category he’ll protect under certain circumstances as well as long as no one of them has harmed you in a way. Don’t think that he won’t do something though if they want to interfere somehow the relationship, he might go a bit more lenient, but it won’t be a pleasant experience either. He’ll try to stay a bit rational and not let his emotions get the better of him most of the time, he’ll corner his victim when they’re somewhere alone without any witnesses. There is still the possibility for him to attack someone even if he were to be in public, if someone would hurt you in front of his eyes for example.

🟠He might just coax his s/o into living together in a comfy house in a more quiet and isolated yet safe district at some point. He’s aware enough to not want to abduct his s/o. That’s just the dragging hope of his to have a taste of a normal life, to be a normal boyfriend and enjoy this sweet lovers life that the both of you have. Do you recall me mentioning that he can have a complete switch and go into full delusional and paranoid mode? That’s when Chuuya will end up kidnapping his s/o and forcing them into a turbulent life with him, one that he yet seems to be the only option he has left to keep you and protect you. There might be a subconscious part of him that knows that he’s being selfish right now and he curses and wishes the worst upon the one factor who ends up with the highest chances to be that trigger. His former partner Dazai. Keeping you a secret from that guy is essential, absolutely necessary in Chuuya’s mind to not risk anything. He has a bitter feeling inside of his throat, sheer disappointment and frustration that he couldn’t do even that and was pushed in so much anxiety that he had to reveal his true identity and bend you via fear into shape. But there was no other way and at this point he’s so desperate to avoid the painful awareness of all of this that he’s fully wrapped himself in a pretty lie of his.

🟠He’s such a gentleman before everything goes downhill. Cute things to wear since he loves dolling you up a bit, most of the time only for his eyes, night strolls and passionate kisses and touches. He’s not perfect, but he has the charm and up until the point where Dazai breaks him and haunts him like a poltergeist, he possesses the smug confidence as well. Loves flustering you a lot, it boosts his ego even more and it looks too adorable on an additional side note. Spoiling your from time to time happens as well as long as you behave, flowers, chocolate and from time to time a few jewels as well. All of that is gone after he carved in under the pressure Dazai’s constant appearances inflicted on him, damage is done at this point to his and your mentality. You might not even believe that the man in front of you is the same man you used to be in wonderful love with. He’s distraught, desperate to justify his actions to you, to himself just to repair this broken relationship. He still believes that it can work, that both of you can go back to how you used to be as lovers, but that is only if you’d give him a fucking chance! Why won’t you listen to him and make all of this easier?! It is possible that he’ll lessen his grip around you after he feels like he can trust you again, though he won’t stray away from your side if he lets you out, horrified to bump into Dazai again.

[piecksz]

three’s a crowd | (m)

pairing: reiner x fem!reader x eren

warnings: nsfw, oral sex (female recieving), cuckolding, male masturbation, penetrative sex, voyeurism, slight degredation, slight angst, light mention of drugs, explicit language

summary: reiner’s attempt at hiding his attraction towards you fails, but lucky for him, eren’s feeling generous.

words: 4.6k

a/n: this was so much longer than i planned for.....well.....shit LMAOOO

a/n x2: I FORGOT TO ADD if you guys wanna listen to the song i looped like 47 fucking times while writing this, bc i feel like it fits reiner in this one shot kinda well, u can listen to recognize by partynextdoor (feat. drake) :p enjoy

Reiner hated Eren.

He hadn’t gone into living with someone he’d never met in person before with innumerable expectations, but he wasn’t banking on his roommate to be his polar opposite. He hated the sound of Eren’s riotous music into the early hours of dawn. He hated the unbearable malodor of his marijuana dependence, and he hated the way he carried himself with an intolerable air of arrogance, but as much as Eren’s living habits irritated him, it was the fact that Eren had you that presided over all of his grievances.

Being a witness to it made Reiner sick, knowing that you were leagues above Eren, and surely you deserved someone respectable, but somehow he’d charmed you into a long-term relationship, and Reiner wondered how he’d managed it. If by some miracle it had been up to him, Reiner speculated that he would be a viable match for you--that was if he had those sentiments for you--and he reassured himself he didn’t hold any promiscuous feelings towards his roommate’s girlfriend.

Yet it was hard for Reiner to rationalize the obscene thoughts that pervaded his mind at 2 AM. His clock displayed the time in bold red numbers, an indication that he should have been fast asleep, but you had decided to spend the night, and he already understood what that entailed.

The walls in their apartment were thin and did an insubstantial job of muting the noise that traveled between rooms. Reiner boasted the privilege of having his room right next to Eren’s, which meant he could hear everything that happened on the other side of the barrier. He heard every whimper, every groan, every time Eren praised you for taking him so well, and every time he admired how irresistible you looked while he fucked you from the back. The sound was so lucid he could count exactly how many rounds you guys had gone, and it was usually two, three if Eren hadn’t seen you in a while which was rare.

You two were hard to ignore, no matter how hard Reiner had tried, meaning he was also up late, listening while you two coupled. Your cries of stimulation, however, he didn’t mind as much. In truth, Reiner was always tempted to slip his hands into his pants and get himself off to the sound of your enticing whimpers, but he would discourage himself, deciding it was against his better judgement. Instead he would opt to cover his ears with his pillow, flipping over onto his side and dedicating his total effort to falling asleep.  

Of course, Reiner had long established that he didn’t like you, but he swore he could make you feel better than Eren could.

It was around midday when Reiner returned to their apartment after committing his morning to helping his long-time friend, Pieck, pack up the furniture at her studio in preparation to move. They were halfway finished with stowing away Pieck’s belongings before she realized they didn’t have enough boxes and apologized, asking Reiner if he’d be willing to return the following day to help her load up her remaining things. He obliged, guiltily happy that he was being dismissed early.

Reiner kicked off his shoes and ambled into the kitchen to set down the food he secured on his way home, but he paused momentarily to scrutinize the condition of the living room, discerning Eren’s obvious trace.

The TV was on, but it sat idly, blinking images of some prime time movie Reiner couldn’t recognize, and Eren’s drug paraphernalia was left scattered on the coffee table, his bong alongside his stray lighter and grinder.

“Eren!” Reiner had prompted him on several occasions, reminding Eren that just because he thought electricity was a necessary utility and should be free, didn’t mean it was, they still had to pay for it. He also requested that he put his bong away after he was done smoking since it wasn’t permitted in their building, but Eren seemed heedless to that demand too. “Eren!”

Reiner anticipated a response, but huffed when he received only silence. Leave it to his roommate to blight his good mood in record time. He mumbled inaudibly, swiping the remote off the table to turn the TV off, and then reluctantly bending down to tidy the space of Eren’s things.

“Hi, Sunshine. You’re up and about early.”

Reiner straightened himself out and turned around, unaware that you’d been over. He missed your approaching footsteps. Had you stayed the night? He didn’t hear anything from Eren’s room the previous evening which was unusual to say the least. Maybe you’d stopped by earlier that morning while he’d been out.

“Hey,” he replied meekly. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

Reiner’s eyes looked you over swiftly, slightly startled at the lack of clothing covering your bottom half. You were only wearing a loose shirt that stopped dangerously at your hips and a pair of lace undergarments, but naturally, you didn’t seem the least bit phased. You’d practically lived with them. When you weren’t in class or at your part-time job, you were at their apartment, leading Reiner to wonder if you forgot you had a place of your own. 

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “Sorry Eren left all of his shit out. I don’t know how I know the house rules and he doesn’t.”

Reiner snorted. “He knows them, he just doesn’t care.” His voice was casual although he walked hastily into the kitchen to avoid looking at you. He stored Eren’s bong in the vacant cupboard above the microwave before throwing his other tools into a miscellaneous drawer.

As if on cue, Eren wandered out of his room languidly, carelessly shrugging a jacket onto his unclad upper body. Reiner took that as a sign that his lunch would be best enjoyed in his room. He was already irked, and wasn’t in the headspace to deal with the current atmosphere.

“What’d you get?” you questioned, leaning over the counter with mirth. You paid little attention to the way Eren came up behind you, circling his arms around your waist and resting his chin in the curve of your shoulder. You looked more interested in the alluring smells wafting from the paper bag in Reiner’s hand.

Another thing he hated about Eren was his shameless PDA. It appeared he adored showing you off, letting everyone know that you were his, but God--how could anyone forget when it seemed he was incapable of keeping his hands off of you. Reiner himself recognized that you were a prize, from your lively eyes that were a marriage of subtle hues to the way your lips curled upwards when you grinned. He even noticed the curve of your breasts’ shape through your shirt. If Reiner had you, he’d want you all to himself.

He shook the thought out of his head.

“I just got something small on the way home.” He forced a smile. “If I’d known you were over I would have gotten you something too.”

“Why do you treat Y/N better than you treat me?” Eren asked, sounding only a little bit offended.

Reiner pretended to think before he responded. “Ah, maybe it’s because I don’t like you.”

You laughed at Reiner’s reply, and Eren only smiled, but Reiner detected something else behind his expression. Mischief.

“Do you like Y/N?”

Reiner creased his eyebrows together. “Of course.” He hadn’t read too much into the question. He did like you. You weren’t just easy on the eyes, but you were great company too. That was the only reason he didn’t mind lending their apartment to you as a second home, he enjoyed being around you.

You let out an exaggerated aww after he answered. “I like you too, Reiner.”

Reiner chuckled, shaking his head, but inside he was telling his heart to calm down. You didn’t mean it like that.

Eren hummed absentmindedly, swaying side to side slowly while you rocked along to his movement.

“Do you wanna fuck her?”

Reiner gripped the bag in his hand tightly, and his smile faltered in shock, reeling from the bombshell of Eren’s question. “What?” Did he hear him correctly?

You looked just as surprised, exclaiming your boyfriend’s name and craning your neck to look at him.

“I’m kidding,” he dismissed, but Reiner could tell he wasn’t from the way Eren’s eyes didn’t waver from him.

What Reiner didn’t know was that Eren had caught onto him. He’d known for a while, which was why he was particularly touchy with you around Reiner, showing you off, not caring whether you walked around their apartment scarcely dressed, it was because Eren enjoyed having something that someone else wanted. He saw the way his roommate acted around his girlfriend, reserved and quiet, more than he usually was, and he even noticed the way Reiner’s eyes dipped down to your chest in the moment because Eren was exceptional at paying attention to detail.

You must have detected how uncomfortable Reiner felt because you delivered a brief jab to Eren’s ribs with your elbow.

“Eren, that’s not fucking funny,” you chided. “Do I need to put you in time out?”

“It’s fine,” Reiner interrupted quickly. He didn’t want you defending him because you were oblivious. It only made the situation more embarrassing than it already was since, truthfully, the thought had crossed his mind more than once.

Eren reiterated his question, eyes narrowed at Reiner. “So do you?”

You sighed heavily and looked at Reiner apologetically. He could feel his face growing hot, and he prayed it wasn’t obvious he was as flushed as he felt. He just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

Reiner released a humourless chuckle. “Grow up, Eren.” He slipped past the two of you, but he didn’t get far.

“I’m only asking because I’m feeling charitable. You wouldn’t mind, would you baby?”

Reiner could hear Eren pressing a series of ticklish kisses against your skin, causing you to laugh through your answer.

“I mean, I wouldn’t mind if Reiner doesn’t mind.”

Reiner brought his teeth down hard on the tip of his tongue. He was surprised that Eren was so secure in his relationship that he would willingly allow another man to have his way with his girlfriend. He wasn’t sure if his suggestion was insane or ingenious, because Eren had taken control of the one thing that threatened any relationship: infidelity, something so unvirtuous wouldn’t stop him from loving you. You and Eren were so committed to each other that a simple fuck meant nothing.

Reiner hesitated, but figured an opportunity like this was rare. He had both Eren’s permission and yours, yet he still didn’t believe his sincerity until you were in Eren’s room, starting to strip out of your clothes.

His chestnut eyes drifted over to Eren, slouched lazily in the chair he casually pulled out from his desk. “You’re gonna watch?”

Eren lifted a thick eyebrow, resting his thumb under his chin with an index finger against his cheek, looking unimpressed by Reiner’s obvious reservations. “You think I’d let you fuck my girlfriend without me here?”

Reiner slid a tense hand over the back of his neck, rubbing away the uncomfortable heat that creeped up his back and diffused to the tips of his ears. He figured that was reasonable considering the circumstances, after all, he was only fucking you because Eren had allowed it.

There was nothing more intoxicating to Reiner than your bare form, scanty pink lace clinging to your hips the only thing preventing you from being completely naked in front of him. His gaze dipped from your simpering smile down to your collarbones and then down to your breasts, perfectly sculpted to your figure.

Reiner made no efforts to move despite his insatiable urge to grab you in his arms and make certain that you were left satisfied. He feared he’d look too eager to Eren who was observing from the sidelines, but you paid little attention to your audience of one as you sauntered towards Reiner, closer and closer, until your arms slid around his neck and you pressed your chest to his torso.

Reiner’s body was strung so tightly, he was afraid he might snap. It seemed you took notice of the way his muscles tensed once your delicate fingers ghosted over the nape of his neck because your suggestive expression waned, and instead, your eyebrows creased with sincere concern.

“You okay?”

He couldn’t respond, but to be fair, it was because his heart was hammering against his chest and he wasn’t sure how to make it stop. He looked over at Eren again, who, fortunately, didn’t seem to pay much attention to him. Instead, your boyfriend’s stare was fixed on your backside, likely admiring how luscious you looked from his perspective.

“I’m over here.” You laughed and pressed a gentle finger to Reiner’s chin, redirecting his focus back to you. “Just relax.”

He swallowed, chuckling to soothe his unease. “I’m trying.”

Reiner wasn’t sure why he felt so unassertive in your presence. He didn’t hold a record like Eren did, but he also wasn't abstinent by any means. This, though, felt different. He was dealing with several months of pent-up sexual frustration that could only be satisfied by you and no one else. He knew because he’d tried.

Reiner drew in a ragged breath as you leaned into him, breathing heavily through his mouth until you closed the space in between you two, then he continued breathing heavily through his nose. At first, he made no efforts to close his eyes, afraid that the imagery in front of him was a mirage inspired by his own imagination and would disappear if he so much as blinked. His lips were timid, body taut under your touch, but you seduced his mouth, reining him in until he melted into the kiss.

He pushed back against you with fervor and desperation, outlining the shape of your bottom lip with his tongue before nipping at the soft flesh. You released a quiet whimper, intensifying the lust swelling in the pit of his stomach, and Reiner forced his tongue past your teeth, claiming your mouth while his wandering hands settled audaciously against your ass.

Your hands slid over his shoulders and crafted biceps until they tugged hastily against the hem of his shirt, and Reiner immediately understood your cue, withdrawing his mouth from yours to give himself just enough time to slip out of it. He dipped down again to deliver another kiss, but he was deterred by the feeling of your palm against his chest.

“What? Is something wrong?” he questioned quickly, eyes darting back and forth between your hand and your face, worried that he’d done something to overstep your boundaries.

Instead of the troubled expression he expected, you looked rather intrigued. Perhaps impressed was the better word. Your curiosity was held by Reiner’s physique, a living work of art. Eager fingers traveled down the built ripples of his abdomen, chuckling once you felt his muscles flex under your touch.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed. “Nice, Braun.”

A snicker emitted from the corner. This, miraculously, Eren allowed.

Reiner's mouth quirked upward in a subtle smile before he surrounded you with his arm, pulling you in for another kiss. He walked you backwards until you collapsed onto the mattress, and he fell on top of you, strong forearms holding up his weight. It was then that Reiner realized he allowed his lust to win in the war against himself.

He pulled away to recover his breath, winded pants fanning over your face. His surveying eyes searched yours before they lowered to your swollen lips. God, you were even more mesmerizing up close, heavy-lidded and studying him through a curtain of eyelashes. Maybe for once Reiner would admit he was jealous of Eren. He was fucking envious, bitter, and spiteful that you were his. He’d been a goddamn idiot to let things go this far, agreeing to Eren’s offer, because he knew one fuck wouldn’t be enough to fufill his need for you. He’d barely gotten a taste, and he could already promise that nothing would ever compare to this.

He found your throat and pressed a fleeting kiss to your pulse, moving further down until his lips met your collarbone. He nipped at the delicate skin, taking notice of the way your grip in his hair tightened. His eyebrows arched while he peered up at you, delighting in the way your head rolled back and forth against the duvet. He really wanted to suck at your skin, leaving dark bruises that decorated the path from your earlobe down to your breastbone, but he knew Eren would kill him.

Reiner dipped lower until his lips brushed lightly against your beaded nipple. You made a small sound of protest, but held his head closer, letting him know what you really wanted. His heart beat erratically against his ribcage as he curved a large hand around your right breast and suppressed a groan, but you released a breathy whimper.

He could feel the sound wreaking havoc in his brain. His balls were so damn tight, it would take barely any effort for him to cum, but he wanted to prolong your coupling as long as possible. He didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance like this.  

His thumb ran over the erect peaks of your breasts, captivated by the magic of watching your back arch and your body become aroused under his touch. He dipped a finger into his mouth, glazing it with his saliva before using it to flick back and forth at your nipple.

“Fuck, Reiner,” you mewled.

Reiner replaced his hand with his lips, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth. The tip of his tongue swirled around it, coating it generously with his spit, while you made no attempts to conceal your intense cries of pleasure.  

Eren released an entertained sigh, swiveling back and forth in his chair. “She whines like a bitch, doesn’t she?”

Shit. Reiner had almost forgotten he was there, but he still released a hungry grunt in agreement, sending vibrations over your chest. He tugged at your nipple with his teeth, releasing it, and then soothing the sting with the flat side of his tongue.

He trailed down your abdomen, pressing hard wet kisses and stopping to leave a quick lick to your navel. He grinned against your skin when you gripped the sheets and breathed his name again, this time quieter, as if you meant it only for his ears. He liked to think so.

Once he reached the waistband of your panties, he licked along the fabric, immobilizing your rolling hips with strong hands.

“Enough with the theatrics, Reiner. Just do it already,” Eren groaned, sounding irate.

Reiner assumed Eren’s groan was only to stress his impatience, but once he looked over to him, he realized he wasn’t just giving directives from the sidelines. His bottom lip was tucked between his teeth, and his hand was moving steadily against the noticeable tent in his sweatpants.

He was enjoying this just as much as Reiner was, getting off to the sight of his girlfriend under another man, his roommate nonetheless.

Reiner suddenly felt strange. What the hell was he doing providing entertainment for Eren?

“Reiner,” your needy voice pulled him out of his reflection. His attention drifted back to you, watching while you propped yourself up on your elbows and slid your unsteady hands over your chest to tweak your own nipples, as if you were trying to hold yourself over.

He wished you hadn’t looked so tempting, even with your disheveled hair and sweaty skin, your vulnerable eyes fixated on him, and he was powerless.

Reiner hooked his fingers around your underwear, kissing a trail down the inside of your thighs as he pulled your panties down to your ankles before slipping them off and letting them pool on the floor.

“Spread wide baby, let him see that pretty pussy,” Eren stirred, cock now thrust out the top of his grey sweats and his swollen tip glistening with precum. His hand was wrapped firmly around his stiff length, moving slow while his breathing quickened.

For once, Reiner agreed with him, and he pressed his fingers into your thighs to aid you in parting your legs. Your pussy was slick with your own arousal, squelching as you tightened around nothing. You were even prettier than he’d imagined.

“Fuck,” Reiner breathed, extending two fingers to part your folds. Was he still sure he wasn’t dreaming?

He wrapped his built arms around your legs, pulled you closer, and lowered his head. He fixed his lips to your swollen clit, allowing his tongue to lap and circle around the tender bud every few seconds.

“Oh my god,” you cried, writhing against the sheets.

If he hadn’t secured your legs in his grip, he was certain you would have smothered him between your thighs out of reflex. He could detect the way you fought against his hold, but he far overpowered you in strength.

When he plunged his tongue inside you without notice, that was nearly enough to send you over the edge. You pulled on the sheets with a frenzied grip, producing a shrill cry your neighbors had certainly heard. There was no doubt about it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured, chest expanding and falling with labored breaths.

Reiner wanted to spend a few more generous minutes tasting you, he couldn’t get enough, but he also wasn’t sure how much longer he would last. His cock was hot and hard in his pants, and he needed to feel you around him. Even if Eren wouldn’t let him cum inside of you, he needed to experience at least that much.

He rose to his feet, working quickly against his pants’ zipper while trying not to tease himself by looking at you. He was worried the mere sight of you on the bed, spread and ready for him would be enough to bring him to a climax, but he’d made the mistake of looking at you anyways, hand between your legs, delicate fingers rubbing at your clit while you stared up at him.

Fucking hell. Kill me. Reiner thought. Fuck. He felt the throbbing heat of his cock, and he wished you wouldn’t look at him like that. He really wished you wouldn’t look at him like that.

“Look at her, so desperate to be filled. It’s almost pathetic,” Eren laughed, but it was clear he was feeling your effect too. He lolled his head forward, long brown hair spilling over his shoulders and obscuring his face while his palm worked fast against his cock.

Shut up, Reiner thought. His head was growing hazy, and he couldn’t think. He needed to be inside you, and he couldn’t wait a second longer.

Reiner let himself free while his pants and underwear hung low around his knees. He couldn’t even find time to delight in the way your face melted into bliss once you laid eyes on his thick cock, leaking precum in sinful amounts because all he could think about was his ache. He leaned over you, positioning himself at your entrance.

He’d been waiting for this for so goddamn long.

Reiner exhaled when you said his name again, hips undulating against his cock and wet folds stroking his tip. He watched as he pushed himself into you, filling you to the hilt, and once he was inside he hung his head forward, eyes shut tightly in a painful sort of ecstasy.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Reiner grunted breathlessly.

He groaned, pinning your hips down with his once you attempted to fuck yourself onto his cock.

“Stop moving,” he pleaded. “Jesus christ--please don’t move.” He stayed still for a moment, waiting until his sensitivity subsided before he started rocking his hips against you slowly.

Reiner couldn’t dedicate his focus to anything other than the feeling of your slick walls clenching around his cock every time he pulled out, and the way he stretched you out every time he thrusted back in. He wondered if you could feel the depth of his desire.

“Harder,” you whispered once, and then begged louder. “Reiner please, fuck me harder.”

At first, Reiner was worried. He wanted to be gentle, he wanted to savor you, and he wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you, but your request had him picking up the pace, ramming into you until the familiar slapping sound of sweaty skin filled the room.  

You unraveled and became completely undone, letting out loud moans every time he drove his cock into you. Reiner thought the sound was incredibly euphonic as it fell upon his ears. You were like this because of him.

“How’s this?” His voice was husky and deep beside your ear.

Reiner was pleased by your lack of response. You could only nod, overwhelmed by the dual sensation brought on by him and the feeling of your quick fingers against your clit. You secured an arm around his neck again and wrapped your legs around his torso, clinging to him like he was all you needed. He wished that was how you really felt.

“Close…,” you murmured, and Reiner deduced you were warning him that you were near your orgasm. He could tell by the way your walls began to spasm.

Reiner felt the small of his back tighten, and he knew he was close too. He was torn between his release and holding himself back, not ready for this to end just yet, but his body betrayed him and he felt his cock twitch inside you.

Luckily, you reached your climax first, and Reiner watched in awe as your body seized underneath him, breasts bobbing with every jolt while you worked your clit into overstimulation. It wasn’t long after your orgasm that he made his last rueful thrusts. He quickly pulled out and clasped himself in the curve of his hand. He pumped his length until he released in quick spurts onto your stomach, covering you in his hot seed, and he kept pumping until he made sure he emptied himself of every drop.

His eyes quickly darted over to Eren, not to be odd or anything, but again, he had forgotten he was there. It seemed Eren had already satisfied himself. The creamy, white liquid decorating the bare skin of his abdomen and dribbling down his loose fist was evidence of that. Now that he had appeased his urges, he seemed disinterested as he reached over his desk and plucked a few tissues to clean himself up.

Reiner collapsed beside you, listening to the loud thudding of his heart as it delivered a few ecstatic beats while he caught his breath and began to calm down. He stared at the pivoting fan blades, and then his eyes dropped down to you lying next to him, sweaty and fucked out.

You were laying there with him, and goddammit he wanted to reach his arms out and wrap them around you, pulling you close so he could hold you and feel your heartbeat against his chest. He’d press kisses to your salty forehead, and then tell you how much he loved you. He wanted to stay like this.

Reiner's ideal vision dissolved once Eren stopped at the edge of the bed and extended his hand for you to grab.

“You wanna join me for a shower, baby?” Eren asked.

Of course, you took it, allowing him to support you until you were sitting up.

You released an exhausted laugh. “Yes, please.” You then turned to Reiner and arched your eyebrow in surprise. “By the way, not bad, Braun.”

Reiner gave you a small smile in return, but said nothing as he watched you cover your breasts with your arm and let Eren hoist you off the bed. You two slid past him and headed out of the room, but not without Eren looking back over his shoulder, shooting Reiner a shit-eating grin, as though reminding him who you’d always belong to.

[greetings-and-salutations]

“That’s the Big Dipper.”

Steve Harrington x Reader

Finale of the Stranger Things Summer Write-a-Thon!!!

Masterlist

(Gif not mine)

Requested? No

Summary: (Y/n) saw the good in everyone. It’s just who she was. So, when she started dating Billy Hargrove, Steve couldn’t help but try and be her voice of reason, and persuade her to rethink the decision. This, certainly, had nothing to do with his own blossoming feelings for the girl, of course not. But, looking back on it now, she really should have listened to him…

Warnings: starred out swear words, Billy Hargrove, teenage drinking, references to sexual activities, cheating, not really a happy ending

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

“Well, this definitely isn’t the bathroom...”

(Y/n)’s heart was beating loudly in her ears, the drinks finally hitting her at possibly the worst moment imaginable, but it was too late to rethink that decision now.

“Sh*t, (Y/n), I can explain!”

But really, what was there to explain? How many reasons could there be for being caught literally with your pants down with another girl?

“I’m just… gonna go…”

The room was spinning. (Y/n) didn’t remember making it out of the bedroom and down the stairs, her brain all fuzzy and her vision blurred, but the sudden sea of bodies, all moving far too fast for her brain to comprehend, was plenty enough to inform her of her new location.

He hadn’t followed her. (Y/n) didn’t know why she thought he would. It was quickly beginning to dawn on the girl what she had just walked in on. Her boyfriend was cheating on her. And she knew. And he knew she knew. It was clear that whatever they’d had was over. She would be an idiot to think otherwise. But, quite frankly, she didn’t have it in her to care about that either. Everything was giving her a headache, and, honestly, she just wanted to go home.

For the second time that night, (Y/n) was moving through the party without realizing it, stumbling past drunk teenagers, all the while trying to make her way to the front door. Her mind wandered through all the reasons she could have deserved the treatment she was receiving from a guy who was supposed to love her. Had she done something wrong? She didn’t think so. But she must have, as the other options were far too depressing to consider in her current state.

Suddenly something knocked her from her thoughts, or rather, someone, the girl stumbling towards the floor with wide eyes, before strong arms caught her around the middle, and she looked up to put a name to her savior…

+ + +

“(Y/n)? Woah, hey… you okay?” Steve’s hands came up to catch her as she stumbled towards him, clearly drunk off her a*s. When she didn’t immediately respond, his eyes scanned the area around them for her boyfriend, who definitely should not have left her alone like this. Coming up empty, Steve’s concerned frown deepened.

“Where’s Billy?” He asked, receiving a shrug from the girl.

“Probably still with Tina, but, you never know. Could’ve gotten through half the cheer squad by now. Depends on-“ Steve cut her off, shock covering his face.

“Wait, he…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it. There was no way even someone as terrible as Billy would do that to a girl like (Y/n). She was literally perfect. What kind of idiot would screw that up?

“Cheated on me.” (Y/n) finished for him, Steve actually flinching at the words. Though, (Y/n) seemed relatively unbothered, as she waved it off. “But it’s fine. I’m not mad…” She trailed off, before pulling Steve closer to whisper in his ear. “But that could just be cause of the alcohol. Ask me again in the morning.” She giggled causing Steve’s concern to return. How much had she had to drink?

“Hey, how bout I take you home so you can get some sleep?” Steve offered, hoping she’d say yes, as he didn’t really feel like kidnapping her, and he sure as he*l wasn’t just gonna leave her here. (Y/n) pouted a little and shook her head.

“I can’t go home, my mom thinks I’m at Chrissy’s for a sleepover.” Well, sh*t…

Steve searched his brain for an alternative, still he*l bent on getting her out of this house, but running out of options that the drunk girl would agree to. Finally, he was struck with a thought:

“Okay… I got a place we can go so you can sober up. How’s that sound? Wanna go on a drive with your old pal Steve?” Her eyes lit up and Steve almost sighed in relief when she nodded her head.

“Okay!” He laughed a little at how excited she was, as his arm circled her waist, to start pulling her towards his car.

“Okay, then. Let’s get outta here…”

+ + +

“Here we are.”

(Y/n) had slept through most of the ride over, but Steve didn’t mind one bit. She looked terrible after the events of the evening, and, if a nap could be of some assistance? Go for it.

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, however, as the peacefully dozing girl began to stir, a soft whine of complaint leaving her body, as Steve’s hand moved to caress her shoulder comfortingly.

“Where…?” The girl mumbled, looking through tired eyes at their dark surroundings. Steve watched her apologetically, though he still couldn’t hide his fond smile at her sleepy body language, before realizing that she’d asked him a question that he had yet to answer.

“Lovers Lake… I hope that’s okay?” The boy hadn’t even thought about the implications of bringing her to such a place, especially in her current state, but it was too late to turn back now. Besides, she didn’t even know about the little crush, which had been growing bit by bit since they day they’d met. And she was still fairly out of it. The odds of her putting two and two together based off his subconscious decision to bring her here of all places were slim to none. But still…

“Ooooooooooh, pretty…” Steve turned to the girl and was shocked to discover that at some point during his inner turmoil (Y/n) had opened the passengers side door and was now staring straight up, neck strained so far back that Steve was worried she would to fall over if she tilted just an inch more. He moved to join her, eyes trailing up to see what she was looking at and found only the vast expanse of stars that always looked over Hawkins. They were pretty, he supposed, but didn’t hold a candle to the girl next to him.

“Yeah, pretty…”

+ + +

“That’s the Big Dipper.” (Y/n) pointed towards a cluster of stars, the pair laid back on the hood of his car, having been that way for a while now. Their chatter had gone from everything under the sun, and was now landed on the constellations in the sky. Steve’s eyes followed her extended finger towards the sky and chuckled at its placement.

“No it’s not.” He responded, laughing again when she pouted in response.

“It could be.” She mumbled, but left it at that, clearly too tired to argue further as she rested her head on his shoulder.

They were silent for a moment, Steve’s arm wrapped around (Y/n) and her head tucked under his chin, when Steve finally spoke up.

“Hey, (Y/n)?” She hummed for him to continue. Here goes… “I know this is probably bad timing, and you’re still technically with Billy, but, I wanted to tell you… you deserve so much better. You deserve someone who loves you no matter what. Like I do… I love you, (Y/n). And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I’m telling you now…” Steve has no idea what has possessed him to reveal such things all of a sudden. He’d pretty much contented himself with the idea that he’d take this crush to the grave. But, he supposed it was too late now. “So?…” He asked, the girl having been silent for a moment. He hoped she wasn’t trying to come up with a way to lower him down easy. That would seriously suck all things considered. “(Y/n)?” Steve turned to look down at the girl, the best he could in their current position, and realized why she wasn’t responding. (Y/n) (Y/l/n) was completely passed out asleep on his shoulder. He let out a sigh, though he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was dejected or relieved, as he softly ran his hand over her arm.

“Get some sleep, (Y/n)…”

Steve decided it was probably for the best. Who’s to say she would even remember this conversation the next day? No, his initial thoughts had to be correct. He was much better off being her friend and keeping his mouth shut. That way he wouldn’t get hurt. Right?

Part 2?

This has been the most stressful two weeks of my life, but I am honestly really proud of the vast majority of these Stranger Things one shots. Thank you all for coming along with me on this journey of 80s vibes and cutie pies, and I hope to see you around still as I continue to post, far less frequently, but with probably much more care XD (I've got many Part 2s to get to... 👀) MUCH LOVE TO YOU ALL!!! 😘

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