#i am...bitter but it still looks cool nonetheless ]

[leggerefiore]

May i request a NSFW drabble about Larry having some lustful thoughts?

Like, the reader is a young woman [waitress or trainer whatever you want] he just met and he didn't realize how you affected his work. These lustful thoughts couldn't leave his head and confronted to you about it. You confessed you liked him and he wants you and the NSFW part starts.

also, you said drabble, and I didn't. I am sorry, lol.

cw: 18+ content, fem reader, oral, minors DNI, Older Man/Younger Woman,

Tease

Larry wanted to pretend he was some kind of bland, boring automaton who just lived to his day to day. No will or ambition of his own, just doing whatever he could for his next pay cheque. That sadly was not the case. He was a man. A man a bit past his prime, but a man nonetheless. Nothing would have happened had the Treasure Eatery not taken on a new waitress. One that was simply too friendly towards him.

Your bright smile upon seeing him enter the restaurant was nothing but torment. He sat at the counter, yet you always seemed to be the one to greet him. Dinner service was even more tormenting when he added a beer in to settle his nerves after being bombarded with seemingly endless tasks by his boss. You hung around him more than you should, he knew. Your manager would shoot you looks, but you seemed unbothered as you offered him another round of whatever he ordered. He hated to think about what all the extra beef bowls he had been consuming would do when it finally caught up to him.

The salaryman found himself unable to say no when you spoke so sweetly, eyes seemingly piercing him worse than Geeta or Rika's worst glares.

Then, it started.

The fantasies.

He was beyond this kind of thing. Far, far beyond this kind of thing, and yet…

Larry grumbled at the fantasy haunting him. The uniform skirt you wore was suddenly much shorter than it was in actuality, and his eyes would drift as you served another table near him. His eyes drifted to your thighs as he swallowed down the bitter flavour of the alcohol and tried to focus his mind. That you would shoot him a smug, knowing grin. It was a form of torment you forced the poor man through. It continued on and on throughout dinner service until he ended up pressing you against a table, and the fantasy would end.

He did not dare let his mind wander farther. You did not deserve such a thing, and he should be ashamed. Someone like you deserved better than some destitute old man like himself. And he was beyond doing things like that. It was shameful.

He still knew that he needed to take a moment to relieve himself, though.

Larry planned to work past this. It would be easier in concept than execution, he knew, but he decided to start that evening when he entered for dinner. You smiled up at him from your booth, gathering up a towel and about to lead him to a table when he steeled himself.

“I think… I need a different server, I apologise,” he kept his disinterested look as he shook his head. It was truly nothing against your service, but if he wanted to keep his sanity. You seemed hurt by his words but repressed whatever you wanted to react with and nodded. Another server was assigned to him. They were just as good as you, but he could see you sneaking glances at him throughout his meal. He readied himself to go yet felt his arm caught by you as he tried to step out the door.

There were barely any customers left, and it appeared that you had clocked out from your shift if your lack of uniform was anything to go by. Your eyes were big. He felt stricken. Somehow, he held the door open for you and allowed you both to leave together. Medali's usually bustling streets seemed desolate as the later evening drew to an end and night truly began. There was not much of a night-life around the area.

Somehow, you both drifted together towards the amphitheatre of the town. Larry sat at your side, staring forward silently. You were in a similar state. A cool wind blew through the area, making you shudder. His eyes narrowed. This needed to end soon.

“... What is wrong?” he finally asked, breaking the impenetrable silence between you both. A shaky breath was sucked in by you.

“I like you, Larry,” you said plainly in reply, turning to meet his eyes. Your cheeks were flustered, whether from the confession or the cold, he did not know. His brain froze mid-thought, either way. You… You what? He had his assumptions, but… You just boldly told him it. He blinked in surprise a few times. “I thought you were interested, too,” you sighed, eyes darting away from his own.

He was – He absolutely was, but… Your expression. Larry felt embarrassed. This felt like something he would have seen back during his university days, but those were so far behind him.

“I am,” he nodded, “But are you certain about this? You don't need to waste your time on someone like me.” Your gaze instantly was back on him. There was something fierce in your eyes. Your hands cupping his face and going in for a kiss drew out even more surprise. No words were uttered. Instead, your hands held tightly onto his suit jacket to keep him in place. The affection caught him even more off-guard.

When you pulled back, your gaze was determined. “I know what I want,” you said simply, tugging on his sky-print tie, “And I want you.”

“... You know,” he cocked up a brow, “You're tempting with how you bend over in that skirt, right? I don't want high blood pressure added to my plate.”

That smug grin from his fantasies played across your lips.

He could tell he was in for a night.

~

Larry was truly not sure what he should have expected after that.

You laid underneath him, sprawled out against the sheets, as he pushed your skirt up. His mind was surging with too many thoughts as he gazed at your panties for far too long. Your top was half unbuttoned, like his own, both your coats haphazardly on the floor already. Your hands tried to reach for his belt. He pulled back to quickly undo it himself and pull down his slacks. He felt too consumed by his clothing. You clearly felt similarly by how you shrugged off your shirt and slid down your skirt.

You grinned at him playful as you pulled him back to the bed. Your hand went down into his underwear and began to pump his half-hard cock. He took a few uneven breaths at the unexpected move. His underwear were soon slid down, too, leaving him bare to your eyes. A grin came across your lips again, but he chose to ignore and instead focus on the pleasure.

How long had it been since he had sex? He did not even know any more.

Your hand pulled away after he was fully erect. His lidded eyes gazed at you as you laid back against the sheets. For it being your first time in his home, you had seemed to make yourself quite at home. He sighed as he hooked his thumbs into your panties and pulled them down. His eyes almost went wide at the sight of your pussy. It really had been too long. A giggle came from you as he parted your lower lips and just stared forward.

For a moment, even he had no clue what he was doing until he leaned in. You shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath on you before he leaned in and gave a careful lick. Then, he latched onto your clit. A moan echoed out from you as he carefully sucked and circled it with his tongue. He felt your thighs pressed to his head – the very same thighs that had tempted him. A groan escaped him, vibrating against you and eliciting more pleasure. He slowly shifted his attention down, circling your entrance a few times and lavishing the juices that were beginning to spill out from you. Your flavour was among some of his top tastes, he noted.

Before he could press his tongue inside you, your hand came down to tug at his hair. You stared down at him while sucking in some panting breaths. He pulled back. “Please,” you whined, “I've been waiting too long, Larry.” You held out the ending syllable of his name a bit. An unconscious chuckle left him. This desperation from you had been unexpected, but he could not say he did not like it. A similar feeling was inside him. He was about to ask you needed to be prepared, but you seemed to have read his mind. “Look, I'm ready.”

With that, he found himself hovering over you. His dick pressed itself to your entrance tentatively as he felt unsure if to start. You seemed to take the initiative by locking a leg around his waist and pressing down. A moan left Larry as he entered you. The feeling of your walls surrounding him overtook his mind as he pushed deeper and deeper. You let out a groan yourself at the feeling. When he bottomed out, he stayed still for a moment, still a bit hesitant about hurting you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you bucked up against him encouragingly. He got the message and began to pull back out of you until just the tip of his dick remained. Then, he thrust back in and was gifted with a moan from you. The sound sunk into his ears as he began to find him fucking into you at a steady pace. His mind felt sluggish to his actions, just focusing on your reactions and the pleasure surging through him. The feeling of your walls pulsating around him felt maddening in his overworked mind. His body felt exhausted, yet he just kept going throughout it all.

Your hold on him only got tighter as his dick hit that bundle of nerves inside you just right. Another moan left you at the bliss. Larry took note and began to target it to the best of his ability, enjoying your nails digging into his back even through his shirt. Everything seemed to get more and more intense as his angle of thrust seemed to have his dick rub against your clit just right. Your toes curled. It would not be too long until everything bled together as the coil in your stomach spun tighter and tighter.

Hearing more and more of Larry's quiet sounds of pleasure and his dick hitting your cervix seemed to let the madness succumb over you. A loud cry left you as your walls clamped down on the poor salaryman's dick. Larry let out his own noise at the feeling, only making a few more thrusts before he pulled out and came across your bare stomach. You seemed too lost in the orgasmic bliss to make a comment. Larry rolled over to catch his breath and lie down for a moment.

~

After you both came down from your highs, Larry got up and offered you a wet wash cloth to wipe away the cum. You took him up on it. His eyes darted to you as he debated what the hell had happened. He still had work in the morning. Geeta would not accept this an excuse. You laid back against the pillow after aiming the wash cloth into his laundry basket.

“… Your stamina isn't the best, huh?” you teased him.

“It happens when you get older,” Larry did not miss a beat.

“Mhm… Sure,” you cuddled up to him, “Be my Larr-bear?”

He did not have the energy to keep up with you and just accepted his fate of being your “Larr-bear.”

[apifacture]

☉ @goodnight-goodknight // cont.

Artorias did not wait for permission.  He did not need to.  He stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the room – warm, deliberate, unmistakably concerned.  Broad hands pulled open cabinets and rifled through drawers in search of a needle and thread.  Ciaran felt no compulsion to stop him.  Instead, she watched, struck by how easily he moved in her presence, as if he had always belonged there, safe in the knowledge that the spaces she kept guarded against others did not apply to him.  

That is, until his words drew a sour look.

Past her defences, indeed.  A bitter truth.  Ciaran did not tolerate anything less than excellence, and she held herself to that same unyielding standard.  Shameful, then, that she had missed the hidden blade, had failed to notice until it kissed her flank and split her flesh like the rind of thin-skinned fruit. 

Still, Artorias did not dole out judgement, offering instead the genuine promise of vengeance.  Ciaran had seen the gentleness he was imbued with fall away like a cloak, revealing something far more primal – a ferocity that bristled any time she was in peril.  It seemed possible that a pinprick to her fingertip might summon the wolf in him, his greatsword poised to cleave the offender from crown to crotch.  It thrilled her, this knowledge, and it softened the iron around her heart.  

“Unnecessary, but appreciated nonetheless.”

With fluid grace, despite the way her wound pulled and stung, she turned to lift herself onto the too-large bed – everything in this city was made for godly bodies of greater dimensions than her own.  Once settled, she waved a hand toward him, yielding.  He had said please, and who was she to deny him?

“You may, Artorias.  You are mindful in ways I am not.”

Ciaran lay back slowly, her breath catching as the gash stretched beneath her ribs.  Her head rested on the cool pillow, her limbs splayed in rare surrender.  That golden gaze tracked him as he found what was needed, quietly marvelling at how eagerly and wholly he filled every space within her.  From the empty pockets of her heart, to the greedy hollow between her thighs.  Now, not for the first time, he would stitch ruined parts of her closed, re-joining split seams.  

She already knew of the precision with which he would tend to her – the care that would contrast so sharply with her own quick, indifferent methods.  She already knew the way his fingers would glide over her skin, mindful of each stitch, each tug of the thread.  She already knew he would seal her wound as if mending a tapestry, his touch weaving her back together.

Just as she already knew this, he surely knew that as he knelt at the bedside, armed with a needle rather than a sword, she would reach for him, his dark hair at home in the spaces between her fingers.

“Do not think this grants you licence to scold me,” she murmured, her voice soft but resolute.  “You know I make it my business to endure, to return to you.”

[kamenridertime]

Kamen Rider Gavv Episodes 37 & 38 Review (Spoilers!)

Finally! Hanto confronts his childhood enemy, the wolf Granute!

1gou and I have been going back and forth on the overall importance of the granute as a whole. Though the wolf Granute kidnapped Hanto’s mom, its Lango that actually killed her. In 1gou’s eyes, who the wolf Granute is isn’t particularly important anymore if he wasn’t the one to actually kill her. Saying this, I’m really glad with what they did with the character, especially that they made him more unique than just a monster of the week! This arc really shows that Granutes are, at the end of the day, people. While the dilemma they had Hanto struggle with in these episodes mostly focused on “is it the right thing to take revenge?” I feel like a unique spin they could have taken was, “Does Hanto truly see Granute as people? And if so, would killing the wolf Granute be murder?”

Obviously, I am super excited to see Jeep continuing to be an intimidating villain, while still falling short in a way that doesn’t necessarily make him look weak. As I said in the last review, he got his modification! 1gou and I agreed that this modification would have been more impactful if some unimportant granute didn’t already become Bitter Gavv earlier in the series. Nonetheless, Jeep as Bitter Gavv is super badass, with a ruthless fighting style that makes him stand out as a real threat this time.

Speaking of Jeep, seeing his relationship with his siblings come crashing down is such an interesting perspective. By seeing it through Jeep’s eyes, having nightmares and being abused by Glotta, we see that Shouma really did ruin his life. It makes his emotions feel so raw, it’s cool to see a villain be pushed to their absolute limits emotionally by their successive losses to the main character.

Anyways, the resolution of this arc was great, and with that we are caught up! Thank you for your patience everyone!

- 2gou

I am not kidding when I tell you that I need the second part of the Gavv soundtrack to come out right this instant. I want to listen to the Over/Master theme so badly, nobody has even uploaded a really crappy sounding rip from the show that I can listen to in the meantime, it's all just the worst fake AI songs you could ever imagine if you try to look it up I feel like I'm actually going crazy.

OK anyway.

Something I've really come to appreciate about this show is that it doesn't waste time like at all. There aren't filler episodes, there's not really any chaff to speak of, it's just all either very deliberate writing and character building or some of the most peak Kamen Rider action in the whole franchise. I know I'm gushing but I love this show lol. Every episode I find myself thinking "wow this shot is incredible" or I catch something I know they've been leaving little clues for.

One thing I picked up on mid-episode this time was that Glotta is now all but confirmed to have been the one to kill Lakia's brother. I thought about it right after the scene where she's talking about hunting down the part-timers who haven't kept up with the demand and I'm sure this scene was there to facilitate that connection being made. Huge huge huge props to the writers on this show.

For something I wasn't huge on, it was the handling of Jeebh's modification but not because there was actually anything wrong in the episode. As 2gou mentioned in her part, I think this would have been way more effective if Maagen hadn't kind of stolen Jeebh's thunder. None of this is to say that I think Bitter Gavv is "wasted potential" like I've been seeing some people say online (I think the show definitely has a plan for Bitter Gavv, it just isn't what people thought they were going to get), I just think Maagen maybe should have been replaced with like a lone straggler Bitter Gavv so the impact of Jeebh getting the surgery would have hit a little harder.

The fights were awesome once again and I just love how they showcase Master mode's speed; it's punchy and distinctly stands out from other super speed powerups like in Kabuto or Faiz. And just to touch on it a bit, I really liked the conclusion to Hanto's revenge arc even if I thought it was a little contrived but I think having Glotta just kill the guy anyway kind of puts a damper on it. I still really enjoyed it and it doesn't sour it for me at all but I think it was a little silly to end it like that.

-1gou

“Cannot believe the character named Jeep is the villain with the most emotional depth in this series LOL” -2gou

"Kamen Rider Gavv writes a better revenge narrative in 2 episodes than the entirety of The Last of Us 2" -1gou

[feedthepheasants]

Begged & Borrowed Time | GALE DEKARIOS - chapters 23 & 24 now out!

cannot believe i'm six chapters away from finishing my longfic. it has definitely been a journey and i still have a way's to go, but eeee i am so excited to finish this story.

below is a snippet from chapter 24, so beware of spoilers! (unless spoilers make you wanna check it out...in that case, click below to read the full fic on Ao3!)

Begged & Borrowed Time | GALE DEKARIOS

pairing: Gale x OC | chapters: 24 of 30 | wc: 78,124

ch. 24 preview below!

“I’m certain there’s no shrine to Silvanus within,” I say, still looking up at the masonry as my hair continues to dampen from the rain. On a small sign is etched the temple’s name: Stormshore Tabernacle. “But if I no longer have his ear, I guess it shouldn’t matter.” I turn to face her. “Go on,” I nod towards the direction of Elfsong. “I won’t be far behind you.”  Though she hesitates, Shadowheart’s own interest wins out in the end. She hurries down the street to escape to the dry warmth of the tavern. I look back up at the temple to take in its beauty once more before making my way up the stone steps, careful to leave the door cracked behind me.  The silence within the chapel is unlike any I’ve experienced before; the only sound is a quietly crackling brazier set on a raised dais in the center of the cavernous room. It seems even the fire reveres the holiness held within these stone walls.  Carved into the walls to my left and right are four large recesses, each housing their own massive statue presiding over their respective altars. Lit candles adore each marble surface, and though it’s clear that I am the only patron here, I do not feel alone. The air is thick with a warmth that surpasses that of the firelight – a welcomed contrast to the dampness of my skin.  I first go to my right, taking in the likenesses of Tyr and Helm. Admittedly, I know very little, but I’m fascinated nonetheless at the detail of their depictions. Out of respect, I remain for a long moment at each of their altars before traversing to the opposite wall, where Selune stands in all her regal glory. Unlike Tyr and Helm, I heard stories of Selune in my childhood, and even more from Shadowheart ever since we returned from Shar’s final trial. In the days my friends awaited for my body’s revival, Shadowheart had spent a considerable amount of time speaking with Isobel about the Moonmaiden.   The fourth and final carving is a depiction of Mystra. As I study the planes of her face, I recall the night of the tiefling party when I’d sought out Gale once everyone had turned in for the night. Her beauty is as striking in stone as it was in the glow of his magic. Looking upon her, I feel small in comparison. I try not to think of the scope of her power or of her hold on Gale. As much as I try to withhold it, my resentment for the goddess rises as I remember what Gale had told me about their relationship. A cool, sharp breeze flits through the open door, and I think it must be Mystra laughing at my bitterness. How foolish I must seem to her; how entirely insignificant, in the grand scheme of things – and yet here I stand, unable to keep from admiring her. 

[thedivinecharis]

Hi Charis! 💜 For the WIP ask game: I'm tremendously curious about Greenwood and Flesh and Blood! :looks at you with starry eyes:

Thanks so much for asking!

Okay, this is going to be a bit of a long answer since it's about two different stories, so please bear with me. 🙏🏼

So, I am deeply obsessed the the Final Girl trope and fairy tales, and one day, my brain came up with an idea to mash up these concepts, which is how I got the idea for Greenwood.

The story is about a guy named Evan Woodward (the Final Guy, in this case) who was attacked while partying in the woods with his friends on Halloween night seven years before the story begins. Evan is the only survivor and maintains that not only was the killer not human, but that there was someone else in the woods that night who saved his life.

Of course, everyone thinks this is trauma talking, and no one believes him—including the lead detective on the case, John MacTavish, with whom he forms a rather antagonistic relationship.

Frustrated, Evan moves away, and over time, he and his friends become a sort of an urban legend, the town cautionary tale told over and over every Halloween by all the local kids.

Meanwhile, Evan, still suffering from PTSD and nightmares, is trying to live his life while working on his art and bartending for extra cash. Things are going okay until another group of kids is murdered in the woods, and Evan's picture is found at the scene . . .

Here's a little sneak peek:

“So, you’re telling me . . .” He braced a forearm against the door and closed his eyes, weary. “These kids are willingly going into Greenwood as a part of some . . . twisted teenage rite-of-passage thing? That’s great,” he said, on an almost bitter sob. “Our lives are a joke, and now seven kids are dead.”

“Evan.” Pity. There was so much pity in Adam’s voice.

“Four survived,” MacTavish said.

Evan spun to face the detective.

“What?”

“They managed to escape while the attack was ongoing,” he continued, cool as ever. “One of them was injured, not critically, but enough to earn a night in the hospital. The others came out with a few minor injuries—scratches, bruises, and the like. As for the deceased—“

“It was the same killer? ”Evan blurted before he could stop himself.

“Their wounds are consistent with those of the previous victims, but it’s too early to say for certain.”

Though there was never any doubt in his mind, Evan yearned for outside validation nonetheless. Something to confirm to himself and everyone else that he was not, in fact, crazy.

Those kids . . .

Survivors, he thought. Like him.

And like him, they might have seen what he had seen.

MacTavish was onto Evan before he could even open his mouth. “Before you ask, no. None of them saw the perpetrator’s face.”

You didn’t really think, a sly voice said, it would be that easy, did you?

“That’s actually part of the reason why we’re here,” Adam said, looking over at the detective, who nodded. “The police have a suspect. Someone possibly linked to both attacks.”

Evan went still.

“You have a suspect,” he scoffed after a moment. There was no way. “I thought you didn’t believe in monsters, detective.”

“I don’t,” he replied, impassive. “What I do believe in, Mr. Woodward, is people, and the endlessly cruel and inventive ways in which they kill. You may think—“

“I don’t 'think!'” he exploded, moving towards him. He’d had enough of him already, enough of his cruel detachment, his arrogance, and his face.  “I know. I know because I saw. You weren’t there. I am telling you . . . I told you . . .” Every muscle in his body trembled. “What attacked us in Greenwood that night wasn’t human. I’ve seen its face. So whoever your suspect is—you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Can you tell that Evan and MacTavish have an enemies to lovers thing going on? 🤣

Alright, so Flesh and Blood takes place in a post-apocalyptic world where angels tried to destroy humanity, forcing them to ally with demons in order to survive.

In return for their help, demons were allowed to integrate into human society, and now the two races live and work side by side in what is now called the Nine Circles or New Pandaemonium.

As part of their coexistence, all humans who join the Ministry (think police force) must have a demon as a partner, and Leon Barnett, our protagonist and a rising superstar coming out of the training academy, has just been saddled with the absolute worst one: Caliban Ferre.

Needless to say, our boys do not get along, and just when things can't get any worse, a deranged serial killer kicks off a series of murders that force them to work together, whether Leon likes it or not.

Here's a little peek:

Leon didn't think it was possible for his opinion of Caliban to sink any lower, and yet here they were.

“You slept with your partner??”

“Darling,” he said in a sing-song voice, “I sleep with all of my partners. What of it?”

Leon ignored the 'darling' in favor of the more pressing issue. “They were your partners!”

“Again, I ask you: what of it? There are no rules against it at the Ministry.”

“So? Don't you have any respect?”

“Of course I do,” Caliban said, the very picture of reason. “If I didn't respect them, I wouldn't fuck them.” Pausing, the demon tilted his head, allowing his gaze to roam over the landscape of Leon's body from top to bottom. “Hm.”

The scrutiny of his partner's violet eyes had all the force of a physical touch, and Leon resisted the urge to take a step back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” Caliban said. “I just couldn't help thinking how . . . respectable you look, Minister Barnett.”

This motherfucker, Leon thought, gritting his teeth.

“Let's get one thing straight, Ferre.” Refusing to let Caliban get the upper hand again, Leon turned and took several steps toward his partner until he was almost looming over him. “I am never going to sleep with you.”

It was the first time in Leon's life that he'd ever used his size to try and intimidate someone, and of course, it immediately backfired.

“Oh, I think you will,” Caliban replied. Staring up at him, he stepped even closer until the tips of his stylish leather kicks bumped up against Leon's standard issue Ministry boots. “All of your predecessors fell to my charm. You will, too,” he added. “Eventually.”

Leon glared down at him. “Never going to happen.”

Silence fell between the two men, Leon's green gaze cold and resolute, Caliban's flickering and smoldering. It was as if a challenge had been issued and neither man was willing to back down.

“Uhhh,” Nicky glanced quickly between the two men after several long moments, back and forth, back and forth. “It seems like you two got other things going on, so I'mma just—”

“Speak no evil, Nicky,” Caliban warned the hellion without breaking eye contact. To Leon, he said, “You don't like men? Is that your issue?”

“No,” Leon told him. “I just don't like you.”

Oh, my. I'm sensing a theme here. 🤣 My apologies for how long this ended up being, but I hope that it helped satisfy some of your curiosity! Thank you again for asking. Hualian will always have my heart, but it's nice to share some of my original work! ❤️

[8u0]

Taking estrogen could be the great experiment of my life. In spite of myself -- and perhaps contrary to models of transsexuality that would insist that I was already a feminine person in my mind, lacking only the tits to match -- I see it as a way of gaining insight into feminine libido, a topic that the entire world since the dawn of humanity has been obsessed with (while simultaneously dedicated to misunderstanding it). In the cissexist imaginary, there are two sexes: the hard, rough male sex, a highly directional blunt instrument that does all the desiring, and the soft, submissive female sex, a complex and mysterious creature who longs only to be desired.

What's curious and genuinely vexing about this binary is that my experience on hormones so far fits this stereotype pretty closely. I don't have much desire to engage in sex. Instead, I find myself craving affirmations that I am desirable. My sexual needs mostly look like needing to be read as a trans person (and not a man), and to be desired for it, to know that turns someone on. And I don't need to take my clothes off to get that; I can know it with a single glance in my direction. Chemically, my levels are those of a woman (actually, right now, I have less testosterone in my body than a cis woman -- and I suspect that's part of the story). I wasn't really expecting my libido to take as hard a hit as it has, because I privately doubted (and still do) that the mere act of taking HRT could give me the same experience that cis women have during and post puberty -- my libido will be by definition a transfeminine libido, and hence its own thing.

So imagine my shock when I suddenly become a tease, a 30-yo coquette with wide shoulders and a backache, the sort of flower that only the most deranged of bees would try to pollinate. This came as a surprise after a life spent reading feminist testimonials on the internet by women who were shamed for wanting sex too much, or who wanted it but rarely felt safe enough with any man to trust him. I'd always believed on some level that most ladies had a reasonable drive but different needs from men, hence, the preference many have towards reading smut rather than watching porn. That's the sort of transformed sex drive I could live with, actually, would greatly prefer to the inescapable lizard-brain appetite that for years made me feel like I couldn't have close friendships with women because I'd inevitably catch feelings.

But this newfound, borderline-asexuality? It feels quite different to the model I'd always held in my head. It's even led me to ponder some wild conclusions about human biology -- how could the human race persist for so long if reproduction were dependent on men always feeling the urge and making the first move, without any reciprocal interest from women? What does that mean for the majority of intercourse people have had throughout human history -- that women have done it to appease their partners, or have simply been assaulted?

Clearly this cannot be the case for everyone, but in this moment, for me, it seems like part of the story, nonetheless. As for the widely circulated Glee screencaps of Lea Michele bravely asserting that women got just as horny as guys, or the women who were hailed as being empowered for writing in Cosmo about how much they actually enjoyed anal, in this moment I feel a little bit bitter towards them -- why were people so ready to celebrate the revelation that women, too, got horny, after all? Could it all be related to the Cool Girl archetype (she of the itty bitty waist who loves burgers, beer and blowjobs) discussed in that famous Gone Girl monologue? Has western culture replaced its obsession with purity with a new fixation -- a Hawk Tuah moment?

All I can say is that the day I get my drive back, I'm going to be insufferable about it. Currently, it's cobwebs down there, and I'm confused as to what it means. But I'm not giving up yet. There's a whole world on this side of the hormonal spectrum to experience.

[aregria]

♗ / hi i love your icon style gksbfkdbd

:: i’ll icon ur faves // ACCEPTING.

this took me longer than expected because i didn’t know if i had the right fc or not, but !! here you are! and thank you! i appreciate it immensely!

[aminiatureworld]

Interest II

Characters: Kaeya, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,020

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometimes emotions can be confusing. In those times it can be easier to shut down. After all, wouldn’t finding the truth out be scarier?

In which the reader assumes their character is disinterested, and pulls away.

Author’s Note: I wrote a lot tonight! It was nice to write for multiple characters again, made me feel like the good old days, or something. 

Hope I’m finally getting back on schedule and hope you enjoy!

Kaeya

If Kaeya flirted with you, he also flirted with all of Mondstadt; or so you kept telling yourself.

You liked the cavalry captain, you liked him a lot. It was easy to like him, as easy as breathing air. The thickets of romance, the awkward looks, the stilted conversations, the dying words. None of those things existed in Kaeya.

If there were roses there were thorns too, and though you tried to convince yourself that this emotion, this easiness was something good, there was a part of you that fought back at the idea. The reason things were so easy with Kaeya was because of one simple reason. He didn’t like you. Or not the way you liked him. Kaeya flirted with all of Mondstadt after all, and you were merely one library assistant in the middle of an entire country. Your existence wasn’t one for the history books. Not compared to the man that you’d managed to fall hopelessly in love with anyways.

At first you tried to ignore those voices, that cynical side of yourself that existed only, it seemed, to make you unhappy. You weren’t necessarily an optimist by nature, but you were a bit of a hopeless romantic, and flirting or not you at least hoped to get your point across. Delivering Kaeya’s library requests first, always going up to him at lunchtime to talk, even giving him a special gift for the Windbloom festival. You really did try, you didn’t think that the opposite could be argued. Still things continued on as relatively normal however, Kaeya’s flirting never seeming to grow particularly towards you. Eventually it became harder and harder to avoid the voice in your head sneering you were wasting your time. Or maybe you were just tired.

Either way the answer seemed to be obvious. You knew when the answer was to count your losses and move on, and surely this was one of those times. Kaeya wasn’t going to see you as a partner, he just wasn’t. That didn’t mean he wasn’t kind, or that your conversations with him weren’t lovely, or even that you weren’t still in love with him. Still, wasn’t it time to move on to kinder winds? You wanted a clean break, wanted an end to your painful waiting; didn’t want to experience that clench in your heart when you watched Kaeya flirting with someone else as the point just drove further and further home. You wanted reprieve, and the only way to do that was to admit the obvious. This wasn’t going to happen.

So you gave up, or did your best attempt at giving up. You still spoke to Kaeya, the gods knew you probably couldn’t stand not speaking to him. You still tried to keep as light as before, tried to retain the dynamic, for something was better than nothing. Yet your days of simply chasing after him were over, and as you settled into you schedule of new normalcy you found, though things weren’t necessarily easier, at least they seemed simpler. Besides, how much had really changed? Kaeya most likely didn’t notice.

“Kaeya, the manuscript you requested on Liyue trade history came in yesterday. There were also a few other things that came in, though Lisa told me they’re classified.”

“Oh Lisa, always a stickler for rules. Would you like to know what I requested?”

“Like you would actually tell me,” you snorted. “No, I’m fine. It’s none of my business.”

“Aw,” Kaeya pouted slightly, crossing his arms in front of him. He seemed to be doing that more often these days, though maybe you were simply imagining it. “Where’s your sense of adventure darling? You seemed to have lost it somewhere.”

“I’m just following rules,” you pointed out.

Something had shifted about the conversation at some point, and you were suddenly feeling an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before. Finding it uncomfortable you quickly removed the space between you and Kaeya, reaching out to place the brown paper wrapped books into his hands. Taking them Kaeya lifted an eyebrow. Turning around he went to put them on his desk.

The momentary reprieve in atmosphere you felt quickly died, as before you had time to turn around the cavalry captain was back, this time leaning closely towards you.

“What is it?” You asked. This was certainly Kaeya behavior, but it still startled you nonetheless.

“You’re acting funny.”

“What? I’m acting completely normal.”

“If you say so.”

But the tone conveyed that Kaeya didn’t agree one bit. A smirk painting his lips he turned around, though something bitter seemed to flash behind his eyes, and for a moment you wondered if he had somehow caught on to the secret you’d been hoping to keep to yourself.

After that things seemed to continue on as normal for a few weeks. If Kaeya’s books were secretly transgressive, they certainly weren’t doing anything actively, and life as an assistant librarian to the Knights of Favonius retained its languid, unhurried pace. Still a part of you had never forgotten about that weird snippet of conversation, one which was doing a surprisingly good job at eating away at you.

You were almost relieved when Kaeya brought the matter up again.

“Is something wrong darling?”

“You asked me that two weeks ago Kaeya.”

“Really? It’s been that long? I must be neglecting my duties,” he let out a careless sort of laugh, before his eyes steadied. “I was hoping that this time I might get a more honest answer.”

“So you think I’m lying to you when I’m saying nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not! How could I be lying to both you and myself.”

“I find that doing such a thing is a surprisingly easy task. Nevertheless, even if you aren’t lying, there is something wrong.”

“And what would that thing be, Mr. Expert?” For some reason this conversation was aggravating you. Maybe because you couldn’t decide whether or not he was right.

“I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell me. I can’t say sorry for something I’m not aware of, I don’t know what I did. You do though. So the sooner you tell me what’s wrong the sooner things can go back to normal.”

“What do you mean by normal Kaeya? If anything this is more normal. Not that things have changed that much. I’m sorry I don’t deliver your books first, if that’s what you’re complaining about. But frankly, I don’t see what you’re so upset about? You’ve got plenty of other friends, so why are you complaining to me?”

Maybe it wasn’t your best use of logic, but your ability to circle around the focus of the conversation, the unspoken emotions that still burned through you, was somewhat lacking.

“This is not normal. I’m not talking about library books, I’m talking about friends. Or maybe avoidance. You’ve been avoiding me lately, even if you aren’t doing it completely. It wounds me, you know. My dearest companion, what did I do to earn their ire?”

“You did nothing.”

“That’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Kaeya voice was clipped, matching your same tone. Even now he was shifting himself to better fit the atmosphere in the room, something you normally valued so deeply.

“It’s not. It’s really not! That’s the problem Kaeya, don’t you see?” Tears that had threated the corners of your eyes were now burning across your vision, as your emotions finally broke through the paltry excuse for a dam you’d been building. “You’ve done nothing, you’ve never done anything. You’re always nice, and flirty, and a bit shameless. And that’s fine! It’s not your fault that you don’t feel like I feel for you. I don’t want to make you feel guilty. You flirt with everyone, and that’s fine. I don’t care! I really don’t. I don’t want to burden you. Still, can’t you just let me feel upset by it? Can’t you just let me give up? Do you know how painful it is not to give up? Why won’t you let me at least do that, but no! Instead you come in here talking about how everything’s different, as if I’ve offended you, or as if you worry would change anything. Of course it won’t! And it shouldn’t! But damn it Kaeya, I just want to be upset!”

By this time Kaeya had closed the space between you two, wrapping his arms around you and running soft, slightly cool, fingers through your hair. You nestled into him, despite yourself. You were so tired and so angry, and right now it didn’t really seem to matter who you cried on as long as you were crying on someone. Letting yourself be carried away by your emotions you let your ragged breathing unleash itself inside the walls of Kaeya’s office.

Eventually you calmed down. Though you expected Kaeya to step away when your breathing evened out, instead he remained there, continuing to run comforting fingers though you hair, his other hand gently cradling your shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was the reason.” It was simple, direct. Undeniably Kaeya.

“What else would be the reason,” you grumbled.

“I don’t know. It’s why I asked. Thank you for answering me.”

“You forced me into it.” There was no true venom behind your words. You were sure Kaeya knew that.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Not yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“That’s alright. Now’s not the best time anyways, since I ought to look my best. Not that I don’t look amazing already, but I should dress up for an occasion such as that. Still, I hope that eventually you’ll allow yourself to live in a way that doesn’t make you unhappy. Sometimes we can’t do that. This time you can.”

“Maybe.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting for you darling, and you know how impatient I am.”

“What if you have to wait for a long time?” You were feeling quite contrary.

“Then I’ll wait. After all, I’ll have quite the reward for my patience.”

You smiled into Kaeya. Despite yourself, you knew it wouldn’t be that long.

 Xiao

With Xiao, the question was always boundaries. How far is too far? How far is not far enough? It was an endless maze, even if it was a maze you would gladly continue to explore, sure that the light at the end must lead to something truly beautiful. Still, you didn’t exactly need your emotions to come in and complicate something already so difficult to navigate.

At first you tired to ignore, to take a page from the book the yaksha you’d so hopelessly fallen for had written. Yet if was much harder than it ought to be, for loving Xiao seemed to come as naturally as breathing, and no amount of looking for faults seemed to be doing much to change that. After all, everyone has faults, and nothing could change the innate goodness you saw in Xiao, the wonder and light that he carried with him, despite his millennia of hardships.

At first you thought to tell him, to cross that border, find that boundary and test it with all the patience it had taken to test and cross those other boundaries.

“Xiao?”

“Mmm.”

“I, I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“I, I made you some Almond Tofu!”

Xiao let his eyes widen with characteristic surprise, before leaping down nimbly from his perch to take the dish you brought out from behind your back. You watched as he ate it happily, warmth running through your veins. Nevertheless a part of you cried in frustration, perhaps even pain, for you knew you had failed to do what you had set out to do.

It wasn’t simply that you feared losing Xiao’s friendship, feared losing his respect. It was the boundaries, those invisible lines you were so careful not to step over. Xiao needed those boundaries, you knew he did. Though he had told you very little about his past, what he had told was horrific, and you hardly doubted that Xiao’s survival, his failure to spin into madness, was because of those walls he’d carefully constructed around himself. You wanted him to shed those walls yes, to slowly emerge from the darkness which he held around himself. But you weren’t ready to push him to do so, or not very much at least. It wasn’t truly in your nature to do so anyways.

So you expressed your feelings as best you could, with tofu and flowers and all the kindness you had to offer. When you weren’t working, spending your time sewing for a high-end Liyue shop, you were with Xiao. A part of you assumed that it would be enough, that if you gave Xiao enough of your time and enough of your attention the barriers would magically break down. One day you’d wake up and they’d be gone and you’d be happy, having never pushed things too far.

As nothing truly seemed to change however you grew slowly discouraged. You weren’t really aware of your flagging hopes, not really. It was more that you were busy, you were so busy. Besides, Xiao hadn’t expressed much sadness over losing your company. Perhaps he was secretly relieved, perhaps you had pushed too far at some point and he hadn’t told you. Maybe it was best that you give his boundaries time, and not push it too far.

Even looking back it was hard not to call the logic sound, or at least sound to you. In some ways you and Xiao were cut of the same cloth, and though that brought with it an understanding, it also brought its own set of issues. Neither of you were willing to walk over the line that the other drew, even if you could not see where they had actually drawn it. Even if not doing so was painful, the fear of what pain might come if you did was too great a discouragement.

So you began to slowly fade away, without being entirely aware that you were indeed doing so. You were busy after all, and Xioa was most likely too. He was still a yaksha after all, a being whose life was almost completely disconnected from your own. Surely it wouldn’t be that surprising if his views were similar? Maybe you truly had crossed a line, and that was why he never seemed to enquire after you. Or maybe it was that you hadn’t mattered all that much in the first place.

It was a wet, cold autumn day. You sighed slightly as you unlocked your door, having gotten drenched by protecting a bold of fabric you were bringing home to cut and pin. Letting out a huff, you opened the door and went to take a nap. You must’ve been tired, for it took a few seconds for the screech of surprise to leave you mouth at the sight of the unexpected intruder waiting for you.

“Xiao! You scared me!”

You stared at the yaksha, very much surprised by the sight of him. Your surprise had very little time to register though, being quickly replaced by concern for the storm so clearly gathering in Xiao’s eyes.

“You were gone for so long.”

“I’m sorry Xiao. It’s just been so busy you know, everyone’s preparing for the change in season. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I mean, I know you also have a job, and though I want you to find happiness outside of it, I don’t want to pressure you.”

Xiao’s facial expressions evidently conveyed that he was not impressed. Searching for the right words you let your gaze drift towards the floor. You weren’t sure that you were ever going to be ready for a conversation like this, but certainly not in the state you were now. Still, you owed Xiao some sort of explanation. Of course you did.

“I’m really sorry Xiao. I should have found time for you. It’s completely my fault.”

“That’s not what I want.” Xiao’s tone was gruff, frustrated. You found the frustration mirrored within yourself.

“What do you want?”

“I,” Xiao flushed. “I don’t want you to apologize. I’m not blaming you for anything. You shouldn’t apologize for nothing.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Xiao shook his head. For a moment he just stood there, eyes stormy. Slowly though he reached out to take your hand. You found the act surprisingly comforting. You had missed Xiao’s hands, delicately built, calloused beyond believe. They felt comforting and warm and safe, and you wished you could never let go of them. Drawing strength from that you slowly raised your gaze slightly.

“What do you want, Xiao?”

At first Xiao said nothing. Perhaps he was staring at a line, contemplating whether to cross it. You had half the mind to apologize again, but managed to stop the words from coming out. You knew that it was just a force of habit. Besides, Xiao hadn’t said anything yet. A small spark of hope burned inside you, the hope that something might go well.

There was a gentle tug on your wrist and suddenly you were in Xiao’s arms, his hair gently tickling your nose.

“This,” he mumbled. “I want this.”

For a moment you felt yourself freeze in shock, but soon enough you found yourself melting into his embrace, wrapping your own arms around him. Xiao was warm like a heater, warm beyond that too. It was as if there was something in his soul. Gentle, flickering, it brought you happiness that you never thought you could imagine. You wanted to bask in it forever, it was worth any twists and turns you might have to take to reach it.

“Don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

“I should have come earlier.”

“It’s alright. Hey, Xiao?”

“What?” Xiao’s arms tightened around you slightly. You didn’t want to talk much more either.

“What do you think of me?”

Xiao let out a soft snort. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

It was more than you could have ever hoped for.

[johnsamericano]

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥 •3•

I hope this ain't getting shitty. Thank you for reading, sexy people. Send me a message or an ask if you'd like to be added to the tag list.

warnings: hungover jaehyun, age gap, hospitals, nothing too extreme.

sugar rush m.list.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv @sunny-nyu @nanascupid @silent-potato @painted-hills

~

Yoonoh woke up on a strange bed, the mattress stiffer than the one he had back home. He refused to open his eyes, fearing that the daylight would worsen his headache.

Yoonoh woke up on a strange bed, the mattress stiffer than the one he had back home. He refused to open his eyes, fearing that the daylight would worsen his headache.

“Wake up, sunshine.” He groaned, all the memories from the past night hitting him like a truck. “Come on, I made breakfast.”

His eyelids finally fluttered open, frown softening at the sight of you in a messy bun and your cute pajamas.

“How come you look so fresh?” The dark circles under his eyes had deepened in the span of a few hours. Thank God he didn't have to work that day.

“I always look fresh.” You seemed to be more comfortable around him. Perhaps it was because you had to tuck him in last night. “Up.”

You tugged both of his limp hands, forcing him to sit up.

“What did you cook? It smells nice.” He scrunched up his nose like a little kid.

“Eggs, bacon, and hash browns.” Fast as lightning, he got up from bed. On his way to the kitchen, he noticed the blanket hanging from the edge of your sofa. Disappointment pinched his heart.

“Why didn't you sleep with me? You would've been more comfortable.”

You set two plates on the small table, pulling the pan out of the stove to serve them.

“You spread yourself all over the bed as soon as I laid you down.” You lied successfully. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you weren’t that comfortable yet.

You let the pan down on the kitchen counter, taking a seat in front of him.

“Do you still want to visit my father?” Sparkling orbs stared at him timidly, fearing his answer would be negative.

“I mean…” You hummed, trying not to give it as much importance. “I do want to go!” He quickly corrected himself, frantically shaking his hands. “It’s just that I don't want to meet your father like this.” He pointed at his bed hair, which had only become messier since he woke up.

“You’re acting like he's gonna see you.” There was a slight bitterness in your tone, along with a fake grin.

“Alright, let's do this instead...” Yoonoh sat up straight, clearing his throat as if he were about to give a speech. “We’ll have breakfast, you'll shower quickly, and then we’ll drive to my house so I can fix myself. How does that sound?”

“So I'm finally gonna see your mansion? How exciting.” You kicked his leg teasingly under the table, his cheeks inevitably dipping as he tried to suppress a smile. “I bet you have some peacocks in your backyard.”

“And there's also a dolphin in my pool.” He let out a hearty laugh, extending his arm over the table to grab your hand.

His house was most definitely not what you expected.

It was about the size of the one you grew up in, the decoration inside minimalistic. There were no expensive paintings framed with pure gold, only pictures of him and his family. There was a small backyard you could access through the French door in the kitchen. Half of it was occupied by a greenhouse.

“I had to donate the peacocks to the zoo.” He whispered as you looked through the glass door, squeezing your shoulders with his slim fingers.

“What a shame.” Hesitantly, he wrapped both of his limbs around your torso, letting his chin rest stop of your head. Your heartbeat was thumping loudly against your chest. Yoonoh surely felt it but decided not to comment on it.

“There’s a Tv in my room in case you want to watch something while I shower.” A hint of mischief adorned his honey-like voice. “Or you can come in and watch me instead.”

“Stop!” Your elbow connected with his ribs out of pure panic, making him bend in pain with his hands covering the injured spot.

“It was a joke...” He whispered, teeth gritting together.

I made him mad, you thought. Should you escape or face the consequences of his anger? All thoughts erased from your mind as he grabbed your calves, lifting you over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” You hit his back with closed fists, unable to see the expression on his face. “Yoonoh!”

He went up the stairs, proceeding to enter his room and throw you on his bed. Thousands of dirty scenarios crossed your mind before he threw himself on top of you, crushing your bones under his muscular body.

“My...ribs...”

“Oh, sorry, what is that?” To make matters worse, his fingers tickled your sides, provoking a fit of desperate giggles to escape your mouth. “I’m not hearing an apology.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” His hands finally stopped, giving you time to breathe. Nonetheless, he remained laid on your chest, using his forearms to lift his weight. “Aren’t you gonna shower?”

“I like you.”

The confession was so sudden, so raw it took you some time to finally react. But you had no words to give him an answer, instead, you combed your fingers through his long hair, massaging his scalp while waiting for him to speak up again.

“I never thought I'd be feeling more than friendly affection for you. Our agreement doesn't include love, after all. But I've started feeling like a teenager all over again. I can't help but get excited whenever you call me. Do you know how sweet your voice sounds through the phone?” He sighed, discouraged at your lack of response. “I guess you're not there yet.”

Instead of verbally answering, you planted a sweet kiss on his head, right where small, grey hairs had started growing.

“I’m not good with words.”

“That’s alright.” He snuck his hands under your back, holding you tightly as a sudden need to nurture you took over him. The mature image he had of you faded in less than a second, leaving behind a young, troubled woman. “I’ll shower quickly so we can go see your pops. I bet we’ll get along just fine, maybe even go golfing when he wakes up.”

“I forgot you're almost the same age. Creepy.” He smiled, though uneasiness started steering in his guts.

“Does that bother you?” He asked without giving it a second thought.

“I don't know yet.”

(...)

The man with high cheekbones and bruised skin laid limp on the hospital bed. Yoonoh had been working on his case for about a month, yet, it only started feeling real the moment he entered the room.

“This is my dad.” All emotions had escaped your eyes as if your soul wasn't there anymore. Only an empty shell.

“You look so much like him.” he was afraid touching you wouldn't be the right thing to do, so instead, he said: “He seems like a suitable golf buddy.”

Tension finally loosened its grip around his body as you snorted, pigment returning to your cheeks. Finally, he wrapped his hand around yours.

“He will wake up, y/n.”

“He’s taking his sweet time.” You glanced back at the laying figure, skinnier with every day he spent asleep. “I want someone to pay for taking away the last person that loved me.”

The last person that loved you. Would Yoonoh be able to fill that spot? Not yet, probably. He couldn't modify the depth of his feelings, but he could surely give you the vengeance you longed.

“Do you trust me?” With your eyes still glued to your father, you nodded. “Then I can assure you we’ll win the case.”

“I know we will.”

He sat silently with you, holding your hand without saying a word. The smell of alcohol and the beeping noise of machines made him nauseous. He hated hospitals. You noticed the change in his demeanor, his hand becoming cold while holding yours with strength.

“Do you wanna go?”

“No!” He smiled through the pain, scooting his chair closer to lay your hand on his lap.

He wouldn't agree to get his ass off the plastic chair. You had to tell him you were hungry for him to finally stand up, still clutching your hand like your father did when you were still a kid. His parental behavior caused several emotions to stir inside your guts, so mixed up you couldn't quite put a finger on any of them.

“What do you want to eat?” The tension finally left his body once out of the building.

“Soup.” You smiled while swiping your thumb on top of his knuckles. “I know a place, but to be honest, it isn't good. So we can go to the store and get the ingredients to- but you can't cook.”

“I’m up for a cooking lesson if you are.” He wanted to see your pretty smile again. Maybe making a fool of himself would help. “Let’s hit the road.”

“Wow, so cool.”

“I know.”

(...)

“Can you grab that can of chicken broth?” You pointed at the high shelf, letting go of Yoonoh’s hand to allow him to move freely

“I have a better idea.” He dragged you by the arm so you were standing in front of him, trapped between his body and the shelf. “I’ll lift you so you can reach it.” Matching his words, his hands grasped your waist, ready to carry you.

“Stop!” You slapped his hands repeatedly between giggles. Ignoring your complaints, he started lifting you. “Yoonoh!”

“Yoonoh?” A feminine voice had him placing you back on your feet in less than a second.

“Seryeong, I didn't expect to see you here.” His hands remained seated on the curve of your waist.

“Neither did I. I was surprised when Sungchan told me you'd left early yesterday.” She seemed a bit older than you but still younger than the man behind you.

“I had some matters to take care of.” She eyed you from head to toes with a smug grin plastered on her lips. Just by the look of her clothes, you could tell she was as wealthy as Yoonoh. You feared the scene would turn into a tv worthy drama.

“I’ll go get the chicken breast.” You tried escaping his grip, only to be pulled closer to his warmth.

“No need to. It's already inside the cart.”

Why am I so dumb?

“Does your father know about your little girlfriend?” She asked without hesitation.

“I guess.”

“And why didn't he tell me anything?” She cocked an eyebrow, his hands finally loosening around your body and allowing you to move from your position.

“Look, this is something you should talk about with him. Now, if you excuse us...” With a hand on your shoulder, he began pushing the cart to the next aisle, the chicken broth long forgotten.

“Is this some kind of arranged marriage situation?”

“Something like that.” His hands were tense while holding the cart, knuckles turning white from the strength used. “Before you start asking, I'm not really in the mood and I don't want to direct my bad mood toward you. Let's talk about something else, alright?”

Who was that woman that had the power to turn him into a literal raging ball of fire with just a few words?

[btswrckd]

War of Hearts II

Mafia Boss!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with Kim Taehyung does not mean you have to be civil. Or make his life easy.

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions o weapons, mentions of blood, slight angst, next chapter will be smut

------------------------------------------------------

Taehyung isn’t sure how you can sleep through the night after the little stunt you’d pulled, but he finds himself tossing and turning through most of it. When he does finally manage to fall asleep at the fun hour of 3 o’clock in the damn morning, he’s woken an hour later by the dipping of the bed from your side. “Going somewhere, princess?”

“I have to pee,” you snap, “or will you be holding my hand to the bathroom as well?”

“Is that an invitation?” He grins, tucking one arm behind his head. Huh. Maybe you aren’t as well rested as he thinks. Maybe you’d spent the night just as frustrated. At least he isn’t alone in that.

“Shut up, Tae.” You stomp across the room and slam the bathroom door behind you. You can hear him laughing from the other side and silently contemplate shoving him off the bed when you return. You hadn’t slept, body anticipating his touch every time he moved but it never came and then you’d deflate in disappointment. You don’t know what time he plans on starting his day and hope it’s soon because you need space. You need room to think back on last night and figure out where the hell your sudden boldness came from. Where had you gotten the idea to touch him from? You were pretty bitter about the incident in the living room, sure, but to play a dangerous game like that? 6 months ago, you wouldn’t even dream of it. Now you’re panicking in the privacy of your personal bathroom because what, you actually want to sleep with your husband? You’re fairly sure you won’t be the first woman having sex with her own husband, but still, it was Taehyung. Tae. The chubby cheeked little kid who’d been your partner in crime at boring dinner parties that both yours and his parents attended. What kind of audacity did he have becoming so fucking attractive? Who allowed this?

“Are you going to actually use the restroom?” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he leans against the doorway. “Or can I brush my teeth?”

You didn’t hear him open the door. You hadn’t even locked it like you usually do. You’d forgotten and that irritates you. It means you’re letting your guard down when you can’t afford to. Not today of all days. You look at him, see the hunger swirling in his eyes, and your stomach drops because it’s been a very long time since any man has looked at you like that. “What time is it?”

“4:30,” he responds with a sigh, rolling his neck to release the tension that built overnight. “Why are you up so early, princess?”

“Why are you?” you fire back quickly and see him grin. He’s always known that you have a habit of deflecting when you can’t answer a question or explain yourself. His eyes drift down to the purple bruises around your neck, a lasting result from his mouth yesterday, and he smirks. You step back when he pushes off the door jamb and stalks forward, lightly gripping your chin.

“I wasn’t able to sleep,” he answers your question, “because my wife likes to play games and leave me with the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had.” He watches your breath hitch and his smirk grows wider. “Then she runs into the bathroom and forgets to lock the door after winning said game from last night. As if I won’t come in, bend her over the sink, and play my own little game.”

“Just brush your teeth, Taehyung!” you squeak, shoving at his chest and rushing out of the bathroom before your mouth has a chance to ignore your brain, and most likely ask what kind of game he’s talking about. You throw yourself on the bed and burrow beneath the blankets in hopes of disappearing.

Taehyung doesn’t actually brush his teeth. He didn’t really need to. It was the only excuse he had for checking up on you after 30 minutes of silence. He does, however, splash cold water on his face to cool the heat spreading through his body. Last night is still very fresh in his mind and just being near you sets him off. He makes his way back to bed, falling onto the mattress and praying he’ll get a few more hours of sleep.

You peek out from underneath the blankets when he sighs, burying his face into a pillow. His nose scrunches up in discomfort. You know that it’s because he can’t fall asleep, can’t stop thinking about last night, despite having to be up soon to do...whatever the hell he does. Truthfully, you won’t be falling asleep either, even though you really need to if you’re going to pull off what you have planned for the day. Scooting closer, you see his eyes drift open in silent question, but you dip beneath the weight of his arm and tuck your head to his chest. His breathing stops for a moment before his hold tightens and he shifts onto his side, nuzzling his face into your hair. It’s this way, snuggled up to Taehyung, that you finally fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

The shrill ringing of the alarm clock has you jumping in Taehyung’s embrace. You swear you had just shut your eyes before the screeching woke you, but looking at the time, you see that it had actually been 4 hours later. Taehyung blindly reaches for the clock, pressing random buttons until it finally quiets down and wrapping his arm around your waist once more. The shuffling of feet outside the bedroom door alerts him to Jungkook’s presence and the hushed tones of someone asking how he’s still alive alerts him to Jimin’s company as well. Right. He’d forgotten that they’d be taking you on another book haul after he’d ruined the one from yesterday.

At first, he had shut down the idea entirely when Seokjin texted him after his shower. Seokjin insisted that you be out of the house by the afternoon and Taehyung insisted on tearing his head off if he kept on with that nonsense. But Seokjin had just gotten a call from Namjoon and Hoseok that they were on their way back, and that they’d contacted Cecil for a meeting. To which Taehyung responded by reiterating that you needed to stay in the house until it was dealt with. He doesn’t remember how Seokjin had convinced him to let you go, but he had, and now he’s supposed to wake you up to get ready when he doesn’t want to.

“Princess,” his voice is groggy and barely audible, but you stir nonetheless. “Jungkookie and Jimin are going to take you somewhere today.”

“Where?” you mumble into his chest, brushing the tip of your nose beneath his chin.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.” You shift against him, tossing one leg over his hip.

“This one you will.” He smiles against your hair and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s not like you to deny going out.”

“When I have more energy to burn, I like going out.” You don’t know why, but you’re working your mouth against the skin of his neck, teeth playfully nipping at him. “Not when I’m running on 4 hours of sleep.”

“Even if it means getting to pick out a new book?” He teases, and you’re up in a flash, stumbling to the bathroom to get ready. Your love for books and knowledge rivals Namjoon’s and between the two of you, Taehyung isn’t sure how there’s not a daily debate on whatever topic either of you bring up. Yesterday, when you’d rifled through half the shelves at the store, you resembled a kid in a candy store.

“Boss.” Jimin knocks on the door as Taehyung gets out of bed to answer it. He grins at Taehyung when he sees the look on his face. “Morning, boss. How’d you sleep?”

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Taehyung snaps at him in return, yet Jimin merely laughs. “I don’t care if she brings home the whole fucking store, as long as she makes it home, am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin nods, side eyeing one upset looking Jeon Jungkook and gesturing to him. “If it makes you feel any better, Taehyung, you’re not the only one who thinks she should stay in.”

“Are you saying she should be out and about with everything that’s going on?”

“I’m saying that despite whatever progress you’ve made as a couple,” Jimin clarifies, “if she continues to feel suffocated, she’ll lose her mind. You’ve seen it happen.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to argue with him when you duck beneath his arm, fresh faced and dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a jacket hanging over your arm, and the backpack you’re sure to fill with books. You step up next to Jungkook, nudging his side with your elbow and not so subtly tilting your head Taehyung’s way.

Jungkook looks like he’d rather vomit than say whatever is lingering on his tongue, but you pin him with a look that says he’d better spit it out. “Yesterday,” he clears his throat and looks to his feet as he addresses Taehyung, “I was out of line, boss.”

Jimin reels back in shock, Taehyung following his lead. Jungkook is still young and while he makes for a great marksman and an even better fighter, his mindset can be hard to crack through. Though he’d never been defiant against Taehyung, he could still be stubborn in his ways and would sooner chew off his own arm than admit he was wrong. So, this is what you were up to last night. Taehyung had known you’d been texting Jungkook, he just didn’t know what about and had honestly forgotten all about it until now.

You give Jungkook another hard nudge and when he shakes his head, you stomp on the top of his foot. Both Jimin and Taehyung raise their brows at the way you dig your heel in until Jungkook finally caves and lifts his foot to get you off.

“Arlight!” Jungkook hisses in pain and resists the urge to kick off his shoe to see if you’d broken any bones. “I shouldn’t have overstepped and it won’t happen again.”

“Let’s go,” you announce with satisfaction and shoulder past Jungkook, who limps after your retreating figure.

Jimin waits until you’re both out of sight to throw his head back and roar with laughter, nearly toppling over as he wheezes. “Sh-She really made him apologize. She got the most stubborn person on the planet to say he’s sorry. Oh, my God, I really think she’s my new favorite person.”

“She most likely did it for his benefit more than mine.” Taehyung is still unable to fully process what just happened. “Losing Jungkookie as her bodyguard would devastate her.”

“Even so,” Jimin gasps as he tries to catch his breath, “she still got him to admit he was wrong. That was gold. I should have recorded it.”

“Yoongi probably already did.”

-------------------------------------------------

Namjoon and Hoseok arrive back at the house not long after you leave, refusing to believe Yoongi’s tale of Jungkook’s apology.

“No way.” Hoseok shakes his head. “Jungkook would rather shoot himself in the foot than admit he was wrong.”

“Hobi’s right,” Namjoon agrees with a nod. He’s sitting in the chair next to Yoongi’s in the security room while Taehyung and Seokjin prepare for Cecil’s visit. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I got it on camera.” Yoongi snickers, pulling up the feed from this morning and pressing play.

Namjoon and Hoseok simultaneously wince when you shove your foot into Jungkook’s and put a good amount of pressure on it for some time. They listen to Jungkook apologize without really using the words ‘I’m sorry’, but it seems to be good enough for you. It’s when he limps after you that Namjoon and Hoseok share an amused look before bursting into laughter.

“Jimin is so lucky he was there.” Hoseok wipes at an invisible tear as Seokjin steps into the room with a questioning look.

“Do you 3 mind getting your asses in gear and getting the hell out here?” Seokjin scolds them. “Cecil just pulled through the gate.”

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi right themselves before following Seokjin to the living room where Taehyung is already waiting. They move to stand behind him just as Cecil strolls in through the foyer. All but Taehyung sneer at him and the two men at his side.

Cecil is an old, sweaty, greasy excuse of a man that couldn’t be more than 5’5. He’s balding, though he attempts to cover it up with a toupee, his stomach hangs over the waistline of his pants, and he smiles with crooked and yellow teeth. Even his appearance could be looked past if he wasn’t such a piece of shit person. Before Mr. Kim had gotten involved, Cecil had dabbled in human trafficking, mostly targeting women and girls 13 and older. When Mr. Kim had begun building his empire, Cecil was desperate to work underneath him, but Mr. Kim had demolished the trafficking ring Cecil had run in response. Cecil had exploded and accused Mr. Kim of being a hypocrite when Mr. Kim himself had dealt in drugs and assassinations. Mr. Kim admitted to being an awful person, but neither he nor anyone wishing to work with him would ever deal in people. Needless to say, Cecil had never gained Mr. Kim’s trust and very few people chose to work with Cecil anymore. Everything about this poor excuse of a man is nauseating.

“Kim,” Cecil greets with a sneer of his own, “you’re very much like your father, aren’t you? Sticking your nose in my business where it doesn’t belong.”

“Your business with the Seong family is my business, Cecil.” Taehyung peers at the two men flanking either side of Cecil. “What do you want from them?”

“Who says I want anything?” Cecil taunts. “I saw a pretty face and wanted it for my collection. I wasn’t aware she was a Seong girl.”

“And my wife,” Taehyung informs through clenched teeth. “You were aware that this is my home, and that she lives here, so why the fuck are you really circling around here, you greasy son of a bitch?”

“I knew this was your home when my boys scoped it out.” Cecil nods, observing the living room carefully. “I just thought the Seong brothers put her under your protection. I had no idea she was your new whore.”

Fire flashes in Taehyung’s eyes, nostrils flaring, as he steps in Cecil’s direction. “My original plan was to find out what you wanted and be done with you. Now the only way you’ll be leaving here is in pieces.”

Namjoon and Hoseok advance on the two men Cecil has with them. The men fight, but they’re no match for Namjoon and Hoseok, going down quite easily. Seokjin and Yoongi draw their guns quickly, both cocking back the firing pin as Cecil panics.

“I’m not the one that’s after her!” Cecil admits, hands raised in surrender. “I don’t know who is!”

“Don’t fuck with me, Cecil.” Taehyung raises a hand to stop Seokjin and Yoongi from pulling the trigger.

“I’m not!” Cecil insists. “It’s like this, okay? I’m sitting in my office one day, giving over some books for a new product I want to move when I get a call from a number that’s untraceable. They tell me to look into the Seong family, that there’s only one living girl left, and they want to get their hands on her. They tell me I’m the only one who can get it done, and they wired $1 million into my account as payment, but by the time I got to the Seong brothers, the girl was gone. She’d been moved and I told them that the next time they called. They were the ones who told me where to find her, they were the ones who set up the plan to trick your cameras, I just had the perfect lackey, that’s all.”

“What else do they want from her?” Yoongi is the one to ask, hand shaking with rage at the thought of someone getting to you.

“They didn’t say. Just that they wanted her.”

“Boss.” Namjoon looks panicked, and Taehyung is about to ask why when the sound of the front door opening hits his ears.

“Fuck,” Taehyung hisses, swiftly barreling into the foyer. He relaxes when he finds that his father is the one coming through the door. “Dad, you should have called.”

“I did.” Mr. Kim pats his son’s shoulder. “Y/N said she was out and that you’d be busy at home.”

“Why did you call Y/N?”

“Because she’s my daughter-in-law,” Mr. Kim states as if that should have been enough of an explanation, “whom I happen to adore very much, so if you’re done lecturing me, then shall we proceed?”

Taehyung guides his father back to Cecil and his unconscious men, nodding his head at Namjoon when he’s met with a questioning raise of Namjoon’s eyebrow.

“Mr. Kim.” Hoseok beams at Taehyung’s father as he looms over one of two beaten men.

“Always a pleasure, Hoseok.” Mr. Kim returns his smile fondly before turning his attention to Cecil. “I’m not at all surprised that you’re behind this, Cecil. I am, however, surprised that you were stupid enough to believe you could get away with it.”

“My men are expecting me back soon,” Cecil informs the room and is less than enthused to find that Mr. Kim’s smile has not faltered. “If I’m not back, they have orders to swarm this place and swoop down on your girl, Kim.”

“Of course.” Mr. Kim nods at his declaration in the same way a mother would do to a child that’s spouting a lie. “I believe you, Cecil, I truly do. Unfortunately for you, there are no men left to wait for you.”

“What have you done?”

“It’s been brought to my attention that perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you and that I’ve killed men for far less than you’ve done. I plan on fixing that, starting with the complete eradication of your entire syndicate. Well, what’s left of it, anyways.”

“This is your son’s mess,” Cecil bellows, feeling his knees shake at the new information being given to him. If what Mr. Kim said rings true, then he won’t be able to rebuild. He’d already been hanging by a thread as is. “But here you are to clean it up for him while he runs around playing ‘boss’. Pathetic.”

“This isn’t a mess,” Mr. Kim corrects him with a dangerously straight face. “Nor is it something for my son to handle on his own when it affects the entire family. This is us coming to a solution for a problem that will soon cease to exist.”

Hoseok and Namjoon rush to Cecil with a wave of Mr. Kim’s hand, gripping him by the shoulders and dragging him back through the front door to Mr. Kim’s waiting car. They wrestle him into the back seat where two of Mr. Kim’s men sit patiently.

“You’re sure all of his men are dead?” Taehyung asks his father.

“Every single one,” he assures. “We’ll handle Cecil from here. It’ll get bloody and your mother’s used to seeing it on my hands. Y/N hasn’t had to clean you up after a job yet, I’d like to help you keep it that way.”

“Cleaning him up isn’t exactly what she’d do,” Hoseok jokes upon his return to the living room. “More like make him sleep on the couch.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes while his father and Hoseok share a laugh. He doesn’t argue against Hoseok’s joke because it’s true. Though it would be more from being pissed off that he’d get into a fight in the first place than it would out of concern for staining an expensive set of sheets. When his phone rings, he barely hears it over the ruckus that is his father and idiot friend, but he fishes it from his pocket when he finally does hear it. “Jungkook.”

“She’s gone,” Jungkook is panting from having run around the entire bookstore and then around the entire neighborhood.

“What the fuck do you mean gone?!” Taehyung’s voice booms so loud that Seokjin and Yoongi drop the two men they’d been working on disposing of. “Where?! How?!”

“She went to the restroom, but never came out.” Jungkook can feel his chest tightening with each passing minute. He needs to find you. Not just for the sake of his own life. For the desperate need to make sure you’re still alive yourself. “We took all the precautions. No one was in there when she went in. We kept watch, boss, I swear on my life. She just never came out.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told to hop onto his tablet and tap into your phone. His fingers are already racing across the screen when Taehyung turns to him. Mr. Kim is rushing out with his own phone to his ear, barking orders to search the entire city, shut it completely down if need be. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin feel helpless when all they can do is wait for Taehyung’s command. They could attempt to hack your phone, but that’s what Yoongi’s for, and if he can’t find you then they for damn sure won’t be able to.

Taehyung is running through every possibility in his head and finds nothing to clue him in as to where you could be. Yoongi’s frantic ‘I found her!’ has everyone gathering around him, Taehyung’s nostrils flaring at the location on the screen. He still has Jungkook on the phone, informing him that, “We know where she is, Jungkook, calm yourself now. Get Jimin and meet me back at the house as fast as you can. We’re going to pick her up.”

“You want us to ride with you?” Namjoon asks, the concern in his eyes quickly morphing into anger. If anything had happened to you…

“No,” Taehyung sighs as he hangs up the phone. “I want Yoongi and Hoseok to go talk to the Ahn brothers. They have eyes and ears everywhere. I’m sure they can give us some answers.”

“I’d rather go with you,” Hoseok chimes in. “Y/N has a tendency to listen more when I’m there.”

“Everyone has a tendency to listen more when you’re around, Hoseok,” Seokjin points out.

“Which is exactly why you’re going with Yoongi to the Ahn brothers.” Taehyung begins dialing his father’s number into his phone, hoping to stop him before his men turn over the entire city.

--------------------------------------------------

It’s the second month of your marriage when you finally get your phone and laptop back. You comb through both of them to make sure they still work the way they’re supposed to. Yoongi had promised that he didn’t delete or alter anything and you’d snorted in denial. Taehyung had taken them for a reason and if Yoongi was the one returning them, then they’d both definitely been tampered with. You were holed up in your room for hours, answering emails and text messages, scrolling through Instagram and Facebook to catch up on your friends’ lives, editing pictures that you’d promised Soyoung weeks ago, and called the HR department of your job to confirm if you even still had one. They had seemed confused by your questions and had let you ramble on like an idiot before informing you that the leave of absence paperwork you’d submitted had been approved, and they were looking forward to whenever you were ready to return. It was after the phone call that you realized Taehyung had been the one to submit LOA papers on your behalf. That sneaky little son of a---.

“Y/N?” The tapping of Jungkook’s fingers on your door startles you. “Dinner’s ready. You haven’t eaten all day. If anything’s gone wrong with your phone or laptop, Yoongi will fix it. So, please come out and eat something.”

Your heart melts at his tone, looking to the bedside alarm clock to find that it was nearing 9 o’clock in the evening. Resisting the urge to face palm, you scramble out of bed and race for the door, throwing it open. “I’m sorry, Jungkook, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Is everything okay?” He steps back to give you space to move, shutting the door behind you and following along to the dining room. “Is there a problem with your stuff?”

“No, no,” you sigh, shaking your head and running a hand through your already messy hair. “I just lost track of time catching up on some things. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“Didn’t you get hungry at all?”

“Not when I get busy doing things,” you explain and laugh at the expression on his face, a memory coming to mind. “Namjoon gave me that same look the other day when I was reading a book I borrowed from him. I guess I hadn’t been out of my room all day and missed lunch and dinner, so he came looking for me. I told him that when I was a kid, my mom used to lose her head when she couldn’t find me. At the time, I didn’t fully understand how dangerous it was to wander off by myself. Anyways, her and my dad would tear the house apart looking for me. Turns out, I’d ended up being curled underneath my bed with a book in my hands. The second I learned how to read, I never stopped. It drove my parents nuts because I would become so engrossed in a book that I wouldn’t pay attention to the world around me. They complained that I needed real friends, not imaginary ones, and set up playdates with their friends’ kids. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I actually had made friends, through the equal admiration and love for a specific book.”

“You must miss them,” he notes and winces at the sheer stupidity of it. Of course you miss them. “I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to say.”

“No,” you smile at him. “I miss them very much. I was 14 when they died, so they didn’t get to see me grow into adulthood. Some days it’s a little harder than others.”

“I’m sure they would have been very proud.”

“Not if they knew what a huge nerd I stayed,” you joke and earn yourself one of his rare bunny smiles, teeth, dimples, and all. “They never met any of the friends I still have now. Soyoung, Yunhee, and Bora are the same girls who’ve stuck by me for so long. Soyoung was actually the girl I met who loved the same book she’d caught me reading like a loner during recess one day.” You laugh fondly as you recall the start of your friendships. “Or attempting to read, I should say. A few annoying boys from our class had taken the book from my hands and played a little game of keep away. Soyoung saw them, came over, knocked the biggest one to the ground, and challenged the rest of them to a fight. They ran away and Soyoung spent the rest of the time sitting with me to make sure they didn’t come back.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve the retelling of a happy memory, but he doesn’t stop you from talking, even when he finally steps into the dining room where Taehyung is already waiting. When he sees Taehyung, he attempts to interrupt your story, though he doesn’t as Taehyung shakes his head with a slight smile on his lips.

“That was the first time I knew what protection was,” you continue while staring off into space, not yet noticing Taehyung standing from the table. “Sure, my parents had their own version of it, but having their security guards around wasn’t the same as having someone around that actually listened to you.”

“Princess.” Taehyung almost laughs at how high you jump in place. “Are you ready to eat something?”

With your trip down memory lane on hold, you walk past him to sit at the table. You think maybe you shared a little too much with Jungkook. For two solid months, you’d managed to hold off giving up your friends’ names, even when Taehyung had offered to have them brought over to stave off your boredom. Nothing had ever sounded so tempting and had you said yes, it would have undoubtedly been an amazing day. Still, you can’t risk their lives for your own selfishness. You look down to the plate filled with carbonara, your favorite, and bite back a smile because you know it was Taehyung’s idea to have it served. You’re not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile when he had held your phone and laptop hostage for two months.

Taehyung sits beside you as Jungkook stands just a few feet away and Jimin comes in to stand at the other exit. He sees your eyes squint with suspicion and almost tells you that he’s expecting a guest. Instead he taps gently on the table to get your attention. “Is there a specific reason you didn’t eat anything today? Or so much as leave your room?”

You give him a sideways glance, jamming the fork left for you in the pasta. “You had my phone and laptop for the last two months, Taehyung, things piled up.”

“And catching up was more important than eating or seeing the sun?”

“I wasn’t hungry and I prefer the moon to the sun anyways, so yes, catching up was more important.” Only half of that is true and just barely. It’s not that you weren’t hungry at all, it’s that you didn’t notice you were hungry until Jungkook had come to fetch you.

Taehyung rests his elbows on the table, rubbing at his temples and hearing Jimin snicker in the corner of the room. “Princess---.”

Suddenly you lean in close, propping your chin in the palm of your hand and hoping neither Jimin nor Jungkook can hear the next words about to come out of your mouth. Your gaze drops to Taehyung’s lips and then flickers back to the intensity of his eyes, the corners of your mouth tilting up. “Will you fuck me, Tae?”

Taahyung chokes on his own spit as you sit back, satisfied at having rattled him. He’s 100% sure you’re not serious and it’s payback for what he pulled the day he took your computer and phone. Lifting a hand to his mouth, he clears his throat and peers at Jungkook, then Jimin, who hadn’t heard what you said but laughed at Taehyung’s expense all the same. When his eyes land back on you, they’re met with a cat-like grin on your lips, your teeth biting down on the steel fork as you shove pasta into your mouth.

“Cute,” he comments dryly. He’s not completely unamused but he won’t be cracking a smile soon either. You had called him ‘Tae’, a nickname reserved solely for you to use when you’d gifted it to him as children. As a kid, it melted his heart when you would call out his nickname and he would do anything you asked. Now, it brings on an entirely different reaction and he’s adjusting the way he sits, and he knows you know why he’s squirming in his seat.

“Something wrong, Taehyung?” You pretend to be worried, hearing Jimin take a step in the direction of the table in case something was wrong with Taehyung. “You look uncomfortable.”

“I know you’re fucking with me,” he rasps through grit teeth and Jimin freezes in place. “But on the off chance that you’re not, the answer is ‘yes’, princess, I will fuck you tonight. I’m so glad you asked.”

Jungkook lets out an awkward cough as a deep blush creeps up your neck. He looks over at Jimin, the older man nearly doubled over in glee with a hand covering his mouth. He thinks he should step in and give you an excuse to flee, but truthfully, you really should have known better.

“You get on my fucking nerves, Kim Taehyung,” you hiss and hear Jungkook hiccup at the bold way you speak to Taehyung. With a quick glance, you can see his eyes go wide and jaw drop before he looks at Taehyung in a panic.

“Relax, Jungkookie,” Taehyung chuckles darkly, completely abandoning his food in favor of reaching out to grip the back of your neck to pull you close. “I’ve killed for less, you know.”

“Then by all means,” you challenge, have no qualms about matching his glare, “kill me, Taehyung.”

“How charming,” someone quips from the dining room entrance and you snap your head up to look for the unfamiliar voice.

“Hoseok,” Taehyung leans back in his chair and lets you stew in panic for a minute. “You finished your assignment early. You’re not due back for another few weeks.”

“I got impatient.” Hoseok shrugs in response, eyes darting to you. “Ah, so you’re Y/N. I have to say, you’re much prettier than Taehyung gives you credit for.”

“Is that so?” You manage to relax at the familiarity between your husband and this new stranger.

“He really doesn’t do you justice,” Hoseok teases, watching Taehyung tense. “Relax, boss, I’m not going to steal your wife. Though if she happens to fall for my charm then it’s really not my fault.”

Taehyung hears you bite down on a laugh and rolls his tongue against his cheek in irritation. With your attention still on Hoseok, he takes the opportunity to invade your space by leaning in close.“Finish your food, princess, and then go to bed.”

“I’m not a kid, you know.” You turn to him, breath hitching at his proximity. Moments ago, you’d been too pissed to care how close he was, not to mention how mad he was himself. But his face had softened in the last few minutes, now looking at you as he always did.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Taehyung offers, hand coming up to twist your hair in his fingers. “You finish your dinner and I’ll give you anything you want. Sound fair?”

“I want to go back to work.”

Taehyung sighs and leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anything but that, Y/N.”

“That counts as anything, Taehyung,” you argue through clenched teeth. “You don’t get to change the rules because you don’t like what I’ve asked for.”

“It’s not safe for you to go back to work right now.”

“Then I’ll take Jungkook with me.” You’re not opposed to begging, not if it gets you back to work. “My cousins used to have men watch over me at my job all the time. As paranoid as Joongki is, he still let me go to work, that’s a testament to how uneventful that place is.”

“The answer is ‘no’.” Taehyung’s voice is firm as he sets his jaw. There are many things he’d be willing to bend on. You leaving the house is not one of them. “Don’t pout at me like a child or like I’ve kicked your puppy. You asked, I answered, and now you deal with that, am I clear?”

“Are you, really?” You push away from the table with so much force that the chair nearly falls backwards in the process. “Or are you going to change your mind when it suits you?”

Jungkook moves behind you quickly should Taehyung decide he’s had enough of your attitude and goes back on his promise to never harm you. He isn’t allowed to stop whatever Taehyung may do, but he is allowed to stop it from going too far.

“Sometimes I think you forget how hard I can push back.” You glare down at your husband. “And how painful that can get for whoever I feel like putting in their place.”

Hoseok lets out a whistle of appreciation after you storm out of the dining room with Jungkook hot on your heels. He looks at Taehyung, chuckles at his tired state, and sits at the table while Jimin decides to join them. “She’s a handful, Taehyung. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“She’s not a handful,” Taehyung counters lamely because what Hoseok just saw definitely seemed like a handful. “Y/N’s lived like this her entire life and, unlike most of us, doesn’t embrace it.”

“Certainly sounds like she does.” Hoseok plucks the glass of water from where you previously sat and takes a sip. “Or does she only talk like that when she’s throwing a fit?”

“Believe me when I say if she plans on putting someone in their place,” Jimin finally speaks up, “she’s going to do it brutally. You’ll feel pretty stupid afterwards, too, so you should do what you can to avoid arguing with her, Hobi.”

Hoseok snorts. He won’t be intimidated by some girl who thinks she can handle the cruelties of this life just because she’s grown up around it. So has he, but he’s never been arrogant enough to throw out an attitude like that, especially not to a fucking boss of all people. Maybe if Taehyung wasn’t so whipped, he’d teach you what respect is.

“I’m serious, Hoseok.” Jimin is no longer smiling when Hoseok turns back to him. He recognizes the look in Hoseok’s eyes and doesn’t like it. If Taehyung, the one who actually gets a say in how you’re treated, says to never lay a hand on you no matter the circumstance, then all of the boys are to keep their damn hands off. His friend is far from abusive, Hoseok simply respects the chain of command with more passion than anybody. If something threatens that, then he’ll do what’s necessary to protect it. “If you can’t handle Y/N’s attitude, then you stay the hell away from her.”

Hoseok watches Jimin march out of the dining room, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek before facing Taehyung. “First Jungkookie looks ready to throw himself between you and her in the middle of a fight, and now Jimin thinks he can just go around threatening anybody. That girl’s power trip must be contagious.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, Hoseok.” Taehyung curls his hand into a fist on the table and notices Hoseok’s eyes dart to the action. “But if you can’t respect Y/N, then I’ll toss you right back where I found you, rotting in the gutter.”

Hoseok looks down at the table and smiles, not at all bothered by Taehyung’s threat. “She reminds me of your mom. Y/N’s so much like her that I flashed back to the Christmas of our senior year in high school. Remember that?” He doesn’t wait for Taehyung to answer before he continues. “Your father had promised that year��s Christmas to be a work free one, but when she’d caught him on the phone, dealing with another shipment, she lost her mind. She screamed at him, hit him, threatened to disappear from his life if he didn’t get his shit together.”

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “Everyone had been home that Christmas. My grandparents, my aunts, and uncles. They all watched my big bad father get chewed out by a woman who could barely reach his shoulders. They likened it to a pitbull being afraid of a chihuahua. I think that’s why my mother loves Y/N so much, because she doesn’t take anyone’s shit.”

“So she has momma Kim’s seal of approval, huh?”

“The only girl who ever has.”

“You did bring some pretty mean trainwrecks through her house.” Hoseok teases him, though his smile drops as he becomes serious once again. “I know Jimin thinks I’ll hurt Y/N if I think she’s overstepped, but I won’t. If anything, I look forward to watching you cowering under the hateful gaze of your wife. It’ll be the most entertaining thing that’s happened in a long time.”

“All of the boys are excited to watch that happen.” Taehyung shakes his head.

“Are you going to let her go back to work?” Hoseok tilts his head in question. “It won’t be too bad if Jungkook’s with her. Maybe she’ll even let Jimin tag along.”

“I can’t take that chance right now. Joongki might have let her work, but there weren’t any threats against them at the time. Now someone’s after the Seong brothers and if they can use Y/N to do it, they will.”

“This is the Y/N you’ve been obsessed with since you were a kid, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t obsessed,” Taehyung insists. “At least not in a creepy way.”

“She’s married to you,” Hoseok points out. “The girl you’ve been hopelessly pining after since you were a teenager is now your wife. Tell me that doesn’t sound like a creepy stalker.”

“Shut up, Hobi.”

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Standing across from Taehyung in the break room of your workplace, you grip the strap of your backpack tight and clench your teeth. You should have known better. Honestly, you almost didn’t run off because you knew he’d come chasing you down eventually. Even more honestly, if you didn’t actually want him to know where you were then leaving your phone somewhere miles off would have been the best idea. You’re aware of the ‘discreet’ tracking app that Yoongi had installed on the phone, hiding it amongst the music files as if you hadn’t memorized each and every one.

Coworkers gather around to watch the spectacle Taehyung has created. Some have the decency to pretend they’re not being nosy while others whisper to each other about the handsome stranger you’re facing off with. Most women are trying their hardest to catch his eye, but his focus is solely on you. It drives the women nuts and you almost smile at the thought until Jimin and Jungkook flank Taehyung on either side.

You almost flinch at the look of betrayal on Jungkook’s face. He was in charge of you, of your whereabouts and needs, and you ran from him. You’d snuck off from right under his nose and sent him into a panic, leaving him with no other option than to dial Taehyung. His anxiety subsided when Taehyung calmly explained that he was sure of where’d you be, thus leading them to this moment. You want to explain, to tell him that deceiving him was one of the hardest decisions you’ve made in a long time. There’s relief in his eyes, obviously, but there’s also anger and pain. “Jungkookie, I---.”

“Y/N?” Your friend and ex-boyfriend, Seojun, questions as he enters the break room. He scans over Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin, sensing the anger rolling off of you in waves. He steps in your direction to make sure you’re alright. Being broken up doesn’t mean he can’t still care about you. When your eyes cut to him, he catches you wince before the deep bass of Taehyung’s voice recaptures your attention.

“Princess,” Taehyung grits out in irritation when your attention shifts elsewhere. A smirk lights up his features when your eyes dart between him and the man who’d just called your name, panic crossing your features. You don’t want him to know who this is and that’s something he can use to his advantage. “You could have easily avoided my being here if you hadn’t snuck away from Jungkook. You really hurt his feelings, sweetheart. Look at him, he’s heartbroken.”

“Shattered into a million pieces, boss,” Jungkook deadpans, earning himself a spiteful glare. Tilting his chin and raising a brow, he silently questions why you’re the one who’s angry when he’d been running around like a chicken with his head cut off for the past two hours.

“Something of his will be broken soon, but I can assure you it won’t be his heart,” you snap, making Taehyung grin his rare boxy smile that you’d possibly return on any other day. Now though, now you want to slap the smile off his annoyingly handsome face. You see Jimin take a cautious step away from Jungkook in hopes of protecting himself and admittedly, it almost makes you giggle. Jimin always knows how to make you laugh even on the darkest of days, yet as he stands at Taehyung’s side, you know who he’ll always remain loyal to.

Taehyung’s heavy sigh slices the tense air and he’s in front of you in a matter of seconds, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. He can see the internal struggle you have to not recoil at his touch or slap his hand away. Maintaining a public image is something drilled into someone as soon as they step into the mafia life, but he figured you’d be angry enough to not care in front of your coworkers, and expecting you to blow up at him. When you don’t, he suspects it has something to do with the women who haven’t stopped ogling him since he first walked in. “Interesting,” he voices aloud and you jump at the way his fingers slide along the length of your jaw before he tucks his thumb, tilting your chin upward.

Your breath catches in your throat as he steps closer, bridging the gap between you two. It takes everything in you to not bite the thumb currently skimming across your bottom lip. The last time you’d done that, Taehyung had taken it upon himself to return the favor by biting down on the pulse point of your neck. You don’t need a repeat of that incident in front of your coworkers. A sigh escapes you when he wraps his free arm around your waist and nuzzles his face in your hair.

“You don’t want me,” Taehyung whispers in your ear, playfully nipping at it, “but you don’t want them to have me either, do you, princess?”

You grit your teeth, dropping your forehead to his chest, and using your hair as a curtain to hide your mouth. “I don’t care if they want you, Kim Taehyung. You could take any of them home right now if you wanted to and I wouldn’t give a damn.”

“Don’t tempt me, Y/N,” he growls low and it’s then that you realize how angry he truly is. Taehyung doesn’t use your real name with the exception of introductions during a dinner party, charity event, and when you get too stubborn in your ways. “If you want me to take a girl home and fuck her brains out while you sit and stew in your own denial, then I will.”

You stiffen in his arms, the mere thought making you nauseous. You know damn well how eager any one of these girls would be to jump in bed with him. Suddenly, a certain presence looms over the room, something dark makes the place feel smaller than it already is. “Seojun,” you breathe with realization. It’s him, his stare nearly burning a hole into the side of your face as his jealousy blankets the room.

Taehyung grits his teeth, hand sliding up to tighten at the nape of your neck and knotting the hair there. His fingers twitch against your scalp as he’s about to move away to face whoever the hell Seojun is. His grip loosens and fear strikes the air before you’re looping your arms through his to lock together at his back. The embrace is seemingly romantic to everyone else, but he knows that it’s to keep him in place.

He sighs once more and skims his fingers down to massage the tension in your neck, lips brushing against your cheek as he pretends to ignore what you’ve just said. “Can I kiss you, princess? And then every girl in here will know who I belong to. Sound good to you, baby?”

You’re on the tips of your toes, gripping the back of his neck, and tugging him down into a kiss as soon as he finishes the question. The hand in your hair tugs on it gently, silently asking for you to open up to him, but you’re already pulling away before it goes too far. Public affection is never something you could bring yourself to like but Taehyung makes it a little more tolerable. Even so, this was still your place of work and it requires a level of professionalism that you’re one more kiss away from throwing out the window.

Taehyung grins against your mouth as your chest heaves and he straightens up to take the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He tosses the bag to Jimin, who immediately digs through it in search of your work vest. With Cecil’s men dead and Jungkook on a new level of awareness after your disappearing act, enough of the threats to the Seong family have been eliminated for you to work peacefully. You’re not entirely out of the woods just yet, there’s still the matter of finding who paid Cecil, but he’s already spoken with your boss about Jungkook hanging around and keeping an eye on you. He’ll send Jimin down to help after the house has been cleaned up.

Jimin produces your vest and tosses it to Taehyung after swiping the name badge clipped on the fabric. He hands Jungkook the backpack to rifle through the contents, catching a quick peek of your puzzle book. Such a nerd, he thinks as a fond smile spreads across his face.

“I could murder her,” Jungkook mumbles from beside Jimin. “Scaring the shit out of us like that. Almost getting us killed because Taehyung was so pissed.”

“You have to admit that her determination is admirable,” Jimin jokes, nudging Jungkook with his elbow. “Come on, Jungkookie, don’t stay upset with her for too long. You saw the look on her face when we came in. She didn’t like sneaking away from us, but did we give her any other choice? No. So stop pouting and hold down the fort until I get back.”

Jungkook snorts in response. He’s still pissed off at himself for letting you slip through his fingers like that. Jimin only chuckles under his breath and Jungkook is left rolling his eyes. He catches the sight of Seojun in the process, the man’s mouth parted with confusion and brows pinched together in anger. Jungkook looks Seojun over and notes the way his eyes never leave you and Taehyung. Elbowing Jimin to get his attention, he gestures to Seojun, and Jimin clocks the way Seojun’s fists curl at his sides.

Taehyung is too busy swinging the vest around your shoulders to pay any more attention to Seojun. Pulling the zipper up to secure your vest, he tugs you a step closer and fiddles with the pull tab while pressing his forehead to yours. “You can stay, sweetheart.”

“I can?” You break out into a smile before you can stop yourself, pulling back to see his face. If he’s pulling a cruel joke, you’ll kill him. You will 1,000% murder your husband on the spot. But no, he’s not teasing you. “Seriously?”

“Under the condition that Jungkookie stays with you,” Taehyung clarifies, setting his jaw. When you bite your bottom lip in attempt to stop your smile, he tests your giddiness by leaning in for another quick kiss that you happily return. “Jimin will be back in about an hour to help him keep watch. So don’t try to run away from either of them.”

“I promise!” You throw your arms around his shoulders and squeeze him close. To a normal couple, being told that one actually has permission to do their job would be cause for concern. So it was understandably confusing for your coworkers when you practically vibrated with excitement at being allowed to work, of all things.

Taehyung presses another kiss to your lips, holding it just a bit longer than the previous two and smiles as you laugh against him. He’s surprised to find that he can easily slip his tongue past your parted lips, and that you eagerly accept him. When he finally pulls away, you’re looking at him like he just gave you the world, and it dawns on him that this, this is all you asked for. The freedom to make your own choices and keep at least a little bit of your previous life didn’t seem like an option with your cousins and now he was doing the same thing they had. He’s keeping you from enjoying the little things like the job you didn’t necessarily have to keep anymore.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll see you at home, bye!” You rush past your husband, quickly snatching the name badge Jimin was holding out, and dancing in place as you swipe it through the time clock. Jungkook is basically sprinting after you in an effort to keep up with your newfound energy.

Jimin steps up beside his friend as Taehyung tries to compose himself by shoving one hand in his pocket and clearing his throat. He rolls his eyes as Taehyung uses his thumb to swipe away the chapstick you’d left behind on his lips. “You look like a kid in a candy store, you weirdo.”

“She called it home.”

“Yeah, for now,” Jimin snorts and it’s Taehyung’s turn to roll his eyes. “I give it two days before you fuck up something else.”

“Thanks for the support, asshole.”

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You don’t explore much of the house until about the 4th month into the marriage. You've seen most of the first floor and so far, Namjoon’s miniature library is your favorite place. The second floor consists of the guys’ rooms and you find it odd that Taehyung would have them sleep an entire floor away from you. They’re meant to protect you should anything go wrong, so why?

“Find what you’re looking for, Mrs. Kim?”

You jump and whirl around to face Hoseok, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. “Jesus, Hobi. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs, though he doesn’t seem very apologetic at all. He’s drenched in sweat, hair is matted to his forehead, and he’s unraveling tape from his knuckles.

“You were boxing,” you point out with admiration. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“No, I was done anyways.” He waves his hand dismissively, but notes the way your lips part in curiosity. “Do you want to try?”

“I didn’t know Taehyung had a gym in the house.” You immediately change the subject. Yes, you want to box. Not exactly ‘try’ because you have enough training to defend yourself. This newfound knowledge of a home gym has you excited. The idea of being able to let out your frustrations on a punching bag is thrilling.

“Jungkook requested it before the house was built.”

“Kook did?” You reel back in surprise. If Jungkook was around before this house was built then… “How old is this place?”

“A few years, I believe.” Hoseok finishes unwrapping his hands and crumples up the used tape. “Taehyung had it built for you when he found out your cousin wanted to merge the families.”

“Right.” You clench your jaw. You often forget how long this plan was in the making before judgement day. Or your ‘wedding’, as some would call it. Still, that Taehyung would go through such effort to build a home just for you, almost brings a smile to your face. Shaking the thought from your head, you take the tape from Hoseok’s hands to keep your own occupied. The itch to pick at your cuticles is clawing its way to the surface and you need to stop it before it takes over. “It’s flattering, I know that, but it’s also a reminder of the life I didn’t intend on having.”

“A safe one?” Hoseok quirks one of his brows, watching you fiddle with the used tape and catching the tiny scabs on your cuticles.

“A different one,” you say as the ball of tape is tossed back and forth between your hands. “One where I didn’t feel like a prisoner.”

“What happened?” He quickly snatches one of your hands and the tape falls to the floor. There’s a hint of dried blood on the cuticles of your nails and the skin around the pads of your fingers look to be gnawed on. “How long have you been doing this?”

You try to pull your hand back but it’s useless when it comes to escaping Hoseok. You learned this after spending a month with him as your bodyguard instead of Jungkook, when Taehyung had insisted you build a friendship with Hoseok before the rest of the guys. You had asked why and it had become clear after Hoseok was the one to track you down in a matter of minutes during your first attempt to run away.

“Hobi,” you grunt, twisting your wrist out and away from his hold with ease, instead wrapping your own fingers around his wrist to shove him away and he stumbles back. You laugh at the shock on his face. “Sometimes when I get too nervous or antsy, I chew on my fingers. It’s not very ladylike, is it? I didn’t do it for awhile after my teen years, but recently---.”

“How did you do that?” He interrupts your explanation. “Get out of my grip like that?”

Of course, he knows how you did it. His question is more about who trained you to do it, who taught you to defend yourself, and who taught you to fight. It’s the first time he’s seeing anything like it from you and he’s sure that Taehyung and Jungkook, or any of the guys for that matter, have no clue you can do it either.

You shoot him a teasing smile and pick the tape up from the floor. “My grandfather always wanted to make sure I could do at least the bare minimum if I was attacked. So, he had some of his men teach me to fight alongside Joongki and Jeonghan. I’m sure I’m nowhere near any of your guys’ levels, but I like to think I could hold my own against you if need be.”

“You’re really something else, aren’t you?” Hoseok questions with awe. He doesn’t mean it in an offensive way and he’s glad you realize that as your shoulders tremble with more laughter. “Taehyung always said you were amazing, but I thought it was because he’s so in love with you. Not because you’re a genuinely amazing person.”

You pale at the words ‘in love’ because although you’ve always known about Taehyung’s affections, you’ve never known how deep they truly run. Up to this point, you thought his feelings were more infatuation and lust than anything else.

“Enjoying your little tour, princess?” Taehyung comes from around the corner, leaning against the wall.

“You’re back.” You resist the urge to go to him. The space he’d given you when you first moved in was welcomed, and then you’d gone and given him a reason to revoke that privilege by trying to run away. After spending time together now that he’d been sleeping in the same room, that you had come to learn was actually the master bedroom and he’d been gentleman enough to leave it to only you, you found that you would actually miss him when he was out. There are nights when you sidle up to him as soon as he steps in the door, and you know he’s aware of how dependent you’ve become on his presence because Jimin did you the not so kind favor of pointing it out.

“I’m home,” Taehyung confirms, the ends of his lips almost tugging up into a smile. The way you basically wait for him to come home every day tugs at his heart. He didn’t think it would only take a few months for you to warm up to him, slowly, but definitely surely. He’d calculated that it would take you at least a year to want to be around him. Maybe two, maybe even ten given how stubborn you are. “Finally found your way upstairs, huh?”

“I was bored.”

“I know.” He pushes off the wall and comes to take the tape from your hands. He finally looks at Hoseok and nods. “Did Hoseok teach you anything?”

“Apparently there’s no need,” Hoseok explains while crossing his arms. “Did you know that she can fight? Not that sissy slap fight that some people do. I mean, real fighting, Taehyung.”

“You’re exaggerating, Hobi.” You roll your eyes and try to snatch the tape back from Taehyung, but he’s quick to pull it out of your reach. “You make it sound like we just went a full round of sparring. I was just able to get out of your hold, that’s all.”

“That’s the most important part,” Hoseok says as you and Taehyung begin a playful game of keep away. He’s sure you don’t notice the grin on your own face when you jump for the piece of trash in Taehyung’s hand. “Even if you can’t actually fight, being able to get away and run as fast as you can is the deciding factor in whether you live or die.”

You’re not listening anymore. It’s not to be rude or simply because you’ve heard it already. It’s because you’re trying to pry the tape away from your husband and you don’t even know why. Perhaps because you had it first? It’s childish thinking, you know it, but it’s what makes this part so fun. You make one final lunge for the used tape and Taehyung grabs your wrist, not prepared for you to counter it so quickly. Clamping down on his wrist with your free hand, you pry it away from your own and duck. You twist around, never letting up on his wrist, and pin his arm gently behind his back. A triumphant grin breaks out on your lips, but it’s short lived.

Taehyung spins around on his heel and is able to quickly back you against the wall. His fingers are already curling around your forearm to press against the plaster. He feels the push of your other hand to his chest and he’s shoved away with more force than expected. His chest rises and falls rapidly, winded from the surprising amount of energy this small little tussle took from him. You don’t rush to him like he thinks you will, instead clutching something in your hand that you open to reveal the balled up tape.

“Whoa,” Hoseok whispers, having been present the entire time rather than giving the two of you privacy like the other guys usually do. He was simply too curious to see how this would pan out. He’s going to say something, not entirely sure what words to use, when he looks back at Taehyung to find an all too familiar look on his face.

Taehyung’s pupils are blown wide as he drinks you in. From the cat-like curve of your lips, to the useless tape balled up in your palm, and down to the heaving of your chest. He’s always been an adrenaline junkie, he knows that, but never had a scuffle turned him on. The fact that you’re his wife and not some bulky, sweat drenched man definitely contributes.

“Well,” Hoseok chimes in uncomfortably, “I’m going to go anywhere that’s not here. You guys have fun.”

You don’t even realize Hoseok is still there until he breezes past you to make himself scarce, watching him disappear from the hallway. When you look back at Taehyung, he’s already in front of you and running the back of his knuckles across your cheek. The affectionate touch makes you blush, heat spreading across your entire body as he leans in so close that his nose bumps yours.

“Will you welcome me home, princess?” he rasps against your lips and it snaps you out of your own thoughts.

“Your home, Tae,” you whisper back and bump his nose gently, “not mine.”

“You are my home, Y/N.” His lips brush yours with every whisper before he fully presses against your mouth. A tiny kiss that somehow leaves you wanting much, much more. But then he’s pulling away and kissing your cheek next. “I know you hate being here, and the idea makes you want to puke, but this is your home. Always.”

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Later, when you basically skip into the living room with a very tired looking Jungkook and Jimin, Taehyung is surprised when you plop next to him on the couch. You’re equally as exhausted as the guys, but it’s a good kind of tired, like you’ve accomplished something.

“What did you do to Jungkookie, princess?” Taehyung plays with the locks of your hair. He looks to his youngest member and almost laughs at the way Jungkook’s shoulders are slumped forward, his hair is matted with sweat, and like he’s on the verge of passing out.

Jimin is standing next to him looking pristine as ever, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth at Jungkook’s state.

“I didn’t do anything to him.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “He was just having a hard time keeping up, that’s all.”

“Retail workers are animals!” Jungkook bellows, throwing his arms out in frustration. “And the customers who shop there are even worse! Who raised these people, savages?!”

“Kook, you’re in a gang!” You look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“Yeah well, nobody I’ve ever pointed a gun at has yelled at me for giving them the wrong color sweater, alright?” Jungkook runs his hand down his face before rubbing his tired eyes. “I need a nap.”

Taehyung chuckles as Jungkook stalks upstairs to his bedroom. His shift is over now that you’re home anyways, so the least Taehyung can do is let the poor kid sleep.

Jimin bids the two of you goodnight, making his way to the staircase and quickly following after Jungkook.

“I think Kook’s traumatized.” You turn your head to Taehyung just as he leans in and brushes his nose against yours.

“We should probably get him an emotional support animal,” he jokes, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Did you have a good day, sweetheart?”

You tilt your chin up as his mouth travels lower, leaving open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. Nodding in response to his question, you ask, “did you?”

“It’s boring in the house without someone to argue with,” his tongue snakes out lick at your skin before he’s pulling on it with his teeth.

“I’m sure Yoongi could have kept you entertained if you pushed his buttons enough.”

Taehyung knows that his being able to touch you within reason is basically a reward for granting you basic human rights. He didn’t like to think of it as keeping you a prisoner in your own home, but he knows there’s no other way to describe being locked inside almost 24 hours a day. He wanted to think you were finally understanding the rules and would stop fighting him. That wasn’t the case, he sees that now, because he practically falls to his knees every time you allow him to touch or kiss you. Little by little, you’re breaking his resolve with how defiant you can be, and then turning him to mush when he apologizes for making you feel a certain way. You’re practically training him like one would a new puppy.

“Tae,” your moan breaks his train of thought, and he pulls away to find that at some point he’d leaned you flat on your back. His hand had dipped into the waistband of your jeans and he was quick to pull back in case you were uncomfortable. You giggle and sit up to cup his jaw, giving him one more kiss before retreating to the bedroom.

“She’s happy,” Yoongi observes as he steps into the living room. “What did you do to deserve that?”

“Why doesn’t anybody in this house ever take my side?” Taehyung readjusts the way he sits on the couch. He beckons Yoongi closer and takes the tablet from his outstretched hand.

“Because it’s easier to take Y/N’s side.” Yoongi smirks. “It’s certainly more entertaining.”

“This Seojun guy,” Taehyung swipes through photos of your ex, most of which consisted of you by Seojun’s side or tucked underneath his arm. “Who is he?”

“A nobody, really.” Yoongi throws himself on the couch next to Taehyung. “Just some guy who was lucky enough to be hired fresh out of high school. He’s been with the company for 7 years now. He and Y/N dated for about a year before breaking up. Jimin asked around and found out that Seojun didn’t like how secretive Y/N was when it came to her family. So he broke up with her.”

“She didn’t look too happy when I showed up today.” Taehyung grips the tablet tighter when a picture pops up of you and Seojun from his instagram. You’re in a bed with Seojun’s arms wrapped tight around your waist and his face tucked in the crook of your neck.

“She never looks happy to see you,” Yoongi counters and earns himself a sneer.

“I’m saying she didn’t want me to know who this guy was, smartass.” Taehyung tosses the tablet back to Yoongi. He runs a hand through his hair and moves for the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. “Did you get anywhere with the Ahn brothers?”

Yoongi pulls up more images on his tablet and hands it to Taehyung. “The Choi family isn’t happy with Joongki and Jeonghan. It seems your family wasn’t the only one hoping to merge with the Seong’s.”

Taehyung stiffens as he swipes through photo after photo of you with Joongki’s men, but there was someone else trailing you. They weren’t close enough for you to think anything of it, and maybe your cousins hadn’t pieced it together yet either, but Taehyung knows this man, and he clenches his jaw. “Meaning?”

“Mr. Choi had been trying for months to convince Joongki to hand off Y/N to his oldest son, Hyunwoo, and he almost did before your father stepped in and told him the truth about the Choi family.” Yoongi leans against the kitchen counter and drops his voice to a whisper as the opening of a door echoes down the hallway. “Joongki didn’t want to scare Y/N or his brother, so he didn’t tell them why he was so quick to go to your father. Neither of the Seong brothers are the actual target. Y/N is.”

“What about me?” you pipe up, stepping into the kitchen while running a towel through your damp hair. You grab the glass full of water and take a few sips, eyeing Yoongi and Taehyung suspiciously. “What are you two up to?”

“Taehyung was curious about your friend Seojun,” Yoongi is quick to throw his boss underneath the bus, crossing his arms and tsking at Taehyung. “Jealousy is not a good color on you.”

“Sometimes I think you really forget what I’m capable of, Min Yoongi.” Taehyung pushes Yoongi out of the kitchen with a hiss. “Don’t think I won’t get you back for this, you son of a bitch.”

You hoist yourself onto the counter, running your hand through the tangled mess of clean hair. It should probably piss you off that Taehyung had Yoongi dig up information on Seojun, but your ex isn’t exactly your favorite person. After he’d broken up with you, he had made it pretty clear that unless you fessed up about your family, he wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Six months after that, he’d heard about your marriage but was yet to know who your husband was. Protecting him from Taehyung earlier was more out of instinct than anything else. Taehyung just doesn’t have to know that part.

“You don’t like Seojun.” You swing your legs back and forth gently as Taehyung makes his way back into the kitchen.

“I don’t like any man that’s touched you before me.” He takes the cup back and downs the rest of the water. “I imagine you wouldn’t like meeting the women I’ve been with either.”

“Your one night stands aren’t comparable to the relationships I’ve had.” You glare at him with the hope that the side of his face will catch on fire. “Your women were just placeholders in your bed. They were there to warm it, not to become a permanent fixture in your life.”

“And you were planning on being a permanent fixture in Seojun’s life?” Taehyung turns to meet your glare with a sneer of his own. “Were you going to marry that pathetic little nobody, share a mediocre life, and live in comfort rather than luxury?”

“Your definition of luxury is burying someone in the most expensive gifts and then leaving them to their own vices.” You jump off the counter with a huff, snatching the towel you’d set down. “Maybe the women you’ve slept with could live with that, but I can’t. Seojun may not have millions of dollars to throw at anyone he wants, but he makes due with what he does have. And unlike you, his father wouldn’t have to step in to get me to marry him.”

Taehyung braces his hands against the counter as you saunter off, his shoulders tense and chest heaving with anger. He hears the slamming of the bedroom door and he bangs his fist against the counter before he’s storming down the hall after you. When he reaches the door, he’s even more pissed to find that you’ve locked it, and he’s seconds away from tearing it off its hinges when a piercing whistle catches his attention.

Jimin is standing at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall and swinging a key ring around his finger. “Man, I really should have bet a few hours before you fucked things up instead of betting two days. I can’t wait to see how your wife reacts to you lying about having only one key to the master bedroom.”

Taehyung snatches the key from Jimin and growls out, “if you don’t want to be the next person I murder, then I suggest you walk away, Park.”

Jimin only shakes his head with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender and doing as he’s been told. It wasn’t the first time Taehyung threatened him and it certainly won’t be the last. He makes it back to his room in one piece where he finds the rest of the guys waiting. He grins as he looks around and says, “I think Y/N is my new hero. Nobody’s been able to piss off Taehyung like that in a long time.”

“She’s ballsy, I’ll give her that.” Yoongi looks up from the laptop he’d been typing away on.

“She’d make one hell of a leader,” Seokjin chimes in and Yoongi chuckles low in his throat.

“You’re lucky if Taehyung doesn’t have you tossed in a river with weights tied around your ankles for starting that fight,” Namjoon scolds Yoongi and gestures them closer to see what he’d been working on. “The Choi family is gaining quite the reputation for all the shit Hyunwoo keeps pulling. We’re talking gambling debts, jail time for street brawls, even a few women accusing him of sexual assault. I mean, this guy is close to costing Mr. Choi his whole empire. Nobody wants to work with them, even their supply is suffering. They’ll be left with nothing soon.”

“Choi wants to use Seong’s climbing reputation to save his own ass.” Jimin skims his eyes down the screen of Hyunwoo’s rap sheet.

“It goes a little deeper than that,” Namjoon frowns as Yoongi pulls up a different tab. “Hyunwoo went to high school with Y/N, had the biggest crush on her, but she always rejected him. I talked to her friends and they said that Hyunwoo couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Whenever Y/N snubbed him, he’d corner one of them and threaten their lives if they didn’t try to talk Y/N into dating him. He was obsessed with her, still is. So I’m guessing he promised Choi that he’d clean up his act if he got Y/N.”

“Choi must have pursued Joongki for a long time.” Jungkook stretches his arms above his head until his back finally pops. He rolls his shoulders next as if preparing himself for a fight. If they go to Taehyung right now then they’d certainly be gearing up for one.

“He was close, too.” Yoongi curls his hands into fists at the thought of where you’d be now if Mr. Kim hadn’t stepped in. “Joongki almost agreed to the marriage because he was under the impression that Choi still had a good following.”

“So what happened?”

“Mr. Kim happened,” Yoongi explains, letting out a slow breath. “Nobody’s loyal to Choi anymore. Some of his men branched off and told other bosses what the plan was for the Seong family. Luckily, one of them came to Mr. Kim and he was able to get to Joongki before anything became final.”

“Does Y/N know any of this?” Jungkook questions while looking back and forth between Yoongi and Namjoon. When both men shake their heads, he scoffs. “Don’t you think she should? She’d probably be more inclined to fucking listen to us if she knew what was really happening.”

“Or she’d run away and disappear off the map.” Seokjin offers an alternative. He knows you well enough by now and if you knew how much danger you were truly in, then there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d leave. “We can’t take that chance, Kook. She’s our family now and we take care of family. So we’ll deal with Choi soon and be done with it.”

---------------------------------------

“I’m not really sure what you think you’re doing,” you interrupt whatever Hyunwoo is doing at your locker and he whirls around to find you a few feet away, “but it’s not going to happen, Choi. Move on.”

He steps away from your locker, giving you space to open it and shove your books inside. He gives you a greasy smile and leans against the locker next to yours. “You always say ‘never’ Y/N, but I’m pretty sure I can change your mind if you let me.”

“The only way I’m going to give you a chance is if you let me push you off a cliff.” You slam the locker closed just as your friends approach. “What’s your deal, Hyunwoo? Why don’t you get it by now? I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Most girls would kill to be by my side,” Hyunwoo slaps an open palm on the lockers, rattling them enough to make your friends jump, but you stand strong.

“Then you don’t really need me, do you?” You turn to walk away with your friends only to have him clap his hand on your shoulder, and you’re shoved against the lockers. You wince at the impact, the combination locks dig into your spine, and Bona runs off to find help.

“I don’t need your permission to have you, you know?” Hyunwoo hisses in your face, his forearm rests gently on your collar bone, not heavy enough to cut off your air supply, yet. “My father will give me anything I ask for and if that’s you, then you don’t get a choice anymore. I suggest you come willingly while I’m still asking nicely.”

“There’s not a fucking thing nice about you, Hyunwoo,” you sneer and stomp on his foot, digging your heel into the top of it. It’s enough for him to release his grip as he jumps back in pain, and you’re already cocking your arm back to land a solid punch across his jaw when Bona comes rushing back with Jeonghan in tow.

Jeonghan moves for Hyunwoo but you step in front of your cousin before he does anything to get himself in trouble. He stiffens as Hyunwoo straightens up and uses the back of his hand to wipe away the blood dripping from his mouth. Gripping your arm, he gets ready to pull you behind him if Hyunwoo gets any closer.

You shrug Jeonghan off and take a step toward Hyunwoo. “Your daddy may baby the shit out of you, but make no mistake, Hyunwoo, you’re a trash human being. If you keep this up, you’ll run your father’s reputation into the ground and then where will you be? Certainly daddy won’t keep you around if you’re useless.”

Hyunwoo is seething, and if steam could come out of his ears, you’re pretty sure it would. He lifts his hands to grab you once more, but a teacher’s voice stops him. His eyeline is blocked by Mr. Lee, a math teacher that won’t have a job tomorrow if Hyunwoo can help it.

Mr. Lee directs both you and Hyunwoo to the principal’s office, stopping every so often to ask why Jeonghan is following behind him. He gets a mere shrug in response and he sighs, letting your cousin do as he pleases. He sits you in a chair far away from Hyunwoo before entering the principal’s office and explaining the situation.

Jeonghan stays plastered to your side, concern written all over his face as you goad Hyunwoo from across the room. You certainly had grandmother’s temper and, not for the first time that day, Jeonghan wishes you were a little less fierce. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hyunwoo sneer at you, bloody gums and all. You tilt your head mockingly in response, leaving Jeonghan to nearly facepalm. The only thing that stops him from slapping his own forehead is the rapid footsteps of Joongki, grandfather, and one of grandfather’s men.

Mr. Choi and his right hand man come barreling in next. They blink in surprise at Hyunwoo’s busted lip and your completely unruffled response to him. Mr. Choi is about to ask what exactly is going on when the principal steps out and calls everyone into his office.

“Mr. Choi, Mr. Seong, thank you for coming down.” Principal Chang settles in the chair behind his desk, swiping the glasses from his face to rub at his temples. “Seong Y/N, I wish I could say it’s a surprise to have you here, but it’s really not, is it?”

“Y/N,” your grandfather sighs tiredly in the cramped space, “what have you done now?”

“Nothing that wasn’t prompted,” you defend yourself wholeheartedly.

“You assaulted Hyunwoo, did you not?” Principal Chang looks at the bruise forming on Hyunwoo’s jawline. He wouldn’t voice out loud how impressed he was given that Hyunwoo is twice your size. Unfortunately, his actions speak for him as he nods his admiration for you.

“I didn’t assault Hyunwoo, I defended myself when he nearly choked me to death.”

At this, Joongki snaps his head up to look at the boy in the other chair, rage building underneath the surface. “He did what?”

Mr. Choi lays one hand on Hyunwoo’s shoulder and uses his other to grip his son’s chin. “Look at this. My son is the one bloodied and bruised, and you mean to tell me that you’re the victim in this?”

“Your son doesn’t understand the kindergarten concept of keeping his hands to himself.” You grip the sides of your chair and lean forward to taunt Hyunwoo. “I was simply reminding him of what happens when he doesn’t respect someone else’s boundaries.”

Your grandfather grips your shoulder and hauls you back into the seat. “Stop it.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an uptight bitch, then I wouldn’t bother you.” Hyunwoo fires back and tries to get in your face as you did him.

Daeseong, your grandfather’s most trusted man, steps in front of you and effectively cuts off any access Hyunwoo might have had. He stares down at the kid with a quirked brow until Hyunwoo seemingly shrinks in his seat. “You’ll refrain from using such language when it comes to Ms. Seong.”

Mr. Choi sputters at the blatant way his son is being intimidated and looks to Principal Chang for some kind of interference. “This girl damages my son’s face and her bodyguard has the audacity to try and scare him. Yet you want me to believe she’s done nothing wrong?”

“Believe what you will, Mr. Choi,” your grandfather’s voice holds the kind of authority that grown men usually cower at, “but given how your son just spoke to my granddaughter, I think it’s quite clear who the antagonist here is. Admittedly, it’s my fault she’s so headstrong. You see, Mr. Choi, my family doesn’t believe in ‘when you’re dead, lie down’, so my granddaughter obviously found it necessary to correct your son’s behavior.”

“You’re aware of who I am, Seong,” Mr. Choi seethes, attempting to be just as vicious. “I suggest you get that delinquent under control before I have to.”

“You’re also aware of who I am, Choi, so I suggest you watch your tone and be careful of who you threaten. Whatever happened here today is just a glimpse of what my granddaughter can do, and unless you want to find out what more there is, then you’ll get your poor excuse for a son under control before I have to.”

Your grandfather is bluffing and it really takes every muscle in your body to keep from reacting. The strength behind your punch is literally all you have, though after today, you’re sure you’re about to get some new self defense lessons. You’d throw your head back and groan if it didn’t give away his obvious lie. Thankfully, Principal Chang’s dismissal of everyone from his office so he can ‘think on your punishment’ saves you from embarrassing your grandfather any further.

Mr. Choi stops you from getting too far by gripping your arm, quickly letting it go as Daeseong latches onto his wrist in return. “You must think you’re so precious, don’t you, little girl?”

“No.” You don’t flinch away from him and you can tell he hates it. “I just know what it means to be a decent person. You’ve taught your son that the world would fall to his feet if he so much as commands it, but he is neither king nor god, Mr. Choi. Hyunwoo doesn’t get to demand the world only to throw a fit when he ultimately breaks it, and then you come in to clean up his mess. The longer you let him believe he’s untouchable, the more likely he is to fall harder than anyone else.”

---------------------------------

Taehyung watches you stomp around the room, pacing back and forth while tugging at your hair because he’d lied about there being one and only one goddamn key to the master bedroom. Tomorrow he plans to do away with the door completely if you so much as think about locking the fucking thing again. He’s sitting on the bed, dressed in sweats and a plain t-shirt, waiting for your tantrum to be over. “Are you done, princess?”

“No, I’m not fucking done!” you screech, picking up the nearest object and hurling it his way. Another frustrated scream bubbles from your throat as he easily catches the bottle of perfume headed towards his skull. “You asshole! You said there was one, one fucking key to this room, Taehyung, and you lied to me!”

“This isn’t about the key, Y/N, you and I both know that.”

“It’s certainly not about the array of women you’ve paraded through here!” You pick up a bottle of lotion, your favorite to be exact, and launch it at him. When he skillfully dodges it, you begin picking up anything and everything that isn’t nailed down and try your damndest to cause him some kind of damage.

“I’m not bitching about Seojun, am I?!” Taehyung counters and peers around for any more loose objects. “I’m not throwing the disaster of that relationship in your face!”

“It wasn’t a disaster!” Your chest is heaving from exertion and you’re sure that if your pulse raced any faster, you’d have a heart attack. “Seojun was the best thing that happened to me and my cousins ruined that! This life ruined it! And yes, Taehyung, if Joongki hadn’t pimped me out to you then I would have absolutely married Seojun. We’d get married, leave this godforsaken city, have some kids, and live happily ever after.”

Taehyung knows you’re trying to get under skin, knows you’re trying to work him up so you’d have an excuse for your cousins to pull you from his home. Truthfully, your words do hurt, they pierce his heart and piss him off at the same time. Joongki didn’t pimp you out to the Kim family, and he for damn sure wouldn’t have let you marry Seojun and take off. The idea of you having kids with your ex-boyfriend makes Taehyung’s blood boil. The mere idea of Seojun putting his hands anywhere on your person is enough to have your husband close to pulling out his phone and calling for a hit on the poor guy.

You can see the gears shifting in Taehyung’s head, the cold calculation of whatever he’s about to do, and you know that if you didn’t diffuse the situation soon, you’d cost Seojun his life. “Stop it, Taehyung. You don’t get to be an asshole about Seojun and then get mad at me for calling you out on it. You for damn sure don’t get to be pissed that I wanted some space after you were the one who lost your shit over nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” he growls low in his chest and shuffles up the bed to get comfortable. “It was that you felt like you had to protect him in the first place. You really think I’m some kind of monster that would have him killed because he dated you? Far from it, princess. I’m glad you were happy, but he’s not part of your life anymore. You’re my wife, mine, so you’ll forgive me if I get a little testy when you brag about some other man giving you a better life than I can. Especially when you haven’t even given me the fucking chance.”

“Hauling me into this house and then locking me in is not a better life, Taehyung. It’s barely even a life at all. You can say it’s for my own safety, I’ve heard it a thousand times before, but I know that it’s more about your pride than anything else. That the great Kim Taehyung has what someone else wants and no one can get to it.”

“You think if this was about my pride that I’d keep you locked away? There is nothing more that I want than to show you off to the world, Y/N. To show whoever wants you that you’re protected and safe from them, not because they can’t have you. My pride stems from the fact that I have one of the strongest women by my side who isn’t afraid to put me in my place. Not everyone finds that in this life, so yes, I’m proud to have you and no, I will not apologize for whatever kind of blow your ego takes because you can’t stand to be wrong.”

You walk up to the bed, and for a second Taehyung heaves a sigh of relief that the fight is finally over, but you simply strip the mattress of its sheets and turn to leave the room.

He’s on his feet, striding across the room and boxing you in against the door before you can yank it open. “And just where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Whirling around to face him, you hiss, “I’d sooner sleep under a bridge than in the same bed as you right now, Kim Taehyung.”

“That can be arranged if you want it, princess.” Taehyung is done. He’s jealous, he’s pissed, and he’s exhausted, so if you want to throw out empty threats then he’ll match you vicious word for vicious word.

“Then do it,” you challenge quickly. If he wants to toss you out because you fought him so hard then that’s all the opportunity you need to disappear.

His hand comes up to slap the door, landing dangerously close to your cheek, but you aren’t afraid of him or his outburst. He curls his lip up in a sneer before he bites down on his bottom lip and takes in a deep breath to compose himself. “We can fight, we can yell and scream at each other all you want, but at the end of the day this is the bed we’ll be sleeping in. You and I, because it’s ours and I’ll be damned if you curl up elsewhere, understand?”

You swallow the lump in your throat when he presses his forehead to yours because damn it, you’re supposed to be mad at him, not craving his stupid touch. You understand perfectly well, but he doesn’t need to know that, nor does he deserve a verbal response. Shouldering past him, you spin around and hold your hand out. “I want the key. Both of them.”

“There’s two for a reason, sweetheart.” Taehyung explains, turning to lean his back against the door and crossing his arms. “If you lock yourself in here and something happens, either me or one of the guys needs to be able to get in here. In fact, for that reason, I think I’ll be giving one of the keys to the boys and keeping the original copy for myself.”

Your fingers curl against your palm and you clench your teeth. “If I could, I’d drown you, Kim.”

“I know that you’re perfectly capable of it,” he smirks and crosses the room to the bed, “yet I’m not afraid to sleep in the bed as you.”

You try to crawl onto the bed next to him, but unlike most nights, he’s chosen to occupy your usual side of the bed. You huff and try to shove him over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Sleeping.” He pretends to yawn and bury himself into the mattress.

“I sleep on this side, Taehyung, you know that.”

“Not tonight, princess.” He smirks and closes his eyes, knowing how much you hated sleeping with your back against the wall. The bed was pressed into a corner of the very large room simply because after he moved into the room, he’d keep you pinned between him and the wall so you couldn’t run off in the middle of the night. After a few weeks, you’d complained about feeling claustrophobic and he’d relented, granting you the open side of the bed.

“I won’t do this crap again, Taehyung,” you warn with your hands on your hips after giving up on trying to move him. “Move over.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, instead tucking his arms behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankles to make himself comfortable. The bed dips unexpectedly and his eyes shoot open to find you swinging one leg over his frame as you settle yourself in his lap. He wastes no time in gripping your hips to keep you from falling if you lose your balance. “What are you doing?”

“You didn’t move.” You shrug your shoulders, sitting your full weight on his crotch and bunching your hair up to pull into a bun. “The only way for me to get to that side is to climb over you.”

He isn’t paying attention anymore, his hands grip you with a bruising force as your chest juts out with the way you pull your hair up. Your hips circle ever so slightly and he hisses through clenched teeth. This is payback, he realizes, and doesn’t have time to react before you’re rolling off and throwing the blankets over your body.

You hear him grumble something under his breath, but can’t tell what exactly it is. He’s angry, but it doesn’t stop him from turning on his side and snaking his arms around your waist. You nearly lose your breath when he harshly tugs your back to his chest so you push back against him in retaliation.

“You’re being a child,” he growls into your ear, “and if you plan on pushing against me all night, then you should also plan on not sleeping.”

You turn in his hold, coming face to face and bumping your nose against his. “You’re the one being a child, Taehyung. Not that you need to know, or even deserve it, but Seojun isn’t someone to be concerned about. I may not like that we’re married, but I’m not going to go out and violate the sanctity of our marriage either.”

You duck your head and nuzzle it beneath his chin before he can see the blush forming on your cheeks as you whisper, “I’m yours, Tae, no one else’s.”

He freezes and knows that if you hadn’t been embarrassed about admitting as much, then he would kiss you until you both struggled for breath. Your lashes flutter against his neck and he pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair and placing a kiss to your head.

[jaeqtstuff]

― 𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊

words count: 1.7k

playlist: ghost by justin bieber (recommend to listen to it while reading, just to get the feels because im suck at angst lol)

pls note that english is not my first language. but i had fun writing this so i hope you too! xx

[10:15pm] after escaping the most boring blind date that your friend set you up with, you came across the usual late night bar that you used to go during your days with beomgyu. yeah, your famous ex among your peers.

everybody knows how in love, how insanely perfect the two of you were for a love story but that was during high school. college was a whole different story. it suddenly becomes so toxic that it drained both of you. waking up every morning was a burden to the point you can't even breath in each other presence. you didn't know what went wrong, neither did he but as years passed, it was all because of childish reason. the most hurtful thing about this one is, you knew it could be saved but you didn't do anything. and neither did he.

"whiskey on the rocks." you choose to sit far from others, wanting more privacy. the bartender seems to recognise you by the way his mouth formed a big smile as if he was welcoming a friend. you smiled back, nonetheless.

let's just call it off. it's better this way. i mean can you do this everyday? doesn't this itch you?

you shut you eyes close as you slowly savouring every drops of it. why does it taste bitter? it shouldn't taste like this. i should've just go home.

fucking sick of it. fucking sick of everything and just piss off. don't you get tired of me? honestly i am. so get lost from my fucking sight.

the more you sip, the bitter it got. you didn't enjoy it. maybe that's the reason why some people avoid old places but you were there, drinking alone in the most romantic set up you could ever imagine for a late night bar, the low dimmed lights and slow soul music playing in the background and not to mention all the couple around you. you hate it so much but you can't deny the obvious fact that you missed it. you miss how this place used to caress you with memories you still keep in the deepest part of your heart.

"do people still come over to sing?" you casually asked the bartender as he slips your second drink. you remember how beomgyu used to say that he will sing at the small stage and dedicate a song for you infront of everyone in the bar but he never did.

"well yes. in fact, we're preparing for one." he replied, with much excitement at you. you look passed your shoulders, eyes fixed to the small stage at the corner. they were getting ready with the mic and there was single stool with a guitar at the side.

"he's a good singer." the bartender commented as he was wiping all the utensils he had used just now with a clean cloth. "really?" you look away from the stage and bring your glass close to the mouth. without wasting much, you gulped down the rest of the drink in one go before taking out your purse to pay. you could hear the soft melody of guitar playing at the back but you were more focus with the text displayed on your home screen. "it's weekend. leave me the fuck alone." you hissed under your breath.

Youngblood thinks there's always tomorrow

I miss your touch on nights when I'm hollow

I know you crossed a bridge that I can't follow

Since the love that you left is all that I get

I want you to know that if I can't be close to you

I settle for the ghost of you

I miss you more than life

you shut the phone away and bring the card out to pay. you waited for the bartender to notice you but you were now interested with the song. your head unknowingly move with the beat, fingers tapping slowly on your bare legs. the lights on the stage were too dimmed and you couldn't see well who was the one singing but his voice was causing a whole war flashback in your head.

And if you can't be next to me

Your memory is ecstasy

I miss you more than life

I miss you more than life

you never knew a song could break you so much, not when you least expected it but the one singing was also not helping the situation any better. he was singing his heart out, as if he was the one writing the lyrics from some kind of painful experience he ever had in his life. anyone in the bar could say the same thing.

Youngblood thinks there's always tomorrow

I need more time but time can't be borrowed

I'd leave it all behind if I could follow

Since the love that you left is all that I get

I want you to know that if I can't be close to you

the more you listen, the more your heart ached. all these years, you thought you moved on from him. you can finally accept the fact that you can live without him by your side. in those years, it's a lie if you say you never thought of him during those drunken nights with your friends. but tonight was brutal. you could relate to the lyrics so much that you had trouble holding yourself back from any breakdown that would cost you every time you said you were good without him.

I'll settle for the ghost of you

I miss you more than life, yeah

you were never good.

And if you can't be next to me

Your memory is ecstasy (oh)

I miss you more than life

I miss you more than life

you were never calm after both of you called it off. you forced yourself to drink every night so that you can sleep without thinking of him but the terrible headaches every morning was torture. the moment you get up, he was all over in your head. you remember how you wanted to run back to him every night, tell him to forget all the bad pieces and just start new but by looking at the sight of it, it would make you throw up. you definitely knew it will make things worse.

you looked at the stage, still trying to see who was the one singing. heart still hurting but deep down, you were expecting something out of wicked love story. the tears building up in your eyes were not helping as your visions got blurry from the lyrics. blinking the tears away, you were nervous to look back to the stage again.

So if I can't get close to you

I'll settle for the ghost of you

But I miss you more than life

And if you can't be next to me

Your memory is ecstasy

you breathed in deeply, struggling to gain your composure. nonetheless, the shaky eyes went back to the stage where suddenly, the lights around the stage were slowly looking brighter. you could clearly see how he was playing the guitar effortlessly with his eyes closed. the expression on his face was tormentingly raw or maybe it was just your eyes telling the lies to the mind, telling you that he was also in much pain just like you were. one thing for sure, you eyes couldn't lie the one infront of you.

I miss you more than life

I miss you more than life

how can you forget his voice? you gasped for air, breathed in every sharp air you could get because you knew, the night will only get worse, will only wreck you even more than it did before. you could never get better from it.

the people around you start clapping, telling you that he was done singing on the stage. you could hear the soft giggle from the mic before the countless thank you from him. you carefully eyed him at the stage before taking out the cash from your purse, putting the card back inside. you couldn't be bothered about the points because the last thing you want was beomgyu seeing you in this helpless state. smudge eyeliner and mascara because of the tears and also the short lacy black dress you were wearing. it was too obvious.

so you left without looking back. and oh boy, the moment the cold air hit your face, you couldn't hold back the tears. no, you were weeping, sobbing, almost throwing up on the side road. walking to home will be hard but you were quick to stop a cab.

thank god the tears stop the moment you were in the cab. the warm seat kinda cool you down a bit but your heart was eager. you didn't stop there and pulled out the phone from your back. eventhough you didn't contact each other, you knew where to find him and in those nights like this, you always check on him. last time you did was two years ago and maybe it should just stay unchecked.

the moment it hits you, there i knew i am still holding on to the past just like how i always did. and perhaps it's because you are always there. not leaving me nor forget about me. i will just settle like this, holding on to that life i miss most. ― 15 minutes ago

wish you can stay longer so that this night would not be lonely again but it's not what i thought it is. i'm sorry. ― 2 minutes ago

you lost at the last words and now fighting your own mind, telling the cab to turn around but you couldn't get the words out from your mouth. you knew beomgyu saw you, he probably saw you in that bar. sitting alone at the furthest table from the rest. he probably saw how you were struggling in your seat, looking so pathetic in that dress.

he was right. beomgyu was right.

this night will only get lonelier. if only you stayed, maybe things could change but you knew, it can only work if both of you wanted it. he had his chance but he didn't use it. in between those tears, you laugh it off, thinking how stupid could you be with just simple words like 'i'm sorry', you were ready to throw yourself again to the deepest pit of hell with him.

choi beomgyu,

the only man who wreck you this much. the only man who can prove to you that there will be no other lover like him.

"choi beomgyu."

[bloodycassian]

heavy is the head - Cassian x reader-  reader has to deal with Night court forces in a battle with Spring. Part two likely.

"Look who's come to plead for help." Cassian drawled, looking you up and down. Rhys gave him a sharp look that he shrugged off. You held back your fighting words and approached with false confidence.

"And look at the male who lost a fight to a giant fish." You retorted, giving him the same judgmental look.

"The levithan-" He began, and you swore you saw the Shadowmaster roll his eyes.

"Enough. We have matters to discuss." Rhys silenced him before he could continue. You gave him a sweet smile and turned to the high lord. 

You noted how the shadowmaster smiled. His dark hair glinting in the pale light of the meadow. They all looked alike, the dark hair that reflected the moonlight like a river. The dark wings that blended into the night far too easily. The sight of them made you shiver.

You began before one of them could bring up anything else. There was no other reason for you to call the meeting, it was pain. You were desperate. And if Rhys was so adamant about keeping all of Prythian safe, he would listen. "Spring court presents more of a problem than we thought. Tamlin's son is preparing to invade." You reported, extending your palm for them to see the evidence you'd brought. 

A fragment of an arrowhead tipped in faebane. You kept it wrapped in a leather cloth for a reason. "Where is he getting these?" Azriel asked, his shadows running over your palm and the arrow there. The tinginging feeling they left behind made you sick to your stomach. “That’s out of my pay grade, shadowmaster.” You said with a bitter smile.

 “You’re the next heir to the throne.” Cassian laughed despite himself. He wasn’t a fan of Summer Court after the blood rubies sent to them by the previous ruler. They had recalled them, but the message still stung.

“I am the throne. My father’s time is coming quickly.” You said with a clipped tone, not sparing them any room for further questions before continuing. "Summer court cant risk any more ships to the southern border. We are losing more and more soldiers daily just to hold the line." 

"Perhaps you could train better-" Cassian was full of fight tonight it seemed. And you were willing to oblige, you bared your teeth at him and cut off those words before you could 

"Perhaps you could allow us some help. We are allies if I recall correctly?” You tapped a finger to your chin, earning an eyeroll from the two generals. Rhys just leveled you a cool glare.

"Reluctantly." He admitted, then looked to the sky. "Cassian..." He called. You felt there was some other conversation continuing in their heads based off Cas’ reaction. It was predictable, him acting like such a child. But it still hurt, nonetheless.

"Rhys- No..." He whined, his wings flaring out a bit. You watched the sharp tips of them as they so expertly avoided catching his hair or head. You wondered what it was like having such an advantage. You wondered what all Illyrians thought of the wings, if all of them loved them or if they had mixed opinions. 

You knew a few Peregryns from Dawn court that resented being born with wings because it meant they had to serve in the army. Some even ‘went missing’ to other courts to avoid being enlisted. You wished you had that option at all. But Tarquin would likely send the entire army after you if you had done so. Being his only child meant good training, as well as being very well known throughout Prythian. Just like Kova.  

"We can discuss this later.” Rhys said with a sharp tone. Cassian’s look of betrayal made you wonder what the actual conversation would be about. “Now I need you to pledge forces to our Summer ally. We can't risk Kova moving north." 

Cassian was silent for a long moment. Contemplating. He knew he couldn’t tell Rhys no. Especially in front of a different Court member. But his battle instincts told him hell no. Do not give forces over to someone who dosen’t even know how to handle them. "Cassian." Azriel said softly, his shadows circling his brothers. 

He compromised. "Two legions. I will lead them tomorrow." 

You hated the reluctance in his voice. "Two legions are a sacrifice. You don't know the terror that child brings-"

"Two legions or nothing. Your choice." Cassian said firmly.

"Cass-" Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. "We will consider more options. For now, we will give you what we can spare in weapons as well as the legions." He held a hand up to Azriel when he made to argue. 

"Thank you, your highness." You gave a half assed bow, and he was gone before you rose. You smiled to yourself at the faint echo of a growl in the meadow. 

+

You donned your most threatening armor and set out to greet the Illyrians. The far hills of Summer court were donned with swaying brown beach grass that hissed in the wind. The ocean spray shimmered above the dark ranks of warriors. The sun did not glint off their armor like it did on yours. 

Cassian's look of distaste said all you needed to see to understand that the Illyrians were not ones for following orders. "One hundred Illyrians. All with weapons that they will take care of." He gave a sidelong glance to the males to his left. They tensed, but did not scare from their general. Whatever they had done must not have been too awful if they were still standing.

Azriel squinted against the Summer sunlight. His shadows seemed more highlighted than ever against the beating sun. "Welcome... I will guide us the rest of the way to the camp." You said, loud enough that the entire crowd could hear you. 

You marched forward, and none followed. 

A male spat on the ground where you had been standing. His wings were gray and tattered, face a strange pale color that didn't match the rest of the Illyrians. A man who had seen too many days for what Illyrians were used to. 

"We dont take orders from a Summer court-" Cassian did not let the male continue. He took the crossbow from his hands, and gave the soldiers around him a nod. They parted around the male. His face went white as a sheet. Cassian's frustration turned his expression into that of a wild wolf. He knew that there would be some to stand against him in helping.

"ninety nine soldiers, I must have miscounted." Cassian announced, and waved the forces forward to follow. You smiled to yourself, and led them through the tall pine and larch trees that made up the forest border with Spring. 

Cassian carried the crossbow the entire journey from the hills to the camp. Summer soldiers did not hide the way they stared at the winged males. Some even moved their setups to be further away. You didn't blame them, but embarrassment ran through you at the message it sent. 

"Half of you will flank Tamli- Kova’s…” You corrected yourself and spat the name. Cassian wondered what kind of hatred lie there. There was obviously something beyond just enemy courts. “-forces from the shoreline. The other half will follow the second front into the border.” You ran a finger across the map. Cassian was thoroughly impressed with your planning. He noted the details of which fronts were where and what diversions were being made by specific groups. 

“Az will lead the flank. I’ll take the front.” He spoke with the confidence of a male who had never lost a battle. He knew Tamlin’s upfront ways on top of it all. He would have trained his son to do the same. 

“Dismissed.” Cassian announced, and the Illyrians went straight to the long dinner table. Az followed, giving his brother a long look before departing. Cassian knew that look. The one that said ‘watch your back. I’m not watching it for you.’ After centuries of giving each other that look, it was enough to rattle him. What exactly had he been doing to warrant that from his brother? He stared at the map on the table. 

He felt your presence before he heard you. Like a snake creeping around, waiting to strike. “This is a good plan.” He approved, then stole a glance to see your reaction. 

“I would hope so. It’s our last push to keep them out of Summer territory.” You collected your pawns from the table and tried not to look at him. He watched you move with fluid grace that was common in Fae.. but you were different somehow. Like you moved with extra care. It made him uncomfortable. Why did it bother him so much? He tried to shake himself from the stupor he felt around you.

He took crossed his arms over his chest, feeling his wings flare at the frustration he was “If you had boats to help that would ensure you winning this.” 

“You mean us winning this?” He bit his tongue. He didn’t like the idea of allying with someone with a reputation like yours. It was dangerous even getting this close. As if you could read his thoughts, you rolled your eyes. “Like I said, we can’t risk any more.”

“But you can risk my people?” The words stung with accusation. With a underlying tone of shame and history there. He tried not to think of himself as fully Illyrian after what they’d done to his mother. But he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed the brutality of the culture. It made him what he was. It forced him to survive instead of dying in those camps alone, freezing to death.

You were silent at the simmering question. He smiled bitterly. “You can say what you want but I brought them here. Now you need to make sure your side keeps them alive.” He didn’t look back when he left you standing there in front of your battle map.

“Heavy is the head...” You thought.

[volleychumps]

Ayoooo talented writer! Can i please request a akaashi x reader where they meet at some party and have one of those cool convo (you know those who always seem to happen in the kitchen ahah) and they fall for eachother but are too shy/insecure to exchange their number but can’t stop thinking about eachother until they meet again... ;)

Warning(s): drinking, cursing, fluff-attack lol

I changed it up a little bit! The timeskip would be a little tricky in this sense, but I hope you enjoy it regardless! 

Apple Juice. (Akaashi Keiji x Reader)

---------------------------------------

“Y/N-chan, you don’t want a cup of rice punch?” 

“Don’t be a downer, Y/N~” 

You watch with mild interest as Daichi tugs on the collars of both Sugawara and Hinata, stifling a small giggle alongside Yachi as the two members of the Karasuno volleyball club now lay limp in Daichi’s grasp. Suga pouts at the captain as he downs his second cup with flushed cheeks, and you quirk your eyebrow in amusement as Hinata holds both arms out at you as if he wants you to take him like a child. 

Daichi smiles for the picture you snap with your phone, not letting go of either of their collars. 

“Have fun, ladies. This is the fun before training camp officially starts. Don’t let these idiots make you do anything you don’t want to.” Daichi sighs in apology, tugging the two pouting boys along as you hum in amusement, sipping on the juice in your cup. 

“I feel like Daichi is such a dad, no?” Yachi states casually, and a coy grin spreads across your lips in response. 

“In like...a platonic way, right?” You grin into your cup as Yachi enters a blushing fit in embarrassment, swatting you on the shoulder as Kiyoko giggles on your right. 

“Like there’s any other way I’d mean it!” 

“Ah Hitoka, you’re so cute and fun to tease- I’m sorry.” You stroke her hair gently through her embarassed antics as Kiyoko’s giggles only increase in volume. The third-year nudges your side slightly as she covers her mouth with one hand, suddenly noticing something on the other side of the room. 

Akaashi Keiji couldn’t help but feel the corner of his lips twitch at the way you had affectionately been cuddling Yachi, watching mildly as you did so with a laugh bubbling from your throat: not realizing that he had gone from hardly listening to Bokuto to not listening at all as the blue-eyed boy seemed to be looking on in a dazed-like manner. 

“Y/N-san, don’t look now, but it seems some of the Fukurodani boys are looking in this direction- I said don’t look now!” 

Kiyoko audibly sighs into her palm as you stupidly raise your head in searching, meeting the eyes of Akaashi Keiji, setter for the Fukurodani team, as he seemed to have been supposed to be listening to Bokuto’s antics, instead accidentally catching your eye in the background. 

You both look away at the same time, a heat on your features as you groan in slight embarrassment, Yachi finding solace in erupting in a fit of giggles at your embarrased misfortune in a small plight for revenge. 

“Hitokaaa-” 

“Come on, Y/N- you’re so pretty tonight, I bet he wasn’t the only one looking.” 

“I told you not to look, how did you make it so obvious?” Kiyoko questions in genuine confusion as you glare playfully in her direction. 

“And this is the part where I go find some lemonade.” You mumble, a tad bit embarrassed at the nature of the conversation before standing, dusting your jeans off. “Would either of my two lovely best friends want anything?” 

“Nooo don’t be sarcastic we love you-” 

“That could have been my potential husband, but now look who’s never going to get to talk to him out of sheer shame.” You joke, sticking your tongue out before making your way into the kitchen, shaking your head at the giggle they share when you turn around. 

Kuroo grins when you enter, and you wave a little in greeting with a small smile: you knew him from the practice matches Karasuno had against Nekoma, having established a pretty good friendship with him afterwards. 

“Just the girl I was looking for!” 

“Oh.” 

Kuroo visibly wilts as Bokuto laughs heartily by his side, a look of betrayal on the Nekoma captain’s features as you laugh at the sight of it, accusation seeping into his tone. 

“Don’t look at me so dejectedly!” 

“Don’t give me a reason to be so dejected.” You quip, eyes widening when you see the blue-eyed boy from earlier standing behind the two, recovering to clear your throat and reach for the lemonade. 

“Oh! I’ve got you, allow me~” 

“Bro, you’re such a gentleman.” Kuroo sniffs as you sweatdrop, watching Bokuto uncap the bottle of rice punch and pour it into your cup until it reaches the brim. Before you could say that wasn’t the beverage you wanted: you blink at the look of hope and pride in the Fukurodani captain’s eyes at how proud he was of his actions. 

“Drink up, Y/N-chan! The drinks are on me, tonight!” 

“Boo, just say you’re flirting and go.” 

“What did you just say?!” 

Your voice falls on now deaf ears as you watch the two captains argue, feeling a little bad that Bokuto had bought the drinks and even poured one for you, deeming that maybe one cup was okay. You examine the liquid before going to raise the cup to your lips-

A hand rests on your wrist lightly before the cup can leave the surface, and you watch in confusion as the setter from earlier shakes his head no. You hardly notice the captains still arguing as he swaps your cup for his, the red-cup brimmed with a golden liquid swishing around in front of you as it hits the counter with a tap. 

“Apple juice.” Akaashi says, bringing the rim to his lips and drinking some of the rice punch as Bokuto asks him a question. He isn’t able to hide his grimace as you blink in wonderment. 

“Akaashi, I’m a gentleman, right? Being gentlemanly doesn’t have to mean flirting!” 

“Mhm.” Akaashi nods, drinking more of the liquid back until it’s gone, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before grimacing some more, successfully disposing of the evidence. 

“Ah! We’re going to karaoke upstairs, Y/N- you’ll come, right?!” Bokuto questions with stars in his eyes as you blink out of your daze, finding yourself nodding back before Bokuto whoops and grabs Kuroo before dashing up the stairs, yelling something about Akaashi to follow. 

“Oh yeah. I’ll be there for sure.” Akaashi calls after bluntly as you laugh, taking your first sip of the cup as you take a seat on the counter, feeling a warmth in your chest at the setter’s previous actions. 

“Is he usually that hard to say no to?” 

“You have no idea.” Akaashi sighs as takes the seat next to you on the countertop, unscrewing the lid for the lemonade before pouring some into another cup. 

“Swap with me one more time. This is the one you wanted, right?” 

“No no! It’s okay-!” 

“Give me that.” Akaashi rolls his eyes, taking the apple juice from you and replacing it with lemonade. “You saw me pour it. I’m not a creep who goes around swapping girl’s drinks.” 

“But I trust you-” 

“Your potential future husband, right?” Akaashi can’t help but smirk a little into his cup as you seem to bust a fuse, cheeks reddening immensely as you nervously chuckle, tracing the rim of your cup. 

“So you heard that, huh?”

“It wasn’t exactly quiet.” Akaashi shrugs, sipping on his apple juice as you scoff in mock-disbelief, smiling nonetheless. 

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have made such a comment if you weren’t looking at me in the first place, hm?” 

Akaashi’s brow quirks ever so slightly at your bold-statement, feeling the rice punch begin to take effect as he tilts his head attractively, amused smile growing on his lips. 

“Is that right?” His voice drops a little, and you find your throat a little drier than usual before you break eye-contact, feeling a strange nervousness in your chest as you sip some more lemonade. 

“So you don’t drink?” You change the topic quickly, cursing at how high-pitched your voice came out before Akaashi hums, nodding. 

“Not until tonight, at least.” 

“Well, you could have just waited and poured it down the sink when they left?” 

“Yeah, but then I couldn’t look cool for the girl with the pretty laugh.” Akaashi replies evenly, not realizing the weight of his words until a mere moment after, your cheeks flushing as you look away, him doing the same. 

“Sorry, sorry...that was weird. I think that punch is getting to me.” 

“No, it’s uh...fine.” You say awkwardly, shifting a little closer to him before you can stop yourself. “I think you’re pretty too.” 

You clap a hand over your mouth as Akaashi tilts his head in amusement, watching in an entertained-fashion as you cover your face with your hands. 

“Thank you?” 

“I haven’t even drunk anything, I don’t have an excuse.” 

Akaashi hides his smile with his hand, a pink dusting his cheeks as he finds that maybe Bokuto dragging him to this party was worth it. 

“Would you maybe...?” Akaashi leans a little closer, lifting his hand to the back of his neck-

“Y/N, Nishinoya and Suga are vomiting by the cars- oh shit, am I interrupting?” Tsukishima’s eyes widen, seeing the proximity between the two of you before you offer Akaashi a goodbye smile, feeling like that was the best course of action after making a fool of yourself. 

“I’ll see you later. Thanks for the chat.” 

“Wait-” 

Akaashi watches as you embarrasedly rush off, hand grabbing Tsukishima’s in the process as the setter blinks in bewilderment, feeling dissapointment flooding his chest at your lack of presence. The blonde had looked at Akaashi in utter confusion as Tsukishima was dragged out by your hand. 

Sighing, he downs the last of his apple juice dejectedly, the sweet liquid not making up for the bitter feeling in his stomach of not getting his question out to you. 

He didn’t know if it was irritation from the alcohol, or the desire of wanting to see you again, but he bit the rim of his cup, blue-eyes slightly annoyed as he thinks about you grabbing Tsukishima’s hand. 

What was he to you? 

Akaashi blinks out of his daze. 

Wait.

...why does he care? 

The setter blinks out of his thoughts when you return, the plastic cup lowering in his grasp as you bite your lip bashfully, looking off to the side awkwardly. A smile unknowingly tugs at his lips, a weird sensation of relief flooding his system. 

“Turns out it was a false alarm...I was just going to grab another drink and leave you-” 

“No. Stay.” Akaashi’s words come out a little quicker than he intended as you blink in bewilderment before he clears his throat, hand going to grab one of the bottles. 

“Lemonade?” 

“Nah.” You grin, grabbing a new cup before tilting it in his direction as you take your seat again, your thigh touching his as you wish you liked the taste of liquid courage. Your fingers draw circles on the granite of the counter top as methods of successfully getting your number flit through Akaashi’s head, the setter finding himself intentionally grabbing your hand to hold it steady around the cup as he pours. 

The tension stayed heavy as the music faded into the background, the setter’s hand still clasped around yours gripping your cup. You smile goofily, Akaashi wanting nothing more than to close the distance with the pretty stranger at the once undesired party. 

“Apple juice.”

“Wise choice.” 

--------------------------------

Yooo catch me writing beverage fics we love that for me

 General Works: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @yams046 @aprettyfruit @therestless101 @deadontheinsidebut    @therestless101 @dai-tsukki-desu @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast   @wisepandaslimeland @lmkjimin   @h0ngh0ngh0ng   @orangegiraffe7  @let-me-have-my-own-name @theworldupthere @itz-tooru @kac-chowsballs

[enjennie]

Bottom’s Up

synopsis: the dreamies during a night of drinking somehow end up talking about their exes, revealing the different types of relationships and exes they have or had.

a/n: this has been long been in my drafts so Jisung was still a minor here, thus I didn’t give him any drinks lmao. Enjoy! btw, I’m still deciding if I should make Haechan’s backstory for this, or if the markHyuck one should do…

[10:37]

The boys have arrived, piling into Chenle’s condominium that was set up just to have their long awaited guys night. They planned this weeks prior, promising each other that after their finals they’d set aside time to drink away their thoughts and release any stress they have that built up.

By 10:50 bottles have been popped and cups have been poured, the boys sat in the balcony to feel the cool air of the city night.

“You guys really aren’t sharing?” Jisung watches as the older boys raise their glasses in celebration.

“You wait a few more months, sir,” Mark sets his glass down and pats the younger boy on the shoulder. Guy nights wouldn’t be complete without Jisung, even if he wasn’t allowed to drink yet. He never minded sitting in the living room, playing with Chenle’s console with Jaemin and then later on laughing at his older friends’ shenanigans once the alcohol hit them.

Renjun isn’t quite the drinker, but Haechan made him a bet and unfortunately, he lost. Being an art major wasn’t easy, he knew he had a few more things to finish before his semester ended but with that, Renjun drank to forget.

Besides his plates, he had nothing else to worry about. He’d been getting emails from companies waiting for him to graduate, a family happy to support him, but surprisingly, the boy lacked in the love department.

His previous relationships, only being flings and one night stands, none of them really ever stayed after the cuddles. Except… a particular someone.

On the opposite side of him sat Jeno, who was watching his friends in amusement. Now, Jeno has a high alcohol tolerance. Although he becomes chatty, and starts to excessively clean his surroundings, he takes care of his friends well. Usually he’s the one who tucks them into bed or prevents anything like drunk driving and some other stupid shit to happen.

Jeno the architectural major was the responsible friend in a night out. The single friend who starts playing the guitar to set the mood when 2am rolls in. And, the single friend with the broken heart, which hasn’t quite mended yet even after three years.

Haechan on the other hand, is a messy drunk but handles his alcohol well until the 2nd bottle. The boy has a lot going on in his mind, and was the first to initiate the plan to drink.

His phone rings, but Haechan dismisses it, tapping the red decline button and watching as the screen faded into black. Mark follows his eyes and hesitantly brings it up.

“Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

Haechan only shakes his head before taking another swig. Everyone knows well enough about Haechan and his girlfriend’s on and off relationship. They break up, make up, fight and the cycle repeats.

Mark’s adam’s apple bobs as he asks another question. “Why don’t you just break up? Y’know… for good?”

The boys around them seem to have noticed the tension that built up and had their eyes fixed on the pair.

“I don’t know, man,” Haechan is too drunk to think about Mark’s question. Too drunk to realize how Mark completely sold himself off to be in love with him with that one question. It wasn’t a big secret, especially since Mark has done a poor job in hiding it, but apparently not bad enough for Haechan to see. Everyone knew, except for the clueless boy.

Jaemin was too busy babysitting Chenle, who was having his first drink tonight, to even have shots of his own. He didn’t like drinking, anyway, and used Chenle as an excuse to keep sober.

Jaemin the medical student naturally tells his friends to lay off the alcohol, as it can damage their liver. He can only do so much though, as the others tend to be hard-headed and stubborn.

“I can handle myself!” Chenle protests, reaching for his glass which Jaemin took away. “You’re supposed to drink, eat a lot then drink again,” Jaemin explains. “You’ve only taken drinks so far, you’ll be knocked out in an hour if you keep this up,” He tells Chenle.

Of course, Jaemin knew his way around drinking. He just didn’t enjoy it, doesn’t like the bitter taste of it. Didn’t like how it made him think of his past either. Jaemin’s cup remains half full, and he uses this tactic to not get refills.

It keeps him away from his phone, sober enough to know better than to drunk text her. Even if her presence was all he yearned for at a night like this.

Jaemin x Reader – By My Side

[COMING SOON]

[12:03]

As the night gets deeper, so do the conversations between the close friends. Just like Jaemin predicted, Chenle had his head down on the table already, passed out.

“Jeno, you know what to do,” Jaemin nodded his head, signaling the boy beside him. Jeno gave him his smile, which now looked more drowsy and silly because of his tipsy state.

Jeno lifts Chenle easily, with Jaemin assisting him, leaving the three boys on the table.

“I want ____. Where is she?” Chenle had his eyes closed, mumbling to his friends. Jaemin and Jeno exchanged looks and laughed at the younger.

Poor boy, had a ton of expectations to meet he couldn’t even date around.

Chenle’s main priority had to be his family, and their business. He couldn’t afford any distractions, but to him, she was more than that. She was his driving force, and it hurt the boy to be keeping her a secret. Only the boys knew about his secret relationship, if word got out that Zhong Chenle the son of the most well-respected corporate business owner was dating, it would be the entirety of Shanghai talking about it.

As much as he wanted nothing more than to show the world and tell everyone who he’s in love with, he knew she wasn’t ready to face it all and step into that kind of light yet.

Chenle x Reader – In The Limelight

While the two boys took Chenle into his room, it left the three boys and Haechan’s buzzing phone out in the cold night air that the terrace provided.

“What happened this time?” Renjun asks, in line with the phone that’s close to annoying the hell out of him if it doesn’t stop vibrating the entire table. Haechan had his head down, and he lets out a laugh. Humorless, just cold.

“I don’t get her. She wants me, then the next second she doesn’t,”

When the boy lifts his head, it’s made obvious of all the pain he’s been hiding. His eyes, teary and sullen. Renjun couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s face, clapping his hands and throwing his head back in laughter. “Aw, c’mon man! It’s only 12am,”

This, however, doesn’t humor Mark the same way. Seeing Haechan in pain was like a bullet through his heart. He gave the boy a pat on the back and watches as his head fall once again. Mark swears he saw a tear fall too.

“I’m not just an object you can set aside, then use when needed,” Haechan continues to wail. Although he was already drunk, Mark felt that Haechan’s words were the most sober when he wasn’t.

As for Mark, the literature major didn’t care much about alcohol. However, it did get his creative juices flowing. Most of Mark’s best written pieces were done when he couldn’t even remember writing them.

During blurry nights intoxicated in alcohol, Mark’s thoughts flow easily through him and onto the sheets of paper that lie around his room. Sometimes, he’ll drink on a school night to get an essay finished for it’s due date the next day.

But seeing as he had no pending things to write, Mark drank for the sake of trying to numb himself somehow. Although it didn’t work well when the person he’s trying to get his mind off of is sat right beside him, thinking of someone else.

Mark x Haechan – Always, I’ll Care

[COMING SOON]

[1:13 am]

When Jaemin and Jeno came back, Jeno was already carrying a guitar. He strums it softly to a random tune he came up with on the spot. Haechan, of course, was singing along. Throwing in words like ‘baby’ and murmuring a few words about love. By now, Renjun’s cheeks were pink and a few hiccups had already escaped him.

“Do you remember that girl Jeno dated second semester of senior year?” he says, out of the blue.

The boys need not ask who, as they all knew who Renjun was referring to. The group of boys burst into fits of laughter and the guitar takes an abrupt stop as its player shoots his friends a nasty look for bringing up his past unprovoked.

“You were smitten, bro,” Mark smacks Jeno’s shoulder as he giggles.

Jeno daggers his eyes to Renjun, who has his head thrown back, laughing.

“How about you, huh? What was her name? _____-“ Jeno begins his avengement by mentioning the name he knew would get back at Renjun. He gets cut off shortly.

“I’ll stop you right there, sir,” Renjun places a hand over Jeno’s mouth before he could speak the name.

“C’mon, how many years has that been though?” Jeno asks after getting the boy’s hand off of his mouth.

“Two, and what about it?” Renjun defensively counters, surprising the other boys.

“He knows! Wow, do you keep count?” Jaemin chuckles, amusement all over his face.

“Shut up, ____ ,” Renjun points a finger at the male, mentioning the name of Jaemin’s past lover. Jaemin’s jaw drops and he crosses his arms,

“That was low,” The corner of his lips tugged into a smile nonetheless.

“C’mon, guys. It’s not like we’re releasing bad omens talking about our exes,” Haechan tugs on Renjun to sit him back down.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve only had one ex and she’s your girlfriend,” Renjun huffs. No one dared to speak the name of Renjun’s ex around him aside from people who have balls like Jeno, Jaemin, Haechan and Mark.

It wasn’t because he was bitter about her. But try as he might, there was a feeling within him that says she’s the one. Or she was. And Renjun was stuck, thinking about all the what if’s. Even after 2 years.

Renjun x Reader – To Be So Lonely [COMING SOON]

“I see things are getting heated over here,” Jisung stood by the door to the balcony now, with a sly smirk on his face.

“Ah right, let’s talk about mister lover boy over here,” Jeno motioned to the younger boy, who surprisingly is the only one to have a love life at the moment.

Jisung was courting the student body president. He could not, however, get her to answer him, but the boy never gives up.

“You must have some balls to hit on your senior,” Jaemin comments. The student body president was in fact two years older than Jisung, but the boy was determined.

Jisung x Reader – Like A Fool

[COMING SOON]

“At least one of us is progressing in terms of love,” Renjun sighed.

“Jeno’s doing well though, isn’t he? Lots of girls always after him,” Jisung gestures to the male beside him who’d started playing the guitar once again.

“I don’t think that counts as doing well,” Jeno mutters, absentmindedly.

“Oh yeah? And how does having half the school pine over you not count as doing well?” Jaemin lightly nudges his friend.

“Because the one I love, is in someone else’s arms right now,”

And cue the exaggerated crying and wailing of his friends, who’d given him sympathetic pats on the back.

Jeno x Reader – We Find Love

[COMING SOON]

“Oh, man,” grumbled Haechan, clearly already very intoxicated. He placed his head between his hands to try and stop his world from spinning. “I got to go to her, I have to say sorry,”

The boys all averted their eyes to the boy who looks to be having his spiritual awakening.

Mark’s heart dropped upon hearing Haechan’s words. He looked down at his hands and sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time Haechan had a sudden realization and wanted to be in his girlfriend’s arms right then and there.

It usually happened when he was smashed drunk, after the 7th or 8th cup. Asking his mates to take him home and running into the arms of his girl.

Mark didn’t know why he wasn’t used to it at this point. It isn’t and never will be him.

“No way,” Jaemin tutted. “You gathered us all here to drink and bothered us for weeks then you’ll flake midway? I don’t think so,” The other boys agreed.

Renjun stretched his arms and fell back onto the chair he sat on. “What’s with the sudden change of atmosphere anyway? It’s like we did release bad omens when we spoke about our exes,”

“You just had to bring ____ up!” Jeno threw a fry at his friend, who was the first to mention his ex and start the discussion. Renjun caught the fry in his mouth, surprising the boys and himself.

“Let’s just drink up,” Renjun raises his glass in the air, although it’s half empty.

“Nice try, here have a refill. We’re all taking equal shots,” Mark had risen and was now reaching for the bottle of beer to pour his friend’s glass.

“To… I don’t know- fuck! To getting fucked up!” Haechan yelled, raising his glass in the air.

The rest of the boys do the same, clinking glasses together and downing it mercilessly to their livers.

Relationships come and go, but the dreamies are always here to stay.

[lesdemonium]

romtober day 1: fake dating

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2421 Summary:  Jaskier is invited to his parent's annual banquet, and to keep the nobles (and his parents) off his back, he asks Geralt to pose as his husband. Geralt completes this task a little too well. 

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The banquet was the picture of opulence. Not a single expense was spared, and Jaskier could read the envy in the partygoers eyes as he passed them. His mother really had outdone herself this time; even Jaskier had to admit he was impressed. It was difficult for him to admit that, considering his family was as close to the heart--and hurt feelings--as they were.

Even the music was amazing. Now that took some effort to admit to. It would have been better, of course, if he’d had the opportunity to play for the banquet, but Jaskier knew that was a far-fetched idea at best. His mother and father still liked to tell the other “respectable” company that he was off studying, taking his time and exploring the world, before he came back to accept his title and lands. Truly, it was giving him a good head on his shoulders, allowing him to be worldly and lead the people of Lettenhove with grace and wisdom. It helped that they only referred to their wayward son as Julian; even in these circles, Jaskier was proud to say his stage name carried.

Despite the beauty, despite the fine wine and food, despite the beautiful lords and ladies around him, Jaskier was having a terrible night. It was his own fault, he knew. When he had received his invitation--really a summons, as Jaskier knew he had little choice but to accept--he had panicked. Another event in which his parents tried to court him into staying and taking over as Count, and tried to get him to court a lady or two of agreeable upbringing. Jaskier couldn’t stomach the dread. So he had asked Geralt for a favor.

Geralt was delivering.

“Darling,” Geralt started, drawing Jaskier’s attention back to the task at hand--a conversation with the Duke of some township or other. The hand Geralt had on the small of Jaskier’s back sent shocks of heat through Jaskier’s body, every time it moved ever-so-slightly. “There was a vineyard in Dorian, wasn’t there? The one where the owner gave you five bottles?”

That was an interesting retelling. Much more polite than saying that Jaskier stole the bottles after the owner had insulted Witchers and tried to cheat Geralt out of his pay for dispatching a pack of drowners tainting the water supply. Jaskier was learning a lot about just how talented Geralt could be at traversing a crowd of nobles--when he wanted to.

“Ah, there’s some controversy over that. Technically, when the borders changed, that vineyard moved to Maribor. Ask any of the workers, though, and it’s still in Dorian,” Jaskier answered, just barely remembering to add a smile at the end.

The duke guffawed and wagged his finger at Geralt; apparently Jaskier had managed to settle something for them, but Jaskier hadn’t been listening to the rest of the conversation. He wasn’t listening now, even, as Geralt continued on with the Duke as if this was something he just did on a regular basis.

Geralt was baffling. Jaskier had expected him to say no to Jaskier’s favor. Why would he want to pretend to be Jaskier’s husband at the party Jaskier’s parents threw every year? Even Jaskier didn’t want to go, which might have been partly why he even asked Geralt in the first place. Part of him was holding out hope that Geralt would give him an out.

Instead, Geralt had not only agreed, but had listened to every bit of advice and every pointer Jaskier had given him. All night he had been impressive--he had even managed to charm Jaskier’s mother. Jaskier did not often find himself at a loss for words, but apparently watching Geralt entertain a noble with stories of monster slaying with an unfortunately well-behaved hand on the small of Jaskier’s back was enough to render Jaskier speechless for hours. He had been the disappointing one all night.

“Excuse me,” Jaskier said, bowing a little as he shrugged himself out of Geralt’s grasp. It was rude, Jaskier knew, and if Geralt had done it he would have… well, he would have expected it, and maybe would have silently thanked him for the out, while outwardly complaining about his lack of decorum. But Geralt had been the picture of grace all night. Jaskier was the one that had been disheveled and thrown off guard and, at times, downright rude.

Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment, however. Let the nobles talk. He knew they all would as soon as they left no matter what happened tonight, so Jaskier might as well underperform rather than living up to the lies his parents were no doubt telling the other people of the court.

The night air was crisp and cool against his face as Jaskier pushed the doors open onto the balcony. Technically, this area was off limits. No guest was allowed here and the servants had gone to great lengths to make sure that no one made it out here. But what were they to do when the Viscount of Lettenhove was the one trying to escape to his parent’s balcony?

Finally, Jaskier felt as if he could breathe. It should have been a relief to have Geralt so willing and helpful, and really he had been completely wonderful all night. Far better than Jaskier would have ever expected. And yet, he was so thrown off and upset by it. It would have been so easy to just lean into this, to accept Geralt’s exemplary behavior and pretend, just for a night, that Geralt regularly called him things like “darling” and “love.” That Geralt kept a hand on him at all times. That Geralt checked up on him when Jaskier left abruptly. As he did now.

“I must ask you to return--” a servant started, but Jaskier cut her off.

“It’s alright, Orla. He’s my husband,” Jaskier said, and even he winced at how bitter his voice sounded. He didn’t turn to see if anyone else noticed, though. Instead, Jaskier leaned against the railing, his forearms resting on the cold stone as he stared out over the grounds.

He heard rustling behind him and a door closing, but it was still a moment longer before Geralt joined him against the stone wall. There was still a space between them and Geralt, bless him, seemed almost hesitant to step closer.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked, finally leaning against the stone beside Jaskier.

Jaskier huffed an extremely forced laugh. “Wrong? What could be wrong? You’ve only been perfect all night. Everyone loves you. Even my mother, who could find fault in a saint.”

“And… that’s a problem?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier could almost picture the way his eyebrows must have been knitted in confusion.

Jaskier sighed, then buried his face in his hands. “No, darling, of course not. You’re doing exactly what I asked. You’ve made a wonderful impression and have made everything far easier for me.”

Geralt stood silent beside Jaskier, probably trying to decipher what, exactly, Jaskier was going on about. Jaskier wished he could do more to help, but Jaskier was just as flummoxed. This should have been perfect; a night Jaskier would tease Geralt about for years to come. Jaskier should have been preening under the attention and prideful over how much the other partygoers enjoyed Geralt. Instead, he felt empty and cold and as if he was missing something.

“You don’t seem like you in there,” Jaskier finally settled on. 

The truth was far too big for him to speak just yet, so he settled for a half truth. The man inside wasn’t the Geralt Jaskier knew and loved, and neither the man inside nor the man outside was a Geralt that belonged to Jaskier.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be me. I thought you wanted me to be your husband,” Geralt said, and his voice was just a touch too serious for his teasing to be believable.

Jaskier straightened up and met Geralt’s eye, finally. Geralt looked lost, like a little boy who was just trying so desperately to be good, and coming up short. Or, perhaps Jaskier was projecting, since that was the way he often felt, especially when he was in Lettenhove. Geralt had a hand on the stone wall, and Jaskier covered it with his own.

“I always want you to be you. I’m sorry I made it seem as if I would ever want someone else,” Jaskier mumbled. He took a moment to stare at their hands, before finding Geralt’s eyes again. “This is all just a bit… much.”

Geralt hesitated a moment, then took a step forward. His hand turned beneath Jaskier’s and he took Jaskier’s fingers, his thumb running absently over Jaskier’s knuckles. Jaskier waited, but Geralt didn’t say anything, and Jaskier found he wasn’t surprised. The silence hung between them as they both waited for Jaskier--of course it would be Jaskier--to break it.

“I don’t think I knew what I was asking for when I asked you to do this,” Jaskier whispered, and he took a step closer to Geralt. The tips of their shoes just barely brushed together and if Jaskier wanted to, it would only take a quick sway to bring their lips together. “I don’t think I asked for the right thing.”

Geralt hummed. “What would you ask for now?”

“For you to accompany me. As yourself. Rather than as a puppet or novelty for the court,” Jaskier started. He wanted to say more, opened his mouth again to do so, but the words died in his throat.

Geralt’s eyebrow raised. “I doubt your mother would approve of me as I am for your husband. Didn’t you want to avoid her appeals to court suitable ladies?”

Jaskier looked away. Back over at the gardens. Geralt’s fingers tightened around his, as if Geralt was afraid Jaskier would pull away. This felt different than the hand at Jaskier’s back, but had Jaskier’s heart beating faster nonetheless.  “I shouldn’t have had you pose as my husband at all.”

There was a long silence, and it wasn’t until Geralt tapped Jaskier’s hand with his thumb that Jaskier realized Geralt was waiting for Jaskier to continue. To explain. Jaskier sighed.

“You’ve been amazing in there. I didn’t expect you to… be so wonderfully physically affectionate, or use pet names, or talk me up and be otherwise… casually affectionate. Truly, you are a master at your craft, and if this whole witchering business goes to the wayside, you should consider a future on the stage.” Jaskier huffed and bit the inside of his cheek. He would keep himself together. “It’s easy to believe it’s all real. You play the part so well. There’s not a single person in there that doesn’t believe us as a couple, and sometimes even I forget.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said. His voice was low, firm. Get to the point, Jaskier heard.

“I don’t want to spend a night pretending. I don’t want to enjoy myself too much, only to wake up to reality come morning.” He pulled his hand back from Geralt’s grasp and swiped it over his face. “I’m sorry, I thought I had a better handle on myself than this. I thought I could separate reality from fiction, but apparently I have fooled myself too thoroughly.”

The embarrassment rose through his body to paint his cheeks a vibrant, hot shade of red, and Jaskier could not bring himself to look at Geralt again as he turned toward the doorway.

“We should go back inside. I’ll get it together, and we can continue on as if--”

“We could start smaller,” Geralt interrupted, taking Jaskier’s hand again and using it as leverage to pull him back. Jaskier allowed himself to be pulled, and faced Geralt again, his eyebrows furrowed in his confusion. “Make reality. Different.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier started. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried, very carefully, to find the words he was looking for. Nothing sounded right. “You’re not proposing--”

“I’m proposing we change tomorrow, rather than tonight,” Geralt answered. He took a step closer to Jaskier, his free hand cupping Jaskier’s hip. “Build up to tonight.”

Geralt dropped Jaskier’s hand in favor of trailing his fingertips along Jaskier’s cheekbones, his jawline, his lips. Jaskier found himself breathless, almost dizzy, and he closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that this was real. It seemed far more likely that he had managed to stumble, hit his head on one of the many heavy, solid, and jagged rocks, and was now having a very imaginative, blunt-force-trauma-induced dream.

“Geralt, I’m afraid I might have been struck with delirium. It feels rather like if I asked you to kiss me, you would,” Jaskier whispered. Surely his imagination wasn’t good enough to create the feeling of Geralt’s thumb shifting as Jaskier’s lips moved. Jaskier may have to come to the conclusion that this was real.

“Why don’t you try it, bard?”

Jaskier let out the breath he had been holding, and rested his hands on Geralt’s hips. He opened his eyes again to find Geralt staring at him with probably the softed, most fond smile Jaskier had ever seen on his face. It was that smile, that barely-there tick of the corners of his lips that gave Jaskier his courage. Jaskier smiled back, just as small and soft, and Geralt stopped tracing Jaskier’s lips and held his face instead.

“Please kiss me,” Jaskier breathed.

The words were barely out of Jaskier’s mouth before they were swallowed into Geralt’s. Jaskier’s arms wove themselves around Geralt’s back, pulling him closer, and Geralt’s hand crept up Jaskier’s back as well. Geralt still held his face, cradling Jaskier’s cheek carefully, no matter how they moved together.

The air was just as cool as it had been when Jaskier stepped outside, but now Jaskier found himself warmed by the heat of Geralt’s lips. He put every ounce of longing into the kiss, and was almost surprised to find just as much wanting in Geralt. They had wasted time, so much time, but Jaskier was already quite fond of their methods for making up for that.

Finally, they had to part. Neither strayed far, though. Their foreheads pressed together, their breaths intertwined as Jaskier’s heart settled. Geralt’s thumb stroked Jaskier’s cheek, and Jaskier could hardly hear the din of the banquet hall over his own disjointed, trailing, endlessly giddy thoughts.

“If I ask you again tomorrow, will your answer be the same?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt hummed. “And every day after that,” he answered.

[bloomingnono]

meant it. (part 2)

pairing: jeno x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: ~ 1.7 k

warnings: language (like one curse word akjds)

intro l part 1 l part 2

a/n: im so sorry for the long wait:( i wanted to make sure i did my best, and wrote something i was overall pretty content with! but here’s the second, and final part to “meant it”!! i hope you all enjoy, especially my dear 🍿anonie<3

also not me making major adjustments 5 minutes before posting💀

taglist of my loves: @luvlyjaemin @vera-liscious @lenaluvs

Your bed felt cold. The type of cold that left your body weak. And yet again, you found yourself fighting to let sleep consume you.

You hesitantly turned to your left side, hoping that maybe, this was all just one big nightmare. That maybe when you turned around, he’d be there.

But you were only met with the other side of your bare bed; your lamp casting an amber tinge on your snow-white sheets.

Four weeks had passed since those final words had been exchanged. He had left you broken.

To say you missed him was an understatement.

You longed for the way your heartbeat quickened at his sight. You longed for the way your stomach fluttered as your name effortlessly slipped out of his lips. You longed for his touch; the way his fingers lingered against your skin.

You missed him.

But at what cost? To hear those three empty words leave his mouth?

No. Never again.

It was unfair to Jeno. But most of all, it was unfair to you.

You didn’t deserve to be told such idle lies.

Especially not from the one person you would give up your entire life for.

Jeno was a naive soul; so sincere and trusting of what only met the eye.

Mistakes were a daily occurrence in his life; learning and growing from them as he paved his way through.

.

But the second you left, he knew he had made the biggest mistake yet.

.

On the night when everything ended, there was an inexplainable feeling of void growing within him.

He didn’t have a reason to smile, nor the energy to cry.

Unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, he felt incomplete. It left him numb.

Before he knew it, four weeks had already gone by.

Four weeks since he last held your frame in his grasp. Four weeks since he last saw the face he once fell in love with. Four weeks since he left you utterly broken.

But in those four weeks, Jeno wasn’t living. He was simply existing.

He was merely left in his world; his actions and their consequences, being his sole companion.

He knew it was unfair to continue to lie and prolong the inevitable. But, why did it feel so wrong? It was the right decision to choose... right?

‘To choose.’

It seemed like such a simple action. It was something we did on a daily basis; nearly every second of every day.

Yet it held so much influence.

Jeno had finally realized that now.

Everything in life was purely a choice.

.

Everything.

You lie on your bed, your mind lost in all the bumps and ridges that painted your cream-colored ceiling.

It was late into the night, the moon peeking its way through the slits of your window blinds. The silence was peaceful, yet deafening.

Despite the unsettling aspects of the stillness, you’re ready for it to devour you; yearning for that feeling of tranquility that you haven’t felt in weeks.

But just as you are about to give in, you’re abruptly interrupted by frantic raps on your front door. Jostling up into a sitting position, you force yourself off your bed to check and see who was causing such a fuss.

The knocks on your door persist, not allowing for a single moment of intermission.

Apprehension quickly overtakes your body, frightened at what could possibly cause such actions to befall at this ungodly hour.

You hesitantly grab your doorknob, carefully turning it and opening the door just a fraction of the way.

You are met with a hunched figure; their hands on their knees and their hair damp with —what can only be assumed as— sweat. Their labored breathing leads you to believe they had run here, and hastily at that.

After a few short-lived seconds, you carefully try to assess the situation; fear still coursing throughout your body.

“Can I help you..?”

The figure instantly tenses at your tone, as if taken aback by the sound of your voice.

You watch in confusion as they begin to catch their breath, and stand to their full height. Straining your eyes to try and identify their face, you’re left frozen at the single feature that was recognizable even in pitch darkness.

His eyes.

You instinctively take a step backward, distrusting your vision.

But your presumption reigns true, as the figure tentatively takes a step forward through the doorway; his face now fully illuminated by your foyer light.

.

Lee Jeno.

.

He seemed to be in a terrible state: his hair a mess from the sweat, his clothes violated by the wind, and his breaths still quite uneven.

You attempt to try and form a coherent sentence, but the words seem to die in your throat. You could only look up at him, staring blankly with your mouth hung open.

“Wha... What are you doing here...?”

“I came to see you. I needed to talk to you. Immediately.” His expression was unreadable, yet his tone held the familiar hint of desperation. “I miss you. I want— No. I need you back. Nothing in this world seems right when I’m not with you. I’m not who I am without you. I need you…”

The silence that follows is unbearable.

It takes a few moments for his words to sink in. You feel your eyebrows furrow in confusion, contorting your features into a frown.

But the confusion is quickly replaced with the dreaded feeling of anger. It swiftly fills your entire soul, kindling a flame. The one emotion you tried so hard to repress, viciously engulfs your entire body.

The words that had once died in your throat, quickly resurrect and force their way out of your mouth.

You find your voice again. However, this time, it is nothing but cold and bitter.

“Lee Jeno, I love you. I’m not ashamed to say that I’m still hopelessly in love with you, because I am. But you aren’t. And that’s why I let you go.”

The floodgates were finally opened. There was no going back.

“As much as I still loved you, and as much as it killed me to accept that you didn’t return those feelings for me anymore; I let you go. Want to know why? Because your happiness means so much more than my own. I let you go because I love you so fucking much.”

Jeno stares at you with wide eyes, unable to summon a statement that could somehow ease the pain in you eyes. “I-“

“No, listen!!” Your voice begins break, unable to keep your emotions at bay. The words flow out of your mouth quicker than your mind could process. “I wanted to blame you. I wanted to hate you and resent you so badly for everything you put me through, but I couldnt. Because I still fucking love you!!”

The last statement leaves your throat raw. But you persist.

“You really got some nerve, Lee Jeno.” You laugh humorlessly at the pure audacity, before turning back to him with a renewed flame.

“You left me absolutely shattered. And I couldn’t even hate you for it. I refuse to let you hurt me again. I refuse to watch, as the love for me floods out of your eyes again. I REFUSE!!!”

Every last bit of your energy is wasted on your final words as you scream them at the top of your lungs.

The angry tears streaming out of your eyes seem endless. Your whole body trembles with pure fury as you collapse to the floor, legs giving out beneath you.

Jeno instinctively scrambles to your side, supporting your fragile form with his own.

Too weak to fight against his hold, you allow yourself to be braced by him; the touch being all too familiar for your liking.

“Why? Why are you doing this to me?” You purposely avoid his gaze as you ask, your voice impossibly faint. You’re left completely exhausted; the anger quickly transforming into pure defeat.

There’s a moment of hesitancy. You feel the sharp intake of breath that he takes before the reply is given.

.

“I... love you.”

.

Those three words that you once adored, and now despised... Those three words that had eased all your pain, but now caused your suffering...

Those three words... were no longer hollow.

.

He meant it again.

.

A chill swiftly travels down from the top of your spine to the tip of your toes, leaving you senseless.

He promptly proceeds; the hesitancy in his tone now replaced with a new-found determination.

“I love you. And not because I have to, but because I want to.” Cold fingers gently grip your chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze. “Loving you is not merely a spark. Loving you is not lust or simple desire. Loving you is a commitment. I want to wake up every day, and choose to love you.”

There’s another moment of silence; tears of regret traveling down to drip from the point of his chin.

“I’m so sorry for... everything.” He chokes back a sob as the words get caught in his throat. “I loathe myself for being the cause of all this. I will never forgive myself for hurting you and... and I completely understand if you aren’t willing to forgive me either-“

Before he could finish, you crash your lips onto his; successfully silencing his statement. Tears continue to descend both your guys’ cheeks, unable to subside from the overwhelming sense of comfort that came with being in the others’ warmth again.

You sense a familiar arm snake around your waist, pulling you deeper into the contact. Your own arms loop around his neck, absorbing the touch that you had longed for, so intensely.

You pull away from the kiss, coming face to face with the love of your life.

.

“You have no idea how much I missed feeling those words.” The sentence is muttered, speaking to yourself more than anyone else.

But he heard them nonetheless.

.

You feel his slender fingers encase either side of your face, his cool touch sending a wave of shock throughout your body. Keeping your face steady in his hands, he slowly leans his forehead against yours.

With his eyes closed and without a single waver in his voice, the words slip out again.

.

“I love you.”

.

You soak up the comfort that alluded from such simplicity.

You know that you guys aren’t perfect. Nowhere near it.

But what mattered, was that you were in each other’s hold again.

.

.

Because you loved each other...

.

.

And you meant it.

end.