#it also definitely doesn’t help that i never got to say goodbye to most people and still have a bunch of my things there + didn’t get any

[riseupriseupandcomealong]

gotta be real- i’m not sure how much more crippling homesickness for a place i can never go back to i can take!!

[shanie]

Hiii Shanie! (is that what I should call you? 🤔) I'm the guest from ao3 that sent you that long ass comment 😆😅

Just wanted to start of by saying how extremely sweet it was of you to do this and also how much I appreciated you taking the time out not once but twice to write back! Tbh yes my dumbass did not realise what "noodle incident" meant till you explained it so thank you for that 😊 clearly I'm a bit new to all of this. 😅

Honestly I'm extremely late to the party. I discovered zowens only a little after they won their tag titles last year. I had no idea who they were before that. I took a break from wrestling for about 13 years and only got back into it by accident because of Sami, then Kevin, then zowens. I was switching channels and stubbled upon zowens who happened to be on screen at the time.

So I've had to go back and do a bit of digging and now and then I'll find something that everyone already knew about yearsss ago 🙄😂 and I'll get all excited over it, but everyone else has already been there done that 😂 (also absolutely no one I know likes wrestling or really even knows about it 😭)

I know I've missed out on a LOT with these two (their "glory days") 😭 and I get only glimpses of the past here and there, but I guess as they say better late than never 😁 So I'm enjoying your stories so so much. It's pretty incredible the way you write and the journey you take us on through it.

Ta

🐨

PS. the draft this week..zowens..😌

Hello again, nonnie! 

Glad you could make it! 

I was hoping to hear from you. This mess of business with AO3. Bleh. Hope they get it straightened out soon. 

First off, don’t feel bad for not knowing what “noodle incident” meant. I don’t know if a ton of people do these days. TV Tropes as a website has sort of fallen into obscurity in the past decade or so and that’s where I got the term from. Looking it up, the definition on the site (found HERE) apparently comes from Calvin and Hobbes. Of note: The way I use the term isn’t exactly correct because I have explained the pneumonia incident a little, and will do so in upcoming writing more, but I use the term improperly anyway because it makes sense to me. 

Regardless, stay tuned for more info about the pneumonia incident!  I will warn you though, the current story it’s being written into, “Never Say Goodbye”, is VERY dark. I’m probably going to have to up the rating on it. I use my writing as therapy and I’m going through some stuff right now, so this is how it is manifesting. Hope this doesn’t make you or anyone else hate me, but just know that writing it is helping me cope with my pain and getting me to a better place. 

So yeah. Forgive me. 

Second, don’t feel bad about just discovering Zowens in 2023. Some of the best people just discovered Zowens in 2023! I don’t know how much of last year you’ve managed to see but there is a fair amount of stuff just between summer of 2022 and fall of 2023 that is epic. If you haven’t gotten to explore it yet, I recommend starting HERE. It’s an episode of The KO Show from back in May of 2022 that planted the seeds of the entire Zowens storyline that would go on to them becoming tag champions. That said, as another video reference, that episode of the KO Show would actually be followed up on in August 2022 to properly start the storyline... in a post-show segment after Smackdown in Montreal. Finding video of that post-show segment can be difficult, but HERE is a fan video that has most of the encounter, minus the section that involved Matt Riddle (and the Zowens hug he spurs on) 

Really though, if I had to offer some key highlights, just in WWE, I’d recommend the last ten minutes or so of NXT’s R-Evolution PPV, their match at Battleground 2016 (DEFINITELY Key viewing), The very end of Hell In A Cell 2017 (and the Zowens segment from the next episode of Smackdown), the 10/31/2020 episode of Talking Smack, The leadup and immediate aftermath of their WrestleMania 37 match, the clips I linked above from May and August 2022, Royal Rumble 2023 main event (OMG THAT), and most of all, the ENTIRTY of the 3/17/23 episode of Smackdown which, telling you now, as a Zowens shipper was like a friggin fever dream the night it happened. Cannot understate how that was some Joker Origin Story stuff that night, but the payoff was AMAZING.  

All that said? Like Kevin said at WrestleMania 37. They met, at this point, almost 22 years ago, and the journey has been nuts. If you want a good, easy-to-absorb rundown of those 22 years or so, I highly recommend Mithen’s substack Ring the Bell. It has so much information that starts from the beginning and goes step by step along the path. They’re writing a book too! Keep an eye out for that. 

Anyway, it’s great to see you here and if you need any more tips about how to dig further into the story, let me know. I know you said “Their glory days” but the truth is, in their own words, they’re “Destined to do this forever” and the glory days aren’t over yet. The story has been going on for over 2 decades but it hasn’t ended yet and I don’t believe it ever will. The Sami and Kevin show, and by extension, The Kevin Steen and El Generico show, will never end. 

Over 20 years and counting.  Long live Zowens/Steenerico 

Enjoy the ride. 

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Friends With Benefits (6) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

A Catboy at Heart (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Phil should be jealous that his cat loves his fuck buddy more than she loves him, but they are both too cute for that.

Acid Rose (ao3) - heyitsnxel

Summary: A tour, friends with benefits, ignored feelings. What could go wrong?

Boyfriend (ao3) - TortiTabby

Summary: "You love me like a very best friend but I don't want to be your secret anymore"

Dan glanced over the spinning bottle at his, for lack of a better term, best friend.

He supposes he should be happy it isn’t just flatmate but he couldn’t help but crave for a title, for something concrete that he could hold onto.

Dan and Phil are friends with benefits.

Domino Effect (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: After years of keeping sex and friendship separate, Dan finds himself on the edge of falling in love.

I Should’ve Kept My Silence (ao3) - shutupfornothing

Summary: based on the song "sex" by EDEN

Dan catches feelings for Phil, but to Phil it meant nothing

in the darkness, with you (ao3) - Ablissa

Summary: Phil, 28, video editor.

Phil doesn't believe in love at first sight, and that is not about to change anytime soon. But what about lust? Just two short weeks ago, he'd say no, definitely not.

Not anymore. Not since he first locked eyes with Dan, the new intern at the company he works for. Not since he first thought, "I want him".

Phil's wish does come true, but there's a catch.

It doesn't mean anything.

Maybe (ao3) - dayevsphil, intoapuddle

Summary: They’re only friends but when Dan wants more, Phil gives it to him.

Mean the Most (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Dan figures goodbyes are inevitable, and he’s learned how to leave very effective ones for better or worse depending on how he feels about the person he’s saying goodbye to. That morning he’d given a good one to Phil.

A au fic about friends with benefits and necessary conversions.

Motivation (ao3) - Sacirin

Summary: When Dan and Phil play a video game for days on end until they complete it, they need some sort of motivation. But Dan may not be ok with just what they have, and he may also be a completely oblivious pining idiot who's too hard on himself.

Pas de Deux (ao3) - scifi

Summary: for ten years they’ve been friends with benefits; no messy feelings, no exclusivity, and no commitment. for ten years that arrangement was great, except dan’s hopelessly in love with his best friend and he can’t keep doing this. not when phil doesn’t love him back.

pretend you’re mine (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan and Phil have been casually hooking up every uni holiday and break for the past year, but Phil's home for the whole summer now and things feel a little different for Dan.

share you like an island (ao3) - JudeAraya

Summary: When Phil gets picked up by a beautiful boy at a uni party, he's expecting a one night stand.

What he doesn't expect is to keep falling into bed with the boy with a reputation. Who turns out to also be a youtuber. Who somehow becomes his best friend. It's not complicated.

Until it kinda is.

throw our hands overboard (ao3) - dizzy, waveydnp

Summary: prompt: Can I request some modern day fwb? Totally up to you guys how you interpret that :)

You won’t get tomorrow, take now (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: It's never been anything more than this. They met as most people do, friend of a friend at a crowded bar, and got on right away, but falling into bed had been a mere sidebar to their friendship. They're good friends, the best. And sure, they're pretty good at this too after so long, but it's the friendship that keeps Dan coming back.

Okay, maybe it's also the orgasms too.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

LMAOO per your post abt tiktok I had no idea that was a thing but I’ve never seen any acc that would be you come up as a suggested account (I rarely get them anyways but when I do it’s usually like some acquaintance of sorts) so from my end youre safe o7

PLEASSEEEE “is it home wrecking if the homes already wrecked” GOODBYE

Niko having to put up with aikus shenanigans is so funny he’s taking one for the team

REAL miraverse reo>>> peregrine getting revamped into “reo is friendless” LOL

UAHAHAHA NO DW YOURE GOOD!! I have not once seen an acc that resembles anything close to what I would imagine to be you (??) no Miras or any accounts with names similar to Mira either I just see the original tiktok and whoever posted it like usual YOURE SAFE but AWEESJHS IM HONORED LMAO but there’s definitely nothing immediate that shows indicating you sent it or anything so I think you should be all good!! Even after looking through all the links you’ve shown in our convo too I’ve never had anything pop up and I doom scroll there soooo Also lowk I can’t remember how many you’ve linked outside of our convo but tbh idk how many people are reading through like the 100k words worth of convo we have so for the TikTok’s you’ve shown me you’re also probably fine

LMAOO I think I need to go recalibrate my fyp and get some yona on there omg

OAEU TIME LETS GOOOO but FR im sure inspo will strike for the req soon! Maybe you’ll get ideas while you’re writing oaeu LOL

LMAOOOO FRR THEYRE SO FUNNY I think its esp funny to think abt bc bllk is canonically live-streamed so imagine in their free time egos like “ok so bc that money grabbing tanuki needs more money yall gotta be streamers and gamers now get on YouTube”

NO FRRR I LAUGHED SO HARD I was trying to figure out wtf that was in zantetsus aura the fucking bullet train has me crying Nagi looking gorgeous and I always appreciate those villainous Karasu panels!!

- Karasu anon

OKAY YAYYY it’s only happened a couple of times for me with people on tumblr like once an anon sent a vid to me and i got the “___ shared a video with you” so i guess they might have seen me?? and just earlier i sent a video to one of my mutuals in an ask and i got a notification saying “___ viewed the video you sent” so they also might have seen my acct which ugh but at least it’s only two people 😰

LMAOO karasu is just helping natural processes along he’s not actually doing anything problematic 😩 the relationship already sucked it’s not like he’s being a bad person (not that aiku cares he’s just excited to pass along his wisdom because nobody but niko even listens to him and niko has 0 interest in getting girls so he’s alone on that front until karasu comes up to him) okay i think the aiku and niko dynamic in the oaeu might kind of be like miraverse tabiori?? like goofy siblings/slight father son vibes…i think it’s what makes the most sense for them HAHAH

half of the high school era in peregrine is just reo being like pleaseee be my friend pleaseeee like in the next chapter which i haven’t finished yet it’s revealed that reo is straight up trying to buy reader’s friendship LMAOAOA he does eventually win her over obviously but it’s not via monetary means 😭 but fr ironically (considering how she doesn’t want to be close to reo because her parents want her to marry him) reo is like the longest consistent relationship reader has in her entire life FJSKDJSH they’re like lowkey also soulmates…the funniest thing is if reader’s parents hadn’t pushed her to marry him to the point that she despised the idea they actually might’ve gotten together 😓 self sabotage on the l/n parents’ part at its finest

HELP OKAY GOOD my irl name is not actually mira but it’s uncommon enough that i wanted to come up w a pseudonym for online in case anyone i know irl found this acct…it’s pretty similar to mira so if it had come up you def would’ve been like “oh yeah this is her” JDFJSJ so that’s good 🙂‍↕️ and OFCCC i’ve become insta friends w a couple of my mutuals from tumblr once i’ve known them for a while 🤩 my rule is if we’ve been talking for enough that i feel like we would be friends irl you can get the irl socials HAHA…also very true…i think outside of our convos i posted that snuffy edit once?? and then the aforementioned tt that i sent to my mutual but otherwise yeah i don’t link too many if it’s not just between us

HAHA if you ever need shinah edits let me know i probably have every single one saved i will happily send my favs (i also have some of the other characters but shinah def has the most because…well it’s SHINAH)

i’ve been like lying on my couch all day doing nothing so no writing done unfortunately but trust i will be back at it and something should be out reasonably soon!! whether it’s a req or oaeu i cannot say but something for sure 🤩

LMAOO the bllkers (except reo because he’s rich 🤑) have to pick up side gigs in order to fund the project…barou starts a cleaning service…yuki and chigiri get into modeling…nagi becomes a streamer but people only follow because he’s hot so he has to do insane fan service in every stream…hiori starts a reaction video youtube channel and gets rin to guest star and they go mega viral because rin consistently says out of pocket bs plus they’re both pretty (rin accidentally gets sae cancelled for a week by saying smth crazy before revealing he’s related to sae)…otoya convinces karasu to become a scammer/find sugar mommies with him…it would be insane LMAOAOAO

I WAS SO CONFUSED AT FIRST AND THEN I WAS LIKE OMFG IT’S A TRAIN!! ig it fits w his backstory where he learned he was fast because he always missed the train???? LMAOAO honestly he’s such an unreal character i love him 😭 and yesss epinagi nagi is always STUNNING but they rlly put the focus on karasu and kiyora this time around like kiyora looked ADORABLE this chapter and karasu looks like a genuine villain but in a fine way 🤩 i can’t help but admit that idgaf abt himizu though like i kinda find him weird (the whole tongue thing is just. uh??? interesting??) and i’m worried abt what he’s foreshadowing w chigiri 😰

[denimbex1986]

'All of Us Strangers may not have been everybody’s favorite gay movie of last year; however, to me, it was one of the saddest for sure. There’s a sense of dread throughout the film, and although it’s somewhat predictable, it doesn’t make the end any less poignant. I suppose one could debate that this film makes it seem as though growing up gay is every bit as horrifying as losing one’s parents. Personally, I think the experiences could be equally isolating. Adam isn’t lonely because he doesn’t have a partner; he’s isolated in his thoughts of the past, of the time he spent with his parents, happy or not. Honestly, when I started this movie, I felt I didn’t have the emotional intellect (yeah, I don’t think that’s a real thing, but you get what I mean?) to grasp the true depth of All of Us Strangers. Yes, it’s aesthetically stunning, and the dialogue is subtle but hilarious and equally hard-hitting, but in the bigger picture, it’s not something that I can really relate to. Don’t get me wrong, a movie doesn’t have to be relatable to be fantastic; in fact, we’re usually escaping reality through movies; however, this seems to be a very personal film, and I felt underprepared to watch it.

What’s reassuring, though, is Andrew Scott’s incredible performance as Adam. Yes, this man deserved a seat at the best actor nominee table, but I digress. In an interview, he said that as an actor, one needs to feel like a child and let go of all inhibitions to do their job because their work is play. I honestly saw this translate through this character perfectly. Adam is a forty-something-year-old man who lives alone in a building with almost no other residents, and I guess this is the bit that most young people can relate to. Isolation in an urban setting. Adam’s loneliness stems from his own behavior, and he knows it. He never tries to befriend his one neighbor, and the day the guy shows up at his house, he shuts the door in his face, but somehow it makes sense, no? Why should my door be open to others when they’re not really open for me? Okay, I’m not a literary genius, so what I’m trying to say is that the reason Adam doesn’t let Harry in is because he’s just failing to understand himself, and it’s just too much work even spending a little bit of time with someone else.

What Adam is searching for is not answers; he’s only looking for his parents to reply. Yes, Adam never got over his parents’ deaths. He was too young and asleep, and they died without saying goodbye. This is important because we get there at the end of All of Us Strangers. The reason he’s revisiting them is not because he wants to address everything he didn’t get to with them as a child, but because he never got to say goodbye. You see, if Adam had simply seen his parents before they died, maybe said he loved them, then he may have never wanted to revisit them in such a manner. He wouldn’t have been alone, because he would’ve given that space in his heart to someone who deserved his love. The reason he revisits the difficult moments with them is because it would simply help him get the closure he needs around their deaths. I guess this is why it isn’t a coincidence that Adam starts to visit his parents just after meeting Harry. Yes, he’s meant to be writing a script inspired by his father, but he’s also trying to make room for Harry because there’s definitely a part of him that doesn’t want to be alone forever.

I suppose it’s Adam’s wishful thinking that takes over then, because honestly, who doesn’t want to tell their parents how they’ve grown up? You know, for most, there is a joy in simply seeing your child become an adult, and that’s exactly what we’ve realized with Adam and his parents. Yes, he’s gay; it’s something they can’t really understand because they’re stuck in the 80s, but he’s also a scriptwriter who lives in London, as they’d have imagined.

Of course, what his parents can’t understand is why he’s so alone. What’s got him so stuck? In Adam’s head, he believes his parents need closure too, which is why they’re able to talk to him right now. Otherwise, he’d surely have seen them as aged up, no? Adam is trying to deal with his shame too. While the most hurtful part of the film is watching Adam say goodbye to his parents, it’s also how much has changed over the years, but somehow the seclusion remains the same. What I mean by this is, I suppose, Adam’s experiences could’ve been the same as Harry’s. In his dream sequence, Adam gets a warm hug from his father and reassurance from his mother, despite her not knowing how to react (this was quite the scene, really). When he tells them he’s gay, however, it’s highly probable they could’ve disowned him and cast him out to the periphery like Harry’s parents did. All Adam really wants is to move on, and the only way he can do that is by having a happy ending with his family.

So, would it have been any different if Adam was a straight man? In all honesty, I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to take away from his experiences as a gay man growing up in the 80s, but what I mean is that he’d still be trying to communicate to his parents the things that he might’ve thought would disappoint them. Despite getting it all out of the way, the only way for Adam to “move on” is to actually say goodbye. He protects his parents by telling them that their deaths were quick and painless because, right now, he’s the adult in the equation. He’s got 30-something years of more experience, and he’s also older than his parents were at the time they died. Something that’s just as heartbreaking on its own. I guess what I’m trying to say is that none of this can really help Adam feel less alone. What’s worse is that Harry is actually dead, and the worst part is watching Adam try to find companionship in their relationship when, in the end, you realize he was never there. I suppose imagination is a person’s best friend because, as a scriptwriter, it’s Adam’s creativity that helps him deal with his sadness for real. Maybe it’s right when they say work is your best distraction.

What I love about All of Us Strangers is how subjective it is, and what I might’ve seen as loneliness, someone else may see as liberation. This isn’t really a conclusive essay; it’s just a collection of my thoughts on this melancholic character who I feel for and understand despite our many differences.'

[softceleste]

thank you for responding to my previous ask. you eased my mind a lot because we evidently have similar feelings about this. i dropped a lot people last year but i’ll be honest that with everyone else it was easy. when it comes to her, it isn’t easy. it has been a decade for me too. the story in the screenshot you linked is what set me on this train of thought in the first place. i saw a screenshot of it for the first time last month and devastated doesn’t even begin to cover how i felt. it doesn’t help that i know how horrible the person the post was shared from is.

thank you for bringing up the point about the lack of support for trans people. i did notice that but i thought it was just in my head. i didn’t know about her interactions with vocal transphobes until just now and i’m deeply hurt about that fact. i am trans and knowing that there’s a very real possibility someone i loved and supported for so long believes that my existence is some sort of aberration is just.. i don’t think i can even bear to think about it right now

Of course, love! But yeah honestly I get it, like when you follow someone's career for so long, watching / giffing literally everything they're in - with how parasocial relationships are sometimes, it genuinely feels like having to say goodbye to a friend. Like... god I got into Kat like right after a near successful suicide attempt, and giffing her has brought so much joy to me in periods of my life when I was at my absolute lowest, and I think a part of me will always still be a bit grateful for that, you know? But yeah... yeah, no that IG story and noticing that trend I mentioned in my last post were personally outside my comfort zone and personal limits. And tbh I know she's really close to the guy who played a werewolf on a very popular children's show from the 2000s about wizards (...I'm trying to keep this out of celebs searches to avoid distressing their fans okay, I think everyone knows who I'm on about though, I hope) and he's always been an extremely vocal zionist, I unfollowed him years ago because of it - and he's not the only questionable friend, and I get a huge part of that is "Hollywood politics" but... I dunno, her taste in friends definitely is... not who'd I pick to associate with if you asked me to pick a list of people from Hollywood to associate with. And like looking at this as a person who's never really been able to have friends with people who's values misalign that much from mine I do find it hard to disassociate friends behaviors from someone, personally. I know a lot of people who are able to do that, it's just not a skill I personally possess, so knowing her friends politics does make me uneasy. That's just a personal limit, you know? It wasn't easy to drop her, and I've definitely had really weird emotions about it, so I get it. I'm sorry you're going through it too, anon

And yeah, like I don't know if she's still doing it because I don't follow her on Twitter anymore (I definitely hope she isn't - I'd love the news she stopped tbh) but she was liking/supporting the woman who wrote a certain set of children books very often, none of her explicitly transphobic tweets from what I saw personally, but I can't imagine that's it's possible to not know her political views by now. And she's like extremely close to a certain dc actor who also is the voice of a beloved Disney character from 2010, like "calls him whenever she has issues and needs advice" close we know is very transphonic and republican leaning in general, etc etc etc like... I obviously want to think/hope for the best because she's always been vocally supportive of gay rights, but there are a lot of terfs who are pro-gay rights and anti-trans ones so it was hard to not be like "oh I don't like this pattern" personally, you know? The most trans-positive thing I've seen (I had this linked to me by a fan of hers after posting that ask), is this tweet. But yeah, my personal experience was noticing that trend - I'd love to be wrong and just have missed stuff, but that's just my experience and I think as a trans person myself that I have a right to feel uncomfortable with the trend, that's all I'm saying.

But also another general reminder to everyone reading this - please don't send her fans anon hate, or any messages about this for that matter. Like seriously, I'm not cool with being mean to fans of people whatsoever, and I don't think anyone who follows her is a bad person or anything (like a lot of my friends still are kat fans and they're all great people). I know you didn't do it, but someone who saw my answer did, and if they also need to talk about their feelings right now (they must be intense if you're sending hate), my anon is open to them as well to hash them out productively (and I think my dms are too, but if they're not please lemme know and I can open them fast <3). Like I'm not making any hard accusations, I don't have any solid evidence, it's all just... observations, you know? Take everything I'm saying about her tonight as speculation based off my gut instincts and what I've personally witnessed (unless it's like a screenshot or a linked tweet) because that's literally what it is.

[gukyi]

love me or we both go down | kth

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

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

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

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

Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The doors open. 

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

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

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

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

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

There can be no sneering here. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, finally.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the place is nice, right?”

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

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

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

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

“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 

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

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

“I mean…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s our plan for tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You resist the urge to scoff. 

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

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

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

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

“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, a camera flashes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your grandmother.”

Your mouth shuts. 

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

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

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

You freeze in your tracks. The will?

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

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

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

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“But—”

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

She hangs up. 

Well. 

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

At least the feeling is mutual. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 

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

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

“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 

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

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

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

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

Fair enough. 

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

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

“Deal.”

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

Like right now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you respond. 

“You look nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just life. 

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

And that makes you happy. 

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You fall asleep instantly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He wasn’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 

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

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

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

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

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

“There,” he says, a moment too late. 

“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until—

“Y/N? You still up here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grin. 

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

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

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

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

“That sounds nice,” you force out. 

“Okay. Your usual?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at him skeptically. 

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“Maybe a couple of years ago.”

You narrow your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s your husband.

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

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

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

Tomorrow will be better.

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s an art studio. 

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

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

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

Who knew he loved it so much? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”

“Didn’t we both agree on that?”

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

“The fine print of what?”

“That deal we made.”

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

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

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

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

“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 

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

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

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

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

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

But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 

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

Who’s to say you can’t learn more?

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

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

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

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

Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”

The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bingo.”

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

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

Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 

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

“A museum curator.”

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

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

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

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

Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 

“Bathroom.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”

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

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

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

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

“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 

Taehyung grins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”

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

“About what?”

“Anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did. Don’t you remember?”

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

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

Of him saying—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And closer. 

And a little closer. 

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

Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“Us.”

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

And he understands that now, things are different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something that makes you want more. 

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

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

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 

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

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

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

“Tell me something,” he demands. 

“What?” 

“A fact. Something I don’t know.”

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

It’s enough for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Open up for me," he orders.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck's sake."

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

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

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

You both are. 

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

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

Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 

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

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

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

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

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

You want him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.

"I’m grateful, too."

"Huh?"

"I’m grateful for us, too."

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

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

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

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

A late morning call, then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 

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

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

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

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

Well, that makes two of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you whisper back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you even called your parents?” 

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

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

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

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

And then there is nothing. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”

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

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

You peer over. 

It’s Taehyung. 

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

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

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

Oh, God.

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

“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 

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

“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 

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

So why not lie?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why would he lie? 

Why would he do that?

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

So then, why do it at all?

Could it… could it be?

Is it true?

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

Does he really love you back?

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

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

Almost. 

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

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

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

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

Or so he thinks. 

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

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

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

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

And there he is. 

“Wait! Taehyung!”

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

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

You know that everything will be okay. 

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

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

And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I missed this,” you say softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes it all worth it.

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

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

Taehyung swallows.

"Do you?" You tease.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

God, you love this man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Faintly, you realize. 

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

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

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

Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.

It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.

You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.

Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.

You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 

Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.

Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.

“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 

“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 

Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”

“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”

“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”

“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 

“And you are mine,” you murmur.

As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 

“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 

He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”

And so it was. 

don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!

[alwaysmarveling]

Laryngitis

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Nat’s a protective girlfriend and you may or may not be sick

A/N: I somehow just realized that since yesterday was Monday, by my unofficial posting schedule, I was supposed to post something yesterday. Sorry for missing it, but I hope you guys enjoy this :)

The annoying beeping of the alarm filled the pitch-black room. Not fully awake, you realized Natasha didn’t have to be waking up this early, so you shot up to turn off the clock before it could wake her up. Just as you were fiddling with the buttons, a groan from beside you told you that you were too late.

“D’you have to go already?” your girlfriend asked, her voice husky and slurred. You whispered back to her in an effort to not wake her up completely.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for waking you, Natty. Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to whisper, babe. We both know I’m not going back to sleep.” You let out a sigh, rubbing your eyes slowly to pull yourself into consciousness. She was right; Natasha was a light sleeper, and once she was up, she was up. “Don’t worry about it, dorogaya. Means I can do your hair for you.” That brought a small smile to your face. Not only was Natasha amazing at doing your hair, but it was always an intimate moment between the two of you that both of you loved. As long as Natasha wasn’t away, she made it a point to do your hair for you, even if you two were in an argument with each other.

A small cough brought you back to the present moment. You weren’t sure what it was, but you just weren’t feeling it today. You thought it was the sleep at first, but it was never this hard to wake up, and it wasn’t like you did anything particularly exhausting the day before. Shaking out your arms, you dismissed the thought and slid off of the bed.

“I’m going to go get ready first.” Both you and the redhead froze at your voice.

“Are you okay, detka?” You leaned over the mattress to gently rub at the deep crease between her brows, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I must just have something stuck in my throat.” The spy chuckled at your response, but you could still sense an uneasiness in her.

“Go drink some water. Does your throat hurt or anything?”

“I’m fine, Nat.” She simply hummed, watching as you shuffled into the bathroom. You may or may not have told your girlfriend a little lie, but so what if your throat hurt? You’d be fine in less than an hour. You didn’t want to worry her over nothing.

When you were finished in the bathroom, the lights in the room were on, and Natasha was now sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed.

“Come sit.” She tapped the small footstool in front of her with her foot before returning to her position. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked again as you joined her.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. You really don’t want me to go on this mission, huh?” you teased. Your face contorted at the end as you tried to hold in a cough, and you still sounded like a frog. Still, you tried to play it cool, hoping Nat was still buying your previous excuse. 

“Well of course I don’t want my girl to leave me.” You could practically feel your heart jump out of your chest when she called you hers, but you simply winked at her.

“I shouldn’t be gone long, half a week at most,”  you informed her, sitting down on the stool.

“I’d miss you even if you were gone for five minutes,” Nat murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your forehead. “Oh my god, Y/N. You are not going on this mission, you liar. You have a fever!” As if she planned it, you shivered as a chill ran through your body.

“Nat, I promise you, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “You sound like a zombie. You look like a zombie too.”

“I- hey!” You didn’t mean to yell as loudly as you did, and it threw you off a little bit, causing you to release a series of dry coughs. Lips pursed, the redhead rubbed your back in an effort to soothe you.

“You are definitely sick, Y/N. Get back in bed. I’ll tell Fury.”

“Natty, you’re not going to-” Before you could finish, she was already at the bedside table, phone to her ear. Damn your girlfriend and her spy skills.

“Hey, Fury, Y/N’s sick with a fever and probably laryngitis. You’re going to have to get someone else to cover the mission.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. You hated missing work. You’d never been one to take a vacation or a day off; for the whole time you’d been working under SHIELD, you only took a sick day once after you’d had to get surgery due to a mission gone slightly wrong. Even then, it took some serious persuasion to get you to do so. You were too busy stressing about missing the mission to listen to the rest of your girlfriend’s conversation with Fury until you heard her calling your name.

“Y/N. Babe? Y/N? Hello?” Looking up from your hands, you met her concerned gaze.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Fury’s asking how you’re feeling.”

“Good enough to go on the mission?” The redhead rolled her eyes.

“Try again. He’s worried about you.” She held out the phone to you. “Fury, you’re on speaker.”

“L/N, how’s the throat? Try tea with lemon and honey, it’ll help.”

“I’m fine, old man,” you rolled your eyes.

“Wow, you really are sick.” Your lips parted slightly, and Nat couldn’t help but chuckle at the indignance written across your face. “Get some rest, L/N. Don’t worry about the mission, it shouldn’t be hard to get someone to cover for you.”

“But-”

“No ‘but’s. L/N, your powers are literally based on your voice. This is a minor mission, but if this goes south, we need someone who can defend themselves to their full capacity. You are way too valuable to be lost just because you got sick. Listen to your girlfriend. Get better soon. That’s an order. Goodbye, L/N. Thanks for calling, Romanoff.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wait, Fur-” The man hung up before you got the chance to finish. “This is all your fault.” You crossed your arms, turning away from the former assassin.

“Y/N,” Natasha sighed. “It’s just one mission. I promise everything’ll be okay.” She knew well of your anxiety regarding missing work considering she was the one who had convinced you to take the sick day after your surgery. While she hated making you upset, she knew—and if you were being honest, you did too—that you couldn’t go on a mission like this.

“What if I fall behind? Or what if Fury decides he doesn’t need me anymore? Or what if-” Your voice got weaker the more you spoke, partially because of your nerves but also partially due to your illness.

“Babe, as much as I’d love to talk this out with you, you shouldn’t be talking. Your throat is already destroyed, so for now I’m going to need you to trust me and just listen.” She took your hand and gently guided you back to the bed, purposefully avoiding the glare you were giving her.

“You won’t fall behind because this mission isn’t important. Fury said so himself. I promise it won’t affect your performance at work. And Fury will never decide he doesn’t need you anymore because he literally sees you as his kid.”

“He-” Natasha pressed a finger to your lips before you could finish.

“No talking. Yes, he does see you as his kid whether you want to admit it or not. He will also never replace you because you’re one of the best agents he has. He asked you to join the Avengers for a reason, printsessa. He’s not going to fire you just because you get laryngitis one time, even if you fall behind because of it.” Your girlfriend bent down slightly to meet your eyes, which were still directed at the floor. “You’re doing amazing, Y/N. You do so much for so many different people, and now it’s your turn to let people return the favor. Okay?” You stared at her for a second, your face so blank even Natasha couldn’t read it. When you finally nodded, the redhead let out a small breath of relief before giving you a small smile and a peck on the forehead.

“You stay here. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” You reached your arms to her, fingers grasping, when she began to walk away. Letting out a light laugh, she turned around and held one of your hands. “I’ll be back as fast as I can, malyshka. Why don’t you pick out something for us to watch?” She let go of you after one last kiss to the back of your hand and left before you could stop her again.

---

Natasha shuffled through the cabinets as the water was heating up in the kettle.

“Morning, Wan, starting breakfast?” the spy greeted the witch.

“Yeah, you’re up early. Y/N’s mission?”

“Actually, she’s sick,” Natasha grimaced. “Fury’s going to reassign the mission.” Wanda let out a whistle as she placed various ingredients on the kitchen counter.

“I bet she didn’t take that well?”

“Nope. But she can barely speak, and even when she can, she can’t speak more than a sentence or two without stopping to cough, which means…” She trailed off as she inspected a medicine bottle.

“No powers.” Satisfied, Natasha put the rest of the bottles away and returned to the now whistling kettle.

“Exactly.”

“Huh, the kid who can kill people just by speaking with a certain tone gets taken down by a virus.” The former assassin chuckled as she squeezed lemon juice into a steaming cup of tea.

“Don’t let her hear that.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it.” Wanda’s laugh rang through the room.

“Is she hungry? I can make some soup after breakfast if she’s up for it.”

“That would be great,” Natasha smiled gratefully, “Thank you so much.”

“Of co- Your girlfriend is calling for you.” Red flashed as Natasha’s head whipped up, confused.

“Are you sure? I didn’t hear anything. I told her not to-”

“No, no, not verbally. She’s just thinking it. Very loudly.” Nat sighed, but the corners of her lips curled upwards at your antics.

“Is there anything the queen needs?”

“Just you. And no medicine.” The spy shook her head.

“Tell her,” she started, tossing a spoon into the sink, “that I’m on the way. With medicine.”

“You got it,” Wanda promised with a wink. “Warning you now, though, her majesty won’t be happy.”

---

Sure enough, Wanda was right. You had already opened your mouth to complain about the medicine in Nat’s hands, but one stern look from her had you zipping your lips closed in a second.

“You take this, in a couple of days you can talk again.” Your girlfriend didn’t need to be able to read minds to understand what you were thinking; your face said everything. “Yes, a couple of days,” she ordered firmly, handing you two pills. “Take them. Here’s your tea, and I also got you a bottle of water.” You gave her a grateful smile before swallowing the pills, grimacing as they scratched their way down your very sore throat.

“Good girl,” Natasha murmured. “Now,” she started with a peck to your cheek, “Do you need anything else? Blankets? A cool towel? Oh, Wanda’s making you soup, by the way, but I could get you a popsicle or something if you want?” You shook your head at all of her requests. Instead, you patted the spot on the bed next to you.

“Alright,” the redhead smiled. “What’d you pick for us to watch?” You pointed to the screen in front of you. “American Idol. You really aren’t making things easier for yourself, huh?” Nevertheless, she slid in next to you, sitting cross legged, and pulled you into her, your head resting on her lap with the laptop placed in front of you. 

“Maybe I can pull an Ursula and use one of their voices for the mission,” you whispered.

“I swear to god, Y/N, if you don’t shut up,” the spy laughed. A smile on your face, you hit play and snuggled yourself further into her.

As Nat ran her fingers up and down the length of your arm, you couldn’t help but relax into her. Sure, your throat wasn’t better by any means, and you had some lingering anxiety about the mission. But if you had to miss a mission, this was sure as heck the best way to do it, with Natasha right by your side.

[spilledkauffie]

SFW (Fluff) Alphabet · Zemo

List made by @caitlinpotter || Sorry I’ve been so absent this week; I promise I have content for the weekend!

*xFemale!Reader || NSFW Alphabet ❤︎

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Quite affectionate— he loves giving you affection, and it’s all across the board with him. It can be from soft sweet touches to actual affectionate actions done for you.

Full HC list on this soon! ✧

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

Literally the best— for starters he’s super loyal, because if you’re truly friends with him he’s not giving up on you easily. Your friendship wasn’t exactly easy to get to, mostly thanks to his profession, but once you’re in, you’re in. 

100% defensive of you— anyone tries to come at you in any negative way, he’s got a comeback to absolutely destroy them. Also, having someone of his reputation around can be beneficial for when you want to be left alone, as he seems to intimidate people a little bit.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

When you cuddle him— he loves it when you just come over without saying a word and cuddle up next to him, he doesn’t ask questions he just lets you get as close and be as cute as you want. Sometimes he has to chuckle at just how physically needy you are, like absolutely burying your face against his back, nuzzling softly, with your arms around him in an attempt to get his attention / also loves waking up to you cuddled right up against him.

When he cuddles you— he can just tell when you need it, so often times he reaches out for your hands with a “come on, come here,” naturally, you give in, he pulls you into a hug, slightly rocking you back and forth. It’s a lot of soft touches and feathery kisses.

↳ if you’re lying on your stomach, he’ll lie down with you. Resting his head on the small of your back, brushing his fingers across or down your back, sometimes he places soft kisses against your skin, which always gets your attention. You either: 1). turn on to your side, he hooks and arm between you legs and uses your thigh as a pillow. 2). you lay on your back, letting him rest against your stomach, gradually he makes his way up to give the corner of your lips a kiss.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they around the house?)

For sure— it’s not long before you’re practically living with him. Now that you’re in his life, he wants you around for everyday life; what is his very soon becomes yours. You picked up on it when he started to suggest “why don’t you stay here... tonight? And maybe tomorrow?” more often.

Around the house— he’s quite casual. You never feel expected to get up at a certain hour (regardless that he gets up early), you’re never expected to be downstairs and dressed immediately, it’s more of a calm atmosphere that lets you wake up. You don’t constantly have to be around each other, he knows space is important. Sometimes it’s just doing your own things in the same room in silence together. Despite the status of Baron, he behaves like your average individual around the house, he likes to do things himself.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It’s actually really hard for him— it’d have to be in person though, as hard as it would be. For starters it would take a lot for him to actually call it over, he’s extremely patient and an expert at working things out with you, because he truly doesn’t want to it end.

↳ a most likely situation for ending it would be that he can’t guarantee your safety due to whatever he’s getting himself into, and he’d rather make the call to let you go than to have no choice in truly losing you because of his own dangerous choices. 

He’d leave it open though— sitting across from him, you stay quiet after both coming to the conclusion that it’s over. However, he leaves you with: “if you ever need anything, in any way. . .” you nod, a few tears falling as you stay silent, staring forward. Coming over to you, he softly wipes a tear away, kissing your temple, whispering, “I’m sorry,” before walking away.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’s definitely committed in the relationship— ring or no ring, if you’re in a relationship with him he’s all in, not the type of person to just have a fling here and there. It’s total dedication to you, and you only. 

Considering he’s done it once before—there’s a lot of past memories surrounding the topic of marriage for him, which is why there’s probably going to be a good amount of time together before any proposal. He just wants to be sure, plus there needs to be time to talk everything out before rushing into anything. 

↳ when the time does come though, it’s a mad romantic, but personal proposal, with the most gorgeous ring in the world.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically— he’s super soft with you. He never wants to startle you, it’s always what you’re comfortable with. Touches are more than just flirtatious with him, they can be comforting, encouraging, supporting, etc. (He also knows what you’re not comfortable with as well so he can avoid it)

Emotionally— it’s a little more complicated. With your emotions he’s super gentle and understanding, always. He listens to anything and everything you say or just need to vent. He doesn’t interrupt and only gives his thoughts when you ask for them. He never intends to hurt you feeling either, he’s very careful. However, with his own emotions however, he’s a little harsher. He doesn’t really like to show any of the more complicated emotions. And doesn’t always give himself much grace for feeling certain ways, he tends to repress.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? What are their hugs like?)

Only from you— he doesn’t really like other people getting friendly, unless he really really knows them, even then it’s different. He doesn’t get physical with other people unless it’s a “move— you’re in my way,” situation, but that doesn’t count as friendly.

Extremely handsy— he love to bring his arms around you, so he can completely hold you whilst hugging you. Whether it’s around your waist, shoulders, hips, etc., just depends how the hug is done. He also tends to stroke his hands when hugging you, up and down your arms, back, sides, thighs, wherever.

↳ he likes to nuzzle against your neck, during front or back hugs, with the bridge of his nose, or his lips. He also gives tender kisses while he has you so close. Not kisses with other intentions, just sweet loving kisses that make you smile. Sometimes he brings his hand under your jaw, to tilt your head just enough so he can kiss your lips.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes time, but it’s not forever— when he knows he will tell you with no hesitation. He doesn’t debate telling you or worry about it being too bold, nope, he means it when he says it and he says it when he means it.

He also says it in different ways— it’s not always “those three words,” through his gestures and other phrases you hear I love you a lot.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Not if it’s someone you’ve known before him— he’s not intimidated by pervious friendships that predate your relationship. 

When people flirt with you knowing he’s with you— he gets real jealous, real fast. Given that fancy occasions are kind of a routine thing, you’re around a lot of other people who want to flirt with you, and often do pretty openly. It’s rare that Zemo ever leaves your side, which helps, but that doesn’t stop people from trying, which he hates. Typically he just tries to keep you physically near, so he can be there to prevent it.

↳ one time he left to get you a drink and an old rival of his found you. Trying to be polite you remained in conversation, feeling fine until he caressed your shoulder. Almost immediately Zemo was back at your side. Handing you your drink civilly, with a “here you are, Darling,” he then glared at the man standing across from you. Not so subtly, Zemo slipped his arm around you, literally pushing off the unwanted hand and replacing it with his own. You leaned into him more, attempting to make a point, as Zemo continued giving a half smile half glare.

He doesn’t do much about it in aftermath— he’ll calmly admit to you that he was jealous, but he also gets you with “I understand why people want to talk, flirt, and be with you,” he shrugs, “you’re beautiful, they’d have to be blind not to see that, but yes,” he tilts his head, “but. . . I have to admit, there’s part of me that wants that only to myself, of course.” It makes you smile how calm he tries to keep himself, despite the frustration. It’s usually you who actually does anything after these type of conversations though.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Lightly running fingers up your neck— when he’s kissing you, he traces his fingers slowly up the side of your neck, until he reaches your jaw, there he strokes his thumb across your jawline.

Holding your hand— sometimes when you’re flirting with him, you like to get as close as possible without touching, he knows the game and subtly slips his fingers between yours, then he goes in for the kiss. He can feel your smile and your hands hold his tighter as you give in.

Hand kisses— he gives these whenever, wherever, and however often he can. It’s a cute way of showing affection in a very classy way. He uses them as hello / goodbye greetings, although typically you require more than a kiss on the hand for saying goodbye.

Soft, but turns into more— it starts out as a super sweet gentle kiss, but slowly you can feel it deepen, to which you usually break the kiss with a smile, “Helmut,” you laugh, holding onto his arms around you, as he moves his mouth to your neck, “I don’t have time for this,” you try to stop giggling.

As for himself— he loves the taste of you lips, so every time you kiss him, he adores it. However, there is a sweet spot at the base of his neck, that when you kiss there makes him stop mid sentence.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Fantastic— he’s actually perfect with kids. Maybe it’s past experience that plays into it, but he’s so sweet with kids. When they accidentally run into him, he gives a “be careful, little one,” before stepping out of their way. Something you’ve noticed is that he talks to them like they’re little adults, which is adorable.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Staying in bed— one way or another one of you convinces the other to stay in bed. Sometimes it’s him asking you to stay just a little bit longer, when you can’t, he understands and watches you get dressed, asking what your day looks like. / Other times it’s you compelling him that it’d be more fun to stay and cuddle with you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Relaxing— it’s a calm, safe, and warm environment when you can both just relax from the day in each other’s arms. Sometimes you’ll lean back against him and ask what he’s reading, when he says Machiavelli, you smile and get cozy, “perfect, that sends me right off,” you close your eyes as he begins to read aloud.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s not an open book— there’s a lot of history with him, some good, but also some bad. Even before the whole campaign to end Super Soldiers, he has a bit of a shady past, with his own military exploits. Some he’s made amends with, others he hasn’t.

Depends how much you already know— if you already know a good amount about him, 1). he’ll ask to even the playing field, so he can know you equally as well 2). he doesn’t mind you asking questions since you’re already aware of his general history.

Surface level stuff— interests, fascinations, favourite this-or-thats, he’s pretty open about though! He doesn’t mind sharing or talking about any of the casual topics about himself, it’s just the more personal stuff that takes time.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s extremely patient— The only way you would know is by a facial expression. His looks give him away more than his words or attitude does.  

↳ if you’re not getting along, he’s the first to apologise, and it’s not an “I’m sorry” end of conversation apology. It’s a well thought out apology, because you don’t argue about the little stuff, it’d have to be something big to get you at odds for a while.

Silently frustrated— even if he gets mad, he keeps his cool in circumstances. Never raises his voice, his tone just gets a little deeper.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers everything— seriously, he does not forget anything. You’re his number one priority, so of course he pays attention. Even if there’s something you just mention at random, he’ll remember it. Say you mention how you used to have/like/want something, there’s a good chance it’s showing up again.

He also asks— he’s genuinely curious about you and wants to know as much as he can about the person he’s in love with. So, he loves childhood stories, random details, and little quirks about you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The moment you said those three words— when you know everything about him, his past, his lifestyle, and you still decided to say I love you. And you still standing by it even though it meant waiting for him.

He also loves remembering the first time he saw you— he says he could never forget it, it was like a divine beauty just walked in.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

Veryyy— he’s extremely protective of you, but not overbearing, he’s good a being distantly or subtly protective. In other words in public / at events / new places he keeps an eye on you, even if it’s from a distance.

He will literally do anything— there’s no limit with how far he’d go to protect you from anything or anyone, even if he knows he’s outmatched, he’ll find a way.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates— he puts a lot of effort into them, mainly trying to make it a perfect yet comfortable setting. So if you like quiet restaurants, that’s what he’ll find. If you like outdoors, he’ll find a stunning walkthrough garden, etc.

Celebrations— it’s always extravagant and grand and beautiful whenever you’re celebrating anything with him. He wants you to feel like the royalty he believes you are.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

How easy criminal life is for him lol— you love the fact that he surprised you with a real classic art piece for your birthday, but the exact details on how he got it isn’t as pretty. You frequently ask if there’s any other way he could make a living.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not vain— despite the fancy and classy lifestyle, he’s never thought himself as an individual of great beauty. He likes beautiful things, which is why he says he was so attracted to you, but personally he doesn’t think much of himself.

He cares though— it’s not like he doesn’t care whatsoever, which is why he’ll usually ask you “what do you think of this?” in regards to fashion. He wants to look nice for you, and he knows how to do that. But he’s not the guy to check himself in the mirror, or constantly fret about his looks.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He doesn’t need a relationship— but that’s what makes your so special. Since he’s not the type to just constantly need someone to feel complete, the fact that he does need you make you and your relationship all the more important to him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He can crash literally anywhere— you’ve found him on the couch, on the floor, in a chair, and you have no idea why it’s a habit of his, but it is! And you have definitely addressed him about it before.

↳ walking in to his study, you found him asleep on the floor between the couch and coffee table, shaking your head and crouching down, you woke him up. Looking up to you, you asked, “Helmut, why are you sleeping on the floor?” / “Hmm- wh- I’m not on the floor, you’re on the floor,” he states sitting up, brining you into a hug with him.

[theepisceswriter]

Doing dirty things w/ AOT characters while you two most definitely shouldn’t be (Reiner, Erwin, Zeke, Levi)

A/N: my faithful stoned thot anon, shoutout to you for this request and I hope this was something like you were imagining in your mind. I know you only asked for simple mundane tasks, but I wanted to be extra and include more situations. I can’t wait to work on the other ones you sent me !

Synopsis: Basically, you’re trying to do a task that requires a lot of your attention or you to be silent (like on the phone, out to eat with friends, etc), but your partner really really needs some attention in that moment. I suck at descriptions sorry 🥴 If you see any typos no u didn’t, but really I was too lazy to proofread.

TW: Modern AU, hehe naughtiness obviously, choking for Zeke, also embarrassment, fembodied!reader, 18+, MINORS DNI!

REINER BRAUN: Movie night with friends

Reiner just couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. The first sight of you in your silky pajama shorts and this man’s thoughts were going crazy watching you parade around the house as you grabbed the snacks and needed materials for tonight’s movie night with some of you guys’ friends. Luckily the fabric of his pajama pants were loose enough to hide the growing boner in his pants, but of course he made it known to you by approaching you from behind and pressing it against your ass so you could feel just how hard you had made him simply by looking pretty.

His hands began to roam all over your body, stealing a grope of your breast, and his mouth attached to your neck, taking breaks in between kisses to tell you how good you look and how much you riled him up. As good as it all felt, Pieck and Porco were only right down the street, so you took his hands off of your body with promises of making him feel better later in the night once they had left. You’re lucky he doesn’t like quickies like that and prefers to take his time with you or else he would’ve taken you right there up against that counter chile.

Pieck and Porco finally arrive and what was supposed only be one movie turned into two, and now here you were snuggled up under Reiner on a completely different couch than Porco and Pieck while they flipped through a catalogue on the television looking for a new movie to start up; Reiner growing more and more impatient as the minutes went on. The constant caressing on your thigh and pinches he would give your nipples every now and then giving that away completely.

You got tired of fighting his advances off a long time ago and part of you wanted him to continue, to see how far he would actually go, because truth is you wanted him just as much as he wanted you right now. You were just a lot better at hiding it.

It was halfway through the movie that he finally decides to make a drastic move, moving you to a position where your back was pressed against his chest and tapping your hips, signifying for you to raise them so he could pull your shorts down to your thighs.

“Sit still for the rest of the night and I’ll reward us both so good once they leave.” He’d whisper in your ear. The only warning you’d get before he’s slowly easing his cock into you careful not to stretch you out too much, but the wetness that accumulated between your legs all night long makes it so you swallow him completely. A shocked moan leaving both of your lips, but luckily being silenced by the action scene on the tv; both Porco and Pieck too into it to even pay attention to the two of you.

So desperately you wanted to swirl your hips up against you, create any sort of friction to make his cock hit that spot in your soft velvety walls that left you clenching and squealing and him growling into your ears, but instead you had to be as still as possible while cockwarming him. Not being too careful would surely draw the attention of the other two, but Reiner still tested the waters every now and then by shifting every so often on purpose to cause movement.

He was even able to draw a weird moan out of you once that had Porco and Pieck looking over at you like you were crazy, questioning if you were okay which you had no choice but to reply yes to. Barely able to get that out because the feeling of his cock throbbing inside of you mixed with your walls clenching around him was a whole sensation on its own.

“Careful, you don’t want them knowing that I’m balls deep in you right now would you? Or would a slut like you enjoy that; them knowing that your pussy is swallowing my cock whole right now?”

Reiner is degrading during sex sometimes and you cannot tell me otherwise #sorrynotsorry.

And when he said the two of you would be staying like this the whole night until they left he absolutely meant it. After that little moaning incident he surprisingly acted normal the whole night, like the two of you weren’t even doing what you were doing underneath the cover. Knowing how torturous it must be for him to deny you the skin to skin contact and hip bucking you needed from him.

ERWIN SMITH: In a restaurant surrounded by friends

You never thought Erwin to be the bold type to try something out in public with you. The closest thing the two of you have done to it was a quick quickie in his office once with you pressed against the window of the skyscraper building it was located in, but even then you could feel the anxiety in his muscles as he pressed himself up against you; scared of an assistant or important business partner to come barging in on the two of you.

So you can imagine the shock on your face when you were spending the night out with friends at a restaurant, preoccupied with listening to Levi’s horror stories at his tea shop when you felt the ghostly tingles of Erwin’s fingers trail up on your thigh. A hand on your knee was nothing, something he had done plenty of times as a small sign of PDA, but this was different. You looked over to him with a questioned look in your eyes, but his kept his eyes straight and responded to you physically by pressing his thumb against the cloth that separated his finger from your clit.

Almost immediately you choked on the spit going down your throat which garnered the attention from everyone else at the table asking if you were alright. Everyone but Erwin turned to you and if they were truly paying attention that would’ve been a major sign that something was up, but your quick, “I’m okay!” Response had them off your back in an instance and only edged Erwin on more, fingers pushing your panties to the side as he continued on.

The food in front of you hadn’t been touched in around 10 mins since you found yourself full before you were able to finish it all, but you had to pick up your fork and abruptly take a bite of of it when you felt Erwin’s long fingers plunge into you with ease from your wetness and curl up into you; the metal between your teeth the best attempt you had at covering up your moans.

You swear you saw a slight smirk on his lips when you glanced over at him because he’s a menace to society like that.

His hands moved so languidly inside of you hitting all the right spots and pressing down on the sensitive parts of you that always guaranteed a reaction out of you. While also simultaneously still rubbing your clit with his thumb in wide circles, enjoying every twist and turn he saw your face do as you tried desperately to hold your moans in.

At one point, to mess with you even more, he leaned in and whispered into your ear, “You think all these people know that your cunt is clenching around my fingers about to cum?” No one else heard him but you, but it definitely drew the attention of Levi who threw a confused look your way. To which you could only reply to with a smile and awkward chuckle that almost broke out into a moan because Erwin thought it would be a good idea to speed up his fingers.

You didn’t care how obvious it looked anymore, your teeth found comfort in the skin of his arm to stifle moans and your fingers had a death grip on his thighs as your orgasm hit you like a wave. Leaving you with nothing to do but grind your hips down into his fingers slowly to not draw attention as you rode out his orgasm. His fingers were covered in your slick as he pulled them off of you and instead of being discreet and wiping them on his pants or even your dress, he picked up a small dessert off his plate and turned to you. Feeding it to you and sticking his fingers a little too far in your mouth so you can clean your own orgasm off of your fingers. His thumb going between his own lips once he took his fingers out of your mouth and sucking on it gently. “That was delicious.” He would state, never breaking eye contact with you.

The tent in his dressy slacks gave away all the excitement he was feeling on the inside as he watched you squirm in your seat while he did something so naughty to you in public. He couldn’t take it anymore, placing his share of the bill on the table and excusing the both of you for the night before going around and saying your goodbyes. No one seemed to notice anything, except for when you went to Levi to give him a goodbye hug and he whispered in your ear, “Next time get a room or go to the bathroom you freaks.” You totally weren’t embarrassed and didn’t leave the restaurant with warm cheeks.

ZEKE JAEGER: During a zoom meeting

First off, sexy time stuff aside, Zeke is a menace to society and always interrupting your zooms. Whether it’s him barging into the room and asking a question like “Did you eat the last bagel?” While you’re unmuted or walking behind you with his shirt off while you have you camera on. You will never know a peaceful smooth sailing zoom meeting with Zeke in the house.

But you were immune to it at this point and he was a little too immune and comfortable with messing with you while you were in them. But hey, you couldn’t blame him! You looked all too good to him while you laid in the bed on your stomach in one of his band tees and nothing else while you payed attention to the boring lecture happening on your laptop.

Once he realized that your camera was off his hands were on you immediately, rubbing up and down your legs to signify to you that he was in a mood while he made his way on the bed behind you.

“You can’t just be walking around the house all sexy like this and expect me not to pounce on you.”

You want to say something snarky and remarkable back, but a distraction from your boring ass class is exactly what you needed. So instead of protesting this time around, you arched your back so your ass was nearly up to his face to which he replied with playfully slapping you on it and even taking a nibble of your cheek. And because you’re a menace to society you run your own hand along your clothed slit and moving your panties out of the way to put it on display for him.

“I could really use some distracting right now.” Say less, this man’s mouth is on your clit in an instant, devouring you like you’re his first meal of the day. Your hips instinctively grinding down against his tongue as he moved his focus to sucking on your clit at a pace that left you ass up face down on the bed moaning like a pornstar. Never mind his beard scraping against your thighs and possibly leaving a rash there later for you to deal with. It adds a nice touch of pain to your pleasure.

So caught up into the pleasure warming up your lower stomach, you don’t even notice your teacher calling on you until Zeke reaches out and taps on the keyboard to move your attention back to the zoom in front of you, his mouth still working magic on your clit; a mixture of his spit and your juices trailing down his chin. The site is enough to make you cum but you’re forced to divert your eyes away from it as you unmute yourself, quickly asking her to repeat the question, going back on mute before they can hear the slurping noises that Zeke obnoxiously made louder once you unmuted.

“I’m going to kill you.” “Pay attention to school sweetheart before I stop completely. Education comes first!” What an asshole, but despite the joking tone of his voice you know he’d stop in a heartbeat just to mess with you and you’re too close to an orgasm for him to up and quit like that.

From the way your hips move sloppily against his face he can tell that you’re close, but once the teacher repeats the question at you to answer he pulls away completely seemingly to cut you some slack. But, surprise, he only moves his mouth away to replace it with his cock, sliding into you with ease and thrusting into you at a steady pace that has you moan loudly into the microphone on accident.

His face lights up with a smug expression and smile, the embarrassment on your cheeks making him pick up his pace and turning him on in a way. “Now your whole class is going to know that you were getting fucked by me. Too busy getting your hole pounded to even pay attention to the lesion. What a dirty little slut, they’re probably talking about you right now as we speak.”

You’re at a loss of words, not only because of embarrassment but because you can barely form a sentence from the way Zeke is pounding into you so ruthlessly from behind. His hand even coming forward and grabbing at your neck to balance himself against the bed while on his knees.

Your morning with him is far from over and the embarrassment from this zoom is going to last with you forever.

LEVI ACKERMAN:  On an important phone call

I know Levi Ackerman with his hands around our necks really get us going and the thought of dom him fucking us from behind while on the phone with our boss  makes us feel butterflies in our stomachs....BUT the thought of sub Levi whimpering and having to put his phone on mute while discussing business with someone because you have his cock halfway down your throat, is an equally as hot image.

He would glance at you from over his phone and let out a silent “What are you doing?” And make a faint shooing away motion in the air to make you leave, but he doesn’t want you to leave. You know that and he knows that which is why when you went to unbuckle his pants he gladly let you, hips even raising slightly so you can pull them down enough to let his cock and balls free from the restraints of his underwear and pants.

It was such a sudden and rash decision on your end that he wasn’t even hard at all when you pulled him out, but one lick from the base of his cock to the tip of it is enough to make it stand tall. Warranting a deep intake of air that has the person on the other end of the line asking if he was okay. Between the embarrassment from nearly being caught and the pleasure exploding in his lower half from how good you’re working your mouth, his cheeks are flushed with a bright pink color.

“Do you want me to stop” “no, no, keep going, please.”

He’s so needy and close to that sweet release already, the excitement from doing something so naughty while the person on the other end of the phone has no idea has his senses in an overload. Even the broken ‘Y-Yes’s that have to leave his lips every time he unmutes his phone strikes an excited nerve in him that he didn’t know he had; wishing he could moan as freely as he could to show off how good you make him feel, but he bites back those moans with his teeth. Instead opting for a number of praises when he can.

“You look so pretty on your knees in front of me with your cock in my mouth.” “You make me feel so so good, you don’t even know how good I feel right now because of you.” “Keep that up and I’m going to cum.”

Eyes closing shut and breath picking up the closer he gets. His hand even coming down to move your head at a pace that feels godly around his cock.

Usually you would tease and pull away altogether when he did this, reminding him that he couldn’t be too needy, but you would be lying if you said this didn’t have just as much of affect on him as it did on you, thighs clenching together with each bob of your head and moan that left his lips that he couldn’t quite bite back.

He’s an incoherent mess at the end, lips not even able to move together to form sentences and his hips bucking up wildly into your throat to release his load down your throat. His hips still bucking up slightly even after he came because it just felt that good. His mind was so clouded with pleasure that he didn’t even notice the person on the phone had hung up a long time ago, something he would have to deal with later but that proved helpful right now.

“I hope you don’t think that this was it.” Oops, now you awoke the dominant side of Levi’s switch personality and he’s definitely not letting you off the hook for this one.

[pepper-up-potion]

Humor me (George Weasley x fem!reader)

Summary: Reader can't stand George Weasley but over time she realizes he might be a good addition to her life.

Warnings: crying, angst, let me know if I missed any.

Word count: 5.5k (this is my longest fic so far!)

A/n: I still don't know how to feel about this. A part of me likes it and a part of me feels it could be better. This is my first enemies to lovers and it was very very fun.

———

“Thanks (y/n)! I can always count on you, you’re a lifesaver.” Shouts Neville as he runs down the hall and towards his next class. (Y/n) had helped him put healing salve and a bandage on his cut hand.

“Anytime!” She smiles as she watches him stumble away. She pulls out her book and sits back down on the windowsill.

“Humour me.” Says a foreign voice.

She looks up frowning. “I’m sorry?” She asks politely.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself?” Asks the red-haired boy.

“What are you talking about? I’m doing that right now.” She points to her book: Charms for first years

“That’s weird because I could’ve sworn you were in my charms class and not in first year.” He argues, shoving his hand in his pockets and clicking his tongue.

“Well I’m helping out a first-year next period but I enjoy doing that so I am doing something for myself.” She explains, slightly irritated.

“You can’t be serious?” He waits but she offers no response. She only lifts her nose at him. “That is not taking time for yourself. That’s preparing to help someone else.”

Her nostrils flare as she abruptly snaps her books shut. She shoves it into her bag before swinging it over her shoulder. She steps towards George. She suddenly realizes how tall he is. She gulps before placing a hand on her hip and pointing a finger at him.

“Listen here, helping other people is a very noble thing and if I wish to spend my free time doing that, I should not have to explain myself.”

“Ah, so you admit that you spend your free time helping other people rather than doing something for yourself?”

George smirks at her and she wants to slap it off his stupid pretty face.

“Wha-? No.” She huffs. “I don’t know why I’m arguing this with someone I hardly know but what I mean to say is that yes, it’s demanding and tedious but it’s also rewarding and the most gratifying thing I could ever do, so I believe I am doing something for myself. You just don’t get it because you spend all your time playing stupid pranks on everyone.” She snaps before pulling the strap of her bag further onto her shoulder and walking away. Normally she would feel bad for saying something like that to someone but for some reason she felt George could take it.

“So when will I see you again?” George shouts down the hall.

“I have to go!” She shouts back.

“I’ll see you in class then. Or maybe in the halls again.” He continues.

“Goodbye!” She turns the corner and speeds as far away from George as possible, steam practically fuming from her ears.

———

“Hey (y/n) could I just copy your homework before class? I didn’t have time to do it what with quidditch practice and all.” Asks Angelina.

(Y/n) nods and pulls out her answers, stands and walks to her seat, passing them to her. As (y/n) walks back she sees George slide into the spot next to hers. She grunts before stomping to her seat.

“ ‘Morning.” He sings, kicking his feet on the desk. She rolls her eyes and pushes his feet off, offering no other greeting. Now this is saying something, (y/n) always greets everybody. He laughs a little before turning to his bag and pulling out his textbook.

“Ark, couldn’t you go sit somewhere else?” She asks with a look of disgust.

George shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I could, but I’d like to think we’d make a good team and I’d like to test that theory.” He waves a pointed index as if to emphasize his point.

She shudders at the thought of having to work with him. It’s very likely they will, it often happens in potions class. (Y/n) is at the top of the class and she doubts Snape would have any objection to George working with her since she could easily bring up his grade. She sighs as Snape walks in and starts the lecture portion of the class.

“You will have the remaining hour to make your hiccoughing solution. Work with the person next to you.” With a wave of his arms everyone starts opening their textbook and discussing the potion.

To her surprise, George is really good at potions. Logically it makes sense because him and Fred are always creating new things but she never really thought it transferable to school. She watches, a little stunned as George quickly and skillfully goes through the steps of the potion. For the first time since she can last remember, she sits back instead of running the group. George occasionally asks her to cut something or extract oil from a root. She doesn’t argue, it’s sort of nice being told what to do rather than making all the decisions. She doesn’t tell him and refuses to think more of it because that’s not her proper role. She’s the leader, she’s the helper. Maybe this once she’ll let it slide, give herself a break.

Once the bell rings they gather their books and George finally speaks of other things than the potion.

“Relaxing isn’t it?” She tilts her head in confusion. “Not having to take care of others for once.” He continues.

Oh no he didn’t. He just ruined it. He took her small guilty moment of peace and crushed it. “You hardly let me do anything! What was I supposed to do? Fight you?”

George shrugs. “You could’ve.” He winks at her and she lets out an angry moan.

“Ark!” She turns on her heels and walks out of the class without another word.

“Same time next week?” She hears him shout but she’s already in the hallway and simply ignores him.

———

“You know you could give that to a house-elf and they could take care of that for you.” Says George as he leans into the door frame and watches (y/n) clean the chalkboard in the defence against the dark arts classroom.

“Well I don’t need to be taken care of, I’m perfectly capable of doing things on my own thank you very much” she spits back at him.

George and her are acquaintances at best. It’s been a month since they’ve first spoken to each other. Since then he seems to always be around her. Sitting next to her in class, offering to help her with her books in the hall. She’s never asked for him to be there or to share his opinion. Yet he’s there and very verbal about his thoughts.

He steps into the class and sits in the front row. He bounces his leg under the desk and leans back into the chair. He looks nervous but she can tell he’s trying to cover it up.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Waiting for Umbridge.” He points up the stairs at the closed door of her office. “I got detention.” He adds.

“What did you do?” She stops cleaning the board and sets the cleaning potion on the desk next to George.

“Gave a ton tongue toffee to Filch. His tongue was four feet long when Umbridge found him.” He chuckles to himself, remembering Umbridge’s reaction.

For the first time ever, (y/n) laughs in front of George. She tries to hold it in but it slips past her. George first looks surprised but soon he’s laughing with her.

“Glad to see someone is standing up to them.” She shakes her head. “Umbridge really is a horrible person. I can't believe all the mean things she’s doing to the students.” Her face is sad. George can see how much she cares for the other students.

“Well, would you look at that? We actually agree on something.” He crosses his arms and smirks at her. “Does this mean we're friends?” He asks.

She barks out a loud laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself Weasley.” She grabs her bag and walks out without another word. She can feel George’s gaze following her until she steps into the hall and out of sight. She wonders why her cheeks feel so hot suddenly.

———

(Y/n) is tutoring Seamus Finnigan in the library. They’re whispering over a book when George spots them. He smiles and beelines for their table.

“Mind if I sit here.” He asks, holding onto the chair in front of them. They both look up at him. Seamus smiles and reaches out his hand for a fist bump. (Y/n) rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out.

“Yeah mate, it’s no problem.” Says Seamus.

“No, you may not. It is very much a problem.” She hisses. Seamus looks at her, shocked by the bitterness in her voice.

“Blimey (y/n), I’ve never heard you so angry before.” He stuns.

She laughs nervously. He’s right, she normally doesn’t talk to people like that. The only exception to the rule is George. She grits her teeth and pastes a smile before looking at George.

“Of course you can sit here George. Any friend of Seamus is a friend of mine.” She somehow manages to sound sweet and somewhat sincere. George raises his eyebrows in surprise. He quickly recollects himself and takes a seat before she changes her mind.

“So, going back to charms. Can you tell me the definition of the substantive charm?” She asks Seamus.

“How long have you been doing this?” George interrupts.

Seamus grabs (y/n)’s arm and reads her watch. He whistles dramatically. “Crickey, it’s been an hour and fifteen minutes. I think we should call it a day.” He grabs his book and bag and gets up. “Thanks again (y/n). See you next week.” And with that, he was off.

(Y/n)’s jaw clenches as she looks from the now empty chair to George.

“Why?” She groans. “Why would you do that?”

“This is great. He got his help and you get a break. What do you say we go down to the dungeon and pull a prank on Malfoy?” He beams at her, pleased with his idea.

She gets the sudden urge to scream. Who does he think he is? Coming into her life and ruining everything. It is quite likely that Seamus won't do as well on the quiz as if he had stayed for the extra fifteen minutes she had planned and now she has to go deal with Hermione who wanted to rant about Ron. Something which she had very much been putting off. She takes a long, deep breath before looking at George again. The urge to scream has faded with the breath but the look on his face makes her see red.

“Could you please, please, find someone else to annoy. I don’t have time for this and you’re really starting to test my patients.” She pleads.

George’s face drops, evidently displeased by her response. He stands from his chair and puts his bag strap over his shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll leave.” He surrenders. There is a pause like he’s debating between leaving or adding another word. To (y/n)’s dissatisfaction, he continues to speak. “Anytime you need someone who doesn’t need help tutoring or homework to copy or healing salve, you know where to find me.”

She laughs loudly making everyone turn to look at her. “Pff yeah okay.” She dismisses, and with that George is turning away and walking out of the library.

She hates the sad feeling that settles in her chest. It’s like it’s telling her she wants him to stay. She rolls her eyes and swears to herself, gathering her things and heading to Hermione’s aid.

No matter how hard she tries not to, she spends the rest of the day thinking about George. His stupid face keeps popping into her head. What does he know? She likes when people ask for help. She is happy being the person people can turn to. She can’t understand what George thinks is wrong with that. Maybe he’s just a horrible person. It’s much easier to tell herself than to think there could be something wrong with her.

———

A week later (y/n) is knocking on Susan Bones’ door and stepping in before hearing a welcome.

“Merlin! I can’t stand him!” She shouts once in her best friend’s dorm room. Susan looks up from her book with her brows knitted.

“Who?” She asks while shutting her book and sitting up.

“George!” She states looking at Susan like she should have known. She shows no sign of further understanding (y/n)’s dilemma.

“Why?” She asks hesitantly. (Y/n) stomps to Susan’s bed and plops onto it.

“First he’s everywhere meddling into my life like it’s his business and now, radio silence.” She adds nothing more, leaving Susan even more confused.

“And that’s a problem because…”

(Y/n) sits up and flails her arms in the air. “Well, why did he make me question myself like that and then just vanish?” She exclaims exasperated.

Susan gapes, further confused. “But, didn’t you ask him to leave you alone?”

“Ark! That’s not the point!” She gets up and stomps out of the room. Susan blinks and looks around the room stunned even though there is no one to share the confusion with.

A moment later (y/n) is back into the room. “What on earth did he mean by if ever you want someone who doesn’t need help, you know where to find me?” She puts her hands on her hips and waits for her friend’s answer. Susan’s eyes light up and she smiles slightly. Now it’s (y/n)’s turn to look confused.

“He said that?” Asks Susan with a hopeful tone.

“Wha- I- Well yes he did but-.” She stops. Susan has left her stunned, she’s too confused to debate.

Susan’s smile grows wider. “Have you heard about Dombledors army?” She asks.

(Y/n) scrunches her nose. “No. What does that have to do with this?”

“Well I think you should come to our next meeting.” Her smile is mischievous, (y/n) hates it.

———-

The next day Susan takes (y/n) to the seventh floor. She stops in the middle of the hall and passes back and forth in front of a stone wall. Soon a door appears in front of them and (y/n) smiles, amazed by the castle's secrets.

Susan is the first to walk in waving at a few people near the door. Once (y/n) follows through the room goes silent. Harry finally walks up to them, hand stretched out.

“Welcome to the army.” He says confidently. She looks to Susan who gives her an encouraging nod. She finally accepts Harry’s hand with a small yet nervous smile.

As she looks around the room she feels a pair of eyes on her. She turns to find George looking at her with a neutral face. She lets out a little screech and turns back to Susan.

“You didn’t tell me he was going to be here!” (Y/n) whispers with a panicked tone.

“Well if I did you wouldn’t have come.” She states simply before walking off to talk with one of the other girls.

“Alright everyone. I think we’ll get started.” Announces Harry. Everyone goes quiet and they quickly form a half-circle around him. She sees a tall man settle next to her in her peripheral. She can just make out a flash of red hair. Her heart starts beating at an unruly pace.

“Today’s focus is on stunning. Nigel and I are going to do a demonstration so watch closely.” Everyone moves to the sides of the room whispering excitedly.

(Y/n) claps her hand over her mouth as she watches Harry fly backwards after being stunned by Nigel. She lets out a relieved sigh when Harry sits back up.

“I’d like to see you do that.” Whispers George into her ear. She jumps a little as his hot breath on her neck sends a shiver down her spine.

She turns to look at him. She has no snarky answer. She just gapes at him in surprise.

“I’d like to see you stand up for yourself for once.” He adds. She huffs in shock.

“I-“ She starts but Harry cuts her off. “Who wants to go next?” He asks.

“(Y/n) and I will go.” Announces George. She freezes as everyone eyes them curiously.

“Maybe someone else would like to go before us.” She tries.

“Nonsense, go on (y/n).” Says Harry enthusiastically. “No one here will judge you.” He adds thinking that’s her concern.

It’s not that she didn’t want to defend herself, it’s just she felt sort of bad stunning someone. She wasn’t sure she had it in her to do it. She walks to one end of the room and George to the other. He stretches out his arm, wand at the ready. She looks at Susan with a pleading look. Susan gives her an impatient nod and (y/n) reluctantly lifts her wand.

Neither of them moves, the room is completely silent. Soon there are whispers in the crowd. George is looking at (y/n) with a challenging eye. She gulps, trying to convince herself to stun him. She thinks that maybe if she does nothing he’ll grow impatient and stun her. That way she wouldn’t have to do it and he wouldn’t get the satisfaction of getting what he really wants.

“Right, any second now. Go ahead.” Says Harry slowly.

Nothing happens. George slumps out of his stans and raises his arms in the air. “Oh c’mon (y/n) stun me!” He exclaims.

She looks at the crowd as they all stare back at her. She suddenly feels weak in the knees. She begins to sweat nervously and looks at Susan. She looks a little concerned, maybe thinking this wasn’t as good an idea as she first thought. She still gives her a weak encouraging smile and a little thumbs up. (Y/n) looks back at George who has his arms stretched out taunting her.

“Oh for once in your life be mean!” He shouts. The words echo in the room.

“I can be plenty mean!” She disputes. “Last week, I ate Susan’s cookie.” She adds, puffing her chest.

George tries to hold back his smile. She hears a couple giggles in the crowd.

“That is not mean.” His tone is adoring and she hates it.

“It was her favourite brand.” She adds trying to make it sound more horrific. She’s the only one in the room with a serious face. Everyone else is smiling enjoying the tense exchange between the two.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “If it’s anything, it’s cute.” He says with a wink. There it is. There’s the final straw. She can feel her blood boil. Everyone holds their breath as they watch her face contort into an angry pout. George smiles wide thinking the pout is possibly the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

She lets out an angry grunt. “It is not cute! You wanna see cute? Watch this.” She flicks her wand and shouts: “Stupify!” The spell sends George across the room. Everyone exclaims as he hits the ground with a thud.

“Excellent! Really good (y/n)!” Exclaims Harry.

Across the room George is whooping. He runs over to her with arms wide open. His smile is contagious, she can’t stop hers from pulling at her cheeks. Laughs spill from her lips as he wraps her tightly into his arms. Fred helps George throw her over their shoulders. Everyone gathers around them and cheers. (Y/n) feels her cheeks go hot suddenly, very aware of George’s hand on her thigh keeping her in place. She looks at everyone’s happy smiles and she can't help but join in. She hates to admit it but George might have been right. Standing up for yourself can feel good.

———

It’s a Wednesday evening. Most people were already back in their common rooms. (Y/n) was walking back from the library, having finished another tutoring session with Zacharias Smith. The halls are practically deserted when she suddenly hears quiet sobs further away. She speeds her pace and turns the corner finally spotting a little boy crying quietly while holding his hand. Two older boys are kneeling next to him. Her breath hitches when she spots him. George hasn’t talked to her since their duel. She would sometimes catch his eye across the classroom or in the dining hall but this is the first time she’s run into him. George is rubbing circles on the boy's upper back as he whispers sweet comforting phrases to the crying boy. As she steps closer she recognizes the boy to be Michael. She has helped him countless times after he has gotten detention from Umbridge.

Looking at George now she questions how she once called him a horrible person. She sighs accepting she might have been too quick to judge. She steps between the Weasleys and kneels down at Micheal’s feet so they're at eye level. She looks through her big bag before pulling out some gauze and a small glass jar of healing salve. Micheal gives her his hand, remembering the drill. She quietly applies the salve and wraps his hand. She listens to George explain to Micheal how soon the pain will subside. She notices he never stops rubbing circles on the boy's back. There’s something reassuring about the movement and she’s not even the one receiving it.

Micheal takes a deep breath, recollecting himself. He looks between George and (y/n) before smiling mischievously.

“Thanks mom, dad.” He tips his head to each before getting up and walking to his dorm. George’s hand stays frozen in the air even if there’s no longer a back to rub. (Y/n) stops screwing the lid to her salve as she looks at the now empty seat. They both jump when Fred starts howling with laughter. His laughs echo down the hall as he doubles over himself, holding his aching stomach. He wipes at his eyes and sighs loudly.

“Good one kid.” He shouts though Michael is much too far to hear it. “Ah! That’s golden.” He adds before he walks off in the same direction as Micheal did before.

George and (y/n) remain frozen. (Y/n)’s face is pale and George's cheeks are tomato red. (Y/n) is the first to move, she finishes screwing on the lid and shoving it into her bag. She’s in a hurry to get out of this very awkward situation. She shoots a look at George who moved from the floor and onto the bench. He’s leaning back onto the wall with his arms crossed. He smirks when she meets his eyes.

“We would have some cute kids.” His tone is teasing but there’s still something soft and affectionate in the statement.

“Oh honestly George, get a grip.” She rolls her eyes and walks away quickly. It takes all her willpower to hold in her smile until her back is turned to George. He’s not wrong she thinks to herself.

——-

She knocks lightly on the dorm room door. She can hear George’s loud laugh on the other side. She hopes he won’t be mad at her for interrupting the fun. Lee opens the door and the smile on his face is quickly replaced by a look of surprise.

“(Y/n)?” He stuns. The laughter in the room stops abruptly. She hears shuffling and soon George is peaking his head over Lee’s shoulder.

Lee quickly moves out of the way and George looks at her with a concerned look.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” He asks looking around to make sure there is no one else listening.

“I’m sorry to bother you, I know you were having fun there.” She feels pretty stupid now that she’s actually standing in front of him. George shakes his head vigorously to tell her it’s no problem.

“I just-“ she runs a hand through her hair. “I sort of need someone who doesn’t need help with tutoring or homework or healing salve.” The offer is months old. They haven’t even talked in weeks. She never thought she’d actually take him up on it but she didn’t know who else to turn to.

His shoulders drop and a natural smile spreads across his face. “Well then I’m your guy.” He closes the door behind him and guides her down the stairs and into the common room. It’s late, most students are in bed. George asks the few left if they could give them some privacy and they all retreat to their rooms.

“What’s up?” He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

She sighs and walks over to the big red couch. She sits down and buries her head into her hands. “I- I’m so tired George.” Her voice is laced with despair. “There’s just so much to do and I’m trying, I really am but I just don't know if I have it in me.”

George sits next to her, so close that their knees touch. “What are all the things you need to do?” He asks softly.

“I have to run the potions club and make that banner for the Ancient Runes Club. I have to tutor Hannah and Seamus and Zacharias and so many other people. I have to make sure Lavender is okay and that Luna found her socks. I have to listen to Hermione and Ginny talk about their boy problems and then give them advice. I have to write back to my parents and help them with their problems. I have to help McGonagall with the rat problem because no one else wants to. Madame Pomfrey said I could intern with her but that means I have to spend ten hours a week in the hospital wing. I told professor Sprout I’d help her extract pus from Bubotuber. I promised Colin I would look out for Dennis and I haven't even seen him in weeks.” It all spills out. For the first time ever she is totally transparent about her problems. “And then I have to worry about my own studies and try and keep my grades up and there’s the stress of Dumbledore’s army, what if we get caught?” She’s panting by the end suddenly feeling much lighter.

“Well maybe you could say no to a couple people. I’m sure the Ancient Runes Club can wait for a sign, Mcgonagall can take care of the rats on her own. You can say no you know.” He places a hand on her thigh and looks deep into her eyes.

“But- I can’t George! I can't say no. Those people are counting on me. What if the clubs fall apart or Seamus’ grades drop or Luna never finds her socks.” Her face is panicked.

“Let me help you.” He says it so softly. She feels a dry lump in her throat. Her jaw suddenly hurts and she feels tears well up in her eyes.

“I don’t want your help George!” She jumps off the couch and onto her feet. George’s hand slips off her thigh and onto the couch. It looks limp and sad without her leg to hold it. “I don’t need you, I was doing perfectly fine before you came around and I’ll be fine without you moving forward.” There’s a pause. “ I didn’t come here for you to save the day.” There it is. She doesn’t want to appear weak. She thinks asking for help makes her weak.

George stands up, towering over her. “Fine. If that’s how you feel then I’ll leave. I will go for good and you won’t have to worry about me meddling in your life anymore. I just want you to know that I’m offering to help because I can see how hard this is for you and I think you deserve more than what you’ve granted yourself.” George steps forward closing the gap. “I think you deserve to be taken care of for a change.” They’re inches away from each other. His face suddenly turns soft as he looks into her tear-filled eyes.

There’s a silent pause. She looks into George’s eyes and she sees the honesty, the care, the love. George is there for her when no one else is. He’s right, she is having a hard time and he’s the one offering the help. No one else. All the other people she has sworn would help her, be there for her, aren’t there. But how could they have known? She never tells them how hard it is, always caring for others. She never asks for their help. It’s not that those people don’t care. She just never opens up to them. She never permits them to be anything else than people she could help. All she ever did was give and give. She never believed she should do anything else. George is the first person who wants her to take, not give. It finally clicks. Everything that George has been trying to make her see is crystal clear now.

A tear spills from down her cheek and she feels her knees go weak. She cups her hand over her mouth trying to hold in a sob. She takes a step back shaking her head in denial. George’s face remains soft but there’s concern in his eyes.

“Hey.” He tilts his head, maintaining eye contact as she tries to look away. “It’s okay.” He pulls her towards his chest and she welcomes it. She falls into his arms as more tears fall down her cheeks. “Let it out.” He says.

With that permission (y/n) cries. She cries like never before. Loud sobs slip from her lips as her body shakes in George’s arms. She cries about all the sad secrets people have confided in her. She cries for all the days she sacrificed for others. She cries for all the “I love that you never say no”. She cries for all the grades she sacrificed to keep others high. She lets out years of pent-up tears, of hurt.

He rubs small circles on her upper back and remains quiet. She was right, there relay is something reassuring about those little circles. She cries for an hour and George never moves, never speaks, never stops her.

Finally, she sniffles her last tear and steps out of George’s arms. He reluctantly lets her go but takes her hand in his. She pulls it away to wipe at her eyes.

“Thank you.” Her voice is so delicate she would be embarrassed if it weren’t George in front of her. She laughs suddenly and George looks shocked. She soon starts crying of laughter and George gapes unsure of what to do.

“Are you okay?” He asks confused.

“I just, I hate you.” She laughs again. George looks stunned. He takes a step away from her and opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off.

“Or so I thought. You have bugged me every day for months yet there’s no one I want here more than you.” George takes a tentative step forward. The words seem to give him confidence. “As crazy as it sounds I’ve had some of the best times talking with you because I actually said what I wanted to say. You can handle me better than anyone else. You challenge me in a way that I absolutely hate but I know why you’re doing it. You’re helping me learn to take care of myself and that’s hard because it’s something I’ve never done before.” She stops for a moment. The look in her eyes changes. First, there’s shock as she realizes. Then there’s a soft and happy glow. “I think I’m falling in love with you George.” She gasps. It’s almost a whisper. She barely wants to admit it.

“Come here.” Is all he says. She doesn’t move. Her brows knit themselves as she searches his face for an explanation. She takes a deep breath. The step towards him feels like a trust fall. He gently pulls her closer by the waist. He presses his forehead to hers. (Y/n) pushes her nose to his, bringing their lips closer to one another. He repeats the movement.

They tease each other a couple more times before George whispers “Can I kiss you?” She nods slowly and whispers a yes. He tips his head so their lips connect. His soft lips send sparks down her spine. George wraps an arm up to her back and pulls her closer quickly deepening the kiss. She wraps her arms around his next and soon her hands tangle into his fiery red hair. It feels like rain after a dry summer, like the cold side of her pillow, like the warm fire after coming in from the cold, it feels like heaven. Nothing has ever felt more right than their lips pressed together and for once, she’s giving in to what she wants.

When George pulls away she finds herself chasing his lips. She pouts a little missing the kiss. George runs a hand over her hair and looks at her adoringly.

“I’m falling for you too (y/n)”

[scripted-downfall]

Love, Need, and Reciprocation

I don’t know how well (or badly) received this is going to be, but I feel the need to comment on that scene from s08e17 “Goodbye Stranger” where Dean breaks Cas out of Naomi’s spell with the whole “I need you” thing.  I know it’s a pretty popularly cited fact that the initial line was “I love you”, and I’ve heard a surprising (to me) number of people lately saying that the latter phrasing would have been better, and I just… don’t agree.  This scene has probably already been analyzed a bunch, so I’m left hoping this isn’t repetitive/annoying; it’s partly a way of composing my own thoughts on the issue.  (To be clear, before I get into it, I very much do ship Destiel.)

Because the thing is.  Obviously, Dean is very, very bad with emotional communication; we know this from the very beginning, what with the “no chick-flick moments” line and all.  But there’s also the fact that I’m willing to bet a lot that he has next to no experience with actual spoken love.  I mean, yeah, maybe Mary said it when she was alive, but that was only four years (at most, since, technically, his memory was bound to be near-nonexistent for at least some of that time).  After she died, John Winchester — whether you side on the hate-him side or on the he-did-his-best side — definitely wasn’t saying it.  Dean’s exchange of endearments with Sam basically consists of the bitch-jerk call-and-response, so I highly doubt there were “I love you”s exchanged there unless things were going really wrong (and that’s Dean’s closest relationship, since his entire life is built around his brother, so the lack of verbally-expressed love in that relationship is telling).  And then, finally, Dean’s romantic pursuits have mostly been the results of dispassionate one-night stands, with three possible exceptions, and most of those lasted under two weeks (judging by his answers to the therapist in “Sam Interrupted.”)

On the other hand, you’ve got “I need you.”  And, to break things down for this the same way I did above, you’ve got the same rough stages.  Before Mary died, he was called upon because Mary needed support to deal with her and John’s fighting.  Once she died, John needed Dean to look after Sam because Sam needed his brother (read: brother, father, mother, etc, etc).  Dean had to go into hunting because there were civilians who needed help.  Hell, Dean’s love language is, in large part, acts of service, principally because responding to being needed has always been an important part of his character.

And, adding on to this by going back to the very-bad-with-emotional-communication thing, Dean never admits weakness if he can help it.  He doesn’t even tell Sam about that stuff most of the time; he needs a ton of pressure for him to even let his “game face” slip.  So to admit to needing someone is basically the most vulnerable Dean Winchester ever gets (with a few very notable, usually end-of-the-world level exceptions… which also brings up the point that the fact that Dean is getting to this level of emotional vulnerability means that something is threatening his world… I’ll leave it there.)

Anyway… I kinda get where people are coming from with confirmation-of-reciprocation-would-be-nice, but I feel like the decision to replace “I love you” with “I need you” was both a lot more in character and a lot more meaningful given the character saying it than the reciprocal would be.

[noperopesaredope]

SvtFoE Rhombulus Rewrite (Pt. 3)

PART 3 MY LOVELY CHIMARAS! (It’s for this thing btw) This post shall be going over my ideas for what would happen in Season 3, and would have a few more changes in comparison to Season 2. I also like how in this season, they actually made me love Rhombulus even more somehow even though we were supposed to be mad at the whole MHC. They really did just set up his character to have a whole arc and then just dropped it, didn’t they? Anyways, I digress. (Warning: Actually long. Like, each episode mentioned is gonna have a few paragraphs dedicated to it)

Season 3:

- While bring young Moon to meet Eclipsa in “Moon the Undaunted”, Rhombulus will be slightly more nervous and caucious about showing Eclipsa to Moon. Moon might ask Rhombulus what Eclipsa is like or what she needs to know before meeting her, and Rhombulus will say that Eclipsa is terrifying or something. 

- He’ll then admit that he doesn’t remember that well because he was only about 100 years old by the time he froze her, but he does remember the rest of the MHC talking about how big a threat she was, so she must be pretty scary.

- This not only gives us an idea of how young Rhombulus is in comparison to the others, but also the fear and jumpiness surrounding Eclipsa despite very little knowledge about her or what her deal is. There’s only a few primary sources, and all are biased.

- When Rhombulus refreezes Eclipsa, he says “phew! That was close! She didn’t do anything evil-y, right?” and Moon responds with “no, no, she was...helpful, actually. She didn’t seem that evil.” Rhombulus says “oh, trust me, she’s definitely evil. Even my gut agrees!” before leading Moon away, who looks back one last time before following him.

- “Rest in Pudding” is going to be pretty important to Rhombulus’ arc, even if he won’t be in it for to long. Due to being the one closest to Lekmet (seeing him as a parental figure, taking care of him, kinda being raised by him, being a close confidant), Rhombulus is clearly one of the most heartbroken by his death.

- In contrast with often being very loud and energetic throughout most of his scenes, in this episode, Rhombulus will be a lot more quiet and spacey than usual, and not at all like his typical self. He’ll also be wearing his hood up, and might not even be there at the beginning.

- The little moment between Rhombulus and Star at the beginning will be a bit different in this rewrite and even more sad. Star will notice that Rhombulus is nowhere to be found. She sneaks out into the hallway and finds Rhombulus curled up under a table and staring at the wall with a blank expression on his face. 

- She gets under the table with him and sits next to him. After a few seconds of silence, Rhombulus quietly says “I never even got to say goodbye,” before bursting into tears. Star offers him a hug, and he accepts. They sit together a bit as Rhombulus cries, and at some point says “I always told him that spell would get him killed someday, I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.” Star pats his head and says “I know,” not exactly sure how to comfort him. 

- Rhombulus wipes his eyes before telling Star that she should probably go back in, and also that she should probably give the can to her dad, since River and Lekmet have been the only people who could eat those things. Star stands up and also asks if he’s coming, but Rhombulus says that he just needs another minute alone. Star tells him to take his time, then heads back in. The scene with the punch bowl then happens.

- Me: *Rereads this part*

Me: *Burst into tears*

I made myself sad, mates

- During “Stanger Danger”, Rhombulus does seem to be helping scan Star not just because of the fear of Eclipsa’s influence, but also out of legitimate concern. This can be shown in him saying things to try and reassure Star that they are here to help and also asking her if she’s sure that Eclipsa didn’t do anything bad to her.

- This is a similar case in “Monster Bash”, where Rhombulus appears both mad and also worried, but also occasionally forgets that he is supposed to be an adult.

- The rewritten scene: Rhombulus walks up to Star, who is sitting outside the Monster Temple with a blanket around her shoulders. “You are gonna be in a ridiculous amount of trouble when the rest of the Commission finds out about this, Star!” Star protests, saying they weren’t doing anything wrong, they were just having a party. Rhombulus fires back with “well we detected a huge surge of magic in the dungeon earlier, so someone must have been doing something they weren’t supposed to!” Star, remembering this, chuckles nervously at this and says “oh, yeah, that...I forgot about that...”

- (Continuation) Rhombulus sighs, exasperated and shouts with frustration “do you even know WHAT this place even IS?!” as he waves his arms around. Star sheepishly says “a fun place to throw parties?” Rhombulus forgets that he’s supposed to be angry and says “I mean, it used to be. Jushtin threw a few banquets here, and Festivia threw a pretty rad rave once...” He then remembers what he’s supposed to be scolding her, and says “BUT IT’S NOT FOR THROWING PARTIES ANYMORE, IT’S-!”

- (Cont.) He cuts himself off and stumbles to find out what to say next. He’s not supposed to say, and he’s not used to being the adult. “Well, it’s, um, actually, I’m not even authorized to tell you!” He then conspicuously whispers to her “that’s how bad it is!”

- (Cont.) Star deadpan asks “you don’t know what it is, do you?” Rhombulus gasps scandelously, and shouts “of course I know! I know more than anyone else what this place is for! It’s-” One of his snake tails cuts him off, and reminds him that he took an oath not to say. Rhombulus then says to Star “you see?! I had to take an oath not to say! That’s how serious it is!”

- (Cont.) Star looks kinda sad and embarrassed, and mutters “I just wanted to throw a party.” This makes Rhombulus feel bad, and he drops the act. “Look, Star,” he says “I know what you’re trying to do. But this kinda stuff isn’t going to help. Maybe do something a bit more contained and...authorized next time.” he pats her on the shoulder. I gotta clean some things up and do crime scene stuff. Stay here.”

- (Cont.) He turns to walk away before stopping and turning back to her again. “And call me if you need anything. I’m always around to talk about stuff.” He then walks off. The rest of the episode plays out the same as the original.

- “Total Eclipsa the Moon” shall be the same as canon.

- “Butterfly Trap” is honestly one of my favorite Rhombulus episodes (despite not being Rhombulus centric) and a very important one in his arc. This episode will also be the kickoff for his arc for the rest of the series. While not much about it will change, it will still be the start of a lot of change for him.

- First, let me just write a small mini-rant about how important this episode was to establishing his character in the OG show.

- This episode shows how Rhombulus has the strongest moral compass among the MHC, which makes sense since his powers involve him imprisoning people for their crimes, and he needs to have a strong sense of justice to do that. Much like a little kid, he has a somewhat black and white view of the world, and judges based on that line of thinking. So Star pointing out the MHC’s hypocricy makes him feel really guilty, and that’s pretty interesting to me. He also doesn’t make any excuses or shift blame, he just accepts his wrongdoing and feels guilty about it.

- IDK, it just showed how he actually follows through when he realizes something is wrong, and despite always acting very sure of himself, he’s the one most willing to admit that he might be wrong. This also seemed to be the start of some growth for him. He started out being quick to judge and overly sure of himself, to admitting that his judgement was wrong and that maybe he and the rest of the MHC should change. Ugh! I just love it!

- But anyways, onto the episode.

- A small, but important moment shall occur right before the trial starts. Because I decided to give him some ADHD energy and because I want to, I gave Rhombulus a few reoccurring stims that will appear throughout the episodes (they are there, I just didn’t mention them). One stim is grabbing onto and stroking his snakes when he’s nervous, similar to someone playing with their hair. The second is pulling his hood over his head when he’s embarrassed or guilty. The final is for when he wants to show someone something, he’ll repeatitively pat someone’s shoulder for their attention while bouncing from one foot to the other.

- He often is shown patting Lekmet’s shoulder for attention, and right before the trial starts, he notices something and is about to pat Lekmet’s shoulder, when he remembers that Lekmet isn’t here anymore, and he gets sad again. This will be important later.

- When the box asks who everyone has a crush on, Rhombulus will not say Queen Moon, because that feels weird. Instead, I think it would be interesting to change his answer to Queen Skywynne, as she was an adult when Rhombulus first met her, and he looked up to her a lot at the time. He’ll get slightly embarrassed, but only for a second.

- Throughout most of the trial, like the rest of the MHC, Rhombulus acts very accusatory.

- But when Eclipsa stares fawning over Globgor during Hekapoo’s question, Rhombulus stares for a second, before looking away and pulling his hood over his head. What does he feel embarrassed/guilty about?

- When his turn to ask a question comes, he quickly pulls down his hood and gets very accusatory again.

- When Eclipsa asks where Meteora is, Rhombulus will looked somewhat...panicked, and immediately pull his hood over his head. He actually won’t give an answer at first, merely looking away or tugging his hood further over his head. 

- Just like in the episode, he’ll be the one to confess, and that whole part will stay the exact same. When Hekapoo says “what the heck, Rhombulus?!” his reply will be the same, but with a slight amount of frustration, and he might quietly add at the end, “besides, we shouldn’t have done what we did.” Hekapoo nearly responds to this, but is cut off by Eclipsa saying “tell me what happened.”

- For the rest of the scene, Rhombulus is quiet. He looks surprised when Moon and Star reveal that it was a trick, but before that, when the box does look at him, he makes eye contact with it before bowing his head in shame.

- So that was a pretty big episode. Anyways...

- I haven’t decided which episode this happens in, but at some point, there will be a small scene between Eclipsa and Rhombulus. Rhombulus slowly approaches Eclipsa while she’s alone and says he’s sorry about what he and the MHC did to her baby. Eclipsa carefully admits that she’s still a little bit upset about the whole thing, but she appreciates the apology. 

- (Cont.) Rhombulus, noticing that she still looks pretty sad about it, tells her that “if it’s any comfort, we did send her somewhere very nice with a lovely lady whose whole job is to raise kids. Your daughter lived a very happy life. Probably.” Eclipsa thanks him for that, and Rhombulus admits that Eclipsa is a lot less intimidating than he remembered. Eclipsa is slightly surprised by this, and asks if he really found her intimidating. Rhombulus pauses at this, before quickly saying “anyways, bye!” and hurrying out the room.

- Okay, now, during “Divide”, when the MHC comes in to council Star, Rhombulus nearly protests against this, before pausing, and saying, “yeah, actually, that’s fair.” He doesn’t protest when Star makes them leave the room, only looking back sadly one last time before exiting.

- Later, when Marco gathers up a small force and invites Hekapoo, RHombulus comes along with her. This is to 1) add forshadowing for stuff, 2) give Rhombulus something to do because his powers can be pretty cool for fights, and 3) slightly flesh out Rhombulus and Hekapoo’s relationship dynamic a bit more.

- Marco asks who Rhombulus is, and Hekapoo quickly introduces the two of them to each other.

- When they finally see Meteora, Hekapoo asks Rhombulus if he can freeze Meteora. Rhombulus says that he’s not sure he can crystalize something that big. Hekapoo retorts that he’s crystalized bigger, but Rhombulus shoots back that it was in a much more confined space with less room for someone that big to run around in.

- They continue to argue before realizing that they need to fight Meteora since she’s coming straight for them.

- Cool fight scene ensues, yadda yadda yadda, but at some point, Rhombulus gets his soul sucked. Hekapoo seems extremely worried about him in particular, since she sees him as her little brother and also she didn’t really plan for him to come. Pretty sad, etc, etc.

Look, I just want to finish this post as fast as possible and have worked on it long enough. So yeah, this post is over, go back to the linked post at the top to get back to the masterlist and read Part 4 when it’s out. That one will be crazy.

[letarasstuff]

"I don't wanna leave you, Daddy"

(A/N): This was requested by an Anon and it's based on this concept. I hope you are ready for the feels.

Summary: Hotch's daughter is an introvert. A quiet one. But why does she go even quieter after her mother's death?

Warnings: So much hurt. Angst. Fluff. It's bitter sweet.

Wordcount: 2.3k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

(Y/N) never really was an outgoing person. Even since she was able to walk and talk, she still clung to her parents. She refused to play on the playground when other children were there. Socializing was just not her thing. Her parents were sure that she would never be the person to stand up and perform on stage spontaneously. And it is ok.

This doesn’t really change when Jack comes around. Sure, as he grows older and more capable of things (Y/N) plays with him. But it really seems like he is the only one around her age she is not afraid to befriend.

Aaron and Haley reassure themselves that their daughter will find friends in elementary school. After all this is an institution where many children go to and there also are adults trained for helping them coming along. She definitely will find at least one other kid to hang out with regularly and learn how to be a proper child. Because as of right now (Y/N) is more like a little adult, taking responsibilities, like watching over her little brother, she doesn’t need to do voluntarily. Maybe she will be more messy, rebellious, anything but a perfect child.

But this doesn’t exactly happen. (Y/N)’s teachers are really happy with her. Every parent-teacher conference is about how well and polite she is, always behaving good and following the rules. Sadly, they don’t have any good news regarding her social life. It’s not that she doesn’t get along with her classmates, it’s just that she isn’t able to strike up a conversation or is very good at keeping one long enough that a kid is interested in her.

Knowing that (Y/N) is mostly quiet in her school days, Aaron makes it a habit to bring her more often to the office. She surprisingly warms quickly up to his team and whenever she is around them the girl is an unstoppable tornado running loose around the bullpen.

This is kind of how she grows up until the age of middle school. (Y/N) learns some social skills and makes a few friends over the last few years. Unfortunately these friendships are not as deep as the parents wish, still it’s better than nothing.

Things get difficult when Aaron and Haley start to separate. It never is easy when parents fall out of love and it is not only difficult for Jack to see his father not as often as he used to, considering he still is a toddler needing both parents. Especially (Y/N), who is more of a daddy’s girl than a mommy’s girl, suffers from the situation at home.

Of course it’s hard on her to not see her father for a week or two at a time, but ever since her parents are going on parted ways she sees him at most one weekend every three weeks. This also changes her social life dramastically.

“(Y/N), don’t you wanna do something with your friends? You can invite them over for the weekend”, Haley suggests after watching her daughter not going out with somebody outside of school for several days. For the past two weeks the ten year old just comes home, does her homework and puts her nose in one of the books her Uncle Spencer recommended.

The girl only looks up at her mother to shake her head. “Why not, Sweetie? I haven’t seen William and John in so long. Are you still friends with them?” (Y/N) nods again. “So what is it? Are you guys fighting?” Haley sits down next to her on her bed.

“No, they just-just don’t know about this. I don’t want to tell them. And I want to stay home. It’s ok how it is right now”, she admits. Her mother’s heart breaks at that statement.

In this moment she realizes that anything a parent does has immediate consequences for the children. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. I didn’t know this is so hard for you. Maybe you can talk to them over the next few days about it, I think it’ll help you. Do you want to watch a film with me for now? Jack has a sleepover at a friend’s. We can do a girl’s night. We hadn’t had one in a long time.”

(Y/N)’s eyes light up at that. “With all the candy in the world?” Haley smiles at the newfound excitement. “Of course. Anything you want.”

From only seeing Aaron every now and then it suddenly turns to not knowing when she will see him next. After George Foyet ambushes him and makes his family into the next target, (Y/N), her brother and her mother have to go into witness protection.

The goodbye at the hospital is painful and filled with tears. “But Dad, I don’t want to leave you. I’ll miss you too much. I don’t like not seeing you. And what about you? You will be more lonely and-and I can’t leave you”, she confesses, sobbing into him.

Hotch has to hold his own tears back. He doesn’t want to come over as stoic, but as the strong father figure he always tries to be. “Honey, I know I’ll miss you so much. You have to be strong for your mother. This will not be easy and I know it. I promise to do my best to get all of you back as soon as possible, ok? Please be good for your mother and behave. We all need to work together for you to get back fast and safely.”

(Y/N) continues to cry into his hospital gown. Aaron can’t help it and dissolves in tears himself while trying to calm her down. “Shh, Honey. Everything will be fine. I’m so so sorry for all this. I never wanted something like this to happen. Shh, we will see each other real soon. The team and I will do our best. Just please, don’t cry. Please, it all will be better. I can’t let you go without seeing your beautiful laugh for one last time.”

“I don’t wanna leave you, Daddy. I-I wanna stay with you and Uncle Dave and Auntie JJ and Uncle Spencer and Uncle Der and Auntie Penny and Auntie Em. I’m scared you won’t be fine when we come back.”

It’s needless to say that nobody cracked even a smile that day.

Going into witness protection made Haley worry about Jack especially. He is just four years old and she isn’t sure how much he understands about what’s going on. Surprisingly the boy gets accustomed to the situation pretty fast. Of course he misses his father and his people from school, but he is also quick to meet new ones in the town they moved to.

(Y/N) has bigger problems. New school. New kids. New everything.

“Maybe you can see it as a fresh start. Here is nobody you know. You can be whoever you want to be. I can take you shopping and you can try out a new style”, her mother tries to make the situation sound advantageous to her. But the girl dryly answers: “When somebody doesn’t like me how I am now, how will they like an act?”

Sam Kassmeyer regularly reports back to Aaron about his family’s well being. “Jack is thriving. His teachers describe him as a bundle of joy. (Y/N) slowly gets acclimated to the change. Haley told me she started making friends with a girl in their neighborhood. I already ran a background check and the family is clean.”

Hotch lets out a sigh of relief. He turns towards the image on Penelope’s monitor. “Happy fifth birthday, Buddy.”

A few weeks after that it seems like the events overturn each other.

Foyet coming back. Kassmeyer getting tortured. Foyet finding Haley and the children. Them coming back to their house. The call. Working the case with Jack. The gunshot. The fighting noises. Hotch opening the box and hugging both of his children, relieved to see them alive.

The following weeks are difficult for the now smaller family. They mostly consist of watching videos of happy memories and talking about their feelings. Although it’s more like Jack talking about his feelings, (Y/N) went mostly silent ever since their mother’s death. This worries her father more than anything.

Two months have gone by. “Hey Honey, I’m going into the office today. Do you wanna come with me, stay at home or go to school? Anything is fine by me”, he asks her softly, kneeling beside her chair at the table. The girl is munching on her cereal halfheartedly.

“Can I come to the office?” (Y/N) asks in a hoarse voice. It’s actually the first time in four days that Aaron hears her voice. A small smile forms on his face. “Of course, that’s nice. Aunt Penny is asking me after her favorite Hotchner for days on end now. And Uncle Spencer got a stack of books he has for you to read.”

His daughter nods and quickly gets ready. They are soon on their way to Quantico after dropping Jack off at daycare. “How are your classmates? Do you like the new school?” They decided to send (Y/N) to a different school. She couldn’t bear the thought of only being the girl whose Mom died because of a serial killer.

“It’s fine. There are a few girls who are really nice. I think we can be friends. Mo-” She suddenly cuts herself off. Aaron glances over at her. “Continue, Sweetheart. Just tell me what’s on your mind”, he tries to encourage her.

The girl hesitates before following her father’s advice. “Mom would have liked them,” she mumbles. It’s quiet for a few seconds. Hotch is looking for a suitable answer. After all it’s the first time she talked about her mother since her death. “I’m sure of it, Honey. Maybe you can invite them over and I can get to know them. Think about it, no pressure of course.” (Y/N) nods to indicate that she heard him.

Not long later they enter the bullpen. “There she is! My little Hotchner! How you doing, Baby?” Derek asks her and envelopes her into a hug. But she only shrugs her shoulders. This goes on for the rest of the day. Whenever anyone talks to her, the only answer is given by her body language.

Hotch watches helplessly Spencer trying to engage in a conversation with her. His arms and hands are waving around. (Y/N) though just looks at him without being really there mentally. It seems like she is lost in her own thoughts, like it happened so often over the last few months.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Dave asks, sitting down on the chair opposite of him. Aaron looks at him funny. “Of course. But (Y/N) is just not ready to talk about Haley and everybody grieves differently. I can’t force her to speak, Dave.”

The older agent leans back in his seat. “I don’t think she needs to talk about her. This probably is too soon. She needs to talk about you. The changes.” After a short pause, in which the other one still doesn’t get the point, Rossi continues. “That little girl just lost her mother. She is scared to lose her father, the one with the high risk job. I think that is enough to talk about.”

This occupies the agent for the remainder of the day. Aaron was so invested in fulfilling both parent roles, that he forgot that he is just a father. The man his children go to when they have a nightmare. The one, who is more lenient than their mother. He can’t be both ones. He can’t be two people in one.

A kid trusts a mother and a father usually. And he can’t be mother and father at once. Hotch has to accept the fact. The fact that (Y/N) and Jack are going to grow up without a mother. But luckily not without mother figures.

Later that day, after tucking Jack in, Aaron knocks on his daughter’s door. A small “Come in!” echoes back to him. He enters her room and spots (Y/N) already in her bed reading a book Spencer gave her today.

“Hey, do you have time before it’s lights out?” He asks, still wanting to give her the upper hand on this. The girl nods and scoots over for her father to take a place. He lays next to her, pulling his daughter into a hug.

“I know I can’t promise it. Coming back to you every time. You know it as much as I do. But I promise you to try anything and everything in the books. You guys keep me going.” Tears roll over both of their faces.

“I-I just”, (Y/N) moves her head onto his chest to sob into it, “Just don’t wanna lose you, too. I-I don’t think I-I can’t be the girl, who doesn’t have a mother AND a father. C-can you stop that from happening?” Hotch has to wipe his eyes before answering.

“I-I try to keep that from happening, Honey. I promise.”

This is how they fall asleep, squished in a twin bed close to each other. In the morning they both are overheated and got a visitor during the night. Jack wakes them up, asking why they had a sleepover without him.

This morning is the first time Aaron sees (Y/N) smiles since day zero.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

[admirableadmiranda]

Do you think Wen Ning had an idea of Wei WuXians feelings for Lan WangJi in his first life or second (before WWX revealed all later in the novel)?

Wen Qing definitely had a feeling there was something between them in his first life. It's obvious he spoke about him to her, because WQ even mentioned that he had met him before he liberated the refugee as well.

WN seems very good at sinking into the background when WWX and LWJ are getting a little close and doesn't seem surprised at them being close.

I’m sure that Wen Ning caught on during Wei Wuxian’s second life, most likely actually during the road trip to Yiling. They only got a few stolen seconds to talk before then, due to Wei Wuxian being not sure if he could bring out Wen Ning around Lan Wangji and knowing he couldn’t around the juniors. It is possible that he also caught on during the flight from Jinlintai, where Wei Wuxian is unconscious but we know that Wen Ning appeared to help Lan Wangji escape.

Wen Ning is the eternal third wheel, politely shrinking away when they’re having their moments once he catches on. But he just didn’t have the time and mental acumen to see them together until the road to Yiling. So it can’t have happened before then.

But I have to correct an assumption you made in your post regarding Wen Qing. Wen Qing does not know that there’s something between them. None of her dialogue even hints at it. On the contrary she completely bought into the rumors that they were enemies and was confused and suspicious of Lan Wangji when he was there.

Here, I’ll quote the whole conversation, it isn’t that long:

“At the mention of the Cloud Recesses, Wen Qing glanced at Wei WuXian, asking him as though she didn’t care, “I forgot to ask you. You’ve never brought anyone up Burial Mound. What’s the deal today?”

Wei WuXian, “You mean Lan Zhan? I met him on the way.”

“Wei Qing, “You met him? How did you meet him? You ran into him again?”

Wei WuXian, “That’s right.”

Wen Qing, “What a coincidence. I remember that you two ran into each other once in Yunmeng as well.”

Wei WuXian, “There’s nothing special about it. A lot of cultivators from other sects travel in and out of Yunmeng and Yiling.”

Wen Qing, “I heard you call him directly by his birth name back then. Quite bold, aren’t you?”

Wei WuXian, “He calls me directly by my birth name as well, doesn’t he? It’s nothing. Got used to it when we were young. Neither of us care.”

Wen Qing, “Really? Don’t you two have a bas relationship? Heard that it’s like you’re ice and fire, fighting every time you see each other.

Wei WuXian, “Don’t listen to the rumors. Our relationship really was quite bad in the past. During the Sunshot Campaign, we did get into a few fights because of our bad tempers. But afterwards, it wasn’t as bad as the rumors say. We’re so-so.”

Wen Qing didn’t say anything else.”

I don’t know about you, but none of that sounds like a woman who’s picked up on a yearning love story to me. That sounds like a woman who completely believed that they were enemies and was surprised to find out that their relationship was good enough that Lan Wangji would help them. Even her pointing out that Wei Wuxian uses his birth name seems to be more her trying to contradict what he’s telling her, as if she doesn’t believe him.

Wen Qing is not as all seeing as people make her, nor as close right away as people make her and Wei Wuxian. At this time they are more allies and companions in a threatening time. She is the leader and he is the shield. Later on when she is saying goodbye to him, it does seem that they have grown closer in that time, but even here there’s nothing I could call sibling like about their relationship.

When I said the Juniors were the first ones to see Wangxian as they were, I meant it. I did not mean the first but for Lan Wangji, or the first but for Jiang Cheng, or the first but for Wen Qing. Everyone either misunderstood their relationship or in Lan Wangji’s case, had always held his feelings close to his chest, never chasing after them but for one moment in Phoenix Mountain where he knows he is taking that which is not his to have.

Wangxian are kept apart in their first life somewhat due to their own misunderstandings, but also because everyone around them dictates that they are rivals, that they are enemies, that they hate each other. No amount of either one of them saying that isn’t true ever stops it. Even when Wei Wuxian comes back to life, it is widely believed that they hated each other and if Lan Wangji knew that he lived again, he would snuff him out as he would not allow Wei Wuxian’s evil to live.

This very misunderstanding is what protects him up until he’s exposed at Jinlintai. No one is going to connect the strange man at Lan Wangji’s side to Wei Wuxian because everyone without exception thought they hated each other. The juniors can only see clearly because they see the two men together without any preconceived notions of their relationship.

Wen Ning likely knew by the time of the road trip to Yiling. Wen Qing did not know. And I will stand my ground on this point.

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

(pinterest inspired board)

part: 1/6

(other parts)  (masterlist)

The day it happened, it wasn't a significant meeting at all, you barely even talked. In fact, when he opened the door of your neighbor’s flat that day with a beer in his right hand and his hair messy, he didn't have any effect on you. You always knew that living next to a director meant that sooner or later you’d bump into the pretty faces of well-known people. Sure, you didn’t expect them to be Hollywood actors like him, but to say you were starstruck by the man, would be the overstatement of the year.

The building you’ve lived in for the last three years has five floors; you live in the 4th, he lives in the 5th. He’s a quiet person, usually spending his evenings out of his apartment. You’ve talked sometimes, about the weather and the weird lady that lives in the 1st floor. You’ve never told him you find his directing style a little pretentious.

You’ve never been to his place until that annoyingly warm August evening, when you find a white button up shirt on your balcony. You can clearly see more clothing when you look up and you’re certain the item you’re holding belongs to him.

He’s not there though. Instead you find a different face behind the door. Lighter eyes and darker hair. The man in front of you is definitely younger than the director. You don’t bother to notice what he’s wearing.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deeper than you expected. Stronger, with a touch of European accent. The sound of English surprises you at first but soon you realize he must be another foreign coworker that came to visit your neighbor

“No, I just think Argyris dropped this and it ended up on my floor.”

He looks at you and then at the shirt, in your hands.

Then he says “Sure, I’ll take it.”

“Okay.”

Then it ends. He doesn’t even ask your name. You don’t have to ask his. You figure out, as soon as you walk down the stairs, that it’s Sebastian Stan that you just talked to.

And while being a big fan of marvel movies, you think nothing special of him at first. You just wonder how a mostly unknown director from Greece got an actor like Sebastian to come here so they can work together. It makes no sense to you, but you forget it when your phone starts ringing.

/

It would’ve been easier if you never saw him again, yet you do. You see him trying to understand what the old lady from the first floor is trying to tell him. You already know. The elevator is not working. The next day you see him walking up the stairs.

You exchange a quick hello, how are you and then off you both go.

The same night Argyris invites you to have a drink with them in the terrace. Part of you wants to just stay in bed and binge watch some Sherlock episodes. Part of you already thinks of what to wear.

There are around ten people there when you show up. They’re all sitting down in huge pillows drinking and talking loudly. You don’t know most of them.

You sit next to a blonde girl, across from Sebastian. This time you notice he’s wearing a plain black shirt and holds a glass of whiskey.

You don’t share any direct conversations but you learn that he’s afraid of growing old and that he thinks Taxi Driver is one fucking masterpiece, as he says.

When you mention that you’re probably the least artistic person in the room right now, you hear him laugh.

A curly haired woman starts dancing with him at some point. You decide he’s not a good dancer.

He leaves the same time you do, following you down the stairs.

“I thought you live here.” You say when he doesn’t stop at the floor you expect him to.

“Ah no, I stay at a hotel near the centre.”

He keeps talking about his suite until you reach your door.

You part in a blur, with a short goodbye.

He still doesn’t ask for your name.

It makes you feel genuinely offended.

/

Two days after, he is the farthest thing from your mind, until you find him sitting in front of your door, his eyes roaming the place with despair. And then he sees you.

“Ah finally you are here.” He starts casually. “Thank god.”

You just nod.

“Argyris told me to wait for him with you. We had a meeting but he got stuck in traffic.”

You give him a look.

“He said you’re always at home so you won’t mind.”

Ouch. Yeah sure, your social life wasn’t something to brag about but for some reason the way Sebastian said it, it sounded like an insult.

“Okay, come in.” You shrug, clearly not feeling comfortable and turn around to unlock the door.

You hear him call your name. You thought he didn’t know.

“Yes?”

He offers you an easy smile.  “Thank you.”

/

Sitting in your couch he’s eyeing the entire room, while you put some groceries in the fridge.

“Argyris says you’re a great girl.” He clears his throat. “But he thinks you’re too quiet for your own good.”

You look at him, your eyes flicking up and down his face.

“And from what I can tell, he’s right.”  You hear him laugh.

It felt weird to see him laugh while he was leaning back at your cozy pillow. He had entered your life so suddenly you didn’t even have time to react to it.

“I’m sorry but I barely know you.” Your words are sharp. He sits up.

“Okay then let’s get to know each other, what’s your favorite Disney princess?”

Defeated, you laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, this is an important question.”

You wait for him to crack up but then you remember he’s an actor.

“I don’t know.” You think for a second. “Mulan?”

“Oh my god. Mulan is amazing.” You smile at him. “My favorite is Jasmine, she’s just so badass.”

You share your favorites that day, having almost nothing in common rather than your everlast love for animated movies and buttered popcorn.

When it’s time for him to leave, he stops and looks at you in the eye.

“You should talk more often.”

You stare at him with confusion. “I talk,” you raise your eyebrows. “When I have something to say.”

“Good.” he says, still looking.

/

Later in the evening, you’re eating some yoghurt when he comes knocking on your door.

He’s different. The white tank top he was wearing this morning is replaced with a dark shirt and his face looks tired. You assume they’ve been working since he went upstairs.

“Hiii”, he says dragging the i, “Am I interrupting anything?”

You desperately want to nod. You want to tell him that you were doing the most exciting thing in the world, before he came but you were never a good liar.

So you just tilt your head and take a step back.

That’s when he enters and is met with some loud rock music blaring from your laptop.

“You like AC/DC?” he asks, almost wide-eyed.

“Well, I can tell it’s them when I hear their stuff.”  For the first time that day, he seems to be in loss of words. “Why are you so surprised?”

He sits in the same spot in the couch as earlier and laughs.

“I just didn’t take you for the kind of girl who likes this music.” It’s your turn to laugh.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Quiet girl who loves animated films and eats kids’ yoghurt” he looks at the carton in your kitchen table, “and also likes metal music? Doesn’t add up.”

“We’ve basically just met; you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”

“Fair enough.” He sits back, fidgeting with his fingers.

You take some time just looking at him

There was a certain vibe about that man that made you wonder how it’d feel to cruise down a dessert highway in a convertible mustang with him. In the summer. With him wearing that white tank top.

The color of strawberries emerges at your cheeks just at the thought of it.

You wish he doesn’t notice.

You’re glad to find him looking the other way, before he speaks up.

“We’re going out tonight.” His voice is warm now. “Argyris says you should come along, even though I’m quite sure there’s no hardcore music where we’re going.” He laughs again.

I can’t. You almost say. But then anxiety slips away from you and out of sudden you want him to stop being so freaking arrogant, going around and acting like he knows exactly what kind of person you are.

He thinks you’ll say no. You can see it in his eyes.

“Sure, when should I be ready?” you say, surprising both of you.

He looks at you for some time and then trying to hide whatever he was thinking he says the first thing on his mind.

“How old are you?” He sounds pitiful. He knows. He wishes he could hit a wall; with his head.

“Twenty-one.” His eyes scan yours, unsure of what they’re looking for. “Why?”

“No reason.”

He inhales deep.

/

You try to blink. You’re at a party in a little bar you’ve never been before and a lot of people are wearing black. Alcohol. You can still taste it on the back of your tongue. You don’t remember how you end up pressed against a dark skinned man, but you can tell he smells of cigarettes and despair.

You sway your body to the beat, close your eyes. Breath in. And out. You think the music deafens you for a second but you open your lids and see Sebastian and he’s watching you, unashamed.

He’s not that far, though it feels like it with countless bodies in the way. The music melts. His gaze is almost angelic. Or devious. You can’t really tell.

He’s dancing with that curly haired woman again. You wonder how intimate their relationship is.

The red neon lights make his skin glisten. His muscles move divinely. It makes you think there’s an entire world inside him, his flesh barely keeping it hidden. Out of sudden you get the urge to walk towards him. You want to see him up close under this dim lighting. But you don’t move.

The man that’s groping your waist asks for your name. You tell him you need to flee. He doesn’t understand.

You sit outside with the sweet summer breeze touching your bare arms. The bass of the music in the background syncs with the beating of your heart. You can feel your ribs grow with every breath you take. Until you stop breathing because the door opens and his eyes suffocate you.

You can’t fathom the effect he has on you. He was a pretty face on screen some days ago. But right now he steals distance and stays near you.

You don’t look his way. He doesn’t say a word. Nicotine and smoke surround you as he exhales. His fingers hold the cigarette butt with care.

“Do you want some?”

You turn to look at him.

“I don’t smoke.” He laughs.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want some.”

You want to know if his breath has the taste of sulfur. You want to pretend it’s the alcohol or the loud music that makes your head hurt.

“What’s the best part of being an actor?” The blue in his eyes glows.

There’s silence but he seems to be thinking about it.

“Do you ever feel things too much?” He says, his voice hoarse. “I mean, when you feel something so intensely it becomes a part of who you are.”

You nod. You understand.

“Acting allows you to let go of these feelings,” he starts. “You share the burden with the audience until it becomes light and you can hold it again.”

You look at him, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I could that,” you close your eyes. “I don’t think I could share what I feel so easily.”

He stands up. The wind hits you again.

“A lot people can’t. That’s why everyone is heartbroken,” he takes a breath, “Feelings eat us raw.”

You both go to bed alone that night. Tomorrow there is a hole next to you.

/

the morning after, search history

(02:45 PM) hangover recovery

(03:00 PM) best food after a hangover

(03:10 PM) sebastian stan

(03:30 PM) sebastian stan girlfriend

(06:00 PM) xanax side effects

/

You follow him on Instagram. He doesn’t follow you back. You remember he probably gets tons of followers every day and decide not to let it bother you. Instead you study for the exams of the following month.

The subject of your studies doesn’t interest you. Another poor decision you made under pressure. Sometimes you feel as if your life is borrowed from someone else. Sometimes you feel as if you haven’t found your home yet.

Feelings eat us raw.

His girlfriend looks beautiful in the pictures you find online. The media isn’t certain if they’re still together but you like to think so. It makes it easier to avoid him.

But the universe seems to be oblivious to your thoughts and you see him that same day. You’re taking the garbage out and he’s coming down from the top floor. You meet in the elevator.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” his eyes are smiling as he talks “you looked kinda drunk last night.”

You fidget with the hem of the bag you’re holding.

“I wasn’t drunk.” You notice he’s growing some stubble. You’re not sure you like it.

“Whatever you say, doll.”  You bite your cheek trying to devour any sign that might give away how his words make you flinch.

He turns his body a little so now you’re facing each other. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty in a way that doesn’t hurt. You try not to stare at him, but you fail sometimes. You’ve never noticed how slow the elevator moves until you want to get out. You can’t stand being so close to him for much longer.

He’s an arrogant rich actor who loves Disney and smokes a lot, you think. I have no reason to be affected by him.

“Ah! Argyris said we’re leaving for the weekend.” You eye him curiously. “He wants to show us some small villages in the south. He thinks we should get to know the country a little more before we start.”

You’re stunned by your neighbor’s dedication to his work. Sometimes you wish you had something you could be passionate about too. Sometimes you think you’re never going to find it.

“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll like it.” You give him a smile.

He leans his back at the wall. The elevator stops. Finally.

“I like your eyes.” You grab tight onto the bag. “But they don’t smile when you do.”

He opens the door and he’s gone.

They tell you that it’s fun to meet a famous person. They tell you, you can ask for a photo and a hug. They tell you celebrities don’t talk a lot but that doesn’t mean they’re rude.

But he’s not like that.

He’s fire. He’s burning heat and scorching flames. His words are his thoughts; raw. You don’t like it.

/

late night search history

(00:38 AM) blue valentine movie soundtrack

(01:15 AM) is sebastian stan a bad person

(01:30 AM) acting classes for amateurs

(01:50 AM) cheap leather boots

(02:10 AM) sebastian stan eyes

 You find it annoying; how he’s present even when you’re alone.

Thankfully he’s leaving for the weekend, you think.

/

The weekend, however, is two days away.

You think you can get away without seeing him. And you do. Until it’s late at night again. And they’re all upstairs with music so loud you’re certain the lady on the first floor is going to be rude about it in the morning.

The music tempo has you unaffected. All you think about is if he’s dancing with that woman again.

He’s such a bad dancer, he should not be dancing.

There’s a subtle knock on your door. You know it’s him. You hope you’re wrong.

“Do you feel like dancing?” His face is all flustered. It’s a good look on him.

“You can’t come knocking on my door at 2 AM and ask me to dance.” His gaze is filled with confusion.

“So you don’t feel like dancing?” You roll your eyes. He notices.

“That’s not the point Sebastian.” It’s the first time you call him by his name. You let it slip away slowly, testing the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.

He takes a step closer. You are suddenly aware of your pyjama shorts and your exposed skin.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to irritate you.” His eyes are the cliché blue of the sky. “I just thought you might want to dance, that’s all.”

Suddenly you feel guilty and embarrassed. He’s oblivious to it.

For a moment you feel his eyes linger on you. It feels surreal.

You nod at him.

He’s ready to say something when Argyris comes down the stairs, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.

“Ah man, I thought you got lost or something.” You lower your eyes. “Stop messing with the poor girl. People are looking for you.”

He throws a smile at you and Sebastian takes a quick breath.

“People are always looking for me.”

He gives away that he’s carrying a burden. Your expression softens. But then you look at Argyris and you see he doesn’t really pay attention to these words.

You share a quick look before you’re there standing alone at your doorstep, trying to grasp the idea of him.

/

When you wake up you feel like running. You can’t fathom where the feeling comes from but it starts like a liquid running down your veins and soon you can’t stay in bed even for a second.

Feelings eat us raw. Only if you let them.

.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged in this six part story :)