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sugary-strawberry-shortcake · 5 days ago

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Where You Are, I’m Home

a Kim Taehyung one shot.

Summary:

After a long year serving in South Korea’s elite Special Duty Team, Kim Taehyung finally comes home—to her. The girl he left behind. The one who waited. But while their love is still there, so is everything the military changed in him.

A/N: this is so foreign in comparison to what I usually post. But I had to do so for the 13-year-old girl inside of me who‘s obsessed with BTS. Is it impossible for me to get concert tickets after their break? Yeah. Will I stop fantasizing? Never😓

btw this is romance so no platonic at all.

TW: ptsd mentions, men being disgusting, no smut (I would never write that) but mentions of them having done it, also I do not know how the military is like it’s just my imagination :)

Still unedited! Sometimes I used different narratives oops

And I will continue Blossom reverse, just going through drafts :)

The morning air was biting cold despite the spring sun trying to climb over the rooftops, pale gold light sifting through clouds like fingers reaching gently for something long-lost. Y/N waited just outside the security gates, her hands shoved into the sleeves of her oversized cardigan, her heart beating louder than the wind.

He was supposed to arrive around 8:00 a.m.

It was 7:53.

The young woman shifted on her feet, the white soles of her sneakers scuffing against the ground. Her body was still, but her mind wasn’t. She could still hear his voice from the last phone call three nights ago — deep, gravel-lined from exhaustion and distance. Even then, even through the crackling line and all the military-coded short phrases, he still said:

“I’ll be different when I come back, jagi. Not in a bad way. Just… older. Don’t be surprised.”

She didn’t fully understand what he meant. She had visited him, yes, a few times — brief weekends that vanished in a blink. And there were nights she’d fall asleep with her phone on her chest, his voice the last sound in her ear, muffled by static and time. But now, it was different.

Now, he was coming home for good.

The woman didn’t cry. Not yet. But her chest was tight — like something had been wound inside her since the day he left, and now it was slowly, painfully starting to unwind.

The base gates opened.

And then she saw him.

Uniform pressed. Boots shining. That familiar black beret angled perfectly atop his head — a symbol of what he’d endured, what he’d survived. But none of that struck you as hard as him.

Kim Taehyung had always been beautiful — honey skin, sleepy eyes, voice like velvet and thunder. The man of her dreams. But now…

Now he was different.

Broader shoulders, thicker arms that stretched the fabric of his uniform tight across his biceps. His jawline had hardened, more angular than she remembered, more man than boy now. His expression was unreadable — composed, still, almost too still.

Until he saw his girl.

His steps paused — just for a second. His gaze fixed, sharp as a blade and soft as a whisper. Then the world seemed to tilt forward as he crossed the distance between you in long, silent strides.

Y/N forgot everything you’d planned to say.

“Taehyung—” she breathed, but the sound broke, and before you knew it, you were running.

Your shoes slapped against pavement as you flung yourself into him — arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your face burying in the crook of his shoulder. He caught you effortlessly, one strong arm wrapping around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head like something precious.

He didn’t say a word at first.

His grip was crushing. His body was warm. Hard. Solid.

And you were trembling.

“I missed you,” you whispered into his uniform. Your voice cracked on the second word.

You felt him exhale. Slow. Heavy. Like it had been trapped in him for months.

His mouth pressed into your hair.

“I missed you more than I knew how to say.”

You clung to him tighter. Your small frame curled into his, swallowed whole by the man he’d become. It was still him — your Taehyung. The one who used to leave little sticky notes on your mirror with doodles of tigers and kisses. The one who laughed with his whole body, and sometimes stayed up at night just to watch you sleep.

But something deeper lived behind his eyes now.

You felt it when he pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at you. His eyes roved over your face like he was trying to memorize it from scratch. His fingers touched your cheek like they couldn’t believe you were real.

“You’re still so small,” he murmured, voice like a low hum in your chest.

You smiled, blinking fast. “And you’re… not.”

His lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Military food,” he said flatly. “Push-ups. And crawling through mud for eight hours.”

You laughed — watery and breathless — and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “You really did change,” you whispered.

He didn’t deny it.

There was a long, quiet moment between you, full of everything neither of you could say out loud. Things he’d seen. Things he’d endured. The shadows under his eyes weren’t just from sleepless nights — they were born from things that would never make it into songs or interviews.

“You okay?” you asked gently.

“I am now.”

That answer came without hesitation. And the way he looked at you — intense, unwavering — made your stomach flutter and your eyes sting.

He looked at you like you were the only familiar thing in a world that had gone cold and violent.

Then his hand cupped the back of your neck, firm and possessive. His body shifted closer — his chest pressing against yours, your head tucked right beneath his chin, and he just held you. Like time had stopped.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he said, voice low. “Not for a second.”

“Then don’t.”

The air around you thickened. There was a new tension there now — not just reunion, but longing. Deep and physical. Your fingers clung to his collar, nails grazing the base of his neck, and he let out a breath that trembled slightly.

“I used to dream of this moment,” you said, soft against his skin. “And now you’re here, and I don’t even know what to do.”

His answer was a murmur, rough at the edges. “Let me take care of you. The way I’ve been dreaming about for months.”

Your pulse jumped. Your cheeks flushed. He leaned back just enough to look into your eyes, and the expression he wore was one you hadn’t seen before. Mature. Grounded. Possessive.

There was no boy left in him.

Only the man he’d become.

The man who came back to you.

________

The apartment was full — not loud, but full.

Namjoon had arrived first, clapping Taehyung on the back with that signature dimpled grin, his hair still regulation-short, his posture just a little straighter now, like the military hadn’t fully left his spine. Jin followed not long after — not in uniform, but carrying his usual brand of calm chaos with a grin that masked the months of waiting and missing and enduring.

And in the middle of it all, quietly orchestrating dinner in the background, was you.

You weren’t supposed to be seen.

Not on camera. Not in selfies. Not in the live. You moved like a ghost in your own home — barefoot, in soft jeans and a plain sweatshirt, your hair pulled up in a loose bun as you helped the quiet staff from the company set up drinks and arrange the food.

You’d spent the day preparing for this.

They were going live on Weverse. For the fans. For their brothers. For the first time since discharge.

And you?

You were the hidden heartbeat between them all. Taehyung’s secret girl, his quiet refuge — the one person who’d loved him before the beret and the camouflage and the harsh, freezing nights crawling through drills no one would ever know about.

From the kitchen island, you watched them get ready.

Taehyung in black — a loose cotton shirt that clung just enough to hint at how wide his chest had gotten. Hair pushed back, exposing the sharper cut of his face now. The tattoos on his hands were more visible than ever. So was the faint shadow beneath his eyes.

He was laughing with Namjoon, but you saw it. The stiffness that sometimes crept into his smile. The alertness behind his eyes.

“Five minutes, hyung,” a staff member called.

Namjoon nodded. Jin, ever casual, grabbed a bottle of water and cracked it open, flopping onto the couch beside Taehyung like he’d never been gone.

You moved to hand the plates to a staff assistant, smiling gently. But as you turned, the corner of the tray was accidentally jostled, and you flinched—not from the tray, but from the sudden, hard elbow of one of the staff brushing against your face, too fast and unintentional.

A sharp sting bloomed across your cheekbone.

“Oh! I’m so sorry—” the staff gasped, reaching out instinctively.

You quickly shook your head, hands up. “It’s okay, I’m fine—”

But he was already watching.

From across the room, Taehyung’s head snapped in your direction. His smile faded instantly. His body stilled. The conversation fell to static behind him as his gaze narrowed, jaw tightening like stone.

The room didn’t notice. But you did.

His hand curled slightly into a fist on his thigh.

He couldn’t say anything. Not on live. Not with cameras about to roll. But the look he gave the staff member — dark, piercing, quiet — made your skin prickle. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just stared for a beat too long, until the staff member backed away instinctively.

Namjoon called his name, drawing him back.

“Tae? You good?”

His voice didn’t change. He leaned back into the couch, nodded once. “Yeah.”

But you knew that tone.

Low. Clipped. Unforgiving.

You finished setting the last cup of tea beside the snacks and retreated into the hallway just as the live countdown started. The screen lit up.

🟢 [LIVE] — Namjoon and Taehyung have joined.

The chat exploded.

He smiled for the camera. Laughing beside Namjoon, joking with Jin as he leaned into the frame from off-screen. But the tension in Taehyung’s jaw never fully disappeared. His hands were loose now, yes, but his energy — it was taut. Watchful. Every now and then, his eyes would flick to the hallway — where he knew you were.

He answered questions — talking about training, about missing the members, about what it felt like to finally shower without twenty other men around.

At one point, Jin teased him.

“I feel like if we fought now, you’d probably kill me,” Jin laughed, nudging Taehyung.

Taehyung’s eyes flicked over lazily. But his grin was different — a slow, shadowed smirk.

“I’ve been to scarier places than that, hyung.”

The way he said it — quiet, measured — made the chat explode with laughing emojis. But Namjoon looked over for a second longer, brows furrowed, like he heard something under the joke.

The live rolled on.

Laughter, soft chaos, a few serious moments where they talked about missing the fans, about Jimin and Jungkook who’d be next to come home, about how quiet the dorm had felt without all of them together.

Namjoon answered a fan who asked what they missed the most.

“Honestly?” he said. “The silence, sometimes. But also — the noise of us together.”

Taehyung nodded once, then added, “And seeing the same person’s face every night for months — it makes you appreciate the face you actually want to see.”

Namjoon gave him a look. “Was that aimed at someone?”

Taehyung only smirked again, his eyes sliding to the hallway behind the camera.

⸻

By the time the live ended, you were standing just past the corner of the hallway, fingers clutching your phone, your heart still beating too fast from the way he’d looked after you earlier.

The moment the camera turned off, the entire room sighed.

Staff moved quickly to pack up, conversations overlapping. Jin stretched, yawning.

“I’m gonna go. Gotta record early tomorrow.”

Namjoon gave you a brief, soft smile as he passed you in the hallway. “Thanks for the food, Y/N.”

You nodded, bowing slightly. “Of course.”

But Taehyung was already pulling on his jacket, voice low. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “Should I—should I say goodbye—?”

“No.” His hand found your wrist, firm but not rough. “They’ll understand.”

You looked once over your shoulder — Jin had raised a hand in a wave, half-smiling. Namjoon gave you a nod.

But Taehyung had already turned, pulling you gently but insistently toward the elevator.

You followed. Silently. The ache in your cheekbone long forgotten, replaced by the tension radiating off him in quiet waves.

Only once the elevator doors closed, cutting you off from the world, did he finally move.

He turned.

One hand slid up to your face — careful, warm. His thumb brushed against the place you’d been hit, and his eyes searched yours like they were reading something only he could see.

“Did it hurt?”

You shook your head, voice small. “It was an accident.”

He didn’t say anything. His jaw clenched once.

Then he leaned forward — kissed your cheek, right where the pain had bloomed.

Soft. Reverent.

His arms wrapped around you — possessive, grounding. “Let’s go home.”

The car rolled into the long private driveway as the gates glided shut behind them, the quiet hum of tires over the smooth concrete echoing in the soft Seoul dusk. Taehyung had one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your jeans as you leaned against the seat—calm, but thrumming with unspoken energy.

As the mansion came into view — all clean lines, soft lights through tall windows, and that familiar ivy climbing the front pillars — he exhaled.

Home.

———

He parked in silence, engine purring once before cutting off. Then he turned to you, eyes dragging over your face like he was taking inventory of your soul.

You smiled softly. “It’s just us now.”

He didn’t answer. He just reached for you and kissed your forehead.

Inside, he dropped his duffle by the door.

And froze.

There, in the center of the open living room, right above the sunken couch — was a massive white banner strung across the stone wall in perfect lettering:

“Welcome Back Tae 💜”

Below it, on the table, a line of plush BT21 figures stared up like a tiny cheering squad — TATA front and center, wearing a tiny paper beret you’d cut out yourself. Beside it, his favorite wine. A fresh vase of white tulips. And the faintest scent of sandalwood candles lingering in the air.

Everything was clean. Warm. Ready. The bed was made. Slippers laid out. The lights dimmed low.

He stood still for a moment.

Then turned toward you.

His voice came out low, hoarse with emotion. “You did all this?”

You nodded, cheeks warm. “Of course. You’ve been gone. I wanted your first night home to feel like… home.”

His lips parted, but no words came. Instead, he crossed the space between you and pulled you into his arms — not with urgency, but with the aching weight of someone who hadn’t touched softness in too long.

His hands were warm against your back. His mouth lingered at your temple. And when he breathed your name, it was almost reverent.

“God, I missed you.”

You smiled into his chest. “I noticed.”

Later, after wine and soft music and laughter that came easier with each hour, it shifted — somewhere between the second glass and the last flicker of candlelight. His voice dipped lower. His eyes never left yours. And when he reached for you — slowly, wordlessly — you didn’t hesitate.

⸻

The sheets were tangled and half-slipped off the bed, your body curled loosely on your side, one leg stretched across the cool linen as your arm draped over the pillow he’d recently occupied.

You were quiet. Bare. Asleep.

And he was watching you.

The sky outside had deepened into a navy velvet wash, the stars faint behind the tinted windows. From where he sat — back against the headboard, one arm behind his head — he could see every inch of you lit by soft bedside lamp glow. Your skin warm, your hair mussed. A tiny line between your brows, like you were dreaming.

So delicate. So small.

He’d seen you like this before, hundreds of times.

But now…

Now, everything was different.

Something primal stirred in him. Not lust — not only that — but the heavy, possessive protectiveness that had sunk into his bones since the military. The training. The missions. The way it’d changed how he breathed, how he saw danger in everything.

How he now understood just how fragile the world could be.

And how much he could lose.

You stirred, shifting slightly.

A sleepy hum escaped your throat as you blinked up, lashes fluttering before your eyes found him.

“…You’re staring,” you murmured, voice thick with exhaustion, but amused.

He gave a small, lazy smile. “You’re beautiful when you’re wrecked.”

Your brow twitched in sleepy offense. “Wrecked?”

“Mm.” He reached out, brushed a strand of hair from your cheek. “You look like someone who’s been thoroughly missed.”

You huffed. But your cheeks flushed pink as your arm slid lazily up to rest over his abdomen, your fingers grazing the ridges of his stomach, the firm rise of his chest.

“Yeah well,” you mumbled, eyes half-lidded, “You didn’t exactly come home with restraint.”

He chuckled. It was the first time in months he’d laughed that quietly. “No,” he agreed, tilting his head, “I didn’t.”

You cracked one eye open. “You were kind of rough.”

His gaze darkened for a second, but not dangerously. “You didn’t complain.”

You smirked, eyes fluttering closed again. “Didn’t have a reason to.”

He reached out, letting his fingers trail lightly over your bare shoulder, your neck, down the curve of your back until you shivered faintly.

A pause.

Then your voice, soft: “You… really did miss me, huh?”

Taehyung’s voice was quieter now, his palm resting fully against your back. “You have no idea.”

You shifted again, turning just enough so your head was pillowed against his chest, your fingers splayed gently across the firm muscle there. You traced one invisible line across him, like mapping the difference.

His breath caught a little at the contact — more from the intimacy than the sensation.

“You’re stronger now,” you said softly, your voice almost childlike in the dark. “You changed.”

He didn’t respond right away.

Then, his arm curled around you, anchoring you closer.

“I had to,” he said. Simply. Quietly.

You tilted your chin, looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your voice was innocent. Light. But not empty.

His gaze dropped to yours.

And for a second — a full, weighted beat — he just looked.

Then he let out a breath, not heavy… but slow.

“Not yet.”

And you didn’t press.

You just tucked your head against his chest again, your fingertips trailing over his heart as if to memorize it.

And he held you tighter — like if he let go, the world might take you too.

_______

The sound of laughter spilled out of the dining room like music from a house that had been quiet too long.

Dinner was set in the garden-facing room, the long wooden table full with homemade food, half-finished bottles of makgeolli and soju, and the echo of six voices layered with history. Candles flickered in the center, catching the edges of glassware and grins.

Jimin and Jungkook had arrived an hour ago — freshly discharged, freshly free, their energy explosive and familiar. Jungkook had crushed Y/N into a hug before she could breathe, lifting her off the ground in a whirl of excited laughter.

“Noonaaaaaa—!”

“You’re going to break my ribs,” Y/N wheezed against his shoulder, giggling.

“Worth it!”

Jimin had been more composed, though his hug had lingered. Soft. Gentle. Like he was still grounding himself.

“It’s been too long,” he whispered against her hair. “You didn’t forget me, right?”

Y/N had swatted at him with a mock scowl. “As if I could.”

Now they were all together again — Namjoon at the head of the table, Jin beside him, Jimin and Jungkook across from each other, and Taehyung…

Right beside Y/N.

His hand rested on the back of her chair, fingers brushing the top of her spine occasionally. Not enough to draw attention, but enough to make her stomach flip every time.

She was talking with Jungkook now, her arms folded on the table as she grinned at him. “So,” she teased, “how was it? Which one of you cried first?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “We don’t talk about that.”

Jimin snorted into his glass. “You mean you don’t.”

“Hyung—!”

Namjoon chuckled. “Honestly, I thought Jungkook would be the military muscle boy again, but—” he tilted his head toward Taehyung “—this one came back with shoulders.”

“Oh yeah,” Jin added, raising his brows dramatically. “You could balance a whole tray of drinks on his back now.”

Jungkook pouted. “Hey! I still got my muscles!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jimin teased, poking Jungkook’s bicep. “Still a golden maknae.”

“Who’d win in a fight now?” Namjoon mused, resting his chin on his hand. “Jungkook or Taehyung?”

Silence.

Then chaos.

“No way he could take me,” Jungkook declared.

Taehyung didn’t move. He just tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming. “Wanna test that theory, bunny?”

Jimin burst out laughing. “He’s not kidding. He could break your spine with that stare alone now.”

“Chill,” Taehyung said, voice dry. “I’m a civilian again.”

You leaned your head against Taehyung’s shoulder, giggling. “Please don’t break anything. I just cleaned the house.”

The group quieted for a beat.

Then Jungkook leaned across the table. “Y/N, are you still baking?”

You lit up instantly. “Always. Now that Tae’s home, I can start again.”

Taehyung turned to glance at you, his voice teasing but warm. “You’re going to fatten me up, aren’t you?”

“That’s the plan,” you said proudly. “I already have a new menu just for you. Lemon honey chiffon, your favorite, and I’m testing a persimmon tart.”

His smile softened. “I missed your food the most.”

“Military food was that bad for you, huh?” Jimin asked, leaning in.

Y/N made a face on Taehyung’s behalf. “He wouldn’t even talk about it. Just gave me this haunted look.”

“It was inedible,” Taehyung muttered. “They called it curry. It was glue.”

Everyone laughed.

You nudged him lightly, your voice playful. “Good thing you’re back in civilization now. Let me take care of you, okay?”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then his hand gently squeezed the back of your neck, thumb brushing your skin.

“I’m counting on it.”

“Ugh, get a room,” Jungkook grumbled, dramatically covering his eyes.

“We have one,” Taehyung said coolly.

“YA!” Jin and Jimin shouted in unison, and the table erupted.

Eventually, the conversation turned to other things — promotions, comeback ideas, Yoongi’s discharge date. The group slowly quieted into warm, easy tones, the comfort of years spent together folding into every gesture.

At one point, Namjoon brought up something Taehyung had said in a recent live.

“You really said you hate childish people now?”

Taehyung nodded calmly. “They exhaust me.”

Everyone stared at him.

“You were the most childish one here,” Jin deadpanned.

“Facts,” Jungkook added. “You once cried because your snack fell on the floor.”

“Once?” Jimin choked.

“I evolved,” Taehyung said with a smug shrug.

Y/N pouted at him from her seat, hands coming up in mock offense. “So what, am I childish now?”

His eyes flicked to her, narrowing with playful threat. “Don’t push it.”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Then reached up to squish his cheek, teasingly. “Don’t be too grown-up and serious, Mr. Military Man.”

But before she could get a proper hold, he caught her wrist mid-air — fast, firm, one brow raised.

“You forget how much stronger I am now?”

You gasped in outrage. “Let go!”

He smirked. “No.”

You pouted harder, lips trembling in exaggerated pain. “Oppa… you’re bullying me in front of your brothers.”

“You’ve been bullying me since I got back,” he murmured, pulling her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her fingers, slow and deliberate.

The table went silent.

Then Namjoon broke into a sigh. “We’re literally right here.”

“You two are the worst,” Jin muttered.

“Seriously, just get married,” Jimin said under his breath, sipping from his cup.

Y/N only leaned against Taehyung’s shoulder, victorious, as he wrapped his arm around her with a sigh — his hand resting right over her ribs, pulling her in like she was his.

Which she was.

______

It was a weekday afternoon, bright and mild, the sky above Seoul a lazy shade of blue. The streets weren’t crowded — just enough to feel alive without pressing in too close. You walked hand-in-hand with him, your steps light, your skirt fluttering with every breeze like petals across pavement.

You looked like spring incarnate.

Floral midi dress in soft yellow, little ribbons tied at your sleeves, sandals that made no sound. Your hair was pinned in a way Taehyung liked — soft, girlish, sweet. You were glowing. Laughing. Asking him if he wanted gelato from the corner place you always dragged him to before he left.

He wore sunglasses and a black baseball cap pulled low. A simple tee. Loose jeans. Mask. To anyone passing, he looked like any tall, faceless boyfriend doting on his tiny, radiant girlfriend.

But to Taehyung, it felt different now.

Everything did.

He’d gotten used to analyzing his surroundings. The shift of footsteps. The angle of parked cars. The sound of voices layered in a crowd. He hadn’t meant to keep doing it after discharge — it just stayed with him. The SDT trained his eyes to see threats before they were threats.

He still couldn’t stop calculating exit points every time they turned a corner.

You’d just pulled away, walking toward the gelato cart with a soft “Wait here,” and he nodded, watching you float toward the vendor.

You smiled brightly at the ahjussi behind the cart, pointing at the mint chocolate flavor like a kid, the little purse in your hands bouncing with each step.

Then Taehyung’s smile vanished.

His eyes locked on a man about twelve feet down the sidewalk — tall, in his 30s, standing near a lamppost with a phone in hand.

But not using it.

He wasn’t looking at his screen.

He was watching you.

Too long.

Too directly.

Taehyung stepped forward once. Then again.

His heart beat differently now — not fast, but cold. His hand clenched inside his pocket. The muscle in his jaw twitched once as his body shifted between the man’s line of sight and your figure.

The man noticed.

Looked away.

Too late.

When you turned back with a smile and two cups of gelato, Taehyung had already stepped close, took both in one hand, and curled his free arm tight around your back, guiding you quickly away.

“Wha—? Tae—?”

“Not here.”

His voice was low. Controlled. He didn’t say anything more until you were two streets over, near a shaded alley with no one watching.

He let go of your arm, breathing slow and sharp through his nose.

You looked up at him, frowning. “Hey. What happened?”

He didn’t answer. His head tilted, scanning, shoulders still tense.

“Tae.”

His eyes flicked to you finally. Still dark. Still locked in that place only soldiers understand.

“There was a guy. Back at the cart,” he said flatly. “He was staring at you.”

You blinked. “…Okay. I didn’t even notice—”

“I did.”

He took a deep breath and leaned against the brick wall behind him, setting the gelato aside on the bench.

You stepped closer, voice careful. “Tae… it’s just Seoul. People stare sometimes.”

“It wasn’t normal staring.”

“You mean, like…?”

“Like he wanted something.”

Your lips parted slightly at the way he said it. There was no hint of jealousy in his voice. Only danger. Calculation. Something hard and cold behind his eyes.

You placed your hand gently on his chest, feeling the tense pull of muscle beneath your fingertips.

“You okay?” you asked.

He hesitated.

Then scoffed under his breath. “You really think you can be out in the world acting like nothing’s wrong?”

You blinked at him. “What’s wrong?”

He looked at you, and his voice was low. Real.

“You don’t know what I’ve heard.”

The air between you thinned.

“I spent a year around nothing but men,” he continued. “No privacy. No filters. Just hours of hearing how they talk. How they think. About women. About what they want to do. About what they have done.”

You were quiet.

“They don’t think women are people. Not really. Just things. Toys. Disposables.”

He looked away, jaw tight. “I never showed them your picture. Not once. I kept it in a zip pocket at the bottom of my duffel, inside a wrapper, hidden under soap. Because I was scared someone might recognize you. Find you.”

You touched his wrist.

He didn’t move.

“You were the only thing I wanted to protect,” he said softly. “They talked about their wives, their girlfriends, the things they’d do if they ever saw certain idols in real life. Your name almost came up once and I felt my entire body go cold.”

“Tae…”

“I didn’t want you to ever be in the same sentence as the way they talked. And now—out here—some guy looks at you for too long and my whole fucking brain goes back there.”

You stepped in.

Wrapped your arms gently around his torso, your cheek resting against his chest.

His arms came around you immediately, his hands curling into the back of your dress, clutching you not like a lover—but like something sacred.

You didn’t speak. Just let him breathe.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, brushing your hair from your eyes.

“You’re too soft for this city.”

You pouted. “I’ve lived here longer than you.”

He half-laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You’re sweet. You talk to strangers. You wear ribbons in your hair and floral dresses and smile at old men selling chestnuts like they’re your grandpas.”

You looked up. “You’re making it sound like a crime.”

He sighed, then pressed his forehead to yours.

“It isn’t a crime. It’s why I love you. I just… I’ve seen how fast the world can get ugly.”

You cupped his jaw gently. “So let me be soft. You can be strong. I’ll bake the tarts, you fight the ghosts.”

He closed his eyes, smiling faintly. “Deal.”

You paused, then grinned up at him. “So… what was it like, being locked up with only men for a year?”

His brow lifted. “…Loud. Smelly. Violent.”

“Did they talk about feelings?”

“Not unless it was followed by ‘shut up, loser’.”

You laughed softly.

“Bet you missed touching a girl.”

His gaze dropped to you, suddenly darker. “You have no idea.”

You flushed.

He leaned in closer, whispering at your ear.

“You’re the only softness I had left. Don’t ever underestimate how badly I needed you.”

Your breath hitched.

Then he kissed your temple. Once. Twice. His hand still firm on your waist like he was anchoring himself to the only thing real.

That night, the bedroom was dim and warm — moonlight slanting through gauzy curtains, casting soft shadows across the wall.

The sheets were half-kicked off the bed, your legs tangled with his, your body resting against his chest as your breaths slowed together. It wasn’t urgent this time. Not hungry. Not frantic like that first night.

This time was different.

Slower.

His mouth had explored you like a hymn, like a melody he’d forgotten how to hum. Your skin remembered him — every line, every pause, every breath.

He didn’t talk much. Just held you close, moved with care, touched you like you were the only soft thing left in a world full of stone. And when it was over — when the tension in his body had eased and yours had melted — he kept his arms around you like a cage made of comfort.

You ran your fingers lazily across his chest, lips brushing his shoulder.

“You okay?” you whispered.

He kissed your hair. “I am now.”

You fell asleep not long after.

But he didn’t.

Not yet.

_____

2:13 a.m.

You woke to the sound of movement.

Not the usual kind — not shifting blankets or sleepy murmurs.

This was sharp. Gasping.

You turned.

Taehyung was sitting upright at the edge of the bed, hunched over, his elbows on his knees, one hand buried in his hair, the other clenched tight on the sheets.

His shoulders rose and fell like he couldn’t catch his breath.

“Tae?”

He didn’t answer.

You sat up slowly, the sheets falling off your body, heart hammering now — not from fear of him, but for him.

You crawled across the bed and knelt behind him, arms gently wrapping around his back. You pressed your cheek between his shoulder blades.

He flinched. But only slightly.

Then exhaled.

It took a while before he spoke. His voice, when it came, was barely audible.

“There was a call. During drills. Fake scenario… supposed to be a simulation. But something went wrong. A real threat alert went off. Border movement.”

You stayed quiet, listening.

“I was closest to the line. They handed me live rounds. Told me I might have to shoot. Just like that.”

You tightened your hold, your face buried against his spine.

“I didn’t. Nothing happened. But the silence after that? The waiting? That’s what messed with me. That moment between breathing and shooting… I think I’ve been stuck there ever since.”

You turned his face gently toward you, crawling around to his lap, straddling him slowly — not to seduce, but to anchor.

He looked at you like he didn’t know where he was.

You cupped his cheeks softly. “You’re home. You’re safe. I’m here.”

His eyes watered, but the tears didn’t fall.

He leaned forward until his forehead pressed against your chest, arms wrapping around your waist, breathing in your scent like it might pull him from the battlefield still living behind his eyes.

And it did.

Eventually.

⸻

You heard the front door open with a click.

It was mid-morning. He’d gone to the gym after breakfast — the one you insisted he try out, clean, private, just a few blocks away.

You were already in the kitchen, the scent of browned butter and cinnamon thick in the air. A tray of raspberry almond croissants cooling beside you, powdered sugar melting into the ridges.

You wore an apron over a soft tank and cotton shorts, your hair up again, music playing faintly on your phone.

When he walked in, the scent hit him first.

Then he saw you.

His pace slowed. His bag dropped by the door.

You turned with that signature beam — pure, unaffected joy — and held up a plate.

“Chef’s pick of the day. I demand a taste test.”

He stepped forward, eyes flicking over your flour-dusted cheeks, your bare legs, the way your smile could still make his chest ache.

“You’re going to kill me with sweetness.”

You smirked. “That’s the plan. You’re getting too handsome, you know. ARMY’s gonna riot. You need to eat more croissants. Just a little chubby Taehyung. For safety reasons.”

He raised a brow, playing along. “Oh? And if I don’t?”

You gave him a dramatic sigh. “Then someone’s gonna steal my boyfriend.”

He stepped up to you, slid one hand around your waist and the other to your jaw, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek.

“Don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” he murmured, “when every guy in Seoul wants to steal my girl.”

You bit your lip, cheeks pink.

He leaned down, kissed your forehead.

And in his mind, a quiet monologue drifted through:

There are still days I wake up expecting the alarm. The cold floor. The sound of boots and orders and men screaming over drills.

But then I open my eyes… and she’s here. Soft skin. Sweet voice.

She smells like vanilla and sugar and peace.

I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I’ll protect her with my life. Even now. Especially now.

She’s the only thing that brought me home fully.

And I’m never letting her go.

He kissed you then. Long. Quiet. Gentle.

You fed him a croissant between kisses.

And he stayed close the entire day. And longer.

#taehyung #bts army #bts imagine #bts imagines yandere #bts #bts fanfic #kim taehyung #jungkook #angst #fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #bts x y/n #kim namjoon #jimin #bts jin #yoongi #hoseok

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oct0bra1ns · 8 months ago

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It's been so long i forgot how i formatted my posts, oops. @keencoffeefox here ya go

The throne room echoed with silence, broken only by the heavy rustle of your ceremonial robes. The crown on your head weighed more than gold—it carried the burden of resentment. Across from you stood your older brother, Prince Adrian, the rightful heir who had everything ripped away. His sharp gaze followed you like a predator, cold and unforgiving.

"Enjoying the weight of my crown?" Adrian’s voice dripped with scorn. He stood too close, his lips curving into a sneer. "I hope it crushes you.That crown doesn’t suit you,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth curling in disdain. “It’s just waiting for you to fail.”

Ever since you were named the new heir, Adrian made no effort to hide his contempt. His presence felt like a constant threat—sharp words, veiled glares, and subtle reminders that the crown would always belong to him. Even the warmth of family dinners had turned into silent battles, with him watching your every move as if waiting for you to slip.

And yet, despite his hatred, a small part of you still wanted his approval, the approval of your older brother who used to play with you, who used to sneak you out of lessons to go into town.

The brother who once looked at you with love, now looked at you like you were his greatest enemy.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The attempt on your life came without warning.

It was a quiet night in the palace gardens. The scent of blooming roses filled the air, and the moonlight cast a pale silver glow over the winding stone paths. You had stepped away from the banquet to breathe—just for a moment. Alone, under the stars, the crown’s weight felt almost bearable.

Then, out of the shadows, a figure appeared—a glint of steel in their hand. Before you could react, the assassin's dagger plunged deep into your side, pain searing through your body. You staggered, blood soaking your clothes, your strength draining with each breath.

Your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the grass, gasping for air. The world blurred as the garden spun around you, voices dimming into distant echoes. But just as the darkness threatened to pull you under, you felt a familiar, frantic grip on your body.

"NO!"

Adrian.

He was there, catching you before you could hit the ground. His hands pressed hard against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, crimson staining his fingers and sleeves. His perfect composure shattered, leaving only raw panic in its place.

"Stay with me!" he whispered harshly, his breath ragged. He cupped your face with one trembling hand, forcing your unfocused gaze to meet his. "You can’t die. I won’t let you die."

For the first time, there was no trace of the cold, condescending brother you knew. His usual scorn was replaced by something far more terrifying—desperation, fear, and obsession all tangled together.

He looked down at you as though the thought of your absence was worse than any betrayal.

"Guards!" Adrian’s voice sliced through the night like a whip. "Find whoever did this! Bring them to me—alive!" His expression twisted with fury, a storm brewing beneath his calm mask. "They’ll pay for even thinking of touching you."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You woke to the soft glow of candlelight flickering across the room. The scent of cedar and smoke was unmistakable—this wasn’t your room. Your side throbbed beneath tightly bound bandages, every breath a reminder of the dagger that had nearly ended your life. The silk sheets were too heavy, too warm, cocooning you in a false sense of security.

As your vision cleared, you saw him. Adrian sat at your bedside, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingers threaded through his hair. His royal poise was gone—he looked dishevelled, haunted, like he hadn’t slept since the moment you were attacked.

The moment you stirred, his head snapped up. The intensity in his gaze pinned you in place, making your heart race.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, the tension in his shoulders unravelling slightly. But instead of relief, there was something fierce in his gaze—an intensity that made your skin prickle. He leaned forward, resting one hand on your shoulder to keep you from sitting up further.

“You shouldn’t be moving,” he said, his voice quiet but edged with a sharpness that left no room for argument.

“I’m fine, Adrian,” you muttered, though the pain in your side made it clear you weren’t. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you regretted speaking. “Not as bad?” he repeated, the words brittle with disbelief. “You were bleeding out in front of me—do you think that’s something I can just forget?”

There was no anger in his voice, only fear masked by frustration. His grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you that, in his mind, this was serious.

"Adrian, it’s not your fault—"

“I should’ve been there,” he interrupted, his voice low and trembling. "I should’ve been the one taking that blade, not you." He exhaled shakily, pressing a hand against his forehead, as if trying to rein in emotions that threatened to spill over. "You’re my little sibling... How could I let something like this happen to you?"

You shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his words, but Adrian leaned closer, his eyes clouded with something between guilt and obsession.

“I thought I hated you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, as if saying the words aloud made them heavier. “I thought losing the crown was the worst thing that could happen to me. But when I saw you lying there—” He broke off, his hands curling into fists. “I realized I didn’t care about the crown. I just wanted you to live.”

Silence hung heavy between you. The brother who had once stared at you with cold resentment now looked at you as though you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

"Adrian," you began cautiously, "I’m not going anywhere."

His lips twitched into a small, fragile smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes. “You say that now. But if I hadn’t been there..." His voice trailed off, his jaw clenching as if the thought alone was too painful to finish.

“From now on,” he whispered, his voice low and resolute, “you’ll stay close. No more wandering off alone. No more reckless decisions.” His hand slid from your shoulder to hold your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You frowned, pulling slightly against his grip. “I can take care of myself—”

“No,” Adrian said firmly, his voice sharp and final. “You won’t do this alone. I won’t let you.”

Adrian leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours in a rare, tender gesture. "You’re my little sibling," he murmured,"And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. No matter what."

You felt his arm slip around your shoulders, drawing you closer into an embrace that felt suffocating.The warmth of his touch was overwhelming, as if he believed holding you close would be enough to stop the world from taking you away again.

"You don’t need the crown," he whispered against your hair. "You only need me."

#yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #octo writes #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x y/n #platonic yandere x reader #yandere x you

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mamawasatesttube · 6 months ago

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is anyone gonna ask bout 6. jons big bro has got it going o.docx and 8. normal and unsexy things to do atop the daily planet globe.docx? no? guess i’ll do it myself

pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasep-

oop forgot to answer this the other day my bad!!

6. jons big bro has got it going o.docx

this is the 5+1 post-sotm fic ive been sitting on for 500 years (and at this point probably won't finish until i figure out the sotm rework i wanna do at some point), about "five times jon's friends crushed on his hot older brother and jon told them to shut up forever, and one time jon had to put up with them talking about supernova bc he can't even tell them to shut up forever without blowing his cover so he's just in hell." <3

it's a comedy on the surface, and then a little deeper down (when we hit the +1) it's actually about lois lane's nosy-ass son eavesdropping on kon quietly having a crisis to clark, because he's in his mid-20s and these sixteen year olds crushing on him all look like babies to him, and the older he gets, the more he doesn't understand how tana could have done what she did to him. at all.

as for the other, well...

8. normal and unsexy things to do atop the daily planet globe.docx

this is about tim and kon having a date in which they do normal and definitely not sexy things on top of the daily planet globe 😳. i dont know what to tell you man its written on the tin. (and then tim goes "so... do you think lois and clark ever--" and kon is like "finish that sentence and im throwing you off the side.")

#answers #derp-a-la-sheep #timkon #tim #kon #jon #i am going to clois code timkon so fucking hard if its the last thing i do.

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twig-tea · 7 months ago

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GL odds and ends 10 November 2024

Still feeling out how regularly it makes sense to do this; first one was 2 weeks ago on 6 October, second was--oops--3 weeks ago on 20 October. If you're interested in GL older than that, check out my GL rec list through Feb 2024 and my update in July 2024. New series marked with an asterisk*.

Currently airing (with thoughts up to 10 Nov):

*The Fragrance You inherit 1/8 (Japanese, Friday/Saturday-ish, no official distribution but fansub on @isaksbestpillow's blog [thank you Siiri!] I wrote about episode 1 already, but just to keep it all in one place: this one looks great. Not really a GL, more a family drama with a lesbian at the center of the story. I'm doubtful we're going to actually get anything other than closure for the romance in this one.

Pluto ep 4/12 (Thai, Saturdays 9:30 AM EDT, YouTube) This plot continues to be absolutely wild (at this point both of them have suspected the other of being involved in attempted murder?!) but Namtan and Film stay gorgeous and serving so I am still tuned in.

Apple My Love ep 5/7 (Thai, Saturdays 11:45 AM EDT, GagaOOLala and YouTube) This show is very sweet and continues to hold up the recent Kongthup pattern of being great about things like sidestepping the most annoying drama tropes, showing great friendship dynamics including asking your friends about sex, and in this one, excellent sibling dynamics too.

The Loyal Pin ep 15/16 (Thai, Sundays 12:15 PM EDT, YouTube) Anin remains so brave. This latest episode felt a little like we rushed to the finish line, but I've really enjoyed the way this show has handled things overall to date. The show continues to enjoy faking us out in previews so I'm not going to speculate on the ending until we get it.

Red Whisper ep 7/8 (Korea, [schedule is kinda unpredictable; vaguely every 5 days??], YouTube) Oof we've graduated to actively upsetting me with the way this show has depicted nonmonogamy and bisexuality. For the record: Not all bisexuals are nonmonogamous, and entering a monogamous relationship under false pretenses and then acting like your partner is being unreasonable by not wanting an open relationship is shitty behaviour.

*The Nipple Talk 5/10 (Taiwanese, weird schedule: the first 5 dropped on Nov 8 and the last 5 will air Nov 22, GagaOOLala) I honestly owe this show a separate post, it is great! This is an ensemble show with the main character being a heterosexual woman but her two besties are a gay man and a lesbian woman, and the show follows all of them through relationship issues. There is a lot of sex, great conversations about sex, and different relationship styles from one night stand casual flings, to nonmonogamous casual regular sex partners, to long term monogamous relationships. It is very funny, fun, and charming as all hell. It's made a couple small stumbles in the first 5 episodes but I'm still enjoying it a lot. If you liked Diary of Tootsies, this is highly recommended!

Recently Completed:

Reverse 4 U 8eps (Thai, 3 Sept-22 Oct 2024, Netflix / YouTube) I did not like this finale--in the end I was sad where we ended up with this show and I hope we get to see these actors in something else. Also looking forward to more genre GL, which is in the works!

Unlock Your Love 8eps (Thai, 11 Sept-30 Oct 2024, GagaOOLala / YouTube) This show was a little slow, but it stayed cute and relatively low stakes, and the actors had excellent chemistry when they were allowed to do their thing, which was relatively often--I appreciated the amount of good kissing in this show lol. The plot meandered, and we forgot we were in a worklpace GL by the end, but I enjoyed this in spite of that.

Chaser Game W s2 8eps (Japanese, 19 Sept-7 Nov 2024, GagaOOLala) @lurkingshan is already doing a great summary of this week to week in her JQL weekly round-up, but I'll add my thoughts to the finale here. Honestly this show did not do it for me for several reasons, but the main thing this final arc did that bothered me was introduce lesbian motherhood as a serious conflict, and then seemed to suggest that homophobia only exists because queer people are not brave enough. It rubbed me the wrong way. Plus the boss who sexually harassed characters in the first season was back to sexually harass characters in the second season with no consequence. I think this show was trying to do to much and as a result it didn't feel coherent.

Recent One-offs, Side Couples, etc.:

A very short and cute Chinese GL Oh General! My General! aired on bilibili and was subtitled by @douqi7s on YouTube This short manages to speedrun training, shared bath, cheek kiss, forced separation, timeskip, and happy ending in 2 minutes

The sapphic backstory in The Hidden Moon concluded with a happy-in-the-afterlife ending

We also got more of the Aim as a Lesbian plotline in the new Love Sick 2024 remake again (this was not a plotline in the 2014 version and it's one of the changes I really like and that I think works really well; her conversation with her mother was a good scene)

The Thai lakorn The Empress of Ayodhaya had a kiss that earned very high ratings on Thai television (This show does not have international distribution so I can't cover it in any detail unfortunately)

Sastra film app YouTube channel has several short Cambodian GL series that come out weekly Honestly they are not to my taste but I don't like gatekeeping GL especially from smaller markets. I check in on these time to time and if there are any that I think are great I'll give them a shout-out

Ditto above with JPC media YouTube channel for Thai GL shorts if there are any that stand out to me I'll say so; that being said I haven't had time recently so if I've missed anything good let me know!

Starting soon:

My Ex's Wedding [in theatres in Thailand 14 November]

Mom Ped Sawan, Thai, 17 November [international distribution uncertain; it should be on VIPA app with subs, but that is region-locked]

Petrichor, Thai, 23 November, iQIYI

Mate, Thai, 26 November, WeTV

#gl series #gl recs #gl meta #sapphic media #typed so that i can stop thinking it #kimi no tsugu kaori wa #the fragrance you inherit #pluto the series #apple my love #the loyal pin #red whisper #the nipple talk #reverse 4 you #unlock your love the series #chaser game w

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chromatic-lamina · 1 year ago

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ももも

Chapter 1117 Spoilers

Ahhh. I'm quivering. We don't get Law, but we get!

Bepo and Bepo is thinking about Captain (so he's not dead, and neither is Bepo...All patched up with his little bandage). Not too distraught, so I'm trusting the Hearts are okay, AND

Will of D. <3

The scans say that the Japanese ends with mo (も), which can be a conjunction similar to 'and' (or is it a particle? I don't know). BUT, could also be the beginning of a name or noun (Momonosuke). Or extra thing (more...)

BUT, it's interesting that all are named or shown, bar Law. Bepo of course is a representative, but where is Law? Also, I don't think the navy knows about Law's status (so I don't know if Vegapunk did), BUT intriguing. Where is Jaguar D. Saul? (maybe Oda forgot him, or there will be another reveal).

Honorable mention to this D. too!

Vivi! Shown, but not named. (Interesting that the Wiki lists her as a D. by the way, but not Law's family. I think it's an oversight for Law).

Ah, Robin and Law must be champing at the bit. I'm hoping Law's not part of SWORD, but I'll roll with it if he is (just looking at those backgrounds). Bepo's is similar to the marines featured. Also, I hope that Law's listening in!

Ay-oop! look who washed up on the soar! Heh-heh. Shore. Our favourite ancient zoan, Drake. So, he saved Garp and Co? I wasn't sure which Captain Kujaku was referring to here (below)).

It doesn't seem very Garp-like to want space. I am betting that Hibari is Akainu's granddaughter rather than daughter in the way that Kujaku is Tsuru's granddaughter, and Luffy is Garp's grandson, because it makes sense (generation-wise), and ties into the "It's our turn to step up" line from Kujaku. Interesting!

Anyway, just popping in to drop a bit of excitement. It seems the iron giant got blitzed, but I'd say it's its own form of ancient weapon, so it might not be over and out yet. I wanted to repost what Sandman said on Twitter last week, and which I also thought:

The Japanese has 'tanoshimi' (enjoy, fun, etc.) in quotation marks, which strikes me as maybe Rayleigh being sarcastic. For example, what knowledge has the older generation withheld from the younger? and is that withholding a benefit to them, or does it just make it that much harder for them to find the truth? (and increase their chances of being in danger?)

Speaking of which, do you think Rayleigh will survive? Does he know too much? Knowing Oda, he will, but it's curious that there are remnants of the crew out there with all the answers that others are seeking.

Of course, the true history and Will of D. and One Piece are not necessarily of equal weight, but man, Oda's not discounting any of them either!

Just rambling. Also, link to Sandman's post.

OOH, I almost forgot. Talk about gritty characters (even if they're made of smoke)

Smoker!!! It's been too long. Good to see ya'! (where there's Smoke there's Law...maybe? Heh-heh. Just joshing. They look good together, though).

Another also bit! It's way at the end of my post but at the beginning of the manga: Pearl's look has always reminded me of the Pearl Diving bells (or the helmets divers wore), so I think it's clever of Oda to place him at the section where they're talking about exploring below the sea.

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powerpcinside · 1 year ago

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Two 4t2 Conversion Redos: MoooD N35 and VivianDang Elwin

I decided to redo two of my older hair conversions I wasn't happy about (also, the female version of MoooD N35 was broken on one age group, oops). MoooD N35 has less crunchy textures and animations, and VivianDang Elwin has a less crunchy mesh, animations, and sits better on the shoulders. Elwin is ~15k poly and N35 is ~11k. Both are CU-EU, both genders included in one download. These do not overwrite my old conversions. Also, yes, Elwin was originally for both genders but I think I forgot to post the male one.

DOWNLOAD: MoooD N35 | VivianDang Elwin

#ts2 #my ts2 cc #sims 2 #sims 2 custom content #ts2cc #sims 2 female hair #sims 2 male hair #dl: hair

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tired-truffle · 2 months ago

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You’re The Sun Who Makes Me Shine

An Alistair x F!warden fic

One-shot

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Warden-Commander Lila walks in on her lover enjoying himself. Alistair doesn’t want her to leave.

A/N: Oops! Forgot to post this on Tumblr too!

Thank you @bibutterflies for letting me borrow your lovely warden Lila Amell ❤️ I hope I did her justice!

Title from the song I Touch Myself by Scala & Kolacny Brothers

This fic is NSFW

Masterlist

A low, stifled groan slipped through the cracks of her bedroom door as Lila reached for the handle. She frowned. It was late, near midnight, and she’d been caught up in the piles of paperwork she’d been procrastinating after a month-long, exhausting journey to the Deep Roads. At least Alistair had been with her, though there hadn’t been much space for quality time when one was nips deep in darkspawn.

The last she’d seen him, he’d been heading off to train with some of the older warden recruits - heavy hitters who weren’t skilled at pulling their punches. Usually, Alistair could hold his own, but even his boundless energy had its limits, and the Deep Roads had nearly sucked him dry.

Another groan, and Lila winced, imagining him attempting to stitch closed a wound he’d received during training. His stitches had to be the clumsiest she’d ever seen, on skin or fabric. He should have gone to the healer, but he likely didn’t wish to disturb there sleep. Considerate of him, but not necessary. She’d simply have to take over and stitch him up herself.

Opening the door, Lila strode into the room with the gusto of a woman ready to wrestle a needle out of her lover’s hand, only to stop short when she realized she had thoroughly misjudged the situation. Instead of a needle, Alistair held his hard cock in hand, his teeth gently biting his bottom lip, his head tilted back to rest against the headrest of their bed. His soft, sleeping trousers had been unlaced, his shirt hitched up to bare the lower planes of his abdomen that moved with his quickened breath and slow pumps of his fist. Upon her abrupt entry, he jolted, gasping at the intrusion, startled as he tried to shield his illicit activity from view, a deep blush spreading across his cheeks and over his ears. Caught red-handed, or rather, cock-in-handed.

Lila stood stock still on the threshold, here eyes darting from his lap to his face, her mouth dry as she struggled to form coherent words over Alistair’s wide eyed horror.

“Do you…” she licked her lips, gaze drawn to his cock, “want me to go?”

She hadn’t meant to pitch her voice lower, to imbue it with a husky neediness, but after weeks of only chaste touches and cuddles before crashing for the night, her body took over.

“No,” he said, too quickly to be casual - but then again, his devotion to her, both emotionally and physically, had always been zealous. He straightened, still blushing and bashful, but a spark of interest had his pupils expanding.

Lila shut the door behind her, turning the lock without breaking eye contact. Three long strides brought her to the edge of the bed, a fire roaring in the hearth heating up the room - though the heat in Alistair’s gaze alone could have sustained her in the mountains surrounding the Hinterlands.

Completing paperwork hadn’t required her armoured robes, and Lila was suddenly very thankful for the monotonous work. Removing her tunic in one swift tug over her head, she tossed it to the side, not caring where it landed. She made quick work of her trousers, Alistair’s eyes hungrily roving over every newly exposed expanse of pale skin. Her smalls and breastband followed suit.

“You too,” she said, gesturing to his clothes, his hand loose around his cock as he became fully distracted in her. But her words spurned him into action, and he’d stripped down to nothing in the span of seconds. Lila bit back a giggle, a pleased flutter in her stomach at his eagerness. He’d always been an enthusiastic lover, time had never changed his desire for her.

Lila kneeled on the bed at his feet, his legs bent at the knees and spread to make room for her. “Why did you stop?”

Alistair blinked rapidly, confusion tilting his lips into a frown, his brow furrowing. A sultry smirk curled the corners of her mouth, and she pointedly looked at his hard cock, twitching and untouched, and his hand lying at his side. His mouth formed an ‘O’ as realization sunk in, a blush spreading down his neck and chest that Lila had to resist from leaning in to run her tongue over his length.

“You want me to…” he trailed off, the blush deepening as his hand hovered over his length. He suddenly found the bedposts exceedingly interesting to look at.

“Touch yourself,” she finished for him. “Yes, I do.”

Eager to please and needing no further encouragement but the lock of her lips, Alistair wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping lazily as his eyes began to glaze over. A bead of cum rested at the head, and his thumb rolled over it, spreading it over the shaft.

Lila watched with half-lidded eyes, her breath hitching in her throat, momentarily forgetting her plan. Alistair reached for her, and jostled her back into ownership of her singular functioning brain cell.

“No,” she said, playfully slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch.”

His lips curved into an adorable pout, but she only smirked in return.

“Tell me what you were thinking about before I walked in.” Lila palmed her breast, shifting on her knees as pleasure coiled in her core.

“You,” Alistair rasped, his cock twitching as he quickened the pace.

Her hand trailed down to her thighs, teasing herself as she imagined those sword-roughened fingers grasping her hips and rutting against her. “Oh?”

He nodded, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath. “Yes. You, I always, ah, think of you.”

“How do you think of me?” Lila dipped her fingers into her wet heat and thumbed her taut nipple with the other hand. A needy moan pulled itself from her throat as she ghosted over the sensitive bud of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Alistair nearly stopped breathing altogether.

“I-I, uh,” he said intelligently, gripping his thigh to stop himself from reaching for her. “That time in the inn outside of Denerim, in the bath with the special oils. How gorgeous you looked and how soft you—ah—felt.”

Lila remembered that day fondly, after weeks of being covered in a sheen of their own sweat and Maker knows what else, it had been blissful to wash away the grim. His warden’s stamina had come in handy, and once they’d sloshed enough water out of the bath that there was sure to be extra charges when they paid the next morning, they dried each other off and continued in the plush bed.

Her laugh came out more as a breathy sigh. “We both smelled like roses for days.”

He smiled, affection breaking through his lust. “You always smell like a rose to me, darling.”

“How sweet of you,” she crooned, ending with a whine that had his hips jerking into his palm, a breath hissed from between his teeth. “Do you want to know what I think of when I’m alone and missing you?”

He nodded quickly, his attention rapturous, and she grinned. “It’s usually, ah, not specific, just how good it feels to have your cock inside me,” she dipped a finger into her cunt, her walls clenching around the intrusion and she moaned, “how full you make me feel, your hands on my breasts and your breath hot in my ear.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts, wanting to touch but trembling as he held himself back. “Such a good boy,” she purred, unsure what exactly had come over her, but revelling in this new game all the same. “Would you like a reward for your obedience?”

He nodded again, just as eagerly as the first, but this time, he found his words. “Maker, yes.”

Headiness overtook her, and any shame she may have felt for barring herself to him fully was thrown out the window - it wouldn’t be the first time, and if she had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t be the last. She draped her legs atop his, bringing their hips closer, but not yet touching, offering him a full, uninterrupted view of her finger pumping in and out of her soaking cunt.

It must have taken every piece of willpower he had to hold himself back, but he did.

“Tell me what to do, Alistair,” she said hoarsely, the wet sounds of her fucking herself on her finger lewd and matching the pace he’d set for himself. “Tell me how to fuck myself like you would.”

He groaned at that, a strangled noise in the back of his throat, his cock bobbing like it was trying to bury itself inside her. “A-Add another,” he stammered as his blush deepened. “Another finger.”

Close enough to a complete sentence for Lila to understand the meaning, she complied, adding a second finger to accompany the first. She moaned at the slight stretch, her legs quivering. It was by no means as much of a stretch as Alistair himself, but the way his eye widened just a touch, and his hips began to jerkily thrust into his fist...Maker, the sight of him coming undone pushed her closer to the edge.

She pried his unoccupied hand from his thigh, the heat of his skin suffusing into hers as she brought his fingers to her lips. Licking up the length of his index, his lips parted around his pants as she took him into her mouth.

He leaned forward, eyes glued to her lips as she swirled her tongue around the callused pads, sucking him deeper. She added a second finger, mirroring what she used to fuck herself, and he bowed, his face inches from her own.

“Maker, Lila…” his glazed over gaze raked up and down her body. “I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

Her words of affirmation were lost in the sucking of his fingers, and he shuddered at the vibration.

“I want you to come with me,” he said. “Let me see you, love.”

Lila could get behind such an earnest request. Continuing to pump her fingers, curling them to hit the spot that made her whine, she added her thumb to her clit, circling the bud and keening at the added pleasure that shot through her limbs.

The Deep Roads had been long and treacherous, and she had needed this release more than she’d realized.

Her orgasm shivered through her legs, exploding in a ball of pleasure at her core - long over due. Her cunt clenched around her fingers, and she gasped, curling in on herself as she worked herself through her finish. Alistair came with a hoarse shout moments after, and she forced her eyes open to watch his as bliss washed over him - his nose scrunched and his eyelids fluttering. Beautiful, the freckles smattered across his cheeks standing out beneath the pink tinge to his skin.

He removed his fingers from her mouth, and Lila pulled her fingers from her cunt with a wet squelch, panting as she came down from her high. She met Alistair’s tired gaze, a lopsided smile gracing his lips and making her heart flutter.

Absentmindedly, he pawed at the pile of clothes he’d discarded on the bed, grabbing his smalls and wiping the cum from his stomach and softening cock. Lila didn’t see where he tossed the ruined garment, nor did she particularly care. Free of the sticky substance, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his chest and burying his face in her hair. He sighed his contentment, and when Lila could no longer tolerate the stretch of her hips, she pulled back slightly, shifting to straddle his lap properly. She settled back down, sweat slicked bodies cooling together.

“That was…unexpected,” Alistair said with a chuckle. “But I can’t say I didn’t thoroughly enjoy it.”

Lila placed kisses along the column of his throat, alternating between open-mouthed and tender brushes. “We should do it again sometimes.” When she bit down gently, he whimpered, and she grinned.

His arms tightened around her, and against her core, his cock began to harden again - warden stamina, one of her favourite perks. “You won’t hear any complaints from me.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now, what would you say, my dear, about bestowing upon me the honour of tasting you.”

A shiver ran down her spine, and her heart rate increased, anticipation thrumming up her desire. But who was she kidding? When it came to Alistair, there was almost nothing she wouldn’t allow him to do to her.

“I’d say: Maker, please, yes! I want you to fuck me with your tongue and then your cock,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. He laughed, his hands trailing down her back and over her thighs, and she joined him in his mirth.

“My Lady has quite the appetite, I suppose we’ll see if I can satisfy your hunger.”

And satisfy he did, until Lila screamed his name, until she collapsed in a boneless mess of euphoria and sweat. Much needed and well earned. Sleep could wait until after they’d had their fill.

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