#flashes back to the multiple times i was talking to my friend being treated for meth addiction
Note
can I request a hobie brown x fem! spider person and they kinda adopt miles and gwen. They see them and they’re like “yep these are our kids now.”
FOUND FAMILY
Hobie Brown
Summary: You and Hobie have been together for about 6 months now. When Miguel introduces everyone to the new recruits there’s an immediate liking between the 4 of you. Soon you and Hobie find yourselves becoming protective.
not edited—requests:open ——————————————————————— •“I’m excited. It been awhile since we got new recruits” you said excitedly walking to the conference room. You hands were locked together as you swung them back and fourth.
“Me to. Hopefully there not jack asses like the last to.” you nodded in agreement as he finished talking.
You flashed Miguel a smile which he, obviously, didn’t return. You sat down next to Hobie. You leg bounced up and down nervously as you waited for miguel to begin.
“Calm down darling.” hobie said placing a hand on your knee. Although it had been half a year of being together he still found simple ways to make you blush.
“Alright let’s begin.” miguel yelled out. “As you know we have 2 new recruits. They will be treated with respect and won’t be treated indifferently. Understood?” he said looking at Hobie.
“He touched my hair alright. What i did was in the right. Plus he only fractured his wrist, nothing worse” a hobie explained hand in the air in defense.
Miguel rolled his eyes before beginning again. “Alright please give a warm welcome to Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy.” Everyone watched as they walked in.
Gwen was short and had shaved part of her head. It seemed it had been died with different colors. Miles seemed tall enough with a black and red suit.
You watched as Miles gave a timid wave seeming nervous while Gwen smiled confidently.
“Ok go sit down.” Miguel said in a bored tone. You waved them over to the seats next to you.
They walked over sitting. “Hi i’m y/n and this is my boyfriend Hobie.” you said extending your hand.
They both shook it smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you.” gwen said. You took your focus back to miguel. You grabbed Hobies hand with a smile as you sat next your new friends. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•“Gwen! Get down from there people are staring!” you scolded as the blonde stepped off the table. “It’s not a joke Gwen you could get hurt.” Gwen and Miles laughed as you and Hobie glared.
“ok mother dearest.” gwen retorted sarcastically.
“I swear they never listen.” you whispered to Hobie. He grabbed your hand squeezing it.
“It’s ok darling. It’s just a phase.” you smiled at that. Quickly it was wiped from your face as you heard a gag.
Miles and Gwen were faking vomiting. “Ok guys real mature.” Hobie said.
“Bye mom. Bye dad.” They said leaving the table.
“Get back here now!” Hobie yelled. You gripped his hand as they walked away. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ • “What were you two even thinking!” you said slamming your hands on the desk. “First you leave this dimension without telling us an then you show up at a fight you were told not to be at by multiple people.” you yelled.
“You could have gotten hurt, or worse killed. So not only would you cause great grief to me and y/n you would also be causing a huge disruption in your dimension!” Hobie yelled.
Gwen scoffed at that. “Would you like to say something?” you snarled.
“This is bullshit! You aren’t are parents so stop acting like it. We are adults who can make are own decisions.” Gwen yelled. “Cmon miles we’re leaving.” They both stood up.
“No i don’t think so! Get the fuck back here!” you yelled but they were already out the door and down the hall. “fuck” you whispered.
Hobie pulled you into a hug kissing your head. Hot tears spilled on your cheeks. “Are we really that bad Hobie?” you whimpered.
“No baby. It’ll take some time before they realize why we’re here. We may not be there real parents but they need someone to take care of them here.” hobie said.
He leaned down attaching your guys lips. “Cmon we have to get to the meeting.” you sighed.
You walked down the hall making it to Miguel’s office. Both you and Hobie stood in. the corner ready to listen.
“There’s a new anomaly!” miguel’s voice echoed through the office. All the spiders went quiet. “For this mission I will need Y/n, Hobie, Gwen, Miles, and Peter. B. That is all. The following people will be debriefed by me. Others please make your way to Lyla for further instruction.”
Your squad walked towards Miguel as he sat atop at his desk. The tension was high as you watched Gwen and Miles move further from you and a hobie.
“There being jackasses. Don’t let them bother you.” Hobie leaned down and whispered. You smiled as Miguel began.
“This new anomaly is one we have seen only few times. The plan is simple. Take it down. We leave right now.” at that Miguel stepped into the portal. Miles and Gwen quickly followed leaving you, Hobie and Peter entering last.
Immediately you saw them already fighting. Quickly running you began to bring civilians to safety. Miguel and Peter could handle the anomaly.
You and Hobie worked together swinging grabbing anyone they could bringing them to safety. Gwen and Miles were doing the same, well you hoped they were.
You noticed a small child in the middle of it all scared. You swung and ducked grabbing him by his waist lifting him into the air. You found a safe place where people could help him.
Running back to the scene you noticed it had quieted down.
“damn that was a quick one.” you commented walking up to Hobie. His eyes were glossed over. “Hey what’s wrong hun.” you looked in his direction to see Peter and Miguel trying to move a bus.
“Hey what’s going on.” you yelled running over. You attached webs attempting to help.
“Gwen. Miles. Bus.” miguel muttered.
“no, no , no!” you yelled. You pulled and pulled Hobie joining. “God damnit you stupid kids!” you’d creamed. With one last pull the bus flew out of the way.
You and Hobie ran towards them pulling rubble off them. “Miles, Geen cmon let’s wake up ok. Your gonna be okay. It all gonna be fine.” Hobie pleaded shaking them. Your eyes blurred as you watched.
“Y/n, Hobie.” Gwen choked out.
“Oh my poor girl!” you cried throwing yourself around her. “Oh Miles!”you yelled embracing him as he sat up. Hobie wrapped his arms around you guys as well.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry i’m a horrible person. All the shit i said. We really do see you as our parents. We need you guys.” Gwen cried.
“shhhh it’s gonna be ok. We are all ok.” Hobie whispered hugging everyone even tighter. ———————————————————————
Authors note
This was so cute to write. Such a fun request hopefully i delivered it well. Should i do any other fandom one shots? ( ex. obx,marvel,etc.)
sincerely,
macsmoods🌊🫧
#across the spiderverse#gwen stacy#hobie brown#miguel o'hara#miles molares#miles morales x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#hobie brown x reader#gwen stacy x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown fanfiction#hobie brown fluff
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Spilled Drinks
Robert Rosenthal x Reader
Word Count - 1,735
authors note : hello friends, i have never written anything like this before and posted it. i had some free time today and an idea and dreamt this up. it is far from perfect but i hope you enjoy it, nonetheless. thank you!
The muffled yelling of multiple voices was enough to drag Y/N out of the daze she had fallen into. Her workday had started early and ended late leaving her feet and head throbbing - a shower and her bed, more of a cot really, were calling her name. Her venture to the communal showers she shared with her fellow nursing staff was quickly interrupted as Violet and Helen crossed her path.
With a tilt of her head Violet spoke up. “And where do you think you are rushing off to?”
“To shower and get some sleep.” As soon as the final word fell from Y/N’s lips her two friends were quickly shaking their heads in protest.
“You promised! You always say a person is just as good as their word. It will just be for a drink or two and then you can come and get as much sleep as your heart desires. I swear to you.” Violet said, wagging her finger in front of Y/N, like a mother would do a troubled child.
After a brief glare between the two women, Y/N sighed, hung her in defeat, and turned back in the direction of her bunk.
“I don’t even know what to wear to an army base bar. Those men already don’t take us seriously and you think this is gonna make it any better?”
“The more you fight it, the worse it’s gonna be Y/N. Just for once stop living and breathing being a nurse and just be a girl surrounded by a bunch of good looking men.” Hazel spoke up for the first time that night before being met with another glare from Y/N’s direction.
Y/N knew both her friends had a solid point. In the ten months she had been working at Thorpe Abbotts she had never allowed herself a break. She did her best to maintain a positive reputation among the men she treated but her friends, and now even herself, had noticed that the weight of the job had begun to take its toll. A night away from the blood, cries, and medicine couldn’t be all too bad - for her sake.
The August heat was enough to force a light sweat upon the girls as they journeyed from their bunks to the bar. As they stepped inside the building, Hazel quickly pulled her powder from her purse and turned to Y/N blotting away at certain areas of her face.
“You have to talk to at least one man tonight. One. And not someone you’ve treated.” Violet stated and lightly shoved Y/N forward to the bar, shooing with her hand. “Get a drink, enjoy the night.’
“One cosmopolitan, please” Y/N stated after reaching the bar, flashing a smile. She hoped and prayed, as the guy poured away, that the alcohol would be enough to calm the nerves she felt bubbling in her stomach. They only increased as she looked around and spotted Colonels, Captains and Majors. Leaned against the other side of the bar were the now infamous friends, Buck and Bucky. Gale Cleven was nothing but kind and a gentleman but Y/N had overheard talk of a girlfriend back home and John Egan, well, he was John Egan. There was nothing else to say. A few months prior, during a training exercise he wound up hurt and sitting in front of her in the infirmary bay, clutching his elbow with a shit eating grin plastered to his face as she wrapped his arm. Conversation flowed easily with the major but Violet had urged her to speak to someone new.
The bartender brought her from her daze as he placed the drink in front of her and she quickly took a sip. As she pushed back from the bar, she ran directly into a tall frame that had tried to squeeze in beside her, red juice spilling on both of their newly starched clothes.
Before an apology could tumble from her mouth, the man was already grasping her arm to steady her and ushering for his friends to grab a towel from the bar.
“I am so sorry, ma’am. I wasn’t watching where I was going and I ju-” she cut his rambling off
“No, that was all my fault. I was lost in thought and then - oh my god” taking a quick glance down to the tan and brown jacket, her eyes shot open even wider, “your uniform. I can’t believe I got that all over your dress jacket.”
An arm reached between the two of them holding a towel that Y/N quickly grabbed and started dabbing along the man’s chest, steadying herself by grabbing onto his arm.
“This is the first night I ever came out and I just ruined someone’s jacket, oh my god.”
A large hand landed on top of hers, stopping her from continuing her attempts at cleaning up the mess she, well both of them, had made.
“I promise you, ma’am, it was my doing. Let me order you another drink. This ones on me.”
For the first time during this whole encounter, she looked up to the man she had lost her Cosmopolitan to. She was silent as she stood with his hand still over hers, quickly losing her will to deny the drink once her eyes locked with his blue ones, a small smile adorning his face. All she could do was nod. He took a step forward, placing his hand on the small of her back to turn her with him towards the bar.
“A cosmo, right?” he questioned and a small nod was directed his way. “Another cosmo for the lady and whisky, neat, for me please?” The bartender quickly got to work leaving the two strangers standing closely together in silence. The man quietly cleared his throat and stuck out his hand.
“Robert Rosenthal, but most of the guys call me Rosie.” Y/N took his outstretched hand and lightly shook it up and down.
“Y/N Y/L/N”
Robert grabbed the drinks the bartender sat before him and motioned his head towards an empty table across the dance floor.
“Would you like to grab a seat? I think you owe me at least a conversation after this.” he said, looking down at the tan shirt that was now stained slightly pink. A small smile made its way across Y/N’s face.
“It’s the least I could do.”
Robert led the way to the table, nestled in the corner and sat the drinks down. In a swift motion he pulled a seat out and ushered Y/N to take it. As soon as he sat down, a wave of confidence overtook Y/N’s once anxious mind.
“So, Rosie, what is it that you do?” she asked, raising the glass to her lips. She had some worry that the appearance of a woman drinking alcohol would be ‘unladylike’ but all of her care went out the window when she realized with everything she had seen and done, it was the smallest token of appreciation.
“I’m a pilot. I’ve been flying for a while now.”
“Are you any good?” she teased.
“I sure hope. I have learned the hard way making impressions isn't all too easy here. I just embarrassed myself in front of those two majors.” He said, moving his head to the right.
“Buck and Bucky?” he answered with a small nod. “Don’t sweat it, Buck is too nice to make fun of you and Bucky will forget about it in about two hours when the whisky finally hits and his favorite song comes on.” Rosie cracked a smile at her, shaking his head at the thought of the once intimidating major belting out show tunes.
“Thank you, that makes me feel better.”
“Anytime.”
Rosie took a large gulp of his drink and leaned forward on his forearms.
“So, Miss Y/N, how did you wind up here in paradise?”
“I’m a nurse. I’ve been here almost a year. I still don’t know what I'm meant for.” She admitted, lifting her glass to her mouth to slightly hide her face.
“How do you mean?” he quipped.
She took an inhale, taking a moment to carefully collect her words.
“It’s not easy. A lot of these guys come here, make friends with their crewmates and drink and sleep their feelings away. I can’t really blame them. They’re fighting a war for Christ's sake. But, us women, see what comes back. The trauma, the injuries - all of it - and we get sideways looks for drinking a shitty cosmopolitan every once and a while.” she laughed sarcastically as she finished the rest of her drink. “I love helping people but it gets hard.” He nodded, looking down at his own drink and giving it a swirl.
“I never thought of it that way. You ladies get the best and worst of us.”
She sat for a moment, looking at her hands folded in her lap.
“Do you see those two girls over there?”
“By the bar?”
“Mhm. Those are my friends. They have spent the entire ten months we have been here urging me to come out, get away from the bubble I've made for myself and I fought against it until tonight. I thought it would be a disaster. Then I got here and got a drink and told myself it would be fine, only to spill it all over you.”
“Y/N, it's really no bother.”
“I know, because as crazy as it sounds - I am so glad that I did.”
A small crept across Rosie’s face as he sat back in his seat, downing the rest of his whisky.
“And why’s that?”
“Because, it gave me the perfect excuse to talk to you Mr. Rosenthal.” cheeks turning bright red as she directed her eye contact towards him.
“Well then, I’d be a fool not to ask for a dance Mrs. Y/L/N.” standing from his seat and outstretching a hand, which Y/N gladly took.
Together, hand in hand, they walked to the dance floor where Rosie pulled her close. Y/N settled her head on his chest, watching as their feet moved in harmony.
“Oh, and Y/N,” he spoke up with a small smile perched on his lips, leaving her to tilt her head up towards the pilot “, the next round is on you.”
#masters of the air#robert rosenthal#rosie rosenthal#masters of the air imagines#masters of the air x reader#rosie rosenthal x reader#rosie rosenthal imagines#john egan#gale cleven#john egan x reader#gale cleven x reader#bucky egan x reader#buck cleven x reader
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so. i watched shubble’s vod. i just feel so so sorry that she had to go through that but i’m glad she’s in a place now where she felt comfortable sharing her story. i truly believe it’s going to help so many people. there were parts of her story i could relate to and it was incredibly validating to hear that some of the things i went through were not okay. it’s been 4 years and i feel like over time i’ve tried to downplay exactly what happened. i’ve also blocked a lot of it out of my memory and genuinely can’t recall a lot of specific instances. but just hearing her put her experiences into words was so healing for me. i hope she feels all the love from her friends and fans and continues to heal and thrive. and i don’t know how likely this is, but i hope the person who hurt her never has the opportunity to hurt anyone ever again.
gonna vent a little below the cut:
thankfully i was never physically abused, but i was in an emotionally manipulative/borderline abusive relationship for about two months. thankfully my friends are incredible and helped me to see the red flags quickly so it didn’t last longer or progress more. but when shubble started talking about how this guy would say she was remembering things wrong and tell her she’s overreacting or being dramatic, that really hit close to home for me. because whenever my ex would do things that upset me and i called him out on it, he would say it wasn’t a big deal and i just didn’t know how relationships worked because i had never been in one before (at the time i was freshly 20 and he was 25).
also when shubble said she had to help this guy clean his house/do chores, and maybe he had never learned so she felt bad for him, i just flashed back to my ex telling me all of his childhood trauma, making me feel bad for him and like i couldn’t leave and break his heart. he admitted one of the reasons he started dating me was because he liked my family and wanted a replacement for his dysfunctional one. idk it’s a loose connection, but it’s interesting how abusers will make you feel sorry for them and sort of trap you in the relationship.
also the bit about the safe word. i laid out my physical boundaries very early on and he promised not to cross them and then he did multiple times. he would weaponize this. whenever i upset him by not texting him back immediately or had to reschedule a date because i was a busy college student, he would tell me i could make it better by offering physical affection. and i would do it bc he made me feel like i had done something awful when in reality no sane person would react like he had.
the part that made me really sick to my stomach was when shubble talked about how this guy pinned her down and told her to try to push him off and she couldn’t. and then he said she wouldn’t stand a chance against him in a fight. that is so unbelievably messed up. and all i could think of was the time i was at my ex’s apartment watching a movie and i fell asleep on his shoulder. and when i woke up he said “i can’t believe you fell asleep. i could have done anything to you and you wouldn’t have known.” if a romantic partner is thinking about and telling you these things RUN VERY FAST IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. to this day i’m still so glad i didn’t date him for a longer amount of time, who knows what might’ve happened.
okay last thing. the part about shubble’s ex insisting that he loves her more than she does. it just brought me back to when i broke up with my ex and he insisted that no one would ever love me as much as him. there were no guys out there who were as good as him. and for the longest time i believed this. i internalized that i was unlovable, that i would never find a guy who would treat me right, that all men were terrible. and i was scared of dating for years after this because i didn’t want to go through all the anxiety and waking on eggshells and screaming my anger into pillows again. but over time i’ve been able to heal, thanks to family, friends, and my relationship with God. i’ve opened my heart up to the possibility of romance again. i haven’t dated anyone since i ended things with my ex, but i’m open to the idea. but i will not settle for anything less than what i deserve. shubble’s story has definitely contributed to my resolve.
okay that’s all. if you’ve read this far thank you for letting me get this off my chest. i love you and take care of yourselves ❤️
#turning rbs off bc i get personal lol#also like everyone has said please don’t speculate who shbbl was talking ab#if she wanted us to know she would have said#tw abuse#vent#tw emotional manipulation#mer talks#let me know if i need to tag for anything else pls
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THESE ARE MY OPINIONS ON S4 VOL2!!!!!!
SPOILERS AHEAD READ AT YOUR OWN RISK
First we will start with Eleven, I honestly thought her character had so much potential this season and it wasn't completely wasted, I loved the scene where Nancy Robin and Steve killed Vecna, I think it's better in some ways because it ended differently, it wasn't flashing lights with eleven just killing the monster, because it was so much more.
I think Millie put so much extreme effort and emotion into season 4, she did the most amazing job and I really hope we get to see more of her in season 5.
Eddies death. Ok the duffer brothers better have pulled a hopper, Eddie is one of the most fun and loving characters in the show at this time, he is a comfort character to many including me, and killing him of was really unescessary, but not only was it unescessary, it was expected and predictable, duffer brothers always manage a way to kill off a character that everyone loves, but always keep the characters that everyone hates. And one last thing, something that made me so mad was the fact that we didn't get anybody else's reaction to his death, he died and Dustin would have left I presume. But we never got any of the characters to mourn his death, so that's really disappointing because It seemed as if nobody cared except for Dustin and Eddies uncle.
Rest in piece Edward Munson 🕊🎸
Now for Stancy, I can only say one thing.
No.
Ok, I'm sure alot of people say this but we actually need to give Max a break, the poor kid isn't even 18 yet and has had to put up with being verbally and physically abused by Billy, then had to watch Billy get killed right in front of her, she had her stepfather leave which seemed to not bother her, but more bothered her mother which resulted in Max mostly being alone with just a few friends. And if Max is actually dead then so help me I will march up to the duffer brothers front doorstep and smash they're door down with an axe just to make them bring her back. And another thing, she got possessed multiple times and was floating around and shit twice, had a vision of Lucas turning against her, then floated the 2nd time whilst 3-4 of her bones snapped, both of her arms and one of her legs, and maybe more than we don't know of. Then now she's probably going to end up blind and have no memories, or dead.
Robin and Vickie.
I'm sorry this shit gotta be talked about, I personally think that Robin maybe deserves better than Vickie? But don't get me wrong, I think Vickie is an amazing character and I would love to see her and Robin have some kind of connection, but just hear me out, either Robin built confidence or lost feelings because in the ending scene when they were in the shelter, it was Vickie who was rambling, not Robin. Which means Robin wasn't nervous around her which can lead to her probably not having many feelings for Vickie as time had passed, and after Robin saw Vickie at warzone with her "boyfriend" she was talking to Steve and saying how it was probably time she got over it anyway.
And Vickie, I'm sorry babes but is Robin really just "someone from band"? Is she not more? Is she not your friend? And if you ain't gonna treat her right then I will 💀.
Nancy.
I don't have much to say but I personally liked Nancy's storyline in volume 2, it seemed similar to most, yk Nancy and her guns and her being the powerful slaying woman she is, I just wish we got more of her in vol.2 along with Robin as well. Apart from that I thought Nancy was hella badass and ate up every scene she was in. And how come nobody is talking about the fact that she was the one who killed vecna? Like he was the main villain of the whole show, he was only introduced in s4 but had really been there since s1, and "Nancy the priss wheeler" killed him without hesitation, and we support her for that.
Ronance.
Duffers, they had so much potential. SO MUCH, THEY EVEN HELD HANDS, still disappointed we didn't even get a hug or anything out of them instead we just got them making they're merry way out of the season not even together but more apart. I was screaming with joy by the scene we got to when Robin knelt down so Nancy could get up. And then they gave us stancy like 4 seconds later 🙄.
Like ur not helping the situation.
Will and his coming out.
I can't even say anything because HE DIDNT EVEN HAVE A COMING OUT, do you guys realise we waited around 6-7 years for will to come out and he didn't even mention the words himself. I atleast expected him to have a coming out scene to Jonathan or maybe Joyce when she came back, but nothing. Duffers, you have failed the gays once again.
Steve, don't get me wrong I love his character but.. I think there was too much wasted potential in this season for him to be a really good character, like what they should have done is sent Nancy and Robin to kill Vecna, and Steve and Eddie to play the guitar with the demo-bat thing, then sent Dustin with Max, Lucas, and Erica, I feel like him and Erica would have worked really well together. Anyway I still minorly enjoyed his screen time.
Stancy, again.
Ok so yes, I'm bringing them up again.
I think that bringing stancy back would ruin everything that Nancy and Steve have fought for.
Including the fact it would ruin both of the characters and they're development that they've both made over the 3-4 seasons. And overall I just don't like the ship. Like why would they ruin a perfectly fine jancy for Steve and Nancy. Would probably destroy me tbh.
Unpopular opinion, I don't really think Jason should have died. Yes I hated him but imagine you were in his situation, his girlfriend died out of nowhere and the last person she was with was Eddie. I personally would have wanted to get revenge, although I take that back for his last few scenes when he was alive. But if they can do character development with Steve they could have done it with Jason. And instead of killing Eddie off I think they all would have become pretty good friends. Go ahead and hate on me for that tho.
I think that's about it. Might make a part two idk
#ronance#byler#steddie#eddie munson#eleven#stranger things#season 4#volume 2#max mayfield#will byers
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too far / a self para (pt. 3)
triggers: murder, death
July 22, 2023 (almost midnight)
Why is it that when Maya died -- I'm really not sorry about it -- but it was my birthday the next day and I went to Medusa to celebrate that, I had people look at me strangely for doing that, but bodies have been dropping left and right recently, and if you're not in a celebratory mood tonight at this engagement party, you're in the wrong?
People suck, I thought, as I made my way to the open bar. And everyone here will pay.
My brain grew tired of planning after Toby, and I figured it just wasn't for me. That was more Jake's area of expertise anyway and besides, it's so much more fun to just wing it because not only will the future dead person be surprised, so will I! A fun, little surprise for me, like a treat.
I want to have a lot of treats tonight, I thought as I took a sip from my drink. The only plan I have for tonight that's set in stone is that I'll convince people I'm well on the way to being drunk as the night goes on, when I'll be anything but, to make people think that I could never be responsible for any of the murders that will be happening tonight.
I had a list of people I want to kill: Jieun and her friends but Jieun specifically for being a fake bitch, Lucia for grieving like she was Dante's girlfriend when, news flash, she wasn't and never will be, that overdramatic, overtalkative bitch, Dominic for making fun of me because I couldn't drive like he's sooooooo special for not making use of public transportation, Analu for breaking up with me all those years ago and still, to this day, never really giving me a reason why, Greyson for not choosing me, Kat solely because it's something I've been dreaming of for a long time now and of course, Sarah and Charlotte, solely for being Jake's sisters.
I didn't need a reason, but I still got them. I'll be sure to let them know why I wanted them dead before I slit their throat.
Everyone's soooooooo cute for thinking I'll stay the sniveling, crying, weak person I used to be that let Kat slap me without fighting back. They'll never expect that that person is dead, buried alongside the rest of the people I stabbed.
The person I am now is just one of the many things I'm so thankful to Jake for.
However, as excited as the thought of having multiple treats tonight made me, I still had to keep up the pretense that I was the woman who had lost everything. In a sense, that was still true. But why dwell on the thoughts of the people who are already dead when I could just think about the people I could still kill?
I wasn't in a celebratory mood, that's for sure. I love love, always have, and I always want to celebrate it, but isn't it clear to everybody that Mei doesn't actually love Levi? It's actually kind of funny to see everyone put on a smile and pretend to be happy, because I'd been doing the same thing for a long time. A long, long time now, it seems.
It also didn't really sit right with me that Mei doesn't seem to be as happy as she could be, when she was getting exactly what I used to wish on every star and every 11:11 for -- a rich, devoted husband, though I could do without the whole religion talk, and a child. A family. A future that's set and stable and secured. She'd never want for anything and she doesn't even seem all that grateful for it.
Maybe I could still have all of that with Jake once Kat's out of the picture.
I kept ordering drinks, kept pretending to drink them, kept walking around pretending to be drunk and that I needed to go to the bathroom or outside to get some fresh air, but I was mostly looking for any opportunity to get people on their own.
Maybe I should have come here with a better plan, I started to think because it seemed like I wouldn't be able to do as much killing as I wanted to, just as the red and blue lights filtered in through the windows. I didn't have to fake my confusion as I wondered what was going on, and the shock evident on my face was genuine when the Chief of Police told the entire ballroom of Lucia's death.
Damn it, Jake. She should have been mine, I couldn't help thinking, though I had to stamp down my laughter as I listened to the murmurs around me. Bye, bitch. Down in the dirt you go, where you belong.
Other than the initial shock and glee that she was dead, though, I found that there was also disappointment. I talked a big game about killing people tonight and I actually hadn't done anything yet. I didn't know Jake was going to kill tonight, and if he could do it even with all these people around, even with a date, even with his siblings at this party, then I most definitely can too. I just need to figure out how to actually do it, and the fact that everyone's now locked inside the hotel room just made everything so much harder.
People wouldn't dare pass up the opportunity to think of me as a weak person, I had come to realize. It's easier for them to think of me as that and I know now that I could use that to my advantage. That, and the fact that everyone thought I was drunk tonight meant that they wouldn't really think twice about me running to the bathroom, especially when I say I'm about to throw up.
I took a special interest when I saw that Levi was going upstairs to his room, instead of going back to the ballroom where Mei was, and my curiosity got the better of me as I followed him up to his room. Just like Toby, I wondered if he was really as nice as he seemed. He was selfish, that was for sure. He wanted to celebrate while people were dying around him.
Maybe the world would be a better place without him too. He hadn't been on my list but I can add him onto it right now, I thought as I checked to see the knife in my purse, the same one I used on Rhys all those months ago. Usually, selfish people were at least smart people, but Levi didn't seem to be one of them, because he didn't even consider having security at this event. An event with his pregnant fiancée, mind you.
I just waltzed in here, in my sparkly dress, a knife that could definitely implicate me for Rhys' murder, hidden in my equally sparkly purse, and nobody knew about it. Sure, I could always say that I have it to defend myself in case a situation arises, but I also didn't want to be labeled a suspect, like Toby had been. All because of a video that didn't even make that much sense to me.
I could turn on the waterworks, though, and I know people would stop thinking that I'd have anything to do with these murders. People never want to see a woman cry, especially one who looked like me and who had publicly lost so much. They'll never believe it.
Suckers.
I laughed as Levi asked me what I was doing, before I took out the knife. What did he think I was doing? Just taking a casual stroll into his hotel room with a knife out for what? A conversation? Wow, he really was stupid.
And then he had the audacity to ask me if I had been the one to hurt Lucia, and I rolled my eyes as I kicked the door closed behind me so that it was just him and me in this room. I deserve a little privacy with the man of the evening, do I not?
No. That wasn't me. I wish it had been me, though. I would have loved to see her die, I told him with a smile. Don't worry, I said, opting for a soothing tone. It's my turn now.
There it is. There's the wonderful panic in their eyes, and it made me grin wider as I looked up at him, the anticipation on my end and the fear and tension on his end palpable before I dropped my smile and lunged forward, only smiling again once I felt the sweet feeling of blood on my hands.
This is what I should have been doing the whole night, I thought as I looked into the eyes of the man who would not stop talking about his beautiful wife to be, about what a blessing a child is, about how blessed he was. What a load of fucking bullshit, I thought as I let out a laugh when I took the knife out. I want to see every emotion on his face, I want to see the moment when he realizes there's absolutely nothing he can do. That he's at the mercy of someone who's friends with his future wife, who even slept at Mei's apartment for a couple of nights.
Mei deserves this, I thought as I stabbed Levi in the chest, a cackle escaping past my lips. An ungrateful woman and a selfish man. Wow, maybe they really are meant to be together.
Too bad he's going to die. No prayer to his god could save him now.
Where's your God now? I asked him before I started laughing and laughing, overcome with the glee that came from the look on his face. I was still careful, though. Even though I pushed him on the bed to make stabbing him easier and escape harder, I was making sure none of his God-loving blood would end up on my pretty cute dress. I could still use this dress in the future, but some of his blood splattered on my purse.
Letting out a loud groan, I continued stabbing him until I was satisfied, sighing with relief once I let the blood drip down to the floor from my knife.
Now that I started, I wasn't going to stop any time soon. I wanted more of this feeling. I wanted to kill. I wanted people to suffer.
I made sure everything was in their rightful place when I got out of the room, making sure it was locked behind me, but my eyes widened when I realized I wasn't alone in the hallway, and I quickly turned around
A part of me wondered if I could get away with it somehow, just keep walking away from this person I met at Medusa since I had my back to her anyway, but then Iris started talking. Hey skank, you obviously know he’s engaged, do better.
And just like that, the smile was back on my face, and the knife was back in my hand.
This bitch.
What the fuck did you just call me? Huh? I asked, eyes glinting with a mixture of fury and glee. I thought I was satisfied with killing Levi, but I wasn't. Not even remotely close to being satisfied because I was already ready to kill again, and I was also so happy with how quickly the next person I'm going to kill was presented to me.
Maybe Levi was onto something with believing in God or whoever, because I wished for more death, and it immediately came to me, wrapped up in the form of a bitch in a tacky dress. A whole coward too, I thought, letting out a laugh as I watched her try to run down the stairs.
I love it when they run. It makes it so much more satisfying when they realize they have absolutely nowhere else to go.
You're going to look so pretty when you bleed out, I said when I caught up to her, just in time to sink my knife into her stomach. That was for calling me a skank. This one is just for fun, I said before I stabbed her again. The anger caused by her words made me to stab her over and over again, after I took my time going down the stairs she had just fallen from. She was unconscious, probably from hitting her head, but I didn't really care. It didn't stop me from stabbing her still.
Serves you right, you fucking bitch. You deserve this, I said, always hating it when people tried to paint liking sex as a bad thing. Calling women skanks was bad enough but it was a million times worse when it came from a fellow woman, especially someone who doesn't even belong here in town. Wasn't she new? What right does she have to comment on things that don't even concern her?
You're fucking nobody and you'll die a fucking nobody, I spat out, about to stab her in the chest when I heard footsteps, causing me to narrow my eyes. I'll come back for her as soon as the coast is clear.
She's not going anywhere.
July 22, 2023 (a few minutes after midnight)
I messed up. I messed up. I messed up.
Iris had survived, according to the police officer, and she knew who I was. I couldn't even get to her now that she was on the way to the hospital.
Fucking Mei. Ruining my plans with that 911 call, causing the hallway and the stairs to be overrun with cops and medics.
I had nowhere to go. No one to turn to.
This was it. This was the end of the line for me.
Good.
The one word that snuck into my thoughts was jarring, shocking even me, but I think a part of me was relieved. I already knew I wasn't the same and I'd never go back to the person I used to be, and I had already thought of myself as someone with absolutely nothing and no one to lose, but this truly cemented it.
One way or another, I was going to leave this place either dead or found out. I preferred the former.
I'm going to have my fun first, though.
It was getting harder and harder to pretend to be drunk, but with the news of Levi's death and two additional injuries, nobody really paid me much attention as I tried looking for Kat.
I will not die or be arrested tonight without killing her first. After everything she put me through, she deserves to die. I'll deal with everyone else on my list later.
I lied through my teeth and said that I had a room somewhere so that I could get out of that stuffy ballroom, I ended up roaming around the halls, searching for Kat. What I found was Vera, though.
Eh, close enough.
Vera didn't like me solely because of Kat and for someone who consistently screamed that she was a strong, independent woman, she really needed to start thinking for herself.
Oh, you bitch, I thought when she bumped her shoulder against mine. I would have probably minded my business and passed up on her on my search for Kat, but just this one, small act of unnecessary aggression changed things.
No, actually, that's a lie. I've been itching to kill Vera too.
The only sound between them was when her keycard unlocked the door and the breathy laugh I let out as I wrapped the strap of her purse around her neck and pulled.
Bet you wish you didn't bump into me now, huh? I asked, deranged yet hushed laughter filling the air as I tightened the strap around her neck, wanting her to pass out.
I'm smart enough to know I wouldn't win in a fight against Vera, and who's going to stop me from making sure this fight wasn't fair?
The police? Please, I thought before letting out a yelp when Vera threw her body against mine, causing me to loosen my grip around the strap, but it didn't take too long before I had her pinned down, stabbing her in the shoulder, in the arm.
It's not enough. She deserves so much more.
I watched with glee as she started crawling away from me, and I took my time, knowing she didn't really have anywhere else to go. Another string of laughter could be heard as I realized where she was trying to go.
The balcony? Please, what was she going to do? Jump off it? Bleed to death in the bushes below?
You know, for some reason, I always thought you were smarter than this, but maybe that's just because you're best friends with two of the dumbest people I know, I said, right as I stabbed her in the back, the image of Vera's best friends, Kat and the other being Dante's baby mama, causing rage to run through me, making me pull on her hair to pin her down again before she could reach the balcony and ruin the fun I was having.
Stay down, you fucking bitch, I muttered as I stabbed her over and over and over again, laughing as I saw the tears in her eyes. Aww, are you going to cry, Vera? You're going to cry? I taunted her, the power of being the person responsible for this coursing through me and making me laugh again, before I heard footsteps. Again.
What the hell is up with people just roaming around these hallways? Didn't they know I have people to kill tonight?
Vera was already passed out, and the blood was already on my dress, so I decided to try and drag her to the opened hotel room, but the footsteps were getting closer and closer and I couldn't tell if it was just one person or two or three. I could handle killing one witness but three? Even I knew I couldn't handle that, and the realization caused me to drop Vera's body unceremoniously back on the floor, deciding to just wait out whoever this was before I go and make sure I killed Vera for good.
THE END
Levi really was onto something believing in a God because this felt like a blessing. The footsteps I heard belonged to none other than Kat, the one person I had been looking for in the first place.
Vera and Kat. Dead. Because of me.
Ooooooooh, this is perfect. This is exactly what I wanted.
I was still hiding out in Vera's room, but as soon as I saw Kat enter the room, I let out a cackle as I closed the door behind her, eyes boring into hers as I watched her back up to the wall.
You're not sorry, I spat out, disgust on my face before I tackled her down on the bed, the adrenaline and rage causing me to be a lot faster and stronger than ever. My hands wrapped themselves around Kat's throat, and I couldn't stop smiling. I wanted to draw this out. I wanted her to be in pain for as long as possible. I wanted her to look me in the eyes and know that she'll be dead because of me. That I did this to her.
I win, bitch, I thought as I grunted, tightening my hold around her neck, trying to flick her hands away from my face. I waited until Kat's hands were no longer clawing at her face, until I could see that she was turning blue before I sunk that knife deep in her stomach, exhaling deeply as euphoria coursed through me.
The sweet taste of revenge.
The blood. The look in her eyes.
This is all I care about.
Save your fucking apologies, bitch. I don't want them, I said before I stabbed her again, and again, and again.
And again, and again, and again.
And again, and again, and again, and again.
I didn't want to stop, the glee in being coated in her blood causing me to not even think about anything else. I didn't care about Vera outside this door, and the fact that people might have seen her at this point. I didn't care if people might hear the laughter from this room and walk in.
I didn't care.
I WIN.
Peals of laughter filled the air as I had the most fun I had tonight, just stabbing Kat everywhere I could, stabbing her more times than I stabbed Sawyer and Toby combined.
I'm not done. I'm never going to be done. I can do this for the rest of my life.
Why had I waited so long to do this? This was so, so, so fun. Hurting Kat was so fun. Killing Kat was so fun. Seeing her blood soak into the white hotel comforter and turning it red was so, so, so fun.
It took her a while to realize she wasn't alone in the room anymore, and the smile only widened when she saw who it was.
My Jakey, I thought, standing beside the bed as I watched him look at his girlfriend. His dead girlfriend.
Now it could be him and me.
Together forever.
Our happy ever after.
I still had to deal with his sisters, but this was really, really good progress. Kat was no longer in the picture and the proud smile was still on my lips, even as I dropped the knife on the floor.
My work tonight is done, I think.
My head tilted to the side as I watched Jake pick up the knife and stepped closer towards me, backing me up until I was against the wall. What--, I started to ask before I felt his hands wrapping themselves around my neck, cutting off my air.
Kinky.
Oh, I actually kind of like this.
It's only when he kept talking that I realized this wasn't going to be like what they did after Theo and Bianca. I don't understand.
Didn't he love me?
Didn't he say it was always going to be us in the end?
Wasn't he happy I did what I had to do so we could be happy together?
I couldn't even gasp as I felt the sharp knife -- my knife -- plunge into my chest. Jake pulled me by my hair and threw me on the ground, and I felt woozy from the lack of air. I could feel blood dripping from my chest, but none of it hurt as much as my heart was.
The same heart that yearned for Jake since we were younger. The same heart that wholeheartedly believed we were in this together?
I wanted to say no, I wanted to beg him to stop, but he stabbed me again, and again, and again.
And again, and again, and again.
And again, and again, and again, and again.
I don't understand.
I was his, and he was hurting me. He wanted to kill me. As I felt every stab, all I wanted to do was sob and tell him he was the one who made me into this. I thought this was what he wanted. I thought he loved me.
Because I loved him. I still did.
Even as he towered over me and hurt me and betrayed me, I loved him.
I love Jake.
I always will.
I could feel myself drifting away now, as I thought about everything in my life that had brought me to this one moment. Maybe this was how it was always meant to be. I'll always be the girl who loves a little too much, gives too much of herself away, to get absolutely nothing good back.
There's nothing left for me to give now, I thought as I looked into the eyes of the man I had sacrificed everything for.
All I ever wanted was to be loved.
Didn't I deserve that?
Didn't Jake owe me that? Since my love for him had been the reason for everything I did? Since he's still someone I'd do anything for?
Too much. It's all too much. It hurts too much.
It's almost ironic, how being stabbed in the chest hurt a lot less than a consistently broken heart.
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Excuse the screaming on here, don't want to scream on twitter because thats easier to connect back to me and this is stupid enough I really don't want to talk to folks I know IRL about this.
And this is gunna be like mega privileged problems so putting it in a cut just need to scream to the void
Aghhhhhh my dad is selling his business. Which is fine, but I still rely on my parents for support a lot financially. I feel awful, I'm a grown ass adult with a full time job but life is expensive and my parents agreed to help support me because I'm super passionate about my job but it's a job that famously does not pay well.
For about ten or fifteen years I got REALLY lucky, dads business was doing amazing, I got to live a very privileged fun life for I'd say about ten years. I got two college degrees out of it, got to live in multiple countries, traveled a lot, got to enjoy expensive hobbies, I built a wonderful wardrobe and collection of nice things..... and just the general feeling of not having to stress about bills or basic expenses.
Then dads business got stolen from to the tune of several hundred thousand dollars this last year, and he ate the whole cost so no one else would be effected benefits or jobs wise.
So I tightened my belt so I could ask less from them, and I'm now barely scraping by. Each paycheck I now have a hundred or so to my name before I get paid again. Ive hardly been able to touch the debt I've been trying to pay down.
And now that he's selling the business that flashing light of 'no help' is getting bigger and closer and I honestly don't know what I'm going to do. Sort of panicked and went on a huge spree canceling as many subscriptions as I can (I already deleted most of them, but it broke my heart to start canceling subscriptions to friends patreon's or artists I want to support or to favorite games and such), deleted all of my worst spender apps from my phones, and looking into more side gigs.
I really have no room to complain, this is no more than most people have to do and I'm honestly still incredibly lucky and blessed. But I'm going to miss being able to pick up the bill for friends or buying them presents, I'm really going to miss leaving huge tips on places, and GOD I am going to miss traveling, I already do. My friends are planning a trip to Japan rn and I'm so happy for them but I know I cant afford it no matter how much I want to go.
But most of all I'm going to miss the lack of stress. I went from never having to look at the price of the menu at a nice restaurant to eating nothing but tuna fish sandwiches for the rest of the week because I don't want to spend more money on food. Like I'm gunna be fine, I'm not going to starve, but the stress of money has been dwindling my already not super great mental health and the knowledge that it will always be this way from here on, is frankly fucking terrifying. Spending the rest of my life doing the mental gymnastics I need to make sure I have enough money for bills each month, and knowing I wont be able to buy a house or really build up savings (at least not until my parents die, and I am understandably not wanting that to happen either) is fucking depressing.
Especially knowing that if I have kids I wont be able to give them the opportunities I had growing up.
I've for so long tied my self worth to gifting things to others, buying meals, treating my friends and so on. I really am going to have to tackle how I view my self worth and what I bring to the table friendship wise because gifts and generosity are things I just cant afford right now and with the job I have I don't know if I ever will again. (well.... unless I marry rich lol)
I'll figure it all out, look for more expenses I can cut, look for more side jobs and so on. I'm probably making it out to be worse than it is, but having such a radical change in lifestyles has a bit of whiplash that really stings. Hopefully after a while I can start paying down my debt more which will help with interest rates, and if I keep cutting down on expenses maybe I'll be able to start saving.
I doubt anyone has read this, if you did thanks for listening to me whine and I hope you have a good day.
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Just What I Needed
Pairing: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x fem!reader
Warnings: Fluff, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, suggestive language, mentions of feeling insecure
Summary: Johnny braves the snowstorm to your house, you brave the storm to let him into your heart.
Word Count: 4.6k
A/N: I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write as good as my last fic but here’s some sweet johnny to make up for it 🫂 sorry for all the world building I need someone to tell me when to shut up !!
Of all the times for a snowstorm to hit, it just had to be the week your best friend finally got home on leave.
For the past few months, seeing Johnny again had been the only thing on your mind. You two kept in as much contact as you could, texting each other when he was able to and exchanging letters while he was deployed. The last time you two talked, his excitement was evident even on pencil and paper about the prospect of being reunited with you, the same words that echoed every time he was away over the course of your friendship.
It seemed like fate brought you together all those years ago when a simple walk in the park to clear your mind coincided with the casual football match Johnny was playing with the lads. One errant ball flying your way led to your world spinning, in multiple ways, as you landed on the ground with a huff, a broad set of shoulders slamming against your own as your eyes met the most delicate pools of blue. Coupled with his tousled mohawk, scruffy stubble and that jagged scar on his chin, it was hard not to notice how ruggedly handsome he was. He took your breath away.
Truly, he took it away. The wind was knocked out of you after his miraculous dive stopped the ball from flying into the woods but failed to spare you from being body slammed into the grass. The view made up for it, however, and so did getting to hear that wonderful Scottish accent as apology after apology spilled from his lips.
Name was John MacTavish, he said, but you could call him Johnny. This was not how a woman should be treated by a man like him, so why don’t you let him buy you a coffee sometime to make up for it? One quick exchange of phone numbers plus a flash of a boyish grin and he was running back to the field, leaving you standing there to wonder if that actually just happened.
He was a man of his word, evidently, because your phone buzzed that night with plans to meet up at his favorite local coffee shop. It took all you had in you to swallow down your nerves and agree to his plans for the next day. He was a gentleman through and through, pulling out your chair and pointing out his favorites on the menu. The conversation flowed naturally, even when you eventually let him take over while you kept quiet and nervously bounced your leg under the table. Johnny picked up on this, but didn’t let your shyness deter him or make things awkward like so many others had tried to do in the past. It made you feel more calm in his presence, knowing that he had only known you less than a day and already understood you.
Johnny told you about his family in Scotland, his sisters that he insisted would absolutely find you endearing and his mum who would be thankful he was actually putting himself out there, especially around a woman as ‘bonnie’ as yourself. You asked him what that unfamiliar word meant and couldn’t stop your breath from catching after he told you he was calling you pretty. Just your luck you managed to run into a guy who was so casually flirty and effortlessly attractive.
The rest of that afternoon together went smoothly, and it was only right before you parted ways that he told you about his status in the army, admitting his schedule was iffy at best but he would like to do this again when he’s back home, if you wanted to, and he would pull whatever strings he could to put in the effort to fit you in.
In all honesty, you never thought you’d see him again after that. Even after your so-called meet cute that all your friends gushed about the moment you told them about it, and the ‘date’ where you found yourself completely captivated by the sergeant. You’re admittedly shocked when he keeps in contact with you, sending you message after message about anything and everything. You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge that you were falling for Johnny.
You didn’t have any qualms about dating a military man, but there was that voice in the back of your head gnawing at you that he would be simply settling if you got with him. The chemistry you two shared was palpable, however, and you were more than happy to stay friends with Johnny. You two were quick to talk almost every day, and it was when he came home from that first deployment after your paths crossed that he took you to meet his family. Turns out they did indeed like you just as much as he said they would.
All these years later, and you can confidently say the man who barreled you over that day in the park was now your best friend you couldn’t live without. Funny how that works.
This past deployment was one of his longest yet, weeks turning into months as you rarely were able to hear from him. Letters helped, but all you wanted to do was to be able to have him in front of you once more.
You didn’t know why, but all the feelings that had materialized back when you met him started to resurface during this time too. Maybe it was the way he did anything he could to be able to communicate with you, the sketches he mailed with a ‘wish you were here, darling’ attached to them. The idea of being more than friends with Johnny started to cloud your thoughts about him.
All this just made it that more disappointing when the snow that was initially meant to be mild turned out to be a full out blizzard. Your heart was heavy as you shot Johnny a text telling him you weren’t going to be able to make it over to him, tossing your phone somewhere on the couch as you curled up on it to try to keep yourself warm.
The heating must’ve been on the fritz again, because you could swear it felt colder inside than it did outside. You brought your knees to your chest, tucking your chin behind them as you tried not to cry from the sheer frustration of not getting to see Johnny and having to get turned into a miserable human icicle at the same time.
You were just about to drag yourself to bed to make your brain shut off for the rest of the day when you heard knocking at your front door. Who would be crazy enough to be out in such a snowstorm? You probably should’ve been able to piece it together just from that thought alone, but all you could think at the moment was if fight or flight was going to win out.
“Lass? Open up. Dinnae know how much longer I can be out here.” You’d know that voice from anywhere. Unbelievable. You slowly make your way over to the door, cautiously opening it to try and prevent it from slamming against the wall from the sheer force of the wind.
“Johnny? What the hell are you doing?”
He looks like a lost puppy. Blue eyes staring at you almost pathetically while standing in at least a foot of snow. Those pretty eyes of his light up when he sees you, even though you can tell he’s tired from everything he’s gone through the past few months.
You look him up and down, soaking in the sight of the Scot in front of you. The bottom of his jeans are soaked from making contact with the snow, his hoodie either a size too small or his muscles a size too big. Not wearing any gloves and the tips of his ears are red from the wind. And yet, still so ridiculously good looking.
“Where's your hat?” You sigh after he does nothing but shrug sheepishly.
“Didnae wanna mess up the hair.”
“That’s what it looks like when it’s cleaned up?” You raise an eyebrow at him, flashing your teeth to let him know you’re just messing with him, really. The mohawk looks perfect no matter what he does to it.
Your heart flutters when he cocks his head to the side and grins back at you. God he looks handsome when he smiles.
“I’m kidding, MacTavish. You look good. C’mere.” You bury your face in his hoodie, holding onto him tightly like he’ll disappear if you don’t keep him grounded. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you more.” He sighs softly as he lets his broad arms completely envelope you. You two stay like that for what feels like forever before he reluctantly pulls away, slipping his backpack off his shoulder and unzipping it to pull out one of his spare hoodies.
“Had a feeling you wouldn’t be bundled up enough. Here.” You lift your arms up as he slips the jacket over you, immediately warming you up and filling your senses with his own scent that you’ll never get enough of.
“Thank you Johnny.” you murmur, smiling yet again as he folds the sleeves perfectly over your wrists. You wonder if he’s ever noticed he’s the only one who’s ever been able to make you feel this happy.
“Dinnae mention it. It’s the least I could do.” he replies, completely nonchalantly as he makes his way through the living room.
“Johnny, you’re tracking snow all over- Johnny!” you groan, shaking your head with a laugh at the trail of ice and snow falling from his boots. Oh sweet boy, he’ll be the death of you in so many ways.
“I ken I am.” He kicks off his boots, neatly placing them against the stairwell. “Sorry, couldnae resist. You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Oh that does it. Forget the hoodie and the lack of central heating, your face is burning up so fiercely when he says that, you may as well have become a fireplace. Why does he get away with using such flirtations as casual banter? Well yes, you’re the one who allows him to do it, but damn it Johnny. Not cool.
“Wanna make ye something to fill you up, get you nice and warm.” He doesn’t even notice the way you’re still standing in the living room, jaw slightly agape as you try to settle down. Johnny goes over the admittedly bare contents of your pantry, finally landing on one of the cans of soup pushed into the back. “Perfect. C’mon, lass, let’s get you taken care of.”
You blink, shaking your head as your legs catch up with your brain and you walk over to the kitchen, stepping over the puddles forming from the melting ice (thanks a lot, John) and rifling through the drawers till you procure a can opener. You can’t help but giggle as he fumbles with it, even though you soon fall silent as his hand completely covers yours while the two of you work to twist the stupid thing over the lip of the can.
“Just relax, doll. You deserve it.” he hums, setting up the pot with ease as you lift yourself onto the kitchen island to sit back and watch him go to work.
It’s not fair that he can look so good so casually, the sleeves of his hoodie pulling against him just right, the fabric tight against his biceps as they flex every time he stirs. He’s making soup. It’s just some damn soup. Yet it feels so... obscene? Who let him be so perfect? You can’t help but think that maybe you could get used to seeing this.
Coming home to Johnny when he’s on leave, dinner cooking on the stovetop as a record plays in the background. Wrapping your arms around him from behind as he keeps one hand on the pot handle, the other splayed over both of yours as his thumb rubs over the backs of them. Swaying softly together as you stand in content peace. Perhaps you’ll even feel the coldness of the ring on his left hand, the metal covering up the wedding band tattoo he got with your initials for when he can’t wear his ring in the field.
It doesn’t take long for your thoughts to wander elsewhere. He’d look even better standing over the stove making you breakfast after a long night together. You wearing his shirt with nothing else underneath, him wearing just a pair of sweats to show off the trails of bites and marks you left on his skin. One of you, probably Johnny, will make a comment about how you two need to eat to get your energy up for another round. The food will be put on the back burner (literally) as Johnny turns around to slot his lips in between yours as he murmurs something about taking you right on the counter. Maybe the kiss will deepen as he plays with the hem of your shirt and maybe his fingers will slip under the fabric and then he’ll-
“Dove?” You snap out of your daydream to see those ocean eyes of his meeting yours, the mild confusion evident in his face. It takes a moment to register the wooden spoon hovering in front of your lips as he cups his hand under your chin. “I asked if you wanted a taste test?”
As inviting as that pumpkin soup looks, right now you’re still thinking about another substance Johnny can conjure up that you’d be all too willing to have a taste of. You push those thoughts to the back of your mind as you try to remember to blink.
“Y-yeah. Sure.” You can’t help but cringe at the hesitation in your voice as you open your mouth slightly for him to press the spoon into. “Tastes nice, Johnny. Really nice. You’re spoiling me.”
Your tongue flicks out as you absentmindedly lick at a drop of the soup from the corner of your mouth. Maybe if you were paying attention instead of staring at the wall in front of you as you try to regulate yourself, you would notice how Johnny’s eyes focus on your tongue for just a tad too long before he turns back to face the stove.
“You’re worth being spoiled.” he says softly, pouring the contents of the pot into a bowl. “C’mon. We’ll eat on the couch. Cannae believe how cold your kitchen is.”
You trail behind him as the two of you make your way back into the living room, Johnny chuckling at the way the ice evaporated onto the hardwood that earns him a playful punch to the bicep. Which definitely hurts your fist more than it hurts him.
You’re expecting for you and Johnny to sit side by side, so you can’t hide your yelp of surprise as he instead lays on the couch, taking you down with him and laying the blanket hanging off the back of the couch over you. He wraps his arms around you, holding your back to his chest as he lays the bowl in your laps.
Being in such close proximity to him is definitely something you’re not a stranger to, but it feels different this time. Too perfect, too much like you’re meant to be laid against him.
Too much like a couple.
The clanking of the spoon against the bowl shakes you out of your thoughts, and you can’t help but be confused as you stare down at him lifting the spoon up towards you.
“Really Johnny, I appreciate it but I can feed myself.” you sigh, trying to lean back away from it.
“Dinnae think you can, love. Your hands are trembling.” They actually were. How did he notice that before you did? “Please, let me do this for you.”
You can’t argue with that, certainly can’t argue with him. It's comforting as Johnny feeds you, not to mention how much it’s warming you up. Your hands finally stop shaking by the end of it, although they might just start up again when he places the bowl on the coffee table and interlaces your fingers with his.
“You need anything else? Want me tae do anything for you?” He squeezes your hands reassuringly as you lay your head back on his shoulder.
“I’m fine with just being here with you.” you whisper, your eyes searching over his features as if they weren’t already committed to memory. “Missed hearing your voice. Missed you. Sorry. I know I already said that.”
“I’ll never get sick of hearing it.” Johnny laughs lightly, making your breath catch in your throat just from the sound. “You been taking care of yourself while I’ve been gone?”
“Sometimes.” you admit, knowing he’d want to hear the truth. “It’s real hard some days. But I’m trying, promise.”
“That’s all I could ever want from ye.” he replies gently, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss your palm. “You dinnae have to always feel like you’ll let me down if you’re not doing yer best. I’ll take ye just the way ye are.”
You can’t do anything but nod at that, any words you could possibly come up with would fail at letting him know just how much you needed to hear that. Needed him.
Johnny and you lay like that for a while, staring at each other with soft eyes as you appreciate the peace the two of you bring each other. You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as you lay against it before your eyes focus on the rest of his face.
His lips are cracked, the look of them making you wince. If you had it your way Johnny would’ve had them slathered in Vaseline before he ever dared to step outside in the cold but alas he didn’t seem to think that through when he decided that trudging through the snow just to see his best friend was a good idea.
You begrudgingly slip your hand out of his and reach around the clutter on the coffee table, fumbling around till you grab one of the many lip balms you keep scattered around the house.
“Your, um, your lips are chapped.” you mutter, uncapping the balm and delicately running it over his lips before doing the same to yours. “Does that feel any better?”
He’s not listening, you realize, as his baby blues are completely transfixed on your mouth as you apply the lip balm.
“Sharing chapstick now, yeah? Practically just kissed each other.” His words barely register because his eyes are still glued on your lips. You open and close your mouth as your brain short circuits.
“Think ye missed a spot.” Johnny murmurs, and you naively assume he’s going to take the tube and go over your lips again. You feel your heartbeat pick up as he cups your jaw instead, glancing between your eyes and your lips as he leans his head down slightly.
“Then you better do something about it, Johnny.” You close your eyes as you silently panic at wherever this newfound confidence came from and move your head up further in response. You don’t know who closes the gap first but it doesn’t matter because suddenly his lips are on yours and it’s perfect.
Your first kiss with Johnny is even better than all the times you dreamed about it. His lips are still chapped, of course, rough skin cutting against the softness of your own, but he makes up for it with the way his lips are practically glued to yours and the way his stubble scratches your skin so gently. It feels so desperate, makes you wonder if the need for it has been building inside of him for as long as it has for you.
It doesn’t take long for the kiss to get messier, rougher, Johnny's teeth nipping at your bottom lip so your lips part instinctively and he’s able to slip his tongue into your mouth. A welcome intrusion for sure, and all you can think about is how good it feels against your own.
Although it hurts both of you, the two of you finally have to part to get some air back into your lungs. This is the second time Johnny has taken your breath away and it’s just as good as that day in the park.
You look up at him to find his eyes already on you, dazed and slightly dilated with his lips red and swollen and definitely going to need another layer or two of chapstick after this. He’s grinning down at you like he didn’t just send your head spinning.
While this was the second best thing to ever happen to you (the best thing, obviously, was getting to meet Johnny in the first place), that voice that told you you weren’t going to be good enough for him all those years ago comes back full force. You can’t do this, not with him, can’t fall in love with the man who surely wouldn’t take you as his girlfriend.
It’s all too much and you have to turn away before you do something stupid. Even if Johnny is looking at you so adoringly.
“That was sweet, Johnny. Thank you for indulging me.” you mumble, shifting away from him slightly as you lower your head to stare down at your lap.
“Been wanting tae do that for a while.” he sighs softly, looking down at you lovingly before he picks up on your new mood and his gaze shifts to one of concern. “What’s the matter? You didnae like it? I’m real sorry, honest, thought you were okay with it.”
“No, no I did like it. I really did.” Understatement of the year, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I just… I know it’s gonna leave me wanting more. Make me wanna be yours, and you’re not gonna have me.”
The silence was nearly suffocating, and even with you faced away from him you could feel his gaze piercing against you.
“What are ye talkin’ about, dove? Course I’d want to be with you. I love you.” he scoffs, his voice full of annoyance not aimed at you but at the idea that you weren’t the only person he’s ever truly loved.
“Yeah… yeah, I know you do. You tell me it all the time. I love you too.” You shrug, dragging your nails over the outline of your thighs under the blanket.
“No, I dinnae mean it like that.” He sits up against the cushion, tilting your chin up so your eyes can meet. “That was as a friend. I do love you that way, I always will even if you don’t feel this way about me.”
You’re fully at attention now, trying to gauge if this is just another one of Johnny’s jokes. You know realistically he would never be unserious about something like this, wouldn’t ever want to hurt you this way. Perhaps all the kissing cut off his oxygen for too long because there’s no way he’s meaning what he’s saying, right?
“I love you. Love you.”
Suddenly the warmest you’ve ever felt isn’t the December nights where the two of you have split a hot chocolate or the many times he’s lent you his jacket after you insisted you could handle the cold, but instead it’s Johnny’s pretty blue eyes staring into yours as he tells you the only words you’ve ever wanted to hear.
“Oh. Alright.” you finally sputter out, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “How long have you felt this way?”
“Long time, angel. Long time.” he murmurs almost apologetically. “Didn’t kno’ how to tell you. Wasn’t sure if it was something you wanted.”
“Should’ve told me.” you grumble, dropping your head back onto his shoulder with a huff. “I’m not someone to get nervous about.”
“You are. What if I was too dafty to realize you didn’t see me the same way and then you never wanted tae see me again? Couldnae risk losing my girl.” Johnny replies simply, keeping one hand on your jaw and the other reaching down to hold your hand.
“Wouldn’t be missing out on much. I’m not exactly a good friend all the time.” you mumble, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “I’m clingy and I’m always needing attention, and I feel like there’s always something wrong with me that you need to deal with. I mean you just came home from a deployment, I should be the one doing stuff for you and it’s not fair that-”
He cuts you off with another kiss, this one even softer than before. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” he says, his tone genuine. “You agreed to spend time with me even after I made you keel over cause I was too in my head to watch where I was goin’. My mum thinks yer a sweetheart, sisters cannae stop asking me when I’m bringing you home again. You’re nice tae me and you’re nice tae everyone you’ve ever met, even when they dinnae deserve it. I like that you need me, because I need you too.”
It’s hard to know just how to respond to that, but Johnny doesn’t mind. He knows you’ve never been too good with your words, better with actions and you’ve already shown him how much he means to you plenty.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had too.” You settle on, glancing down nervously before looking up at him again. “So… you wanna, um, be my boyfriend?” You wince at the lack of smoothness but hey, at least it gets a laugh out of Johnny.
“Yeah, honey, I’ll be yer boyfriend. I’ll be whatever you want.” He leans down to kiss you yet again, and you realize you could definitely get used to that. “Cannae believe you’re finally mine. You’ve got no idea how much you mean tae me.”
“Think I’m starting to understand.” You rub your eyes with your free hand, feeling yourself get drowsy. The way the day has ended with the confession you’ve waited years for must be finally catching up to you.
“You look tired. Get some rest, we can sleep right here.” Johnny shifts you against him, cradling the back of your head to hold you.
“Wouldn’t you rather take this to bed?” You can’t help but feel bad, the couch is barely big enough for one person to lie on it, especially with how much space Johnny takes up naturally.
“Shouldn’t I take you out to dinner first?”
“MacTavish. Get your mind out of the gutter.” you groan, shaking your head at him if only to cover up the fact that you wouldn’t exactly say no to that. “You know what I meant. My bed’s much more comfortable than a couch. You deserve better.”
“I got the woman of my dreams currently in my arms, wearing my clothes after I fed her and warmed her up. Why would I want to be anywhere but here?” Johnny says with a shrug, moving further onto the couch and pulling the blanket tighter against the two of you.
For someone who’s only been your boyfriend for all of five minutes, Johnny certainly knows exactly what to say to make you melt. You turn over onto your side, laying your head against his chest as your blinks become slower and your eyes feel heavier.
There’s going to be a lot for you to talk about when you wake up, but you figure he should hear the most important part now.
“I love you too, Johnny.” you whisper, letting your eyes close. “I always have.”
“I’m glad you do, baby.” He wraps his arms around you as you finally get to experience the feeling of falling asleep in your lover's arms. “Sleep well.”
Johnny’s kept you safe, he’s keeping you warm.
And he’ll keep you loved.
need to stop making reader fall asleep in soaps arms but it's too perfect to pass up UGH
my first tag list yippee; @soapsgf
#i lost the plot at the end sorry i had to finish this or i was this close to deleting it#what y'all know about pumpkin soup though...#john soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#cod x reader#soap call of duty#soap cod#call of duty x reader#johnny soap mactavish fluff#soap mactavish fluff#john soap mactavish fluff#soap mactavish <3#my writing
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i am now super curious why you thought you were a system, what brought you to believe you were a system, and why you stopped believing you were a system. do you still experience "system-esque" experiences but consider them singlet experiences now?
also my comment about you sounding like a detrans individual is like a comparison of apples to oranges, similar in my brain although obviously different in other ways. just because you were mistaken about your plural experiences does not mean that everyone else is, which is similar (not equal or the exact same, but similar) to some detrans people assuming everyone else is actually not trans and was deluded / misinformed.
and i will seethe, because it's frustrating to see singlets spread judgemental nonsense when the science doesn't conclusively say shit. the science doesn't say "there's definitely no way to experience multiple people in the brain without trauma", it says that the disorder labeled DID is the primary way they see it and treat it, since IT'S A DISORDER. if its not a disorder for someone, why would DISORDER specialists CARE? most research of systemhood (that isn't "aww look at this sad person who was hurt so so bad and cannot function :(( they need to become Whole again <3 i hope they become Normal and One Being instead of being InSaNe") is still in its 'childhood'. just like... a lot of science relating to the brain, imo.
anyway i will block you after you respond to this ask, it's just annoying to see singlets in syscourse. you cannot speak for us. you do not speak for the system community unless you ARE a system or are a professional that is trustworthy and fact checked to not be an ableist shitbag.
I’m going to preface this, again, with how I’ve done my own extensive almost decade long independent research, where I dug up literal studies, done by medical professionals, and cross referenced that with the multiple versions of the DSM-5 and psych textbooks I was studying. I then took that information, complied a list of questions, and asked my own psychiatrist these questions after my appointments off record, and cross referenced that with what information I’d already had. And then I took all of that multiple years worth of research I’d done and took it to my best friend who is a LITERAL CERTIFIED PSYCH WHO WENT TO COLLEGE FOR IT, and we cross referenced all of that with her own textbooks and DSM-5 variations.
I’ve done enough research to know what I’m talking about. I’ve gotten enough confirmation from medical professionals to know what I’m talking about. Science, and psychology, say that the only way to be plural outside of cultural differences is severe and repetitive childhood trauma. There is no other way to break the psyche down enough to cause fragmentation of one’s personality.
I thought I was a system for multiple different reasons, one being I fit the criteria including severe repeated childhood trauma as well as a few other factors that can be comorbid with other disorders.
I would have to completely trauma dump to explain where the line between what I thought it was and what it actually was happened.
But for a good bit of my formative years I’d had these symptoms, and lived my life as a system. Flash forward to being with my ex husband, who WAS FAKING DID HIMSELF, who had me brainwashed, who Munchhausen by proxy-ed me multiple times before, was using the same logic endos have and willing alters to appear. He was MAKING alter, the same way endos do, and even with his own, he used them as a crutch to abuse me.
So, I went to my - again, medically certified - psych best friend, and was like, hey (insert big long text about how my plural experience seems fucky and I’m kinda confused) and she came back with (insert long message about how it’s not DID, it’s BPD and my ex husband definitely forced the DID dx on me but I didn’t know it was forced into me because, again, brainwashed, MCBP)
I have enough of an experience with how DID does and doesn’t worth, I have enough of my own experience, plus watching my ex husband faking, plus multiple medical professionals confirming the research I’d done, plus the research itself, to have a leg in this conversation.
If you don’t like that I am advocating for people to STOP FAKING SERIOUS AND DEBILITATING MENTAL ILLNESS then that is a you problem, not a me problem. If you would rather people continue to make it harder for you to be taken seriously, or to be treated in times like medical abuse, or make it even harder to be evaluated because of the culture around DIDOSDD they are laying down, then go for it but I’m not going to continue to let people use a disorder caused by the most horrific childhood experiences for clout.
#anti endo#anti endogenic#endos dni#syscourse#endos aren't real#tw syscourse#endos shut the fuck up challenge (impossible)#did is a disorder#fake disorder cringe#did research#stop faking did you clowns#(still advocating)#(no longer questioning)
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Hi friends ! So I’m sitting here thinking about Dickhead Deku ☹️ MDNI
Deku wasn’t the most confident in high school, especially when compared to his besties Katsuki and Shoto.
Girls often told him that he was “cute” or “adorable”, but that wasn’t what he was going for.
He wanted to be hot 🥵
So the cute little bean pierced his tongue and nose, tatted “DE” “KU” on his calves and got an undercut.
By the 3rd year came around his was rolling in cewchie, often catching more snatch than his bros.
Except Kirishima. He’s a fucking WHORE.
Our bean’s confidence was at and all time high. Ego boosting even further during his ProHero debut.
Isaiah Niggadoriya was in full effect.
I’m talking ULTIMATE LIGHTSKIN.
More toxic than a Brent Faiyaz album.
If Deku saw a girl, and he wanted her, he got her. No questions asked.
With his charming white smile, cute freckles, mischievous eyes and bo legged stance that indicated something heavy hanging between his thighs 🌚. Nobody turned down the symbol of hope.
Nobody except you.
See, you were the cute girl that worked in the social media department at Endeavor’s agency. You’d been assigned to handle all of Shoto & Dynamight’s platforms because Shoto lacked people skills and Kacchan kept flashing out on trolls. Even claimed to be dating some girl that trolled him in America 🌚
This meant that you spent a good amount of time hanging around the hero, taking candids and getting quotes. Which in turn led to you spending a good bit of time with his friends.
“Hi (Y/N) thank you for the Soba. It was delicious.” Shoto smiled, giving you a cute head pat and taking the seat next to you. It felt kinda antiblack but he’s fine so whatever 🥲. “You’re welcome , Sho. Gotta keep my boys fed”. A deep chuckle sounded as Midoriya walked through the door, “I like to eat too, doll”.
Now, any other girl would’ve been on their knees right then and there but you scoffed, looking him up and down to return your attention to the two heroes that you’d been assigned too.
Deku hated this.
He’d been trying to get with you since you started working with his buddies but you wouldn’t give him the time of day.
He was convinced that the only words you knew were. “STOP” “NO” and “DONT”.
At least that was what he thought until he stayed late one night and heard you screaming “NO DON’T STOP!” From Yo Shindo’s office.
YO FUCKING SHINDO ?
He was baffled.
You didn’t give him the time of day but you were fucking the great value version ?
Terrible.
“Really, YN?” Midoriya raised a brow , “Shindo? Baby , why go generic when you can have the real thing ?” A look of pure disgust crossed your features. “Let’s not compete where you don’t compare, Deku. At least Shindo knows how to treat a woman.” You gathered your things to head towards the car, he followed you of courses. Keeping as eyes glued on your ass that jiggled every time you took a step. Good god, he though as he held the door open. “I’ve never gotten any complaints from my lady friends”. You groaned, “that’s cause you’re cringe af. I’ve seen both Kat and Sho’s phones and anyone who refers to themselves as “pussy destroyer” followed by countless photos of them and multiple women in compromising positions is a “no” for me.”
Well damn. Couldn’t really argue when you put it like that. “I like nice guys” you continued, “guys that take me on dates and ask me about my day. Guys that aren’t just trying to fuck”. It was really hard for him not to laugh. Did you really think Shindo was genuine ? He’d been fake since high school. To think he’d actually scammed his way into your pants, and apparently your heart with the way you smiled absentmindedly at the thought of him.
Okay, if you wanted a nice guy then that’s what he’d be. Taking it back to high school, he turned into that cute , nerdy guy that all the girls friendzoned. Always popping up to say hi, being overly friendly and making conversation, pretending to care when you rambled about your day, acting like he was getting flustered from being near your when he was really blushing at the thought of how good you’d look choking on his dick.
Eventually, he’d gotten close enough for you to consider him a friend. Unfortunately, you’d also gotten even closer to Yo, unaware that he was fucking random fan girls every week because you were so “in love”. Lucky for you Izuku was, recording every encounter, sometimes even setting them up. “Hey, bro. I think that girl wants to talk to you.” He’d wink and pat Yo’s shoulder and the idiot would bite every time.
Finally, the time had come for some “anonymous” person to airdrop you the videos of Yo fucking around. You were distraught, in a complete state of disarray. Lucky for you, your good friend Izuku just happened to be walking around the corner when you started crying. “Hey , it’s okay. Forget him, he’s an asshole. My place is nearby, let’s go. We can watch movies and eat ice cream. You’ll forget all about him.”
Now you’re in his bed, two fingers rubbing your tongue, brushing the back of your throat and collecting saliva to rub on your budding nipples while he sucks on your clit and fingers your cunt.
He was right. You did forget about him. You couldn’t even remember his name after the third orgasm. All you could say was “Deku” and he hasn’t even pulled his dick out yet. His cock was twitching in his pants and he moaned around your bud as your pussy gushed on his fingers. Maybe when he fucked you, then you’d forget your name as well.
@xogabbiexo @plussizeficchick @blkchxrryblyss @bookwormsenpai @nasty-quillz @namjoonswifeyy @riozakii
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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!
#taehyung smut#v smut#bts smut#taehyung fluff#taehyung angst#bts fluff#bts angst#bts scenario#v fluff#v angst#v scenario#taehyung scenario#bts imagine#taehyung imagine#v imagine#bts au#taehyung au#w: love me or we both go down#ITS FINALLY DONE YOU GUYS HOLY SHIT#this fic honestly has plagued my thoughts and my dreams#since AUGUST
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crumbled cookies ☆
jj maybank x plus!reader (fem!reader)
warnings: abuse/hitting, hate speech, fat shaming, bullying, insecurities, swearing, fighting, jj’s dad, luke (yikes!) mad jj, mention of pills.
words: 3,365.
summary: you decide it would be a good surprise to stop by jjs house quickly to drop off some of your homemade cookies, since you believe he isn’t feeling the best. then, unexpectedly jj's dad comes home with an unwelcoming embrace, which ruins the surprise.
request? nope, but requests are open :)
a/n: i randomly thought about this, i obviously don’t believe that us plus size baddies should ever be insecure, but i thought it would be a nice little angst imagine with fluff at the end! if you could, please comment and like if you enjoyed it, thank you! after i write a few requests i will proofread my stories :)
my masterlist
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jj hadn’t answered any of your texts, usually this would worry you, but you understood that sometimes he just needed some space to be alone. you surprisingly were used to this because he always disappeared, and if he genuinely needed you, he knew where to find you. it also wasn’t bothering you because he had only been MIA for a few hours.
you, assuming that jj was just overwhelmed, decided to stay home and bake homemade cookies. jj always complimented your cookies, he loved taste testing them, and more importantly, he loved how you put so much effort into making them perfect, even if you were only making the cookies for him. jj wouldn’t admit it, but he definitely didn’t see you as just a friend. he didn’t know how he viewed you. he was too confused for his own good with his emotions. all he did know was that he depended on you, and that he never wanted to lose you. it would ruin him, especially if he had done something to intentionally lose and hurt you.
you preheated the oven, excited to use a new cookie flavor for jj. you danced lightly to the music playing in the background of your kitchen, softly humming along as you gathered the dry ingredients, mixing them together. it was a fun little game you guys played, where he’d try and guess what extra ingredients you added that affected the cookie's flavor. he almost always got it wrong, but he was so cute sitting there always trying to guess it right, when he didn’t even know that much about cooking anyway.
unbeknownst to you, you were completely unaware of his feelings, despite the same feelings bubbling in your heart too. jj was your best buddy, and obviously you guys had flirtatious banter but it was nothing too serious. it didn’t help that every girl jj had a one night stand with, was the complete opposite of you. how could he like you, when every girl he fucks was not only skinny, but also rich, and mysterious?
pope wasn’t on your side either. he would always express how nauseated he felt when jj would jokingly flirt with you, and openly play with your feelings. he was quite vocal in scolding you when you would tell him that jj blew you off, or jj had pissed you off. deep down you did agree with pope, he wasn’t wrong.
a beep was heard from the oven as it was fully preheated. you had fully completed the cookie dough, now adding the most important ingredients. you decided to be nicer, and chose an easier flavor for jj to guess. you did this just in case something was seriously wrong he could at least be lifted up for guessing it right. m&ms and hershey’s kisses would be mixed together, creating a chocolate m&m hershey cookie, with added caramel on top. you quickly evenly separate the dough, before placing it in the oven waiting for it to rise.
the timer in the kitchen went off as you pulled the cookies out of the oven, careful to not burn yourself. you stick a knife into the cookie to ensure it was fully cooked before smiling contently to yourself. you let them cool off as you got dressed and prepared to go to jjs house.
you added caramel before sliding four cookies into a ziplock baggie. the cute baggy had a drawn on heart and a nice message for him. you didn’t expect to stay long, and you honestly didn’t even know if he would be home.
when you arrived to jjs house it looked vacant and abandoned. the nerves finally catching up to you as you realize he hasn’t talked to you all day. you knock on the front door, waiting for a response but you are left standing there waiting. you frown before hesitatingly walking down the steps. you look up when you hear a car approach, and a glimmer of hope flashes your mind as you thought it was jj, but instead it was his dad.
your heart was beating fast, and you didn’t know what to do. you waited to see if luke would talk but he just looked at you confused, and obviously annoyed. you shook your head quickly, “i’m so sorry, i was just going to drop these off for jj, but he’s not here so i’ll be on my way.” you smile softly, and start to walk away but his strong arms grab yours. you’re startled since his reaching for your elbow was quite unexpected.
“well you are already here. might as well get it over with.” his voice was unrecognizable as his emotions weren’t clear. you nod shyly. “no really i don’t want to inconvenience you, i can come at another time.” he shakes his head before walking to his door, opening it as the door loosely opens entirely, hitting against the wall to its side. you walk behind him being extra cautious in case he tries to grab you again.
you walk straight to the kitchen to set the bag of cookies on the counter, which was no use since right when you placed the bag, luke had scooped it into his hand reading the note. “oh, so you are the one dating my son?” your face twists in confusion. “no, no. jj and i are just friends.” you laugh awkwardly, swaying from feet to feet. the floors creak beneath you causing you to stop shaking back and forth. “okay good.” his eyes look up and down your figure as his mouth forms into a line. “i wouldn’t want him dating someone like… you.” his words hurt, but you didn’t want to break down in front of him.
you feel uncomfortable under his intense stare so you hurried to put an end to the conversation. “uhm. okay, welll thank you for letting me drop them off, i appreciate it mr. maybank.” you nod softly before he states, “no.” you turn over to him, “no?” you repeat as more of a question. your patience wears thin as you notice the cookies are still in his hand, and he is carefully undoing the ziplock that concealed the cookies.
he pulled a cookie out, before admiring it closely. “chocolate chip m&m caramel cookie. very yummy, very good choice.” you avoid eye contact, trying to focus on anything else displayed in the room. “and it’s still warm.” he stares at you as he takes a bite of the cookie, its crumbs slowly falling from where he sunk his teeth in. “it’s quite good.” you smile softly, “thank you… but-.” he cuts you off completely. “of course you, of all people, would be bringing him cookies. i’m not surprised, i can see you are trying to fatten my son.” his words stung you because this wasn’t what you were expecting. his father seemed intoxicated, and before you could leave it seemed like he still had stuff to say to you.
“yes the cookies are good, but they don’t excuse you for lying to my face. you are just like my ex wife… lying, scheming, going behind my back, but still creating delicious snacks.” you stumble back a little, as shock sets over you. “how did i lie?” you ask, quite confused as you hadn’t even talked to him that much. “i know you’re dating jj! i see his hickies i see that when he leaves this house it’s always to meet with your fat ass.” his words hold no meaning, he was just a lousy drunk taking his anger out on the closest thing to him. you stayed silent, when he suddenly shook his head before grabbing the rest of the cookies and throwing them on the floor, jumping on the bag, completely squishing them.
the once yummy cookies, now downgraded into a small pitiful pile that was brutally smeared against the kitchen's tile. your heart speeds up as his eyes are focused on yours, as if trying to read your emotions. “i’m sorry, but i’m not sure what i did to deserve you ruining my cookies?” your tone comes out sassier than intended which definitely didn’t help your case.
“pick it up.” he threw paper towels towards you, as he waited patiently for you to clean up his mess. you silently obeyed scooping your mutated bakery treat up. you got most of it cleaned, but you ran out of napkins. you bite your lip trying to think of a quick solution to finish picking it up so you could possibly leave, but it’s too late because he’s already grabbing your arm forcing you up. tears stream down your face, while you contemplate your choices.
before you could even register what had just happened, his hand had collided with your cheek, as he screams hurtful comments. “you are good for nothing. i honestly hope that jj didn’t choose you, because if he did, that would make him an embarrassment to this family.” he pushes you to the floor, and you quickly try to stand up so you can leave. you hurry to the door, but he catches you before you could get in your car and drive away.
“you can't tell anyone about this. i swear if you tell anyone...” his tone is laced with venom and your face scrunches up in confusion. “dont act stupid! god this is why people treat you the way they do.” you look at him one last time before he sends a fast fist to your face, that hits the side of your nose, and your eye. your face begins to pulse as the blood rushes to the quick forming bruise. you couldn't think straight as everything had happened so fast. all you wanted to do was drop off cookies, but somehow you were now being punished just because you resembled this man's wife. your breath is shaky as your tears are starting to slow down, but they are still evident on your cheeks.
jj’s dad stumbled backwards as if he had finally realized what he had done, before he eventually collapsed on the couch and fell asleep. as he landed on the couch, multiple loose pills fell from his pockets ensuring you that he wasn't mentally in the right place, and he was very obviously intoxicated.
you avoided jj at all costs, which was actually easy since he hadn't even contacted you. you were dreading his routine appearance that was bound to happen soon. you knew it was inevitable, he hasn't missed a nightly check in once, and you had been doing it for months. when you first met the pogues you were slightly scared since you were new in town and you didn't have any friends. so, jj took you under his wing. he quickly became protective over you, which is why he created this elaborate plan to sneak into your bedroom before bed every night. whether it was to just chat, talk about your day, or even just cuddle. you could always expect him at your window at around the same time every night.
usually you would confide in jj, ask for his advice. granted his advice isn't the greatest but it does help that he listens to your problems. not tonight. that wasn't the case. if anything, you wholeheartedly hoped that he would forget, or he would be too busy. he hadn't seen you since before your whole encounter with his father. you wondered if his father had told jj about what he did, and if he did, how did jj react?
you glance at the clock noticing that in the next ten minutes jj would be climbing his way into your window. your body was shaking with nerves as you glanced in the mirror. your black eye was a dead give away that something had happened. could you even tell him the truth? what if you lied, and then he called you out on it saying he already knew about it because his father told him. you contemplated every outcome of the future event that you weren't even ready when he slightly tapped your window. you quickly pulled on sunglasses that easily blocked your eye.
you smile widely, sliding your window up as he gracefully lands on your floor without making a noise, a talent he had perfected. “hey princess!” he has a huge grin on his face, his goofy smile is reason enough as to why you can't break the news to him about what his father did. “hi!” jj pulls you into a hug and you gladly take it. you wrap your arms tightly around his abdomen, as his arms are rubbing your hips. the hug ends and he slowly pulls away, his hands lingering on your hips before he grabs your hand to move to the bed. “do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” jj asked. you waited, contemplating your choices. “either way is fine, you can choose.” you smile as he immediately gets into the little spoon position.
“hey i forgot to ask you why you are wearing those stupid glasses inside.” he laughs lightly as he reaches for them and you completely jump off the bed, scared he actually grabbed them in time. luckily, you were fast enough and the glasses were still settled on your face. “i have a horrible headache, that's all.” you nodded as his face slowly fell, he stood up, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. he glanced up at you. “we can turn the lights off so it isn't as bright in your room.” you shook your head at his compromise. “princess, i need to see your pretty face before i can declare that you are okay.” you hesitated, trying to piece together a quick story that you could tell him to explain how you wounded up with a gruesome bruise. he wasn't going to leave unless he knew you were okay.
he watched you intently, trying to see what you were hiding. “before i show you please promise me you won't freak out.” you reach for his hands and he grabs them in return, slowly nodding. “no, that's not going to count. please tell me that you won't be angry at me.” his heart swiveled up inside his chest as he heard that you thought he would be mad at you. “i promise that whatever you are about to tell me won't make me upset, and that i could never stay mad at you.” you nodded to his words. “okay so you know what you just said?” he tilted his head confused, “yeah?” you breathe in, trying to calm your nerves. “remember that.”
you hesitantly reach your arm up to expose your once hidden eyes. at first it doesn't register so he stares at you blankly. but the moment he saw it, he was already standing up, and freaking out. “hey you said you wouldn't be mad!” he ran fingers through his blonde hair, his eyes wide. “what the fuck…? i said i wouldn't be mad if YOU did something, i never said anything about not getting mad when it involves someone else!” he looks back at you and immediately investigates your eye. his jaw clenched as he looked above you, his hand gripping your chin. “who the fuck did this to you?” you stayed quiet, until he looked down at you waiting for an answer.
silence fills the room leaving it eerily silent. “i can't tell you jj,” he laughs, shaking his head, “that's a funny joke, now tell me what happened and who the fuck hit you?” you looked away. “jj there's nothing you can do.” he followed along with your shenanigans. “and why is that?” you couldn't look at him so you looked at the floor. your silence was only making him more worried. “who was it actually? who are you protecting!?” he was getting frustrated. “fine. i'll tell you, only because i know you'll find out sooner or later.” he pulled you onto his lap, one hand holding your thigh, while the other grabbed your curvy hip. you took a deep breath before continuing. “okay. earlier today i baked you cookies and i stopped by your house so i could drop them off. but your dad was there, and i was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. it was my fault. okay?”
he shook his head, his grip on your thigh tightening. “you're telling me that my father gave you a black eye?” his tone was shockingly low as he absorbed every word you said. “yes. and he stomped on the cookies i made you.” his chest started heaving. “i fucking hate him! everything in my life he has to ruin. you, you mean so fucking much to me, and he’s over here throwing punches at you!” you stayed quiet. “jj?” he looked down at you, trying not to get too worked up because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you, “yes princess?” you hesitated with what you were going to say. you leaned your head to rest onto his shoulder.
“i- okay, i really appreciate you, but i can't have you getting hurt because of me. you're not my boyfriend, and you don't have to protect me anymore. i know you feel obligated with that pact we made when i first moved here, but you don't have to inconvenience yourself by coming over here every night, or by fighting people who harass me, or anything. jj, i feel so bad that you are roped into this position because i never intended for this to happen.” he stays silent, “no way am i leaving you. princess, please throw that thought away right now. i’m here for you always. and i am going to continue to protect you because even if i'm not your boyfriend, that doesn't mean i don't want you safe.”
you are so stunned by his response that your breath gets caught in your throat. “what do you mean?” he smiles looking down, his hands finding themselves comfortable around your hips. “what i'm saying is, that i do want to be your boyfriend. i want people to know how much you mean to me, and i want the whole world to be jealous that i have you, and they can't have you. i want to be the one who protects you. so, if you'd want me too, i'd love to be your boyfriend, if not that is completely okay.” you stared at him, “jj, you'll never know how long i've wanted to do this.” he looks at you confused before your lips connect to his. you run your hand through his hair, while the other hand is sitting on his jaw. his hands hungrily grasp your hips as he pulls you closer to enhance the kiss. you both pull away, smiling.
you asked jj to spend the night with you. he agreed, which resulted in him laying on his back as your head lay still on his chest. one of his hands was always touching you, so he could ensure you weren't going to go anywhere. as you slowly fell asleep beside him, he started to think about what his father had done. with anger clouding his better judgement, he stealthily slipped out your grasp, and climbed out your window, set to fulfil the goal in his head.
eek i hope this was good <333. perhaps a part two...???
#jj maybank#plus size reader#jj maybank x plus!reader#jj maybank x reader#maybank#jj#jj maybank angst#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank x reader angst#outerbanks imagines#outerbanks fanfic#fiction#writing#jj maybank plus size reader#jj x fem!reader#jj maybank x fem!reader
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debunking pro-snape/anti-james arguments and putting it on the internet because clearly i hate myself. buckle up. this is gonna be a VERY long post. im ready for the amount of hate i will get; im willing to take one for the team.
1. james forced lily into dating/marrying/etc him
this literally never happened? because its almost as if lily is her own person who is able to stand up for herself-
“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” said Lily.
“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily.
She turned on her heel and hurried away [from james].
-and so she would not allow someone to walk all over her. its almost as if james (canonically) matured as a person, and she appreciated this, realised he was a good person and got feelings for him? because james’ only negative traits were that he was conceited and a show off. people are able to mature and grow from these things! james did this! he did not ‘force’ lily to go out with him!
2. james and the other marauders bullied snape
you know what, i cant even disagree with this one. you’re right - they did bully him. but lets look a little bit at the context.
sirius and james were both upper class, naive white rich boys. they are idiots. they were both stupid smart teenagers!! they were popular! and while this does not excuse the gross bullying snape was subject to-
Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape’s mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag, choking him
Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular ... Snape was trying to get up, but the jinx was still operating on him; he was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes.
-it (unfortunately) makes sense with context. james and sirius also stopped bullying people, and even expressed discomfort/regret with the way they acted-
“I’m not proud of it,” said Sirius quickly.
“Of course he was a bit of an idiot!” said Sirius bracingly, “we were all idiots!
[sirius talking to remus] you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes
A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it.
-when they were younger! i’d also like to point out these little lines i noticed when i was finding quotes for my argument which snape stans like to ignore:
James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other
I mean, he [snape] never lost an opportunity to curse James
there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James’s face, spattering his robes with blood
wow, look at that. the hate they felt for each other was mutual! snape also jinxed james! but oh wait - james was the one who matured! snape was the one who bullied his son twenty years later because he looked like james!
3. snape didnt abuse the kids at hogwarts
here’s a real argument i saw when looking through some pro-snape posts: ‘snape wasn’t an abuser, because abusers don’t let their victims retaliate, but snape did let the kids talk back to him’
what. the. fuck?!
this is the dictionary.com definition of abuse: ‘to treat in a harmful, injurious, or offensive way’ or ‘to speak insultingly, harshly, and unjustly to or about’. i’m pretty sure snape did both of these things-
“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!”
“So,” said Snape, gripping Harry’s arm so tightly Harry’s hand was starting to feel numb.
Snape threw Harry from him with all his might.
[hermione’s teeth] "I see no difference."
‘Idiot boy!’ snarled Snape [at neville]
-on multiple occasions. i’d also like to remind you guys that neville’s worst fear is SNAPE?! his TEACHER, a figure that is supposed to be there for emotional and educational support is his worst fear in this entire world?! above the woman who drove his parents to insanity? over failure, over his abusive grandmother, over everything? his teacher? and for the pro-snaper that used this quote-
Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically.
-to claim that it was a joke, it isn’t a joke. because when snape came out of that cupboard, he was terrified. yes, it’s an embarrassing thing to have as your boggart, but the point is is that it is. he is terrified of that man.
4. james only joined the order because his wife was a muggleborn and he ‘had to’
this is just factually incorrect. james had been sticking up for muggleborn rights since he was in school, far before he started dating or even became friends with lily:
“Apologize to Evans!” James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him.
“I’d NEVER call you a - you-know-what!”
so this is literally not true!! plus, at least he did join the order, whatever his reasons where (which were canonically good). snape didnt join the order. snape was friends with someone who suffered discrimination in society, and instead of using his privilege to help her and support her, he joined a group that was set on murdering people like her. when james had a friend who underwent oppression (remus/lycanthropy) you know what he did? he illegally became an animagus.
5. snape had to be a death eater to survive at hogwarts as he roomed with blood supremacists
this is the shittiest excuse i have ever seen in my entire life. as a poc, this comment really reminds me of the argument ‘i was raised in a racist white household! i cant control my beliefs!’
you can always control your beliefs. i understand not going on big rants about blood inequality in front of a bunch of supremacists, and i understand wanting to blend and fit in (especially because he was unpopular and needed the support the slytherin boys provided), but i will never understand then becoming an active member of the group yourself. he got the dark mark. he helped voldemort. he was a death eater, and a proud one at that! no-one forced him to join. this argument literally makes my blood boil.
6. snape had a lot of trauma from being raised in an abusive household
okay? so did sirius. so did neville. luna was bullied at school, just like snape. harry lived in an abusive household. did any of those people bully children? did any of those people join a blood supremacist group? and dont get me wrong, im not calling any of these people perfect - they all had a lot of flaws - but none of them hurt another people to the extreme that snape did.
7. snape saved the trio’s lives many times
this is the absolute bare minimum. ‘oh wow, he didnt let harry die!! what a king! he should be respected and praised! we should excuse all of his other actions because he didnt let people die <3′
8. snape is not a perfect person, he also did good that many people overlook
you’re right, snape did do some good things in his life. but unfortunately, for me and many others, doing a couple of good things doesnt excuse all of the shitty, abusive things he did too. we’re not ignoring them - we just dont think they’re good enough reasons to forgive him.
‘but james and sirius hurt others! you ignore all the bad things they did in favour of the good!’ you do the same thing with snape, first of all. second, they did a lot of good stuff. james’ and sirius’ only crimes were being annoying. for being a bit of a dick, conceited, knew they were hot and were a bit entitled. while these things are annoying as fuck, they were also stupid teens that eventually grew out of their behaviour and became better people. not perfect! better. while snape just stayed bitter at the marauders, long after their deaths, and even took his anger out on an innocent child.
9. people only hate snape because he was poc and queer coded
as a poc and queer person, please stop. this is a very bad excuse. being poc and queer (which im pretty sure he isnt, but anyway) doesnt excuse you from your actions. plus, a huge amount of harry potter readers are poc and lgbtq. why would they hate snape for those reasons?!
so thats all i got for today. im not gonna go into a deep snily/jily thing because i literally cannot be bothered. anyway im done. i need to go revise, i’ve already spent long enough on this.
#i wanted to put this in the pro snape tag#but i will be slandered so much if i do#hate on me if you want i dont care#harry potter#the marauders#james potter#pro james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#anti severus snape#long rant#lily evans#jily#flowerpott#anti snily#wolfstar
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Maybe tom being a huge jerk to reader, maybe fwb, so when they are fighting, he is saying some shit like: you need to get over this teenage crush of yours, like he's treating like an obsessive fan, and you talk back like: you know what? I feel so bad for your fans out there who have no idea how big of an asshole you are OMG YOU COULD CALL HIM A MOVIE STAR but like mocking you know?
A/N: This was the angst turned to fluff I didn't know I wanted!! Thank you so much for the request!! I hope you enjoy 💕💕
Warnings: Mentions of sex, Language.
It had become almost routine, he'd come back from filming, call you, fuck you and then be gone by the morning and you were tired, you truly were. It felt like an endless cycle, one you were growing tired of.
You'd been friends with benefits for a while, almost a year. You'd met him at a bar, you knew who he was, who didn't but that hadn't been what had attracted you to him. In fact, he pursued more than you did, but it never turned into anything more than a friends with benefits relationship.
"Tom?" You said, bodies both sweating as he rolled off you, discarding of the condom. He hummed for you to continue. "Do you ever get, I don't know, tired of doing this?" You asked as you twiddled your thumbs, staring at the ceiling.
"What? Having sex?" He asked.
"No, not the sex. Just, all it being is sex?" You asked timidly as he stood and pulled his boxers and jeans back on. He studied you for a second.
"I don't know what you want." He said, almost snapped. You grabbed your dressing gown that was at the side of the bed, standing as you watched Tom search for his t shirt. Pulling your dressing gown on you looked at him.
Of course over the year you'd developed feelings for him, fallen in love with him but now your heart needed to know if he felt anything for you, at all.
"Like, I don't know Tom. A relationship." You squeaked out the last part and he looked at you like you'd grown two heads.
"You knew what this was when we started." He said harshly, far more harshly than you'd expected. You were taken aback.
"No, I know but we've been doing this for ages now Tom. I was just asking." You tried to shrug off as you watched him pull his shirt over his head.
"Ah, I see what this is. You've got a bit of a crush?" He asked and you laughed lightly, trying to push down the hurt.
"Don't flatter yourself." You laughed as best you could and you watched as he approached you, placing a kiss to your cheek.
"Sorry love, I've gotta go." He said and before you knew it you heard your front door open and close.
It hurt, he wasn't like this usually, usually he'd stay, cuddle but in the month he's been home from filming it's like he's lost himself. He isn't as attentive, every fuck is rough and although you love it, you miss when he'd be gentle with you.
There was one occasion a couple of months back when you thought he might have felt the same, you were both a bit tipsy and he took it slow, it was passionate. It felt like something was there, unspoken emotions.
It was two days later when he turned up again. You were straddling him, kissing him as you took his top off and then you saw it and it brought everything into reality for you, into perspective. There was a love bite, on his chest that you didn't leave.
You moved off him as you ran your hands through your hair and huffed. You knew you weren't exclusive, you weren't that dim but it didn't make it hurt any less. You'd not slept with anyone in the last year and the stupid part of you thought he hadn't either. Idiot.
"Hey," he said as he kissed at your shoulder and you instantly shrugged him off. "What's wrong?" He asked and yo sighed.
"Nothing Tom, I just don't feel like it." You said and he kissed your shoulder again.
"Okay." He didn't fight you on why, you never needed to give a reason to him, no meant no. "Are you okay?" He asked as he watched you angrily wipe a tear away.
"I'm fine." You snapped and he thought for a second, you turned to look at him, he'd been quiet. You watched as he put two and two together.
"You're upset about the other day." He stated and you huffed.
"Can we just drop it?" You sighed, hanging your head.
"Y/N, you know we're not exclusive right?" He said and you felt tears again. "We can see other people?" He said and you sniffled, wiping at your tears before looking at him.
"Yeah, I know."
"You need to get over this crush you have on me." He stated and you didn't appreciate his tone, it felt condescending.
"You know what Tom, that's not exactly easy to do when I'm underneath you ninety-nine per cent of the time I see you." You snapped and Tom raised his brows.
"Y/N," he huffed. "I'm not yours okay, I told you what this was. If you caught feelings that's your problem." He snapped and you gasped.
"What has gotten into you?" You said in disbelief.
"Nothing. I'm not taking the blame because your feelings are hurt that I've seen other people." He said.
"You've never been this cruel." You said, sadness lacing your tone.
"You know what I think it is? I think you're one of those fans that obsesses over me. Next thing you're going to tell me is that you read fanfiction written about me." He mocked and your anger rose.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" You shouted. "Get over yourself Tom, I knew who you were when we met, yes. But do not mistake me as some crazed fan." You snapped.
"Well stop acting like one." He shouted back at you.
"You know what? I feel bad for your fans out there that have no idea how much of a dick you are. How much of a, fucking." You stopped for a second as you thought. "How much of a fucking movie star you are." You watched as anger flashed in his eyes, you'd upset him. Good.
"You don't know what you're talking about, yes, we fuck but don't think for a second I can't find someone else to fill your spot." He shouted and you tried to hold onto your anger but you couldn't, nothing but sadness had set in.
"What happened to you Tom?" You asked, sadness lacing every word.
"Nothing, what are you harping on about?" He snapped and you couldn't help the tears, couldn't help the next words that fell from your lips.
"You've changed, you're not the Tom that left a month ago. You're not the Tom I fell in love with." You said into the quiet air and you could've heard a pin drop.
"You're, you, what?" He stumbled out as he approached you.
"Get out." You said, it was weak but you meant it, your heart was shattered, your emotions tired.
"Y/N/N." He said softly as he tried to take your hand in his but you snatched it away.
"Just get out, find someone to take my place because honestly? I don't want it." You whispered out as your tears fell faster, a sob racking through you. You needed to end this.
"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I was angry. I didn't know." He said and you wiped your nose, looking up at him, you saw something flash behind his eyes, something you couldn't read.
"Just please go home Tom." You said. "I just want to be on my own."
"I don't, it doesn't feel right to leave you." He said.
"Why?" You said, utterly defeated as you made your way into the bathroom, turning to look at him before you spoke. "You've been pretty good at it." You said before you shut the door.
**
Tom waited around for a good twenty minutes before you heard him sigh and leave. You'd not seen him for a month, no contact, he'd tried to call, multiple times actually and you'd declined every single one. Your heart still hurt but it held onto a hope that maybe he'd come back, but back as the Tom you fell for.
It wasn't so bad being in love with him then, he broke your heart but mended it all in one and if he did see other women in that time he never let it slip, never let you know.
After two more weeks of hearing nothing from him, you gave up. You heard frantic knocking at your door, it made you jump as you hastily went to answer it. What you were not expecting to see was a dishevelled Tom on your doorstep. It was almost mid night.
"I'm sorry." Was the first thing he said as he engulfed you in a hug, knocking you backwards into your flat. You'd missed him, missed having his arms around you.
"Tom?" You asked as he kicked the door shut. "What are you doing here? It's so late." You said, you were just about to go to bed yourself.
"I fucked up, I'm so sorry." He said, pulling back to take your face into his hands. "You were right, I was being a dick, I don't know what was going on with me. I've missed you, god, fuck I've missed you and I didn't mean what I said, I didn't mean any of it."
"Tom, it's okay." You smiled. "I shouldn't have let it carry on. I knew what you wanted from it. I know you don't feel the same and it's okay." You said as you placed your hands over his and you watched as he shook his head.
"I thought, I don't know. I took you for granted, that last month, after I got back, I took you for granted." He rambled and you furrowed your brows. "I never slept with anyone else, fuck I got drunk that once and let someone give me a mark but I never slept with her, everything she did felt off and I couldn't understand it." He was spiralling, rambling.
"Tom, slow down. What are you trying to say?" You said softly, trying to ground him as you squeezed his hands and brought them down to your sides.
"I'm trying to say, fuck, I'm trying to tell you that I love you too, I think I have for a long time, I just didn't want to admit it. But being away from you? I never want that again." He said and your heart burst in your chest.
"You keep me grounded, you always have. You're not afraid to call me out. You treat me like a normal human being, not a celebrity and fuck, I treated you so badly." He concluded and you smiled.
"You did." You said as you moved some hair out of his face.
"I'm sorry." He said in defeat. "I love you, I hope you haven't changed the way you feel about me?" He said, hope clear in his beautiful face.
"My feelings for you haven't changed but you have a lot of making up to do." You said and he smiled.
"I know. Anything, baby, whatever you want." He said and you kissed him, he pulled you against him, squeezing your waist as he kissed you like you'd disappear. You pulled back after a moment and looked at him.
"You could start by coming to bed," you said and you watched as he smiled. "I want a cuddle." You said, you didn't want to have sex with him, you wanted him to hold you and you had a feeling he felt the same.
"Yes miss." He said with a smile before picking you up, holding you close to him as he made his way into your bedroom and for the first time since he'd been in there, it wasn't to have sex. It was to hold you and he did, you had your Tom back and he wanted to stay.
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His Protector-Fred Weasley x Reader
(GIF credit to @winter-and-zombies)
Masterlist
Prompts Lists
Summary: At the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred is saved by (Y/N), a close friend of the twins. Both have always had feelings for the other, and in true cliche fashion, neither have admitted this. Years after the battle (where things are somewhat back to normal), the twins have remained friends with her, but it’s only at a Weasley family party does (Y/N) finally say something.
Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader, George Weasley x Reader (platonic)
Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name
Warnings: Mentions of death, PTSD, injuries, blood, lots of fluff
(A/N: This is quite long! And also the first time I’ve written for Harry Potter, blame it on my FYP on Tik Tok)
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
There were no dry eyes from anyone gathered in the Great Hall. It was full of students, resting from the battle and treating injuries, or mourning over friends who didn't make it. Some were huddled together as they sobbed, others keeping to themselves as they tried to stop the horrifying images keep playing in their minds.
The Weasley’s were gathered around Fred, who was laid out on a makeshift stretcher, tears streaming down their faces as they waited for some sign of him waking up. He had dried blood on his face and partly in his hair. When he was first carried in, their immediate thoughts had been he was dead, because he seemed so lifeless. They were extremely grateful when they realised he was breathing, and he had a heartbeat.
Molly stroked back her son’s hair, trying to calm herself down as to not alarm her children. Never in her life did she think they would have to go through something like this, especially at such a young age. These were her babies, and she was going to protect them with her life like any mother would. George sat beside Fred opposite his mum, praying that his brother's eyes would soon open. Although it had been confirmed that he would be alright, albeit with a few injuries, seeing him lying there made it feel like he wasn’t with them anymore. Suddenly, Fred began to stir, scrunching up his eyes and moaning as he felt the pain throbbing through his body.
“How you feeling Freddie?” George quickly asked as the family got closer.
Fred mumbled something, but no one could understand.
“What was that Fred?” Molly quietly said.
“(Y/N)...”
“Who? Who are you talking about?” Molly was sure she had heard the name before, perhaps when the boys were still at school.
“(Y/N), where is she?” Fred moaned.
“I don’t know Freddie.” George replied.“I haven’t seen her since you were brought in.”
“Is..is sh-sh-she a-alive?” Fred was still weak, struggling to speak.
“Fred, please, just rest for now.” Molly begged, not wanting to see him in pain any longer.
“Sh-she’s d-dead?”
As the family struggled to keep Fred still and stop him from panicking, Ginny backed away, knowing the only way Fred would settle was if she found (Y/N). When Fred was carried in, (Y/N) had also been brought him right behind him, but they were separated. She was taken off towards her friends, and in the heat of the moment, Ginny hadn’t questioned if she was alright, making her feel awful.
Although (Y/N) had been close to the twins, she hadn’t been as mischievous as them, not wanting multiple detentions or to get in any trouble as much as they did. It was a surprising friendship between them, especially when (Y/N) was so nice to Ginny, despite the age difference; she was always surprised that the boys never invited her round to their home during the holidays. Because she saw how Fred would sneak glances at the girl, always rolling her eyes at how obvious he was being with his feelings, yet neither one did anything about it.
Ginny ignored the calls from her dad when she set off in the hall to find (Y/N), bombarding her peers with questions, desperate to find her as quickly as possible. Luckily amongst everyone, she spotted (Y/N)’s friends huddled on the floor, holding onto the unconscious girl’s hands. Ginny startled them as she rushed over.
“Is she...” Ginny started.
“She’s alive. But she’s weak.” one of her friends sniffled.
“We need to move (Y/N).” Ginny demanded.
“What?”
“She needs to be beside Fred.”
“Why?”
“She just does! Come on, help me move her. Please!”
The girls glanced between each other, and they knew Ginny wouldn’t be requesting such a thing for no reason. They struggled to navigate her body on the stretcher through the people, Ginny going ahead and commanding that they move out of the way. All eyes were on (Y/N), wondering why they were moving her. Ginny gently ushered George and her father out of the way, the men helping lay (Y/N) down on the floor. Fred also watched, slowly turning his head to look at her, expecting to see her beautiful eyes staring back. But when he saw they were shut, he panicked. He shakily reached out for her hand, struggling to find it as they were crossed over on her stomach. George took on her hands, placing it in Fred’s, smiling at the size difference.
Molly and Arthur looked at each other, wondering why this girl was so special to Fred and also why they hadn’t been told much about her.
“This is (Y/N). She saved Fred’s life.” Ginny explained to her parents."She's alive Fred."
Fred didn't reply, still staring at her and grasping onto her hand. His mind flashed back to seeing her save him, hearing how angry and upset she was as she shouted out her spell, somehow defending him from his death and saving herself. He had blacked out before he could see if she was safe. Although he heard Ginny, it didn't make him feel any better. He just wanted to see her eyes open. That was it.
"(Y/N)." he tried to raise his voice, but his throat was so hoarse that it came out as a whisper. He tried shaking her hand slightly, and again, he was too weak to even do that.
George held (Y/N)'s other hand, trying to help his brother wake up their friend. He too wanted her to wake up, and not just for his brother's sake. Her eyes fluttered open, then quickly shut again. Instinctively she was going to rub her eyes until she realised her hands were preoccupied.
"What's happening?" she breathed out, looking around at the Weasley family.
"You're safe dear." Molly reassured her.
"You're alive." Fred smiled, relief flooding through him.
(Y/N) only realised it was Fred talking beside her, breathlessly laughing as her head lulled to the side. There he was, alive just as she was.
"Fred? Oh my...Y-you're here."
"All thanks to you." George smiled, squeezing her hand.
"I'm so..." she gulped before continuing."I'm so happy you're both safe."
"Please don't do that again." Fred begged.
"Do what?"
"Put yourself in danger to save me."
"Don't be stupid Freddie. You can thank me later."
"Let me guess...lots and lots of chocolates."
"Exactly."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
(Y/N) yawned as she packed up her things from work, tired after another long week. She passed co-workers, waving goodbye and smiling as she left the building. As she put on her hat, she looked up at the sky, smiling at the sight of snow falling. It was turning dark, and seeing the snowflakes illuminated by the street lights made the street she walked down everyday look beautiful. (Y/N) took her first few steps towards her route home, suddenly stopping for an unknown reason. Something was pulling her in the other direction, she wanted to take a different path today.
Following her instincts, she walked in the opposite direction, hypnotised by the weather around her. Once she reached the end of the street, she looked up at the sign post, and the only part of it not covered in snow was the one that said 'Diagon Alley'. She hadn't been down there for so long, she hadn't seen two certain men for so long.
Why was she headed there? And of all the times to go, why now? She hadn't seen the twins for months, not because she didn't want to, but because she was so busy, as were they. Continuing her walk, she thought back to how often they would spend time together, especially after what happened to Hogwarts. She needed solidarity, she needed to be reminded that Fred was still there, that she didn't dream saving him, it had to be real. (Y/N) would regularly visit them, or vice versa, trying to act like everything was normal and that they weren't effected by anything that had happened.
The shops were closed, she could see the owners locking up, beginning to tidy everything away. Lights were dim, signs now said 'closed' and she was one of the few people left in the street after a busy day of shopping. As (Y/N) approached 'Weasleys Wizard Wheezes', she grew nervous, wondering if this really was a good idea. She hadn't seen them for all this time and now she was suddenly turning up on their shop doorstep? Was it rude? Was she being stupid in thinking that they would be totally fine seeing her after a working day?
Mustering up as much courage as she could, (Y/N) forced herself to the front door, seeing that no last minute customers were left. She tried opening the door, luckily it was open, and let herself in.
"Sorry, we're closed!" a voice shouted out.
"Even for me?" she cheekily called back, giggling when a confused George poked his head around a pile of boxes.
He grinned, practically running towards (Y/N) with his arms open wide."Where have you been little miss?"
"I'm sorry, I know this is a random visit but...I don't know, I just thought of coming to see you and Freddie."
"You're welcome here any time of any day. You know that."
They pulled apart, still smiling."Thanks, I just feel bad that I've not made much effort."
"Hey, we're all busy now. Don't worry about it. I'll go get Fred, he's going to love this!"
George was ecstatic as he dashed off to find his brother. All of them were to blame for not catching up more often than they used to, and he had seen how it effected Fred. They had all been each others support system after the battle, but it was clear that Fred and (Y/N) hugged a little tighter than they used to, looked into each others eyes longer, and smiled as much as possible when together. George had always wanted to set them up (he would have preferred involving pranks somehow) and that old itch was back. These two were hopeless with their feelings for one another, he just had to give them a little push in the right direction...into each others arms.
"Freddie!" George exclaimed, laughing when his brother almost dropped a box out of fright.
"What?" Fred sighed as he recovered, placing the box on the floor. He just wanted to get the stock out for the next morning and go home.
"Come see who has paid us a visit."
George said no more, going back to the shop floor, leaving Fred rolling his eyes as he followed. He rolled up his shirt sleeves as they slid down his arms, not paying much attention to his surroundings. So when he looked up and he saw her, his mouth dropped open, shocked to see (Y/N) standing there.
"Would you just get over here and hug me?" (Y/N) joked, though not as boldly as she used to.
Fred just laughed as he did what she said, reaching down to wrap his long arms around her. She had miss how he held her, how tightly he clung onto her, as if it were their last hug ever. George just stood there, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for them to finish.
"What are you doing here?" Fred asked.
"Just wanted to see you both." (Y/N) simply stated.
"Well I'm glad you did."
"How about we go for some drinks? It is the end of the week after all." George suggested.
(Y/N) nodded."Yeah, I'm up for that."
"Well then, let's get packed up Freddie."
(Y/N) offered to help, but the twins refused. They came in and out of the stock room, being as quick as they could. (Y/N) took the opportunity to walk around, see what items they were selling. There were some new products, but most were older classics. She reminisced over all the times the boys used pranks such as the ones in the shop, and how they could sometimes get a lighter punishment, just because everyone loved them. She took part in a few schemes here and there, but only the harmless ones, the ones that would only land her in detention if they got caught.
She came to a stand that held numerous love potions. She smiled as she remembered making Amortentia in her lessons. That had been an awkward class. No one wanted to be picked on and asked what theirs smelt like, not in front of their peers. (Y/N) knew who's hers smelt like as soon as the lid of the bottle popped off.
"No luck in the love department then?" George smirked as he put on his coat.
"Hm?" (Y/N) hadn't been paying attention, thinking back on old times.
"Still not found 'the one'?"
"Oh, no, I don't have time for any of that."
"Well, hopefully Mr Right just stumbles into your life." George was growing more excited by the second.
"Yeah, hopefully."
"Right, ready to go?" Fred appeared.
"Yes-Oh!" George startled them."Freddie, I just had a great idea."
"Oh here we go." (Y/N) joked.
"(Y/N) should come home with us, to the Burrow, for mum's party!"
"A party? Why is your mum throwing a party?"
"Dad got a little bonus at work, mum thinks it's something to celebrate. And it's an excuse for her to get the whole family back together."
"That is an amazing idea actually." Fred beamed.
"I can't impose on something like that. Especially since it's a family thing."
"Nonsense." the twins said in unison.
"Are you sure? I mean, I haven't seen your family for so long."
"Mum would love it." Fred reassured her.
"OK then!" (Y/N) grinned."I've always loved a Weasley party."
"That's settled then," George opened the door,"we'll discuss the details over those drinks that are waiting for us."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Smoothing down her dress once again, (Y/N) checked her tights for any holes or ladders. She had planned her outfit a week before the party, changing her mind countless times before she finally decided on what she wanted to wear. All morning, her heart had been racing, stomach twisting into knots as nerves got the better of her. Why was she so nervous? She had met the Weasley’s many times, she even stayed the Burrow!
There was a knock at the door, meaning the boys were here to pick her up. Sighing, she checked herself one last time in the mirror before going to answer the door. As she opened it, she noticed it was only Fred standing there, no sign of George.
"Hi, where's George?" she asked as she let Fred inside the flat. She took a note of the smart-casual shirt he was wearing; thank god, she was dressed correctly.
"He's waiting downstairs. Said he can't be arsed to walk up all those stairs. Even though there is a lift..."
"Since when did he become so lazy?" (Y/N) giggled, grabbing her handbag and keys. Turning back around, she saw Fred staring at her.
"(Y/N), you look..." Fred was speechless, which was rare for him. He always had a witty remark, a joke or a flirty comment at the ready, but when he was around (Y/N), those words seemed to get stuck in his throat,"...beautiful."
(Y/N) smiled, ducking her head to hide her blush."Th-thanks Freddie. You look very handsome too."
There were so many more words that he wanted to use to compliment her. He wanted to slap himself for using such a basic word. (Y/N) was gorgeous, she was dazzling, he could believe such a smart, independant and caring woman was in his life. Why did he have to stutter or forget how to speak when he was around her? The real words he wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue, but they would never leave there.
Awkwardly laughing, they left the flat, meeting George outside. George noticed their pink cheeks but didn't mention it, knowing they had embarrassed themselves enough in front of each other.
The journey was full of banter and inside jokes, making it seem like they were students again at Hogwarts. (Y/N)'s nerves about seeing the Weasley’s again had disappeared, but new ones emerged. And they were all because of Fred. (Y/N) wasn't stupid, she had always had feelings for him. But after the battle, she hadn't snatched him up, something held her back, and she just couldn't bring herself to even talk to Fred about it, like any other normal adult would.
The Burrow was just ahead, now the nerves were taken over by excitement. Fred and George reminded (well, warned) (Y/N) how excited their mum was going to be, but she didn't mind. It would be great to receive such an inviting reception. She walked between the twins up to the house, letting them go in first, hesitating slightly as she took in how many people were there; they weren't joking when they said everyone would be there.
"Mum, look who else we brought." Fred struggled to say as he was smothered with kisses across his face.
Molly finally let him go, her smile turning into a shocked expression before letting out a scream, making everyone jump. She didn't waste time bringing (Y/N) into a bone crushing hug. (Y/N) would have laughed if she could breathe, but didn't complain.
"Oh, it's so good to see you dear! It's been too long since you've been back here." Molly held (Y/N)'s cheeks in her hands, looking at how the young girl she knew had turned into a beautiful woman.
“I couldn’t say no when Fred and George invited me.” (Y/N) said through squished lips.
“Alright mum, give her some air.” George gently chuckled.
“Oh, this is so nice.” Molly beamed, glancing between (Y/N) and Fred, who was already looking at her.
It took a good ten minutes for the twins and (Y/N) to greet everyone. She always forgot how many Weasley’s there were, some she had not seen for years. Homemade food was laid out on the table (far more than what was needed), everyone nibbling at anything they fancied as they spoke over drinks. There was a toast held for Arthur, who humbly thanked everyone, bashful over Molly’s speech; and she didn’t leave out mentioning how lovely it was that the family was extending, referring to (Y/N). She had blushed too much recently, avoiding eye contact with Fred as everyone stared at the pair who were stood together.
The day was moving on too quickly, it was becoming dark outside, and she didn’t want the night to end. The family had split into groups, still having much to talk about. (Y/N) decided to refill her drink, parting from the others to head to the kitchen. Just as she found another bottle to open, someone appeared beside her. Craning her neck upwards, she flinched back as Fred held out her coat to her, along with her hat, scarves and gloves.
“We’re not leaving are we?” (Y/N) frowned, not wanting to leave.
“Just popping out.” Fred smiled.
After getting wrapped up, (Y/N) followed Fred outside. Once again, it was lightly snowing, starting to stick to the ground which was already frosty, the sound of grass crunching underneath their shoes. She nonchalantly looped her arm through his, snuggling into him (if he asked, she would blame it on the cold), her heart fluttering when Fred instead wrapped his arm around her shoulders, meaning they could be closer. They didn’t stray too far from the house, Fred casting Lumos to light the way. There was a crumbling stone wall which Fred confidently hopped onto. (Y/N) waited for some part of it to collapse, and when it didn't, she joined him, having to jump higher to reach the top. He laughed, forgetting how much advantage his height have him almost everyday.
"We've never sat here before." (Y/N) commented.
"Honestly, I didn't even know it was here."
"So we were just wandering around?" (Y/N) smiled.
"Yeah." Fred confessed.
“How come you wanted to get out of the house?”
“Uh...I wanted to, well, I thought we could talk.”
“About?” she dragged out the word.
“When I saw you again, after all this time, I realised what an idiot I’ve been.”
“What do you mean?”
“Obviously we’re busy, we’ve both got jobs and it’s always harder to meet up. But I regret that so much. After...what happened at Hogwarts, you were my rock, I always felt normal around you, as if nothing had happened. We were able to carry on with our lives like we had planned. When I didn’t see you, I would lie awake all night with that image of you beside me in the hall. It would never go away.”
“Why have you never told me any of this?”
“I’ve been too scared to reveal anything. I didn’t want to bring anything up, because who would want to be with someone who is still stuck in the past?”
“I would. Fred, you’re not alone in this. I’ve always felt the same. I visited you all those times because my mind would make me think that I never saved you. And if I hadn’t....I don’t know how I would have gone on. Because if I didn’t have you in my life-”
“Don’t finish that sentence, please. We’ve been through so much that we shouldn’t have. But we’re here now, together again.”
Fred held her hand, slowly interlocking their fingers. They both looked down, butterflies erupting in their stomach. The pair glanced at each other, quickly looking away when they realised how close their faces were.
“Why are we acting like kids at school again?” (Y/N) laughed.
“You’re asking the guy who owns and runs a joke shop with his brother, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped being a kid.”
“We did, once.”
“(Y/N), we don’t have to think about that anymore. It’s in the past.”
“Freddie?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember the last time we were in a situation like this? When you actually had the courage to ask me to the Yule ball?”
“And we went as friends?”
She nodded.“Yep. You know, I was a little disappointed when you added that part.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I was sort of hoping you would ask me out as well. Then when you said that, and I just gave up trying. You never noticed me flirting anyway.”
“I never asked you because I never knew. And you also had guys after you so I didn’t think I had a chance.”
“Are you joking? Fred, no one else was wanting to date me.”
“Now you’re the one who is joking.”
“Well...”
“Well?”
“Let’s not make this more awkward than it already is.”
“Oh it’s awkward now?”
“Fred!” (Y/N) exclaimed but couldn’t help laughing along with him.
“No, no, I’m enjoying this.”
“Fred Weasley, after all this time being idiots and wasting time not being together...”
“What? Did you change your mind-”
(Y/N) didn’t know how to say it, instead closing the already small gap them and kissing him. Fred was shocked by how forward she was, but wasted no time kissing back. Her hands cupped his cheeks as Fred’s hands wound themselves around her waist. This had been long overdue. As they pulled away, breathless from the passionate kiss, Fred started to chuckle.
“What is it?” (Y/N) asked.
“Mum is gonna scream when she finds out about this.”
#fred weasley#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley imagines#fred weasley one shot#fred weasley x reader#weasley twins#harry potter#harry potter imagine#harry potter imagines#harry potter one shot#harry potter x reader#hogwarts#george weasley#george weasley imagine#george weasley imagines#george weasley one shot#george weasley x reader
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“look at the camera, baby”
parings: jean kirschtein x female reader
cw: established relationship, nsfw (MINORS DNI, blowjob, face fucking, use of camera, clit sucking, nipple play, bruises, blindfolds, unprotected sex, creampie, kissing, jaw grabbing, finger sucking, praise kink, clit slapping) and language
word count: 2700+
a/n: late late post for jean’s birthday which ends in half an hour, but yeah happy birthday to my favourite boy and hope you guys enjoy some birthday sex, kisses
summary: in which its jeans birthday and he wants to bring a camera into the bedroom, throughout the night the two of find yourself taking pictures of one another orgasm after orgasm
↞ back to attack on titan masterlist
Jean’s birthday had never been a special day, of course his mother would always celebrate but when he moved away and started living by himself. His birthday seemed to be the last thing on his mind, well that was until he met you, the way you had been giddy all week from hearing it was your boyfriend’s birthday. He had told you straight up he didn’t want a party and that your group of friends could instead just hang out the night after, which everybody agreed upon.
You knew he didn’t want it to be a big deal, that he would want to spend it with you, cuddling most likely. But as he entered the apartment from work, taking his shoes off as the cold emptiness made him shudder, you had already given him his present and sang happy birthday to him multiple times in the morning. Even the mass texts from his friends and calls from his mother couldn’t compete with the love and joy he had felt as you passed him the cupcakes you had bought for him.
Seeing the cupcakes to the side he found an envelope as he opened it, having dropped his stuff on the table. He had been at a meeting with Levi and Armin and didn’t expect to be home as late as he had, opening the letter up he was met with your handwriting.
‘I have a surprise for you, come to the bedroom baby, y/n x’, the x was large as he chuckled at how far you were going for your surprise. He held the letter as he stepped passed the corridor and went straight to the bedroom, even the corridor was dark as he passed it.
You heard shuffling from outside as Jean slowly entered the room, his eyes adjusting to even more darkness. Until he felt your hands wrap against his eyes, you were on your tiptoes as he gave a chuckle at how extravagant this ordeal was, “happy birthday baby.”
“Thank you princess, but you’ve told me this a gazillion times,” he felt a cloth take the place of your hands as he felt your chuckle behind him.
“Can’t a woman just show their appreciation for her man,” you had shifted in front of him as you took his hands making him sit on the bed, pushing him down as his back laid across the sheets and head against the pillow.
He put his hands out wanting to hold you, but you had other ideas, “It’s your special day, I want to do something you’ve been wanting to do for a while.”
There were a lot of things Jean wanted to do with you but what you had planned was something he never expected from you. You sat on his abdomen, already undoing his shirt buttons as your fingers trailed his chest and nipples, he gave a moan as your mouth moved down his neck and circled his nipple. Tongue swirling past it, he could feel your bare skin against his own as you seemed to be wearing a bra, and as his hands cupped your ass, he could feel your underwear as he gripped onto you.
Your mouth moving along his neck as you licked a strip down to his collar, “bab…baby…” He could barely speak wanting to take the blindfold off to see his pretty girl, but against his better judgement he let you keep at it. He tried to grind against your ass as your back arched on top of him, but the tighter his trousers got the harder it felt to move. “Wha…what’s my surprise?”
“Patience my lov…” before you could continue you felt his hands on your hips move, fingers trailing past your underwear and moving up and down your clit which had left a damp spot in your underwear.
He smirked at hearing you moan at his actions, his finger moving lazily against your clit occasionally pressing against your clit before he heard shuffling as you moaned. “I’m…gonna take your b…blindfold off…just keep your…eyes closed.”
Agreeing, he could see you having put the LED lights on as a red hue settled through the blindfold, feeling it being taken off, you perched yourself closer to chest, before speaking once more, “open your eyes.”
His eyes adjusted to the red light but what he saw turned him even more, you wore his favourite lingerie set but even better, you had a polaroid camera in your hand, bringing it up to your eye as you took a picture of him, his chest heavy and lips licked, hair a mess and shirt unbuttoned. Hearing the polaroid come out, you shook your hand in the air as the image came through, “my pretty boy.”
“This the surprise then…” he smirked as he placed his hands on your thighs, your underwear choking at your hips as he watched you smile at him. He remembered why it had been something he wanted, having sent a Tik Tok of some random guy talking about bringing a camera into the bedroom, he had sent it to you on a whim. But forgotten about it since then, but now all he wanted to do was have pictures of you filled up with him. “I love it baby.”
You watched him take the camera away from your hands, grabbing your hands as he pulled you to his side, hands holding each other as he topped you. He licked his lips as he stared down at your pretty boy, how perfect you looked in all your beauty. His hand wrapped around your neck as your moaned just as the camera flash went off, he straddled your lap as his cock brushed against your underwear. Waving the image up in the air as he inspected how pretty you looked with your tongue sticking out, eyes rolled back and his hand around your neck.
“Does the birthday boy get a treat?” He questioned as placed the camera to the side, taking his shirt off as he felt your hands move to his chest gliding back and forth mesmerised by his body.
You nodded eagerly as he got off your chest, undoing his belt as he stood up standing by the edge of the bed. He watched how you licked your lips, anticipating his next actions, with his trousers falling to the floor and his boxers swiftly after. You kneeled on the bed as your face was directly in front of his hardened cock. His hand moves to cup your face as you give him a smile.
“So pretty,” his thumb brushed your lips as he forced it past your lips. Watching how you sucked at it as his other hand undid your bra making it fall past your arms. He couldn’t wait to have your mouth on him, as soon as his thumb left your mouth, you instantly wet to his cock.
Holding it as you licked the base right up to the tip, you licked his tip, his hands moved to your head as you swirled your tongue against the top. He groaned before watching you slowly take him down your throat, you paced yourselves as you went back and forth each time moving closer and closer to his base. “Fu…fuck baby…”
Your moans that escaped from your full mouth made it harder for him to hold back. Pushing your head further down, wanting to feel your throat clamp down against his tip. As the room filled with his groans and whines of your name, your mouth clasping around his cock became faster and harder at each thrust. How could he not use what was his, you were his birthday present after all, so pretty with drool coming from your mouth and tears falling down your pretty face.
“J…Jean…” your voice was muffled as he moved his cock down your throat thrusting, doing your mouth as he held your hair to help him move freely.
“Yeah…f…fuck baby…” even if he was groaning at each word he looked down at your face, the way you looked an entire mess in a matter of seconds.
He continued to thrust down your throat going a lot slower to allow you to speak but still deep enough to feel the back of your throat, “fa…face…”
He understood what you wanted, as much as you both loved having his cum down your throat, you knew how much he loved having his cum right on your face. Watching as it mixed with your tears and drool. “Want my cu…cum on your face…p…pretty thing?” Your whine of a yes as he went back to his faster pace made you gain a high, you loved Jean’s cock. How the tip was always pinker than the rest of him, how even with how big he was you were able to fit him down your throat or the fact that whenever you cockwarmed him one move and you’d cum in an instant.
“Gon…gonna cum…fuck…” You saw how his pace became sloppy, Jean was a vocal person in bed, whining for more when you were in control or groaning and speaking taunts of his actions as he used you like a toy.
You felt his cock twitch just as he left your mouth, cum falling out right onto your face, the way some went down your mouth, around your lips, on your cheeks mixing with your tears, down your throat. It was a perfect pretty sight, Jean’s cum still falling down onto you as he moved his cock to brush against your lips, tracing his white gush against your pretty plump lips. “You look prettier with my cum on your face,” he groaned grabbing the camera as he held your jaw up, “tell me who you belong to baby?”
“Y…you dad…daddy,” you moaned as the flash went off as he took the picture, waving it in the air as he watched you lick away at the cum on your lips as his other hand remained on your jaw.
He found your eagerness to please a turn on as he watched you kneel for him as if he was some God and you his pet. “Want to be good for da…daddy, want to give me a real present?” you nodded watching as he grabbed your arms pushing you down before topping you once again, but as he held your wrists up in his arm, head against the pillow you couldn’t help but admire how much you loved this man.
The way he gently kissed against your abdomen and played with your nipples or how he tugged your underwear down with his teeth, bringing it down to your ankles with his fingers. “Pretty cunt, my pretty cunt…” his mouth moved to lick your clit, tasting your slick as you put your hand in his hair making him look up.
“Fuck me…I want you to fe…feel good as well…”
He couldn’t help smile as he came up to your face, hands on each side of the bed as he looked down at you, “I always feel-good eating you out baby, you cunt is all mine…” his hand moved down as he gave your cunt a slap, “isn’t it?”
“It…it is…” You could hardly breathe as he kissed you, tongue tasting of you as he could taste his cum that pressed against his own face as well. Both your saliva mixed together, his hand moved to massage your breasts as he couldn’t wait till fill that pretty cunt up.
He easily moved you to straddle his lap, lips still locked as he grinded his cock against your slick filled cunt, “can…can’t wait to fill you up…baby.”
His voice was harsh through the kiss as you tugged at his hair to force him up as your cunt was barely a few inches away from his cock, “wan…want you da…daddy.”
He watched how your mouth moved to his neck, he moaned your name as your slick seemed to help him out. Watching as you went down on his cock, hands gripping your waist as he watched your arch, your neck taking him all in with one go. “F…fuck Jean…” you could barely move but as you began moving your hips to his cock the feeling of being stretched out was overcome with the feeling of pleasure.
“Fu…fuck pl…please…” Jean could barely speak as he sat up against the pillows, watching you use his cock, the way each movement made him groan.
Your eyes were shut but as soon as you got used to the feeling of him once more, you went to grab the camera from the side, “let me…me take a p…photo of my…my bi…birthday…agh God…bo…boy.”
Your words finally formed as you opened your eyes, the way he held onto you as you continued to move your hips, each time moving further up and slamming right back down onto his cock. “Y/n…”
He watched you drool at how you couldn’t help but love him, his hands remaining fixated on your waist. Each movement made your tits bounce as he couldn’t help but lick his lips, you took the camera to your eye, gaining a better view through the lens of your pretty boy.
His hair was damp as it rested against the back of his neck, his face damp from him cum that had gotten from your own. Eyes watching you move as his chest was on show. Even then he was still your perfect boy, the man who would risk the world to be with you. He felt the flash as you shifted making him groan as the picture got taken, even if it was blurry he knew you’d still end up keeping it. The image moved with you as you waived it to the side at each thrust back and forth.
Your breathing became heavier as your cunt squeezed at his cock, the camera fell to the side, as Jean took it wanting to have one more imager permanently ingrained into his vision. He put his eye to the camera, your body on show for him as your neck was littered with his kisses, your tears running down your face and cum that still stuck to your neck. “Look at the camera, baby,” the only sight he wanted to see was your reaction to, “I love you.”
You smiled at him as you couldn’t help but tear up at how much he loved you and as the camera flashed as he got the prettiest image of the night. “I love you…too.”
He pushed the camera to the side having waived the image to come through, before using your hips and thrusting upwards, “I want you forever.”
His breathing became heavy as did your own, the feeling of his cock moving harder to the back or your cervix made you reach a high. And as you felt a coil in your stomach snap, your white gush fell out squelching past Jean’s cock as he used it to fuck harder into you. You moaned his name as his thrusts became sporadic wanting to cum right in that pretty cunt of yours.
“F…fuck Y/n…bab…baby,” you watched his eyes shut as cum shot into your cunt, the way you felt filled as he continued to sloppily fuck into you.
As you finally got off of him and lied beside him, cum falling out of your cunt, he held you close in his arms. Switching the desk lamp on beside him, your heavy breaths against his chest making him feel at home, he eyed each image how the ones you took of him whilst riding him were blurry. But his favourite of yours covered in his cum, with tears as you rode him was the one he was going to keep with him forever.
“Gonna put this in my wallet, baby,” he chuckled holding you closer to him.
You nodded tiredly as you replied back, “as long as I can get one of us for my phone case you can take as many pictures as possible of me naked baby.”
“I’ll keep you to that…” he kissed your forehead knowing you’d be tired and as he turned to the side seeing the midnight approach, he knew that maybe birthdays could be a bigger celebration. As long as it was just the two of you together, because that was where his true home lied.
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#jean kirschtein#jean kirstein#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirschtein x you#jean kirschtein x y/n#jean kirstein x you#jean kirstein x y/n#attack on titan#attack on titan smut#attack on titan x reader#aot#aot x reader#snk#snk x reader#shingeki no kyoujin#shingeki no kyoujin x reader#shingeki no kyoujin smut#jean kirschtein smut#jean kirstein smut#jean kirschtein x female reader#jean kirstein x female reader
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Win Me Back
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: When Reader’s ex-boyfriend comes back to town, he finds a way to make amends— with a little help from her niece.
Category: FLUFF
Warnings: None other than a few swears :)
Word Count: 3k (I barely made the limit, folks, that was hard lol)
MASTERLIST
NOTE: This is my entry for @homoose ‘s 2k Celebration!! And if this fic seems familiar, that may be because it’s a re-telling of the car-wash scene from Ramona and Beezus 🤭😂 It’s one of my favorite movie scenes of all time, it never fails to make me squeal, and I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!
Also! I tried very hard to find the scene for you to watch incase you haven’t seen the movie, but the ones I did manage to find on YouTube cut out THE BEST PARTS, so I’m sorry 😭 But in case you want to know the ~vibes~ I tried to capture and don’t feel like watching the movie, I made THIS post last night with some dialogue/background from the scene if you’d like to read it! Obviously it’s not required since what I’ve written is quite different, but it is encouraged 😊
I hope you like it!! And if somehow you haven’t followed Moose yet, you should! She’s the sweetest ❤❤❤
***
Y/N found an abundance of upsides to taking neighborhood walks with her niece. For one thing, it gave her a distraction, something to focus on as she made sure eight-year-old Piper wouldn't wander too far from the sidewalk. She found solace in quizzing her on the multiplication table as they made their way around the block, an activity in which Piper enthusiastically flaunted her love of numbers.
It was also nice to stay outside and take in the warm sun and soft rustling of the trees, though every once in a while all of it wasn't enough to keep the memory of Spencer at bay.
After all, it was kind of hard when he was back in town, and after all these years he was reaching out to her like he hadn't broken her heart in the first place.
"You seem sad, Auntie," Piper said, grabbing Y/N's hand as the turned the corner.
Y/N swung their arms together gently, smiling down at her with a tilt of her head. "Why d'you think that, hon?"
Piper gave a little shrug, her ponytail blowing softly behind her. "You don't smile as much. And you always smile when you're with me... And you asked me the same times equation 3 times in a row just now. You're distracted."
Y/N couldn't help the breathy laugh that escaped her. You sound just like Spencer... Instead, she told her, "Aw, I'm sorry, Kiddo. My mind is just in a... confusing place right now. But I'm very happy that you got to come stay with me this weekend, you always brighten my day." She punctuated her sentence with a little boop on Piper's nose, to which she giggled and asked for another math equation.
The two of them continued around the block a few rounds, though on their fourth and final one, Y/N noticed very familiar car parked just outside her house.
Heart jumping into her throat, she stopped in her tracks, and Piper kept going only to be pulled back slightly. The girl turned to her aunt and furrowed her brow. "Auntie, why did we stop?"
"Um... I just wasn't expecting any company today besides you..."
Y/N certainly wasn't ready to discuss everything that was going on with Spencer to anyone, let alone her eight-year-old niece who wouldn't probably understand or care anyway. So she explained it the best way she could, quickly coming up with a plan to avoid him as long as possible.
"See the car parked over there?" Y/N asked, and Piper nodded. "Well, that's an... old friend of mine... And we haven't talked in a long time because we don't really get along anymore. So when we get up to the house, he might try to talk to us, and I'm going to tell him that we're busy."
"He's not mean, is he?"
Sensing Piper's reservations, Y/N reassured her while letting her own contempt for her ex fuel the conversation. "No, but... He broke my heart. And he—"
"Y/N... Hi..."
She nearly jumped, mostly from surprise, but also at the fact that hearing her name coming from his lips and his voice and just him brought back a flood of feelings she'd rather have forgotten. Still, she turned to him and cleared her throat. "Spencer... Hi."
Piper suddenly let go of Y/N's hand, a small scoff escaping her. "Oh. Spencer..."
The two adults turned to look at her with surprise, though it was Spencer who spoke up. "You... know me?"
"Mhm," Piper returned with a nod, crossing her arms. "I heard Mom and Auntie talk about you yesterday, and she says you have a stupid, beautiful face."
"Piper!" Y/N screeched, heat rising to her face. "I... You can't tell people that, I— That's not... I..."
"Oh... I'm sorry, Auntie," the little girl said quietly.
Y/N was fully prepared to dig a hole and stay buried in it forever, and her embarrassment grew even stronger when Spencer spoke up again. "It's okay," he reassured gently, a small laugh sounding from his throat that regrettably gave Y/N butterflies. "You're auntie's definitely right, I do have a stupid face."
Before Y/N could stop the conversation altogether, Piper cut in quickly, being sure to add, "And beautiful."
Spencer's eyes flicked up to Y/N, drawing her in with amusement and charm, a fact which she hated to her core. Because it was working, and that was annoying as hell. "Yep," he said, never taking his eyes off of her. "And beautiful."
And then the corner of his mouth turned up slightly, flashing her the most amused, stupidly perfect smirk.
Piper started talking again, and for the second time that day, Y/N wished she hadn't even said anything at all, keeping this whole situation to herself.
"But we can't talk to you, because you broke Auntie's heart, and we're busy. C'mon, Auntie. Let's go." Piper grabbed Y/N's hand and led her up the rest of sidewalk until they got to the driveway. And even though it might have been childish to completely ignore Spencer as they walked past, not giving him a second glance, quite frankly she was quick to abort the situation as soon as possible.
Unfortunately for her, Spencer was persistent.
They were almost to the steps up to the door when he called out. "Piper! Can I ask you something?"
The little girl turned around, losing grip of Y/N's hand and greeting his gaze without batting an eye. "Sure."
Damn kids and their willingness to be nice to strangers, Y/N grumbled in her head.
"I know... your auntie is an important person to you, right?" Spencer inquired, walking up the driveway with his hands in his front pockets. Y/N swallowed, most certainly not noticing how the sun perfectly highlighted him in a glow that made him look more beautiful than stupid.
Piper nodded.
"Well... She's important to me, too. And I really hurt her feelings, but I want to make it up to her. Would you be kind enough to let me try?"
Damn him, Y/N grumbled yet again. Damn him, damn him, damn him to hell... Why was he so charming?
He'd always known that kids were a soft spot for her, and when they'd dated, they talked a lot about having some of their own one day. Every time they took a walk in the park and they passed a kid, they always gravitated to Spencer, giving him the biggest smiles, and in turn he would give them a high five or perform a little magic trick to make them smile even wider. And Y/N melted into a damn puddle every time.
He knew exactly what he was doing, using Piper as a means to win her back, but even still, she knew that because of his gentle nature, most of it was... well, nature. Deep down, as much as she hated to admit it, she knew that he was a kind person. They may have ended things on bad terms, sure, and Y/N could pretend he was cruel all she wanted— The truth was that no matter how their relationship ended, he was a good man at heart.
And that's why it hurt so much.
Y/N thought for sure Piper would fall into his web, but she was pleasantly surprised when the girl responded with, "I don't know... I don't know if I trust you yet."
You and me both, Kiddo, Y/N thought to herself.
Spencer laughed again. "That's fair. Look, you can say no, but... How about I give you something in return?"
"Spencer, that's no—"
Piper crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, interrupting Y/N before she could finish protesting. "How much we talking?"
"Piper!"
"Well, I was going to offer to show you a magic trick, but I suppose I could work you a deal... I only have a hundred bucks on me, would that be enough?"
Sure enough, Spencer pulled a one-hundred dollar bill from his pocket, and the young girl's eyes went wide. Y/N's did, too, but more likely than not it wasn't a means of excitement.
"You have yourself a deal!" Piper squealed with a jump. She ran over to take the money, meanwhile Spencer looked up at Y/N with a smile.
She didn't return it.
"Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked softly. Kindly.
"Well, I'm babysitting Piper today, so you'll have to come back another time," she returned a little coldly, hoping that she and Piper had just scored a free Benjamin to pig out on ice cream while Spencer was left waiting forever for a conversation that was never going to happen.
Funny how eight-year-olds always had a way of making things more difficult for you.
"Auntie, Spencer and I made a deal. He gave me money, and now he has to make it up to you. Remember?"
Y/N groaned. "Yeah, yeah, I remember..."
"Well, how about I... take you guys out for lunch? My treat? If it's alright, we can go to McDonald's..."
"The one with the play place?" Piper gasped, immediately turning to Y/N. "Oh, Auntie, please can we go? Please, please, please?"
She looked up at Spencer, shaking her head in exasperation as he smiled at her, those sparkling honey eyes reeling her in whether she wanted them to or not. Then she turned to Piper and sighed.
"How fast do you think you can eat?"
***
Y/N was surprised Spencer didn't try to talk to her more on the drive over. Though, Piper did most of the talking, telling Spencer about how much she loved numbers and math, and he even quizzed her on some multiplication equations on the way.
If she wasn't so annoyed with him, Y/N would have melted completely.
It was the getting into the restaurant that worried her the most, though. She knew that once Piper ran off to play while they waited for their food, he would spend whatever short amount of time he had trying to win her back. And she was afraid of two things, mostly that she would end up crying in the restaurant, making a scene and wishing she'd never agreed to go, no matter how heart-broken Piper might have been. But there was also a small part of her, nestled deep into her heart, that was afraid she'd fall for him all over again.
He certainly made falling easy.
When the three of them stepped into the restaurant, it was easy to see how excited Piper was to be there. She gently tugged on Y/N's sleeve before looking up at her. "Nuggets, fries, and Sprite?"
"Apples, too, and you've got yourself a deal," Y/N said.
Piper nodded, not really caring but eager to go and play. So she sighed and nodded, leaving her with a, "Be careful!" as she saw the girl quick-walk over to the play area. There was a decent crowd that day, but thankfully no one in the restaurant seemed to have any grievances or knacks for trouble.
Spencer on the other hand... Y/N scoffed to herself, thinking how he was the most troublesome person in the area.
He proved her point by nudging her with his elbow. "She's a fun one."
"Yeah, she's somethin' alright," Y/N grumbled. "I can't believe you bribed her just to talk to me... If I didn't know better, I'd have thought you were being romantic. But I do know better, and you're just stubborn."
Spencer laughed, but she refused to look at him. "Aw, come on, give me some credit. You know I can be a little of both."
This time Y/N did look at him, squinting in a glare, like she was contemplating. "Eh... five to ninety-five. Leaning in favor of stubborn, of course."
"Obviously." The amusement in his voice made her hate his stupid, beautiful face even more than usual.
Thankfully he kept the conversation short after that, at least until they ordered. Since it was Spencer's treat, she milked his wallet for as much as she could afford to on fast-food. She ordered a large chocolate milkshake and enough food for her and Piper to share for dinner later— and probably lunch the next day, too. The amused chuckle Spencer let out as she was ordering did have her believing maybe she was being a bit childish. But the longer she thought about it, the more she stood by her actions.
He did break her heart after all. The least he could do was compensate through chicken nuggets and French fries.
The only thing she didn't count on, though, was how long it was going to take to make all her food, not to mention getting things done for other people. As she and Spencer made their way to the table, she realized she'd have to talk with him longer.
Spencer took advantage of this, naturally.
"So... How've you been?"
Y/N scoffed. "You show up out of the blue five years after you break up with me, and then have the nerve to ask me how I've been, in a McDonald's? Yeah, I've been great."
He sighed, his eyes flitting down to the table. "I know, I'm... I'm sorry. And I know I should have—"
"Spence, please don't... Look, I know... I know why we broke up, and I came to terms with the fact that your job was just to dangerous for us to be together, but... I mean, you weren't even willing to work it out, you just... ran away. That hurt."
"Y/N... I'm so, so sorry that it happened that way. I think about it almost every day and how much I wish I could have changed it..."
"But you can't change it. And now you... you show up here after all this time to—to what? Win me back? Use your kindness and your charm to reel me back in, like that'll somehow make everything better?"
He looked up at her through his eyelashes, the sight almost breaking her. "Maybe..."
"It's not that I don't appreciate the thought, Spence, because I do... I've dreamt about the day you'd come back and apologize, begging me to take you back... But I can't get hurt again. And you have to understand that."
"I do... Just..." His hands reached out across the table, gently touching hers. The feeling sparked something in her, something nostalgic and warm...
Something that felt a lot like home.
He was going to continue his speech, but a knock on the glass separating them from the playroom on the other side jolted them apart. It was Piper, a stern look on her face. "Don't try anything, Mister... You're still on thin ice."
She turned away then, running back to the slide when Spencer sighed. "I thought we had a deal."
Y/N laughed, nodding at Piper through the glass. "Even a hundred bucks and free food isn't enough to win someone's trust." Spencer looked over at her and waited, visibly swallowing. But Y/N flashed the smallest of smiles before finishing, speaking quietly, yet with all the truth and firmness in the world. "You have to work harder than that."
"Duly noted," Spencer replied, his gaze never straying from hers. "Looks like me and my stupid, beautiful face have some work to do."
Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning back in the chair as Spencer grinned like a fool... A stupid, beautiful fool. "Oh, alright... You know what... If you weren't paying for my mountains of food and giving me a ride home, that thin ice you're on would have just shattered under the weight of that comment."
"Oh, come on, it was funny."
"No, it really wasn't."
"Yeah, it was."
He stared at her, smiling until her forced frown slowly and reluctantly transformed into a smile of her own.
***
"Thank you for lunch, Spencer! And for the hundred dollars!" Piper skipped past him and up the driveway, stopping to turn and wave with her Happy Meal toy in hand. Y/N was carrying a bag of leftover food and half a milkshake, her stomach already regretting every choice she'd ever made.
"You're welcome, Piper," Spencer said, smiling at the girl. "And thank you for letting me get a chance to set things right with your auntie. You really helped me out today, I appreciate it."
"Sure thing. Just don't break her heart again, or I'll break your stupid, beautiful face. It'll turn into a stupid, ugly face then."
Y/N mentally face-palmed herself, turning to Piper and telling her to go inside and wash up. The girl gave Spencer one final wave and a smile as she did so, leaving the adults alone once again.
"Thank you..." he said quietly, shifting on his feet. "For giving me a chance. I really want to make things right with us... Make up for the way I hurt you, and... try harder. You deserve that much."
Years of heartache and trying to get over him begged Y/N not to believe it, but deep down she knew he was being truthful. He wasn't the type of guy to come around like this—especially with all the work travel he did—just to manipulate her into heartache again, with empty promises and hurtful intent.
She knew he was really willing to try to make things right, and that was a big start.
"Thank you... for saying that... And for making Piper's day. I know you didn't really mean to bribe her, but the fact that you did it anyway is absurd, so... I guess I have to give credit where credit's due."
Spencer laughed, and this time Y/N didn't hate the feeling of the butterflies in her stomach fluttering at the sound. "Well, I'm glad I could at least amuse you today. Does... this mean my romantic to stubborn ratio shifted a little bit?"
Y/N rolled her eyes affectionately, taking a sip of her milkshake. "Hmm... twenty to eighty."
"Still leaning in favor of stubborn, I suppose..."
The smile they shared in that moment felt more like the ones they used to share back then, officially kickstarting the slow, meticulous mending of their love.
"Obviously."
***
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