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#we have a minds ladies and gentlemen please use it and think and open your fucking eyes
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Till' death do us apart: Chapter 2.
Pairing: Angel Y/n x Alastor Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Warnings: Blood, violence, harsh language, the v's. Usage of she/her pronouns, bc the character identifies mostly as a woman.
Masterlist –– Last chapter–– Next chapter
Taglist: open...
(Picture taken from Pinterest, creator unknown)
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“Hell-born, Sinners, Ladies, Gentlemen, and whatever the fuck you are!” The crowd went wild, every single seat occupied. The lights came on, the referee advancing to the illuminated area, with the microphone in hand and a brilliant attitude.
“Here in our humble ring, I come to offer you an event that, if I say so myself, will be unforgettable. I have to show you fighters whose origin comes from Pentagram City, to the Ring of Sloth, and a last-minute addition, which I will leave for last as the pièce de resistance” hungry roars filled the place once again.
“The time has come, welcome to another night of blood, sweat and tears, please place your bets and remember that if your player loses, you can throw stones at her. May luck be on your side, and may the strength of her fists make you millionaires”.
“I hear this is your first clandestine fight, Ricky?”
“Yeah, I mean, in Greed, this type of things are very recurrent, never been to one myself till’ now, still, to think this isn’t managed by Mammon is crazy”
“Well, we have our own thing going on ‘ere”
“Seems like that, okay, so we begin with our first couple”
“Wanna know what makes my games unique?” his friend nods, sweating.
"Unlike normal boxing, hitting the back of the head or behind the head; kicking, either stepping on, or biting the opponent; holding, trapping or grabbing the opponent's arms, hips or neck are totally legal" he announced with a wicked smile.
“So, your players…”
“Either one of them surrenders and gets killed by the crowd, or they kill each other”  
You could hear the screams of the crowd through the weak walls of the dressing room, that and how much the demons were beating each other in the ring. They were going very hard at each other, it seemed.
Bloodlust must’ve been the best show this hell-hole could offer, giving that the day before, there was already word around that a fallen angel was going to fight, naturally, sinners lost their minds for that kind of proposal, tickets sold out almost immediately.
“So doll-face, I need to ask ya' a favor” Jambo walked through the doors, dangling his cigarette around in his hand, “I need you to stall the fight, I know it’s a big opponent, but don´t knock him out so quickly, and maybe let him make you bleed a little” he blew a little smoke in your face, a distorted grin adding to his fat face, as he watched your face, no reaction whatsoever.
“A bigshot is here to watch” he smiled in return of your wit, taking a few steps back as he kept gloating about his efforts, but how much does it really takes to properly advertising bloodshed? “Exactly, a true money maker that sick fucker, so the more pain he sees the more he´ll invest, and  you’ll get 20% of what he hands out, plus your wager” you nodded, not really caring how high was your cut, in your current state it was better to have a miserable pay than absolutely nothing.
You’ve spent a few days in intensive training, drawing punches to make it seem like you knew anything at all about boxing, was definitely different than waving your spear and oz around. Truth to be told, elegance and strength didn’t go well until Jambo saw you fight, it resembled a ballet, your body moving gracefully and quickly, while your fists could break the earth in two if you wanted to do so.
He loved that.
You took a deep breath, your fingers anxiously playing with the bandages covering your knuckles, they didn't let you wear the proper gloves, according to Jambo, to ensure the most damage to the recipient, however he agreed to the bandages and pads between the joints of your fingers, keeping thus, a certainty that due to an excess, whether due to adrenaline or the tension of the moment, there would be no easy way for you to break your own fingers.
“It’s time” a demoness broke the silence, you’ve been twenty minutes drifting, instead of warming up, “Thank you, wish me luck” you caught the smug smile she shot while watching you walk out of the room.
The bull-like demon awaited you on the contrary side of the squared circle, your breath caught in your throat, not because one good punch at you from his massive humanity could probably hurt a lot, no, that was a fact, but because you noticed Jambo making signals at you, his eyes looking up, making you search in the raging crowd above you, two demons highly dressed sitting in the golden section, the bigshots, you figured.
After the introductions were adjourned, the bell rang, the demon launched himself at you, fully forward hitting your chest with his elbow. You flew against the ropes, using then to propel yourself, a severe punch to the underside of his chin made him fall back against his back.
Mentally you had counted ten minutes, it was time to put an end to the constant violence, the bull took advantage of the second you took your eyes off of it to spit blood, to grab you by the neck and crash you to the ground, a dull sound accompanied your fall, it echoed through the room, a terrifyingly large crack manifesting beneath your head, shattering the floor of the ring.
Your vision clouded for a few seconds, the demon completely deforming, his figure ended up resembling a corrupted dislike of your brother Michael.
His sharp grin mocked you, “So many years of being the devil's defender. Millennia spent training, watching the world deteriorate, unable to do anything for his creations, simply leading them to their eternal punishment. How does that make you feel, Azrael? Are you letting a godless creature win? Are you really going to abandon everything you've fought for? Yourself, your brothers…” he laughed maniacally, your fists cracked due to your strength.
“Your beloved sinner husband?" he rolled his tongue in a sarcastic way on the word beloved, that is what made you lost it.
The demon saw your black eyes turn into a shiny gold color, the whites going completely black, the darkness taking you down into the deepest of the abyss. Your hands weren’t soft and white but black and sharp, breaking into his muscles, “H-Hey, the fuck are you doing!” the demon let your neck lose, air finally making its way into your lungs, giving you free range to let your voice go free in a guttural way, it made the bull shiver and start praying for his life, desperately pulling on his own skin trapped into your iron grasp.
Saying you saw red was an understatement, with a kick the demon broke free, his blood leaving a trail visible in your distorted vision, for you, he had a smirk and your wings in his hand, waving them in front of you while laughing.
“You…are unworthy of all love” you muttered for yourself, the bull looked around as the crowd demanded you to finish him, then his eyes landed on your darkened face, a cold feeling crawling up his spine. “Death, I beg you, spare my life” he cried, “Pathetic” you uttered, launching yourself at him, full speed, crashing your fist into his skull.
The dust from the already broken floor raised up, covering both of you, “Lay still, don’t move, or you’ll be dead for real” you whispered, canceling the nerves and spine of the demon under your heel.
As soon as the dust cleared everyone’s view, Jambo went ahead, taking the hand of the demon into his hands before cheering into the microphone, “He has no pulse, we have a winner!” he pulled your arm up, clearly happy with the result.
A rose fell on your face out of a sudden. The green stem laced with a black ribbon with three V’s embroidered. You couldn’t care less about it.
After the place was cleared, you found your way into the infirmary. There you found the demon, still froze in your work, which you set him free after a swift move of your fingers. His back rose up violently from the bed, his breathing intense and shaking.
“I am truly sorry” you said as soon as he calmed down a little, seeing that you weren’t angry anymore,  “I…I have seen you before, right? when I was…alive”.
“Most likely” I would be lying if you told him you remembered every single soul you meet.
“You are Death, the exorcists sent their master to kill us now?” it didn't surprised you that humans like him had little grasp in the concept of death, they chose to believe in whatever makes them feel safer, but the truth was only one.
“I don’t cause the termination of a life, your kind, and time, does that, I merely am a collector. And the extermination was an unknown term for me, until a few days ago.” Sighing, he took your hand in his, “Figuring that out, caused my fall” he hummed in response to your words.
“Are you against it?” he asked, in complete disbelief.
“I think it is cruel enough making sinners spend the rest of their afterlife among people even worse, hunting each other, so that, on top of it, the best and most sensible solution that they came up with is even more blood, pain and fear, they treated sinners like a vermin that must be eliminated, that is not correct, that is not how heaven should keep things in control” your eyes glowed almost like in the ring, making the demon shiver.
Nonetheless, he caressed your face with a tenderness, that could be considered holy, “Thank you” he starte, “If you hadn’t, they would’ve...” you nodded, offering him a sweet smile, “You may not believe me, but it is truly the least I could do in such a conundrum, I am…glad I stopped when I did”, he laughed and agreed with you.
⚰️ 📻
“Hey doll, come ‘ere” Jambo called you as soon as he saw you coming out of the infirmary.
As you came closer, you noticed two demons in front of him, the air thickened more and more as you got closer.
“This are Vox and Valentino, our main patrons, Overlords of hell” the fancy suited man nodded, his head was rectangular and resembled a television, how odd. “Charmed” you lied, feeling the icks as the taller demon eyed you up and down with a smile on his face, and red drool coming down his chin.
“My, my, what a ravishing creature you are” he had four limbs, one of them grabbed your hand, harshly pulled you close,  you mad the mistake od flinching at the touch of his golden claws againt the curve of your waist, his smile widening at it.
“How much you want for her?” Valentino asked, not taking his red gaze off of you, “Name your price, shitbag, we don’t have all day” he urged after getting no response.
“She’s one of my best fighters, there’s no way in hell I’m givin’ her away” being under contract with him gave him that upper hand, him thinking he owned your soul.
But how could you? When there was never a soul to begin with?
“Well that can be arranged” the moth pulled a pink gun, and without even blinking, the deafening sound lead to another, Jambo’s body collapsed, lifeless against the floor, “A real fallen Angel video, will make me rich”.
You made no attempt to move, one of his hands was dangerously close to the hem of your scars, if he touched them, you would probably have to clean his rests off the walls.
“No, thank you” the hand in your back crawled its way up to forcefully lift your chin up, “I don’t think you’re in position to refuse us, perra” another word for bitch, is that the best he could do?
After a few seconds of silence, your laughter echoed in the hall, “Go ahead, you two have not a single speck of dirt about me that I care being spread to the masses, not anyone that I care enough that could easily fall into your hands, and there is no amount of torture you can practice on me that will make me change my mind” you hissed at the incremental of his grasp on you, “So, gentleman, what card will you play against me now?” this time It was Valentino's time to laugh.
“You know~, I just remembered I like to play with my toys before sharing" he licked his lips with his long tongue, moaning in anticipation before finishing his sentence, his lips ghosting yours, "Can't wait to destroy you".
“I can already see the title of the film, 'Exorcist, divine punishment' first of two parts" you felt a sting on the back of your neck, then everything began to spin, dizziness took over you, losing strength, visibility,
"You can do better 'Tino" the TV man sassed, taking a strand of your hair into his claws, admiring how soft it was.
“Shut the fuck up Vox, see you on the other side, preciosa” he purred before you lost all senses.
It all fade to black.
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falling-heights · 11 months
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☆ Arthur Morgan ☆ -  I gave you all 
     [pt. 1]
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Summary: You meet a ghost from your past several years after splitting ways. Only, he isn’t as kind as you remembered him being. And perhaps, it’s been too long for him to still forgive you.
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: violence, gun use, graphic scenery, injury, blood
Part 1  -  Part 2  -  Part 3
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“Y o u   c a l l   i t   h o p e--   t h a t   f i r e   o f   f i r e!   
I t   i s   b u t   a g o n y   o f   d e s i r e.”   
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Trees rushed past in a blur of green and brown. Small patches of wildflowers added a splash of color every now and then. The sun was setting.
It'd been at least 9 hours since you'd entered this train car, and your fatigue was beginning to form a pulsing headache. The idea of sleeping now greatly outweighed your initial excitement. 
It wouldn't be long now, you thought, perhaps only a few more hours before you arrived at Blackwater. How long had it been since you'd stepped foot in that town? It would never seem to be long enough. The last image you had of it was stained an ugly red, and you along with it. 
But still, through Blackwater, you had a one-way ticket to a new life, to leave this god-forsaken country behind, to shed your wolf-skin and live amongst the fold again. 
With one last glance towards the dimly-lit horizon, you watched the last few golden streaks retreat behind the mountains before sinking into the red velvet seating and resting your head against the glass. Feeling the chill of the oncoming night breathing through the window and fogging up the glass, you let the gentle shaking of the train lull you to a peaceful haze; Your last thoughts were of what the coming times might bring. 
But that's silly, isn't it? To always be certain of the future-- or better, to think that anyone can change the rolling tides once they've already reached the shore. 
It was dark when the train lurched to a shaky halt. The brightest source of light came from the lanterns hanging on the exterior of the train. Thinking that you may have arrived, you glanced through the window, only to be met with a wall of trees and thick foliage. The train was still a ways off from civilization-- at least a couple dozen miles from what you had to guess, and from the nervous whispering of your fellow passengers, it was clear that something was off. They fidgeted with their watches and sleeves, trying to catch light of why the engine died so far from it's intended destination. It didn't seem this stop was scheduled.
Sitting up, your mind flashed with a number of possibilities. Maybe the train had broken down, maybe a stowaway was just being thrown off, maybe something had fallen onto the tracks just up ahead. 
But then the rear-facing door swung open, and a guard crept down the aisle. The man was dressed in plainclothes of a brown suit and matching pants-- not policemen. This was the type you would hire to protect cargo from thieves, not to commune with passengers, or by any means to help them. He held a well-worn rifle in one hand, and with the other, he loaded bullets. On his belt hung a singular revolver, visibly in worse condition than the rifle. You only heard three bullets being loaded.
"Ladies, Gentlemen, there's no gentle way to explain our situation," He was sweating, never sparing a glance towards anyone. His eyes remained trained on the clearing of the other cars ahead, flashing at each and everything that moved. He sounded beside himself, yet still attempting to keep everyone else calm. "We are facing a robbery, it seems."
The whispering quickly evolved into panic, elicited even more so when an array of gunfire went off just up ahead. The guard raised his arms, commanding silence from the travelers. 
"I know this might be a very alarming situation for all of you, but please, try to stay calm," He was hardly calm himself. The grip on his gun was tight and trembling. And with only three bullets, he must have already known what his terms were. "The best thing you can do is stay quiet and comply. I don't wish that anyone here suffers to something like this, but if I am unable to keep you all safe, then it's a better bargain for you to lose your valuables than to lose your lives."
A familiar feeling sunk in-- despair. As though a past life was coming back to haunt you. You hadn’t felt such harsh degrees of terror like this in years. As panic set in, painful memories clawed their way from your head. Of the money you'd burned. Of the scars left beneath your garments. Of the guns left buried in Rhodes. Of anything, leaving those guns behind hurt the most. They had been a gift after all, from someone once special. But times like those were far gone in the past, left behind by what you'd sought to bury and destroy.
The guard opened the side door toward the front of the car. Visibility was finite through the pitch-black air. What light the exterior lanterns did provide was meager and a garish orange. He took a final breath and stepped forward.
His head ended up hitting the ground faster than his feet could. 
A bang. 
A splat. 
And then a thud. 
The gun misfired as it landed, startling you from your seat. All within three seconds. 
His body collapsed in the mud, and the entire side of the train car's windows was mottled with blood. Someone behind you screamed. A woman. A few more followed her. Someone started to cry, clutching their pearl-lined purses, and silver coated rings. Yet, you had nothing to hold, nothing to give. Nothing to pray you don’t lose. You had nothing left except the ticket in your hands and your life.
Had this man really been the last one left? Nothing but a hired escort? And yet, knowing this, instead of playing the docile part that could have saved his life, he stepped into death's hand.
What man could ever be such a fool?
Now standing, an arrangement of ideas rushed through your head, with one message shared among them: 'Get out. Leave.' Your feet carried you, eyes guiding each step. The rear-facing door was still swung open. It could very well be your only chance. 
Quietly backing away from the front, ignoring the pitying pleas of others as you passed through them. How scared they seemed-- how helpless to their unfortunate circumstances. You wanted nothing to do with their situation, however, a small sight instilled a small pause in your movements-- a little girl, saddled in the lap of her mother, who tried in these moments to comfort her child. A fleeting thought went to her, perhaps of a sort of sympathetic appeal, and then you continued to move. Perhaps if you did not already know how things would end, you might have offered to help. But you would not make the same mistake as the guard. You were no fool. 
Small dapples of light began to spread from the front of the train, quickly approaching. Time was against you. A hand went to your hair, tacitly removing the hair pin keeping several strands pinned up. A knife would have been preferable, perhaps even a gun, but a thin needle would have to do. The pointed end barely stuck out much farther than your palm as you held it closely. 
Just a few more steps now. 
You let out a breath once you felt your free hand hit the handle to the wooden framing. Turning, you were just about to make it when--
The barrel of a gun stared you down. Behind it, a masked man. It seems you weren't quick enough. They had gone around the side, closing any exits. 
"Going somewhere, little lady?" You didn't recognize the voice, but there was a snideness in his tone, thinking he'd just caught a little bird trying to escape. He stepped forward, onto the car, and you mirrored by taking a step back. "I suggest you turn back around."
The gun's hammer was cocked, a death sentence if you chose to disobey. You would have to wait a moment more. Sitting in the closest empty seat, his eyes gleamed in satisfaction. He made his first mistake in moving the gun away from you. The second mistake was taking steps past you, leaving himself open from behind. And thus, the moment had arrived. 
Suddenly lunging back up, your arm swung down, piercing the skin of his neck. Digging it further, you kept pushing until all that was left of the hairpin was the decorative gold head. 
"Fucking bitch!" He hollered, his hand defensively starting to swat at his neck. Giving him no chance to rebut, you turned heel and ran back to the door, giving it a singular, hearty shove, and jumping down to the muddy ground.  The gun fired, lodging itself into the wooden frame of the train, but its damage was dealt. Four men, all armed, one with a lantern, immediately became aware of your presence on the opposite end of the car.  
The lantern was of a kind you had seen only used by watch-men and hunters, except for the few times that you had used one during your more active hours. The kind that blocked most of its light, except through a small glass sight, allowing for handlers to focus a solid beam in any direction. Right now, that light was focused on you, a quivering form, half-crouching on the muddy tracks. 
Behind you, an open meadow sat, its own invitation laced with bad omen. The only hope of getting through such an exposed field would be to run, and though the grass may be tall, hiding would never be an option. Ahead of you, the trees loomed, almost screaming at you to break from your spot and find solitude in its foliage. Through the trees, you would at least have the chance to lose them.
So, truly, what were your choices? To hide, or to run?
Hiding surely. You doubted your body could outrun 4 grown men, none of which seemed to be any less athletic than men in their prime. Their were a few eerily moments of silence. Everyone was deciding what to do next, including you. 
With an unstable breath, you quickly gathered the ruffled layers of your dress, hoisted the heavy fabric, and took off towards your only chance at freedom. There would only be a minute head start before they would the chase. Every moment counted. Every second decided how this would end. 
Your shoes were not made for running, evidently, as the heels dug further into the mud with every step, causing a shot balance and a slow start. Some indistinct yelling sounded from behind. Three of the four men followed in pursuit of you, the other likely told to continue operations with the other passengers. Six pairs of feet quickly crept up on you, pounding into the ground heavily, the forest floor was practically quaking beneath you. You were correct in choosing the forest over the meadow. These men were apt, keeping a steady pace on you, like bloodhounds hunting down fresh game. 
The ground was uneven, hardly visible. You would find yourself falling for brief moments with sudden dips in the ground, and crawling when it rose again just as swift. The farther you went, the more you prayed that the moon would continue to guide your eyes. But, the forest grew thicker with every step. And soon, the canopy overhead of Elms and Alpines would completely consume what little help you had left. 
The sounds of footfall faded, first six, then 4, and then just 2, until ceasing altogether, and for a moment, you were hopeful that they'd given up. Taking a quick glance, you almost froze in place, still slowing down significantly. They had indeed stopped their chase, however it wasn't from a lack of interest. From the small glance, only one had managed to stay on your trail, however, though he longer chased, the outline of a well-worn rifle was clear. He was watching your form retreating. It was obvious their intentions weren't to let you live, and instead of wasting their energy, they must have decided a quick and steady aim would be more efficient. 
He missed the first shot. The bullet struck the ground just by your ankles. It would take him about 4 seconds to reload the gun. There was doubt he would miss again. Running wouldn't do you any good anymore either. Your energy was on reserve, and the heavy dress dragged your body down. But what could you do in just 4 seconds? There wasn't time to think, no time to escape the scope of range. 
The tree's trunks were thin and narrow, but it was all you had. Running to the closest stump, your back slammed into the bark, skin pulsing with adrenaline. Bracing for the sound of another misfire, but the trigger wasn't pulled. For precious seconds, you waited, catching your breath, eyes flying wildly around for any sign of movement, but your panic was met with silence. 
And then you realized, he was waiting for you. Why should he waste another bullet? You would eventually need to leave your spot, and he would wait until you did. Better make it count, then. 
Around, you could barely see. Various pillars of other trees and bushes was about all you could make out. But just ahead, was what looked like a large divot in the forest floor. Perhaps a ditch or a small creek. You couldn't hear any running water, but the blood hammering in your ear-drums would surely deafen a small creek. Still, it was likely your best shot at survival. If you could just make it into that trench, you might be able to avoid any further gunfire, and you could follow the channel out of the area.  If you could just make it from this tree to that ditch. 
Funny, you thought for a moment, that despite how much you tried to bury it, you still ended up on the end of a gun. Perhaps, not the end you would have preferred. There was nothing left to do. Death would meet you regardless of what you did now. Stay, and he would eventually lose patience. Move, and likely be shot before you could make more than a few feet. But only one option had any chance. With a deep breath, you stepped out.
You thought to your mother then. Of her, you really couldn't remember much, but her words have lasted far longer than any other memories. In this moment, as your foot met the ground, digging in  to the cold mud an old warning of hers slowly drifted to your cerebral thoughts. 
"Such a little dreamer, such big ideas.... . Some day, you will need to face the world, for how it works, and not for how you wish it to.”
Your other foot foot kissed the ground, Of your mother, and her words, one thing you knew was certain about life. Death would one day meet you. Of course, this was inevitable, but to think that it would have come so soon.  
Your third step was your final. Finally, the bullet's target was found. It lodged itself snugly in your upper calf, ripping through muscle and tendon, completely eviscerating the lower half of your leg.  A strange sort of yelp, like an injured dog left your lips. Your body turned parallel to the mud, half falling, half diving into the sticky muck. The rough impact caused your neck to snap down, snagging your upper lip on a root, and many more dug into your skin roughly. The taste of blood was strong, but the pain was almost numb compared your shredded leg, which now felt like it had been caught in a meat grinder. You didn't need to look to tell that you were losing blood. There were little droplets of blood spattered along fallen leaves, mixing into the brown sludge. The warm, sticky liquid could be felt leaking down your leg. 
Wheezing, trying to lift yourself up, your body was crying itself along the ground. Unwilling any mobility, your blown leg shook involuntarily, muscles trying to constrict despite no longer being connected to each other. The feeling of shock was starting to creep up the rest of your leg, spreading through waves of heated chills. But still, despite the inability to stand, you tried dragging yourself. By now, from the pain, and the exhaustion that you felt growing, your breath sounded more like shrill, desperate wails. Frustration and despair ebbing with every exhale. The tears couldn't be restrained any longer. Letting out a sob, your head pressed against your outstretched arm, fingers clawing against the mud, filling the underside of your nails with mud. 
Footsteps quickly approached. 
A string of blood infested saliva hung from your lips, stretching thickly to the ground. The man towered over you, the lantern hanging from his hand, a poorly-taken care of rifle supported by his shoulder. 
"Thought we'd let a pretty little bird like you get away, did'ya?" Your wheezing suddenly broke. Familiarity. The Irishman set the lantern down, letting the light bleed into the proximate area. "Let's see what good of a catch you are."
A gloved hand, reeking of gun oil and tobacco, snatched your cheeks, squeezing your face, forcibly making your lips pucker. He raised your head sharply upwards, causing you to grimace in discomfort. Clearly, despite the tears and sweat that clouded your eyes, Sean's face was unmistakable. But despite the pain, and the misery, you glared defiantly. 
"Are my eyes deceiving me...?" For a rare moment in his life, Sean sounded faint, equally shocked at the possibility at such a reunion. But, it was brief, for after a moment of quiet, he began chuckling to himself. "Been awhile, hasn't it, Sweets? Thought'd we'd see the last of each other after what happened. I almost can't believe this."
Choosing to remain silent, Sean hummed and allowed your face to fall. 
"Can't say I haven't missed you, though. Can't say I'm the only one either..." His voice changed again, seeming a bit more dull, as though the thought of your absence all these years held genuine weight. "Oh, I'm forgettin' my manners... A lot's changed, y'know."
"Sean, please listen to me..."  He circled around you, kicked back the ends of the dress that covered your leg. 
"Agh! I really did a number, didn't  I? " Sean knelt, gently grasping the lower half of your leg, turning it from one side to the other to discern the damage he'd dealt. "Sorry 'bout that there. But, well, uh, I guess thank god it wasn't some poor innocent girl, right?"
"Sean, I need your help." It was pathetic, begging to someone who was once a friend. Someone who knew many secrets, and shared even more. He stood up, circling back around to face you. The other two grunts finally caught up, though neither spoke up.
"Oh, do you now? Here, I wanna see your face all proper." He smiled to himself, rustling through his coat pockets before presenting a small handkerchief that was partly matted with dried sweat.  He offered it to you, and hesitantly, you accepted. "Well, I don't know. Seems like you were just fine with leaving all us so suddenly. If I didn't know any better, I'd say's you might just be trying to appeal to my soft side. But not you, right?"
"This isn't funny, Sean."  Using the rag to clean your mouth and face. "I don't want to be any part of this." 
"So, we ought to just leave you here then, that's your solution? Poor little thing bleeding out? Hand me another rag, pal." After being given a small rolled  bandage by one of the other men, Sean dropped to the ground next to you, and began to lowly unwind the roll. "That just don't sit right with me. You can't even stand at this point. But that's not really what's so concerning. You caused a bit of a mess behind you. Don't you want to see the rest of the group? One last 'fare-thee-well'?"
He wasn't being genuine, it should have been clear from the start that trying to barter with him would be a waste of time. The last few words dug especially deep, almost as though he was finding your helplessness a tad too funny. You fell silent, opting to guess how this would go. Sean said a few words, none of which you really listened to, until he picked the lantern back up, conclusively. 
"Tie her up. I'm off to get tha' Big Boy." They complied, Sean flashed a wide smile. When they finished their binds, Sean flashed another look that screamed with excitement, "Don't run off now, we're all in for a real treat."
Bitterly, you waited for his return, expecting perhaps Dutch to be in tow. However, when the light of the lantern pierced through the tree line once more, it was evident that Dutch was not the man returning with Sean. Another figure sat broadly on a black shire.
You thought you'd seen a ghost.
Perhaps you had.
The one tiring you couldn't bury, the sole reason that you tried to leave. Upon you, the sight of an early grave closed in. you felt hollow through your chest, like your soul was trying to leave you then, but both body and soul were trapped, unable to flee from this horrid sight The man you once thought had the prettiest eyes, and such a gentle face. 
All of that was gone now. It had been long before either of you had last seen each other. Trees whispered to each other, gossiping with the wind. All wondering what would happen next. Upon his horse, he descended, Adjusting a pair of riding gloves as he did. A dirtied facecloth hung from his face, masking his current emotions from the outside world. Silence lay, as though the forest itself lay uneasy with such solemn presence.
"Leave us."
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{The gif provided is actually the Arthur from my own save file}
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neverwanttofallasleep · 7 months
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I Never Want To Fall Asleep - Chapter 4
Word count: 7,109
For pairings, warnings, and disclaimer - see Masterpost
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Sunday, December 18th, 2022
London, England to New York, New York
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to London Heathrow International Airport. We are now boarding for Jet Blue flight 20 to New York City. Could all passengers in rows 17 to 26 please make their way to gate A17 and have your boarding passes ready. Thank you, and enjoy your flight.”
You stand up, grabbing your backpack from the seat next to you, slinging it over your shoulder.
“Don’t rush, Y/N. We’ve got heaps of time.” You look back at Jake, still lazing across the uncomfortable airport lounge seats, bag behind his head. 
You frown. “I’m in row 18, so I should go now.”
He grumbles, and leans over the back of the chairs to Danny on the other side.
“Hey, do you mind swapping with Y/N and sitting with Jules?” He asks.
Danny looks up at you and smiles. “‘Course not. Here.” He reaches over, handing you his boarding pass. 
“No, Danny, you don’t have to do that.”
He waves his hand at you. “Come on, I insist. I love Jules, and besides, we’ve got lots of gossip to catch up on.” He looks to her where she’s standing next to you, and she gives him an exaggerated wink.
You huff. “Okay, fine. Thanks, Danny.” You take the paper from him and hand him yours.
Danny stands up. “It’s my pleasure. Shall we, Jules?”
As they walk away, you sit back down and check Danny’s ticket. 11C.
“Now we can sit together.” Jake smirks at you as you sit back down, closing his eyes again.
“Who else is in your row?”
He opens his eyes. “No one. I’d had it booked for Lily, but, y’know, she didn’t end up making it out.”
You nod. “Okay.”
When they finally call for rows 8 to 16, Jake reluctantly stands up and stretches. The two of you make your way to the gate, with Josh trailing behind.
You’d met with Lennon and Sam in the hotel restaurant for breakfast as they’d nursed their hangovers, catching you up on their escapades from the night before. When they’d badgered you about your holiday plans, you tried to keep it vague, mentioning you were planning to do a few things in New York.
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
Last night, when Jake had asked you to come to his family home for Christmas, you’d immediately said no. You’d pulled your hand from his, sat up in bed, and turned the lamp back on.
“Why on earth would I do that?”
Jake had chuckled. “’Cause I want you to be there?” He’d sat up too, propping himself against the headboard with a pillow.
You rolled your eyes. “And you told me off for referring to us as co-dependant.”
He’d laughed at you. “I know, I know. You were right. I know you don’t really have plans, and I didn’t think you’d be that crushed not to be spending the holidays alone in New York for the hundredth time. You’ve missed out on so many family Christmases. I want you to have a happy one.”
You scoffed. “That’s not the point, Jake. I can’t just crash Christmas with your family. Besides, I don’t want to be a seventh wheel. Sammy will have Lennon, Josh is bringing his new boyfriend, he already told me. And you’ll have Lily. I don’t know your sister at all. I’d feel so awkward.”
Jake had frowned. “Lennon’s not coming, she’s with her family. That’s why her and Sam are staying in London a bit longer. And, uh, Lily can’t make it this year. College.”
You hummed, still not really considering it. “I’ve never met your parents, or been to Michigan, for that matter. Where would I sleep? It’s not like I can share a twin bed with you, what would they think?”
He leaned over and twisted your hand so he could hold it. “You can sleep wherever you like, Y/N. I don’t care what they think. It’s none of their business.”
You’d groaned. “I can’t come to Frankenmuth to be your stand-in girlfriend. That’s ridiculous. I won’t be able to contribute anything and I’ll just get in the way.”
“You already know my brothers. Well, in fact. And they love you. And Ronnie and my parents will, too. You’ll feel right at home.” You turned your head to face him, his eyes earnest. “You don’t have to contribute anything. No one will expect gifts from you, and my mom always makes way too much food.”
“Won’t you be going to see your extended family? Or having them over? That’d just be too much.”
He’d shaken his head. “My grandparents host a dinner on Christmas Eve, but only my parents are going. Danny, my siblings and I have a tradition of watching Die Hard, and, y’know, ‘cause we’re not there that long this year, we managed to get ourselves out of it. You’d just hang out with us.”
“I have to go to New York. We have meetings when I get back. I still have work to do, my break doesn’t technically start ’til December 21st. I can’t just cut and run.”
He smiled. “That’s fine. I’m not going home ‘til the 20th, anyway. I’m going back to Nashville first to get my car. I’ll get you a flight on the 21st and I can come pick you up at the airport.”
You’d looked at him properly, then. His face was hopeful. You really felt like this could be a bad idea, and you didn’t know if it was appropriate, especially given the predicament you’d found yourselves in over the last few days. But the idea of spending Christmas with a family that was warm and inviting, friends you knew and trusted, it sounded so appealing.
The thought of waking up next to Jake on Christmas morning, even if it was the only time you’d ever get to do so, was magical.
“You really want me to come?”
He’d nodded. “I can’t really imagine it without you. You’re family.”
You smiled. “Okay, then. I’ll come.”
He’d laughed, and it sounded overjoyed. You felt a warmth spreading through your bones.
You switched off the lamp as he threw his arms around your waist, tackling you, still laughing, and pulled you down into him, wrapping his frame around yours and resting his nose in your hair.
“I can’t wait. It is the Christmas capital of the USA, you know. You’re going to love it.”
You’d giggled. You couldn’t wait, either.
But you weren’t sure how to broach the subject with Sammy and Lennon, so you didn’t. You assumed Jake would update his whole family before your inevitable arrival, and you didn’t feel like you should be the one to break the news.
You’d given them both big hugs and they’d wished you a happy holidays, making you promise to send photos of yourself in Times Square in the snow, and you’d laughed and wished them a good stay in London. Sam was driving up to Michigan on Thursday, so Jake had plenty of time to tell him.
Jake lets you take the window seat on the plane. You love being able to see the city as you take off, and you try and scavenge a window seat any time you can. He sits on the aisle, your bags on the empty seat between you.
As the plane takes off, you excitedly point out Big Ben to him, and the London Bridge. While the flight attendant isn’t looking, he slides across to the middle seat for a better view.
“Isn’t it amazing? All the places you hear about, read about in books or see in movies, right there. Underneath us!”
He chuckles at you. “Yeah. It’s pretty incredible.”
The flight isn’t too long, considering it’s international, only 8 hours. You sleep a little when you can, your head on Jake’s shoulder. You know that with the time difference, it’ll only be around 6pm when you touch down at JFK.
You watch a few episodes of The Office together, snacking on the tasteless airplane food, with Josh pestering you from the row behind every so often to share a funny passage of his book.
Once you finally land and disembark in New York, your legs are jelly. You’re so ready to roll straight into your new hotel bed. You collect your baggage from the carousel.
Jake, Josh and Danny have a connecting flight to Nashville, so you say your goodbyes in the airport as Jake hunts the board for their gate number.
“Ugh. Flight’s delayed, and we have to go to the domestic terminal to check our bags again. You should just head out from here, Y/N. Freddie and Jules are waiting for you. We’ll be fine.” Jake turns to Josh to check their flight details on his phone.
Danny wraps his arm around your shoulders.
“Have a safe flight, Danny.” You tell him, resting your head back against his chest.
“I will. It’s not me you have to worry about.” He chuckles, gesturing to the twins bickering in front of you. You turn your head to smile up at him.
Josh pulls you in for a big hug. “Happy Christmas, mama. May your days be merry and bright, and all that shit.” He waves his hands in the air, in very Josh fashion.
You giggle. “You too, Josh. Don’t forget to water my plants while you’re in Nashville.”
He waves you off. “That’s Jake’s problem. If you leave it up to me, they’ll die faster.” 
You and Danny laugh. You know he’s right.
Josh looks to Jake. “Just gonna run to the bathroom before we go, brother. Meet us over there.” He points to the bathroom down the hall, gives Danny a knowing look, and they disappear with a wave.
You turn to Jake and give him a small smile. “So, I’ll see you in a few days, then?”
“Yep. Wednesday. Only three sleeps. And you get to be an honorary Kiszka for the holidays. How exciting is that?”
You laugh. “Extremely. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” He grins. “Michigan will suit you.”
He leans in to you, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly, yours around his neck.
“Fly safe.” You whisper into his hair.
“I will. Enjoy New York.”
“I will.”
He kisses your forehead, and with that, he’s gone.
Monday, December 19th and Tuesday, December 20th 2022
New York, New York
Your three nights in New York go by too fast. One minute, you’re waking up in your new hotel room and getting dressed to head to the office for the crew debrief, the next minute, you’re repacking to head back to the airport. 
Over the few days you’re there, you have to attend two meetings for the tour. After the debrief on Monday, you receive itineraries for the US and Canadian legs, and instructions on where to meet for the rundown the next day. 
Monday evening you meet with your college friends, drinking in a dingy bar in Brooklyn until the wee hours of the morning. You have a wonderful time, sharing stories from tour and hearing about their lives in the city.
You also have a few work appointments, some in person and some virtual, meeting with the designers for alterations and getting to see some new designs. You’re complimented on your mending and maintenance by all of them, and they each thank you for keeping the integrity of their work.
“Some professionals with 20 years of experience can’t do repairs this well.” One of them says to you.
That makes you burst with pride, as you’d really tried your best to keep all the pieces looking as good as they did when they were handed over to you. Normal wear and tear was common, but it was your job to make sure no one noticed it.
After the second crew meeting on Tuesday afternoon, you, Julie and Freddie go out for dinner. Freddie snaps the obligatory picture of you and Jules in Times Square, snowflakes dusting your cheeks, which you quickly send to Lennon and Sam with the caption:
Right through the very heart of it, New York, New York!
You eat sushi at your favourite hole-in-the-wall Japanese restaurant, and toast to your incredible jobs with warm sake. You give them your handmade Christmas gifts, charcoal and white striped socks for Freddie, and a lilac crocheted headband for Jules.
“To keep your hair out of your face for work!” You tell her excitedly.
You’re so happy, you love these people so much. You feel so lucky.
Jake has texted you a few times. 
Sunday, 11.04pm Jake: Made it home. Flight was shit, delayed and lots of turbulence. Storm coming tonight, apparently. Hope you’re asleep. Talk tomorrow x
Monday, 2.43pm Jake: <voice message> ‘Hey. I’m in the car. I, uh, thought it would be a good idea to go to the fucking mall 6 days before Christmas. It was a goddamn nightmare, I’d even made a list and I still had to leave before I got everything. Some woman with a baby in a stroller literally took a book out of my basket at the bookstore. It was so fucked. I’m never going shopping again.’
He’d sounded very grumpy, and it made you giggle.
Tuesday, 11.16am Jake: <5 photo attachments> Plants are still alive, see? The monstera looked a little sad but I’ve left it sitting in the tub with some water. Picked up the books, wasn’t sure which ones you wanted so I just got everything on your nightstand. Hope thats ok. Josh and I heading straight home from here. Will let you know when we arrive x
8.35pm Jake: We made it. Hope you’re having a nice time at dinner. That photo of you and Jules is very sweet. See you tomorrow. Bring all the warm things you have x
After dinner, you and Julie hole up in your hotel room, drinking beers from the mini-bar and eating the complimentary chocolates in your pyjamas.
You unload your tote bag full of summer clothes from tour onto her, and she promises to keep them safe in her hotel room until you return.
“Fuck, I’m gonna miss you so much. Freddie is gonna bore me to death. If I have to hear about his damn ex from Atlanta one more time…”
You laugh and slap her leg. “You’ll be fine, Jules. It’s less than two weeks, and you’ve got the weekend with your parents to look forward to. They’ll be here before you know it, and then I’ll be back here on the 2nd, and we’ll have as many girls nights as we can squeeze in when we’re back on the road.”
She smiles and rests her head on your shoulder. “Are you gonna be okay, babe? Christmas with his family? Are you sure that’s what you wanna do?”
You sigh. “Yeah, I’m sure. He really wants me there, and I wanna go too. I really miss family Christmases, and I can’t stand mine, so…”
She laughs. “As long as you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Then have the best fucking time. Send me all the updates. God, I wish I had a rockstar boyfriend to take me to a cute as fuck Christmas town for the holidays.”
You giggle and rest your head on top of hers. “He’s not my boyfriend. But I will. Thanks, Jules.”
Wednesday, December 21st
Detroit, Michigan to Frankenmuth, Michigan
You turn on your phone as soon as the flight attendant gives you permission via the overhead announcement. 2.28pm. You’re taxiing now, and you can see the snow dusting the sprawling green fields around the airport through your tiny window. Jake’s texted to let you know he’ll be waiting for you at domestic arrivals, and you start to feel nervous.
You disembark the plane, making your way through the gate to the luggage carousel. Your bag is one of the last to come out, which just gives you more time to stand around, tapping your foot anxiously. 
You don’t really know why you feel so nervous. You guess it’s not really about seeing Jake, but more about going to his home. Seeing where he grew up, meeting the rest of his family. It all feels very personal, like you’re about to see a side of him not many get to see.
You’re excited to spend time in the Midwest, see the Great Lakes, explore parts of your country you’ve never been to before. But you’re most excited to spend your favourite holiday with your friend. 
Your best friend. That’s what he is.
You wonder if he feels the same way about you.
When you finally see him, you feel a weight lifted. Being in his presence is instantly comforting.
When he sees you, his face lights up.
“You made it!” He pulls you off the ground into a hug.
“I made it! I’m in Michigan!”
“You’re in Michigan!” He laughs bewilderedly, as if he can’t quite believe it.
Neither can you.
He sets you down, and takes your bag as you head out to the parking lot.
You nudge his shoulder with your own. “Who would’ve thought it, hey? The famous Jake Kiszka,  guitarist extraordinare, bringing his tour wardrobe coordinator to Frankenmuth for Christmas with Mom and Dad.” You giggle.
He scoffs and wraps his arm around you. “Y/N, you’re not just our wardrobe coordinator. You’re my friend. I’m so happy you’re here.”
You blush deeply. “I’m happy to be here, too, Jake.”
“I’m glad. Wouldn’t have wanted you to come all this way and have a terrible time, y’know.”
You chuckle. “Well, it hasn’t really started yet. I might have an awful time. At least the flight was only an hour and a half. Not too much of a waste.”
He rolls his eyes as he pops the trunk of his Jeep and loads your bags.
You whistle. “Forgot you had such a fancy car.”
He laughs. “Yeah. I haven’t been using it much, but it’s good for driving up here.”
“I bet.” You nod, and climb in.
“You hungry?”
“Yeah, actually. Starving.” As you speak, you hear your stomach grumble. You look at him sheepishly.
He chuckles. “Sounds like it. Let’s get you some food.”
Jake stops for drive-through at the first fast food restaurant you pass, an unspoken agreement that neither of you wants to delay your journey to Frankenmuth any more than necessary. He orders for you, a cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry shake, and then gives you a questioning look, as if to make sure he hasn’t overstepped. You nod, smiling. Your belly does a little flip. 
When you’re back on the highway, you sip your milkshake, staring out the window, admiring the never-ending rolling greenery bordering the road. Jake’s playing his music through the car stereo, and you smile each time you recognise a song. Some of it folky, some classic rock. All of it the perfect soundtrack for this beautiful drive.
The further north you go, the denser and more lush the trees become, with more snow dripping from the branches. You talk about your favourite Christmas traditions, which movies you watch, what carols your parents play, what you like to eat around the holidays. You tell Jake about your favourite childhood Christmas, when you managed to rope your entire family into a production of the nativity scene. None of your family were religious, but you were so excited after learning about it at school, so they indulged you. You organised the whole thing, and made all the costumes, of course. Your two uncles and your grandmother were the three wise men. Your parents played the donkey, your mom the head, and your dad the tail. Your aunt was pregnant at the time, so naturally she was cast as the Virgin Mary. You were eight.
Jake tells you about how he and his siblings would always perform Christmas concerts for their family as kids. As he put it, he was the only one who ever knew how to play anything remotely good, but Josh would bash the drum kit, and Sam and Ronnie would sing bluesy renditions of Christmas carols. Sometimes their dad would join them on the harmonica. His favourite one was when he was nine, when he and Josh learned how to play ‘Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree’, because it was Sam’s favourite. Sam got so excited that he tried to sing along with a mouthful of jell-o and ended up with it all down his front.
You feel so warm when he talks about his family. You love to hear about his past, the stories and experiences that make him who he is.
You’ve been mostly quiet for this last half hour, only making a few comments about how pretty the scenery is, him humming in agreement. You’ve busied yourself with your knitting, and you’ve almost finished Danny’s scarf.
You look over to Jake, and find him looking back at you. He quickly flicks his gaze back out the windscreen.
“Eyes on the road, Kiszka.” You scold.
He blushes and clears his throat. “Not long now. About 20 minutes. It’ll take a bit longer, but do you want me to drive through town so you can see it?”
You grin. “Absolutely.”
The main township is only a few minutes from the highway, and you gasp as he drives through the centre of it. You point out a beautiful old building, flowers and trees surrounding a circular driveway, right in the middle of the main street.
“What’s that? It’s so pretty!” You look over at him excitedly.
Jake laughs. “That’s the visitors' centre. That’s the point, I guess.”
Your smile grows wider and turn back out your window.
The town is exactly as you’d expected, and it really does feel like little Bavaria. Cute, peaked roofs and quaint European street signs. Every lamppost is decorated with Christmas lights, snow covering the sidewalks, and there are locals wandering around on their afternoon errands, bundled up in coats and hats. It’s like magic.
“I feel like I’m in a Christmas movie!” You giggle.
Jake laughs.
He even takes you past his old high school, pointing out the music rooms where he’d used to have jazz band practice. It makes you smile to see him so proud of his hometown, and so excited to be sharing it with you.
When he’d told you stories about Frankenmuth on tour, he’d always complained about the tourist traps and the kitschy architecture, but seeing him in it, he really seemed like he belonged. And even if it was just the nostalgia or the familiarity, it really seemed like he loved it here, too.
You finally make your way back out of town, and he lets you know when you’re nearing his street.
“They know I’m coming, right?”
Jake laughs. “Yes, they know you’re coming. I texted Mom when you said yes. And I told Josh and Kai on the way up yesterday.”
You nod. “Kai? That’s the new boyfriend, right?”
“Yeah! I think you’ll really like him.” He smiles. “He’s cool, grew up in LA so he’s definitely out of his element here, y’know. But he’s really nice, and him and Josh are good together. Balance each other out. You’ll see.”
You feel warm hearing Jake talk about Kai. You know first hand how strong he and Josh’s bond is, so you figure their relationships with their twin’s partners must have to be so important for them. Given their twin telepathy, you can’t imagine Josh would ever choose someone Jake wouldn’t approve of, and vice versa.
You’d never met Lily in person, but you’d heard stories from Josh, Sam, and Danny. Jake didn’t talk about her much. She’d grown up in Frankenmuth too, and from what you knew, it sounded like she’d been in and out of Jake’s life for a while before they finally got together during senior year. She came from a wealthy family, and she’d always been interested in commerce and law, but her love of literature and art was what she and Jake had bonded over.
Josh had mentioned to you once that Lily had taken him to painting classes as a birthday gift. She sounded perfect, and you were secretly glad she wasn’t going to be here this year. You’re sure you would get along, if Jake liked her, then so would you. But you were glad you wouldn’t have to live in her shadow, and even though you knew your relationship with Jake would have to change eventually, you were happy to play pretend with him for just a little while longer.
As Jake pulls into the driveway, your nerves flood back. You’re all of a sudden terrified of meeting his parents, his sister. You feel like you’re going to stick out like a sore thumb. It’s different for Kai, you’re not Jake’s partner, and you’re probably never going to be back here again. You’re just a temporary guest, a work friend, with no future in this family.
Jake pulls the keys from the ignition and looks over at you, placing his hand over yours on your knee.
“It’s going to be fine. I want you here with me. That’s all that matters.”
You nod, a little shaky. “Yep, I know. It’s gonna be great.”
He chuckles. “It is. Take a deep breath. There’s nothing to be worried about.”
He gets your bags from the trunk and you follow the path up to the house. As you’re approaching the steps, the front door swings open.
“My baby is here! Come here, Jakey, give your momma a hug!” Jake laughs and puts your things down on the porch, walking right into his mother’s arms.
“Oh, honey, I’ve missed you!” She coos, rubbing circles on his back.
“Missed you too, Mom.” He takes a step back. “This is my friend, Y/N.” He looks at you. “Y/N, this is my mom, Karen.”
She opens her arms to you. “So good to meet you, sweetheart. Jake’s so happy you could make it, and so am I!” She embraces you in a sweet, motherly hug, and you instantly feel calm.
Everything was gonna be okay.
When you step back, you look at Jake questioningly.
“Didn’t you get here last night?”
He laughs as he grabs your bags and Karen ushers you into the house. “Yeah, I did. But Mom was out of town at our aunt’s place. She only got home while I was out getting you.”
“You can imagine how excited I was to get home to my kiddos, only to discover half of them weren’t even here!”
You look toward Jake guiltily and he cracks a smile. “Well, I’m here now, momma. And Sam will be here tomorrow, so you’ll have all of us together.”
She grins, a huge smile that lights up her face. “Yes, I will. And don’t worry, Y/N, I’m not upset that Jake went to go pick you up. But you can understand, if have to be stuck with only one of my boys, Josh certainly is the most painful.” She laughs.
“Already telling Y/N who your favourite child is, momma? Geeze, let her breathe. She’s only been in the door 30 seconds.” Josh pokes his head out into the entryway.
You give him a small smile. “Hi, Josh.”
He comes out and sweeps you up into a hug. “Well, you certainly pulled a fast one on us. I take back the Merry Christmas I wished you at the airport. Gotta save it for the real thing.”
You giggle. “Yeah, sorry about that. Thought Jake should probably tell you himself.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry, lover. The more the merrier!”
Two new faces now poke out from the room Josh has just emerged from.
The small brunette girl smiles at you, her long, golden brown hair flowing down her back.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Ronnie.”
“Nice to meet you too, Ronnie.” You grin at her. She looks so much like Jake.
The other, a tall, dark haired man walks over to Josh and places his hand on his waist.
Josh looks up at him and then back to you.
“And Y/N, this is Kai.”
He has a sweet smile. “Hey, Y/N. Glad you’re here. Takes the pressure off a bit, I reckon.”
You giggle. “Hey, Kai. Glad to be of assistance.”
Jake looks to Karen. “Where’s Dad? I thought yesterday was his last day of work.”
Karen sighs. “Nope, they managed to rope him into staying ’til Friday. He should be back around 6, so you’ll see him for dinner.”
Jake nods. “Alright. Y/N, lets get your bags upstairs, hey?”
You smile at everyone as they trudge back through to what you assume is the living room, Karen giving your hand a sweet pat, and you follow Jake up the stairs.
The first door at the top of the staircase reads ‘Sammy’ in little wooden letters. You smile. You follow Jake down the hall and to the left, and he swings open the door.
“Welcome to my room.”
You giggle. 
It’s quite a large bedroom, and when you look around, you see walls covered in band posters, a stack of vinyls in one corner. The walls are painted a navy blue with white trim, and there’s glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling. There’s a desk, piled high with books, and guitar rack with a few acoustics and one electric. There’s two dressers, overflowing with clothes, and one closet in the corner that also looks like it’s bursting at the seams. 
Against the two far walls, there are two twin beds.
One of them is made up neatly, fresh towels on the end. The books Jake picked up from your house sitting on the nightstand. The other, the one under the window, looks mussed up, and you guess this must be where Jake slept last night.
You linger in the doorway as he puts your bags down on the untouched bed.
“Is this yours and Josh’s room?” You ask.
He chuckles. “Yeah. He and Kai are on the fold out in the basement, though. So it’s just you and me in here.”
You walk over and sit down on the made bed, nodding.
Jake sits on his bed. “Is it what you expected?”
“Yeah, I think so. I don’t know, really. You never told me you and Josh shared a room.”
He laughs. “Didn’t I? Sorry. I think it’s why I like sharing a bed so much, y’know. Grew up with snoring 5 feet away from me. Now I can’t sleep without it.”
You give a little smile. “That makes sense.”
He frowns. “You don’t snore, Y/N. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” You look at him. “I’m just a little overwhelmed, is all.”
“Were you expecting we’d share a bed?” He’s looking you over, as if trying to read your mind. “‘Cause I kinda wasn’t sure if you’d want to. I didn’t know if you were joking, what you said at the hotel. If you want, y’know, you can share with me anyway. At least with two beds in here, no one will have to know.” He grins.
“It’s okay, Jake. Really. We don’t have to share. We’ll have each other’s company, anyway.”
He nods. “Alright. Do you wanna, uh, unpack? Or do you wanna come downstairs? Up to you, no pressure.”
“Meet you down there in a bit?”
“Sure, no worries.” He smiles and leaves, closing the door gently behind him.
You don’t know what came over you just now. You guess you hadn’t really given too much thought to your sleeping arrangement, and you'd figured you’d either be bunking in Jake's bed or set up in a guest room, somewhere. You hadn’t imagined that you’d be just sharing a room, having him so close, yet just out of arms reach. That felt worse, somehow.
You’re here for 12 nights, which is kind of a long time, when you think about it. You’d originally only agreed to stay for Christmas, but Jake had talked you into staying on for Danny’s birthday celebrations and into the New Year, excitedly telling you about their plans to set off fireworks at the lake for New Years Eve.
“We’ve just spent one too many in cities, y’know. We need a break this year. It’ll be just us, no party or anything. You’ll love it.” He’d said, trying to convince you, and you’d eventually agreed.
As you unpack a few things onto the nightstand, plugging in your phone charger, you centre yourself. This will be fine. This is what you signed up for. You’re going to have a great time.
You eventually make it downstairs to find everyone in the living room, Joni Mitchell playing on the record player by the fireplace. Kai is on the recliner, Josh sitting on the ottoman between his feet. Jake and Ronnie are sitting at opposite ends of the couch, and when Josh sees you, he gestures to the spot between them.
“Come sit down! We’re catching Ronnie and Kai up on tour stories. I’m sure Y/N has plenty to share about how she deals with us troublesome boys on the road.” Josh cackles.
You giggle, sliding in next to Jake, and he leans over to you.
“Want a drink?”
“Uh, yeah, yes please. What are you having?” You eye his glass.
“Scotch, but there’s beer and wine in the kitchen. What would you like?”
You hum. “Beer sounds good, thanks.”
You all spend a few hours chattering and catching up, getting to know Kai and Ronnie. Jake and Josh boast about you to the others, commending you on their costumes. You brush it off, clarifying you were just maintaining the work of the designers. In turn, you compliment the boys on their music, calling out your favourite songs or particular performances from Europe that you'd loved. 
When Kelly, Jake’s dad, arrives home, Karen calls you all in for dinner. You migrate to the dining table, where Karen, Ronnie, and Jake serve everyone’s plates, and you all end up with huge helpings of roast chicken and vegetables.
“Thanks so much, Karen. This all looks delicious.” You give her a warm smile.
“Yeah, thanks, Mom, but why did you make a roast? Won’t we be having like 3 more roast dinners over the weekend? You didn’t have to go all this trouble, I would’ve been happy with something simple.” Josh looks perplexed.
Karen laughs, and Kelly answers. “Your mother loves to cook for her family. Any night with you kids here is a special occasion.”
You all laugh.
Josh scoffs. “Unlike you, Dad. Last night we were left to fend for ourselves. Kai and I had to eat instant ramen.”
“Oh, hush, Joshua. You’ve made a terrible impression on our guest.” Karen scolds. “We’re not usually such bad hosts, Kai.”
Kai shrugs. “I didn’t mind it.”
Jake shakes his head at Josh. “Well, maybe if you’d learned how to cook, that wouldn’t be a problem.” He looks to Karen. “Thanks, momma. It’s special for us, too.” He smiles, and his hand brushes your thigh under the table, where he leaves it to rest.
You feel your cheeks warming.
Karen reaches over to pat Jake’s other hand. “You’re welcome, baby. Any time.”
Kelly pours the wine and raises his glass. “To my beautiful children, and their friends and partners,” he smiles at Kai, and then at you, “thank you for being here. We’ve missed you very much and we’re so proud of you. Welcome home.”
Karen looks like she might cry. “One more night, and I’ll have all of you under one roof.”
You all cheers, and dig in.
After dinner you’re all left sufficiently full, Josh collapsed on the couch in a food coma with his head in Kai’s lap. Ronnie goes to retire to her room, she flew in from Chicago this morning and is ready for bed. You wish her good night and she gives you a hug, telling you how great it was to meet you.
“My brother is so happy you’re here. Couldn’t stop talking about it last night.” She says in your ear.
You pull back, blushing. “I’m glad to be here, too.”
She pulls you aside, out of earshot of Jake and her parents talking in the dining room.
“I know about him and Lily’s arrangement, you know, so I won’t pretend I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you.” She smiles. She doesn’t look upset with you, but there’s something underlying her tone. “Don’t worry, Mom and Dad have no idea. Just… be careful. I know my brother, and I know he often bites off more than he can chew. He’s got a big heart, and he doesn’t know where to put all that love. Don’t let yourself get in over your head.” 
You nod, her words dropping like rocks in your stomach.
“We’re not sleeping together.” You say quietly.
She hums. “All the more reason. No sex, and he’s this attached to you? Just don’t do anything you can’t get yourself out of. Lily will come back, she always does.” 
She gives you a small wave and heads upstairs.
You feel sick. Everything Ronnie said, you already knew. You just didn’t want to have your suspicions confirmed. Honestly, you were surprised Josh hadn’t given you the same talk.
After cups of tea and biscuits at the dining table with Jake’s parents, you decide it’s time for you to go to bed, too.
You stand up, and Jake follows suit. 
“I’m gonna head upstairs. I’m exhausted.”
He nods. “Alright, me too.”
You give him a small smile. “Good night, Karen. Thanks again for having me here. I really appreciate you making the room.”
She huffs and waves her hand at you. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. It’s our pleasure. You’re so important to Jake, so you are to us, too. If you need anything, just let me know.” 
She stands up and comes around the table to give you both a kiss on the cheek.
“‘Night, Mom.”
Kelly doesn’t get up, but he smiles warmly at you both.
“‘Night, kids.”
“‘Night, Dad. Thanks for the bourbon.” Jake grins.
“Good night, Kelly. Thanks again.”
He nods. “Sleep well.”
You make your way upstairs, Jake on your heels.
You collect your t-shirt and shorts for bed and toiletries from your duffle, and Jake points you in the direction of the bathroom.
You have a hot shower, and it soothes the anxiety radiating through you. Once you get out and into your pyjamas, you comb out your hair, leaving it out to dry while you sleep. You brush your teeth, applying some skin care, and giving yourself one final once-over in the mirror.
You head back to Jake’s room and find him already in bed, curled up with one of your books, reading glasses on. You giggle.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear glasses.” You say, shutting the door behind you and padding over to Josh’s bed.
He looks up from the page and smiles at you. “I don’t really on tour. I’m always so tired I never really get to read, y’know.”
“They suit you.”
“Well, thanks.”
You slip under the covers, scrolling through Instagram for a while. You send a text to Jules to let her know you made it here safely, and everything was all good.
A few times, Jake breaks the quiet, reading a you passage from the book that he thinks you might like. You don’t tell him you’ve already read that one, but he chooses all your favourite parts anyway. You like to hear him read aloud. 
After 20 minutes or so, Jake switches off the light, and you plug in your phone, curling up in the small bed.
“Are you happy you came?” Jake speaks into the dark room.
“Yeah, of course. Your family are so nice. I feel really welcome.” You’re glad he can’t see your face.
“Good, I’m glad. Are you comfortable over there?”
You giggle. “Yep, snug as a bug.”
He laughs too, and it’s silent for a few minutes.
“I’d hoped you’d want to share with me. My bed, I mean. Sleeping by you, it’s different than with Josh. I just like knowing here’s there. But with you, it’s more. I like to have you next to me.”
You hum. “Is it really okay for us to be doing that, though? Here, in your parents house? I know on tour you’re like a free agent or whatever, but don’t you share that bed with Lily, when she’s here? Doesn’t it feel weird to you?”
He sighs. “I’ve told you, Y/N. I need you. I don’t really have an answer to any of that, I guess I should feel weird, or guilty, or whatever. But I don’t. All I know is that you make me feel happy, and comfortable. And I know you’re only just over there, but, I miss you.”
You feel like you might be about to cry. You miss him, too. You just keep hearing Ronnie’s words on repeat: ‘don’t let yourself get in over your head.’
The problem is, you already have.
After deliberating in silence for a few minutes, you pull back your covers, quietly padding over to Jake’s bed. It’s dark, but there’s enough moonlight coming through the window that you can see his face on the pillow. He looks sleepy, but he smiles widely, and scoots over toward the wall, holding the blankets back for you.
You slide in, and the bed suddenly feels very, very small. You do your best to stay on your half, but he’s facing you, and you can feel the entirety of his front pressed against your side.
“It’s okay.” He mumbles. “The bed is small. We can cuddle.” He puts his left arm over your tummy, his right sliding under the pillow behind your head. You breathe out a deep sigh and scoot down, letting your head be level with his chest. You turn to face him, inhaling his smell, wrapping your arm around his middle, tangling your legs with his. He’s wearing a t-shirt and boxers, and you thank the heavens he didn’t decide to sleep shirtless tonight.
You finally feel yourself relax, all the stress from the day washed away now that you’re here in his arms. You belong here. You belong to Jake, all of you, especially your heart.
But, as you’re falling asleep, you have to remind yourself. He doesn’t belong to you.
Chapter 5
@ohgodthefeeling-gvf @profitofthedune @sinarainbows @klarxtr
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circus x gn!reader
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ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please, raise your hands for tonight's star act, mx.maddox and the wanderer's!
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★Waking up in a thick black fog was not something you'd ever expect to happen to you. Looking around, Spotting a circus in the distance, was pretty much your only hope of finding a way out. What were they doing out here? Were they in the same boat as you? Regardless, you just hoped they're nice..
★kri was the first to meet you, having found you wandering around outside the circus tents, he quickly introduced himself and asked you where you came from. After explaining your predicament, he nodded in thought
"gee.. that sounds rough.. but don't worry, I'm sure Maddox will know what to do, come with me!"
★Maddox had been stuck in the circus for a long while, along with the other residents. Kri opened the flap into his tent and quickly explained the situation.
"I'm sorry for your predicament young one.. but im afraid we don't know any way out.. on the other hand, you are welcome to stay and be apart of the circus"
★having no other options you accepted, kri excitedly dragging you to the nursery, where all the children and young adults stayed. He introduced you to jiro, Kyo and wendy. Explaining how the four of them were the clowns
★jiro welcomed you with a kind smile, and nodded his head as greeting. You noticed how he didn't seem like much of a talker, preferring to watch and listen
"welcome y/n, I hope you enjoy your stay here"
★Kyo was obviously the most energetic of the bunch, happily blabbering about whatever and making horrible jokes. His friends only gave a small laugh and pat on the back
"it's great to see a new face, come to me if you need a picker upper okay?"
★and last but not least, Wendy. She stayed quiet, giving a shy smile and looking away whenever you'd make eye contact. She shook your hand and soon left, having seemed uncomfortable
"don't mind her... She just needs time getting used to everything, she'll come around"
★they assigned you a bed, and that's how your life at the circus started. Everyone was very welcoming, everyone but wendy. Often staring at you wearily and from a distance. 'Till one night, she came into your tent after everyone went to sleep
"shhh.. I'm sorry for bothering you this late butI need to talk to you.."
"..okay? What is it you need?"
"I'm sorry if I've been coming off as.. distant.. it's just.. you remind me of something that feels so familiar, but I can't put my finger on it.."
"oh..."
"..as you already know, everyone calls me wendy, so you can too I guess.. sorry, did that come off as cold? I'm not really used to Talking to new people.. a-anyways, if you need anything, or if you have any questions.. you can come to me"
"I'll.. keep that in mind, thank you Wendy"
★she gives you a smile and leaves soon after, quickly rushing away. The next few days, she slowly starts talking to you. Opening up bit by bit
"you know.. everyone calls us the dream team, but I really don't think we're suitable for that name. Even Maddox calls us a nightmare!"
"yeah, because you're the main factor to that assumption"
"Wendy.."
"...sorry"
★during your stay with them, you learned that Wendy showed up at the circus just a few days before you, no wonder she seemed so distant. Sometimes she'd say random words in Spanish, most likely cussing kyo out
★their roles in their act goes like this: jiro and kri are the sideshow, doing tricks and all sorts of things while Kyo and wendy were the mains. Acting out many silly stories and using slapstick humor most of the time.
★the first time you saw them in their costumes you nearly had a heartattack. Imagine seeing four scary looking clowns just staring at you ominously from the darkness
★they perform for these shadow people that would come to the circus, nobody knows what they are or why they show up, but there were rumours that once, long ago, the previous circus inhabitants refused to perform for them and.. well.. they had to be "replaced"
★during one of the dream teams acts, you wandered off. Exploring the back tents and dressing rooms when you came across multiple people you recognized, from when they all welcomed you into their little family
★a ballerina named Odette, who was next in line for the show. She seemed sweet as she waved at you from her dressing room, waving back you quickly left
"oh! Hello y/n, do you need something?"
★samson the beast tamer, a peculiar cocky man. He bowed as he dragged a lion by a chain collar behind him. You sincerely hoped they didn't mistreat the animals like other circuses, but judging by the lions calm and obedient attitude, maybe it was domesticated?
"good day sweets"
★will the stuntsman. He gave you a devilish grin as he passed by you, carrying some metal pipe. Giving a wave and smile in return
"see ya later toots!"
★maybe living in the circus won't be so bad..?
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pssy-wagn · 6 months
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Day 7: Black Cat
Shopping for tools, Halloween decorations, food, and everything in the middle, Dean and Castiel stop by Walmart. Filling their cart with everything they need and want, they make their way through the congested aisles just to wait in a long line. 
"See, I told you to make several trips instead of a one-stop shop. We've waited fifteen minutes for a clerk to open the case for your tool thing."
"It's a dremel, Cas. Plus, it's badass."
"It'll break within a week." Cas mumbles under his breath. 
"What?"
"Nothing."
When they finish paying, Cas stops the cart outside to take out his pork rinds to munch on on they way to find their car.
"No. You are not eating inside Baby, Cas. We've been over this so many times already."
Taking a big bite, he looks at Dean, "then you're going to have to wait for me to finish."
As his munching gets too annoying, Dean moves to stand. Stepping a few steps away from his husband, he sees a small group forming nearby. Dean turns to see Cas reaching into his little bag for another pork rind, oblivious to what Dean is confused about. When he looks up again, Dean nods his head in the direction of the mini commotion. Pushing the cart, they are curious as well as to what can make people form with "oooh's" and aaah's."
Not wanting to intrude too much, they stay back until they catch a glimpse of a girl and her mother sitting on the bench. 
Cas leans into Dean, "What's happening?"
"I don't know. Maybe…girl scout cookies?"
"No. They always have a sign."
When Castiel strains his neck to look over everybody, a little girl and her father comes away carrying a little white cat with blue eyes. 
"Oh that's what's going on. They're either giving away or selling some cats. Cas, no."
But Dean is too late. Cas is already inching his way through everyone. As Dean lets out a sigh, he pushes his cart until he sees his husband kneeling down into a box. 
"Dean, look."
The little girl kicks her dangling feet as she speaks, "last one. Free to a good home."
Dean peeks inside to see only one small kitten left.
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"Cas, babe, we gotta go home."
The mother gives them a sympathetic look, "it's okay, we'll be here again tomorrow. Nobody wants this one; this is our third attempt giving him away. It seems nobody wants a black cat or the runt of the litter and he's both."
"Third attempt?" Cas says as he pats the head of the little cat who is trying to climb out of the box. 
"Yep. That's why we'll be back tomorrow. Mommy said we could only have the momma and one kitten. But we can't have all six."
"Hmph. Understandable." Dean says as he puts his hand on Cas' shoulder, "Babe? Sunshine?"
Cas stands and turns towards Dean with the little kitten in his arms, "Dean?"
"Cas. No."
"Dean.." Cas smiles softly down at the little bundle who's trying to attack his finger, as he gives in, letting soft teeth try to munch on his finger. 
"Please, Dean? Look at him, look at his little face. Isn't he cute?"
"He's cute, Cas but-"
"Honey?"
Dean lets out a deep sigh, "you have to stop using that on me. I can only do pet names."
"Pet? That's a sign, Dean. We need him as a pet now."
"Ugh, you'll be the death of me, Cas."
"So did we make a decision, gentlemen?" the woman asks. 
Cas kisses the top of his newest fur baby as he boops his little nose. 
Dean looks at the women, "he's made up his mind. Thank you, ladies," as he gives them each a forced smile. 
Back at home, Dean struggles getting everything in the house, making a few trips back to the Impala. Finally bringing in the last shopping bags, he shuts the door with his foot, "Yeah, it's not like I needed help, Cas!"
"I'm busy!" Cas calls from another room. 
As Dean puts all the bags in a pile on the floor, he goes in search of Cas. Spotting him near the cat tree tower, he sees him holding up the little black cat to their orange one. 
"Look, Dean, I think Claire likes him."
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inafieldofdaisies · 7 months
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WIP Whenever | Tagged by @stacispratt and @adelaidedrubman ❤️
A snippet from Chapter 1 of John's misadventures as a lawyer. Leslie and other familiar faces are in this universe too, baby.
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"Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Portland. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for landing, be certain your seat back is straight up and your seat belt is fastened.  Please secure your carry-on items, stow your tray table, and pass any remaining service items and unwanted reading materials to the flight attendants. Thank you.", the long-awaited announcement was music to John's ears as he looked through the window at the city and its twinkling lights below. 5 hours had passed in what he could only describe as torture. His day before that hadn't gone too well either, it felt like anything that could go wrong had, in one way or the other. His alarm not going off and almost making him late. Showing up at the firm only to find out Preston Manning, his second chair on the case, had called in sick and wasn't going to be making the trip with him. Penny slipping him her number for heaven knows what time and offering him a "quickie" in the bathroom for "good luck". More like a quick and proven way to get me a meeting with HR. Traffic and a flight delay (not unsual but still absolutely nerve-grating paired with everything else). The TSO officer taking way too long fondling him, as if he could have been hiding anything under a simple suit. The airline double booking his seat and giving him another last minute, which had doomed him to sit next to a menace of a passenger. In many ways he was happy to have left Manning behind in Atlanta, but he also couldn't deny the fact despite all his flaws he would have been more tolerable than the man that was currently using his shoulder as a pillow. He had lost count how many times he had shifted in his seat, tried to shake off the pesky passenger, hoped eventually he would stir up and move away, giving back his personal space. He better not have drooled all over my suit, or I'd be meeting with my client in jail sooner than anticipated. And we'd be wearing matching outfits.
It's all he could think about as he nudged the man away yet again and absolutely not-so-gently with his patience worn completely thin. "We're landing.", John muttered under his breath when an annoyed look was sent his way, like he was the one being out of line. He brushed off his dark gray pinstripe suit before crossing his arms over his chest, and focused his gaze outside once more, refusing to pay further attention to the crude individual next to him. Deep down, he didn't mind having to fly over to meet with the people he would be representing, he found a certain type of thrill in being up in the sky, had dreamt of becoming a pilot for as long he could remember, but being forced to share such a tight space with others was definitely testing his limits and making him deal with not so pleasant thoughts. "Ladies and gentlemen, our crew welcomes you to Portland. The local time is 10:22 pm. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisles clear until we are parked at the gate. The Captain will then turn off the “Fasten Seat Belt” sign, indicating it is safe to stand. Please use caution when opening the overhead compartments and removing items, since articles may have shifted during flight." The man next to him yawned over the voice of the flight attendant, his hand almost smacking John in the face as he went to stretch after his long nap. Don't do anything. Don't say anything. The mantra played on repeat in his mind and he could already imagine himself in his hotel room. The promise of a shower and soft bed was the only thing that got him through the loud clapping from "Naptime Sam" and each slow step that led him off the plane and into the airport. John clutched the strap of his leather bag he always used as carry-on, ignoring the excited chatter around him, his eyes darting from suitcase to suitcase in anticipation of his own finally showing up on the baggage carousel. Just as he spotted it and moved ahead to grab it, a child rushed past, bumping into him in the process. "Ah, I'm so sorry, Mister.", the redheaded girl said quickly, sending a apologetic toothy grin his way as she clutched a small rainbow duffelbag. He waited for the annoyance that usually came from every human interraction to swoop in, instead he ended up returning the smile while he heaved his suitcase off the line and headed for the exit. "Savannah Mae.", the girl breezed past, running towards a sharp dressed woman and grabbing her outstretched hand.
Cool air hit his face as he stepped past the sliding doors of the airport, gaze shifting between the cars parked out front and his phone that for some reason refused to turn on. Goddamn it. I charged you, I know I did. Penny had sent him a message with the details of the driver that was supposed to pick him up, as well as his hotel reservation, and he had no way of accessing either. "Welcome to Portland, sir.", an older gentleman reached for his luggage, and he breathed out a sigh of relief, telling himself his night was starting to look up. The man hoisted his suitcase into the trunk of the black SUV and swifly jumped into the driver seat, peeling off down the road just as John reached out for the door handle. "What the-" "Mr. Duncan?", a voice came behind him, partly drowned out by the shock that coursed through his body and rooted him to the spot to watch the vehicle disappear out of view and take his suitcase with all his belongings along with it. "Mr. Duncan. I'm sorry I'm late, there was a traffic accident…", John swiveled around, doing his hardest to keep his temper in check. He breathed in deeply, his tone taking a dangerous note and making the man in front of him wince, "What did you say?" "I-I- I'm here to pick you up.", the driver gestured to his own car behind him and forced a smile, "You're Mr. Duncan, correct? You're traveling light." "FUCK.", the word broke free before he could stop it while a hand ran over his face. This isn't happening. No. Not to me. No. "Mr. Duncan?" He opened his eyes again, fingernails digging into his palm, grounding him as he spat out, "I was robbed." The man blinked in surprise, "Robbed? Here? Now? How?" "My suitcase.", he shook his head, letting out a bitter laugh, "My damned suitcase." "Someone stole your luggage?" "Yes.", it was all he could muster, already feeling done with the conversation, with the day itself, with Portland, with the onlookers staring his way, with "Naptime Sam" that chose the moment to walk through the doors.
"Oh my god, I-" John brushed past the driver, throwing his small bag into the backseat and slipping after it with a growl. Shitstorm. Ah, Clive? He watched the man scramble around the front of the vehicle in confusion, the car door slamming shut after him putting a stop to his line of thought. "Mr. Duncan,-" "Do you have a phone charger?", he asked impatiently, making it his priority to figure out which hotel he was supposed to be staying at without having to deal with Penny. Shaky hand reached for the glovebox, pulling out a charging cord and passing it over, "Shouldn't you talk to someone at the airport? Report the theft?" And watch them flail around and tell me I was technically on the street, find a damn loophole so it's not their problem? "Mr. Duncan?" "Drive me to a police station, I don't care which one, uh, I didn't catch your name…", he finally replied as he stared down at the device in his hand, waiting for it to turn on. The screen refused to light up no matter how long it stayed plugged into the car's port, making him release a sigh of defeat. You're dead, aren't you? "Robert. And are you certain, sir?" "Yes." The man nodded, turning the key in the ignition, "May I ask, how did your luggage-" "I don't want to talk about it.", John trained his gaze out of the window, pocketing his phone as the realization that his night was far from over set in. The idea he no change of clothes for his first in-person visit with Mooney in the morning and was probably going to get no rest before it, felt like the final straw. And knowing his luck since being handed over his newest case, he was about to deal with an incompetent police officer next.
The scenery outside passed in a blur, making him zone out while fatigue fough to take over his body. No matter how many hurdles life threw his way, he refused to give up, promising himself he was going to win the court battle, prove Clive he had made the right choice by naming him partner at "Westbrook, Harrison and Jones". "and Duncan", now. Robert cleared his throat to draw his attention, announcing, "We're here, sir." "Thank you.", John muttered as his fingers wrapped around the door handle, the man's next words giving him a pause. "I won't be able to wait around… I have another pick-up arranged and it's on the other side of town. Would you be okay on your own?" "Sure.", he would have been lying if he was to say had expected anything else as outcome. "Have a good night, Mr. Duncan.", Robert called out and drove off, leaving him in front of an off-white building, the silver letters above its entrance spelling "City of Portland Police Bureau" confirming he was at least at the right place. He muttered a silent prayer as he pushed past a set of double glass doors and stepped inside the precinct. One win. Give me one win tonight. No more tests. No run-ins with inadequate officers of the law.
He took in the beige and dark blue interior, noting the dead quiet ruling over the lobby as the doors shut behind him. His feet carried him over to the front desk, the human shaped silhouette behind its protective glass giving him hope despite the lack of greeting upon his entry. Any hope he harbored died a horrible death the second he reached it, and an unmistakable muffled snore carried over from the officer that was reclining back in his chair. "Excuse me,", John gritted out, frowning at his name tag, "Officer Bradley.", but the curt words failed to wake the man up. "Excuse me.", he tried again, louder this time around, yet the officer was as unresponsive as his phone. Just when his hand rose, ready to bang against the glass in another attempt to grab his attention, quick footsteps sounded behind him followed by a melodic voice calling out a simple, "Hello." that made him spin around. His narrowed gaze was met by the most expresive pair of hazel eyes he had ever seen, and he blamed the exhaustion for how they almost knocked the wind out of him for second. A wave of familiarity washed over his system as he scanned the woman standing in front of him, his baby blues running over the gray streaks framing her face then down to the freckles scattered across her nose until they stopped at her lips just as they parted, "Can I-" You... Detective Donovan.
He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or curse at fate and its idea for a joke. He'd read over the information on potential witnesses for the upcoming trial for weeks, had stared at her picture enough times to memorize her features, yet the grainy image he was presented with paled in comparison to seeing her in person. He'd expected to meet the detective in court, looked forward to it, in fact, especially after everything her personnel file had revealed. He wasn't supposed to come face to face with her when he was having an unarguably awful night and on the verge of cracking. Close to grabbing one of the lovely chairs you have for visitors and throwing it at your welcome desk. Because I'm not feeling very welcomed, currently. "Your colleague is sleeping on the job.", John interrupted whatever she was about to ask him, but her smile didn't waiver at his sharp tone and the demeaning way he had used the word "colleague". Like Bradley was beneath him. And she was too, just by assosiation. If it wasn't for the spark of defiance in her eyes, he would have guessed she was completely unbothered. "It's the first quiet night we've had in a long while, Mr-" "Duncan." Anticipation coursed through his system as he waited for her to say his name back, and he refused to think too much about what her presence alone was doing to him. How it was threatening to unravel his already fragile composure. And how much he wanted to hear his name again the second she uttered it out. "Mr. Duncan, what can I help you with?", she continued smoothly, biting down on her lip as she regained him. John crossed his arms, nodding to the messenger bag she had hanging over her shoulder, her attire hinting at the fact she was headed out, "Shouldn't that be Officer Bradley's job? Are you even on the clock?" "He'd point you to a division, just as I would."
His lips quirked up at her blunt reply, "I've come to report a crime." All he got this time around was a nod. She was expecting him to continue, to give her more than stating the obvious. "I landed at PDX and,", he paused, hating the idea he had to admit he had fallen victim to such ridiculous con, "a man blindsided me by pretending to be my driver and stole my luggage." "That's-" "Awful?" He was too keen on how he was drinking in every little mannerism she displayed, like how she pursed her lips in displeasure at the news, before saying, "Follow me." "And what about your colleague?", he remarked as he fell into step behind her. His gaze was drawn in by the belt of her black oversized coat tied in a loose bow swaying with every movement she made, and he couldn't help but scowl at how her body was almost completely covered by the garment and then at himself for even entertaining the thought, when he had more important matters to deal with. "Lenny's wife just gave birth recently.", she explained quietly, "Letting him catch some rest is the least I can do." A bleeding heart. It's what you have, Detective. On paper and in person.
Detective Donovan led him down a long hallway, moving past multiple doors that seemed to open up to offices for different divisions until she came to a halt and knocked on a door marked with "Robbery". Seconds passed without a reply from the other side, instead of rapping again, she grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, revealing a series of empty desks. Of course. She turned around with an apologetic look, "I think they're out on a case." John raised an eyebrow, "All of them?" "Understaffed. It's what happens when you get people retiring and on sick leave all at once." He exhaled in frustration, but aside from that kept his silence. "I can check who is on duty and call them…" "And you?", he ignored her suggestion, suspecting he wouldn't get anywhere at that late hour, especially with an offence that would be considered "low priority" in comparison to other cases. "Me?" "You didn't tell me your name or division." Another smile. He was becoming addicted to those. Why didn't you smile in your photo, Detective? That right there, is a robbery on its own. Then, a hand was offered to him, and he wasted no time, enveloping it in his. "Sabrina Donovan. I'm a Detective at Missing Persons. So I fear I won't be of much help with your case, Mr. Duncan." The handshake was getting past the line of socially acceptable, but he couldn't bring himself to let go, "I see, tracking down missing belongings isn't really among your duties."
Sabrina pulled her hand out of his grasp, walking into the office ahead of them and aiming for a large bulletin board at the far end. Her index finger traced over a sheet of paper pinned there before she was on the move again. "Give me a second.", she said as she stopped at the desks, picking up the phone receiver and dialing whoever was supposed to be reachable from the team. "Stockton. You or any of the others planning on heading back soon?", she was back to chewing on her lip while she listened to the man on the other end of the line, "And some kind of ETA for me?", there was a pause, "At PDX. A suitcase. No, and no as far as I'm aware. Vic came straight to the precinct." After what felt like forever where she listened intently about his potential options, she wrapped up the phone call with a quick thank you and walked back to where John was leaning against the door. Her face told it all - she wasn't bearing exceptionally good news. "They're unsure when they would be back, but a couple of hours at the very least." His eyes darted to his watch, "It's almost midnight." Sabrina winced, "I know. The suggestion was you either wait up for them here, return in the morning or-" "Or what, Detective?" "I can jot down notes for them, anything you can provide right now, take down the report and pass it along, to get your case moving as soon as possible…" He frowned, "Basically, do their job for them and deal with something below your paygrade? Weren't you headed home?" He hadn't missed the way she had avoided his question prior, how she had stayed behind when she appeared to be leaving in the first place.
"Won't be my first time of working overtime or helping a fellow detective. The sooner we have an official case started, the quicker they can locate the guy. I'm sure after flying, the last thing on your mind would be to sit around at a police station for hours, when you could be getting some rest." It was obvious she was prioritizing his wellbeing and that of the front desk officer before her own, and knowing her records by heart at that point, he suspected she wouldn't give up on the idea easily, so all he could do was agree, "Okay." She pushed past him at that, her scent teasing him at the closeness in the doorway and haunting his senses as he followed her further into the building and towards an elevator. "We're on the second floor.", Sabrina stated and pressed the call button, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The doors opened promptly with a ding, and they both stepped on, the ride feeling disappointingly short for his liking. "I suspect my stolen suitcase wouldn't be much of a priority?", John guessed as she followed a similar path to the one on the first floor. "I didn't say that." "But simple larceny wouldn't be as serious as whatever case the on duty officers are following at that time of the day." "Ah, I'm not really at liberty to discuss that." "Naturally."
"And you, Mr. Duncan?" "Me?", he mimicked her earlier question. "What do you do for a living?" He could sense even the smallest amount of curiosity in her words, making him smirk, "I'm a defense attorney." She laughed, and he couldn't decide which was better - her smiles or her laughter, "That explains it. And judging by your attire, well, would have been my first guess." "Oh? Should I feel offended?" He was flirting. With, no doubt, a future witness. Clive would ask what had taken over him and why he'd even entertain things further. Good thing he's not here. And I'm not really someone to do things by the book. "No.", she shrugged as she stopped in front of her own division's sector, "You certainly have that aura about you." With that, she pushed the door, open, drawing the attention of a fellow detective inside. "Rina,", the man called out, "Didn't you go home already? Should I push you out the door?" "Ollie. Behave." The man's eyes stopped on John finally, noticing his appearance for the first time as he moved his feet off his desk, "Do we have a case?" "No, no, I'm doing Stockton a tiny favor." "Again?" The word piqued his interest, same for the strange looks "Ollie" kept sending his way. "Don't start, Oliver."
John paid the man no mind and took a seat in one of the chairs across Sabrina's desk as she removed her coat until she was down to a simple gray shirt that was unbuttoned halfway to reveal a dark turtleneck underneat it. His eyes shifted from her to her work space, noting how tidy it was, especially compared to her colleague's, and had a couple of framed pictures he wished he could see. "Fine. But you know, Leslie wouldn't be that easy to silence in voicing his concerns." She ignored the warning, gaze moving back to John's, "Name." "John Duncan." He noticed how she silently mouthed his name as she typed it, and doubted it was a habit she was aware of. The next minutes consisted of marking down his basic information, and he loathed having to recall the slip up, how he had fallen for such a silly trap, especially when he was anything but incompetent. "It's good you remember a partial plate. That, paired with the car's description, and, the fact, PDX would no doubt have footage of the incident…" "You're confident they'd find my belongings." "The perp, most likely. Belongings, I can't say. At least, the things of most value." Oliver walked over, placing a cup in front of Sabrina before leaning in closer to whisper something that caused her to giggle and mutter a quiet, "Stop it, Ollie. Absolutely not." She cleared her throat as she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and took a sip of coffee when the man wandered back to his own desk, "Would you like a coffee, Mr. Duncan?" She was yet to say his first name, and he wondered how it would sound coming from her, if she would utter it out as playfully as she did Oliver's. Doubtful. "No, thank you." "Well, I think I have everything noted down. If you don't have any further questions for me…"
She was wrapping things up, sending him on his way, putting an end to whatever time he had in her presence. Then it hit him, "Can I ask to make a phone call?" "You're not under arrest, Mister.", Oliver remarked jokingly. He ignored the jab, his focus remaining completely on the woman in front of him, "My phone died, and I have no idea which hotel my reservation has been made at…" "Ah, I see.", Sabrina reached for her bag, pulling out her phone and passed it over to him after she unlocked it. At the same time he produced the little folded post-it note Penny had crammed into his pocket that morning, trying his hardest to hide the ruby red lipstick stain on it out of Sabrina's view. Her homescreen wallpaper gave him a pause. It was a candid picture of a familiar looking redheaded girl, Sabrina and a man that- What in the- If I squint I can almost convince myself he looks like me, Detective. He doubted she'd appreciate the observation, yet his curiosity about the man's identity and relation to her only festered while he punched in Penny's number. Just as he was starting to wonder if she would pick up, her voice came through, and he rushed to quickly get the needed information, trying to keep the interraction as short as possible. Sabrina pushed a notepad towards him, together with a pen to note down the address, Penny was relying in an overly excited manner despite the fact he had called her for assistance at almost 3 am. "Thank you, Penny. Have a good night.", he muttered flatly and hung up, returning the phone to Sabrina. "She must be worried." Are you fishing for information? "She's not my girlfriend, just an assistant at my firm.", he blinked at the confession that he had blurted out, despising the fact Oliver was there to witness his slip-up and laugh at it. My firm? "I, um, I wasn't really-", Sabrina shook her head, deciding against whatever she was about to say, "I sent over the report to Detective Stockton, he will be in touch soon. I will note down your hotel information since you're having phone issues, so he'd be able to call there and get a hold of you through reception for the time being…" "Thank you."
She rose up, quickly gathering her things and putting her coat back on now that she had sorted out his report, "I will see you out then." John followed suit, exiting into the hallway first as she announced to Oliver, "I'm heading home for real this time, Ollie. You better not snitch to Leslie." "We shall see about that.", he hollered back, "Good night to both of you." As they made their way down to the lobby, Officer Bradley was finally awake and staring at John with a similar to Oliver's expression, "Staying late again, Rina?" Sabrina only laughed as she passed his post, "Bye, Lenny. Hope things stay quiet." She pushed open the doors before John could do it, wrapping her hands around herself as they stepped out into the chilly night. "Thank you again.", his voice was even, perfectly hiding the disappointment he felt on the inside because they were parting ways. "Of course." He expected her to leave at that, especially with the hint of awkwardness that remained in the air after he had mentioned Penny. Seconds passed by in silence where he clutched his only bag and wondered if she'd look at him the same way and be so eager to help him if she knew he was representing one of the most hated men in Oregon. Someone she herself had a run-in with. You wouldn't, would you? You'd probably curse at me. Call what happened to me premature karma.
Instead of wishing him a cheery goodbye and leaving him to his own devices to watch her disappear like the car of the man that had stolen from him, Sabrina gave him another small smile as she stuck her hands in her coat's pockets in an attempt to warm up, "If you don't mind me asking… you do have a way to get to your hotel, right?" John quirked an eyebrow, taking his time to respond and enjoying every moment of where she shifted in place as she waited for him to reassure her he would be alright. It was too bad he wasn't about to do that. Not when it meant she would feel content to head home. Not when the alternative was stealing a few more minutes with her. And he liked his second option more. Field work. You'd call it a "stakeout", wouldn't you? Getting to know my future oppponent. The promising young detective that had apprehended Mooney and was bound to make defending him a challenge. There was no doubt the jury would love her. Feed on her genuity and charm.
"I do not.", he muttered out slowly, watching her face closely, memorizing how the street light above them picked up the gray strands in her hair, "I assumed I could grab a cab, despite my lackluster luck tonight." She nodded along to the idea, but made no move to leave, "You certainly could." John could sense an in, and he took it shamelessly, a step bringing him closer to her until her sweet scent invaded him again, "Were you about to suggest something else?" Cross the line. Offer your help again. "I-", a shake of her head cut off her words as she frowned. She was putting up a wall once more, guarding her thoughts just like she had on his oversharing about Penny. "Yes?", his hand reached out to tuck a piece of her hair that the wind had picked up behind her ear, voice growing huskier when he added, "Tell me." Her breath hitched the second his fingers grazed her cheek, probably feeling the same current that passed over his skin at the contact and still clutched him even when his arm dropped by his side. Sabrina blinked away the haze they seemed to be sharing, "I was going to offer you a ride, Mr. Duncan." "John. Call me John, Sabrina." Something flashed across her face at his correction, "Hm?" "It's my name after all." It was as if all the background noise ceased to exist as he waited for her lips to form the word and he suspected even if the detective he was supposed to wait on or the criminal himself that had wronged him showed up right there and then, he wouldn't care. She was the sole holder of his attention. "I was going to offer you a ride,", she paused, "John. But I'm not-" "Yes.", the word rushed out, cutting off whatever excuse she was about to make about it being a bad idea, probably thinking of the grinning man on her homescreen. Doesn't matter who he is, Detective. I can recognize interest when I see it. And damn, if I don't want to hear you say my name again. His eagerness seemed to be obvious and… amusing to her, "You sure?" "Are you planning on driving off with my carry-on, Sabrina?" "Cross my heart. I won't.", she gestured to the street behind her, hiking her bag further up her shoulder, "I'm parked over there." A smirk appeared at the fact he was winning, "Lead the way then, before you freeze."
Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @strafethesesinners @strangefable @voidika @aceghosts @nightbloodbix @madparadoxum @jillvalentinesday @euryalex @corvosattano @poisonedtruth @purplehairsecretlair @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @trench-rot @cassietrn @chazz-anova @clicheantagonist @dumbassdep @thesingularityseries @theelderhazelnut @florbelles @simplegenius042 @shegetsburned @v0idbuggy and anyone that would like to share a little something this week
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keenzinemugstudent · 1 year
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Vasco x black fem chubby reader! You have a Stalker?!
Here we go again with another Vasco x black chubby reader story ladies and gentlemen I'm sorry if this getting kind of annoying but honestly the only thing on my mind is just this sweet boy so here we go!
⚠️Warning this story is long will contain stalking, attempted kidnapping and grooming/assault so if this story triggers you please do not read it!⚠️
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When you enter the classroom in the morning while talking to Daniel you see a whole bunch of flowers on your desk at first you thought it was probably from Vasco who had help from the burn knuckles and Jace but you see a letter saying it was from your secret admirer and it kind of creeped you out because it had a picture of you walking down the street with Daniel but his face ripped off at first Zoe thought it was cute but than said it was creepy that somebody had taken a picture of you, you first tried to shrug it off threw away the flowers but you started getting worried when two girls came up to you at lunch with a letter saying it was from a random cute guy from the front entrance.
"Y/n it happened again?!" Zoe said with an annoyed look getting jealous but you just frowned looking down at the letter not opening it Jay gave you a concerned look even though he didn't talk much you could tell he was worried about you, sorry out of nowhere Zack took the letter out of your hand opening it reading the letter out loud.
"To my dearest Y/N I hope you like the flowers that I gave you this morning it took me a while to convince your teacher to put it on your desk for me I hope you like them from your secret admirer hope to PS you looked amazing in your school uniform." What the hell who writes this crap?!" That's when he turned to the two girls.
"Hey! Did you guys see his face when he gave you the letter?"
"Um he looked really handsome but he also like he was really older"
"Yeah! I don't think he really goes to the school but he was super sweet your so lucky Y/N!" The two girls said blushing but Zoe started yelling at them for taking things from strangers, Daniel put a hand on your shoulder.
"Y/n I think we should tell a teacher about this."
"Oh yeah pretty boy? And what can they do they don't do anything when theirs a fight the hell make you think they'll do anything about this?" Zack said rolling his eye's but he was also concerned for your well being and because you are helping him try to win Mira over. You just smile at them waving your hands.
"Oh come on guys this is obviously somebody playing prank on me! I mean flowers and love letters to me?"
They all just frown but didn't say anything more but you secretly agreed with them about the letters and flowers being kind of creepy. For the next 3 days you have been getting the same letters and flowers every time you come to school they're always laying on your desk or on your locker or somebody would come up to you saying that "the cute older guy sends his regards." now you were getting kind of scared you didn't even want to read the letters but you had one of your friends open them and there was always a picture of you from when you were at work, class or hanging out with your friends who had their faces scratched out!
"Y/N THIS IS OBVIOUSLY NOT A JOKE! THIS GUY IS STALKING YOU! YOU NEED TO TELL SOMEONE!!!" Mira yells out which caused everyone (Zoe, Jay, Daniel and Zack) to nod their head in agreement, I let out a deep sigh.
"Okay okay so what do you suggest I do?"
"You can stay at my house seeing as your parents are out of town!" Mira says but I quickly declined Zack would go crazy if anything happened to Mira so that's definitely out of the question.
"Y/n?" We all turned to see Vasco and Jace standing behind us.
"O-oh Vasco, Jace! What are you doing here?"
"Little Daniel told me that someone was bothering you I wanted to see if you were okay." I turned to glare at Daniel who looked at you with a nervous smile (yes you know his secret) he just had to tell Vasco about this huh!
"The hell is with all these letters and pictures???" Jace said looking through the letters on your lunch table you tried reassure him that it was nothing but Zack decided to tell them everything which caused Vasco to clutch his fist with a glare on his face.
"You have a Stalker?! Y/n why didn't you tell us?"
"Well to tell the truth I honestly just thought it was a prank that someone was pulling..."
"Whoever this guy he must really like you." Jace said frowning at the heart shaped pictures.
"Is it somebody from our school?" I shook my head no.
"What do you want to do Vasco?" Jace asked looking at his friend
"We'll keep an eye out for anyone that looks suspicious and walk Y/n from home, work and class everyday until this guy is caught." He turned his attention towards you putting both hands on your shoulder.
"I'll protect Y/n with my life that's what a hero does!" And here come the ginormous blush on your face making you turn into a tomato hiding your face in your hands causing Vasco to panic thinking he made you cry, how did you come to fall in love with this big dork!
True to his words Vasco had the Burn Knuckles watching your every move while He, Jace Daniel, Zack and Jay tired to find out who was stalking you, while the Burn Knuckles would walk you home from school, work or stand outside your house which they had no issues with seeing as you always gave them some snacks and food to eat you it honestly made you feel bad but you were also thankful that they would do this for you but you still couldn't wrap your head around all this, you had a stalker?! You would understand if it was Zoe or Mira not that you wish that upon them of course but who in hell would want stalk you?!
you still have the letters in your hands so you look through some of them one of the letters trying to see if there was any hints on who it could been. That's when you read one letter that caught your attention
"I still can't believe you still look as beautiful as you did back when living in the states! I can't wait to see you again wearing that cute yellow sun dress!"
"Huh? Sun dress? I don't even wear dresses?" You decided to read another letter.
"I can't believe I finally found you again! I knew when you got older you'd become so beautiful just as you did all those years ago! My sweet sweet Y/n! I can't wait to hold you in my arms again!"
You were starting to shiver in disgust. He said he's met you when you were in the states but that was when you were still a child? Before you could look at another letter you jumped as you heard your front door slam open you immediately got up from your seat getting in a fighting stance (Daniel taught you a bit of self defense moves) you were scared that it was your stalker but that when you heard a familiar voice.
"Y/N! Y/N ARE YOU HERE?!"
My door slam open and you see Vasco who was breathing hard he must have ran here cause poor guy was sweating bullets!
"V-vasco?! Are you okay?" He than ran at you pulling you into a tight hug he had to lean down a bit because he was taller than you so you had to stand on your tippy toes he was shaking while hugging you that when you saw Jace who also was out of breath.
"Y-y/n thank goodness your okay!"
Vasco let you go looking down at you with a worried look that's when you noticed the blood on his forehead and his arm did he get into another fight?!
"What the heck happened?!"
"We got attacked but some thugs same thing happened to Daniel Zack and Jay but luckily they weren't hurt."
"I got hit in the head with a metal pole..."
"And you ran all the way here?!"
"I wanted to see you if you were okay..." I felt tears roll up and hugged Vasco again that's when you heard your phone go off Jace grabbed it putting it on speaker phone it was Daniel.
"Y/n! Are you okay?!"
"Yeah I'm fine! I'm happy to see you'll all okay! Ah! Daniel I've found out some clues about the stalker!" Everyone looked shocked.
"Really?! Who is it?!
"When we find him we'll make him pay for hurting our leader!
"And our princess!"
"Now hold on I don't know who he is but in two letters he's mentioned that he's met me when I was back living in the states but that was back when I was still a kid and he talks about a yellow sundress all i could think about wearing dresses with back in the summertime."
"Huh it's childhood friend maybe?" Jace asks I shook my head.
"I doubt that and besides the girls at school said the guy looked older so he could be a senior."
That's when Zack spoke.
"Hey! Bunny got any pictures of when you were a kid??"
"Uh yeah?"
"If this creep met you when you were a kid he might be in one of the photos!"
"Wow Zack so you can be smart when you really want too huh?"
"The hell that's supposed to mean!" He yelled threw the phone.
"Okay We'll talk more when you guys get here and Vasco your still bleeding!" You say sitting him on your bed getting out your medkit He blushed at your hands on him trying not to look at your face, The three Burn Knuckle members looked at each other with a knowing look their leader was smitten with you I mean he did run like three miles too get to your house.
As you were wrapping up his injuries you couldn't help but scold the boy for putting himself in danger.
"Vasco you need to be more careful! These injuries could be infected!" He looks you with a blank face.
"I know I'm sorry to worry you Y/n but I..I was really worried about you."
"As sweet as that is you still need to be careful Vasco this stalker obviously serious if he's willing to pay thugs to attack my friends...I just don't want anyone to get hurt because my dumbass." That made him grab your hand stopping you.
"Your not dumb! Your really smart you always helped me with my work at school and never got upset with me about it, and your so nice and you always make me an extra lunch box for me when I forget mine Y/n your amazing!" He said that with a lot of determination on his face Vasco was blunt so you knew he was being honest but it made you blush this boy here was so innocent but he always knew how to make your heart beat fast also his face was so close that it looks like you'd kiss at any moment so you moved him back a bit from you giving him a smile.
"It look like the others arrived let's go see what up!" I ran out my room holding my warm cheeks while the Burn Knuckles leader sat on your bed watching you run out his face turning pink.
When the boys got here I went in my mom's room and found our family photo albums. We had like a lot my parents loved showing people my baby photos. Zach was laughing his ass off because he saw me when I was a baby and my dad had accidentally dropped me and my face was red as a tomato of course I throw my shoe at his face causing him to let out curses on others couldn't help but gush over how cute you used to look as a kid not that weren't cute now but baby you looked so adorable! (Vasco was especially happy for some odd reason)
"Hey I think I found it!" Jace yelled out I looked over his shoulder and it indeed was a picture of of tiny me back when I was seven year old my grandfather had hand picked this dress out for me and apparently it was really expensive I was favored a lot by my grandparents but what really caught my eye was the man in the photo that was standing close to my grandfather that's when I had got a sudden chills than I remembered. When I was visiting my grandparents there was always this boy he was older than me same age as my cousins who are now in their 20s to 30s, he name was Alex he was in high school always kept to himself I felt bad for him so I drew a picture for him and gave him a sunflower I was a nice and kind of naive kid he'd always come over to play video games with my cousins but would always watch me from afar, I remember when he would visit me in the middle of the night he'd brush my hair kissing my forehead saying that one day when I was older he'd marry me take me far away from my family so we could be happy together. Thankfully my cousin caught him before he could do anything else and was told to never come near me again soon after he and his family moved or so I was told but that was years ago! Why now?!
Vasco saw me tearing up asked me what was wrong so I told them, they looked pissed and disgusted with this information the girls (Had video called Mira and Zoe cause they found out about the boys getting attacked) looked about ready to cry.
"How can somebody do that to a child?! That's disgusting!" Mira yelled out Zack was just as mad he saw you as a sister and hearing about some sick bastard attempting to harm you just did not sit well with him.
"But why now? It's been years there's no way he could be still obsessed with you after all this time?!" Daniel says hands shaking that's when Jace spoke up.
"Predators just don't up and forget their victims Daniel we need to contact police."
"But wouldn't he just expect that if we call the police then he'd be long gone." Mira says frowning.
"Shit your right Mira. We sat in silence but an idea popped up in my head and I clapped my hands getting their attention.
"Okay guys and gals. I have an idea but your not gonna like it." They all stared at me, Vasco held my hand in a tight grip.
"We'll protect you Y/n!" I smiled telling them the plan.
I was at the park wearing a yellow sundress sitting on a park bench Zoe said the pictures that he took of me always look like they were from a distance of course but in some of the photos you could see the outline of a monkey's bar so that means he was taking pictures of me while he was at the park the sick bastard.
was a really bad idea being here by yourself really isn't the best but you really don't have a choice that's when I heard footsteps behind me I thought it was probably Vasco trying to change my mind but then I saw it was a man wearing a black suit wear sunglasses his hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he was holding sunflowers...
"So I right you would come here, Alex?"
Once I said his name he removed his sunglasses and it indeed was Alex the boy who I met during the summer with my family his eyes were red and puffy like he's been crying and he had a smile on his face it's indeed was the same boy but now older and still had that same scar that cousin had gave him on his lip.
"Y/n my love you remembered me... I thought you had forgotten me my love."
When he step closer I took a step back making him freeze
"I'm sorry if I frightened you, it's just been a long time since I've seen you. You've grown up so much you're just as beautiful as the day I met you." He says looking you up and down. "Your even wearing the same sundress you did all this for me?" He blushed I winced but gave a nervous smile.
"Y-yes I saw how much you liked the sundress in the letters so I thought I'd wear one similar to it."
"Your so sweet Y/n! So so so sweet!" He had a crazed look in his eyes it made you sick.
"Alex if you don't mind me asking. What are you doing here in Korea?" He frowned at your question.
"I came to see you of course why else would I be here?"
"Alex it's been years I haven't seen you since I was seven years old." I say frowning.
"Exactly now that you're older we can fulfill our future run away together away from everyone who'd try to stop us! We can be happy isn't that what you want?!"
He tighten his grip on the flowers and his eyes were turning even more red like he was going to cry he was honestly scaring you it was just a two of us so even if you screamed I doubt anyone could even hear you. You take a deep breath looking him in the eye.
"Alex I'm flattered that you feel that way but I'm not sure if I'm ready for a committed relationship right now I still have school and I'm try to focus on that right now I hope you understand." I said sweetly he just smiled.
"You haven't changed you're still a sweet and kind girl I met all those years ago but I've seen how many men you've been around I'm honestly disappointed in you my Y/n..."
Huh? What is he on about?
"You know how much it makes me sick to see all those disgusting boys around you hugging you, holding your hand, walking you home from school and work! I didn't think you were that kind of girl!" You starred at him confused and slightly scared I mean yeah you gave your friends hugs and held their hands but not in that way!!!
"But that's okay! Once we're gone from this place you won't have to worry about those dirty boys anymore you can just focus all your attention on me from now on!"
yep he's fucking insane he's crazy this man has lost his mind! There was no talking to no sense into him! You immediately got into a fighting stance.
"Alex I don't want to hurt you but-" before you could get to finish your sentence you saw him pull out something from his back pocket your eyes went wide when you realize that it was a knife.
"A-Alex what are you doing?!"
"You don't want me...you don't want me...you don't want me... I don't understand... I love you I love you I worship you why don't you love me Y/n???? Huh? I'm the only one who will love you! Your body will be mine I've watched you for years and I know you've never had a boyfriend I know that you've been bullied because of your size and because you have a quarter of Korean blood running through your vein nobody would want someone like you but that's okay I want you! I love you ! so please don't make me hurt you just come quietly and we can work everything out!"
I felt sweat on my forehead and I was shaking. "A-alex you don't have to do this police are already on their way please stop this!" He didn't listen but ran towards me full speed.
"IF I CANT HAVE YOU THAN I'LL KILL YOU THAN MYSELF THAN WE'LL FINALLY BE TOGETHER!!!"
I was so scared I honestly couldn't move before I knew it he got was so close I could feel the knife near my nwck I shut my eyes waiting for something to happen but didn't feel any pain slowly opening my eyes you saw a back in front of me blocking you view of Alex it was Vasco.
"V-vasco?" How'd he get to you so fast??
"You bastard! What the hell are you doing here?!" Alex tried to get his hand out of Vasco grip but yelled out in pain as his hold got tighter.
"Let me go you fucking dirty bastard! You can't keep us apart I love her! Do you hear me? I love her!!!!"
Vasco didn't say anything but he was angry the plan was to try and stall Alex until the police showed up but they still weren't here yet and the minute he pulled out the knife it was to late Vasco ran out the bushes, he was angry and the tears in your eyes didn't make it any better.
"Is this love? Because if you really loved Y/n like you say you do...you wouldn't have made her cry."
Alex looked up at the tall muscler teenager in fear as he felt he wrist break.
"Bad guy's like you who make a pretty and nice person like Y/n cry doesn't deserve to say you love her!"
Vasco than punched Alex in his face that he flew into a tree his teeth were knocked out he was out cold. Vasco turned to you checking to see if the man had hurt you.
"Y/n? Are you hur-" before he could finish he froze as he felt arms around his waist you were shaking and your tears staind his shirt not like he really cared but all that mattered was that you were safe.
"Vasco...I was so scared! I wanted to fight but when I saw the knife I just froze!" You cried into his chest he said nothing but wrap his arms around your small form trying to comfort you they could hear their friends and police sirens coming but they tuned them out it was over now.
Later Alex was arrested for attempted kidnapping and murder you weren't going to spare anyone to glory details of what the police told your parents over the phone but he's been planning this for years had rope and other disgusting shit in his car he was going to use on you, your mother was crying over the phone when you spoke to her and your father thanked your friends for saving you they were rushing to return home you told them you'd just stay at Mira's house till they returned. Vasco was sitting next to you in the ambulance who gave you okay that you didn't have any injuries on you.
"Thanks for everything guy's I don't know what would have happened if you weren't here."
"We didn't do much honestly Vasco's the real hero here!" Daniel said smiling at his friend, who just sat quietly next to you holding your hand tightly you smiled cheeks dusted pink laying your head in his shoulder
"Vasco..."
"Hmm?"
you gave him a kiss on the cheek making him freeze up face turning bright red. Jace gave his friend a smile while the other Burn Knuckles sat in the back crying tear of joy for their leader along with Zoe and Mira who were suckers for romantic shit, Zack rolled his eyes kind of jealous that a guy like Vasco could get a kiss before he could, Jay and Daniel smiled today has been crazy but they were happy for the two.
Wow that was long asf like I am so sorry this story was so long it was meant to be short but I got so invested into it I didn't realize how much I had written it kind of some I don't like it but it is what it is I hope you guys took an interest in it it's more to come on the way! Don't forget to like and leave a comment lookism fans!
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Hi uh I’ve been a xfiles fan since it OG aired , I was 10 , now 39 I never got into fan fic other than shipping them real hard . My Q is where do you suggest I start btw I did recently read The Airport Aka Chillies fanfic that’s what got me wanting more !!!
I try to like whatever one I see on here but I get a little frustrated with some of them being sequential & out of order !!!
Like ok, I should have read this one before that !
Is there a place to go to read them in order or find out if one you red has a sequel or prequel?
Would really love the help !!!
Oh my god, how exciting! You have so many exciting worlds to explore! Welcome, welcome! There are various places to because of how well fans have maintained different archives over the years, but I'll recommend some places to start!
Below I'm going in semi-chronological order. I've included a lot of archive sites that you can explore, and then I've included some of my personal favorite specialized sites (with the exception of the Nursery Files, that's not really my genre but I know others like it. This is definitely not all-encompassing, the more general sites can help you find what your favorite genres are!)
The Gossamer Project
A classic, here you can search different keywords, search different episode tags, etc. The original Gossamer Archive was opened on May 4, 1995 by Vincent Juodvalkis after mirroring files from all the older FTP sites which collected stories from alt.tv.x-files.creative (ATXC) Usenet newsgroup. The last update of the site was in September of 2012.
X-Files Fan-Fiction Alphabetized Archives
Here is, as it states, an alphabetized list of various X-Files Fan Fiction archives. Pretty much-specialized archives of anything you can think of. This also extends beyond just fan fiction, as there are archives for author's webpages, fan art, etc.
Under the Covers Specialized Archive
This archive is a collection of MSR stories in which our favorite FBI agents go undercover... and find each other in the process.
The "I" in FBI Specialized Archive
The purpose of this archive is to showcase stories that feature a casefile or Mulder working as a profiler. This includes both pre-XF stories from Mulder's BSU days and XF time-line stories wherein Mulder and/or Scully are loaned out or assigned to a case.
Two Close For Comfort Specialized Archive
What is Stuck!Fic, you ask? Any story in which two (or more!) people are forced to stay in a certain place by circumstances beyond their control. Whether they're sharing motel rooms, surviving camping trips gone awry, dealing with bad weather, trapped in closets, locked up by bad guys, or even <gasp> going under cover as a married couple--they're stuck.
The Nursery Files Specialized Archive
Each fic archived here has one thing in common: a character within it is a baby, child or teenager. Many of these fics feature Mulder and Scully with children, but Doggett, Reyes, Skinner and other characters have children here too. A few fics include slash pairings as well(any fic listed in blue is a slash one). 
Whispers of X Specialized Archive
But the number one thing on our minds...the main reason we are here is for (drum roll please) "THE SMUT". Yep, ladies and gentlemen, that is why I am here. If you're here for anything else, I would have to say you may be in the wrong place. 
Agents in Peril Specialized Archive
Here you will find stories that deal with Mulder, or Scully (or both), or even some other series or original character getting stalked, kidnapped, or held hostage. 
X-Plicit Disclosures Specialized Archive
This archive contains a wide variety of fan fiction writing styles, content, and character exploration. Primarily it is a MULDER/SCULLY experience (tho' NOT exclusively)...open to the many different interpretations of their relationship that fan fiction has envisioned. These story choices tell, in my humble opinion, honest tales...(Of course let us not forget the redeeming social value of a very well written smut biscuit.)
xphilefic
Another place where you can look at various specialized archives. If you delete the "/archives.htm" in the URL, it will take you to the main page of the site. I don't think you can click the individual listings, but you can click the main three boxes that say "Authors, Archives, Stories"
Live Journal
Live Journal is a Russian-owned social networking service where users can keep a blog, journal, or diary. American programmer Brad Fitzpatrick started LiveJournal on April 15, 1999, as a way of keeping his high school friends updated on his activities.
I, personally, fundamentally do not understand how it works. I find it confusing. I don't even know what I linked here because I can't decipher a consisted method of archiving or categorization on the site. Some people like it I guess, but I don't think people use it anymore. (I would say it was most popular from the mid aughts to mif twentyteens).
I feel the same about Wattpad, a similar site.
FanFiction.net (FFN)
In 1998, Xing Li, a software designer, created FanFiction.Net. The site was created as a repository for fan-created stories that revolved around characters from popular literature, television, comics, or real-world celebrities. Apparently, the site prohibits NC-17 stories (and controversially mass deleted explicit stories when this was implemented), however, this rule is not really enforced.
This was very popular in the aughts, but is seemingly being phased out in favor of AO3. Nowadays there are ads in the middle of stories and the site seems to be deteriorating (in my opinion). This site was quite popular for X-Files fic after the series ended. The search engine is a bit finicky, and there aren't many methods of filtering the fic you want.
Archive of Our Own (Ao3)
Ah, Ao3. Our constant, our touchstone.
In 2007, a site called FanLib was created with the goal of monetizing fanfiction. Fanfiction was authored primarily by women, and FanLib, which was run entirely by men, drew criticism. This ultimately led to the creation of the nonprofit Organization for Transformative Works (OTW) which sought to record and archive fan cultures and works. OTW created Archive of Our Own (abbreviated AO3) in October 2008. The site's name was derived from a blog post by the writer Naomi Novik who, responding to FanLib's lack of interest in fostering a fannish community, called for the creation of "An Archive of One's Own." The name is inspired by the essay A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf, in which Woolf said that a writer needed space, time, and resources in order to create. AO3 defines itself primarily as an archive and not an online community.
An archivist's wet dream. You can search for fic with the ability to include and exclude certain tags. Hopefully authors are tagging their fics appropriately. This means including what they should and avoiding over-tagging for the purposes of getting more hits. (Just because Mulder thinks of his time on the boat in Triangle once in the length of a 42 chapter fic does not mean Triangle needs to be tagged for example).
Fanlore also here
Also run by the Organization of Transformative Works, this site has great fandom history and links to various works (especially 'classics' in the fandom).
X-Libris
This archive is currently being updated and in very reminiscent of the older archives! Great tagging system and organization. The creator also makes dust jackets!
X-Files Fan Fiction Exchange
Obviously you know about this one haha, but I would be remiss if I didn't hype this up. This is a bi-monthly event where authors write for each other (ala secret Santa) under a different theme. I made a website, but it is grossly out of date, so here are all the Ao3 Collections of the past exchanges!
@anniexami 's Spreadsheet
Annie has been carefully cataloguing the fanfic she's read with detailed tags and warnings, and it's a great resource for trying to find a story to read!
Tumblr
As you know, tumblr is a great place to find fanfic! Though, as you mention, it can be hard to navigate just because the format of the site is more social media-focused than archivally driven. It's all in the author's hands if they link things and tag things appropriately (which can be tricky on their end too). One recommendation I would have, is if you find an author that tickles you, search "authors name" and "masterpost". A lot of people keep an ongoing list of their stories, and I think the posts are a bit more easy to navigate.
Facebook
I hear your disbelief already, but there is a really good fanfiction group on Facebook called "The X-Files Fanfic Writer's Guild" where people promoted their stories, ask for recommendations, and can talk about fic. If the link doesn't work, just facebook search "x files fanfic" on Facebook, go to groups, and it should be there. The Fanfic Exchange also has a group page and a few other of the X-Files themed groups will chat about fanfic from time to time.
Podcasts about X-Files Fanfiction
You can listen to other fans discuss fan fiction, sometimes specific works, other times thematized talks or author interviews. The audiofanficpodcast in particular is available if you'd like to listen, rather than read, fanfiction!
@audiofanficpod @darkesttimeline
Other X-Files Fanfiction Related Blogs that I think are good for finding recs/stories
@lilydalexf @today-in-fic @xfilespornbattle
I hope this gave you a place to start! There are so many amazing stories out there, and I hope you have a ton of fun exploring the worlds that fans have created! I apologize that I can't give you specific recommendations, since I run a fan event, I never want to appear to have a bias or exclude anyone. But if anyone reading this has any recommendations or things I excluded anything important, please comment your thoughts so OP has more to read!
-- xoxo, Nicole
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alewritesfics · 2 years
Text
Off To The Races
Summary: It is time for the horse race, mend friendships and break them once again when you learn something saddening
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Sharma Sister!reader
Word count: 2.6k
Warning: grammar mistakes, most probably is cringy
Series Masterlist
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Dearest reader, it has been said that the competition is an opportunity for us to rise and stand ready before our greatest challenges.
Well if what this author hears this morning is true, then a great challenge concerning this season’s diamond has been set forth, indeed,
Any suitor wishing to get in an audience with Miss Edwina Sharma, or her sister Miss Y/n Sharma, must first tame the rather prickly spinster of a beast, otherwise known as her eldest sister.
Of course the only competition that appeals my attention, is the game of courtship, so best of luck to this year’s player’s, do try not to stumble along the starting line.
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“Lord Lumley, at the top”
“is he not something of a dandy” I heard as I walked down the stairs, I sighed shaking my head.
Another day of Kate and her list of suitors we are allowed to converse with. Honestly, I love my sister, dearly, but she can be quite controlling at times.
“I would use the term, gallant” Kate shook her head
“Is that what you look for Edwina?” Mama asked worriedly, Edwina smiled, looking at Kate
“If Kate believes in him, so do I” Edwina says making Kate smile triumphantly, I groaned.
“Deedee, please” I pleaded with Kate “ Just for one day, let us converse with the gentlemen we want” She looked at me with raised eyebrows
“At least let me,” I huffed “You know I trust your judgement, and I know you only want the best for us but, those men you write in your list are a bore”
“Alright” She agreed making me smirk
“I see you’ve left off Lord Bridgerton” Lady Danbury comments, I raised an eyebrow
“Oh, now he is, what the girls are looking for” Mama said
“Unfortunately, he already has in mind which of us he wants to marry” I scoffed thinking back to his comment on the night of the ball, they looked at me confused “Forget it” I walked to look at a painting, ignoring their conversation
“An oversight on your part, my dear”
“Lord Bridgerton is quite adept to conveying false first impressions”
“What did you hear?”
“He stated rather clearly that he seeks a wife only to fulfill his duty and in fact does not believe in love at all” I payed attention to them again
“Oh” I said raising an eyebrow
“And you find this unusual”
“Most marriages of the ton are in fact mere matters of business, my dear, matters that have been working for centuries, it is the true love match that is quite rare” I huffed once again at Lady Danbury words and turned to continue what I was doing before.
“You know what it is what you are looking for, sisters” Kate addressed us both “You must not forget it, Lord Briar will turn the Viscount into a distant memory, I am certain” Kate addressed me alone now, mentioning the gentleman that she wanted me to see first, I nodded without looking back at her, feeling her eyes on me.
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“Oh yes” I feigned my laughter, as the man in front of me told me a story. I sat on the drawing room, along with my family and Lady Danbury. Suitors coming in one by one.
Although I was not named the diamond of the season, I certainly had a lot of gentlemen seeking an audience with me, almost as much as Edwina, but of course, it is understandable that the people were seeking the diamond’s attention.
Kate walked out of the drawing room, checking the line of suitors standing outside. After a few moments, I interrupted him.
“If you may excuse me, I am going to tell Kate to fetch us some more tea, this one has grown cold” I smiled at him pleasingly and walked away, leaving him no room to answer.
“Did I say something funny?” I heard Kate say on the other side of the door, I went to open the door when I heard someone else say.
“ I believe you did” The Viscount.
“What is funny, my lord, is you here now after not only what I overheard the other night-“
“What you overhead the other night was not meant for your ears”
“-But after asking my sister, Y/n for a dance, and then going after my other sister, Edwina, after she was announced the diamond, you will know that you most certainly hurt her feelings by doing that-“ How did she even kno-
“-I did not mean to hurt her feelings, I consider Y/n only dear friend of mine, even if I’ve known her for a few days-“ of course, friend
“-but also in addition to everything I have now read of you, your dubious and libertine reputation goes before you” Kate finished, then just heard her start to walk inside, I took a few steps backwards, making it seem like I was jut now coming to get her.
“Deedee, tea has grown cold” I told Kate innocently, she smiled
“I will tell the maid to fetch some more, do not worry, now do not leave Lord Briar alone too long” I nodded and walked back towards Lord Briar. Trying to forget the conversation I just heard.
Only a friend
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“It is a marvel you love literature as much as i do” Lord Lumley told Edwina, who were both walking beside Lord Briar and I “Do you enjoy Byron”
“I have read some, my lord, though I believe myself a novice when it comes to poetry” Edwina answered
“How fortunate to have found such a well versed teacher in Lord Lumley, then” Kate intervenes
“And yourself , Miss Sharma?” Lord Briar asked me, pulling me away from their conversation, I hummed questioningly
“Do you read poetry?” He said
“Well, I am more of a novel person, I am afraid I have not read much poetry honestly” I told him as we came to a stop
“Lady Danbury” a young man approached us “ I would be so honored if you could facilitate a proper introduction, I fear my courting card got lost in the shadows of your home this morning” he looked at Kate
“Of course” Lady Danbury smiled “ Mr. Thomas Dosert, allow me to introduce, Miss Sharma and Miss Y/n and Edwina Sharma” we bowed, I looking at him intrigued
“A pleasure” Mr. Thomas Dorset said
“I’m afraid my sisters already have an escort for today Mr. Dorset” Kate informs him. Oh I am so certain he is not here for us, considering how he keeps on looking at Kate.
“That is very well, though I was hoping to speak with you” He said. A smile formed on my face happily, I tugged on Lord Briar’s arm and started to walk forward, Edwina and her escort behind us.
“ How are you finding the day so far, Miss Sharma” Lord Briar said, I smiled falsely at the boring conversation that was soon to follow
“Delightful, truly” I turned my head to look at the race track “Watching some horses race is fun, certainly keeps you on your toes as to which one us going to win”
“Shall we find our seats” Kate approaches us and ushers us on.
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“I cannot take this heat any longer” I complained to Lord Briar who nodded in agreement
We were seated now, I was sat between Lord Lumley Lord Briar, Edwina on the other side of Lord Lumley, and Kate and Mr. Dorset beside Edwina
“The helping of others is a noble interest indeed” Edwina said, I tuned in to the conversation now “Mr. Dorset is much like you in that regard, sister” she looked at Kate knowingly
“Edwina, you’ve yet spoken to Lord Lumley of his interests at all” Kate reprimanded .Lord Lumley suddenly stood.
“Lord Bridgerton” He called out
“Miss Sharma, Miss Edwina, Miss Y/n” The Viscount greeted us with a smile, I simply looked at him , making him frown for a small second “Lumley”
“How surprising to see you here, my lord” I said knowingly, he tilted his head at me
“Lord Bridgerton, allow me to introduce myself, Thomas Dorset” He nodded his head in acknowledgement
“Miss Edwina, I was hoping to call on you this morning-” Lord Bridgerton started
“-My sister is well aware of everything” Kate interrupts
“But I promised my family I’d join them for breakfast, we’re exceptionally close, break our fasts together regularly” he defended himself, I looked over to Edwina, who looked enchanted at what he was saying, I pursued my lips, looking away
“Oh, there they are” The Viscount pointed over to a group of people
“One can tell a great deal about a man from his family, I rather think” Edwina looked at Kate with raised eyebrows
“yes, there are many excellent, affectionate families amongst the ton, are there not?” Kate looked at Lord Lumley
“But none quite as inviting as the Bridgertons” Lord Lumley pointing in front of him, the Viscount holding his hands out happily “ my mother’s been wanting to come and enjoy another tea at Bridgerton’s house for some time, my lord”
“Well we must gratify a wish, Lumley” the Viscount answered making me scoff quietly, jt not going unnoticed by the man himself “ speaking of refreshments, I can’t help but notice the ladies without”
“We are perfectly content, thank you” I said without looking at him
“It is an unseasonably hot day and any gentleman would ma-“ Lord Lumley stood up once again from beside us
“Miss Edwina, allow me to fetch a lemonade” Lord Lumley offered making Lord Briar stand up too, saying the same thing.
“That would be most agreeable, thank you, my lord” Edwina agreed
“Alright I suppose one drink cannot hurt” Lord Briar nodded and left along with Lord Lumley
The Viscount then stepped between the people seated at the first row and sat between Edwina and I.
“It’s a splendid day for a race” Lord Bridgerton exclaimed, I looked at him unamused
I sat there bored, listening to Edwina and Lord Bridgerton’s murmuring “Lord Lumley and Lord Briar seems to have gotten lost on their journey back from the lemonade stand”
“I am sure Lord Bridgerton would be happy to search for him” Kate remarked “It was the Viscount who insisted on refreshments after all” the Viscount looked at Kate
“When the race is set to begin” he chuckled
“Which one is your pick, my lord?” Edwina asked him
“Nectar” he answered “ well bred, highly trained and well favored” I huffed amused
“Nectar, really?” I raised and eyebrow at him, he looked at me
“Yes, I have a feeling about him”
“ a feeling” I chuckled shaking my head
“Pardon me?”
“You simply chose the horse that everyone else has chosen, quite the feeling” I stared at him back
“I made a strategic bet” he defended himself
“Oh so you’ve considered your horse’s temperament, as well as the conditions of the track?. In order to properly assess it’s true potential” I huffed
“Why, it’s suddenly feeling rather warm these days, is it n-“ The Viscount cut Edwina odd
“Nectar is a prized steep” He argued
“Perhaps we should find a little more shade” Mr. Dorset cut in, Kate shook his head at him, amused at the Viscount and I’s argument
“Nectar ran well at Doncaster, but that was a firm course, the weather was much cooler, thus his size was an advantage, today the track is soft and it is hot, meaning he will struggle to make headway, overheat and slow down during the final leg, giving High Flyer, a much swifter, lighter, cooler horse, the victory” I smirked smugly
“You think too much about it” he said backing off from the argument
“And you too little, my friend” I held my head up high and looked away from him
“My apologies for the delay” Lord Lumley apologized as he returned once again, Lord Lumley behind him
“Don’t worry” I smiled at Lord Lumley “ Lord Bridgerton has been keeping us entertained”
“I’m quite certain he has” Lumley replied knowingly, suddenly not that happy with the Viscount’s presence. Lord Briar sat once again on his spot next to me, handing me a glass of lemonade, I smiled at him thankfully
“There is plenty of room, my lord” Kate said scooting over so Lord Lumley can sit besides Edwina. I now squished between the Viscount and Lord Briar.
The bells then sounded, indicating the start of the race, we all stood up as the horses ran. I now finding this day much more enjoyable. We cheered for the horses we bet on
“Good, High Flyer, Steady! Steady!” I cheered, it drowning between all of the crowds cheers
The horses ran, some falling behind while Nectar and High Flyer stood in the front. Nectar then, as I predicted, started to slow down
“Come now, High Flyer!” I cheered as I saw the horse get more closer to the finish line. I put my fingers In my mouth and whistled, the Viscount looking at me astonished
“ Should we separate them” Mr. Thomas Dorset said amused looking at the Viscount and I
“It’s all in good spirit” Kate laughed
“Yes! YES!” I cheered happily as High Flyer crossed the finish line first
“I must say I’ve never bested a Viscount before, beating you feels the same as any other win, but somehow smells sweeter” I said smugly “It is alright, maybe you will win next time, my friend, just let me enjoy this one, although you must be certain I will remind you for many days to come” I smiled at him, this time genuine. He smiled back happily, nodding his head
Maybe I should let this little grudge I held against him go, it is better to have him as a friend than as a enemy
“Alright, Alright” the Viscount agreed
“Sisters, does Nectar not remind you of the beloved horse I use to adore” we both nodded “ do you remember the one”
“Hold on to my arm, I’ll take you down to see him” Lord Bridgerton offered to Edwina “ Do you want to come along Miss Y/n?” He turned to me, I thought for a minute before nodding, he offered me his other arm. I grabbed it before he led us down and to where the horses were.
Lord Briar stayed behind along with Lord Lumley.
“Oh it Is so beautiful, are you not the sweetest thing ” I caressed the horses head “ Look Bon, touch it” I grabbed Edwina’s hand and held it to the horses head
“Oh it just reminds me of our beloved horse” Edwina said
“Does it not” I chuckled
“Although there is some saddening news” the Viscount informs us
“They are planning to send Nectar to knacker’s yard” both Edwina and I gasped saddened, Kate approached us then
“Kate, it is dreadful” Edwina exclaimed frowning “ they say Nectar is to be sent to the knacker’s yard”
“We are leaving” Kate told us both, I frowned confused
“I heard of a sore loser, Miss Sharma, but never of a sore winner” the Viscount huffed humorously
“Do not speak to me, or my sisters, ever again” Kate said rudely
“What has happened?” I asked confusedly
“It seems a second game was afoot today” Kate huffed looking back at Mr. Dorset “and Lord Bridgerton made certain I play the fool, let us go” Kate turned and left. I looked at the Viscount hurt.
“Miss Y/n, I did-“ he tried to explain once he saw my face, I cut him off
“ I do not want any of your explanations” I grabbed Edwina’s arm gently “ Let us go, Bon. And to think I considered you my friend, Viscount Bridgerton, at least for a few minutes” I walked away with Edwina, not bothering to let the Viscount speak
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leelei1980 · 1 year
Text
Part 11 - Beauty and the Freak
Dungeon Master 🌶️
Mature 18+ Smut Minors DNI
Veronica
" I feel weird about going to your meeting tonight. Like I am breaking some kind of 'No girls allowed' rule. I really don't want to interfere with your guy time Ed's." We sat facing each other on my bed, homework splayed out before us.
Eddie smirked." First of all, it is not a guys only club, Sinclair's younger sister Erica, or Lady Applejack as she likes to be referred to, goes all the time. She is a firecracker that girl, she has more balls than any on the guys, well except for Dustin. " He laughed. " I have asked the guys, they don't mind at all. I want you to see what Hellfire is all about, what I do two nights a month for hours at a time. " He leaned forward and lightly kissed my lips." Please Princess?"
I took his face in my hands." It is literally impossible for me to say no to you."
" Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow and whispered,"Can I fuck you right now on your pretty pink comforter?"
I felt my face get hot. " No-"
" I thought you said it was impossible for you to say no to me?"
" Baby, my Mom could walk in at any second-"
" Your right, I would hate for Lucy to catch me railing her daughter, especially since she thinks I am such a sweet boy."
" Yeah , I would absolutely hate that too. She's not naive, as much as she loves you she still doesn't want us having sex in this house. Why do you think she always comes in with drinks and snacks?"
" Because she's a total mom and doesn't want anyone to starve while they are under her roof."
" She keeps coming in to make sure we aren't getting busy. That is why the door must stay open at all times."
" It's a good thing she doesn't know what happens when she goes to bed at night and I sneak in." He smiled devilishly.
I could feel the blush still on my cheeks." But we have never actually had sex in this house. "
He sighed. " It is a dream of mine, to have sex with you in this sweet, girly girl room surrounded by your stuffed animals, lace curtains and your floral scent."
" A dream of yours?"
" Yup." He smiled. Almost on cue we heard footsteps coming down the hallway.
" Knock , knock!" My mom came in carrying a plate of cookies." How's the homework coming?"
" Good! We are almost done. " I grabbed a Chocolate chip cookie."Tonight I'm going to a Hellfire Club meeting."
" That will be fun. Just don't get sucked into his satanic cult ok?" She winked and laughed.
Eddie laughed." No Lucy, that doesn't happen until the second meeting."
She shook her head. " They are all a bunch of dumbasses, it just a game. Well I will let you get back to it!" She strolled out.
" So you are going to come tonight?" Eddie smiled widely.
I leaned closer to him this time." I don't know, am I going to cum tonight?"
" Abso-fucking-lutely." He whispered, giving me chills. " I promise to make it worth your while."
" I am sure you will. I can't wait to see my Dungeon Master in action. "
************************************
" Good evening Gentlemen, we have a special guest tonight. Ronnie is here to observe this portion of the campaign." Eddie dragged me into the drama room at the school. We were surrounded by every prop from every school play for the last 20 years, and there was a large wooden table with what appeared to be a throne on one end and heavy wooden chairs surrounding it. The Hellfire Club, which consisted of  Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair ( who happened to be absent tonight due to the basketball game currently happening at the other end of the school) and Eddie's band members from Corroded Coffin Jeff, Gareth and Scotty, were all sitting the table.
" Hey guys!" I smiled and waved to the group and they all greeted me back. " I promise I won't interfere with anything, just observing."
" We are glad your here." Dustin smiled at me.
" Yeah, if you'd like you can come over and sit by me? I, uh , could kind of walk you through it ." Mike motioned to a chair beside him .
" I don't think that is a good idea Wheeler, your going to need to have your head in the game," Eddie started setting up his binders and books and notebooks. " It's a nice gesture but your easily distracted." Eddie looked over his binders at Mike and smirked.
Mike Wheeler had been caught on multiple occasions staring at my chest and Eddie was convinced that the kid had developed a crush on me since the morning I walked out of Eddie's room wearing nothing but a hellfire shirt and panties. Little horndog. But in my defense I also wasn't expecting his entire group of friends to be standing in his living room at 7:00 in the morning. I wore that same Hellfire Shirt tonight, this time paired with a cardigan and a jean skirt. I knew that Eddie would appreciate the shirt because it fit tightly over my chest ,and the Jean skirt, knowing that it would be easy access for sex later on that night. He always seemed to be wound up after campaigns, not that I would ever complain.
I stood back and watched him set up, a look of concentration his face, this was clearly something he took very seriously. I listened to the chatter at the other end of the table, the guys strategically planning .  It was nice to finally see what it was all about.
Eddie looked over at me and smiled, " Hey Sweetheart, why don't you come on over and sit next to me?" He waved me over to the throne he sat in.I stood beside him and he pulled me down on his lap. " I am so glad that you are here Princess. " he gave me a quick kiss, then motioned to everything laid out in front of him. " I will give you a quick review of what what has been going on in this campaign then we will get started." He ran his hand up my thigh as he explained, of course everything sounded so foreign to me but I loved the passion and excitement in his voice.  Before he got started I climbed off his lap and sat in a  chair opposite of Mike and Dustin.
" Gentlemen, let us continue the quest for Phandelver treasure."
I sat back and watched for hours, trying to follow along , soaking in as much information as it could,completely enthralled. The man was an amazing storyteller, I had know this first hand when he read me the Hobbit, he was animated and dramatic , a natural performer. He really should have been in drama. The other members of the club ate it up.  It was equally as entertaining watching their reactions and how they handled the different situations.
" You are traveling through the dark forest on your way to the forbidden cave where the treasure you covet sits inside ,and your band of  Warriors Hear a crashing through the woods, you take cover, hiding behind trees, boulders anything you can to conceal your bodies. You slowly peek out from behind the trunk of the tree and spot a Minotaur-"
There was a huge reaction to this, an outburst of obscenities.
" We are all fucking dead!" Gareth exclaimed throwing himself back in his chair.
" There is no way we are going to make it out of this alive!" Jeff commented.
" Stop being a bunch of Pussies, we knew that there would be a guard outside the cave-"Dustin looked around the group.
" The clock is ticking gentlemen, he is getting closer and closer, he is sniffing the air, picking up on your scent,do you stay hidden and hope that he will pass you by? Or do you make your move, risk it all to get the treasure deep inside the cave? Do you fight or do you flee?"
The guys looked at Eddie, back to each other then back to Eddie.
" Timeout!" Scotty yelled. The group took off to the corner of the room to come up with a game plan, I could hear arguing, Dustin telling his teammates that they needed to grow bigger balls, I smiled to myself and then looked at My Dungeon Master. He had a smirk on his face as he watched the other's panic, he must have felt my eyes on him because he turned his head and gave a smile that had me melting in my chair. He got up out of his throne and sauntered over , placed hands on either side of me on the armrests and leaned down to my ear. " You would look so pretty riding my cock while I sit on that throne. A perfect seat for my sweet little Princess."
My eyes went wide, my heart started beating faster and I swallowed hard. "Jesus Christ Eddie."
" It's ok baby, they can't hear me,they are too busy panicking over there in the corner. What do you say Sweetheart?" He ran his hands up and down my arms, giving me goosebumps."After everyone has gone we have ourselves a little adventure of our own?"
I looked up into his gorgeous brown eyes of his. My stomach flip flopped. "If they lose to your Minotaur I will fuck you on that throne."
A slow smile spread across his face. "And if they win?"
" We are having sex either way , whether it is on the throne or in the van or on your bed, so really it is win win, this way just adds a little pizazz to it."
" I fucking love it." He leaned down and kissed me." I fucking love you."
" I fucking love you too. Now there isn't a way you can cheat at this, right?"
" No, these nerds know every detail of this game. It literally comes down to the roll of the dice."
I smiled." Good luck, Eddie the Banished."
He winked at me than ran back over to his chair." Time is up. What is your decision? There is no shame in running away."
" The odds that we will actually win this-" Mike exclaimed.
" Don't ever tell me the odds. What the hell are we even playing for if you all are too afraid to take chances? We can beat it between all of us if we don't turn and run away-" Dustin commented.
" Gentlemen, I need an answer."
" All in favor of playing this out raise your hands." Dustin looked around the group, there were 3 hands in the air. "Alright, 3 out of five , let's fucking do this!"
And then there was pure chaos. The boys were hollering and dice were rolling, Eddie jumped out of his chair , leaned across the the table, his eyes watching the dice like a hawk. I had no idea what the hell was happening but it was getting intense. Eddie swept his hand down and sent game pieces flying, the guys roared. I sat on the edge of my seat, literally watching the whole scene unfold. It was nuts.
" This is it, this is fucking it." Dustin took the die in his hand and closed his eyes. He shook it in his hand and everyone held their breath as he let it go onto the table. They all leaned forward waiting for the dice to stop on a number. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The dice stopped and settled.
There was a loud cheer. " We won! We fucking won!"
" You have destroyed the Minotaur, and are now able to access the treasure you have risked your life for. Enjoy the fruits of your labor. Congratulations, you have completed the campaign."
The boys went absolutely bonkers.
I watched Eddie smile then go over and pat them all on the back. I walked over to the group and squeezed Dustin's shoulder. " You've got balls kid. That was incredible."
He turned to face me, giant smile on his face." So when are you going to start playing?"
" I think I will just continue to watch for a little while. I'll leave it to the professionals."
There was a lot of happy chatter as the guys helped Eddie pick things up and put things away.
Mike looked down at his watch." Shit Dustin, we're late, Steve is probably waiting for us in the parking lot."
" Shit. Eddie, you need us to do anything else for you?" Dustin asked.
" Yeah Ed's, what else can we do?" Jeff asked.
" You guys go ahead, I just need to load up the van and lock the door, drop the key off on the front desk of the office. I've got it from here. No need to wait around,I'll be out in 10."
" Alright, good night Eddie the Banished." Dustin smiled and bowed, which Eddie returned in an even more dramatic fashion.
" Congratulations again guys! Have a good night!" I waved to them all as they smiled and walked out of the room.
Eddie plopped down on the throne with an exaggerated sigh. " I was so fucking close Princess, so fucking close! Dustin, that little Shithead is so goddamn fearless, he has no idea what he cost me tonight-"
I walked over to the door and turned the lock then flipped off the light switch. The dim safety lights came on and I walked over to Eddie.
I saw the smile on his face as I approached him." What are you doing darling?"
" I know how disappointed you are that they defeated your Minotaur baby, so I am going to make an exception." I stood over him and started to unbuckle his belt.
" We're really going to do this?"
" Unless you don't want to-"
" Of course I want to -"
" Then help me pull your pants down."
He did not hesitate , his pants were down in a blink of an eye, his shirt also on the floor. Even in the dark I could see how hard he was. I ran my hand down his length and heard him moan. If you had told me a year ago that just the sound of a moan could turn me on, or that I would be screwing my incredibly hot boyfriend in the drama room at the school after dungeons and dragons I would have laughed in your face, but here we are.
Ever since our first time I can't stop thinking about sex with him. I can't look at him without wanting to put my hands all over him. He is such an amazing lover, he can be so soft and sweet and gentle, and as I am more recently finding out also assertive and very vocal. He is so fucking hot.
I slid off my panties and straddled him, my hands running over his bare chest.He ran his hands up my thighs and hiked up my skirt, then continued up to slip off my shirt. He stared in awe at my breast, then a slow smile spread across his face.
" Are you ready for me Princess?" His fingers slid between my legs. " Your so fucking ready."
" I am always ready for you baby." I lined myself up with his thick cock and slowly lowered myself down onto it until I had taken him fully in. We both moaned at the sensation.
" Oh Fuck," Eddie breathed, I watched as his head rolled back, exposing his neck. I leaned in and kissed his throat, trailing kisses up to his jaw and then his lips. He moaned into my mouth as I slid up and down on his shaft. He felt so amazing, stretching me in the best way possible.
His big hand's grabbed onto my hips and he rocked me back and forth, he nibbled on my lower lip before pulling away. " You look so pretty Love, face flushed, your pouty lips swollen," he brought his hands up to my chest, slid his thumbs under the lace of my bra, grazing my nipples. Goosebumps washed over my skin." That feel good?" He thrusted his hips upward as I rode him and I gasped.
" That feels so good baby please don't stop." I begged.
He continued at a relentless pace, I whimpered as he hit the spot over and over again." Open your eyes baby, look at me." He tilted my chin up and I opened my eyes and gazed right into his. " I want to watch your beautiful face as you cum." He breathed.
I rocked harder and faster until I felt my body unravel." Eddie, cum with me."
I could feel his body bucking beneath me, I threw my head back as my own orgasm hit me hard and I cried out. I heard Eddie say my name, panting. I collapsed onto his sweaty chest, trying to catch my breath. I felt his arms wrap around me , his fingers in my hair.
" I love you so fucking much." He breathed into my ear.
" I love you too baby." I snuggled into his neck. " I could stay right here forever."
" Mmmm." I heard a rumble deep in his chest, he kissed the top of my head.
I reached up and was about to brush his hair off his sweaty forehead when the doorknob shook.
" Eddie?" It was Dustin.
" Fuck!" We both jumped in surprise then rummaged around looking for our clothes. I pulled on the first shirt I could find and my panties, smoothed out my skirt as Eddie jumped into his pants and slid a shirt over his head. He looked me over with a smile and made sure I was presentable. " Your shirt is inside out Doll,"
I took it off and flipped it right side out then slid it back on. He winked then went to the door.
He unlocked the door and opened it up." Henderson, what can I do for you?We were just getting ready to leave."
" We got halfway home and I realized I forgot my bag-" his brows furrowed. "Why are you so sweaty? Why aren't you wearing shoes?"
I slid my cardigan on then grabbed Eddies duffel bag." I'm going to bring this out to the van. See you later Dustin." I slipped past them and heard Dustin ask Eddie,
" Did you just have sex in here? Is this room tainted now?”
I smirked to myself but didn't stick around to hear his answer.
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moontheoretist · 10 months
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"And it is with that I highly recommend we begin shifting our focus to addressing the inevitable: extraterrestrial life. You have before you a copy of a statement made by Thor Odinson regarding the existence of, to be blunt, a shit-ton of planets and beings far beyond our little patch of space." The UN delegates didn't even blink at the language, now used to Tony's way of speaking. "I realize this is far easier said than done and there is a lot of history and bad blood to account for; however, we have got to get ourselves together and we need to do it soon. The next encounter may not end so well." A picture of the symbiote dragon was now projected in high-definition for all to see. "So you do believe there are more to come?" Asked the Nigerian delegate. "Yes, ma'am. I'm not saying all close encounters will necessarily be hostile—honestly, we should craft our policy with an eye towards non-aggression and open trade. But in this case? We were damn lucky this eldritch abomination was weakened from a previous battle and a 1000 year nap. It would be in our best interest not to wait around and hope that my team can handle the next one with zero casualties. We're amazing, but we're also a small group and there are billions of people on this planet. The time is now. The public is now aware that magic exists—that the supernatural exists—that there are extraordinary individuals among them. At this point aliens won't even be much of a stretch and shouldn't cause mass panic. But we must be smart about it." "You sound as if you have a plan?" India's delegate said. "I always have multiple plans and a love of talking. Please direct your attention to page 56. We have three large issues to tackle: adapting the UN's scope and function in addressing supernatural and extraterrestrial issues, updating our existing infrastructure to support evacuation and emergency measures planet-wide, and finally, a means of increasing access to information and resources for all peoples. If that means that certain States provide reparations for certain past activities then you'll just have to deal with that discomfort-" "Dr. Stark, you are not suggesting we resort to socialism-!" Tony sighed and pointedly clicked back to the slide showing Big Mother in all her glory. "Okay, look, this beast from Deep Space was two steps away from infecting the entire planet and sucking our brains out through our ears. Do you think she gave a flying fuck about our economic systems while tearing through the countryside? We are only as strong as the weakest among us and there are billions of human beings suffering from food insecurity and a whole host of issues—not through their own doing, mind you. What do you think will happen if hostiles gain a foothold in one of those regions? If our continued survival as a species ultimately comes down to a redistribution of wealth and workers controlling the means of production then you'll just have to get over yourselves. I, myself, prefer living. But, hey. Whenever E.T. decides that humanity is better off eradicated, I'm sure your family will be thrilled that you fought for the continued existence of an intangible stock portfolio." The American (and several other) delegates glared at him while a few had to discreetly duck their heads or take a sip from their glasses of water. "What we've been doing won't work, Ladies and Gentlemen. The average human being is comparatively short-lived, easily killed, and our technology? It is laughable. And this is coming from me. This thing flew around the cosmos with nothing but the wings on its back for eons; meanwhile, on the same scale we've barely figured out indoor plumbing. You guys wanted my honest assessment so I'm giving it—as we are right now? We are fucked. Some of our honored States have a vested interest in the status quo. I get that; to be honest I'm certain you know better than I what system will work best for your particular communities. I'm talking about the *global scale*. On that level the mess we've got is not going to fly any longer. If the next threat came tomorrow with a dedicated force our current distribution of resources prevents a timely and effective response. Our only saving grace right now is Asgard. Thor Odinson has reported that the King has a duty to see to the protection of the Nine Realms, of which we do fall into. But he's also admitted Asgard hasn't bothered with our little ball of mud in a millennium. If you want to put all your eggs in that basket I cannot stop you. But I'm not going to help you keep your head in the sand and I'm certainly not going to put my family's safety on something so fickle. You have families of your own—are you really going to risk their lives on a race of beings who have little to no regard for us? Are you?" Tony pointedly looked around the chamber. When he was satisfied, he clicked back to his previous place. "I've never been the type to roll over and give up easy so, again, these are my recommendations. You asked. Take them or leave them, but I really suggest you take them."
Have Time — Will Travel by flower-of-el (NibelungVelocity)
I seriously wish I could show anybody who screams "aack socialism! take that away" a huge cosmic dragon to scare them into shutting up.
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Team Top 10 Tunes : Charlie Cox
03 February 2012 (X)
Radio Host: Ladies and Gentlemen! Where have you been? It’s been a belter of a summer here in the Dayglo, and we missed you! It’s been groovier than The Rainbow, ravier than the Balearics, more dehydrated than Glastonbury, more rancid than A Big Day Out, more diva than Nell’s...and where were you? Never mind you’re back, the Dayglo is heaving, the bar is open, and please welcome if you will as tonight’s DJ one of the most interesting actors around – all the way from Blighty a man who was a pleasure to do business with (on The Ordained, and stand by folks, let us see if it gets through the gate to series with CBS); smart, urbane, impeccably mannered and extremely talented. You may know him best from Stardust or Downton Abbey (ep 1) or Moby Dick or heaps of other stuff. We know him best as the IRA fella in Boardwalk Empire (seasons 2 & 3) in which he was WAY WICKED! Anyway, enough from me, the screams are too loud for me to hear myself anyway...here he is, a big Dayglo hand, if you will...for the marvelous....MR CHARLIE COX!
Charlie Cox:
I Thought I'd put together a list of slightly lesser known classics. I've had to resist listing a Dylan, Pink Floyd or Justin Beiber (last one was a joke) but hoped it would be more interesting this way.
1. Lawrence, KS - Josh Ritter
Through a strange set of circumstances I ended up becoming friends with Josh long after being a huge fan of his. I once heard him sing this one live with no microphone or amp. He just belted it out from the front of the stage. Made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was extraordinary.
2. Ain't No Sunshine - Bill Withers
There's a quality to Bill Withers voice that is so moving to me. Something very gravelly and resonant. He seems like a real "salt of the earth" musician. I heard that he was discovered whilst fitting toilet seats to Boeing 747's. No idea if it’s true but very cool if it is.
3. Bulbs - Van Morrison
I see that a few people have chosen Sweet Thing already which would arguably have been my pick. So for a little variation I thought I'd submit this lesser known track from the album Veedon Fleece. Really gets me excited this song especially when the piano kicks in after 30 seconds! I kind of hate it when "old timers" say it, but when I hear this song I tend to agree... "They just don't make songs like this anymore"!!!!
4. Within the Rose - Matthew and the Atlas
The vocal harmonies that these guys do are stunningly beautiful. They are still relatively unknown but are on iTunes and I think are gonna be a big success soon. It's not mine to tell but I met Matthew once who told me the story behind this one. Amazing to listen to knowing it ... sorry!
5. Telegraph Road - Dire Straights
This one takes you on a whole life journey. It's 14 mins long so if you ever want to kill an hour just listen to it 4 times. I think if there was any band I could see in concert it would be these guys. Mark Knopfler on the guitar would be sensational.
6. New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down - LCD Sound System
Just recently discovered this living in NY. Don't really know the band very well but absolutely love this track and its touching melancholia. There's also a great documentary about the lead singer who decided to quit it all one day whilst at the height of success. It's called "shut up and play the hits."
7.Crucify Your Mind - Rodriguez
Talking about great documentaries. About a year after everyone else, I discovered Searching for Sugar Man needless to say it was unbelievable and I think I cried for the last 30 minutes. Two days later my girlfriend discovered he was playing so she surprised me with tickets. It felt like an historic experience.
8. Something Good - Alt J
Another new favorite of mine. Don't really have anything to say about it other than express my concerns about "killing" this song for myself by overplaying it. I seem to really struggle to not put it on every time I turn my iPod on. Or their album for that matter.
9. Gabriel's Obe - Ennio Morricone
Sound track to the film The Mission and a bit of classical to my list. I think this is probably one of the most moving pieces of music I have ever heard. Morricone, has elevated countless movies into a class above what they would have been without him. He's a maestro!
10. Untitled - Interpol
I very rarely respond to modern music that have little or no lyrics. This is an exception. I have no idea why I love it so much. It has a very dark, dangerous quality to me. Even the title "untitled" is in tune with the feelings the song invokes in me.
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[Loulou*di S3V1 L 3-3] Hana-Doll 3rd Season THINK OF ME:MONO Translation
Translation below the cut.
Google Drive link | Listen to the album on Spotify
Project Archive: L 3-3
(Crowd cheering, Loulou*di catching their breath)
Fan A: Ageha-sama!
Fan B: Welcome back, Ageha-sama!
Fan C: I’ve always believed in Loulou*di!
Ageha: (to himself) Ah… I can hear them; the cheers of the fans who admire Loulou*di–Loumiels… I see. I’ve finally beaten death as imposed by a nightmare and arrived here…! I’ve finally returned to the stage filled with light!
Rui: Ageha. Ageha!
Ageha: !! Rui.
Rui: Toki is acting strange.
Toki: Ah… (shakily giggling to himself)
Ageha: That expression…!
Rui: We should step back and let him rest.
Ageha: (addresses the crowd) Ladies and gentlemen, please kindly forgive me[1], the one who will lower the curtain of darkness. And please listen closely to the song of the nightingale that will appear in your dreams tonight. You should already know, but be it darkness or dreams, there’s nothing that can tear us both apart.
(The lights go out)
Rui: Toki-bou. Toki-bou! Pull yourself together, Toki-bou.
Toki: (groans) …Huh? Rui-san?
Rui: You finally regained consciousness. How are you feeling?
Toki: Why am I–What happened to the performance?
Ageha: The performance has been long over.
Toki: Huh? But, the encore–
Rui: The transport team will arrive shortly. You’ll head to the medical facility to rest.
Toki: Hmm? But I’m fine. After all, it’s the first time I got to be on Loulou*di’s solo show and I gave a perfect performance. My body felt so light that it’s like it’s not even mine, moving even better than I expected. It’s the first time I ever felt that way–it’s the best I’ve ever felt. If only I could stay on that stage forever. But… since when did we get back from the stage?
Ageha: … Toki.
(Doors open, staff comes in with equipment)
Rui: Over here, please. We’ll leave it to you.
Medical Staff A: Understood. Hey, over here.
Medical Staff B: Got it.
(The staff walks over, starts strapping something onto Toki)
Toki: Huh? What?
Rui: A mattress[2]? Why would you need something like that?
Medical Staff A: Prepare the ampoule.
Rui: That ampoule…
Medical Staff A: Orders from above. We’ve got clearance to inject the water if it comes down to it.
Rui: Regardless of the circumstances, don’t you think the intervals between doses are too short? During the administration of the medicine a few days ago–
Medical Staff A: The dosages are being monitored to ensure they don’t lose their efficacy. There’s no need for you to worry.
Rui: But–
Medical Staff A: Only things that will pose a hindrance to Loulou*di’s activities must be avoided. Those were the orders from the president himself.
Ageha: … I see. Then we’ll let you handle it.
Rui: Ageha!
Toki: (gasps)
Medical Staff A: The dose has been administered successfully. Everything after is up to you.
Ageha: Understood. However, if anything happens to Toki, I will never forgive you.
Medical Staff A: …
Ageha: Go ahead and try. My intentions are clear.
Medical Staff A: …Please excuse me.
(The staff leave)
Rui: Ageha, there’s no doubt about it. Toki-bou was showing signs of assimilating the preserve.
Ageha: So it seems. Unconsciously performing on stage, and that trance-like expression. However, if we just let it be and allow the effects of the medicine to wear off, it will only cause confusion to the mind. It’s exactly like what happened to Amemiya.
Rui: But between then and now, the frequency of administration is too high.
Ageha: The progression of preserve assimilation is also too fast. After that many incidents under those circumstances, I would have failed to advance long ago.
Rui: I don’t feel the need for that comparison. At any rate, the progression of your fortitude only appears to travel downhill.
Ageha: Are you saying that you see my futile resistance as unmatched?
Rui: No. You’re unmatched in every way.
Ageha: …Dammit, you’re pissing me off.
Rui: Toki-bou’s flower bloomed faster than any others’ we’ve ever seen. To suppress the possibility of betrayal from his growth and loyalty, do you think they could have purposefully accelerated the water administration cycle?
Ageha: Don’t joke around like that.
Rui: It’s simply a guess. But regardless, the answer should be in the medicine.
(Door knocks, a staff member enters)
Staff C: Please excuse me. The reporters are waiting outside.
Ageha: Ah… I’ll speak to them. Rui, you stay here.
Rui: I’ll come with you. I can’t have you work–
Ageha: If both of us were to go, then it would look like we ourselves are suspicious of Toki’s absence.
Rui: …
Ageha: If I were to go as our representative, then we could get those irritating reporters off our backs. Just listen to me and wait here.
Rui: Alright.
(Ageha leaves)
Ageha: (sighs) I’ve had enough of that demon… Whether what I’m up against is God or fate, I won’t let it get in my way again. Ever.
(Sound of equipment)
Medical Staff C: Oh, this antibody…. The numbers aren’t stabilizing. Let’s see, the Doll in Observation Room 1 is…
Medical Staff D: (on the phone) President, you don’t mean…! You’re kidding, right? Administering water to Loulou*di at this pace… You do understand what will happen regardless of what results we obtain, don’t you? …That’s–well, but… Understood. As long as it’s what the president wants, we won’t object. Then, please excuse me. (hangs up)
Medical Staff C: Um, that call earlier…
Medical Staff D: I must have been pretty loud if you could hear that, Musumi.
Medical Staff C (Musumi): Sorry.
Medical Staff D (Musumi's Colleague): No, I apologize as well for raising my voice.
Musumi: Not at all. Well… is there a problem with the administration of the water?
Musumi's Colleague: Ah, you haven’t been assigned to it since you came here.
Musumi: That’s right. I went through all the materials thoroughly during my training, but there was nothing much written in detail about the water.
Musumi's Colleague: How much do you know about the water?
Musumi: It works like a photosensitive personal assistant that helps the Dolls continue to thrive even with growth abnormalities, and by extension the withering. In short, if Dolls are flowers, then the absence of the water would be significant. Am I wrong?
Musumi's Colleague: You’re right. But it’s not as good as it sounds. Instead of achieving a state of pleasurable high, other emotions are heavily suppressed.
Musumi: The materials did say that the sense of euphoria is heightened.
Musumi's Colleague: (scoffs) You said it well.
Musumi: Emotions change and vary during the peak period, and I heard that the answers collected from the research show that the physical state has an influence on the results. If the priority is to alleviate as much suffering as possible while stabilizing the condition, then I think it’s fine.
Musumi's Colleague: But the efficacy of the medicine isn’t permanent. If we don’t keep a close eye on the administration schedule, then it’s a one-way express to drug reliance. 
Musumi's Colleague: …Mind if I ask you something?
Musumi: What is it?
Musumi's Colleague: Why did you come to work here?
Musumi: I wanted to have a hand in the forefront of medical research. Well, even though this isn’t what the public recognizes as ‘medical’.
Musumi's Colleague: I don’t blame them. The one calling the shots is a production company and the results are in the form of idols. Both are inextricably linked. A weekly publication mentioned it sometime back too, that research that involves putting something nobody can fully grasp into a human and making them sing and dance like dolls doesn’t fall in the same category as finding out cures for diseases.
Musumi: Then we can put a more positive spin on it.
Musumi's Colleague: Positive?
Musumi: It’s not something easy for a layman to understand, is it? If there’s such a strong opposition, it’s proof that there’s potential for it in the future. That’s what I think. …
Musumi's Colleague: That sure is optimistic.
(An alert notification starts sounding off)
Musumi: The Doll scheduled for emergency admission has arrived.
Musumi's Colleague: I see. I’ll go take a look. Discharge the Doll in the Observation Room.
Musumi: Understood.
Kaoru: … This is…?
Musumi: Good morning. Um… your name is…?
Kaoru: Kisaragi Kaoru.
Musumi: Yes, yes. Kaoru-kun.
Kaoru: Excuse me, but could you be a doctor I haven’t met before?
Musumi: That’s right, I was recently assigned here.
Kaoru: I thought so.
Musumi: ?
Kaoru: Doctors here rarely call me by name.
Musumi: I-I see. I’ll keep that in mind. (clears his throat) Right, during the examination, did you experience any dreams?
Kaoru: Yes, I did.
Musumi: What kind of dreams?
Kaoru: I wonder…
Musumi: Do you not remember?
Kaoru: More importantly, Doctor, have you ever wondered, between what you see in dreams and what you see in reality, which one is the real one? Or rather, perhaps the view you thought was a dream is reality, and what you are experiencing right now in the present is all a dream. Have you ever thought about that?
Musumi: That’s…
(An alert notification starts sounding off. Musumi picks up the phone in the room.)
Musumi: This is Observation Room One. I heard the alarm, what’s happening?
Musumi's Colleague: The Doll that just came in for emergency admission has disappeared in the presence of staff.
Musumi: Eh?
Musumi's Colleague: Instructions now are that nobody is allowed to leave the premises. Hurry and start searching the medical facility.
Musumi: U-Understood. (hangs up)
Kaoru: Emergency admission?
Musumi: A-Ah, that’s right. Your hearing is not done yet.
Kaoru: It’s okay. I’m going to head back to the dormitory.
Musumi: Huh, b-but…
Kaoru: I felt like I did dream, but I forgot everything. So I can’t tell you anything more. I’m sorry. Besides, someone went missing, right? 
Musumi: Ah, yes, but…
Kaoru: Please quickly find them. I’ll be okay. I’ll change my clothes and go back like usual.
Musumi: … Then, it’ll be of great help if you do that. Thank you.
(Musumi leaves)
Kaoru: Like usual… How is it like ‘usually’?
Translator’s Notes:
Ageha uses ‘boku (僕)’ instead of his usual ‘ore (俺)’ to refer to himself when addressing his audience, or in the presence of others aside from Loulou*di.
I believe the word here used is ‘teishou (低床)’, which usually refers to the low floor of a platform or vehicle. In this context I translated it as ‘mattress’.
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ghostbustersreborn · 1 year
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Chapter 4
having to spend the night in jail was one of the worst experiences tara has had in her entire life.
she had four panic attacks. three anxiety attacks. and every little thing made her burst into tears.
at five am. tara eventually fell asleep by laying on all three of the boys.
with her head in egon's lap. upper body in peter's and legs on ray.
it was very uncomfortable for all three of the boys.
now, today was their court hearing.
they had louis tully as their lawyer.
this was really bad.
"the law does not recognize the existence of ghosts. and i don't believe in them either." spoke the judge. "i don't want to hear a lot of malarkey about goblins, spooks, and demons."
a police officer handed him papers.
"we're going to stick to the facts in this case and leave the ghost stories to the kiddies, understood?" requested the judge.
winston stopped by their table a few minutes before the hearing started.
tara was feeling the most anxious out of all of them today.
she didn't want to go to jail.
she was only sixteen. she didn't want to spend the rest of her life behind bars.
she had her best friend emmy. emmy didn't want to be friends with someone in prison and tara couldn't blame her.
"wow, sounds like a pretty open-minded guy, huh?" winston remarked.
"i want to die." tara mumbled.
"yeah, they call him "the hammer"." egon mentioned.
"what can we do? it's all in the hands of our lawyer now." ray said to egon.
tara buried her face in her hands.
"we're so screwed." she agonized.
as if on cue, louis appeared with his arms full of books.
"i think you guys are making a big mistake." louis stated.
"i think we are." tara agreed with him.
"i do mostly tax law and some probate stuff occasionally." he explained. "i got my law degree at night school."
"well, that's fine, louis." ray told him. "we got arrested at night."
ray's head dropped to the table.
tara's did too.
"violating a judicial restraining order, willful destruction of public property, fraud malicious mischief." jack chuckled. "see you in a couple of years at your first parole hearing."
just as he walked away, peter went "you'll never take us alive."
"all right, all right, let's get on with it." spoke the judge.
tara lifted her head. she had tears in her eyes.
time seemed to go by slow. tara was exhausted, so were the boys. it felt like this was going on for hours, expect it was only about thirty minutes in..
"your honor." louis spoke nervously. "ladies and gentlemen of the.. the audience." he turned to them.
"oh god. why did we choose him to be our lawyer?" tara whispered.
"i have no idea." egon whispered back.
"i don't think it's fair to call my clients frauds, okay, so the blackout was a big problem for everybody, okay? i was stuck in an elevator for two hours." he mentioned.
tara slumped down in her chair. this was getting worse not better. worse.
"and i had to make the whole time. but i don't blame them, because one time i turned into a dog and they helped me." he explained.
tara closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"thank you."
louis returned back to his chair.
they could hear people chuckling.
tara never felt more humiliated in her life.
"very good, louis. short, but pointless." egon commented.
time skip to another thirty minutes.
the proton packs were put out on display. something, the boys had to hold ray back for when the officers were taking them out of the ecto-1.
"mr.finaella." said the prosecutor. "please look at exhibits "A" through "F" on the table over here."
on the table next to the proton packs was the slime, ray collected from underground.
"do you recognize this equipment?"
"yeah." finella said. "that's the stuff that the cops took from their truck."
tara rolled her eyes.
"dumbass." she muttered.
"do you know what this equipment is used for?" asked the woman.
finella sighed. "i don't know. uh, catching ghosts, maybe. i don't know." he took a guess.
the judge gave him a look.
"may i remind that the defendants are under a judicial restraining order that strictly forbids them from performing services as paranormal investigators or eliminators."
louis got up, quickly handing the judge his paper after the woman did.
"thanks for the reminder lady." tara grumbled.
"so noted." the judge said, taking the papers.
"now, mr finella, can you identify the substance in this jar marked exhibit "F"?" she questioned as she picked up the jar and took it over to him.
he took the jar, examining it.
"yeah, yeah that's the stuff." he hummed.
tara rose a brow at him.
"your honor, i've been working underground for con ed for 27 years. i never saw anything like this in my life." mr finella honestly answered.
"hmm." nodded the judge.
"whatever's down there, they must of put it there."
ray stood up. "no, we didn't!" he objected.
egon and peter coaxed ray to sit back down.
tara let out a shaky breath, she ran her fingers through her hair.
the judge banged his gavel. "shut up!" he ordered. (idk why but that sounds so wrong 😂😂)
now, peter was sat at the chair with louis speaking. well, more like peter feeding him words and louis trying his best to repeat what he said out to the audience and to the judge.
"so, you were just trying to help out a friend?" louis stuttered out.
"a friend. who was frightened." peter whispered.
"who was a scared of what was happening to her." louis stumbled over his words.
tara clasped her hands together. "oh, god please help us all." she prayed.
"there's no choice in praying to god now, god can't help us." egon informed her.
tara whimpered. "aw, man." she pouted.
"and when you're scared, what?" louis turned to him.
"there was no evil intent." venkman repeated himself.
"there was no evil intent and no malice." louis echoed. "because you live here and when you live in a place, and you love it like you do."
the prosecutor slowly stood up, when she saw what was happening.
"you don't want nothin bad to happen.. what?" louis again turned to him. "it'll never happen again. it's an isolated incident, it's a one-shot deal." he blabbed.
"objection, your honor." the woman interrupted louis and peter.
"what?" louis stepped forward.
"he's leading the witness." she called them out.
"sustained!"
"give me a break, we're both lawyers." he said to her.
"mr. tully, do you have any questions for this witness that might have some bearing on the case?" the judge inquired.
louis turned to peter and asked; "do i?"
"no, we've helped them out already." peter denied.
"no, your honor." just as he walked away he looked over to the woman and went; "your witness."
"dr. venkman." the woman said as she walked over. "would you please tell the court why it is that you and your co-defendants took it upon yourself to dig a very big hole in the middle of the first avenue?"
"well, there's so many holes in first avenue, we really didn't think anyone would notice." he joked.
the audience laughed.
"you keep that up mister, i'll find you in contempt." threatened the judge.
tara went to go flip the judge off before egon gave her a look which made her put the middle finger down.
the slime gurgled.
"i'm truly sorry, your honor." peter apologized.
"i'll ask you again, dr.venkman. why were you digging the hole?" the prosecutor pressed. "and please remember you're under oath."
peter smiled. "there are some things in this world, that go way beyond human understanding. things that cannot be explained, things that most people don't want to know about. that is where we come in."
ray nodded his head, agreeing with everything peter said.
she stepped forward. "so, what you're saying is that the world of the supernatural is your exclusive province?" she questioned.
"kitten, i think what i'm saying is that sometimes... shit happens, someone has to deal with it, and who you gonna call?" peter exclaimed.
the audience erupted in cheers.
i mean, as they should.
"shut up!" the judge snapped.
time skip again, towards the end of the hearing.
"peter venkman, raymond stantz, egon spengler, tara venkman, stand up!" he yelled. "get up!"
they did as they were told.
tara's breathing hitched.
"i don't want to go to jail." she murmured.
"you too, mr tully." he included.
louis reluctantly got up with the others.
tara shut her eyes tight as the judge told off what they were guilty for.
tears ran down her face.
the slime began to gurgle again.
she reopened her eyes, that was the first thing she saw.
was the slime.
tara's brows furrowed.
"what the?" she whispered.
ray noticed it too.
"egy, she's twitching." ray relayed to egon.
egon looked over. his eyes widened too.
"i'm not finished!" the judge thundered.
the slime gurgled more, rising up to the surface of the jar.
"on a more personal note, let me just go on record as saying that there's no place for fake charlatans.."
"uh, your honor?" egon spoke up.
"shut up!" he barked. "tricksters like you in decent society.."
"uh, your honor this is really serious." tara interrupted him.
the slime bubbled over onto the table.
"you play on the gullibility of innocent people." he continued.
"yes, sir.." ray spoke up.
"be quiet!" he demanded.
some kind of wind picked up in the court, making the scene more intense.
tara had her eyes set on the slime.
what was it going to do?
what was going to happen?
"but." ray pointed.
"if my hands weren't tied by the unalterable tethers of the law"
the slime covered the table in it's pink goopy substance.
if this wasn't serious right now, tara would have smiled.
"i would invoke the tradition of our illustrious forbearers, reach back to a purer, sterner justice."
egon pointed to the floor.
everyone slowly got down, shielding themselves from the slime.
"and have you burned at the stake!"
tully gasped, slowly lowering himself down to the ground and under the table.
an explosion went off, eliciting screams from the audience.
tara gasped.
"woah!" she said in awe seeing two bright blue ghosts chained to chairs appear before them.
the ghosts laughed hysterically.
papers flew off of tables as the wind picked up in speed.
"wow!" ray also said in awe.
more screams erupted from the audience as they all tried scurrying away.
and people said ghosts weren't real.
"oh my god, the scoleri brothers!" the judge gasped.
the judge jumped over his bench and ran over to the group. he dropped to the floor, trying his best to stay hidden from the two ghosts.
"the scoleri brothers!" he exclaimed again.
"friends of yours?" tara sarcastically asked him.
"i tried them for murder, gave them the chair!" he explained.
the ghosts shrieked as it continued to wreak havoc in the courtroom.
this was intense.
at least tara wasn't feeling so stressed anymore.
"you gotta do something!" he said to them.
"why don't you just tell them you don't believe in ghosts?" egon sassed.
ray nodded in agreement.
the table lifted from them. they all screamed. they quickly got up, hurrying out of the way of any of the ghosts oncoming attacks.
they made it to the door.
the judge tried to open it. but alas the door wouldn't budge.
the ghosts had obviously locked it.
the judge knocked on the door repeatedly.
the ghost laughed.
the judge then turned to ray, holding onto him for dear life.
"you gotta do something! help me!" he begged.
tara snickered. finding this amusing.
"don't talk to me, talk to my attorney." spoke ray.
"and that's me!" louis cried.
the judge slowly turned to him.
"my guys (he quickly looked over to tara) and girl are still under a judicial mistrangement order." louis reminded him. "that blue thing i got from her." he said, referring to the prosecutor. "they could be exposing themselves."
"and you don't want us exposing ourselves!" peter stepped in.
"not after the shit you put us through today." tara added in.
speaking of the prosecutor..
she let out a scream as the two ghosts grabbed hold of her, dragging her out of the court room.
they all ran over, watching her being taken away.
tara smirked.
"bye, bitch." she waved.
the judge turned away. he had his hands on his head.
"oh, no!" he shouted.
peter went over to him with a smile.
"you're next, bubbles." he told him.
"all right! all right! i rescind the order, case dismissed." he gave in.
"hooray, we won the case!" louis cheered.
"now do something!" he ordered.
they came out from their hiding spot, going over to their proton packs.
they picked them up, putting them on. even tara put one on.
peter groaned as he put his on.
"i always hated this part of the business." he confessed.
tara laughed.
"wuss." she teased.
"shut it, or you're going to jail." peter joked.
they got out their neutrona wands, ready to attack.
"you know, it's been a couple of years since we've used this stuff." peter realized. "i hope it still works."
"it should. power cells have a half-life of 5,000 years." egon addressed.
"well, there's no time for a bench test." ray said. "heat 'em up."
as they turned their neutrona wands on..
"do."
"re."
"egon."
egon smirked when peter gave him a look.
"oh, so egon "i'm always serious" spengler has a sense of humor now?" tara commented.
this was some character development, if i do say so myself.
they looked ahead, just waiting for the ghosts to reappear.
ready to fire at any given moment.
the silence was so loud. it was deafening.
the wind wooshed as they each took a step forward.
chairs began to flip over on it's own. indicating the ghosts were here.
"whoa!" ray exclaimed.
the chairs bounced over one by one.
they started firing at the ghosts who now made their appearance(s).
the boys yelled out.
the ghosts growled at them.
sparks flew about in the room. as the group struggled capturing the insane ghosts.
"jesus! what are they a class five or something?" tara wondered.
"no, a class three. your nose would be bleeding if they were any higher." egon informed her.
the ghosts flew out of their reach, disappearing into thin air.
peter let out a yell.
silence filled the air.
did they catch them?
they started to laugh.
even egon laughed.
but their celebration was soon abruptly stopped by one of the ghosts reappearing.
"oh, shit!" tara swore, jumping a little.
louis screamed, running out of the way.
tara turned on her netruona wand again. she glared at the ghost.
"okay! hold it!" egon instructed her.
tara brought the ghost out to the middle of the room. she followed her proton stream.
once getting a perfect capture stream on the ghost. all three of the boys smiled in victory.
"you got him! you got him!" ray proudly exclaimed. "spengy, get the trap." he ordered.
"okay! okay!" egon said as he went to go grab the trap.
just as he did, the second ghost arrived. coming towards him, laughing it's eerie sinister laugh.
"behind you, ray!" egon pointed with the trapper.
egon ducked right as ray sent out his proton stream towards the ghost.
glass shattered, having most of it land onto the judge.
"hold him, ray!" he demanded.
peter stepped in and helped tara handle the first ghost.
"the both of you, start bringing him back!" egon told the father-daughter duo.
they did as they were told. slowly bringing it out of the center of the court room.
"come on, you fish eater. let's go. yeah tubby." peter insulted the ghost.
egon kneeled down, with the trap in hand.
"ray, keep pulling to the right." he commanded. "okay, the trap's going in." egon said once both tara and peter were closer to him.
egon slid the trap over.
"now, now, now!" yelled ray.
"hold it, ray!"
"hit it!"
egon hit the pedal, opening up the trap.
slowly but surely both the ghosts were zapped inside.
the trap beeped. they all stared at it with bated breath, just waiting for the ghosts to pop out.
once, they were for certain the ghosts were fully trapped inside..
tara let out a sigh she hadn't known she had been holding.
"oh my god. i thought it was never going to end." she expressed, holding a hand to her chest.
all four stepped over to the trap, with smiling faces.
"two in the box!" ray declared.
"ready to go." egon said back.
"we be fast." peter went.
"and they be slow!" all four exclaimed, pointing to the trap.
louis came into view and stared down at the trap.
"wow!"
*
the boys and tara walked out with many people from the press wanting to interview them.
"we're the best! we're the beautiful! we're the only, ghostbusters." peter declared.
the ghostbusters were back.
*
1 note · View note
gukyi · 3 years
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love me or we both go down | kth
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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!
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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. 
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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. 
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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.
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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.”
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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.”
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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?
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“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. 
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When Taehyung wakes up the next morning, the first thing he says to you is that he hasn’t slept that well in ages. 
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“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. 
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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. 
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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.
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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.”
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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.”
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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.
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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.”
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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. 
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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?
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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. 
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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. 
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Requested by @mypridefulsoul27. Hope you like it. Thanks for the request.
Taglist: @nocturnalherb16. @jesseswartzwelder. @mypridefulsoul27.
"So what are these pills called again"? Antonio asked about this new drug on the street. It already had forty overdoses under its belt and growing.
"Pez". You replied, handing him a sample of the product that you got off a dead guy.
"Like the pez candy"?
"Yeah, it even comes with it's own pez dispenser and everything. Makes it popular with the kids". You tell him as you went to put the last two overdoses on the board. They were thirteen and sixteen that had a bright future before them.
"That's Eva's and Diegos age". Antonio sighed.
"From what we know, the dealer is a strip club owner named Marco Stewart. He has connections to strip clubs, porn studios and apparently schools as well. He has a record longer than my arm. Mostly drug charges and a few DUI's, assault with a deadly weapon and a breaking and entering". You tell Antonio and the others as they started to come in.
"A model citizen". Jay chuckled.
"Yeah, his club has been shut down for redecorating and looking for new talent. So if it's alright with Voight. I was thinking I could go apply and someone else". You looked at Voight who was noddling his in approval.
"I'll go. I can go be a bartender or something". Antonio volunteered.
"They're looking for dancers and a bouncer". You tell Antonio. He lifted a eyebrow.
"Alright set it up. You sure you're cool with this, Y/N"? Voight asked.
"Yeah. I want this guy off the streets. Parents will sleep better at night". You smiled and went to get your coat.
"A stripper? Of all undercover missions I have to miss is, Y/N being a stripper. That hurts". Adam held his chest dramatically.
"Eat your heart out". You laughed as you walked past him. Antonio snickered as he followed.
Adam playfully dropped on his desk dead. Kevin and the other laughed. You were taking this serious.
"So what's your name"? Marco Stewart asked, looking you up and down. A toothpick sticking from his mouth.
"Heaven. I'm a little piece of Heaven". You batted your eyes and flirted with him.
"More like a big piece of Heaven". Marco chuckled, his eyes went to your breast.
"Oh you're so funny". You playfully hit his arm.
"You're hired. So what about your boyfriend"? Marco watched Antonio out of the corner of his eye. Antonio was looking at the stage in the club.
"His names Johnny. Just got out of the pen. Had five years but did three for good behavior". You smiled.
"What was he in for"?
"Possession of a controlled substance". Antonio turned to talk to Marco. "That's what the asshole cop said once he planted it on me". Antonio looked between you and Marco than laughed. Marco laughed as well.
"You use to deal"? Marco asked intrigued.
"Yeah back in Brooklyn. I dealed for nine years and nothing but they catch me picking up a ounce of weed for my moms and I'm in prison before I can bat my eyes. It was bullshit". Antonio put on a thick Brooklyn accent.
"Alright. You're hired too. Both you be here Friday night, six o'clock. I got something for you two do before you go on".
"Wow, thanks. I cant wait to show you my moves. I promise it'll be amazing". You gushed, hugging Antonio and planting a kiss to his cheek. "We got the job, baby".
"Let's go home and celebrate". Antonio growled and picked you up carrying you out of the club.
Antonio put you down and headed to the car. "That was easy".
"Yeah. Now we have to figure out what he wants us to do". You say as you and Antonio drove to the station.
"Heaven? You chose Heaven as a stage name"? Adam scoffed.
"Yes, I'm a little piece of Heaven". You seductively purred.
"Yes, yes, you are". Adam smiled like a fool. Antonio rolled his eyes.
"Do you think he wants us selling drugs for him"? Antonio asked.
"Maybe. We could get a few undercovers in there as customers. Give us a better chance at catching him with the drugs". You suggested.
"We can do that. But we dont want to spook him. Since theres two new faces in the club and then add more. He'll know somethings up". Voight replied.
"Yeah. You're right. We go in tomorrow at six".
"Alright. Make sure you two are ready and prepared for this. I dont want it going bad and someone getting hurt. No dealer will go down nicely". Voight reassured.
"Yes, sir". You say. Antonio and you had a rough night sleeping. Your minds raced.  Tomorrow was a big job, a lot was depending on you two. You couldn't screw it up.
"My little piece of Heaven". Marco greeted you as you came into the club his arms open for a hug.
"Good even, sir". You purred in his ear.
"Oh, sir. I like that". Marco laughed. "Come on, I got something for you guys". He waved you and Antonio into the back room.
"So tonight is going to be big. Huge! We have Heaven here making her debut and everyones coming. Everyone. So I need you two to be selling some of our delicious product. It taste just like candy". Marco chuckled as he opened a box that had about five hundred pills inside. Enough to kill a whole school of kids.
"I've heard about this drug. It's supposed to make sex even more amazing". You wrapped your arms around Antonio's waist and started kissing his neck. Antonio went along and grabbed your face deepening the kiss to your lips.
"Fuck yes"! Marco cheered.
Antonio pulled away panting, you licked your lips. This was the first time you two let your sexual tension free on each other. It was there but you two kept it bottled up.
"I like you two. This is going to be a great partnership". Marco grinned.
Around seven, people started arriving. Each person got a pez and a pat down from Johnny the bouncer. Antonio was taking his job seriously. You were going around getting drinks for the customers until you were called to the stage.
"Baby, why dont you take this fifty and we go back to the back and play"? A creepy older guy slapped your ass as you sat his drink down on the table.
"No thanks". You smiled and went on your way. You had to breath cause if you didnt you would have taken the drink tray and popped him up side the head with it.
"Heaven, baby. It's almost time". Marco pointed to his wrist and you nodded. You went back to the dressing room and changed into a diamond bralette that didnt hide anything and a pair of black cut up booty shorts. It wasnt your taste but Marco wanted you to wear it. You splashed on some glitter and perfume before you heard your song come on.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a new comer here that has blessed us with her beauty. Please give it up for a little piece of Heaven". Marco introduced you to the cheering crowd. You walked on stage and put your hand on his shoulder.
"We also have a special guest to share the stage with her, our own bouncer Johnny Boy". Marco put the spot light on Antonio which caught both you and him off guard. You didnt know his was in your performance.
Marco waved Johnny on stage, Antonio gulped and went up. Marco had a chair for Antonio to sit in as you danced.
"Show em what you got baby doll". Marco slapped your ass.
You smiled at Antonio, he looked nervous. The combination of spot light, the men sitting around watching and the part where he liked you this was a bit to much for him to stand.
The music was flowing through your veins. You swayed your hips to the music in between Antonio's legs. Your hands on his knees, your ass on his lap. Antonio licked his lips, he got the courage to put his hands on your hips and guide you along.
You smirked, rolling your hips. This was all work but you could throw in some play as well. The crowd of cheering men disappeared when you turned around and straddled Antonio's lap. Your hand wrapped around Antonio's neck as you grinded on him. He looked into your eyes as he helped you move your body.
Your eyes wondered over his face, his eyes sparked in the lights, he had a slight smirk on his face and you could see Marco deal out a baggy of Pez.
"Now". You said and Voight and the team busted in. You got off of Antonio and went after Marco, Antonio followed your lead.
Marco didnt run, he had his hands up and ready for cuffs.
"For a dealer, you went easily". You told Marco as you handed him off to Jay.
"I'm just the bottom of the food chain, baby. I'll get a slap on the wrist". Marco laughed as he was taken away.
"Great job, you two". Voight nodded and walked away.
"You look absolutely beautiful". Adam smiled like a bigger fool as he came over. You looked down and covered yourself up.
"I'm going to go change". You hurried to the back.
Antonio slapped Adam on the back of his head. "Watch it". He pointed at Adam. Adam stood there confused. 
You got dressed quickly and headed out front. Suddenly all eyes were on you.
"What"? You looked down at your outfit. You had tight red pants on with a red jacket and a black see through corset. You may have taken it from Marcos wardrobe.
"You look good, Y/L/N". Jay chuckled along with Adam and Kevin.
"Thank you". You giggled.
Antonio came by your side. "You do. You look really good. Um, you wanna get coffee"? Antonio rubbed the back of his neck.
"Are you asking me on a date"?
"A coffee date".
"Oh". You were kinda sad that that was it.
"Just for now. I'm kinda tired so coffee will hold you over until Friday night". Antonio sent you a wink.
"Yeah. I'd like that".
"Great". Antonio held out his arm for you and you wrapped yours around his. "Where did you learn to dance like that"?
You laughed. "Believe it or not there was a time I wasnt a detective. But that's for another time".
Antonio smirked as he lead you to his car and you were off on your first date.
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