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chateautae · 3 years

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maybe i do | kth. III

➵ summary : maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳ part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre : arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 17k (im sorry omg)

➵ warnings : oh boi we have aNgSt, serious familial issues, swearing, multiple fight scenes, mainly verbal but there is a slap in one, mentions of a wound, mentions of alcohol, (there’s honestly a lot that goes wrong in this chapter but at least tae and the reader have each other), sexual tension :o, bit of possessive!tae, (i mention a short reader a lot but i just wanted to say you’re beautiful even if you’re tall! tae is just very tall to me askldjs)

➵ a/n: i’m back and hoLY is this chapter loaded (and a lil unedited forgive me!!) i’ve finally finished school and get a whole month off now! who knows what works i’ll release in that time 👀. as always, feedback is appreciated loves!

chapter three : “the window opened one time with you and me”

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“Mother?” You stood frozen, completely and utterly shocked as to how your mother was just opposite of you, smiling brightly as if she hadn’t done a single thing wrong in her life and loved you unconditionally.

How incredibly wrong that was.

“Y/N! How are you? Oh dear, it’s been so long!” Your mother threw her arms around your neck, pulling you against her for a hug you just barely returned.

“Good. You?”

“Oh, I’m great!” She beamed.

“What are you doing here?” You inquired, shutting the door after her entry.

“Ah, I just couldn’t believe my daughter’s married now, I wanted to drop by and say congratulations!” Your mother cheered, grinning widely as she began scanning the grand interior of your house, leering as though you weren’t standing just before her.

“Drop by? You could’ve just came to the wedding, Mother...” You suggested despondently, plastering a pained smile onto your face. You attempted to meet her eyes, though they rather seemed to sparkle at anything that appeared expensive.

Anything but you.

“Oh, I was in Ibiza. I couldn’t just leave while my resort pass still had benefits on it, you know me.” She flashed you a cheeky smile as she playfully hit you, propping her heels off.

You nodded half heartedly, trying extremely hard to not lose it on her because you were in your home; a place meant for peace and comfort and didn’t have room for negative.

Not to mention, Taehyung resided just upstairs in his study with most likely his door open, and you didn’t want to risk bothering him if you raised your voice.

“Ibiza was more important than your own daughter’s wedding, huh?” You spoke to yourself, nodding in a manner that would somehow help you accept the sad fact, though instead called forth a feeling you should’ve grown accustomed to by now.

Disappointment.

She knew about the wedding, you knew your father informed her of the ceremony along with its date and time. Though as she audaciously ogled the embellishments of your front foyer and spoke to you carelessly, she practically screamed she gave 0 fucks about your wedding. That what really mattered to her was living out the full experience of an expensive vacation than attending a life-changing night for her daughter.

Typical.

“Oh, c’mon now. When you put it like that it makes me seem so bad.” Your mother pouted like a child. “It wasn’t a real marriage, anyway.” She waved off the conversation as she ventured further into the house, bold enough to strike another conversation . “My God, this is the house of the Kim Taehyung?” Your mother’s eyebrows shot up, drinking in the grand size and wealthy look of the home. “You got very lucky, Y/N.”

You cocked an eyebrow, incredulous of what she was insinuating. “What do you mean, Mother?”

“Y/N, you’re married to Kim Taehyung. Do you understand how fantastic that is? For you?” Your mother was on the verge of scoffing, smoothing over her dress as she looked elsewhere. “He’s an incredibly rich man, and considering that life of yours it’s a miracle he ever agreed to marry you.” Your mother relayed nonchalantly as she caught sight of an exquisite vase.

And there it was, the belittling. You’d mentioned before you were often disparaged and received numerous insults when anything concerned your status as the runaway heiress. But what you failed to mention was the person who claimed the #1 position as your largest and most incessant hater.

Your mother.

“Mother, it doesn’t matter to me whether a man is rich or not.” You countered, trying to quell your snippy tone but it was as grand a fail your mother was at being a mother.

“What do you mean?”

“Unlike you, I’m not obsessed with my husband’s money.” You almost spat with crossed arms, only this comment causing her to turn towards you.

“Excuse me? I’m your mother, watch your tone a little.” She scolded quite lightly, before returning to inspect a painting.

You scoffed, “My mother...” you repeated under your breath, rolling your eyes.

“No mumbling, Y/N. Speak up.”

“I said it’s funny you’re referring to yourself as my mother.” You voiced clearer.

“And why is that so funny?” You could visibly see your mother failing to control her temper with you, masking it all behind a fake smile she mastered ages ago.

“Because you’ve been anything but a mother.” You retorted, knowing exactly what this conversation was leading into.

An argument.

“And you’ve been daughter of the year?” Your mother countered, sarcastic tone cutting the air, and it only made you more irritated.

“Here we go again, the bad daughter narrative.” You scoffed. “Find something new to argue, will you?” You narrowed your eyes.

“And you believe your bad mother narrative is any better?” She sneered back. “I’ve even come to visit you yet this it how you’re treating me. When will you ever learn to be grateful?”

“Please, you chose a vacation over your own daughter’s wedding.” You held a hand up, gesturing against her audacity. “And when have I ever been ungrateful? I don’t remember biting the hand that fed me.”

“No, Y/N, you didn’t bite the hand that fed you, you completely neglected and abandoned it.” She claimed, drawing closer towards your direction. “You left this family to pursue your own selfish desires. You’re the very definition of ungrateful.”

“Excuse me? Definition?”

“Yes, definition. You threw everything your father worked so hard for away. All he ever wanted was to provide his family with a comfortable life, but you instead wasted his efforts and made everyone's lives so much harder. Do you really think I’ll forgive you for what you did to your older brother?” Your mother voiced in an accusatory tone, bringing up an age old argument you knew was going to ravage any peace between you two.

“That was not my fault, he was already due for the same thing in Korea, it doesn’t matter if he’s in the U.S now.” You argued back.

“It’s all your fault! You’re the reason Yoongi hasn’t been able to come home in years! You ruined his entire life by making him uproot and take over the U.S faction when it was your role. Your decision to leave forced him into it!”

“So you’d rather have my life uprooted and ruined than your precious son’s?”

“Because my son isn’t like you! He isn’t selfish at all, Yoonie is a hard-working man who’s always listened to me and your father, always rightfully prioritized the company. But you? You’ve only ever made things worse. You’re completely useless, all you do is tear this family apart. Your father has to pick up your work, you keep your brother out of this country and give me years worth of stress!” Your mother shouted louder than she should’ve, angry as her eyes revealed searing frustration, contempt.

You were trying to negate the hurt you felt by her words, having trained yourself to endure their sharp sting, though no matter how many times you heard them, it never made it any easier.

“Oh please, your favouritism is showing, mother.” You remarked with near tears, her disregard for you so disturbingly apparent it left your eyes watering.

“Yoongi has always loved his work and the company, but I never have. When will you understand that? If I’ve ruined our family so much why have I never heard these same words from Dad or Yoongi? They’ve always supported me, understood and loved me regardless of what life I chose. Why can’t you do the same? Why can’t you just try to understand me for once?”

“Because there’s nothing to understand. You’re an heiress to this family, you are meant to live for this company and this company only. You owe your father and I your life, nothing has ever been yours. The least you could do to pay us back is by rightfully working at the company and not being as much of a disappointment as you are now.” You mother’s tone was strict and resolute, utterly fed up with you.

“Cry me a river, mother. I don't owe you a single thing. You’re one to talk about working alongside Dad and the company, all you’ve ever done is use his money without a single care for his work.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Mother, all you do is use Dad for his money. You know next to nothing about business or the company and have the least amount of right to lecture me about it. At least I’m not a woman who mooches off somebody and lives recklessly!” You snapped back at her with tears just pooling your lash line, arms crossed tightly holding your chest where it felt your heart would collapse.

“Do you understand who you’re talking to? Speak with respect, Y/N, I am your mother.” She tried to finalize, but you weren’t having any of it.

“And I could care less. You’ve never once done anything to warrant that title. All you’ve ever done is travel the world and bathe in the luxuries your husband affords you without ever being there for me or Yoongi. It was always dad despite being so busy, it was never you. You weren't even there for my wedding, when I needed my mother the most. No, you’re someone who’d rather use your rich husband and forget he’s a person.” Your voice was shaking at this point, practically rattling. “You may not have been there for my wedding, but I would never do that to my husband.” You let everything out without a care at the point, flooding the tense air.

Your mother seemed to completely lose it at this, her tone scarily still as she gritted through her teeth. “You wouldn’t do that to your husband, really? Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing right now?”

You flashed her an incredulous look. “Pardon?”

“You’re married to one of the richest men in Seoul, and you think you’re not doing the same thing? Whose house do you live in? Whose food do you eat? Whose lavish lifestyle do you now get to relish in? It’s all your husband’s, not yours.” Your mother was practically spitting venom at this point, scoffing. “I must say, your quest for independence is interesting, having landed you in the exact same place you always berated me for. Look where you are now, mooching off your rich husband.”

If words could dagger you in the heart and looks could kill, you’d surely be 6 ft. under by now.

Years, years you’ve been stuck in this constant loop of back and fourth with your mother, arguing the same 5 things you could never see eye-to-eye on. And no matter what she said, no matter the insults, the belittling, the verbal abuse she always spat your way; you’d grown used to it. Her words became normal, second nature to you and so you easily drowned them out. Her insults became useless weapons you simply dodged and avoided.

But this, this was where your mother won.

Her words dawned a laughable sense of irony on you, nearly physically reeling as though someone had punched you in the gut at the realization. It was raw agony, the very prospect you’d spent the entirety of this ordeal evading.

To think the same independence you fought so gravely for, can so easily be erased and forgotten all due to marrying a rich CEO. It felt pathetic, unfair you had no choice but to marry Taehyung. It wasn’t his fault he was rich, neither was it yours.

It was just coincidence, pure and utter coincidence. But to think this very coincidence would be the reason your stomach is churning and self-worth is collapsing; it was fucking unfortunate, miserable.

“Leave my house, this instance.” There was no emotion in your voice, it was flat, vision clouded.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said get out!” You yelled, the shrill in your voice evidence of tears. “I don’t ever want to see you again!”

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me! I’m your mother!”

“You’re not my mother at all, you’re the worst excuse of one. Leave my house!”

“It’s not your house, Y/N! It’s your husband’s, and you will end up living the same life as me, using your husband for his money!” Your mother had somehow made her way over to you, having the audacity to push you back by your arms, driving her point home by the act of aggression.

You gritted through your teeth, eyes teary. “I’ll never be like you, I’ll never be a cheap woman who only stays with a man for his money. A woman who probably cheats on her husband with wealthy men in other countries!”

This was the moment your mother gasped scandalously, becoming so irate she didn’t hesitate to raise her hand and slap you across the face.

You stood emotionless, not even having the capacity to feel shocked or in pain due to how normal this was. There wasn’t a single unfamiliar thing about the sting of her hand, the way her manicured nails scratched against your skin and worse, the way her wedding ring usually cut into your cheek to produce a small wound.

It was all too familiar, making you scoff as if this was exactly what you expected from her, exactly what you've always known.

“You still hit your grown daughter, huh? The last 10 years of it weren’t enough?” You endured the ache, swallowing back tears. You weren’t letting them spill, not at this.

Not at something as undeserving as your mother.

“You give reasons to, Y/N.” Your mother simply crossed her arms and looked away, showing the slightest hint of shame though never allowing it to leak into the proud and egotistical persona she assumed around you.

A suffocating silence pierced the air, looming for some time until you spoke.

“Leave this house, mother. I beg of you.” You pleaded, not out of desperation, though out of sheer tiredness. Tiredness of the same argument and the same insults you always directed each other, tired of the same outcomes that only ever lead to more bitterness tainting your relationship. “Don’t make this any worse, we’ve probably disturbed Taehyung upstairs.”

Your mother looked at you with lightly raised eyebrows, inquiring. “He’s home?”

You nodded faintly. “Yeah, so leave.”

“Am I not allowed to meet him?” Your mother seemed offended.

“No, you’re not.” You stated firmly, not caring about the sliver of respect you thought you had for her and instantly pushing her towards your front entrance, nabbing her shoes along the way.

“What are you-” She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before you swung the front door open, guiding her outside and shoving her shoes in her hands.

She was about to retort until you shut the door on her, locking it. You leaned against the wood as you heard her protests, not minding her calls as you allowed your constrained tears to finally stream down your face.

It was too much, she was too much.

Why could your mother never see eye-to-eye with you? Why couldn’t she be a normal mother? Why couldn’t she be supportive? All she ever did was preach how useless you were, how selfish and ungrateful your very existence was.

Of course someone like her could never understand, never understand the value of autonomy and achieving something for yourself; she’s never once done anything along those lines in her entire life.

Her words ran deeper today than they ever have, sending a stifling feeling to swarm your chest, your self-esteem and everything alike collapsing along with your pride.

It hurt, it really did. To hear those words from the very woman meant to love you so dearly, so unconditionally only exacerbated the pain. It made you jealous of every child you was gifted with a kind mother, not daring to curse anyone for it but simply feel it was unfair. Even Taehyung had such a warm and loving mother.

Maybe that’s why Taehyung was so warm.

Taehyung.

You realized you were out in the open shedding tears where he could possibly see you, trying to silence the sobs that escaped your lips. You only failed, agony tightening your chest and growing more painful the more you held it all in. So you clutched your hand to your mouth and made straight for the kitchen sink, running the water loudly enough to drown out the sounds of you candidly crying.

Your cheek still stung, your heart ached and your mind spun endlessly, all while trying to desperately rid yourself of the worthless feeling inside you.

And it didn’t work.

Taehyung had been working, scrolling through his laptop as he diligently reviewed status reports, only to have a notification brighten his phone screen. He flashed his occupied vision towards it and caught sight of his security system alerting him of his front door.

He grew curious knowing the housekeepers were shopping for groceries at this hour, causing him to tap the notification and display the camera feed of his front porch. He was welcomed by a woman he’s never seen, peaking his curiosity.

He almost rose from his seat until he saw the woman turn towards the door in accordance with you opening it, assuming you most likely knew her as she smiled brightly and ventured comfortably into the home.

Taehyung shrugged it off and returned to his tedious reading, staring at the practically blurring lines of text until he eventually began hearing raised voices from downstairs, his ajar doors and grand home producing an echoing effect that reached his study.

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow as he grew slightly worried, discerning it didn’t sound like a friendly conversation. He abandoned his work and made towards the doors of his study, peaking towards the direction of his stair railings that overlooked the first floor of his home.

More of the conversation became apparent, and Taehyung instantly identified it sounded more like a negatively charged argument than a conversation. His eyebrows furrowed the more he listened, knowing it was bad manners to eavesdrop though finding himself doing so anyways.

“You heard me, Mother, all you do is use Dad’s money. You know next to nothing about business or the company...” Taehyung’s eyebrows shot to the sky, realizing you were speaking to your mother; the same woman you explicitly expressed was to be avoided at all costs and even winced at the mention of.

He couldn’t forget that from the first time he met you.

“...Speak with respect, Y/N, I am your mother. ” The crudeness in your mother’s voice was already indicative of your ill relationship, the harshness sounding like second nature.

Taehyung grimaced.

“...All you’ve ever done is travel the world and bathe in the luxuries your husband affords you without ever being there for me or Yoongi...” Yoongi? As in your brother, Min Yoongi? Taehyung only loosely recalled Min Yoongi lived and worked in the States, where he headed your father’s lucrative faction there.

He’d only met the mellow, though diligent man a couple times before.

“...I would never do that to my husband.” Despite the intense situation, Taehyung felt the slightest tinge of pride hearing you refer to him as your husband.

“You wouldn’t do that to your husband? Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing right now?”

Oh fuck, Taehyung thought. This isn’t going anywhere good.

“You’re married to one of the richest men in Seoul, and you think you’re not doing the same thing? Whose house do you live in? Whose food do you eat?...”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Taehyung became alarmed, silently drawing his index finger and thumb over his lips in frustration. You didn’t need to hear this, it was complete bullshit. Your situation with him was different, it was forced and coerced. Taehyung could tell you were someone who truly didn't favour using someone else’s money, and knew you were trying your damn hardest to adjust to the idea itself having to spend your life with him.

He rushed out into the hallway where he began pacing, trying his hardest to contain himself and hope that you wouldn’t take your mother’s words to heart. Was this why you were so adamant about the fucking card? Because you had to hear shit like this from your mother?

This was only going to undo the work he’d successfully laid out, thinking it would erase any convincing he had done about his money and what’s his is yours. This was bad news, he didn’t want you thinking any of your mother’s words were true.

They simply weren’t.

“Leave my house, this instance.”

“What did you say to me?”

“I said get out! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

Taehyung was becoming anxious, the argument was clearly escalating and he felt uneasy, an incessant feeling bothering his chest.

There it was again, that same sense of protection he felt when he saw you practically shaking talking to that Kisoo guy. He didn't understand why it manifested, or why he felt it so emphatically. All he knew was after hearing the way your voice nearly cracked, unstable and troubled as you grew more emotional, he felt the strong feeling to oddly.. rescue you?

It’s like he wanted to bolt down the stairs, physically stand in between the argument and force your mother out of the house, all while trying to persuade you what she said wasn't true.

Why did he feel this way? This was none of his damn business, had absolutely nothing to do with him yet if it weren't for half the mind he had, he could’ve found himself racing down the stairs to defend you.

Taehyung shivered at the thought, shaking it off.

“... you will end up living the same life as me, using your husband for his money!”

“I’ll never be like you, I’ll never be a cheap woman who only stays with a man for his money. A woman who probably cheats...”

And not long after he heard the slap, evidently hard and painful in just it’s sound. Taehyung immediately froze in his tracks, halting his pacing as worry blossomed in his chest. He prodded over to hide against the edge of the wall that connected to his staircase, able to peak at the sight of both you and your mother stood before the front foyer.

Taehyung felt pissed within seconds, again unable to decipher why he felt the need to protect you. Though what he did know was that he felt bothered, never wanted anyone to hurt you and he hated the very thought of it.

Maybe it was because of his considerate personality again, or maybe it really was because of you.

What made Taehyung grow even angrier, though, was the way you reacted, listening to you dub this as something that happened often, and he was uber pissed now.

You didn’t fucking deserve that at all.

It took him no time to understand your apprehension and natural disliking for your mother, wanting himself to never have to converse with her. He would most likely be rude and curt, replaying the same vile words she really had the nerve to say to her own daughter. Scratch that, his wife.

Yeah, Taehyung thought. My wife shouldn’t be treated like this.

He knew it was wrong, impolite of him to assume and judge a person so openly based on their cover, though Taehyung could tell these were your mother’s true colours, and any other persona she assumed would only be a farce.

Taehyung watched as you simply shoved your mother out of the house, shutting the door only to lean against it and allow the tears you’d hidden to fall down your cheeks. Taehyung turned his back and leaned against the wall, concealing himself to give you privacy.

He knew it was already rude to have eavesdropped, even ruder to look on at such a vulnerable moment. It was rude because he wouldn’t even be able to comfort you, only watch as a dumb-founded bystander; rendered useless because it wasn’t his place to console you.

He knew nothing about you.

He really didn’t know your situation, the relationship you had with your mother. He couldn’t step on your toes and give you advice as if he knew you, nor supply you with words that would make you feel better; contemplating he’d possibly never be able to.

He wasn’t your remedy, he wasn’t your muse, just a man you were forced to marry and now have to live with. A man who stripped you of your independence, ruined your life all just by his mere existence.

And so Taehyung found even more reasons to not rush to you, simply leave you on your own knowing he was partly the reason for your pain, your suffering. That your mother only said such things because of him, that she only insulted you because of him.

So he found himself retreating, walking carefully back to his study to mind his own business and continue his work, complete it as though nothing happened.

But as each step seemed to grow longer, heavier, he found himself unable to retreat. Unable to function knowing you were probably hurting, unable to ignore you and so blatantly turn his back on you.

So in a hasty, irrational decision, Taehyung found himself turning on his heel and rushing towards the staircase.

You continued to sob quietly, thinking if you just let it all out now, cried just about hard enough all the sorrow would leave your body. So that’s what you did, bit your lips to contain the aching feeling in your chest as your throat seemed to constrict, swallowing all your feelings down in an attempt to poorly control them.

You were in your own world, the sink’s water masking any noise behind you, and so when somebody’s hand reached out to rest against your shoulder, you were completely startled. You jumped, quickly shutting the water in a flash and refusing to look back at the culprit to save your pride.

Whoever it was, they couldn’t see you like this.

Though when you heard his dulcet, deep voice calling your name, you knew exactly who it was.

“Y/N?”

You straightened yourself up, breathing out the emotions ravaging your chest and stabilizing your voice to address him. “Hey, Taehyung. What um.. what are you doing here?”

Taehyung could hear your solemn attempt to cover everything up, feeling your sense of embarrassment practically fill the air.

“Nothing, just.. wanted to see you.” Taehyung said, unsure of how to approach this.

“You’re probably busy. You should go back to work.” You tried hard to sound okay while you practically swallowed back tears, clutching the counter of the sink.

“It’s alright, not important.” Taehyung waved it off, letting his hard remain on your shoulder seeing you didn’t reject him. A beat of silence lingered until he spoke again.

“Can you look at me, Y/N?” There was no pressure in his voice, just the same soft consideration you’d heard at the hotel suite a couple nights ago.

And you hated it, hated that it made you want to give in, want to so easily follow his request and bare to him whatever he wanted.

Until your last braincell kicked in.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry if I interrupted your work. Please go back to your study.” You voiced just barely above a shaky tone, trying your absolute hardest to sound just fine, seem okay. But the more Taehyung spoke, the more you felt your defense mechanisms slowly coming undone.

And you knew he knew.

“I wasn't interrupted.” He stated normally, his voice natural and yet he sounded so.. comforting? He was simply responding to you and yet his voice and presence seemed to soothe the sharp ache in your chest.

It was fucking poetic.

“I’m sure I did, Taehyung. Just please, return to your work.”

“I don’t need to, Y/N, I can stay here.” He was firm as he stood behind you, measly hand against your shoulder and his usually intimidating, towering figure reassuring.

It was odd.

“You shouldn’t. Just go back, Taehyung.” You attempted to voice with more strength, trying to blink tears away and it didn’t convince Taehyung in the slightest.

“I don’t want to. Look at me first.” His voice sounded calm, and it was really like honey. Thick yet sweet, so deep and yet it’s cadence harboured the ability to put anyone at ease.

You shut your eyes tightly, wiping at them hastily to rid any tears as you sniffled and turned around. You were met by his face that slightly softened at the sight of you, eyes seeming to melt as they swirled with consideration, different from his usually unreadable expression.

“See, I’m fine. You can go back to work.” You plastered a smile on, trying to stand a little more confidently, though Taehyung didn’t budge.

He only remained, gazing at the features of your face as he seemed to drape his own with a small sense of sadness, like he was upset, maybe even hurt? It was slight, though identifiable. It left you quite speechless, thinking it was all just part of your imagination.

It couldn’t be real.

But it exactly was as Taehyung’s large hand came up to gently touch the cheek your mother slapped. You didn’t realize it hurt more than it should’ve when you felt a sharp sting at his touch, wincing.

You registered there was probably a visible mark and grew too vulnerable, downright embarrassed for your liking and so you deflected him, smacking his hand away from your face as you looked off to the side.

“I’m fine, Taehyung.” You declared, and Taehyung didn’t know how to react as his hand came off you, feeling a bit disheartened. He simply wanted to help, and he didn’t want to leave without doing so.

So he still looked at you, eyes possibly growing sympathetic though it could’ve been a figment of your imagination again.

“You didn’t deserve that.” He voiced soft in sound, though resolute in nature.

Taehyung was having trouble choosing what he could say without overstepping, invading a part of you he probably shouldn’t.

“I didn’t ask for a pity party, Taehyung. Go back to work.” You said with a more snippy tone than you planned, though found it befitting of your current emotions nonetheless.

“I’m not pitying. I’m..” Taehyung struggled for a word until you answered.

“What, caring?” You scoffed, “Please, Taehyung, you don’t have to care like my real husband, it’s only on paper-”

“But I am your real husband.” Taehyung emphasized, his serious eyes meeting yours. “It’s on paper and in real life, so I think I’m allowed to care.” Taehyung retorted with narrowed eyes finding he liked that sentence, liked what it had to convey because it was damn true.

Taehyung decided on reaching for your arms to drive his point home, though watched as you again, naturally retracted from him. You still seemed to refuse him, didn’t see him in a good enough light to not cower away.

And he still fucking hated it.

Taehyung went for it anyway and gripped your arms when you began to draw away, catching you. The action nearly demanded you look into his eyes, and found yourself doing exactly so.

“Y/N, first, don’t be scared of me, please?” His eyes grew soft. “I seriously-I really hate it. I would never..” Taehyung trailed as his vision fell to the side of your face, eyes seeming to reflect concern.

You were completely surprised, watching him unmask a plethora of emotion you didn't think he’d so candidly reveal.

Taehyung brought his hand to brush your slightly swollen cheek, continuing. “I would never do this, do anything to scare you. I just wouldn’t.” Taehyung was emphatic and genuine, gently touching the fresh wound on the apple of your cheek.

“I.. know that, Taehyung.” You again felt that same urge to touch his hand that touched you, but you decided against it. “Though I don’t need your pity. This doesn’t hurt, don’t break a sweat about it, please.” You were trying to turn away from his hold but Taehyung didn’t let go, maintaining you in his hands.

“It’s not pity, Y/N. It’s sympathy. This bothers me, okay?”

“I don’t need it. I’ve got myself-”

“But you’re not alone.” Taehyung suddenly stated seriously, tone permeating the air and you just about froze. You only looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to decipher what he was trying to say.

“You’re not.. alone, okay? You have me.” He spoke as though he was trying to convey a meaningful message, trying to mark his own words. “In whatever way... you have me.” It was a hesitant claim, but it felt just like when he’d made his promise to you at the altar.

And suddenly you found yourself giving in, sighing as you registered this was all pretty much an elaborate reflection of the lesson you learned not so long ago. You and Taehyung are married now, and no matter how that status manifested itself, you had to accept what came with it.

Especially if it meant him.

“Okay.” You replied simply, multiple emotions masked by the plain word.

Taehyung looked at you a little surprised you’d actually accepted that, but broke into a genuine grin you hadn’t really seen before.

And you really did like the way he smiled.

He made you want to smile too, though as your facial muscles worked for the grin your cheek stung, wincing as a result. Taehyung exclaimed within a matter of seconds. “Ah, don’t move.” He cautioned, smiling a little when you chuckled at his overreaction. “Don’t worry, Taehyung. It’s alright.”

“Alright, my foot.” Taehyung joked, bending down to inspect your wound closer than you expected, and you hid the feeling that shot through you because of his proximity with a nervous laugh, causing you to wince again.

“Hey, what did I say?” Taehyung chastised you lightly, lips in a straight line as he shook his head disapprovingly. “C’mon, let’s treat this.”

You immediately whined, feeling too lazy to get something so small and insignificant treated. “Taehyung, it’s not even that bad, why?” You pouted.

“Cause it’ll leave a mark on your pretty face.” Taehyung smiled innocently, not even caring about the effect it left on you as he found your hand and tugged you along to the second floor. Your eyes only remained widened, never letting up the surprise that took you.

Did he just call you pretty?

You let Taehyung lead you to your master bathroom, where he situated you by the counter and shuffled around for his first-aid kit. He finally retrieved the box, dabbing some alcohol onto a cotton swab and bringing it to your face.

Taehyung just about performed the action until he began struggling bending to your height, wanting to carefully apply the alcohol. So he tried different angles and maneuvered himself around, all coming up useless. “God, why do you have to be so small?” Taehyung huffed under his breath as he stood to his full height, contemplating how he’d accomplish this.

“I’m not small, you’re just really-” You were about to complete your sentence until Taehyung’s hands suddenly grabbed your waist, lifting you in a single breath and propping you up onto the bathroom counter. You would’ve exclaimed, maybe protest though believed it would’ve made the heat in your face so much more apparent.

“That’s better.” He grinned, biting back a chuckle at your flushed face and widened eyes.

Those fucking eyes.

Taehyung then found it easier to apply what he needed, cleaning up the wound precariously before dabbing on some ointment to avoid any scarring, only missing a bandage to place on your cheek. Taehyung searched for one in his kit and drawers, though came up empty-handed. He became puzzled as to where he put his bandages, placing his hands in his pockets to think until he felt the familiar scratch of a wrapper.

He furrowed his eyebrows at first until he figured exactly what it was.

And he suppressed a stupid grin.

Taehyung pulled out the wrapper and watched as you avoided eye contact with him, cheeks still clearly warm as you swung your legs on the counter in anticipation of him.

Cute, he thought.

He ripped the wrapper, chucking the garbage aside as he drew close to your face. His breath suddenly fanned you, mere inches from your face with his lips so proximal you were stupidly remembering your kiss from a couple days ago.

He was just so close. So close that you could actually discern he had this pretty little mole on his cheek, even one just underneath his eye, lining his lash line. You smiled realizing he had such unique details, even seeing he had a mono-lid and a double eyelid. Then came his obvious features, his plushy, pink lips, his chocolate eyes, his soft hair and sculpted face structure. It made you want to hide your own face out of near insecurity.

He was just so beautiful.

You watched him as he focused on you, trying to calm down your oddly racing heart, feeling the sensation of his closeness shoot through your body. He smoothed the bandage over your cheek and drew away far too earlier than you wanted.

“There. Apply something before putting a bandage on, right?” He cocked an eyebrow and looked at you knowingly, crossing his arms.

You immediately smiled at the sentiment, realizing it’s the same line you said to him during your first exchange, and you felt your heart just slightly, slightly flutter at the thought he remembered.

“Right.”

It had been a week since that incident.

Taehyung and yourself had assumed your regular lives, having to drudge back to work after a few days off.

Your mother’s words still lingered around in your head, spoiling your mood here and there though assuming the ever-so healthy manner of simply pushing the mentally detrimental thoughts away, distracting yourself with work.

You wish you could detail anymore interactions with Taehyung, though they were scarce with how rarely you saw each other. You both either just missed each other, were too busy to pay attention or simply came home too late. Even sleeping together was hit or miss, usually either of you crawling into bed earlier than the other with no real exchanges.

You could say it made you feel just a little sad, though not entirely considering you two were genuinely busy people, Taehyung an even busier person.

That all came to a full stop though one Friday morning, you were seated by the island and staring at your most recent design for a building, iPad pen twirling in hand. You were sipping on coffee when Taehyung pulled out a chair and suddenly startled you, coffee almost spilling.

“Jheez,” you huffed, “you scared me.”

“Sorry, you were just really focused.” Taehyung apologized as he placed his own iPad down, reading away.

It’d been like this the whole week, you either designing and leading projects at your own job with Taehyung the ever-busy CEO at his own company, causing you both to often sit in each other’s presence though never take your eyes off your screens.

“Hey, I wanted to tell you something.” Taehyung suddenly perked up, stopping his scrolling.

“Hm?” You looked up.

“I should’ve told you this sooner, but we have to attend a gala tonight.” Taehyung grimaced at how sudden this seemed, arms crossed as he leaned on the counter.

Did the action really have to make his biceps pop?

Anyway, you were nearly spitting out your drink for the umpteenth time because of Taehyung, eyes blown out at his abrupt news.

“Wh-what did you just say? Tonight?”

“Yeah, one of friends’ companies. 25th anniversary since establishment.” Taehyung went to bite a piece of his toast with strawberry jam.

You noticed he liked strawberries and didn’t like bread crust, making you want to smile sometimes at the child-like charm he hid underneath his intimidating persona. “They’re holding a huge gala and he’s one of my best friends, we’ll have to attend.”

You eventually came to understanding him, trying to wrap your head around having to suddenly attend such a high-end event.

“This event is also going to be our first public appearance together. It’s important.” Taehyung stressed, back to scrolling through his iPad.

“That’s alright. I don’t mind going, it’s just...I don’t think I even have a dress for a gala.” You mentally sifted through your own wardrobe, coming up short once you realized you haven’t been to an extravagant event like that since you were a teenager.

“I know, I bought one for you.”

You should really stop drinking beverages around Taehyung because you can never seem to keep them in your damn mouth. “You bought one? Taehyung..” You whined. “What did I say about giving me things?”

“Hey, what did I say about giving you things?” He scolded you lightly. “I give you things simply because I want to.”

You pouted. “Still, you don’t even know my size, when did you even have time?”

“That doesn’t matter. It’ll fit you, don’t worry.” Taehyung sent a smile as he deflected your question and returned to his iPad, not wanting to reveal that he’d secretly referred to your other dresses in your shared closet for your correct measurements.

“But it probably wasted your time. I should’ve gone out and bought it myself.” You felt guilty, realizing it probably made him compromise his work.

“It wasn’t a waste of time.” Taehyung countered, not really liking how you considered yourself not worthy of spending time on.

“I- thank you.” You blurted out before his statement could effect you. “When does the event begin?”

“7. You should try getting off work early to get ready.” Taehyung suggested, sipping his tea as he looked at you.

“Oh God, I’m gonna have to doll myself up. I haven’t done that in ages.” You held a hand to your mouth, trying to digest the fact you’d probably have to look like a trophy wife.

“I could get you a makeup artist and hair stylist.” Taehyung offered.

“No, it’s okay. I think I’ll be fine. I just haven’t been to a gala in a long time.” You felt surprised about the fact yourself. “I’m gonna have to meet so many people.”

“You will, but I’ll be there.” Taehyung assured, glancing up at you.

“Of course, but you won’t be with me the entire night. I’ll have to brush up on my rich people skills.” You blew a raspberry, knowing you had great interpersonal skills but just didn’t like acting so fake all the time.

“I won’t leave, just stick with me the whole night.” Taehyung stated as he absentmindedly held his index finger to his lips reading an email, quite goddamn illegally if you had to say so yourself.

“I will.” You confirmed, erasing at a line on your iPad. “Will you come home early too?”

Taehyung clicked his tongue disappointingly. “I will but just barely on time. Friday’s mean meetings for me, so I can’t leave early. I’ll get ready at work, come back inside the house to get you.”

“Okay.” You’re not sure why you felt suddenly sad he wouldn’t be home earlier. Maybe it was just the usual feeling of not wanting to be alone, because God forbid you actually started getting used to Taehyung’s presence.

Taehyung rose from his seat and cast his iPad to the side, sliding on his suit jacket as he glanced at his watch, checking the time. You noticed yourself and flashed your vision to your iPad, gawking at the time and realizing you could be late.

“Oh shit, I have to go.”

“Me too, I’ll see you tonight, okay?” Taehyung confirmed as he made his way to the front door, fixing his sleeve. You propped off your own seat and began walking towards the stairs, just about ascending until Taehyung suddenly called your name.

“Y/N!” He peeked out from the front door, seconds from leaving.

“Yes?”

“I hope you like the colour, it’s one of my favourites.” Taehyung smiled sweetly, sending his last farewell before he dashed out of the house.

Your eyebrows shot up and practically gawked, immediately running up the stairs thinking of where to find this dress. He had to have hidden it from you considering he’s been doing so ever since he mysteriously bought it.

You instinctively rushed into your shared bedroom to grab a scrunchy for the day, all distracted until you caught sight of a white box adorned with a black bow sitting atop your bed.

Your eyes went wide just reading the infamous label.

Chanel.

You had to physically keep from flooring yourself, in disbelief he’d purchased you a Chanel dress. You were even more fearful to uncover it, the information of him buying it himself raking your brain.

It was even his favourite colour, nearly swooning at the fact he chose for you to wear his favourite colour. So you made your way over to the box hesitantly, untying the ribbon and casting the lid aside cautiously, only to audibly gasp.

Your eyes fell to a ruby red dress with a delicate V neckline, completely blown away he chose such a bold colour for you to wear.

You carefully grabbed the dress to take it out of its box, revealing more to discover it was a floor-length gown. It produced a small train though lifted in the front to reveal the shoes you’d wear, the skirt of plain, thick fabric until you saw the torso area; light beading expanding from the stomach area eventually leading into the skirt.

Shock wasn’t even the correct word to use, you were stunned, completely taken by his choice. The dress was simply gorgeous, beautiful in its own right and you were almost too afraid to wear it.

Nonetheless, this event was important to Taehyung, so you took a deep breath, tucked the dress back into its box and mentally prepared yourself for the day ahead.

It was bordering 6:30 now.

You’d successfully left work early, around the 2 o’clock mark to come home and indulge in a 4 hour self-care routine. It’d seriously been too long since you last attended an event similar to this, grand in size and visited by at least a hundred people.

It reminded you of your engagement party, though not entirely since there would paparazzi and would be your first real appearance with Taehyung ever since your wedding.

And quite frankly, you really wanted look better than you did then. You labelled it pretty much a disaster since you were a catatonic mess regretting all her life choices, probably looking unappealing in all your photos.

Along with knowing the impact Taehyung has, not only in the business world but in general also left you wanting to up your game. You were his wife now, and that came with a high amount of scrutiny and criticism having nabbed one of the most eligible bachelor’s in Korea.

You’d already given up ever checking any articles and avoided social media, knowing that there would be inevitably nasty and judgmental comments. This night was important though, where you’d flank him as the women he’s so-called ‘in love with’ or the ‘love of his life’.

It also dawned on you Taehyung in fact had a high-valued reputation to uphold, and so did you as his wife.

So as you stood before the mirror in the walk-in closet, inspecting your dress, you contemplated how you’d survive this night, how you would act as the perfect, most suitable wife to Taehyung.

You really wanted to hide your face out of how dolled up you looked; your makeup was on the elegant side, not heavy but brushed up to look soft, completed with red lipstick that matched your dress and hair set around your face in loose waves.

The dress looked almost embarrassingly good on you, Taehyung somehow having chosen the right sized dress as it hugged your every curve right, accentuating the right parts of your body and even the V neckline not dipping too low, but showing quite the generous amount of skin.

You couldn’t stop blushing at all.

Taehyung had finally arrived at the house, rushing inside quickly registering he was cutting the time close. “Y/N! I’m home!” he called for you, quickly checking his appearance in a mirror as he smoothed pieces of his parted hair, curling just before his eyes and revealing some forehead.

“I’m in our room!”

He approved his own look in the mirror and jogged up the stairs, mentally preparing himself before he’d have to see you in the dress he chose, almost excited about it.

He’d simply loved it at first sight, and couldn’t stop pondering what the striking colour would look like on you. So as Taehyung entered your bedroom, he became confused finding it empty. He then ventured further inside, catching sight of the ajar closet door and light beaming through.

He sauntered over carefully, peeking inside and Taehyung’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor, almost stupidly.

His eyes fell to you standing in front of the mirror, fidgeting as you looked at yourself in the dress with the back of it undone.

And Taehyung had never seen anything more pretty in his life.

He was speechless for the umpteenth time because of you, not even knowing how to begin a sentence because he might sound like a second grader if he did. So all Taehyung could muster up the literacy to say was “Wow.”

You turned around instantly, eyes looking as though you were a deer caught in headlights. Taehyung’s eyes widened even more peering at the elegant front, jaw almost slack as he scanned over your body.

“T-Taehyung.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Taehyung still seemed to be struggling a little, eyes glued to you until he cleared his throat and looked away. “Um, yeah?”

“S-sorry, but.. could you actually..?” And you did it again, angling your back towards Taehyung to call to the zipper of your dress. You really couldn’t try zipping it yourself, which left it sitting comfortably just at your lower back, your skin exposed to Taehyung.

You could visibly see Taehyung flash his eyes to your skin until he looked elsewhere, nodding as he licked his lips. “Sure.”

You watched him near you, his face blank as he took a handful of your hair and softly placed in front of you. He then brought his hand against your side to hold you in place, his other working for the zipper. It was another case of his rather hot breath fanning your back, almost teasingly zipping up your dress by simple inches.

He was close again, closer than he’s been in a week and you sincerely hated it always affected you in some way. It made your chest flutter, suck in a breath you didn’t even need to hold in. You relaxed when Taehyung finally finished, his hands gripping your arms from behind as he looked at you through the mirror.

And for some odd reason, he liked how your heights contrasted each other.

He had the slightest hint of a smile, eyes seeming to gleam with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“You look pretty.” He said, gazing at you through the reflection and you had to physically stop from beaming like an idiot. Your chest fills with butterflies, face collecting with heat at his compliment.

How could an Adonis like him call you pretty?

You bit your lip, gazing up at his taller, impeccably dressed reflection as you admired him, his every feature crafted to a degree of perfection that left you in awe.

“You look really handsome.” You complimented, watching his lips just about curve into a smile that met his eyes, and you wish he didn’t have to look so handsome when he smiled too.

“Thank you.” He voiced before turning you around by your arms to face him. “Make sure you wear a coat tonight, it’s cold.” He informed, you nodding until your quick eyes spotted his tie loosened by just a centimeter, throwing you off.

“Oh, your tie.” You exclaimed quietly, reaching for it without a thought and pushing it upwards, angling it to perfection. Taehyung suddenly froze, unexpecting of you doing such a thing and so proximal his nose flooded with your perfume, liking the scent.

Peonies.

He tensed with an unknown feeling until your gazes locked on each other, simply looking to look while your hands remained on his tie. He realized more than a second passed and Taehyung scrambled for something to say, sputtering.

“I’ll uh.. I’ll be waiting out front.” He assured as he stepped away, exiting the room quickly and leaving you to your lonesome.

This was gonna be one hell of a night, you thought.

“Remember, there’s going to be a lot of cameras and people here. We’ll really need to act like a couple.” Taehyung sat beside you in the back of an Escalade, manspreading in all his glory and you were sincerely glad he couldn’t read your mind.

“Got it, let’s give em’ a show.” You cheered with your little fists, determined as the car arrived at the lavish venue.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Taehyung mimicked your action. “Don’t worry about getting nervous, I’m there.” He assured for good measure, gauging your affirmation.

You nodded as you took a deep breath, smoothing over your dress and fixing your hair. Taehyung unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned into you, speaking near your ear. “I’ll get out first and open the door for you, wait here.” You tensed at the action before nodding again, Taehyung making his way out the car.

He then opened your door as promised within seconds, greeting you with a warm smile as he held out his hand for you. You grinned back at him affectionately as you took it, adjusting your dress to step onto the concrete.

You were met by dozens of camera flashes and a yelling crowd, shouting various things you couldn’t quite make out. You were almost distracted by it and felt a small sense of anxiety creep up you, until Taehyung pulled you flush against his side, hand curving around your waist.

You smiled up at him in accordance, and he beamed back as he walked you two down the carpet leading into the venue, casually ignoring all the noise and people.

Taehyung guided you inside safely to where you were welcomed by a beautiful looking hall, pristine and extremely elegant. It was surely fitting for a grand gala. Your eyes caught a small crowd of photographers in the foyer snapping photos at a certain wall with a backdrop, curiosity dawning on you as Taehyung led you towards the coat check.

“What’s happening there?” You pointed towards the scene.

“Oh, exclusive press.” He snuck a look, stripping off his coat. “They’re the ones I was talking about, they’re gonna take pictures of us.” Taehyung answered distracted as he retrieved your coat and gave both to the coat checker, smiling a thank you.

You didn’t even have time to really respond as Taehyung dragged you to the very scene, the pair of you next to have photos taken. You tried to process the whole thing as he walked you over, mentally preparing to look your best until Taehyung suddenly whispered lowly in your ear again.

And again, it sent shivers down your spine.

“Just smile and hold me, okay?” Your chest fluttered for an odd reason, nodding back to him as he brought you in front of the line of photographers.

You stayed true to your promise and tucked an arm around his torso as the other draped his chest, closest to him as you could. Taehyung almost settled next to you until he felt something at his feet, noticing he was nearly stepping on your gown.

He broke away from you, unexpectedly bending down to catch the skirt of your dress and delicately fix it behind you. You heard the hushed exclamations of the photographers, most of them doting on his considerate act as you just about protested, though suddenly remembered Taehyung’s words from today.

It was probably better to stay silent.

So you simply smiled as you watched Taehyung adjust your dress, feeling a warm sensation spread across your chest when he returned even though it most likely was for show, his hands coming back on you.

This time you didn’t try to suppress anything, allowing some of your feelings to manifest into a real smile, remembering you were to appear as a couple anyway.

And whether or not there was some truth to your expressions, was anyone really keeping track?

You two began posing for the photographers, smiling in all directions and clutching onto each other closely. You occasionally tried different angles to look better, everything going smoothly until you heard someone shout out, eyes widening as a result.

“Kiss her!”

It wasn’t long before the other photographers began agreeing, encouraging Taehyung to kiss you and you had no clue how he would react. You were slightly biting your lip as you were occupied avoiding eye contact, that was until Taehyung quietly called you.

“Y/N, look at me.”

“Hm?” You instinctively responded and looked up at him, completely taken by surprise when Taehyung suddenly planted a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes visibly went wider, only his chest to stare at until he eventually disconnected.

He returned his eyes to you and grinned at your wide-eyed reaction, suddenly reminding you. “Smile,” he encouraged with the flash of his own boxy grin, wanting to see you smile.

And it damn well worked.

Taehyung was right about the size of this gala.

Huge.

It was grand, the entire hall seeming to be spat right out of a castle with about a hundred fancy-looking people inside. You thought it would’ve been uninteresting and difficult to communicate with others tonight and put on your best fake smile, though the night’s atmosphere amassed with champagne, good food and great conversationalists left you in a better mood than you expected.

It was actually quite fun, finding yourself genuinely conversing with the people Taehyung dragged you to meet, keeping to your promise of staying right by his side the whole night, and he kept his, never having left you.

You’d met various people, having gotten familiar to Taehyung’s high-status world of business and relations. Long story short, Taehyung knew a lot of people, and you were surprised at how extroverted he suddenly seemed.

He was practically a social butterfly, not having forgotten a single name of who he spoke to along with somehow remembering personal details about their lives. It left you impressed, joining along with his light-hearted conversation with your own extrovert tendencies.

Everyone you’d met had been nice so far, but by far the most amusing people you’d met had to have been Taehyung’s 5 best friends, the same ones you’d seen in his photographs.

“Y/N, this is Kim Namjoon and Seokjin, they’re brothers.”

Both tall and quite frankly broad men greeted you warmly, one of them having a nice dimply smile while the other was far too handsome to be looked at for free.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” They said after another, reaching out to shake your hand. “We’re co-CEOs of one of Korea’s largest private airline.” Namjoon of the two informed.

“Likewise. And wow, that’s impressive.” You complimented. “Might I also say, you’re both.. tall.” You had to almost crane your neck to meet their eyes, thankful for the heels you were wearing as the group laughed at your remark.

“Perhaps, though you’re quite short yourself, Y/N.” Seokijn commented light-heartedly, causing you to playfully pout and retort him. “Oh c’mon, I hear that from Taehyung already, not you too.” You giggled, absentmindedly leaning into Taehyung as he tensed, your body pressing into his.

“It’s cause Taehyung likes short girls, teasing means he likes you.” A built looking man with longer hair suddenly joked, nudging Taehyung with his elbow.

“Shut up, Jungkook. I was gonna give you a proper introduction, not anymore.” Taehyung scolded, though Jungkook persisted.

“Well, you just said my name, that’s already half the intro.” Jungkook then gently took your hand, placing a chaste kiss against the back of it you didn’t expect at all.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Korea’s largest game development company.” Jungkook sent you a kind smile and it was hard to not compare him to a bunny, his teeth reminding you of one.

“Yah, don’t do that” Taehyung swatted Jungkook’s hand away, protesting disapprovingly.

“Woah, did Taehyung just get jealous?” Namjoon inquired shocked.

“Somebody get their phone out, we’ll need evidence I didn’t hit him first.” Jungkook held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Jungkook, the only thing we’re finding in our phones is videos of you nibbling on carrots.” Taehyung quipped and it made the group chortle, yourself speaking up at the mention of a rabbit.

“Actually, I was thinking you resemble a bunny.” You simply wanted to voice an observation, though it sent the whole group into a frenzy.

“See Jungkook! Other people notice it too!” A man you hadn’t been introduced to yet suddenly burst out, though you could automatically tell he gave off this radiant energy that was infectious.

He almost felt like the sun.

“Whatever, Hoseok, you’re like a squirrel.” Jungkook countered and you digested the man’s name for information.

“And you’re a rabbit, you better buy me what we wagered.” Hoseok scolded from what you could assume, was the younger of the two.

“Wagered? I don’t remember anything about that.” Jungkook feigned innocence as he looked off to the side.

“Jungkook, we were all there that day, you owe Hoseok a vending machine.” Namjoon spoke up, laughing through the remark.

“Guys. Y/N is literally right here, we didn’t even introduce ourselves properly.” A man with a fairly sweet voice interjected. He had such soft visuals, almost similar to an angel if you wanted to be honest.

He then looked to you with a sweet smile, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Park Jimin, CEO of Park Hotels & Resorts”

“This is his event.” Taehyung informed.

“Ohh, nice to meet you!” You perked up, his aura making you feel all comfortable and giggly, there was just something about his bubbly energy.

The man named Hoseok then extended his hand, “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Jung Hoseok. Sorry for the late introduction, but I basically own a bunch of famous clubs across Korea.” He laughed all dimply and warm, and he really did remind you of the sun.

“Oh wow, hopefully we’ll get to visit sometime! Clubs are so fun.” You lit up, all excited about a good club scene until Taehyung ruined your fun.

“Nuh uh, not after your little drunk scene at our engagement party.” Taehyung looked down at you and chastised.

“Taehyung, it wasn’t even that much. Don’t be dramatic.” You scolded him back.

“Alright Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, I almost had to carry you.”

“I was walking just fine last time I remembered.” You crossed your arms and feigned innocence, Taehyung growing scandalized.

“Oh really, now?” He cocked an eyebrow, just about to continue until Namjoon interjected. “Looks like married life’s been treating you guys well.”

“Of course, they look practically in love.” Hoseok beamed sarcastically, gesturing towards you both.

“C’mon, Taehyung, tell us what you love about her. Let’s see the simping.” Jungkook playfully taunted Taehyung, egging him on.

“Shut up. You all already know our marriage isn’t real.” Taehyung rebutted the younger man, eyes narrowed.

You were taken aback, eyes flashing to Taehyung. “They know?”

“Of course they do, your best friend knows too, doesn’t she?” Taehyung was referring to Hana, and you acquiesced realizing he had a point.

“You know, you guys say it’s a fake marriage but you look pretty close to me.” Jimin pointed towards Taehyung’s arm still hugging around your waist, causing you both to realize and promptly disconnect.

“No, we aren’t.” You and Taehyung retorted at the same time, vision snapping to each other with shocked eyes.

“Oh c’mon, Tae, you’re really gonna say about your wife?” Seokjin teased him, playful lilt to his tone.

“Yeah, Taehyung, just look at her, how aren’t you whipped already?” Jungkook remarked as he gestured towards you, feeling shy as your feet shuffled.

“I’m not answering that.” Taehyung bit back with an irritated tone, folding his arms as he broke eye contact with the group.

You decided to lighten the mood. “Guys, please, the only thing Taehyung’s whipped for is his company.” You joked, and despite the small sense of hurt saying that sentence, you felt joy making the men suddenly laugh so loudly.

Taehyung’s shy and embarrassed expression was even more priceless.

“Oh my God, Y/N, you’re seriously the perfect match for him.” Hoseok added on as he laughed and you couldn’t help but bite back a smile, not knowing what he meant by that though taking it as a compliment.

“Alright guys, remember we had a mission: operation make-Taehyung-and-Y/N’s-marriage-seem-real-as-fuck.” Jungkook suddenly put on the theatrics and halted the group, changing the conversation.

“Oh yeah, we had a whole plan, didn’t we?” Jimin remembered.

“Yup. Gotta prepare them for nosey press and annoying relatives. We should start with questions they’d get asked. Make it like a fake interview or something.” Namjoon suggested, leading along the others as he pretended to hold a microphone.

“You’re all some of the richest men in Seoul yet you’re acting like children. I don’t know you people.” Taehyung tried waving the men off while you couldn’t help but laugh, finding them the most fun people you’ve encountered.

Childish or not, they were completely unexpected of what you thought a group of CEOs. They didn’t live up to the cliché uptight and uber sophisticated stereotype, rather open and acted however they chose.

It was refreshing.

“It’s cause we’re friends with you, Taehyung.” Hoseok shot back and it made everyone snicker.

“I got it. Let’s ask them to spill some details about each other only they’d know. Someone’s bound to ask that.” Seokjin reasoned, gauging agreeance from the others.

“Oh my God, you guys already know our marriage is fake. Why would you make this up?” You asked through a giggle, still finding the situation comical.

“Sorry Mrs. Kim, but that’s precisely why, and I’m afraid we don’t know what you mean by ‘fake’. Now tell the good press something about Mr. Kim we don’t know.” Jungkook began the skit as he held his fake microphone towards you, the others joining in as though imitating paparazzi.

“Alright, this is gonna be exclusive, pens ready?” You decided to join them, and they all nodded in confirmation as Taehyung flashed his eyes to you, unprepared for you to play along.

“Mr. Kim is quite something.” You addressed him formally for effect. “He acts all mysterious and cool, but he’s actually just a cuddler who likes tea and cuts the crusts off his bread.” You relayed with a wide grin, all of them suddenly exclaiming and reacting like a high schooler has just confessed the name of their crush.

“Oh my God, Tae, seriously? Bread crusts? What are you, like, 3?” Seokjin teased.

“Hyung, your ears literally turn red when people give you attention. Are you 3?” Taehyung retorted and it only elicited more noise from the group, Seokjin exclaiming defensively and Taehyung bringing a hand up to his forehead, sighing.

“Guys! Okay, let’s get some real answers here. We gotta know what Y/N would say if someone asked her.. maybe some things she likes about Taehyung. Let’s hear it.” Jimin got everyone back on track, attention on you.

You smiled nervously and flashed a look towards Taehyung, who still had this arms folded and vision looking off to the side, ignoring the entire situation before him.

You could tell he was pissed with the way his jaw locked, though the fact that he wasn’t paying attention made you a little more confident.

Taehyung wasn’t exactly pissed, though if he could bonk all his friends on the head a few times he would. He knew teasing and jokes were all common within the group, he just didn’t expect to be the sole target tonight, and so he decided to smoothly neglect the conversation altogether.

He was succeeding, not expecting you to answer their question seriously until Taehyung suddenly heard you speak up, surprised eyes flickering to you.

“Hmm, if I had to say..” You were hesitant, Taehyung shocked you were even answering.

What would you say?

“He has nice, big hands.” You admitted softly, Taehyung’s brows raising with surprise. “He has a nice voice, too, and... his smile.” You added as you nodded to yourself, confirming your own list and Taehyung was left damn near speechless once again.

He didn’t really know how to act, acknowledging his face as the most common thing people liked about him, rarely ever hearing those aspects of himself mentioned.

And he oddly felt.. nice.

“Awh, now that’s cute, good job, Y/N.” Jungkook praised you, Hoseok then pointing his make-believe mic in Taehyung’s direction.

“Your turn, Chairman Kim, what do you like most about your wife?” He mimicked an interviewer and everyone followed in accordance, mics shifting towards him.

“Uhh..” Taehyung became slightly nervous under everyone’s scrutiny, not knowing if he should assume his usual unreadable nature or answer their request truthfully.

“Tae, dude, if you don’t say anything then I will.” Jungkook declared, just about ready to speak again until you cut him off, snorting.

“Don’t sweat it, guys. He won’t say anything.” You really knew Taehyung would have nothing to say, so you crossed your arms and became uninterested in the conversation.

Until Taehyung spoke.

“She does this pouting thing.. with her lips. It’s cute.” Taehyung started, coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly and peer at anything but a pair of eyes. “Her height.. and her eyes. She has nice eyes.”

The floor had to be tired of you by now, because Taehyung seemed to make you want to fall hard pretty often. You didn’t know what to do, eyes blown and nearly on the verge of choking, unable to believe a Godly being like Taehyung just admitted to liking something about you.

Is this what it feels like to win at life?

His words kept ringing in your head, melting into a shy mess with your cheeks beyond hot, avoiding eye contact with everyone while Taehyung grew slightly embarrassed, similarly looking off to the side.

“Holy shit, you guys are actually cute.” Jimin remarked through a chuckle as he pointed at you both, you and Taehyung mirroring the same look of horror while protesting at the same time. “No we aren’t!”

And it only made the men crack up even harder.

It was laugh after laugh as that conversation went on, finding a quick and pleasant liking to Taehyung’s friends. They’d made it clear as day they liked you as well, to be precise they seemed to love you, making playful nudges at Taehyung for saying yes to someone just right for him; and you seriously pondered what that exactly meant.

It was further into the night now, the gala having picked up in activity and passed the long social hour, now leading into more of a party scene as upbeat music filled the hall.

You’d stuck with Taehyung the whole night as promised, having met more of the people he knew. The evening had been quite calm, both you and Taehyung having silently, though mutually ignored the conversation from before for sanity purposes, only focusing on the additional people you met.

Taehyung and yourself had been talking up a storm with Jimin for the past half an hour, Taehyung introducing him as his best friend and getting the full run down of how that came about. It was highly entertaining, listening to mentions of alcohol, 4AM fighting and even an incident with dumplings.

It had you three laughing merrily while music played, Taehyung’s arm draped around you like it had been for majority of the night, practically hugging you to him. He was elaborating on a story that had something to do with a dream-catcher, all smiles and giggles.

That was until Taehyung suddenly froze next to you, sight seeming to set on a person behind Jimin and he immediately changed his aura.

“Jimin, what the fuck? Did you invite him?” Taehyung cocked his head in the general direction, eyes set hard.

Jimin’s eyebrows shot up and and casually looked behind him, registering the culprit himself and turning back to Taehyung. “Holy shit, no, I didn’t.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, Tae. My parents probably invited him, I’m sorry.” Jimin apologized as he rubbed the back of his neck, growing apprehensive.

“Don’t worry, Jimin. It’s just.. not him, not fucking him.” Taehyung’s voice grew a little darker, almost hateful as his hand gripped around you tighter.

“Taehyung, what’s wrong?” You asked tentatively, though didn’t exactly get a response since Taehyung became distracted, talking more so to himself.

“Why the fuck is he here of all people? Of all damn people..” Taehyung scoffed to himself humorlessly, clearly annoyed.

“Taehyung, who?”

“Nobody, we’re getting a drink. Jimin, please?” Taehyung and Jimin had a conversation with their eyes, Jimin immediately nodding and moving towards a certain man you barely caught sight off before Taehyung was pulling you away. You tried protesting, but the tightened grip around you and Taehyung’s frustrated expression was enough to shut you up.

Something was seriously wrong.

You followed him along quietly until you heard a bit of a commotion behind you, able to distinguish Jimin’s voice protesting. You almost looked back until a stranger suddenly snuck up on Taehyung, draping an arm over him.

“Kim Taehyung! Where you going? Damn, it’s been long.” The man spoke as he lowered his hand to Taehyung’s back, nearly smacking it as though they were old time buddies.

Though the expression that painted Taehyung’s face said completely otherwise; he looked extremely irritated, and not the playful type.

“Hisung, yeah, it has.” Taehyung bleakly acknowledged him, said man with an arm still draped over Taehyung’s shoulders until he shrugged him off harshly, pulling you closer to him protectively.

It made the man direct his attention to you. “Oh, this is your wife, right? Nice to meet you, Han Hisung.” The man smiled and extended his hand, not knowing if you should extend yours until Taehyung blatantly cut the man off, physically blocking his hand.

“Skip the pleasantries, Hisung, what do you want?” You were shocked to see this emotion on Taehyung; rarely having seen him frustrated, trying to manage his annoyance as he gave Hisung a dead stare, intimidating as ever.

Though Hisung didn’t cower like everyone else did, seeming to rather thrive.

“I don’t want anything. I can’t just meet your wife?” He coated his tone condescendingly, gesturing towards you.

“No, you can’t. We’re getting a drink.” Taehyung seriously seemed bothered as he began walking you away with him, the harder squeeze of his hand around you indicating he was either growing more irritated, didn’t want to let you go, or a mix of both.

“Oh, c’mon.” Hisung pulled Taehyung back by the shoulder but Taehyung becomes irritated, shoving his arm away harshly.

“Not now, Hisung. Not at Jimin’s event.” Taehyung warned him as though he was crossing a fine line, and you grew afraid of what would occur if that were compromised.

“What, I’m not doing anything.” Hisung held out his arms, feigning innocence. “I gotta say though, if I wanted one thing it’d be to say your wife’s hot as fuck.” He cocked an eyebrow and began eyeing you in your dress, growing uncomfortable and sending him a dirty look, though you naturally leaned closer towards Taehyung and he took notice.

“Say that again I’ll make you regret it, Hisung.” Taehyung’s jaw was locked, a protective feeling overwhelming him.

“You’re seriously gonna introduce her to everyone but me?” Hisung looked offended. “She should know who I am, especially to you.” He tried making a point, eluding to something between them.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung flat out rejected him, his expression blunt as he seemed to radiate unbothered energy.

“I think you should. She should know the kind of man her husband is, and what he’s done.” He said knowingly, in a daunting way that accused Taehyung of something that seemed deeper than it looked.

“There’s nothing to know, and I never did anything.” Taehyung simply denied, as though he’s said this multiple times.

“Really? You don’t wanna tell her about how you sabotage people? Use your money to buy success?”

Taehyung had to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing out frustrated. “For fuck’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ve never done shit like that. Leave.” Taehyung finalized, attempting to control his anger.

You were trying to remain calm and look on objectively, though felt a sense of worry for where this was going, only Taehyung’s seemingly instinctive guard on you keeping you from anxiety.

Hisung scoffed, “You know, your wife should know how much of a fucking liar you are.” He spat, his vision suddenly growing narrowed as he eyed you both suspiciously. “Come to think of it, wife kinda sounds like a stretch.”

This time it wasn’t even Taehyung responding, you beating him to the punch. “Excuse me? The fuck does that mean?”

“Oh, so she talks.”

You were just about stepping forward to give this asshole a piece of your mind until Taehyung suddenly gripped onto your arms from behind, pulling you to him protectively.

“Hisung, what the fuck do you want?” Taehyung’s tone was leveled with a sense of controlled rage, clear effort to contain himself and you were completely understanding of that.

“Not much. I just find your marriage suspicious, and if I do then others do too. Wouldn’t want to taint the precious Kim reputation with that, now would we?” The remark was sly, causing Taehyung’s hold around you to tense.

“What the fuck are you implying, exactly? Try making some sense.”

“Your marriage isn’t convincing, jackass. There’s no way you two are really married, don’t think I don’t know there’s something behind it.” He stared squarely back at Taehyung, determined. “And when I get my hands on that information, don't think you're the only one who can sabotage someone.” Hisung was resolute as he declared his threat, only making Taehyung more resentful, more rash.

“Your opinion doesn’t matter to me, jackass. Nothing you do does” Taehyung was confident in the argument and it oddly made you proud, now understanding why he was so successful and well-acclaimed. It’s like he truly didn't care what others thought and only lived for the purpose of what he found important to him, contributing to his confidence and composed approach towards life. He carried himself with an affirmed sense of self-worth that never bordered egotistical, and you were lying if you said it wasn’t hot sometimes.

Because scratch that, it was incredibly hot.

Hisung laughed humourlessly, hissing. “I don’t think we can say the same about Mrs. Kim, though, her opinion should matter to you, right?” He then suddenly turned his vision to you and drew closer, speaking in a superficially saccharine tone. “Jagiya, you should really look into who your husband is. He’s not half the man he says he is.” Hisung suddenly came too close and Taehyung immediately tugged you behind him, shielding your smaller frame as his tone dangerously darkened.

“Don’t call her that, and never fucking come near her.” Taehyung was seething now, clutching one of your hands so tightly you became worried of his heightened emotions.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Hisung mimicked him. “She should know I’d treat her better than her asshole of a husband, make sure she’s nice and satisfied with how much of a man I am compared to you.” Hisung remarked without a single care, and you nearly felt the blooding searing in Taehyung’s veins.

But you could tell that was exactly Hisung’s goal; to rile Taehyung up and it unfortunately worked. No longer was the calm, cool and collected Taehyung you knew, instead feeling him suddenly rush towards Hisung with a fist until you gripped onto his jacket from behind, calling his name.

“Tae.” Your voice was soft, immediately stopping him as you clutched urgently. Taehyung could hear the frailty of your worried voice, could feel your little hold on his jacket as he came to his senses.

Taehyung grinded his teeth hard as his fist tightened for a mere second before steadily loosening, calming himself down before he made his last remark. “Go fuck yourself, Hisung.” Taehyung spat with pure disdain as he turned around and swept up your hand, leading you away from the situation as far as possible.

He pulled you along hastily, walking with a sense of speed that almost had you tripping on your dress. You were seconds from telling him to slow down until he stopped you both in a hallway.

“Taehyung, wh-” You almost got out until Taehyung suddenly pushed you up against the nearest wall, breath hot and heavy as he huffed frustratedly, raw anger written all over him.

Taehyung’s entire towering body was unexpectedly inches from you, his forearms laid against the marble tiling above your head as he hung his own low, almost trying to conceal his face into your shoulder. It’s like he was blocking you off from any other person, defensively caging you as his chest rose and fell shallowly with white hot anger, your face tucked into his shoulder. His heated breath was continuously tickling the exposed skin of your neck, so close your heart was beating faster than it should’ve.

You were only left shocked, hands fallen slack by your sides and unable to move.

“I’m sorry.” He huffed out suddenly. “Fuck, I’m so sorry I’m just.. really angry right now and I can’t calm down.” Taehyung seemed infuriated though worried, his hands clutching into fists above you as he leaned in even closer, mere centimeters between you two as he remained pressed into your personal space.

“Shit, don’t be scared I just-fuck, I hate him. He’s the only person who makes me so angry.” Taehyung breathed out frustratedly, eyes shut as he tried to control himself. “And fuck, I didn’t want him near you. I don’t want him to talk to you. I don’t want anyone to fucking come near you.”

Taehyung’s confessions kept coming and you were simply taken aback, another show of his emotions on full display and you wondered how he always so neatly composed himself.

“Tae-”

“Just stay in front of me, please.” He begged. “Where I can see you, just stay here.” He stressed, trying his best to breathe properly but only failed. “I don’t.. think I like when other guys are around you.” He confessed out of nowhere, trying to work through the claim hesitantly at first until he eventually nodded, affirming it.

“Yeah, I don’t like it.” He declared as he continued to lean in, his proximity allowing for you to constantly smell his intoxicating, Invictus cologne; its sexy scent paired with his perfectly tailored suit hugging the curves of his large, broad body only arousing your nerves.

“God, fuck.” He huffed out. “No matter what, stay away from Hisung. Never talk to him. He ruins everything he touches, every fucking thing.” Taehyung was dead serious, still hiding his face from you as he spoke angrily near your ear. “He’s been trying to ruin me for years. He’s already tried with everything else and he’ll come for you. He can’t ruin our marriage, and I swear to God if he fucking does anything to you-”

“Taehyung, hey, shh.” You brought your hands up to his chest to try calming him down, able to discern Taehyung ever rarely grew angry and when he did, just needed someone to quell his troubles. “Breathe, Taehyung, breathe, okay?” You spoke with a soft tone, trying to contrast the white hot anger you could sense in him by rubbing his chest pacifyingly.

Taehyung immediately tensed at the action, almost in shock until he ultimately tried to breathe, slow and steady.

“There you go, that’s better.” You encouraged into his shoulder, hands resting and lightly massaging as you inquired. “Talk to me, Taehyung, what’s wrong? Who’s Hisung?”

“Fuck, I’ll get angry again.” He warned, breath still hot and heavy as you smoothed over his dress shirt, trying to soothe him.

“It’s okay. I’m here, Tae, you have me. Tell me anything.” You assured and attempted to mirror his own words from a week ago, worried about his open show of emotions and thinking you should be helpful, make sure you're supplying all the support he needs because he may never be this open again.

Taehyung’s temper was still high, more of his hot breath on your shoulder as he spoke, lips still by your ear and the bass in his voice sending currents through you.

“It goes back 3 years, rival companies.” He began. “His father was dismissed as CEO and they held a shareholders meeting to decide a new one. Long story short, he won the vote, but only by a 49-51 percent margin. He barely scrapped by, and after he was appointed CEO he found out his major shareholders voted against him. What made things worse was that right after, they pulled all their shares from his company and invested in mine, and he fucking-” Taehyung was growing frustrated again recounting the story, his body rising and falling faster until your hands snaked up to his jaw, fingers splaying across his cheeks as you held his face pacifyingly.

“Taehyung, breathe again. You’re fine.” You felt him listen to you, breathing deeply as he became more composed again, continuing.

“He thinks I sabotaged him, that I colluded with his shareholders and used my money when I never did. I only had acquainted relationships with them at the time and never convinced them of anything. They told me they chose to invest because they saw me as the better company, the more competent CEO.” Taehyung was venting, and you let him exactly do so by attentively listening, holding him.

“It wasn’t my fault, but he thinks it is. And now he’s made it his life’s mission to ruin mine, ruin anything he can get his hands on because he’s convinced I ruined his.” Taehyung sounded upset, clearly fed up with having to deal with such an incessant pain in the ass.

“Just not you,” He sounded like he was pleading, a whisper. “Not fucking you, he can’t ruin us, or our marriage.”

“He won’t, Taehyung. We won’t let him.” The pads of your thumbs smoothed over Taehyung’s skin, trying to ease him as he moved back slightly, vision meeting yours.

“Y/N, I don’t lie. I wouldn’t sabotage anybody, I don’t play dirty like that. Even if the business world is riddled with people like that, I would never do it. I’m not like that at all.” A hint of desperation leaked into his tone, eyes gentle as he so emphatically tried to convince you he was nothing like Hisung said.

And you found your heart softening thinking about the fact that it affected him so much. That while he didn’t care what others thought of him, he somehow valued what you thought.

“Taehyung, don’t worry, I know, okay? You’re completely fine. He just tries to rile you up because he knows you’re better, more competent.” You slid your hands back down over his neck, letting them rest over his strong chest again. It made your breaths uneven, registering how close he was to you, just inches from your face.

“He probably knows those shareholders chose you because you’re the better CEO. He knows it, he just tries to deny the truth by looking for ways to ruin your life, so he doesn’t have to accept he’s inferior.” You offered earnestly, rhythmically smoothing him over. Taehyung’s eyes suddenly swirled with a sense of ease, his tense body now seeming to relax. “You think so?”

“Of course, Tae. You’re nothing like that, I know you’re not.” You said determinedly, gripping his shirt lightly to drive your point forward, eyes conveying warmth.

Though the response that met you was Taehyung gazing into your eyes boldly as he heard you address him so casually by a nickname already, his look containing something you couldn’t decipher, and it left butterflies swarming your chest.

You didn’t realize how intoxicatingly close you both were in this position; Taehyung’s arms caging you against the wall, body pressing into you as he looked at you, not breathing hard anymore but hotly, like he was feeling something he was attempting to manage. Your hands funnily contrasted the size of his chest as he glanced at them, then up at him, clutching him a little tighter the more the tension seemed to build.

It was obvious now, both of you were merely staring at each other, Taehyung’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and your eyes followed the movement, something unknown alighting inside you at the image. It called necessary attention to his sculpted neck and you found yourself wondering if you’d ever get to lay kisses on it, possibly even mark it

You bit your lip at the thought, hating that such an idea dawned on you, igniting with something unholy the more you breathed in his sexy scent, his large body enclosing you. It sent chills down your spine, trying to contain yourself by shifting and clamping down on your lip harder.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered to the very action, his undivided attention now on your mouth. He could feel every harder squeeze of your hands on his chest as the heat rose, fisting his own hands against the wall with the need to draw himself closer to you, especially with the way you looked right now.

Taehyung already couldn’t keep his hands off you when you resembled the hottest, and yet most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen in that dress. Either a sweet angel descended from heaven or the right kind of demon he craved. It was even more difficult knowing it’s a dress he chose, adoring the way you were wrapped up in his favourite colour, and thought red has never looked better on anyone else.

It also made him think of some things he shouldn’t speak aloud. Though Taehyung knew you, and knew you weren't ready for anything of that sort, so he remained collected and only stuck to having an arm around you tonight, mindful of boundaries.

But when you were under his scrutiny, smaller self tucked against a wall because of him and clearly hot and bothered yourself, your exposed skin raking his brain, he couldn’t keep from nearing your lips.

He’s once felt how soft they were before, seeing on multiple occasions how plushy they truly are and desiring to feel that same soft sensation again. So he disregarded all thought, coming forward inch by inch as he gauged your response, and when he viewed you fluttering your eyes shut and lifting your head towards him, he fought back cracking a smirk.

Taehyung was milliseconds from connecting your mouths, feeling the skin of his lips blissfully brush yours as his sweet breath invaded your mouth, only for a frantic voice suddenly calling out his name to interrupt, the very culprit tumbling into the hallway.

“Taehyung! Y/N- oh shit.” Taehyung immediately ducked his face away from you and you hastily let him go, Taehyung puffing out frustrated air as he met his friends’ eyes. “Jimin.. what?”

“I-uh. I’m sorry, but I got Hisung kicked out and we’re gonna start the last toast. You guys should um...be there.” Jimin cleared his throat and began shuffling, avoiding eye contact with the both of you.

“Okay, we’re coming.”

“Sorry, again.” Jimin bowed lightly and nearly made a break for it.

Taehyung sighed heavily, pushing himself off the wall and straightening up as he freed you, finally able to breathe peacefully.

“We should um.. go.” He voiced awkwardly.

“Yeah.. just give me a second. I’ll be back from the restroom.” You dared to make eye contact with him to seem unaffected, though panicked the instant your gazes locked.

“Okay.” He nodded, seeming unbothered.

You grasped the skirt of your dress and your heels clacked against the tiled flooring as you scurried off, needing to find the bathroom to see whether or not you appeared as much of a mess as you felt.

You bolted inside and ran towards the sink, spotting two women possibly your age by the mirror though ultimately ignored them, patting over your cheeks to feel how warm they were.

Were you really just seconds away from kissing Taehyung? Kissing him? What would’ve happened if Jimin never walked in? Would you have kissed him for however long, would you have stopped it?

Even better question, why didn’t you stop it? Why were you so ready to kiss him, maybe even excited by the very idea? It sent a chill down your spine, even recalling that Taehyung stated earlier he liked your lips.

Kim Taehyung liked your lips, the same ridiculously high-status, wealthy man people were on their knees for, practically Seoul’s most powerful CEO and Korea’s seemingly unattainable bachelor; that same Taehyung was the one who liked not only your lips, but your height, even your eyes.

He said they were nice.

You didn’t even want to unbox the entire Hisung situation. He so naturally defended you, even held you back out of consideration for your safety it seemed, and it frightened you how much you liked it, liked that he was so protective and made all those confessions about disliking other men around you.

It may have been possessive, but you fucking liked it.

And you already felt doomed.

You were simply imploding on yourself, having your own personal meltdown when one of the two women audaciously addressed you, tone light and airy.

“Oh my God, are you Min Y/N?” She inquired.

You flashed your eyes to her, answering with furrowed eyebrows. “Uh, Kim Y/N now, but yes.”

“Wow, so you’re the woman Kim Taehyung married?” The other one perked up.

“..Yes.” You answered confused.

The other woman really scoffed here, scoffed, “Song-i, it’s the other way around. She married him.” The rather rude looking woman clarified, and you found out right after just how rude she was. “The Kim Taehyung would never willingly marry someone like her.”

Your expression immediately contorted, unbelieving of her audacity. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t think we’re stupid, everyone knows you seduced him into it.” She nearly spat, tone snobby as ever.

You guffawed humourlessly, truly having it up to here with today because it seemed never-ending with bullshit. “Think what you want, but I didn’t seduce him.”

“We know you’re lying, he wouldn’t marry some runaway like you. You came out of nowhere, you clearly got into his bed before you got him to the altar.” The other one added on, painting their twisted narrative together.

“It wasn’t like that all, but if you want to think so because you’re not the one he takes home at night, then be my fucking guest.” You countered them, look sharp enough you were sure you could cut a diamond.

They both took immediate offence, having the audacity to near you and invade your personal space. “You’re not the only woman he’s taken home, do you really think you’re special?” She insinuated something you weren’t dumb enough to not catch, heart sinking at the thought.

“What exactly are you trying to get at?”

“The fact that he married you as a favour, you runaway, and everyone knows your marriage isn’t love at all.” She relayed with a snippy tone. “Don’t you get you’re just charity to him? Everyone knows it, sweetie.”

You were trying hard to think of a way to counter, though your stinging heart took the jab like it was white hot lightning. You felt crushed within seconds at the comment hitting home, sinking lower until you spoke up.

“Our marriage isn’t your business. Maybe try getting a life before you revolve it around mine.” You spat as you sent them a petty look, making your way out and almost exiting until you felt a splash of water hitting the back of your hair, mouth falling agape at the sheer audacity of what just fucking happened.

“Your life is fucking miserable. You’ll stay by his side but he’ll never love you. Keep acting like your his real wife and see what’ll happen. Everyone hates you and how you made him marry you out of pity. Watch your back, runaway, you never know when he might end it all and break your little heart.” You almost, almost turned around to land a right hook across the girl’s face until you decided against it, composing yourself with a breathing mantra and instead choosing your favourite way of leaving a bad situation.

With a snarky last word.

“Seems he’s already broken yours with this ring, huh? Stay mad at the ring bitches, stay mad at the ring.” You smiled condescendingly as you flaunted Taehyung’s twelve thousand dollar ring, walking out of the bathroom despite their exclamations and practically marching towards the hall, seething.

You arrived inside and plopped down on your seat next to Taehyung bitterly, utterly vexed as you crossed your arms and grinded your teeth.

“Hey, where were you?” Taehyung asked. “You missed the toast.”

“Could’ve done it without me anyway.” You replied curtly, all the information you received in just 2 minutes ruling your thoughts and sending you into a storm of anger, spoiling your mood.

Taehyung became confused. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Nothing.” You huffed and reached for your glass of water, taking a large swig and nearly slamming it back onto the table.

Taehyung reacted surprised. “Seriously, what’s wrong?” He became apprehensive of your mood, grabbing your hand on the table gently as he searched for your eyes.

Though he instead found your eyes flashing towards something else, someone else before you snatched your hand away, eyes set cold.

“I said nothing.”

Taehyung followed your previous line of sight and landed on two women finding their seats a few tables away, their own eyes immediately deflecting from him once he made eye contact.

And it really only took two seconds for Taehyung to connect the dots, recognizing their faces.

Taehyung sighed heavily, feeling guilty and suddenly apologetic about the possible situation, knowing something must have been said to you.

He turned back around, “Y/N, what happened?” He tried inquiring again, though you responded with absolutely nothing, completely crossed and avoiding him.

He exhaled tiredly, this day having been the epitome of a joke. Taehyung was scanning over you again when he suddenly noticed the ends of your hair, distinguishing they were wet and he found it strange. “Y/N, why the fuck is your hair wet?” He was moving to touch the damp parts until you evaded him, tone rigid.

“Nothing, Taehyung.”

Taehyung sighed again, frustrated as he once again put two-and-two together, remembering you’d all come from the restroom and addressed you. “What did they say, Y/N? Tell me right now, is that why your hair’s wet?”

“No, Taehyung, nothing happened,” You stressed, turning your body even further away from him and crossing your arms tighter.

Taehyung determined he’s truly had enough of today and rose from his seat, you noticing though choosing to ignore him. Taehyung quickly resolved he was going to fix this, beyond agitated this entire day had been damned to hell. He was having a good time too, especially keeping in mind whatever in God’s name was happening between you two, and only knowing that it made him inexplicably happy for some reason.

Though that mood was ruined now, Taehyung shaking away his thoughts as he began plotting his approach towards your situation, entirely pissed off as he made his way towards the bar, concocting his plan.

It took Taehyung only a good 10 minutes to get what he needed, snatching the nicest bottle of champagne and trying to remember where he’d observed the two women sitting, strolling his way over to the table with his fakest grin.

“Good evening, ladies.” He greeted with a saccharine tone as he neared them.

“Oh my God, Taehyung!” One of the girls beamed. “We haven’t seen you so long, what are you doing here?”

“Yeah, too long!”

“It has.” Taehyung smiled. “I actually wanted to offer this.” Taehyung then revealed the bottle of champagne from behind his back, holding it out towards them.

The two women became elated, practically cheering as they clearly admired Taehyung more than he liked. “Oh wow! Thank you so much!” One of them thanked, receiving the bottle bashfully.

“You’re too kind, Taehyung, did you really get this for us?” The other inquired, a bright smile on her face.

“Actually, I didn’t.”

Both women looked at each other confused, eyebrows furrowed. “You.. didn’t?”

“No,” Taehyung responded with a bleak expression in near offence they’d assume that, smile wiped from his face. “You both did.”

“Wh-what?” They both questioned, incredulous.

“I put it on your tabs, geniuses. There’s 6 more bottles, by the way.”

Both women’s eyes went wide, immediately protesting. “T-this is the most expensive bottle of champagne here!” They looked annoyed, and Taehyung was all about it.

“I know.” Taehyung smiled condescendingly, drawing closer to the women and dropping his tone to a scarily low, threatening octave.

“Say anything to my wife again and I’ll make sure you pay more.” Taehyung finalized and rubbed his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he walked away, smirking. He ignored their protests as he passed by the bartender, winking for the 6 other bottles of champagne to be delivered to them.

Taehyung then made his way to you, now in a hurry to leave this awful night behind as he gently gripped your arm, speaking into your ear to not alert anyone else at the table. “Y/N, we’re leaving.”

Taehyung didn’t really have to wait, you responding rapidly, “Don’t have to tell me twice.” You were already rising from your seat, done with this entire Godforsaken night yourself.

You both stepped away together, just about reaching the hall doors until Taehyung stopped you in front, holding you by your arms. “Stay here, I’ll get your coat.”

You nodded at him and Taehyung bolted off, wanting to nab your coat as fast as possible so he could drape it around you and practically flaunt your relationship in front of everyone. He didn’t care if it was fake anymore, didn’t care for the legitimacy of his actions; he simply wanted the world to know you’re his wife, purposely wanted those two girls and everyone to see him treating you affectionately.

And he most certainly wanted to squash any of the doubt Hisung called attention to earlier that kept bugging him, entailing your marriage already seeming fake to him, and could to multiple other people.

So he retrieved the coats and came rushing back to you, having worn his as he approached you. You almost reached out for your coat until Taehyung halted you.

“Don’t, I’m putting it on you.” He rounded the coat around your body, helping your arms into the sleeves. He pulled it snug around you and held onto the ends where it should’ve been buttoned, taking a moment to think.

Taehyung simply gazed at you, licking his lips contemplating what more he could do in this moment that would be convincing enough, knowing there had to be people watching you two right now.

He realized he was staring without having said anything. “Sorry, I’m trying to think of something to do for everyone watching but I don’t know what.” Taehyung flashed to your lips and his mind explored the idea, though ultimately fought against it.

“People are watching?” You inquired.

“Yeah,” Taehyung clutched onto your jacket, trying to think as he looked at your little bundled up self.

“But I’m not sure what to do-” Taehyung was cut off by you suddenly grabbing his tie and crashing your lips onto his in a single second.

Taehyung’s eyes blew out, taken by surprise until he found himself quickly melting into your kiss, hands gripping your jacket tighter. He couldn’t help himself from opening up his mouth to catch more of yours, lips sensually kissing yours in a slow, unhurried pace.

You instantly loved the way he kissed, Taehyung somehow having taken control when you were the one who initiated everything, completely taken by his pillowy, delicate lips.

Taehyung didn’t care if your lipstick smudged onto him or how brash the public display of affection seemed; all he cared about was the soft feeling of your lips against his own, and the sexy way you wre tugging him by his tie.

He knew it would stay on his mind for weeks.

You were getting lost until he disconnected your mouths, only looking at each other with undecipherable feelings, shimmering eyes that had no clue what just happened.

Taehyung smiled before sweeping up your hand in an instant, pulling you out of the hall and eventually outside to quickly sent a text to his driver, guiding you to the curb of the venue.

He held you against him to keep you warm while walking, suddenly speaking up when something occurred to him.

“You called me Tae, you know.”

“What?”

“My nickname, you called me by it earlier.” Taehyung repeated.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just heard your friends say it and it slipped out, I didn’t mean to-”

“Say it all you want.” Taehyung was grinning to himself like an idiot, thinking you weren’t looking at him but that’s exactly what you were doing, admiring the curve of his perfect cupid’s bow with hints of your lipstick smeared on him. “It’s better when you say it.”

And now it was your turn to smile like an idiot.

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tags : @thedarkwinterrose @ayujaded @couldbeyourlast @ladyarmanto @anpanman-sonyeondan @apollukee @blueevelvt @taesluttt @scalubera @laurynne5 @dreamsindreamss @thequeen-kat @awsome-small-k @wrecklesssly @kweenhu @jalexad @staerify @bangforever @dyriddle @aianloveseven @waves-and-woods @hoefortaeshands @veronawrites @nightapple4jk @wataemelonz @aomi-nabi @katbonv @hantaev @jinpuddin @usamizuki @wooya1224 @bambuzlee @jenotation @tangledsparkles @pcyxljh @forbts-only @dumplingley @ccmemoirs @kleritata @thelilbutifulthings @maygem2780 @lachimolala95 @betysotelo18 @prettycoolting @opaljm @jeonlovers @honeyboocal @preciouschimine

#thebtswritersclub #bangtanhq #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #thetruthuntoldnet #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #taehyung scenario #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung arranged marriage au #kim taehyung

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littlefreya · 3 years

Text

Velvet Chains

Summary: For a generous fee, August Walker is yours. A man devout to pleasure, who will worship you for an entire night and make sure your first time is more than memorable.

Promot:

A thought - August as a gigolo who specializes in deflowering. 👌

Pairing: Soft! August Walker x Virgin Reader.

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: 18+. August Walker as a sex-worker, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a depiction of bodily fluids, soft!August themes, a tinge of angst and August’s monster c...

A/N: When I received this prompt, I didn’t think I can actually do it justice, but it was 3am and I started dabbling around. Then in the morning, I took another look at it, and this little drabble turned into a one-shot. I hope you’ll like it, I hope I did well. Many thanks to @agniavateira my muse who beta’d my story.

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed reading. 🖤 DM if you want to be added to my tag squad.

Title: Velvet Chains

They were all little flowers to him, fresh peonies and flushed roses. Young or mature, it never mattered as long as they were still oh so pure. Undefiled, succulent flesh. Kissed by dew and wrapped by the last remaining petals of their innocence.

All for him to willfully pluck.

Sprayed with notes of tobacco, and boozy fragrance of rum - August Walker was the top-tier kind of service, a man to die for with his three-piece suits and shiny leather shoes. At one point he didn’t even need to self-promote; they came to him, all doe-eyed and coy, willing to pay as much as it takes to have him breach through the sealed gates of their garden.

The rules were quite simple: Cash in advance and always wear protection; other than that anything goes. August liked to see himself as a procurer of fantasies rather than a male prostitute. For a generous fee of $1500, his girls earned themselves a night they never forgot. Whether it began with a dinner at the most outrageous restaurant, a masked ball at a billionaire’s mansion, or an intimate evening with his homemade cooking at a cosy sublet.

It was up to him to choose the experience for the ladies after thoroughly assessing and profiling each client. He was never wrong; after all, it was his job to study women, both mentally and physically.

“I know what you need,” he would murmur as he kissed down their navel and swept between their shaky thighs. And in his grip they indeed laughed, cried, and came undone so many times over, reaching out to grasp heaven around his unapologetically huge cock.

Until you changed everything.

August couldn’t quite crack you; while he enjoyed, savoured, and conquered every woman he had, it was you who seemed to have more power over him than he did over you. The quiet abyss in your eyes reeled him in like an unfortunate, foolish fish teetering on a hook. Whatever mysteries that mind of yours held, he wanted to pry it open with his fingers and brush them through the parchments of your soul.

He desired you more than just the flesh; he wanted to be deeper in you than he ever was in any other woman.

‘Who are you?’

Shivering in his presence, it was crystal clear that you weren’t immune to his spells; yet you didn’t seem impressed by the theatrics or his suave appearance. As if you saw right through him, and knew it was all but a spectacle.

Wanting everyone to witness your ‘claiming’, he took you to the dimly-lit roof of his private apartment and laid you on a blanket beneath the beaming stars. When his lips touched yours while slowly ridding himself of his clothes, August felt like he could tell you his most kept secrets though he didn’t want to.

This is not how it worked. Not for him.

Sorrounded by the fairy tea-lights that adorned the intimate rooftope, you flinched as he began undressing you, and trembled so vehemently once completely bare that all he wanted was to embrace you in his big arms. And he did so, collecting you against the dark fur of his chest, the heat of his body provided shelter from the cold October breeze.

“Beautiful,” he whispered sincerely and allowed his hands to roam the tender map of your body. Likely, he would never see you again, so he wanted to remember every curve, dimple, and scar; he needed your moans imprinted in the museum of his mind.

The same desperate, breathless pleas only a virgin would make, purer than pure.

Breathing in shudders, you laid down beneath him with your legs spread out. Your little untouched slit displayed to his hungering gaze, asking to be reshaped by his intrustment. August was never one to lose control, but your entire existence has made him question every decision and in a moment of frivolousity, he lost himself completely and broke the most forbidden rule:

He entered you bare.

Painfully large and hot as flaming iron, his rigid cock tore through your maidenhood and delved into your velvety pit, desperately searching for the engulfing shelter that was your womb. Weeps of pain rained down your lips; he was too big, and he didn’t slow down. He unwrapped you, tearing your rose petals one by one, sinking in until you could have sworn he was infused between your lungs.

Overwhelmed by the raw sensation of your wet flesh engulfing him, August raked his arm around the small of your back and held your body against his, forcing you to spread wider, to grant him the infinite access he demanded.

“Look at me kitten,” he murmured in a half-breathless, half-soothing voice and showered hasty butterfly kisses across your forehead, “I’m inside you. It’s done, now let me please you.”

He seared your body, your sensitive entrance pulsating with a twinge of grieving anger around his veiny cock, your walls squeezing, fighting off his lewd intrusion. While you anticipated the pain, the initial shock was too much to bear.

“I don’t think I can take you,” you retorted and swallowed hard, trying not to cry as he swelled and flinched inside you further more.

August reached a hand to your jaw and caged it between his strong fingers. Not saying a word, he stared intensely into your eyes. Smoke and broken mirrors shadowed his glare. In your daze, you swore you could see his reveries and hear him whisper without moving his lips.

The barriers of your guarded castle were in ruins, and so was your self-preservation. Fully submitting, you allowed him to take you beneath the shimmering, black silks of midnight.

August was both gentle and rough as he rode between your thighs, his heavy body surrounding you completely. His entity seeped through your lungs and pores, his bewhiskered mouth left sloppy, ticklish kisses and chanted a hymn of pleasure against your neck.

For a slight moment, you wondered if he was this passionate with all of his customers. But all thoughts died at the moment his crown slammed into the wall of your womb, and the entirety of your existence was flooded with both the tremors of sudden pleasure and satisfying pain.

You wanted more, you wanted to be complete. To be completely his.

“Oh god, yes!” You cried for him, clawing your nails at the taut muscles of his back.

Grunting, he plunged into you, harder with every pull and deeper with every thrust. He sought for heaven between your legs and as inexperienced and naive as you were, you followed your instincts and complied to his arousal. Bucking your hips, you yielded to meet the jerk of his hips - your rhythm a savage mess, your demeanour that of a virgin-whore.

“Good girl, my good girl,” August praised, thrilled of the shift in you, and by the helpless, glossy gaze and gaping mouth as you moaned and begged. Your freshly open cunt clung to his invasion with its growing tightness. Holding onto him the way the moon is bound to earth.

Control was gradually lost over your own bodies, enslaved to something stronger than your wills and wits. It was as if you became vessels to haunting spirits that made you slam into one another, lost in a sweaty, carnal trance until a flush of sudden rapture broke between your legs the way raging waves break upon a ship lost at sea, consuming it completely.

Like a dauntless sailor, August followed you into the depths of euphoria. Jumping to his knees, he hauled you by the waist and slammed you against him, needing to be balls-deep within you. With a loud shout, he came undone, astonished by the raw, unbridled sensation of releasing himself inside another person.

You both shuddered in shock as his thick cum bathed your womb in three, warm gushes.

‘Oh, August, what have you done?’

Spent, he nearly collapsed on top of you, holding his hands flat to the side of your head. He took a deep breath before pulling out from your hurting hole and moving to lie by your side. The pink mixture of your essence trickled between your simmering lips just the way it coated his still-swollen cock. Glancing down upon it he felt an odd notion of triumph, more than the usual complacent feeling usually evoked with his clientele.

“Don’t worry, I am clean.” He promised.

In a way, you were his first as well.

Pulling you against him, he nuzzled your neck and hummed lowly, “I don’t imagine you could give me anything.”

Still trying to land back on solid ground, you said nothing. Words didn’t make it, not through your chest nor your head. You basked within the moment, trying to memorise every vibration that flowed through your veins as the glow became dimmer with every passing minute.

Limbs entangled, he decorated your shoulder-blade with honey-sweet kisses while your spine attached to his hairy chest. He watched you quietly, admiring you completely until the two of you fell into a dreamless sleep under the guarding sky.

Come morning, August was awakened by the sounds of the raging street below. The scent of toxic vapours hung heavy in the air and his face curled at the sounds of the beeping horns. For a moment, he forgot where he was but then you were the first thing on his mind. Even though he knew the deal was for one night only, something in him itched for a generous ‘on-the-house’ lazy morning sex.

As he rolled to lie on top of you, his chest felt abruptly empty. He was met with nothing but the defiled blanket.

You were gone.

Though the scent of your body, your sweat, and viscous fluids were still stuck to his skin, your memory a sheer piece of silk carried away by the cruel wind. The weight of a thousand stones dropped in August’s gut and he flipped onto his back once more and stared at the cloudy sky.

It resonated in him that this was all that it was, and he would never find a girl like you again.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

*I don’t own August Walker or the Mission: Impossible Franchise

#henry cavill #august walker #august walker x reader #henry cavill x reader #august walker fanfiction

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pupiiaye · 3 years

Text

Reminiscence of Violence //. A yandere Diluc x GN reader.

They were a virus, a disease that needed curing, a simple tune that needed listening. They were a pill, an addiction if you will. He had to have it, he craved it more than the bloodlust that trickled through his veins and caused up a storm. What exactly was this feeling? Why did he feel it? Why was it more intense than the deaths and bloodshed he's seen a thousand times over? And why… why did he want it so badly? Why did he want to rip it from its core and feast upon it like a starving man? Tonight, he will have his answer.

Fair warnings: knife play, character death / threat implied, possessiveness, spankings, dirty talk, a rather dark Diluc, markings.

------

The stars in the sky glistened above them, whispering secrets told from different lands, different stories. The clear wind danced through trees, kissed against skin, leaving their invisible mark against the bare flesh. It was not odd to be seen wandering around the grassy plains of Mondstadt, travelers and knights had duties to attend to, commissions to complete and bounties to conquer. Moonlight blessed those who decided to wander without any real reason, the wanderer in question being a simple soul. One who had found themselves living amongst the city of freedom for quite some time. Not a knight, but a fair citizen who took the pleasure in helping others. They didn't consider themselves to be a savior, nor did they consider themselves to be someone without any purpose. This was the main reason as to why they've managed to catch the eye of /the/ the richest man in Mondstadt.

It goes without saying that this was rather impressive, everyone can see the clear hook they had on him. The addiction they provided without even doing as much as lifting a finger. Their eyes screamed of excitement, and in return the ex knight's heart would scream with desire. Diluc, quiet noble man who had his morals, his regrets, and his fancies. Diluc, the man who didn't take pleasure in affairs or hit offs, the man who cared not of looks but of trust and genuine emotions.

This drove a man crazy, off the walls even. It was not of hate, but confusion as to why or how one person could pull the heaviest of beats out of his once dying heart. Frowns that once covered his features turned into ones of admiring grins, turned into little smirks whenever they would ramble and rant about their passions. Beauty, they were littered with it, from the very gleam of irises to the movement of plush lips. Archon's, he wanted to taste them, wanted to nibble and bite into those moving pillows they called lips. He wanted to make them bleed and bruise after getting done with kissing them, and would he stop there? Absolutely not.

His daydreams were becoming worse, and the only thing that could snap him out of them were the blissful sounds of laughter. The symphony of little chuckles mixed in with a breathy hiccup of air. Oh, he knew this sound like he knew the scriptures of poetry, this sound was one he got drunk on. Instead of wine, he could listen to his baby's sweet giggles until death slayed him where he stood.

The reason as to why it was happening, however, was enough to make a man see red. How dare he? How dare that betraying drunk prick, the simple audacity of this … Fool. Was he asking for another death wish, perhaps? Did he wish to watch the flames of hell rise once more? Did he want Diluc to throw him out in the coldness of oceans and watch him choke and gasp and cling on to whatever breath of fucking air he could get? So many questions, not enough action. The solid glass in his hand could shatter from how tight he was gripping it, however Diluc was a man with pride, a man with patience and logic on his side. He would not yell, he would not allow his nerves to get the best of him. What he will do, is way worse than a simple “get the hell out” will do.

“Sir Kaeya, last time I checked, that was your fifth drink as of tonight. I suggest you wrap it up quickly before it gets too dark.”

The words were not of an option, but rather one of a demand. Those blazing embers Diluc called eyes were boring into a crystal one. He did not care where Kaeya went, how he got there, or where he will end up. All he knows is that he best make his decision quick before patience thinned out. The look he got in return did nothing to calm his raging pulses of blood either, he could kill this man given that chance again. This time, Diluc wouldn't forget it.

“My, what a rush… Pardon me, Master Diluc. I was not aware you had other things to tend to, throwing me out so soon. Or do you wish to have them to yourself, hm? Very well, I mustn't interrupt your … Desires. Just do not have too much fun whilst everyone are away, it would only make me jealous. Ain't that right, sweetheart?”

This chattering baboon talked too much, he was too touchy with what clearly belonged to Diluc. He did things too much, talked too smoothly, acted as if they had any interest in him when Diluc knew for a fact who the real winner was. As expected, Kaeya always thought certain things belonged to him, and for once in his life Diluc had the urge to be as competitive as his brother.

“Are you quite done? Hurry up and take your leave, or do I have to throw you out myself?”

Venom laced with every word, hands turning white from how hard he gripped onto the table. Mark his words, when he's done laying claim, this man was next on his overdue hit list. His thoughts were so loud that he didn't even hear his brother mocking him before the tavern doors closed with a squeak. So loud that he didn't even hear his soon-to-be — no, that's not right. They are his dearest, his love, his desires, and everything more. Right? Why would they look at him with such concern if not were true? Why would they touch his arm and smile so sweetly if not for him? Did they not come to him, and only him when scared, if not because they held dear feelings that he too reciprocated? They loved him, it was plain as can be. They adored him even, yet they were too shy to admit it to his face. Figures, Diluc knew this, he knew them more than the back of his hand. They just need a little help expressing It, right? Especially with the way they were chatting and laughing up a storm with his dearest, soon to be dead, brother.

Clouded eyes came back down to heaven, that heaven being the warm smile of his love. That's so much better, he didn't want to see that smile directed towards anyone else but him, it wasn't their fault. They didn't know that they belonged to Diluc yet, and that was okay. This is why he must teach a very simple lesson. One that will engrain itself in their memories until death.

“I find it funny…” eyes hands smooth over the wooden surface of the bar stand. He took in the smoothness, the patterns that followed along his fingers. “I find it hilarious even, how he thinks you belong to him when we both know that isn't true, right?”

What was that expression they wore? Confusion? Oh, how Diluc loved it when they played stupid, they were nothing of the sort. Perhaps they wanted to entice Diluc further, pull him in deeper, so he could ravish them against this here bar stand. Yeah, that's exactly what it was, Diluc could tell, he knew the signs all well. Being the observant man he was, he would not allow this one to wiggle free from his dangerous palms.

Slowly, gloves slowly began their journey off of slender fingers. Those red eyes burning into ones of a pretty little thing, just waiting to be taken. Their body screamed to be claimed and taken over by, but not just for anyone — no. He danced those same eyes up and down, taking their time to design the way they'll look, shivering and begging for more of him. He took his time imprinting the thought of them choking on air as he drew breaths and sweet words out of them. Bare hands reached for the blade tucked away in the waist band of his pants. Hands gliding over the wooden surface as long legs carried him out to where they sat. Confusion on their face turned into one of interest, and oh Diluc could not wait until that face of theirs turned into one of pleasure, pain, and agony. He wanted to make them beg, scream, chant his name like a god-damn song. It will happen, he's sure of it. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to escape. The only thing saving them from Diluc's hands was Diluc alone.

“Now, I hate to be the giver of bad news, but he doesn't own you. You do not beckon to his every call, and you certainly do not belong to him. Your thoughts, your words, your actions, even the way you move…”

A small sigh, eyes casting down on sweet thighs that were soon to be marked with the carvings of his name

“You know it all belongs to me, correct? When you lay in bed, and you drift your pretty head to sleep, you are aware you dream of me, yes? When you bat those eyes and look up … At me, you know I am the one who controls that seemingly empty head of yours, right?”

There's so much silence, but Diluc has enough patience to see the way their legs clench at every word, could hear the way their breathing thickens and stutters in the back of their throat. That's all he needed to see to know what he was saying was nothing far from true. Finally, hands are reaching forward, moving to caress and then cup at warm cheeks. Blushing, he can tell just from how abnormally hot they were. Their temperature is never this warm, he should know since he memorized their normal body heat.

“So you do know that. Then why is it, why my pretty flaming flower…”

Remember back when he thought he had patience? Apparently he had thought wrong of himself. He found his hands gripping tightly to their jaw, the free hand coming down to cup at smooth thighs. Oh, oh how they flinched so beautifully in his grasp, oh the hopeless look in their eye made his dick sing. They way they didn't resist, the way their thighs rubbed together. Their body was so damn honest, what was he to do? How could he not take them when they were basically asking for it?

"Why is it you let him touch you? Why did you allow him to touch and flirt with something that clearly belongs to me? Answer me, quickly."

He saw their mouth open to talk, and for a moment he had nothing but the thought of making them choke on his cock. Soon, not tonight, but soon enough.

"I'm sure he wasn't flirting, Diluc. You know Kaeya, he talks with charm, theres nothing I can do about that."

Wrong move.

A deep breath was taken before a hot hand reached up to grab at their arms, pulling them up just to twist them around and push them against the edges of his very own bar.

"Give me a good reason why I should not mark this body with my name at this moment."

He didn't give them time to answer, too busy trailing the edges of a blade down their clothed back. No matter, they do not need to talk all too much. Diluc only wanted to hear their cries and begs, nothing more nothing less. "Tell me that you desire me. I need to hear you speak your truth before I continue, I already know that you do so do not try to lie to me, dear flower."

His words spoke deep into their ear, tone clear and free from hesitation. And when their lips opened to plead for him, oh it made it all the much better. His pride hit the ceiling, he knew it. All those signs from before were so true, and now he was able to hear it for himself, soak in those desperate words of, "yes Diluc, please take me. Make me yours, please." oh how polite they were, always so obedient, always listening out for any command. What a good pet they were, what a good flower they were.

The sounds of material being cut open filled the thick air, along with those rough fingers feeling up the smooth of their back, enjoying the way his canvas felt right under his flaming tips. Diluc could not wait to sink his teeth in and taste their sweet necture himself. Those eyes drunk up their topless form once more before trailing the knife further down, he had other days to take his time with them. Tonight they were his to destroy and break down.

Lips and teeth ran free on their body. Leaving purplish marks against sweet tender skin, his knife work not being cut short. He made sure to tear at their bottoms leaving them in nothing but the bruises he had gifted them. Their sweet moans and whimpers filling his ears, filling his desire to ruin them even further. He wasted no time in running possesive hands down their waist, grabbing at thighs just to pull them apart. The squirming under his palms not going unnoticed, infact he laughed something dark at the way their body twitched and pathetically squealed under his touch.

'Look at you. Isn't this just pathetic, if it were any other day I would give you the honor of laying under my damn boot just to watch your body squirm for me. Just to watch it beg for me to continue, Archons look at how you move, and you expect me to just stand idle while others try and get of piece of you? No, I refuse."

It didn't end there, his touches only got more intense. Grabbing a handful of their ass, manhandling it under a rough smack was placed upon them. Oh he hoped that left a bruise, he hoped that with another smack they would cry out /louder/ for him. He deserved to hear. After nights and endless nights of not being able to see them under him, Diluc deserved to watch them grow more desperate for him.

"Look at that, look at you squirm for me and not him. Listen to the way you call my name and not his. Do you know what that is? It's the signs of you belonging to me, nobody else but me. And if I catch anyone, and I mean /anyone/ putting their damn hands on you I will make sure to take you in front of them. That is a promise, my flower."

He made sure they could feel his now slicked up warm fingers prodding at their entrance, the dark chuckle exiting from his lips and into their burning ears. The warmth of their gates of heaven fans against his fingers and diluc can't help but groan out in pure need. Oh how crazy they make him. With caution diluc moves his fingers in, one and then the next and then the next after that. Each finger slipping inside once pained gasps turned into ones of satisfaction and greed. They were so good for him, taking him like he was no damn problem. As expected of course, it were only his fingers after all, but soon...

Sounds of metal and then thick clothing could be heard hitting the ground. Their ears can pick up the way diluc's breathing deepened, showing signs of how badly he needed this just as much as they did. Hot hands suddenly slam on either side of them, their skin touching so they can feel how hot Diluc was at the moment. No words were spoken while a hand came behind them, caressing that sweet throat just to pull their head back. Lips coming in contact with their own, connecting in this brutal dance of love, crazy untammed and dangerous love.

This was a great time for him to distract them, leading his aching cock with the other free hand he had. Poking at their entrance with the demand to be let in, eyes glowing with determination. Inch by inch walls wrapped tight around him loosened up the more they took him in. Archons the way they arched against his chest and lips trembled against his own, the way they whimpered and furrowed their eyebrows, gods help him for he is a man weakened by the simple sight of them breaking down.

"That's it... There we go, you take it. You take it like the good bitch you are, yeah? Look at you, god damn look at you. Do you think kaeya could make you react like that? Here allow me to help you answer that."

Hips finally got sent flying home. Making contact with their skin, kissing at the thin layer of sweat, evidence of how much work was put in. Diluc felt his grin widen, something so foreign to his features, yet he invited it in whenever they were involved. One hand came down to grip at those hips, pulling them back home to the base of his cock every single time. They cries, oh their sweet cries encouraged diluc to destroy that willing hole of theirs. The tears that began to bubble up brought him nothing but satisfaction, the gush and mess made was art against his now squirming canvas.

"Harder. Cry harder for me if you wish to cum, I promise you I'm not allowing you out of this damn tavern until your tears beg me to. You can squirm and gush all over my fucking cock as much as you please, but until I start seeing some real tears... Well, baby love, you can kiss Kaeya goodbye, would be a shame for him to lose a friend, hm?"

This was followed by harsher thrust, his dick swelling up to the brim, damn near ready to explode and unload deep inside of their aching fuckhole. Oh but the harder they teared up and rushed out with tears, the more diluc couldn't help but wish to fill them up with his thickening seed. His hand on their throat growing tighter and tighter until one more thrust sent them jerking against the edge. Hand now moving to their head, pushing them down until their faces squished against the wooden table. He kept them there while hips rolled his name out against their ass, unloading his cum inside of their shivering walls. Feeling them clench and gush with their own orgasm, oh how proud he was to know they knew when to cum. How proud he was to know that his flower could milk him for everythiing he had.

"That's it.. There we go, you are so good for me, sweet flower. Unfortunately I am not finished with you."

Diluc, a man who will never be satisfied until things were perfect. Diluc , a gentlemen , a man who only believed in trust and hard work. Diluc, the man who could go more than one or two rounds. Diluc , the man who made them scream until their throat went dry and their vision went blurry.

Tonight he laid his claim, and much like many other nights, he will make sure the entire city of Mondtstadt knew who they belonged to.

#diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc scenarios #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc smut #genshin diluc #diluc imagines #diluc #genshin impact #fanfic #yandere

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kpop-dungeon-dark · 3 years

Text

Sinners. (Stalker!San x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Semi Non-Con, sadism, masochism, fear kink, hair play, head shaving, complete submission, humiliation, degradation, anal, camera play, piercing, denial, chastity, Psycho!San, twisted and dark fucked up shit. Read at your own risk. You've been warned. This isn't for everyone. It is purely fiction and doesn't reflect any individual's behavior nor does it encourage it.

It was early in the morning and she was about to go to college in an hour. But instead of running around having breakfast, getting ready and making sure she had her assignments ready, Y/n was standing in front of her mirror, eyes closed as she touched her pussy and touched an electric razor to her head, imagining what it'd feel like if it was on and an imaginary 'Master' was forcefully shearing her. Like a sheep. "Ahh... Master… please..." The girl let a whimper fall from her lips, having no idea that the curtains of her room were open and someone could watch her through the window.

"Fuck…" The man standing outside, behind the PCO booth on the sidewalk outside Y/n's apartment complex whispered to himself, feeling his jeans tighten. Taking a picture of the girl before switching it to video mode, planning to send her the photo later. It had been a while now. Maybe a bit more than a while. He was ready and sure now, unable to wait anymore.

San had to have Y/n now.

He had to claim her rightfully his. Or, he felt like he'd lose his mind now. Just watching the pretty girl wasn't enough anymore. He wanted to touch her, feel her, tell her, that he knew… He knew that she wasn't as innocent as she made herself look in front of the people that knew her. That she was actually a hormonal little dirty girl. And whilst nobody knew that nasty side of her, he did. The thought made the man feel powerful. In control. Like he had a claim over Y/n.

There was no way in hell that she wasn't made for him.

Y/n got done with masturbating and packed up before going to college, having no idea that she had a stalker. The girl spent her usual regular day at college, having no idea of the storm that was coming.

San knew Y/n were in class and that’s exactly when he wanted to send her the photo he took. A sick smirk made its way on his face and he took his phone out, sending it with the caption, 'having fun there?' He knew where she sat, a lone desk by one of the windows in this classroom, the spot he was standing in providing him a clear view of her face. Yes. The man had all the information he could gather about her memorized by heart.

Y/n was drifting off when she suddenly felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, peeking at the Professor sneakily, the girl took it out and unlocked it only to choke on her breath before starting to cough, making some heads turn which caused her to put the device in her hand away to prevent it getting seized. Her blood ran cold and skin paled.

What the fuck just happened?!

San patiently waited for the female to exit her college, her being earlier than the usual time today, however. The man grinned deviously as he texted her again once she passed by him in a hurry, his taller figure getting up to follow her.

'Will you give that show again? Would you like someone to shave your hair off? That’s what gets you off right?' It shamelessly read, making her tremble.

Y/n started to rush towards her house as she didn't live too far away from her college, not having to use any vehicle because it was barely a 10 minute walk as she nervously glanced around. She was quite twisted herself. And so, a dark part of her mind thought... things, making her start to shudder as tears welled up in self hatred. She hated the soft pounds in her southern region, overpowering the thump of her heart ringing in her ears as she reached the building and rushed in.

'What's the rush for, Princess? Are you so eager to touch yourself again? Tsk. Are you horny? Knowing someone is watching you?' San was absolutely sick in the head. Chuckling at his own text, he bit his lip and hit send.

Y/n was shaking as she read the message. Yes. In her fantasies this was… thrilling, exciting, pussy throbbing and she'd like to play like this with her top but… a legit stalker? She wasn't THAT fucked. Or so the girl belived, at least. Rushing to the curtains after locking the front door, the girl drew them while trying to catch someone's glance outside but no luck.

San had mastered the art of hiding as he watched her. It wasn't like this was new or anything.

Y/n felt hopeless. She couldn't even call the cops! What would the girl show them as evidence?! She didn't want to tell or show them this! Her filthiest desire.

The 21 year old was having a mental breakdown! All her savings were in this college. She could not run away, didn't have any friends because Y/n was a foreigner and the people of this country were rather hostile to any outsiders. Couldn't go back home because she had run away from there, which was a hell in itself, when she had received her acceptance letter.

'Aww come on now!' Her phone pinged again, and then again. 'You can’t keep the fun all to yourself!'

The realisation felt like a bucket of ice cold water everytime she was reminded of it. The person had seen her masturbating and that to the fucking… razor! They knew her fantasies and at that the darkest ones! She couldn't even text them back asking him who it was! The girl was simply too embarrassed to! What if it were someone she knew in her college or around the apartment complex!

It was a dark day and it started raining. Y/n felt tears streaming down her face as her heart beat never slowed down, more terror filling her as everything outside got dark and thunder struck.

Maybe she should call the cops... No one else would help a foreigner… She just knew it. Nobody liked college students especially that lived alone because they were 'reckless' and often lied to get a good laugh out of the elders with their friends. So no one really opened their door for a student they didn't know personally.

But what would she tell the cops?! They ask for evidence!

Meanwhile, San stood on the spot he had found. Even if it was literally the end of the world, he'd still be there. Always. She was his and he had to have her all to himself. There was no other way. The man wasn't exactly sure how he'd do it but he’ll find a way.

Y/n called the cops at last when she started suspecting someone's presence outside her apartment. Or window… she wasn't sure anymore. And the loud thunder outside didn't help her situation. Dialing the police the scared girl told them she was afraid someone was stalking her and needed an officer for security right now. i Telling them about the texts and deciding to leave the nasty parts out, she sighed in somewhat relief when they informed that they will send an officer on the way. The student grabbed a water from the fridge and sat on the couch, taking huge gulps while trying to calm down.

Finally.

It only took some minutes before there was a knock on the door. A nervous Y/n looked through the peep hole to only cry out in relief when she saw the uniform through it. "Oh! Thank God, officer! Thank you so much! You're here!" She was overjoyed. "Thank you! I- I am so scared!" A weak sob left her. "Please come in!"

The officer looked around the house, nodding. "I need you to calm down, miss. Tell me everything. We are here with you." His tone was professional. His name plate read 'Park Seonghwa'.

"I- I have a stalker! I don't know how!" Y/n quickly locked the door after he stepped in. "Not many people like me because I am a foreigner! I don't know if it's someone from college troubling me o- on purpose or what... B- But they've been sending me some really p- personal stuff..." She looked up at him innocently, scared.

The dark haired man hummed and nodded. "Do you maybe know the number? Have you noticed any suspicious activity around you before? Is there someone who has a motive to do this?"

"N- No... I got the first text today... I- I am really scared... I've got no one here... W- What do I do?" She told him all of it, hoping that the culprit he caught as soon as possible so she could go back to her life where she was a nobody. No one knew her and she was just another face among many others..

"Alright. We’ll keep a close eye on you. Within this period, try not to hang out too much, yeah? It is best to come directly home after college. And call us on this number if you suspect anything." He wrote a number on a paper and handed it to the shaky girl.

"Oh... Alright officer... thank you..." She saved the number gladly. And since he was supposed to stay with her to ensure the girl's safety, they sat down and Y/n awkwardly turned the TV on. Oh she never had a guy in her apartment before.

After getting used to the feeling of safety, Y/n got up after a while, finally having calmed down as she felt hungry. Cooking some dinner for two people, she went and handed the officer one of the two plates. "You've been here since evening... Please eat." She politely smiled, softly blushing from the embarrassment. The girl was too soft, continuously thanking him like it wasn't his job.

"You're a true hero..." She giggled and sat on the other couch, totally not thinking about how handsome he was. Before a sigh left her as she was reminded of the situation. "Officer... What will happen to my stalker when you catch him...?" He knew her darkest secrets. "I am really afraid... They mentioned some... things... very private... things..." The girl finally confessed.

“Mind telling me those things, miss? It will help us with his punishment. The more detail, the better” he placed his plate down, grabbing his pen and notepad.

"O- Officer... I uh..." Y/n gulped. "I- I can't..." She felt ashamed

“Why not? We should know so we can sentence him longer in the court. This is not okay. And you’re a foreigner. So it may also come under bullying.” His tone was soft and assuring as he looked at her, concerned.

It took the student a bit of persuasion before she spoke, hanging her head low and fingers fidgeting in her lap. "I... I was being naughty with myself... A- And they took p- pictures from my window... A- And taunted me about my... p- preferences, s- sir..." She put her own plate on the table now.

The man only hummed, nodding in an understanding manner. “That’s such a disgusting thing for him to do…” Before the man continued. “You shouldn’t do those nasty things while your windows are open either, Miss… You never know who will be watching.”

Y/n was blushing hard as her cheeks felt extremely hot. "I am sorry, s- sir... I won't do it again..." She couldn’t help but reply obediently. Her sub side sometimes got the best of her.

Besides… The officer was so handsome... It wasn’t helping her situation here.

A few hours later when it was bedtime and Y/n went to sleep in her room after taking care of her assignments and on the work she missed at school today, the officer got comfy on the couch. He was going to be here until tomorrow morning. Unless something happened. The girl was so tired she fell asleep easily, feeling protected and warm despite the terrible weather outside.

It was really late at night when Y/n woke up to a phone call.. "Hello?" It was the police, informing her that the officer that had been sent to her house had a bad ‘accident’ on the way and whether she still needed an officer.

The girl’s eyebrows at first in confusion before it sunk in and her blood ran cold as the phone fell from her shaking hands. At the same time she felt someone next to her. On the fucking bed. Pure terror filled her and she slowly turned to look at the relaxed figure dressed in the uniform. A shaky cry left her as she started trembling, literally mortified.

“Tsk... The stupid cops ruined the fun.” His voice was nowhere near that gentle and warm comforting voice now. Instead a low and deep hiss filled with nothing but mock.

San's eyebrows were frowned when he saw the cop car pulling up. "Oh no... you did not, Princess." The male smirked and shook his head slowly as he noted that it was only one officer. Moving through the shadows, he pulled out his blade from the pocket of his pants, expertly swirling it around in his hand and toying with it like he usually did. "Now, let’s see why do you need the officer, babygirl" his voice was barley a whisper as he made his way over to the car.

San was always so slick with his movements, catching the non-existent sounds of his figure were barely audible to the human ear. Before the officer could even realise there was someone around, the male had banged his head against one of the entrance walls of the low rent cheap apartment building, dragging him into the darkness with him before stealing his clothes and then dumping his body in the river along his car.

It didn't even take him long. He was fast, accurate in his calculations and confident in his abilities. "Now, to my Princess' rescue" chuckling to himself as he climbed the stairs, pinning the nameplate reading 'Park Seonghwa' on his breast pocket before ringing the bell to her apartment.

"The real fun is only starting" San sang as he pinned her down on the bed, holding her wrists tight above her head. "You have no idea how many nights I've watched you touch that bitchy cunt of yours." His hard bulge rubbed against her thigh.

An astonished Y/n was trembling, warm piss suddenly starting to leak out of her in pure terror as her heart threatened to burst out of the skin of her chest. Oh no! Is that what she thought this was?! It took her brain a few moments to understand it as the realisation sunk in like a ton of bricks. "Y- You... You're... You..." She could only whisper, eyes widened to the shape of saucers as an evil grin made its way on his features.

As San felt the bed getting warm, he started laughing at the girl condescendingly. "Look at you! Pissing yourself like a baby! How pathetic and disgusting! Did you really think anyone would help you, tsk?" He loved how she was shaking, the glow of her skin caused by the little droplets of sweat, her heartbeat that he could literally feel and the terror in her eyes.

Y/n started crying, the piss not stopping as it pooled inside her thighs. "Y- You're... You're the... stalker…" She whispered, still in disbelief as to how he managed that. "H- How did... How did you..." Oh God. Oh no.

The storm outside was so loud that screaming for help would just be in vain. It was so late no one would even be up...

"Baby, just like you said… I’m the stalker… I know everything about you…" His tone was sensual as he started kissing up the soft skin of her neck, moaning from how soft and delicate it felt. "Fuck! Your skin is even softer than i- it looks…" San felt himself twitch.

The girl was trembling as she slowly put it all together, staring at the ceiling as a feeling of despair and hopelessness filled her. "Y- You were p- pretending a- all this time! You're not the officer!" Adrenaline filled her as she kneed his cock, swiftly turning on her stomach and crawling off the bed before rushing out of the room. Nobody could hear the commotion. It was too loud outside.

"FUCK! YOU BITCH!" San yelled before laughing loudly. He loved this. Finally something enjoyable in his once lone and bland life. Holding his crotch, the male after her to catch the girl before she got away, catching her easily. "Where do you think you’re going?!" A smack landed on her face as punishment for what she did.

"LET ME GO! LET ME GO! Y- YOU CREEPY BASTARD!" Oh she would be getting a lot of beating for this! "H- HOW DARE YOU STALK ME A- AND THEN ENTER MY HOUSE! ILL R- REPORT YOU!" As she reached out to my table to hit him with something, her hand so conveniently ended up grabbing the razor and swung it back, going to hit him with it on the head.

San laughed tauntingly and caught her arm before she could hit him and shook his head, sighing. "Now now, isn’t this the razor you were holding when you played with that tiny little cunt of yours?" The shiny object dangled in his hand.

"P- PLEASE!" She remembered the text he'd sent her. "PLEASE! I- I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT DON'T DO THIS! PLEASE! I BEG YOU!" Y/n had no idea what to say.

"Aww sweetie…" His words were soft. Almost. "Keep your begs for the time when I'll be pounding that dirty little pussy of yours." San held her hands above her head. "You like to be owned, huh? You like to serve your Master and show everyone how much of an obedient little whore you are?"

Y/n was crying harder now, afraid because she didn't know what was going to happen. "N- No! Please no! It's not true! P- Please just let me go! I- I don't want to!" Oh but she had a being kidnapped and raped fantasy. She loved the thought of someone dangerous, like San, terrifying her and fucking her, making her into his cockwhore. And he knew it. She wanted it all. The girl loved the fear and force. But all of it actually happening was something she'd never thought of. "Please! Let me go!" How could it? A whole fantasy becoming true?

"Oh please, my little slut! Let’s not fool ourselves here. I know you love the thrill of this, I know you LOVE getting used like a worthless little toy and I will give you what you want. You can try to resist me all you want but you’ll never get away from me. You're mine. I'll always catch you. You're mine and belong with me." Her eyes were on the razor as she kept thinking about the text he'd sent.

Y/n tried to reach out of his iron strong hold and snatch the razor from him. "Nu-uh…" San sang out as he held the object above him. "What if I shaved your head while I’m destroying that slutty pussy, huh? Would you like that you little whore?"

"No! NO! NO PLEASE!" Oh… But she felt wetness trickling down her leg. Oh no.

"My my!" The man chuckled darkly. "What’s this?" He swiped a finger up her bare thigh. "God, you’re such a pathetic whore, trying to fool yourself by saying no but I know you’re enjoying this. How stupid and dumb. Stupid slut!" His free hand smacked her face before grabbing her hands again.

"N- No! No! Please stop! This i- isn't what it looks like!" Before she somehow broke free again, this time biting his hand before she managed to reach the door, trying to unlock it but her hands were sweaty and cold, fingers literally frozen as she struggled to open the locks, cursing when they kept slipping against the metal.

San pushed Y/n up against the door with the most force he could come up with and pounced himself on her, letting his hard cock feel up her ass. "Don’t fight it anymore." And with that, he pulled her pj shorts down and turned her around before spreading her legs and pushed her up against the door, unclothing his cock and aligning his tip against her vagina before forcefully thrusting into her without warning before moaning loudly, throwing his head back. "God! Such a tight little nasty cunt!" San moaned and kissed along her neck, feeling like he'd go crazy from how delicate and nice her skin tasted.

The girl moaned loudly in pain, a warm stream of blood trickling down the man's monster cock. "O- Oh my God!" A sick part of her wondered if he would also shave her head and face... "I- IT BURNS!" A scream tumbled out of her lips.

"Oh… You were a virgin? Such a nasty little thing. Everyone thinks you’re an innocent little girl but in reality, you’re just a needy little bitch! Needy for cock! All the time!" He picked her up and carried the girl back to her room while still keeping his cock in her before plugging the razor in. "Come here!"

Oh yes. Oh no! Oh… She was having a battle with herself. Did she want this or did she not want this?! "PLEASE... S- SIR..." Please yes or please no...? She didn't even know what was happening anymore. This was fucking crazy. Her stalker who had done God knows what to the cop and had entered her house after watching her for who knew how long. The stalker that had a private photo of her and she didn't even know how many other materials. And now was on top of her like this...

"Please what, babydoll?" San pulled her in and kissed the soft trembling lips roughly, loving how good she tasted and felt.

Y/n cried against his lips, the man's huge cock still in her wet and tight walls. "I- I am scared! P- People will laugh!" Was that the only thing she cared about?

"So you want me to, but scared people will laugh?" San smirked while pushing his hips back and forth, moaning with each thrust. "Let them laugh, that will turn you on even more because you love getting humiliated. I know you too well, baby.”

Y/n had faced such rejection and hostility her whole life from different people she had trusted with her safety from time to time… this was driving her crazy. Her messy emotions got the best of her at the end of it. Her breaths were heavy. "Y- You're right... You know me so well..." She started speaking his language. "Y- You want me? O- Or you'll leave me too?" This was wrong; sick.

“No. I am staying by your side and you’re staying by me. I’ve wanted you for so long... you have no idea.” He groaned at how good she felt, biting back the whimpers threatening to fall out of his lips from the pleasure. “You have no idea just how many nights I have jerked off thinking it was your tiny little pussy, hugging my cock as you moaned and begged me for more, slut.”

The girl blushed, feeling like she was dreaming. This felt perfect… at least to her troubled mind. "You're crazy... You're scary... You made me piss myself out of pure…” She whispered slowly, a small smile making its way on her lips. “...P- Please own me... P- Please shave me... my head and face... make me look like a dumb slut... s- sir... Your dumb slut..." Her shaky hand turned the razor on for him, pussy suddenly clenching around him as she finally acknowledged the pleasure it was receiving, a soft moan escaping her.

“Mmm... that’s my good slut” San hummed and praised, taking the now on machine and placing it against her hairline before running it down the top of her head, both of them moaning, Y/n from the feeling and San from the sight of the sight of now small bristles between her locks as his hips pushed in and out even faster.

The man now shaved off another strip from the spot besides the previously shaved one, humming as he remembered something and took the machine to her eyebrows first and pressed it against the skin, feeling himself hit her g-spot as her eyes rolled to the top of her head, mouth falling open as the male erased the hair above her eyes.

"Yes, s- sir! Please make me your good slut! I- I love you! I'll never leave you! Please never leave me, Master!" She started crying out of joy, kissing his hands as her unstable emotions made her feel absolute joy. He had accepted her as she truly was. In her darkest form. “Please write funny things o- on my skinhead when you’re done. I am a dumb whore!” To her, there wasn’t a man more great than him.

“Fuck yes… That you are.” San grunted as he started to shear the rest of her long locks like one would to a sheep. “You are my dumb little slut who will do nothing but serve her Master from now on!” His free hand landed a smack on her head which was showing up more and more, nothing but thin stubble covering the skin.

"Yes I will, Master! Please! Please treat me like trash!" Y/n clenched around him, near to cumming. “Trash that was born to take your cock! You're so good to me! I wish you'd snuck in my house this morning and raped me right there! I wish you'd have shaved my head and forced me to go to college like that! It would have been a pleasure to be humiliated like that and by you!” She was literally crying out of pleasure

“Oh..” The man chuckled while panting. “I will force you to go like this baby, don’t worry.” He promised as he snapped his hips even faster, feeling himself getting close from the sight and all her filthy confessions. “And I will wake you up by fucking you every morning, making you a mess and sending you off to college like that.” It was done, the only hair on the girl’s head slight messy stubble that he’d remove with a hand razor later to reveal the skin underneath.

"Yes, please! Please always only force me and rape me! Please keep me bald! Keep me at your feet! Please feed me your piss and cum! I want to be your hand and footrest! I want to be an object for you to fuck! A bitch for you to breed! Your little animal! I JUST WANT TO BE YOURS! I WANT TO BE THE DIRT UNDER YOUR FEET!" She was sobbing as she started cumming hard, her tiny body spasming in pleasure while holding one of San's hands because it was her first time cumming from sex.

Y/n wrapped her arms around him from the intensity of it and kissed him while he played with her tits, pinching her nipples painfully as he kissed the girl back and let her ride out her high before pulling out. “On your knees!” San kept pumped himself until he came all over the girl’s pretty face and mouth. “That’s my good little cumdumpster.”

She smiled and started to kiss his cock and hands in respect, then his balls. Y/n really had truly submitted. "You're perfect, Master! Where have you been all my life?!" A pout made its way on her lips as she whined, hugging his leg and kissing it, not daring to go further up out of fear.

San was satisfied with her behavior. “I’m here now baby… And I am never leaving.” He kissed the younger one and slapped her ass lightly after helping her get up. “Lets get cleaned, doll.”

"Master, I wanna drink your piss." She shamelessly told him, not standing up, taking his cum off her face with her hand and greedily sucking at it. "A- And I wanna kiss your feet!" She was way too eager for this.

The man chuckled at her request. “You want to drink my piss? Then open up, my whore.” San held his cock over her mouth before putting pressure on his bladder, whimpering before the hot stream hit her lips.

Y/n was obediently on her knees drinking all of it after cringing at the taste a little, moaning happily. It was her first time drinking anyone's piss. She was in heaven. She finally had an owner! The girl made sure not one drop went to waste. "Thank you so much, Master! It is amazing!" The younger one stopped drinking and let his piss wet her face before starting to kiss his feet, fully in her subspace.

“You’re such an obedient little girl.” San praised, not being able to hold back the smile as he watched her, never having imagined her willingly being like this for him in such a short time period. But then again, he wasn’t surprised. “Good girl.” He cooed patting her head.

Y/n desperately kissed his hand and grabbed it, starting to cry. "M- Master... everyone leaves me... P- Please don't leave me... I- I'll die!" She almost promised him, nothing short of a maniac. Maybe she was even more twisted than San, in a way

“I’ll never leave you, you’re mine and everyone will know that.” Cupping her cheeks, he passionately kissed her, already making plans in his head about how he will modify all of her features as his perfect little pet.

The girl giggled, sucking at his lips greedily. "Master! Your piss was on my face!" She tried to get it off. "Give it back! Ish mine!" Huffing, she lapped at his piss like a needy little bitch.

San chuckled from her antics and swiped his fingers on the pretty face before holding them up against her lips. “Open up…” He let her suck on the piss covering his fingers. “Fuck... you’re so perfect for me.”

Holding his arm like a child, Y/n started sucking on his fingers greedily, smiling. "Thank you, Master!" Before she made his fingers hit the back of her throat, making herself gag and loving it all. "Mashter Mashter! Whatsh your name?" The girl questioned while deep throating his fingers.

“It’s San, baby.” The man replied with a smile, watching her choke on his fingers, her warm drool trickling down his long fingers.

"Shan! Ish sho pretty! I am Y/n!" Letting go of his hand, she hugged him which was returned with a chuckle.

“I know, babygirl.”

"M- Mashter... I- I dunno why b- but... I- I shaw a video too a- and I want you to s- shove my shaved hair u- up my assh and i- in my mouth... a- and take picturesh... Hehe I am sho naughty!" His eyebrows raised as she hid in his chest, a smirk forming on his lips.

San patted her messily shaved head. “Yes. You are, baby. You’re fucking naughty but okay. Daddy is here to help his little girl with all her little disgusting whore fantasies.”

"Y- You wanna?" Before she chirped again. "Mashter I want to be owned like an object a-nd like an animal! I wanna be like a p- piggy! A- And I want you to b- beat me and whip me e- everywhere a- and I wanna be bruished! A- And I want to be raped all the time!" She was too fucking sick and twisted but now that she wasn’t afraid of being judged, she was letting all that was locked deep down out.

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll treat you like one, baby.” San said before chuckling to himself, still in disbelief of just how fucked up she really was.

"A- And I want you to fuck my bummie and not let me cum for monthsh! I wanna be forshed to wear chashtity! I want you to make me cry and beg but you don't give in and only torture me more!" She told him. "Pleashe alwaysh shlap me and my head!"

“Fuck... you’re so naughty baby… I love it.” San almost moaned from the sight before getting a chunk of her shaved hair and shoved it in her mouth before getting his phone and taking pics of her all stuffed and messily bald like that.

The twisted girl smiled in the pictures and eagerly nodded, turning her fat ass in front of him now. "Please put hair in assh too!" She struggled to speak, smiling and posing for all of the pictures.

San actually wanted to take a video of him shoving hair up her ass and so that was what he simply did, laughing. “Look at this disgusting little dumb cock whore! So slutty and needy! Loving to be humiliated and looked like a dumb fucktoy by her owner!” He spat on her.

"Yesh I am! Yesh I am!" Y/n spoke with difficulty, showing her stuffed face and head too, arching her back, imagining herself a beauty goddess of her own kind. "My lobely mashter shaved me! And ish gonna treat me like hish trash and look! I habe hair up my assh! And in my fashe! I've got no eyebrowsh!"

“My good little slave… All mine… So submissive” San praised, kicking her ass in the camera and chuckling at her squeak, watching her clench the hair up when her pucker winked. “You’re really loving this, aren’t you?” Lifting her face, he spat on her forehead.

"I ammmm~" she whined, face red before starting to try to rub her cunt against the floor.

“Look at her trying to desperately rub her slutty cunts on the floor…” He filmed it all. Fuck. He loved seeing Y/n all dirty and submissive for him.

Drool was dripping down her chin and boobs. "Yesh Mashter! O- Onwy fow yoooouuu~" a needy whimper left her.

“Mmm... yes, only for me” San spoke and slapped her hard which the girl loved, getting even more wet and kissing his hands. "I- I... cum pleashe..." She whimpered again, loving the control she was in.

“No... get up.” San warned sternly. “You’re not allowed to cum, you’re never allowed to cum.”

"B- But... M- Mashter..." The girl pouted and whined, having forgotten that she was the one that told him that she wanted him to never let her cum and torture her like that.

“Are you talking back to your Master?” Raising an eyebrow, he gripped her chin before slapping her, making sure it was all being recorded so he could fuck her to it later.

Her pussy tingled. “N- No! No Mashtew owwiieee…” The hair in her ass and mouth tickled humiliatingly.

"That’s what I thought" San husked and threw the phone on the bed before pushing her on the carpet again. "Tell me when you’re close."

"M- Mashtewwww" Y/n started crying like a little baby, shaking and dropping the hair from her mouth because it was getting hard to breathe.

"Did I say you could drop the hair?!" The man growled darkly before pushing the hair back in. "Breathe through your nose, dumb slut!"

The girl let out a cry, trembling and sobbing as she nodded. He was rough. It was making her cry. But she also loved it and felt wet. "Yesh!" She loved being at Master's mercy.

"Good girl." He said pushing her down on the carpet more. "Rub yourself nice and hard slut." Y/n started rubbing herself as he ordered, feeling the carpet burn against her pussy but she couldn't help but love it, biting her bottom lip through her stuffed mouth. Oh… She loved it so much. The girl wanted it to bleed almost… Reaching out to hold his hand, the girl spoke. "You're sho perfect... I wish I'd m- met you when I wash l- little..."

"I wish that too baby, fuck... I’d fuck you every night while your parents were peacefully sleeping in the next room…"

"Y- You'd fuck me when I wash a little baby?" This was fucking revolting and twisted. They were both utterly sick. Y/n kept moaning loudly and getting wetter, rubbing harder and harder. "Y- Your fat cock i- in my toothlessh mouth... AHHH... I wouldn't need miwk... You'd have fed me your Mashtew milk fwom youw cock..."

"Fuck yes!" He growled as he felt himself getting hard. "Yes baby… I'd feed you my cum every day. You'd have grown up getting your nutrients from it, eh?"

"Daddy... Daddy... You'd be my Daddy? But inshtead of miwk you'd feed me youw cum evewyday? Ish the besht miwk!" She was very close and her eyes fluttered shut when he started playing with her tits and pinched her nipples before pulling at them. "Then I'd say I grew up drinking Mashtew's cock miwk! Hehehe!" The girl was too far gone.

"God, yes! You’re such a filthy and sick whore!" San knew she were close so he pulled her up. "No cumming!" It made the girl whine loudly and she fell on her face.

"Mashtewwwwww!" Before she curled in his feet, calming down a little when he didn't give in and ripped her pussy away from the carpet. "M- Mashtew... p- pleashe may I wemove haiw now...?" It was getting stuck to her mouth.

"Yes. You may, my little cum rag." The male wanted to use her mouth and feed her his cum so he allowed.

Y/n dropped it and quickly cleaned her tongue and inside of the cheeks with her tiny hands. "Bleg... hehe~" she curled in his waist, rubbing her tiny head against his chest.

"Good girl~" he patted her head before pushing her back in position. "Now use that mouth good baby…" San pushed his cock down her narrow throat, loving how tight and warm she was, making her gag from the rush of it in an instant.

The girl gagged but enjoyed it, loving it all. She quickly started sucking his cock, grazing her teeth against it and swirling her tongue. Y/n had watched all that porn for a reason. Kissing his balls, she sucked on them, whimpering from how his private hair tickled her nose.

"Fuck! look at you! Sucking on master’s cock like a starved bitch!" He slapped her again, feeling his shape against the skin of her cheeks. "You love it, don’t you?!"

"Yesh! Yesh! Yesh!" She hollowed her cheeks and bobbed her head up and down his shaft, sucking and whining as San rubbed the top of his foot against her pussy, smacking her bald head before pushing his cock all the way down her throat, tightly clasping the back of her head.

The man groaned loudly as he twitched in the soft walls of her throat, washing her throat with his hot semen before cleaning her up and finally shaving her head fully until there was nothing but glossy skin left before they went to bed.

"I have shchool tomorrow... Mashter do you go to shchool?" Y/n yawned as she snuggled into San's built chest, whimpering and smiling whenever the realisation of who he was hit her.

She loved being owned.

"No I don't. I will be right here when you come back, my pretty slut." San said while kissing her softly like he hadn't unleashed his sadistic likes on her.

"Why don't you go to school?" She suddenly pouted. "Then how will Mashter have a career?! You'll be poow! I dun wan poow Mashtew!" Y/n huffed brattily. She didn't really care about that, only wanting to see his response because she loved to piss off her top.

"You don’t really have a choice, sweetheart." The male gritted out. "You’re stuck with me forever. If I am living on the streets, you’re living with me."

She opened her mouth to brat but the bell rang. Rushing to the door, Y/n opened it to reveal a police officer. "Oh... hi..." The officer smiled a bit at her and asked the girl if she still needed an officer and why she had hung up when they called. "O- Oh no officer... I was just being paranoid... It wasn't anyone..." Y/n's cheeks blushed because she could see the officer was staring at her shiny bald head and eyebrows. Feeling herself getting wet as humiliation made her blush, Y/n found herself wondering what it'd feel like if he smacked her on her head. The girl's nipples got hard.

But oh... she couldn't cum!

"Okay then, be careful, Miss." He tipped her hat, nodding a little before walking off.

Y/n felt so wet. "Have a good night, officer!" A giggle left her as the man disappeared, starting to rub herself against the door up and down, running her hand against her head.

"Now, what was that?!" San deeply spoke, pushing the girl against the door, making her head hit against it embarrassingly. "Did you forget who alone can make you wet?!" The male yelled before slapping her. "You sick little exhibition loving whore! Not even you can do what you like to yourself! You're all mine! Only I can do whatever I please to your whore body!"

"Yes... You... You sir!" Y/n closed her eyes and held her hands above her head, lowering it for him to slap. "Please hit my head... Ugh... fuck me up... I want my head to be bruised... Ugh fuck! I am so wet... Please beat me!"

"What a disgusting little trash!" The man laughed, slapping her head this time. "You love people making fun of you, huh?"

"Yes I do! Yes I do!" She whined. "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make fun of me! Humiliate me! Hit me and bruise me! Make fun of me! Humiliate and degrade me! I want my whole college to laugh at me!" A loud cry left her.

"Let’s get you bruised up, then." San decided and started slapping the girl's tiny head and face until it was all red and sore. Y/n was crying by the time he was done, literally sobbing as she just fell on her knees and knocked out of exhaustion, her owner carrying her to the bed and then laying next to her knocked out form.

"Good night, my love." The male kissed her soft and red cheek before falling asleep too, holding her fragile body close to his, his slumber calm and satisfying today after so long.

Y/n stirred as she felt her pussy being invaded the next morning, making her stir as she felt lips upon her own and fingers pinching her nipples as her other boob was being groaped, her pussy expanding and sucking in a huge cock. San's huge cock. "M- Master~!" She whispered out when her eyes flew open and she was met with San's face. "W- What… s- so early?!"

"I promised you I'd wake you by fucking you every morning, didn't I, my slut?" He grinned and attacked her lips, eliciting an excited gigglish moan out of her as he started to fuck her fast and rough, pushing his balls in all the way.

“Y- Yes! Yes! F- Fuck!” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head from the realisation that he had been fucking her in her sleep before she woke up, feeling him twitch inside her. “M- Master! I- I… c- cum…” Y/n tried to speak, her back arching from the pleasure of him biting on her nipples before smacking her bald head softly.

“Little breeding whores don’t get to cum, baby. They just take cock and let Master use them like the cum rags that they are.” San’s cock slammed in and out of her pussy, his hand gripping her neck for support when she clenched around him. “Fuck! So tight!”

Tears welled up in her eyes as her face got red from how rough his thrusts were, how much her clit was burning for stimulation, how much her ovaries hurt to cum. “Look at this hairless little whore! Unable to even breathe without my permission let alone cum!” He spat in her mouth before turning her around and pushing up her ass, chuckling when she whined out.

“Sorry, slut. Little whores don’t get what they want around here and only please Master as they are supposed to.” Grabbing a sharpie, San started writing on her head whilst choking her with one hand, pounding her harder and harder up her ass. “Hurry up and please your Master well so we can go to an important place before you go to school.”

‘I am a bald little nasty slut. Please hit my head. I love it.’ Was written on the back of her head as the man laughed, deciding to not tell her what he’d done just yet, waiting for her to find out later when the people on campus would be warming that cueball up.

Y/n was whimpering as San waved at her and she shakily walked inside her college with a bald head, wearing nothing inside her skirt as she sneakily pushed the slipping ass plug back inside her cum filled ass. Lowering her bald head now that she was outside and people were staring at her new look, the girl gulped and felt herself squeezing her legs when some girl giggled at her.

Fuck… She couldn’t help but bite her lip, loving the humiliation as her cheeks felt hot.

Master had gotten her pussy, septum and nipples pierced before walking her to college. He was going to buy a special leash for that that was going to be passed through all her piercings to ensure she was in his control at all times.

Her train of thoughts was broken when a smack landed on her head by a guy passing by before he chuckled at her shocked expression. Before the girl could question him, she received a text by San. A picture message. Of what was written on the back of her head.

Widening her eyes, Y/n gasped and her hand automatically grazed against her head. No wonder the piercing lady had lightly smacked it before Master and she had laughed at the girl. “N- No… you didn’t…” She whispered in shock before one of her ‘friends’ smacked her head, making it jerk forwards.

“Cute look, Y/n.” Before she walked off to class, the people passing by gave her looks and talked about her.

Fuck… She squeezed her thighs in utter humiliation as the wind blew, making her desperately try to keep her skirt down as wetness trickled down her thigh. The girl wasn’t allowed to touch herself and not cumming was one of the rules now upon Master’s order and her foolish confession. She had a whole day to last before getting home and begging him to let her earn it.

Her ass stuffed, body owned, everyone silently chuckling at her humiliating look and getting smacks to the head like that wasn’t going to help.

“Oh, Master…” She whined to herself in despair. “What have you done?”

#san smut #ateez smut #choi san #choi san smut #dark kpop #dark fic #non con #ateez #ateez x you #ateez x reader #san x you #san x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #san

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Tender Ch. 2 - Loki x Mute! Reader

Summary: Winning the favour of the God of Mischief is not an easy task - even if he has already fallen for you.

Warnings: None.

Words: ~1600

A/N: Since I am writing several Series at once, together with Oneshots in between, the chapters are gonna be a bit shorter so I keep no one waiting. Hope that is alright!

[Story Masterlist] [All of my Works]

Taglist: @austynparksandpizza @queenariesofnarnia @commonintrest @buckylokisimp @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @lxdyred @frostay

The first weeks after your arrival at the Avengers Compound passed by rather uneventful.

Due to the fact that you neither had a family you could be attached to, nor many belongings ever since HYDRA had kidnapped you and destroyed your home, Tony insisted on you living at the tower - like many of the other members as well.

Everything was just so new and exciting, not even Loki’s gleeful mockery could bring you down from that high.

Little did you know that all of his pep talks about those ‘inferior heros’, the ‘illusion of power’ or how no one was ever truly good or evil had a completely different reason:

An attempt to get you to leave, for your own good. After everything that had happened to you, the god was worried how another fight would affect you.

Anyway, it was a luxurious life compared to your old one, with so many kind persons and new perspectives. And you were sure to return that favor once you’d learn to control your powers!

So until then, you would train as hard as possible and care for your new friends through little acts of service. Caring for others came quite natural to you, may it be listening to their problems or simply complimenting them to see their faces brighten up.

And for some reason, that particular character trait was the one thing Loki found the most annoying.

How could a person so naive and pure think they could actually join in battles against evil? You’ll only end up getting yourself killed - and to be honest, Loki thought this to be a waste.

And even though he’d never admit it, but jealousy was starting to get the better of him the more he observed you getting along with everyone.

They adored you - and they were very right in doing so!

But that would mean that you were just nice to everyone, not especially to him, right?

Every time you’d help Bucky through a panic attack, braided Thor’s hair or helped Banner in the laboratory, Loki only wished you’d be with him instead - and if he had to burn this whole place to the ground for this to happen.

Yet his pride kept him from voicing that desire.

For you on the other hand, it was frustratingly hard to get through to the God of Mischief. In comparison to how he treated the other Avengers, he was always reserved and courteous towards you, yet also unreachable distanced.

Only on a weekend where the other Avengers were on a mission, the two of you found a way to actually bond with each other, if only a little.

Loki had once again read every book he borrowed from Stark’s library, now having a reason to leave his room again. At least those subhumans won’t be there to drain on his nerves...

When he crossed the living room on his way to the elevator, he blinked heavily as he saw you plainly chilling on the sofa. He was just about to turn around and leave, when you hectically gestured for him to stay.

“Hey, Loki! 😊” you wrote on a notepad, holding it up for him to read.

“Greetings...” he spoke between gritted teeth, but your smile wouldn’t falter, so he stood rooted in the middle of the room.

“Do you want to watch a movie together?” How blunt could you be to ask a literal god directly, just like that?!

“Actually, I-” When your eyes met, Loki cut himself off, the words being caught in his throat. “Well, if you’re in dire need of my sublime company...”

You were quick to sit up straight, offering a bowl with popcorn to the Odinson which he curiously accepted. When he answered your question about what sweets they eat on Asgard, he wouldn’t understand why you’d laugh. Apparently ‘nuts and grapes’ are not considered treats on earth. Got it.

Yet that little huff you blew out of your nose instead of making an actual laughing sound came somewhat endearing to him, especially in contrast to your other noisy companions. “Adorable...”

Without even asking first, you’d wrap the other half of the blanket around Loki, effectively closing the gap between you two.

“Wha- I’m not cold!” he blurted out, visibly overchallenged by the sudden closeness. “I’m a Jotun, hel!”

What was he even so worked up about? Geeze...

“But the weather on Asgard is rather humid, right?” you wrote down, with him nodding approvingly. "It allows all kinds of flowers to blossom, other than this metal brick” he explained, your excited look not failing to keep him talking. “You should see it some time.”

Loki’s eyes were now locked on the screen, and you could basically grasp his homesicknes, very well aware that a failure and war criminal like him would never be tolerated in those holy grounds ever again.

Great...now you had achieved the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tugged on his arm so he’d shift your attention to you again, quickly writing something with a barely there sulk on your face:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you sad.”

Tears were already forming on the rim of your eyes, making Loki’s insides churn. “So sensitive...gods. Keep yourself together, would you.”

The Odinson instinctively wrapped an arm around you, his free hand petting your head as he pulled it to his chest. He was awfully warm for a frost giant, and his heart was hammering against his chest in a fastened pace - maybe just your imagination, though.

“Well, it’s winter...” he uttered, acting as if he actually cared about the plot of the movie. “I may not freeze, but you seemed cold. That’s all.”

You let your hand run across his collarbone, making him look down to you once again. He bit his lip as his icy glare met your warm one, eyes shimmering with earnest affection while you formed silent words with your lips:

“T-h-a-n-k y-o-u.”

“N-no need to thank me.” Just now Loki wondered what kind of spell you were using on him, being reduced to a shaking and stuttering mess.

No curse, no beauty ever before had bewitched him so much that he would lose his cool, let anyone peek under his confident mask, after all.

Not so long ago, when he was still considered the handsome Prince of Asgard, he would bed a different lover on each night, though never settling for anyone.

And after the revelation of his true heritage, even those fleeting encounters to ease his loneliness would falter - all that’s left was certainty that the theory he had ever since his childhood had proven to be true:

That everyone had always secretly despised him, the failure of the family and disgrace to all of Asgard. Only through his Jotun blood they had found a reason to not play along with the royal courtesy anymore, showing their resentment up in the open.

But you...you looked at him with completely different eyes than anyone ever did.

Maybe he had become softer, weaker over time - or simply more mature. His mother once told him to seize the moment when someone truly special would cross his way, and to never let them go.

“We could do this more often.” You shoved the notepad in his line of sight, and just now he noticed that two hours had sure passed in an incredible speed.

Just the two of you, cuddled up on the sofa, enjoying each other’s presence instead of dealing with the troublesome past.

“Well...” Loki clawed into your upper arm softly, no intention of letting you out of his grasp already. “I am sure your other companions are more fun to be around. As you most likely already noticed, I am known for ruining the mood.”

Loki had a habit of talking ill about himself, and letting himself down as well. Yet as he saw you eagerly scribble on the notepad, he knit his brows together, impatient to what you’d say next.

“But I want to see you.” The word ‘you’ was written in a thicker font, underlined several times.

“Why?”, that was the first and only thing crossing his mind. And yet there you sat, shoving the notepad into his face with a stern look on your face.

Loki was rooted on spot as you put the notepad on the table, instead laying your hands on his cheeks and softly tugging on the edge of his lips. “S-m-i-l-e!”

“E-enough!” he carefully pushed your hands away, afraid you’d detect the mild blush on his face. “Then it shall be. What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want.”

Loki finally arrived at the library to return his books, even though with a few hours delay. Realizing just how much he had enjoyed that spontaneous meeting with you, he began to panic.

Was it really a good idea to repeat this?

He was almost 100% certain that it would only end in him ruining your trust in anyone completely, if he’d ever allow you to come close to his core.

Due to him having saved you back then, you probably see him as something better than he actually was - and gods, how disappointed you’ll be once you’d find out what he really is like...

It was probably for the best if this would never happen, with him just keeping on to admire you from afar...

After a while of just staring into the void, mentally debating about your offer, he couldn’t help the fact that he was already looking forwards to meeting you again.

Uncertain how to approach the matter, Loki was at least eager to show you his goodwill.

For you have been the first person who - despite everything he had done - was willing to give him another chance.

"Greetings. I need every available book about sign language.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki / Reader #Loki x Y/N #Loki / You #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Friggason #God of Mischief #Marvel #Disney #Writing #Fanfiction #Self Insert

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agendratum · 3 years

Text

ok so

as usual after finishing an arc of mdzs my head is full, many thoughts. so let’s talk about the guanyin temple confrontation.

first thing that i kept paying attention to were actually the changes made in order to turn it into live-action. so in cql they had to make the gray-gray characters, the “there are no good or bad guys, just people and their circumstances” characters (unless you’re jgs, than yeah you’re a bad guy and everyone agrees on that actually) into slightly more black and white characters. by the end of cql we are lured into this fake sense of security, “haha, we know who the bad guy is!” (then a year passes and here you are, now a jgy apologist), by the end of mdzs, you just know that, well, decisions were made, unfortunate decisions, by many different people.

cql had to make wwx into a bit nicer version of himself. the good protagonist couldn’t lose control and accidentally kill a bunch of people, and then kill another bunch of people fully willingly, cause his sister just died and that was the last connection he had to the idea that something still matters in this world. no, out protagonist should be... like a little bit nicer than that. so they lifted some of that responsibility for atrocities off him, but they couldn’t just evaporate it, could they? they had to put it somewhere. they put it on jgy. after all he’s the big bad in the end of the story, well, the only surviving person from all people that could be considered big bads, he’s the one that “did every terrible deed imaginable”. he could take that responsibility, they had to make his grayness into a slightly darker shade anyway.

i am actually kinda surprised by how different my reaction to jgy was in mdzs. obviously, there is a year difference between me watching cql and me reading this part of mdzs, and over that year i changed my opinion on jgy 5 thousand times and joined the camp “actually meng yao deserves all the best things in the world”, but anyway. when i was watching cql i was like, oh my god, can someone just kill him already, before he does something bad again, before more bullcrap comes out of his mouth, and also stop yelling at this kid about all the “valid” reasons to why you killed his dad. in mdzs my reaction to jgy’s confessions was like, “huh. he has a point”.

now don’t get me wrong there, some shitty things were done, but the thing is, the things he did really made sense from his point of view, from this position and life experience he really had no other way to go. i especially was convinced by his reasoning to why he couldn’t cancel his engagement with qin su. not only he would suffer from this story, because he already went through so much to make this marriage possible, but also qin su’s parents and herself would most likely suffer, their public image would be destroyed, only jgs wouldn’t lose anything. and you could feel the hatred and bitterness he felt towards his father talking about this, and everyone in the temple could agree with that, because he “just forgot he made another child”, he didn’t even notice.

another interesting detail for me was lxc saying, “it’s not that i didn’t know that you did some of these things, it’s that i thought you had a good reason for doing them”. so yeah, a reminder, lxc isn’t blind and he isn’t an idiot. he trusted a person he thought he knew better than anyone else, and he believed in this person. the problem, i think, is that “a good reason” is different for lxc and for jgy. lxc would understand a righteous reason, doing something for the greater good. working for wen ruohan? that was explainable. they all were fighting in a war, fighting for the better, brighter future, and meng yao’s contribution to that future was immeasurable. what if he killed some people there? he had a good reason in lxc’s eyes. but meng yao had other good reasons in his life, some of these reasons lxc never had to deal with in his life. survival, for example, is one of them. meng yao’s early years were very different from lxc’s. not to say that lxc’s life was easy, but it was never truly unstable. meng yao had to learn how to survive in a world where no one wanted him. he lived with one dream, promised to him by his mother, a future where he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, where he wouldn’t have to smile at people he hated, please every one of their desires so they wouldn’t harm him. and then he entered this life promised to him and he still had to survive, but now in a luxurious man-eats-man world of lanling jin.

meng yao’s life really was this unstoppable ball of snow rolling down the mountain, and every decision he made just made the ball bigger and it would just roll faster. there is even a moment where jgy accuses lxc of being naive. lxc isn’t really naive, of course, it was said in the heat of the moment, but it is a fact that lxc was never kicked down a staircase, never had to crawl back up, and the thing is, at the bottom of the staircase, there are other good reasons to do things.

and in a way lxc understood that jgy in his position really didn’t have any other choices, he just couldn’t find peace in this mindset. he kept repeated through that part, “and yet, and yet, you shouldn’t have done that, you should have...” and he never said what exactly jgy should have done. because lxc doesn’t know. jgy doesn’t know. no one knows. what choices were better? how could he fix all that and still survive? in a way, lxc saying that reminded me of wangxian farewell in the burial mounds. when lwj asks, “you really indent to keep going like this?” and wwx, who wished, who longed for another solution, for some way out, asked him, “what else can i do? what method can i choose to resolve this, not use this technique and still protect people i want to protect?” and lwj didn’t have an answer. lxc didn’t have an answer either.

another amazing thing about guanyin temple confrontation, is that it’s very heavily wwx’s pov. most on the novel is his pov of course, but there were a loot of his thoughts in this arc. and he was rather understanding towards jgy. not in a way “i agree with every reasoning behind every decision you made” but in a way “i understand that you had your reasons, but all of them will become irrelevant really soon, they already are, because the crowd will only remember you as a son of a whore who did every terrible deed imaginable, and all the good deeds will be forgotten”

now his thoughts on nhs, or who he suspected nhs to be, were way less nice. especially compared to live action, nhs didn’t make such an impression on me as he made through wwx’s thought process in the end of guanyin temple arc. of course, wwx is no sect leader yao, he is not the one to jump to conclusions, he just noticed that if you put some facts together, they actually start making a lot of sense, and formed a full picture. but he didn’t have any proof, so he kept it mostly to himself. yet he still thought for a moment about nhs as someone who didn’t care about collateral damage that much, who was ready to sacrifice lives of juniors, sect leaders, anyone, if it would add to jgy’s kill count and make his fall and destruction even more disastrous. not that those are not the things that happened in live action, but you know, when wwx put it all together like that in one paragraph, i really felt it. like, oof, dude it’s ROUGH. and not even jgy’s death was enough, as nhs basically admitted to stealing meng shi’s body and planning to repay jgy for what he did to nmj’s body. yikes

i mean i still support nhs in everything he does, but yikes

also side note, glad that the dead cats situation finally became clear for me. this whole year i was so confused about who left all these dead cats for juniors to find. i thought maybe xue yang did?? to lure wwx?? so apparently it was also nhs. good to know.

another detail, probably the last one my brain can generate for now, that pained me a great deal was my poor child jin ling. i already cried about some things related to him and this arc, but there was another little one in the very end here, after jgy died. jin ling realised, that there were now three people, wwx, wn and jgy, his little uncle, that were responsible for his parents’ death. people he had every right and reason to hate. all three of them. and yet he couldn’t hate any of them. he couldn’t avenge his parents, that died so long ago he couldn’t remember them, because all three people responsible for what happened, had something, some reasons, some circumstances, that made them really not the bad guys in jin ling’s life. and they all cared about him, protected him. how could he hate them? how could he not? and in this way this poor child repeats, unfortunately, his uncle’s curse. to have someone he wants to hate so much but just simply can’t. it warms my heart at least that jin ling has a much better support system than jc had when he had to live through that experience. so there is hope.

#not rereading this #ok that's a lit i'll for sure reread this later #lie*#yana reads mdzs #and writes long long long metas #meta #the untamed

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darklove9314-blog · 3 years

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Please Me-Nessian NSFW

Author’s Note: This fic is for day 2 of Nessian Month! If you would like to join, the prompts are on @illyrianet page!!! (Prompt used: Sex Toys)

Azriel’s eyebrows lifted as a fierce blush produced on Nesta’s cheeks. Why the hell did she ask about this in the first place? she should have known it was too personal of a thing to ask. But her embarrassment dimmed some when Azriel gave her a soft laugh.

“I usually go to this shop on the rainbow for all my stuff. I can give you the address and if you don’t want to go alone, I’m sure Mor or Feyre would be willing to go with you.“

Nesta sighed looking around to make sure that no one could hear them.

“I’d rather not go shopping for sex toys with my sister of all people. As for Mor, well, I know how much she loves to chat and I wouldn’t want the surprise to be ruined for Cassian when he comes back for his birthday tomorrow.”

Azriel nodded, “So you’re going alone?”

“That‘s the plan.” Nesta confirmed. wanting to end this conversatio, she had only asked because she had constantly heard about Azriel’s special talents, and she thought if anyone would know where a good place to get sex toys were it would be him.

“In that case, happy shopping. I’m sure whatever you end up getting Cassian will be more than pleased.” Azriel teased. Nesta rolled her eyes slightly as she made her way out of the house to make her purchases.

“Nesta!” Cassian called out, the house blowing him a sign of greeting as he smiled back at it.

“It’s nice to see you again too. Any idea where my mate has gone off to?“ He asked as the house produced a walkway of candles to communicate. Interesting.

“Thank you.” He said to the house as he made his way to the bedroom that Nesta and himself had designated as theirs.

“Nesta, sweetheart, I’m-“ The words clogged in his throat as his gaze darted to the mouth watering sight he saw. His cock hardening at the sight of her. Reminding him of how long it had been since he had been inside of her. Something he was hoping on remedying rather soon.

Nesta stood there in a red lace bra that shimmered in the light barely covering her voluminous breast looking as if they were going to spill out of it as his gaze traveled downward making sure to take his time. to drink her in.

Her underwear rested on her hips, displaying that marvelous ass of hers. making him want to travel his hands down the curves of her body before he took her right then and there.

But what had stopped him was that Nesta arms were attached to a specific device. her wrist bound by two red ribbons. His eyes than glanced at the table beside her. the table that had displayed numerous toys that were ripe for the choosing. his hazel brown eyes met her blue grey eyes. The desire written all over her face. He would gladly fuck that sweet cunt of hers until he had her screaming his name from her lips, but first he wanted to play.

He walked over to her slowly, assessing her, the way that beautiful body of hers seemed more than ready for him to take her. To please her. He knew that she wanted him to touch her, to kiss her. But if they were going to play this game, Cassian had more than his fair share of experience in it.

His finger drew across the satin ribbons holding her in place feeling their softness. They seemed to be durable for the most part. Which Cassian was pleased with. They needed to be with everything he had planned to do with her.

“These are new.“ He mused. He swore he could hear her breath catching. Could scent her desire. Her underwear nicely soaked, but that wasn’t nearly enough. he wanted her drenching them by the time he was ready to take her.

“I may have got them for your birthday.” She breathed as his hand slid over the ribbon once more. His eyes traveled to the array of toys beside them.

“Did you buy those as well?” He asked, his breath sweeping across her skin. He tightened the ribbons slightly. She nodded waiting for his next response.

“I bought them so we could have some fun.” She purred. The sound making Cassian’s cock ache with the need to plunge into her. To spend his seed so deep that she would smell of him for days. But now was not the time to be thinking of that. If Nesta wanted to play than they would play.

“Have you been thinking of all the naughty things I could do to you, Nes?” He asked inching forward, his body barely brushing against hers.

“Yes.” She breathed.

“There are so many things that I can do to pleasure you Nesta.“ His lips inches towards the shell of her ear, bitting it slightly. A approving gasp falling from her lips. “Did you want me to do all of them?”

“Yes. “ She said. His finger moving to her bra, sliding the strap of it down to bare her shoulder to him.

“I may not be gentle.“ He whispered. pressing his length to her. Letting her feel everything that she was doing to him. She gasped, Her bound hands moving towards him before she remembered that they were bound. She threw back her head looking deep into his eyes.

“Good, because I don’t want you to be.“ She replied. Making his cock harden at her words. at the implication of them.

“If I do something you don’t like-“ He started.

“Then I’ll stop you with no hesitation.“ She assured him meeting his heated gaze. “But right now I want you to fuck me so hard that I won’t be able to sit right for days.“

“I think I can manage that.“ Cassian acknowledged. His lips curving in a wicked smile, ”But first I want you ready to accommodate me. I want everyone to scent your need for miles. You’ll be as wet as the Sidra when I finally slip into that paradise of yours.”

Cassian‘s eyes traveled to Nesta‘s hardened nipples. Them taunting him through the fabric of her bra, begging him to touch them, To taste them. He would do that and more to her. He would leave no place of her touched until she was crying out his name in pleasure. That thought alone nearly made him spill in his pants. He had to be careful, He couldn’t lose control too quickly. He wouldn’t do that to his beautiful mate before him.

His hands moved back to her bra circling her nipple through the fabric. Her breath catching slightly.

“Are you fond of these?” He asked. Letting her feel that fire in his gaze. He gestured to the bra and panties. Reminding him of the red of his siphons.

“I got it so you could do what you wanted with it.” She admitted, a mischievous smile on her face. as if she knew where his mind was. What he wanted to do with this particular outfit.

“I love the sound of that.” He growled, his hand going to the front of her bra, tearing it off and exposing her hardened nipples. “Because it’s getting in the way of you being bare before me.“

His hands yanked her underwear down Enough to where they hit her ankles. tying them there so she couldn’t move. Her body now fully exposed to him. Looking at her with his desires gaze. The body he had had multiple times, so much so that his scent seemed like a permanent part of her. His mate. The love of his life.

“Will you be good for me Nesta?” He asked tilting your her chin. He was entirely too clothed. And all he wanted was to strip down and stroke himself at the image of her there, waiting for him to do what he pleased with her. Knowing that there were so many possibilities.

“Yes General Cassian.” She promised, He grasped her hair, fingers i Tsing in that gods damned braid of hers as he pulled it out, her hair tumbling down past her breast.

“I want your hair down sweetheart.“ He pulled her hair crashing his lips down to hers, tongue sweeping in her mouth before he pulled back. “I’ll never tire of how you taste on my tongue. Though your mouth isn’t the only place I want to put my tongue.”

A small whimper escaped Nesta’s throat.

“Patience sweatheart, I’ll devour every inch of that beautiful sex of yours as soon as I’ve had my fill of you.“

He went to the table, eyeing the contents on it. All the choices she had laid out. He knew Nesta had never really experimented with all these things. Had seemed to grab everything she could get her hands on.

A small smile played over his lips as he picked up one that was double sided. He had never tried double penetration with his beautiful mate. But he knew it was one of her many fantasies.

He toyed with it glancing between it and her. Her glance looking eager.

He held it to his hard length, smirking the slightest bit.

“It may not be as big as I am, but it’ll get the job done until I’m ready for you.“ Cassian teased, her delectable scent filling his senses before he grabbed some oil off of the table along with the lubricant coating the toy so it would slid into his mate easier. although he guessed she had no trouble getting wet.

“Cassian.” She pleaded. Her patience wading, he set the toy down, the toy now glistening from the lubrications as Cassian gazed upon Nesta. her nipples hardened. Her sex soaked at the mere thought of everything he was going to do with her, that body of hers more than ready for him. but Cassian had always loved to tease Nesta. He wanted to see what her limits were. See how much she would beg for him to touch her, to sate that sex of hers until all she saw were stars.

Cassian’s hands went to his leathers, slowly undoing the pulls and the stays of them glancing at her waiting gaze as his cock sprang free. erect and patiently waiting. He pumped himself, hand sliding along his length slowly as she licked her lips remembering his taste. How she loved it when he fucked her mouth. He would have to do that later. when she wasn’t bound.

His shirt was next getting rid of it in one fail swoop, his naked body on full display for her. His length aching to be buried inside of her. He grabbed the jar, lathering his hand with the oil that smelled faintly of coconut, as he moved towards her breast. taking one of her nipples in his mouth as one of his hands kneaded the other. A moan falling from her lips as she tossed her head back exposing that beautiful throat of hers.

He grazed her nipple with his teeth softly enough to grab her attention. until her nipple was pebbled underneath his mouth, her other breast slick with oil As he moved to it., the taste of coconut filling his mouth as he licked and sucked at it. his hand massaging her other breast, her breath quickenin. He pinched her nipple releasing her other one kissing down the length of her body until he was done to her sweet, sweet sex. Her scent perfuming the his nostrils. He wanted to taste her. but first.

He grabbed the lube, making sure her ass was prepped and ready,

“Ready mate?” He asked.

She nodded breathing hard, He lightly pinched her clit making her gasp.

“I want you to tell me you’re ready sweetheart.“

“Yes. Gods yes.”

He grabbed the dildo, examining it as he pressed a button, the vibration going up his arms. He chuckled. testing the vibrations counting ten different settings Wanting to test all of them.

He moved the toy to her center, the other end penetrating her ass as she gasped slightly at the vibration as he moved it in and out of her. Kissing the side of her hip picking up his pace with it. Hitting the button again as Nesta cried out, Cassian glancing up taking in the look on her face. Looking like she wanted nothing more than to lose herself, He hit the button again. Nesta screaming out in pleasure as Cassian lost his careful restraint. Grasping the underwear at her ankles and tossing them to the side.

He placed her feet on his shoulders hitting a different angle as tears of ecstasy sprang in her. his tongue flicking her clit making her cry out.

“Cassian.” She cried. “Cassian, I-“

“Does it feel better than my cock inside you?” He asked shoving it deeper, her gasps turning to sobs. The dildo coated with her wetness. Cassian would do anything taste her release, but he had to get her closer.

“No.“ She gasped out. “Nothing-is better-than you.“ She breathed, her words coming out gruntled. He licked her again.

“Do you want me inside of you Nesta?“ He said shoving it deeper. “Do you want to finish with me inside of you?”

“Yes.“ She cried out as Cassian pulled the dildo out of her, tossing it to the side, tasting her delicious sex of hers until he had his fill before he lifted her up wrapping her legs around his waist, her wrist still bound as he sheathed himself inside of her filling her to the hilt as she moaned clenching around him. Knowing that she was close. He leaned in closer to her ear, biting down on her neck, sucking on it until an impression was left on her skin. As he tasted her his lips moving up her neck until he got to her ear whispering,

“Hold on tight, Nes.”

He thrusted up into her, His name falling from her lips moving in and out of her moving with her body. giving her exactly what she wanted, what they both wanted.

He quickened his pace, bucking his hips harder. licking, biting, and sucking on her neck. Her moan and sobs in her lips. Her legs shaking with the force of her gathering orgasm, her wetness coating his cock.

”Come for me mate. Let that release from that glorious sex of yours coat me. I’m so close Nes, So, So close, fall into oblivion with me sweetheart.“ He thrust harder hitting the exact spot he knew would send her over the edge, as her eyes rolled on the back of her head. Noises damn near primal falling from her mouth.

“Fuck, Nesta, Fuck, I love you.” He gasped out crashing his mouth to her, tasting every inch of it and her mouth as he felt her clenching around him, Her releasing around him in sweet ecstasy as his own release spewed in her. Pumping her until his seed was spent. until every inch of her was filled with him.

She leaned her head against his shoulder as he pulled the ribbons on her wrist, releasing them with ease as he carried her to the bed, still inside her, Not wanting to lose the feel of her as he laid her on the bed. kissing her through sweet nothings and words of admiration until he pulled her to him, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“Best birthday present ever. ” He mused as him and his mate feel into a blissful sleep.

#nesta #nestaarcheron #nessianmonth #nessian #nessian fic #a court of silver flames spoilers #acosf spoiler #nessian smut

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Unfettered (aka NHS goes feral) - part 3 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Lan Xichen had the strangest feeling that something was going to happen.

He wouldn’t pretend that he had a touch of foresight – life had shown him the hard way how completely he lacked any sorts of skill in that direction– and there was nothing altogether unusual about anything that had happened in the past few days of the war. Lan Xichen was helping with so much more now than he had during the Sunshot Campaign, when he’d been able to be a little above it all as a mere courtier or a single but powerful scouting force, thanks in large part to his sect’s then-existing weakness and Nie Mingjue’s utter brilliance. Nowadays he had to deal with the endless drudgery of war administration: the clean-up before and after battles, the mechanics of feeding and supplying all the cultivators in their front lines, planning their next move and the next after that…

Nie Huaisang had received a message and stormed out, looking annoyed, but that wasn’t new, either.

There were many demands on his time, after all. Nie Huaisang might not have much experience at war on a personal basis, having largely (and willingly) been sidelined during the Sunshot Campaign, but he was a sharp study and an excellent judge of people. He managed their generals – selected for merit without any attention to what sect they were from, if any – with an iron fist that rivaled his control over his own disciples, and on top of the war there was also his extensive network of spies, his constant scrutiny of their supply lines, his supervision of internecine disputes between the sects…

The divisions between us will be the first place Jin Guangshan strikes, he had said – snarled, rather – at the last meeting between sect leaders, taking to task men twice his age without so much as the blink of an eye. I want this petty bullshit between you resolved, now, and I don’t care how many generations you’ve been fighting over it. If you don’t fix it, I’ll fix it for you, and I assure you that neither of you want that.

They’d resolved it.

After all, Nie Huaisang was right: no one wanted him to step in.

It was a little ironic, Lan Xichen thought. The entire war had started because of Jin Guangshan’s lust for power, his desire to be called Chief Cultivator – a term Nie Huaisang denounced, as Nie Mingjue had before him – and now it was Nie Huaisang to whom the cultivation world deferred without question.

People were afraid of him.

It still seemed a little ridiculous to Lan Xichen, as if at any moment someone would step in and say that it was all a joke that they’d all been taken in by. That Nie Huaisang was still the excitable little roly-poly puppy he’d always been, Lan Xichen’s good friend’s little brother: stubborn and cute and smarter than he pretended to be, interested in nothing but his art and his fans and his clothing, lazy and indolent and unabashedly happy in a way that had brightened Lan Xichen’s day to see, every time.

He wasn’t, though. And it was Lan Xichen that had helped make him into what he was now.

During his travels, he’d heard cultivators in the field referring to Nie Huaisang as the Pallbearer, obliquely calling him the virtuous mourner as if he were a death-god whose name should not be directly uttered lest it draw his attention – it wasn’t anything Nie Huaisang had accepted as a personal title, utterly inauspicious as it was, but if he didn’t take one soon, he’d be stuck with it. If he wasn’t already.

People were simply uncomfortable calling him Nie-er-gongzi the way they had before, and Lan Xichen didn’t blame them one bit – the Nie-er-gongzi of the past was unrecognizable in the man of today.

But neither could he blame Nie Huaisang for refusing the title of Sect Leader Nie as long as his brother still had a single spark of life in his body.

Nie Mingjue…

Lan Xichen missed him terribly.

He knew he didn’t have the right to – Nie Huaisang had made that clear enough – but he did. He missed his old friend, with his confidence and his kindness and his goodness. He missed having a confidant who esteemed him and who trusted him, who shared everything with him without a moment’s hesitation, who always tried his best and honored those who did the same.

He’d once, and only once, caught a brief glimpse of Nie Mingjue after everything had happened: he’d been in bed, pale as death, face quiet and slack and peaceful in a way it never was, with doctors surrounding him. At the time, they were working furiously to save his life as Nie Huaisang paced furiously outside the door, refusing food and only drinking enough water to replenish the tears that streamed endlessly down his face.

That had been early on, before they’d realized Nie Mingjue had lapsed into a deep coma from which there was no telling when or if he would awake and, even if he did, in what state he would be left in. That had been before Nie Huaisang had banned Lan Xichen from the Unclean Realm…banned everyone, really, hosting them anywhere else he could rather than allow them anywhere near his brother when he was vulnerable.

Before he’d slowly started giving up hope. Before they all had.

It’d been years, after all. Surely if Nie Mingjue’s indomitable strength could heal him, it would have done so by now?

Of course, even if Nie Mingjue did eventually wake up, it wasn’t as if Lan Xichen would get his friend back the way it had once been. Nie Mingjue had always been righteous to the point of rigidity, willing to make the hard choices to punish those who had done wrong no matter their identity, and Lan Xichen had failed him so thoroughly, so completely…

Guiltily, too, he knew that if Nie Mingjue woke up, he’d undoubtedly step up as general once more, coordinating everything the way he had during the Sunshot Campaign – and that meant they wouldn’t need to rely on Lan Xichen’s assistance anymore.

Nie Huaisang had made that clear, too.

Whoever had raised his ire by sending him that message that had pulled him away from their work together…well, they’d better have a very good excuse. Nie Huaisang hated to be interrupted, his temper as short as anyone in his family’s had ever been, and his tongue was more poisonous than Jiang Cheng’s.

Lan Xichen would know, being its most frequent target.

Nie Huaisang had never forgiven Lan Xichen in his part in preserving Jin Guangyao’s life, and lacking the actual assassin to rend to bits, he had grimly decided to make do with the accomplice. He needled Lan Xichen at every instance, taunting him with his failures and deficiencies, making nasty jibes and underhanded remarks that cut deep – and Lan Xichen deserved every single one of them.

Back then, it had been Lan Xichen who had hesitated, refusing to believe the truth. Refusing to believe that his then (and, perhaps, still) beloved A-Yao could ever do such terrible things of which he had been accused, either at his time in the Nightless City or the assassination of Nie Mingjue – he had pushed back, prevaricated, insisted on investigating more, finding out more…in the end the truth had come out in all its ugly wretched filthy glory and the only thing his foot-dragging and indecisiveness that he’d pretended was a devotion to justice had gotten him was Nie Huaisang’s endless disdain.

The worst of it, though, wasn’t the humiliation or the insults, nor his feelings of failure and guilt.

No, it was the way his foolish heart raced at how Nie Huaisang looked now, with all restraint a distant memory – the sharp Nie features on his delicate face turning from blurred to clear as the childhood fat on his cheeks melted away; the intelligence that flashed in his eyes, now unhidden by any pretense or indifference; the utter brilliance in the casual way he rattled off orders, effortlessly taking command without permitting any backtalk; the way he moved, a mixture of the martial general and a dancer’s grace; the way everything about him perfectly fit to Lan Xichen’s taste –

He really was a fool.

He had a crush on you for years, Lan Xichen reminded himself. Nie Mingjue even told you about it, he’d even approved of it back then if only you were interested, and yet you pretended you knew nothing. But now, now when he hates you, despises you, sees you as little better than a worm to crush beneath his heel, now is when you finally choose to see what’s always been there?

He hadn’t said anything to Nie Huaisang about it, of course. There wasn’t any point when Nie Huaisang already thought of him in the worst possible terms – weakling, willfully blind, murderer – and he could easily imagine how it might go, if he ever tried anything.

(“I heard some soldiers say that I resemble Jin Guangyao,” Nie Huaisang had mused one day, his hands locked behind his back as he looked down at their troops training in the field. His voice was cold as ice and sharp as a blade. “Though there’s some disagreement as to whether it’s my face or the devious turns of my mind that bring up the comparison. I thought I’d ask you, Zewu-jun, you being the expert and all – am I a good replacement? A suitable stand-in? If I smile at you enough times, will you do whatever I say without question, the way you did for him?”

I would already do anything for you, Lan Xichen had thought at the time, full of sorrow. In a way that goes well beyond what I felt for him. But even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, would you?)

No, it was clear enough to Lan Xichen that his father’s blood ran strong in him, dooming him to only love where he was not loved in return, and to finally realize the strength of that love only when it was too late. At least it seemed that Lan Wangji had escaped that fate with Wei Wuxian, their earlier misunderstandings aside.

A moment later, as if summoned by his thoughts, the man himself appeared.

“Oh, Zewu-jun, there you are! Have you seen Nie-xiong?” Wei Wuxian asked, popping his head in through the door. Lan Wangji was a few steps behind him, waiting patiently as he always did – he was always patient with Wei Wuxian, gentle in a manner that reminded Lan Xichen of the way he sometimes cared for the wild rabbits back at the Cloud Recesses.

They hadn’t spoken much, of late. Lan Wangji had understood Lan Xichen’s weakness and had not held it against him, but that didn’t mean Lan Xichen had forgiven himself, nor did it lessen the sting of shame he felt over events he felt must have lost him the respect of his younger brother, no matter how Lan Wangji denied it – it was easier to focus on matters of war.

“He was called away suddenly, I’m afraid,” Lan Xichen said. “He left a few shichen ago, but he said he’d be back in time for dinner.”

“Dinner has already passed,” Lan Wangji said, his voice neutral – an obvious reprimand for Lan Xichen for having not noticed, shaded with concern over the way Lan Xichen didn’t always eat the way he should. He wouldn’t be hurt by it, he practiced inedia the way they all did, of course, but that didn’t mean he should miss meals if he didn’t have to. “He has not yet returned?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. But if it’s that late, he should be back soon. Do you need him for something urgent?”

“As urgent as anything else in this war,” Wei Wuxian said with a shrug. “If you see him, let us know.”

“Why do you assume I’ll see him first?” Lan Xichen asked, a little amused, but Wei Wuxian blinked at him as if he’d said something foolish.

“He always comes to you first,” he said. “Hadn’t you noticed?”

Lan Xichen’s breath caught briefly – no, he hadn’t noticed, and his mind immediately started to race, his heart growing warm…but no. He only was being foolish again. As the army’s courier, its administrator, Lan Xichen was the obvious person for Nie Huaisang to contact if he wanted to get his plans spread out to everyone as soon as possible.

There didn’t have to be anything more to it than that.

“So when he arrives, if you could just tell him –”

“No need,” Lan Wangji interrupted. “He is approaching.”

A few moments later, and it was clear from the footsteps that Lan Wangji was right, as always – when Lan Wangji was younger, Lan Xichen used to tease him about having the ears of a bat, capable of detecting everything, and sometimes he really thought it might be true.

They waited, and the door opened, and Lan Xichen instinctively turned away as Nie Huaisang let himself in, not wanting to see those hard eyes turn even harder, the instinctive sneer that rose to Nie Huaisang’s lips at the sight of him that it always took him an extra moment to suppress.

“Nie-xiong?” Wei Wuxian asked, his voice rising a register in his shock. “What happened?”

Lan Xichen turned back at once, suddenly cold all over in terror. Had Nie Huaisang been injured? Some ambush, some attack, or worst of all a garrote made of guqin string the way he’d so foolishly taught A-Yao – but no, when he examined him with his eyes, Nie Huaisang looked hale as always, but for the redness and swelling around his eyes.

He looked for all the world as if he’d been –

Crying?

And yet Lan Xichen knew that Nie Huaisang hadn’t wept in years. One could probably accurately say that Nie Huaisang hadn’t had any expression in years, nothing that wasn’t a sneer or a grimace, maybe at best a smirk. What could have caused him to do so now…?

Nie Huaisang shook his head and unexpectedly – smiled.

A real true smile, his eyes curving into crescents and wrinkling at the corners, his cheeks glowing pink and his teeth flashing just like when he was younger and more innocent and smiled like that all the time. A smile of the sort that Lan Xichen hadn’t appreciated when he had it, the sort he’d thought was lost forever.

Lan Xichen’s heart stopped in his chest.

He wished he could stop this moment, too, to keep it with him for the rest of time.

“It’s da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, beaming. “He woke up.”

Oh, Lan Xichen thought. Oh.

Oh no.

#mdzs #lan xichen #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #unfettered #xisang

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om-headcanon · 4 years

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☆ mc catching the obey me brothers crying

i believe its fair to assume mc has seen at least one of the boys cry. here is what i believe happened. (if you want me to do undateables, let me know! tw for low self worth, panic attacks, and survivors guilt/death mentions)

lucifer

without a doubt the most embarassed to be caught crying

he had just gotten into an argument with diavolo, and he questions his importance in diavolos life

he goes into the study to get some extra work done late at night to reassure himself he is useful

with all of the stress from the situation at hand and some stress from supporting the family on his back, he cant help but shed a few tears

all he wants to do is keep those around him happy and healthy... and it tears him apart when he cant

if i cant make the ones i love happy then... what can i do...

he doesnt notice your presence, as he has hands over his eyes and is breathing slowly in order to relax himself

you call out his name softly to get his attention

lucy jumps and tries wiping his eyes and playing it off as if he was never crying

you walk closer to him and he keeps inquiring if theres anything you need

you dont say anything, you just place your arms around him and hold him in a tight embrace

and he starts crying again on your shoulder... harder, this time. holding you tighter and closer in the embrace

because of his pride, its hard for him to admit what he needs the most: someone to show they care for him

mammon

mammon is the type to not cry often but when he does, its a lot

while his brothers dont really have bad intentions, the daily degradation they execute against mammon really gets to him

he can only put up his confident front for so long, and not long after a fight with asmo, it recedes

he lay on his bed sobbing heavily into a pillow to muffle the sound for nearly a full hour

his mind cant help but insist all the words his siblings tell him are true... and he wishes more than anything that you were there to tell him they werent

he looks up to the door every once in a while with blurry vision, mind convincing him theyre at the door, but you not being there makes him cry even harder

maybe they just think the same as the rest of my brothers

he hears the doorknob, but convinces himself its his mind again. ironically enough, this makes him cry even harder

except its actually you this time

you run over to his bed to sit down next to him and rub his back reassuringly, asking if hes alright

he jolts up, shocked youre actually here. he closes his mind and smiles sadly with a tear stained face

he pulls you into an embrace and whispers a soft thank you... your presence helps him more than you will ever know

you hold him for a few minutes and tell him how awesome the Great Mammon really is

leviathan

its been a long stressful day at rad, and he cant help but overthink every single action he has made

every single glance hes made, every single word hes said ... just everything

most days he would resort to playing a game or watching an anime he loves in attempt to distract himself, but other days its not that easy

he starts spiraling, thinking of not only everything hes done that day, but actions hes done in the past too

eventually hes past the point of no return, and starts having a panic attack

levi cant seem to catch his breath and with the thoughts still rushing through his head at full speed, he cant attempt to calm himself down

he envies those who dont feel the way he does right now because god, what he would do to not feel like this

you were just wondering why your gaming buddy hasnt come looking for you so naturally, you go to him

you knock on his door waiting for him to ask you for the entry code... but theres no response

you enter and are quite shocked to see levi shaking on his bed

this is familiar to you... whether youve had to guide a friend through a panic attack or have been through one yourself, you know what to do

you reassure him this will all pass and knowing how hard school is for him, you tell him he did well today

you get him to regulate his breathing and gain some composure

hes embarassed you had to see him like that... but he lets you know hes so thankful that you came to help him

satan

he just wants to be his own person but with how his life was set for him, its almost as if thats a tall order

its very rare he cries from happiness or anything like that, but sometimes he gets so sad that he gets angry... and then he cries a lot

no one dares to go near him like that

and that hurts him too... that nobody could or would ever dare to console him because they fear what hed do to them

he acknowledges this is a justified fear as he is after all the representation of wrath itself, but it still hurts nonetheless

belphie decided to poke fun and tease satan reminding him of how hes lucifers shadow

he didnt take it well... and retreated to his room to handle his emotions

he knew his family didnt want anything to do with him while he was angry... and that made him feel like a burden

but he grew used to everyone expecting he handle his emotions himself even if every once in a while he desired some reassurance

satan sat in a corner of his room crying to himself waiting for this to pass because he didnt believe anyone else would care to check on him

but you were curious as to why he wasnt in his usual 4 pm reading spot, so you decided to check his room

he was just sat completely still staring into the distance while tears fell down his face

he didnt even notice your presence until you sat down next to him

you didnt want to pry, so you just asked if he wanted to talk about it

he shook his head, laid on your shoulder, and just said “this is all i need”

asmodeus

ahh... while self love is so easy for him, self value isnt

its easy for him to believe people want to be around him solely with lustful intent rather than because they genuinely love him

he doesnt really believe anyone could ever love him

so he overcompensates through self love because he believes hes the only person who could ever love him

hes great at hiding it but sometimes, this gets to him... especially after some quick encounters with others at the fall

he thinks maybe there is no depth to him.. maybe i really am just a pretty face and nothing else

asmo cries pretty often, but he only lets people see him cry when its over something material (ie, he couldnt get a new bag hes been wanting for weeks)

he cries quietly too in effort to make sure nobody sees him

he seemed to have forgetten that you two were planning to go shopping today so you went to his room to see if he was ready

you werent expecting to see him rolled over in bed softly crying to himself

you startled him when you said his name

“oh, mc, i didnt see you there!” he chuckles lightly to himself in effort to change the mood of the atmosphere as he wipes his eyes

you ask if hes okay and his sad smile falls slightly

he asks you if you genuinely think he could ever be lovable

your heart breaks a little knowing that he even has a moment of self doubt, but you reassure him that hes a lovable person inside and out

you hug him tightly while another tear falls down his face

you two decide shopping is best for another day... for now, you just want to talk and do facials

beelzebub

beel loves his family a lot

more than he loves food (also a lot)

he hates conflict between them and would do absolutely anything to avoid it

what he hates the most about himself is how hungry he gets... hes aware its poorly timed but theres really nothing he can do about it

but the feeling hes being an inconvenience to those he loves hurts him

beel is great at smiling as often as possible, but if theres any tension between the family, he wont stop crying until its resolved

once he was so hungry it wasnt possible to control himself and he ended up going on a rampage

he earned scolds from lucifer, mammon, and satan for this

it tore him apart knowing that he had caused his family trouble for even a second and he started crying because of the guilt

he couldnt even find enough energy to make it back to his room, so he just sat in the kitchen with tears on his face

you had decided to go to the kitchen to get a snack when you saw him

he apologized for being in the kitchen and offered to move if you wanted his seat, but you declined

beel didnt even bother wiping the tears from his eyes... he wore them like they were a punishment for his own behavior

when you asked him what was wrong, all he said was that he was a bad brother

you tried to tell him otherwise, but then he went into detail about the situation and how all he does is cause the family distress

you told him that isnt true at all and he continues to bring light and happiness to all those around him

hearing that his brothers will come around and know he meant no harm is all he needed to hear

“thank you, mc... i feel less hungry when im with you”

belphie

he has lots of survivors guilt

its been millenia but he still wishes that it was him instead of lilith

because of this he cries quite often, but never in front of anyone other than beel

this feeling that lilith and him should have traded places haunts him often, and its not always so easy to sleep it off

as fore mentioned, he usually finds comfort in talking to his older twin but beel isnt always there

beel was at one of his clubs at rad and belphie didnt want to bother him, but he really did need someone right now

unlike his older brothers, belphie actually makes an effort to find you

he doesnt find you in your room nor the kitchen, so he continues to search around the house in hopes youre around here somewhere

he happens to find you by yourself in the study on your d.d.d.

belphie feels bad bothering you, and enters the room quite quietly

“mc, can we talk?”

he sits down next to you and lays his head on your shoulder

contrary to what he stated he wanted, not much talking is being done

he just lies there quietly crying with no explanation why

he realises he may not be as ready to talk about it as he thought... but thats okay

you tell him that youre going to listen whenever hes ready to talk about it

that makes him feel a lot better

he falls asleep right there with a thankful smile placed on his face

#satans was lowk the hardest to write #i hope i wrote them all well tho >:#also some of these are .. quite long o_o #my apologies #obey me headcanon #obey me #belphie headcanon #beel headcanon #satan headcanon #mammon headcanon #lucifer headcanon #levi headcanon #asmo headcanon

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novantinuum · 3 years

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Trollhunters alt timeline AU concept:

Okay, so since I’ll never have the emotional energy to Write It in full, I just want to share my wild ass Trollhunters alt timeline AU, inspired by that chaos ride of a movie.

Disclaimer: Personally speaking, I actually enjoyed the RotT movie for the absolutely absurdist, emotion-murdering storyline it was. I can certainly say that it... (and in fact, Wizards too) most definitely doesn’t follow the ToA personal canon I hold in my heart, BUT- I don’t consider my idea a “fix-it” because I strongly dislike using that term myself. In all its imperfection, canon simply is what it is, and thus my idea is instead just a wild little AU concept, because thinking about what-ifs is fun. However, given that self-indulgence is a hoot, this is also my way of molding a plotline where some of my favored elements get to play in to everything.

Beginnings:

This AU diverges from the very end of the RotT movie.

So… from my reading of the last scene, one could argue that Jim’s canon decision to return to before he picked up the amulet and avoid picking it up again was born out of a sense of failure… a feeling that he failed as a hero because he wasn’t there to save his best friend from dying. He kinda wished himself (as he is, as the Trollhunter) away in a “It’s a Wonderful Life” type manner, hoping that by simply allowing someone else to take up the mantle, maybe things could end up better.

In this AU, instead of sending himself back to before he picked up the amulet, Jim’s last spoken desire before he uses the time crystal is a stubborn, confident assertion. Not doubting his own ability as the Trollhunter, but resolving to save all his friends in whatever way he can.

And he’s going to do this starting from Draal.

However, there’s a catch. This time crystal… powerful magic like this always poses consequences. And once he uses it, he discovers that the terms of this second chance are that no one can ever find out that this previous world ever existed. Jim is alone in his knowledge. He must tread carefully. Should anyone ever discover this secret… cataclysm will occur.

Time will shatter.

No pressure, or anything.

Timeline 2.0:

Future Jim is shucked back to his old body somewhere amidst early season 3. His first goal is keeping Draal alive. His foreknowledge of Angor Rot’s involvement in Merlin’s tomb will aid them greatly in how to better protect his friends.

His second goal... is one that he’s kinda of two minds about, but knows is desperately necessary for the fights he’ll face in the future. He’ll of course have to become a half-troll again. Thankfully, this go around it’s entirely his choice, and he knows it’s coming. That transition will be easier. Along with this... he knows he’ll have to somehow manage to keep ahold of his amulet. He can’t let the Arcane Order destroy it, and he can’t let them take control of him. If he stands any chance of being on top of his game in the early stages of their eventual fight against the titans, he’ll need to keep both that AND remain half-troll.

His challenge early on: Jim is stuck in the very awkward position of having to play chess master with events that he’s already lived through, so as to attain the same old victories WHILE ensuring all of his allies come out alive this time around... and WHILE not cluing anyone else in on the fact that he knows their futures. The stress involved with that is immense, and there’s bound to be instances in which he’s very clumsy with how he manages this. One of the largest early consequences of this second timeline is that he grows more emotionally distant from his friends and allies, especially those who had died in the original timeline... because after all, it’s almost as if he’s walking among ghosts, right now.

I honestly don’t know exactly how Wizards would shift because I haven’t seen it in eons, but Jim still has to ensure they end up in the past, right? Since he knows they’re a part of the past for better or for worse. He isn’t injured this time around, he likely has been hiding his amulet while back there, and there’s no beast Jim situation because the Arcane Order hasn’t wrest control of him. That’s all I know at the moment.

But yeah, those earlier battles end in victory (or partial victory, since of course the Arcane Order are a slippery bunch)... all allies are still alive... Jim remains half-troll by the beginning of the events of RotT in timeline 2.0...

HOWEVER.

Because of Jim’s extreme focus on keeping his friends- Nomura, Nari, Strickler, Toby- alive... because of how bonds within the group have weakened from his emotional distance... his second go at trying to stop complete armaggeddon is an entire failure.

Nari is saved, but they fail at stopping the other two titans. The world is set to be reborn in ice and fire. Jim has failed, once again. It’s at this moment that in a fit of frustration and rage, he lets his secret slip... accidentally reveals what was supposed to remain hidden... that this is his Second Time experiencing this.

Time shatters.

And then, the whole of creation falls silent. On pause, for Jim’s eyes only.

At this point in this AU story, since I am super self indulgent, I want to do a literal God from the Machine. Because I had a concept flash into my mind... a concept of a literal ancient deity rising from a deep sleep to set her attention upon the mess these mortals have created. All she appears as is bright, blinding light, and an echoing, sonorous voice.

When Jim asks her identity, she simply replies that she is the First Spark. The origin of all life, light, and magic. She has many names… names that countless souls have used to name their young in unknowing reverence… but one in particular that he might recognize.

Deya.

This goddess is the embodiment of daylight and creation, and the sword Jim wields? The armor? It is essentially made of her body. Her power. Her essence. Stripped away and used for whatever purpose mortals desired whilst she slept. How egotistical, she thinks, that Merlin directed all glory towards himself, rather than to the deity that allowed for his use of magic in the first place.

And so Deya reveals that she aims to clean up this cataclysm by returning the world to its original state. The original timeline. The one where this world hasn’t been destroyed in a horrible cataclysm. Jim, of course… immediately protests. Brings up all the hard, desperate days he lived just to get this far, just to save his closest friends and family. Begs her to do something, ANYTHING to help.

And eventually… the goddess offers up a choice. She’ll agree to restore the individuals who were dead in the original timeline, weaving the living souls of those in the second timeline into the first… but. To provide consequence for the disastrous mess mortal kind made, she refuses to use such power of resurrection in a “pick and choose” sort of manner. If she’s going to resurrect Jim’s allies, then she’s going to resurrect his enemies too. Everyone who has died throughout his journey will be brought back, no matter their alignment with the Trollhunter team.

Now, in order to save everyone, Jim must once again risk re-igniting the same conflicts with many of these foes all over again... except this time, in new paradigms and patterns that even he cannot predict. Is it worth it, for his friends? For the ones he loves?

Endgame:

Jim makes the deal. All the dead are restored. As time begins to flow again, they stand in the rubble of the titan they destroyed in timeline one. Jim feels great anxiety at the thought of the last two members of the Arcane Order being alive once more, but at very least the titans they piloted are no more. They’d have to come up with a new plan of attack now, if they had their hearts set on the same goal.

Toby is alive. So is Strickler, Nomura, Draal, Nari... Those who were dead, however... quickly realize that they remember dying. Those who remained alive in both timelines realize that they possess memories of both. Certain relationships will likely be rocky and strained for the first while.

Somewhere on this planet, old foes, old allies, and unpredictable agents alike have returned from the cold grasp of death with a shock. It’s anyone’s guess what new rivalries, alliances, and driving plans will emerge this time. At the very least, however... team Trolhunters is intact... and they’re more than willing to face this new, unpredictable future once more, wherever it leads. Together, hand-in-hand.

Fin.

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #rise of the titans #jim lake jr #my post stuff #toa spoilers

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testudoaubrei-blog · 3 years

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TL/DR - Catra is a uniquely complex and compelling character who has -so much going on- compared with most characters in any medium. Her character arc is psychologically astute, morally powerful and dramatically compelling, and it pushes the boundaries of the audiences sympathies in ways that are really groundbreaking for a kids show, and her arcs conclusion celebrates love, growth, and the power to change in a way that is all too rare in TV for grown ups.

Content note for mentions of suicidal ideation and self harm.

Well, now that the summary is out of the way, here’s a massive fucking dissertation on why Catra is such a great character.

This is the first of a series of posts outlining things that make She Ra a truly great show, one that stands out even 15 years into a golden age of TV animation for kids. This isn’t going to be a comprehensive account for why the show is great - the real answer is that this show has so many arcs and so many fully realized characters and they are all growing and changing in ways that interact with each other and complement each other so well. But I’m going to highlight some particular standouts, things that this show does better than anything else, things that made me step back and say ‘holy shit they did this in a show pitched at 10 year olds?!’

And so the first of these posts is about Catra. I’ve never seen a character in a kids TV show like Catra before. Depending on the season, she’s an anti-villain, an outright villain and an anti-hero and then, in the end, a hero. Being glib, I describe her in villain mode as a Saturday morning cartoon Supervillain as written by like, Dostoevsky. She’s got the trappings of classic villain camp - long speeches, sneering, over-complicated plans, she’s oddly ineffectual at times etc/ Yet all of this is underlaid and justified by something much deeper - her feelings of rejection, her desire to lash out at everyone around her, at her self-hatred and hatred of everyone and everything else (at least by Season 4. Good God.) And her actions are as dark as her motivations - she nearly destroys reality out of spite, betrays literally everyone who cares about her (often multiple times) and isolates herself so completely that in the season 4 finale she is a solitary, suicidal wreck of a person. Hell, in her last fight with Hordak, I was definitely rooting for Hordak (to say nothing of Glimmer, who is a pretty impressive antiheroine, like if Sparkles had just blasted her into glittery oblivion would we have held it against her?).

Let's start by discussing trauma. It comes up a lot with Catra for obvious and good reasons. But I almost feel like that word is insufficient for what's going on with Catra, or at least, we shouldn't stop with it (I know there are terms like complex trauma, but rather than simply using those I want to explain the difference between Catra’s consistent abuse and a single traumatic event). To use another example from a different show, Korra was also traumatized in season 4. But she was traumatized by a series of an events when she was a young adult. She had something horrible happen to her, and it fucked her up, and then she had exposure therapy with Zaheer and at least starts to get better. Catra...Catra is much more consistently abused. It's not just that shadow weaver traumatized her with the various acts of torture, but that Shadow Weaver taught Catra both an explicit worldview and a series of coping mechanisms that she struggles with through young adulthood. First, Shadow Weaver trained Catra to seek her approval. This is something she is particularly vulnerable to with Shadow Weaver, but also what she does with Hordak and to a extent Double Trouble. Catra's instinct when people mistreat her or show that they aren't trustworthy is to invest further in the relationship, until the breaking point. By contrast, when people treat her well Catra lashes out or takes them for granted. This is uh…a dymamic I am acquainted with among people who have been abused as kids, people whom I love. It is pretty rough.

She also developed a desire to prove herself. This starts off being tied to her drive for approval, but combined with her competitive streak (which is expressed in both healthy and unhealthy ways with Adora) it turns into a desire to beat Shadow Weaver and then Hordak at their own game.

At the same time, Catra learned by always being blamed for everything to evade and deny responsibility, no matter what. I think this form of self reassurance is tied to her self doubt (I think at some level she does think she is worthless) and her self hatred. It is also enabled by Adora’s martyr complex and willingness even act as Catra’s punching bag (as we see in the flashback in Corridors). This is a dynamic that actually repeats in an even worse fashion with Scorpia. Far from being arrogant, her constant evasions, put downs against others and preening speeches sound like the words of a woman who is trying to convince herself most of all. This tendency borders on narcissistic self delusion by season 3-4, which she begins recounting her version of events and possibly believing it even when it is obviously false, and everyone knows it.

When it comes to worldviews, Shadow Weaver taught Catra that love is about control and manipulation. We see this in seasons 1-3 where she congratulates herself for manipulating Adora when all she has done is take advantage of Adora's lingering love for her. Meanwhile, she’s learned that power is her only protection, and that the only way to stay on top is to abuse those beneath her.

The final kind of static tendency in Catra is her identity in the horde and her view of herself as one of the bad guys. This is something she rarely articulates but underlies much of her her decision to stay and not join Adora (at least at first). I think one thing to consider is that even if Catra never believed horde propaganda, it may have made her cynical and unwilling to imagine something better for herself or the world. Another factor is having struggled to belong in the horde for so long, she isn't going to give up now. At first this ties into her desire to win the approval of shadow weaver and Hordak, then it comes from her desire to prove herself better than them. Another factor is her self hatred. She sees herself as someone who hurts people, perhaps as a monster. She sees herself as a bad guy and so team evil is her side.

So yeah, our girl is kinda fucked up.

And yet Catra is never reduced to the sum of her traumas and bad habits. At every step of the way she is shown as a moral agent. She is shaped by shadow Weaver's abuse but she remains aware of and responsible for her actions. This is a double edged sword. She is fully responsible for her actions, but also she is never shown as broken by abuse or mental illness. She’s fully responsible, but by the same token is also redeemable, because she still has a choice.

So with that our of the way, let's go to Catra's arc.

I’m not going to recite everything terrible Catra does because I’m still on my first complete rewatch and I honestly find it hard to list it all. It’s a lot. So let’s talk about her shifting motivations. Early on, we see her desire for approval and recognition motivating her in ways that are so easy to sympathize with - she’s been told she’s worthless for years, and she wants to be worth something. We see how much she’s been scarred by Shadow Weavers abuse and by the ruthlessness and callousness of the Horde, and can sympathize with her desire to survive and advance since her own position is so untenable. We also see how, at first, she wants to be reunited with Adora. Her first huge turn into much darker territory is Promises, when she tries to kill Adora in order to permanently sever her connection with her own life and eliminate a possible rival for advancement (should Adora ever return). She’s told herself that she doesn’t want Adora back, and at least partly means it. Yet we still show her care for Scorpia and Entrapta and even Shadow Weaver in Season 2. It’s when Catra realizes that Shadow Weaver has chosen Adora over her once again that she takes her darkest turn. It’s not just that she destroys reality out of spite, it’s that she rejects her chance for a better and happier life, betrays every friend she has and focuses single-mindedly on hurting Adora (and arguably herself) and then on surviving when her attempt fails. Then Catra spends an entire season both fully inhabiting her role as a villain (and not a sympathetic one - really only our history with her leaves us sympathetic) and being utterly self-destructive and miserable. At the end, as mentioned, she’s a broken, suicidal wreck who has destroyed everything she’s strived for. If this was an HBO drama, we’d roll credits here and she’d go down as another self-destructive antihero. It would perhaps be too much to call her ‘Walter White as a catgirl’, but still. Of course, her story doesn’t end there.

Something that is incredibly dark that is happening in step with this is Catra’s hardening of herself, indeed, her dehumanization of herself. We see her struggle with her natural compassion, her kindness, her need for connection, her desire for happiness, and we see her ignore it all, stamp it down and nearly snuff it out. This is a huge factor in her descent into becoming a real villain (no ‘anti’ qualifiers needed). Every step of her descent is a struggle for Catra - not going with Adora in the second part of ‘The Sword’, trying to kill Adora in ‘Promise’, going back to the Horde, betraying Entrapta, lying about Entrapta, threatening Scorpia, destroying the world - but she always chooses evil. And with every step she becomes more isolated, more callous, and more cruel. Her default reaction becomes not just bravado and mockery and insolence, but threats, bullying and intimidation, until her management style is identical to Hordak’s, and indeed, is quite a bit worse. Catra starts off fighting for Hordak and Shadow Weaver’s approval and struggling to survive, and ends up cackling maniacally at her brutal and murderous conquests. She has very deliberately turned herself into a cruel conqueror, and a tyrant. This self-dehumanization is a huge part of evil in the world, I think, and it’s really powerful to see it so clearly in a kids show.

Meanwhile her insistence on evading all responsibility finally results in a self-serving, self-protective narrative that insulates her from responsibility or self-examination but also cuts her off from reality and other people. It’s always a bit unclear to what extent her various untruths (about Adora leaving her, about Shadow Weaver’s escape and her concealment of it not being her fault, about Entrapta betraying Hordak) are things she believes, lies she is telling to have power over others (mostly Scorpia) or things that she doesn’t quite believe but is trying to convince herself of. It’s probably all of these at various times, and in different degrees for each lie. The end result is that Catra is even more alone, because only she inhabits the safe cocoon of lies she’s built around herself. It also is the key to her and the Horde’s downfall - Catra is so isolated and in such denial that she can’t see how thin her forces are spread, and this crack shows up even in episode 1 of Season 4, with her insistence that the Princess Alliance is in shambles (when, in fact, it’s already rebounding, and proves more resilient than she allows herself to believe, and is led by a woman as ruthless and determined as herself). This part of Catra’s arc brilliantly shows how deception (of yourself and others) can feel protective by keeping shame at bay, but ultimately is destructive and strips someone of so much of the intellectual and moral qualities that we call ‘human.’ It’s also chilling to see since we’ve seen the end game of this mentality play out in US national politics, at the highest level.

I said at the opening that we’ve never seen a sympathetic character like Catra in a kids show. What about Zuko? I would argue that Zuko is never a cruel, or as callous, or as self-destructive as Catra is at her worst. Zuko is motivated by a desire for recognition from his abusive father (much like Catra is initially motivated by desire for recognition from Hordak and Shadow Weaver, and indeed Adora), and perhaps a desire to belong in the Fire Nation. All of this gets wrapped together in his ‘Honor’. He’s a young man with a very weak sense of what he truly believes, instead relying on external guides to what he should do. He’s also incredibly self-involved, and initially indifferent to anyone’s pain but his own and anyone’s needs but his own need to restore his honor. Uncle Iroh is there throughout to push Zuko both to see the needs of others and to become his own person. Zuko’s redemption arc, then, is a twofold quest to recognize other people and to find his own moral center and act from it. This is a pretty powerful coming of age story in that it is about him becoming his own person and throwing off the shackles of his upbringing. Politically, it’s a powerful story of a young man taking responsibility for his own actions in an authoritarian regime and refusing to participate in its imperialism any more and to embrace a new way forward both for himself and his nation. At the same time, in some ways it is easy to sympathize with Zuko because his greatest crimes are those of weakness - he’s not strong enough to stand up to his nation and his family until midway through the last season. Catra though...Catra does what she does, eventually, because she wants to hurt people. She’s cruel, and spiteful, and destructive in ways that are truly scary and which prevent any excuse or mitigation.

Which brings up the other comparison - Azula. But while Azula is (somewhat inconsistently) shown either as a monstrous child sociopath or a traumatized and broken child who can’t help it (and thus, perversely, as not a moral agent but something like a monster), Catra is consistently shown as a moral agent. Catra chooses her own path, every step of the way. She has so many chances to do something else - Adora’s offers to leave together in the two-part series opener, Promises, Scorpia’s suggestion that they dessert the Horde and become desert gang leaders, etc - and until season 5, she turns them all down. While Azula seems destined for evil and madness, with Catra we see a young woman very deliberately walk down the path into unmitigated evil with both eyes open. And then we see it destroy her.

And after she is basically destroyed, we see her build herself back. This process actually starts in Season 4 with the creeping realization that even when she is winning she is miserable and alone. She doesn’t even notice Scorpia is gone for several episodes, then she completely loses it. She spends the entire time when she is at her most triumphant isolated and raging and borderline incoherent, as ineffectual as she accuses Hordak of being. She’s won, and she’s alone, and she’s the most unhappy she has ever been, and I think for the first time she realizes that. And that’s the worst blow to her, even before all the external things come crashing down. She’s already miserable before Double Trouble and Glimmer deal her a triple coup de grace of destroying all her armies*, turning her and Hordak against each other and then Double Trouble’s epic evisceration. By the time Glimmer shows up, Catra is, as mentioned, literally suicidal. But she’s also already begun the process of changing in that she knows that she has a problem (her, and her self/other-destructive tendencies). Moreover, she knows, at some level, that what she really wants isn’t conquest, or to prove herself as the baddest leader of the Horde, but love - and she’s seen how she’s squandered that at every opportunity.

Let’s just pause for a moment to observe how much better Glimmer is at villainous machinations than Catra. In a couple episodes she makes a faustian bargain for unlimited power, kills all her enemies armies, sets her two chief foes at each other’s throats and literally cripples one while rendering the other helpless. And given her ironic non-answer about hurting Catra (‘we’re the good guys, remember?’ and the fact that she’d tried to kill Catra twice before**, she walked into Hordak’s sanctum fully intending to end Catra’s life, one way or another. She does all this through ruthlessness, recklessness and treachery, and she could give like, a TED talk on villainy. Of course it also blows up in her face and is actually way worse than the portal did in Catra’s, endangering the whole universe (I always assumed that the portal only threatened Despondos), dooming Etheria to invasion and all that. Of course, Catra pulled that switch and then fought Adora knowing that the world was ending, while Glimmer was just ignoring warnings from...just about everyone, including Shadow Weaver. So yeah, Glimmer, best kids show antihero since Princess Bubblegum***(unless we’re counting Catra as an antihero, which works for the first half of season 5).

Anyway, at the beginning of Season 5 Catra is adrift. Though some interpretations, like TV tropes, see her as immediately falling back into old habits and casting her lot in with Prime, I see her actions from the end of Season 4 onwards as more ambivalent. She seems to be kind of...going through the motions. She doesn’t have any of the drive or passion in her plotting that she once did, she seems to be maneuvering into Prime’s good graces out of habit. At best she’s back in the survival mode of early season 1, but without the ambition and desire to prove herself that motivated her. Some interpretations put a lot of stock in Prime being someone that can’t be bargained with or appeased, but...I don’t buy it. I take him, to an extent, at his word when he says that he was ‘exalt’ Catra (I am sure it is something awful). Catra actually gets what she wants halfway through “Corridors.” Only it’s not what she wants. She’s done jockeying for advantage, especially in a world where she truly would be alone because all she has is this psychopathic narcissist and his clones for company. She wants connection. She wants to do what is right. She’s suppressed all her humanity (felinitity? Anyway) for years and it’s made her miserable, and now she’s ready to embrace it. At the same time she confronts her own culpability, seeing just how much harm she’s done and admitting it for the first time. Her first lifeline is Glimmer, the only person she can actually talk to, the only other Etherian, the woman whose mother she doomed and who has nearly killed her three times. But Glimmer is also going through her own dark night of the soul - Glimmer and Catra’s character arcs were converging at the same time that Catra’s and Adoras and Glimmer’s and Adora’s were diverging. And they come together on either side of that forcefield, just talking and being people in an environment that is designed to be as dehumanizing as possible. Even this barest lifeline is enough for Catra to hold on to for dear life, and enough to inspire her to not just feel bad about the bad things she’s done, but do something good.

But the first way she does this is a cop out. Her plan, like Shadow Weaver’s in the finale, is to sacrifice/kill herself doing ‘one good thing.’ That way she doesn’t have to figure out how to live with the consequences of her actions, face the possible rejection of the people she loves whom she’s wronged, and do the hard work of building herself back up as a better person. She gets to die a hero rather than live as a villain. That said, unlike Shadow Weaver she does at least get off one apology, and it makes all the difference.

Then Adora fucks Catra’s sacrifice up, in glorious, space operatic, gay AF pulp fiction fashion, by saving the cat. Catra is mind controlled or unconscious for most of this episode, but what she does do is so crucial. When Adora comes for her, she reaches out to her, as soon as she is able. She doesn’t push her away, she takes Adora’s help, and her love, and Adora does the rest in badass fashion. The next few episodes plus the so perfect its canon Don’t Go are my favorite part of Catra’s entire arc.

She nearly falls back into her old habits, at least partly. Now that she has to live with what she’s done rather than just dying for it she just wants to run away again. But when she has to choose between losing Adora all over again and confronting herself and her past, she chooses Adora, and asks her to stay.

Catra then spends the rest of Season 5 slowly easing herself into the very human world of the Princess Alliance - the comaradery, the dedication to others and a cause, the goofiness. I’m going to talk a lot more about her relationship with Adora in my Catradora post, but I do want to highlight three moments.

The first is Catra running away again. This is actually a big change from what she’s done before - she’s not leaving because she’s angry, or bitter, or spiteful, she’s leaving because she doesn’t want to see the woman she loves sacrifice herself yet again (maybe this time for good) after being manipulated by the woman who had abused them both. But then she comes back. And then she confronts her abuser in a way that she has never done before - for the first time in the series, she not only calls Shadow Weaver out but calls her to do the right thing, and doesn’t give up until she does (this is after Adora also calls SW out and cuts her off forever, meaning that her two charges have finally called her on her bullshit and chosen each other over her, more in my Shadow Weaver Rant...and I guess my Catradora rant).

Then, at the end, Catra both stays with Adora through her potentially fatal harnessing of the Heart of Etheria and then her comes in and rescues her by challenging her to do something for Catra and for herself. Not to be with Catra, or to kiss her, or love her, but just stay for her. Needless to say, Adora responds far more enthusiastically than Catra had dared hope. (more on this in my Catradora rant).

Catra starts the show convinced she doesn’t need anyone except Adora, and she’s willing to even push Adora away if she can’t have Adora on her own terms. She goes down that path - ambition, manipulation, treachery, cruelty and isolation - until she has nothing left. She then slowly, painfully, turns around and reaches out and begins to heal the pain in Etheria and the universe rather than causing more. This is a psychological journey in many ways, but even more than that it is a profoundly moral one. It is a story of her accepting responsibility for her actions, facing reality, reaching out to others and making amends. It is in every sense a redemption. And while it works perfectly with Adora’s own development into her own, fuller, happier, healthier person, it works not because of Adora or the power of love, but because of Catra herself. Adora’s companionship, Adora’s rescuing of her and holding her to account, all of these are necessary for Catra to change for the better. But in the end it is Catra herself who chooses the right path, maybe for the first time in her life. And that’s what makes the romance work in turn - Catra is motivated to change not simply by a desire to impress her girlfriend or by Adora’s shining goodness (to the contrary, Adora’s a healthier and less self-sacrificing person at least in the finale...she comes around later than Catra) but by her desire to be true to herself and seek out what she really needs and wants - which is love, and connection, and to do good rather than evil. It’s a gorgeous story that takes an antihero all the way down to hell and then back again, and this makes it a truly unique redemption arc in all of kids TV - not just because of how far Catra falls, but how far she travels overall.

*(I know a lot of fanficcers talk about there being a lot of Horde Soldiers left but like...in the show...they’re nearly all dead, guys. Glimmer and company...okay mostly Mermista... just about killed them all in an afternoon. The cadet Triad survives because they deserted and weren’t there to get drowned/frozen/suffocated by plants when the grand invasion of Brightmoon went sideways)

**Okay, once she was only an accessory to Shadow Weaver’s attempted murder of Catra, the other time she leaves Catra for dead in ‘Pulse’

***I stan PB so hard guys. So hard. Machiavellian genius, mad scientist, god figure, possible Nietzschean Ubermensch? She’s so great. So great.

#she ra #she ra adora #she ra catra #spop catra #redemption arcs

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realsilentsaint · 3 years

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Okay, so. Wow. That was a lot. Here are my final thoughts on everyone and the story line.

Russell Adler:

- Boi, does this man confuse me

- A part of me fully understands where he's coming from and why he did what he did

- I honestly wasn't that mad at him

- I, however, did not like the way he pressured Bell towards the end and drugged him. Again, I understand it but from Bell's point of view, I am fifty shades of fucked up

- Big turn off was him shooting me at the end, though. Felt like we had a decent thing going until he did that tbh

- All in all, I understand him and really wish things didn't end the way they did. He was a good mentor and Bell learned a lot. They made a good team

- The more I think about it, the more the psychological affects to Bell mess me up and I'm at a total loss with how I feel about him

Alex Mason:

- Honestly, I fucking love him

- He was reassuring but in a way that wasn't necessarily too passive or aggressive

- He really is the perfect friend for Woods. They're opposites but highlight the best in each other

- Wish I could've seen more of him rather than playing as him and I wish he had more dialogue in the safehouse as well

- I think Bell and Mason would've been great buds if given the chance

Frank Woods:

- Not gonna lie, his voice is a bit weird

- But I think it really adds to his character overall

- Loyal and funny, dedicated to doing good while also being unafraid to push the limits and really give the bad guys the good ol' razzle dazzle

- No complaints here really

- Not super sure if my Bell would be good friends with him but they would at least be buddies

Jason Hudson:

- Fuck him

- I don't like him, he literally did nothing but complain and judge. Provided absolutely nothing

- I understand the point of having the big boss around but he was truly useless and I wouldn't have noticed nor cared if he wasn't in the game

- You can bet your ass that my Bell feels the same way, too

Eleazar "Lazar" Azoulay:

- I am still not over his death

- I cried

- Paused the game, put the controller down and just shdidieoaldjufjdndkaoeugn yknow?

- A truly amazing guy. Funny, loyal, a heart of pure fucking gold

- I would've loved more time with him, his vibes were so fucking immaculate

- I personally love him but I feel as though my Bell would kind of see him like a big brother and it would hurt that much more when he died

Lawrence Sims:

- Going to be 1000% honest, he did not get nearly as much screen time as he deserved

- Like seriously, this guy was always joking around and having a good time with everyone in the safehouse but was on, like, one, maybe two missions??

- Theres so much potential there and I just

- He deserved more

- My Bell would probably interact the same way with Sims as he did with Woods

Helen Park:

- I don't even know where to start

- She was deadass the only reason I bought Cold War

- She deserved way more fucking screen time and I will be upset about it forever

- Her voice though, oh god

- There seriously wasn't a doubt in my mind that I would save her but it still really hurt to leave Lazar

- But the fact that she was there through all the brainwashing kind of throws me off

- Don't get me wrong, she is my wife through and through but I just wish she, like, did not do that lmao

- Obviously, my Bell ends up with Park so

As for the storyline, it surprised me. There was a lot of great but some really wack parts. I definitely wish we played as Bell 100% of the time. I feel like I would've been more immersed and invested into things. I do love Mason but I don't know, I would rather play as Bell than anyone else.

The safehouse was probably my favorite part. Those little moments in between. Conversations, whether they were honest or not. Seeing them for who they were, nothing beats that. Wish I could've explored it more but it does leave a lot up to interpretation so I'm not mad.

Brick in the Wall was by far the best mission. I was hoping the game would kind of follow that vibe more. The undercover, sneaking around Europe, and getting into those smaller to moderate gun fights while staying out of the public eye. Loved Greta but I didn't know I could save her so that fucking hurt. But the way they saved Bell? And Park specifically lifting me out of that chair? I loved it. I wish the game had more of that so so much.

Desperate Measures left a lot to be desired. I was hoping it would be more like Brick in the Wall and that Adler and Bell would be awkwardly navigating KGB Headquarters. And then just blasting out of there like that? And Lazar just pulling up in a regular old car? I don't know, I was hoping for more there.

Cuba hurt. We don't talk about it.

This whole brainwashing thing has me fucked up. The amount of time and dedication it would have taken. The efforts they went through. I just... I don't know. It was a good plot twist but I really don't enjoy it, both as the player and as a writer.

Everything after that felt rushed. It wasn't cohesive. It wasn't the cathartic ending that it was building up to. I really don't feel like Bell got justice for Lazar. It didn't feel like we stopped Perseus. I didn't feel the threat of nukes going off throughout Europe. I felt thrown off and I wish there was something more. I don't know.

Everyone deserved more screentime, save for maybe Woods and Adler because they had a great deal of missions. That was disappointing.

I don't know. I think I was just hoping for more and hyping things up and now I'm thrown for a loop. I definitely will not be following cannon when I write. But then again, I never do.

Thanks for joining me on my Cold War journey, though. Hope you enjoyed it

#call of duty black ops cold war #russell adler #alex mason #frank woods #jason hudson #eleazar azoulay #lazar #lawrence sims #helen park #greta keller #im not sure how to feel #definitely not happy with how this ended #the whole idea of the cold war and the immersive vibes of the 80s and everything was immaculate #a truly great idea that had so much fucking potential #and i feel like a lot of it was forced when they had so much opportunity #i just #i dont know #://

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seriouslyhooked · 3 years

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The Bast Bad Idea (Part 2)

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.

Part One Here. Story available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hello everyone! First and foremost, I want to start with a huge thank you to all of you who have reached out about this story. The response was so far beyond what I was expecting, but I am thrilled to know that all of you enjoy a CS Doctor AU as much as I do. As someone who grew up watching Grey’s Anatomy, it’s essentially engrained in my DNA to love a medical romance, and this story is one I have wanted to write for a long time. I’ve had more than a month away from writing thanks to my busy schedule, but finally my muse came to play and add a bit of fluff to this sweet short story. Chapter two picks up with a critical question – what was Dr. Jones going to propose to Dr. Swan…? Without further ado, here is our answer. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

His eyes strayed down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from Killian. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across a summer sky. The instant attraction was breathtaking. It felt almost out of time and space.

“We could…” she continued, nudging him along and hoping he would elaborate. She wanted so badly for him to say aloud what she herself was wishing for.

Yet where Emma expected words, she was instead met with action, tantalizing and surprising, but inspiring something in her she never expected. Before she knew it, Emma was in Killian’s arms, aching for this moment, kissing him and knowing she was positively senseless. All that existed was this kiss, this touch. It was electrifying and invigorating, a blaze rushing through her blood stream that emboldened a part of her she’d always held back. Desire. That was what this was, and it was luscious and intoxicating.

Following his lead, Emma broke away from the kiss only to gasp for air as he crowded her body against the wall. The hardness of the cement blocks behind her, coupled with the heat and definition of Dr. Killian Jones was too much to handle. She arched into him, striving for contact, and reveling in the feel of his skin on hers. The only problem was these damn clothes between them. Never in her life had she been irritated at this doctor’s coat she’d worked so hard to earn. For years she studied and poured everything she was into medicine, all for the authority this coat portrayed, but she practically purred when Killian stripped hers off and tossed it to the ground. Pushing his off of his body in return made her mind race. The muscles of his chest and arms were driving her to distraction. Then they flexed, and she swallowed harshly, earning a deep, decadent chuckle from this man who drove her crazy.

“See something you like, Swan?”

God that cockiness. They’d never had any kind of real conversation before now, but the way he smiled spoke volumes. His air and his persona were dripping in assuredness. Emma used to think that she hated so much confidence, but when it came to Killian, she craved it something fierce. It was somewhat infuriating, the way his eyes shone with mischief and conceit, but it was also hotter than anything she’d ever known. Still, part of her would rather die than admit that aloud. She had her pride, no matter how wrapped up in this moment she may be.

“It’s hard to say,” she replied, her voice sounding out with a shredded silkiness that she’d never heard before. “I haven’t seen much of anything yet.”

“My apologies, love. Allow me to rectify the situation.”

Emma watched as this ridiculously attractive man purposefully teased her. With deft fingers he reached for the base of his scrub top, inching the material higher up his body. The trail of dark hair he revealed was evocative, but it held no candle the shape and tone of those abs underneath. Sweet Jesus, were those real? Emma bit back a groan at the sight, her lip pressed tight between her teeth. It took everything in her to keep her hands from reaching for him. She lay them flat on the wall behind her at her sides instead, but they balled into fists unconsciously as Killian eventually tossed the shirt away.

His black hair was mussed now, both from removing the scrubs with that always-present swagger, and from her fingers having run through it during their never-ending kisses. His eyes were dark navy blue, but still they shone with hunger and delight. His grin was a mix of charming and predatory, but instead of inciting a fight or flight response, Emma only wanted to surrender. This was a man who knew he was in complete control. He had hooked her, totally and beyond any shadow of doubt, and all she wanted was for him to have his way with her.

The curses he whispered while helping her shed her own scrubs were like prayers on high, a sweet song to her ears that only added to his allure. Killian’s eyes never strayed from her, but his reactions were so open and transparent. He hid nothing, allowing her a glimpse to the world inside, and it caused the power between them to shift. If Emma was being hunted, then she was also hunting in return, and Killian seemed ready to be caught.

“Emma, I -,”

His voice faded out, and she struggled to hear him. Instead, there was a blaring alarm. Was this a fire drill? Why had the light in the room gone hazy? Still, Emma heard herself whisper his name.

“Killian?”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The screech of the sharp, incessant chiming by her ears wrenched Emma’s eyes open, and immediately she groaned in disappointment. All of that – every exquisite moment – was a dream. Ugh, of course it was! Because this was her life now: fantasizing about a hot trauma surgeon ceaselessly and wishing that her memories of him were more than mere imagination.

“Damn it,” she muttered aloud, covering her eyes with her hand in frustration. With her vision blocked, Emma was more aware of the feeling that her body was wrapped up in her sheets. She’d obviously been tossing and turning through the night, restless in ways she rarely was before seeing Doctor Jones. These freaking dreams just felt so real, and they’d only gotten worse since officially meeting him.

That was three days ago now, but things had been chaotic in the meantime. The level four trauma that came in when they’d been formally introduced totally swamped the ER. Emma was called down for consult on multiple patients, needing to give life and death assessments and treatment plans for half a dozen people. While down there, Emma had the chance to see David and Killian in action. She was struck, even in the grips of adrenaline, by their cohesion and capability. They were cool and collected, battling odds that were dire to say the least, but they prevailed. Emma had worked for years to hone her craft, to heighten her skills, and to meet the moments of medicine that her work provided. But the energy in the ER had shifted, and she felt her own abilities elevated by the camaraderie and collectiveness of everyone in the hospital.

That shared experience only lasted a short while, for after initial inspections and emergency consults, Emma was quickly rerouted to the surgical wing. For 16 hours straight she worked to save the lives of four people, and through something that felt like magic, or maybe divine intervention, she was successful each and every time. That good fortune held, not only for her, but for all of her colleagues as well. The hospital had managed something next to impossible – they had saved every victim of the horrible accident, but the work had been backbreaking. When she’d finally scrubbed out of her last procedure, Emma admitted defeat, heading home and sleeping for twelve straight hours.

Her next shift was markedly slower, and Emma had the chance to see the progress of her post-op patients, and to connect with the others in her unit. It was critically important that the doctors, nurses, admins, tech teams, and other staff were all feeling strong and secure. Patients needed everyone working as a collective whole, and Emma took it upon herself to monitor that. It was unusual for a Doctor, especially one who wasn’t overseeing daily operations, but it mattered to Emma. Saving lives took so much more than her medical degree and steady hands. She needed each and every person in the cardiac wing to be successful, and she valued every one of them for what they brought to the team.

Unfortunately, while Emma’s day was slower and steadier, there was also a favorite element now lacking. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d willingly joined Ruby on the daily trip to the coffee cart. Actually, she’d been the one to page Ruby this time, earning more than a bit of teasing from her best friend, but Killian and David never showed. Only later, when Emma was at the tail end of her workday and helping with a consult in the ER, did she learn why.

“He was here for sixty-eight straight hours,” David said bluntly, after having confirmed his diagnosis for a patient presenting with a blood circulation issue.

“I’m sorry?” Emma asked, confused for a moment at David’s turn of topic.

“Killian,” David said, prompting Emma’s face to heat. Here she was, hoping it wasn’t totally obvious that she was looking for a man she hardly knew beyond imaginings, but David had seen through her in a matter of moments.

“Oh, um – that’s, well that’s… crazy. Sixty-eight hours?” That beat even her record, and she’d been called a workaholic on more than one occasion.

“Mhmm. We were on the end of a twelve-hour shift when the call came in and he stayed, until every last patient in the trauma department was seen and attended to. I left for eight hours and was dead to the world the entire time. Still felt laggy when coming back. Meanwhile, he caught maybe four hours sleep total interspersed between rounds, crashing in on call rooms. You’d never know though. He was totally unfazed. Brilliant as ever. It was like being back in the field again.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, amazed at that. She was no stranger to long shifts, but to work that hard for that long was a herculean feat. Somehow, though, she wasn’t surprised to hear Killian had pulled it off.

“Yup. I had to force him to go back to his hotel. Actually, Regina had to. I tried, but until the Chief said something, he wouldn’t budge. She had to spew all sorts of protocol and legal jargon at him to get him to go. Even then, I could tell he was debating whether to stay or not.”

“He has a real connection with his patients,” Emma commented, vocalizing a fact she’d ascertained by watching him in action. Killian cared deeply, and while his main job may be all about stemming the flow of crisis, and bouncing around from one case to the next just to keep people holding on, he kept track of all those he helped, and invested in each patient no matter what.

“Maybe. I think it had more to do with the fact that it was only eight am and you wouldn’t be at the coffee stand yet.”

Before Emma could respond, David was paged for something else. He’d left her with a polite goodbye, but also a knowing smile. Another time, Emma might have tried to fake that she wasn’t interested or deny that there was something between her and Killian, but instead she was too busy fixating on what she’d just heard. Emma carried David’s assessment around with her for the rest of the day, well after leaving the hospital and heading home. She spent the night wondering if what David said was true. Was Killian as interested in her as she was in him?

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

“We could what?” she whispered, getting out of her car, heading inside to her next shift. “What was he going to ask me?”

“Did you say something, Emma?”

Emma jumped at the unexpected question, senses on high alert as she stood before the elevator in the parking garage. When she found Mary Margaret only a few feet from her, and clearly the orator of the previous question, Emma relaxed slightly. She tried her best not to show her embarrassment, but it was difficult. Now she was talking to herself? Jeez, she was truly losing it at this point.

“Oh, uh, nothing. How are you today?” she asked her friend. Mary Margaret smiled widely. Her excitement was palpable, filling up the elevator car as the two of them stepped inside.

“I’m great! Just eager to get to work.”

“Any interesting cases on the schedule?”

“Oh, uh, sure, there’s a few, I guess. Well really most of my day is going to be in consult with the Chief’s office.”

“Wait a second, you have to spend a prolonged period of time with the Evil Queen and you are smiling? Who are you and what have you done with Mary Margaret?” Her friend now looked flustered, clearly trying to grasp at an explanation and then it dawned on Emma. “This is about David isn’t it?”

“David?” Mary Margaret asked, her pitch higher than it had been just moments ago. Emma laughed at her friend’s terrible play acting. Trying to pretend that this wasn’t about David Nolan was a lost cause. Eventually Mary Margaret realized that, and she sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders as she exhaled. “Okay, yes, I am seeing Dr. Nolan today.”

“Let me guess, he’s also going to be at the admin meetings.”

“They’re about coordinating long term therapies better with our emergency protocols and treatments. So yes, the head of the ER is likely to make an appearance.”

“I see,” Emma said, biting back a smirk so as not to make Mary Margaret too uncomfortable. In the end though her curiosity won out, and she had to ask. “So, any movement there?”

“Movement?”

“Has he asked you out yet?”

“Not exactly.” Emma waited for her friend to explain herself. Mary Margaret held off for a few seconds before blurting out the truth. “I actually asked him.”

“Really?” Emma was shocked. Not because she thought any less of Mary Margaret. In fact, quite the opposite. She was proud of Mary Margaret for going for what she wanted. She just had never ever seen Mary Margaret step outside of a comfort zone like that, and certainly not with a hospital colleague. “Good for you. And he obviously said yes.”

“Why is it obvious?” Emma rolled her eyes, but in a teasing way.

“Come on, you know you two were making heart eyes at each other the other day. There was a definite spark. We all saw it.”

“I’m honestly surprised you noticed since you had your own, what did you just call them? ‘Heart eyes’? Well, you definitely had heart eyes for a certain trauma surgeon.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to blush, and what perfect timing, because the elevator doors had just opened to the lobby. They exited the quiet of the elevator to a hustle and bustle found only at a top tier hospital. It felt like a swarm of people, buzzing every which way, on their own individual paths.

“David and I going to dinner tomorrow,” Mary Margaret said quietly, looking around and finding no eavesdropping colleagues. When the coast was clear, she smiled, looking back at Emma with excitement all over her face. “That’s all I know though. I may have asked him out, but he made it very clear he had plans for how our first date was going to be.”

“I have a good feeling about this guy,” Emma said, referring to David. She had known Mary Margaret for a long time, and she knew how much her friend wished for a real and solid love in her life. Few people desired and deserved that kind of connection like Mary Margaret, and for Emma, there was a real satisfaction in seeing her friend’s instant connection with a stand-up man. Based on past experience, there weren’t too many of those to go around.

“Which one?” Mary Margaret asked. Emma stammered something non-committal out, causing her friend to laugh once more. “And that right there is all the answer I need. See you later, Emma. Oh, and when you see Killian again, just go for it. Believe me, it’s so much better than waiting and wondering.”

With that, Mary Margaret headed towards the wing of the hospital where the Chief and her admins worked. At the same time, Emma turned her attention to the cardiac unit. She had a ways to go to get there, but while still in the main entrance of the hospital she was stopped short by a gruff, and somewhat uncertain voice.

“Excuse me, Doctor Swan?”

“Yes?” Emma replied, looking to the young man who approached her. Taking in his features, she realized she knew him peripherally. He was one of the new interns cycling through the hospital this year, but he hadn’t worked in the cardio wing or in a surgical capacity. Taking in his lanyard, which bore his ID card over plain clothes, she saw he was an ER intern. Interesting. “Can I help you?”

“This is for you.” The young man offered her a paper box. Emma accepted, thoroughly confused before the intern elaborated. “Curtesy of Doctor Jones.”

“Oh,” Emma said, suddenly incredibly interested. Unable to resist, she opened the box. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but what she found made her smile widely. “These are flowers. Paper flowers.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not entirely sure of the significance, but Doctor Jones told me there is a note inside as well. He wanted me to be sure to mention that.”

Emma was more than excited to read what this astonishing man would write to her, but something the intern said reminded her of the awkwardness of this situation. Had Killian used his authority over the interns to have this delivered? It wasn’t a crazy assumption. Many of the residents and attendings here saw interns as the low rungs on the ladder. They were meant to be learning and training, but often they were sent on coffee runs and foolish errands. Emma never believed in that though. She found it unkind and unnecessary.

“To be honest, it was hard to convince Doctor Jones to let me bring these,” the intern said, perplexing Emma further while eerily reading her mind. “I had to offer about a half dozen times. My shift was ending, you see, and I’ve been looking for a way to thank Doctor Jones since he got here. You know he created extra hours in the ER skills lab? He’s working with first years too. We get very little access usually, because the third years are prepping for exams and stuff, but he convinced Doctor Nolan to extend the hours. He’s even hosting classes himself. Cool right?”

“Very cool,” Emma said with a nod, and another smile. She breathed out a sigh of relief, genuinely happy to realize this man she’d been thinking of was good to others. It also made accepting this thoughtful gift so much easier.

From there, Caleb said goodbye, heading out for whatever interns did with down time these days. Oh, who was she kidding? Sleeping. That’s what she’d done, and no doubt that was what all interns still wanted most of all. Emma though, felt more awake now than she had in a long while. She found a quiet corner in one of the corridors leading to the cardio unit and took a seat, opening the box away from prying eyes.

Inside the box there were six different types of what looked like origami flowers. They were beautiful and delicate, and she wondered where he could have bought them. Only when she opened the note did she realize the truth.

Emma,

As you know, I’ve been away for quite a while, out in the field in a completely different world. In the desert there’s not really that much to do, except survive and keep as many of your people as well as you can. The downtime is long and hot and quiet. I picked up these tricks from a fellow soldier. It kept my hands at the ready and my mind clear, and there’s an honest beauty in them that reminds me of you.

Truth be told, there’s a flower for each time I’ve tried to catch you at the coffee cart since our meeting. Clearly my missions have been unsuccessful, so this calls for a change in tactics…

Emma smiled at the thoughtfulness and felt the pull of butterflies low in her chest. He thought she was beautiful, and he said it without fear. Had a man ever said so much? Had it ever mattered? Certainly not like it did now. Reading on, Emma laughed at the lightheartedness of the note and the bit of cheeky humor that accompanied it. His easygoing candor and transparency enchanted her, drawing her in even more than she already was. Then she memorized the time and place he suggested that they meet at the bottom of the page, knowing nothing and no one was going to keep her from this meeting.

Only after reading through his handwritten thoughts three or four times did she realize an added layer of perfection: these flowers weren’t just handmade and crafted with intention. They were also safe for her to take with her to her ward of the hospital. Being in and out of the ICU and cardiac units, Emma couldn’t bring real flowers into her offices without putting some patients at risk, but she could have these. From within the box she selected a bright yellow blossom, beautiful and intricate and folded to perfection. Wordlessly she tucked it away in her pocket. The others were deposited for safe keeping in her office as soon as she arrived back in the East Wing, and displayed on her windowsill, brightening the space.

The hours between the start of her shift and the time she was meant to meet Killian passed by slowly. Her rounds usually distracted her, but not today. While she still gave all due attention to her patients, Emma had that sense in the back of her mind that this afternoon would bring so much more to the forefront. The promise of seeing him again kept her heart pattering faster than it should be, and by the time the clock was minutes from their meeting, she was positively bursting with anticipation.

“Okay, usually I would give you a hard time and pretend to tag along, but even I can’t mess with a smile like that.” Ruby’s words snapped Emma’s focus back to the hallway where she was standing, pretending to read a chart. As she looked to her friend, however, she would never be able to recall what was on the screen in front of her. Ruby grinned when their eyes met. “He gave you the flowers, didn’t he?”

“You knew?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“Yup. Ran into him at the cart a couple of times. He was really starting to piss off the kiosk guy with all his loitering. Had to give him a hundred dollars just to shut him up.”

“He didn’t!”

“No, I wouldn’t let him. I told Boris to shut it unless he wanted a hospital wide nurses strike. Guy knows better than to cross me. He just acts tough for clout.” Emma laughed, knowing her friend truly ran this place in most ways. But then the apprehension of the moment caught up to her again, and Emma’s brow furrowed in worry. “Oh no you don’t. No doubting this, Ems. I’ve vetted this guy. Run all the background, checked all the sources. He’s a good one, a one in a million, needle in a haystack, diamond in the rough kind of man. And, to top it all off, he’s crazy about you.”

“You think?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“I know, but that’s all I’m saying. Let Killian speak for himself, okay? And, even though it’s hard, try and trust this.”

“I think I already do,” Emma whispered. “Trust him, I mean. But that’s crazy, right?”

“Love tends to be that way.”

“Ruby.”

“Emma,” her friend parroted, taking her hand and squeezing gently. “Just go for it. Go for it and see for yourself.”

With a nod, and the validation that she needed to hear from a trusted friend, Emma headed off. It felt natural and expected to make her way towards the center of the hospital once more. This time though, she passed the coffee cart, with only a fleeting glance. Killian wasn’t meeting her there today. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure where they were meeting. She followed the directions he’d given her, up a few more flights of stairs and through the wing with pediatric patients and newborns. She had been here many times before, for consults and comfort. It was a draw here in the hospital – the cuteness of babies just starting their journeys in the new world. Emma looked at them today, noticing the vibrancy inside the nursery, but didn’t linger. Instead, she followed the last of the route that Killian had given her and ended up somewhere she’d never been before. A place that must have just finished being renovated.

“Wow,” Emma whispered, walking into the sunlight on the open terrace.

With the glass surroundings and the plant life everywhere, this place was beautiful. There were pergolas and hanging vines, topiaries and flowering plants, daffodils and tulips, all breathing in the spring. It felt like a park, floating in the air, with the sounds of the city barely audible below. Emma could imagine the kids and the families who would come here someday. She hoped it would be a space for them to find some peace and happiness while staying in this unfamiliar and often stressful place. Hospitals were rarely any fun for patients, necessary as they may be, but this space was beautiful enough to distract from that.

“You made it, love.” The deep rumble of that familiar voice sent a shiver through Emma’s whole body. She cast a glance over her shoulder, finding Killian, leaning against the stone façade of the building behind them. In his hands were two coffees, and as he moved towards her, he offered her one with a boyish smile. “This is for you. Didn’t want you missing a routine caffeine fix for my sake.”

“Thank you,” Emma said automatically, feeling his fingers brush across hers, sending a zing of awareness through her. Her eyes flashed up to his, and she knew he felt it too. Suddenly she had no want or need for this coffee. She cleared her throat slightly before continuing on. “Where exactly are we? And how, might I ask, does the new guy know about it before I do?”

“It’s the Hubbard Family Wellness Gardens, gifted by one of the hospital’s most loyal benefactors” he said, full of knowledge. Emma was shocked that he actually knew what this place would be but then he smiled, gesturing to the plaque bearing that information. She bit back a laugh. “And as for how I found it, that’s easy. I never leave well enough alone, and I’m curious by nature. I’ve been nearly everywhere in the hospital now, but this place seemed the best for what comes next.”

“What comes next?” Emma asked, her voice hitching up as she repeated the words.

“Aye,” Killian murmured, his tone dipping sensually low. She swallowed harshly as he entered into her space, and he tracked the motion. She felt the heat of his closeness, and caught his scent in the air, clean, and male, and with a hint of spice.

“I’m afraid I didn’t think this through,” he said, close enough to kiss her. God, how she wished he would kiss her. Emma vocalized her first thought.

“Really? I did. Like a lot.”

His smirk told her she’d said that aloud even though she never meant to, but before she could react, he took hold of her cup once more.

“I meant these,” he gestured to the coffee in her hand. Oh, right. “May I, love?”

Emma nodded, and shakily let go of the cup she forgot she was holding. With deft hands, Killian placed their drinks back on a table beside them with far more poise than she could muster at the moment. When that was done, he stepped towards her again, looking at her with a glint in his blue eyes that made her heart skip. His hands came to her body, one to her hip, the other to cup her cheek. The rightness washed over her, and so did the realization that none of her dreams could actually prepare her for real intimacy with Killian Jones.

“Last time we spoke I intended to ask you something. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from wanting this so badly. Without thinking, she wet her lips, and he caught the action, letting out a groan that mixed pain with passion and pleasure. Then he cursed, a totally British ‘bloody hell’ falling past his lips before dipping his mouth to hers and giving them both a taste of temptation.

The kiss was… beyond incredible, but Emma was so deep in it she had no ability to comprehend anything at all. She was consumed with the moment, arching against Killian, feeling the silky strands of his dark hair and the scruff of his beard. His kiss was assured and passionate, dominant and indulgent all at once. She succumbed to the sensations, and let the rightness surge within her, not caring at all that they were outside or at work or that they’d just met. Instinct took over, and her gut, which Emma had always trusted, was telling her that this man was even more than she imagined, and someone she should choose to let in.

Pulling back from the kiss, Emma and Killian stayed close, and Emma took stock of all the places they were touching. His hold on her was firm but caring, like she was precious, and he wouldn’t let her slip away. In his eyes she saw so much emotion, and again she was struck by his transparency and trust. He wasn’t shying away from her or the moment. He was in the depths of desire with her, and their kiss, that perfect, sexy as all hell kiss, had left him tongue tied. The quiet wasn’t awkward, but assuring, and Emma felt secure here, safe even, while also being filled with more unknown wonder than she’d ever been before. Like someone at the start of a glorious adventure, she took a next step born of passion and hope.

“I’m off at six tonight… so, you want to pick me up at seven thirty?” she asked, referencing a date he hadn’t actually asked her out on. She feigned ignorance even though she could read him like a book. “Unless you were going to ask me something else…”

His hold on her tightened, and he shook his head immediately. She was right. He wanted a date – and she saw no reason to wait when she wanted one just as badly. She grinned at him, loving how the tables had turned. This time he swallowed harshly, and she was oh so tempted to kiss him again and see if he’d stay shy or rise to her challenge.

“It’s a date, Swan,” he said dazedly.

Emma hummed out her agreement, going in for one last fleeting kiss. But where she meant to only tease, he took the reins again, kissing her senseless and leaving her breathless when they finally broke apart. Only when her pager beeped with an incoming call did they end their inevitable interlude, and as they did, Emma felt a pang of longing, wishing this moment could last so much longer than this.

“Tonight, love,” he whispered, running his thumb against her lips. “Far away as it may seem, I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Good,” she replied, nipping his thumb ever so softly, and bringing the fire back in his eyes, before taking a step back. And with that, and just enough presence of mind to grab her coffee, Emma headed off, back through the hospital to the work that awaited her, knowing she could and would get through anything today for the promise of tonight.

Post-Note: Ah!! Finally!! I got the words on the page!! I did the thing!! I wrote the story!! And honestly, it’s such a relief. It felt, at some points, like I may never get this chapter written, but finally today it came. I know many of you were waiting, and I cherished every comment and review and message along the way. I hope all of you who wrote me, and those who read along with chapter one, all enjoy this installation. I write these stories for me and to brighten my world ever so slightly, but also in the hopes that they’ll spark joy for others too. In a time like this, a little joy goes an awful long way. Anyway, thank you all for reading, sending you the best, and hope you’ll join me next time for the final chapter of this CS AU! xE

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