#like. listen. i may HATE the false hope given by those

[evewasheretoday]

More Heathers (Movie) Hadcanons!

Heather Chandler:

Chandler doesn't really know how to feel about Veronica. The brunette IS smart but is it worth having her around with them when she keeps dragging their name through the mud?

She hates her at times and loves her another.

Chandler may or may not say it out loud but she has a grudging respect for Veronica. The brunette doesn't hesitate very much to grab any opportunity being served to her. She knows what she wants and she knows how she can get it.

If Heather couldn't come to school for some reason then she'll have someone else ruling Westerberg high for a bit in her place. Out of all the other Heathers, Veronica would be the one she picks.

Now don't get her wrong, Mac and Duke are wonderful but neither of them could really lead people. Mac doesn't lead, she follows people. Duke can lose track of herself when she's given all of that power. But Veronica? She wouldn't be like those two. She trusts her more with ruling in her place than the other Heathers even if she can be misled by the wrong people at times.

In some way or another, Heather can see a little bit of herself in Veronica. They share some things in common whether they like it or not.

Heather Duke:

It's not a secret that Duke envies Chandler but she isn't the only one.

Duke envies Veronica too. She envies her for a lot of things. I mean, imagine working your way up for most of your life to be at the top while someone other than you doesn't even have to try just to get there? She had to go through many things for Chandler to accept her as an equal (not really) and Veronica just gets an instant pass? It's unfair and completely stupid to her.

While Duke does envy Veronica, she admires her too. It's the same with Chandler. She admires how the brunette can be completely independent with the group or not. She admires how Veronica can have the balls to go against anything Heather wanted.

There are times where she's jealous of Veronica and the only way she can get rid of that jealousy is to remind herself that Heather needs them both for different reasons.

Just like the mythic bitch, she doesn't know how to feel about Veronica either.

She can see them being friends one moment and the next it's as if they're just coworkers working for a big evil corporate.

Veronica would probably throw her out a window if the opportunity was ever given to her, right..? Mac and her would definitely do that if it meant saving their own skin from Heather's wrath.

When you're friends with Chandler, nothing really needs a label unless it's something important.

There's a lot of time she ends up ranting to Veronica and usually it's about Heather but sometimes it's about other things too.

She doesn't mean for it to happen but sometimes she ends up venting to the brunette. She tries a lot of times to stop it but it happens anyway. Veronica is the only one who would actually listen to what she has to say, Chandler would just make fun of her and brush it off while Mac would probably just offer her stupid words. Veronica wouldn't give her any false reassurance about anything and maybe that's a good thing. She's done her fair share of keeping her hopes high for anyone.

Heather McNamara:

Mac thinks her and Duke are friends. They are but it just doesn't really feel like that. It's more like they're two completely different people working for the same boss. Coworkers or business partners.

She's tried to be closer with Duke before but the girl always closes herself off and shuts down any attempt she does.

She really wants her and Duke to be genuine friends even outside of their clique and Heather but it seems impossible.

When Veronica joined them, she wanted to be close with her too and have something outside of what they had but the brunette was different. She wasn't closed off like Duke but every time she got to know her more and felt like she knew her better, Veronica would do something unexpected and it would throw her off. Make her question if she ever really knew her that well. One second the bluebird is empathetic and the next she's completely disconnected with people.

With Veronica, she doesn't hesitate to call her friend but can you guys really be friends if only one of you knows the other?

She vents to Veronica a lot of times, that shouldn't be a surprise. Veronica doesn't really judge (she does but she just keeps it to herself). She's like a small safe space for her. She can talk about things she wouldn't talk about with Duke or Chandler. Things they might find stupid or silly to even talk about.

Heather doesn't know about it and she doesn't have to but Veronica and her hang out at times without her or Duke. Just the two of them.

Veronica Sawyer:

She writes a lot in her diary, that's not something the Heathers don't know about but she writes other things too. She writes poetry. She's not exactly good or bad at it, it's just something she does at times when she feels tired of putting every word from her head into her diary. Oh and because it would hide what she actually meant. Poetry is art, it's free for interpretation after all.

She might not admit it or accept it but she has a talent for manipulating people. Chandler sees it. There's no doubt the other Heathers see it too.

She's conflicted with how she should feel with the Heathers. Look, she wants to believe that they're just misunderstood teenage girls but they're not. They're exactly who they think and say they are. There's nothing deeper going on the surface.

With Heather, her relationship is like a light switch. Believe her, she really hopes she's just delusional but the mythic bitch actually isn't fully made of teflon. She's not just some sort of demon disguising herself as human. She's actually human herself. Heather could deny it all she wants but sometimes she's good and Veronica can't decide if that's something she should be celebrating or panicking about. Every time Veronica thought she was good, Heather would say she's doing it for her own benefit and their own image or she would do something completely opposed to that the next day.

At least with Heather, things seem more fine. The girl doesn't make her think she's made out of complete teflon like Heather does but that doesn't mean things are any better with her. She confuses her just like Heather but in a different way. One moment she sees her as this vulnerable teen girl who might be misunderstood and the next she's just this power hungry ruthless girl who knows what she wants but not how to get it. She's human for one minute and the next she's like a complete robot made to be served or disconnected from everything.

Things are a bit more clear with Heather but they're not any better than her relationship with the other two Heathers. She's just like Heather and Heather, she confuses her too. She CAN be good but she chooses not to. She wants to speak up for herself with the other two Heathers but it's all the same, she chooses not to. Veronica wants to say she's more human than the other two Heathers but she's not. She can be just as cruel as the other two can be.

Overall, her relationship with all of the Heathers is complicated.

She can't decide if she wants to be with them or without them.

With Heather, she can't decide if she wants to kill her or herself but it's probably more of the latter.

[justenjoythegossip]

PR ANTICS PART 1: Team Real/Team PR's tactics, the use of haters in a PR strategy and the purpose it serves

Team Real and Team PR: 2 sides of the same coin pursuing the same objective

I have already defined who “team PR” and “team Real” blogs were in my pinned post. You can check it out if you want.

Their disrespectful, condescending and downright insulting tone is usually a good enough hint to recognize those plants whose purpose is to push certain narratives. But they actually are two sides of the very same coin, as they pursue the same objective even if they sometimes use opposing strategies. Each side is meant to “gain the upper hand” at some point, before the other gains ground again. And so forth. By using the oldest trick in the book that is the good old divide and conquer tactics, their goal is to distract from the truth, drive more traffic and keep people’s engagement to a maximum. Although, I do suspect people’s patience might very well be wearing thin at this point. 

Why do people (still) give them the benefit of the doubt…

I have already explained how each Team has lost any credibility at this point. However, both have gotten away with it and sometimes even continues to do so thanks to two things: 

They sometimes have legitimate information that could only come from Chris’ or Abba’s team (a Team Real blog had the exclusive for Chris and Abba’s wedding with Renner and Hemsworth’ presence for ex)

They sometimes point out obvious lies coming from the other team

Those two things still provide them with an audience that listens to their wild speculation or blatant lies, as people keep hoping they will catch a glimpse of the truth or get the ultimate evidence that they are looking for, as it will prove them right.   

Similar and opposing strategies used by either Team

Each Team uses a nice mix of actual facts, real observations, speculation, lies, hateful comments and trolling. And both of them show no sign of actual integrity and keep attacking other people who have an opinion that differs from them.

I was recently attacked by one of those Team Real blogs in my private DM who wrote to me and I quote: “Chris and Alba are married! I know someone who works with his sisters and their marriage is real.” But as I said, I know for a fact that Chris and Abba are exclusively PR because my mailman’s third cousin removed is best friends with someone who knows the assistant of Chris’ mother’s dermatologist. I am obviously joking. I am not privy to any private information but you get the point… 

The inclusion of haters in PR tactics…

It’s important to note that trolls and haters are part of the strategy used by a PR team. Those hate accounts basically work as a controlled opposition. They can serve various purposes. First of all, they can work as bait to get a pulse of what some people might really think of someone, of their RS, of their actions etc. They can also help shape a narrative or help discredit one.

For example, when certain mods called Chris a groomer or a pedophile for dating Abba, they were achieving two things. First they were selling that those two are a real couple. But also by voicing such a false and extremist opinion, they help discredit any kind of concern the public might have looking at them. Indeed, the age difference between them is pretty vast but the optics are even worse given that she looks like a teenager. Some of those mods miraculously became shippers afterwards, which is another sign of them being plants placed here to sell a narrative, whatever that may be and using whatever strategy they see fit. 

Also, if my memory serves me correctly, a hate twitter account got the exclusive for the infamous Walt Disney pics and then claimed they got those pictures via Chris’ sister’s private account. If you actually believe that… It is much more realistic to believe that this account was fed those pics or is actually working for their team. But I am speculating of course. 

The alleged hate relationship between the two and how it helps Chris’ image…

There were hints and breadcrumbs that were designed to help sell the narrative that Chris and Abba actually hate one another. The pictures of them on the stairs after their first papwalk were comically bad and Buzzfeed threw actual shade with their “romance” headline. His mother liked a tweet calling her a racist. Her best friend and soulmate liked a tweet calling Chris “a cheap version of Leo but without the talent”. Of course, Chris and Abba might dislike one another. Or… this could also have been manufactured as well. We will never know for sure.

But what we do know is that this narrative helped achieve a couple of things. First it kept the discourse between Team Real and Team PR very much alive. Because how real can they be if they hate one another? 

But it also helped save Chris’ image with the people who are aware of her problematic stuff. If his fans actually believed that he really fell in love with a Nazi sympathizing yacht girl, he wouldn’t have many fans left. So this narrative served not only as damage control, but also helped him gain sympathy from the people who pay close attention. How sad is it that he is forced to be in a PR RS with a girl he hates? Poor Chris!

I personally think they don’t like one another. He has done the absolute minimum to sell this and his whole demeanor point to it. But again who knows?

I will share more of my thoughts on those PR tactics in my next posts.  

[skylarmoon71]

Rapheal (TMNT 2014/2016) - Chapter 2

"Pass the remote."

"Nu uh it's my turn!"

Raph doesn't even argue further. He grabs it out of Mikey's hands, plopping on the couch. Mikey means to fire an insult, or grab it back, but Leo stops him, shaking his head. Mikey is confused, until he sees the news channel turned on.

"Suspects in the Lauderdale bombing have been apprehended. Sources say they were also responsible for the smuggling of illegal firearms and drugs. More when we come back."

The room becomes quiet, and Raph grips the remote.

"Apprehended is better than they deserved." Raph grumbles.

"We talked about this Raph, we don't take the law into our own hands. We just catch them, that's it."

"Yea, why didn't ya say that to (Y/N). Does she deserve to die to protect scumbags like that!!"

"She's not dead!!"

"She might as well be." Raph looked down. "You heard what Vincent said."

"She told us there is a high possibility she could regain consciousness."

"False hope." Raph concludes. He clenched his hand, and the remote was crushed under the force. He dropped the controller in disdain.

"I'm going for a walk." Splinter walked out just when he heard the argument start. He stepped in front of Raph, placing his hand on Raph's shoulder.

"Be patient son. She will wake up."

Raph shrugged off the arm, moving to the side.

He knew it was unfair taking it out on them. But he wasn't sure who to blame. His mind would not give him the comfort of forgetting that look on your face. You had given up in those last moments. Using every bit of your strength to get April out rather than trying to free yourself. He stopped, punching the wall, a fairly large hole following. The concrete crumbled, and he snarled.

"This is my fault."

Why the hell did they even separate. They were dealing with psychotic criminals. He kept trudging on, and as he climbed through a manhole and made his way to the surface. The city lights hit his eyes. He scaled up the building. The higher he got, the more a feeling of nostalgia hit. He stopped when he was on a rooftop, and the sight of the sun setting just at the tip of the bridge felt familiar.

"Did you fight with Leo again."

"I aint wanna talk about it. "

"Okay."

Raph expected you to delve further, but you sat down right next to him, eyes staring ahead. He frowned.

"Ya tryna use some mind game on me." You shook your head.

"No. You said you didn't want to talk about it. So we won't. We can just sit here and look at the sunset."

Raph faced forward.

"Leo put you up to this." He grumbles.

"Nope. Came here all on my own. " He scoffed.

"Sure you did."

This time, you looked at him. As much defiance that Raph often presented, you sort of respected him. He wasn't someone who just caved. He stood up for himself. He wasn't afraid to say what was on his mind. Regardless of what anyone thought. Reaching over, you placed your hand on his shoulder. His body tensed.

"I'm sorry that you feel like your voice isn't heard. I know Sometimes it may seem like Leo is favored, but Master Splinter loves you all just the same. In a way I guess I can relate."

Raph was listening now.

"My dad used to be pretty tough on me. For a while I thought it was because he hated me. After that car accident it was like a switch flipped. He was always pushing, always lecturing and I felt like I was the only one getting the brunt of it. My older brothers were never lectured. They were the ones who followed the rules. I was the rebel. "

"Can't really picture ya being a rebel." He voiced. You sent him a smile.

"My early teens were a mess." Raph smiles, and you giggle. It seems like you're getting through to him. So you continue.

"After a few months I finally confronted him. I threatened to run away and he..he sort of broke down. The entire time he was just scared of losing me. When I got in the accident, I brushed it off. I took life for granted, but my dad was terrified. Because when he got the call, he thought that I'd died. For a brief moment he told me that he imagined what it was like to never see me again. It almost broke him. So when he got the full report and saw me in that hospital, I guess he made a promise to himself that he wouldn't make the same mistakes. "

Your hand moves from his shoulder, to the center of his chest. Raph eyes trail the movement.

"Sometimes when we care about people, we make bad choices doing what we think is right for them. It doesn't mean the love isn't there. It just means they care more than we can realize. If you ever doubt anything, please don't forget that."

Raph couldn't truly remember the last time he'd been speechless. He wishes he could say something, anything. Even a thank you. You pull your hand away with a tender smile, and just then his heart begins to strum unsteadily.

It's possible that's when he realized.

Raph clenches his fists.

More than anything, it hurts.

There's a vibration in his pocket, and he means to ignore it. Eventually Leo would give up. For a moment it stops. He can feel the peace. But it starts again. With each ring he can feel his agitation rising. He grits his teeth, pulling out the phone in aggravation.

"WHAT!!"

"Raph...she's awake."

Leo receives no reply on the other side.

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

I think I’m vaguely ~triggered~ and I’m feeling nauseous and weird so this is gonna come out rambly as hell and I apologize but: 

Not only is this true, it’s expected.

Not only are people taught that others don’t experience love, there is at the very least an implication that they are not capable of it and are inherently evil unless you show them the light and they choose to overcome that evil and accept Jesus as their savior.

Not only is this implication there, but it becomes your duty and purpose in life to save everyone you possibly can from an eternity of torment and suffering.

Not only is that your duty and job, if you fail your love will be a punishment because everyone you love will be lost. 

And the only way to convince them to “save themselves” is to make them see how desperately they are in need of redemption, which usually comes out in a woefully misguided stream of “love” through comments about how fundamentally wrong, evil, and disgusting we all are. 

Your entire life is meant to be spent in anxiety and fear disguised as “hope” and “love” because this life means nothing but at the same time if you get it wrong you and everyone you love will suffer and burn forever. 

(Now, there are varying viewpoints on this, but even those who don’t believe in all of the “lake of fire” bs tend to define hell as a separate plane of existence distanced from God in emotional torment forever.) 

As for indulging in sin, it can be as basic as exposure to or experiencing anything from the “secular” world. Non-Christian music. Non-Christian movies. Non-Christian books. 

I was told by a very close friend as a teenager that she had “seen demons entering my home” because I dared to read Harry Potter. I was told that I should stop watching my favorite movie because I was “too enthralled by it” and was “dangerously close to worshipping false idols”. I was told that my depression was a product of the secular world and that it was “demonic” and “a bad influence on those around me”.

Your worth is determined by how clean you keep yourself from these and other “sins”. You are not supposed to love or care about anything on this earth more than the potential for what comes after, and doing otherwise is worshipping false idols.

I used to lie awake at night desperately anxious because when it came down to it, of course I loved my mom and dad more than I loved this God I had never seen or heard or really ever felt, no matter how much I was supposed to pretend otherwise. So if the rapture were to come right then and there, would I go to hell for loving my earthly parents more than my “heavenly father”? Would they, because I failed them? My grandma wasn’t a Christian, she was definitely going to go to hell... how did I fail her so badly? 

Can you imagine that kind of pressure and anxiety at eight fucking years old? 

It’s exhausting and terrifying and so, so damaging to grow up believing with all of your heart that at any given moment the world may end, damning possibly you and others you love to eternal suffering, but that if you “do your job right” you can “save” them. All you have to do is make them hate themselves first. 

I am grateful every single day that my parents were never completely in it like the other people in our social circles were. I listened to secular music and read books and watched movies, and their biggest concerns in life were that I was happy and that I was kind. 

But I also went to Christian school K-12 and Christian college. Whether or not it was being taught at home, I was exposed to it and absorbed it from mentors, teachers, and peers constantly. And when that’s your social circle, you just kind of assume everyone believes it because of course no one is going to say otherwise and invite doubt and speculation against themselves! So I never voiced any of these concerns with anyone until I reached late high school, I was devastatingly depressed and anxious, and I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. 

I said this a couple years ago (one year ago?) and most of the comments on tumblr actually did not know this, so to reiterate what you’re up against: a VERY mainstream belief among American Christian fundamentalists is that they are the only ones who experience love. They raise their kids to think that everyone “living in sin” (all other faiths, atheists, and LGBT people) goes through life sad and empty, falsely believing they know what love feels like, and will never know until they’re “saved.” It’s not as simple as them diminishing the humanity of others out of hate, but being deeply brainwashed to believe others are automatically mentally less human. They are also very good at convincing new converts that they really are experiencing this “real” love for the “first time;” the same way members of all cults can become wholeheartedly convinced that they’re receiving psychic alien messages or communing with spirits. Cult conditioning is simply that powerful.

[lostlegendaerie]

while i still loathe the fact that yor/kalina gets tagged all the goddamn time as past/background ships in tuckin/gton fics i still thank my lucky stars i have seldom to never seen n/o/r/k tagged in one

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. I

➵ 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 : 11k

➵ warnings : swearing, alcohol consumption, anxiety, lots of feels about marriage, a stupid ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (there’s consent, just bad sex that makes the reader feel shitty), does ceo tae count as a warning? 

➵ a/n: hello my first fic of my favourite trope arranged marriage, AND with kim taehyung?? yes pls !! this will be a series and I’ll be actively working on it so you don’t have to wait too long for chapters, i hope you can follow this series with me <33

chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”  

prev. ↞ || ↠ next  || masterlist

“Another one, Father? I thought I told you my secretary would be handling marriage profiles from now on. Stop concerning yourself with who I marry.” 

“But I do, son. Trust me, I know this girl, she’s the daughter of a trusted friend and I think she’s a good match.” 

“Father, everyone you choose for me I dislike and it’s distracting me from my work. I don’t need this right now.” 

“She’s different, Taehyung. I personally know her and I’m certain you won’t say no.” 

“And why is that?” 

“There’s something about her you won’t refuse, son, you’ll notice it when you meet her.” 

“I don’t want to meet her, Father. Like I said, I need to work.” 

“I just knew you’d act this way. Want to know something, son? I’ve made her part of a business deal, you can’t back out of this.”

“What? You made her part of a business deal?! Why would you-”

“Because you wouldn’t have given her a chance otherwise, you haven’t been giving anyone a chance since I’ve been setting up potential partners for you and I’m sick of it. You said you were open to an arranged marriage, where’s that attitude now?”

“Because, Father, I have a company to run and that’s-”

“No. I will not allow you to reduce your life to just this company. There are far more enjoyable things in life than a business.”

“But Father-”

“No, Taehyung. One thing you need to learn is balance. If you don’t give anyone or anything a chance you will live a lonely life behind your desk. Even in this cutthroat world of business where you can lose money or be betrayed by anyone at any moment, the most painful thing to suffer is loneliness, and I won’t let you live in this world alone.”

“Dad-”

“You will meet this girl, Taehyung, end of discussion.” 

“Dad! I told you I want nothing to do with your company, how could you let me get dragged into this?!” 

“Y/N-ie, I know you value the life you have without any of my help, but let me help just this once, especially with finding a husband. I’m being offered the deal of a lifetime and I can’t refuse, he just happens to be part of it. I need this for the company, please.”

“But Dad, I don’t even know him. And if he’s the CEO of some rich company he’s probably an asshole, I’m not doing this.” 

“Y/N-ie, trust me, I know his son. He’s a sincere, hard-working man, I promise.”

“Yeah, right. Even if that’s the case, I still don’t know him, let alone love him, Dad. How can you make me marry someone I don’t love?”

“Because you can learn to love him. There are no rules concerning the way two people should fall in love, love doesn’t always need to come first.”

“But Dad-”

“My daughter, I have not asked you for many things in my life, but this is one thing I must ask of you. Please, just meet him, don’t say no without even trying.”

“Dad, I don’t know-”

“Please, Y.N, do it for me. If not for the company or money, please do it for me.”

And here you were, fidgeting with the tips of your nails, tuning in and out of the present world and overthinking every aspect of your life that somehow lead you to this moment. Sitting on a Leather Italia couch in what was described to be Mr. Kim’s study; listening to your father’s incessant, albeit wholesome chatter next to you with your future in-laws across. 

And next to them was their suave, unreadable son sitting in a relaxed manner, flipping his attention between your fathers’ conversation and anything else in the room.

You on the other hand, were utterly high strung due to the fact that your father failed to mention your future fiancé’s identity until 30 minutes before arriving here, having done a quick search in the car to unveil who he exactly was.

And that’s when it hit you. You weren’t marrying just anyone, you were getting married to Kim Taehyung. The infamous CEO of Kim Enterprises—Korea’s largest software development and manufacturing company, rivaling to be one of the largest in the world. He was part of Seoul’s most prestigious circle of businessmen, having made multiple Forbes international lists of Most Successful, Youngest, Richest, and is even one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors, not just Seoul.

If this wasn’t already taking you out, then it was definitely the fact that his photos through a measly Google search did him absolutely, utterly and completely no justice. They simply could never capture the truth of just how handsome Kim Taehyung was in real life. You couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t just good-looking, he was stunning, gorgeous, seemed as though God had created the universe, heaven and hell in 6 days and left the 7th just to create him. 

He was like a work of art, worthy of being placed in the finest of museums and left untouched, unsodden by the ugliness of humanity. It made you feel extremely inferior to him in an instant. It was sickening, he was sickening, intoxicating, and quite frankly, intimidating.

It was his look, his undivided stare when he eventually settled his sight on you. It didn’t matter his dark hair that landed and perfectly curled above his eyes, the way he occasionally licked his plush lips or how his long, tall legs spread out before him, it was his look that made you want to turn tail and run.  

It seemed to reach into your soul, peer straight through whatever façade, walls or defense mechanisms you could spend years building only to have his simple look tear it down in minutes. He was alluring, captivating, left you wanting to cower into whatever hole you could dig yourself into or discover all the secrets he hid behind those enchanting eyes.

Kim Taehyung was many things you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, though you assessed your priorities and decided they didn’t just include him, but mainly the significance of the current meeting taking place right now. 

It wasn’t a mere one-time business deal to discuss a project, it was a meeting that entailed the partnership of both your family companies and would define the next however many years of your life. More specifically, spending it with the exact same man that looked at you without a single readable expression on his face. 

You distracted yourself by trying to observe as many useless things as you could, flitting around the room many times before suddenly glancing at Taehyung’s index finger coming up to rest against his lips.

You zeroed your vision in more. 

Is that a cut on his finger?

“Jae-in, of course! This is just as important to me as it is to you, your son is a remarkable CEO, and I’m sure he’ll make an amazing husband.” 

“Aish, Namhyun, you flatter me too much. My son may be handsome, though your daughter is even more beautiful. I’m very sure she will make a wonderful wife.”

“Yes, Namhyun, your daughter is absolutely gorgeous! Just as gorgeous as her mother. I know she wasn’t able to make it, though may I ask where your wife is tonight?” 

“Ah, unfortunately, she’s out of the country. Though I was hoping my presence would be enough to fill in for her, am I doing a bad job?” 

Laughter erupted from the parents in the room, meanwhile, Taehyung couldn’t help but notice the way you immediately winced at the mention of your mother. Something he definitely wouldn’t miss with the way he found himself examining your every move. 

It was habitual to him, something born out of his roots in business, only for the purpose of calculating and reading people like an open book. 

He knew you’d also become victim to that habit, though oddly enough, he found himself quite interested in observing you. He had already figured you out; you hated business, there was a clear disconnection between yourself and your father’s company and you reeked of a sense of independence that funnily contradicted the antsy way you bounced your leg. 

Your way of speech, however, mannerisms, gestures, your look; it was all professional enough you clearly have some sort of background in business. You seemed like an heiress to Taehyung, which you were, though you oddly had no interest in business?   

All these details piqued his interest, curious of just who you exactly were, but he was mainly intrigued by the mysterious claim his father made upon mentioning you for the first time. 

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

That had raked Taehyung’s brain consistently for the past hour now, crossing his legs loosely and his arms folded over his chest, contemplating over and over again as he looked at you, what’s so damn special about her? 

‘You’ll notice it when you meet her,’ the words rang in his ears.

That was the driving force behind his calculation, observation, near inability to take his eyes off of you as he learned new things nearly every minute and led him closer to understanding his father.  

He could tell you were an anxious person, though hid it behind a persona of false confidence. You had a tendency to stick close to your father despite observing you don’t rely on him for much of anything, even less your mother. The softness behind your every movement despite being from a business background where you should be harsh, rigid, rough around the edges, and yet you seemed entirely different.

Taehyung then realized how inherently dissimilar you were to many of the other women he met. They were all relatively of the same cut and look. Cold, sharp, cunning. All women of pure business; daughters, granddaughters or straight CEOs of wealthy companies, simply interested in marriage as a deal or an advantage rather than a commitment. 

And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Taehyung was a man of business himself, married to his work, his home behind a desk and the company the only thought occupying his mind 24/7.

But with you, you were interesting, unlike the others and it made him curious.

Taehyung also couldn’t help but notice you were...pretty. You weren’t too overly sexy nor too innocent, you were pretty. There was an elegance to your looks, features like your hair and eyes complementing you as a whole, and he couldn’t miss that you felt oddly...warm.

Taehyung found himself beginning to understand his father’s original viewpoint, considering the possibility he could’ve been correct. 

You just seemed different. 

“Ah, that seems to be everything. Exact details about the wedding have already been put in place by us.”

“Yes! We’ve been waiting for our TaeTae to get married for so long. We’ve had plans for months now and we can finally move forward with them! You and Y/N don’t need to worry about anything!” 

“Mom, did you really just call me that in front of my future fiancé?” 

“Oh, let it go, son. It won't be long before she calls you that, too!” 

Taehyung could only playfully roll his eyes at his overly excited mother, you scrunching your nose at the embarrassment.

“That’s incredibly generous of you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, though my conscience is not one to let such things go. My family should contribute to the wedding in some way. Y/N and I would be happy to do so.”

“Why don’t we discuss that outside? I believe we should give the future couple some time alone, shall we?” 

You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before standing up and respectively addressing either’s parents, Taehyung shutting the door behind them once they exited and having turned to look at you, an awkward silence piercing the air. 

There it was again, his look. It was irrefutably the one reason you avoided eye contact with him, you felt he would swallow you up if you shared even 5 seconds between each other.

“So...” Taehyung suddenly broke the ice, eyeing you.

“So...” 

“Marriage, huh?” 

“Yeah, marriage. Never done that one before.” If there wasn’t a time you vehemently hated yourself, then it was undoubtedly now. You internally facepalmed at your dumb comment, adding a laugh at the end in embarrassment only to look away. 

“Uh..yeah.” Taehyung laughed awkwardly. “Me neither, if you didn’t already know.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away, you fidgeting by the couches everyone previously occupied. 

A beat of silence passed as you both exchanged looks between objects in the room and each other, either of you pursing your lips or blowing light raspberries to cut the awkwardness. 

“I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Hm?” You turned towards him, lips just a pout as your doe-eyes awaited him. 

Taehyung didn’t miss that at all. 

“Um, your mother. I apologize if this is intrusive of me, though I couldn’t help but notice I’ve never actually met her. May I ask where she is?” 

You let out a dry chuckle before answering, another detail that didn’t slip Taehyung’s attention. “Trust me, Taehyung, one thing you’ll never have to worry about during this entire ordeal is my mother. She should be the last thing on your mind.” You assured him with what he could tell was your fakest smile, distracting him from the realization you’d said his name for the first time.

“Are you sure? I’ll be meeting her at the wedding so-”

“You won’t. I don’t think you will. Even if she does make it, it takes very little to impress her, just be yourself and she’ll love you.” You stated with a sense of finality, as though the topic should be dropped. 

“Be myself? I’m one of the best businessmen in Korea. It’s my job to get people to like me, easy stuff.” He casually gloated. 

“You don’t only have to be a businessman to do that,” you paused and looked at him, “you can just be Kim Taehyung, too.” You spoke nonchalantly, eyes lingering with his for longer than 5 seconds and he, in fact, had not swallowed you yet. 

Taehyung instantly furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback as if your suggestion was something outlandish, absurd, maybe even offending.

Nobody has ever said such a thing to him, not throughout the entirety of his life. 

Taehyung tried his best to recover, searching for another topic of conversation before he was cut off by your rather soft voice, he noticed. 

“Oh, I wanted to give you this.” You stepped towards him, reaching into your purse and retrieving something Taehyung couldn’t quite see. You strided over and extended your hand, Taehyung finding himself even more confused.

“A bandage?” 

“Mhm. For the cut on your finger. You should probably clean it and apply something before putting this on.” You stated nonchalantly once again, offering him a small smile whilst holding out the bandage. 

“Uh...” Taehyung started but couldn’t complete his sentence, lost on how you even observed something as small as his cut and spoke of treating it like it was an actual injury.  

After his struggle to form a sentence, you grew bold enough to gently remove his hand from his pocket and place the bandage in his palm, looking back up at him. You shared a momentary look with his chocolate eyes, instantly scrambling after realizing your hand was still in his.

He has really big hands. 

“We should um...probably go.” You avoided his eyes, stepping aside quickly to pull the door open.

Taehyung’s mind felt displaced, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the fact that someone had actually left him with nothing to say, an extremely rare occurrence in his book.

He was even more displaced looking at the measly wrapper in his hand, then at the cut on the side of his finger, playing through the last 5 minutes of what just happened.

He scoffed to himself.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

It had been 3 weeks since that meeting, not having seen Taehyung once as you wasted your time enjoying single life luxuries before you prepared for one of marriage.

It still felt odd to say such a thing, marriage, because it didn’t even feel like one, or a real one at that. It was forced, fake, a pressured one out of convenience. It felt more like a deal, something Taehyung and yourself had to settle for in order to keep your parents’ minds at ease.

That thought racked your brain all those 3 weeks; Taehyung had to settle for you, he didn’t choose you, just as much as you settled for him and didn’t choose him either. You both had ultimately agreed to the marriage only in an effort to optimize your parents’ happiness, not your own.

You had no clue how he felt, a mystery as much as the Bermuda Triangle, knowing he most certainly had a grand pick of women to choose from and you were most definitely his worst option.

You knew you were suddenly dumped on him, leaving him no choice in the matter as you learned your marriage entailed a beneficial business deal between your fathers’ companies, and Taehyung couldn’t really refuse you with so much on the line.

You had already felt inferior to Taehyung since the moment you met him, though your insecurities seeped further into the crevices of your doubtful mind the more you thought over that sad fact, contemplating a married life with him. In your opinion you were pretty much undesirable to him, Taehyung probably kicking himself knowing he had to unwillingly call you his wife for the rest of his life. 

You just knew you weren’t good enough for him, you would never measure up no matter how hard you’d try and that utterly terrified you. You were confident and independent when it came to yourself, though wedding a near perfect being regarded as one of Seoul’s finest in terms of a CEO and a man? 

Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating. 

These were the feelings that swarmed your head as you sulked at your over-the-top engagement party, set up in a prestigious buildings’ gorgeous 37th floor riddled with baroque styling and embellishments, classical music gracing some of Seoul’s wealthiest patrons as their flutes clinked and snobby chatter filled the hall. 

It was all extremely high-status, reeking of upper class supremacy and quite frankly, it made you want to throw up.

You distracted yourself by bringing any and all types of alcohol to your lips, trying to focus on anything but your daunting thoughts.

The entire night you hadn’t talked to Taehyung, both of you having been too occupied with the numerous amounts of people meeting and congratulating you. This became a genuine nuisance as you’d mentioned before, this marriage was of convenience, one that brought families and companies together merrily and constituted hundreds of people attending your engagement party you didn’t really know.

Your friends were excited, over-the-moon you bagged a man like Taehyung and chastised you for not having told them about your engagement to him earlier. Your relatives similarly scolded you, pinching your cheeks and praising Taehyung like he was a God while they scrunched their noses at you for concealing him.

How could I tell you when I didn’t even know myself?, you thought.

It was funny they praised your ‘choice’ of a fiancé, positive nobody was saying the same to Taehyung without at least lying. The public only knew of you as your father’s daughter, never having seen you due to your vehement absence from anything remotely related to his company, and much of the business world in general. 

You weren’t part of that world, a world of greed and money-driven lunatics. It just wasn't you. It never suited you, left you with a bad taste in your mouth you constantly grimaced at and thought maybe you were the insane one for not understanding its flavour. As you grew older, however, you came to realize it simply wasn’t the path meant for you, someone who valued the independence and achievement of earning something for yourself, by yourself.

Ever since the inception of that principal, your young teenage self resolved you didn’t want to rely on your father’s wealth, especially not his influence or power to achieve your own place in life.

Your father had worked determinedly hard for years in order to stand as high he does now, warranting your acute admiration for your role model of a father, his now successful architecture business landing him a few buildings part of the Seoul skyline.

And after finally achieving his dream, it suddenly morphed into your own aspiration. His hard work drove you to want your own design part of Seoul’s breathtaking scenery as well, by means of your own effort, your own hard work. You didn’t want your father’s help. It felt wrong, like you were cheating if you used him to gain your place and so you condemned your life to one that separated yours and his. 

So you lived, worked and earned money without any of his influence.

You worked for an average architecture company where you felt comfortable, happy that you were away from the suffocating high-status business of your family. And although your detachment left your identity a mystery to many, your situation on the other hand was an extremely infamous one.

‘The-runaway-heiress’, was your staple trademark. The judgmental comments about your choice of life and the insults it warranted were never-ending, subjected to that criticism all your life.

There was no doubt Taehyung was hearing all of that, people probably warning him to step out of the marriage before it was too late. You weren’t like Taehyung, who was perfect, desirable, someone everyone either wanted or wanted to be. It left you glad and quite frankly, proud to be wedding a man of such caliber and incredibility, though left you wondering why in God’s name he would ever agree to marry someone like you; average, average and well, average.

“That’s your 5th shot, Y/N, slow the fuck down.” Your best friend Hana’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, snatching the shot glass from your grasp. “It wouldn’t be cool if you were trashed at your own party, dummy.” 

Her sudden appearance brought a smile to your face. “I know, I just don’t feel well.” You sighed by the counter of the bar, seated atop a stool as you circled an empty shot glass mindlessly. 

“I get you, there’s like, hundreds of people here and you’re probably hearing a lot of different shit.” Hana appealed to you, having read your emotions like an open book. “Speaking of people, I wanted to ask, what’s up with Taehyung and his stare?”

You stifled a snort, looking at Hana’s incredulous face. “It’s just a habit of his. He stares at everyone.”

“Okay... sure, but I didn’t mean everyone, I meant you.” Hana emphasized, comically pointing.

You furrowed your eyebrows at her, arm leaning against the bar’s counter as you questioned, “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really stop staring at you, which is kinda weird. Unless you like that, I don’t judge people’s kinks.” Hana mockingly held her hands up in surrender, gauging a reaction out of you. 

You instantly grimaced, “It’s not a kink, Hana. Nice joke by the way, wanna sign up for SNL with that one?”

“I’m serious! I’ve been catching him just looking at you and I don’t know if it’s weird or hot.” Hana informed as you became more puzzled, her becoming oddly excited, “Awh, maybe he’s concerned with how much you keep drinking! That’s so romantic.” She chimed, looking off into the distance dreamily.

“Shut the fuck up, he wouldn’t do that.” You smacked her arm, snatching your shot glass back from her. “Besides, you’re one of the rare people who knows this marriage is fake, you know he doesn’t care.”

“Jheez, way to kill romance?” Hana rolled her eyes, smacking your arm in rebuttal before continuing. “I’m serious, though. This may be fake but he really does keep looking at you, and I don’t know what it means.” Hana speculated, contorting her lips as if in thought.

“It means nothing, Hana. You’re just seeing things.”

“Then why has he been staring at you depressed by the bar for the last half an hour?”

You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”

“Are you clueless or just dumb? He’s been talking to someone for 30 minutes but most of the time he’s been looking at you, and he still is, how haven’t you noticed?”

You creased your eyebrows in surprise as you slowly lowered your shot glass. You turned away from Hana to scan the small crowds of people mingling, eating, drinking in the hall.

You searched the room, drink still in hand until your eyes caught tall, dark and handsome in his finely pressed suit, casually standing with a drink in his hand by a table speaking to someone. You nearly jumped when your eyes locked with Taehyung’s, every cell in your body caught off guard.

What made your heart specifically race was the way he didn’t even look away from you. He held your gaze, casually conversing with the person in front of him, eyeing you until he finally cracked a small smirk before turning back to his companion.

Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.

“See, weird or hot? Am I even allowed to say hot?” Hana blurted as she reveled in your reaction. “And you really thought I was joking. You don’t believe anything I say, I could tell you the world’s ending and you wouldn’t believe me. I could tell you aliens finally invaded the planet and you wouldn’t believe me until the green motherfuckers knocked on your door themselves and-”

“Hana, shut the fuck up.” You cut her off abruptly and made a face at her. “Why did you even come here?”

“Grumpy, aren’t we?” She flashed you a sarcastic look before sighing. “Your dad wanted me to find you. You and Taehyung have to meet someone important, so you should stop drinking like an alcoholic, dumbass.” Hana informed hastily as she grabbed the shot glass from you and downed it herself.

“Your dad’s by the entrance, go before he gets mad!” She shooed you away, pushing you up until you whisper-yelled and smacked at her to let you go. 

You began stepping towards the entrance, smoothing over your dress and this was the moment you realized you may have drank a little too much. You were quick to reprimand yourself, cursing your unprofessional behavior as your inner equilibrium became slightly woozy, senses drowning out a bit, every sound hazed over with a buzz in your veins.

You sucked in a breath to pull yourself together, knowing your dad valued this person enough you and Taehyung had to meet them together. 

Taehyung.

You decided to glance in his direction, lips pursing seeing he wasn’t in his previous spot. You chose to ignore it, walking along until you felt a looming presence behind you, almost having time to acknowledge it before a hand suddenly touched the small of your back. 

“Looking for me?”

You nearly squealed, jumping with a hand ready to punish before calming down at the sight of Taehyung, sighing with relief. “Jheez, could you use my name? I thought you were a stranger.” 

“Well, hello to you too.” Taehyung quipped sarcastically. “And why would a stranger touch your back? Of course it’d be the only man in this room marrying you.” Taehyung narrowly eyed you, scrutinizing your reaction with his hand still pressed to you.

“People do a lot of whatever the hell they want, Taehyung.” You responded turning away from him, heels clacking as you continued to pace towards where your father stood. “W-why’d you do that, anyway?” 

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows. “Because we’re engaged?”

“It’s not real, though.”

“It’s as real as it gets.” Taehyung finalized, making it a statement to smile at everyone you passed, to which you realized just how many pairs of eyes glued themselves to you. “This may not feel like a real marriage to us, but to the rest of the world it is.” 

He then suddenly leaned himself down to your height and lowered his tone, breath just ghosting your ear. “Y/N, we have to make this seem real, it’s the only way we’ll survive.” Taehyung was the closest he’s ever been to you, and the deep baritone of his voice as he called your name did absolutely nothing but manifest butterflies in your chest. 

Why was his voice so deep?

You shook the thought out of your head, ultimately choosing not to say anything because he was in fact, correct. You grinned widely continuing to mask the truth of your arrangements, leaning into him more as you settled for his hand on your back.

You’d noticed it before, but his hand felt particularly large against you now that he was so close. You glanced at his other hand resting by his side, impressed by how masculine they appeared; long fingers with running veins and a roughness to them, sculpted so well you were sure they deserved to be referred to as art. It tickled your giddy side for a second when they seemed to perfectly contrast your more feminine and smaller hands. 

It was kinda cute. 

You neglected your thoughts once you neared your father, warm-heartedly conversing with a well-dressed man you just about recognized. 

“Ah, there you both are!” Your father cheered, reaching out his arm so he could envelop you in a side-hug, returning Taehyung’s bow and addressment.  

“Dad, I heard you wanted us to meet someone?” You perked up in a superficial tone, at least attempting to act as though everything was fine and dandy in your life; maybe owing it to the alcohol to endure all the falsehoods.

“Yes, Y/N-ie, I wanted you to meet Mr. Won. Chang-in, my lovely daughter and whom I guess you already know, her fiancé and CEO of Kim Enterprises, Kim Taehyung.” Your father proudly presented you both.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Won, Kim Taehyung.” Taehyung was the first to address the man, extending his hand and bowing as he greeted him. You were almost taken aback by how polite he could be, the way his charming smile graced his features and attractively displayed his perfect teeth. His manner of speech and etiquette were all refined with a high degree of professionalism as well, internally gawking at his duality.  

Wasn’t he acting all entitled with you just now? 

“Nice to meet you as well!” You collected yourself and cheered, a little baffled as to why Taehyung still rested his hand against your back. “I’m hoping my father has only said good things.” You earned a laugh from the group, Mr. Won responding by receiving your hand with a firm shake. 

“Ah, Namhyun, you forgot to mention how beautiful your daughter has grown, and your future son-in-law has me jealous! What a handsome and accomplished young man, the perfect match, the two of them.” Mr. Won praised you both kindly.

You and Taehyung both smiled and thanked him humbly, feeling some heat collect in your cheeks upon Mr. Won’s words. You two? The perfect match? Unless he believes a rock and a Greek statue belong together, then he’s absolutely correct. 

Other than that, you chest swarms with butterflies thinking you’re now referred to as ‘two’. 

Taehyung for some odd reason encircles the curve of your waist suddenly, pulling you closer to him. You last minute sputter at the intimate action before leaning into him, one arm nervously encasing his torso as the other rests against his chest. 

You feel him tense underneath you. 

“Aish, you’re such a flatterer. Y/N-ie, do you remember Mr. Won? My friend from university? You haven’t seen him in a while.” Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, trying to jog your memory. 

“Oh, you mean Mr. Won from SNU?” You suddenly remembered, looking to your father for confirmation. 

“Yes, so you do remember!” 

“Of course I do, how could I forget!” You smiled brightly and returned your gaze to the familiar man. “Mr. Won used to sneak me ice cream when you wouldn’t let me have any, Dad.” You scolded him with a playful jab to his arm, inviting more laughter. “I apologize for not recognizing you right away, it’s been a long time, Mr. Won, forgive me.” You solemnly apologized, Mr. Won giving you a look of understanding. 

“Ah, forget it, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, although since it’s been a long time I hope you remember my son? He should be here somewhere..” Mr. Won trailed as his eyes fished over the grand hall, scanning around. 

“Your son..” You repeated to yourself, realizing there was a familiar connection itching at your mind, he was your age actually-

Wait. 

Oh God, not him. 

Anything but him. 

You felt raw panic seep into the spaces between your ribs, your chest filling with a constricting feeling of anxiety you couldn't shake off. Your heart picked up speed and the alcohol coursing through your veins didn’t help your judgement or memory at all, mind fogged over with the poison we dare call alcohol.  

You felt stupid, so utterly stupid. How could you forget Mr. Won and who his Godforsaken son was? 

You felt an anxiety attack riddling you, shifting your weight on your feet as you tried to bite back your uneven breathing. You just couldn’t see this man, especially in a situation where you were standing next to your husband-to-be. 

Taehyung wasn’t so invested in the conversation before him, mindlessly nodding along before he felt you physically freeze next to him, his glance to the side confirming your pale look, watching as your panicked eyes faltered to the floor and revealed... fear? 

He registered your odd shifting and your failed attempts at plastering a smile, confused if you knew this guy and if you did, why were you freaking out so much?

Were you in love with him or something? 

The thought minutely bugged him until he watched you turn straight up uncomfortable, horrified when Mr. Won called out his son’s name. 

“Kiseok-ah! Come here!” 

You stopped breathing when you heard the name, eyes going wide as you avoided eye contact with anyone in the group, but caught Taehyung’s undivided attention. He grew curious when Kiseok sauntered over to the group, your hand on his chest suddenly squeezing his suit as the mysterious man greeted everyone respectfully.

Taehyung watched as his intrigued eyes locked on you, eyebrows perking up amusedly as his lips curved into a smile Taehyung honestly couldn’t admit to liking. 

“Y/N? Wow, long time no see. It’s been what, a year?” The man Kiseok called out happily, like there was absolutely no problem occurring here but as Taehyung felt your hand clutch onto his suit, lips just about quivering before you forced a smile, he knew there was most certainly a problem. 

“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, small, and Taehyung found himself wondering how a courageous person like you was all of a sudden cowering. 

He’d heard it all night, all the accounts of your other life away from the business world. He wasn’t going to lie, he heard a multitude of opinions concerning you, many of which including either looking down on you or telling Taehyung there’s many other, more powerful women in business he could’ve been marrying instead. 

But Taehyung didn’t care for their opinions, he found you the most powerful woman he could ever marry, and agreed to do so because of that very prospect. Sure, you were estranged from the business scene and practically abandoned any role you’d play in your father’s company in order to pursue your own personal aspirations, but if anything, Taehyung found it highly commendable. 

Taehyung knew it took guts to do what you did, a bold and daring act that no other heir or future heir of a wealthy company could ever think of doing, including himself. 

What he found to appreciate most was your unwillingness to give in, where you had to have heard all the back-handed and snobby comments, yet you still held your head up high, remained rooted and adamant in keeping your current way of life. It instantly signaled to him you were courageous, fearless, unable to be stopped in your tracks.

So when he watched you become smaller and smaller the more you stood in the vicinity of this Kiseok, he knew something was sincerely wrong. 

“Ah yes, it’s been quite some time. Why don’t we step away from you three? You could do some catching up.” Your father urged as he motioned Mr. Won to step away with him. You lightly addressed them only to have your hands neglect Taehyung entirely and start fidgeting, attempting to calm your nerves as the alcohol inebriated your system and magnified your anxiety by tenfold. 

“Ah, yes, Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Enterprises. I’ve been meaning to meet you.” Kiseok extended his hand as his voice irked you with every syllable, trying your best to seem like absolutely nothing was wrong. 

Taehyung reached out his hand in response uneagerly, giving a small shake while wondering why you let him go. “That’s news to me, nice to meet you.” Taehyung responded, already feeling an intense aura of discomfort and tension between you both, sensing he was missing out on something that seemed 6 ft deep. 

“Likewise. Y/N..” Kiseok suddenly turned towards you, making you wince. You painted on your smile as you lifted your vision. “Kiseok.” 

“How’ve you been?” 

“Better than ever. You?” 

“Marvelous, just wondering what your life’s looked like since I haven’t been in it.”

“I believe I said better than ever, didn’t I?”

Kiseok scoffed unamused, “So a year, huh? In all that time you suddenly found yourself a fiancé, and Kim Taehyung at that?” Kiseok seemed to be making light-hearted conversation to anyone outside of your group, though you knew deep down the hostility behind his words.

“Yeah, I did. It just happened.” You shrugged, gaining the confidence to counter him. “And you? Plan on putting a ring on any of your girls? Maybe the 5th or 7th one you liked?” You sarcastically questioned, furrowing your brows in mock contemplation. 

“No, you know I’ve always had my eye on one girl when it came to marriage.” Kiseok eyed you knowingly, purposefully, like he was trying to make it obvious.

You snorted and glared at him, “If I remember correctly, your attitude said otherwise.” hatred began boiling under your skin. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second, memories between you two coming back in flashes. You didn’t even realize you were shaking until Taehyung’s hand suddenly entangled with yours, pulling you towards him almost defensively. 

You were surprised, looking at your connected hands and back up at Taehyung. He returned your look, peering down at you as he smiled warmly, affectionately. 

“I’m sorry, Kisook? Was it? My future wife and I have plans for tonight. May you excuse us?” Taehyung didn’t even let Kiseok respond before he was pulling you away, in complete shock at his first lack of manners you’d ever seen. You were only left to watch Taehyung as he lead you along, gaining the timely opportunity to realize he was taller than Kiseok, and in fact significantly taller than you. 

Taehyung was a large man in general, you noticed. His shoulders looked broad from behind, accentuated by the fit of his suit which also emphasized the expanse of his chest, tastefully exposing his sculpted neck. His legs were long, proportioned perfectly in accordance with the rest of his model-like figure, which was ideally fit and contained just the right amount of muscle. 

Dear God, you took your time with this one. 

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had pulled you into a secluded hallway or that you were ogling him when he suddenly stopped, turning in your direction and snapping you out of a near fever dream. 

Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight. 

“Who the fuck was that?” 

“What?”

“That douche, who was that?” Taehyung inquired slightly pissed, in need of the asshole’s identity after watching whatever shitshow he didn’t pay for. 

“Nobody, Taehyung, he shouldn’t concern you.” You looked away from him, pouting in a way that made Taehyung momentarily notice the plush of your lips. 

Again?, was all he could think, first, your mother, and now this guy? Just how many people did you have bad connections with and he needed to ignore? 

Why were there so many intricate pieces to you? 

“Are you kidding me? He concerns me now, your mother I can understand but this guy? Nothing to me. I could step on him.” Taehyung proclaimed confidently and stood up broader, conviction written all over his face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his remark, resembling the thought you had earlier. “I was just thinking, you’re a lot taller than him.” 

Taehyung couldn’t help but bite back a smile, watching you giggle like a shy high schooler and his ears gladly welcomed the soft sound. “Damn straight I am.” He adjusted the jacket of his suit suavely. It was then he remembered what his other hand was doing; still holding yours. 

His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief. 

He squeezed your hand a little tighter and yanked you towards him, bodies just centimeters apart as you crashed into him, all up in each other’s personal space.

Your eyes widened in complete surprise. 

 “So you were thinking about me, huh?” Taehyung teased with a stupidly lowered tone, a smug grin decorating his face. 

You ignored the electricity shooting through you, rolling your eyes and playfully sneering at him. “Shut up, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re taller.” You forced space between you two and tried snatching your hand from him, but his grip transformed into an iron lock. 

“Says the one who was thinking about me.” 

“Taehyung, shut-” You almost huffed out but as soon as you stepped away, your copious consumption of alcohol suddenly attacked you all at once, vertigo making you lose your balance until Taehyung reached out to steady you. 

“Jheez, did you have to drink tonight?” Taehyung chastised you as you fell into him, head spinning with disorientation and growing flimsier by the second. “You’re probably a lightweight at your size.”

“I am not a lightweight. You don’t even know how much I drank, it was a lot.” You bit back in rebuttal, hooking onto his taut forearms as he supported you. 

“But I did see.” He voiced barely above a whisper, causing you to snap your vision up at him incredulously. “What?” 

“Nothing, it shouldn’t concern you.” Taehyung mocked, though still tried to fix you onto your own footing.  

You didn’t even get to scrutinize him further when you felt another round of dizziness plague you, balance faltering again. Taehyung huffed out and finally flanked you on his side, arm encasing your shoulders as he adjusted you. “Okay Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, you should eat something.” He fit you beside him, beginning to walk you towards the main hall. 

Taehyung in this moment didn’t understand what he was doing, utterly clueless as to what was fueling his actions. He was uncertain why he found himself.. caring? He didn’t even know you, yet he couldn’t help but become a little concerned when he watched you down drinks like it was New Year’s Eve. 

How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?

What was he even thinking when he dragged you away from that Kisuk guy? Why did he feel like protecting you all of a sudden? A near sense of possessiveness? He wasn’t even your real husband. 

It started giving Taehyung a headache. This was all strange, a foreign concept he wasn’t familiar with and he didn’t know if it was the result of his considerate personality or only manifested solely because of you.

The same way Taehyung dealt with his inner turmoil, you dealt with yours; you were always so adamant on independence though ironically found yourself leaning on Taehyung.

Oddly, you let him carefully guide you back into the hall with no protests. 

It was the day of the wedding. 

You wish you could recall your emotions throughout the day, certain there would be at least a sliver of a positive one. Though as you remained unmoving, nearly catatonic, unresponsive to your surroundings, you knew there wouldn’t be a single happy memory in the tsunami of sorrow that attacked you today. 

Emotions of grief plagued consistently as you realized the loss of everything you valued most in your life. Your happiness, your freedom, your ability to choose. The stripping of all those bundled into an stifling wad in your chest that left you in a perpetual state of wanting to cry.

The sting in your heart when you realized your mother didn’t bother to come, the excruciating smile you forced onto your features when Taehyung’s mother delicately placed the veil atop your head, the secret tears you shed after adorning your body with a wedding dress you didn’t even choose; it all left you internalizing feelings of utter agony. 

And none of it was your real choice. 

Even the flowers at the wedding weren’t your favourite. 

This day was horrifying. You couldn’t believe you prided yourself on your independence, refusing to give in despite numerous challenges and never taking a word of what anyone said to you. Even when someone begged you to change or come back to your old life, you always chose for yourself. You never allowed someone to push you around, seldom coerced into anything solely based on the wishes of another. 

Yet here you were, standing just before the grand doors of a wedding you never asked for, having easily followed every word of your father’s and sacrificed your deepest principles in order to make him happy, to appease and live up to his expectations that weren’t your own. 

It was utterly frightening, appalling. As if you had lost the one true commendable feature of the intricate character you were, suddenly lost the acclamation of others even if they didn’t know the true nature of your marriage. 

But what disgusted you the most was truly, that you had lost respect for yourself. 

These grim thoughts were the ones that attached themselves to you as you hesitantly hooked your arm with your father’s. You used every ounce of strength to not flee, to remain here, to still walk down that isle with your head held high like you always have despite abandoning every foundation of the character you’d spent years working on.  

You didn’t care that your eyes watered, masking them with the facade of happy tears from the blushing bride. You didn’t care when your father looked incredibly concerned and wondered what was so wrong, you didn’t care how sorrowful you may have appeared to anyone at this ironically glamorous event. 

Though what you did care for was that you couldn’t hold your head up as you walked down the isle, vision fixated on the ground as your tears betrayed you, spilling out at the traumatizing feeling of not being able to stand tall like you always did, something stripping you of your self-reassurance, your strength, your confidence.  

It all spelled the requiem of your soul as you reached the end, dwelling in the impossibility this was happening to you until you felt the touch of Taehyung’s fingertips, guiding you up the stairs. It was then confirmed to you this was in fact real, part of your new reality you had no choice but to accept. 

You suddenly felt eternal gratitude for the veil that now covered your face, hiding the tears you cried at mourning the loss of everything you worked for.

While the priest’s words were read, you didn’t exchange a single look with Taehyung, knowing you’d only want to evaporate into the air, to run away at light speed or have someone in a turn-of-events suddenly take your life, just so you didn't have to face the humility of giving up the life you’d spent blood, sweat and tears building if you looked him in the eye. 

You felt the weight of your unknown future crushing you, pushing you towards the precipice as you gripped Taehyung’s hands harder to ground yourself. 

You were to rely on Taehyung, to share a bond with him you had never spent time cultivating, expected to live a life next to him while never being able to truly understand him, know him, love him. The natural process of falling in love now tainted with the coercion of a pressurized marriage, losing the opportunity to achieve any true sense of love. You’d never experience finding the one anymore, your soulmate, the other end of your red string of fate. 

That realization made your tears spill harder, disconnecting your hand from Taehyung’s to prevent your choked sobs becoming audible, holding your palm against your quivering lips. 

To anyone beyond you and Taehyung, it would look as though you were crying tears of happiness, joyously weeping at your matrimony with the love of your life, though as Taehyung felt the shaking of your hands, your refusal to meet his gaze as you reluctantly walked down the isle, the agonizing pain he could see through the sheer of your veil, he knew you were far from happy. 

He couldn’t help but purse his lips together tightly, knowing you were probably swallowing insurmountable torment down your throat because of this marriage, and tears pricked at his own eyes finding himself able to relate. 

He wasn’t just upset for you or himself, it was the entire situation, quite frankly the fucking world. The fact that the universe planned this as your destiny, his destiny, that the happiness of your parents and two companies came at the expense of both yours and his.

He knew you didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t the reason just as much as you weren’t the reason either, it was the arbitrary nature of the arrangement. That whatever version of true love and happily ever after you and Taehyung had separately dreamed of, it could never come to life. 

Even if the company meant everything to Taehyung, his CEO position more important than whatever position he’d play as some husband, seldom having time to consider love and relationships, he still harboured the same wants and desires any human would. A partner, a companion he truly loved with whom he’d start a family eventually, create a life for them and himself defined by love and comfort.

Though Taehyung only knew now you would both die with your decision-making capabilities robbed of you, bound to each other forcibly without the ardor of real love. 

Taehyung’s every thought was proven correct when the two of you exchanged your vows in near strangled chokes and shaky tones, appearing as happy emotions to the guests of the wedding though only you two knowledgeable of each other’s suffering. 

Your vision finally met Taehyung’s once you heard the rawness in his voice, your miserable emotions doubling when you registered he was just in the same pain as you. It was in that moment the priest’s words became audible and rang loud in both your ears, suddenly grounding you two to earth and reminding you of your reality. 

“You may kiss the bride.”

Both of your eyes grievously locked for a moment of horrified realization; that you were seconds away from going through with this, throwing each other’s lives away for the utilitarian benefit, abandoning any sense of choice in whom you both would spend a lifetime with.

Taehyung swallowed thickly as he removed your veil, feeling his eyes fill with tears again when he laid them upon your utterly devastated, tear-stained face. You were using every nerve in your body to stop yourself from sobbing and caving into the ominous thought of fleeing the ceremony.  

Taehyung’s sight wondered to your lips as they still quivered, nearly swollen red at the intensity in which you bit them, awaiting the kiss you were certain would be filled with frustration and hatred, hatred for the mud you were dragging him through, hatred for pressuring him into suddenly valuing something more than his work and his company, to suddenly become a husband to you. 

Though as he watched the terror flashing through your eyes, tears watering your lash line, he knew he could never feel anything so ardently negative towards you, remembering exactly what he was stripping you of. 

The life you built on your own, defying any and everyone’s expectations of yourself, cursing your heir status to hell, your strength, your independence. Now? Your life was bound to his, bound to one where you were obliged to sacrifice yourself for your father’s company and the upper class cesspool you’d spent so long trying to run away from. 

So as Taehyung began closing the gap between you two, nearing your shaking figure, he resolved he wouldn’t make this hard. He would try, try to accept that his life now entailed you, would try to work towards the balance his father insisted he needed, try to understand that you were now part of his priorities and could never simply ignore you.  

He glided his thumbs against the back of your hands that held his pacifyingly, leaning down until he was just inches from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. He unexpectedly spoke quietly, meaningfully, seconds away from sealing the deal of an uncertain future, though, remained certain of this one thing. 

“I’ll take care of you, Y/N, I promise.” And he kissed you in a single breath, no haste, no pressure, only the gentle touch of his lips as they met yours, soft and light. 

Maybe Taehyung didn’t know the exact feelings behind his promise, but he knew the meaning; that no matter the arrangement, the non-existent feelings, the loss of choice, he would at least take care of you like any husband would, a good husband.  

He at least owed you that.  

You were left shocked at the nature of his kiss, Taehyung’s warm lips connecting with yours tenderly. You were convinced the tears you saw in his eyes were enough to assert he hated this, frustrated he had to sell his soul, wishing to only rush the kiss so he could call it a day and ignore you for the rest of his life. 

Though what you never expected was the promise he made, or the way he kissed you with such intimacy you found yourself melting into his touch, reciprocating. He kissed you like you were fragile, locking your lips in a way that solidified his promise, as if out of all the empty vows you spoke today, this was the one, true vow he would keep. His lips felt plush against yours, catching his mouth just a little more before the bittersweet disconnection. 

You and Taehyung exchanged a poignant look, small smiles decorating both your faces with a mutual understanding swimming in your eyes as you gripped each other’s hands. You let his promise permeate the air between you two, finding solace in his words as the applause of everyone attending the ceremony filled the hall.   

Maybe it was the warm way Taehyung always pressed his hand to the small of your back when you spoke to others the whole night, maybe the way he veered you away from excessive amounts of alcohol with a light-hearted scolding considering that last time you drank, or maybe even the way he gently held you during your first dance..

Maybe it was all these considerate, kinds act that made you view Taehyung in a less negative light and rather a favourable one, that maybe he wouldn’t be the asshole CEO you’d first accused him of being.  

You would also be an idiot to not mention how completely and utterly handsome he was, looks carved by the Greeks themselves, quite possibly the hottest, most attractive man you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

And maybe all that accumulated into your assured opinion that when it came to consummating your marriage with Taehyung, you’d have no qualms or worries whatsoever. You would be absolutely willing, ready to take the night on and maybe even have some fun for yourself with whom you could tell was a really, really nice guy.

Though as Taehyung walked calmly in front of you towards your hotel suite, reaching into his suit pocket for the card key he’d retrieved at the front desk to swipe against the lock, your chest clogged with a crushing feeling of anxiety you couldn’t subdue. 

These weren’t the same nerves of maybe being not pretty enough, body insecurities or fear of what to expect from Taehyung, no, these nerves came from the utter panic of having to experience sex with another man.

Especially since your last partner. 

It always started with your permission, that wasn’t the issue, Though what left you afraid, so utterly frightened with the thought of spending a night with a man like this came from the treatment you received from that partner. 

Safe to say, you weren’t treated kindly. Far from that, actually, you were treated as though you had no needs or were a means of simple use. Your last partner was the opposite of giving, he was selfish, self-absorbed and only concerned himself with his own pleasure, going on and on only until he was satisfied and neglected you in every sense of the word, sometimes even refusing to listen to you if you protested. 

To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful. 

You knew he slept around, a lot, it was the number one reason you never agreed to actually date him, never make things official. 

But the reason you would end up sleeping with him was because of the most perfectly imperfect concept among the human race; love. You believed every time with him was a new chance to make that love real, that it was the genuine manifestation of your feelings for one another, thinking maybe he wasn’t the asshole he always portrayed himself as and could man up enough to love you unconditionally. 

And he completely reeled you in, made you fall in love too quickly and made you believe he was capable of love. This grew exponentially when you were often described as ‘the different one’, the one he always came back to, that you were special. You clung onto those words as much as you could, convinced each time you were in fact the one for him, that maybe one day, he’d wake up and abandon his fuckboy lifestyle and mature.

But everyday that went by, every promise that was never fulfilled, every word that wasn’t met with an action, and especially after every hook up that resulted in nothing new, you began to understand you were everyone’s favourite role in a Shakespearean play. 

The fool. 

You were a joke to believe anything he said, the most naive person on earth to think you were any different from the others, when every night simply ended in rough fucks, virtually no orgasm and miniscule aftercare.

It left you essentially scarred, traumatized that every man in the world was built like this. It didn’t help that whenever you look back, many of your ex partners were of the same cut, the same trope of assholes that don’t seem as bad but end up being exactly so. 

It was what made you swallow thickly as Taehyung opened the door to the suite, holding it open as he moved aside to let you enter first. You walked forward and unintentionally brushed against him, realizing how much smaller you were in comparison to him all over again. 

He towered over you, and it made you more nervous. 

You looked up at him momentarily and quietly thanked him as you stepped inside, setting your sights on the large, king sized bed situated on one side of the room, a lounging area with couches to the other side which lead to a bathroom. Seoul’s breathtaking skyline was visible in the dark of the night through wall-to-ceiling windows opposite to you, covered by flowy, sheer curtains. 

You took a deep breath, trying to remind yourself Taehyung was not the same. Not all men are the same, you can’t inflict the mistakes and wrongdoings of one man onto another, categorize them into one kind. You wanted to think this way, and you knew it was the humane way to think. 

But as the memories of those heart-aching nights filled your head, the empty words, the lack of care or concern, the neglect, the feelings of pure abandonment and use only caused your heart to beat profusely in your chest, clutching onto the neckline of your dress to breathe. 

What if Taehyung really was no different?

It then suddenly hit you you didn’t know him. All you knew of Taehyung was that he was a fiercely successful business man, sitting atop Seoul’s most prestigious with Godly looks and a stare that could kill a man. You remembered your initial feelings about him; his stare in fact intimidated you, quite frankly all of him intimidated you, he was the epitome of perfection and you were far from that very notion. It left you thinking you didn’t measure up, and that he could view you in a dissimilar light than you viewed him; an unfavorable one. 

He could simply not want you, but is forced to.  

You’d observed his kind behavior and actions over the odd two days you met him, though that was exactly the inculpatory factor; you had only met him twice. You didn’t know what he would be like alone, when it was just the two of you, when there weren’t eyes scrutinizing him and cameras snapping shots of his every move. 

You didn’t know how he would be like in the bedroom, either. 

Your mind raced as you conflicted with yourself, trying to understand that Taehyung could be different, though apprehensive with the miniscule knowledge you actually had of him. 

You discerned after that last asshole of a partner you needed the love and care of a real partner, someone who would tend to your needs, adore you in the midst of their actions, be a giver and not just a receiver.  

And you didn’t know if Taehyung would be that partner. 

“Y/N...” Taehyung called out to you rather softly as he removed his suit jacket, the rustling of the cloth signaling he had indeed done so. His footsteps were hard to miss, the soles of his shoes sounding against the hardwood floor as he neared your lonesome figure standing in the middle of the room. 

Your breathing quickened with nearly every step he took, attempting to resolve the civil war you were battling within. You were trying to convince yourself Taehyung would be a nice man, a nice husband; though couldn’t help but feel deflated by the fact it was all mainly coerced out of him.

Your thoughts overwhelmed you as Taehyung finally stood behind you, mere inches from your back as he watched you from behind, unbeknownst of any feelings or thoughts currently riddling you.

He hesitated, though gently placed his hand against your bare arm, the sudden warmth of his hand against your skin causing you to flinch. He peered down at your smaller self squarely focusing in front of you, anticipating your response. He grew slightly soft when you tentatively looked over your shoulders, clearly teary-eyed. 

Taehyung couldn’t miss how scared you seemed, and he his heart inexplicably stung at the thought you were afraid of him. 

“We don’t have to do this.” Taehyung’s voice was low and resembled warm honey, reverberating in a way that made you ease up. 

You worked towards a stable voice. “W-we don’t?” 

“No, we don’t” His voice held no disappointment, only the intention of seemingly wanting to assure you, firm and oddly comforting. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry.” It was hard to keep your tone leveled, clutching your hand over your mouth as you swallowed your emotions. 

“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.” 

You strangely felt the desire to hold his hand that rested against you, though you ignored the urge and simply stepped out of his touch, clutching your chest tightly in an effort to cower away from him. But it was here you suddenly remembered that he kissed you, and the way he did so. 

It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush. 

“Do you mean that?” You’d finally turned to meet his eyes, his face only visible by the moonlight illuminating the room. He seemed to have retracted his hand and stood with both tucked in his pockets, relaxed. 

This became the first time you noticed just how ravishing he looked tonight. 

His dark hair was slicked back loosely and left enough pieces to fall as a comma, graciously exposing his forehead, his Tom Ford suit attractively hugged his model-like body, watch and accessories accentuating his expensive look. 

His features were casted over by soft lighting, somehow adding to his beauty as the glow made him appear... less intimidating, dare you say warm or inviting. 

His expression was funnily enough, one that you could actually read. He held no contempt, no impatience or anger, only a hint of consideration as his calm eyes looked at you. His face may have been predominantly blank, void of a smile, though certainty held a form of reassurance.  

“Of course I do, why would I do anything with an unwilling person?”

You scoffed lightly, “Not a lot of people would say that.” Your eyes faltered from Taehyung’s and clutched yourself tighter, expression completely telling of trauma.

Taehyung instantly picked up on it, eyebrows slightly furrowing at your words though softening once registering their weight. He felt an overwhelming sense of apology take him, thinking of his next sentence before his mind oddly flashed back to the night of the engagement party.

“Y/N, did Kiseok..?” Taehyung trailed hesitantly. 

You winced at his line of thinking, “No, no...not what you’re thinking,” you immediately denied. “Just, shitty experiences.”

“Shitty, as in...?”

“As in only seeking self-satisfaction, neglect, lies, infidelity. Can we go to sleep?” You deflected with a heavy sigh and a hand at your temple, the day’s events catching up to you.

Taehyung nodded in agreement, “Yeah, sleep. We both need that.” His eyes then landed on the bed, registering even if it were large enough you two could sleep apart, he still opted for caution. 

“Um.. you can take the bed, by the way. I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“No, don’t do that.” You replied quickly. “I can’t sleep on a king-sized bed all by myself, it’s huge.” You side-eyed the massive mattress and laughed a little, lightening the heavy aura casted over the room. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Don’t worry, Taehyung. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” You smiled at him lightly and received a small one from him, both your eyes mirroring the same sense of understanding you exchanged at the altar. 

“I’ll let you wash up first, your overnight bag should be in the bathroom closet.” Taehyung informed, pointing towards the direction of your things. 

“Thank you.” You voiced with an amount of warmth that made Taehyung want to genuinely smile, though crushed the weird urge and nodded agreeably instead.

You began walking away from him until a nuisance suddenly occurred to you, cursing yourself as you came to a full stop. “Um, Taehyung.. I forgot but could you..?” You angled your back towards him to call out to the ribbons tying the back of your dress, knowing you would’ve taken 20 years just to untie your bodice yourself. 

The fact that you weren’t looking directly at Taehyung made him feel relieved, glad he wouldn’t embarrass himself with the his eyes slightly widened. He was quick to reprimand himself, it’s just a woman’s dress, why the hell are you shocked? 

Taehyung swallowed dryly before replying, “Uh, yeah I’ll--I’ll do that.” He walked towards you sparingly and positioned himself behind you.

He’d noticed it before, but you were relatively small compared to him in size and it continued to poke at his brain, maybe even momentarily think it was cute. 

Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?

Taehyung exhaled before his hands carefully made for the silk ribbons, his tentative fingers fiddling with the ties until he eventually began loosening each one. He started unlooping your bodice, breathing out considerably when each loop began exposing your back inch by inch.  

Taehyung’s sweet, hot breath fanned your skin, tensing each time as your every nerve went haywire feeling just how close he was. His slender fingers brushed against your bare skin here and there, making heat collect in your face.

You grew even hotter when your kiss with him suddenly crept back into your mind, unknowing of the reason why excitement and electricity shot throughout your body because of it. The way his soft, full lips met yours, mouthed at you tastefully repeated in your head, making you extremely nervous at how much a measly kiss from him was occupying your mind; it was just a kiss. 

Taehyung found himself tensing by the intimacy of the moment, remembering the way he so boldly kissed you. He found that he liked the plush of your lips, the way he had to bend down to your smaller height to lock lips; and it made him feel strange. 

How the hell was he taking interest in something other than his work? No, this isn’t interest, Taehyung thought, and would spend however long denying it. 

He’d finished the task throughout all his thinking, unrealizing of how proximal he was to you. He oddly hated that the moment was over, coming back down to Earth.

“There you go.” He cleared his voice and stepped away from you. 

You held your bodice up against your chest, realizing Taehyung had a full-access view of your back and you grew 10x hotter. You gulped at the thought before hastily turning around to thank him, quickly disappearing into the bathroom for a moment of reprieve. 

You shut the door and instantly breathed out a breath you didn’t remember holding, looking at your hot mess of a face in the mirror trying to cool down, reliving the last 10 minutes of what just happened. 

You took a deep breath. 

Maybe Taehyung is different after all. 

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[kiridarling]

𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓.

— 3.0k words

eijirou kirishima | hard dom + dubcon jic + f!reader + exhibitonism + face-fucking + dumbification + car sex + more! minors dni.

"Made me come all this way...it’d be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it."

"No, no, no, no, no—c'mon," you cry as your car engine spits and sputters to a stop in the road, coughing like an old man with asthma before it's dead for good. Jamming your heel on the gas pedal, you twist your key in the ignition, but there's no use. You're fucking stuck.

You sigh, before slamming your forehead against the steering wheel. It's hard enough to sting, and the blaring horn startles all unsuspecting birds in a five-mile radius, but you could care less. Stuck in the middle of the woods at one in the morning, AAA membership-less with nothing but the clothes on your back and the vehicle you came with. Short cuts are a fucking myth.

Mina's the only person you can think of calling—because frankly, she's the only one who'd know a mechanic who could help at this time of night if one exists. Which you doubt. Severely.

"[Y/N]?" Mina answers, semi-urgently. You wonder if you startled her out of a good sleep, but knowing the night owl, her evening is just beginning. "What's up?"

"I'm fucking stuck in the middle of nowhere," you groan, banging your head against the back of the seat though you know she can't see you. "Car's not working."

"Oh no," she coos, and her pity is useless. "Do you have AAA?"

"No. Do you have a mechanic?"

"A mechanic...at one am? I don—wait," she interrupts before you hear something akin to rustling sheets. "I might have a friend who could help! But don't get your hopes up girlie, he's a heavy sleeper."

You shrug, shaking your head. "At this point, I'm desperate."

"Alrighty!" Mina confirms, and now all you can do is fucking hope her friend pulls through. "I'll give him a quick buzz and then send his number over, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," you breathe, relaxing (somewhat) with your chin against the steering wheel. "Thanks, girl."

"Of course!" she cheers, and you wonder how someone could have so much energy at this time of night. "Good luck!"

"Thanks," you snort. "I might need it."

Riiiing! Riiiing!

Eijirou's had a long day.

A pipe busted at the auto shop today, resulting in an immediate flood—meaning they had to get everything that could possibly rust out as quickly as possible, aka everything in the goddamn shop.

So, yeah. He's had a long day, and when he's finally able to get under the covers and go the fuck to sleep, Mina calls him with this.

"Hey...Eijirou, buddy, best friend—"

"Mina, I love you, but what do you want?" Eijirou grunts into the phone, voice worn and ragged from limited sleep and his terribly long day. One am is never an appropriate time to call anybody, but he figures something has to be up—Mina's not the type to call in the middle of the night.

"Um, well. My homegirl’s kinda stuck in the woods with car troubles—"

"The woods."

It takes Mina a second but she hums in confirmation, and Eijirou can see her head nodding from where he lays. He sighs, rolling on his back to blink up at the ceiling. "Yep!"

"What is she doing in the woods at midnight?"

"I don't know!" Mina exclaims. Eijirou runs a hand over his face. "I just—please, Ei? She doesn't have AAA or anything and it's really, really late. All you have to do is hotwire her car or something, right? It's not like she totaled it or anything."

And dammit. Eijirou hates being a nice person.

"Just give me ten."

Mina practically gasps out a thank you, "You're a lifesaver Ei! Really! I—"

She's interrupted by the buzz of his phone—this time, from an unknown number. Eijirou raises an eyebrow, "That her?"

"Should be!" The pinkette says. Eijirou's feet finally touch the floor and it's painfully cold. His bed has never looked more appealing, and that's counting all those instances in high school. "Thanks again, Ei!"

"Yep," Eijirou says, popping the 'p,' before clearing his voice and switching the line. Customer Service at one am, here he comes.

"Red Riot Auto Repair and Services, how may I help you?"

All he receives is a grunt on the other end of the phone: "My car won't turn on."

Eijirou waits for you to give him a little more to work with, but it's clear that's all you have to say when you ask hello to ensure he's still on the other end of the line. Runs his hands through his hair, he silently prays he won't have to leave the house to get your car to work.

"Did you try jiggling the key?"

"Yes, I'm not stupid," you huff, and Eijirou's eyebrows fold in exasperation. He insists you do it again though, and hears the weak splutter of your engine through the phone with a heavy heart. "'S fucking useless."

"Did you try tapping the battery terminals?"

"The battery whatsitals?" You say, too loud and smart-mouthed for the very thin amount of patience Eijirou harbors. He reaches for his hair tie, satisfied enough with the messy bun he makes on the first try.

"Just send me your location," Eijirou sighs, moving for a jacket before snatching the keys to the shed. He'd rather just get this over with than beat around the bush.

Luckily, you're not far. 

"You drive that thing?" is your first comment, and Eijirou can't even appreciate your beauty before your first words shatter your image completely, and he's slamming the door to his truck with rolling eyes, rusted toolbox heavy in his hand. "It looks like Mater from Lightning McQueen."

Eijirou just stares at you for a second, just to see if you're really serious, and resists the urge to scoff when it seems like you are.

"It's a truck," is all he says, before marching around you and to the task at hand—your car. "Pop the hood."

You huff, but you listen, and Eijirou wastes no time in getting to work. You watch with your elbows balanced on the rim, curious but quiet, and that allows him to get in the zone enough to realize there are countless problems with your car.

"When was the last time you took this thing into the shop?" He probes. You click your tongue, eyes tracing the outlines of the trees as you search for an answer. That's never a good sign.

"Um...never?"

"And how long have you had it?"

"A few years," you nod, and Eijirou drops his head.

"It's a miracle you made it this far in the first place," he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. What the hell is he going to do now? There's no way your car is moving anywhere tonight. You frown, jamming your hands on your hips.

"Well? Are you going to fix it or what?"

"I can fix it," Eijirou says with a shrug, closing your hood. "But not tonight."

"What do you mean not tonight?" You badger, breathing down his neck as he hikes back to his truck to set the toolbox down. There's no reason to carry it if he's not going to need it.

"I mean, your car's going to need a solid six months before it can run again, Sweetheart."

When Eijirou turns, you're much too in his face for his liking. He can practically feel your breath against his chest, and it has him rolling his eyes, leaning against his truck with arms crossed.

"Yeah, okay, but I need it to run tonight," you explain, gesticulating so wildly Eijirou fears his own chest may fall in the cross-fire. "Like, I need to get home tonight."

"I can't—" the redhead sighs, running his hand over his face. You're terribly difficult, and if Mina had given him a proper warning he probably wouldn't be here in the fucking first place. "Listen. My shop is out of commission for the next few days 'cause of a flood. I can work on your car or whatever, but it'll take a sec, so the most I can do is drop you at a hotel down the road or somethin'. Sound like a plan?"

"No," you growl, claws and all, and Eijirou wishes for nothing but death. "That doesn't sound like a plan! I don't know you, what makes you think I'll get in a car with you?"

Oh. My. God.

"Then you can spend the night in your car and have Mina come get you in the morning," he huffs, stomping over to the driver's side of his truck. "So it's either you're gettin' in, or I'm leaving ya."

With that, he slams the car door shut, shoves his key in the ignition, and counts to fucking ten, and on nine and a half you're flinging open the passenger door and bouncing in the seat, arms crossed over your chest in indignance. You don't even look him in the eye.

"Seatbelt," he warns. You tut.

"I don't need a fucki—"

"Put on the goddamn seatbelt."

You don't say anything, but he's satisfied by the click that follows. Eijirou shifts into drive and you two take off.

"The seat's so uncomfortable."

Not even twenty feet.

"Suck it up," is all the pity Eijirou has to offer. He's preoccupied with trying to get from this side road to a main road with, you know, actual civilization. The road is unsteady—unsteady enough that a bump sends the both of you flying towards the roof of his car, and naturally, you have something to say about it.

"Y'know, for a mechanic, you're not a very good driver," you say, and it has Eijirou's fists tightening around his steering wheel. His patience wears down until it has the height of a penny, and Eijirou worries for when it shatters because he has no clue what he'll do if it does.

"And it smells a little funky," you continue anyway, eyes wandering around the cabin aimlessly."Kinda like cheese. No offense."

Eijirou pulls over at that, teeth grinding. Is he really going to snap over cheese comment?

“Is this a condom?”

Yes. Yes, the fuck he is.

"Get out."

"Um—excuse me?" You blink, eyebrows raising in offense. "You're kicking me out. Because I found a fucking rubber?”

Eijirou glares your way and he's sure you can feel him radiating fury, and that's enough to convince you to hop out of the car without another word. He follows, slamming the door behind him.

"Okay? Now what?" You growl, and Eijirou loves it—the false display of confidence. Because he knows it won't take much to break you once he gets you under his thumb, and you'll look so pretty once he does. Cocking his head to his side, he tells you to come here without having to open his mouth. You follow.

"Now, on your knees."

You splutter at his request, rolling your eyes as if he wasn't being serious. Though you shut up once you hear the clink of his belt, lips widening in revelation, and Eijirou thinks you'd look much prettier with your mouth full.

"You made me come all this way—it'd be a pity if I didn't get somethin' out of it," Eijirou says, and the way you shiver implies that you like this more than you let on. He coos when you say nothing, "And for the first time today she's got nothin' to say. See? You're improving already."

He gives you a second to move. When you don't, he lifts an eyebrow. "Knees, Princess."

You do and Eijirou groans at the view, palming his hardening cock at the sight of your bambi eyes blinking up at him—and it's a pretty one, at that. Leaning against the door of his truck, he grunts, "Take it out."

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his boxers and Eijirou shivers upon contact with the cool air, but the warmth of your palm makes up for it. You spit on his cock with a curled lip and it's nothing short of crude, before you're swirling your tongue around the head and taking him as far as you can possibly go.

"Uh-uh," Eijirou tuts, grabbing you by the hair to pull your mouth off his cock. "We got at my pace, Sweetheart."

"Why?" You pout with a curled lip. Eijirou scowls.

"Because," he says, before stuffing half of his cock down your throat, "I'm gonna put that big fuckin' mouth to use at my pace."

With that, Eijirou thrusts into your mouth, using the grip he has around your hair as leverage. Your throat is impossibly warm and the way you choke has him keening, and that's enough for his hips to start picking up mindlessly.

"Shit—what a dirty fuckin' girl," he says, smirking when you moan around his cock. "You like this? You like sucking off a guy you just met?"

Your eyes flutter at that, nails digging into his thighs, and it nearly has him cooing. When you swallow around him Eijirou's hips stutter and he grunts, "In public, no less. Anyone could drive by and see you taking my dick down your throat...but you'd like that, wouldn't you? You want the world to know how much of a slut you are."

Your hand falls between your thighs and Eijirou grins like the devil as he watches you touch yourself on the dirty road, desperate just because knows how to push the right buttons. That's enough to have him caving, demanding you rise to your feet and get in the backseat of his car.

"Hands and knees," Eijirou urges, his body towering over yours from behind. It's not long before he's pinning your wrists to the windshield with one hand and using the other to land a harsh slap on your ass; harsh enough to make you jolt forwards from the force.

"Such a pretty ass," he coos before slapping it again, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip to muffle the sound. "And it's all for me, ain't it, Princess?"

You nod, but Eijirou spanks you again—he's looking for an answer.

"Y-Yeah, yes, all yours just—" your hips wiggle in search of his cock. Eijirou chuckles, leveling his lips with your ear.

"Want me to fill you up, Princess?"

You gasp out a yes, nodding vehemently. The redhead finds he likes you like this much better, chest rumbling with arousal. "Yeah? How bad?"

"B-Bad, please, I need t—fuck!"

Eijirou stuffs you full with one thrust, and even he needs a moment, freehand searching to hold onto your hip while his grip tightens around your wrists. You quiver under him, and he swears he can feel your gut contract around his cock, eyelids fluttering when you grind against him.

"Holy shit," Eijirou finds himself wheezing, not expecting you to be so tight. You drop your head against the cool windshield, whimpering like the pretty little thing you are, shuddering as he pulls out before ramming himself in again until he's balls deep. You scream, back arching from the angle.

And fuck. It's impossible for him to stop after that.

"Fuckin' look at you," Eijirou chuckles, body practically caging you against the seat, "Drooling all over my window like a slut. Fuck, you really know how to get a guy goin' huh?"

“Pull—pull my hair,” you request, words from his pistoning hips. Eijirou tuts and rips your hands off the window in favor of pushing your head into the seat, not making a move to yank on your hair once.

“I don’t think you’re in the right place to be making demands, Princess," he growls before his hot palm cracks against your ass, hissing from the way you tighten around him when he does.

You whine at that, pushing into him the best you can. It only spurs his hips on faster, and Eijirou lets go of your hands in favor of grabbing your face instead, groaning at the sight of the tears shining silver from the moonlight. He likes the fact that you can't do much but gasp and rock against him, your hands falling to clit to finally push yourself off the edge.

He looks at you and all he sees is his dumb little thing, who can't do anything, let alone get her car to work, and that's when Eijirou realizes he doesn't want this to be as much of a one-time thing as he initially thought.

"Gonna...gonna cum," you slur, cheek mashed flat against his window. Eijirou fucks you into the door of his truck, pace quick and bruising, as his mind thinks of all the fun you two could have together—all the fun he wants to have with you.

"Cum, Sweetheart. Make a mess of my cock and my leather seats, yeah? Show me how good I make you feel."

You tighten around his cock, tight, and that's enough to send him spiraling into an orgasm of his own, hips stuttering to a stop as he fills you up. Though his hips never stop, not until you're coming around his cock with a broken moan, curled toes digging into his car floor. He watches you catch your breath, splayed across the seat, with a sudden realization that he feels much lighter, but doubts it was the sex that did the trick.

"You fucked your anger out now?" You wheeze, breaking the silence, and Eijirou snorts.

"I—yes," he says before his eyes trail to the scratch marks around your hips and thighs. "Are you...okay?"

"Never been better," you toss your arms in the air like you're on a rollercoaster but lack the energy to scream. It's cute and it had the redhead re-evaluating everything, wondering how the day could start so shitty and yet, end so well. "Are you okay?"

His eyebrows furrow, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," you shrug, and Eijirou finds it hard to stay focused when you look like that. "You asked me, so. Everyone needs a post-sex check-in, ya know?"

Fuck.

Fuck, yeah he's definitely keeping you.

[fangedmagick]

"Most would especially those unwilling or unaware like you had been. Many humans hate us for doing that to them, or worse.. they want more and twist it as some sort of love when it isn't." He answered, refusing to accept what his kind sometimes did, making it seem like love but it was manipulation of feelings like praising a slave, it wasn't loving.

He also felt off. Best friend? Selfless? He wanted to pretend that all the blood was out of Devrim's system. But he felt worried that it still lingered if by a hint. He tried to back up some from the talon, not liking the possessiveness. No, he was worried the blood was lingering. He so wished he could remove it but that was risky given weeks went by and maybe if it was a day he could've drank it out but it was all in Devrim's blood stream until it filtered out.

There was no heartbeat, no warmth, he was by all accounts dead. Not even a sign of breath. He had no reason to act human when Devrim knew he wasn't. "You didn't want it, it was an accident remember? I was bleeding, you tried to lick and clean my injury and took my blood.. you didn't want this."

So many greedy assholes would've killed to blood-bond a dragon, to use him against their enemies, to make Dev a pet. Aurelius would've been disgusted at how most would've treated Dev and the dragon would've most often had to oblige thinking it was praise or love. "It didn't work. I am sorry, there is unfortunately some things that can't fight off compulsion. I... I wish I could say more than how sorry I am for giving you possible false hope and put you in an awful situation."

He felt even more useless, like he made Devrim suffer even more. And he backed away almost to quickly for most to see, staying further from Devrim who he was sure could take what he wanted. If his heart could beat, it'd have pumped with fear. "No. I can't do this again to you. I refuse to control you, to let you think I'm your master. It didn't work and if we keep doing this.. you may be forever tied to me, and I wouldn't wish that on you or anyone, I want you as a friend, not someone who is a ghoul thinking what we have is love or something false, I want our friendship as genuine, a bond you can say no to."

"Please listen, if you take my blood over and over again, it feels good.. but I... it will be like the whistle and Order but worse, if I tell you to do something you would do it, if I tell you to kill your lover, you would do it without hesitation. That will be your fate, to eventually be controlled by me, not your own free will and I refuse to do that to you. The answer is no." He knew Devrim could tear him apart to get his blood, and that scared him. He could run, could flee but eventually the sun will rise and he'd be forced to sleep and he didn't know if Devrim would take his blood when he was in sleep and helpless... surely Devrim couldn't do that..?

Aurelius had hoped that once the blood wore off he'd be met with hate or at most never see Devrim again, not see his friend greet him like they were friends after what he did, accidental or not.

"Because those that come down from our blood sometimes do." He was fearing that Devrim was a dragon and the blood lingered longer or had a stronger affect.

"I am relieved it is gone, I am so sorry that this had happened. I never meant it and should've warned you but I also didn't think a dragon would react to my blood."

He wondered what the something was. He wanted to know more but something inside of him told him not to push and pry and let Dev do it on his own. "I am glad this is you and you don't hate me."

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal /Betrothal AU: Take Two

So here is the second part of the betrothal AU that I decided to name "A Failed Betrothal. This takes place before Part 1 which in hindsight should have been done first. Part 2 got too long so I cut it and started Part 3. I have no idea and nothing planned on how long this will go. Hope you enjoy ❤.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)

PART 2

Marinette also wasn't having a good day or a good week.

Lila Rossi had been up to her usual tricks. You know, spewing lies from her mouth. How she met these awesome celebrities during this trip and they worship the ground she walks on for her amazing and humbling help. There were stories of these charities, trips and galas that she had been to or was invited to. She has problems with her wrists and can't do simple stuff like carry her own bag or do her homework. She has tinnitus in her ears so she needs to sit in the front where the only seat available would be next to Adrien.

And for the finale.

The desert after feeding the class a banquet of lies.

"Mari...nette..has been bullying me, she...told..me not to tell anyone..*sobs*..that she would kill me if I did.."

Lila dramatically gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Turning on the waterworks for a more dramatic effect. They all ate it up, jumping on the ‘let’s hate Marinette, a bad person’ train.

"She is going to kill me now and I am so scared." That snake managed to snuck an evil smirk past her glaring, oblivious classmates.

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Marinette, at this point of her life, had frankly given up caring for them due to the class's lack of brain cells and Agreste's spineless 'High Road' Approach.

For Kwami's sake, she went through a brutal torture that was training in some jungle temple in Asia before Sabine Cheng, former mercenary/assassin, kidnapped her (Little Marinette took a risk. She ran away and followed her around until Sabine begrudgingly accepted that she was now the 6- year-old girl's mother because screw it, Tom said he wanted children.) to raise/train as her own while she settled down with a baker whose mother may or may not have ties with the Mafia and other illegal activities.

(Mother-daughter bonding days became much more fun once she had Guardianship of the Miraculous. Sabine was ,at first, furious at Master Fu for dumping everything on the girl and losing his memories before swearing to help protect the jewels. Adopted or not, Marinette is her daughter and no one should let a child, even one with training, fight a war. A good thing to come out of her reveal was that her mother was a great tiger to have as back-up. But now, her training regime had become harder and challenging.)

The point was that Lila Rossi would be dead and body missing since that first time she threatened Marinette in the bathroom. The Italian was in perfect health despite what she claims otherwise, because Marinette didn’t want to be the person she was raised to be and also she didn’t want to disappoint Tikki, she was fond of the little red kwami. But sometimes, she just wanted to give into the urge to kill.

She had met and dealt with unsavory characters of all types and she can safely say that Lila Rossi was a manipulator that thrives on attention and like a parasite, latches herself onto the fame of others. None of the unsavory people she had met get under her skin like Rossi had.

Marinette had enough self-preservation to drop the nice girl act and sometimes let the dragon underneath to surface. She stopped doing last-minute favors and giving away free stuff which Lila uses to her full advantage to further destroy her relationships with her ‘friends’. It was better than sticking her neck out for classmates that were no longer worth her time. Attempts to expose Lila had backfired due to the denial they are in, believing the liar to be a sweet, nice girl living the high life.

Adrien with his rose-tinted glasses firmly stuck to his eyes was not happy at all with her decision. That may also have to do where she suggested he shove his advice after he tried to reason her to take the high road for defending herself for the umpteenth time. She felt like the biggest idiot to ever have a crush on him. Every time, Rossi blames Marinette for a problem, he would shoot disappointed looks in her direction.

Alya being Lila's biggest guard dog tore into Marinette for her newfound 'bad' behaviour. The rest of Lila's supporters backed her up with "How could you do that to Lila","I can't believe you changed." Nearly all her so-call friends had turned their backs and lost all common sense to the Italian's manipulations.

(Alya was supposed to be her best friend, aren’t you supposed to listen to your ‘bestie’ over a complete stranger)

The designer took it all with a bored expression on her face, used to the lecturing which was a waste of time because her behavior isn't going to change, no matter what, Lie-la will keep up the act of being the bully's (*cough*Marinette*cough*) victim.

Her heart that cracks the tiniest bit at the accusations. A small part of her, she admits, is hurt that they think so low of her.Was she really that worthless to them? All those times and efforts helping them out on last-minute favors and giving them free treats. Were they not enough to earn their friendship? Their trust or at the very least, a benefit of doubt?

The only ones who didn’t join the berating to 'correct' the raven-haired girl’s attitude were Chloe (who had proven herself to have changed after the miracle queen incident and Lila stole the spotlight and Sabrina. There were a lot of apologizes, gifts and ‘making up to do’) Alix (she came to her senses when the supposed bullying started) and Nathaniel (Lila blatantly claimed to be the artist for the Ladybug comic to his face).

“Girl, Marinette, are you even listening to me?”Alya demanded.

“Maybe. Did you say anything that doesn’t have to do with Lila or how I did her wrong or how I am no longer the person you knew?”

Marinette knew that being sarcastic would backfire but nothing she does or says will change what they think of her. One word from Lila and they will turn back on her. As much as she hates to admit it, Lila’s threat has fallen through and she was alone. Mostly.

She still had Chloe, Nathaniel, Alix, Luka and Kagami as friends. The trust-worthy and loyal kind.

“Girl,” Alya says in a disappointed tone, shaking her head,“when I look at you, I don’t see that girl who stood up to Chloe the bully-”, Chloe snorted, she had changed but they were too blind and prejudiced against her to notice her efforts, “-Picking on Lila, threatening and harassing her. This isn’t you and you know it. Just get over your jealousy on Lila being close to Adrien and apologize to her.”

If Alya had talked to her in the past 12 months other than demanding things that took away her time or anything relating to Lila, she would know that her infatuation had turned into annoyance.

Marinette sighed, too tired of this routine, tired of trying to knock heads so the brain cells can work again. Apologizing would mean that Lila had won. She was petty and stubborn enough to allow that to happen. Lila said she will take the class and Adrien. Fine, she can have them but Marinette Dupain-Cheng will not admit defeat. Bigger men had fallen to the ravenette for lesser offences. A year has passed since the expulsion and the class still hasn't regained common senses, so they can deal with the consequences after the inevitable downfall of Lila and Marinette will be there to see them lay in the grave they dug.

Steeling herself for the pain that will come with the execution of her plan,

“What if I don’t. I won’t apologize to her because I have not done anything to her or even interacted with her. If I apologize, it would be insincere and a lie. And I hate liars.” The former assassin said evenly.

“Lila is not a liar. I don’t know why you are like this.” Alya said, frustrated.

Marinette knew there would be a small chance of an akuma with Gabriel Agreste having an important meeting to attend on this day that would last for the next hour. This was the small window of opportunity to start the plan and also further confirm the identity of Hawkmoth. Killing two birds with one stone.

“Alya, this has always been me, you just never took the time to get to really know the real me.”, she replied, the last part with an icy tone.

“Well-... I- ..You-, fine, then if you can’t say those simple three words, we can’t be friends. I clearly don’t know what a selfish bitch you are. God, I can’t believe I wanted to be best friends with you. You are now replaced by Lila because unlike you, she is genuinely nice and selfless.” Alya declared. The rest of Lila’s supporters murmured in agreement.

Phase 1, complete. Lure the Lie-la into a false sense of security by making her think she won.

Marinette tried not to show how hurt she was, to be replaced by the scheming bitch. But at the same time she felt relieved, she no longer had to walk on eggshells in fear of losing the friendships of people she used to care about. It felt final as she maintained her stoic expression, hoping they didn't notice the glassy sheen her eyes had.

“Then, it is official. We are no longer friends.”

They haven’t been friends for a long time.

Mme. Bustier finally walked into the classroom to start the afternoon classes, signalling the end of the conversation. After class, Marinette resolves to inform them that she was resigning as class president which she was sure the class will be glad for. She was right.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ladybug was, as the Americans say, pissed at Hawkmoth which was nothing new. He had sent out another akuma just as Marinette was back home and trying to relax after the stressful day. The akuma was not any of her ex-friends which she wasn’t sure to be thankful for or not.

Louise Martin was a boy about Luka’s age and mad at his friends who had blamed their fifth loss-in-a-row on him despite the fact that it was his skills that were getting them any progress. They were playing one of those recently released 5V5 skills and strategy battle games. (League of Legends or Mobile Legends. Take your pick, I am going with the latter)

He was akumatized into Hayakuma as proof of Hawkmoth’s lack of creativity. Hayakuma was a bleached out version of Louise’s chosen hero avatar, Hayabusa whose outfit was basically what the media portrays ninjas to look like with some samurai aspects.

Unfortunately, he also had the hero’s ultimate special powers which were making four shadow copies of himself and being able to switch positions with them. Thanks to Rattlesnake’s Second Chance, they know that he can only make a switch once every two minute. Hayakuma also wields a sword, showing off his skills.

Just lovely.

Hydra and Ladybug were the only ones able to counter his attacks with Hydra’s sword and Ladybug’s summoned one. (Let’s go with that headcanon(?)/trope that she can summon weapons for plot convenience and the others can too but just don’t have enough practise yet.)

The others managed to dodge and shield themselves from Hayakuma’s really sharp sword.

The shadows themselves were annoying as they would distract or hinder the miraculous users by grabbing them by their shadows and making them unable to move. Until Bunnix had the brilliant idea of shadow boxing which gave the heroes gain more even ground.

With how strong and handful the akuma was, it was code ‘all hands on deck’. Ladybug, Stinger, Rattlesnake, Hydra, Bunnix, Trickster. Well, nearly every hand. Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ was busy with the bakery. Chat Noir was nowhere to be seen or very late which had been the norm for the last year ever since Ladybug wanted to form a new miraculous team consisting of permanent heroes.

(He didn’t show up for the first few months because the first permanent member was Ladybug’s mother who did not like his attitude towards her daughter. He ran away with his tail between his legs once he found out how she was related to Ladybug. His face when he realized it, was something Marinette will cherish forever)

At least when Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ was around, he would not dare act out of line. When she is gone however, he is back to his old ways.

After saving one of Louise’s teammates from Hayakuma’s sword, they gathered the rest of the team and hid them someplace safe. Using Trickster’s illusions to trick all the shadows and the original to one place, the heroes were going to surround and ambush them and get the akumatized item. The plan would have been a success if it weren’t for Chat Noir hugging Ladybug from behind, making her miss her cue.

“Hey~ Bugaboo~ Did you miss me~? Your Chaton~?”

Thwack! Smack!

Chat Noir was on the rooftop, groaning pitifully in pain. Especially his crotch area. Ladybug glared at him and looked to the ambush point to see the illusions had disappeared and everyone else gone from their hiding place.

She sighed and turned on the comms, (Thank you, kwamis)

“Sting, did you venomed the akuma?”

“No, he escaped before I could. What happened, LB?”

“A certain cat got me delayed. What’s the status update?”

“Hydra is holding him off and Bunnix found that an umbrella is a good substitute for a sword. The rest of us are keeping track of the shadows. They split up but none of them are getting near where we hid the targets.”

“Where are you? I will meet you later with back-up.”

“Near Notre Dame and tell Mama Tigress I said hi.”

“Tell her yourself.”

She looked down at Chat No-, no he is not worthy of being a hero anymore with the amount of times he had derailed and hijacked the plans to defeat the akumas just so he can ‘earn’ Ladybug’s heart.

She looked down at Adrien Agreste, who was sitting and sulking like a child that was unfairly punished. (Once she got over her crush and started looking at the right things that she managed to piece together her ‘partner’s’ identity by accident. Tikki’s confirmation sealed the deal.)

“Chat Noir, this partnership of ours,” she said, gesturing to the two of them, “ is going to change tonight. Meet me at the ‘spot’ at 11 sharp. Now, go home.”

He left with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes at her words. She felt a little bad about the subtle manipulation but with the way things were now, it can’t go on. He was hindering more than helping and the people of Paris that weren’t shipping ‘Ladynoir’ saw that.

As she jumped towards Notre Dame, she called the bakery with her yoyo.

“Mama, are you free now? I need a little help with the akuma and can you bring the horse miraculous.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chat Noir waited excitedly at what they both dubbed at their ‘spot’, in the good old days when it was just the two of them. Maybe Ladybug was finally open to the idea of dating. Or maybe she must have seen what a great hero he is and was going to get rid of the team. Or realized that having her mother on her team was a bad idea. Parents are the worst and they both can be two rebellious teenagers in love. Like Romeo and Juliet. So romantic~.

He was so deep in his daydream that he didn’t hear his lady land.

“Chat Noir.” Startled, he nearly fell off the roof. No, don’t make a fool of yourself in front of Ladybug.

“Yes, Bugaboo.” Hoping she didn’t know that he was very distracted. His attention will always be hers 100%.

“Don’t call me Bugaboo. Tikki wants to talk to Plagg about Kwami stuff. So you go over and hide behind that chimney. Then, we can talk about why I told you to be here.” Adrien frowned and then smiled. His lady must be very embarrassed about her mistake that must be why she is taking her time. He tried listening to what they were saying but the kwamis were talking in their special Guardian Language. Was it him or did Tikki’s voice sound more like his lady’s voice?

Whizz!

Adrien was tied up with Ladybug’s yoyo. “M’Lady? Bugaboo!? LADYBUG! WHAT IS GOING ON?!! PLAGG-”

Ladybug cut in, “Adrien Agreste, you have been slack in your hero duty and choosing your own feelings over supporting your partner, me, the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous and current Grand Guardian, in the efforts to defeat the enemy of Paris, Hawkmoth. Due to those reasons, you are no longer worthy to be the Holder of the Black Cat Miraculous” in one swift motion, she took the ring off his finger, “As such you are hereby revoked of Plagg’s Ring.”

“NO, YOU CAN’T. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! I LOVE YOU AND I KNOW YOU LOVE ME BACK. WE ARE SOULMATES, WE ARE MEANT TO BE-”

Adrien went slack at Lady Tigress’s pinch on his pressure point.

“I don’t what you ever saw in the boy.”

“I don’t know either. I think I dodged a bullet here. Can you carry him back to his home? I think I have dealt with enough of him tonight.” Ladybug muttered, as she erased Adrien’s memories of being Chat Noir.

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Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe.

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(Part 3)

[bored-storyteller]

uh I love your storys about Uta ^^. You write him so good and in character . Could you maybe write a story about him were him and the reader ( human) meeting at an auction like reader was captured and meets Uta there . But maybe they escape the auction house and meet Uta sometime after this again. I`m sorry I love Uta angst and fluff .

Dear anon. I'll tell you, your request inspired me a lot (that's why I did it right away), but I must confess that I'm not really satisfied with the result and I'm sorry (I rewrote it three times). I have to thank my poor summary skills for this defeat, I don't think I managed to really give you what you asked me. Feel free to send me clarifications or a further request for me to remedy!

43- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!reader

“The bird of ill omen and the broken toy”

You are in front of his eyes, huddled in a corner of the cold and dark container. On your knees, tied up, you are the condemned to death ready to face the gallows, or rather you are a delicious dish wrapped in its most beautiful dress to entice the spectators.

"Oh, look here ... what a delightful creature."

You are not the main article, you are not the rare object, yet your smell has brought him there. Uta is not a glutton, but he couldn't resist the temptation to peek at whoever was carrying such an inviting fragrance.

"This is really a shame ..." his voice is sweet, calm, yet ironic and cruel. Yes, it's a shame that he has to give you to some miserly ghoul.

Uta doesn’t usually prefer a certain type of food, he is not delicate or picky, nor does he have problems eating even his similar ones. But he has to admit that while those bright eyes of yours, shining with tears and desperation, look at him, he really would like to be able to eat them. Yes, it is rare for someone to stimulate his appetite in this way, customers really have to thank him for his self-control.

You are so small in his shadow, and even if you tremble, even if you smell of fear, he sees no hope in your eyes.

You know you have no escape. As little as you may be when it comes to ghouls, you know you can't save yourself. You heard them talk.

You would rather die now than continue that torture.

He feels it, and oh, how tempted he is to grant your wish.

He leans over you, he wants to see you well, he wants to hear you. The demonic beak of his mask brushes against you, rubs against your temple like the muzzle of a mother cuddling his cub, or the muzzle of a lion that is playing with his prey.

Maybe, if he had met you in another situation ... maybe ...

No. He doesn't necessarily have to devour you. Nothing is ever said with Uta, even he knows it, he knows himself. Who knows what would have happened if you had met somewhere else. Who knows who you were, elsewhere.

In conclusion, you were both unlucky: you cannot survive, and he cannot be the one to eat you. You have something in common.

"Uta!"

Roma's voice makes its way, muffled by the metal container in which you are locked up - like a ready meal -

"I'm coming!" It's time for him to go on stage, for you it's time for the final bow.

He doesn't tell you anything anymore, he doesn't need to. He will say goodbye to you that same evening, but he feels a little happy that you are among the last items to be exhibited.

He still gives you a look, you, little shaking puppet, sweet broken toy. Who can fix you anymore?

After that, he leaves you behind, abandoned in the cold darkness of your last hours in solitude, as he plunges into the cold light of demons, ready to entertain his fellow men with his affable ways. What a crazy world you are both in.

. . .

Locked in your cold prison, if you could you would cover your ears in a desperate attempt to get away from the announcements and screams, but it's impossible for you. So you wait, trembling in your shell of panic, not knowing what to do. If only you had at least a vain hope, a false chance. If only you could save yourself, for some reason, any reason then yeah, oh, how dear life would be to you thereafter. But you can't even think now.

And you don't even realize that the noises change. The cries of the victims become the cries of the executioners, and the applause becomes breathless footsteps in search of a safe place. But you don't know it, or at least not until they get closer, more distressed. They are probably running away. But who can save you? Who knows you are there? Who can remember you?

And in fact, no one stops, no one frees you, and the footsteps and the screams brush against you and pass you, without bothering to kill or save you. At least you think so.

But as soon as the silence comes, the creaking of the doors opening makes you lift your face, towards the light.

He is there again, and you wonder if that Bird of ill Omen is not your hallucination. With that bizarre suit, that hateful mask, and those ancient letters around his neck that seem ready to strangle him.

He doesn't talk to you. He is simply looking at you, you feel him looking at you, behind that deadly beak. In the silence that surrounds you, whether it is a real silence or created by mutual presence, he suddenly occupies your every thought in those few seconds of eternity. Maybe it's the touch of death that wanders your mind, but suddenly unusual questions arise in you. Who knows who he is, what he does. What does he like and what not ... does he live in the alleys of the city, or maybe, instead, without that mask he pretends to be someone?

He came to take you and devour you. But it almost seems like a strange barrier is keeping him away from you.

And while you are suspended in this limbo of cold resignation, as he came he disappears, and with his disappearance he takes away from you that sad calm that had enveloped you.

The panic returns as someone approaches.

Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Clean eyes, a clean face, no mask is looking at you agitated. You don't know how to answer, you don't even know if what you are seeing is true.

“I'm a human, I'm a CCG investigator. Don't worry, it's okay, we'll get you out of here. "

Without your being fully aware of it, you find yourself in warm, safe arms that take you away from hell behind you. You didn't even realize you were crying.

. . .

He recognized your smell right away.

Even if it's been some time since his meeting with you, it's hard to forget something that has affected him so much, especially if it is something that has particularly touched his sensitivity over that of others.

And it's not that Uta is then easily surprised, he is ready to expect anything from that crazy world, yet you manage to upset him without even knowing that he is there.

You are smiling. And that's not the fact, but at the same time it is. You are smiling sweetly, sincerely. Your eyes are clear and bright, and you are listening to someone talking to you about their petty problems without batting an eye.

That night, that night he met you, he came back to eat you. He was not a ghoul who got lost in gluttony, but given the situation he had a particular interest in the statement "carpe diem".

He hadn't, in the end. In the end he just looked at you. It would have been easy to swallow you, but he had left you there. He had told himself that he hadn't made it in time, but who knows what was really going through his head at that moment.

It doesn't matter anymore, however. What's a broken toy like you doing so quietly exposed? How can you smile at people like that, when surely the world around you has crumbled into millions of little bits?

You make him angry, you know? Humans like you, whom the world keeps getting back on their feet despite everything, provoke anger in him.

And you are there, a few steps away from him, and you do not realize that the one who had the task of trampling your life is watching you.

And no matter how much anger he may feel inside of him, he can't help but look at you, as you speak comfortable words to someone, while you give your attention as if you have no problem.

"Uta?" Renji's voice, intent on looking at him from behind the coffee shop counter, makes him look away from you.

"Nh? Ah… ”His gaze falls on his now coffee-stained lap. The stain is almost invisible on the black sweater, but it is damp and warm.

"Don't laugh ... can you give me a towel please?"

"I'm not laughing." Yet Uta could swear that in the serious voice of his trusted friend a note of amusement is audible even to those who do not know him.

Carefully he puts the cup back on the saucer, making sure not to do any further damage.

This then. When was he ever so distracted for a human?

But when he instinctively looks for you, after all that nice little theater, you're not there anymore. The table you occupied is empty.

Only one object remained abandoned on the shiny surface. A book lies alone, the bookmark sticking out in the middle.

It is placed on the side where you sat. Did you leave in such a hurry that you left it there?

It is not that he has a real reason to do it, yet, while he is about to leave :Re, with all the tranquility that characterizes him, he picks up that literary volume in his hands, hiding it inside his jacket. Even that printed paper is imbued with your smell by now.

. . .

You talk to books, apparently. The edges of the pages are filled with thoughts written in pencil. They are all yours, it almost seems like you use the books as your diary, but there is nothing so personal about you. They are just… points of view. The world told by you, depending on the inspiration that the phrases in the book give you.

"It must be difficult to live in a world where you can talk to your food about your favorite book."

When Uta's eyes had settled on that particular phrase, he had closed. For someone else it might have been a stupid phrase, probably, but for him it was like a punch in the stomach.

He doesn't know if you wrote it before or after the accident, but in any case that simple sentence arouses a mixture of emotions that he doesn't really know where to place. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't understand what it meant to be a ghoul in that world, but on the other hand, the utopia in which Renji seems so hoping could be made up of people like you. If only he believed it, Uta could like that world, as long as there was a place in that world for someone like him.

“Excuse me, did you happen to find a book yesterday? I'm afraid I left it here by mistake. " Your cordial voice betrays a note of alarmism as you speak to the young girl. Your hands grip the counter as if it were a rock of salvation, but your feet are ready to run elsewhere, to look somewhere else in case it isn't there.

"Oh ... no, I'm sorry, I haven't seen any books." Touka's voice is sorry, an apologetic tone hovers between her words.

"Oh, damn ... sorry, thanks anyway!" Your words are so hasty, so quick that he doesn't have time to interrupt them.

The bell rings and the door closes with a click.

"You have it, don't you?" Renji never misses anything - or almost -.

"Yeah, it’s better that I give it back to them before they run all over Tokyo on foot."

"How long have you been so thoughtful?"

Uta allows himself to take a last look at the silver-haired ghoul from over his sunglasses, as he prepares to leave the cafe: "I'm always thoughtful."

. . .

The snow has just started to fall. It is light and silent, the parks of the metropolis have not yet begun to turn white.

You would gladly stay and watch the show from the heat of your home, if it weren't for that damn book you forgot somewhere. Oh, you love your books, but they're so good at hiding. You were convinced you left it in the coffee shop!

"Excuse me…"

A cordial voice caresses your eardrums. It's so warm and peaceful, yet a chill shiver stops the blood in your veins.

Turning around, you meet a man dressed in black. He is strange, but it doesn't surprise you, there are a lot of strange people in such a big city, even people who wear sunglasses on a snowy day.

You had already seen him in the cafe, but you didn't dwell on him. Not because he doesn't get your attention, just… it was an instinct.

“I think you were looking for this. I found it yesterday by chance. "

Clear and tapered fingers hand you your much-desired book. On fair skin, intertwining dark patterns form inexplicable designs, at least for you, but you're sure they have a lot to say, don't they?

Slowly you reach out your hand, and hesitantly touch the cover, to resume what you were looking for.

The night of the accident did not disappear. You are scared. You are afraid of death, but even more of pain, of imprisonment. You are afraid of fear itself. However, you are also afraid of not living, of wasting, of losing.

You are in a limbo that does not let you escape, and you can not help but continue your life, savoring every second, waiting for the Bird of ill Omen to come and get you.

So you push back the mistrust again, and a grateful and kind smile goes to the one who helped you, without asking for explanations.

"Thank you very much." Your voice reaches his pierced ears with such unexpected sweetness.

"It was a pleasure." His smile, decorated with the piercing, is barely hinted at, but delicate - reassuring? -

And for endless moments you look at each other, in silence, without speaking and without thinking. And then, as if nothing had happened, the dances between prey and predator begin.

"Can I buy you a coffee?"

. . .

Your eyes look at him shiny, frightened. You are still in a cage, imprisoned by a body that will soon be ready to consume you.

Uta wonders if you really never anticipated this. All the times you've crossed paths, have you really ever been in doubt? Every time you looked at him, every time you smiled at him or laughed at his words, did you never guess the truth? No, maybe you've always known it from the start, broken toys never work too well.

The mask of that evening, like a macabre mockery - both for him and for you - is leaning on the work table, not far from you, looking at you placidly. It’s a coincidence that he pulled it out just in the morning.

Suddenly the images of that day come back between you two, like a dream. The incomprehensible to you tattoo on his neck has a creepy look overwhelmed by the shadows that the soft lights create on the ghoul.

Fear invades you, like a script. Yet, while the Bird of ill Omen looms over you, trapping you in the corner of the room with his arms, your terror is different from what he had already seen in you. Today it is almost more visible, less controlled, as you tremble beneath him.

Maybe it's the surprise of being caught in a trap by someone who – perhaps- you had slowly begun to love – despite everything-, or maybe, simply, inside you a little hope still survives.

Uta's head bends, and the tip of his nose brushes your neck, smelling the coveted perfume that had so attracted him.

If you're so scared, how did you smile all that time? How did you keep going? How did you keep loving that world?

Beside his mask, as a warning of future torment, your dear book lies silent, ready to say goodbye. You lent it to him last time, he asked you for it.

Your smell is as strong, sweet, delicious as ever - so why is his stomach closing up? -

His jaws open, and as delicate as cruel they enclose your fragile neck. In them, the accelerated beats of your heart, still alive, make him tremble.

One bite and you will be nothing but dead flesh, and he hesitates.

He had to kill you before it was too late, right? Uta should know himself well enough, he had to understand right away what was happening inside him.

A sigh, and then his lips pull away, his saliva stops wetting you. He is not hungry, he has already eaten.

He is still upon you, but now he is only looking at you, with his eyes of blood and darkness. You, like a frightened puppy, remain shaking in a corner for a few moments, lost in his pupils. And then, like a crazy lightning bolt, you run away, as you have always run away. You slip under his arms, and as fast as you can you reach the door of the shop.

Uta watches you go, swallows bitter air, and then bows his head, surrendered.

What will happen now? Will you shut up in fear? Will you tell anyone? Only time will tell.

He slowly gets up, his hands caressing each other's tattooed arms, in a distracted gesture of protection, as he approaches the table. His fingers touch it, and then squeeze it, while he looks at the book that is left alone again, without your eyes on it.

And then, suddenly, as if he had woken up from a dream, he notices something: your smell has not vanished.

Turning his view, he sees you. You are still there, or maybe you are back there.

Now it is you who are on the side of the light, and he is in the corner of the cage. The Bird of ill Omen has become the broken toy, left alone among his masks.

"What's up?" No matter the crack inside, Uta always looks so mature, peaceful, even after he has threatened to kill you.

You take a step towards him, but your outstretched arm continues to secure yourself to the door jamb. If you left he wouldn't follow you, you know that right?

"I ... I think I'm crazy, Uta ..." You too realize how much your behavior is against logic, how foolish it is to remain - to search - in your nightmare. But on the other hand, humans ... no, people, when they are desperate, lose the light of reason, and do wrong things. Things the world says are wrong. That world, which claims to be the only one, when it is nothing more than a facade, a corner of something much larger.

"Yes, I think so too." He really thinks so. You have to be crazy to still be there, at least as crazy as he is. "Why are you still here?"

You shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself more out of shyness than out of fear - yeah, you're no longer afraid, it's as if you've run out of batteries.

"I ... as long as I'm alive I can choose, right?" It came out of your lips so naturally that you didn't even realize it was you who uttered that sentence, yet it's a truth so deep, so intense that it has guided you from that damn night to this day.

"And what are you choosing?"

Your eyes cast a fleeting glance outside, at the glimmer of the city, and without hesitation you gently accompany the door to close, imprisoning you. Imprisoning both of you.

Maybe it's a prison, but this time it's really your choice. You are with that Bird of ill Omen, but you are not tied up, you are not thrown to the ground in a cold corner. You are with him, surrounded by works of art that stare at you impassively, but it was you who decided it.

"I choose not to ignore anymore ..." Your fingers intertwine with each other, you play with them as if you need to keep them busy as you approach him. He is waiting for you. "I want to understand."

"How can you understand?" He would like to tell you, but he doesn't say a word, because not even he can understand you. What kind of mask would suit you? Who knows, yet he has learned enough about you that he should be able to think of at least one. But no, you are always there, hoping for something, believing that after all, living is worthwhile.

So he stays there, even when you lean against him. Not a contact, but a fusion. Stomach against stomach, lungs against lungs, heart against heart. Your hands cling to his arms only to hold him closer, and as he looks at your closed eyes he knows you're listening to him. You're trying to feel his every breath, every twitch of him. You want to get inside him, and he lets you do it - isn't that what he wanted too?

The predator and the prey united in a single entity for an eternal instant.

It's all so against the moral and social rules, but what do you care now? You already know he could kill you. And in that world that goes round and round without stopping, a black writing in an ancient language that also goes around a greedy neck could be your starting point for putting the pieces back together. Maybe it's a disease, maybe it's madness, but deep down, why not? Why not go a little further? Better to die than to be afraid to live, right?

"How much confidence ..."

His voice further softened by his whisper makes your previously closed eyelids lift. His nocturnal eyes look at you slightly narrowed, a slight upward crease caresses his lips without even knowing it. It is difficult for Uta to do something without being aware of it.

He is very beautiful. Beautiful and awful.

"Can't I?"

The world out there, the crazy little world is gone.

"Well, why not ... you are my food, after all."

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 18

The Darkling x Reader

The Winter Fete was fast approaching. The Little Palace was being cleaned up and stitched up in preparation and the seamstress unit was overwhelmed with orders of silk keftas and lavish gowns.

Aleksander was away at front lines on behalf of the Lantosv King again and you were buried up to your neck in work that would otherwise go to him. You pondered for much too long why he always left and you stayed. He constantly left for the camps and front-lines, tending to Grisha in the outposts and dealing with war duties while you were stuck in the confines of this very Palace, signing your name away and reading boring documents. From what you gathered though it had been the same before you arrived, your intelligence prevailing even now.

'You called for me Deputy?' An older Squaller loomed at your door, her greying hairs curling at the sides of her face.

'I did indeed, please sit.' You pointed towards the small sofa in the corner of your room and got up from your desk, heading for it too.

'I think it's about time I thanked you in person for everything you've done for me, Irina.' You picked up the sealed envelope sitting on the table and held it out to her.

'Is that what I think it is?' The older woman visibly teared up, a feathering touch on the envelope.

'I owe it to you and your mother, Irina. Take it.'

'This is so much more than we have given you.'

'Don't be fooled. , I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you.'

'Does he know?'

'Of course he doesn't. I keep my own affairs in order without him prying in.'

'Are you sure?' It struck you with a strangeness that you were much older than the Grisha in front of you and had nothing to show for it. You had seen her as a newborn baby cradled in her mother's arms all those years ago and yet you stood before her, the epitome of youth.

'Go. Live your life. It's all in there.' You gestured to the envelope. Irina looked at you just as her mother once did, a look of gratitude and hope. 'He may not be alive anymore but your girl is. So go, I beg of you.'

She stood up and hugged you tightly, quietly crying out of pure joy. You sushed her like you did when she was just a child.

'Go before I decide to keep you around.' You tried to lighten the mood, to say goodbye without having to actually say it. You knew deep down you would never see her again, and given the fact that her daughter was an otkazat'sya, you had no use for her either. Her life was far away from the Os Alta, you made sure of it and now her mother would get to join her and they could live out the rest of their days as a family.

'Y/N you will always be family. My mother made sure of it. I will always be here to serve you.'

'Go'

And she did, with the envelope clutched tightly in her hand, the daughter of your long-passed best friend walked out the door, ending your relationship with the Volkov Grisha.

You met Inessa Volkov during your very first year in the First-Army. She was a Squaller too, stationed at Kribirsk to aid skiff journeys. She was a firecracker, a feisty Zemeni woman who could both bark and bite and never relied solely on her small science.

It was most strange to see soldiers from opposite armies be friends, but Inessa would always swear she knew you were special. She followed you to the Little Palace, helped you evolve into the infamous witch the Fjerdan's began to fear, but her life hit a standstill when she got pregnant. Twins, the girl a Grisha, the boy an otkazat'sya.

Your position allowed for you to help the boy along in life, to prevent him from being dumped in an orphanage by the other Grisha. You gave him a life of happiness and content away from the buzz of capital and for that Inessa was indebted to you, even after your supposed death.

Irina only knew you as a character in her mother's bedtimes stories until you reached out. From then on, Irina served as one of your spies in the Palace while you stayed in the shadows watching Aleksander's moves from a long distance.

Irina was the last link you had to your old life apart from Aleksander and Baghra, of course. You were lucky she was powerful and could live a long life like her mother, but it still hurt to know she would die eventually and you would still be you. You were used to watching those around you die, Aleksander had prepared you for it unintentionally through his various stories and explained life adventures but the sting was still there.

You and Aleksander were on the same page when it came to Grisha abandoning the war effort, but you couldn't help yourself to not let Irina go. She had a daughter and grandkids that she deserved to spend time with in her old age.

No doubt Aleksander would throw up a fuss about a missing Grisha, but you had planned for it already. In the envelope was Irina's death certificate, the address of her daughter's abode, and all the information on her twin brother's family. You wouldn't tell him the truth ever, you would take it to the grave, if you even have to pleasantry to meet.

If he were to find out, with it would come the bubbling question of 'How many spies were there?' and there were too many to count. You had a looming presence and influence in the Palace long before you physically came back and no doubt he would be pissed that you got away with it.

'Deputy, are you to dine in the hall today or in your chambers?' The maid was looking at you and asking the same question she asked every night.

'I think I'll dine with the Grisha, thank you.'

Lately, you ate your dinners cold and in your office, eating only when you remembered the silver tray sitting idly on the table. When Aleksander comes back he's getting an earful and a stack of papers to read. That'll show him.

The hall was filled with pleasant chatter as you approached your seat. It no longer went quiet as you entered, instead a smile or two were sent your way when you noticed. Alina was sitting at her chair sulking over her plate as she usually did and Zoya was too busy eating to notice anything going on around her.

Your food was warm this time as you dug in, drinking the hefty meal down with kvas. You weren't privy to the conversation taking place around you as your thoughts were suddenly overtaken by him. You were never needy, but as of late you wanted to be near Aleksander at all times which was difficult since he wasn't here. The quick kiss he bestowed upon you before he entered his carriage did little to appease you. He never told you when he would be back, but you hoped he wouldn't miss the fete.

Alina was getting stronger, a messy report said that apparently something snapped in her and she grew in power almost overnight. Sometimes when you walked the Palace halls at night, you would catch glimpse of light coming out from under her door. She was growing confident and it suited her. You knew it wasn't any thanks to Baghra.

'Y/N'

'Hmm?' You looked up from your food to see who called you by your name and not your title and relaxed when your eyes caught Zoya's bored ones.

'Botkin asked me to ask you why you've been skipping your combat?' She looked around impassively as if this was the least of her problems but you knew she had nothing better to do given Aleksander's warning to her.

'Oh ummm, I've been busy.' You set your cutlery down and downed the rest of the kvas.

'A Grisha is never too busy to train, lazy perhaps.' You squinted up at the brunette with a false offense.

'Do you have something else to say to me Zoya?'

'I don't know what you mean.'

'Alright then if you say so.' You got up from your chair, coaxing her up from her own. 'Perhaps, your Deputy wants to train now. Should you care to join her?' You knew Zoya was an excellent Squaller, and an even better fighter but was she better than you?

You didn't miss the look of surprise on her face or the silent acceptance of the challenge as you both walked out of the hall, aiming for the training grounds.

'Don't worry about knocking me cold, the General doesn't speak for me.'

The spaces were empty, all Grisha being at dinner and Botkin seemingly busy too.

'I should hope so.'

If you looked at it from a subjective perspective, Inessa and Zoya were very alike. They both had that ruthless and vindictive aspect to their behavior paired with that sharp tongue and intelligent nature. They would've hated each other.

'Come on Nazyalensky, let's see what your made of.' You got into position, holding up your fists in front of you, ready to strike a blow if need be. You let her hit first, effortlessly dodging and ducking her punches and hooks. She was as fast as a bird in flight, swift and elegant. It impressed you, but unfortunately for her, it wasn't enough. You had her restrained in a matter of seconds, her arms behind her back and chest heaving against the wet ground.

'A worthy opponent. You're pretty good I must confess.' You let her go and stood up, adjusting your kefta around your waist.

'Again' You rolled your eyes at her inability to lose. Just like Inessa.

'Zoya, quit while your ahead. Besides I'm tired.'

'You do nothing all day, how can you be tired'

'Do you speak to the General the same way?'

'Only when he's not listening.' she joked and you actually laughed. It was refreshing to hear someone speak of him without that devout loyalty.

You walked back to the Palace, laughing and joking with the Squaller until you went your separate ways.

You didn't know what happened, but from that day onwards the rude Zoya Nazyalensky became a friend.

---------

Part 19

Contrary to popular belief, I would die for Zoya 😍🥰🥰

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb

[kal-djarin]

Attached

Fandom: Star Wars

Date Posted: January 30th, 2021

Pairing: Jedi! Reader x Obi-Wan Kenobi

Warnings: none that I know of?

Request: nah

A/N: so this is my first time ever writing anything so I am so sorry if it is terrible, I didn't have the guts to proof-read it. Also, sorry if the romance feels rushed, I tried to time it as best as I could. Please let me know how I can make my writing better!!!

Word Count: 4.4k (I DIDN'T REALIZE IT WAS SO LONG UNTIL I FINISHED)

Obi-Wan Kenobi has always had an addictive personality, to say the least. He had a way of making light of any situation with his sarcastic quips and quick wit, even during the most gruesome of battles. Maybe this was the cause of your ever-growing infatuation with the reputable Jedi or perhaps it was the way he always had a hint of rebellion in his eyes, despite his groomed appearance and strict code-abiding ways.

As Plo-Koon’s padawan, you weren’t able to see Obi-Wan as often as you wished, but it made even the smallest of interactions memorable; just making eye contact with the man while walking through the halls of the Temple resulted in sleepless nights. Even Anakin began to sense your constant flustered state whenever his Master walked into the room, no matter how hard you tried to keep those feelings out of your force signature. He teased you constantly and would always try to see how embarrassed he could make you in front of Obi-Wan.

Once you and Anakin underwent the Knighting ceremony, he went as far to tell you to follow your heart and confess your feelings for him.

“Y/N, you can’t keep walking through life bottling up every emotion you feel!” Anakin said, exasperated

“Isn’t that the whole point of being a Jedi,” you say, not at all surprised that it would be Anakin telling you to rebel against the Order.

“And anyways, unlike you, Anakin, not all of us decide to go against our entire upbringing and marry a senator.” you pointed out, effectively shutting him up about the subject.

It was inconceivable just to think about revealing your feelings to Obi-Wan. There were too many factors against you and the idea of being rejected by him after years of secret pining would be devastating. The worst part is that you know he would reject you in a gentle and kind way, making it impossible for you to hate him for it.

Not only were attachments forbidden by the Jedi council, but Obi-Wan was known for his adherence to the law and there’s no way he would break it for anyone, especially you. You were only a newly knighted Jedi and probably completely off of his radar, if he even had one. There was only one solution for your feelings for Obi-Wan: try to avoid him until they begin to fade.

But since the Maker has a vendetta against you, you, Obi-Wan, R2-D2, Anakin, and his padawan, Ahsoka, were assigned to leave Coruscant for a mission on Naboo. Senator Amidala was having a ball to celebrate the Festival of Light and there were rumors regarding a potential attempt on Senator Organa’s life, so the Order offered to send some Jedi to ensure the safety of the guests and Padmé.

The trip is going to be about a week long, so you mentally prepare being in close quarters with Master Kenobi. When you arrive at the hangar, you are pleasantly surprised to see the ship that was being boarded by Anakin and Ahsoka was bigger than what you expected. You board the ship with a new-found confidence in being able to complete the mission without embarrassing yourself.

“How is the whole avoiding Obi-Wan thing going for you, (Y/N),” Anakin teases once he sees you enter the cockpit.

“Why are you trying to avoid Master Kenobi?” Ashoka asks, looking between you and Anakin confused.

“Anakin I swear to-”

“Our beloved (Y/N) here has a crush on him.” Anakin interrupts and before you can yell at him for sharing that embarrassing information you hear a set of boots walking up the ramp. Your heart stops and you say a prayer to whoever is listening that Obi-Wan did not hear your conversation.

“Is everyone about ready to leave?” Obi-Wan’s accented voice rings out, coming closer to the cockpit.

Feeling yourself heat up from embarrassment, you quickly turn around and face the pilot seat in front of you in an attempt to avoid seeing him. You release a relieved breath, not sensing he heard anything. He walks in and once you calm down and realize how rude you must look, you slowly turn back towards him. He greets you with a smile and you can’t help but return the gesture. That breathtaking smile alone makes you feel like a flustered padawan again but you realize that if you are going to get through this mission and over your feelings, you must overcome your want to shy away.

“Hello Master Kenobi. Yes I believe we are all ready,” You say; your words were stiffly said but at least they weren't a stuttering mess.

He nods in acknowledgment and sits down in the pilot seat across from where you are standing. Anakin closely follows and sits in the adjacent seat, but not before stifling a laugh at the glare you give him for almost revealing to Obi-Wan how you feel. You sit behind Anakin and Ahsoka sits beside you. Anakin starts the ship and begins to fly towards the Chommell sector, where Naboo resides. Once you have left the atmosphere, he initiates hyperspace travel.

Once in hyperspace, Obi-Wan excuses himself and leaves the cockpit to meditate. Right when the door to the cockpit shuts Ahsoka snaps her head towards you.

“You have a crush on Master Kenobi?!” she whisper shouts, but it is still loud enough to facilitate a small internal freak out from you.

You don’t respond and keep looking out the window, contemplating whether or not to jump into the void of blurring stars in order to avoid this confrontation. Ahsoka, on the other hand, takes your silence as a confirmation to her statement.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ahsoka exclaims to you and Anakin, mostly in disbelief that you never mentioned this and that Anakin was able to keep a secret like that to himself.

“Well it’s not exactly something I’m proud of, Ahsoka,” you say, turning towards her.

“We’re Jedi.” you state solemnly, “It doesn’t matter who knows about our feelings; it doesn’t change the fact that we will never get to act on them or even truly experience them.”

“I know, but maybe you could-” Ahsoka starts but you are quick to shut down any false hope she could make for you.

“Ahsoka, there’s nothing you can do, I just have to get over it,” you say a bit harsher than intended. You and Ahsoka don’t have the most conventional of Padawan and Jedi Knight relationships, but then again neither did her Anakin. Since you were still a young Knight, you two were more like sisters, making you feel infinitely more guilty for taking your frustration out on her

“Look, Ahsoka, I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t want to get my hopes up over something that will never happen”

“I just don’t like seeing you hurting, (Y/N)”

“You could always tell him.” Anakin chimes in,

You look at him, annoyed with his ever present need to pull the trigger, and then turn back to Ahsoka.

“I’ll be fine, I always am,” you assure her, but honestly you say it more to reassure yourself.

****

A couple of days past and you successfully have limited your time with Obi-Wan as much as physically possible. He was a very structured man and figuring out his daily routine was easy, so all you had to do was go to a part of the ship he wasn’t, or in worst cases, meditate so he couldn’t interact with you even if he wanted to.

But of course, Anakin, always being the meddler, picked up on your perfectly coordinated avoidance of his Master. He decided to “spontaneously” take Ahsoka to the back to do more training, leaving you and Obi-Wan to man the cockpit.

You approach the metal doors, mentally preparing having to spend the next couple of hours or so with the Jedi Master.

“Master Kenobi.” you greet as soon as you walk in.

“General (L/N), how nice of you to finally join me.” He says with a sarcastic edge but the smile on his face shows he means nothing by it. “In fact, I’ve hardly seen you this entire trip.” He states, matter-of-factly.

You nervously laugh while sitting down in the pilot seat next to him, in an attempt to release some stress over the fact that he noticed. The worst part is that there is a sick kind of rush of pleasure you get from the fact that he noticed you were missing.

You face forward, trying to ignore the way he is watching your movements.

“How much time until we reach Naboo?”

“According to the navigation system, about 23 hours, allowing us to arrive about…7 hours before the actual festivities.” He responds, looking at the display before returning his gaze to you.

“You seem unsettled,” He continues and you meet the concerned look in his eyes.

“I-I’m just…preparing myself for the mission,” you quickly come up with an excuse, slightly cursing the force for putting your emotions on display.

“There’s no reason to worry, at least from what the Council and Anakin have told me, but then again, Anakin is not known for his accuracy of judgement of how difficult a mission may be” Obi-Wan replies while grimacing, most likely remembering his padawan’s past misjudgments.

“There is something to be admired about Anakin’s lack of self-preservation,” You joke, starting to loosen up at the fact that Obi-Wan didn’t pick up on your lie.

You feel a sense of pride go through you when you see him laugh at your attempt of humor.

“Yes, Anakin has al-” He starts but is quickly interrupted by an angry series of beeps coming from the navigation system. You check the monitor and don't see why the ship is freaking out, until hundreds of small dots appear on the radar.

Obi-Wan is quick to react and begins to prepare the ship to enter the asteroid field. It doesn’t seem to be too congested but enough where you begin to worry.

“R2, take control of the steering!” He shouts and is given a series of beeps of affirmation by the astromech

You enter the field and suddenly wish you remembered to buckle up; R2’s steering is jerky and all over the place, but at least the ship is still intact. You grab on to the armrests of your seat as tight as you can and hope R2 will be successful.

Obi-Wan, as outwardly calm as ever, says, “Hope you don’t mind a bumpy ride!”

His sarcastic words force a laugh out of you. Even still, despite the fact you could be facing imminent death, he expresses dry humor.

The field seems to stretch on forever and R2 navigates through it without error. Finally seeing the end approaching, you begin to loosen your death grip on the chair. To your horror, R2 sharply jerks the ship to the left one last time, throwing both you and Obi-Wan out of the pilot seats. Landing with your back on the far wall, your eyes shut on instinct when your head slams into the metal. It’s not until you feel breath fanning your face and open your eyes that you realize that you weren’t only one who fell over here.

Obi-Wan’s hands are pressed against the metal beside your shoulders, caging you in. His arms are bent at the elbows from absorbing the impact of his landing, making his body even closer to your own. His nose is close enough to touch your own and you can feel his legs tangled between your own.

His eyes widen in shock and you begin to see the parts of his cheeks not covered by his trimmed beard turn a rosy pink. You would almost find it cute how his ears were becoming a bright red if it wasn't for your own embarrassment. It only makes matters worse when you watch Obi-Wan slowly glance down at your parted lips, still taking in the image of you pressed against him. If he could sense your unsettledness when you walked into the room, there is no doubt in your mind that your force signature is screaming your feelings. The seconds felt like hours and it seemed that both of you were completely frozen. You are so lost in the moment that you hardly react quickly enough to separate from him when the metal doors to the cockpit slide open.

Anakin’s annoyed shout entered the room.

“What the hell was that!” Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice the flustered state of both you and his former master.

“I-it w-was an um…” his voice trails off as he keeps looking at you.

“An asteroid field! It was an asteroid field,” you quickly say in an attempt to fill in his words.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Anakin says sarcastically, still oblivious, and heads to the back to make sure Ahsoka was alright.

It’s only then when you begin to feel the throbbing in your head. Your facial expression must have given away the pain you are currently in, since Obi-Wan quickly sits you down and looks at the place where your head hit the wall, making sure you had no serious injuries. Throughout the entire examination, he didn’t meet your eyes once and he didn’t have the same surety in his movements like he usually did. Once Obi-Wan finished, he quickly excused himself and left the room, leaving you more confused than you had been.

Not even a minute later, Anakin pops his head in, quickly rubs R2 affectionately on the head, and then turns his attention to you.

“What the hell did you do to Obi-wan, he looks like he’s seen a ghost.”

***

After the accident, Obi-Wan was now the one avoiding you. He would excuse himself whenever you entered the same part of the ship as him. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for making him so uncomfortable, even though it wasn’t your fault.

You were going to apologize to him, but by the time you arrived on Naboo, you realized the moment had already passed. Senator Amidala greets you right when you walk down the boarding ramp. You and Padme have always had a close relationship, especially since you are one of the only people who actually knows about her and Anakin.

“Master Kenobi, General (L/N), General Skywalker, it’s always a pleasure to see you,” Padmé said in her always regal and kind voice.

“Senator Amidala, in need of our assistance once again?” Anakin teases her, but still tries to keep the outward formal relationship displayed.

Padmé playfully rolled her eyes and escorts us into the

building that we are supposed to rest for the rest of the trip in.

She brings Anakin to his room first to his dismay, but quietly reassures him that she’ll be back after making sure you, Ahsoka, and Master Kenobi are settled in. Obi-Wan still hasn’t made eye contact with you or even truly acknowledged your presence. Once Padmé shows him to his room, she goes to the two doors across the hall, and lets Ahsoka into one and opens the other.

“and here is your room (Y/N).”

You walk inside and just like everything else on Naboo, the place is absolutely beautiful.

“I’m going to send up some dresses for you to choose from for the ball tonight and we could get ready together, if you want.” Padmé says, seeming excited at the idea of dressing up with you.

“Sorry Padmé, I was just going to wear my robes.” You tell her, while still preoccupied with exploring the room.”

“Didn’t Anakin tell you? To ensure that the supposed assassins don’t realize that they have been compromised, you all are supposed to dress in normal clothes.”

***

After hours of being poked and prodded by some of Padmé’s servants, you finally were ready for the ball. You looked beautiful when you looked in the mirror, but you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable because of this sudden change of appearance. You couldn’t remember the last time you dressed like this and your head still couldn’t wrap around the image it saw in the reflection. The dress you decided to wear was floor-length with a slit that stopped at your mid thigh and was a light blue. The top was a bit more modest but not by much. It was more risque than what you expected to wear, but Padme insisted that it look beautiful on you; also the slit allowed you to strap your lightsaber to your thigh, keeping it accessible, but still hidden. Your hair was in an intricate half-up half-down braid so it looked formal enough for the ball, but if you needed to engage with the potential assassin, it wouldn’t get in the way. As much as you protested, Padmé insisted on you borrowing her jewelry and makeup.

By the time you all finished, It was time to head to the ball. You, Ahsoka, and Padmé all arrive together, and quickly scan the outside for anything suspicious. You head inside and immediately people begin to swarm Padmé and thank her for hosting. You and Ahsoka excuse yourselves and begin to scan the crowd for Anakin and Obi-Wan.

You spot the back of a strawberry-blonde head next to Anakin’s always messy hair talking to a senator you didn’t recognize and begin heading towards them. Ahsoka gets there first, quickly getting Anakin’s attention and talking to him. When Anakin sees you he looks impressed.

“Wow, you clean up nice.” Anakin jokes, making Obi-Wan turn to see who he is talking to. When he sees you his smile falters and his eyes widen a bit. His cheeks start to redden.

“It’s just weird for you as it is for me, trust me” you say trying to overcome the sudden rush of self consciousness you feel.

“N-no you look…radiant, General (L/N).” Obi-Wan breathes out, his eyes scanning your body, slightly widening when they catch your upper thigh peeking through the slit.

You instantly flush at his words and look down in embarrassment from such a compliment from Obi-Wan.

You catch a glimpse of his shined shoes and realize that he, too, is not wearing his Jedi robes. Your eyes trail up his whole body and see he is in robes, but they appear much softer than the rough ones issued by the order and they resemble what a senator would wear. He looks absolutely breathtaking. “And you look…” your voice trails off in shock, “...very handsome, Master Kenobi”

Pamdé finally joins you, unintentionally saving you from the awkward tension. Anakin greets her and as always he instantly appears calmer and more relaxed in her presence.

You awkwardly sit in on their conversation, trying to distract yourself by scanning the room for anything or person out of place. Suddenly, the music began to shift to slower and people began to pair off. Anakin started slow dancing with Padmé, making sure that there was enough room between them to avoid any suspicion.

Obi-Wan walks into your field of vision.

“Would you like to dance with me...to blend in of course.” He says while raising his hand in an invitation.

“I-I would love to.”

Obi-Wan’s rough hand encloses your own and he leads you to the dance floor. Once, there his other hand comes around and rests above the small of your back and yours over his shoulder, hovering over the skin, scared to touch him. You start to slow dance and Obi-Wan glances over at your stiff hand, and his mouth breaks out into a grin

“Relax General (L/N). You are allowed to touch me.” He says quietly.

Your eyes widen at his sudden boldness, but comply nonetheless. He readjusts his grip on your hand so that they woven together and you place your hand on his shoulder. You look at him with uncertainty, but he gives you a small smile of encouragement and nod to approve of your actions. The longer you dance, the more you relax into it, and only internally freakout at his hand sliding a bit lower to the small of your back and his body moving much closer to yours.

You can’t imagine he isn’t seeing the emotions you are trying so hard to contain in your force signature. Your mind is freaking out at just how close Obi-Wan’s body was to you. Your body, however, wants to completely submit to the feelings and melt into his. By the time the song ends, you two are so close that you can feel Obi-Wan’s shaky breath on your cheek, and it all becomes much too overwhelming.

“Excuse me.” you quickly say, removing yourself from Obi-Wan.

You quickly shove your way through the crowds until you find doors leading out to a balcony. You open them and take several gulps of the fresh night air in an attempt to calm yourself. You hold onto the railing and stare out into the starry Naboo sky, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened. Suddenly, you feel the doors open behind you and sense Obi-Wan’s presence.

“Did I upset you, General (L/N)?”

“I can’t do this right now, Obi-Wan” you mutter, dropping the pleasantries of titles.

“And what exactly is this” He questioned, his voice sounding more desperate than you have ever heard before.

You turn to face him and see that his facial expression matches his tone: desperate and concerned. His eyes search your face as if he can find what you're thinking if he just looks hard enough.

You shake your head in disbelief.

“Do you think this is a game, Obi-Wan” you demanded.

His facial expression warped into one of confusion.

“A what?” He replies, seeming taken aback.

“A game. Do you think toying with me is fun? You just want to see how flustered you can make me, huh?”

“General (L/N), I don’t understand where all of this coming fro-”

“I am attached to you!” you interrupt, not realizing what you are saying before it leaves your mouth. Your eyes widen and you watch in horror as Obi-Wan comprehends what you just said.

“You are attach-” Obi-Wan starts, trying to understand the meaning behind your words but before he can, a loud crash is heard from inside the building. You rush past the frozen Jedi, relieved for the unexpected interruption. You attempt to shove down all of your feelings so you can evaluate the situation going on inside the ballroom.

People are fleeing from every which way, making it damn near impossible to understand what exactly is going on. The lights go out, making the room break out into even more chaos. You finally see Ahsoka, who is hovering over Senator Organa’s body. Thinking the worst, you rush over, but are quickly relieved to see him alive. Ahsoka notices you and fills you in.

“A sniper hidden in one of the interior balconies attempted to assassinate Senator Organa, but they only hit his blast vest, thankfully. Anakin is scanning the area right now to see if he can find them before they escape”

“Stay here with the senator, I’m gonna look around and see if I can find anything,” You say, running off to scan the outside of the building. Once you get out there, you see Anakin in pursuit of a tall figure running in the direction of a small single-person starship. You join in the chase, catching up to Anakin. “It’s a bounty hunter, she may have information on who wants Senator Organa dead!” He yells, not at all winded by the sprinting he is currently doing.

She gets to her ship, quickly hopping in and starting up the engine. You and Anakin jump onto the wings and ignite your lightsabers to try and disable the ship from leaving. The ship begins to hover just above the ground and veer left and right in an attempt to throw the two of you off.

“Where the hell is Obi-Wan!” Anakin swore while trying to maintain his balance.

“Finally ready to admit that you need me, Anakin? I thought I’d never live to see the day,” Obi-Wan suddenly quips, as if the last twenty minutes never happened, and uses his lightsaber to effectively damage the ship's engines. The bounty hunter tries to jump out, but Anakin quickly grabs her and throws her to the ground. The entire time that the girl is being put into custody and brought to the holding cell, you avoid Obi-Wan completely, mortified that you confessed how you feel for him.

When the whole ordeal is taken care of and she is set to return to Coruscant with you guys to be questioned there, Padmé insists that you, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka stay another night to rest. You quickly take her up on that offer, thankful that you can try to ease your embarrassment with another night with a hot shower and plush bed.

You head straight to your room, not bothering to talk to anyone, and immediately take a shower. You sit there under the scalding hot water trying to process what you have done. When you get out, you change into your pajamas. You try to relax, but quickly realize that you need to do something to resolve the unsettled feeling you have in the pit of your stomach. As much as you hate to admit it, you need to talk to Obi-Wan. You just have to say that you didn’t mean what you said and that it was just word-vomit, no true meaning behind them. You open your door and are about to step out until you realize that the man you want to see is right there, with his hand raised, about to knock on the door. His eyes widen in shock at the sudden opening of the door but before he can react you quickly try to explain yourself.

“Master Kenobi! I-I was just about to come see you. You see, I truly didn’t mean what I said earlier. It-t m-must have been the stress getting to m-” You ramble but quickly are cut off by the feeling of Obi-Wan’s hands cradling the sides of your face.

You look up in surprise but see his eyes holding a questioning look, asking if this is alright. You quickly nod and his lips are on yours. Obi-Wan’s kiss is just how you imagined it would be like: Soft and sweet and with his beard tickling your cheeks. His hands stay on your face as he pulls away all too soon and rests his forehead against your own and catches his breath.

“I have grown quite attached to you, as well, (F/N).”

[sonoftatooine]

Whumpay 2021

DAY 12: ALT DAY - NOT BELIEVED

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Sheev Palpatine

Summary: Instead of being accepted into the Jedi Order after the Battle of Naboo, Anakin is rejected by the Council and given to Palpatine as an adopted son. Three years later, he reveals to Anakin that he is a Sith and that he will be his apprentice. Horrified, Anakin escapes from under his master’s watchful eye and runs away to tell the Jedi the truth.

***

“Master Kenobi, please!,” Anakin cried, twisting the long, voluminous sleeves of the Naboo robes his adoptive father had gifted him tightly in his hands, staring up at the Jedi Knight before him through messy blond curls disarrayed from his dash to the Temple. “Please don't send me back to him! I'll do anything! You don't have to make me a Jedi, just don't make me go back—”

“Young Skywalker,” Mace Windu interrupted him before the knight in question could reply. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, with a look of intense irritation on his face that had worsened and worsened ever since Anakin had given Palpatine's guards the slip and run to the Temple to tell the Jedi of the terrible truth he had discovered about the man who had taken him in after his rejection by the Order. “Your father is worried about you. Do not make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

It wouldn't be difficult if you would just believe me, Anakin wanted to shout. Of all the problems he had imagined—being caught, being unable to escape his minders, getting to the Temple from Palpatine's apartment in 500 Republica undetected—it somehow hadn't occurred to him that the Jedi might not listen to him. But if Palpatine had proved anything in the months after he revealed that he was a Sith Lord intent on reshaping the Galaxy to his will and that he, Anakin, would be his apprentice—whether he wished it or not—it was that he was cunning and manipulative in a way that Anakin was not, with a watchful eye that was extremely difficult to escape from under. The Senate guards had informed him of his adoptive son's disappearance not long after he had left, and he had acted quickly to mitigate any damage Anakin might do in his escape. As such, by the time he ran into Obi-Wan and Windu at the entrance to the Temple, instead of being listened to and believed , he had been pulled into an empty conference room, his warnings lost beneath stern lectures about running away on his own and the severity of telling lies about his father. Palpatine had contacted the Jedi before he arrived, it seemed, and spun them a web of lies—lies about him being a troubled child who made up fantasies to deal with his past—that they had readily soaked up like a sponge. Twelve is a difficult age, he had probably said, in those kindly tones that everyone swallowed hook, line and sinker. And Anakin can be a difficult child. He feels the need to push back against my authority, and so of course he sees me as a villain. In truth, Master Jedi, I fear he has never really recovered from your rejection of him. Perhaps these...fantasies are a way of proving his worth to you. Whatever it had been, neither Obi-Wan nor Master Windu doubted it, and no matter what he said, it only earned him more disbelief from the two of them.

“He's not my father!,” he exclaimed in anger and frustration. Palpatine wasn't his father. He was his master, his owner. His mother's owner. He had only taken them in so that he could use him, possess him, make it so that he would have no choice but to follow the plans he had for him—bend to his will and his alone. No matter how kind he had seemed at first—and he had seemed kind to Anakin in the beginning, despite the monster that he was—his true colours showed it to be nothing but an act. “He's evil!”

The two Jedi, exchanged a glance, one exasperated, one pained. Then, Obi-Wan turned back to him, sighing sadly.

“Anakin, I know this is hard for you, but Chancellor Palpatine only wants what's best for you,” he said. “He took you in, freed your mother from slavery. He cares for you, and he was clearly very worried for you when he found you missing.”

“Only because he doesn't want me to tell you the truth!,” Anakin shot back. Palpatine didn't care for him, nor for his mother, nor for anyone but himself. He may have taken them away from Tatooine—a small, bitter part of him that seemed to be growing bigger and bigger with each day that he spent under the old Sith's thumb, like a speck of rot at the heart of a shurra fruit, hissed that it was more than the Jedi had ever done for them—but it was not freedom. It had been nothing more than a transaction—passing them from one master to another. A master that the Jedi had given him to without a second thought. Tears sprang to his eyes. “Why won't you believe me?!”

He didn't know why it hurt so much. Why he had placed so much faith in a group of people who had been ready to cast him off like a desperate droid once they had deemed him to old and too dangerous for them, and whose sole attempt to help had landed in him in a situation that almost made him think of his life on Tatooine with longing. But despite that bitter part of him that his master had taken great pains to nurture in him, the part which remembered his innocent hope upon seeing Qui-Gon Jinn's lightsaber clipped to his hip at Jira's stall—that still thought of the Jedi as the heroes the legends spoke of—had felt, somehow, that if he could just tell them the truth, that if the Jedi knew, it would all be alright. Their refusal to believe him was a crushing blow.

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan said. He sounded pained. Anakin didn't want him to be pained, but he also wanted to be understood and believed. He needed Obi-Wan to help him and he wouldn't— Why wouldn't he—?

“He's a Sith!,” he exclaimed, his voice shaking from anger and frustrated tears. “He's the reason Padmé's planet was attacked! He's the reason Qui-Gon's dead!”

“Skywalker!” Master Windu barked sharply.

Obi-Wan had gone very white, his eyes wide and shocked, and Anakin knew he had gone too far. But it was true. Even if he didn't want to hear it, it was true, and he needed him to believe it, because if he didn't, Palpatine would punish him and his mother and then the Sith would continue on with his plan until it was too late and the Galaxy would be enslaved to him and the Jedi would be dead. He opened his mouth to continue but—

“That is quite enough, Anakin.”

Anakin froze at the sound of the familiar voice. It was the kindly Chancellor Palpatine voice rather than the foul croak of Darth Sidious, but it made Anakin shrink away and hide behind Obi-Wan's billowing robes all the same. From behind the Jedi Knight, he saw Palpatine come down the steps to the conference room from where he had been standing in the doorway, flanked by two senate guards, and adorned with his black and red robes of state and an expression of mingled displeasure and concern that he might have been convinced by had he not known the truth. But he did know the truth, and he could see the rage glinting in the Sith's eyes behind the benign veneer that had so fooled everyone else.

“Your Excellency” Windu said with a brusque nod of greeting. He couldn't see it, wouldn't see it—the evil behind the mask. Why couldn't any of them see it?

“My apologies, Master Jedi,” Palpatine said with a regretful sigh as false as his concern. Anakin knew well enough by now that Sidious would never apologise to a Jedi and mean it. “I knew this was a problem, but I had no idea—”

He cut himself off, turning sharply away and pinching the bridge of his nose. Taking in a deep breath, he lowered his hand and turned his attention back towards Anakin. He looked worried and tired, the very picture of a concerned and overworked father struggling to deal with an unruly son's latest stunt.

“What in the Galaxy were you thinking, Anakin?!,” he cried. “Running off like that? Anything could have happened to you!”

It couldn't be worse than anything you want to do to me, Anakin thought bitterly. He shrank further behind Obi-Wan, one small hand clutching tight at the back of his cloak. Obi-Wan glanced down at him, a small frown on his face, and despite his refusal to believe, Anakin felt a sliver of worry slip through the man's shields.

“I really am very sorry about this,” Palpatine said, his attention turned back towards the Jedi. He had drawn back when Anakin shrunk away from him, mindful to maintain his carefully cultivated persona—the pained father who only what was best for his son even as said son was convinced that he was the ultimate evil in the Galaxy. The smile he sent Master Windu was tinged with melancholy, even as he plotted Anakin's punishment for trying to expose him, even as he plotted the man's death and that of the entire Jedi Order. He hated him. Hated him. Hated him with the strength of a thousand suns— “I had best take him home. I'm sure he has troubled you enough already.”

No. No, he couldn't go back. He couldn't go back there. His master would be furious with him. He would hurt him. Punish him. He would hurt and punish his mother. He couldn't go back, couldn't let him— He needed the Jedi to believe him and then they could rescue her and it would all be alright. It had to be. It had to be— A gentle hand came to rest atop his head, suddenly stilling his wild thoughts. It was Obi-Wan's hand, he realised. Obi-Wan, who had made no move to send him off towards his adoptive father. Whose frown had not left his face since Palpatine arrived.

“Anakin is no trouble at all, Your Excellency” he replied. There was a hint of reprimand in his tone.

Palpatine smiled thinly.

“Of course,” he said, holding out a gnarled hand in Anakin's direction. “Come, my boy. We have taken up enough of the Jedi's time.”

Anakin did not move. He didn't want to go, couldn't go, not after what he'd done. He wanted to stay here with Obi-Wan. Palpatine would be watching him as intently as a bonegnawer did its prey, after this—it may be his only chance to get help, to find someone who would believe him and save them. No, he wouldn't go. He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't—

There was a long pause where nobody spoke and nobody moved, and then Palpatine's face hardened.

“Come along, Anakin” he repeated. His voice was stern this time, though to the untrained ear, it did not sound unkind. Anakin, however, could hear the warning beneath the act loud and clear.

If you do not come with me right now, a cruel, croaking voice hissed inside his head through their bond, I will visit such pain upon your mother that she will be left with nothing but a half-life and a tattered soul. You think the Jedi will protect you, save her? They will do nothing, as they have always done, and your mother will curse your name for inviting such suffering upon her.

Anakin trembled. He wanted to cry. He had been so close, so close. Obi-Wan was still frowning, but he made no move to intervene, to give him an excuse to stay. Swallowing thickly, he pulled away, balling his shaking hands into fists beneath his sleeves, and headed slowly over towards his master. Palpatine's hand came to rest in-between his shoulder blades, arm blocking his route back to the Jedi like the door of a cage swinging shut.

“Thank you once again, Master Jedi,” Palpatine said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “We shan't impose upon you any longer.”

Come, boy, the voice hissed in his head again. Do not try my patience any further, unless you wish for a worse punishment than you've already earned. The pressure of the hand between his shoulder blades increased in warning, and Anakin had no choice but to follow along where his master led. Just as they reached the door, however, he turned, glancing back to catch Obi-Wan's eye. The frown was still on his brow, and as he met his gaze, Anakin couldn't help but imagine that there was something a little suspicious, a little unsettled in the expression on his face.

Well, Anakin thought as he was led away, perhaps there is some hope after all.

[aspoonofsugar]

The “One” Divided Into “Two”

Hello anons, hello friend,

these asks can be answered together!

First of all:

Hello! I just want to say that I love your RWBY metas! So I'm wondering, have you ever done metas about Emerald and Mercury?

Thank you! And yes, I have written a little bit about Mercury and Emerald here. I would also recommend this wonderful meta by @hamliet because it has an interesting Mercury theory in it.

Now. this answer is gonna mix some analysis with speculation because Emerald and Mercury’s story must still enter its climax. Once it does and we are given a specific interpretative key I will be happy to write more metas on them!

I’ll start with this:

Those two are so out of place in Salem's faction and the last look they share made me doubt that Mercury is rotten to the core and more of a kid who didnt know what he's in for. Since Em has switched sides, is it possible that Merc might follow? I really like him, so I'm hoping that he won't go down like Watts.

In my opinion, yes and here is why.

CHILDREN LOST IN A NARRATIVE

1) Emerald and Mercury have been child-coded since their first appearance:

Roman: Oh, look! She sent the kids again! This is turning out just like the divorce!

2) Both have received a save the cat moment early on:

Emerald: It's almost sad.

Mercury: Emerald, get up, we need to go. (...) Emerald!

Both child-coding and save the cat moments are often used to make characters more sympathetic and this applies to both Emerald and Mercury, even more so than Cinder.

This is why, for example, the major death they are directly involved in:

turns out to be a temporary one.

As a side note, I like thinking of Emerald and Mercury as the Cat and the Fox in Penny’s story since they act as false friends to the main cast, betray them and cause Penny’s first death. Moreover, in the novel, both characters end up suffering consequences for their life-styles. The two murder kids are the same:

At the same time, details about Emerald and Mercury’s backgrounds and motivations are given to the viewers pretty early on:

We are shown Cinder recruiting both and these scenes clearly paint them as two vulnerable kids that get manipulated and groomed:

Raven: Two children you’ve tricked into following you.

Emerald is presented as a scaredy cat and Cinder wins her over by promising the bare minumum aka some security and basic care.

Mercury is given even less aka a narrative to keep himself together:

Cinder: And you're his son. We saw your fight from the treeline. He's taught you well.

Mercury: Guess so.

Cinder: What's your name?

Mercury: Mercury.

Cinder: Mercury... Tell me, are you anything like your father?

Mercury: All my life, my father trained me to be a killer, an assassin like him. And then moments after I killed him, you two showed up looking for someone with my exact skills. Just felt like it was meant to be.

Cinder praises his abilities and frames his trauma as something that makes him strong, not broken. And Mercury has completely embraced this narrative since then.

In short, Emerald and Mercury are framed as two kids lost in an illusory narrative Cinder has crafted. That said, they are also characters in a proper narrative and they are given sympathetic backgrounds and positive qualities that hint they can be better than they currently are.

In particular, Emerald should overcome her emotional dependence on others to make the right thing:

In both volume 3 and volume 8 she is shown the destruction of a city. However, the first time she puts distance between herself and others’ pain, as symbolically conveyed by her looking from above. In volume 8, though, she is shown the same pain up close and she can’t ignore it anymore. This is why the others drag Emerald towards the people crying and light invades the screen when she finally meets the sheltered crew. She is forced to face an uncomfortable truth she wants to ignore.

Mercury should instead let himself depend on others more. He should open up to others and fight for his one positive bond:

Mercury: Back off, freak.

Which leads us to:

What do you like most about Emerald and Mercury's relationship and bond as it is explored in RWBY?

EMERCURY: COMPLEMENTARITY

Emerald and Mercury’s bond being a key one is conveyed both symbolically and in terms of their respective abilities.

When it comes to their abilities, I have written about it in the meta linked above:

In short, Emerald mostly relies on her semblance, while Mercury mostly relies on his legs and fighting prowess.

This detail adds to the idea that Emerald and Mercury have been acting as a unit and have been complementing each other. Emerald acts as the “soul” and Mercury as the “body”.

The soul is one’s personal essence (like the semblance). It is where (once again) wishes reside. The body is what protects the soul and is animated by instincts and self-survival.

They complement each other. This complementarity is shown in Emerald and Mercury’s fights.

In the Vytal festival, Mercury takes on both Coco and Yatsuhashi for a short while, so that Emerald can size her chance to fight Coco at her own terms (and she wins by using her semblance).

In the Battle of Heaven, Emerald uses her semblance to help Mercury fight and, in a sense, she compensates for his lack of one:

The human soul is about wishes, but also duties:

Penny: I feel like I wish I could do both the things I need to do and the things I want to do. Is that normal?

One must accept their feelings, but also struggle with them:

Winter: But yes Penny, we must still acknowledge our personal feelings, wrestle with them. It ensures us that we’re on the right path. It’s what makes us human.

And must do the right thing out of their own free will:

Winter: Penny. The general is making hard choices so we don’t have to.

This is Emerald’s personal struggle. She must let go of her feelings for Cinder and fight her own fear in order to do the right thing.

The human body lets people feel both others’ warmth:

And others’ cruelty:

However, Mercury refuses to feel both. He refuses to truly process his own trauma and pushes his feelings of care for Emerald away:

As far as their symbolism goes, they are linked in at least three different ways.

1) One of the attributes of the Roman god Mercury is that he is the protector of thieves and Emerald’s surname capitalized means thief. What is more:

Mercury: Ooh, Emerald! Master thief! Please don't take my money! I barely have enough to get by!

2) Mercury/Hermes is also the god of alchemy and the one who wrote the Emerald Tablet aka a tablet with the truth of alchemy on it. You, @hamliet​, have written a meta on it, so I won’t add more.

3) According to at least some traditions, emerald is the gemstone associated with the planet Mercury.

So, it is clear the two characters are meant to be important in each other’s arcs.

Let’s now look at Emerald and Mercury’s bond, as it is explored through their interactions.

Mercury clearly cares about Emerald and gets along well with her. She is the only person he shows vulnerability to.

This is what their scene in Lost is about:

Emerald: Why did you come with us, the night Cinder and I found you?

Mercury: Why are you asking--

Emerald: Just answer the question.

Emerald is trying to open herself up and wants Mercury to open up too. This is why she gets annoyed when Mercury gives her a superficial answer. Still, in that conversation, Mercury is genuinelly trying to answer Emerald’s feelings:

Mercury: I'm sorry you didn't have a mommy that loved you, but I had a father who hated me! He never went easy on me! Every day of training was a beating. And when I unlocked my Semblance, he stole it with his! "This is a crutch!" "This makes you weak!" He told me I could have it back when I was strong. So I got strong, but I never got it back! I've had to work harder than anyone to get where I am. You may not like it here without Cinder, but I think I'm right where I'm supposed to be!

Here, Mercury is telling Emerald details of his past he would not be sharing if he did not trust her. He can’t let himself be completely vulnerable, though, so he discloses them by lashing out at Emerald. He mixes violence with authentic vulnerability and also with care:

Mercury: Cinder doesn't care about you! She doesn't care about either of us!

He has seen how self-destructive Emerald can get when it comes to Cinder:

And he is trying to have Emerald move on from her obsession.

However, Mercury’s small steps towards opening up and caring for another person are constantly challenged:

Tyrian: Oh yes, the world is mean, and I'm a big, bad man now just like the others.

Mercury: How long have you been standing there?!

The moment he opens up to Emerald, Tyrian appears to threathen and mock him.

Mercury’s positive development lies in accepting his own feelings of pain and in sharing them with others, so that he can be helped. However, the environment he is in goes in the way of it:

Emerald: Mercury, I wanted to...

Here, Emerald is trying to either apologize to Mercury for their fight or to at least check out on him. Still, Mercury is not listening to her because he is too frightened by what Salem is doing.

Mercury’s current struggle is conveyed in a nutshell by the glance he gives to his left in Midnight:

Is he looking at Emerald out of concern?

Or at Salem out of caution?

It is not clear. Still, what is sure is that Mercury should focus on Emerald, but Salem goes in the way. He deep down wants to care about others, but he is too scared to do so:

Tyrian: All you ever learned was pain and violence, and now you're too afraid to leave it. Such a tragedy.

At the same time, Mercury is for Emerald what she has been looking for in Cinder:

Emerald: We don't need him! Everything was going fine!

She initially refuses him, but it is clear that with time Mercury becomes the thing most similar to a family Emerald has:

She has been so fixated on Cinder and on how she can be worthy of Cinder’s love that she has missed how much Mercury has tried to protect her all along.

This is why Hazel is important for Emerald’s development:

Hazel: No more Gretchens, boy.

His sacrifice is about breaking his personal cycle of pain. His story starts with Gretchen dying when she was only a girl and it ends with him preventing another girl’s death. At the same time, he also helps breaking the cyle of abuse between Emerald and Cinder.

Emerald is told the truth about her relationship with Cinder by Mercury. Moreover, it seems something finally clicks for her here:

She observes Salem’s manipulation of Cinder and understands Cinder has been manipulating her in the same way.

However, it is thanks to Hazel’s sacrifice that Emerald sees what a genuine parental bond should be like. It should be about the parent protecting the child:

Hazel: What Gretchen would have done. And that starts with getting you away from here. Both of you.

And not the child protecting the parent:

Emerald: I know I can’t beat you. But I can fill that thing full of holes before you take me down.

It should be about the parent caring for the child unconditionally:

Hazel: Go.

And not about the child working hard to gain a parent’s love:

Cinder: You… You brought me back here. We failed.

Emerald: Cinder, you were hurt. I was just trying to help.

At the same time, Hazel’s death has taught Emerald the pain of losing a loved one:

And has forced Emerald to stand on her own two legs:

Oscar: I've seen what you can do, Emerald. However this fight ends, we could really use someone like you.

She can’t be protected forever, but she should start protecting others. She is powerful enough to do so and she must accept this responsibility.

So

I think Emerald could be key to Mercury's redemption

I think so too. Emerald saving Mercury is the perfect objective for her personal arc. It forces her to act as the savior instead of the one being saved.

Moreover, Mercury told her the truth about herself:

Mercury: You're in denial.

So Emerald might do the same for Mercury. This would also fit with her being the Emerald Tablet. The Tablet is written by Mercury to convey the truth to the world. Here, it might very well be the inverse: the Emerald Tablet might convey the truth to Mercury.

In general, Mercury and Tyrian’s foiling has to pay off, just like Emerald and Hazel’s:

The set-up is there for Tyrian and Mercury’s subplot to be about breaking cycles as well. Mercury’s story is about a child left alone with his abuser. Nobody comes to save him, so Mercury is forced to save himself by killing Marcus. Still, this only leads to him being stuck in the idea he is nothing, but an extension of his father. Right now, the cycle is repeating, but it is possible this time things will go differently because there is at least one person who cares about him.

Not only that, but (and this is nothing, but a baseless theory) even Qrow (aka a character who has unfinished business with Tyrian) might be a thematic fit to help Mercury:

Mercury: Bad hair, used a scythe, and smelled like my dad after a long day. It was him.

After all, Mercury himself draws a comparison between Qrow and his father since they are both alcoholic. However, Qrow has started a journey of rehabilitation for the sake of his nieces and their friends.

Qrow sees himself as bad for others and fundamentally unlucky because of his background and his semblance. So, his third fight with Tyrian being about saving a kid, who, in a sense, is even less lucky than him and has no semblance might be thematically fitting.

Despite it all, Qrow found a family and a place to belong and he might help Mercury find his (Emerald) as well.

SEMBLANCE OF THE SELF

Got no gun But I gleam like a blade and I'm harder than iron

Delusion I'll steal til your blind and defeat you from inside your mind

Emerald’s best weapon is her semblance, while Mercury’s semblance was stolen, so he could become a weapon.

This difference symbolizes their respective reactions to abuse.

Emerald uses her illusions as a coping mechanism.

This mechanism is well conveyed in CEM’s fight against Amber:

On one hand, Emerald creates a child version of herself who is well dressed and owns a bike. It is a rich version of Emerald because she must think that is the kind of child others would stop by to help. She does not believe she is likable or lovable. This is why she makes an illusory alter-ego, which is both true (she deep down is a crying child) and false (she is a street rat with nothing).

In general, this is Emerald’s way to approach others:

Emerald: Just left the stadium after your amazing fight! You guys were awesome!

Ren: Because she's scared. Just like us..

Emerald: Or maybe because I know how to get out of here. Anybody coming?

She either fakes an overly friendly demeanor or acts tougher than she is. In any case, she hides her true self.

On the other hand, Emerald is symbolically trapping herself in an illusion together with Amber. Amber can’t see the dangerous thief in front of her, but Emerald too can’t see the generous woman who is offering food to a crying child:

Cinder: Follow me, and you’ll never be hungry again.

Cinder promises Emerald food and love and this lie makes the girl unable  to see the genuine article when it is right there.

So Emerald tricks both others and herself. This is how she survives abuse.

This is why she keeps believing in Cinder while she is gone:

Emerald: You’re here! I knew you’d co--

And this is why symbolically her semblance grows stronger in an abusive environment:

Emerald: I’ve been working on my Semblance. I can help. I won’t tell anybody.

Salem: You really have been honing that Semblance of yours.

After all, this is when Emerald gets a “power-up”:

She has just lost Cinder and finds herself stuck with Salem. Her reaction is to have a breakdown and to project an illusion in the minds of nine people, when she had previously stated she could only do one/two minds at most.

Mercury weaponizes his trauma.

This is why his legs are Mercury’s true weapon, while Talaria is there just to cover and embellish the pain and ugliness under it.

Mercury fights Amber with only its bare legs because symbolically his trauma is still fresh and he has yet to work out a structured coping mechanism to it. His meeting with Cinder is the first step in this construction that evolves in the following months and is still evolving:

In CEM’s fight against Amber, Mercury uses his unfeeling legs to whitstand the violence of the elements:

Fire

Earth and Water

Air

He goes through the whole cycle without feeling any pain simply because his trauma has made him unfeeling:

I'm the one That was ripped from the earth and exposed to the sun

Marcus has literally turned Mercury into Iron:

But I gleam like a blade and I'm harder than iron

Still, the point is that mercury as a metal is not as hard as iron, but (in the alchemical scale of metals) is way more refined and closer to gold. Mercury can be better than his father, but his way to survive abuse is to repress himself.

This is why his semblance was stolen by his abuser. It is because abuse has taken away Mercury’s personhood.

So, both Emerald and Mercury face abuse by masking or repressing themselves. The difference is a matter of degree. Mercury can suppress his emotions and needs more, while Emerald can’t.

Theirs is a foiling about feeling too much to the point of self-harm and of feeling too little to the point of negation.

So, Emerald must struggle with her feelings not to be controlled by them, while Mercury must aknowledge them.

Emerald’s Hallucinations is a Semblance of The Self because it hides both Emerald herself and the truth.

This is interesting because, as stated above, the Emerald Tablet should convey the truth about alchemy. However, Emerald’s environment has turned her into an inversion of herself:

I'm the one Who rose out of filth and was loved by no-one

She is a gemstone, but is currently covered in dirt. She needs to polish herself, so she can shine and fit better in her allusion.

Mercury’s stolen semblance is a Semblance of The Self because it is linked to Mercury’s self-expression, which he must claim back.

Until then, he is bound to be stuck in an abusive cycle as nothing, but a weapon.

In general, there is some symbolism around Mercury which needs unpacking:

Mercury quoting Marcus:"This is a crutch!" "This makes you weak!"

Firstly, he has clearly interiorized what his father told him here. He refuses the idea of weakness and crutches to the point that his prosthetics, which are literal crutches get turned into weapons and even covered by other weapons. However, this refusal of crutches means Mercury can’t heal. After all, crutches, bandages and treatment are necessary to become healthy once again.

Secondly, there is this: 

I'll run circles round ya, I can touch the sky

The God Mercury’s main attribute is that he can overcome any boundary. He can go wherever he wants in no time. However, Mercury is the opposite because no matter what, he can’t leave his abusive environment. This has to do once again with his father’s abuse which culminated with Marcus taking Mercury’s legs. This is symbolically why Mercury is trapped.

Like for Emerald, Mercury’s arc should be about growing into his allusion, so that he can finally be free.

Still, how to turn Emerald and Mercury in the positive versions of their allusions? The answer has to do with this question:

(I think Emerald could be key to) maybe Cinder's (redemption) too

I’M THE ONE

Emerald and Mercury are two parts of the individual (body and soul) and two parts of a Huntsman (semblance and weapon):

Ren: A common philosophy is that a warrior's Semblance is a part of who they are.

Ruby: Just weapons? They're an extension of ourselves! They're a part of us! Oh, they're so cool.

Together they make a unit. Together they make Cinder. They are two sides of her trauma, her two sins:

Emerald: Actually, I was wondering, do you have any copies of "The Thief and The Butcher"?

And the wounds behind those sins.

This is why Cinder takes them in, but also why she abuses them.

She uses them as weapons:

In CEM’s fight against Amber she lets them go in first and has them take the majority of Amber’s hits.

Not only that, but she uses them as “red herrings” she hides behind.

She acts as if Amber’s blow takes her out of the fight, while Amber focuses on Mercury who resists her attack:

She has Emerald display her semblance at full force, so that the girl becomes Amber’s first target:

She makes her own illusion where Emerald and Mercury are her smokescreen.

However, her two disciples are not just things she can use as she pleases. They are two people who depend on her:

Mercury: You mean--

Emerald: She's alive?

They are literally two kids she takes in framing their relationship as parental/hierarchical hence she is responsible for them.

However, she fails them and leaves them in a dangerous environment. This is why they both leave her out of self-survival.

Narratively, Emerald and Mercury are two kids that must grow up. Right now, they are in some kind of adolescent phase. They have started their emancipation from their “parent”, but they have still to grow until they’ll be able to truly face Cinder.

It will probably be in this confrontation that they will affirm their growth. Right now, Cinder does not need to be coddled, but to be called out. Both Neo and Watts try to, but Cinder ignores them and retaliates against them. She needs a call out she can’t ignore and Emerald and Mercury are too rooted in who she deep down is for her to be unaffected by them.

At the same time, it would mark Mercury and Emerald’s first step into adulthood. Only then they can stop being a “half” and can truly become “one”, so a whole person.

[storiesforallfandoms]

love you as you are ~ yungblud

word count: 1462

request?: yes!

“ Hi! How are you doing? If u are not too busy, could I request something with coworkers or friends to lovers - Dominic Harrison with insecure reader? (don’t mean to romantizice insecurities, reading things like that makes me feel less alone sometimes and I am pretty sure it happens to other ppl too) Stay safe, much love 🖤🖤”

description: in which his life long friend constantly compares herself to the girls he dates, and he’s finally starting to notice

pairing: yungblud x female!reader

warnings: swearing, insecurities

masterlist

My worst bad habit was looking at pictures of Dom with his girlfriend’s and finding a flaw for myself in all of them.

That’s what I was doing when he called one day. New pictures had arisen of him and Ashley, although he insisted that they weren’t back together and probably would never get back together. They seemed cozy, and the smile on his face was so wide and bright, it was obvious he was happy with her. He always had been happy with her.

Her eyes were so pretty, her skin was flawless, she could pull off any hairstyle or color, her style was constantly on point, she...

My ringing phone brought me out of my daze. A picture of Dom smiling filled my screen along with his name. I couldn’t help but compare that smile with the one in the picture with Ashley. Was it as wide? Was he as happy?

“Hello?” I finally answered.

“(Y/N)!” Dom exclaimed. “What are you doing right now?”

“Just chilling at home.”

“Great! I’m coming over. Be there in five minutes!”

I was confused. The pictures I was looking at were supposedly recent, but he was here? Did that mean the pictures were fake? Or...was Ashley here?

Before I could ask any questions, Dom hung up. I paced the apartment, worried that Ashley would show up with Dom. I had nothing against Ashley, she was nice and I had been a fan since before she started dating Dom. I just...I couldn’t see her with Dom like that.

Before I knew it, Dom was letting himself into my place and making himself at home. He immediately laid down on the couch and looked up at, me catching mid-pace.

“Welcome,” I said sarcastically. “I didn’t know you were home.”

He gave me a weird look. “What do you mean? We’ve been texting all week. I told you we were gonna make plans soon.”

Oh yeah, that’s right. How did I forget that?

“Why didn’t you think I was home?”

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “I just saw some paparazzi pictures - ”

Dom cut me off with a groan. “Whatever it was, it’s bullshit. Paps are vultures and they’ll post any bullshit to get clicks.

I felt extremely stupid, but I was glad he didn’t seem upset or anything. As I sat down next to him, though, he asked, “What were the pictures of?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Do I tell him the truth? What would he think if I told him it was pictures of him and Ashley?

“Nothing,” I responded with a shrug.

Dom gave me another look. “Okay, it was obviously not nothing. You can tell me, (Y/N), I’ve probably read worse about myself.”

I sighed heavily, knowing Dom wasn’t just going to drop this. “It was pictures of you and Ash, and it was saying you two were back together again.”

Dom’s immediate reaction was a loud laugh, which caught me off guard at first, but I soon realized that his laugh meant that he and Ashley weren’t together, and he was right in saying that they probably never would be together at all.

“I haven’t seen Ash in months,” he admitted. “She’s off dating someone else now, if I was spotted out with her, it’s only as friends.”

For some reason, knowing that Dom was potentially still friends with Ashley put me back in my down mood. They were friends, but they used to date. He didn’t look at her the way he looked at me. I was a really just a friend, but she was his beautiful ex-girlfriend. He probably still loved her, I wouldn’t blame him, she was probably the best person in the world. She was so nice and kind and caring, she was so sweet to me. She...

“(Y/N),” Dom said, snapping his fingers in front of my face. He pulled me out of my trance and I looked at him, trying to pretend nothing had happened. “Where did you go then?”

“Nowhere,” I responded. “I guess I just zoned out, it happens. What were you saying?”

He was looking at me hard, almost studying my face. “Are you okay, (Y/N)? You just...you seem off today.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “It’s nothing, can we drop it?”

We both went silent for a moment. I couldn’t handle it, there were so many thoughts running through my head that I needed a distraction. I turned on the TV and put on a random station that was playing some movie I had no interest in. I sat back and pretended to be invested in what was going on, but in reality, I was just trying to keep myself from thinking about Dom and Ashley.

I could feel Dom’s eyes on me. He was watching me intently, waiting for a crack. Dom knew me better than anyone had, and I knew that he knew when I was upset. I was hoping he’d leave it be and just bring up something for the two of us to do, but instead, when he did finally speak, he asked, “Is it because of me and Ash?”

I tried to hold back any signs that he was right, but I knew it was no use. I sighed again and looked down at my lap. “Not really...but kind of?”

Dom tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with Ash?”

“Nothing, that’s the problem!” I responded. “She’s so perfect! God, I wish I had just a fraction of her perfection.”

I glanced up at Dom and saw that he was starting to understand. “You can’t compare yourself to Ash, (Y/N). You’re two different people, with different personalities and different...well everything. You can’t actually be comparing yourself to her.”

“I can’t help it,” I admitted, tears starting to prick my eyes. “You always date the most beautiful girls, both inside and out, and I can’t help but compare myself to them because...”

Dom moved closer to me, placing one of his hands on top of mine. I couldn’t get the words out. How do you admit to your best friend that you’ve had feelings for them for so long without weirding them out? Was it even possible to do that and maintain the friendship?

“(Y/N), you’re perfect as you are,” he said before I could finish my sentence. “You don’t have to compare yourself to anyone, let alone the girls I date. In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve been around much longer than those girls, and there’s a reason for that. It’s because you’re a genuine person, and you care so much for me, and, this may be awkward, but I think you’re incredibly cute. I love you as you are, I’d hate to see you turn into someone you’re not.”

I couldn’t help but scoff at his choice of wording. “Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say what?”

“That you love me. It gives me false hope.”

Dom was confused a moment before he finally put two and two together. “What if I mean it in more than just a friendly way?”

I glared at him this time. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m serious, (Y/N)! What if I like you too? What if I always have? What would you say?”

I wasn’t sure if I believed him. Why would I? He’s never even given me a sign that he could potentially like me. Saying this now, especially with the conversation we were having, just felt like some sort of sick joke he was playing on me.

But, as I looked into those eyes that I had loved for so long, I could tell he was being genuine. Had he really liked me all this time?

Before I could say anything else, Dom pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. “You’re perfect as you are, (Y/N). Who you are is what I love the most about you. Please don’t compare yourself to others, especially not to any of the girls I’ve dated.”

“You really mean that?”

His chest vibrated as he laughed. “Of course I do.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I wiped the tears from my eyes. “I really like you, Dom.”

“I like you, too, (Y/N).”

We fell back into a comfortable silence then. I wasn’t quite sure what this meant for us. We had both just admitted to having feelings for one another, so what comes next?

In that moment, I didn’t care. All I cared about was being in Dom’s arms, my ear pressed against his chest as I listened to his steady heartbeat. I was just happy to have him there with me, and to finally have that truth off my chest.

[hlizr50]

Unveiled

Spoilers for From Blood and Ash

Poppy is unveiled to her new guard. Alternate POV.

Read on AO3

Everything had gone according to plan.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But the end goal had been accomplished.

Swift booted footsteps echoed down the hall as Casteel and his “commander” made their way to the Duke’s office. Jansen had been explaining how the meeting would proceed; the Maiden would be escorted in, Duke Teerman would explain the need for a new guard with the Rite coming so soon, some prattle about why they chose Hawke Flynn to be that guard, the Maiden’s unveiling, and the fealty oath…

He would see her. Finally. No ridiculous veil, no mask. He would see the puzzle complete, how the eyes as green as spring, the full pink lips, the soft creamy skin all fit together. He was sure she would be beautiful, if what he had seen and touched and tasted were any indication. He had a goal in mind, to be sure. But she had intrigued him. He wanted to see and know more of her.

And he always got what he wanted.

“Hawke. Are you listening?”

He turned his amber gaze on Jansen. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you remember the oath?”

“Of course,” Casteel rolled his eyes before reciting. “’With my sword and my life, I vow to keep you safe Maiden, the Chosen. From this moment to the last moment, I am yours.’ Quite melodramatic if you ask me.”

“Keep your voice down,” the commander growled softly. “You are a dedicated guard of Solis swearing fealty to the future of the kingdom, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Casteel sneered. “I haven’t forgotten. And it would do you well to remember who is leading who, Commander.”

“Of course. My apologies.”

The prince knew that Commander Jansen was on a very precarious ledge. Being a Descenter in the heart of Masadonia was dangerous in the best of times. In a position of power, Jansen could pull a lot of strings and make a lot of things happen. But he had a hand in a number of plots, and if just one person was found out or turned against him… his own demise would be the least of the consequences. It could be catastrophic to the schemes they had put in motion years ago and set back the resurrection of Atlantia for literal decades.

The arrived before a heavy wooden door flanked by two of the Duke’s personal guard. Jansen greeted them by name and Casteel gave each a nod. Then they pulled the door out, opening up the room to the pair. This was the beginning of the end.

So it hadn’t gone completely to plan. The prince knew he needed to get close to the Maiden, so he could steal her away right from under the thumb of the Ascended. That had meant an opening needed to come available for one of her personal guards – it wouldn’t do to just work in the castle. Jericho had been tasked with taking out her guard during her almost-daily evening walks.

And he had done it.

But then he’d tried to go ahead and take the Maiden, and that had gotten him into trouble. He hadn’t known she would be armed and dangerous, and when you cross a wolven with pointy things it’s bound to get a little messy.

And Jericho wasn’t known for being calm, cool and collected on a good day.

The Maiden had gotten in a few good strikes, but she had received quite the blow as well. He’d seen the angry swelling around her mouth and jaw at Rylan’s funeral. He only imagined the bruising extended far under the veil, over her cheek and temple.

That was unacceptable.

He hadn’t enjoyed cutting off Jericho’s hand. But he would not allow Penellaphe to be hurt. And to teach a lesson you had to be firm. Unyielding. Deadly, if warranted, and definitely a bit unhinged. Just to keep everyone vigilant.

“Commander Jansen,” Dorian Teerman greeted them. “And you must be Flynn.”

“Your Grace.” Casteel bowed to the Duke, something it almost physically hurt him to do. But he was playing a part, and he could spend more time later creating enticing scenarios in which he destroyed Teerman in any number of ways. “I have summoned the Maiden. She and her guard should be here shortly.”

The Duke hadn’t bothered to introduce his wife, Duchess Jacinda Teerman. Casteel wondered if he even acknowledged her existence much of the time. He didn’t know much about Duke Teerman, but he seemed self-absorbed, self-righteous, and cruel, which was not much different than any of the Ascended he had encountered. Their unyielding refusal to “petition the Gods” so the Tulis family could keep their third son, when their first two had already died so young, was only further proof of their evil. Of course, those first two hadn’t been lost to a “blood disease”, but to the Ascended’s bloodlust – they had been fed upon until there was nothing left. And yet the Duke and Duchess would only insist on taking the third as well. Had it been one of them who had bled those poor children dry? It made his stomach twist to stand with Jansen, making small talk with the pale blonde Duchess as they waited for the meeting to start.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open again. And there she was.

This was how he had expected to meet the Maiden. Veiled, so he could only see her lips and chin. Hair pulled back so it was not visible beneath the veil, either. That was a shame. Her hair had unlocked something in him that night at the Red Pearl. It had been so unexpected. And then there was the ridiculous, frilly, white lace and pleats of a dress that covered everything from her neck to her wrists to her ankles. Surely a garment such as that was an affront to the Gods, sleeping though they were. This was the Maiden, pure and docile and silent. It was a stark contrast to the woman who had snuck into his room not so long ago. In a brothel, no less.

“Please. Close the door Vikter,” the Duke nodded as he sat behind the black painted desk. Casteel looked toward the older guard with the sandy blond hair as he pulled the doors closed. He knew more about Vikter than he should for his supposed station, but what was most important was his closeness with the Maiden. Penellaphe. He would need to be thorough in his dedication to win over the seasoned soldier.

“Thank you.” Teerman nodded. “Please, sit, Penellaphe.”

He watched the Maiden as she lowered herself to the bench. Gods he hated that dress. It was such a pity to hide the curves that he knew were underneath. It was an effort to keep himself from smirking. If only those in this chamber knew what she had been up to.

“I hope you’re feeling well, Penellaphe,” the Duchess spoke, a sickeningly sweet voice that felt practiced and false. The veiled Maiden nodded. “I’m relieved to hear that. I was worried that attending the city council so soon after your attack would be too much.” Casteel had watched the Maiden through the entirety of the meeting, trying to decipher anything from the full lips and curve of jaw that he and the rest of the world were allowed to see. Had he seen her skin flush while the Tulis family begged for their son’s life? What had she been thinking as her keepers were tearing yet another family apart?

“What happened in the garden is why we’re all here.” The Duke’s voice was cold. “With the death of… what was his name? The guard?” It made the prince angrier than it should, that this beast could not even be bothered to know the name of the man who had given his life to protect their precious Maiden.

“Rylan Kiel, your Grace,” Vikter answered.

“Ah yes, Ryan. With Ryan’s death you are down one guard… Again. Two guards lost in one year. I hope this isn’t becoming a habit.” What that a joke? Was he trying to imply that this girl could have stopped it? Casteel had to contain a sneer. The guards would continue to fall, if it meant getting his brother back and burning Solis to the ground. Nobody would stop him – not the Maiden, not the Teermans, not Vikter, not the Blood Queen herself. “Anyway, with the upcoming Rite, and as you draw closer to your Ascension, Vikter cannot be expected to be the only one keeping a close watch on you. We need to replace Ryan, which - as I’m sure you realize now - explains why Commander Jansen and guard Flynn are here. Guard Flynn will take Ryan’s place effective immediately.”

“I’m sure this is surprising, as he is new to our city and quite young for a member of the Royal Guard. There are several Rise guards in line to be promoted, and bringing on Hawke is no slight to them. But the Commander has assured us that Hawke is better suited to this task.”

And so the diatribe began about why he was just so good at what he did that he was the next natural choice. Fresh eyes to see new threats. An impeccable record on the Rise and experience beyond it, which would naturally come in handy if the Queen summoned the Maiden earlier than anticipated for her Ascension. It could happen. Teerman Castle had been compromised more than once in the last week. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Queen Ileana determined that they were no longer capable of keeping the Maiden safe here in Masadonia.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that his sense of hearing and smell made him aware of an enemy’s presence long before the enemy knew he was there. If only they knew how much he had to dumb himself down to appear to be a mortal man, counting seconds so he wouldn’t move too fast or relaxing his muscles so he wouldn’t seem too strong. If only they knew that their Commander was a Descenter himself and was planting Prince Casteel himself – the Dark One – into the role of Royal Guard Hawke Flynn. If only they knew that today they were delivering the Maiden into the hands of the most dangerous creature in their nightmares.

“The Descenters and the Dark One are not the only things to fear out there, as you know,” the Duchess had been speaking. Gods they were making it terribly difficult not to laugh. They were so ignorant. The pale blonde Ascended turned to Casteel now. “As a member of the Maiden’s personal royal guard, it is likely that a situation may occur where you will see her unveiled. It can be distracting seeing someone’s face for the first time, especially a Chosen, and that could interfere with your ability to protect her. That is why the Gods allow this breach.”

“Commander Jansen, if you will please step outside,” the Duke gestured toward the door and Jansen took his leave. Casteel stood alone, now, looking toward the veiled young woman now standing before him. Oh, had he been looking forward to this.

“You are about to bear witness to what only a select few have seen: an unveiled Maiden. Penellaphe, please reveal yourself.”

She was too still, and Casteel could tell that her breathing was shallow. What could she be thinking? He was sure that part of her was anxious that she’d be found out.

“Penellaphe. We do not have all day,” the Duke cut out and his wife tried to soothe him.

“Give her a moment, Dorian. You know why she hesitates. We have time.”

Why did she hesitate? Of course, she was concerned about being recognized, but he couldn’t imagine the Duchess would know that. And why did the Duke have that glib smile plastered on his face? Casteel returned his gaze to Penellaphe as her lady’s maid assisted with the chains on the headdress before it fell from her head.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were dark as her gaze remained pinned on the Duke. He could only see the right side of her face as she glared at Teerman and from the corner of his eye he could see the Duke’s expression fall into icy stone. Then she took a breath and turned to face Casteel, lifting her chin slightly.

Gods. She was stunning.

Those lips, her jaw, those eyes as green as Atlantian spring. He was ready for those things, had seen them that night at the Red Pearl. He’d known even then that she was beautiful, and now with her stony gaze it was only confirmed. And then there were the scars. Two scars tracked down from her temple, one over her cheek and toward her nose and one down through her eyebrow. Where had those come from? Who or what had done that to her? He gazed at her, taking in every detail of her face before meeting her eyes. Those eyes. They were dark and stormy, betraying the lack of emotion on her face. It was as if she were steeling herself, although he didn’t know what against.

“She’s truly unique, isn’t she?” She flinched as the Duke spoke again. “Half of her face is a masterpiece, the other half a nightmare.”

That bastard. Her arms tremored slightly, and Casteel realized what she had been hardening herself to feel. He knew that this moment, where he could make Penellaphe feel small, was why the Duke had that slimy smile upon his face. Appearance was a fickle thing, and beauty and perfection were highly touted by the Ascended. The Maiden, chosen but scarred, was being raised and educated under the thumb of a man who likely took every opportunity he could to tell her what a shame it was that her face could never be pleasing to any of them. She was a pawn, a possession to them. But he saw her here, just as he had seen her in the Red Pearl. She was a person, with feelings and desires and insecurities. She was Penellaphe.

He made an oath to himself that he would only treat her as such.

“Both halves are as beautiful as the whole,” he stepped forward then, wishing he could see the Duke’s face when he said it. Her sharp intake of breath made him want to smile for her. She hadn’t been expecting that, and that was the nightmare – that she was not aware how truly lovely she was.

He gave a shallow bow and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe, Penellaphe. From this moment until the last moment I am yours.” Bowing to Duke Teerman had been torturous, but bowing before her was almost natural. So was swearing his fealty to her. The ease with which he did so kindled something inside of him. He had come here to play a part and set into motion the resurgence of Atlantia, and that was exactly what he was doing. But those emerald eyes, lush red lips, and two pink scars were already threatening to unravel him.

And he wasn’t so sure that he was going to fight it.