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#The Ruthless Devils series
tache-noire · 2 years
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maybe this is just Copium but i’ve seen people complain that the lore behind Jack’s compass was changed and point out that he gave it away before with no problems.
But I think it’s important to note exactly what Shansa says about it. If you BETRAY the compass, it unleashes your greatest fear. Jack always ended up taking it back somehow. He never gave it up for real, because he never gave up on the spirit of adventure and hunting for the next big treasure or WHATEVER he wanted. And while yes, I agree that the story of how he first acquired it should not have been changed, the retcon drives home that point. It was entrusted to him because his captain knew he would use it well and knew he had that spirit in him. (and if i’m not mistaken isn’t the original story based on a deleted scene and a spinoff novel anyway? it’s not technically canon in the main universe even if we want it to be, so it can’t be considered a true retcon if it never actually happened)
Up until the point that he gives it up for a drink, he had never betrayed it. He’d never given up on adventure.
That’s why it’s different this time and why it released the Silent Mary.
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kookslastbutton · 7 months
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Reflections ༓ kth (m) | "Stay with me until the end of the day"
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✑ Summary: As a new hire at one of the most prestigious jewelry brands in the world; Adrien & Rosamel in Paris, you've been trying to build your professional portfolio for months. So when global brand ambassador Kim Taehyung comes in for a photoshoot but his personal photographer is unavailable, the company offers the gig to you. Oh of course you take it in a heartbeat—it's a given.
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pairing: brand ambassador!Taehyung x new photographer!reader
genre/AU: fluff, angst, smut, photography au, modeling au, s2l, two part series (duology?)
word count: 11.3k
warnings: exposes "dark side" of fashion world, oc gets insulted by fashion assistants (b-word dropped once but our oc bites back), flirty yet annoying videographer!kook, angry!seokjin, sunshine!stylist!hobi, charming!makeup artist!jimin, cool manager!joonie, Taehyung is an elegant flirt and not like the others, jazz bar date🥺, Taehyung calls her darling a lot, tehyung gets jealous, talk about long distance relationship, sexual content
sexual warnings: dom!Taehyung, sub!reader, explicit sex (use of condom), big dick!tae (it takes a bit to get it all the way in 😬), praise kink, lingerie, small jewelry kink? (He f's oc with their ruby necklace on), doggy, size kink, multiple org*sms, squ*rting, oral (f. Receiving), half a hand*b, f*ngering, overstimulation, little bit of breastplay, cussing, d*rtytalk, foreplay, a little expressiveness, mention of aftercare, Taehyung just adores hers, hot car make out, mention of morning s*x
now playing: Slow Dancing by thv
a/n: first omg i never reached 11k in my life. Secondly, shoutout to anyone who has seen Devil Wears Prada...a personal favorite of mine. Also Layover is omg the best thing ever! So i decided to focus on slow dancing for this fic. Pls enjoy ❤
part one | part two
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How many twenty-something-year-olds can say they work at one of the biggest, most luxurious jewelry & fragrance brands in the world? And on top of that, are located in the fashion capital; Paris, France? A rare handful, and it's because of those reasons that they're given the lowest positions possible; you being one of them.
Sure, climbing the corporate ladder is possible with years of relentless dedication, raw talent, and of course, let's not forget connections with the higher-ups. But competition grows fiercer with each passing year as more eager young people gun for advancements in hopes of survival.
After all, who can afford to be stuck on the bottom rung forever?
You didn't want to believe the undertone theme in the critically acclaimed movie The Devil Wears Prada was true, that underneath the glitz and glam of haute couture are ruthless, cutthroat fashion moguls. But from the moment you stepped through the doors of Adrien & Rosamel in your coffee brown slacks and beige button down shirt, it couldn't be refuted–
No one was your friend and no one wanted to be.
Newbies must establish their professional value to the brand as early as possible to prevent being cut at any given moment. On the other hand, experienced professionals who have already earned their merit through decades of labor refuse to give up the stake to their claim and must be careful not to have the carpet swept from under their feet to a junior half their age.
It's a vicious race and despite its bitter nature, you're at the very heart of it.
As a fashion photographer, your ultimate goal is to have weeks' worth of sessions with models from all over the world; all adorned with timeless pieces from genuine gold watches to the richest of gemstones.
These are the types of photographers who are the best and brightest in the industry. They have at least ten years of experience and are booked until the very last second with modeling photoshoots.
The odd prodigy exist too; individuals who are born with an insane wealth of insight and skill which allow them to move up in rank faster.
You wish you were good enough to be considered a prodigy but no such luck. Adrien & Rosamel have insanely high standards on who is allowed to handle the jewelry, let alone be around the models who are so-called showcasing them.
So here you are day what—241? And still stuck taking photos of the same jewelry pieces day in and day out. Sure the theme of the photos gets changed slightly but it's been eight months of this generic work and truth be told, you're getting sick of it.
.
"__!" Seokjin, your coworker and one of A&R's jewelry polishers calls your name anxiously. He rushes to your side where you're taking close-up photos of a limited-edition steel watch. "Be gentle with this, will you? This is selling for 7,000 euros which means $8,000, 10 million south korean won, and 6,000 pounds. I also just finished polishing it so don't be getting your grubby fingerprints all over it!"
You roll your eyes and continue to move the watch around on the display table until you get a perfect angle. "Relax princess, I'm barely touching it and I have gloves on."
Seokjin's fluffy eyebrows furrow together, face scrunching at the nickname you chose for him. "That's—that's completely uncalled for! Do you know how long I spent buffering the face of the watch alone?! One hour __!"
You hate yourself from bursting out in laughter but this isn't the first time you've gotten lectured by Seokjin. Its like the tiniest detail would set him off. Seokjin's been with the brand a little longer than you; a year now, but he still has that constant need to micromanage everyone he can.
"Look," he continues his scold. "If anything happens to these priceless watches it's my head on the chopping block. I can't afford to lose my job __!"
"Yes, I understand Seokjin. Nothing will happen to these alright?" You move around the man to get more pictures of the watch lying elegantly on its side. "Don't you have about fifty other watches to shine or do you like nitpicking my every movement instead?"
Seokjin scoffs at you, sticks his hands on his hip and walks away with a disapproving shake of his head. "I have my eye on you junior," he warns.
You ignore his subtle jab and continue taking photos. "Creep," you mutter under your breath.
Ten minutes pass and you're about ready to move on to the editing process for your photos. You take a quick peek at them through your camera, clicking through the gallery with the right arrow button.
"Not bad newbie," you hear a voice come from over your shoulder that causes you to jump in surprise.
"What the fuck Jeon," you throw your best side-eye at the young man who happens to be your only acquaintance in the whole company. His role was similar to yours, but instead of photographing jewelry he films them; he's a videographer. "I'm beginning to think you like sneaking up on me on purpose."
The young man laughs with a child-like energy. "What can I say? Seeing you flustered does something to me. But actually, I was just passing by. Haven't talked to you in a while."
Come to think of it he has a point. You haven't seen Jeon Jungkook in about two weeks straight. The two of you aren't friends so you don't check up on each other constantly but you'd like to think you have good rapport.
"What have you been up to anyway? I've seen you rushing around the place like you have millions of appointments to make," you ask.
"I've become a busy man babe," he replies with a cheeky grin. "The higher-ups have noticed my talent and I'm playing with the big boys now."
"You talk about the higher-ups like they're Big Brother or something. Come on, tell me again but in laymen terms."
He sighs at the need to repeat himself. "Okay, listen. I'm working with the models now and more specifically I have a 2 o'clock gig with Kim Taehyung tomorrow. You know, our global ambassador? I'm shooting the film portion of the campaign we're running for him. Isn't that insane?!" His eyes glow up at the mere mention of Kim Taehyung who you are well aware of.
Everything about your famed global ambassador is a fashion photographer's dream; tall, lean, and tantalizingly handsome.
"Of course, I know who Kim Taehyung is. His face is plastered all over the walls of Adrien & Rosamel. Even saw his face on one of our company mugs. Anyone who's anyone will sell their left kidney to breathe in the same room with him but how the heck did you land a shoot with him this early? You've been here for less time than me!"
You're not shouting, you promise. Just extremely envious at the continuous luck Jungkook is having.
"Well," he starts drawling his words. "I might have gotten close with Park Ji-hun over the last month or so. His daughter in particular." You raise your eyebrows in awe.
Park Ji-hun has been Kim Taehyung's personal photographer for nearly ten years. And next to the model himself, he's another highly talked about individual at Adrien & Rosamel.
"Please tell me you didn't use his daughter for your own professional gain," you interject. Jungkook waves his hands around disapprovingly at your suspicion.
"I didn't, we went out on a blind date. I didn't know who her father was until half-way through the date."
"Mhm, something tells me that that's not completely true."
"Okay, so maybe her name sounded a little familiar but I swear, I didn't know they were the same person. But long story short, we started going out and I managed to win her father's approval. And now he's letting me shoot with him!" Jungkook's enthusiasm dies when he sees you doing your best to give a tight-lipped smile. "Babe, listen. I know you and I had a thing a few months back but....you're not still pining over me are you?"
You shove him in the shoulder at the ridiculous question. "We never had a thing. Stop it. I'm just trying to wrap my mind around your recent success."
Jungkook shrugs. "I guess its fate. And we definitely had a thing," he gives a wink. "Well anyway, I need to get to another appointment in ten. Jimin's gonna completely flip if I'm late."
Your mouth gapes open. "You're working with Park Jimin too? He's one of our best makeup artists, what the hell?"
"There are many colors that suit you __. Green's not one of them." Jungkook spins himself around and walks away from you. "Catch you later!"
"Goddamnit," you curse to yourself. "Is he Mr. Perfect or something?"
"__, we're gonna need the space in about five minutes." Another photographer calls from behind you, reminding you that you need to make yourself scarce.
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The next morning is absolute madness with the news of Kim Taehyung's arrival in Paris.
As one of the most iconic brand ambassadors and haute couture models, he has quite an impressive fan following from countries all over the world including France. From the moment he steps out of his plane until the minute he enters Adrien & Rosamel, the man is constantly surrounded by masses of people all standing around with their phone cameras.
The company doesn't exactly give him a break from the high intensity of the crowd either. All the assistants working today are tasked with both meeting his requests and socializing with him while the rest of the team hauls around studio equipment for his photoshoot.
"Did you see the way he looked at me Ha-rin?" You overhear one of the assistants boast to the other while passing in the hallway. "I've had such a crush on him for years and I finally have the chance to meet him. I swear, I'll do anything he asks me to do."
"Oh my god, how dense can you be? Sure he smiled at you but let's not forget who it was he asked to get water from," the second woman spats back, raising the unopened bottle of water in her left hand. "It was me. I'm the one he wanted."
You snort at how snarky the two of them are to each other. As if Kim Taehyung would give so much of a blink their way let alone "want" either of them. You've never met the man but you've seen his face enough to know he could have anyone he desired. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be anyone from the company.
"Excuse me," Ha-rin stops in her tracks and speaks in your direction. "Is there something you find funny?"
"I'm sorry?" You freeze in place, unsure of what the woman's referring to.
"Don't play coy junior. You snorted at us, kinda nosy to be listening in on a private conversation."
Fuck sake, you are getting so tried of everyone calling you junior. You weren't given the name __ for it to be ignored at will.
"My apologies if it seemed that way. I assure you I was thinking of other matters." Your Majesty, you wanted to add but didn't.
Ha-rin body scans you as you speak and it immediately makes you feel self-conscious. The way she purses her lips can't be anything but venom that's about to spit out at you. "It better be that way. And by the way, those pants don't do anything for you. Maybe wear a dress next time," she slithers.
"Oh you mean like the dress you're wearing?" you reply. "No thanks. I'm not looking to impress anyone here. I have to get back to work now so you'll both excuse me," you bid them adieu and continue walking down to your office.
"What a bitch," you overhear one of them say and you clench your fists with tears brimming underneath your eyes.
Don't you dare cry __. Not here.
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So some of your eye makeup got smudged from your incident with thing 1 and thing 2. You hate how much such a shallow jab got to you but, you're only human.
Coming into such a luxe company you expected this type of behavior. Yet your dreams are so much bigger than them. You'll push through like always.
"Hey," a knock pounds on your door. "Need to talk to you. Busy?" Its you manager Namjoon.
"No." You give him your full attention. "What's going on?"
Namjoon closes his eyes in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. "We have a situation," he starts.
"Okay...what happened Joon?"
"Our shoot with Kim Taehyung is in less than an hour and Park Ji-hun is nowhere to be found in the building. We called him up and looks like he had another shoot scheduled during the same slot. Must have been an overlook on our part, his part, I don't care whose fault it is. But we need someone to fill in right now or we're not going to have any material for our campaign." It comes out all at once and the feeling of whiplash washes over you.
"On top of that," he continues, "I don't want to waste monsieur's time. He just flew 14 hours from Seoul. So, can you do it or no?"
Oh my god...you repeat at least twice in your head before forming a response.
"I'd be very grateful for this opportunity but shouldn't this go to the next best photographer available? I only shoot jewelry on its own. I've never done—"
"You are our next best option __. All our photographers are booked with other models for the next three months. You've been here long enough to know how packed schedules get. Please, I've seen your work. It's good. And if you want an in for your career, I'd grab your camera and meet Kim in the studio in two minutes."
"Well I—"
"Yes or no __? Because I can always give the opportunity to another jewelry photographer. I'd rather not because they're techniques not as good as yours but I'll do it if I have to."
Your mind scrambles for a concise answer. You've been working towards something like this for months, doing your best to perfect your craft in hopes the higher-ups might recognize you as they did Jungkook. Yet until now it's been null; no one has made you such an important offer.
"I'll grab my equipment and meet you all in the studio," you decide. Your manager nods in approval and moves to exit your office.
"That's what I was hoping to hear. You'll be working closely with Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok. I'm sure you're familiar with them, no?"
"Yes sir," you reply. "Quite familiar."
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"Jung Hoseok," the man with likely the brightest and most genuine smile you've ever seen shakes your hand. "I'm Kim Taehyung's stylist for this shoot. We're going for laid-back, yet elegant and refined for the studio shoot. Tomorrow we'll go with a completely free theme when we shoot at the beach. I have some specific fashion pieces picked out that I think he'll make pop for this campaign."
"That sounds great Hoseok. I wasn't aware we were going to a location tomorrow though." You don't mean to sound naive but you really were just thrown into this only minutes ago.
He lets go of your hand after the quick shake. "Yes, we have a two-day shoot planned. I know this is all news to you as of five minutes ago. And I'll do my best to help I'm any way I can. Park Ji-hun believes that the jewelry pieces and cologne picked out for Taehyung will be best suited in two places. One, in the studio to highlight the jewelry and two, at the beach to create an atmosphere for the cologne."
"Makes sense, thank you for filling me in."
"Like I said, I'm going to do as much as I can to help. Jimin get over here and introduce yourself to __." He calls to the pink hair boy who's busy sorting through his makeup palettes.
"Park Jimin," he walks over to you and also shakes your hand. "Makeup artist. Jungkook's told me about you."
"Oh god," you slip out and everyone chuckles. "Do I need to go hide somewhere now?" Who knows what Jungkook's said about you. Looks like he really is trying to get cozy with as many people as he can here.
"No no," Jimin waves of your slight embarrassment. "He just said you're an acquaintance that's all." You want to believe him but the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth has you second-guessing.
It's not like Jungkook has a lot of beef with you or "secrets" to spill. He just had a big mouth, flirted with everyone in sight his first three months at the company and you happened to be his first target.
But no biggie. He's dating Park Ji-hun's daughter now, right?
"Love," it's Jimin's voice again. "Don't take this as any offense but I think you need a touch-up. Half your makeup's wiped from your face. Let me fix it for you okay?"
Well if you weren't embarrassed before you are now. Jimin's a professional make-up artist, surely his eyes are fine-tuned to the human face and pick up on make-up inconsistencies.
"Sure," you give in. "That'd be great."
Jimin walks over to his pile of make-up supplies and grabs a classic black eyeliner. "Close your lids," he tells you softly. He gently draws a wing over the lid that needs the most help and then, reaches for an eyeshadow that matches the other eye. "Okay, almost there. Just a few more brushes of this and you'll be good to go."
Though your eyes are closed you can easily distinguish the sound of a third voice.
"So you said yes huh?" Jungkook nears you and Jimin with a cheesy grin. "Now who's moving up in the world?"
"This is our first time working together Jeon," you reply. "Let's keep things professional shall we?"
"Oh please, you should be thanking me instead of giving me pointers on how our professional relationship should be." Jungkook snaps back and you stiffen at his words.
"Thank you? For what?"
"Namjoon didn't mention who exactly dropped your name as a potential candidate to clear up this little mess of ours? When Ji-hun told us he accidentally double-booked I immediately suggested you. I'm hurt you didn't know." He puts his hands over his heart as if pretending to be in pain.
"Wow, well you're right. I suppose I owe you my thanks." And here you thought people only looked out for themselves. Still, it's not like you and Jungkook are gunning for the same position. Him helping you doesn't exactly put him at a disadvantage.
You do feel more pressured to do well for this shoot though. Not only is it your first model shoot, and with all people, it happens to be with Kim Taehyung but it'll backfire on Jungkook if the photos you capture turn up bad. You don't want to imagine what that'll do to both of your professional credibility.
"Alright you're good as new love," Jimin pipes up. You open your eyes and mouth a thank you but you find the words turn into gibberish as the man of the hour finally rounds the corner of the studio.
"Monsieur," Hoseok is the first to greet Kim Taehyung as he enters the space. "Good to see you again."
"How are you Hobi?" Such an endearing nickname comes from a deep, honey voice. It charms your ears. Kim Taehyung stands straight with one hand in the pocket of his loose black slacks while the other rests near the edge of his matching black blazer. It's oversized with a basic, yet clean white t-shirt. Elegant yet, relaxed.
"Doing well, thank you. But I'm afraid you'll need to change out of these clothes soon. We have a perfect ensemble picked out that'll combine well with your style and the pieces you'll be showing off." Hoseok guides him towards the dressing rooms but as he does, your eyes catch Taehyung's.
"Monsieur," Jimin and Jungkook rush to his side at once when they see him looking over. "This is __." They gesture at you with a hand. "She'll be filling in for Park Ji-hun during the entirety of the shoot."
Taehyung's chocolate eyes study your features, your posture, and most of all your lack of movement as he waits for you to say something.
You bow realizing all you've been doing is staring at his flawless face. You've seen him on social media, posters, promo banners, everything, and anything but seeing him in person is not at all the same. "Monsieur," you greet. "It's a pleasure to meet you and to be working with you for the next two days. As the others have said, my name is __."
The man takes long, purposeful strides toward you. "I promise, the pleasure is all mine," he says with a hand moving to shake yours. His long, beautiful fingers wrap around your hand and pull you into a firm grip. "Thank you for stepping in for Ji-hun. And from now on, there's no need to be formal. You can call me Taehyung."
He then flashes you a smile that makes you begin to understand why the two assistants from earlier were so adamant on getting his attention; he's breathtakingly gorgeous. You feel yourself on the brink of a cold sweat at any moment.
"I insist everyone call me by my first name," he says. "I'm an easy man."
"But Mons–" you start but he quirks a brow at you in expectation to fulfill his request. "I understand."
"Do you model as well?" Taehyung asks casually after retracting his hand. "Sorry, I can't help but notice that you have a lovely bone structure. I like to paint in my spare time and sometimes I enjoy having live models as a reference."
The question takes you by surprise. Not many people bother to compliment your physical features expect maybe a few of your closest friends. "I don't model. I prefer being the one behind the creation, like how I'll be behind the camera with you."
He chuckles at your reply. "If you ever change your mind, I'd be happy to paint a portrait of you."
"Well thank you. I'm afraid I don't do nudes though." You really ought to shut your mouth sometimes. Of course, artists don't solely paint nude portraits. What are you saying?
The man in front of you ponders your choice of words for a few seconds too long then leans in towards your ear. Not so far that it's invasive but enough that you're the only one able to hear. "Again, if you ever change your mind....I'd be honored to paint you."
"Monsieur this is not appropriate to be saying."
"I'm not the one saying inappropriate things. I merely said I wanted to paint you as any artist would. You're the one that mentioned getting undressed."
Taehyung straightens himself back up and turns his whole body around. "Hobi," he shifts his attention to his stylist. "Show me what I need to wear today."
You're left standing with a baffled facial expression.
Kim Taehyung is the most elegant flirt and tease you've ever met.
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After fifteen minutes Taehyung comes back to the studio in a shaggy grey button-down cardigan and plaid grey slacks. A gold chain necklace with a panther and tassle-like pendant hangs around his neck and on his left hand is a matching gold watch with a gold ring resting on his pointer finger.
They're all part of A&R's newest Panther collection and look nothing short of magnificent on him.
"We'll start with a few standing shots focusing on the ring and necklace separately," you say.
Taehyung nods in understanding and walks over to the studio setup that has a grey-ish purple green screen. Large studio lights hover on either side of the set to which Taehyung poses himself between.
He stands straight forward, eyes directly in line with the camera lens and jaw relaxed into a natural facial expression. It's a simple first pose to start off with but for a reason unexplainable Taehyung gives it new meaning.
It's takes you aback when you look at him through the lens of your camera. The closer you moves towards him to capture a clear shot, the more you're spooked by his intense eyes.
What makes it worse is when he decides to bring his pointer finger, the one with the ring, up to his mouth. His teeth latch gently around the gold band as it settles between his lips. You take several shots, adjusting the exposure on your camera as needed.
"Stunning," you hum in approval. Taehyung then slips the ring off his finger and again places it between his teeth. He tilts his head to the side to add to the flirtatious undertone of the pose.
"How was that?" He asks you after a few rapid flashes of the camera. "Thought I'd try something a little different this time."
"Came out perfect," you answer. "Flirty yet classically romantic. It molds well with our Panther campaign and brand. Suits you well too."
Taehyung's pleased by your words. "I'm glad you see it that way. I've always had a love for timeless themes. It's one of the reasons why I became an ambassador for Adrien & Rosamel. No other brand brings back the romantic past better."
"I agree with you completely. I fell in love with Adrien & Rosamel at a young age, around 13 I'd say. I always imagined myself to be largely integrated with the brand when I became an adult. Photography happened to help me get my foot in the door."
"Don't forget about me __," Jungkook interrupts from a couple feet away. "I got you this gig didn't I?"
Taehyung frowns at Jungkook's comment. "What does he mean?" He asks you. "Ji-hun specifically chose you to fill in for him didn't he?"
"Not exactly," you says with a flushed face. "Jungkook works closely with him and he was the one who recommended me to step in today. So I do owe him my life I suppose."
"You don't at all," Taehyung replied in a firmer tone than before. "He may have done you a favor but it's your talent that got you here. If your work wasn't good, do you think he'd take the risk of suggesting you?"
You stay silent as he continues.
"I've been in the industry for ten years, and no one lays their head on the line for you unless it benefits them in some way. Don't let him rob you of your achievements. And between you and me, I think he has an odd fixation on you." Taehyung lowers his voice. "Forgive me for being forward but he's not a jealous ex is he?"
You want to chuckle at the notion. "He's not, not at all." Taehyung laughs with you.
"So he's just a pain in the ass then," he says and you snort. "Had my share of them but not to worry. The best thing to do is to shake it off and in time, he'll realize everything you've gotten is by your own efforts and that you don't need his so called favors."
"Thank you Taehyung," you say, still a bit uneven as calling models like Taehyung was not what you were trained to do at Adrien & Rosamel. "We should probably move on with the shoot now."
"Sure, there's another pose I have in mind that I think will make the necklace stand out."
Taehyung steps away from you and turns around so his face is in front of the green screen. The cardigan he's wearing is cut to expose a large section of his back which allows pieces of the necklace to dangle against his smooth, bronze skin.
"What do you think? Does this fit the theme or does it look weird?" He rests one hand behind his head while the other raises above his head.
"Very artistic, hold the pose for me. Also, it's highly unlikely that you could ever look weird Taehyung." You focus the camera on the gold pendant. "You're a living and breathing aesthetic on your own."
"You know those are the same exact words I thought of when I mentioned wanting to paint you earlier. Seems like we see similarly don't we?"
"I guess we do, wow I never thought of myself as capable of having my own aesthetic. I feel like a carbon copy of everyone else some days." Once again you're stunned by his forwardness but you take it at face value. Perhaps he's naturally flirtatious even if he isn't meaning to be.
Taehyung looks over his shoulder at you and shakes his head in protest. "There's only one you __. You're not a carbon copy, so believe me when I say you're an aesthetic of your own as well. Which I would still like to get on canvas by the way."
"You're relentless about turning me into some kind of muse. I'm afraid I don't think I have the time, and neither do you now that I think of it. You fly back to Seoul after our shoot is over don't you?"
"I'm here for a couple of months actually," he surprises you with his reply. "Thought if I'm in Paris I might as well take some time to enjoy myself."
"That's fair. Now turn around again, I need to get a few more shots of the necklace."
"Your wish is my command." Taehyung faces away from you with a smile. He's decided he likes you. Maybe its a gift that Park Ji-hun couldn't do his photo session today.
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"Do you want to know my favorite position?" Taehyung lays on his side with one hand supporting his head while the other clutches his elbow. The angle let's light from the softbox hit the gold watch perfectly, allowing it to be the star of the show; which is no easy task to achieve when it's Kim Taehyung who's modeling.
"No talking please," you respond, bending down on a knee in front for him. Your eye peeks through the camera lens to capture a good shot.
At your request, Taehyung does his best to remain silent but he can't help but notice your grip on the camera has gotten shakier. "Are you alright?" he asks with the tiniest smirk on his face. "Do you need a break? We've been going nonstop for nearly two hours now."
"Everything's fine Mon—"
"Taehyung," he interjects softly and slowly sits up from his position on the chaise lounge. "And here I thought we were starting to become comfortable with each other. Yet watching you struggle to hold that camera in place makes me feel bad. Let's pause for a few okay?"
You flush as he nears you, a tad embarrassed at the situation. You're a professional photographer which means you should be fully capable of moving forward with today's session without any breaks.
But you're palms are sweaty and all the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight from taking hours of close-up shots of the most handsome man on earth.
What's more, is that he keeps tossing out more flirty one-liners and finding ways to compliment you. And let's not forget your earlier exchange about the whole painting ordeal–wanting to put you on canvas and all.
No one warned you Kim Taehyung was going to be like this.
"What can I do to make you comfortable again, __?" He crouches directly in front of you with wisps of his honeyed locks dangling over his eyes. As he waits for your answer, the camera shutter clicks, getting a not-so-elegant close-up of his crotch.
Fuck. You didn't mean to take that.
"Too bad Hobi didn't give me a designer belt to wear. That would have made a great photo," Taehyung teases as he watches your fingers scrabble to delete the photo from your camera roll. "Imagine the kind of awards you'd win."
Oh god. You want to slap yourself awake now.
"Sorry," you rush to say anything at this point. "I think a break might be good after all."
"How about some fresh air? Last I knew it's a beautiful day out." Taehyung stands up and offers you a hand.
"You're offering to go out together?" You hesitate to put your hand in his at first but ultimately give in.
"Why not? It's up to you but I'd like to get some air in my lungs. Gets a little stuffy in here doesn't it?" Once he pulls you up he pulls his hand back. "Let's take a fifteen-minute break everyone," he calls to the rest of the team who nod and scatter in opposite directions.
"Fantastic." You hear Jimin talk to himself. "I've been needing to go to the bathroom for an hour already!" He scurries out of the studio as quick as his legs will carry him.
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You and Taehyung find a quiet spot on the terrace above the company's enclosed garden. It's a recent edition the executives thought might give employees a small escape from the chaos of the day. And so far, it's been much appreciated. Being an unconventional hour to take a break, you're the only ones currently using the space.
"Can I ask you a question?" You cross your arms on the metal railing of the terrace and look at Taehyung beside you. He's standing calmly by the railing too with his hands in his pocket.
"Ask me anything," he replies.
"I haven't been in the fashion world nearly as long as you have but I know enough that people aren't as open as you are. You're much friendlier than most and I was wondering if you've always been that way. Even with Hoseok you call him Hobi, an endearing name."
He looks out into the distance at the perfectly trimmed bushes and trees, all square-shaped. "I became a model when I was 17. I hadn't even graduated high school yet when an agency recruited me. I thought it was a great opportunity until I saw the hunger for fame in my peer's eyes. Due to my appearance, I was given more chances to be on the cover of serious magazines like Vogue and Louis Vuitton but models who were there longer than me didn't. They were given shoots too but they were on a lower scale. Long story short they would scheme to get me in some kind of trouble so I'd get fired so they could take my place."
"I'm sorry that happened to you. I didn't want to believe that the industry was as vicious as I was told prior to entering it myself, but it is. So many of my coworkers can't wait to see someone fail so they can be promoted."
"It's a shame that it's like this __." Taehyung looks at you now, a serious expression on. "It doesn't have to be this aggressive cycle of stepping on the next guy to get to your ideal position. That's why I've decided to go against the current and make as many friends as I can. People I genuinely like tend to be my closest connections." His eyes soften at this as he scans your face.
"That's a nice sentiment but doesn't that open you up to being taken advantage of?" You think back to the two assistants from earlier this morning in the hallway. Seemingly friends on the surface but actually yanking on each other's hair below.
He shrugs and pushes a couple of loose strands of his hair behind his ear. "Sure it might but, I couldn't sleep peacefully knowing I earned my achievements by cheating everyone else out of theirs. Life's too difficult to not have a good night's sleep do you think?"
"True," you agree. "I wish more people had this sort of mindset."
"Well, luckily we can lead by example. I assume you run against the current too?"
"I try but I still have a lot of ambition so I can't say I've made any friends so far. Other than maybe Jungkook."
"Ambition is good, distinguishes the serious people from the non-serious. Friends aren't easy to make in our world __ and pardon me but that Jungkook guy isn't your friend. At most he probably has a crush on you."
"Jungkook has a crush on anyone with two legs and boobs," you chuckle and Taehyung does the same. "But he has a girlfriend now I think."
"Well, that's a relief." His tongue darts out to wet his lips. "I don't have to worry about him being a threat anymore."
You snicker at his comment. "What threat?"
Taehyung breaks into a shy grin and looks towards the ground. "Forget it, I'm just kidding around. We should head back inside. I think our time's about up." He moves to walk back inside the building but you stop him.
"Wait, no." You step closer to him. "I didn't get that joke."
He flickers his eyes up and down your body, taking in your curiosity. "You need me to spell it out for you __?" He pauses and takes a breath. "You're beautiful and I find myself extremely attracted to you. I'd–god forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable– I'd like to take you out while I'm still in Paris."
"Taehyung, that's....not a joke. Are you asking me on a date?"
"Yes, I'm asking you on a date. If you don't want to it's okay. Just say the word."
You smooth your hands down the side of your pants nervously. "Okay, what time and where?"
Taehyung's as shocked as you are by your response. "What are you doing tonight at 7 p.m?" he replies.
"Nothing, what are you doing?"
"Taking you out on a date I think. How's your dancing?"
"Oh I...I don't know. Depends on the type of dance. Why?" You know why. Of course, someone like Taehyung will want to take a slightly unconventional path for a first date.
"I want to take you to Le Duc des Lombards, you know that private jazz bar in town. So, if you can sway and don't mind being close to me we'll be in business."
"Alright." Don't overthink it, you think to yourself. It's just dancing. No biggie. "7 it is. I'll meet you there I guess."
"I can pick you up, actually, I'd really like to pick you up if I can. I know I'm such an old soul aren't I?"
"No problem," you can't contain your beaming smile. "We can exchange numbers and I'll text you my address."
"My phone's back in the studio. Let's do that before the end of the shoot."
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"Shut the front door __!" Your best friend Elaine screams over the phone. "You're definitely wearing the sexy red dress I bought you for your birthday if you going to a jazz bar with, oh my god I can't even say his name. I'm so excited for you babe!"
"It's one date, Elaine. It'll probably not go anywhere either. I'm going into this as a fun night out with a very handsome man and that's all." You browse through your closet for something to wear. You've already showered and touched up your make-up. "Damn it, I have about twenty minutes before he gets here."
"I'm telling you __, wear the red one. Even if this will be a one-night thing it doesn't mean you can't look drop-dead gorgeous. Also, one more thing. What are you wearing for underwear?"
"Elaine!"
"What? If it were me I'd be looking as hot as I can tonight. Gives you a boost of confidence."
"Maybe," you say and pull out a black dress. "I'll think about it."
"Well think fast, because you're down to fifteen minutes now."
"Uh, shit." You toss the dress when you see there's a small tear in the strap. "Please tell me how I'm in the fashion industry and can't find anything to wear without holes in it."
"This is the last time I'm saying this __. Put on the red dress. It's more of a maroon so it'll make you blend with the mood of jazz but you'll pop out as well. And you'll look elegant with the silk sleeves and it's above the knee so you'll stay cool when you dance."
You card back the hangers until you get the dress Elaine is talking about. It's never been worn and it really is beautiful. "The neckline's kinda deep though," you say.
"You're boobs aren't gonna fall out if that's what you're worried about. I've seen the dress and it'll be great on your body. Plus, worst-case scenario you get laid by the hottest man in the damn universe."
"I'm not having sex with him you know..." you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. "This is a–"
"Fun night out. Yes babe, whatever you want to think." Elaine snickers over the phone.
"Fine, you win but I have to change now okay?" You set the phone down and start untying your robe. Are you wearing a transparent black lace set underneath? Yeah, but it's not like anyone's going to know about it.
"Don't forget to call me later! Or tomorrow depending on how tonight goes," she snickers again.
"Goodbye Elaine," you shake your head and end the call.
"You know what might look great with this dress is that ruby necklace I bought ages ago," you say to yourself. The necklace you're referring to is dainty yet never a let down no matter what you pair it with.
Satisfied, you head to your jewlery case in search for it.
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"I see you found the place okay." You say once you hop into the passenger seat of Taehyung's Porsche. Man does well for himself.
"I did, and you look like a million dollars darling. Aphrodite herself couldn't even compare. I'm going to have the worst time trying not to stare at you tonight." Taehyung stands on the other side of your door and waits for your feet to be tucked in the vehicle before letting the door shut.
He insisted he come around and open it for you when he saw a glimpse of your figure walking towards his car.
"Darling?" you repeat inquisitively when he jumps in the drivers seat.
"Do you not like it? It's kinda old I know." Taehyung starts the car and puts the car in gear. He turns the wheel single-handedly and pulls out of your driveway.
There's something about seeing a man do this that always lights a fire inside you. Especially when said man is currently in a white, freshly pressed dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top, and dark grey dress pants.
"I like it," you say. "Darling. It fits the night well, since we're going go the jazz club. I like this look on you by the way."
Taehyung smiles at you briefly before focusing back on the road. The hand that rests on his knee shakes a little and his grip tightens on the wheel. "Hearing you compliment me makes me a little shy, sorry. But by the way, I like that ruby necklace you have on."
You smile and play with the chain. Always a hit.
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The club is moderately crowded when you step foot in the building. The atmosphere is warm and inviting with the creme tones, bright white ceiling lights, and soft purple strobe lighting that shines from the stage. You and Taehyung are lucky to find a free table to claim on the end of the second row of seating.
"Have you been to Le Duc des Lombards before?" He asks, letting you take the inner seat.
"I came once but it was a long time ago when I was in college," you answer.
"Really?" Taehyung takes the seat next to you. "Where did you study?"
"Spéos photography school. A lot of wanna-be professional photographers attend there. I'm fortunate to be able to go."
"I'm glad you got to study there. I assume that's how you got a job with Adrien & Rosamel right?"
"It was definitely the main reason but," you sigh. "I did have some gracious references who help me get in, including Jungkook who went to the same school. As a videographer we were project partners a few times so he was a good person of contact. Along with a few professors of course."
Taehyung snatches the bar menu placed at your table, more aggressively than expected. "No offense but I'm really starting to not like that guy," he grits, jaw clenching. "From now on you can put me down for any further references. The photos you took look wonderful and you know I have some solid connections with some very important individuals."
"Taehyung..." You're amused by the peek of jealousy. "Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself? The photos need to be approved by our campaign managers first before any merit is given. Plus, you're not my boyfriend."
"Could be your boyfriend," he quips back and you whip your head in his direction.
"Hm?"
"Hm what? You heard me."
"I thought you said you were shy tonight," you accuse and lean over his shoulder to scan over the drink menu with him. When you do you get a strong whiff of his cologne. God, you love the smell of cologne. Would it be too far for you to grab him by the shirt collar and throw your face into his chest?
Yes __, too far. Don't do that. You waive off the thought.
"What do you want from the bar?" Taehyung asks and you give him your response. He heads for the bar in the back of the room as soon as you tell him, not even giving you any time to grab your wallet.
"Tae–" you jump up from you seat. "You don't have to pay for me. I can get my own."
"As my date, I'd be my honor to buy a drink for you __. But you can keep calling me Tae, it sounds nice coming from your lips." He turns around and continues to the bar.
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Nearly two hours of live jazz music later and a few drinks later, you find yourself in a pair of long, sturdy arms. One of Taehyung's hands curls around your waist while the other laces in your fingers.
"You sway well," he drawls, pulling you closer to his body. I'd make you squirm more than you already are if it weren't for a bit of liquor in your system. "In fact, you're a natural. Makes me wonder what other areas you have a natural talent for."
"Okay monsieur," you playfully joke and continue to let him dance you in small circles. "We're getting a little close to the hot zone now."
"Are we? Must be because you're so unbearably hot. Did I tell you to look like Aphrodite in this dress?" Taehyung slips his hand from your waist. "Can I spin you?"
You nod and distance your body from his to prepare to spin into him. "If my memory serves right, you told me Aphrodite couldn't compare to me. Not that I look like her," you respond to his prior question.
"Ah that's right," he hums. "That's even better."
Taehyung's slender arms wrap around your waist when you get to the end of your twirls. Your back presses tight against his chest as he brings his lips near your ear. "You remember when I asked you if you wanted to know my favorite position? Well, this is one of them, darling."
Your breaths get shorter as you take in his charm and you're forced to look into the crowd of people in front of you. Most are busy dancing with their own partners but a few stragglers smile in your direction.
"You make a lovely couple," one older woman says to you both. "You'll make beautiful children."
"Oh we're not–"
"Yes, we will. Thank you, madame," Taehyung cuts in and you pull yourself from his hold to face him.
"Tae, what the hell are you saying?" His face sculpted from the gods themselves stares down at you in a devilish smirk.
"Is it too hot now?" He teases as he refers to your comment minutes ago about it getting too close to the hot zone.
"You're drunk aren't you?" You gently accuse with your arms crossing over your chest.
"I'm not." He snakes his arms back around you smoothly. "I have to drive you home tonight. What kind of man would I be if I got drunk?"
You let him pull you into himself again and this time when he does you feel the outline of an erection forming in his trousers.
Fuck, you curse to yourself, he's not small that's for damn sure.
"How are you feeling __? Getting tired or you wanna stay longer?"
You smirk. "I should be asking you that seeing you have a situation down there."
"Shit—" he quickly retracts his hands on your waist and backs away from you. "I'm sorry, I know we've been flirting around but I don't want to you to think that's all I'm here for."
"Its okay Taehyung, it's just a biological response," you try to soothe. "Don't worry about it."
"Yeah but it's because of you," he stresses. "I want you to know that I'm into you romantically and not just horny with lust."
Your heart clenches and your feet move to approach him on their own. You cup his cheeks with your hands and stare deep into his coffee-black eyes. "Taehyung, I've had my share of male suitors who have all been horny with lust and nothing else. I never thought for a second you were one of them okay? Plus, you're not the only one worked up tonight." You bite your cheek, unsure what'll come from admitting to the following.
"I like you too Taehyung," you finish.
"You do?" He asks with stars in his eyes, same blinding smile as usual.
You nod in affirmation.
"Is this the part where I get to kiss you?" His lids relax as he waits for your response.
"I suppose you can. Are you a good kisser?"
Taehyung snorts lightly and surprises you with a quick peck to your lips. But when he tilts his head back to look you in the eye again, you pull his face back to yours and press your lips fully on his.
Taehyung finds your waist with his fingers again the longer and deeper the kiss gets. He moves his soft lips on yours firmly then sucks on your bottom lip until his tongue is granted access into your mouth.
"Tae," you moan his name quietly. "People are starting to stare."
"And?"
You reluctantly break the kiss. "We should probably finish this in the car."
"I'd much rather have you finish in my bed though," he says before thinking it through. "Shit—sorry I did it again."
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Taehyung's lips move against yours roughly as he makes out with you in the back seat. You decided I'd be easier to kiss without the center console getting in the way.
"You know I don't like putting out on the first date but...how long until you have to return to Seoul?" You tug his blonde hair as his hands wander up and down your torso.
"Two months," he replies, slightly pained. "That's actually something we should talk about if this is going where I think it is."
"Do you not do long distance relationships?"
"I don't know." He brings his lips to the side of your neck, sucking on the delicate skin. "I've never done it before. Have you?"
You shake you head. "No but I heard it's not easy."
Taehyung moves away from your neck to take your hands in his and presses a kiss to them. "I guess we have a few choices then. One, we stop here and sum it up to a nice evening out where I got to steal a kiss the most beautiful woman. I might cry myself to sleep later," he jokes but you wouldn't out it completely past him.
"Two, we make the best of it while I'm here. I'll take you out every night possible until I have to leave. We call it a temporary relationship of sorts. Or my personal favorite, we date with intent and I'll visit you every chance I get. I'll even relocate if necessary."
"God Taehyung, I don't even know. How can you decide so soon?"
"The moving part was too much, I know. I just meant that I want to be serious. Or at least give it a shot. But if that's something that doesn't work for you then we should probably stop here."
"I want to go out again though. I don't want to stop."
"So what?"
"Call me crazy but let's be serious. You're an adult, I'm an adult. Let's fucking do this." You go to kiss him again but he doesn't let you.
"Wait, __. You sure you want to go through with this?"
"I know there's a lot of grey areas to consider but I'd hate to miss out on something amazing because of a potential threat. We go out and if it works out well, then maybe...one of us can relocate. And if it doesn't then we gave it our best."
"Alright," he slowly leans his face towards you again. "If you're on board then I am too. Since we're doing it this way....do you want me to take you home?"
You shake your head in rejection. "Take me to your bed Taehyung."
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"Just when I thought you couldn't get more beautiful you always make a fool out of me."
Taehyung traces down the curves of your body with cool hands as you stand in front of him in nothing but your black lingerie on. He's asked that your ruby necklace stay on too which did throw you off guard a tad.
His shirt is off himself, revealing his lean, tanned torso. His pants are off as well, showing off his his muscular thighs. No wonder he's one of the most wanted models in the world.
He's absolutely breathtaking.
"Is this designer?" He asks and you nod. "Of course, only the finest lace should be allowed to touch your body." Slender fingers dance across the cups of your bra, feeling the fabric carefully. He's not gropping at all.
"You're a flatterer aren't you?" You look him in the eye and your heart skips a beat. He's staring back at you with a similar intensity as the shoot earlier. Just like a panther, you think —alluring, dangerous, and incapable of escaping.
"Not flattering darling. Admiring," he responds lowly. "Can I remove it?" He leans forward to reach behind your back and graze across the hooks of the bra. His lips press a kiss to the space just below your ear as he does.
"Y-yes, please do," your voice hitches.
Taehyung unfastens the material from your body and you shake it off your arms and let it fall on the floor.
"Fuck," he swears and nibbles the edge of your ear while he palms your bare breasts. He thumbs at your nipples a little until their pebbling to his satisfaction. "Are you sure I can't make you my muse for my next painting?"
You chuckle and let him mouth at one of your breasts. "Maybe in time—oh god that feels good," you moan his tongue licks across you nipple.
"In time? Seems we've made some progress. You gave me a flat out no this morning." Taehyung lowers himself on his knee and presses a kiss to your bare waist. Its gentle and featherlike. He then fiddles with the edge of your lace panties as he did with your bra.
"That's because we were strangers, coworkers. However you want to call it."
"Mm, you have a point. May I?" He asks for permission and you nod with a small whine. His fingers brushing around your hips, nearing your ass only hightens your arousal.
Once he drags the thin material down your legs you step out of them and kick them to the side. Taehyung groans deeply when your center is exposed to him.
"Gods I want to lick this pussy so much. Will you let me eat you out tonight?"
"Fuck Tae," you card through his blonde hair. "Yes."
"Lets get you on my bed," he grunts, getting up from his kneeled position. He leads you to the edge of his bed where you crawl on top of his rich comforter, ass in full view as he follows behind you.
Once you're settled on your back Taehyung pushes your legs up and spreads your thighs wide open. He then crouches between them and kisses you inner thighs.
"You're very wet down here," he mumbles. "Do you want fingers first?"
"Three please," you request, already clawing at the sheets.
"Three?" Taehyung lifts his head to look at you. "You're certain you want to start with three?"
You chuckle. "I have the feeling that I'm going to need to take at least three fingers and your tongue before I can take your cock wholely. Correct me if I'm wrong."
He smirks and brings a slender finger up your slit. "No, you couldn't be more right." He pushes the finger all the way in, sinking between your velvety walls.
"Ohh," you moan.
Taehyung adds another, pumping and curling both fingers before adding the third. "So wet baby, do you hear yourself?"
The squelching sound of his fingers working in your pussy causes your core to clench and a streak of pearly white liquid to run down your thigh. Taehyung grows feral at the sight and starts pumping into you at a faster pace.
"Goddamn you're a sensitive one. When's the last time you were fingered?"
"Uh, I'm not sure. Probably two years ago?"
"Well allow me to reacquaint you with such pleasure."
Taehyung continues to work in your pussy with his fingers, hitting your g-spot with every push and curl. Strings of profanities leave your mouth as he does this and when he licks his tongue over your folds you scream in pleasure.
"Fuck Tae, don't stop! So good, oh my god," you moan and sink your fingers in his hair.
He doesn't stop at all, he doesn't slow down either. His fingers eventually pull out of you after a dozen more pumps to make room for his tongue to dip in your pussy. He teases your clit too which is all you needed to send you over the edge.
"I'm coming Tae," you say as your come on his tongue. He groans at the act and cleans up as much left over spillage as he can before moving away from your center.
"I love the way you taste," he licks the corner of his lips and makes his way up your body until he's hovering over your face. Taehyung presses a hard kiss to your lips after with traces of your come still on his tongue.
"Don't you agree?" He asks when he gives you a breath.
"I think I'd prefer the taste of something else instead," you respond with eyes flickering to his crotch.
He smirks and brings a hand up to graze the ruby necklace that's still around your neck. "You want my cock in your mouth baby? Wanna suck on it nice and firm between those pretty lips?"
"I do. Want to make you feel good too and taste your come."
"Mm," he groans. "Don't temp me darling. I'd really much rather come in your tight pussy."
"In a condom," you remind him.
"Yes of course, but still, in your pussy," he replies. "But who am I to deny you of what you want. Pick one, in your mouth or in your cunt?"
Your pussy clenches at his casualness. "Do I have to pick just one?"
"Fucking hell," he seethes. "You're a little greedy for our first time together aren't you?"
"ijuswansucuok."
"What?"
"I just want to suck your cock," you repeat. "But if I had to choose I want you to fuck me."
Taehyung gets off the bed hearing your words and sticks his thumbs in his briefs. "I'll tell you what," he pushes his underwear down to let his cock bounce free. It's huge, vein tracing up the underside, and leaking with pre-cum at the tip.
"I'll let you suck me off any other time because as you can see, I'm inches away from blowing my load already. But to make up for it, I'll let you have your pick of any position you want."
Your eyes train on his throbbing length as he crawls back to you on the bed. You know you should control yourself but you can't help but reach out and touch it.
"Oh fuuck," he clenches his teeth as your hand tightens around him. Your thumb traces his slit, rubbing circles on it. "God your fingers feel heavenly on me. But I need you to stop and tell me what position you want to be in, please."
"Doggy and can you make me squirt?"
"Yes fuck," he moans as you keep teasing his slit. "Face the headboard and get on your hands and knees."
You do as as he says and thank god you did because he was seconds away from thrusting up in your hand. Taehyung grabs a condom from the drawer by his nightstand and rips it open with his teeth. He then rolls it down his think length until he completely covered.
"Ready?" He asks you.
"Put it in me Tae. Need you inside me, please."
"I'm going to ease in alright? I'm pretty fucking big and I don't want to hurt you." At that he clamps his hands around your waist and starts nudging his cock into your entrance.
"Oh fuck—" you screw your eyes shut at the stretch. So good but he's right, he's too big. You don't know how he's going to fit himself all the way in you.
"Keep breathing darling and relax your muscles. We're taking this really slow until I can bottom out."
You do as he says as he continues to sink his length into you. "Taehyung, Taehyung fuck it feel so good but god you're a beast."
"I know and you're doing so good for me," he coos. "We're about halfway there. You're pussy feels amazing around me. Still wet with your come."
You grip the mattress and let out moan after moan. "You're only half-way in me? God I feel like I'm being split in half."
Taehyung pulls himself out of you then thrusts back in, gently but firm enough to jolt your whole body forward. He repeats the motion with each thrust going deeper than the last.
"Shit!" He groans as he beats himself into you. "So close baby. I'm almost all the way in."
"Taehyungtaehyungtaehyung," is the only word coming from you. All you feel is pleasure as he thrusts himself into you. It's been so long since you felt this good, and who the hell would have guessed it'd be Kim Taehyung to remind you of such feelings.
"There we go," he grunts as he finally, finally bottoms out. "There we fucking go baby, how are you feeling?" He asks as he picks up his pace.
"Fuck me—harder Tae," your moans are incoherent as your whole body to Taehyung.
The next ten minutes are nothing but skin slapping against skin as his cock beats inside of you, desperately working you up to another orgasm.
"Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck," Taehyung pulls himself all the way back then snaps his hips back in, making you dizzy with arousal. "Look at you taking my big cock all at once. Just so eager to please huh? Like the way I fill you up?"
"Yes, yes I do," you pant, sweat dripping from your forehead. If you looked over your shoulder you'd see Taehyung doing the same. "I'm getting close Tae!"
"Go ahead and play with your clit for me then," he growls. "You must be so sore down there."
You quickly reach a hand down to your clit, circling it while Taehyung thrusts himself into you wholeheartedly. "Oh god, I'm almost there. I feel it Tae," you moan as the cord inside you gets tighter, threatening to break any second.
"Go on, coat my cock with your slick darling. Show me how good I'm making you feel as I rearrange your guts. You feel it deep in your stomach can't you? Fuck, I'm close myself!"
You grind your hips on his cock a few times and with that you reach your high, releasing all over Taehyung. But despite your second orgasm, his cock keeps thrusting into you.
"Can you give me one more? Need to make you squirt."
"Uh I don't know Tae, I'm not sure if I can c-come again."
"Yes you can and you will." He fucks into as hard as he can at that, no other words come from him other than deep groans. You on the other hand can't stop screaming.
"Too much Taehyung, I can't, please, need you to come. Fuck!" Despite your protest you are indeed close to a other orgasm; the third one of the night. You pussy uncontrollably clenches around Taehyung as his cock starts twitching inside you.
"Just a little more darling, getting so close. Gonna make you feel so good," he promises as his thrusts get sloppier.
"You already made me feel good Tae, want you to come too."
"I am," he replies, finally releasing. "Oh shit!"
"What? What is it?"
"You're squirting baby. Making a mess all over me and my thousand dollar sheets."
"Oh god, I'm so sorry-fuck. I'll replace them!"
"Like hell you will," he pulls out of you, ties his condom off and tosses in the trash next to his bed. He then flips you on your back and captures your lips roughly. "These sheets are mine and they'll stay mine just like you will from now on. As long as I can help it at least. Sound good?"
"Okay Taehyung," you nod. "Yours."
"Good, now how does a bath sound?"
"Fantastic," you exhale and close your eyes.
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"Taehyung, Taehyung wake up." You shake the man by the shoulders next to you with both hands. "Get up get up get up!"
"What's the emergency?" He rubs his tired eyes as you move to leap up from the bed. You have the sheets wrapped tight around your body.
"We have a shoot at the beach with the team in half an hour! Hurry up and put your clothes on, you have to drive me back to my house so I can change into proper clothing."
"Why don't you wear one of my shirts or something?" He yanks your wrist towards him until you're forced to loosen your grip on his sheets and are forced atop his chest.
"Seriously? Why don't we just tell them we slept together at that point? You're crazy Kim Taehyung."
"You're making it sound like we had a one night stand," he pouts for the first time and you chuckle at how cute he looks.
"Of course it's not that Tae, it's just we still work together. We can't have them knowing we have a thing this early."
"Can we at least tell Jungkook?"
"No!" You playfully slap his shoulder. "Stop being so obsessed with him. He's got a girlfriend. Now get up, we really need to go."
"Alright, but give me a kiss first." He puckers up his lips and you concede by pressing your lips to his. "Are you a morning sex person?" He asks.
"No, we need to leave." You hop out of the bed and race to his bathroom.
"Goddamn it," he curses by himself. "Day one of being your girlfriend and she's already leaving you high and dry."
Taehyung throws the covers off his naked body and walks to the bathroom to join you in the shower—nothing but a big, happy grin on his face.
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a/n: oh my gosh guys, this took me a long time. But I hope you enjoyed and lmk what you think 💞 lmk if you want to be tagged for part 2 ☺
Masterlist
Taglist:
@faiyh @brieeoche @lovemeforeternity @daughterof-aphrodit @daughterof-aphrodit @jjkluver7 @mystaerytete @sparklingocean @main-bangtansmauyeondan @ahgasegotarmy116
no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton
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gyupinkys · 9 months
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SVT- mafia series
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SVT mafia au one shots.
CHOI SEUNGCHEOL
Seungcheol is not a nice man. How could he be? To run a mafia you need to be ruthless and you are no exception to that behavior. No matter how many times he fucks you and tells you he owns you, he will never mean it. Thats until he see's you being a little to friendly with Shownu.
POUT SOME MORE
CRY SOME MORE- pout some more pt.2
YOON JEONGHAN
You were assigned this case and expected to succeed. 7 years working as a detective gives you experience like no other. So what happens when Jeonghan figures you out? Offers you an ultimatum, help him out or he rats you out.
ONLY ANGEL
THE DEVIL-only angel pt.2
HONG JISOO
People need to stop telling Joshua he's crazy. You just make him do crazy things. Like stealing one of Seungcheol's helicopters to break you out of jail, but what was he supposed to do? Leave you in there to die? He could never let his love be out of his hands for too long.
MR.J
WEN JUNHUI
Jun hates lying. He especially hates lying to you. When you two were 7 you promised to never lie to each other, but here Jun is 20 years later lying to you. If you find out what he does you'll hate him... but Jun doesn't want to lose his first and only love best friend.
coming soon..
KWON SOONYOUNG
Soonyoung doesn't play around when it comes to his girl. Despite you being able to fend for yourself, he can't help but worry when you turn up missing. You on the other hand, you're having the time of your life putting a bratty Soobin and his friends in their place.
USE YOU
JEON WONWOO
Wonwoo is a bad man. You're the good girl. So he doesn't understand why he wants you so bad. He wants to own you, keep you as his to fuck, to love, to worship. Tonight is the night he'll finally take you away.
MINE
LEE JIHOON
Jihoon was never one for relationships. His stoic behavior tends to bore the ladies, but he's had is fair share of flings. However, when some low life hacker tries to access his files; he cant help but look into you more, and some more, and a little more until he becomes obsessed. Jihoon makes it his mission to find you.
FOUND YOU
LEE SEOKMIN
"DK, I know you're trying to kill me."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
AMANDA?
KIM MINGYU
Mingyu didn't know a little lady like you could put up such a fight, then again, who would willingly get kidnapped? For the week they have you in the warehouse basement you never shut up and you're driving him insane. Insane enough to accidentally let you go, and accidentally go to your house, and accidentally let you do all the nasty things you promised to do to him.
BOSS YOU AROUND
XU MINGHAO
Minghao is hiding something from you.
You're hiding something from Minghao.
APRIL 6TH, 3:36PM
BOO SEUNGKWAN
Seungkwan's got jokes for days. But whenever you're around he gets tongue tied. You're just so pretty and your hair is so nice and you smell so good and your smile is so bright and you never say hi to him which makes him want you more and- ok he's rambling.
BOO BEAR
CHWE HANSOL
Vernon's a regular at your cafe. All he does is order a large chocolate milk and pretend he's not staring at you. So when four scary looking men walk into your cafe asking about vernon, you dive head first into a life you didn't ask for.
coming soon...
LEE CHAN
You fucking hate Chan. What kind of bullshit name is "Dino". It's like every time you think you've escaped him he's right behind you. You've gotten so used to him constantly bothering you, when he's finally gone you feel incomplete. And to make matters worse he reappears with a girlfriend, a very pregnant girlfriend.
Coming soon...
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antifainternational · 6 months
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Since youre antifascist, how about you give us a definition of fascism? What exactly makes someone a fascist? (and in case you use terms such as left-wing or right-wing be sure to define them too)
Guess it's been a while since a clever Anon challenged us to define fascism, huh? Right, let's get into it: Via the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum:
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Yale professor Jason Stanley:
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“Fascism is a creation of race hatred and its politically organized expression.” - Willhelm Reich, The Mass Psychology of Fascism (1933).
“Fascism is capitalism plus murder.” - Upton Sinclair
“Repression by brute force is always a confession of the inability to make use of the better weapons of the intellect — better because they alone give promise of final success. This is the fundamental error from which Fascism suffers and which will ultimately cause its downfall…that its foreign policy, based as it is on the avowed principle of force in international relations, cannot fail to give rise to an endless series of wars that must destroy all of modern civilization requires no further discussion. To maintain and further raise our present level of economic development, peace among nations must be assured. But they cannot live together in peace if the basic tenet of the ideology by which they are governed is the belief that one’s own nation can secure its place in the community of nations by force alone. ” - Ludwig von Mises,  Liberalism: A Socio-Economic Exposition (1927).
“Spent most of the day reading fascisti leaflets. They certainly have turned the whole country into an army. From cradle to grave one is cast in the mould of fascismo and there can be no escape … It is certainly a socialist experiment in that it destroys individuality. It destroys liberty.” -  Harold Nicolson, The Harold Nicolson Diaries : 1919-1964 (2004).
“The liberty of a democracy is not safe if the people tolerated the growth of private power to a point where it becomes stronger than the democratic state itself. That in its essence is fascism: ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or any controlling private power.” - Franklin D. Roosevelt
“A fascist is one whose lust for money or power is combined with such an intensity of intolerance toward those of other races, parties, classes, religions, cultures, regions or nations as to make him ruthless in his use of deceit or violence to attain his ends….If we define an American fascist as one who in case of conflict puts money and power ahead of human beings, then there are undoubtedly several million fascists in the United States.” - Henry A. Wallace
“Fascism is the cult of organised murder, invented by the arch-enemies of society. It tends to destroy civilization and revert man to his most barbarous state. Mussolini and Hitler might well be called the devils of an age, for they are playing hell with civilization.” - Marcus Garvey,  Authors take Sides on the Spanish War, 1937 Philosophy Tube's breakdown of the elements of fascism is very thorough and recommended if you're not the reading type. But do you read books? We hope so if you're looking to engage in political discussion about anything. Here are some books that tackle the definition of fascism, in whole or in part, that we would recommend to you (check/order from your local library!) Mark Bray's highly-accessible Antifa: The Anti-Fascist Handbook is a great starting point for this topic.
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Columbia history professor Robert O. Paxton's excellent book The Anatomy of Fascism goes into this in great detail.
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There's also Umberto Eco's The Eternal Fascist
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or his "practical list for identifying fascists" as well as Hannah Arendt's seminal The Origins of Totalitarianism
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We hope you weren't looking for a simple answer to the complex question of "what is fascism?" Anon, just as we hope you're up to taking our challenge of checking out all of the above so you're curiosity is satisfied and you're well-versed on the topic.
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Q's Relevance and Parallels to Double Black
I had a sudden brainwave of thoughts (read: I only got three hours of sleep last night) and needed to share. I've thought this for awhile but I really think Q will be returning to the series at some point.
First of all, there's just too much ambiguity there and I want to know more about Q in general. What happened to Q to spawn an ability like that? Why does Dazai speak about them like they're the devil incarnate? What was the incident that led to so many Mafia deaths in an effort to lock Q up? Is there any significance to Q's unusual eyes (remember that most characters tend to have fairly normal eyes, and this is a series where the eyes carry symbolic weight)? What's with Q being strung up in this position that is eerily similar to a crucifixion, shortly before Steinbeck has a conversation about God existing but not loving them?
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There's a lot there. I've spoken about this before in the meta I did about Dazai's change in approach after the Q chapter, which was genuinely an unexpected event he did not anticipate. But there's something fascinating about the way Chuuya reacts to Q as well. In fact, both Dazai and Chuuya are almost uncharacteristically murderous towards this kid, and that's real interesting, seeing as many aspects of Q mirror aspects of their younger selves.
Now I understand you might be thinking: uncharacteristically murderous? Story, they have both literally killed many, many people before. Yes, but context is important here.
Dazai doesn't have strong violent urges - not even in the Mafia, where he was considered terrifying more so due to his apathy in killing than anything. I can't remember a scene where Dazai is described as radiating bloodlust like Kyouka or Mori. Dazai is scary because of his indifferent hollowness at his worst points. Odasaku was described similarly in Untold Origins - there was no real desire to kill, just a listless cold follow-through. Dazai's sadistic methods, brought up by Higuchi in Chapter 25, are acknowledged as a means to an end, a method, not something done out of any strong desire or enjoyment. So when Dazai makes death threats or appears visibly angered - that's something worth taking note of. For him to make a promise to Q to pluck out their heart - holy shit. That is not typical Dazai behaviour. He doesn't even make that kind of threat towards Fyodor. Whatever happened in the past clearly shook him, enough for this moment to change his approach in the series and send him back to using darker methods again.
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As for Chuuya, while he has and does kill quite readily, this is mostly in the heat of a fight. For him to give the go-ahead for murdering an unconscious child - it's unusually cold-blooded for him, and I can't think of another instance where he's down with lethal intent outside of combat and direct orders. I've seen some people talk about his reaction to Dazai suggesting he'll kill Q as proof that he's gotten darker since we saw him last in Stormbringer, from someone who would plead for the lives of the Sheep to be spared ("They're just kids") to being ready and willing to kill a defenseless child. While I think it's likely true that he's gone darker since that point - Chuuya appears to be more cynical in the present as well as having darker eyes with a smaller central pinprick of light than in Fifteen and Stormbringer - that's not the only thing going on here.
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Thing is, Chuuya has always been fairly ruthless. He’s a very vengeance oriented character, right down to his fighting style (rebounding attacks and bullets). Hurt him or someone he cares about and he hurts back - and that threat will be destroyed. Parallel to this is how he is seemingly unable to turn his back on people who have helped him. Help him and he will remain loyal and protective even if that person goes on to stab him in the back. He has a very “give and take” mentality. Chuuya operates on the reciprocity principle.
So, about Q, here’s the thing: Q is a part of the Mafia, that's true. But Q has never helped them, only hurt indiscriminately. Mafia philosophy says “protect your own and follow the boss' wishes no matter what”. But Chuuya’s philosophy is saying “neutralize the threat”. And interestingly, Chuuya’s philosophy won here. If Dazai had've killed Q, Chuuya would’ve defied Mori’s orders in favour of his own judgement, which is extra intriguing because it emphasizes Chuuya’s loyalty to the people within the Mafia, not the Mafia as an organization itself. This is in full contrast to people like Tachihara and Hirotsu, who prioritize the organization and orders above all.
And about Q being a child: I don’t think this is such a big change in his character if I'm being honest. Chuuya knows full well how dangerous a child can be - he was that dangerous child. People underestimated him as a teenager and paid for it dearly; do you really think he'd make that same mistake? He also has a very warped view on the responsibilities and ways a child should be treated… while I do believe he probably is protective of those younger than him, he also equally understands that a child can be just as much of a threat as anyone else. For Chuuya, it’s always a matter of what wins out: the person or the threat? In this case, it was the latter.
The thing is, it's interesting the way they react when you look at the way Q eerily parallels aspects of their younger selves - as well as some things that carry over to the present.
Dazai and Q share central themes of control.
Q's mind control ability is actually referenced by Dazai as being essentially the worst kind of ability there is, and I know I've mentioned before how he seems to react poorly to those people who attempt to mentally control others, placing them on a heightened level of danger (think Fyodor, Mori). I don't think I need to get into Dazai's control freak tendencies - and what's more, after Q's introduction, after he says that mind control is the worst kind of ability there is - he ramps up his masterminding and enacts as much control as he can over the proceedings of the events that follow. Q's ability is interesting in the sense that it allows them control over others, implying Q came from a background of little control. I have also hypothesized that Dazai, with his need for situational control, similarly came from a background of little control. It's also likely they both were hurt by others - Q's ability turns any pain inflicted on them back around, giving them a way to fight back, while Dazai can level the playing field of any unfair advantages by nullifying abilities.
Q's small segment in Fifteen is also interesting: they're near completely zoned out, just staring off into the distance without responding to their environment until Dazai gets directly in their face. Then Q suddenly flips a switch and becomes all cheerful and playful. It reminds me of young Dazai's quick switches between faux cheerfulness and emptiness earlier in that same book.
They also both have quite interesting relations to pain. Q wonders why cruel things always hurt them, but Q makes this a foregone conclusion by purposely arranging others to hurt them so they have an excuse to hurt those people back. Q's pain becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy: they hate it, but the only means of control they know in interactions with others requires it. Dazai similarly hates pain - his pain loop, however, is more emotional than physical. Dazai feels isolated and alienated from others, but his attempts to exert control require him to distance himself and rely on his mind over all else. He also leans into his inhuman side when it becomes apparent pain is unavoidable (I think often of his reactions throughout Dark Era to Ango's betrayal) - again, this becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. He will not find anything. He will continue to be separate from humanity if this cycle continues. That was why it was imperative that Odasaku break him out of it. Self-sabotage behaviours and unhealthy cycles, physical and emotional, are apparent with these two.
For bonus points: both have injured right arms.
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On a more superficial level too, Q and Dazai both have "creepy child" energy, with emphasis on the child part - they are both legitimately disturbing at times but also have moments where they show childlike interest and behaviour. (I encourage people to check out Q's mayoi cards for this - I know it's not super canon or anything but it emphasizes their "kiddishness".)
Also I'm unsure if this is significant, but there's this detail too:
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Q has a very unusual right eye with a star in the center. The right eye is also the one Dazai kept covered in the Mafia. Notably also, Q's right eye is frequently obscured by their hair in key scenes.
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...Does it mean something? I have no idea. But it's potentially interesting so I thought I'd add it.
Meanwhile, Chuuya and Q share themes of loss of control.
For Q, this is quite obvious. They are literally locked up; imprisoned within the Mafia and unable to exert control over their circumstances. For Chuuya, it's a little more subtle but still present, I believe: I invite people to look at his character song and mayoi (particularly aquarium) for direct references to feelings of being trapped. However, looking at Fifteen and Stormbringer, there are a few mentions of freedom that are intriguing in relation to Chuuya's character. In Fifteen, both Dazai and Shirase mention Chuuya's "freedom"... but this is almost a mockery of what's really going on. A party to celebrate Chuuya's freedom is really an elaborate set up for a trap. Shirase telling Chuuya that he should have the freedom to act on his own wishes is really a cover up for a betrayal. In both instances, Chuuya's freedom is a lie. Stormbringer, at the very least, instates a sense of agency where he at least has the freedom to make choices about his own actions - that's the whole point of his hat; it's a symbol of autonomy (also anti-mind control; more on that in a bit). However, Stormbringer also systematically strips away the start of any alternate path Chuuya could've taken - he cannot be the child he was, he never got to hear the pitch on living in the light. He feels genuine gratitude towards those in the Mafia - they have his back, which is more than he could say before, but at the same time, the Mafia is kind of the last option available there if he wants not to be alone... and Chuuya does not want to be alone. (Seriously. His character song. Please look at it. Also Stormbringer.)
Now, onto their abilities, which also parallel in the sense that they are both used to "get back" at people. Chuuya rebounds attacks - bullets shot at him ricochet back at the people who fired, and Q hurts people who hurt them. There's a very reciprocal relation to the way they use their abilities, and it is absolutely to induce fear and intimidation in others, but there's a key difference. Namely, Chuuya fights only against enemies or people who strike first. Q, on the other hand, intentionally makes "enemies" out of even innocent bystanders just to have a reason to hurt them back. A lot of this is due to Q's misanthropic nature - I doubt Q has ever had a positive bond with another person, and so Q sees the whole world as their enemy - a world which, to them, does not want them in it. Chuuya, on the other hand, has had people who care about him, and he cares about them in turn. He's a bit jaded but he doesn't hate humanity, far from it.
In that sense, Q parallels Verlaine in a sense, right down to being kept in a special secret room in the Mafia, hehe. Though again, there's differences. Verlaine chooses to stay in that room, first of all, while Q doesn't have a choice. Verlaine's angst is internal identity based while Q's is more external situation based. In response to their pain, Verlaine chooses to relinquish control of himself (Brutalization), and Q chooses to have everyone else lose control of themselves (Dogra Magra). Verlaine says "look at how monstrous I am and how I hate and hurt because of it" and Q says "look at how monstrous you all are and how I hate and hurt because of it".
Chuuya is not so far on either extreme that he emulates this - but he could've ended up like Verlaine, and he admits it in Stormbringer. He could've maybe ended up something like Q too, if he'd remained trapped as a lab rat. But see here's the key with Chuuya: his hat makes it so the choice to lose control of himself is his alone, and moreover, that losing control doesn't mean he goes out of control. He trusts that he can lose control for a bit, place it in someone else's hands for awhile before it goes too far. Trusts that the choice to lose himself will be followed by the keeping of a promise to bring him back to himself. Chuuya has bonds, and that's the key difference.
But uh. Going back to parallels... about the scene where Q gets tortured... and the scene where Chuuya gets tortured...
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Is this significant...?
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...is... is this...
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...
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.............
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Um. I may be delusional. But. Well. *gestures at all of this*
So, where does this leave us? Well, we have Dazai, who sees a manipulative, mind-controlling kid that he calls a "walking disaster", and we have Chuuya, who sees a dangerous ability user that is too big of a potential threat to not be dealt with, so the two decide the best course of action is to kill them about it. The reason Dazai did not follow through is likely a mix of his stated reason (the Mafia cannot harm Dazai so long as he is needed to stop Q), and probably also that he isn't really supposed to be directly killing anymore.
Nice, guys. Really clear and consciously held self-concepts you got there.
Considering everything, it's maddening that all we have on the dynamic between these three is: Q joins in Fifteen at the same time as the other two and is assigned to Dazai since he can stop their ability. Mori doesn't know what it is at that point but assumes whatever it is will be manageable because Dazai can just nullify it. It... clearly wasn't.
I feel like there has to be something here and that we're going to be coming back to it. Q, the old Boss, how Mori got so close as an underground physician in such a short time... there's so much about the Mafia we don't know so I'm assuming the story will shift to focus on these points again... someday. Hopefully.
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venussaidso · 9 months
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Vedic Astrology Observation (based on shows/films part 3)
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Very interesting how Saturn creates literal mental hardships on their natives, which can cripple their self esteem. Sometimes this theme can build or break the victim who is on the receiving end of absolute humiliation and oppression. (This applies to Capricorn, Aquarius and Saturn nakshatras. But I often see Saturn nakshatras being the oppressive figure that ignites fear in others.)
Often times, this dynamic takes place in a stress-inducing environment where the leader is a cold, brutal tyrant. One big example that popped in my head is the film Whiplash, where this cruel music teacher is played by Pushya Moon, J.K Simmons. This teacher takes this one particular student through a journey of humiliation, abuse and degradation to get the 'best results' out of him (when it's also about power imbalance for the teacher). The student being played by Aquarius Sun, Miles Teller.
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Saturn sees this as a process of purification. Through extreme harshness, you become a refined diamond. But does one really have to suffer to achieve success? Mercury nakshatras, especially Revati, is where this theme becomes dismantled. Mercury calculates ways to shortcuts, basically getting ahead without extreme hardship. But it's interesting that a Saturn nakshatra native can adopt a mindset that victimizes oneself just so that the relief of success can be rewarded. The assumption that mental hardship reaps the best results out of a person. This is especially what Uttara Bhadrapada represents, self destruction & self restriction to become more 'elevated'.
Another obvious example of a film about being under a tyrant is Devil Wears Prada. Pushya Ascendant Meryl Streep portraying a ruthless, tyrannical figure who has caused a stressful work environment because of the fear she's instilled in others. And she takes this one employee who she sees potential in, and expects perfection out of her.
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The performance of the character being inspired Glenn Close's portrayal of Cruella who is also a horrible, abusive tyrant of a boss who terrorizes her employees. And she's Uttara Bhadrapada Sun.
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And another tyrannical, cruel and cold character I would like to name is Sue Sylvester from Glee, who is portrayed by Uttara Bhadrapada Moon and Pushya Ascendant, Jane Lynch (who randomly reminds me of Hillary Clinton who is also Uttara Bhadrapada Moon).
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It's so funny that 'The Bear' shows an extremely anxiety-inducing work environment and the main lead is of course an Uttara Bhadrapada Moon. Whose unleashing rage in S1 is compared to Shia Labeouf's temper. And it's important to note that Shia Labeouf is indeed a f/cking Pushya Moon. 😭
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The screaming, stress, fear of failure / fear of small mistakes and especially the humiliation that goes on in the kitchen of this series is so Saturnian themed. The environment being unhealthy and unpredictable, the mental hardship which takes toll on your self esteem. I could immediately link this whole post back to Claire Nakti's Uttara Bhadrapada video which opened my eyes in a big way (as I see endless Saturn nak themes instantly), and in real life I witness how Saturn nakshatra people are either humiliating others or they are on the receiving end of that pressure and humiliation.
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The Black Mirror episode called 'Joan Is Awful' is very Saturnian.
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This character Joan is perceived as cold and cruel, which is not her intention. And she one day finds that there is a series made about her life in a very exaggerated way (without her consent). In the series mimicking her life, Joan is played by Salma Hayek who portrays her very coldly, self-centered and mean-spirited.
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I like how Uttara Bhadrapada and Pushya can be interchangeable. (Pushya is ruled by the deity Brihaspati who is literally Jupiter. And Uttara Bhadrapada is Pisces which is ruled by Jupiter. Both nakshatras belong in the warrior caste, which means they're not sweet and soft as they're classified as warriors. And both nakshatras are ruled by Saturn, ofc, so all of this means they have a very, very similar temperament.)
I love to think of how Anya Taylor Joy and Charlize Theron share the same character. Anya portraying a young version of Furiosa and Charlize portraying the version we know in Mad Max: Fury Road.
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And also, the theme of Joan Is Awful is the exploitation of the anatomy and life of both women (three, actually), and the humiliation they experience as their exploitation is for other people's consumption. The lack of consent which denies them of rights is very Saturnian.
Actually, it's very similar to another Black Mirror episode called Ashley O, starring Miley Cyrus who is an Anuradha Sun.
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A celebrity whose anatomy is exploited for the consumption and entertainment of others, which nearly leads to her death. Saturn nakshatras and Saturn rashis may experience the stripping of one's own identity; they may experience moments where they have to make themselves feel small, where they're completely powerless, where they have to hide, or act a certain way to survive.
Also, I just finished watching the kdrama called Celebrity, and I find it so funny that the main character got called 'Modern Cinderella' because she's romantically involved with this handsome, rich CEO dude who became intrigued with her directness. She literally is Cinderella in how her father died after going bankrupt and her family adapted to a smaller life, but she still has the knowledge to run a business/factory (because her father ran factories) which she benefits from. She becomes belittled, humiliated and oppressed until she decides that to gain power is to gain respect. This particular theme is very Uttara Bhadrapada, but this character is played by Pushya Sun Park Gyu-young.
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Again, I believe Pushya and Uttara Bhadrapada are interchangeable sometimes. Also, I love how she social climbs her way on top. Which is also very Saturnian. But it's important to note that the premise of the series is also Rahuvian, and the actress is a Swati Moon which is just perfect.
But yeah this is all I got, thanks for reading <3.
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aetherdoesthings · 2 months
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LUFFY X READER - PART THREE
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forethoughts: ahhhhhh this is probably gonna be the last part i'm gonna post for this series FOR NOW, i have so much stuff to write (cough hanahaki) so after this one luffy's gonna be put on hiatus for a while :).
notes: angsty? it's definitely sad. a lot of robin in here because she's been in my mind.
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You didn’t know what to do. Where to go. You decided to duck into your room, hiding yourself in the bathroom as you sunk, curling up into a ball against the wall. Tears started to flow down your face, your heart absolutely shattered and mind racing for conclusions. What did you do wrong? Why was Luffy acting like this? What’s happening? 
Your heart fell to your stomach as one thought crept into your mind. 
No… but how could he? You only called whenever he was asleep. Of course, there was that one emergency call Admiral Akainu made, but it was only that and that time only. Could Luffy have eavesdropped onto your conversation?
He was acting all jumpy and weird once you came out. Your mind reminded you, as your head dropped onto your knees. He knew. He had to know. That’s why he kicked you out. He knew you were a marine.
Damn it… damn it! You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw a tantrum and cry. But that’s not what marines do. That’s not what you needed to do. 
“You want me… to go onto the Straw Hat’s ship and pretend to be a pirate?” You looked at Admiral Akainu.
“Yes. Is that a problem, cadet?”
“Well, what if they find out-”
“They won’t. We’ll take care of that on our side. All you need to do is get into their crew, learn about them. Go undercover.”
“What for?”
“Are you questioning me, cadet?” Akainu glared at you.
You looked down at your boots. “No, Admiral.”
“Hmn. Call every week to report your findings. Eventually… we’ll have enough information to destroy the Straw Hats and triangulate their location. Grow close with them. Make them trust you, cadet.”
“How will you know my location while I’m on their ship?”
“Kizaru will handle that. Now, cadet, this is a very important task and mission you’re going to be sent on. Failure to complete your mission will result in death.”
“Death?!”
“The Straw Hats must never know you are a marine. They must never know we are trying to do this. If they ever find out, we’ll find out. And your punishment for failing will be death. You can walk away and turn around. Or you can prove yourself and make yourself the hero that saved the world from the Straw Hat Pirates. Which will you choose, cadet?”
You balled your fists, looking up at the Admiral. “When do I leave, Admiral?”
A sly smile grew on Akainu’s face. “Tomorrow morning. You better not mess this up, cadet.”
“I won’t.”
You should’ve walked away. That was a very clear option and the smartest one. You could’ve just continued your life as a cadet working for the marines, but no, of course you wanted to prove yourself and do something as ridiculous as join the Straw Hat Pirates.
But if you never had accepted Akainu’s offer, you wouldn’t have met Monkey D. Luffy. You never would’ve felt the love Luffy gave you and you gave him. Even if it was all a ruse, there was still a connection you had with the boy. He was charming. Even though you were told to believe he was a ruthless pirate, taking down the likes of Arlong and Crocodile, a warlord of the sea, you started to see him in a different light.
And you saw the rest of the Straw Hat Pirates in a different light too. Roronoa Zoro was a ruthless swordsman, but he was always sleeping and getting lost. Nico Robin didn’t live up to her ‘devil child’ moniker the World Government gave her. She was a peaceful soul that always accommodated to your needs and wants, and was always there to listen to your rant, even if you were just doing it to learn more about her. Hell, even the perverted cook was nicer to you than the entire marine corps. Unbeknownst to your naive self at that time, you had actually done what Akainu intended you to do: Get close with them. 
And now you were too close. 
Your feeling of resentment to the Straw Hats had turned into love and care.
You had become a Straw Hat Pirate, you had become their Nakama.
And you couldn’t turn back now, now that they knew your secret. 
They’re going to hate you. They’re never going to see you in the same way. They’re never going to like you again. You’re going to be alone again. 
Tears flowed freely down your face, as you sobbed uncontrollably, not knowing what to do or how to handle your dilemma. You had failed your mission. Luffy knew that you were a marine. You were going to die, that was Akainu’s exact words. But you had a band of pirates that cared for you and would fight for you. Perhaps… no. You were asking too much for them. You were a traitor. A mole. They wouldn’t help you, even if you explained your situation to them. You had joined their crew with the intention to betray them. There’s nothing pure about your intentions that would make them want to help you. 
So that left your fate.
You were going to die.
You sat there on the floor, staring at the sink as you leaned against the wooden wall, tears streaming down your face. You stared at your arm, glaring at one specific spot.
“What’s that, Admiral Kizaru?” You asked the Admiral who held up a mysterious looking device.
“That’s a tracker, cadet.” He answered simply. You sat on an operating table, your right arm extended outwards as the Admiral moved around.
“Is that going in me?”
“Yes. We’ll be able to track your location with this.”
“And that’s all it’s going to do?”
“Hm… that’s information you don’t need to know. Now, try not to scream, will you?”
That damn device was going to kill you the moment the marines found out you had failed. They might activate it now. Maybe seconds later. Minutes. Hours. They were going to find out you had failed. And you were going to die.
Suddenly, you heard a gentle knock on the door, causing you to jump and scream. 
“It’s alright, Y/N, it’s just me. May I come in?” You heard Robin’s voice appear from behind the door. Shit.
You wiped your tears away with your eyes, clearing your throat. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, clear evidence of your breakdown written all over your face. There was no hiding the fact you were crying; you couldn’t even think of a way to hide it.
Reluctantly, you opened the door, letting the archaeologist walk into the bathroom. Robin looked at you with a somber and sympathetic look, pulling you in for a hug. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into Luffy… you don’t deserve to be blasted like that. How are you feeling?”
You wanted to push Robin away, scream at her until she left. You didn’t deserve her kindness, nor the care and love she was giving you. You were a filthy traitor, and you deserved to die. 
“Robin…” You croaked, as tears started to flow down your face. They were immediately wiped away by Robin’s slender fingers, as you refused to look her in the eyes. 
“What is it, Y/N?”
“I…” You were going to die anyway. That damn device in your arm was going to kill you any minute. Robin deserved to know… all of them deserved to know… at least you could die that way as your true self: a filthy traitor.
“I have to tell you something.”
85 notes · View notes
seongclb · 9 months
Text
INTRODUCING... THE HURT SONG SERIES !
— note ! each of these fics have a song that have inspired them. this series is in random order; meaning that the masterlist is in order of fic release but the member will remain unknown until the story has come out. have fun & bring tissues - you might need them.
warnings of each fic along with pairings will be added when the fics are released (extra suspense!).
click “keep reading” to check out the fics planned & send an ask to be added on the taglist for each story!
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➤ CUPIDS MISTAKE. CLICK HERE TO READ.
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♫ crybaby by the neighbourhood.
playboy!enha x reader, slight enemies to lovers au, angst & fluff.
synopsis ! you’ve never understood why he gets so many dates all the time, he’s bloody insufferable. you can’t stand him at all, yet everyone else is crazy for him. i guess, you’ll find out what’s so irresistible about himself, soon. after all, he’s already planning your valentines date together.
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➤ ANAGEPSIS. CLICK HERE TO READ.
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♫ cologne by beabadoobee.
stranger!enha x reader, strangers to lovers au, angst & fluff.
synopsis ! working at a perfume shop certainly had it’s perks but none of them were as remarkable as meeting him that one late afternoon just before closing time. that day led to flirtatious conversations at least three times a week, to dates around the city and to packing your bags three years later.
estimated release date — unknown.
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➤ FIRST LOVE SCAR. CLICK HERE TO READ.
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♫ first love/late spring by mitski.
classmate!enha x reader, high school au, fluff & angst.
synopsis ! the first love is always the most memorable, along with being the least expected. the butterflies as soon as you wake up, stealing glances at one another during shared classes, timidness coursing through your veins when talking to one another. but does it always last?
estimated release — unknown.
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➤ DEATH KISS. CLICK HERE TO READ.
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♫ born to die by lana del ray.
popular!enha member x reader, apocalypse au, mainly angst
synopsis ! it was easy to be head over heels for the schools heartthrob. the difficult part, however, was gaining his attention, especially with the tons of other people who seemed to be better suited for him. who would have thought the outbreak of a zombie apocalypse would bring you two together?
estimated release — unknown.
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➤ ARRANGED APART. CLICK HERE TO READ.
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♫ moonlight by chase atlantic.
prince!enha member x royal!reader, royal au, angst and fluff
synopsis ! you’re both from families of power and wealth, ruling the country comes with great responsibility. it also comes with the feeling of being alone but when you two meet; it’s as if there’s no one else in the world apart from you two. even countries can’t come between your love for one another.
estimated release — unknown.
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➤ ONE LAST DANCE. CLICK HERE TO READ.
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♫ one last time by ariana grande
demon!enha x reader, demon love au, fluff & angst.
synopsis ! from all the horror films you’ve watched, you expected demons to be scary rather than have the sweetest looking smile you’ve ever seen along with becoming your only companion. that is, until he has to leave your side next to join the devil once more.
estimated release — unknown.
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➤ THE VOID OF LOVE. CLICK HERE TO READ.
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♫ grenade by bruno mars & the only exception by paramore
mafia!enhypen member x reader, mafia to lovers au, fluff & angst
synopsis ! he’s never been swayed by love. with his ruthless job, there’s never been time to fall in love nor does he want to. but they say that love comes when you least expect it. and, boy did it hit him like a bullet in the chest
estimated release — unknown.
332 notes · View notes
sunnylovespickles · 9 months
Text
Moira
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Noun: a person’s fate or destiny. 
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⋆ pairing| Lee Chan x Afab!reader x Choi Seungcheol
⋆ genre| angst, smut (horror/thriller)
⋆ summary| An ordinary girl, nothing particularly special about you. But the fact your mom has one of the most eerie disappearances in the life of crime. You hate it, you hate all the attention and while trying to cope you run to dancing. You thought you were over it by this point but the darkness of your mom makes it’s way back to you through him. An old friend doesn’t seem to like the idea or you too either, and he’s willing to fight. "Tell me, are all the best games boring ones where you stick to the rules, or ones where you can do a little cheating?"
⋆ !warning! mentions of death, thoughts of suicide, mentions of depression, thigh riding, brat taming, unprotected (wrap before you tap), cum eating, oral sex, dom/sub themes, slight clit stimulation, Chan has a slight sadistic nature, hair pulling, language, etc.
⋆ word count| 9.9k
⋆ a/n| was thinking of making this a series of probably three parts depending how well this does:) i wanted to right something sad af to tug at the hearts. also thank you to my lovely moots @kaespalls and @jeonride listening to me ramble about this plot
song rec~ (Lost to Farewell- Jang Hye-Jin) (Distressed- Lim Jeong Hee)
I remember the day my mom disappeared like it was yesterday. It was a stormy Monday morning, the rain pouring down as if the heavens themselves mourned her absence.
The news spread like wildfire. Kids whispered, eyes filled with judgment, as if my life had become a spectacle for their amusement. I became "the girl with the missing mom," a label I never asked for, but one that defined me the most. And the worst part? The police had no evidence, no leads, nothing to appease my or anyone’s restless mind.
Left in the care of my drunken father, the warmth and stability of my home crumbled, replaced by chaos and neglect.
Everyday for the rest of my high school years, I could feel the eyes of those around me burning into my back. I can still recall clearly a specific moment that wont seem to leave my memories.
"Hey, found her yet?" some random ass girl, who just had to put her random ass comments in my business.
In fact, high schoolers are absolutely ruthless and they might quite literally be the spawn of the devil. Nobody wants to talk about it, but it’s almost the most terrifying part of your life. Worries about what comes next, stuck up bitches, horny men, and no will to go on.
It’s almost like a game, be the lonely person and you’ll most likely get picked on but at least you’re not one of the popular ones who have to put on a face to be accepted. In the end, we all have our own shit were going through.
Nobody wants to look at it that way, it’s pick your poison and wait for it to slowly kill you.
Others just laughed at my suffering, their snotty remarks echoing through the corridors. And my heart had sunk, a familiar ache that I would do anything to give away.
"You have no idea what it feels like," I had retorted, my voice laced with an undertone of pain.
Laughter turned into uncomfortable silence, as if my words had momentarily pierced their callousness. But it didn't last long. The mocking resumed, amplified by the echoing voices of those who reveled in my vulnerability.
"Aw, poor you, always the victim," Another random chimed in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe your mom just realized she didn't want to deal with you anymore. Can you blame her?"
And I couldnt blame her.
My father was a mess and maybe she just got sick of me, got sick of us. Maybe it was all too overbearing for her. Where ever she is now I hope life is just slightly better for her, if she's still alive.
Ever since that moment in highschool I dont think I saw the world in color anymore. The world around me had lost its vibrancy, its enchanting hues fading into a bleak palette of gray.
Just bland.
I remember walking through the park one day, the gentle breeze caressing my face, and yet I felt nothing. The emerald green of the trees that once felt like comfort become mere silhouettes against a colorless sky. Laughter and mirth filled the air, but they were distant echoes, alien sounds that failed to penetrate the barriers I had erected around myself.
I had lost touch with close friends after graduating, a trio of mine; Jun and Seungcheol.
While Jun and Seungcheol eagerly stepped into the world of college, I was left behind, a casualty of financial constraints and shattered dreams. The distance between us grew with each passing day, not merely in physical proximity, but in experiences, aspirations, and the bonds that once tied us together.
I instantly went into the life of working, saving up enough money that when my father left I was well off. And that was bound to happen. Sometimes i’m not proud of the things I had to do, but life is about survival.
It’s live or die.
As the years rolled on, Jun and Seungcheol still reached out, their messages peppered with warmth and pleads for me to give them just one word. Just one word to make sure I was okay.
They wanted to hang out, to catch up on lost time. But I couldn't find the energy within me to respond, to face the stark reality that I was no longer part of their world.
It was easier to hide in the shadows, to wallow in my self-imposed isolation. They deserved better than a mere specter of the person I used to be.
Their texts became a bittersweet reminder of the bond we once shared, the laughter that rang through the hallways, and the secrets we whispered under moonlit skies. Yet, as much as I adored them, I couldn't shake the gnawing belief that I had become a burden, a reminder that I'm just a girl who lost her mom.
I’m sure they didn’t feel that way, both of them were there with me through times that I could write a book about. I just still couldn’t bring myself to face them, and from time to time I questioned if I was depressed.
I couldn’t even recognize myself, so how could they recognize me?
I had actually heard Jun had a baby not too long ago found out through instagram. I kind of chuckled at it, it was warming to see him finally settle down and have children. He was such a goofball and known fuckboy in high school that me and Seungcheol wouldn’t have guessed.
But oh, Seungcheol. That’s a whole different story.
Jun always teased but the affection me and Seungcheol had for each other was different. I knew I hurt him when I stopped reaching out, I knew that he still felt deeply for me because on every holiday he would send a postcard with a little heart by his name.
And I knew very well I hurt him by never sending one back. As much as I knew, I still kept them safely placed in my closet. It’s selfish of me to keep them but still never write. Sometimes I regret we both didn’t act on our feelings but maybe it’s for the best. I didn’t even know if I still felt for him so deeply it’s been so long.
I respect him though, I respect both him and Jun that no matter how much they actually missed me they gave me my personal space.
Maybe that’s what I need to heal, space.
Or maybe i’m just convincing myself that’s what I need so that I don’t have to come to terms with reality, the world is a fucked up place and It won’t wait for me.
Today life got a bit more interesting than it's been for years.
I stepped behind the counter, ready to face another mundane day at my retail job. The bell above the door chimed as a customer entered the store, interrupting the monotony of my day. I groaned but even so money was of the essence.
I straightened my uniform and forced a smile, ready to assist. But as my gaze met the customer's face, time stood still.
"Seungcheol?" I whispered, disbelief lacing my voice.
It took a moment for recognition to set in. Seungcheol. Standing before me, looking older and yet the same, with a smile that could still make my heart skip a beat. The sight of him after all these years brought a wave of emotions crashing over me.
He was still so breathtaking, his rosy plump lips and his dark hair about neck length. He still had fair skin, almost like he never aged but I could see from his demeanor he wasn’t that teenage boy anymore.
He changed.
His eyes widened, mirroring the surprise that swept over me. "Is that really you?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and uncertainty.
I nodded, unable to form any coherent words.
"Hey," he said, his voice warm and genuine. "I-I uhh…how have you been?"
My throat tightened, and I mustered a shy smile. "Hi, Seungcheol. I've been... okay."
His eyes lingered on mine, searching for something, as if trying to unravel the years of silence between us. "I've missed you, you know," he admitted softly.
My heart fluttered at his words, but I couldn't find the courage to respond.
"Same," I mumbled, unable to meet his eyes.
The silence lingered, a palpable reminder of the time that had slipped away from us. But before I could muster up an excuse to end this conversation, he continued, "What time do you get off work? Maybe I could give you a ride home?"
His words caught me off guard, and I found myself hesitating, unsure of how to navigate this unexpected reunion. My voice wavered slightly as I replied, "Um, I usually finish around six."
A hopeful smile spread across his face, and he nodded. "I'll pick you up around 6."
The hours seemed to stretch endlessly as I worked, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Seungcheol. Closing time finally arrived, and I locked up the shop, feeling lost but there was no backing out now.
I stood outside, waiting for his car to appear. It was a surreal moment, the world around me dimming in comparison to the nervous flutter in my chest. And just as I was about to doubt his arrival, his car pulled up in front of me, and he motioned for me to hop in.
It was nice, a matte black color you could tell he spent a lot of money on. Almost as if it was disgraceful for me to ride in it.
I climbed into the passenger seat, my hands gripping my bag tightly in my lap. The awkwardness was thick, and neither of us seemed to know where to begin. The silence hung heavy between us, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine.
Seungcheol cleared his throat, attempting to break through the tension. "So, how have you been? It's been so long since…," he stopped his sentence not wanting to say anymore.
I fumbled with my words, my voice barely above a whisper. "I've... I've been okay. Just taking things day by day."
He nodded, his eyes briefly flickering towards me before returning to the road. "I can only imagine."
I managed a weak smile, grateful for his understanding. "Yeah."
The corners of his lips turned up, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "We had some good times, didn't we?"
I nodded, memories flooding my mind. "Yeah, we did. High school feels…distant."
As we neared my house, the air grew heavy with unspoken words. Seungcheol's fingers tapped nervously against the steering wheel, a clear reflection of my own anxiety.
Before we reached my destination, he mustered up the courage to speak again. "I hope we can continue catching up soon?"
"Actually why dont you come in?" I continued, it caught him off guard because all these years I havent mustered a word. "Sure." He replied.
I stood in front of my house, nervously fumbling with the keys in my hand. Seungcheol had just given me a ride home, and now I was contemplating inviting him inside.
It felt like a big step, opening up my world to him again after all these years. But there was something about the way he looked at me, with genuine concern and warmth, that made me want to let him in.
Taking a deep breath, I turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, gesturing for Seungcheol to enter. As he stepped inside, his eyes scanned the surroundings, astonishment evident on his face.
"Wow," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine surprise. "Your place is amazing."
A blush rose to my cheeks as I closed the door behind us. "Thank you," I replied, relief in my voice. "It's looked the best since my father moved out."
Seungcheol's eyes softened, understanding the weight of those words. We had both known the struggles of my family life, the chaos that my drunk father had brought into our home. His absence had been a blessing, allowing me to finally create a space that felt safe and serene.
As we made our way to the living room, I motioned for Seungcheol to take a seat on the couch. We settled into the navy soft cushions, a comfortable silence enveloping us for a moment.
"So, about Jun," Seungcheol began, breaking the silence. "I heard he recently had a kid. Can you believe it? Back in high school, he was always into one-night stands."
I nodded, my voice still tinged with shyness. "It's amazing how people change and grow," I replied softly.
Seungcheol's gaze lingered on me, as if he were searching for something deeper within my words. My shy nature prevented me from meeting his eyes directly, but I could feel his unwavering attention.
And then, with a trembling voice, he confessed, "You know, I've thought about you a lot over the years. The feelings I had for you in high school... they never really went away."
My heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by his confession. I searched within myself for the same emotions, the same intensity, but they weren't in me.
"I appreciate your honesty, Seungcheol," I replied softly, my voice filled with a mix of sadness and gratitude. "I don’t know Seungcheol, I think I need time."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Seungcheol's face, but he nodded, accepting my words with a sense of resignation. "I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with sadness.
“My feelings for you won’t change remember that.” He said while rummaging for his car keys while making his way off the couch.
Before he left, Seungcheol reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card. He handed it to me, his eyes holding a glimmer of hope. "I remembered how much you loved dancing in high school. There's a dance studio nearby. Maybe you'd like to give it a try again."
I took the card, holding it delicately in my hand, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you," I said softly, my voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I'll consider it."
Seungcheol gave me a bittersweet smile, his eyes conveying both lingering affection and acceptance. "Take care, my y/n," he said, his voice laced with genuine warmth. “I hope you can find joy in the things you cherish the most, it hurts me to see you so isolated.”
“Also give Jun a call please, he misses you.”
As he walked out the door, I stood there, feeling a mix of emotions. He was leaving in his long cream colored trench coat, and with him leaving it felt like a part of me left again. It wasn't the outcome either of us had hoped for, but in that moment, I knew I was lying. I knew damn well I still felt for Seungcheol, but was too pussy to admit it.
Not thinking too deep into it, I sat on my couch, clutching the dance studio card that Seungcheol had given me. As I stared at the name "Lee Chan" written on it. Dancing had always held a special place in my heart, a form of expression and release that I had cherished since I was a child.
But after my mother's disappearance, I had retreated into myself, cocooned in a shell of grief. The thought of reentering that world, of meeting new people and exposing myself to things I locked away, felt terrifying.
I took a deep breath, reminding myself of the reasons I had fallen in love with dance in the first place. It was a way for me to connect with my own emotions, to channel my fears and joys into something beautiful.
The dance studio card still in my hand, but my attention momentarily diverted. Jun. My old friend from high school. It had been so long since we last spoke, and I wondered if it was worth reaching out.
I wonder if he actually missed me like Seungcheol said.
With trembling fingers, I dialed Jun's number, nervously waiting for him to answer. Of course he never changed it, he may be a father now but he’s still a unwavering knucklehead. As the phone rang, I fidgeted with the edge of the dance studio card, contemplating.
"Hello?" Jun's voice came through the receiver, full of energy and excitement.
"Um, hi Jun," I replied, my voice timid and shy.
There was a brief pause on the other end, as if Jun was trying to place the voice. "Wait, is this who I think it is? Is this Y/n?"
“Yes..”
“YOU’RE SHITTING ME. Oh my god how are you?”
His enthusiasm caught me off guard, and I felt myself shrinking further into my own shyness. "I've been...okay," I replied, my words barely audible. "How about you?"
Jun's excitement seemed undeterred by my reserved demeanor. "Well I- wait, guess what? I recently became a dad! Isn’t that so weird?"
Surprised by the news, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "Yea, yea I knew."
But then, the topic shifted, and Jun's words took on a more serious tone.
"By the way, have you spoken to Seungcheol lately?" Jun asked, a mischievous edge in his voice. "That guy is like a lost puppy when it comes to love."
A shy smile formed on my lips as I thought about Seungcheol. "Actually, yes. He gave me a ride home from work today."
Jun's laughter reverberated through the phone. "Ah, I knew it! He's been pining after you all these years. It feels nice, all this feels nice."
My cheeks grew warm, but my shyness prevented me from delving too deeply into the topic. Instead, I decided to steer the conversation toward a more personal matter. "Jun, I wanted to talk to you about something. It's about my mom and... you've always been better at these advice things."
Jun's voice softened, sensing the gravity of the subject. "Of course, I'm here for you."
I took a deep breath, my words stumbling out hesitantly. "Sometimes, it feels overwhelming. I want to move forward, but I'm scared. Scared of letting go, scared of being hurt again."
There was a brief pause, and then Jun's voice filled the silence with a sense of wisdom. "Grief is a complex emotion, and it doesn't have a set timeline. It's okay to be scared. But remember, taking small steps and surrounding yourself with supportive people can make difference."
His words resonated with me, offering a glimmer of solace in the midst of my uncertainty. Jun continued to share his own experiences, his voice filled with empathy and understanding.
After a long pause, "I wish you hadn't stopped reaching out to us," Jun confessed, his voice laced with a hint of sadness. "We missed you so much, and it hurt not knowing why we couldn’t be in your life."
Tears welled up in my eyes as the weight of my own actions pressed upon me. I sniffled, struggling to find my voice. "I'm so sorry, Jun. I never meant to cut you off like that. It was never about you or Cheol. I was just so lost."
The line grew silent for a moment, and then Jun's voice cracked as he tried to speak. "We... we understand, you know? We've all had our struggles. But it hurt because we cared about you, and we didn't know how to help."
I wiped away a tear that slipped down my cheek, my voice filled with remorse. "I know, Jun. And I'm sorry for shutting you out. It wasn't fair, and I promise, I won't do it again.
"We're here for you, always. No matter what you're going through, know that we're a phone call away. You don't have to face your struggles alone."
A deep breath filled my lungs, steadying my wavering emotions. "Thank you, Jun. I needed to hear that. I missed you, you whore."
"Hey! My whore days are over I've offically dedicated myself to a nice young lady and had a baby boy," he snickered through the line.
"Aww Jun, it's nice to hear you all grown...up."
"Same to you, but aye lets meet up again some other day just the three of us. I have to go now a dirty diaper is fucking reeking. Love you lots y/n.”
After ending my phone call with Jun, It was a bittersweet feeling something I couldn't really describe. Slowly, I made my way to my bedroom, exhaustion weighing down my steps. The events of the day, the conversations, and the efforts had left me emotionally drained. Probably the most I've done in a while.
Days passed, and life settled into its familiar rhythm. But there was a lingering thought that persisted, beckoning me to take a step outside of my comfort zone. It was the dance studio card Seungcheol had given me-- just laying on my living room table with an address and number. I kept replaying the name ‘Lee chan, Lee chan' almost as if it was drawing me to the studio.
One evening, after work, I found myself standing outside the dance studio, hesitating at the threshold. I took a deep breath, mustering the courage to step inside. As I entered, the rhythmic beat of music washed over me, filling the air with its energy.
Lost in my thoughts, I unintentionally collided with another person. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
The girl I had bumped into chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Oh wow that hurt. You're stunning, by the way. Are you new?"
Her compliment caught me off guard, and I blushed, not accustomed to receiving such kind words. "Thank you. Actually, yeah i’m new. I found this card and... well, I thought I'd check it out."
The girl's smile widened, her enthusiasm contagious. "That's great! You should definitely give it a try. We have lessons with Lee Chan—he's an amazing dancer and instructor."
Lee Chan's name rang a bell, and I couldn't help but feel a spark of familiarity. "Lee Chan? I think I saw his name on the card."
The girl nodded, her eyes lighting up. "I've been taking dance lessons here for a while, and it's been a-fucking-mazing. Plus he's one gorgeous man, so bonus.
As we chatted, my initial shyness began to fade away. The girl's passion for dance and her welcoming nature helped to ease my anxieties.
"I think I'll give it a try," I finally said, a newfound determination shining in my eyes.
The girl's face lit up with excitement. "Trust me, you won't regret it."
"By the way," I interjected, before the girl could leave, "I didn't catch your name."
She turned back to me, her smile widening. "Oh, I'm Sade."
"Sade," I repeated, the name rolling off my tongue. It suited her, I thought, as she exuded a sense of grace and confidence. She was a pretty woman, she had a short hair cut and her eyes were absolutely beautiful.
Before I could say anything else, Sade gestured towards a figure across the room. "Come, let me introduce you to Chan. He's the one you'll be taking lessons with."
I followed Sade towards a dance room. He stood there, focused on a group of dancers practicing their routines, his movements fluid and precise.
As we approached, Sade called out to him, her voice filled with warmth. "Hey Chan! Stop what you're, doing I'd like you to meet someone new. This is... I actually don't know her name how funny."
I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. "I'm... I'm the girl who found your card. My name is Y/n and I-“
As Chan turned his attention toward me, I found myself captivated by his presence. His eyes, deep and expressive, seemed to hold a universe of emotions. His smile was warm, genuine, and it lit up his face, enhancing his already handsome features.
Oh holy heavens this man is fucking gorgeous.
"I'm Chan," he introduced himself, his voice smooth and melodious. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Seungcheol said you might come, didn't know when.
The sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but be taken aback when he mentioned Seungcheol. "Seungcheol... what?"
He chuckled softly, a twinkle in his eyes. "Seungcheol and I go way back. We're practically brothers. He mentioned that he ran into you and thought you might be interested in dance lessons."
A mixture of surprise and warmth flooded through me. It was comforting to know that Seungcheol had thought of me and taken the initiative to share my interest with someone he trusted.
"That's... unexpected," I replied, still processing the connection between Lee Chan and Seungcheol. "I didn't realize you two were so close."
Chan's smile softened, his gaze filled with fondness. "Seungcheol and I have been through thick and thin together. We've supported each other, celebrated victories, and weathered storms."
He leaned in slightly, his voice filled with genuine interest, “Now when do you want to start?”
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond.
"Um... well, I'm ready to start whenever you think is best," I replied, my voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.
He flashed me a warm smile. "I have a busy schedule today, but I can set aside some time for you this weekend. How does that sound? A one-on-one session."
His offer surprised me, I wasnt completely open to being alone. Plus its been years since I genuinely hung out with anyone in any setting, so It would definitely be nerve wracking. Honestly I was fixing to decline his offer and just shy back into the comfort of my home.
But Sade, who had been observing our conversation, leaned in and whispered into my ear. "Trust me, the one-on-one lessons are incredible. It's an opportunity you won't want to miss."
It startled me, "I... um, that sounds great," I managed to reply, my voice betraying my shyness.
"Great, I'll see you, Y/n.'
I dont know why but the way my name rolled off his tongue was so insignificantly but at the same time it was so hot caught me off guard.
On the way back home I just thought to myself how I'm actually having human interaction, and it's so unlike me. When I settled into my apartment, still excited about the studio, I received a text notification on my phone. It was from Seungcheol.
"Hey, I'm grabbing some coffee. Want me to bring one over to your place?"
I hesitated for a moment, glancing down at my disheveled appearance. I had just finished a nap, and my oversized t-shirt and underwear gave too comfortable for his eyes. But then again, Seungcheol had always seen me at my most vulnerable, and his presence was good to have.
I quickly typed out a response, accepting his offer. "Sure, I'll be home."
As I waited for Seungcheol to arrive, I rushed to freshen up, hastily combing my hair and throwing on a more presentable outfit. Despite my efforts, I still felt a little self-conscious about the state of my apartment and I didn't really look up to par.
Just as I settled back onto the couch, trying to regain a sense of composure, the doorbell rang. I jumped up, my heart racing, and opened the door to find Seungcheol standing there with a warm smile and two cups of coffee in his hands.
"Hey," he greeted me, his eyes widening slightly as he took in my shorts and fading tee. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
I chuckled nervously, feeling a blush creep onto my cheeks. "No, not at all. I was just... um, taking a nap."
Seungcheol's smile grew wider as he handed me one of the cups of coffee. "Well, then this is perfect timing. Consider it a pick-me-up from your friendly neighborhood barista."
I couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude for his thoughtfulness. Despite the passing years and the distance that had come between us, Seungcheol still had this innate ability to make me feel seen and cared for.
As I took a sip of the warm, comforting liquid, Seungcheol glanced around my apartment, his eyes lingering on the pile of books, the scattered artwork, and the cozy corner where I had been napping.
"You know," he said, his voice filled with a touch of nostalgia, "this place feels so uniquely you. It's comfortable and inviting, just like the girl I used to know."
I blushed even deeper, feeling a mix of bashfulness and affection. "Thanks, Seungcheol. I've tried to make it a little haven for myself, especially after everything that's happened."
"So, did you end up going to the dance studio?" he asked, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity.
I nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Yes, I did. It was quite an experience. I bumped into a girl named Sade, and she introduced me to Lee Chan."
Seungcheol's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Chan? Ah, I see you've met him. He's quite the character, isn't he?"
I tilted my head, "Why didn't you let me know y'all were close?"
Seungcheol let out a chuckle, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Well, you could say that But let me warn you, Chan has a bit of a... womanizer reputation. He's quite the charmer."
I couldn't help but feel a twinge of skepticism. Chan didn't strike me as someone who exuded that kind of persona. His presence had been warm and inviting, I voiced my thoughts to Seungcheol.
"He didn't seem like that," I replied, a touch of defense in my voice.
His protective nature had been evident throughout our discussion, and while I appreciated his concern, I felt the need to address it.
"You know, Seungcheol, you don't have to be so protective of me," I said, my voice gentle yet firm. "I can take care of myself."
He looked at me with a mix of surprise and remorse, his eyes filled with an apologetic sincerity. "I'm sorry if it comes off that way. I just... I worry about you, especially after everything you've been through."
Before he could continue, I leaned in and placed a finger gently against his lips, silencing his words. There was a hint of hesitation within me, unsure of what I was about to do, but a part of me craved the connection, the warmth that only a kiss could bring.
In that moment, I closed my eyes and closed the distance between us, pressing my lips softly against his. The kiss was tender, tentative, and wow he's a good kisser. It lingered for a brief moment before we pulled away, both of us caught off guard by the sudden intimacy.
"Stop holding me to my past Cheol."
Regret washed over me, mingling with the remnants of desire. I had crossed a line, playing with emotions that I wasn't sure I could reciprocate. Guilt weighed heavy in my chest, threatening to suffocate the fragile connection but I needed it.
I always thought Seungcheol would be my first time before I kind of went into a spiral, I just started having stupid one-night stands. So these experiences are nothing new to me, but it's all so different when you have feelings for each other.
Seungcheol leaned in again, his lips finding mine with hunger. This time, I could feel the longing in his kiss like his body wants screaming for me. His hands gently guided me onto his thigh, drawing me closer, and I can't say I dont feel incredibly turned on by his slight dominance.
My heart was racing as he shifted his weight and pulled me closer, my thighs straddling his. His strong arms enveloped me, guiding me up and down his flex thigh.
The thin fabric of my shorts against his bare thigh, he was wearing shorts which was a blessing. It was enough that it could make me cum but I still wanted more. My fingers grasped firmly onto his shoulders, my womanhood pressed snugly against his hard body, I moved a tad faster to give myself a better exprience.
I could feel my knee pressing against his bulge, I wasn't going to address though it would be too easy.
With every caress his lips left on my neck, I felt my heart melting, surrendering to him. The vibrations of his kisses tickled my skin, making me smile as I continued to ride his thigh.
He suddenly let out a quiet growl, sending another wave of shivers throughout my body. His fingertips lightly traced along my back, sending pleasurable touches. His tongue lightly teased my ear as I felt his greed rise right along with mine.
e took my hands and laid them against the nape of his neck, letting me explore and feel each muscle and sinew beneath his skin. I moved my hands slowly and steadily, feeling the warmth of his skin as I worked.
Suddenly, he whispered in my ear, "I can feel your wetness on my skin Y/n." I felt my entire body tense up as I realized he could feel my arousal as I rode his thigh, and I gulped nervously, unsure of what to do.
Yeah all that one-night stand experience, it all flew out the window with Cheol. I feel my core pulse around him. I can't help the moans that escape from my throat as I slowly rock my hips against him trying to work for more.
He chuckles and groans at the sight seeing me so eager to cum. He quickly flexes his thigh meet my core better, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. He wraps his arms around me tightly, and I lean into him burying my face in his neck, feeling a strange sense of shyness wash over me.
My moans become more desperate as I continue to ride him, my legs gripping his moist thigh, my body trembling with pleasure. I plead his name uncontrollably and reach the point of bliss, every muscle and nerve in my body tenses before I ripple into a small, helpless orgasm that leaves me panting heavily into his shoulder.
He continues to hold me in his arms, both of us reveling in the moment. I slowly sink down against him, my body limp and exhausted from my release. Our labored breath fills the air, and the scent of sex and sweat linger. I eventually pull away, feeling embarrassed and exposed, but at the same time, a strange sense of satisfaction and warmth.
As his lips parted, I could sense his desire to say something, to articulate the emotions swirling within him.
But before he could utter a single word, a plea escaped my lips, barely above a whisper. "Don't say anything, just hold me."
I buried my face in the crook of his neck, feeling his arms encircle me with a reassuring strength. I craved the simplicity of his touch, the warmth of his presence, without the burden of expectations or declarations.
The weight of my worries and doubts began to dissipate, replaced by a comforting serenity. Nestled in his arms, I allowed myself to close my eyes and surrender to the embrace, feeling the gentle rise and fall of our shared breaths.
In that moment, I made a silent promise to myself. Even if I might regret it in the future, I wanted to cherish this moment for what it was—a simple embrace.
I slowly stirred from my slumber, the remnants of the previous night's intimacy still lingering in my thoughts. As consciousness returned, I became aware of my surroundings. I was lying on the couch, wrapped snugly in a blanket, and the absence of Seungcheol's warm embrace left an ache within me.
I sat up, stretching my limbs and trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Glancing around, I noticed a small note left on the coffee table. It was from Seungcheol. He had written that he had to leave for work but promised to meet me soon.
But as I reached for my phone to check the time, a notification caught my attention—a text from Chan.
Curiosity piqued, I opened the message and read his words. He mentioned being open to a session today, even if it meant starting a little early. Surprise washed over me, accompanied by a mild sense of confusion. How had he gotten my number?
Replying to his message, I typed, "How did you get my number?"
Almost instantly, another message appeared on my screen, the sender identified as Chan. "I have my ways," he replied cryptically, adding a playful wink emoji. "But seriously, if you're up for it, I'd love to have a session with you. Meet me at the studio in 30 minutes?"
I groaned at the thought of another eventful day but there's no change without trying I guess. "Fine," I replied dry and thorough.
I urgently got dressed and made my way to the building in a uber. However, as I stepped inside, an eerie silence greeted me. The studio was empty, devoid of any signs of life. Confusion crept over me, but a curiosity pushed me to explore further.
Curiosity kills the cat but it can actually still bring you fortune.
Following the sound of a faint melody, I cautiously made my way toward the main dance area. And there, I stood in awe as Chan moved with a captivating intensity, his body gracefully swaying to a more sensual tune.
Lost in the moment, I didn't notice that Chan had caught sight of me. His eyes locked with mine, and a mischievous smirk curved his lips.
"Enjoying the view, angel?" he teased, his voice laced with playful confidence.
I straightened my posture, refusing to let him catch me off guard. With a smirk of my own, I met his gaze head-on.
"Oh, I'm just appreciating the artistry," I shot back, my voice dripping with a smugness that mirrored his. "But I guess it's nice to know you have an audience."
Chan chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He approached me with purpose, his every step was a magnetic charm. "An audience of one is more than enough," he replied, his voice low and sarcastic. "You can put your things on the shelf over there. So, how about the dance "Devil's advocate" to start?"
"Have you heard of it?"
A smile tugged at my lips as I nodded. "Actually, I learned that dance in high school. I know it quite well." When he suggested "Devil's Advocate," a sensual duo dance that required him to move behind me, I couldn't help but feel taken aback. I had learned it way back with a dance club of mine and its intimate nature made me hesitant.
"Lead the way," Chan said holding out his hand suggesting for me to take it. Eagerly accepting the challenge, I placed my hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch. The music enveloped us, guiding our movements as we swayed. As I took charge, I felt confident either it was the music bringing out the good side of me or him, and I couldn't help but notice the smug grin that graced Chan's face.
We moved together, our bodies intertwining in a sensual display of artistry and connection. Unable to contain my curiosity, I blurted out the comment, "people say you're a womanizer."
Chan halted, his gaze intense as he closed the distance between us. I could feel my back pressing against the wall, pinning me gently but firmly. His voice, low and velvety, broke the silence. "What do you think, angel?"
Feeling shy and unable to meet his gaze directly, I averted my eyes, stammering, "I... I don't know. Maybe you are."
A teasing smile formed on my lips as I mustered the courage to playfully respond, "Well, with those actions, you might actually be a flirt."
Chan chuckled, his laughter sending a shiver down my spine. "Maybe I am," he admitted, his voice dripping with playfulness. "But you know, It's amusing. The things people will say, I let them talk."
Caught in the moment, I couldn't resist asking, "Who are you, Chan?"
He paused for a moment, locking his gaze with mine, before replying, "Just a guy who likes dancing."
Intrigued, I returned the question, my voice filled with curiosity. "And who am I to you?"
Chan's eyes softened, and he replied, "Just a girl trying to dance again." I laughed at his comment because it was straightforward, but enough." "Chan you intrigue me...but you seem dangerous." I say to keep the playful mood going, a sly smirk plastering my face.
"Tell me, are all the best games boring ones where you stick to the rules, or ones where you can do a little cheating?"
As I stood there, pinned against the wall by Chan's firm grip, a puzzling question hung in the air, awaiting my response. Before I could gather my thoughts and form a reply, the ringing of Chan's phone interrupted the moment. He reluctantly released me, apologizing for the sudden interruption.
"Sorry, I have to take this," he said, a hint of disappointment evident in his voice.
I watched as he stepped away, his eyes lingering on me for a moment before he packed up his belongings. I wondered what had him leaving in such a hurry but then again I wouldn't question it.
With his things gathered, Chan approached me once again, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leaned in, his lips teasingly brushing against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. It was a playful gesture, leaving me both yearning for more. God, I hated the way this practical stranger had such an affect on me.
Breaking away from the embrace, Chan spoke with a seductive undertone, "I'm sorry, but I really have to go. But I want to see you in this studio tomorrow at 2:00 PM sharp. We'll continue our session then."
He winked, leaving me with a mixture of excitement and curiosity. It had me wondering that this session wasn't going to contain dancing at all.
As the studio fell silent I walked outside the door to make my way home before walking past an unknown person with their head down. They were going into the studio and I shouted, "Hey nobody is there," the unknown person stopped and looked at me.
Jun?
"Y/n, oh hey," my eyebrow raised in confusion at his sudden ...normality. "Jun what are you doing here?"
"Uh, I was looking for Chan," he said why scratching his head and slightly lookin to the side. Something was off about his presence plus he just happened to show up as Chan just left.
"He's gone, he had to go somewhere," I said in a low-key defensive tone. "Ah, I see, well I'll see you later Y/n' he fastly made his way back into his car to leave in the blink of an eye.
Totally weird how he seemed so nonchalant by seeing me as if we hadn't seen each other in years, maybe he just didn't value me like Cheol. But how does he know Chan, why does Chan know everyone I know?
As I returned home after the eventful day at the dance studio, my mind was still abuzz with Chan but also Jun's weird acting.
Nightfall came, and I settled into bed, hoping for a peaceful night's sleep. However, as soon as slumber embraced me, a haunting nightmare took hold of my subconscious.
In the darkness of my dream, I found myself in a desolate landscape. My surroundings were shrouded in an eerie mist, giving an unsettling aura to the scene. Suddenly, figures emerged from the haze, and to my surprise, I recognized them as Seungcheol and Jun, two dear friends from my past. Confusion washed over me as I tried to make sense of their presence.
My attention was then drawn to another figure, an unknown person engaging in conversation with my late mother. They were seated at a dimly lit bar, their voices muffled by the haunting atmosphere. An overwhelming sense of unease washed over me as I strained to hear their words, but the details remained unreachable, like whispers carried away by the wind.
Suddenly, the nightmare abruptly halted, and I found myself gasping for air, jolted awake from the depths of my unsettling dream. Trembling, tears welled up in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks. The weight of the nightmare lingered, its impact searing into my consciousness.
As I wiped away the tears, a profound sense of confusion washed over me. Never before had I experienced such vivid dreams about my mother, especially ones intertwined with the presence of Seungcheol and Jun. Questions tugged at my heart, leaving me feeling vulnerable and lost.
Curling up in the comfort of my bedsheets, I allowed myself to grieve. The tears flowed freely, a release for the emotions that had been stirred by the unsettling dream. In the midst of my tears, a glimmer of understanding began to take shape. Perhaps the dream was a manifestation of my longing, a reflection of the unanswered questions and unresolved emotions surrounding my mother's absence.
Honestly, I cant remeber much from that dream after I fell back asleep. Maybe I should've tried to decipher it more. But before I knew it, It was 2:30pm and I was rushing to dress up.
I had missed my alarm and I blame it on the fact I had a traumatic ass night that left me crying myself back to sleep. Chan shouldn’t be too mad i’m almost 40 minutes late.
I make my way to the studio that i’m doubting is really a studio at this point, more like a seductive zone. It has to have some type of spell surrounding the building because everytime I enter i’m damn near weak to my knees.
I ran into the room, pleading to Chan about how my alarm didn’t wake me up. “Ah…I hate people who aren’t on time,” his words were intimidating but so fucking sexy. He stood in the corner of the room leaning on the big mirror that everyone danced in front of. He clicked his tongue as he walked towards me.
His piercing gaze met mine, and I could see a mix of concern and disappointment in his eyes. He approached me with measured steps, his presence commanding attention from the entire room.
Chan's tall frame stood before me, and I felt an odd mixture of intimidation and admiration. As he reached out, his fingers gently touched my chin, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. His touch was firm but not unkind, as if he wanted to convey a message and assert dominance. The weight of his hand on my chin seemed to hold me in place, as if he was the only person in the world I needed to pay attention to.
"You shouldn't be late," he said, his voice filled with a blend of concern and authority. It was a simple statement, yet it carried a world of meaning.
As I stood there, Chan's words hanging in the air, I felt a surge of defiance rise within me. His authoritative demeanor and the way he tried to exert control over me ignited a rebellious spark. In that moment, I couldn't resist the temptation to respond in stupid manner.
"Oh, Chan," I retorted, a smirk playing on my lips. "Are you trying to be the studio's timekeeper now? Last time I checked, you were just a dancer." My voice dripped with a sarcastic tone, laced with the audacity of a child challenging authority.
It was as if I had struck a nerve "you forget yourself, angel," Chan said, his voice low and tinged with a hint of warning. His words were measured, but they carried a threat, reminding me of the power he held over me in this space.
"You dont own me," I shot back, my voice laced with an equal measure of defiance and arrogance.
His jaw clenched, his expression hardening as a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension between us palpable. It was a daring game we were playing, a power struggle in the guise of a heated exchange.
Without warning, Chan's hand shot out, gripping my arm firmly but not harshly. He pulled me closer, our faces mere inches apart. The air crackled with a volatile energy as his gaze bore into mine.
"Think twice," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with a dangerous edge. And before I could react, his lips crashed against mine, in a kiss filled with a lot of dominance like he had something to prove.
I found myself succumbing to the intoxicating power he wielded, a power that left me breathless and wanting more, even as I fought to regain control of my own rebellious spirit.
Strong hands encircled my waist, lifting me effortlessly off the ground. Startled, I gasped, my breath catching in my throat as I found myself suspended in mid-air. Chan's grip was firm, yet surprisingly gentle, and my wrapped my legs around his waist.
With a purposeful stride, he carried me across the studio, still kissing me like I was some type of prey. His steps leading us to the mirrored wall at the far end of the studio. Without a word, he pressed me against the cool surface, his body aligning with mine. The sensation of his chest against mine just left me melting under him.
Chan's hold tightened slightly, his voice low and commanding as he spoke in my ear when he broke the kiss. "Sometimes, little rebel, you need to understand consequences." There was a husky undertone to his words, a mix of warning
His powerful grip on my body serves as a reminder that I can't escape - not now; not ever. I can feel my clothing binding my body as his fingers remove every piece with ease. The soft fabric falls off of me, piece by piece, until I'm completely and utterly exposed. He takes his time admiring the sight before him and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.
How he just discarded every piece of fabric from me while still keeping me up was so impressive actually, like he had tons of experience.
It's like everything else melted away and it's just us now, standing in front of the mirror; him undressing me and me allowing it to happen. An odd kind of peace washes over me as I finally yield to his touch.
He doesn't bother taking all his clothes off just sliding his pants down to his ankles and doing the same with his boxers. "What do you want from me"' I asked, my voice trembling but still trying to act like I was not phased.
He ran his finger over my collarbone, making me jerk at the coldness of his touch, and said, "I want you to beg me to fuck you." His words were a whispered command.
So I begged him. I begged him to take me, to show me pleasure and to dominate me. I felt so humbled and embarrassed to have to beg him for something I wanted, but I had no choice. He knew just where to touch me, what to say, and how to tease me until I was begging for his touch. "Please fuck me," was like a sentence I was tired of saying.
"Good girl," He replied. He had given me a taste of something I had never experienced before - submission and pleasure at the same time. I realized I liked it, and that scared me.
He took his time exploring, pressing and rubbing himself against me, I let out a breathy and shaky moan and he moved his hand to begin slowly tugging my panties to the side.
His hand moved further south and his fingers expertly moved to find my clit. He stroked his fingers in circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves and I felt my body swoon.
His hot, hard length pressed against me and I closed my eyes, savoring the moment.
He didn't waste any time and started to push his way in. A moan escaped my lips as his size filled me and I gasped.
He wasn't gentle as he started to thrust in and out of me. "God, your pussy feels so good," he said as he speared himself deeper. I arched my back, my eyes still closed as I felt his tip hit all the right spots, my moans growing louder with each thrust.
He grabbed my hair with one hand and yanked it back, forcing my head up so that our eyes were locked in a passionate gaze. I gasped as he drove into me, our eyes still glued together. His fingers tugged at the strands of hair at the base of my neck, making me beg him for more. He was rough, pushing me to the brink pleasure and pain with each thrust.
"Oh- fuck, Chan I'm going to-," I tried to muster out but I could tell he already got the message. "Let me see your pretty face as you cum around me."
The pleasure was overwhelming as I arched my back, crying out as I came. His eyes blazed with desire and need as he looked deeply into mine.
Just as I was about to relax, As the last quiver of my orgasm subsided, I felt his body tense up and he pulled out of me before lifting me of the wall and moving me to my knees. I felt my face flush again with a mixture of shame and delight as I realized what he expected from me. But I could not deny that I wanted it too.
He began to thrust himself toward my mouth and I opened my lips eagerly as he pushed his hardness into me. I moved my tongue around him, tasting his passion and savoring every moment of his groans.
I began to take him further and deeper into my mouth. I wanted to pleasure him to the point of no return and as I swirl my tongue around, it felt as though I could feel every muscle in his body tense with each movement.
He moaned and moved his hips in reaction to my stroking, and I brought a hand up to massage the rest of him. He stiffens in reaction then lets out a stern, "Look at me." So I did, his cheeks were slightly pink as he was just fucked out as I was. He wanted to see my face as he finally let go inside my mouth.
In a quick instant he grabbed a fistful of my hair to push himself deeper, tears started form at the pain of not being able to breathe but I fucking loved it. He loved it too as he threw him head back, enjoying the sounds of my gagging and lustful actions.
"Make sure you swallow all of it," was all he said before releasing himself completely the bittersweet liquid filling up my mouth and I quickly removed him as I coughed a little at the sudden drinking. He cooed, in awe that even though it was a lot for me I still did what he asked.
"Alright, lets lay you down, Angel," he says before picking me up and walking to another room in the building. And everything just sort of faded away.
I opened my eyes slowly, feeling disoriented and groggy. The last thing I remembered was a warm, strong pair of arms lifting me off the ground. Now, I found myself lying on a soft sofa in a different room of the studio. Blinking away the sleepiness, I tried to recall what had happened.
As I struggled to sit up, I noticed a familiar jacket draped over my body. Its scent wrapped around me, offering a sense of comfort. It was his jacket. Turning my head slightly, I saw him standing nearby, through the crack of the door.
I Was going to say something before I was stopped in my tracks. I noticed the muffled sound of voices emanating from Chan's phone. Curiosity sparked within me, and I strained my ears to catch the conversation. To my surprise, the call was on speakerphone, allowing me to hear both sides of the dialogue.
A familiar voice broke through the air, tinged with concern. It was Jun's voice. "When are you going to tell her about her mother, Chan? It's not right."
My heart skipped a beat, and I froze in place, barely able to comprehend the weight of those words. My mind raced, searching for answers as to what they meant. Why was Jun asking Chan about my mother? And why hadn't I been told anything about it?
Chan's response trembled in the air, laced with uncertainty. "I... I'm not sure if I want to. I mean, I like her."
Time stood still, suspended in a moment of disbelief. The air growing still and suffocating. The beating of my heart became an erratic drum, pounding in my chest.
For the first time in a few years I was genuinely scared again. I had allowed myself to believe, to open my heart to the possibility of something beautiful. But now, I felt like a puppet in a cruel game, manipulated and toyed with, my vulnerability used against me. I couldn't believe I just had sex with this guy, I couldn't even say his name anymore, and he knows about my mom.
Time began to move once more, albeit slowly. Each tick of the clock marked the passage of the moments where I needed to get the hell out of there.
My heart pounded in my chest as I made my escape, fueled by anger. With tears blurring my vision, I pushed past Chan, my hands trembling as I hastily made my way to the main studio room. There was no time for explanations or apologies. I needed to distance myself from him, from that monster.
The studio walls seemed to close in on me, suffocating my breath, as if trying to keep me trapped within its grasp. Just as I turned to leave, a voice pierced through the air, calling my name. It was Chan, his voice filled with desperation and regret. But I couldn't bear to face him in that moment, not when my wounds were so raw and the pain so fresh. Ignoring his pleas, I raced towards the exit, tears streaming down my face.
My escape seemed futile as I burst out onto the sidewalk, the weight of the world pressing upon my shoulders. I felt like I was running for an eternity, still hearing Chan call out my name from behind me as he tried to keep up.
"Hey! Are you okay?" Cheol's voice reverberated with concern, cutting through the noise of my racing thoughts. I skidded to a stop, my body trembling with exhaustion and emotional turmoil. Turning towards the sound, I saw Cheol, his face etched with worry, standing by his car parked on the sidewalk.
Without hesitation, I stumbled towards him, my legs giving way beneath me. Cheol opened the car door, urging me to get in. As I collapsed onto the seat, my body wracked with sobs, he gently closed the door behind me. His eyes met mine through the rearview mirror, his gaze filled with empathy and understanding.
"Are you okay?" Cheol's voice was soft, his words carrying a gentleness that tugged at my fragile heart. But I couldn't find the strength to respond, to put into words the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to drown me. Instead, I shook my head, my lips trembling as tears continued to flow.
Cheol, sensing my need for silence, respected my unspoken request. The car's engine roared to life, and we started moving, leaving behind the shattered remnants of trust and heartache. As I gazed out the window, I stole a glance at Chan, standing on the sidewalk, his eyes filled with a mixture of disappointment and regret. Our eyes locked for a brief moment, and in that silent exchange, I conveyed the pain he had inflicted upon me, the devastation of broken trust.
He knows something he doesn't want me to know about.
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cellophaine · 1 year
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hi, happy new year! first & foremost i love all your work, highlight of my 2021; it always got me giggling & kicking my feet LMFAO i was wondering if you could do a slow burn (the reader could be a vigilante working alongside daredevil), & it’s the enemies to lovers trope, with the italicized oh/ah for realization, angry love confession & all, if you know what i’m talking about. & one of them goes “please-“ in a breath of a whisper & the other just slams their lips into theirs. sorry if this is a lengthy request LMAO do what you want with it!
I'm very sorry for the 10-and-a-half-month-long wait! This was a long request, so I did try to put everything together in a way that makes sense. I hope you'll enjoy it!
Futile Devices
Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader
Word Count: 8222.
Warnings: Violence. Light angst. Enemies to lovers. A tiny mention of decapitation. Blood. Injuries.
Author's Note: I wrote this with a female reader in mind, but there's no mention or indication of Reader's gender.
Holy shit, this is the longest thing I've ever written. I hope you guys won't be bored to death lol.
*The events in this fic took place after Daredevil season 3*
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The familiar click of the coffee pot registered somewhere in his keen hearing, but he didn't seem to notice. Matt was going through a series of motions, scrambling his eggs, flipping his bacon, getting his plate and mug ready for his breakfast, all while his mind walked on a frenzied march he couldn't keep up in the recollections of that night. That night was long gone, five days into the past, but it was still fresh and present to Matt, no matter the logic he came up with. He tried, and failed. Again and again. It haunted him in his few hours at nights of lying awake, and his days of paperwork and court affairs. Matt had to admit this could be something worse than he initially thought.
The last thing he needed was a new assassin in town.
Thin as a hair thread. That was how close Matt was to failing to save another's life. A criminal's life, but a life regardless. He almost lost it to the hands much more brutal than him. Much more merciless. Even more so than when Matt lost himself, haunted by his mistakes and Elektra's death, tormented by his own malice, of what he would be capable of had he let his pain consume him whole. The fact that someone was out there with such force and cruelty was alarming. It wasn't your ruthlessness that confounded Matt; he was no stranger to it, but everything about you.
You evaded his sweeps and blows as if they were nothing, as if he was only a martial arts enthusiast and not the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. The gracefulness in your moves made you look like a ballerina to his enhanced senses. The sharp gusts of air from your movement cut his skin like a dull blade, and Matt suspected the purpose was not to hurt him, but to warn. You rendered him almost helpless, meeting him for every strike. A good match in all the wrong ways, for all the wrong reasons.
You had the agility and deadliness of the Hand's lifeless soldier, which made Matt think you were one of them. Still, the steady rhythm of your heart said otherwise. It was as real as the sharpness of your dagger when it slid across his forearm. Your mercilessness was not the most fatal part of you. The precise delivery of your weapon almost took a life, and even though Matt prevented that from happening, he felt as if letting your victim live was your decision, not his. He was only a witness who was at the right place, at the right time. Your escape was silent and swift, leaving no trace for him to follow. No matter how hard he tried, he could only detect a subtle scent of wet earth in the air, and nothing else. Since then, Matt had spread himself thin, patrolling the Manhattan area, even as far as Brooklyn, asking for his friends' help in places he couldn't reach, like a confused hound dog on a blind chase. The clues he picked up were only fragments of a bigger picture you were a part of. Days passed, and the seed sprouted from his curiosity of you kept growing, yet his search gave him nothing to attach you to.
Not until tonight, when your ruthlessness struck again.
You took hold of the man's collar, tugging on his tie, making sure that it sat tightly at the base of his throat. His face turned a dangerous shade of red, blending in with the crimson liquid and purple bruises all over his skin. His mouth opened to take in desperate gulps of air as you wrapped the remaining blue-striped tie around his neck, making a noose.
"Pl-please … don't do this. I have a wife an-and … a daughter. I have a family. Please!"
You sighed, bored and fed up with what he told you. In the face of great danger and near death, they always said the same thing. You would know since you had lost count of the men and women who had told you they had families. Unfortunately, none of them was alive to testify that.
"I know you do, Eddie. I had one too, at one point. But they're all gone now …."
You tugged hard on his tie, making him choke on the restricted and precious breaths. His face, stained with tears, only stroked your confidence. You almost had him. Just a little more, and you would have your next victim. Or victims, if he was so generous as to inform you.
"Tell me names. Better yet, point me in their direction, and I just might spare you."
Eddie shook his head, whimpering pathetically.
"I can't. They'll know it's me. They'll kill me."
You ran your beloved weapon along the side of his torso, hinting at the possible chance of you cutting him up at any moment like he was a rag doll. You rested the edge of your blade against his bloated stomach while he tried to stay away from it as much as possible with his legs and hands bound. There was no use in doing that, but he desperately tried, wriggling and struggling against the confines.
"It's either me or them that will end your life. So choose."
You dipped the blade into his side. It wasn't too deep, just enough to draw blood. The metal parted his flesh with little resistance, smooth and easy as if cutting through a leaf. The man before you cried out in pain; his prayers were half screams, half cries and all the agony. He sputtered, choking on the words he desperately tried to get out.
"Imani! Imani Campbell! She's the head of security f-for the Stromwyns. She and h-her team have access to everything!"
You pulled the blade free, patting his face softly as you cooed at him.
"There we go. Wasn't that easy?"
The man sobbed uncontrollably. Blood seeped out from his dress shirt, staining the fabric a dark red. You registered a soft thud from behind; the sound, accompanied by a low voice, made its presence known.
"Let him go."
The deep timbre in his tone was familiar, even though you barely exchanged a word that night. Only grunts of exertion. Twirling the dagger in your hand playfully, you took hold of the hilt once more before slamming it into Eddie's temple, knocking him unconscious. What you might have to say to the man behind you might fall on Eddie's deaf ears since he was only a thin thread away from passing out, but you preferred not to leave that up to chance.
You turned around to face him, fastening your bloody dagger to the strap on your thigh. Your gaze assessed him as you took a few steps forward. The man from the night before returned with a fresh bandage on his forearm, courtesy of your blade.
"I'm sorry. Who are you?"
Your voice was light but alert. You pushed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, keeping the smile off your tone. You wondered what he had to say.
"I should be the one who asks you that."
You chuckled to yourself. An expected answer, but different from what you anticipated from him. You figured as much.
"I thought you should know who I am already, considering what you've been up to lately, Matt Murdock."
The muscles in his body were pulled taut in his straightened posture, locked up in alarm, and you didn't miss that.
"How do you know my name?"
You tsked, shaking your head in mock disappointment.
"Don't feign innocent now. You were looking for me, trying to sniff me out like a dog."
His hands balled tightly to the sides, and you could see the tension in his jaw, even from a safe distance away.
"How do you know that?"
"By doing the same thing as you did. I like to be five steps ahead of everything, you know? That's how I stayed out of your radar."
You were prepared and well-versed to the point it felt like a game. A game of hide-and-seek, catch-and-release. Just simple as that. You spoke over your shoulder as you turned on your heels, returning to the unconscious man.
"Now excuse me, I was in the middle of something."
He was silent and fast. Before you could give Eddie the second slap to his cheek, Matt seized you with his arms around your torso and dominant arm, dragging you away from Eddie. He backed you into the cement railing; the hard and rough texture dug into your back. He pinned your arms back, spiking pain and discomfort along your body. Nothing you could handle. Your heart rattled in your chest as you looked up at him; his laboured breathing reverberated and mirrored your own. You stayed like that for a few moments, studying each other. You felt no fear, yet your heart thundered, your blood pumping for something else.
To your surprise, he smirked as if he had caught onto your wandering thoughts and foreign feelings.
"You're not scared. You're not even frustrated. You're… excited."
You held your tongue, waiting for him to continue his assessment.
"Perhaps this has something to do with me. Having someone on your level."
You huffed a biting chuckle, your eyes trained on the part of his face exposed to you. Plump lips accentuated by light stubble, adding softness to his rugged intricacy. A strong jawline that you wouldn't mind caressing, stroking the scruffy hair on your fingertips. And putting your dagger to it. You would place your fingers on the delicate pulse on his neck while you did that, feeling the panic coursing underneath his skin. But you suspected your foe wouldn't be scared off by a sharp blade that easily.
"Maybe I do like a challenge. At last."
Fearless to the point of arrogance. Matt was dumbfounded, then it clicked: you didn't know who he was. You might be new to this city, its politics and underground scenes. Maybe you were here on a chase for something, someone dangerous, following the trail of blood, corruption and murders. It led you to his territory, which he had slowly but steadily returned to protect. When Matt told you as such, a skip in your heart told him he was right. You went still against him, and goosebumps rose along your skin. Still and rigid, a stark contrast to your confidence and playful manner just moments ago.
Either way, whether you were familiar with the area or not, Matt had to clarify one thing.
"You must stop what you're doing."
"Which is …?"
You dragged your sentence, feigning innocence. The slight lilt in your voice should irk Matt, but to his surprise, it didn't. It glided on his eardrums, soft and soothing, which had started to distract him. Just a little bit, Matt assured himself. He lied some more when he told himself that your body, pressing snugly against his, was not the reason for his slipping focus. Not at all. Your body was warm; Matt could feel it even through your suit. The unconscious man's blood on your gloves enveloped his acute sense of smell, steering him back to the conversation he was having with you.
"Killing those criminals. Taking lives that aren't yours to take."
You fell silent, and Matt could hear the grind of your teeth. The muscles in your jaw grew taut, and he had no doubt that he had struck a nerve. Matt paid extra attention to another scent entering his olfaction. Subtle, yet refreshing, like wet earth … after the rain. And all of a sudden, it made sense to him. Perhaps you used a scent like that to blend into the element around you, becoming one with your surrounding. Leaving no trace. Just like that night when he first met you. The more Matt learned about you, the more fascinated he became. But he wouldn't have known that yet. Not at that moment.
You pushed yourself up, pressing your chest flush with his. Your voice was low in contrast to your guards, which were high and tall, and you hoped they wouldn't topple over.
"Just like you said, they were criminals. I don't kill anyone that doesn't deserve it."
Your answer didn't satisfy him by the way his jaw clenched, his lips curved downward in disapproval.
"What they do is wrong, but that doesn't mean they deserve death. Two wrongs don't make one right."
Your hands tugged on the skin and bone shackles he had on you, but he wouldn't let up. Your skin prickled in frustration.
"I'm weeding the bad out. You should thank me since I'm doing you a favour."
He tightened the hold on you, making an imprint on your wrists.
"They deserve second chances for redemption. How can they change for the better if they're not given a chance to do so?"
Okay, now you were beyond annoyed. Who the hell did he think he was? To walk all over you, to jeopardize your mission. To act as if he was the one with authority.
"Stop with the fucking lectures! Not all of them deserve that."
You thrashed with all you might, desperate to escape his hold. But Matt held on.
"They're humans. They make mistakes, just like you and me."
That snapped something inside you, something that had always been there. You tipped your head back and slammed your head to his face. Matt let you go as he held a hand to his nose. You delivered a sharp blow to the base of his throat, right below his Adam's apple, effectively choking him. He sputtered, taking a few steps back, holding his throat while you followed him like a predator. Anger and grief took over, like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
"Spare me that bullshit!"
You grabbed his shirt, gripping it and pulling him back to you before throwing him against the brick chimney.
"If you know so much about the way this …"
Matt held a hand to his nose, swiping the runny liquid onto his hand. From the feel of it, a small part of his nose was splintered, but other than that, no serious and long-lasting damage. You took hold of him again, throwing him against the bricks.
"… thing works, then tell me. Tell me how it feels to have my entire life stolen from me. To have my family taken away, to have those barbaric so-called human beings abuse me, torture me, put drugs and chips inside of me like I'm no less than a toy? I'm nothing more but a weapon, a tool for their profit. And when I finally escaped and tried to have a normal life with a normal guy, they found me and took that away too?"
You leaned closer, and Matt could sense something other than his own blood. The salt of your tears, the blood rushing in your veins, fueling the rattling rhythm of your pulse.
"Tell me, Murdock. Tell me how it feels like to come home one day, and find your love's decapitated head on the bed you shared, in the only home you've ever known?"
And then there was nothing, only your heavy breathing and his; the wind died down, and the city carried on. Matt thought about the accident years ago, losing his sight, then his father. Stick came as abruptly as he left, and that was how he spent most of his teenage years alone and aloof. Matt couldn't shut out the clamour of crimes happening around him; he was helpless to it. When he decided to do something, to take charge, Matt lost more than he gained. Still, there was Foggy, who brought so much joy to his life. Foggy's presence was a blessing. Then came Elektra, who made him feel heard and understood when no one else could. Being with her was an ever-changing mesh of euphoria and affliction that stuck with him, before and after. The fights he had fought for the better only brought more pain to his life, full of losses.
The words manifested on his tongue, but he didn't say any of them. Your pain was your own, and it was immeasurable. Matt held both hands out in a gesture of peace. And when he spoke, the words were ripped right from his heart.
"I am sorry for everything that happened to you. I won't say that I understand everything what you went through. But I do understand why you're doing this. Trust me, revenge is not everything."
"No, you don't know anything about me."
Your tone was sharp. Final.
"Let me guess, you have some sob stories too?"
He swallowed hard, and you knew you were right.
"I guess that's why we turn out like this, huh? Inflicting pain on others because we can't bear our own."
It hurt more than the healing wound on his arm, than the forming bruise on his throat. It was as if your dagger had sunk into his chest and twisted until his heart was nothing but a mangle of tissues and vessels. He protected Hell's Kitchen; he had kept it safe with his violence. Deep under the overlapping layers of his good conscience, he knew it was another way for Matt not to face his own pain. The past year was the embodiment of that. No matter how much time passed, he knew that time would always stay with him, reminding him of the destruction he had made.
"Stay out of my way if you know what's good for you."
You turned on your heels, stepped onto the ledge and jumped. Your gracefulness landed you on the fire escape as you descended, blending in with the surroundings once more. Matt tipped his head back onto the warm bricks and caught his breath, deep in thoughts and the scent of you lingering behind.
Wet earth. Fresh rain. The saltiness of your tears.
Matt came home to his empty apartment; frustration and pain burned his skin, grating his insides. His throat hurt, the wound on his arm throbbed, and his nose stung, but at least it had stopped bleeding. Matt knew he would have to take it easy for the next few nights. Matt peeled off the dirty suit, undoing the hand wraps quickly. Standing in his boxers, he went to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. The small machine hummed as it heated the water inside as Matt prepared his tea. While waiting for the water, he went to the bedroom and grabbed a zip-up hoodie and sweats before gingerly them on, careful of his injuries. Matt went through the motion automatically because he didn't allow himself to stop and think. Not yet. The kettle whistled a high-pitched note, dragging him to the kitchen. Water was poured, tea steeped, and honey added. Matt settled down at the kitchen table with his mug, hissing softly as his aching muscles voiced their discomfort. Matt closed his eyes, letting the steam of chamomile soothe his eyelids before diving into everything he knew about you. Which was not much at all. But he had more now than he knew of you six nights ago.
Rubbing his throat, Matt took a sip of his honeyed tea. He recalled the sound of your voice, the inflection of it when you were angry. The piercing rawness of it when you cried. He got to learn another part of you that he had tried to reach. You were in the position to knock him out swiftly, to kill him even, but you didn't. You spared him of your own volition. He might not know your name, but he knew your pattern now. You struck precisely, seizing someone on the weaker links and climbing up. However, singling out one of the lawyers on the retainer for one of the most notorious crime families gave him a clue of what you came to New York for. Even though it was out of character for you, it gave him a hint of where you could go next, and Matt wasn't going to pass out on this chance. The crime family you targeted was someone he had an interest in himself. The Stromwyns. They were a force to be reckoned with, and from what he knew of you, you acted alone. It was personal from your history with them, and he suspected you wanted to take them down yourself. Matt would admire your bravery if it wasn't so reckless and incredibly foolish. But on what ground could he judge you, considering that he did the same thing?
Your fist curled tightly, your knuckles drenched in blood and mangled flesh of your own and your victims. But you wouldn't stop, not until you got what you wanted. A swift punch followed another on Imani's broken face. Her bodyguards and associates laid unconscious a few feet away, leaving only your ragged breaths and the woman's pained whimpers echoed in the destroyed meeting room. You usually wouldn't strike them at their base, where they could easily call for backup, which they did, but you felt particularly reckless tonight. You were up for a challenge, and you almost paid for it. The searing pain on your side was the throbbing proof. You wanted to speed your investigation along, too impatient to wait. You had done enough of that. Still, this stubborn woman before you wouldn't give in. You could feel your temper rising, and soon, you wouldn't be able to control it. Imani was a delicate knot in an elaborate scheme that you couldn't solve by cutting her string short. You didn't take out her whole team for nothing, especially when your venture for revenge ended up being something bigger, something more sinister than you thought.
You gave Imani's face a slap. She came to before you, despite her drooping eyelids.
"I know the Stromwyns are planning something big. Tell me what it is."
She gave a bloody smirk, her teeth stained red. She tried to keep her head straight, her eyes bored into you.
"No."
"Should have saved that energy telling me what I want."
Another jab, and she fell to the floor. You propped her up against the table, pulling out the blade concealed on your thigh.
"One last chance. I won't be so lenient this time."
The thumps of his boots made it to your ears, and you felt the air change slightly. Maybe it was just you. His footsteps drew closer on the once pristine marble floor behind you, entering the crime scene. You closed your eyes, already knowing what he would say.
"Don't do this."
You didn't bother standing up to greet him this time.
"I've killed before. This will change nothing."
"Believe me. It will."
His tone was the same. Kind, soft, imploring for the part of you that no longer existed. Yet, he still searched for it, drawing it out. You would lie if you said you couldn't feel the tug of his kindness and patience on your heartstring. It was just that you couldn't afford to follow his call.
"Why are you still trying? Why waste time on me?"
You had to know whether it was his Catholic guilt, and you were his charity case, or it was something else entirely. It wasn't like New York's shady marketplace lacked assassins for hire. You knew that as much.
"I was you before. You think you're irredeemable. But you're not. You still have a chance to turn around …"
Your real name on his tongue sounded foreign to your ears. It affected you in a way you didn't think possible. The sound triggered the alarm going off in your head, screeching in your ears. You slowly rose on your feet, exhaling an unsteady breath. You had isolated yourself and made acquaintance with no one. The shock of Matt finding out shot unnerving prickles along your skin. You used his name in vain to gain an advantage, while he used yours in the hope of steering you back to yourself with such an intricate tenderness. And that made you angrier than ever.
You closed the distance between you, wielding the dagger between your skilled fingers.
"Who do you think you are? Waltzing in here with your talks, when you're doing the same thing as I am–"
"I don't kill–"
"Same - fucking - shit! Just because you don't kill doesn't make you better than me."
Your words were punctuated with each swipe of your weapon, which he easily dodged. You were blinded with rage, with a wave of anger so potent that you could only release it when your blade had sunk into his flesh. You knew deep down if you stopped, your weaker emotions would get the better of you. Your fury consumed you whole, fueling every step as you advanced toward the infuriating figure that seemed to have so much trust in you.
"Stop it! I know you have it in you to stop. I know it feels good to get revenge, but it will ruin you."
Matt only dodged your blows and not once fought back. It only fueled your boiling rampage.
"Shut up! Just … shut up and fight back!"
It was harder to ignore his voice and what he said now. His words were like vines, slipping through the cracks of your control, taking root quickly. But you were broken; no one could mend you. You had long accepted that you would never be someone you once wished to be. This was your life. Full of rage, violence and loneliness. That was how you would die. Your demons would always follow you, then, now, and when it was your time to depart this world. You were beyond saving.
The quiet click of a gun made you whip your head toward the sound. You couldn't see clearly through the veil of tears that had started trailing down your cheeks. That was when you realized that you had been crying. It was such an appalling recognition that you didn't register the bullet leaving its chamber. Everything that happened after that was so fast your mind couldn't catch up. You could only feel. You felt the rough contact of his body against yours when he tackled you, the hard marble floor on your back when you crashed. Matt continued to shield you with his body over yours as a few more shots rang out. He cried out suddenly as a bullet hit him; his body jolted but didn't move an inch. You tried to push him off you so the two of you could run for cover, but he wouldn't budge. Suddenly, it became eerily quiet except for some empty clicks, followed by a sharp cry of pain as Imani got up and took off toward the exit. You pushed Matt off, getting yourself ready to run after her, but you ceased acting on your instinct. Matt tried to rise with one hand braced on the littered floor, his lips parted to expel a pained groan. Your foggy mind replayed the feeling of him lunging for you, saving you from the bullets' line. You blinked, watching as your whole body trembled, the bloody blade unsteady in your hand. Your target had escaped, but that was the least of your concern right now. You looked to your saviour, fixed on the ghastly look on his almost unmasked face. His eyes stared straight ahead, his mouth opened agape, and his movements shaky before he dropped to the floor with a sickening thud.
Matt woke to the unfamiliar surrounding, with strange air and the companion of another's presence. He found himself almost naked, saved for his boxers, nestled between the warm sheets that definitely weren't the silk he used to. Despite its roughness, it was just as nice as his own, as it possessed your scent, earthy and soothing. Matt had grown to like it. A pleasant mix of you and his own blood, which he could sense as he moved to set his feet on the floor. Matt ran a hand through his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and felt no resistance. He seemed to only recognize the missing safety of his mask now, and for a brief moment, he panicked. It was soon washed away when the gentle breeze carried something else in from the open window. A scent of moss, morning dews, and vines seemed to attach themselves to the brick exterior of the building, like soil after the rain. It reminded him of how you always blended in with your environment. And the thought eased his concerns. If you wanted him dead, he wouldn't be alive right now. But Matt was here, in your home. Hurt but alive, the rough gauze on his thigh reminded him.
Matt took a few unsteady steps as he oriented himself, getting familiar with the surroundings. The search for the door was a success, and he opened it to step into a different world. A different feel. The space was warm and pleasant, with sunlight coming from the right side, and the aroma that hung in the air felt homey. Upon further inspection, Matt could smell freshly chopped parsley, rice, and chicken. In the midst of everything were you and your ever-steady heartbeat.
Without turning around, you directed him.
"Take a seat. Food is almost ready."
As soon as the words left your mouth, you bit onto your bottom lip, feeling a little out of place. There was something strangely domestic about the way you told him to make himself comfortable. Even though you did try to kill him just a few hours before.
Matt searched for the seating and sat down, his back resting nicely against the cushion. He closed his eyes, soaking in the warm sun. You let yourself look at him from where you were standing, taking in how peaceful he seemed. How at ease. He seemed different, yet still the same as the person who had followed you, matching your violence with his own just to urge you to turn the other way. Realizing that you had been staring at him for perhaps too long, you whirled around to tend to the steaming food. With the porridge done, you turned the stove off before pouring a good portion of the hot dish into two bowls and sprinkling some parsley on top.
You put the bowl in front of him with a soft thump, and his eyes lazily slid open. The spoon made a small clang on the wooden table as you set it down on his right before going to your seat. Matt picked up the spoon, taking in the dish before him. It was steaming hot with a savoury aroma of rice, chicken, herb and seasonings.
"I didn't poison it, don't worry."
Matt huffed a soft chuckle.
"I trust you."
"You're way too trusting considering what you do."
That made him smile. Matt took a spoonful of the food, blowing it for good measure before giving it a taste. A pleasant and hot feeling engulfed his tongue before it smoothly chased down his throat. The taste was delectable, flavourful and wholesome. It warmed him inside out.
"Seasonings are on your right. Just reach your hand out a little."
That made Matt pause for a moment, but he didn't say anything. You continued your meal in silence, and the air between didn't feel tense or forced. Outside of the enclosed space, New York was a bustle of sounds.
Your spoon made a small clang on the side of the bowl, and it seemed like you decided it was more than enough to start a new conversation.
"I'm guessing from the way you are not panicking or overwhelmed or freaking out, you've been blind for a long time?"
No beating around the bush. He liked that. People walked on eggshells around him, around his disadvantage, for a good reason. But Matt didn't need coddling. He definitely didn't need protecting, either.
"Since I was nine. Freak accident."
"Freaky indeed."
Those two words marked the end of your conversation. Matt occasionally felt your intense gaze, watching him carefully as he cleaned the bowl. Once his and your hunger were satiated, you put the dishes away in the empty sink. Matt stood up to help, but his good intention was quickly forgotten as he hissed lowly in pain. He touched the area around the wound, feeling its mouth crack, allowing the blood to seep into the gauze. Matt winced, and it didn't escape your watchful eyes.
Rummaging around your kitchen, you poured him a glass of water and set two pills in his palm.
"Take these. Or don't. I don't care."
Your halfhearted concern warmed his heart. He knew your intention behind it, and the little spike in your heart never lied. Matt took the pills as you walked away, fetching the medical kit.
"Can I see your wound?"
He nodded after a brief moment. You dragged your chair to settle beside him, and your thighs exchanged accidental brushes. Your touch was careful and tender as your hands worked on his broad thigh to unwrap the bloodied bandage. Matt's jaw clenched, holding back a pained groan as you pressed gently around the tender area. You cleaned up the blood with a clean cloth, precise and swiftly. Not a word passed between you as you secured the wound with a sterile bandage until you asked if you could see the injury on his side. There was something serene, tender and peaceful about the way you took care of him, as if you had done this many, many times before. As if you had known each other for a lifetime.
Once finished, you pulled away with a gentle squeeze on his knee before working on your injured hands. You sighed in exasperation as you undid the hand wraps. The torn skin on your knuckles was red and angry, staring back at you as they throbbed a warning melody, giving you no choice but to listen. You would have to take it easy for the time being.
Lost in your thoughts, your hands pulled on another roll of gauze when Matt's warm hand on your wrist startled you, sending a pleasant prickle to your skin. Your eyes widened as Matt extended an open palm, wordlessly offering to help you dress your wound. You stared at him, your eyes flicked at the upward motion of his brow. Tentatively, you passed the white fabric to him. Matt held you in his hands and quickly assessed your knuckles. Your hands were colder than his, calloused and scarred, like a written memoir of your past that you carried all the time. He tried not to think about the smaller, barely-there scars you probably obtained from your younger years. You were older now, yet, your fight hadn't ended. The path you walked on only led you further into the woods like a prisoner who still fought even though their chains were broken, their prison door unlocked. He wanted to focus on the now, where you were safe, alive and with him.
Judging by the echo of your apartment, it was spacious, cozy and most likely expensive. It was a bold move, living in the heart of Manhattan. You were almost fearless, that much he knew. Matt had no doubt that you knew what you were doing, considering your profession. Maybe your name on the lease was fake, or someone owed you a favour. A very big one.
"How do you afford this apartment?"
Matt kept his voice light, distracting you from the sting of disinfectant.
"How do you?"
You asked him with just as much airiness, if not more. He chuckled softly, shaking his head as you found yourself smiling with him. You continued as the crinkles around his eyes deepened in amusement, remembering that you probably knew where he lived.
"I kill for a living. Sometimes. I'm pretty good at my job, remember?"
Matt took a deep and sharp breath, and you bit your tongue. It was too much, and you felt stupid for making that joke.
"I only take on jobs that target the Stromwyn. Nothing beyond that. Anyone with mutual interest benefits me."
"I know."
"Do you now, smartass?"
Matt could hear a slight smirk in your voice. It was refreshing to see you so relaxed, so … different from what he had known of you. But then, you were full of surprises. Silence fell over you like a thin veil; the only sound left was his movements, wrapping the bandage around your hand.
"Don't you get tired of it?"
The strokes of his hands were soft, certain as he wrapped himself around you. His warmth spread to your hands, making you shiver. Just slightly. You took a long moment to yourself, mulling over what he said.
"I do. But I can't stop. They're still doing it to children, to little kids like … like I once was. I'm a result of them, and I won't be the last."
His grip on your hands tightened, careful of your injuries. Matt brought your intertwined fingers closer to his chest, urging you to look into his unsighted eyes. Upon the near distance, you noticed the hazel gleaming in the bright light of your kitchen, holding more than just your attention.
"What they did to you is not who you are. They don't get to make you into someone you don't want to be."
His words were kind, his touch was soft, and they suffocated you. You jerked your hands out of his as if his touch burned you. A reflection of hurt took shape on his furrowed brows and curved lips, and you felt sorry for pulling away. When did you turn so soft for a man you barely knew?
"My firm can bring attention to their organization. With a big case like this, it can't stay under wraps forever. I have connections, and I can assure you that there will be people looking into this. We can work together. I can help you. Let me. Please."
You swallowed hard, feeling queasy in your seat. You stood up, and Matt followed, but he gave you space when you started pacing. You had known for a long time that you wouldn't be able to do this by yourself. The Stromwyns' influence ran deep. It would take more than an assassin with a want for vengeance infused in her blood to uproot that. To completely dismantle their organization, you would need a miracle. And Matt just might be that miracle you need. You sighed heavily, bringing your nervous pacing to a stop. You held his unseeing gaze, more for your sake than his, as if to seal your fate.
"Fine."
Matt offered a hand to you, initiating a physical agreement. After a brief moment of fleeting contemplation, you held his offering hand and shook. He pulled you closer to him by your skin-on-skin attachment, making you take a sharp breath as the sudden movement grazed your wounded skin.
"No killing."
You tugged on his firm clasp, and he wouldn't let go.
"Fine. No killing."
Matt only released you then, and you were all too eager not to have his hands on you again. That was what you told yourself, even though your heart thrashed unhappily at the traitorous thought. The tingling feeling on your fingers was back, and your mind raced with the possibilities of an uncertain future and foreign feelings.
Matt delivered on his promise. It was a long fight, stretched over two years, but the outcome was victorious and sweet. Nelson, Murdock and Page investigated and gathered evidence with witnesses, bringing the case to New York's district attorney. The ordeal was blown up, which brought in law enforcement from the higher-up. The news of the Stromwyns controlling important assets throughout New York, infesting neighbourhoods with gangs and criminals to secretly collect "protection money" from the residents, was brought to the media, pulling the attention of the whole country. When things began to come to light, the Stromwyns issued a bomb threat in an attempt to bury the whispers. It backfired as the warning was proven real by you and Matt on your investigation at night. The FBI quickly acted on the lead, making arrests for the whole family. The Stromwyns were forced to liquify their assets, and their accounts in foreign countries were seized and frozen by the CIA. Unfortunately, before law enforcement could put all of them in cuffs, some members of the family had already fled to Europe, according to the intel you obtained illegally.
It amazed you how a team of three managed to make such an impact, how relentlessly and tirelessly they worked to get people involved. You were also a part of that team; Matt told you no matter how hard you denied it. He introduced you to his friends and partners, Foggy and Karen. Even though they were skeptical of your relationship with Matt, they took your intel seriously and worked with you. You kept your distance, knowing they weren't comfortable being in the same room with an experienced assassin as in Matt's past, and you were fine with that. You had a working association with them, striving for the same outcome. You weren't there to make friends.
You weren't sure what to make of your relationship with Matt. Something had changed, but you didn't want to acknowledge it. You couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to him when you had to leave eventually. You had each other's back when you scouted for new information, when you infiltrated the Stromwyn's warehouses. Those fights didn't often result in grave injuries; when they did, you took care of each other. Small and big damages. Matt ensured that you looked after yourself and wouldn't agonize over your past. He was there to soothe you in his secure embrace when you had a nightmare. It was almost as if his arms and hands had morphed around your frame, embracing you, making you feel at ease when your grief was too much. You would wake up thrashing in his arms when the needles were too close; the stiffness paralyzing your body felt too real. Eventually, your place or his wasn't a matter since you would always end up in the same bed at the end of everything, whether due to exhaustion or nightmare-filled nights into early mornings. Whenever you woke with a headache, he would have his special tea readied, along with medicine at your request. You were afraid that he would spoil you rotten, and if you got used to his affection and care, you would never be able to leave. You couldn't stay, couldn't allow yourself that one thing. You had shared too much of yourself with him, and you were afraid you would be left with nothing if you kept on giving. You knew you didn't deserve him. So you packed your stuff up and booked a flight to Germany, following the trail of the scattered Stromwyns. You decided to leave without a word, but Matt had another idea.
"Don't do this to me."
Call you sentimental, but you had come to the rooftop of your building one last time to soak in the sound, the feel, and the air of this city. There was nowhere else quite like it, and the reason wasn't entirely due to the man standing behind you. You didn't have to turn around to know it was Matt. Your apartment was empty now, doused in the warm late afternoon light. Matt stood before you, his dress shirt creased, his tie crooked, his hair ruffled, and his face flushed from exertion. He must have run from his office in Hell's Kitchen to your apartment in Midtown Manhattan. You extended your gratitude to Karen and Foggy in person for helping you with the case before Matt got there, nothing else. You guessed they were suspicious of that and told him, even though you didn't show anything out of place. You wanted to get this over with.
"Do what?"
"Leave. Leave New York. Leave me."
The wounded edge in his plea twisted the knife that was already embedded in your heart.
"I told you. I can't rest when they're still out there."
"Let the authority take care of that. Don't be reckless."
The tone in his last sentence was stern, reprimanding as if you were a child out of line.
"Me? Reckless?"
You turned to face him, appalled at his audacity.
"I followed your 'no killing' rule. These bastards are still free because of it."
Your hands helped enunciate each word you threw at him, even though it was fruitless. You were making a point for yourself. An excuse to leave.
"They can't run forever. You've done your part. You've suffered enough."
Matt erased the distance between you, getting close enough that you didn't want to step back. You would miss his warmth.
"Stay. You have friends here."
His tender intention thrummed on your nerves, coaxing your guard like the sweet honey he always put in your tea. His words were so convincing that you felt like you could be fooled.
"No, I don't. I don't have anyone."
You stubbornly turned your head away, unable to look at him.
"You have me. Foggy and Karen, too. They don't say it but they do care about you. And I do, too."
"You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do."
He said it with so much conviction. You wanted to believe him.
"I can't, Matt. I don't know who I am without this."
The constant running, following, chasing. The continuous shutout from people, shielding yourself until you were isolated and all alone. In a way, your violence, pain, and loneliness were a way for you to punish and protect yourself. That was how you stayed anchored to reality, never strayed too far from your cruel fate, and never looked at what you could have been.
"You're still you. The strongest, most stubborn person I know. Even when you don't know yourself, you'll get there eventually. Stop running and allow yourself a chance to live the life that you deserve. To be who you want to be."
"I'm still a murderer. That's all I am and all I'll ever be. I'm only capable of that, and I will only bring you down with me by merely being in your life."
He shook his head.
"Yes, I will, Matt. Nothing good comes with me. Why don't you just let me go?"
Your throat hurt with the stricken cry that was torn from your chest. Your eyes were wide, watching Matt through the thin veil of your tears.
"I love you."
"What?"
"I love you. Everything about you."
Matt inched even closer, and you let him step into your space, knocking down your crumbling barrier. You weren't strong enough to back away. To run. You were exhausted from it.
"Please …"
You had always been careful, five steps ahead of most things. But not everything. You didn't expect to fall for Matt, yet, you did. This was his desperate plea for you to stay, to live your life instead of hiding in the shadows, being a ghost of who you truly were. He had whittled away your defence wall, brick by brick, over the span of time you knew each other. He taught you there was safety in letting go. And you did.
In a swift and clumsy motion, you slammed your lips against Matt's, accepting his promises, love, and everything in between. His full lips were soft and addictive, parting easily to deepen the kiss. Your tongues tangled in a fiery dance, and you felt like you could get drunk on his taste alone. Like the barest hint of salt, a touch of cinnamon spice, and something else that only belonged to him. His hand tangled in your hair, bringing you closer as if it was possible. When he was finally satisfied with the absence of space in between, his hand trailed down to the column of your throat in a soft caress, before stopping at the coursing, delicate pulse. Matt pressed in with his fingertips, acting on the overwhelming need to feel you, to feel the proof as if your woven bodies and intertwined tongues weren't enough. That you were real, and you were here with him. You only parted when you felt like your body could slip away from your consciousness. You heaved hard, feeling the gasps of air on your lips as Matt touched his forehead to yours. He whispered against your lips.
"Please. Stay with me."
You closed your eyes. You were tired of running, of letting your rage consume you. You and Matt were two flames. Similar to a fault, but he brought balance to you in his own way. He soothed that anger inside you and showed you that there was more to you than your past, the deadly intents you carried in the company of your wrath. You had a chance to start over with a future that wouldn't end in solitude, with the man who had so much trust in your potential when you didn't. At last, you weren't afraid to take it for yourself, as long as Matt was with you. You nodded; your face bore joyous tears and a genuine smile.
"I'm all yours."
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*Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!*
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kastlequill · 6 months
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i/v. unearth without a name: the bear that keeps his own line
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pairing: keegan p russ x f!reader word count: 1.3k synopsis: the first time you hallucinate keegan tags: whumptober, psychological warfare, blood and injury, brainwashing, hallucinations, hurt no comfort, established relationship, ghost!reader, 4+1, no y/n warnings: graphic canon-typical violence, torture, non-consensual drug use ao3: read here next →
I.
You were in Hell.
These last twenty-four hours, you had learned that Hell wasn’t actually a pit of molten sin and wayward souls. It wasn’t even a cacophony of the dead’s deafening lamentations. Rather, Hell had proven dark, solitary, and quiet save for the occasional dripping of rainwater from above.
The one commonality between expectation and reality was the pain. Ceaseless, ruthless, limitless—unimaginable pain.
Taut rope digging into the raw flesh of your wrists, ribs still sore from a series of kicks, chin caked dry with the blood that had spouted when they broke your nose. The whistling of air through collapsed canals, arms twisted behind your back, begging for reprieve. Skin already forgetting the warmth of the sun in this lair of pitch blackness; eyes already becoming sensitive to the occasional wash of dull light at the arrival and departure of your interrogators.
Such tortures certainly met the qualifications to be considered Hell.
Upon further inspection, another constant could be found in the Devil’s existence, the evil of whom surpassed your wildest nightmares. His assigned name mattered not; they all referred to the same monstrosity. Devil, Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub.
Rorke.
Three years ago, the sky had rained fire. Two and a half years ago, you’d wound up joining the cause, fighting the good fight alongside men who eventually evolved from strangers into family. One day ago, the handful of you remaining Ghosts had embarked on a mission to destabilize the Federation once again. Everything had proceeded according to plan.
Until it hadn’t.
They’d been expecting your squad’s arrival, and as the chosen scout of the group, you in your lonesome hadn’t stood a chance. Easy pickings for the seven plus Feds who surrounded you, for the leader who pistol whipped you into unconsciousness.
Now, here you were, trapped in some glorified grave at an unknown distance below the surface. Your captors paid you intermittent, sporadic visits, wanting to deprive you of any routine in this God-forsaken torture chamber. As the day went on, more and more frequently did Rorke take up the role of interrogator, taunting you with knowledge he’d long since lost the right to possess.
He’d come about an hour ago to give you a relatively tame beating, all things considered. The time allocated to recover between rounds of whatever they had planned for you wasn’t nearly long enough. His return came sooner than you’d hoped, though one couldn’t dare hope for much in Hell.
“There’s no use resisting,” Rorke sighed, irritation mounting at your stubborn silence. “You and I, we’ve got all the time in the world. I won’t break you today, I won’t break you tomorrow, but what about in a week? A month? A year?”
Deep down, you knew he was right. You also knew that the others would rather die before they cracked under the pressure of a Ghost-killing traitor like Rorke.
But you hadn’t lived or trained the way they did until recently. It was impossible to fit decades’ worth of conditioning into three short years. Despite your best efforts, should Rorke push you with just the right amount of force on just the right weak spots, the chances of you shattering were not unlikely.
In your peripheral, Rorke brandished a syringe filled with an unknown substance. Uncapping it with his teeth, its needle drew closer until it pressed into your bared vein.
“We’re just gettin’ started.”
The effects of the mystery drug were almost immediate as it began to course through your bloodstream. Less than a minute had gone by before you fell to the ground, your knees buckling. The rhythmic beating of your heart was deafeningly loud, and your vision blurred. Which made it difficult to discern reality from delusion, whether or not your stricken mind had conjured the shadowy figure that materialized beside Rorke.
“What do you see?” A sinister voice trickled into your ear, but you could register none of which it spoke. “Who do you see?”
You saw him. Of course it’d be him.
He who had dug you out from beneath a pile of rubble on that fateful day three years ago. He who had then helped you wash your face of grime, blood, and dirt in the ravine when your hands had trembled too much to do so yourself. He who had taught you how to hunt, how to tie a tourniquet, how to shoot, how to kill, how to live.
He who was currently staring at you with an intense hatred.
“I warned Merrick you’d be dead weight, but he didn’t fuckin’ listen,” hissed the apparition, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “The idiot's always had a soft spot for strays. He went too easy on you, didn’t care that your sorry ass could never do a damn thing right. And now here you are, repaying him by spilling our secrets to the enemy, is that it?”
This was a waking nightmare, a manifestation of your worst fears, of your deepest insecurities. Countless times you’d worried if you were a burden, and countless times he’d assured you otherwise.
Not this time.
The man you had grown to care for as more than just a comrade glowered down at your crumpled form, his eyes slitting in disgust. “You’re the same weak, pathetic rookie we found back in Vegas. A disgrace to the mask.”
He’d never say that.
You fought to preserve your memory of him as the Ghost who so rarely chuckled, but couldn’t hold back a snort when a stray tree branch had smacked you in the jaw. To appreciate how hard he had pushed you because he believed in your potential and wanted you to believe in it, too. To keep alive the moments he’d listened as you confided about your past, never offering pitiful condolences, always sharing the weight you shouldered.
“I won’t—” The sentence died in your throat, gravely and sore with disuse. “I’ll protect you. Us. I promise.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to make promises you can’t keep? You can’t even protect yourself,” Keegan sneered. “There’s no us. Never was.”
This isn’t real.
None of it was, except for Rorke and the pain he inflicted upon you. With your forced awareness came a renewed wave of agony, ruminating over your budding relationship, over the circumstances of your capture, over the fractured future that awaited you here.
“Well, who is it? Merrick? Them Walker boys? Good ol’ Keegan?” When you didn't answer, Rorke pressed on. “It don’t really matter all that much, ‘m just curious. Not as if any of ‘em care about you, anyway. You wouldn’t be here if they did.”
Lies.
They cared. Merrick and his tendency to hover, who’d snuck you the last ration of chocolate after your official recruitment; Hesh, who refused to leave you or anyone else behind and tried to get you to crack a smile on your worser days; Logan’s quiet comfort, providing a steady presence in spite of all that he had suffered prior to your meeting him. And Keegan. . .
Keegan cared the most, in his own subtle ways.
“Those Ghosts sure know how to leave a man behind. Pickin’ and choosin’ who is worth the fuss and who ain’t,” Rorke spat, the words a bitter poison. “Seems they’ve decided you’re a waste of time.”
That’s not true.
But the relentless barrage of cruel sentiments was becoming harder to deflect, your mental shields beginning to splinter and cave inward. Truth or falsehood, fabrication or authentication; you now realized the distinction was of no consequence.
“No one’s coming for you. The sooner you come to terms with that fact, the better. Take my word for it, kid.”
In this forgotten place far underneath the earth’s surface, in this graveyard where you joined miscellaneous fossils and decayed matter, in this prison of fear and regret and suffering—
Nothing hurt more than to admit just how much you believed him.
tbc.
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saatorubby · 1 year
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i loved the series where the boys turned into a child and the mc takes care of them! could you perhaps make another part, but with Floyd, Lillia and Jamil?
Hi! Thank you for requesting. And of course I can, love this series too!
Part one with leona, azul and kalim
Part two with idia, malleus and riddle
Part three with vil, rook and silver
Request: Floyd, lilia and jamil has turned into children, now their s/o has to take care of them.
A/n: uh yeah I know I'm late and I have nothing to say for myself. Also I had very hard time writing Lilia as a toddler, I can't imagine him as a child. And for Jamil, I just can't write for him, for some reason his personality is very hard for me to grasp.
Warnings: weird children, (in my opinion, all vice dorm leaders+floyd are menace and hazard to society(affectionate)) gn!reader.
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Floyd leech
If you thought he was a menace before, he's a literal demon now . He's literally that child that eats the random things on the floor.
He somehow manages to eat stones, you'll never know how.
Tbh you won't find many things different now that he's a child, he still acts pretty much the same, but now he has new weapons. His cute face and baby voice.
He uses it to the maximum. He would bully other people and then put the blame on them. And when no ones looking he would grin like a little demon he is.
He doesn't eat anything except gummy bears and takoyaki. Azul better watch out.
His sleeping habits are also very bad considering his brother enables him too much.
Speaking of his brother. Jade never stops Floyd from doing shit. Partly because it amuses him and partly because he missed his menace of a brother.
Though he would take care of it if anyone decides to mess with his (now) little brother. Jade is known to be ruthless with his vicious grin.
So when jade showed up with his small copy at ramshackle you weren't sure what to do.
Floyd is still Floyd you know. But cuter (if that's possible) and probably less harmful to your health.
"Koebi-chaaan!" He would shout from a mile away from ramshackle and you would hear him. He would then make grabby hands and make you pick him up, which you gladly oblige.
Grim doesn't really like him as Floyd tends to monopolise your time.
When he sleeps you swore you saw an angle instead of the spawn of the devil he acts like during the day.
"Koebi-chan! Would you pick me up again?" He asked giggling, when he turned normal causing you to give him a deadpanned look and glace over at his 6'2 imposing figure.
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Lilia Vanrouge
Menace #2.
He...is a weird child. Like the child-you-see drawing-creepy-figures, weird.
Besides that, he okay, not normal but...fine.
He likes going into the forest with silver. He also likes to hear silver sing to the birds, it calms him down and provides a sense of familiarity.
Malleus is having time of his life. He tries to make fun of lilia but Lilia bullied malleus back so much malleus almost set him on fire.
Everyone is diasomnia is pretty chill about their vice dorm-leader being turned into child...except for sebek.
He's crying, screaming, throwing up, shouting "LILIA-SAMA!". Baby Lilia does not like sebek much.
He likes going to concert. Very much. He went to one with his club members and his eyes shined so bright!
If his pranks were bad before, they're worse now. Def uses his even cuter looks to his advantage to get out of shit.
Has no sense of consequences, once jumped in front of a bus to see what death felt like. Sebek, Silver and Malleus have not recovered from the almost death of their father guardian.
Lilia loves being around you and grim. He is fascinated by grim. How are his eyes constantly on fire? Magic? It would take too much magic, how a normal monster has this amount of magic?
He a little bit of magic nerd. Malleus took after him.
He eats his veggies very reluctantly but! Lilia likes to cook for you. You can't say no to that face (he's pouting with years pooling in his dark red eyes).
All in all, I find diasomnia very wholesome.
"Prefect! Was I even cuter that I look now? No need to blush now~"
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Jamil Viper
He's pretty chill...usually.
Not as much of a menace as the one(s) mentioned above but can be set off if provoked.
Does not like Kalim. Please keep him away from Jamil, he might set him on fire. He's not the biggest fan of Kalim.
Because of his aversion to kalim, you were left in charge of him (not that you mind).
Jamil would have had a nice peaceful childhood if he wasn't assigned as kalim's attaché, so now doesn't have that duty, he's pretty cocky about his skills.
Good at everything, is a gifted child. Another reason he is arrogant.
He and Grim get along fine, doesn't make much of a mess (around you). Don't let them be alone together, they might set your dorm on fire.
He's a quiet kid. Only muttering here and there, listening intently to you.
Not clingy but get anxious if you're away from him for a long period of time.
Eat his veggies! A good boy indeed. He eats everything you provide him with, but when a bowl of curry and rice is placed in front of him you can't help but notice a different glow in his eyes and a light blush his cheeks are light up with.
He likes to have his hair brushed by you and placed in a neat braid before he goes to sleep. He doesn't like to sleep with his hair open, they get dirty more daily that way (he doesn't like his hair greasy and dirty)
U-Uh?! Prefect you took care of me?! Where was Kalim? Wait don't answer that.
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dustydaddyyy · 1 year
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flash point (series) | a joel miller x reader fic
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pairing: pre-TLOU! joel miller x f!reader
warnings:
general warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of death, blood, eventual smut (18+), undefined age gap (reader is late twenties) each chapter will also have chapter-specific warnings, please read before you proceed!
summary: 18 years after the world ended, and you never thought you'd find yourself stranded and alone in the Boston QZ. you've got one friend, a tendency for violence and sticky fingers, so what happens when you run across two notoriously ruthless smugglers one night and they chose to save your life?
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i. start me up
ii. you can't always get what you want
iii. rock and a hard place
iv. miss you
v. continental drift
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vi. sympathy for the devil
vii. (i can't get no) satisfaction
viii. sex drive
ix. can't be seen
x. paint it, black
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© dustydaddyy 2023
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sushis-brainrot · 2 months
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Rules: shuffle your On Repeat playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then tag 10 people.
Tagged by @newengland-shrike, thank you for the tag!
Here goes :P
Only Us - Miracle Of Sound
My Sails Are Set - AURORA, Sonya Belousova & Giona Ostinelli
Ready As I'll Ever Be - Tangled the Series Cast
Ruthlessness - Jorge Rivera-Herrans, Cast of EPIC: The Musical, Steven Rodriguez
The Calling - The Amazing Devil
Nothing You Can Take From Me - Rachel Zegler, The Covey Band
Can't Catch Me Now - Olivia Rodrigo
labour - Paris Paloma
We All Lift Together - Freya Catherine, Jack Victor
Inkpot Gods - The Amazing Devil
Just tagging a few, and please remember, no pressure: @thedevilsnatteravn, @valhallakilljoy, @chin-up-spartan, @jikanet-tanaka and anyone who would like to participate! 🥰
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babyhoneyheslt · 5 months
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Historical A/B/O
Unrequited (Complete - 143,707 words)
Mature
Omega Prince Harry of England has been engaged to Prince Louis of France ever since he was a young boy. Having met him at four and forming a bond, Harry is upset to find that Louis no longer treats him like a friend, instead treating him coldly.
However, Louis has his own dark secrets and Harry doesn’t know just how many dangers linger in French Court.
The Silver Dagger (Complete - 30,922 words)
Mature
After nearly being kidnapped by Prince Ben of Denmark, Queen Anne and King Desmond search for a safe place for Prince Harry to stay until they find him a suitor he likes.
They choose the place no one would think to look for a prince, a pirate ship. Captain Louis Tomlinson is a privateer as well as a pirate, and is loyal to the crown, and so he vows to protect Harry to the best of his ability.
With Harry kept safe on board The Silver Dagger, his parents work to find an array of suitors, but he just might find he wants someone else.
Into The Mist (Complete - 63.007 words)
Mature
Sneaking on board the famous pirate ship Compass Arrow to get a story for his journalist father, Harry must do everything to keep a low profile. But when one of the crew discovers him, hiding from the ruthless Captain Tommo becomes almost impossible.
Timeless (One Shot - 3,867 words)
After visiting an antiques shop, Harry gets transported through time, and discovers that he and Louis are Timeless.
Based on Taylor Swift's Timeless.
Castles Crumbling (One Shot - 6,554 words)
Being an unmated Omega and a king, Harry came under a lot of scrutiny. But when he makes a deal with Scotland, his world comes crashing down.
Louis had lost family due to the deal, and he planned to extract revenge. But when he finds Harry, he realises the country had been lied to.
Based on Castles Crumbling by Taylor Swift.
Dark Fics
The Nights and Dangerous Tricks (Complete - 20,322 words)
Explicit
Holmes Chapel had always been known for having the least amount of murders in the whole of the UK, however that all changes in the span of a month. Residents are all on high alert, waiting vigilant while police investigate.
Harry Styles lives alone, leaving him the perfect target to the murderers. However, maybe his good looks and pretty green eyes will spare him his life. For now.
Fantasy Fics
Take Me To Another World (One Shot - 5,034 words)
General Audiences
After escaping from the neighbouring kingdom, Harry finds himself on land for the first time. Despite knowing he should go back home, he lets his curiosity get the better of him.
When a mishap with discovering socks happens, he meets Louis who takes him out for coffee, and finds that Louis doesn’t quite meet the stereotype of humans.
Forgotten Kingdom (Part one of The Secret City Series - 2,495 words)
General Audiences
Louis had always loved ruined cities and had always been obsessed with Glyswing Kingdom, a city that many believed to be a myth. Moving into his grandparents house for renovations, he never expected to find what could be the long forgotten kingdom.
Castles Crumbling Down (Part two of The Secret City Series - 1,637 words)
General Audiences
With Harry freed, the kingdom crumbled down around them, prompting a quick escape.
One Shots
Electric Touch (3,901 words)
General Audiences
Harry had given up on love, until his friend Zayn sets him up on a blind date with Louis.
Based on Electric Touch by Taylor Swift
Gnome One's Home (1,764 words)
General Audiences
Harry has never been a fan of gnomes, but when one mysteriously appears in his garden, he can't help but adopt it.
He should've trusted his instincts
Fly To You (1,815 words)
General Audiences
On the way to their honeymoon, Harry and Louis find out the pilot is ill. With Louis being a pilot, he offers to fly the plane there, and it turns out to make the start of their honeymoon extra special.
Devil's In The Detail's Series
The Tower (Part One - 4,776 words)
General Audiences
There's something strange going on in Heaven.
Bored Angel Harry can't help but investigate.
The Fool (Part Two - 4,946 words)
General Audiences
After making a deal with the devil, Harry has to forge a new life for himself alongside Louis on Earth.
The Devil (Part Three - 3,913 words)
General Audiences
Harry has grown to love being on earth, but his absence in heaven and the company he keeps, hasn't gone unnoticed.
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lalunanymph · 1 year
Text
⌦ bloodhound
⌖ shidou ryusei x fem!reader
tw. violence, blood, petnames, PDA bc shidou is a hellion like that, mentions of drugs, mentions of illegal activity, barely edited bc this was written in like half an hour DFGHJK
⌁ this is for you bby @katasstrophy mwah <33 ur tag gt me thinking many, many thoughts......
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"I'm going to squash you like a bug under my toe."
Ryusei's taunts aren't anything new in the ring, but this close, you swore you could smell the bloodlust coming from him.
His bare abs flex and pulse under the clinical fluorescent light as he circles his latest opponent (victim, really), looking for the right moment to strike; the right chink in the armour to devour them whole.
Keeping up with his theme of scaring off every man before they had a chance to take a swipe at him, he plasters on a manic grin, one which made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.
In the ring, Shidou Ryusei was known as the demonic bloodhound. His opponents were wary of his unwavering stamina, acute hits and bullying taunts. Above all? They were scared shitless of his inexplicable ability to sniff out a man's weakness in a few minutes.
Not everybody could rise above his level—a Platinum—and he was one of the best bets any bored devil could root for.
You felt them behind you, in the shadows, humming like ants in your bloodstream.
Waiting for your lover to make the first move. To effortlessly win them some easy coke cash for the night.
Assuming his favourite front stance, he curls his fingers in a come-hither motion, a teasing smile tugging his lips as he goads the other man. It works.
The poor asshole's nostrils flare, and he charges without thinking—right into Ryusei's trap.
One swift roundhouse kick, a grapple and a deft movement which involved a blistering series of side kicks later, his opponent crashed into the opposing cage wall, completely out cold.
The silent crowd erupts in cheers, and Shidou jeers at his unconscious competition, tongue caught between his teeth and manic pink eyes circling the crowd. Searching for you.
He finds you and you find him again, arms vining tightly around his neck, his sturdy arms lifting you up for your thighs to hitch around his narrow waist. A smear of blood is on his cheek and his knuckles are split from Blue Lock's ruthless anti-protection gear rule.
It was protocol—every fighter worth his salt had to man up and face potential debilitating injuries head on. Thankfully for you, Shidou is not as beaten up as before, though you can't say the same for the other man being wheeled out into the medic bay.
"Did you see me?" he rasped, and in front of the entire crowd, grips your ass cheeks, kneading them with sure hands. "That third punch was for you, baby girl. I made it hurt a bit more—all dopamine and shit. Good stuff just for you, doll face."
"I did, Ryu, I did. I'm so proud of you." He grins and practically sucks your lips with his, kissing you with no hesitation; uncaring for the numerous voyeuristic eyes drinking in both your passion for the other.
"Say that again," he mumbles, and you don't have to look down to find his cock half-hard pressed right at your quivering entrance. "Say it, angel face. Say it again."
The desperation coating his tone makes your stomach flip and you fight back a moan when he starts to snap his hips up, impatient to have you. "I'm proud," you manage to whimper. "S-so proud of you, Ryu."
"That's my girl."
You try not to let your worry show and dampen the mood. Putting on a bright grin, your shaky fingers touch his cheeks, pulling him in for another kiss. And another. And one more before he brings you into the locker room for you to tend to his wounds nicely.
Those kisses which spoke volumes of the reassurance that he would be safe and sound by your side for one more day.
© lalunanymph.
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