#and I’m sick of having to follow different rules than everyone else

[glindyupland]

.

#there’s a big difference between introverted and isolated #lucky for me I’m isolated now #because I’m a burden #and none of my feelings are valid because I’m just a spoiled brat #and I can’t talk about my feelings because that’s being a burden #and I can’t ask for help because I’m supposed to be a big girl and do it myself #but I’m not an island and I should ask for help #and I shouldn’t be afraid to ask to have some of my needs met #but when I suggest a need met it’s selfish and overreacting and I should get used to or get over it #and I’m sick of having to follow different rules than everyone else #I’m isolated as f*** #and I shouldn’t be upset or complaining about it #so I feel literally crazy that it’s effecting me emotionally #i hate myself #Glindy’s Posts #tw #i don’t matter i don’t matter I don’t matter I don’t matter I don’t matter I don’t matter

[sailorsol]

Star Wars takes I’m sick of seeing:

1. When a Jedi chooses to no longer follow the path of a Jedi, they are automatically a Sith. That’s like saying if you are no longer a practicing Jew, you’re automatically a Catholic. Being a Sith has a specific set of beliefs and doctrines that must be followed, the same as being a Jedi. One can choose to no longer be a Jedi and *not* be evil or Fallen in any way, shape, or form, and this does not make them a bad person.

2. That if the Jedi were just a bit more Mandalorian, it would have Solved All Their Problems and prevented Anakin from Falling. Usually this means that if the Jedi just showed more emotion/weren’t emotionally repressed/if Obi-Wan just told Anakin he loved him/was proud of him, Anakin wouldn’t have made the decision on multiple occasions to slaughter children. There are so many “fix it” fics where this is the underlying theme.

3. Likewise, the Jedi repress their emotions. The Jedi teach their students to be *mindful* of their emotions, to not react based on a person’s first initial knee jerk response. They asked Anakin to have the same level of emotional control as a kindergartener--you don’t get to punch someone because they took your favorite toy and broke it.

3. When Mandalorians adopt children (with or without parental permission) and indoctrinate them into their culture of weaponry and violence, it’s cute; when the Jedi adopt children (usually with parental permission) and teach them to control their emotions and their psychic powers based on those emotions, they’re an evil child-snatching cult. Only the Mandalorians are capable of forming a family bond and despite being communally raised, the Jedi are incapable of forming those same bonds, probably because of all that emotional repression. But if you violate the rules of the Mandalorians, you are cast out of said “family”, whereas even someone like Darth Vader was offered a way home.

4. Love = Attachment. Attachment is about greed and possession. We are told *and* shown on multiple occasions that you can love someone and let them go. Obi-Wan does it multiple times. But when you go beyond love, when you refuse to accept loss, whether it’s external like death or internal like someone choosing to leave you, that’s when you move into Attachment, and *that* is what leads to the Dark side.

ETA, because apparently I wasn’t done:

5.  The Jedi Order, which has existed for tens of thousands of years, should change everything about itself and its doctrines to suit one kid who doesn’t actually care about following other people’s rules in any circumstance.

6. Anakin Skywalker is the only Jedi who ever treated the clones like Real People, despite several blatant examples showing otherwise, and the fact that he was totally chill with them having their identities and free will stripped away from them. But because he was the only one who was Raised By A Real Mother, he’s the only one capable of showing compassion to other people.

7. That because they have accelerated aging, this makes the clones child soldiers. If they were completely non-human, no one would blink an eye at the idea of a species maturing at a different rate than humans. So they’ve only been alive for ten years? That does not make them children. Grogu has been alive for over 50 years and he’s still a toddler. Calling them children is infantilizing and demeaning. 

8. Listen, I love whumping on Obi-Wan as much as the next fangirl, but I’m kinda getting tired of the whole “Obi-Wan never goes to medical/doesn’t sleep/doesn’t remember to eat” thing. He raised a whole ass padawan to adulthood. We have never actually seen him deny himself medical care, sleep, or food. He might work longer hours during the war, but so does everyone else. And the only reason I can justify him not eating isn’t because he “forgets” so much as the poor guy probably has a terrible case of decision fatigue. If all he has to do is walk to the chow hall and get served what everyone else is being served, I don’t think he’d have that much of a problem. There are, of course, extenuating circumstances to all of these based on any prior trauma he may or may not have, but otherwise it’s infantilizing.

This post is brought to you in part by fandom as well as interacting with members of the Star Wars costuming groups.

#star wars #meta #shitty takes #can we please stop with these #i'm tired of having the same argument over and over again

[nho-jungle]

Hello it’s me again back with another fic exchange event but this time i'm sick of doing all the work so im making u guys do it instead (/silly).

On the 20th of September it will have been a year since my first hermitcraft fic. Really, I just wanted an excuse to organise an event cuz I like doing those. 

This is an AO3 ONLY exchange, due to the ease of archive warnings, ratings, and the tagging system. The name of this exchange implies you will be creating a fic. That is an option, but not actually the point. I am just stupid. 

Any works of any rating with any warning can be submitted. The sign-up form lets you choose what you are comfortable reading. 

[SIGN-UP FORM]

The premise of this exchange is as follows:

Everyone submits one of their own fics (and fills out some details on the submissions form).

Submissions will close at 9pm BST on the 15th of August.

On the 20th of August, I will send out dm’s assigning everyone someone else’s fic.

You will then have a month to create content for that fic (content options below).

All content should be posted by the 20th of September.

This exchange is limited to mcyt, but it’s open to all branches (there is a tick multiple option on the form for which you are comfortable reading). 

More info below the cut:

The content options you can create are listed on the form, but I will explain some specific rules here:

Companion fic. Either a continuation of the fic, a chapter from a different pov, or something else within the universe that the original author created. 

Art. Either doodles or a full blown painting, whatever you want. If your style is more on the quick doodle side, please do a full page/multiple doodles. Equivalent exchange etc. 

Moodboards. A series of (usually 9) still images representing the fic. Please do at least two if you choose to do a moodboard. 

Stimboard/GIF Moodboard. (Usually 9) GIFs representing the fic. With stimboards/gifs, you are allowed to only make one board. 

Poetry. Write a poem about the fic! Get creative with it, whatever. I’m not gonna limit word count but I will say if you write haikus then maybe do more than one. Once again, equivalent exchange. 

Book-style cover art. I made this separate to art because it can be drawing or photo editing, but this would be creating a cover as if the fic were a physical book.

If you are unable to complete your creation by the 20th of September, you can either dm me to tell the person who’s fic you were assigned, or you can dm them yourself. If you have not received your gift by the 20th of September, dm me and I will message the person who was assigned your fic. 

All of these are minimum limits, if you get inspired and want to draw a full-blown comic then go for it! Basically what I’m trying to convey is just make sure your gift is something you’d be happy to receive. This is an event for enjoyment. On the flip-side, don’t feel pressured to create the most glorious work of art and get yourself burnt out. That’s not fun for anyone.

#mcyt #hermitcraft #empires smp #afterlife smp #3rd life #last life #double life #dsmp #mindcrack #smp earth #smp live

[quirklove]

Please... I need some Overhaul crumbs... Do you have some to spare? Anything. Headcanons, scenarios, reactions, anything .... 💕

oh!! oh, this is an emergency

luckily, I ALWAYS make sure to carry some spare Overhaul crumbs around in my pocket!

might have took me two years to fuckin find ‘em, but I GOT ‘EM FOR YA, BABE!!!

*sprinkles the crumbs ALL OVER YOUR DASHES*

ironically, the sprinkling of crumbs is something the man would absolutely hate, so uh, whoops...................

“Take off your mask.”

The request startles you. Mostly because it seems to come out of nowhere, but also because it comes from your boss.

As in, the man who doesn’t trust anyone to be unmasked around him. The man who thinks everyone else in the entire world is filthy, is terrified of germs, and who you’ve been warned to wear a mask around ever since day one.

You don’t think you’ve had your mask off in this compound even during your initial interview. The man who invited you for the… employment opportunity… told you about the mask rule, so you just showed up wearing one when you came in.

Not only that, you don’t see much of OVERHAUL anyway. Mostly you help Irinaka-san do paperwork for finances and things like that for the records. Quiet and out of sight, you have no Quirk, so you’re not useful for much else. Besides, your employer doesn’t like disturbances, and he prefers solitude. You can count the times you’ve spoken to him on one hand.

So when he shows up almost like a ghost, and you hear that order in his voice, you jump a bit in your seat. Looking up from your typing, those gold eyes of his strike you so much that you’re almost frozen in place. The only feature of his you can see clearly… of course they have to be attractive. “I… ah… s-sir? What do you mean?”

He’s not quite leaning on your desk. In fact, he’s not that close to you. Farther away than he sounded. And you think you can see… hives? In a little cluster on one side of his forehead? He manages to still look confident and intimidating despite looking as if he’s about five seconds away from being sick with anxiety. “I… I want you to take off your mask.”

“Oh… well…” You give your document a quick save before turning your attention fully to him. He’s never made a request like that before. Not to you, certainly, and you think you’d hear the gossip of him having asked anyone else to do so. (The Hassaikai are more tight-knit than you would have thought; you’ve been welcomed fairly warmly.)

You shift a little. You want to look in his eyes… they’re mesmerizing. You could get lost in them and you’d be happy to do it. “May I… ask why? I’m sorry, I just… I-I didn’t think you wanted people to be unmasked while in the compound. The… the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”

He tilts his head at you. The way you read the gesture, it’s half a gratitude for being considerate of his eccentricities, half intrigued that you didn’t simply follow the command without question. “I’m… making an exception. For you. And there’s no one else around, and I will keep my mask on, so there’s no chance of anyone infecting you with anything nor you infecting me with anything.”

While the logic is a bit lacking, you’re a bit flattered that he seems to trust you. He’s never trusted any of the other Hassaikai members like that, has he? “May I ask… why the exception?”

What makes me so different? you want to ask. What makes me ― special?

“Your… your face.” His voice is soft, like a whisper of rain. Like he’s admitting something to you that he’s scarcely admitted to himself. “I… want to see it. Fully. Unobscured.”

“O… oh. Um.” How are you supposed to respond to that, really? Your antisocial, mysophobic boss is asking you to take off your mask just because he wants to see your face? What part of that makes any kind of sense? Is he testing you or putting you through some type of weird initiation or something? “Are, um… are you sure, sir? Like I said, I… I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Mmh? I’m already uncomfortable. But I’m pushing through it for a worthy cause. I’ll… be okay.” Was that a falter in his voice just now? He still looks so certain of himself. “Just… do it. Please.”

Before I lose my nerve, you think you hear his anxious parts say.

So you give him a nod, before reaching back to undo the straps of your mask. “O… okay. I… guess if you’ll be okay.”

Your mask is one of the simpler ones, like Hojo-san’s. It’s so dissimilar to Overhaul’s ― a sort of surgical style, except made of cloth rather than paper. When you first came here, you wore the disposable paper ones, changing as often as necessary, like after eating or drinking. Then after about a week, Soramitsu (one of the few you feel close enough with to use his first name) approached you shyly, with this one in hand that he’d made for you.

Now this is the only one you wear, using it all day, washing it at night, rinse and repeat. It’s endlessly more comfortable than many of the ones you see the others wearing, your employer included. Maybe especially his. At the very least, this mask that Soramitsu made means something to you. It’s basically an unspoken acknowledgment that you belong here.

Your fingers are careful even as you remove it, like it’s some precious thing. To you, it is. Within a minute, you’ve gotten the strings untied, and you slowly inch the mask down from your face. It’s how you feel least self-conscious lowering it, because you’re afraid he might suddenly change his mind, deciding it’s too much too soon, and snap at you to put it back on immediately.

On the contrary, he appears to be watching you very intently. It’s as if the very act of watching you remove your mask has him hypnotized. Those incredible eyes of his are glued to your every move… it’s half flattering, and half makes you nervous.

After all, he wanted to see your face. What if you’re not even half as impressive as he thinks you’re going to be? For some reason, you want to be as good as he thinks. You want to sate his curiosity and impress him.

Finally, the mask is down completely, leaving your face bare. Your other skin has always let you know the compound is cold, but to have the cool air hitting your cheeks out of the blue is a bit of a shock. That’s not what makes you shiver, though.

Overhaul’s eyes are staring right at you. Wider. He’s so intense, it makes your flesh sprout goosebumps in an instant. While you can’t tell what he’s thinking, you could hazard a guess or two. That expression of wonder is the same that was in your eyes the first time you saw him; this intimidating, gorgeous man with more power than you’ll ever taste in a lifetime.

You wonder, idly, what kind of thoughts he’s having about you. Are they soft like the ones you have about him? Rough like the ones you have about him?

God. You don’t even care. As long as he keeps looking at you like that, you couldn’t ever give a damn about anything else.

And you can’t help yourself. You look straight into his eyes, your knees weak from that pure gravity in his gaze. It’s a good thing you’re not standing right now, because if you were, you’re sure you’d crumple to the floor pretty quickly.

After what feels like a long moment, he raises his hand up. Your heart thumps in your chest, flashes of the mutters about his Quirk that the Hassaikai have let slip to you flashing through your mind. “A single touch.” “Complete destruction.” “Could tear you apart.” “Would tear you apart if you give him a reason to.”

The others have told you his temper is sensitive, like a hair-trigger on a firearm. You can’t see that you’ve given him any kind of reason to hurt you, and yet… you tense up anyway, half expecting to be disassembled.

No pain ever comes, though. When you close your eyes, only a second later you feel the brush of a gloved hand on your cheek, and hear the quiet, peaceful breathing of a man overcome with awe.

“Perfect,” he murmurs. He sounds like he’s just had some theory of his own proven. Although he’s only got a single finger against your skin, that seems to be enough. He takes his time pulling away, despite the fact that you can see more hives popping up to join the first ones you spotted. “You are… lovely.”

You can feel your face color immediately, and you just feel so exposed. It’s not bad, but it’s… overwhelming. Did he do this just to confirm that he finds you attractive? That you’re so fascinating to him, he had to know what you really looked like? What would have happened if your features were different? Would he still have called you ‘perfect’ and ‘lovely’?

“Th… thank you, Overhaul… sir.” You manage to stammer it out as you hurry to put your mask back on. He won’t stay so smitten forever, you’re sure. You’re not about to ruin his image of you by not replacing your mask at the earliest possible opportunity.

He turns to leave, and if you’re not mistaken, you catch the slightest hint of blush creeping up over the edges of his own mask. You’re not certain, because what might be a blush could just as easily be the beginnings of more hives. The thought that his face might be flushed at the thought of you, just like yours has been from his compliment… it’s kind of exciting.

His imposing figure pauses at the door, and he turns just so to give you one last glance out of the corner of his eye. “… (Name). I… I don’t want you to call me that anymore.”

Almost like he can sense what you’re going to ask, he continues in a heartbeat. “Call me Chisaki-san instead. Please.”

With that, he’s gone, as if he were some ghost who wasn’t even here in the first place.

But he was.

You can still feel his touch, a single digit caressing your cheek, protected by that glove of his.

The barrier of it between your skin and his doesn’t matter.

The touch is burned into you regardless, and you don’t think there’s anything that can extinguish the way he just set you aflame.

#My Hero Academia #Boku no Hero Academia #Overhaul #Kai #Kai Chisaki #reader insert #romantic #drama #fluff #DOES THIS COUNT AS FLUFF????? I don't even know anymore #the fluff is mixed in with the drama!! #''take off your mask'' YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE JUST ASKED THEM TO STRIP FOR YOU KAI

[xxjustpoetrythingsxx]

Made this is a bit of vent using snippets of various different songs, enjoy!

(Verse 1)

Mirror, mirror, on the wall

I see you and my skin crawls

Stuck in skin I can’t take off

So obsessed with what I’m not

Reflection seen, it starts the flood

I feel naked.

In this mould that they have made me,

Tried so hard to fit in tight

Every day’s a punishment

For being human but the wrong kind

I see two path’s that sit before me

The decision’s mine to make

Do I play the part and follow?

Or pay the price for being brave?

(Pre-Chorus)

I’m over wasting time in life

Trying to be someone I’m not

‘Cause fuck that shit.

I don’t wanna be that kid.

No, I’m not gonna hang my head

And be another accident

(Chorus)

So she’s so gone

It’s all over now

She’s so gone

You won’t find her around

You can look but you won’t see

The girl I tried so hard to be

‘Cause I refuse to be another

Sick, sad, tragedy

I make no apologies

I am who I’m meant to be

This is me.

(Verse 2)

No need to say that I’m immoral

No need to tell me I’m freak

Save your breath, you made that more than clear

By the way you look at me

I break your rules just by existing

Try to show my side but it makes no difference

You know, I’ve drawn in sharpie

Where I’d take the scissors

If that’s what it takes for me to look in the mirror

So why do I still feel so goddamn inferior?

I’ve lost myself in make-believe

I’m a cage, I’m a prison for what no one sees

I know you like me more in my cage

But you know you can’t cage me

(Pre-Chorus)

I was insecure in my skin

Like a puppet, a girl on a string

But I broke away and learned to fly

If you want me back, you gotta let me shine

Guess the joke’s on you

‘Cause the girl that you thought you knew

(Chorus)

She’s so gone

It’s all over now

She’s so gone

You won’t find her around

You can look but you won’t see

The girl I tried so hard to be

‘Cause I refuse to be another

Sick, sad, tragedy

I make no apologies

I am who I’m meant to be

This is me.

(Bridge)

There’s a heart that must be free to fly

That burns with a need to know the reasons why

Why must we all conceal what we think and what we feel?

Must there be a secret me I’m forced to hide?

I won’t pretend that I’m someone else

For the comfort of everyone else.

When will my reflection show who I am inside?

(Pre-Chorus)

I’m tired of holding on

Here me when I say

(Chorus)

She’s so gone

Pretending’s over now

He’s so done

Forcing his true self down

You can look and you will see

The man he came to be

Cause now I’m not scared to be seen

I make no apologies

I am finally who I’m meant to be

This is me

#poetry #trans #trans ftm

[buck-yyyy]

y’all i need some advice, but this kinda turned into a whole rant- tldr at the end :/

im so fucking sick of not being able to interpret social cues. i just spent 20+ minutes talking about history with my mom while we drove home, with other people in the car, and i thought she was having a nice time because i was doing really good with letting the conversation not be too heavy on my side (i have issues with getting too lecture-y and not letting people talk when i talk about things i love) and she was being active in the conversation and it seemed like she was genuinely enjoying it. we get out of the car, and my cousin went ‘ugh, *name*, no more talking about history’, to which i responded ‘you weren’t even a part of the conversation??’ and my mom just turned to her and said in the most infantilizing possible voice, ‘she [me] really loves history, you can just let her talk about it’, implying that she was just listening to me because she had to and not because she actually cared about the conversation. the second she said it i started tearing up and now i’m hiding in the bathroom because i don’t want to see anyone else right now.

i just- i don’t pick up on that stuff like other people do, and i don’t know why. i can rarely tell the difference between when people are actually interested in what i’m saying versus just pretending to be. and i hate it. i hate it so much.

it’s not even just in that kind of scenario that i struggle with this shit. it took me MONTHS after i left eighth grade to realize that my friends from middle school didn’t really like me all that much and just let me hang around because they had to, even when none of them made any effort to talk to me. they made fun of my interests all the time, unless they benefitted them (i used to bake and bring them the treats because no one in my house would eat them).

i can’t pick up on masked sarcasm. when it’s blatant, i get it, and i get most jokes and stuff, but anytime someone is subtlety sarcastic, i’m the only one who doesn’t get it and then get weird looks when i ask what they meant.

it’s practically impossible for me to gauge people’s real interest in what i’m saying. i can’t stop myself from infodumping about the stuff i love. all this stuff, that’s so easy for everyone else, is SO HARD for me, and i don’t understand WHY.

i’m so sick of social rules and expectations. as a kid, i was taught that even if you’re not interested in what people have to say, you need to listen, because it’s clearly important to them- no one follows that, and i frequently get ignored or talked over because no one gives a shot about my interests. why car we taught this shit if no one is going to actually do it? we have to make eye contact with people for them to trust us, but it doesn’t MEAN anything, so what’s the fucking point?

i just feel so different than everyone around me.

i feel like i process and experience emotions differently than everyone else- i don’t get sad like my mom does when people die that other people know, even though i feel so bad about feeling nothing, especially because i get such strong, uncontrollable emotional reactions to stuff that doesn’t fucking matter to everyone else (stranger things is a really good example. i cried four times during volume two, sobbed the whole way to dinner because i was so distraught over everything, has zero appetite and almost relapsed with something all because of a a fucking tv show).

stuff like certain sounds makes my brain go absolutely haywire, and i get both an emotional AND physical reaction to it- if someone blows a raspberry with their tongue, my whole mouth feels gross and tingly and i get irrationally upset.

i get so fixated on stuff, and no one else around me is like that. my entire life, i’ve had such intense interests in the stuff that i like that i can’t think about ANYTHING else for weeks, months, sometimes even a year- but then it’ll fizzle away in less than a week and i won’t even want to touch it. i can’t consume media the same way other people do, i can’t hold an interest for an extended period of time, and while i love how intense my love for these things is, it really sucks to have it be completely uncontrollable.

i just don’t understand why i don’t get this stuff, why i feel so different than everyone around me, why i process things so differently. if anyone has advice, or feels the same, please let me know- i feel so fucking alone in this.

tldr: i can’t pick up on social cues like everyone else can, and i don’t understand why. i process and experience my emotions so differently than everyone else around me, my interests are on a completely different wavelength than anyone else, and i feel so different than everyone else, like i’m a completely different species. i hate it and i don’t get why. if anyone has advice or feels the same, it would mean the world to me if you could share :/

#advice please

[senjuushi]

Whumptober — Day 14

Prompt: Desperate Measures

Character: Ali Pasha

Ali Pasha is known for his ego. He’s fully aware of how the soldiers and handlers despise his stubborn attitude and unbreakable pride, but he doesn’t intend to change his behavior for the former World Empire’s sake. No matter how much it infuriates those above him, he’s assured of his proper worth. 

The problem comes, though, when his Master is the one who’s not satisfied. It was one thing back at the Resistance, where leniency and cutting corners ruled. Where he is now, people care far more about things like a weapon’s place, and just how they treat the humans above him. And while Ali Pasha had always been one of many tools under the same owner, it’s different now. Worse. It’s much too easy to go forgotten. 

Even more of a problem, they take his gun away. None of his kind are allowed to keep their weapons with them when not in use, and that has quickly become a type of fear that Ali Pasha never knew he’d have to worry about— his gun is delicate. Whether he admits it or not, the silver filigree is much too easy to damage, so he despises having himself in another’s hands. 

The idea that he’s scared of anyone is appalling, but there’s little room for shame in an environment where everyone wants to see him break. 

When you call him for a personal visit, Ali Pasha is immediately suspicious. It’s unusual for any of them to be allowed one-on-one time with their Master; there has to be some kind of trap waiting behind the kind offer. 

He’s fresh from training with his gun still in his hands, and no one tries to take it from him when he leaves for your office. With his fingers curled around the delicate decorations, he can almost pretend like he’ll be allowed to keep it, this time. Like he’ll be allowed to protect himself how it matters. 

You’re waiting for him. You don’t look angry, but you’re leaning against your desk with an expression that he can’t get a proper read on. Ali Pasha keeps his head high and his shoulders back, bold as he always is. 

“Do you know why I wanted to speak with you?” you ask. 

“How would I know that?” he scoffs. “Humans’ business is none of my concern, let alone whatever whim caused you to bring me here.”

You stare at him for a moment, silent. Then— 

“Bring me your gun.”

Internally, he flinches. That’s... the worst order you could have given. At the same time that he’d rather die than allow anyone else to hold that precious part of his soul, the very idea of the aged wood and fine, polished silver resting against the warmth of his Master’s hands twists a knot in his stomach that even he can’t ignore. He’s still just a weapon, in the end.

But your gaze clearly says that there’s no room for argument, and Ali Pasha, glowering all the while, does as you command. He steps toward you slowly and offers his gun with a glare that he hopes conveys his distaste.

A shiver runs through him the second his gun is in your hands. Some pitiful, needy, instinctive part of him wants this like nothing else. 

The moment doesn’t last, though. You step back to your desk, sit down on the edge... and pull a small knife out of your belt. Before Ali Pasha can react, the tip of the blade is wedged under a bit of the silver filigree along the stock. And instantly, his breath stops cold in his chest. 

“See, I’m sick of your attitude,” you say simply, “and regular discipline isn’t working. You always have to have the last word. You can’t just accept that there are people in charge of you. It’s unacceptable. You know that. This is something you’ve brought onto yourself.” As you calmly explain what cruelty is about to follow, you dig the knife in slightly deeper. 

For a moment, he forces himself to smirk, to not show the rapidly building terror creeping down his veins. “As if that would be enough to make me bow to you,” he boasts. “I’m not afraid of anything you could do to—”

And just like that, you chip off a tiny piece of silver. 

Ali Pasha sees it hit the ground before he feels it, but a second later, the feeling of bad wrong pain—, hits him like a bullet to the chest. 

It hurts more than anything should be able to, but without a single bit of damage to his human form. His body doesn’t know how to process it, but his stomach lurches threateningly and staring at the place on his gun where something used to be only makes him sicker. You’ll keep going. If he doesn’t submit, if he doesn’t throw away his pride, he knows you’ll keep going. 

“Do you think anyone will find you impressive anymore when all of these pretty things are stripped away?” you ask, fiddling the knife under another decorative coil. “Will you still be adored when you’re scarred?”

You’re right. Or rather, he’s so scared that weapon instinct begs him to believe you. Master is always right, and he’ll be happier, safer if he just bows his head and lets you have the power his owner deserves. There’s no room for dignity when he’s risking being chipped apart one shard at a time. 

Before he knows it, the tears start to fall. And hating himself for it all the while, Ali Pasha drops to his knees in a respectful bow. 

“Forgive me, Master. I understand. Y-You have the right to punish me, but, please—” Just saying the words feels like spitting up the tar-covered, bitter remains of his ego, but the knife is still right there, and he doesn’t dare to make this any worse for himself. Between the beatings and the cruelty and everything else he’s been through, this has been a long time coming. He should have known he’d be forced into line eventually. 

And worse, most shameful of all, there’s a part of him that just wants to be yours. If it would mean you’d own him properly, keep him by your side as a treasured tool, his pride would mean nothing at all, in the end. 

#Senjuushi #千銃士 #Ali Pasha #Fic #Whumptober

[the-void-writes]

Happy Tiny Scene Sunday

same prompt but for a different character I'm equally curious about 👀

Vigilante AU Will is blindfolded and being led through the woods. Why are they in this situation and how do they get out?

@bloodlessheirbyjacques :DDD

@bloodlessheirbyjacques I am so sorry this took so long 🤣 This prompt really stumped me for him. Eventually, I decided to go for the more story-centric option.

So to sum up, Will is taken by a secret agency run by Preston’s mayor, who thinks Will is some kind of deity sent to help him rule. He’s then justly punished by a very angry Jason, the kids, and the rest of the town.

TW for kidnapping, violence, and the mention of blood and puke.

Will was far too sick to register what was going on. A bag was placed over his head, but he could see shadows of people sitting in front of him. They were in a truck, from the feel of it, one that bumped along an uneven path. When it came to a stop, the people in front of him let him out and led him down a long path. It was cold, though that could have been the drastically shifting temperature of his body, but the grass crunched underneath him. His fever made it impossible to walk straight, so one of his captors had to hold him up.

“Not too rough,” one said. “Boss wants him in top condition.”

“He’s already puking up blood,” another said. “Why does he want this one so badly?”

“This is the one, Noah. He’s what we’ve been waiting for.”

They entered a warm building, and Will was placed in a soft chair. At least, his captors were giving him some comfort while they held him. He listened, despite the pounding in his head, only hearing a dozen little beeps. Finally, footsteps came from far away, and a gentle hand lifted the bag from his head. The world was a dark-green blur, with a bright figure standing in the middle. His smile was the first thing to come into focus.

“Mister Parker…”

His head slouched as he tried to speak, and the young mayor hushed him gently.

“Easy, champ. You’ve had a long morning, I’m sure.”

“Where are we…”

“One of my special facilities, for people just like you.” A slender finger ran through Will’s hair. “You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Waiting?” Will could barely keep speaking.

“I’ll explain everything to you after you’ve rested. We wouldn’t want to lose you so quickly.”

He snapped his fingers, and two guards picked Will up and carried him away. Parker watched him intently as he disappeared into the darkness.

“This is for the best, my Zephyr.”

———————

Will watched as Jason and Jin wheeled Parker out in front of the crowd, hidden by the bag over his head. The people of Preston booed and hissed at their mayor. He was the reason Will had disappeared, the reason he had become too sick to fight. His delusions almost cost the city their protector. For once, the citizens of Preston were in agreement; Mayor Parker had to go.

Jason was the first to stab him, his icy eyes piercing his soul sharper than any blade could.

“My son is not your god,” he said, “or your pet. I’ll make sure he never has to see you again.”

Jin was the next to stab him, followed by Colin, and everyone else until they passed the knife to Will. Instead of using it, though, he gestured to the crowd.

“Parker’s been taking people from the city for years. It’s only fair that the city retaliates as a whole.”

The audience gathered around their mayor, chanting together as they took turns beating the man to a pulp. Parker reached out towards Will, begging for his savior to change his mind. Instead of forgiveness, he received a knife through the palm of his hand. The crowd only drew out his punishment, with death itself refusing to grant him mercy. Will stared down at him, exhausted and scarred from the experiments, and held a finger to his lips.

“This is for the best,” he said.

#writeblr #writing community #tiny scene sunday

[jodilin65]

If you think whites are “privileged” you’re deluding yourself. It’s just that I keep hearing the term and I assure you we have to play by the same rules as everyone else. We’re no more or less special let alone privileged.

To clarify what I was saying about Trump the other day, this doesn’t mean it still doesn’t piss the shit out of me that a known criminal who incited a riot and has done God only knows how many other illegal things can be reelected, as I believe he will, without paying the consequences whatsoever. Meanwhile, I lost my freedom and thousands of dollars because I spoke out against being victimized two decades and three states ago.

I was shocked to learn that same-sex relationships were illegal in the US up until 2003. I thought they were decriminalized decades before that! To think that I could have been arrested for being with Kacey and then later with Brenda is kind of mind-boggling.

But then how did so many gay bars exist before 2003 without being raided and shut down?

Sometimes I’ve wondered what it would be like to live in certain times and I imagine either way back in the past or if I was young today, like in my 20s or 30s. I’d say it’s probably a good thing the internet didn’t exist when I was young because I was a naive idiot who might have gotten into all kinds of trouble.

I wonder if it would have been easier to meet women. Back when I was young all you had was word of mouth or going to bars. If something isn’t meant to be whether it’s by design or not, it won’t be no matter how available it may be in general or how hard you work for it, so I don’t know that it would have made a difference. I think I still would have been met with the same rejection I got from the gay community years ago due to being very feminine. I simply had no desire to follow the so-called lesbian dress code that to this day I have never understood. Why should I have had to cut my hair off, ditch makeup, skirts, dresses, and heels, and walk and talk like a guy simply because I was attracted to women? I never understood the connection.

I know people can’t always help how they look and while they certainly do have a right to do what they want, can it be a coincidence that so many of them have short hair and are boyish in appearance? It really at least seems to be some kind of dress code just like it’s the opposite with gay guys appearing feminine. Again, it never made much sense to me to want to look like what you’re not supposedly attracted to but eh, whatever floats your boat.

I finally finished the Cabin Fever challenge I would have finished over a week ago had I not gotten sick. I’m back in Indiana with 1299 miles to go.

Having a thunderstorm tonight which is always nice.

I always used to say that when we moved from Auburn to Citrus Heights we traded in money issues for health problems for me. I asked Tom yesterday if I was imagining it or if we’ve been doing the best we’ve done financially since being here and he said yes, we are. Funny that it’s at a time when I get sicker than I’ve ever been. I don’t see it ever happening but if we were suddenly millionaires I can just imagine what my health would be like!

I haven’t been sick but I still have a bit of nausea and acid reflux at times. I also have moments where I wonder if I’m infected but I’m guessing I’m not. If I am, it’s mild.

My fatigue is kind of bad today. I was going to nap but couldn’t sleep. I think that’s a good thing, though, because napping yesterday may have done more harm in the end than good because it meant staying up later than usual and not sleeping as long. If I don’t sleep seven or eight hours at once, I’m more likely to be tired.

My appetite is still down as well and I’m down another half a pound. I still expect that to return, though. I’ve kind of got mixed emotions about that one. It’s good for me to lose weight but I also miss enjoying food. It’s not like I’m starving, though. I just can’t eat as much. I’ve been averaging around 1000 calories give or take a couple hundred. I’m actually getting hungry right now just talking about it, lol, so I’m going to go make something to eat.

[thestarsarebrighterinthistown]

Soojin has a nightmare (first person perspective)

CW: child abuse

Soojin has always been haunted by the After since the day that her entire coven was obliterated as a child. Sometimes it visits her in hallucinations, sometimes in vivid nightmares that weaponize the memories of her childhood against her--memories that are the only thing left she treasures, as complicated as they are.

In the beginning, she didn't tell Younghwi at all, and he didn't care to ask. But after weeks of fruitless searching for answers, and countless nights spent together in what felt like some unspoken limbo, the weight of it all becomes too much.

---

There was something familiar about the darkness now. The thick, stuffy air that suffocated me. The feeling of scratchy carpet under my hands, gripping for familiarity in the emptiness that reached out to grab me. I was small, smaller than everyone else, and the world around me towered to close me in.

I wasn’t in my body, but I was crying, and I wanted to get up and rattle the door knob but I knew it wouldn’t open. The person leaning on the other side was too big.

            “Stop that, Soojin,” said the door. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

            I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to get out.

            “The other kids have already gone home. Don’t you want to see your eomma today?”

            There was no way to see, but I watched my hands raise in front of me with trembling fingers. I could feel the vibration of power around me, but it was taunting me. Slipping in between my grasp before I could even grab onto it, laughing in my ears. My sobs faltered in my throat, choking me.

            There were a few moments where I tried to breathe past the terror squeezing my lungs. Stop crying. Focus. I tried again, until my head began to spin with suffocating heat, and still my hands were empty. Groans of pain pushed past the tears, ripping any air that was left from my lungs.

I can’t do it. I’ll never leave. I’ll die here.

“Stop crying or you’ll be in there forever,” said the door again.

            The fear that twisted inside me was palpable, only swelling with the screams of laughter I could hear pounding in my ears coming from somewhere. It was so silent in here, silent for hours, hours of darkness and crying. I’m going to die here.

            “You know the rules, Soojin. You can’t come out until I see light under the door.”

            I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’ll do well. I’ll do anything. I hate when you put me in here. I hate you. My hands reached out again, trying to grasp the power around me to concentrate it into something, anything at all.

            Then the door handle rattled violently, shattering the suffocating silence. I screamed, shuffling backward in the closet until I felt the thick fabric of coats cover me.

            The door spoke again, now the voice was different, familiar. It was everywhere, sinking like claws into the back of my neck. “You can’t do it, can you?”

Something big and heavy was slamming against the door, and the voice of my mother suddenly multiplied into thousands with the laughter around me, like a million insects buzzing in my ear. “WHAT ARE YOU EVEN GOOD FOR, YOU PARASITIC LITTLE BITCH?”

            I want to get out. I’m sorry.

            “YOU COULDN’T DO SHIT WHEN I WAS ALIVE, EITHER. DO YOU THINK I’LL BE HAPPY TO SEE YOU, SOOJIN?”

            The darkness became liquid around me, the screams of laughter swallowing me as my lungs filled with sludge. There was nothing to grab onto, no power to summon to my hands. I screamed but I was no longer me, I was being torn apart. This was how it always ended.

            A quiet sob was choking me as I was torn awake, my body curled into a shivering heap.

Whatever that thing was, that thing that pretended to be my mom, I could feel the memory of it all around me like spiderwebs on my skin. It’s followed me, was always my thought when I woke up, my only thought. It’s going to take me like it took them.

I opened my eyes, but the darkness still swallowed me whole as I realized the bedside lamp was no longer on like I had left it. Still barely lucid, panic sunk into my chest and burrowed there, tearing my chest open.

 The sheets were damp with my sweat as I buried my face in them to shut out the darkness, the sound of that laughter, to suppress my tears in the fabric. Terror still crawled on my skin, stealing my wispy breaths from my nose before I could even catch them.

I was barely aware of Younghwi’s hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me. At first my body shrunk from the contact, but then the pressure was all around me and felt warm fabric press against my cheek. The sudden shift of the mattress under me pulled me further from sleep and I realized Younghwi had moved to reach over me to my bedstand.

“Soojin-nim,” he murmured, his voice soft and slurred with sleep but still laced in a familiar urgency. “What’s wrong?”             He began to lean away from me again, and as his presence receded, I burrowed my face deeper into the sheets. “Tu… turn on the light,” I forced out, and my voice was dissonant and pathetic in my ears. I couldn’t stop trembling, my words barely coherent and connected.

“It’s on.”

I opened my eyes, feeling tears crackle on my eyelids as I turned my head. Younghwi was next to me, sitting up on his elbow. His hair was unruly over his face, his eyes glazed with sleep as he squinted against the new, soft light that flooded the room. I focused on his features in front of me, the soft constant sound of his breaths, trying to peace them together as lucidity slowly returned to me. He looked more and more familiar, and I was aware now of the way I was gripping the sheets, and the tears that covered my cheeks.

I sat up quickly, sniffing back more tears as I wiped my sleeve quickly over my eyes. I must look pathetic to him. I hadn’t cried in front of anyone in years. It wasn’t as if I had anyone to cry in front of. Even sharing a bed with someone in this motel room still felt odd, and surreal, and wrong. All of this felt wrong.

“What happened?” Younghwi asked again, quiet. His chocolate eyes were fixed on me, soft and attentive with gut-wrenching empathy.

As usual, a million scathing remarks were already at the tip of my tongue. I told you I sleep with the light on, did I tell you to turn it off? Why are you worrying about me like I’m a child? Why are you still here?

I didn’t want to think those things. I didn’t want to say any of that to him at all.

            Just like that, the tears came again before I could stop them. I heard a pathetic, soft whine escape my nose, a lump building in my throat and suffocating me before I could stop it. I heaved one breath to control myself, but I was crying all over again.

Stop it, Soojin. Stop crying, damn it.

It was almost comical, the way it all kept coming when I thought there couldn’t be any more. Younghwi watched me choke back the tears as long as I could, and then I was sobbing into my hands like a child.

“Soojin-nim,” he said again, and in that moment his warm, cautious voice saying my name sounded like a lullaby. I don’t know why it made me cry even harder.

Why was he speaking to me this way? Why couldn’t he raise his voice at me, just once?

I heard the rustle of sheets, and then the soft heat of his presence right before he wrapped his big arms around me. He didn’t have to pull me at all; my body fell into his like a rag doll, my face burying in the crook of his neck and the warm thick fabric of his shirt. His grip on me was strong and secure, completely encompassing me. I felt his chin rest on the top of my head as he patted my hair in a slow, even rhythm, like the beat of his heart against my ear.

I cried for a while. I hadn’t thought I was much good at it anymore, and maybe I still wasn’t. The tears came on faint, squeaky breaths and whimpers, barely audible as they were all absorbed into his shirt. I could barely manage anything more than that. Then eventually exhaustion took over again, and my tears were lulled down to dull sniffles as I focused on the gentle pulse of his heartbeat.

After I had controlled myself Younghwi gently let go of me, steadying me by my shoulders as he inspected my face. I looked down at my lap, feeling another wave of humiliation. Whatever he was thinking of me now, I didn’t want to know. Then he reached up, wiping the tears from under my eye with his thumb.

“I don’t know what happened,” he murmured. He sounded like he was grasping for the right words, but the timbre of his voice was steady and sure. “But no one is going to hurt you. I’m here to protect you all night.”

            Those words ripped the hole in my chest bigger, almost enough to summon another wave of tears. Logically I knew he was speaking out of obligation, saying words he knew I wanted to hear. Still, there was a selfish conceited part of me that hung onto the tremor in his voice, the furrow of his eyebrows, the possibility that he could really care about what happened to me at all.

Why would you do that for me? I wanted to ask, but nothing could make it past the lump in my throat. I wasn’t sure what I was asking about specifically, anyway. Comforting me, protecting me, using his power to solve my problems, not killing me in my sleep…

And what about that night, when he would have rather tried his luck on his own than stay with me? Maybe he had the right idea.

            Despite the deluge of thoughts overwhelming me I just nodded, letting him help me lay back down onto my pillow. The sheets were cold, still damp from my tears, and even when he pulled the sheets over me again I felt a frigid hollowness creeping back up inside of me.

I watched him adjust his own blankets in the dim lamplight and turn to lay back down himself, and the words left me faster than I could stop them.

            “I’m sorry,” I whispered. My voice was thick and broken with emotion, barely cutting through the silence. I took everything in me to say those two words, but I meant them.

            Younghwi paused, turning back to look at me. His sad eyes flickered over my face, as if he wasn’t sure I had spoken there at all.

            “I know that I… I haven’t…” I continued, and my eyes began to sting. I didn’t know what I was asking anymore, or where these new tears were coming from. It did feel wrong, sharing a motel room with someone after so long, but the thought of going back to before was worse than ten of those nightmares.

            “Whatever it is, you should tell me tomorrow,” he suggested gently. I knew I wasn’t making any sense. Maybe he thought I was still drunk from before.

            “No, I just… I know how things have b-been,” I persisted past the lump in my throat. I was determined to make some sense tonight, to regain some of my dignity. “I told you that, that I’m… I’m just like this.”

            I said it easily enough before, but now I could barely make my tongue form the words. I’m a bad person.

            It didn’t matter. I could see in Younghwi’s eyes that he knew.

            “Soojin…” he said.

“Can we just… can we just stay like before, j-just now?”

            Those words hung between us, so frail and desperate I could hardly believe they were my own. Younghwi didn’t say anything at all.

He just looked at me for a moment, and then he lifted the covers and shuffled over to lay next to me again. His arm came around me, pulling my face into his chest as his hand rested on my shoulder. I felt the pressure of his chin on my head, a shaky sigh escaping me as all the tension in my body evaporated.

My mind was quiet. The only thing that existed was the feeling the hum of his occasional sigh against my hair, but then I was asleep in an instant.

#my characters #my ocs #ocs #oc:soojin #oc:younghwi #original characters #sunshine x grumpy #t: oneshot #g: whump #g: angst #dark academia #eldritch gods

[icedsupearchive]

due to this being a side blog , i’ve opted to use posts for the important information rather than making a carrd for her just yet. i hope everyone understands! thanks for following and taking time to read my information.

001. ― as stated on my pinned post , this blog is mutuals only , which means that i will only interact with those who i follow ( from my main blog @vvithteeth ) and are also following me here. there are no exceptions to this rule. it can take anywhere from five minutes to five business days for me to follow back , but if i haven't by then ― chances are that i won't.

002. ― activity on this blog can be anywhere from medium to low depending on what's going on irl and how active my other blog(s) are. i have a full time job , i am a single mom , and sometimes life gets super overwhelming and i just kinda stick to discord. that username is available to mutuals , all you have to do is ask!

003. ― this muse was born to me personally after hearing a tiny story from a supporting character in season one of amazon’s the boys. i have taken that story from that character’s point of view and expanded on it to create the character you’ll meet here , noelle cross. so while technically ‘ ice princess ‘ is a canon character from the television show , we know nothing about her but this one thing so everything else is my own interpretation. i take a ton of inspiration from marvel’s white queen , but i put a boy’s twist on it.

004. ― since this isn't my only ( or main ) blog , plot driven threads , ships , and verses have priority over others. it is just easier for me when i know the general direction we're trying to go , especially if i can't be on for a few days it is easy to lose muse for something if i'm unsure where to go with it.

005. ― please do not interact with me either ic or ooc if you also interact with / follow siren ( hawkinsborn ) or any affiliated blog , claudia ( zomzed ) or any affiliated blog , or infinitelycomplexpuzzles or any affiliated blog. i have no problem with sharing what my issues are with these people if asked privately but i will not be posting things to the dash about it , thank you.

006. ― anon is ( almost ) permanently disabled and unlikely to be turned on for the foreseeable future. too often people take advantage of the feature and send childish things in a weird attempt to hurt someone's feelings. well ― we don't do that here. if i do turn it on , for a meme most likely , and get anon hate , i will immediately screenshot it and post it in my discord group chat and laugh about you with my mean girl friends. it will not be posted to the dash , i will not make a big deal about it , and you will not get your sick satisfaction so ― don't waste your time!

007. ― if you've made it this far , please know that I LOVE YOU! i go by Vee ( ꜰᴏʀ ᴠᴇɴᴅᴇᴛᴛᴀ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ ) i am 21+ and i prefer she / her pronouns but won't take offense to they / their. i have gone by other aliases in the past , and several different urls. i don't broadcast but i have no problem sharing when asked. i live in the US ( sorry ) and am in the central time zone. i'm most often mobile bound during the daytime hours , and can be fully online in the evenings and on the weekends.

#rules of engagement.

[buckyownsmylife]

plagiarism and bullying

I am not sure how much readers of this community know about what’s been happening, but I know pretty much anyone who writes has been going through hell the last couple of months because of authors who have grown too big for their own heads - and have effectively managed to poison the entire community with their behavior, which is precisely what I feared.

And I am sick of it.

I am sick of what can only be described as psychological and emotional harrassment, done privately so people feel isolated and scared to post anything.

I am sick of people thinking they own tropes, alternate universes, clichés, pairings, characters, even GENERAL PLOT POINTS that no one can possibly possess and take ownership of.

I am sick of these same people being the ones who can’t see an idea being thrown in front of them before attaching themselves to it until the original author is forced to pull back on something they’ve been working on because this other person who they considered a friend posted it before (oh yeah. I know all about those of you who are calling out people as plagiarists while stealing WIPs from your friends).

So let me give it to you straight - and this is coming from someone who is actually a victim of plagiarism myself.

Every time one of you points a finger at someone else and shames them privately or even attacks them publicly for writing a story that has the same generic set-up (Steve finds your fanfiction, Bucky loses himself to the Winter Soldier, reader needs to be rescued by one of the supersoldiers) you’re doing all of the people in this community a disfavor, by 1. making everyone scared of publishing anything, because the entitlement for the littlelest things seems vindicated now and 2. you’re taking away from actual instances of plagiarism and authors who are having their entire works stolen.

Think of it this way: can I feel entitled to the concept of sex pollen? only one bed? in vino veritas? why can I feel entitled to this concept that I apparently came up with but that can be rewritten in a thousand different ways?

If someone else can take that generic summary and run with it in a way that’s their own, YOU WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO TRADEMARK IT. It ISN’T an instance of intellectual property and it most definitely isn’t plagiarism.

You all have common sense. Use it. It’s one thing to copy an entire premise of a series, keep the same AU and character and change the lines of dialogue. It’s an entire different thing to create your own stepfather Bucky series, or mobster Steve series, or Alpha all of Chris’ characters (here, have one of “my own” ideas), with your own premise, your own ideas for each chapter and the other details of their relationship with the reader.

Or are you telling me from now on, there can be no more alpha!Bucky’s heat taking over him suddenly, Steve and Reader have to share a bed on a mission, stories with reader, charles and lee as a pairing or any other unusual one? Is that what we really want? To be the only suppliers of a certain trope, pairing or au? Can you see how your ego is affecting the entire fanfiction community hee on tumblr? Why authors are giving up on providing their fictional universes to welcome us into after a lousy day?

If your work inspired someone else’s, there’s a simple way to resolve it: reach out to the writer, confirm it was actually inspired by yours and ask them to give you credit. Credit is the actual solution for works that have been inspired by other works, but not bullying, not threats, not forcing someone to delete their own versions of a story we’re all actually sharing because bottom-line? We are all stealing Marvel’s characters and placing them on Shakespeare’s plot lines and the only thing we can do about it is add our porn and our own personal interpretations, imagination and developments.

And that means, of course: writers, if your story was inspired by someone else’s, please give them the proper credit. As I’m sure you’re aware, we are very quick to identify when something is similar to our creations, and it’s a fucking awful feeling. It’s what created this whole witch hunt over plagiarism in the first place, but while in 8/10 cases it isn’t actually plagiarism, it fucking sucks and it could have been easily prevented when it was just a matter of recognizing you aren’t the seventh wonder of the universe and actually got the inspiration to write that story from someone else.

In the same way, DON’T STEAL PEOPLE’S IDEAS WHEN THEY TALK ABOUT THEM. And no, THAT’S NOT PLAGIARISM either, it’s just common decency. They might even be okay with you writing the same idea, but it’s always nice to let them know and give them credit. Especially if it’s someone you consider a friend, but even more so if it’s something you saw as a snippet of a WIP on your timeline (as a general rule, I wouldn’t work on anything I thought intriguing only after I saw someone else was writing it).

And finally, still keeping that other point in mind: you don’t have the right to stop someone from working on something similar to what you’re writing. Can you imagine how many people are writing, at this exact moment, stories with the same premise? Of course, once it’s out, there’s a high chance the projects will be completely different, since each writer made it their own. I am willing to bet most of them didn’t copy from one another, they just happened to be interested in the same things - which is often the case here, prevented you aren’t an asshole that does what I described in the last paragraph.

I don’t know about you guys, but I am excited to read more stories about magical boading schools and I definitely hope J.K. Rowling won’t stop me from getting that.

Similarly, I beg you. You want to write your mafia!andy series? Please, do. The world needs your story. Just make sure it truly is your story that you’re telling.

tl;dr: plagiarism is a real issue, but never an excuse to bully people and traumatize them from writing. Writers, learn the difference between plagiarism and inspiration. If you do think it’s actual plagiarism you’re working with, please follow the following steps:

Before accusing anyone from plagiarism:

1. Actually talk to them without threatening or manipulating them so you can understand what happened and let them know how you feel. 80% of the times they’ll apologize and give you credit for it. 

2. Unless you’re the reincarnation of William Shakespeare (and so being, you have the rights to all of the tropes and plot twists created in modern literature. go you!) - and prevented the “plagiarism” isn’t so obviously truly plagiarism, that it can be proven with two screenshots placed side by side - talk to someone unbiased who will tell you if what you think was stolen was actually stolen. There’s a good chance you’re being delusional and thinking the entire world is aware of your stories and looking forward to take advantage of your hard work on them.

A good rule of thumb? Don’t do to others what you don’t wish would be done to you, and make sure to apply that rule to the way you approach the situation and treat the person you were so quick to consider a villain. I’ve yet to see (in this community, since I got here) a situation where the writer accused of plagiarism when confronted has been anything other than kind and remorseful, ready to remedy the situation once it’s been brought to their attention.

If you’re so certain of being right, there’s literally no reason to be aggressive to someone who’s not treating you rudely.

#eyre rants #i am signing off for the foreseeable future

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. I

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

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

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

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 11k

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

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

chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”  

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

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

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

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

“And why is that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Father-”

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

“Dad-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Dad-”

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

“Dad, I don’t know-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You zeroed your vision in more. 

Is that a cut on his finger?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just seemed different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So...” 

“Marriage, huh?” 

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

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

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

“I wanted to ask you something.” 

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

Taehyung didn’t miss that at all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A bandage?” 

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

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

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

He has really big hands. 

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

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

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

He scoffed to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung.

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

“Looking for me?”

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

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

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

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

“It’s not real, though.”

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

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

Why was his voice so deep?

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

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

It was kinda cute. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel him tense underneath you. 

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

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

“Yes, so you do remember!” 

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

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

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

Wait. 

Oh God, not him. 

Anything but him. 

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

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

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

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

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

Were you in love with him or something? 

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

“Kiseok-ah! Come here!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’ve you been?” 

“Better than ever. You?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear God, you took your time with this one. 

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

Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight. 

“Who the fuck was that?” 

“What?”

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

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

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

Why were there so many intricate pieces to you? 

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

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

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

His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief. 

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

Your eyes widened in complete surprise. 

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

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

“Says the one who was thinking about me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?

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

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

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

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

It was the day of the wedding. 

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

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

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

And none of it was your real choice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You may kiss the bride.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He at least owed you that.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially since your last partner. 

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

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

To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful. 

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

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

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

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

The fool. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if Taehyung really was no different?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shitty, as in...?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You took a deep breath. 

Maybe Taehyung is different after all. 

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

[watchmegetobsessed]

SAFE AND SOUND

a/n: this one took a little longer to write, but im so happy its finally finished! its not what i originally planned, i started a whole different plot but hated it so started again, but i might go back to the first story, so maybe more bodyguard!harry content is gonna come! anyway, hope you’ll enjoy this one!

pairing: Bodyguard!Harry X Reader

warning: use of weapon (no one dies), mentioning of cancer (no one is sick), sexual content

word count: 9.1k

masterlist

“This is not up for discussion, Y/N. What you are doing and what you are about to achieve soon might upset a lot of people that hold great power. We can’t just assume you’ll be fine, walking around like anyone else in the world.”

Your boss, Julian explains it to you, leaning onto his desk, trying his best to keep his cool about your protest to get you a guard to watch out for you and keep you safe. It’s been an ongoing struggle and fight you two have been having these past weeks and it became a burning situation since you’ve made some major progress in your project.

“I’m not some kind of royalty to have security with me all the time,” you grumble rolling your eyes.

“Not just royalties have guards, Y/N. Just accept it, that you’re valuable, your work is very important not just to our company but to the whole world. Do you not realize how big it is? You are close to having the cure to cancer, Y/N! You can easily get a Nobel-prize for that!”

“I know that it’s important, but no one knows me, no one will see me on the street and know who I am or what I do!”

“It’s not about the people on the street. The world is a dark place, darker than you could imagine. Please, just… I want to know that you’re safe.”

Staring back at him with your arms folded on your chest you contemplate his words. You can see the rationality in his words, it’s just that you don’t want to break your routine, you don’t want people around you all the time, you don’t want to end your privacy like that. But Julian is right, your work is important and there have already been a few attempts to steal your researches, but they miserably failed. However that doesn’t mean they will be stopped the next time as well.

“One guard,” you speak up. “Just one. I’m not gonna have a whole fucking team,” you tell him raising your eyebrows. He lets out a relieved sigh, a tiny smile tugging on his lips.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Reaching out to the phone he presses the buzzer that signals to his assistant, Monica outside and a few moments later she walks in, accompanied with a tall, suited man, his green eyes immediately falling to you upon entering the room.

“Y/N, I took the courage to pick him out for you myself. This is Harry Styles, the best you can find in the city if not in the country,” Julian introduces him as he pushes himself away from his giant mahogany desk, walking closer to the man as they shake hands firmly. You stand up from the armchair you’ve been sinking into these past ten minutes and unsurely hold out your hand to the man.

“Harry Styles, pleasure to meet you,” he introduces himself, a thick British accent lacing through his voice and the way his green irises stare back at you, you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest. Mr. Styles is undeniably the most charming and handsome man you’ve ever met, with his perfectly carved cheekbones and chiseled jawline, pink lips and those enchanting green eyes framed by his thick lashes. There’s something in his appearance, something feminine, but still, he holds so much masculinity at the same time, it’s hard not to be enamored by him.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you mumble your name, shaking his hand slightly before letting go of it.

“Details about your cooperation have already been discussed with the security agency and us, but of course, your word is what counts, so we’ll walk over the whole plan with you as well,” Julian explains to you and you nod shortly.

The three of you move to the conference room and the next hour goes by with working those so called details out, some of them are ridiculous, some of them you can get used to, at the end you are left with a somewhat bearable plan, but one thing is for sure. Harry Styles will be a big part of your life from now on.

THREE MONTHS LATER

The tiny pack of sugar tears open in your hands, but you put too much effort into it so the countertop is now covered with the content of the pack instead of ending up in your paper cup.

“Fuck,” you growl, dumping the empty pack into the trash before grabbing another one, hoping it won’t end up the same way.

“Let me help you,” a smooth, male voice speaks up next to you and Harry grabs the pack from your hands as he places his own coffee to the counter. You let him tear the pack open easily, pouring the sugar into your drink without problem before he puts the lid back to your cup.

“Thank you,” you mumble, closing your tired eyes for a split second. You’ve been overworking way too much these past weeks, it’s starting to shut your system down, but you don’t want to rest, not when you’re so close to finishing your project.

The past two weeks have been major, you finally made the progress you’ve been working towards for months now, letting you step into the last phase of your work finally. But it’s been a quite stressful time as you’ve been eager to finish as soon as possible, but that meant little to no time spent outside of your lab.

Harry shoots you a reassuring smile before you both grab your drinks and head out of the café in the direction of your workplace.

The past three months were one hell of a ride when it comes to Harry. You didn’t hide your dislike towards his continuous presence in your life, standing by your side wherever you went. It frustrated you, made you feel like you didn’t have your freedom any longer even though he never did anything to make you hate him. He was considerate, respectful and only wanted to do his job, yet you still gave him a hard time at the beginning, right until the need for his work was proved.

Two months ago someone broke into your apartment while you were out, they searched through the whole place, looking for something. Well, not just something, they were clearly interested in anything connected to your research, but luckily, you’re not dumb enough to just let these stuff lay around your home.

Even though you didn’t encounter the person responsible for it, the incident still shook your up. Knowing that someone could get into your personal space so easily, that they could have come at a time when you were home and vulnerable, it scared you. Harry was the person that eased the worry and fear in you, he took care of everything in an instant and upon his best advice, you moved to a new apartment with a higher security level. He even moved to the place next to yours so he could be as close to you as possible at all times. There was a much needed shift in your relationship after that and you didn’t see him as an intruder any longer in your life, but more as a hero.

“So would you like Italian or Mexican tonight for dinner?” Harry asks as the two of you enter the building, using your IDs you go through the massive security gates, the guards in post nodding in your way.

“Isn’t it your night to choose?” you smile at him sideways as you wait for the elevator.

“Okay, then Thai,” he smirks, making you laugh. “Hope you are not planning on eating it here again,” he gives you a warning look and you purse your lips.

“I have a lot to do, and—“

“Y/N, you need to rest sometimes,” he scolds you as if you were just a child.

“I do rest. Sometimes,” you answer with an innocent look as the elevator’s door slides open and you walk in with Harry following you right behind.

“Like once a week? Do you even sleep when you’re at home?”

“I do! Don’t make me look like I’m some kind of crazy workaholic!”

“I’m just worried about you, is all,” he sighs, giving you a hard look.

“Oh, Mr. Styles. If I didn’t know you better I would think you might have a soft spot for me,” you smirk at him teasingly before the elevator arrives to your floor and you walk out without a word. Harry just stares after you with a small smile tugging on his lips as he thinks about your words. It’s funny, especially because you both know something more than just a professional relationship has been going on between the two of you, only dancing around it as the situation is a little too complicated to address now.

It’s not like any rules are tying you down, but you would rather not mix up work with your private life. You might have feelings for Harry, but you refuse to act up on them until he is out of his duty as your personal guard.

Your days are usually the same. While you lock yourself up in your lab, working with no end, Harry stay either with you in there or he hovers around the door, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. Just the thought of his presence never fails to bring you a sense of comfort, knowing that you don’t have to worry about your safety until he is near. It might seem nerdy, but you can easily get lost in your work. It doesn’t feel like a job, growing up with parents who were excellent doctors and pharmacists themselves, you were doomed to be a science enthusiast yourself from the beginning. Learning has never been a task for you but a gift, as you liked to look at it.

Working overtime happens often because you lose touch with time easily once you get down to work. Nothing exists outside of your lab and you hardly realize how late it is until Harry usually warns you.

“I didn’t joke when I said I didn’t want to have dinner in here,” he steps into your sanctuary while you’re in the middle of running tests for the millionth time today. Pushing your glasses up to the top of your head while the machines are buzzing and whirling, you look up at him with a tired smile.

“Let me just… finish this one last test and then I promise we’ll head out.”

“Alright, but I’m watching you. No more tests,” he warns, sitting on one of the stools while you finish what you started.

Harry never really asked you about your work, for a while you weren’t even sure if he knows what you’re doing and why it’s so important. It was never discussed at the beginning and he never brought it up later either. But judging from the time he spends near you at the lab he must have picked up a few things about it surely.

The machines stop working and the tiny beeping sound signals that the results are out. You grab the long printed paper and start scanning the data, chewing on your bottom lip as you hope to find what you’ve been looking for all day. The numbers are coming in great, but it’s been like this for a while, it’s the end that never matches up with your expectations. So when you get there and see the graphs showing the result that you’ve been dreaming of since the start of the whole project years ago, your mouth falls open in disbelief even though it’s what you’ve been working for all this time.

“Oh my God,” you whisper.

“What?” Harry’s head snaps up in alert, jumping off the stool.

“I… I did it,” you breathe out, glancing up from the paper. “It’s my first time succeeding, Harry!” you start laughing, the shock taking over your whole body that you really did it this time.

“And what does that mean?”

“Come on, let me show you,” you tell him in excitement, pulling him over to the computer where you pull up all the data you’ve been working on. A virtual version of a cell comes up on the screen as you start typing, modelling what you want to show him. “This is a completely healthy cell, it’s what you are made of too, mostly,” you ass with a chuckle before another cell comes up on the screen. “And this is what cells that are affected by cancer look like.”

The difference is a lot more complicated than what you can explain to him in such a short time, but he can see it with his own eyes. The color, the shape, everything is different from the first one. Harry examines the screen and nods shortly, letting you know that he is following.

“I’ve been working on a substance that is able to not just detect the cancerous cells but it can also kill it effectively without hurting the healthy ones.”

You bring up the virtualized version of the substance you’ve been working on, a short animation showing how it can tell the two cells apart and only attack the cancerous one.

“I haven’t been able to get the numbers above 60% when it comes to succeeding in the process of selection so my whole project was about finding a solution to that. I’ve been trying to find the right substance to mix with our already existing one to solve the problem, but I haven’t been successful in it.”

“I assume until now,” Harry hum and you nod smirking.

“Yeah. The last test results came back very good, quite promising. It’s still not the end of the process, but it’s a huge step.”

“That’s great,” he smiles at you and though you know he probably understands just a fracture of the whole process, he can still figure out how important it is. “Congrats, Y/N.” “Thanks,” you breathe out, pride filling your chest as you shut the computer off. “I guess this is my cue to end the day,” you smile at him before packing up everything, getting ready to finally leave.

It’s not the first time Harry is spending the evening at your place. You often have dinner together, or watch a movie whenever you get home early enough to do that. Through the time you’ve spent together because of his job you’ve grown to be friends above everything. Good ones, in fact, which is a big deal for you since making friends has never been an easy task for you.

You bought takeout on the way home and as Harry set the table you poured yourself a glass of wine, knowing well Harry would never drink when he is on duty and he is basically working all the time he is with you, so you’re drinking alone. You both sit to the dining table, starting dinner together in a comfortable silence. It’s another thing you appreciate about Harry. He doesn’t try to talk when it’s not necessary, you hate small talk, you’d rather sit in silence than talk about something nonsense and Harry is a partner in that.

“When do you need to leave work tomorrow to get to the party on time?” he asks breaking the silence and you freeze. His eyes fall on you, examining your features for a moment before he smirks. “You forgot about it?”

“I just… thought it’s going to be next week,” you truthfully admit.

“We talked about it last week,” he smirks at you playfully. “And I told you it would be next week which is… this week.”

“I know how the days work, Harry,” you give him a look of ‘give me a break’ before you turn back to your food. “I just…”

“You just forgot it,” Harry finishes for you, and you just roll your eyes at him.

Glancing at him over the table you wonder if he’ll wear something different than is usual attire he always wears. Black suit with a white shirt underneath, the top two buttons left undone, giving you a tiny peek at the tattoos on his chest. You know those are not the only ones, you’ve seen him with the suit jacket off before, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, his whole left arm is covered in ink and you wish you’ve had the chance to take a better look at them.

Harry is such an intriguing person in a lot of different ways. He definitely likes to keep things to himself, not one to ask for attention and it’s not just because of his work, it’s his personality. However he is good with people, interacting with them, being social. A skill you haven’t really mastered yourself yet and you probably never will. He always seems to know what to say, you’ve never seen him even the slightest bit anxious or nervous before, the confidence he holds is unmatched and it makes it hard to not think about him in ways you shouldn’t be.

After dinner he helps you clean up, just like he always does before heading out, but before he could leave he stops and turns back to face you.

“Oh, a friend of mine is visiting from the UK on Sunday. I already mentioned it to you before, but I was hoping I could get the afternoon off,” he wonders and you nod right away.

“Of course! I’ll be just fine at home,” you smile at him.

“Thank you,” he smiles back before walking out of your place at last.

Because of the party in the evening you are forced to stop working early the next day. It’s weird to leave the office in broad daylight, but you know today can’t be one of those days when you end up seeing the new day in the lab.

Harry was right yesterday, you completely forgot the whole party thing, meaning you didn’t plan anything ahead and you had nothing to wear, so through the day you called your sister, Mara to help you out. She was more than happy to lend you anything you needed. She meets you at the office, beaming to spend some time with you finally. It’s not that you don’t like her company, but you are quite different, is all. Your sister didn’t get sucked into the world of science, though she definitely has the bright mind to take up on any field she would want to explore. But she was more into the world of art, having written her first fantasy novel at the ripe age of twenty, she is now a bestseller author at only twenty-nine with a bubbly personality and basically every trait you never owned yourself.

“Harry! So nice to see you again!” Mara beams at the man as the three of you meet up at the lobby.

“Hi, Mara,” Harry smiles with a tiny nod.

“Alright, I have everything you could need so let’s head to yours!” your sister cheers before you make your way out to your cars.

Arriving to your home Harry splits from the two of you, letting you to get ready in peace and also to get ready himself. Mara didn’t joke when she said she has everything you need, the trunk of her car is basically filled with clothes and shoes, there’s no chance you won’t find something to wear tonight.

She orders you to take a quick shower as she unpacks everything she brought and when you emit from a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped around your body and one on your head, Mara gets down to work.

“So do you have a date for today?” she curiously asks while she does your makeup.

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you huff ironically. “It’s just gonna be Harry and me.”

“So Harry is your date?” her ears perk up, but you’re quick to protest.

“Of course not! He comes with me everywhere,” you mumble with your eyes closed as she is doing something on your eyelids.

“But it could be a date,” she offers and you huff in disagreement.

“You know that’s not how it works, Mara.”

“You are making it more complicated than it is! No one would blame you if you just… went for it! Harry is obviously an attractive guy.”

“Then maybe you should date him,” you bite back bitterly. Growing up you weren’t the boys’ favorite, they always paid all the attention to your sister. It’s not that you blame her or them, she always had a more capturing and lively personality that attracted people naturally. But it made you wonder if there was something wrong with you, spending all your time with your nose buried in a book or doing researches for fun while Mara was out with her friends, living her best life. Even her published books were inspired by her personal life experiences.

“Y/N,” she sighs, her hands leaving your face so you open your eyes to look at her disapproving expression. “You obviously like him so I would never do that and besides that, he for sure likes you too.”

“What’s not true,” you deny right away, but then you look at her curiously. “But why would you think that?”

Mara smirks at you tilting her head to the side, seeing right through your act that you’re not interested in Harry. Of course you are, but you choose to keep it at bay for the sake of his job.

“Y/N, I see how that man watches every move you make. It’s written all over his handsome face.”

“Of course he watches my every move, that’s his job!”

“No, it’s different. You’ll see it sooner or later,” she smiles before ordering you to close your eyes again so she can finish your makeup.

Mara does wonders to your looks, the makeup look she does on you already makes a huge difference since you don’t bother to do anything on your every days. But she didn’t stop there, she made your hair look like you just stepped off of the pages of a magazine and the dress the two of you chose was the cherry on the top. The emerald green dress was tight around your curves, showing just enough of your body to be still considered modest, but also have some spice. And though there are a lot of advantages of the dress, your first and most important thought (to you at least) was how well it goes with the color of Harry’s eyes.

“I’m a genius,” Mara sighs satisfied with her work as you slip on the pair of nude heels and put your necessities into the little clutch you’re taking with you. Just when you’re gone with everything, the doorbell rings and your heart jumps in your chest, knowing that Harry is standing on the other side of the door.

“I’ll get it for you,” Mara smiles rushing to the door as you walk into the hallway, standing a few feet behind her so as she opens the front door and Harry comes into view, over Mara’s shoulder his eyes easily find your figure standing there, feeling a little awkward and self-conscious, like you are about to go to prom with your crush. Difference is that you are not a teenager anymore and you aren’t going anywhere together together. Tonight is just work for him.

But as his bright green eyes fall on your frame and you see his lips slightly part, you can’t help but allow yourself to think for a moment that it’s more than just work. That he feels the same way about it as you do. Though you don’t voice your hopes and just smile at him faintly, hoping you don’t look completely ridiculous in your outfit.

“Harry, come on in!” Mara invites him into the apartment and he walks in, wearing his usual black suit with the difference of having a tie on around his neck, his white shirt is appearing neat and crispy and his sometimes unruly curls are now gently combed back a little so his curls are not falling into his forehead.

“Hi,” you smile at him nervously fumbling with your clutch as he takes a few steps closer to you.

“Hi. You look… beautiful,” he smiles back at you a little breathlessly as he takes a respectful look down your body before his green irises meet your gaze again.

“Thank you. You look great too,” you chuckle softly. “Should we… head out?”

“Yeah, sure!” he nods, offering you his arm and you link your arm with his instantly, hoping you won’t trip in your heels. “Lock the door when you leave, Mara, alright?” you call out to your sister who is watching you smiling.

“Sure! Have fun!”

You wave at her one last time before walking out and shutting the door closed behind you.

This party is held every year at Pharma-Z, mostly this is the time when the brain meets the money. Investors and funders like to meet the people behind the million dollars researches from time to time and this is the occasion where both sides show up. Julian always asks you to be social and try to mingle, but the whole thing feels forced and painful for you. You’d rather just be left alone with your researches and projects without having to schmooze to the people who give you the money for your hard work.

It’s held at one of said investors’ luxurious penthouse, that doesn’t even look like someone’s home with the huge outdoors infinity pool, the spacious and modern interiors and the expensive looking decoration that was put up just for the occasion.

“Y/N! I’m so happy you are here!” Julian approaches you with a drink in his hands and you’re happy to see a familiar face in the crowd. You don’t really know others from work, only your little team you directly work with and of course, your boss, Julian.

“It’s not like I had a choice,” you chuckle giving him a short, friendly hug. Julian is far from a nightmare of a boss some people have to face at their job. He is an actually nice and very smart and intellectual person. The pharmaceutical industry can be harsh and dark, the competition between the businesses is way more intent than people think. This is why you need the protection. Some companies profit off of the fact that cancer has no cure yet. They make money from all the treatments that doesn’t even guarantee full recovery. A lot of big fish don’t want the cure, because that would make them lose a good chunk of their income and some of those would even go to the depth of hurting you for being so close to ruining their business with your invention. Pharma-Z is luckily a genuine company that wants to help sick people and that’s why you’re working there.

“You know how important it is for the company,” Julian sighs, but he understands how uncomfortable these events make you feel, though he can do nothing to help you. “Harry, nice to see you again,” he smiles at the man by your side.

“Julian, nice to see you too,” he nods, shaking hands with your boss.

“Mingle a little so people can see and meet you, alright?” Julian requests and you just nod silently before he moves on to the next group of people.

You get yourself a drink to ease your nerves a little as people start approaching you. Some of them you’ve met last year, but there are a lot of new faces. Your project has brought in quite a few new sponsors and investors and now they want to meet you and talk about the research their money is going into.

You try your best to keep a smile plastered across your face as you tell the people the same thing over and over again, receiving praise and compliments on your work before moving onto the next conversation just to start over again.

You can feel your social batteries running out, not sure you can put up with another conversation with a wealthy investor who wants you to know you have a job because they gave money for your project in hopes of you bringing more money to them.

Harry has stayed by your side the whole evening, and you didn’t notice but he kept examining you every few minutes to make sure you were holding up and he noticed how tired you’ve grown from socializing for so long.

“Y/N,” he softly calls out, his palm finding the small of your back. “Why don’t we get some fresh air?” he kindly offers and you immediately understand that he is trying to get you away from the guests and the overwhelming conversations you’ve been dealing with. Nodding you let him usher you outside, finding a spot where the two of you can be a little alone.

“I fucking… hate small talks and being nice to everyone,” you let out a long and heavy sigh, as you lean against the railing, paying just one short glance at the city’s bright lights under your feet. Harry chuckles shortly.

“I figured. You’ve been chewing your lips so hard I was afraid you’d start bleeding.”

Now that he has brought your attention to it, you realize you are doing it again, so you let go of your bottom lip from between your teeth and it brings out another chuckle from Harry.

“I’m just… not good with these… social stuff.”

“I disagree with that,” he hums, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh please, if you haven’t realized it, my number of zero friends is a tell, I think.”

“Come on, it’s not zero. You’re friends with Mara.”

“But family doesn’t count, she is kind of forced to be my friend,” you shrug, making him laugh.

“Okay, but I’m your friend too, aren’t I?” You furrow your eyebrows at him.

“You spend time with me because it’s your job.”

His eyes soften on you as he leans against the railing next to you, looking so effortlessly handsome and charming, you almost need to take a deep breath at the sight of him. And the cheeky smile on his pink lips is definitely not helping your case.

“I know you didn’t mean that. You’re a smart woman, Y/N.” Reaching out he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he inches closer a tiny bit. “I think we stepped over the line of just work.”

“So… you consider me your friend?” you ask shyly.

“If you have to ask maybe I’ve been doing something wrong,” he chuckles softly, making you smile too. Folding your arms a shiver runs down your spine from the cold evening breeze. “Are you cold?” Harry asks, but before you could even say a word, he shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Oh, thank you,” you breathe out shyly.

“Do you want another drink?”

“Yeah, I think I might need another one,” you chuckle and nodding he tells you to just stay there until he gets you a new one.

Turning towards the view, you enjoy the lonely moments for a little, not too keen on going back inside and keep up the façade of interest any longer. You’d rather just head home, maybe have another drink with Harry on your couch while you watch a rerun of whatever show is on TV and then fall asleep after a hot shower. You’ve been working way too much lately and it’s just now crashing down on you. Next week you definitely should cut back on your hours at the lab, the project is already going amazing, it won’t hurt if you actually had some rest before you lose your mind.

You hear footsteps approaching you and you think it’s Harry returning, but as you turn around you are faced with a stranger, a man who is staring down at you with bloodshot eyes and… a gun pointed at you.

Your breath hitches, your blood freezing in your veins at the sight and your legs almost give up underneath you.

“What… who are you?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, tears already flooding your eyes as you melt against the railing as if you had anywhere to go, but you have no chance against him.

One glance at the gun allows you to see that it has a silencer on, with the music coming from inside and no one around, if he shoots you, he’ll be able to get away before anyone realizes what happened.

The man doesn’t answer, just holds up the gun, aiming right at your chest and you close your eyes, thinking that this is it. This is how your life ends, in the middle of a posh party with no one around to help you. Your lips are trembling and hands are shaking as you hold onto the railing, waiting for the inevitable to come, keeping your eyes shut, not wanting to see your killer as the last thing you see before you go.

And then you hear the muffled gunshot, making you scream in fear, your knees turning into jelly, but the pain never comes. Instead, you hear grunting and growling as a body falls to the ground in front of you.

Your eyes snap open and you see Harry straddling the man, the gun lying near your attacker’s hand and he is trying to reach it, but before he could, you kick it away as Harry throws a punch at his face that stops him from trying too hard to free himself.

The next few moments are so busy and blurry at the same time. Your legs give up underneath you, making you fall to the ground, your whole body shaking in waves. In the meantime Harry gets the man into a position where he can be easily controlled and people start flooding out at the scene, helping Harry while security working at the party take the man, the police already on its way.

When Harry can finally step back from the attacker, his eyes fall on your figure and he rushes over to you, kneeling down next to your trembling body, cradling you into his arms upon seeing how shaken up you are.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s over, you’re alright,” he murmurs, holding you tight as your fists grab onto his shirt, your breathing is uneven, the oxygen barely makes its way into your lungs as you’re panting and gasping from the shock. “Come on, let’s get you inside, Y/N,” he gently tells you, helping you up from the floor even though your body feels like a pile of brick.

You can feel everyone staring at you, whispering behind your back as you try to hide in Harry’s arms while he walks you back inside, away from the man that tried to take your life. He walks you into one of the bathrooms and closing the lid he sits you down to the toilet while he grabs a towel and wetting it he kneels in front of you, tapping the cloth to your cheeks gently. You haven’t even realized that you’ve been sweating from the shock and the coldness feels amazing against your burning skin.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, but not even you are sure why.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Y/N,” he gently murmurs, giving your hand a squeeze as you shut your eyes closed. He grabs a glass from one of the cabinets and fills it with water handing it over to you.

“Thank you,” you mumble, bringing it to your trembling lips, but before you could drink it, your eyes snap up to meet his gaze. “And thank you for… what you did.” Your voice dies down at the end, the picture of the man pointing the gun at you still living so vividly in your mind.

“No need, it’s my job after all, right?” he chuckles softly, making your lips twitch the slightest bit before you start sipping on the water.

The police show up soon and they arrest the man who refuses to talk. They also request you to give your statement about what happened, but Harry manages to let you just give them the brief story and go in sometime soon to give them your full statement so you don’t have to spend any more time there. They are quite sure the man was hired by someone who doesn’t want you to finish your project, and it’s scary how far some people are willing to go just for the money, just to keep sick people in suffering for their own benefit.

Heading home you stay silent as Harry drives, staring out the window you let the nightlights of the city pass by you while you still see the same face, the face of the man that held a gun at you tonight. The gunshot is still ringing through your ears, it was so close, so real… of course it was real! All of it was real and your life was on the line. If it weren’t for Harry, you wouldn’t be here right now.

Arriving to your home Harry helps you out of the car and you cling onto his hand as you head up to the apartment. He keys the two of you into your home, flicking the lights on and looking around before you go further inside, just to be sure.

“It’s all clear, don’t worry,” he murmurs as you nod and make your way into the bedroom. Kicking your heels off your feet you sit on the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath, feeling your limbs loosening up a bit for the first time in the past hour.

Harry moves around the place doing whatever before he joins you in the room, kneeling in front of you his hands find your bare knees and your eyes meet his worry-filled green irises.

“Do you want to take a shower?” he softly asks and you nod your head. “Come on, I’ll start the water for you.”

He helps you up from the bed and walks you into the bathroom. You stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do as he starts running the water in the walk in shower before he steps back to you.

“Would you…?” you ask, turning around, needing help with the zipper of your dress. Harry clears his throat as his fingers work on it and a moment later the fabric loosens around your frame as you hold it to your chest with your arms. Turning back around you peek up at Harry and you notice the slight blush on his cheeks.

“I’ll be outside at the door, okay?” He whispers, his fingers delicately touching your cheek as you nod before you watch him walk out and close the door behind him.

The hot water feels freshening, like it could burn away the memories even though it’s still so vivid in your mind. You stand under the running water longer than you intended, but it feels nice and needed. Once you’re done, you wrap yourself into a fluffy towel and walk out of the steamy bathroom only to find Harry sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting like a loyal puppy. When he sees you, he stands from his spot and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan over your body that’s barely covered.

“Alright, I’ll go now, but if you—“ “Don’t!” you gasp, panic taking over you at the thought of being left alone. One of your hands grasps his arm to stop him from moving and he freezes in his spot, staring back at your fearful eyes. “Please, stay here,” you plead, voice barely over than just a whisper.

There’s a heartbeat of a pause in him as he is watching you intently and for a moment you think he’ll say no, but then his hand finds yours on his arm and he gives it a gentle squeeze as he nods.

“Okay.”

You let out a long, relieved breath as you ease into comfort. He’s staying, he’ll be with you all night, protecting you from everything and everyone.

“Can I take a shower too?” he asks softly and you nod, stepping to your wardrobe to get him a clean towel. “Thank you. I’ll be back shortly,” he tells you before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door closed behind him.

You hear the water running again and you find yourself standing at the same spot as you listen to the noises coming from the bathroom. Harry is in there, soaking under the water naked and you can’t take your mind off of how badly you want to be there with him.

It’s not just because of what happened tonight, though it made you realize that you don’t have much time to waste. Nothing can assure that you’ll live another day and you don’t want to deny happiness from yourself. You want to be with Harry and as far as you can make it out, he feels the same way.

Upon a sudden decision, you pad your way over to the bathroom door and open it carefully, the warmth immediately hitting your face as you step inside and close it behind you. The glass of the shower is steamed up, you can only make out the blurry frame of Harry in there and you wonder if he heard you come in, but it doesn’t seem like that. His clothes from the night are lying on the floor in a pile, his watch that he always wears is carefully placed next to the sink.

Your hands grab onto the edge of the towel around your body and you unwrap yourself, hanging it up on the wall before stepping to the shower. Hoping you won’t scare him, you open the door, the steam immediately hugging your naked body warmly and you see him standing there with his back facing you as you step into the spacious walk-in shower.

He notices your presence, you see him freeze mid-movement before he peeks over his shoulder, his eyes falling on you as he slowly turns, facing you completely. Standing in front of him completely bare, you feel more vulnerable than ever in your life. You’re scared that he is going to send you away, that he won’t let you get closer to him and if that happens, you’ll feel humiliated, but he just stands there in his naked glory and doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a chance to shoot your shot.

Reaching up your hands slide to his hard chest, up to the base of his neck as you push your front against his, skin to skin with the hot water running down your bodies. His hands find your waist and you could cry from the feeling of his touch on you. Pushing yourself up to your tiptoes your nose nudges against his as your eyes fall closed.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, stopping you right when your lips could meet. Opening your eyes you see the hesitation in his green irises that appear so much darker than they usually do.

“Do you not want it? You don’t want me?” you whisper.

“I do. It’s not that,” he sighs shaking his head slightly. “But you went through a lot today. I don’t want you to make decisions you might regret in the morning.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs on your lips at how considerate and protective he is over you, thinking that this might be just something that crashed over you in the heat of the moment, but it’s been in the making from the first day you met him. Despite all your protesting against him, you knew you needed him and not just as your guard. He is what’s been missing from your life all along, you just never realized it.

“There’s nothing I could regret when it comes to you, Harry. I needed tonight to open my eyes. Our days are counted, I’m done running from my own happiness.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath as his hands hold tighter onto your waist while your hands run up his neck until your fingers tangle into his wet locks.

“I need you. And not just because of tonight. I’ve always needed you.”

“I’m here, Y/N. I’m all yours,” he breathes out before his lips smash against yours all wet and hard, but it’s the most heavenly feeling you’ve ever experienced.

You become a mess, tangled in each other, lips melting together as your hands explore naked limbs and torsos, bodies pressing tightly against each other shamelessly. Harry walks you backwards until your back hits the cold tile and you let out a whimper as you arch your back at the sudden feeling, just as his head dips down, lips attacking your neck, kissing and nibbling on the soft skin. Your light leg lifts as his hands wander down your thigh, your hips pressing together and you feel how hard he is, his cock pushed against your other thigh, making you moan at the feeling. Reaching down you blindly wrap a hand around the base, giving him a few slow pumps, earning a guttural growl from him before his lips return to yours, kissing you hard and filled with passion. His hands are all over you, on your thighs, ass, back and chest, as if he was mapping your whole body wanting to remember how every inch feels under his touch.

Without tearing his lips away from yours, he blindly reaches behind him, shutting the water off before urging you to jump into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you out of the shower, placing you to the counter next to the sink as he stands between your legs, his hands once again finding your breasts as they knead them, making you whimper and shake under his touch. It’s euphoric and addictive, you already know you won’t be able to go a day without feeling him against you like this.

“Bed?” he breathes out against your mouth and you nod eagerly. Reaching to the side he grabs a towel, wrapping it around you, tapping and squeezing you to dry you off, throwing fits of giggles when you grab it and wrap it around his body as well.

The towel falls to the floor abandoned and forgotten as he lifts you off the counter and brings you to the bed, laying you down and holding himself up above you with one arm. His other hand cups your cheek and turning your head you kiss his palm gently, eyes glued to his as he settles between your legs.

“Are you sure about this?” he breathes out, his lips dancing against your cheek and the corner of your mouth.

“Yes! Harry, please!” you beg with a whimper, your whole body aching to feel him inside you.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, love,” he kisses you as his hand leaves your heated face, runs down your naked body until his fingers reach your throbbing clit.

He slides two digits through your already wet folds, but just to work you up even more he starts drawing circles on your bud, turning you into a whimpering mess underneath him. Your fingers dig into the lean muscles on his back, feeling them twitch from his movements and one hand sliding down to his ass, grabbing a handful of him while pushing him closer to you, his erection pressing against your core.

“Harry, I need you!” you moan, not able to contain yourself any longer. You need to feel him, you need him as close as possible.

Reaching over to your nightstand you grab a condom from the drawer, ripping the package open with your teeth before you carefully grab his erection and roll the condom down his length, ready to finally feel him inside you.

He flicks his fingers on your clit one last time before his hand wraps around the base of his cock, giving it a few pumps while his soft lips kiss down your jawline and throat, his face hiding in the crook of his neck. Your arms circle around his shoulders, your chest heaving from the sensation as he positions himself just right, the tip teasing your hole. Harry lifts his head up, his bright eyes finding your gaze just as he sinks into you, filling you up perfectly.

“H-Harry! Fuck—“ you gasp at the feeling, your walls stretching around his thick cock as he stays still for a few moments, letting you adjust to his size.

You draw your legs up, giving you more space to go deeper as he starts thrusting, sliding in and out of you oh so perfectly, inching you closer to your relief with each movement. You cup his face in your hands, staring into his eyes as if you could see his soul in them and for a split second, you feel like you actually do. His lips are parted and the cross pendant is grazing your chest while he fucks into you, never falling out of his rhythm.

You want to beg to him not to stop, to keep moving and moving, but no words can leave your mouth as your back arches, your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. You start grinding your hips in sync with his, allowing him to reach deeper into you, making your toes curl from pleasure.

“Harry, I’m gonna—I-I’m gonna—Ah!” You can’t make up one coherent sentence as your legs start shaking, feeling your orgasm taking over your body.

“I know, baby. Let it go. Let me make you feel good,” he pants, his lips kissing you everywhere he can reach, your lips smashing against each other in a messy kiss, your tongue meeting his in the middle just when you reach your high.

You moan and cry out his name, fingers digging into his flesh as you chase your release. Seeing you fall apart underneath him is enough to throw him over the edge, spilling himself into the condom as his mouth hangs agape, your name falling off his tongue as if it was the holiest glorification. Combing your fingers through his hair you hold him to your chest as he collapses on top of you, his head lying on your naked chest as you both try to catch your breath in the sudden silence that came over you without the sounds of your passion.

Rolling off of your body he slips out of you, an empty feeling taking over you right away, but he is quick to cradle you into his arms to keep the intimacy. You lay your head to his chest, a thin layer of sweat covering the both of you, but you couldn’t care less. You listen to his steady heartbeat as you draw one of the swallows on his chest with your finger, running it over the lines of the ink. You want to soak in the moment and stay in it for as long as possible, but you can barely keep your eyes open. As Harry’s fingers are gently running up and down your bare back you let your eyes close and the last thing you remember is hearing his soft whisper.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep you safe.”

You wake up without an alarm in the morning and it’s the first time for that in a long-long time. You stir and groan before you open your eyes, your hands reaching out next to you, looking for the man that was next to you when you fell asleep, but there’s nothing and no one beside you now.

Panic rises in your chest as your eyes pop open and you frantically look around in the room, hoping to see him somewhere near, but you’re alone.

“Harry?” you call you as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest since you’re still naked. No answer comes and you can feel your heart rate rising instantly.

Getting out of bed you grab the nearest clothing item you find which is an old hoodie, and you put on a pair of clean panties before you carefully walk out of the bedroom, afraid of what you might find outside, but it’s completely silent and still, no one is around. Harry has left.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, feeling the lump in your throat growing as tears are forming in your eyes.

Where did he go? Why did he leave? Is he coming back? Is he gone forever?

You can’t stop yourself from going into depth you shouldn’t, just because you don’t find him first thing in the morning, but you still haven’t entirely recovered from last night’s events and before you could stop yourself, you are thinking about the worst possibilities there could be.

And then you hear the lock turning in the front door.

Blood rushes out of your head as you freeze, afraid it’s another attacker and this time you won’t be as lucky as you were last night. But as the door opens Harry walks in with a paper bag in his arm and you can’t help, but start sobbing at the sight of him.

“Harry!” you cry out, launching at him and he barely have time to put the bag down before he catches you, locking you in his strong arms.

“Hey! No need to worry, it’s just me!” he soothes softly, his hands running up and down your back and head. “I’m sorry I scared you, just wanted to get you something to eat, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the side of your head as you try your best to hold back your sobs.

“I just woke up alone and I thought…”

“I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have left while you were sleeping. But I’m back and I’m alright.”

You just nod, hugging him a little longer before you loosen your hold around him to lean back and look him in the eyes.

“So… you’re staying? With me?”

“If you want me to, yes,” he nods with a soft smile as he cups your tear-soaked face in his hands. “I’ll keep you safe and sound and I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

“Just be yourself and… be with me,” you shyly ask him and he nods, his smile growing into a wide grin before he leans down and captures your lips in a sweet, intoxicating kiss.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #bodyguard!harry

[electronikmilk]

Papa’s Punishment

alternative title: Accidentally Fucking Around and Finding Out

ive been working on this for so long and im sick of lookin at it

rating: explicit/nsfw

Copia x f reader 

contains: dom copia, possible abuse of power, spanking, and pet play. 

You had dozed, then awakened to find that you were still bound in Copia's ornate bed-chamber deep within the abbey walls. 

No, he wasn't Copia anymore. He was Papa now. And you had to address him as such when he wore the paint. That was what he said when he had his Ghouls drag you into his chamber after you had called him the silly little nickname that the other sisters called him behind his back as a joke. Ratman. It was innocent enough since he was fond of the small rodents, or so you thought. Copia's face had grown dark as soon as you uttered it, and it frightened you enough to fall silent after a fit of giggles. Then he reached out and gripped your chin tight before leaning close to address you. 

"Mm. Funny." He said in a way that sounded like he didn't find it funny at all and glared down at you, "It is bold of you to be disrespectful to your Papa when he wears the paint. And that is all I will be to you now. I'm not Copia, not Cardinal, and especially not Ratman. I am Papa, and I will not accept any other title, sister. Perhaps a little lesson is in order so you will remember this." 

Before you could say anything, Copia snapped his fingers, and that was when his two Ghouls surrounded you, grabbed you by the arms, and marched down the halls with you in tow. Everyone within the corridors stopped and watched as the Ghouls dragged you along. Two sisters from the convent whispered to each other and turned their gazes away as if they might be taken away at any second too. They knew where you were going, and it was sure as hell somewhere they didn't want to be, for it was a place of great shame and mystery. You let your head drop in humiliation before your peers, not standing the way they saw you. It was a relief when you finally arrived at Copia's chamber and were taken inside. You said nothing to the Ghouls as they fastened leather cuffs around your ankles, then bound your hands over your head with silk rope. 

"Sorry, sister," One of them had said. They removed the coif and veil of your habit, then pulled out the pins that held your hair in place so that it fell loose, "We're just following Papa's orders. I'm sure you understand."

All you gave them was a contemptuous look until they left. 

You had struggled against your restraints until you eventually gave up, falling asleep despite your buttocks pushing against the hard stone wall behind you. How long had that been? There was no clock or window in the room, so it was hard for you to tell. Perhaps a few hours. Long enough for you to wake up with a sore neck, anyway. The room itself lay in shadow and unbroken stillness. You winced as you turned your head to look around the room. The only illumination offered to you was from a small antique lamp on an ink-stained writing desk in the corner. The dim light threw long uneven shadows on the high arched ceiling above. A king-sized bed sat against the wall opposite you with a canopy bed frame draped with black cloth. It made it look like a dark, cavernous mouth that was ready to swallow you whole. A tall mahogany bookshelf containing several taxidermied rats positioned in various poses stood near the door. You made a face at the furry ornaments. It was definitely Copia's room. 

Your stomach growled, and the sound of it in the stillness of the room made it seem more like a lion's roar. How long Copia planned to keep you in here and what his intentions were, you didn't know for sure. You just hoped he wouldn't starve you. The thought sent a sudden jolt of panic through you; your mind flashed images of you left to rot in a cell in the abbey basement. You knew that the cells had been abandoned for centuries, just collecting dust and acting as storage for Yuletide decorations. But Copia had changed since he finally became Papa Emeritus IV. You had always thought him awkward as a Cardinal, sometimes even amusing in his antics, but he was always just that: awkward, no one to be scared of. It was a curious and abrupt transformation; He held his head high now, and his stride was no longer unsure or clumsy. When he wore the paint, he had an air of authority, of strength and pride no one knew he had. He wanted respect, and he demanded it among the clergy with an iron fist. Everyone was to address him as Papa only and woe unto anyone who didn't comply. At first, you had to admit his newfound confidence in his power was something to admire, covet even. That is until the sisters of the order were no longer safe from his wrath, then it became something to be feared. Copia had forgiven slips of the tongue and had given warnings that he said he would only offer once. If it happened again, however, there would be a severe punishment to follow.  

Sister Claire was the first to be punished. Claire had always been hotheaded and often butted heads with her superiors for the sake of her own amusement. She had been no different with Copia two months ago. On your way to your weekly duty to clean the chapel, you stumbled upon Copia, two Nameless Ghouls, and Claire in the middle of the empty hall. You seemed to go unnoticed by all four. Curious, you slipped into one of the corridor's alcoves and peeked around the corner, as not to be seen. As you listened closely, you caught the tail end of a heated argument over the state of the abbey's gardens. Claire was on a tirade, ranting about how Copia's lack of dedication to employing a proper gardener made the grounds look like it was in shambles. She had addressed the new Papa as Cardinal several times, much to Copia's irritation. The former Cardinal stood back with folded arms and a frown while the hot-blooded sister babbled on about how this needed attention and how that needed fixing. She addressed him incorrectly the entire time. It amazed you how bullheaded Claire could be. 

"Cara," Copia finally interrupted after Claire had called him Cardinal for the fifth time, his voice becoming stern. "I understand that you're upset, but I have made it more than clear that everyone within this church is to call me Papa. And frankly, I will not tolerate your blatant disregard for my rules." 

"Don't you 'Cara' me!" Sister Claire shot back, " And I'll call you Papa when I'm damn well good and ready. But until then, I think I'll keep calling you Cardinal, Cardinal." 

"Basta! Enough!" Copia shouted suddenly, grabbed Claire by the wrist, and dragged her behind him as he headed further down the hall, luckily away from your direction. "I have been patient with you, sister, with all of you. But no more!"

Claire resisted, trying to wrench from his grasp and yelling at him to let her go. Copia ignored this and tugged her along anyway. When she started cursing and slapping at him, Copia gestured for a Ghoul to take her about the waist and carry her. Claire shrieked like a banshee and kicked her legs in the air when she was lifted. Copia gave the Ghoul a sharp command for them to silence her, and the Ghoul clapped a hand over Claire's mouth, muffling the scream as they hauled her away. You watched the whole display in shock, unable to move or look away. When all four of them disappeared around a corner, you crept out from your hiding place on shaky legs. You quickly made your way to the chapel without encountering anyone else, and it was a relief to you. You tried to put what you saw out of your head, but as you tended to your regular duties, the sound of Claire's screams resonated in your head. 

You didn't see Sister Claire again until late into the evening. She seemed no worse for wear, having neither a bruise nor scratch on her. But she was timid, quiet, and obedient, you noticed when Sister Imperator asked her to sweep and wash the floor, which she almost scurried to do. When the other sisters asked her where she had been, Claire just shook her head frantically. Her pretty face grew red, and a look of shame and fear that concerned you twisted her features. 

"I can't tell you!" was all she said and nothing more. 

It wasn't too long until other insubordinate sisters fell victim to Copia's fury. Each one disappeared into his chambers for hours at a time, and when they were set free, none of them spoke of what they went through. You could only speculate, and what you brewed up in your head terrified you. All manner of dark medieval tortures often raced by: pears of anguish, iron chairs, Spanish donkeys, breast rippers, and thumbscrews. You knew all of that was impossible, however. None of the other sisters had a mark on them when they returned; they barely even a hair out of place, so what kind of punishment was wicked enough to force them all into silence? Whatever it was, you tried so hard to avoid it. You never spoke out of turn, tended to your duties without complaint, you even baked a cake for Copia on his birthday. But despite all your effort, misfortune still befell you over a joke that wasn't even that funny. Your throat tightened as tears began to prickle behind your eyes, and you dreaded what kind of torment waited for you in this dark room. 

You were almost lost in your contemplation of it all when you heard the heavy wooden door open. You saw the tall, lean figure of Copia enter the room and close the door behind him, a plate of food in one hand and a blood-red velvet bag in the other. He almost seemed like a specter, dressed in a figure-hugging black suit --the one that you said he looked handsome in to gain his favor. His face was bare of paint, save for his eyes. He had lined them with black, smudged eyeliner, making his mismatched gaze smoldering and intense. 

He made his way to you with both items in hand. He stayed back a few feet, the velvet bag swinging slightly at his side. The faint aroma of roasted chicken found your nose, and the delectable smell of it made your mouth water. Copia gazed at you with narrow eyes, his expression unreadable. You lowered your eyes and sucked in a breath, petrified of what was to come. You waited for yelling, cursing, for the food to be thrown at you, anything, but Copia just muttered something under his breath, went to place the plate and bag on the bed, then returned to undo all your restraints. You stood there free with stiff, aching arms. You wanted to stretch them but didn't dare make any movement that Copia might disapprove of. You kept your eyes down, only bringing them up once to see Copia sit on the edge of the bed with the plate in his lap, then darting them back to the floor. You felt the subtle pressure of his gaze on you for what seemed like a long time. 

"Come here." Copia finally broke the silence.

You obeyed and took a tentative step forward. 

"No." He said sharply, making you freeze, "On your hands and knees. Crawl to me." 

Your head jerked up, eyes wide in shocked disbelief. Your breathing hitched, and your heart started to hammer. You hesitated, and Copia frowned at you. He raised his gloved hands and slapped them together once, hard. It sounded like the cracking of a whip in the quiet. "Now, sister." 

You let out a little yelp and dropped to your knees. You hurried as you crawled over to Copia, stopping just before his feet. He gave a hum of satisfaction.

"Ah, excellent. You're obedient. That is good, my dear. It will make your ordeal go more smoothly." 

Ordeal. The word made you shudder. 

"But first, you must be hungry, si? You've been waiting here a long time."

Your stomach let out another grumble. You said nothing. You kept your eyes fixed on the glossy leather of Copa's black shoes as your apprehension deepened. You didn't want to look up at him; all at once, he seemed large, mighty, and terrible, like he could crush you underneath those patent leather soles if he so desired. He could make you suffer, and no one would witness it. It was just you and Copia. You and Papa.

"Say 'yes, Papa' or 'no, Papa,'" Copia said. "And I'm sure I don't need to tell you to be respectful." 

"I...I-" You stammered, then you swallowed hard, trying to compose yourself, "Yes, Papa." 

"Good girl." He said. "Now, kneel up and look at me." 

You did as commanded, and you realized as you looked up at him that you were crying. Through the blur of tears, you saw Copia's hand reach for your face. You flinched a little, then relaxed when you only felt the fingers wipe away your tears and smooth your hair back almost affectionately.

"Oh, come now. I have not been mean just yet, my dear. Don't cry." He soothed, "There will be plenty of time for that later, but if you're well behaved and do what I say, Papa will be gentle with you. Do you understand?" 

You nodded, sniffling and letting Copia caress your face. It comforted you, if only a little bit.

"Answer me properly,"

"Yes, Papa. I understand." You said.

"Very good, very good," Copia said. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead before letting you eat the slices of succulent chicken breast on the plate with your hands. After you finished, he took a sprig of green grapes and fed them to you one at a time. He watched in obvious amusement when you spat the seeds into your hand and timidly discarded them onto the plate, careful of every move you made. When he got to the last three, he took one and held it up just out of your reach. He smiled when you blinked up at him, confused. 

"Up, cara," He said, "Show me a trick." 

You bit your lip, blushing, and again, you hesitated. You shook your head before you realized what a mistake it was. Immediately, Copia took the plate, set it aside, and then gathered you up to toss you over his lap so that your legs dangled over the floor. You gasped in surprise and fear when he flipped your skirt to expose your panties. When you felt the sting of his gloved hand spank you hard, you couldn't help but let out a cry. One great slap after another fell on your buttocks, sounding thunderous in your ears. You heard yourself taking in sharp gasps of pain with each strike. His hand seemed solid and heavy like a paddle as it spanked you, over and over, hitting you on the right cheek, then the left, and then covering your thighs with smacks while your ass stung and throbbed. You clenched your teeth to stifle your cries, and when you tried in vain to wiggle away, Copia held you in place and rewarded you with more vigorous blows, swift ones that whipped you like a strap. And soon, you realized you were becoming frantic, tears streaming down your cheeks. You tried to be still, but your body squirmed and writhed of its own accord. Now Copia worked only the backs of your thighs, where the punishing hand lingered and struck hard until you were sure that the flesh there was red and inflamed. 

"Papa, please!" You finally wailed and broke into choking sobs.

The blows stopped. You didn't move. You just shut your eyes and wept as Copia's hand now moved along your buttocks languidly. He stroked your thighs as if to soothe them.

"Now, do you see why I ask you to do as I say?" Copia crooned, "I can be cruel, sister. Much more than this, I assure you. The other sisters know what I can do, especially Sister Claire. She knows the worst of it. Lucifer's name, she was like a devil herself, all teeth and claws until I tamed her. The other Papas have spoilt her and the others rotten. Not just the sisters, but the brothers, too, and the priests, the bishops. They all have little to no manners, no respect. So I have to take it upon myself to teach them." 

You shook against his legs as he told you this. He rubbed little circles in the small of your back, then he squeezed your buttocks, sending a rush of sensation along your body that made you flush. You thought of poor Sister Claire and what she must have gone through that was enough to break her. Vivid images of whipping belts, heavy wooden paddles, and flesh crisscrossed with angry welts made your stomach sink, so you stopped. 

'I have to be good.' You thought. It was better to surrender than suffer the same fate as the others, better to leave with your good reputation with Copia intact. After all, he said he would be gentle if you obeyed, and you decided you would. You hoped he would keep his word, and you let your body slacken in resignation.   

"I like to play games with them." Copia continued, "I like to order them around the room, fetching whatever I throw for them because it pleases me or whatever else suits my mood. Sometimes I even strap them down and use the paddle. But I never hurt them, not severely. I happen to be a reasonable man, after all. Oh, but that would be too hard for you, wouldn't it? You're too sweet for the paddle, too soft. It's just a pity you disobey me, call me names. Do you think yourself too good to call me by my proper title, sister? Too good to follow my direction?" His hand tightened threateningly on your thigh, then you felt it leave your skin, and you were terrified he might spank you again. 

"No, Papa," You said in a panicked whisper. 

"Do I need to punish you like the others?" 

"No, Papa. I'll be good, I promise." 

"Yes," Copia sighed, his hand now playing with your hair instead of punishing you, "You will be perfect for me, won't you?"

"Yes, Papa." 

"Good."

Copia pulled you back up and set you on the floor. You had stopped crying, though your lips still trembled. You knelt there and awaited his command. Again, he took a grape and held it up for you. This time you didn't hesitate to take it from his fingers with your mouth. He held the next one high enough to make you raise yourself up on your heels to get it. He then tossed the last grape into the air, over your head so that it bounced and rolled a few feet away when it hit the floor. 

"Fetch, little puppy." He commanded, a smirk playing on his lips. 

You obeyed shyly. When you crawled back and dropped it into Copia's open hand, he let out a hearty laugh. 

"You're easy to train." He said and popped the fruit into your mouth, "Perhaps I should make you my little pet when we're finished here." 

You didn't really want to eat it, but you did anyway, seeds and all. Copia beamed at you, his smile genuinely kind. 

"Lovely, my dear." He whispered, his voice low and sweet. Then he gathered you in his arms once more and kissed you deeply. It sent a shock through you, settling into a knot in your stomach that made you shiver against your will. Copia kissed the smoothness of your forehead, kissed your soft hairline, your eyelids, and the tip of your nose. They were tender, gentle, like butterflies that brushed against your skin with their silky wings, and you lifted your head to receive them. He kissed your cheeks, then returned to your parted lips. You let out little sighs as he kissed you despite your fear, which now melted away a little bit as your body seemed to soften all over. Copia moved and rose to stand, pulling you up with him into his embrace. He pulled you closer to his body once you were steady on your feet; his kisses left your face to explore along your jaw and the line of your throat. His slim arms were surprisingly strong as they held you, and his lips were soft. They tickled against the sensitive skin of your neck as they trailed down. His hands started to roam your body, stroking your hips, groping at your ass and the backs of your thighs. It sent delightful shivers along your skin and down your spine. It made you feel weak, dissolving, aroused. Any fear you felt a minute ago faded into a haze of sudden lust. You couldn't stop yourself from throwing your arms around his neck and moaning. The action made the kisses harder, more fervent. When you felt Copia open his mouth to bite you here and there as if to taste you, you whimpered, and your body melted all the more. You felt your breasts against his chest, and you wanted to press them to him harder. You almost did when Copia pulled away, slipping out of your arms. The loss of sensation was nearly gutting.

You stood there dazed, swaying, and taking in uneven breaths. Copia's own breath came heavy and deep as he straightened his clothes to disengage himself. You could see his arousal through the tightness of his pants, and you bit your lip. If only your punishment could be just this, but you knew it wouldn't be. Copia appeared to be fighting to contain himself, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Once he was composed, he let out a quiet laugh. It was almost musical in its softness. Your body burned as you watched him, aroused but at the same time fearful of punishment. You would do anything to please him, to keep him gentle like this, so you waited.  

"Pardon me, cara. You gave in much faster than I anticipated, and I almost lost myself." Copia said, catching you in his gaze again. His lips spread slowly into a grin when he observed you flushed with desire. "And still, you wait for my command. I admit I didn't quite expect you to be as obedient as you are, and I would reward you, but I want to play one of my games with you first." 

Before you could protest, he took the velvet bag off the bed, opened it, and plunged his hand inside. He pulled out a spiked leather collar that looked like it was meant for a large dog. A black leash was affixed to it. You felt your breath leave you when Copia undid the collar and eyed you with a deliberate leer. You swallowed, then lifted your head so that Copia could fasten it onto you. He shook his head.

"Not yet." He said, "Take off your clothes." 

Your face burned as you obeyed. You took a few steps back and hurried to shed your dress, slip, shoes, and stockings, but you hesitated yet again once you were in your bra and panties. You felt so naked already, so vulnerable. You didn't know if you could bear it to be completely nude. You tried to shield yourself by bringing your hands up and wringing them. It did little to conceal you. Seeing this, Copia approached and kissed your temple. 

"You can keep them on. Now, my little puppy..." He buckled the collar to fit snuggly around your neck and left the leash dangling between your breasts. "You have been very, very good so far, apart from your little slip of decorum, but I want to see just how obedient you can be. You know a well-trained dog always follows its master's commands, yes?" 

An icy prickle crawled up your spine, sending shivers through your arms and making your heart clench in your chest before hammering hard again. 

"Yes, Papa..." You said as expected though uncertainty and fear laced your voice. Copia rubbed your shoulders, his hands firm and soothing at the same time. His touch made you feel almost woozy, dreamy even in your unease. 

"I will make it simple: Tonight, you're my pet, sister, and I am your master. As your master, I will give you commands, and you will do them as perfectly as possible to please me. Do what I tell you, and you will be rewarded. Disobey, and you will be punished. Ah, don't be afraid; I don't think you will disappoint me much, but..." Then he pressed closer to you, leaning in close to your ear so that you felt his breath caress your skin, "I confess I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy spanking that plump bottom of yours." His hand slid down and grabbed your ass before giving it a playful swat. You blushed. You felt the arousal rise in your core again. It flooded in, threatened to sweep you away in its erotic current, and you lowered your head, overcome by shyness. Copia lifted your chin and shook his head at you again.

"No. None of that." He admonished, "I want you to keep your gaze up and your manner attentive. And don't hide your body. I have been fair enough to let you keep your underwear on. Now let me see you." He took both your wrists and forced them down to your sides, then prodded your shoulders so that you straightened your back. You stood erect and grew embarrassed now that your posture didn't hide you. Copia nodded in approval, "Yes, much better."

His eyes roamed up and down your body, taking every inch of you in. You wanted so desperately to cover your stomach, your chest, to tear off the collar. Of course, you didn't dare any of it. You couldn't imagine what he would do to you if you were foolish enough to disobey him again; you didn't even want to think about it. 

For a moment, Copia seemed to be thinking, then he smiled. His eyes gleamed like gems in the lamplight. He took the leash and wrapped it around his hand a few times to make it short.

"Clasp your hands behind your back and keep them there. And open your legs wider." He said, then nudged your feet apart until they lined up with your shoulders. You kept your hands behind your back as commanded. It was worse than keeping your hands at your sides. This position arched your body a little more and forced your breasts out. You felt dreadfully exposed, and what was even more excruciating was having your legs apart. But what could you do other than what was commanded? Could Copia be so cruel as to punish you even if you threw yourself at his feet and begged for his mercy? You weren't sure, and you didn't want to risk it. He would have his way, and there was nothing you could do about it. Then you wondered, did you even mind? The pleasure that had built now ebbed away slightly, but it wasn't far from reaching you again. If Copia touched you, it would surely wash over you again. Part of you wanted to drench yourself in that pleasure, to swim and melt in it completely. A corner in your mind wished with all your might that Copia would let you; the rational part of you recoiled at your desire, it being so undignified and sudden. You tried to let your head drop a little, and immediately Copia pulled the leash up with a quick tug that snapped it back in position.

"I said to keep your head up," He said, his voice low, menacing. His hand didn't drop or loosen the leash, so your head remained up. "I will not tell you again, sister. Now be still and don't move until I tell you to."

Copia gazed down at you with such ferocity that you stood rigid and kept your lips pressed together tight. The new Papa was frightening looking but very handsome in the dim light that made his face angular, his eyes even more smoldering. You marvelled at him for a moment, then with a shock, you felt Copia's free hand on you. You felt his fingers trail down the side of your neck and down to your breasts. He grabbed at your right breast, cupping it as if to feel its weight, then kneaded it slowly until it sent shivers through you. His thumb brushed over your now hardening nipple through the material of your bra. He did the same with your left. He then imprisoned the nipple and squeezed it rhythmically between his fingers before reaching for the other to give it the same treatment. A rush of shameful pleasure shot through you and settled between your legs, making your sex grow warm as if it could also blush, and you held back a moan with great effort. Copia pulled on the leash, making you lean slightly closer to him. 

"Kiss me," He whispered. As soon as he commanded, you moved to catch his lips in a deep kiss almost too quickly, still keeping your hands behind your back. Copia sucked at your mouth, then opened it with his tongue as his hand went between your open legs and, without warning, stroked your sex through your panties. You uttered a sharp cry against Copia's lips before you could stop yourself. Your body immediately acknowledged him with a twitch of your hips and a soft discharge of fluids while you struggled to swallow another moan. You squirmed, resisting the urge to close your legs with everything you had. Copia broke away from your lips to kiss your earlobe, then he nibbled at it as his hand continued to stroke you. His fingers moved in slow circles now, pressed harder until they found the sensitive mound of your clitoris through the moistening cloth. You gave a soft, open-mouthed gasp and your hips jerked forward in supplication. You wanted to grind yourself on his fingers, rock your hips for more, but the sheer gracelessness of it seemed too much for you. Besides, you weren't sure if it was something he would approve of or chastise, so you stayed as still as you could, your legs starting to shake under your weight. Copia pulled back and smiled at your flushing face, then pulled the crotch of your panties to the side and glided two of his gloved fingers along the delicate folds of your labia. The fingers teased at the moist lips and continued to massage your clit in more circles, even slower ones that drew out the sensation. Breathy moans spilled from your lips. The pleasure washed through you, mounting and mounting as he worked you. Beneath your ecstasy, you felt a twinge of embarrassment at how quickly you had become wet for him. It was forgotten in an instant once Copia slid a finger inside you, then a second. You shuddered and cried aloud. Your sex quivered at the sudden penetration, and your cry melted into a long, low moan. Copia kissed the corner of your mouth.

"That's it," Copia said softly, pulling his fingers out, then sliding them back in slowly. Then again and again. "Don't resist me. Be a good girl for your Papa." 

Your hips moved forward at the sound of his voice. Once so frightening, but now smooth and rich as velvet. He was so close to you now, and for the first time, you could smell his cologne. It was warm, spicy, and delicious to you, almost intoxicating. Your eyes stared through heavy lids at Copia's lips. They were full yet strong, set into a faint smile that struck at a cord of desire in you that made the penetration even more pleasurable. You wanted to kiss and kiss those lips until you had your fill. You felt your sex start to throb, and you began to gasp, but before it became too much for you, Copia dropped the leash, withdrew his fingers, and pushed you back, that seductive little smile still there. You let out a disappointed moan that would have been humiliating had you done it to anyone else. 

"That's enough for now," Copia said, "Get down on your knees." 

Your mind whirled as you let yourself float down until you sat on your heels on the floor, your legs still slightly apart. Your thighs trembled under you, and your throbbing craved relief. You kept your hands behind your back. You feared that if you let them fall to your sides, you would lose control and throw yourself at Copia in desperation. The only thing you allowed yourself to do was writhe, clasping your hands as tight as possible. You felt the wetness of your sex between your legs, sticky, slick, and hot. 

You let out a sigh, looking up at Copia, your lips parted, your body wanting more.  He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor.

"All fours." He ordered.

You fell onto your hands and knees. You arched your back, your buttocks lifted as if to be presented. Your body tingled in arousal at doing so, knowing that Copia could see you doing it. You wiggled your hips a little bit, and you were shocked at your own boldness. 

'Fuck it, I don't care. I don't care.' You thought.

Copia stepped forward, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. 

"Good girl," He said, and he crouched down to take a closer look at you, "Does my little puppy want more?" 

"Yes, Papa." You said softly, "Please." 

"Then I think you should clean up the mess you made." Copia held up the hand that touched you. The gloved fingers were still glistening with your juices. He touched them to your lips, and you took them into your mouth without a thought. You sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl around the digits. The taste of leather and your own fluids mixed with your saliva, and when Copia pulled them away, you swallowed. The flavor lingered, both tantalizing and odd to you. 

Copia stood and made an airy gesture to your bottom.

"Wag your hips for me." He said, and he laughed when he saw your face go red, "It's no use being shy now, sister. Unless you want me to take my belt off and make good use of it. You don't want that, do you?"

Your breath caught in your throat. You shook your head. 

"That's what I thought. Now, put your face to the floor and swing those hips." 

Your face flamed as you lowered it until you all but kissed the floor, your ass high up in the air. You churned your hips and hoped it was pleasing. You felt Copia take the leash from the floor and give it a quick tug. 

"Faster. Arch your back more."

You lowered as you were told to do and arched your back almost uncomfortably, your cheek sealed to the floor. A groan escaped you at the touch of the cold stone on your chest. Then in utter submission, any sense of pride, if there was indeed any in the first place, left you, and you wagged your buttocks back and forth like an excited dog wagging its tail for its master. Above you, you heard the creak of the bedsprings as Copia sat. You felt another tug on the leash, and you lifted your head. Copia sat back on the bed with his legs spread apart, the bulge of his erection in full view. Your sex seemed to swell at the sight of it. 

"You please me very well, sister," Copia said. He tugged on the leash again to bring you forward. "No more playing. Come here, let Papa reward you." 

"Papa..." You whispered. You hurried to him on your hands and knees. You kissed the tops of his shoes on an impulse, then his ankles. Copia didn't protest, so you kissed his knees and dared to run your hands along his inner thighs and kiss them as well. His thighs were rather shapely and solid under his clothes, pleasant to touch. When your hand rubbed over his groin, Copia let out a soft moan. Encouraged, you leaned over and kissed the waist of his pants, still rubbing the bulging sex. 

"Undo them." Copia's hand stroked your hair.

You didn't hesitate to undo the button and zipper of his pants. And now you were staring at his cock through his boxers, a small wet spot formed on the dark cloth. Again, you leaned down, placing a little kiss there, then you darted your tongue out and licked it. The hard cock twitched in its prison as if it asked to be free. You looked up at Copia with lustful, inquiring eyes, and you were delighted when he nodded at you. 

"Yes, cara. You can touch it." 

You pulled the elastic fabric down until his cock sprung free from its confinement. It stood tall and thick. A bead of clear fluid seeped from the tip, and you stared at it, surprised by its length and size. You took it in your hand, stroked it, felt its hardness and warmth. You couldn't help but wonder if the others knew Copia was quite well-endowed. You caressed the shaft up and down, tightening your hand every so often at the base of Copia's cock. Copia moaned as you did so, his head lolling back slightly. Your heart fluttered in your chest. It felt good to know that you gave him pleasure, that you pleased him enough to avoid his wrath and to even reward you. What an honor this must have been! A ripple of relaxation washed over you. You closed your eyes and took the tip of the cock into your mouth, suckling on it before taking it deeper in.

Copia gasped above you and bucked his hips. The action drove the shaft even deeper into your mouth, and you sucked on it hard, bobbing your head with a steady rhythm. It nudged the back of your throat, droplets of salty liquid mixed with the taste of his skin. Copia's thighs shivered, and his breath quickened. You moaned as you continued to push up and down on his cock until his hips started to shake. 

"Fuck, sister," Copia grunted, "That's enough!"

He grabbed your hair and pulled your head away. He didn't pull you hard enough to hurt, but you still gasped once you felt the fingers grip your hair. When he released you, he motioned for you to stand. You obeyed.

"Take everything off and lay on the bed." He told you, almost breathless. 

The collar was the first to go; you unbuckled it and threw it aside, happy to be rid of the awful thing. You unclasped your bra and let it slip from your shoulders. Though the air was cool on your now naked breasts, your nipples grew hot and erect. A sudden, inexplicable desire to entice Copa came to you as you lowered and stepped out of your panties. 

'Do it.' Your lust-clouded mind ordered you, and you did. 

When you straightened, you locked eyes with Copia as you ran your hands over your breasts, pushing them together and biting your lip. A dark look flickered across Copia's face, and he stood with a low growl. He snatched your upper arm and yanked you to him. 

"You dare tease me in my own room after I've given you an order?" He hissed, then gave a wicked smile, "You must like being punished, sister. But we will save that for another time." 

He turned to fling you down onto the bed. You fell back onto the mattress; the sheets and coverlet were soft and plush underneath you. You had little time to enjoy it before Copia descended on you with rough kisses, his hips grinding against yours, his cock prodding at your thigh. His hand grabbed and kneaded your breast hard. But you wanted him so badly that you scarcely noticed how tight his fingers dug into your flesh. He then gave it a cruel slap that drew a loud moan from you. It was an exciting mix of pain and pleasure, and you wanted more.

"Again." You pleaded. You arched your back to offer your chest to him, and you wrapped your legs around his hips. Copia rose from his kisses. It was his turn to lock eyes with you as he lifted his hand and struck you again, just a little bit harder than the first time. You whimpered and squirmed underneath him. Copia positioned and moved his hips so that the shaft of his cock rubbed along your slick pubic lips, grazing your sensitive, engorged clitoris. You strained against him, tried to rock your hips to feel more of that rigid member. Copia looked amused by your torment. 

"Tell me what you want." He leaned down again and sucked at your nipples, bit at them playfully with his teeth. Your hands went to cradled his head to you, little sighs and moans leaving you unrestrained. 

"Fuck me." You murmured into his hair. 

As soon as the words left your mouth, Copia rose, brought his cock to your opening, then drove it into you in one fluid motion. You cried out. Your head fell back, and your body seemed to explode in pleasure. His cock was a thick, piercing thing inside you, bathing in your juices as he drew back and plunged into you. His thrusts were brutal, delivered in almost snapping motions that made the bedsprings creak under you. You heard yourself unleash loud, guttural moans with each solid thrust, wholly overcome by denied passion. Copia buried his face in your neck, his breath making the skin hot as he panted. The agonizing pleasure rose in your core, swelling, ready to erupt in a shower of sparks behind your skull, in your loins. Then all at once, your wet sex tightened around Copia and throbbed violently until you were all but screaming in ecstasy. You clutched Copia while the spasms rolled through you, and you let your legs spread wide, allowing Copia to slam into you unhindered until he also gave a small cry and shuddered above you. Hot, gushing fluid flowed into you and lay you back with your chest heaving in gasps. 

Copia pulled out and collapsed beside you. You turned on your side to face him; his features were soft-looking, almost angelic in their exhaustion. His eyes drooped closed, his forehead glistened with sweat. You brushed his disheveled hair back, leaned close, and kissed his brow, tasting the saltiness on your lips before pulling away. Copia opened his eyes, gazed at you lovingly, then took you and cradled you to his chest. The fabric of his suit felt luxurious on your naked skin in the afterglow, and you snuggled close to it, sighing. You both stayed that way for a few minutes, with Copia threading his fingers through your hair. You yawned, and your eyes started to feel heavy.

"We can't fall asleep," Copia said, shaking you a bit to rouse you, "I've kept you here long enough, and the other sisters must be out of their minds with worry by now." 

"Yes, Papa." You nodded, sat up, and winced a little. Your privates ached from their hard riding. You tried to hide it, only making a slight noise in your throat. It seemed you couldn't fool Copia, however. He also got up and rubbed your lower back, kissing your cheek.

"Was Papa too rough with you, cara?" He asked. You shook your head. 

"No, Papa, I'll be fine. It'll pass." You reassured him. 

"Alright, but I will have Cirrus check on you later tonight anyway," He patted your hip, "And what happened here must be a secret. You know this, right? Otherwise, I'd have to gag you and march you through the grounds. It's a little, eh, display, you could say, that I've come up with to officially demonstrate my authority to the others. I have yet to put it into practice, and It'd be unfortunate to have you be its first victim." 

You bowed your head, not in fear, but again in reassurance.

"Yes, Papa. I won't tell anyone." You said obediently. You crawled out of bed and gathered your clothes. Copia zipped and buttoned up his pants, then stood as well and straightened his hair. 

"Good. Now, get dressed and get back to the convent. Tell the Ghouls to run you a bath when you get there. Say it's my orders, and they'll do it." 

"Okay." A bath sounded lovely to you as you redressed. If only Copia could join you...

"And sister," Copia's voice came low, playful. You turned, and you saw his eyes gleam at you. Your pulse quickened.

"Yes, Papa?" You asked.

"Don't forget that I said I would save your other punishment for next time." He winked at you, and your heart soared. 

"I won't." You smiled. 

"Good girl."

You bid him good night, then left his chamber, secretly hoping that that time would be soon.

#the band ghost #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #ghost bc #popia #copia x reader #copia x f reader #lee's writing #its 1:30 am and im screaming bc ive been working on this fic for months lmao

[griffintail]

I know you write about parental stuff for a lot of characters in the Dream SMP, but I was wondering if you could write something for Quackity?

I’ve seen some writers write about Philza finding a winged child with their wings clipped, and since everyone seems to headcanon Quackity as a duck hybrid with wings that were clipped by Shlatt during his presidency, I thought it would be interesting to see how Big Q would react to finding someone did something similar to a child.

Plus I just like the thought of him as Papa Duck, and calling his kid “Duckling”. It’s just really adorable, okay? I’m in a fluffy mood, and there’s ducks/ ducklings in my yard all the time, so needless to say I’ve grown to really like ducks over the years.

Ducklings are so cute!

However, this went a bit more angsty than planned...I still hope you enjoy it! There is fluffy parts in there!

Duckling

Pairings: Parental! Quackity x F! Child! Reader

Warnings: Blood, Harm done to a child, Implied Past Abuse, Wounds, Angstish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        It was any other day in New L’Manberg.

        Quackity woke up, tended to his wounds to make sure they healed properly, changed into a clean outfit, then walked out of his home with his usual smile. He was able to have usual banter with his friends, laughing a true laugh making him feel relief each time as he didn’t have to hold anything back. Going to have his daily meeting with Tubbo and the rest of the cabinet was when his day changed drastically.

        He was walking to the building when he saw a small sagging figure. Straightening up, he carefully went over.

        “Hello?”

        The figure looked up and he froze seeing the pain-filled face of a little girl. She stared for a moment before starting to fall.

        “Help…be free…”

        Her eyes closed as she fell to the ground and Quackity quickly rushed forward and caught her. As he did, he winced at the wet feeling as he held her back.

        “Oh please.” He muttered before carefully moving her in his arms.

        His blood boiled as he went pale.

        The back of their shirt was soaked completely in blood and he could easily tell that she was still bleeding.

        “Shit.” He scooped her up completely.

        He ran as fast as he could to the meeting building, bursting through, scaring everyone inside.

        “Quackity, you’re la—” Fundy started.

        “What the hell is that?!” Ranboo jumped up seeing the blood-soaked shirt that was starting to coat Quackity’s hands.

        “She’s losing blood fast,” Quackity said, putting the girl on the table. “I need help.”

        Fundy rushed to grab potions as Tubbo took off his jacket, Ranboo shuffling next to Quackity as he took the little girl’s shirt off.

        “Is that—” Ranboo gripped onto the front of his shirt as the other two eyes went wide looking at Quackity.

        “She’s losing blood!” Quackity snapped at all of them and everyone worked past their shock to help him.

        On the little girl’s back were two large wounds, very similar to the ones on Quackity’s back. He couldn’t think about it though, she was losing blood and he couldn’t let his anger control him at this moment.

        Everyone worked quick and by the end, the potion had slowed down the bleeding enough for Ranboo to close up the wounds and cease the bleeding. Finally, they could all breathe as they stared at the little girl, who they had wrapped in Fundy’s jacket.

        “Someone did that to her.” Tubbo finally said, the weight crushing the room.

        “…Doesn’t matter anymore,” Quackity spoke up. “She lives in L’Manberg now and won’t see whoever did it again. She’s free.”

        “She’s a kid Quackity, someone’s going to have to take care of her.” Fundy reminded him. “And what if she has parents—?”

        Fundy couldn’t get out another word before Quackity shouted. “If she does, where the hell were they when the monster did this?! If she does have parents, they just lost their rights as parents.”

        He felt the wounds on his back ached as he remembered the day, he lost his wings, his jaw clenching before he took a deep breath.

        “I’ll take her. I know how to take care of her wounds and I’ll be able to help her.” Quackity finally told them.

        “Are you sure?” Tubbo asked carefully.

        “Positive.” He nodded with confidence.

        He didn’t know what he was doing really when he came home and laid the little girl down on his bed for now. It was all a mystery really but he did believe that no one besides him could take care of her right. They had something horrible that connected them but he was hoping to help her through the pain better than he had dealt with it.

        From there, he worked on making his home a bit tidier, really trying to keep his mind busy from the anger he felt to whoever did this to her. If he ever found out who did this, there’d be no mercy. As he was putting away a few potions’ bottles, he heard a small squeak and he went back to his room. The little girl was sitting up, face screwed up in pain.

        “Hey, kid,” Quackity said quietly and she looked at him startled. “It’s ok, I’m the guy you ran into remember?”

        She thought for a moment before nodding as he nodded as well grabbing a regeneration and health potion.

        “A few friends and I healed and stitched you, you’ll need to take it easy for a long while so you don’t irritate your wounds or open them again. You mind if I put a bit of these on them to help them heal?”

        “What are they?” She muttered.

        “This is a regeneration potion; it will help your wounds close a bit easier so it won’t take months for them to close. This is a healing potion; it will help with the pain and keep you from getting sick because of your wounds.”

        She stared at the shining liquids before slowly nodding again. “Ok.”

        He came up behind her and lifting the jacket, reminding himself to return it to Fundy, before carefully first pouring the regeneration on the wounds. She winced and whimpered in pain.

        “Yeah, I know kid. It’s going to hurt for a while.” He mumbled as he finished on the other one as quickly as he could but making sure it got done before using the health potion. “This should help a bit.”

        “How do you know?” She asked curiously as she winced again.

        He paused before putting the jacket down. “It’s a long story. Now you’re probably starving. Let’s get some food.”

        It was a lot to process in a short amount of time, but, process Quackity did.

        To start, Quackity made a spare room he had into her room. He set her up a bed to start and said, whatever else she wanted in there, he’d figure out. After establishing a space for her, he got to know her a bit better past the wounds on her back. Her name was (Y/N) and she was nine years old and she ran away from home. She liked books but she also liked to run around outside.

        Knowing that Quackity asked to borrow more simple books from Ghostbur and would let her run around close by as he’d do his daily days. He tried to make her happy and she often was, the small shell she had breaking when around him. Slowly, but surely, she loved to follow him around and enjoyed talking with him, to which people would joke calling her his little duckling.

        He supposed that was where the nickname came from as he had started to call her that after a few short weeks of her living with him.

        It was a bit awkward for him to transition into taking care of two people instead of one for a while but he eventually got the hang of that too. With that, he also transitioned his days differently. In the early morning, he’d take care of his wounds before helping her with hers a couple of hours later.

        The two had a bit of an unspoken rule. He never asked what happened to her wings if she didn’t ask how he knew how to take care of her wounds.

        It changed though when he was doing the daily potion ritual. She had accidentally slept on her back and irritated her wounds a bit so it took a bit longer than usual. With him spending so much carefully taking care of the wounds, she wanted to talk about them.

        “My dad took my wings away.” She muttered and Quackity froze in his work. “They were a lot like mommy’s…he took them away so I stopped looking like mommy…”

        He was trying to keep his breathing under control as his thoughts went wild. He was hoping that maybe, as horrible as it was, that she was alone and some cruel person out in the world had done it. Yet, it was her father and it infuriated him so much, that he wanted to hunt this bastard down. However, …

        (Y/N) sniffled and he pulled her shirt down before sitting next to her, putting his arm around her.

        “Hey, little duckling, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s not your dad if he did something like this to you. I’m sorry he took them away from you, I know wings are very special.”

        “They were fluffy.” She murmured as tears started to streak down her face.

        “I bet they were. If I could get them back for you, I would. Instead, though, we’ll live like this and smile on the ground because even without any wings, we’re still pretty special.” He told her, rubbing her arm.

        He promised he’d destroy the man that use to be in her life, but today…

        She hugged him and he squeezed her back.

        Today was all about her.

        Weeks passed and Quackity was smiling as (Y/N) ran ahead, bouncing as she looked back at him.

        “Come on papa duck! I want to see the new books!”

        “I’m coming, you’re just too fast duckling.” He put a hand on his chest dramatically.

        She giggled as she turned around, going to where Ghostbur was waiting outside the entrance to the sewer. The ghost eagerly showed the little girl the new books he had “found” and Quackity merely stood to the side, pleased with the excitement (Y/N) had coursing through her. Ghostbur lent her one of the books and Quackity nodded to him.

        “Thanks, Ghostbur.” Quackity waved as he walked off with the little girl.

        He never thought he’d be doing something like this in his life, but he didn’t mind. It was a nice change of pace.

        Ghostbur smiled as he watched them walk off. They were always so adorable together, even with the black transparent wings on both of them. As they walked away, one of the wings was wrapped around (Y/N) as her tiny fluffy ones flapped in excitement. Very lovely.

#dreamsmp x reader #quackity x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction