#he refuses to show me his face when that's one of his best assets

[seafuren]

some vyn doodles in regards to some en and cn events...

[stuffingprize]

Why ship Agon & Yoichi? Finally the 3rd & final portion of my long AgoHiru meta post!! Ready to dive in full? Part 1 | Part 2

~~Part 3~~

WORLD YOUTH CUP - A smile worth 3 million

We've reached the final arc!! After the Christmas Bowl, Japan gets a chance at forming an all star high school line-up to play in America. Agon decides to join & we get to see him interact with a wider variety of characters, showing us more of his similarities to Yoichi as he's put in places where he must team up.

Violence, deceit & lack of patience over sentimental speeches #justgeniusdevilthings

Unsurprisingly, he still gives Ryokan lots of flack, refusing to acknowledge him throughout most of the arc despite everyone else agreeing that he is an essential asset to the team.

Truly unbelievable! Agon just can’t stand having Ryokan in the way of his time with Yoichi two years & one lost match later...

On Yoichi's end, however, he doesn't seem to be the type to hold on to grudges. Despite the hurt Agon put his friends through, Yoichi prefers being practical & can put it all aside if it means gaining an ally for his current goals. Ultimately, Agon is a useful player to have & we know that Yoichi is especially fond of those he finds “useful.”

Plus it's fun to see that Yoichi is practically the only person who can talk smack & laugh at Agon's face & get away with it (Mizumachi tried).

And because there are areas where he & Agon just get each other, Yoichi calls on him to do a Flying Dragon & Criss Cross together during their game against the American team, which they pull off perfectly despite never having played together before.

When Sena & Monta attempted their first Criss Cross against Teikoku, they fumbled the ball bad

Finally, Agon gets a chance to play with Yoichi, & it is absolutely of no surprise to me at all that THIS is the precise moment Agon begins to enjoy football!!!

Agon has smiled plenty on the field before, when his motivation was to “crush those without talent.” Agon has done the Flying Dragon before, with Ikkyu whose talent he praises & his twin whom he actually cares about. But here, his enjoyment is enough to make him laugh. By wordlessly being in sync with Yoichi. Teaming up with & having fun with Yoichi, perhaps like they used to before football.

In fact, Agon was so engrossed in this part of the game that he overlooks Mr. Don coming for him!

Shien (the Kid) is comparing Agon's experience in this moment to the time when he had finally admitted to something he truly wanted during the Hakushuu game!! An interesting insight

Lucky for Agon, Ryokan comes to his aid because winning this game is more important than their drama! (& because he's a sweetheart)

And after these successful series of plays where Agon finally shared the field with Yoichi & friends, we get this small development:

Is this tentatively the beginning of Agon letting go of his hurt & seeing Ryokan for what he truly is?

Although Ikkyu was usually his only exception when it came to adequate teammates, Agon would still say he was best if there were "22 players exactly like me." Here, Agon is opening up to the idea of finding value in other players. In Ryokan. In Yoichi. Even if he still sounds sore over it, it’s progress.

Yoichi influences Agon: +10 points! (Agon tempts teamwork.)

Despite this final arc's ups & downs, I enjoyed the small developments we got for Agon, as well as seeing Yoichi talk to him so casually. We begin to see how they treat each other differently now that they're teammates instead of opponents:

From weariness to fondness…

BONUS 100 POINTS: Agon & Yoichi enjoy playing football together!!

Before reaching the end, there’s still one more topic I’d like to talk about. Why has Yoichi, since so early on, piqued Agon’s interest anyway? It isn't about smarts or attraction, or deviousness. Well maybe just a little bit. Here's what I mean:

~

CRUSH THE UNTALENTED - Agon's Dissatisfaction

Above is Agon's officially stated no homo reasons for playing football back in vol 20 before Deimon vs Shinryuji. My interpretation being that Agon hates average try-hard players because his brother Unsui IS the average player who resigned himself, which really pisses Agon off because they’re twins & Agon feels his pain.

I personally think that if Unsui hadn't given up on himself so soon, then Agon wouldn't be twice on edge about average players who could be him. It's something that becomes evident in the World Youth Cup arc when he sees Unsui in Habashira & even taunts his brother over it.

And yet Yoichi who also fits the “average try-hard player” is someone Agon continues to be drawn to. We have this insight from Unsui himself during the Ojo vs Deimon rematch:

...Where Agon didn't follow up his usual "HUH??" with anything ridiculing Honjo's words. It's a rare moment that also happens between him & Yoichi back when they used to hang out.

Perhaps one reason Agon so carefully watches Yoichi is because he senses an answer he craves to his perpetual annoyance of average people. See, despite not being physically impressive, Yoichi continues to enthusiastically work towards his impossible goals seemingly undeterred by limitations. He “gets creative.”

Agon is a genius, they have a long history of them trying to read the other out, & yet he still says, "I've never understood this about you."

What is ambition all about? What is something worth struggling for? What good are teammates? I think Agon has always wanted to understand these differences between himself & Yoichi.

Yoichi influences Agon: +10000 points! (Agon’s attitude toward life football changes.)

~

AND TOUCHDOWN.. or is it? - The Undefeated Saikyodai Wizards

By now, I hope I've proven that Agon is continually influenced by Yoichi & that it largely dictates many of his actions—whether it's to resist & oppose him or simply follow him into whatever interests him next. So it is only natural that Agon would follow Yoichi into college.

Well, it probably helped that Yoichi intentionally chose a different college from Ryokan this time around (lol).

These two devious men who had once teamed up to frame & take advantage of others, then threw each other out, are finally now fighting together for good after six years of back & forth drama..!

And thanks to the recent 21st Anniversary of the series, a Special chapter was published which revealed Saikyo College as the then Undefeated Champions. However, Sena Kobayakawa has joined the fray & the plot revolves around a chance for either Yoichi or Sena to join the NFL. The deciding factor being which team wins—Saikyo or Enma.

Back at the World Youtch Cup arc, Agon heard from Yoichi himself how badly he wanted to join the NFL. With this knowledge in mind, it’s safe to say that Agon not only is now playing because he wants to, but this game in particular because victory means Yoichi's new dream can come true!!

Similar to Gao, Agon once played football to destroy Yoichi's dreams. But now, it’s the opposite!

You see, all along, what Agon wanted was to get himself in the Devil’s sights. What he hated Ryokan for (taking Yoichi through football), what he hated Sena for (being Yoichi’s ace), was now his alone. Agon is the trump card Yoichi can count on..! 

Such intense focus!! Agon as Saikyo College's Ultimate Player

Like we saw when they played against the Americans, Yoichi & Agon don’t need explicit instruction from each other. Their compatibility carries on. Wordlessly communicating~~~

Agon-speak for Of course I read you, honey.

With Agon becoming a serious athlete who trains & is now happily playing alongside Yoichi Hiruma, it’s no wonder that their team holds the title of Champions so far…!!

Yoichi influences Agon: +20 points! (Agon attends Saikyo College. Agon plays for the sake of Yoichi’s dream)

>>Yoichi influences Agon, FINAL COUNT: OVER 9 THOUSAND…!!!!!!!

AND THUS CONCLUDETH THEIR GET-TOGETHER LOVE STORY!!!

Standing together like this, they make up the titular #21!

Thank you for reading 🏈

[acourtofthought]

Regarding Elain

"The quiet dreamer and she's got a different sort of strength than Nesta and Feyre"

D-I-F-F-E-R-E-N-T

Not only does the author address it in a interview but since book 1, SJM has made it extremely obvious that Elain is not like Feyre and Nesta.

She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger. (and we know the way Nesta viewed the cabin was much more in line with the way Feyre viewed it)

Two in the morning, and yet the party was showing no signs of slowing. My father held court with several other merchants and aristo men to whom I had been introduced but whose names I’d instantly forgotten. Elain was laughing among a circle of beautiful friends, flushed and brilliant. Nesta had silently left at midnight, and I didn’t bother to say good-bye as I finally slipped upstairs (Elain is living her best life while both Feyre and Nesta were over the ball, they barely tolerated it from the start).

She was a rose bloom in a mud field. Filled with galloping horses. “Don’t be afraid of them,” Nesta said beneath lowered brows. If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta … she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. (Feyre belongs in the NC among the warriors. Of the remaining sisters, who also is foreshadowed to fit in?)

Nesta and I climbed inside one of the supply caravan’s covered wagons to change into Illyrian fighting leathers. When we emerged, Nesta even buckled a knife at her side. / Elain … She’d taken one look at us in the swaying grasses outside that wagon, the legs and assets on display, and turned crimson. / She refused the knife Cassian handed her, though. Went white as death at the sight of it. / “I—I don’t know how to use it—” “I’ll make sure you don’t have to,” I said, grass crunching as I stepped closer. Elain weighed my words … and slowly closed her fingers around the blade. / But Elain had given it back—had pressed it into Azriel’s hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into hers before. And then walked away without looking back. (SJM could not be any more direct with how different Elain approached the war compared to her sisters especially when you add in how Elain stabbed the King then backed away while Nesta marched on over and cut his head off, how Nesta takes credit for killing the King and Elain downplays her part).

Nesta had only stared at me in that unblinking, cold way. Elain had blushed, muttering about the impropriety of such things.

I laid my hand flat on the table. “I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.” / “Fucking strangers?” Elain flinched again, her face coloring. Nesta snorted. “You’re living amongst beings who have none of our human primness, you know.”

“No, I don’t. Elain is Elain,” he repeated. “Nesta is … she’s Illyrian. I mean that as a compliment, but she’s an Illyrian at heart. (NESTA IS ILLYRIAN AT HEART AND ELAIN IS NOT, I mean seriously, that tells us all we need to know. End of story, Nesta belongs in the NC and Elain does not).

Where the hell was Elain?

Elain in black was ridiculous.

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her.

but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her. Nesta in Night Court black threatened to bring him to his knees.

Elain wasn't part of IC business in ACOWAR or Silver Flames yet Nesta and Feyre were. Feyre and Nesta were present for meeting Bryce and Elain was not. Nesta embraced the Illyrian leathers and a weapon in ACOWAR even though in ACOWAR she claimed to have no interest in being a warrior. That last one was 100% foreshadowing people!

SJM is not laying these clues to make Elain the sole peacemaker and gentle nurturer of the IC. She's laying these clues to show us that Elain is different than her sisters and belongs with people who are more like-minded. How sad would it be for Elain to remain in the IC, always the odd man out? The different one?

It is absurd for someone who claims to like Elain to look back over the series and think she's valued in the NC as anything more than a cook and gardener. Those hobbies are all well and good but not FMC energy and not anything the members of the IC really care much about aside from a pat on Elain's head for the things that keep her busy. That fact that she doesn't belong is so clear, it's glass and SF was Feyre trying to bridge the gap with the sister who pushes her away while coming right out and admitting the sister who is willing to have a relationship with her is someone she only considers a pleasant companion.

It's fine that Feyre and Nesta don't connect on a certain level with Elain or view her differently than they view one another, relationships shouldn't be forced and not all siblings are going to be extremely close (though they can still get along). With that said, Elain deserves to find a group of people who see her as a valuable, contributing member. Who don't see her as a last resort and who regularly include her in important Court business. People claim Elain was pushed to the side for Nesta and that's why she was absent in SF but Az got to do important things in SF as a side character. SJM always leaves room for side characters to play an important role in things even if it's not time for their own book.

Elain also deserves to find people who don't choose violence as a means to an end (no shade on the IC for their methods but that's not who Elain is).

Quiet dreamers don't wear daggers that they returned "and didn't look back" strapped to their legs. Quiet dreamers don't wear black when it sucks the life from them. Quiet dreamers don't sneak around in the shadows when they prefer the light.

There's already two sisters and Valkyrie who live that kind of life in this series and when the author tells us Elain is DIFFERENT, I'm not sure why people try to copy and paste Feyre / Nesta / Gwyn / Emerie over her personality.

[snifflesthemouse]

WHY DOESN’T HARRY WANT HIS CHILDREN TO PAY FEALTY TO HIS FATHER, THE KING? WHY ARE THEY ‘PRINCE’ AND ‘PRINCESS’, BUT THEY DO NOT HAVE TO SWEAR AN OATH TO THEIR MONARCH?

Hello to all You Lovely Readers!

Before we begin, I just wanted to thank all of you for your love, support, and comments! I may not get the chance to reply to all of them, but I cherish every single one. Time is the most valuable resource, and readers are the most valued asset to a writer! This author has by far the BEST READERS!

Now, let’s begin with something that has been on my mind lately.

Why wouldn’t Harry and Meghan want their children to pay fealty to their grandfather, the King? I understand Meghan not doing it, as she is an American citizen and never became a dual citizen. But her children are, from my understanding. They want the children to use those monetary – oops, I meant hereditary- titles… but they don’t want them there? This tells me everything about this whole fiasco regarding the invitations.

People like Harry and Meghan can’t help themselves. There is absolutely no situation where a narcissistic psychopath (or sociopath) would pass up an opportunity like this… UNLESS they got something more valuable in return for staying home. Especially since it’s their “first child’s birthday” the same day.

The media suggests that Harry will be in and out and home by dinner. Then why go? He went because there was a trade-off most likely. Neither would ever desire the time away from one another for fear of weakening the control links. She let him go over there to try and face-to-face pressure him a couple weeks ago when he showed up for a court case he didn’t need to be there for. Her kids on the balcony was worth more to her than him potentially cheating on her with an ex or getting de-programmed.

ANY TIME a narcissistic psychopath or sociopath risks the deprogramming of their mark from an outside source, they either will benefit more from the risk, or they are making moves to move on.

The CDAN blinds suggest he spent an hour talking to an ex on another person’s phone. Why? They also suggest a half-in-half-out scenario where Harry will work alone as a half-timer for the Royal Family… I don’t buy that, and it would shock me. I’m not bashing CDAN, as I read them often. I am questioning the intel sources.

Here’s what everyone forgets. A narcissistic psychopath will believe in himself regardless. I appreciate some media personalities saying Meghan has a fear of being irrelevant, but that is not how these minds work. They have no fears or shame. They believe they are above it and everyone else is beneath them. They won’t cave like you think.

Meghan most likely wasn’t ever invited to the Coronation. The media suggests she refused the invite, but she’s only pushing that via PR to save face with the Sussex Squaddies. Remember, she keeps the Squaddies in the divorce. They are already talking mad crap about Harry right now. Everyone says a divorce will take a while, and it may. BUT…

People like Harry and Meghan are irrational thinkers who are inherently impulsive. We saw this with Megxit. They could’ve probably had their cake and eaten it, too, had they been patient with Her Majesty. But Her Majesty wasn’t afforded the luxury of compromise, was she?

The Royal Family has been planning these upcoming changes for a while now, and Harry could’ve been the perfect guinea pig to see how people would accept a half-in scenario for other working royals one day who may be children now. He could’ve been an asset, but the impulsivity ruined his chances. Not his wife. She just exacerbated them.

With Meghan now in California, she has an absolute zero chance of changing minds or whittling away at anything. Robert Johnson tells us that the Queen was so concerned about leaking because of Meghan and Harry, that she had the Sandringham library swept for bugs. Meghan couldn’t attend via Zoom because they didn’t trust the line. Charles and William made a pact to never speak to Harry alone.

DO YOU REALLY THINK THESE PEOPLE WILL EVER BE ALLOWED BACK INTO ANY PALACE TOGETHER? WITHOUT the Palace taking an offensive approach to stop leaks? They aren’t trusted. They aren’t wanted. I bet Harry agreed to go and she stayed in exchange for saving face because she was never really invited anyway, that the invite only extended to him either way.

So if that is true, why wouldn’t the King want his grandchildren to come with Harry? It would suggest that they either had no choice, or they knew something that would make that decision less hard to make (i.e. why invite a stranger with no blood ties to a wedding?) Yeah, they are too young to be apart of the TV nonsense and behavior plays a roll and all that. But for them to not come at all? His birthday would be the best day to see his grandfather.

It makes the rumors regarding Meghan photographing Catherine and William’s home (and children) seem even more true. Which brings me to this thought…

What if the whole ordeal of Megxit was a culmination of several events, with the straw-breaking moment being the pregnancy announcement? Think about it. We all know the oddities surrounding the pregnancy. Meghan probably planned to do it that way so she could sow an excuse out of the clues. She planned to create strife to excuse their presence so she could hide the truth in America. Claim racism, run to the US, and nobody is reminded of the oddities. That’s definitely one theory…

Or, they found them out and told them that they would be phased out if they didn’t take full responsibility. When they refused, they decided to try to get ahead of it all by launching that now-worthless website, Sussex Royal. The Royal Family will NEVER allow them to look compliant if there were shenanigans regarding those children. They’d be just as responsible.

Meghan let Harry go alone so she could start the next phase of her own plan. He’s probably double-crossing planning, too. They are two sides of the same coin. Harry could easily go back to his family and say, “Let’s throw her under the bus. Let me expose her for who she is. People already believe that she’s to blame. Let her be.” The Firm could work with that, for a way back for Harry alone. But…

I don’t believe these excuses they paint that Harry was lovestruck and besotted to stupidity. Yes, it is possible. I know firsthand, everyone. FIRST HAND. At the same time, people miss things because they excuse them. If we stop excusing Harry’s actions and start looking at them, we see his MO.

He cares more about destroying the Monarchy because he feels wronged. Remember, psychopathic/sociopathic narcissists don’t find fault or fear in anything regarding themselves. They aren’t scared of not being loved or in power because they assume it is already theirs. They assume everyone else is just slow to come around, and they just need to be shown the way, the truth.

If it sounds cultish, it is because it is. These two deserve each other, and they will only self-implode. Deepak Chopra already revealed that Harry and Meghan are struggling. Meghan has aligned herself with people that could care less about right or wrong if they see a way to monetize the drama or interest. These people want Harry, not her. But if he is not willing to play the role or walk back some of the statements made… they will ensure he is part of the problem instead of part of the victim gang.

EVERYTHING Meghan leaks to the US press is used to stage her next moves and plans. Awards stroke the ego and keep her in the press. Conflict keeps her in the press. Anything to keep her name on the lips of all of us.

If we really really wanted to end them, we’d abandon them both and never mention their names again. We would pick up on other noteworthy Royals and talk about them instead. They need us. Remember, the majority of the Squad are paid influencers. They get no money, they have no reason to stick around. Only the fanatic die-hards will stay put.

If I were Meghan, I would turn this into a phoenix rising moment. She has to stick to her guns and lies about the racism and drama, or she loses what little credibility she has left. She could catapult into stardom by taking a “stand” if she really wanted to convince people.

Sorry this is long and a little uneditied, as I am packing a suitcase in between thoughts. Don’t buy into this narrative that she refused the invite. Those chances are slim. Cons always work best in person. It takes skills she is lacking to be successful virtually. They are both lacking those skills, best believe that.

ALL OF THIS IS MY OWN OPINIONS AND SPECULATIVE BASED ON MY OWN EXPERIENCES. I’M NOT A PROFESSIONAL, AND I DON’T MIND IF YOU THINK I’M FULL OF IT. DON’T TAKE WHAT I SAY FOR GOSPEL. DON’T TAKE WHAT ANYONE SAYS FOR GOSPEL.

I love you all, and I will be writing again soon!

[vinthetiefling]

Baldur’s Gate 3 was worth the wait.

I’ve spent over a decade searching for the next game to inspire what I felt playing Dragon Age Origins. That’s not to say I’m not enamoured with the creative beauty of Legend of Zelda, the epic storytelling of the Witcher, or the existential freedom afforded to you in Disco Elysium. For me, the greatest source of that feeling is the ability to fail and to have those failures fleshed out and made real. To witness those failures having a meaningful impact on your story and where it’s headed. There are countless forks in the road, which might explain why I retained so many save states despite routinely culling them.

Sure, high rolling is nice. High rolling kept some of my favourite characters from turning on me or becoming consumed with power. I even built a sorcerer with high persuasion in anticipation for what lay ahead. But the hidden intricacies—the people you notice or fail to notice in a flooding room, the choice to give into a whispering dark urge, the fate of a prince with no bearing to your backstory—are where we cut our own paths, and where we unwittingly stumble into failure.

Whether you want to come into the game with a preset alignment, decide on a case-by-case basis, or even throw it all out the window and veer from good to evil—that’s on you as the captain of this ship! And make no mistake, you are the captain. Even when the characters have their own bonds, belief systems and priorities outside of your mad dash to remove the tadpoles.

The writing was ingenious. There were characters I never saw myself caring for who demonstrated vulnerability and complexity, making me wade into hell to save them. Other characters I’d pegged under a certain alignment or archetype. They later proved themselves capable of doing a 180 and becoming a problem later. There were those who showed an incomparable ability to adapt and those who held strong to their beliefs. I also loved the touch of recruiting potential enemies into your party where they would prove to be invaluable assets to the team.

That’s not even touching on the choices you’ll be able to make in Acts 1, 2, and 3. Tdlr; It would be one hell of a task to make two runs resemble each other.

Here’s the lowdown on my run:

Character:

Vin the tiefling was a divine soul sorcerer conjured in pencil on the back of my rogue’s player sheet back in 2017. He was a backup in the event that I died. Eventually, I brought him out and his stats made him the face of the party, which was unfortunate for me as a naturally uncharismatic person. His shenanigans later saw him captured, petrified, amputated, crushed beneath the falling tower of a lich and transformed into a weapon of Bhaal. My favourite trait of his was his refusal to die. My sparkly glitter dice kept him going, and in the spirit of that, Vin was reborn in BG3 as the son of Bhaal.

Origin:

The dark urge didn’t pull any punches. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so uncomfortable playing a character in a game—one who embarks upon his journey by smiling over the bodies of a nautiloid wreckage. So began my fight for control over Vin. There were moments when the game took my autonomy away, which added to my helplessness as I witnessed him kick a squirrel and commence the torturing of a captive under interrogation. I had no idea which scenes the urge was going to leap out in, and that made for a wild time. My best bet was to simply avoid situations where the urge might pull my strings. But that was hard to do when Faerûn was set on falling apart. I was a puppet, and Bhaal was my master. I was so rattled by what Vin did to Alfira, I did nothing but play with Scratch after. It was real, the discord struck between my trauma and head-in-the-sand coping.

Combat:

Wizards might have the ability to consume scrolls over sorcerers, but with Vin’s persuasion, intimidation, deception and performance checks, he was more than happy to leave the thinking to the experts. I built him as best I could to his configuration in the home game. While divine sorcerer didn’t exist as a subclass in BG3, my next pick for him was draconic bloodline, which provided a healthy boost to my AC. In a great stroke of luck, Vin’s detect telepathic and telekinetic feats were largely mirrored in the illithid powers provided by the consumption of tadpoles. My main spells were a combination of fire bolt, shocking grasp, burning hands, fly, haste, fireball, telekinesis, and chain lightning. I hoarded explodable barrels and bottles of flammable grease, and the invisibility afforded to me through Alfira’s sacrifice helped me wipe the board clean. Godspeed, Alfira. You saved many lives by helping me kill efficiently.

Story:

Act 1—We saved the tieflings and druids by destroying Minthara and the goblins. Her armour was great on Wyll for a time. Gale and Vin seemed into each other, until the weave scene happened and I decided to keep it friendly. My closest bond was with Shadowheart, who showed an intelligent and practical approach to whatever Faerûn threw down at us. We helped the myconids and befriended Omeluum. Then, we saved the Grymforge gnomes by eldritch blasting the duergar into lava and honking Nere’s nose with a shocking grasp. It’s a shame he was so terrible and evil. I thought we had a connection.

Act 2—Imagine my surprise when Jaheira joined my party after hunting Vin like an animal in the shadowfell. The urge wanted me to take out Isobel and revel in the horrific fall of the Last Light Inn, and I told it to shut up. We saved as many prisoners as we could in Moonrise, masquerading as an evildoer in front of Z’rell who was super into it. Then we cleared the Gauntlet of Shar, where Shadowheart spared Dame Aylin and became a Selûnite. I’ve never seen a more bloodthirsty Aasimar. Balthazar went down in like two hits. We sweet-talked Mizora into an infernal rapier, apparently missed Zevlor in the illithid pods, and destroyed Ketheric. Vin slow danced with Wyll. Oh. And Halsin glitched out of my party after we saved Thaniel, so I painstakingly went back to the beginning of Moonrise to save him. His name is now a curse in my house.

Act 3—Vin slept with anything horned, tentacled and from the Underdark, along with his beloved fiancé. We defeated Cazador and set the spawn free, got the Orphic Hammer for Lae’zel, rescued Wyll’s father and the Gondians from the Iron Throne, reunited Gale and Mystra, cleansed the house of grief with fireballs and said goodbye to Shadowheart’s parents, usurped Gortash by letting Karlach get in the final hit, saved Matthew Mercer and his lovable space hamster, and put Ansur back down in the dirt. After pulling on Bhaal’s chains for so long, Vin became an unholy assassin then turned and rejected Bhaal himself.

When I crafted the guardian form that the Emperor took on, it was made to resemble Vin’s younger sister in our home game. What occurred lore-wise was a projection of the sister he never had because his real blood-kin was Orin. And what a villain Orin was! What an actor. Tormenting us as a fortune teller, a newspaper interviewer, taking on Lae’zel’s form in a way that almost convinced me if not for the corner she’d turned as a character! In the end, she was no match for my scrolls of hold monster. I might not be a wizard, but I’ve swindled enough gold to buy a mansion and I’m hotter than Elle Woods. That’s the sorcerer class, baby.

Romance:

Wyll fell into place for Vin, and the more thought I gave it, the more sense it made. He was the guiding light for our dark urge rehabilitator. Vin was written to be chaotic good in his mind but chaotic neutral in practice. In truth, his sense of justice is shallow. Sure, he steps in front of oppressors and a specific trigger for him is slavery, being a slave to his dread lord father and all. But he thwarts evil simply because he *can.* What’s funnier than subjugating the weak? Overthrowing those with all the power and stealing their crown. Luckily for the everyday person of Faerûn, Vin is a merciful ruler. I’m not quite sure if Wyll could see what I saw. To him, Vin was a shaker and mover, a trailblazer in a world of horror and cruelty. To me, Vin was a self-indulgent manipulator given a new set of keys. Can he fix me? He can try, one slow dance at a time.

Endings:

After staring at this decision for a good ten minutes, I trusted the Emperor by letting him kill Orpheus and destroyed the Netherbrain at the end of the final battle.

Lae’zel was convinced to stay after I let the comet prince be assimilated. This felt like the more evil outcome of the split in the road, to be honest. I doomed the Gith’yanki so I could live without tentacles. In accepting it, Lae’zel renounced her obligation to the Gith regarding Orpheus or Vlaakith. I stole her hope for change and left her with an ordinary, mercenary life. She seemed happy. But Lae’zel, I’m sorry. You deserved more.

Gale reforged the crown for Mystra and washed his hands clean of its power. I was happy with this outcome for him, but it also reminded me of why Gale and Vin fell flat as a romance. Gale was still utterly consumed by Mystra, and staring at her face before our little date sealed the deal for me. He would always be second to the goddess of the weave.

Shadowheart, Jaheira and Minsc have a fresh start to look forward to. I suppose the latter two will find new work around the city. I especially enjoyed having a harper in the mix after watching D&D Honor Among Thieves. And as for Shadowheart, her parents are gone, but she’s broken from Shar’s clutches and the world is hers. I see her becoming entrenched in her new Selûnite status and rising peerless among their ranks.

I legitimately thought we’d killed Astarion before he ran from the sun. As he never ascended, the tadpole was the only thing protecting him. It was hinted in our discussions that he would go to the Underdark to offer guidance to the spawn once the battle was over. If that isn’t an enormous change from the cutthroat we first met, I don’t know what is. He showed the greatest capacity for change and self-reflection, and for that, he went from one of my least liked to most beloved characters.

At the behest of his father, Wyll became Duke Ravengard. But it was a fairytale ending and a ball and a wedding that came at the cost of someone else. Who better to rebuild Baldur’s Gate when his warlock powers have vanished? With Gortash gone and the power vacuum ripped wide open, who else could wield such empathy and an unwavering sense of justice? While it was a form of drudgery compared to being the Blade of Avernus, Wyll seemed a perfect fit. Without knowing what was at the end of the string, I took it.

I’ve been building up to the hollyphant in the room.

Karlach died, and it felt not only devastating and real, but very dear to me as a person with something malfunctioning in their body. Her happiness for Vin saving himself hit like a dagger in the chest, because there’s hope for him, and none for her. She’s so happy for you while she’s dying. How do you make peace with that? You can’t. In her final moments, I saw how much Vin loved her—the real sister he never had—and that look on his face as she exploded will haunt me forever. I wished we could’ve saved her and given her a life in the city she loves. In hindsight, I know about Wyll and Avernus. I plan on making a run where Vin, Wyll and Karlach venture through hell together as the ultimate poly triad.

To wind down from the hype, there were battles that ruined my day. My heart was beating, my grip on the controller was strong, and the screams and laughter came from a primal place. My partner knew not to come into the room in the middle of Cazador because I was going to punch a hole in the screen. I’ve never been challenged quite like this, with special mentions to the Iron Throne and a final battle in which I did everything possible to avoid bringing out my beloved owlbear. My appreciation for clerics is at an all-time high, and I’d gladly put up with Lae’zel any day for what she brought to table.

It’s all a part of being alive, isn’t it? Life happens, and in that mess of sacrifice, temptation and broken promises, we find ourselves.

[raayllum]

Re: S4’s highlighting of Duality, taking what had previously been a background theme in prior seasons and bringing it to the forefront

The show has always had this theme of good and bad being wrought from the same characteristic or choice. On the one hand, this is just good writing; choices, like Callum smashing the primal stone to save Zym or doing dark magic to save Rayla, should have consequences. Ezran’s big heart and trusting nature is his greatest asset but also allows him to be taken advantage of. And of course, we have Rayla and Runaan as dual wielders, Viren’s two faces (corrupted and disguised), light and dark spelled out for us (ha!) from the start...

Viren: This place held both the promise of our salvation and the threat of our destruction. (2x05)

The Magma Titan mission itself, which kickstarted the latest phase of the cycle, was a small sacrifice of life that greatly impacted our main characters and their relationships, but ultimately revived the land. 

All of this to say that S4 Rayllum are both truly only working with half the equation, particularly when it comes to themselves and their own experiences. 

Rayla comes back in S4 with light on only half of her face. For the first few episodes, she seems saddened if fine, but 4x05 quickly shows that this isn’t true and that her experiences alone have radically changed her. She’s simultaneously exactly the way she was before (going off on her own, loving Callum dearly, going after Viren again) and completely different (walking away from the drake in 4x05, even arguably threatening Terry in 4x09). The best part of her selflessness - her heroic side - is gone, with the worst part of her selflessness - her blanket disregard for her own life - is still here. She’s still compassionate and caring and while not risking her life for anything is a slight step in the right direction (and so is coming back), it’s still not there for entirely the right reasons. 

Callum is in a similar predicament. His openness and ability to be honest about his feelings was one of his best qualities in Arc 1, and largely what allowed him and Rayla to bond as quickly as they did. But we see in S4 that, as a result of her absence, he’s far more reserved, shut down, and less willing to talk. Not just about her, but also about his worries (he interrogates Soren in 4x01 rather than confiding in him) and about more pressing concerns (Ez has to coax him to talk about anything that’s bothering him, including Aaravos, in 4x05). But his cleverness, his love of magic and his family (Rayla, Ez) is still just as strong as ever. He’s more talented as a mage than he’s ever been before.

So Callum and Rayla are working with this duality in their characters. Rayla expresses only her love for Callum and little to nothing of what she’s been through without him; Callum refuses to express his love for her throughout much of the season, too consumed only by what the loss of her by her own hand has put him through. 

Likewise, this duality and missing pieces extends to their understanding of one another. On the one hand, they have a better understanding of each other than ever before, as they’ve become more like each other. Rayla is more patient and open with expressing affection and wanting to talk things out; Callum is more closed off and sacrificial. 

On the other hand, they’ve also never understood each other less. Rayla came back expecting a confrontation or argument, but got stony silence instead. Callum has no clue she walked away from the drake in the forest. He asks her to kill him because in his mind, she’s already chosen the world over him once by leaving; Rayla refuses because in leaving, she chose him over the world in many regards. 

Additionally, it would not surprise me at all if Rayla thinks that Callum is mad solely because leaving hurt him, and not at all comprehending the fact that he’s also probably mad because leaving hurt her as well. 

All of this is to say Rayllum’s previous symbolism in the background is being brought to the forefront. Rayla was his enemy and now Callum will be forced to be her enemy; they’re both enemies and lovers. Aaravos is tied to dark and light (with Rayla tied to that same light). She’ll either be the death of him and/or save his life. Her coming back into his life is both good and bad, forcing him to carry pain and love in his heart at the same time. They’ll be both helpful and hurtful to each other going forward. 

And I think it’s an excellent display at 1) good character writing, 2) how layered their dynamic really is over the course of the, and 3) how steadily the show evolves their themes alongside Rayla and Callum’s dynamic, keeping perfectly in step, and I cannot wait to see where it all goes (or is deepened further) this summer.

[maple-the-awesome]

We'll Meet Again...I Know When || Chapter 25

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN Reader

Words: 2,223

Overview: Given your old-fashioned personality and obsession with all things 1940s to 1980s, it’s no wonder that most people refer to you as an ‘old soul’ who would’ve rather lived back then than in the modern era. Little do they know, you already did, but with your previous life as Hollie Stark cut short, you’ve been left with some…unfinished business, to say the least. Top of your list? Finally getting to marry your thought-to-be-lost fiancé.

Series Masterlist 🤎 Marvel Masterlist 🤎 Fandom Masterlist

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT

The most stressful part of your week was supposed to be helping your cousin move today because that's what 'good family members do'. Aside from that, the forecast predicted easy sailing with wedding dress shopping with Pepper on Wednesday and binging your favorite TV show starting Thursday, but apparently, the universe decided to offer some friendly constructive criticism towards that plan.

When Pepper called you frantically explaining what had happened with Tony, you abandoned your plans with your cousin and raced to your future niece-in-law's side. You did your best to comfort her, although that was difficult considering your own anxieties over the matter. Nevertheless, you lied to keep the two of you sane, insisting that Tony's a trouble magnet yet clever and determined: he'll be back by dinner a little banged up, but sassy as ever. He has to because Stark's always bounce back somehow...You refuse to believe otherwise...

You returned home exhausted from moving boxes and feeling heavy emotions all day, however that's when this entire situation really got started. You about broke your hand punching Steve's face when he suddenly walked up on you in the hallway, scarring you half to death before you jumped into his arms crying your joy at seeing him again. You should've known then that he wasn't there at the Avengers compound for any good reasons, not after Berlin and Siberia...

Now you're here, slouched forward with your elbows on your knees and nails digging into your scalp as you wait anxiously on the Quinjet. Natasha, who's leaned back in her seat beside you, frowns empathetically as she counts each time your foot taps the ground. She explained everything to you already, yet none of it has made you feel any better. At least your stress isn't isolated, though.

The Quinjet's filled with an eerily silence, most keeping to themselves or in lone pairs like the two of you. It's suffocating to see everyone - Earth's mightiest heroes and protectors - so down and afraid. Sure, most of them had already been wary after Vision and Wanda were attacked in Scotland, but Banner showing up to warn them about this 'Thanos' guy didn't help. He's clearly been traumatized, so much so that even the Hulk is too fearful to appear, which means this is serious....reeeally serious...

"...You really don't have to come. We can turn around and drop your off somewhere safe with a plane ticket back -"

"- It's too late for that...This is a time-sensitive task. No one can afford to backtrack," you're quick to shake your head at Natasha's offer, sitting up straight with a heavy sigh, "Besides, what am I going to do at home? Pacing a hole into my carpet worrying about you guys? No, I'd rather help. If there's any way you think I can help, I'll do it."

Although your determination is respected, Natasha can't bring herself to smile - not when you aren't. Crossing her arms, she gives a sigh of her own, "Originally we weren't going to involve you. We didn't want to risk getting you in trouble or hurt, but your judgment might come in handy here. Your nephew's the one who made Vision. Who knows? Maybe you'll be able to figure out a solution for us."

"I'm offended, Nat. Using me for my assets? And here I was thinking you actually enjoy my presence," you nudge her arm with your elbow, your smirk obviously worn, however it's enough to make her own lips twitch.

"Well, that too. We've risked our lives together a few times before. It feels wrong facing danger without you anymore."

"I'm honored."

"How have you been holding up, (Y/n)?" Looking up at Steve as he approaches, you still can't get over how much he's changed without necessarily changing at all. The only big difference is his full beard, but it sure makes him look different compared to his normal baby face, "With Tony and everything? How's that been?"

You roll your eyes, "Maybe if you called him once in a while instead of acting like a pair of angsty teenagers going through your first break up -"

"- (Y/n), he's in space, isn't he?"

"Oh...Yeah, that..." You shuffle uncomfortably, wanting to curse him for reminding you, "Well, it's Tony...I'm just trying to trust that he'll be okay because really, I'm under too much stress right now to think otherwise."

Natasha and Steve share a concerned look, the former setting a hand on your shoulder with her best smile, "You know, on the bright side of all of this, at least you're getting to see Bucky again...Unless you're already taken by someone else, that is?"

She lifts your hand in front of her face, gazing over the diamond ring with her smile turning into a smirk. You beam proudly, "Nope, still loyal to my one true love. This is the ring he wanted to propose with - the one I told you about way back when."

"You were able to get it back?" Steve blinks in surprise, taking your hand gently to look it over himself.

"Yep! Turns out Howard and Tony had been holding onto it."

"Gotta say, Barnes has good taste," Natasha compliments.

"Doesn't he?" You play with the ring slightly, unable to wipe away your grin, however it does become a bit sad the more you study each diamond and stretch of silver, "...Say, what's our chances of dying anyways? 'can't say I'm looking forward to doing that again."

"Hopefully zero...but I can't make any promises," Steve answers honestly, "As the plan stands, you won't be involved in any battle yourself. I think your specialties are better suited helping the Wakandans figure out a solution for Vision instead."

Natasha leans against you playfully, trying to lighten the mood, "Although if you do decide to partake in the fun, I promise I won't let you die a virgin again."

You push her away, continuing to mess with your ring with a stubborn mumble, "I'll have you know I never died a virgin the first time."

"What?! With Barnes?!"

"Of course with James! ...We, uh...didn't wait for the wedding night, let's just put it that way and drop it."

"Nope! Too much information for me!" Steve puts his hands up, turning on heel to quickly escape the situation with a completely different - and more mortified - expression on his face in comparison to Natasha's mischievous grin.

"Oh my god! Where? When?! Ooo, was it good -?"

"- Nat, drop it!" You hiss while covering her mouth. Glancing around to ensure no one else had overheard the conversation, you sigh, "...Yes it was good..."

Closing your eyes, you lean back and echo out Natasha's laughter, your cheeks aflame. This is going to be a long flight...

You've seen some of Wakanda through the 'tours' Bucky would give you during your weekly video calls. You loved whenever he would introduce you to all his goat friends and their names or take you for 'walks' around the little village he's been staying at while pointing out landmarks, however being here in person makes you realize that those were all just sneak peeks of this magnificent country's true beauty.

You had thought the barrier surrounding Wakanda and keeping it hidden from outsiders was impressive, yet you feel like a child in a candy store now, trying to take in every detail of the massive buildings around you as well as the impressive aircrafts parked around the Quinjet. You know Bucky's friend and Wakanda's princess, Shuri, is clever because he's commented on it before, not to mention you've seen some of her tech in the background when he's done video calls in her lab, but surely one teenager didn't do all of this. Wakanda must be filled with geniuses which is a very exciting thought for yourself considering the idiots you've grown up around.

You're honestly hurt that no one seems to be sharing your enthusiasm. Yes, some of them have been here before, but how can they still not be amazed? If the outside is this grand, imagine what technology awaits inside or even right in front of you without your notice? That kind of buzz is nearly enough to sidetrack you from your reasons for coming here at all...nearly.

"How are we looking defense wise?" Steve goes right to business, following King T'Challa off the tarmac with the other Avengers in tow including yourself as you multitask between walking and admiring.

"You'll have my King's guard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and..."

"One semi-stable, hundred year old man."

You're officially snapped out of your daze, more awestruck by Bucky than you ever could be anything science related (as much as you love your science). You weren't exactly sure when your paths would cross here, but the sooner the better, so you won't complain. How could you when he looks so good! His hair isn't in the typical bun he usually has it in, but it's clearly been washed recently and he's wearing a brand-new uniform as well, one you're guessing is for the 'occasion'.

Steve's the first to embrace his friend, although once he steps aside, Bucky's eyes seem to find yours immediately as if attached to some kind of magnet. He had been happy to see Steve yet lights up upon realizing that you're here, too. Within seconds he's stepping towards you, not having to go far since you're already rushing to him, filled with giddy laughter as you leap into his arms and let him spin you around with a laugh of his own.

Unlike his quick hug with Steve, Bucky holds onto you tightly, extending the moment for as long as he can because even though you guys just talked last week, he hasn't held you in two years; an unacceptable amount of time, if you ask him.

"...I've missed you..." He mumbles and you swear you can feel his smile against your shoulder; it's contagious.

You hold onto him tighter if that's possible, "I've missed you sooo much, James!"

"Okay, okay. Break it up, you two. The universe is in danger here and I don't know if this Thanos guy will find your puppy love as cute as we do," Natasha rolls her eyes, amused as you both break apart with tinted cheeks and bashful smiles, although a keen eye would notice you're still hand-in-hand.

"I didn't think you'd be here - why are you here?" Bucky whispers, the two of you following at the back of the group as it continues onward. He had been so taken back by seeing you that it didn't process in his mind right away that you have no need to be in Wakanda right now - not that your presence isn't a welcoming surprise, but this place could possibly turn into a war zone at any moment. Why the hell did Steve bring you here when you were perfectly safe in New York?

"I wanted to help," you reply simply with a shrug.

"It's dangerous -"

"- James, I'm an adult and smart enough to know what this situation entails. I'm also an honorary Avenger, therefore making it my job to protect the Earth and universe in whatever way I can," you stop walking temporarily to stand up on your tippy-toes and press a kiss to his cheek, "Plus, it was a good excuse to see you again."

"S-Still, you don't...- You don't even like fighting?" He blushes, forcing himself to keep walking in hopes that it will wear off his embarrassment.

"Well, luckily for you, I don't think I'm going to be fighting. The plan is for me to stick with Vision and get that pesky stone out of his head without it being fatal," you squeeze his hand, sending him your softest and most reassuring look, "...So don't worry, Bucky. I promise not to go chasing after you into danger this time, leaving more stupid for Steve and you to share."

"Thanks, darling," he replies sarcastically, swinging your arm slightly and running his gentle thumb over your fingers.

Although he doesn't say anything else on his own, you notice his steps get slower, almost stalling suddenly as he begins to fall out of line with you. Looking back, you also notice that his head is hung low, his eyebrows furrowed into an expression you can best describe as being...complex.

"...James?" It takes a moment for him to realize you said his name, merely giving a hum of acknowledgement once he does, "...It's not bothering you that much that I'm here, is it?"

Bucky hesitates before shaking his head and all those dazed thoughts inside it, "...N-No, I..."

You stop completely, not caring if you lose sight of the others. Instead, you take the time to face Bucky, silently holding both his hands in yours. He keeps his head down, thumb continuing to run along the soft skin on the back of your palm before lifting his gaze to meet yours with a bittersweet smile, "...I just never thought I'd get to see you again - in person, that is. I know we've kept in touch, but this is much better...even if I would've rather it be during better circumstances."

You return his smile, moving your hand to his cheek which you crest sweetly, "Let's hope we can stick together this time, after all, I like that little plan we drew up for our future house. I'd like to see it put into motion."

"...O-Of course."

NEXT CHAPTER ->

<- PREVIOUS CHAPTER

[shazzeaslightnovels]

YouZitsu 11

Author: Syougo Kinugasa

Illustrator: Tomoseshunsaku

Label: MF Bunko J

Release Date: 25 May 2019

My Score: 4/5

English Release: Seven Seas Entertainment is currently releasing this series in English under the title of Classroom of the Elite.

It’s finally time for the last trial of the 1st year. This time, each class has to pick out activities that they are confident they could win. These activities can be written tests, card games, sports events, etc. Then, classes will be chosen to pair off and face each other in seven of these activities. One member of each class is chosen to head up the “control tower” and decide who is participating in each event. Ayanokouji is chosen to participate in this activity because he got the Protection Point last volume and it seems like Arisu will get her wish: a showdown with Ayanokouji. Meanwhile, Hirata has changed since the events of last volume and the expulsion of Yamauchi. He’s become distant and has been avoiding getting involved in the new trial.

This volume didn’t quite meet my expectations as the climax of the first year arc. I was really expecting the second and third years to have more to do with the plot but I don’t think Nagumo showed up even once this volume. I found that there was a lot of lead-up to the trial but the trial itself was over too quickly and I would have liked to have seen all of the characters that we have seen grow get more of a chance to shine. They get some small moments, like Sudou not being as quick to anger, but I wanted more than that. It didn’t feel like the ending of a series and I guess that’s a good thing as it isn’t and there’s still a side volume and a whole other series to go but I wanted more of a sense of satisfaction and closure.

Still, this is an excellent and entertaining volume so I can’t be too mad. The showdown between Ayanokouji and Arisu is as exciting as expected and I enjoyed that this trial tested Ayanokouji on his weak point: getting to know his classmates. Because he is in charge of which classmate is participating in which event, he needs to know who is good at what and who does not get along with who. Aside from a couple of people, Ayanokouji is closed off from his classmates so of course he knows very little about them so he needs help from Kei, Kikyou, whose information is never guaranteed to be truthful, and Hirata, who is refusing to talk to anyone. This is an interesting situation and it makes Ayanokouji less of an OP protagonist.

Cover boy this time is Kouenji and cover girl is Meiyui. Kouenji is starting to participate more in the trials but the others still don’t understand him. They don’t know when he’s going to show up and do his best for the class or when he’s going to skip the trial entirely. Still, they can’t deny that he is an asset when he does show up so they’ve got to figure out whether they can rely on him this time. Meiyui is a student from China and gets along with everyone. She has a crush on Hirata and is the only one to continue to try to communicate with him as the others see him as a lost cause. I know by now that the characters on the cover do not necessarily get the main focus in the volume but I was expecting these two to get more to do in the climax. At least they actually did have important parts to play in this volume, unlike last volume’s cover characters.

Next up is volume 11.5 which is the true end of the 1st-year arc and I hope it satisfies me more than this volume did in that regard.

[riallasheng]

A'ight my tripleace... Work in Progress Wednesday, something that made you laugh aloud!!

Heyo, Mbali! ^_^

Hmmmm...

Well, this was written a while back, but it IS in my current WIP, and it makes me smile and oft laugh so I guess it counts

(wish I could do html or proper rich text with tumblr posts, part of this doesn't look quite right without it)

In quick explanation: I bumped Colonel White up to Admiral White so that he wasn't outranked by... basically everyone from all proceeding shows, not to mention most of the military personnel Spectrum interacts with on the regular. No way an OF-5 is commander of Spectrum... and in no way are the Spectrum Captains as low as OF-2.

Also in quick explanation: The fic takes place in November of 2067, before the ill-fated Mars mission, so Captain Black is still alive and has not yet become the Mysterons first victim. (Also also, I've had the ship of Juliette and Conrad since the 80s so they're a couple in my ficverse ^^;; )

=======

AS THE WYRM TURNS

“The Primary asset is Admiral Thunderchild, who-”

Admiral White broke off sharply when Captain Grey’s shoulders jerked as if he’d been struck, Grey’s attention snapping from the Admiral to Captain Black…  who was resolutely looking ANYWHERE but at Captain Grey.

“Capta-?” Admiral White started to ask, only to have Grey talk over him, Grey’s eyes bright, an expression Destiny couldn’t place on his face.

“YOU were supposed to be taking up that role,” Grey said, pointing at Black, who’s shoulders went tight even as he continued to refuse to meet Grey’s gaze.  “And YOU would have come up with the name, so you could react realistically to it instead of risking something you had no response to that someone else came up with.”

“Captain, I will thank you not to-” Admiral White froze, eyebrows racing up and jaw dropping as Captain Grey…  broke out into laughter.  Not a chuckle or light laugh either, but a deep hearty laugh, the usually stoic man all but falling out of his chair as he doubled over laughing.

Everyone was staring at Grey now, even Lieutenant Sage turned from her station to stare at the sight.  Admiral White didn’t look angry, or even annoyed anymore, despite how thunderous his temper tended to be when briefings were interrupted, instead the commander looked almost bemused, looking between the laughing Captain Grey and the Oh So Embarrassed Captain Black. 

Captain Scarlet suddenly jolted, and he stared at Captain Black, before starting to laugh at well, and Destiny couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her, quickly covering her mouth to muffle it as she realized three things all at once.

The first was WHY Conrad had always insisted on not telling Iain the name he had come up with for ‘The Admiral’.

The second was a spark of joy that Paul had become good enough friends with Conrad to have realized not only who Conrad’s favorite author was, what his favorite book was…  but to have put that together enough to have realized precisely what ‘Thunderchild’ was in reference to.  She loved Conrad, but he was an extremely withdrawn and reclusive person, and she could count the number of people that were friends with her fiancé on her hands and still have fingers left over, those that he considered the best of friends, people he would be willing to talk about things as private to him as his favorite book, she could count on one hand.

The third was that Conrad, her usually ever-so-controlled fiancé, was BLUSHING.

“Someone want to let the rest of us in on the joke?” Captain Turquoise asked, although she didn’t sound or look annoyed in the slightest.

“Come on, Thunder ChiiIiiiIiild!” Captain Scarlet sang, as horribly off-key as ever (setting Grey off into further gales of laughter).  Destiny bit her lips, glancing at Captain Black, wondering if he now regretted the fact that Paul had bought a real antique record player and Jeff Wayne Musical record for Conrad’s 38th birthday back in March and Paul himself had apparently greatly enjoyed the songs, to the point of ‘stealing’ the record more than once.

Granted that just seemed to confuse most everyone else all the more, although Admiral White’s expression cleared and he started to chuckle as well, and Captain Grey flopped his head onto his arms where they rested on the table – the only thing keeping him in his seat – as he continued to laugh.

Destiny decided to take pity on the others.  “Captain Black’s favorite book is War of the Worlds.”

“In which, the battleship H.M.S. Thunder Child takes on multiple fighting-machines to save the fleeing civilian ships, destroying three of the alien craft.  The Thunder Child was the first, and only, victory humanity had in that book,” Admiral White said, looking at Captain Black.  “I can see why such would appeal to you, especially given your heroic actions in both the British Civil War and the Global War.”

Captain Black’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly and he finally met Captain Grey’s gaze.  “And this is why I never told you the name,” he muttered as Grey finally managed to get his laughter under control.  Captain Scarlet hummed a mangled version of the opening music to the Thunder Child song (she loved Paul, but the man couldn’t carry a tune to save his life), but then sat up straight and turned his attention back to Admiral White, schooling his expression back to one of calmness.

[sangaverage]

VTR OC Story- Heka's Embrace- A Journal Entry

REBLOGS ALLOWED BUT DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN!

note here: This OC is Mekhet but also has Tremere tendencies, my story teller allowed this! there is also VTR lore somewhere that vampires cannot sniff unless they will it or are told.

Warnings for blood, violence and odd religious themes in this one!

story under the Divider, credit to: Anitalenia (again)

6TH SEPTEMBER

My occult curiosity got the better of me, again.

Let me tell you the tale of what happened, I read that book of forbidden knowledge and unknowingly made a deal with the devil. Well, not the actual devil but he may as well not be far off, I was right to get an odd feeling from my boss, but I didn't know that feeling was because he was a monster, a vampire as the mortals commonly called us.

Yes, Us, I am one of his kind now. But at least the library job is behind me, but my new job, if you can even call it that, isn't necessarily my dream. I'm cursed to roam the night now. what's done is done. no amount of lamenting can make me mortal again, so why bother wasting precious vitae on bloody tears?

My boss, now my sire, changed me that night. He made me an offer I couldn't really refuse, I could either die, have my memories get erased and I can never work at that Library again, or, I could become like him.

The embrace as it's known to us, seemed like the best deal at the time. every venomous word dripped from his mouth like the sweet dew from a forbidden fruit that I knew I shouldn't give in and take a bite of but there was something tempting in that serpents eyes. As easily as my poetic descriptions, I was enamoured with the idea.

So I met him at his place as instructed.

With hungry fangs at my neck, the contract was sealed.

I could have backed out now and let him kill me, drain me dry and leave me for dust in his grand old house. I would remain dead rather than the undeath I currently experience now. I don't even think he would have let me. I was valued, respected, a prized asset in his vampiric eyes, not to mention ild be a body on his precious grey carpet.

Now, most mortal writings describe the bite of a vampire as a ravenous, primal thing of immense pain. Then again those mortal books also say vampires are fictional, so what do they know.

Whilst the bestial look in his eyes was definitely there, something about the whole ordeal was oddly somber, Calming almost. My heart was slowly stopping. I could tell my life as I knew it was ending and yet, I wasn't scared. Rather, I felt at peace, and I won't lie it was mildly pleasurable!

Then I died, well at least for a brief moment in time. You don't even really register it as death. Everything goes black for about a moment and then suddenly your consciousness returns at the taste of forbidden wine. The blood of the sire.

At first no senses came back to me. It was Only after the first drops hit the back of my throat that the taste hit me, and oh was it thick. You could tell he wasn't human from the viscosity of his blood alone. With a taste akin to vinegar and iron my eyes shot open once more.

What I met on the other side did not look like the boss I once knew but rather a distorted version of him, as if me now being a member of his kind had removed my clouded vision. I saw him for the true monster that he is, sure his face looks pale but it was mostly the same. His eyes are still brown, but there is sheen to them. Every now and again when the moonlight hit his face they would emit the eeriest red glow, A beastial Lucidium reflecting the true monster hidden within.

This is what I was now? Then as if by magic, he stopped feeding me his blood and his form became normal again, minus the fangs that protrude from his mouth of course.

I am told Not all vampires have this ability of showing their true inner form. I was taught later that the basic human form is how vampires are commonly seen by mortals. The ability that I witnessed is something called 'Nightmare' and only certain vampires are able to learn and use it, my sire was happy to teach me how as well as other aspects of this so called 'Nightmare'.

I learned many things from my sire, but he never really showed me much practical work. He said it was easier if I learned and practiced most of my abilities myself. He told me to see what I get on with most. He also told me of my Type of vampire, The Mekhet and a few other types of vampire or Clans as they are commonly known. Apparently vampires can detect each other via a supernatural sense to recognise another beast, and a fight of flight situation occurs...

I was also taught of the Tremere Bloodline whom apparently my sire and I are a part of. Think of Mekhet as the umbrella term and Tremere as a side faction, if it helps.

Apparently the Tremere are an old bloodline, sometimes called sorcerers because of their ability to use Thaumaturgy, an ancient form of blood magic. Apparently there are not many of the Tremere here now compared to the old numbers. This is due to The collapse of their old Covenant, The Pyramid. This was sort of like a Tremere secret society where the art of Thaumaturgy as well as other rituals were taught, among other things. There was so much information that I forget most of it now I am older.

I Joined a covenant in that time. There were a few to choose from and each had their own creation myths of how us damned came to be. The one I agreed with most however was that of the Lancea Sanctum. I won't bore you with it here though.

What I will mention however is the Lancea right of passage. Known as the anointment or bloodbath, an accurate name for sure. I attended my first vampire mass. (I'll say it's much different than the human masses)

Once we had learned about the curse of Longuinus I was pulled aside. A group of higher members of the Lancea took me, blindfolded, to a chamber in the building. I was instructed to stand in a large old greek bathing room but I was not told what this bath would contain. Whatever the substance was before the removal of the blindfold was thick and lukewarm. For all I knew it could have been a tub of honey or melted chocolate.

The group left except two members and one gently removed my blindfold and instructed me to see and sniff. It was Blood! Lots of it and silly me decided to arrive at mass on a semi empty stomach.

It was damn hard to fight the urge in me to just go wild and lap up the stuff, VERY damn hard, and I don't know how exactly I endured not going into what's known as frenzy, but I was praised for resisting. (Thank you sire and the small bag of blood I drank beforehand I guess) I was anointed with a mark on my face with some of the blood, my head was dunked under, some praise was said for Longuinus and the Lancea and I was now officially accepted. Much like a human baptism except much bloodier.

I must say that was the longest minute and a half I have probably felt in all my life. When I returned from mass I went to my haven, and aggressively raided the fridge for my last blood bag...

[Entry ends abruptly here]

☥

[untoldstcries]

"They won't hurt me if they see value in me." Winn wished that sentence were true. More than that, he wished that they didn't see any value in him at all. He wished that he could be at home with Sarah, not trapped in this hell. Not spending days tied to a chair and nights locked in a cell.

He wished he knew how long it had been. When he had made that stupid deal with Kami that he would willingly go with her in exchange for saving Sarah. Sitting in front of her, the way that she begged for him to not go. For him to stay. But then Kami's hands were on him again, pulling him away from Sarah. Suddenly he was thrown back to when Kami had taken him before. In Greece, from their house, and now. He felt her remove his wedding ring from his finger, the one that Sarah had put on him not hours before. He heard it fall to the floor, another reminder that Kami was always going to get in the way of their happy ending.

That felt like a lifetime ago. When Kami had dragged him out of that building, pushed up against the car that they had parked. The sinking feeling as she pulled his hands behind his back, the way the zip ties started to bite into his skin. A sharp reminder that he wasn't free.

He couldn't tell where he was, just that he was clearly in some base of operations. Parts of it reminded him of Castle, at least the parts of it he got to see. Kami had dragged him into a windowless room, clearly having been used before. The plain chair in the middle of the room was the thing that sent fear spiraling through him. A reminder of how much he lost that first time he met Kami all those years ago. How she and Tobias wanted him to create a virus for them. And the pain that followed his refusal. Winn barely noticed as she pushed him forward, stumbling into the chair before she pulled him down and started on his restraints. Another parallel to his first capture, handcuffs and zip ties biting into his skin.

"One day, you are going to learn you can't escape me Agent Schott." Her voice was soft, even as she finished tightening the cuffs. "You should really just learn to accept that I'll always find you. And it's an honor really, to have made yourself so valuable that I seek you out." It took him another moment to focus, to really try and get himself grounded in the moment. "The Ring has found you to be a valuable asset. After we were able to test our last project on you, we have decided that we once again need your mind." Winn tried to hide the fear that showed on his face at the thought of everything he lost after his most recent encounter with Kami. The memories that were taken, the pain that came with them erasing them. How he almost didn't get them back. "Oh don't worry, we aren't going to do that again. No, what we need is your knowledge. I understand you work closely with the FBI, CIA, and NSA. What we need from you is simply to get into their systems for us, we have a present to give them."

He felt his heart almost stop. At the thought of what they wanted him to do. They wanted his help on a cyber attack on government agencies. He knew that this would be the start. That if they could they would force him to hack over and over, to get into any system so they could take over. "N-no. I'm not going to get into anything for you." He finally met her eyes, bringing his chin up as he looked at Kami.

"I was hoping you would say that. I would love to persuade you."

There was no attempt to hide his groan as two people carried Winn through the small hallway. His arms were free of restraints but had one person holding onto each arm. His body hurt, Kami deciding that it was best to start recreating his first capture. And true to her fashion, she didn't do the dirty work. Instead another agent had come in to use Winn as a punching bag. Bruises already starting to cover his skin. He was barely concious as they threw him on the ground, his body protesting at the impact. He didn't move as they attached a chain to his ankle, making sure he couldn't go far. A bottle of water and sandwich were thrown next to him before the door to what he finally figured out to be his cell had closed.

And so it continued. Kami trying to break Winn, pulling out new ways to get inside his head. New ways to break him. A taser crackled as he was thrown into another flashback. Winn on his knees as Kami watched a taller man shove Winn's head underwater, just to bring him back up gasping for air. Part of him wondered if giving in would even change anything. It was pretty clear Kami was enjoying this, watching as every morning she opened his cell door and smiled at his broken figure.

"They aren't looking for you." Her voice spoke as she leaned against the doorframe, Winn taking a sip from the bottle that was thrown at his feet. "After what happened to Sarah, did you really think they'd want you back?"He didn't know how long it had been, how long he had been prisoner here. He knew it was long enough he stopped fighting against the restraints, having given up after he broke the skin on his wrists. "This is where you belong, and it's only a matter of time before you realize that you belong to The Ring. We decide your fate." He refused to look at her, instead playing with the chain that was connected to the cuff around his ankle. Anything was better than listening to the voices in his head, the ones that told him Sarah didn't make it. That Chuck had given up on him. That he wasn't going to be free again.

More than that, how was he going to look at all of them and tell them that he considered doing what they had asked. How they had pushed and finally broken him. His body ached, numb in most places as he took repeated beating and torture.

Kami had walked in not too long ago, looking at Winn as he was tied to that stupid chair again. He didn't register the metal pipe that was in her hand, the one injury that Kami directly caused. "Do you remember what Tobias did with one of these?" She asked as she held it up, the light dancing on the metal. "Because I remember how you screamed." And then he felt it, the pain he wished he would never have to feel again. The metal connecting with his knee, not even trying to hold back the scream that the impact had caused. "It sounded just like that."

[arlertsbaby]

cw dumbification , fingering , sub reader , hand fixations ?? not proofread

im alive yall🙏🏽

-

bf!msby! atsumu who loves his hands so much!! he thinks that they’re one of his best assets, so he has no problem showing them off to anyone, especially you, whether its during a match(volleyball is the perfect sport for that , lol), or in the comfort of your own shared home.

now don’t get me wrong, you also love atsumus’ hands. the way his fingers move leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.

but, there’s one other thing he loves about his hands other than showing them off, and that is, how easy he can break you with just his fingers.

-

sliding your skirt up slightly, atsumu rubs his thick fingers over the wet spot of your underwear, teasing you by sliding his middle finger under the lacy fabric, ghosting his finger over your clit.

“please touch me ,” you beg softly, pushing your hips against his hand as you look up at him.

he can’t refuse your request when you look up at him like that. besides, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t please his sweet girl?

“sit down for me baby , let me make this pretty pussy feel good, yeah?” atsumu leans in and speaks into the sids of your face, still tapping his fingers right over where your clit hides under your panties.

with one hand on your waist, and another now in your underwear, atsumu sat you down on his soft comforters behind you. his steady pace on your clit didn’t falter.

you let out a soft whine as he kept his slow, agonizing pace on you.

“feels nice baby ?” atsumu speeds up his pace on you, taking his other hand off your waist and using it to push you onto your back.

immediately after you nod, atsumu quickens his fingers on your cunt, pausing to dip his middle and ring finger in your hole.

“oh my g-god, feels so good ‘tsumu,” you breathe out, grabbing the wrist of the hand thats in your underwear.

atsumu knows you can't think right now, only able to look in his eyes and moan about how good he’s making you feel right now.

“pretty cunt’s suckin’ my fingers in so well, lovie ,” atsumu chuckles airily, using the palm of his hand to rub against your clit.

soon enough, you’re sloppily rutting against his hand, finding no rhythm as you get closer to your orgasm.

nd atsumu finds it so cute!!! he loves how when you finally cum, you babble out how bad you want him to actually fuck you, tears rolling down your face as your mouth shapes in a silent scream.

and he might just do that ;)

[ladyartemesia]

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff  • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa​ • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 

To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 

To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced. 

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 

You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin. 

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. 

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?” 

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin. 

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways. 

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children. 

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend. 

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).  

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder. 

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another. 

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds. 

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face. 

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before. 

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus. 

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs. 

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard. 

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous. 

A woman. 

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it. 

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone. 

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate. 

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens. 

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back. 

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you. 

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen. 

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears. 

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage. 

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees. 

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served. 

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation. 

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste. 

“Okay... What about Kang?” 

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.” 

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed. 

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation. 

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly. 

You shrugged. 

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit. 

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly. 

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.” 

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.” 

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before- 

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily. 

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom. 

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi. 

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you. 

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan. 

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response. 

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus. 

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin. 

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man. 

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket. 

Jungkook picked up on the second ring. 

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!” 

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver. 

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him. 

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch? 

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts. 

You picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker. 

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened. 

“Are you alone?”

You snorted. 

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red. 

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages. 

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

He almost choked on his tongue. 

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.  

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie. 

You were exquisite. 

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it. 

Desire. 

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch 

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh. 

Your head tilted in confusion. 

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true. 

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie. 

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming. 

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers. 

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned. 

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them. 

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION 

“The Park Angel?” 

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled. 

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand. 

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!” 

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation. 

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child. 

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively. 

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream. 

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing. 

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape. 

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet. 

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits. 

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked. 

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz. 

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee. 

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing. 

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter. 

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else. 

Something that felt an awful lot like longing. 

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly. 

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost. 

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.” 

Disaster struck at dinner. 

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence. 

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip. 

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern. 

“I-I need—” 

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried. 

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall. 

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged. 

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically. 

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked. 

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his. 

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream. 

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat. 

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge. 

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.” 

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response. 

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain). 

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice. 

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped. 

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed. 

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.) 

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice. 

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped. 

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away. 

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively. 

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.” 

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset. 

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.” 

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again. 

“Hold on to me.”  

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life. 

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing. 

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice. 

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin. 

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath. 

“Do it.”

He nodded. 

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once. 

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset. 

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets. 

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest. 

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you. 

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this. 

He gulped again. 

“I can explain.” 

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles. 

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen. 

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars. 

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define. 

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring. 

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful. 

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves. 

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that. 

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation. 

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

I made it home safely. 

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions. 

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time. 

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief. 

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung. 

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response. 

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle… 

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different. 

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow. 

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth. 

 “Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color. 

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him. 

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper. 

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through. 

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare. 

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest. 

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE 

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one. 

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante. 

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner. 

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily. 

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?” 

“WHAT?!” 

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation. 

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in. 

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!” 

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically. 

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress. 

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin. 

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses). 

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant. 

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard. 

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you. 

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table. 

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning. 

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit. 

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity. 

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess. 

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you. 

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible. 

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you. 

Milo nodded. 

“I—I figured.” 

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.” 

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate. 

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.” 

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm. 

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed. 

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. 

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another. 

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off. 

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. 

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed. 

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.” 

You grinned. 

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.” 

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.) 

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?” 

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. 

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing. 

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way. 

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort. 

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him. 

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself. 

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you. 

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded. 

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it. 

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?” 

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed. 

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak- 

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you. 

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet. 

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately. 

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.” 

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season. 

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines. 

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them. 

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it... 

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were. 

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame. 

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel. 

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass. 

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. 

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully. 

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before... 

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view. 

Lord have mercy. 

“Of course not,” he coughed. 

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well. 

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event. 

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails. 

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest. 

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd. 

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.” 

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go. 

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!” 

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend. 

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars. 

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.) 

Then it was your turn. 

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay. 

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach. 

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was. 

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray. 

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink. 

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest. 

No. 

Milo was still bidding. 

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her. 

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine. 

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet. 

“One hundred thousand dollars!” 

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening. 

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you. 

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation. 

And hope. 

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company. 

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey. 

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it. 

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship. 

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction. 

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart. 

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it. 

The next move was yours and you intended to make it. 

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts. 

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?” 

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours. 

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost. 

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra. 

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely. 

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one. 

He bit back a moan. 

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You nodded. 

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch. 

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago. 

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you. 

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it. 

It was for you. 

He wanted you. 

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving. 

Touch me… please. 

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath. 

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank. 

“Taehyung—“ you moaned. 

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens. 

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill. 

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno. 

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls. 

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you. 

And you wanted it. 

Oh how you wanted it. 

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled. 

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast. 

“Speak up.”  

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.” 

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice. 

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands. 

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed. 

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse. 

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room. 

You grinned. 

Greedy boy. 

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration. 

She would be a tease. 

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease. 

He shook his head. 

I have officially gone insane. 

The phone buzzed again. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we… 

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture. 

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe. 

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast. 

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa. 

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child. 

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs. 

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink. 

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him. 

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph. 

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back. 

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms. 

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead. 

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed. 

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains. 

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!" 

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air. 

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce. 

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling. 

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket. 

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear. 

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable? 

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast. 

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp. 

Both men winced. 

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed. 

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details. 

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped. 

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily. 

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand. 

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face. 

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled. 

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment. 

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.  

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed. 

Your dress tonight was deadly. 

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg. 

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long. 

Oh help. 

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say. 

So he didn’t say anything at all. 

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation. 

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline. 

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that. 

She is definitely trying to kill me. 

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin. 

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately. 

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion. 

It was like stepping into a fairytale. 

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking. 

You were breathtaking.  

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago. 

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened. 

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged. 

“I don’t really talk about it much.” 

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness. 

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away. 

The Governor just shook his head and laughed. 

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty. 

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening. 

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up. 

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman. 

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner. 

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned. 

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word. 

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back. 

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow. 

“Some other time perhaps.” 

Aubrey pouted prettily. 

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look. 

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you. 

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly. 

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned. 

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile. 

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous. 

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction. 

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good. 

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head. 

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it. 

Alas. 

You tilted your head speculatively. 

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me. 

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand. 

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.  

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi. 

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels. 

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play. 

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile. 

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket. 

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching. 

Oh boy. 

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him). 

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily. 

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate. 

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move. 

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink. 

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid. 

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence. 

You glared. 

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.  

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply. 

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second. 

Yet you made no move to stop him. 

You should have. 

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t. 

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing. 

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties. 

“T-Taehyung—” 

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork. 

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.” 

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this. 

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot. 

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness. 

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment. 

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering. 

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb. 

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward. 

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy. 

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive. 

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it. 

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there. 

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking). 

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt. 

Emotions were a funny thing. 

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior… 

And occasionally eroded your common sense. 

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects. 

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor. 

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown. 

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said. 

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious. 

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—  

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now. 

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same. 

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing. 

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life. 

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you. 

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man. 

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple. 

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms. 

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him. 

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again. 

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become. 

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open. 

Well that’s great. 

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides. 

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod. 

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls. 

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy. 

You almost giggled when you got a look inside. 

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors. 

Reflection suite indeed. 

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours. 

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things. 

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost. 

He had to kiss you then. 

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more. 

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need. 

Finally. 

Everything was him. 

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn. 

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it. 

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him. 

But not today. 

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure. 

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—” 

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good. 

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife. 

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication. 

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss. 

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed. 

“You’ve been saying that for years.” 

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed. 

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear. 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it. 

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered. 

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening. 

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you. 

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin. 

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart. 

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him. 

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off. 

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing. 

Almost. 

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything. 

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?" 

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate. 

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily. 

He grinned. 

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit. 

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were. 

Underneath a giant mirror. 

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction. 

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life. 

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face. 

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core. 

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart. 

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered. 

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half. 

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face. 

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high. 

Then he was kissing you again. 

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more. 

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure. 

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space. 

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency. 

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered. 

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.” 

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft. 

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching. 

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered. 

You gasped against him and he smiled. 

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him. 

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?” 

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper. 

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation. 

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you. 

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response. 

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward. 

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive. 

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him. 

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it. 

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss. 

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal. 

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response. 

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did. 

You wanted it so so bad. 

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance. 

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him. 

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust. 

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm. 

Then your world caught fire. 

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes. 

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name. 

The feel of him was indescribable. 

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality. 

He was bloomin’ magnificent. 

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal. 

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close. 

You were his. 

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more. 

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors. 

And now… he couldn’t look away. 

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass. 

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness. 

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind. 

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it. 

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound. 

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen. 

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.   

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.” 

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed. 

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart. 

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed. 

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust. 

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed. 

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him. 

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again. 

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.” 

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else. 

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision. 

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped. 

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.  

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash. 

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned. 

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin. 

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous. 

Taehyung groaned. 

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance. 

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion. 

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass. 

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin. 

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.” 

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence. 

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding. 

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. 

Taehyung groaned again. 

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked. 

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face. 

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. 

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes. 

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling. 

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. 

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day. 

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

[samstree]

Jaskier lies on his side and lets the sweat cool on his bare skin. The post-sex haze refuses to fade so he leans into it, revels in it. Behind him, the sound of Geralt’s fumbling is so distant even though Jaskier knows they are only a few feet apart.

The mattress dips. Soft lips are pressed to Jaskier’s biceps, slow and lazy. Tiny kisses pepper across his shoulder but Geralt doesn’t seem to be eager to move up. Instead, his attention stays there on the thickness of Jaskier’s arm and moans into his skin contently.

“Most people don’t spend that much time there, you know?” Jaskier turns to look at his witcher with heavy-lidded eyes. The curtain of silver hair blocks his view.

“I like it here.” Geralt presses another open-mouthed kiss with a pop. “It’s my third favorite part of you.”

Surprise replaces the fog in Jaskier’s mind very quickly.

“Wait,” he says, “there’s a list?”

“Hmm.”

Amber gold meets cornflower blue, warm and indulgent. Geralt is in no rush to explain, which only serves to stoke Jaskier’s impatience.

“Why arm? And why third? What else is on the list? Geralt of Rivia, I demand answers, and don’t you think you can grunt your way out of this one!”

Geralt’s hand wraps around Jaskier’s biceps and squeezes gently. His palm is so hot it feels like a scorching brand.

“Because you are strong here, Jask.” Despite the teasing, Geralt’s reply is unexpectedly serious and his tone contemplative. “You are stronger than I ever imagined.”

Jaskier snorts. “That’s the effect of wearing puffy sleeves all the time. Hides all the assets.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t hide.” Another kiss right above the elbow. Oh, Geralt is in a spoiling mood tonight.

“And stand next to the mighty White Wolf? I don’t think so, darling. I may be strong, but it’s nothing compared to you.”

Geralt’s brows furrow. He almost looks offended.

“Allow me to disagree, poet.”

With those words, Geralt’s hand trails down on Jaskier’s arm, leaving behind goosebumps along the way. He nudges Jaskier’s hand so their fingers thread together.

“Your hands. Second.”

The kisses on the back of Jaskier’s hand are featherlight and so careful. He watches with fascination as Geralt gives each knuckle equal attention before moving to his wrist. Beneath the thin skin are the once-broken bones that used to keep him up at night—not anymore, not when he’s all healed with Geralt at his side every step of the way.

Jaskier smiles. He realizes that, at this moment, he loves Geralt even more than the last. It should be an impossible endeavor, but somehow, he manages.

“The things you overcame, Jaskier, showed me how strong you are. Never doubt it.”

His witcher is being too sweet. Jaskier needs to kiss him senseless for it later. As for now, curiosity is getting the better of him.

“And what’s your first? What is your favorite feature of mine, my love?” The adoration overflows in Jaskier’s voice but he pays no mind.

Geralt takes his time soothing the non-existent aches of Jaskier’s wrist before putting it down. His palm cups the cheek of Jaskier’s ass, massaging at the sore spot he left earlier that will definitely bruise the next day. Jaskier is giddy with excitement.

“Should have known it’s my ass, you brute. Here I am, thinking you are a man of class—” His tirade is interrupted by the gentle shake of Geralt’s head. “No? Then what is it? My dashing haircut? My piercing eyes? Answers, please. Have mercy on me!”

Jaskier must look a ridiculous sight, pouting and whining like this, but Geralt only lets out a low, rumbling laugh. He loosens his grip and guides the bard to lie on his back. The next thing Jaskier knows, Geralt has plopped down on top of him and buried into his neck.

The position is so familiar that Jaskier settles into it without another thought. He makes sure Geralt’s head is pillowed comfortably and cards his fingers through those silver locks. Hmm, if Jaskier had a list, the long hair will certainly be on it. As for the placement…

“It’s—” Geralt’s fingers are tracing absent patterns over Jaskier’s chest. It tickles a bit. “It’s your heart, Jask. My favorite part of you. The best part of you. Your love, your songs. It’s all…you.”

“Oh,” Jaskier breathes, all his bardic eloquence stumbling. “I—thank you.”

Suddenly, it is also his heart that’s currently growing three sizes. Is it a terrible time to cry? As if sensing Jaskier’s turmoil, Geralt nuzzles into his neck a little to offer silent support, but it only makes it worse.

Jaskier sniffles as a grin breaks out on his face.

“Your heart is my favorite too. Just in case you were wondering.”

[writingpracticetime]

Interactions with other villains

From the notes of Mitchell Newman:

Let me set the scene.

First, the Discreet Entrepreneur’s Network, or the DEN as it is appropriately titled, is a loosely organized guild of sorts for villains to meet and exchange illegal goods and services. It’s members are vicious, super-powered criminals of all stripes--master thieves, serial killers, unethical scientists, the whole spectrum. They’re dangerous, violent, and not at all kind to non-members, or even new members.

Second, we have Constructor. A famous hero and  goody two shoes who only ended up in prison for protesting a mass eviction. More to the point, an (admittedly, not self described) pacifist who at the time was famously bad at combat.

The DEN should have torn Constructor to pieces, and this whole problem should have ended there. Instead our goody two shoes swipes dozens of members and eventually breaks the whole network into pieces.

How?

---

You have always been bad at public speaking.

You don’t stammer.  But seeing lots of eyes on you makes you freeze and all of the words you planned slip away. It doesn’t help that at least half of the people in this room are murderers, but they would have the same effect if they were third graders.

You wish Sandy was here again. She was always good at coaching you through these things. The only reason you ever made it through interviews or press talks was because of her prep work.

"The pipeline," you try again.

The Organizer quirks an eyebrow at you. For a second he looks to his assistant, a pale woman whose eyes are fixed on, and then he motions at you. "Go on."

"the pipeline they're building," you try again. "Its damaging to the environment. The people don’t want it there. And it’s. Illegal."

The crowd actually bursts into laughter.  You’re too used to talking to politicians.

---

Afterwards, Bonfire nods sympathetically at your grimace on your way out.

“There’s a reason I’m not a member,” she tells you.

“Did you hear? Did I…?”

Did I do good? It’s the sort of approval you used to seek from Sandy. You stop yourself, because you already know the answer regardless. Not a single person in that room approached you to join your next operation.

“There’s still the two of us,” Bonfire shrugs. “Best not to work with too many, anyway. That’s how snitches worm their way in.”

“Yes but…”

“Wait!”

A reedy voice calls after you. You don’t recognize the stick figure man who darts after you, eyes darting.

“Wait, okay okay okay okay,” he says, quickly. “Constructor. I’m--Cyberscout. I, your pitch, I mean--”

You wait. You hear a flare of irritation at your shoulder.

“Okay, your pitch sucked,” Cyberscout says. “Didn’t you used to go on TV? Man. N-not to down you or anything, what I mean to say is, just… I can help you with that. Not with your speaking skills, but getting the word out other ways, and doing some information gathering for you. So I’ll sign on. Pay back the favor.”

“Favor?”

“Yeah, uh. You jailbroke me,” he says. “I don’t work for nothing, normally I’d ask for a favor or cash but… since you already did me a solid… just this once.”

You hold out your hand, and like that you make your second ally.

---

Your second venture into the DEN goes better. You practice with Bonfire and Cyber ahead of time, so your voice is stronger. When you enter the latest venue, you nod at the Organizer and the silent pale woman next to him, taking a deep breath and refusing to feel intimidated.

Again, you  describe what you’re opposing as wrong. Again, you talk about the people’s wishes. Again, you call it illegal, and again there is snickering, but instead of falling silent your voice booms.

“Are you going to pretend you all don’t care?” you ask, and you hear yourself echo from the back of the hall. “How many of you have been thrown into solitary Akonite cells for store robbery, for having? How many of you got beaten by guards? Now CEOs are lining their pockets with medications they got from experimenting on prisoners just like you have been, and they go completely free. This is illegal, against the public good, all of the things they say about your own actions--and yet the men doing this go free.”

Dead silence.

“If the hypocrisy doesn’t make you furious,” you say. “That’s because you have no fight left in you.”

---

When you leave the conference, you know Bonfire heard because she’s smirking.

“Better?”

“Better,” she agrees. “Still no takers?”

“They’re probably worried about losing face,” Cyberscout says. “I mean, I was. But after a talk like that, just wait. They’ll trickle in.”

And they do. Days after, a greying old woman approaches you. She seems hesitant to meet your eyes or speak at first but when she does his tone is cold, brusque, and to the point.

“You may have heard of me, you may not have,” she says. “But to the point, I know a few things about unethical experiments, how they are run...and how to help the subj--victims. If you are willing to look past my past indiscretions, I can be an asset.”

“I care more about what you’re willing to do now than anything you’ve done in the past,” you tell her.

She holds out her hand stiffly.

“Call me Asag,” she says. “Dr. Asag.”

---

At your third DEN meeting, the Organizer’s lips thin as he sees you. He once again exchanges whispers with his assistant before glowering at you. You brush him off, and stand to explain your next venture.

“One more thing,” you say. “Before anyone here thinks of joining, this is going to be a no-kill operation.”

“What?” booms a hulking figure in the back. “Are you fucking serious?”

“No interrupting,” the Organizer drones, but you speak up.

“Wait,” you say. “Let him talk.”

The man steps forward, and you have an instant flash of recognition. It would be impossible not to recognize him, actually. You don’t think you've met anyone else that big.

“You don’t know shit about what it’s really like out there!” the giant says. “You really expect anyone to go out and not defend themselves?”

“I didn’t say you can’t defend yourselves,” you explain. “I said you can’t kill anyone.”

“You can’t get shit done if you’re not willing to kill,” the man says, darkly.

“Really. And how has that worked for you? Wait--” you make a show of trying to remember him. “Oh wait, I know. It got you in prison. Where I broke you out, without killing anyone.”

There is actually some laughter. In your favor this time. It makes you grin.

“Hobbes, right?” you ask. “It’s possible to fight and neutralize someone without killing them, and it’s usually better that way because then the feds can’t justify using as much force against you.”

“Then I’d like to see you try to neutralize a real super,” Hobbes spits.

“Alright,” you say. “Come at me then, and I’ll show you.”

“Absolutely not!” the Organizer shouts. “There will be no fights during conventions!”’

You don’t even spare him a glance. “Outside, then”

The Organizer hisses at the entire crowd follows you both, eager to see blood. “This isn’t--the rules--”

After a fight that admittedly takes a lot more out of you than your previous efforts neutralizing low ranking heroes, Hobbes grumpily becomes your next ally.

---

More and more come to you. Some asking for monetary compensation, some asking for prison breaks in the future, and some who seem to be as drawn to your ideals as you are, deep down.

With each venture, the Organizer seems less and less happy to have you appear, until one day when you are about to come to another gathering you find yourself barred.

“You’ve broken enough rules,” the Organizer says, darkly. “You aren’t welcome in the DEN anymore.”

“What rules?” you ask.

There are a few, of course. Some minor things here and there, but nothing that got anyone else banned. He tells you, and you are about to object but someone else cuts in first.

“You’ve been cutting into his profits.”

It’s the pale assistant. Her voice is weak and thready, like she can barely speak up.

“What are you talking about?” the Organizer sneers. “I never--”

“He’s been working with some of those corporations you’ve been undercutting with your, um, stuff,” she says, her voice getting higher. “B-both sides. Always got to work both sides, he thinks. Get some villains to help, sell out the others.”

Other people inside are listening, murmuring. The gathering of villains are getting agitated--clearly, this is news to all of them, as well.

“Please,” the assistant says. “I have proof. I’m a--I read minds. I can tell you everything, just get me away safely and I’ll--”

He turns on her and attacks, hands around her throat. You don’t even have to think about it. You slam concrete into the Organizer’s face, and all hell breaks loose. Someone grapples you--and then Hobbes wrings them off you. Bonfire, always drifting at the edge of the event, darts in and jerks the coughing assistant out of the fray. And with that, your last venture at the DEN becomes an all out brawl.

You decide it’s still better than public speaking.

---

---

MN: So, real talk for a moment. How did you do it? Money? Threats? Brainwashing? I know there were a few mind control types in your group.

#4598: Hm?

MN: How does a hero go to a bunch of violent crooks and end up leading them?

#4598: The only way you can. With their consent.

[cringeyvanillamilk]

Not really a request but I just want to know why you like Black Clover and who is your favorite character?

Hello! It’s nice to meet you! Those are great questions! I’ve actually mentioned my favorite characters in an older post, but I’d like to reiterate in this more recent post since many chapters have passed since then.

In regards to why I like Black Clover, there are many reasons why I find this anime so enjoyable. If I were to summarize my reasons into three points, it would be the attention and care for multiple characters, the likeability of the main protagonist, and the overarching themes of the story.

Before I got into Black Clover, there was a lot of negative reception of the show. Many criticized the anime for being so “basic” and just a “Naruto rip-off”. This made me very curious whether what people said were true or just dramatic and so I decided to check Black Clover out. And to my surprise, Black Clover was a fun watch! On the surface, I can understand why people viewed the anime as a typical shounen given the tropes that were used. We got the loud protagonist, the rival cool guy, tsunderes, fanservice characters, and many other tropes that are common to see in anime. But what makes Black Clover differ from the rest is how they simply give attention and layers to these characters. Tabata did something as simple as give each character a moment to shine and even backstory to explain why they are the way they are. For example, we could easily have a character like Vanessa be there for just fanservice and maybe a little bit of support, but instead we get to see her team up with the main character in battle, get her own arc in the anime, and become a huge asset to the squad. Vanessa wasn’t the only one who got this treatment. There are plenty of other characters who got the spotlight and showcase a lot of their motivation and development. The fact that this becomes consistent for most of the cast and throughout the story is honestly impressive. Even the typical beach or hot springs episode ends up being significant to the plot. What I like about Black Clover is that it doesn't try anything new in the Shounen genre, but instead takes inspiration from its foundation and makes it better. 

Now when it comes to main characters, Asta has to be one of the best main characters in Shounen. He also happens to be my most favorite character in Black Clover and for many reasons. Many complained about Asta being “annoying” and “generic”, and to that I say “You must be watching a different anime”. Asta has to be the most charming MC I’ve seen in a long time! There are many traits that Asta holds that makes him distinct from other main leads. That being his bond with children, fairness towards most villains, and selfless goals and aspirations. I don’t think I’ve seen another MC that is so natural with children like Asta is. It’s honestly very endearing! Another thing that I like about Asta as a main lead is how he deals with the antagonists of the show. He is very balanced in how he serves justice for most of the story. By giving his opponent a chance to be held accountable for their actions, he avoids taking extreme actions such as killing an opponent or just forgiving them because of their tragic backstory. Asta will not be swayed by your tears! He will make you pay for what you’ve done, whether you like it or not. And that’s cool of him to do! And lastly, the most significant part of Asta’s character is his selfless goals and aspirations. Despite being a peasant orphan and facing discrminiation wherever he goes, he refuses to be jaded. Instead, he works for a better future not just for himself, but for his family in the orphanage. A common critique to Asta is how he’s just like Naruto, but while Naruto initially wanted to be Hokage to prove himself, Asta wanted to be Wizard King to prove that no matter where you come from, you can achieve anything. And that’s what makes those two different in my eyes. No hate towards Naruto, but I prefer Asta’s ambitions and dream. His positive view of life and genuine work ethics are very inspiring to me. I think because I connect well with Asta that I view him as one of the best things about Black Clover and my most favorite character.

And lastly the overarching themes of Black Clover are very optimistic and relatable. I like how they made it very clear that you are capable of overcoming many obstacles that come your way. You can’t really change the past, but you can definitely work for a better future. And this theme really hits home to me. The message of hope and hard work is what makes this anime very enjoyable for me to watch!

Overall, there are plenty of reasons to love Black Clover! The characters, the story, the openings, and visuals-- they are all pretty top tier! Not to say that Black Clover is perfect, but I think that even its weaknesses are overshadowed by its strengths!