#some value. and it's your job to dig for it until you find it

[gor3-hound]

WRITTEN ALL OVER YOUR FACE - NAOYA ZENIN

ft. naoya zenin x puppy!reader

a/n: commission for the very lovely @nexysworld !! naoya is so very pretty and i was scared to write him BUT !! he was actually very fun to write. i love my asshole nepo baby :3 hope you guys enjoy, fb and reblogs are always appreciated <3

cw: 18+ content, dead dove-ish, pussy inspection, mistreatment of hybrids, forced cosmetic procedures, dub-con bcs power dynamics, praise, degradation, use of shock collars, caging, mentions of filing teeth, ear cropping, touching unhealed wounds, tail play, misogyny, spit, mean naoya, dehumanisation, orgasm denial, forced spaying, p in v, creampie, dacryphilia, neglect

word count: 3.2k words

Naoya’s bored.

It might’ve made you feel better if he had a secret soft spot - that the pressures of his clan have left him lonely and desperate for companionship, but that’s simply not the case. There’s no profound self-realization that comes with his actions, no sense of guilt when he pays one of the maids to suck him off before he kicks her to the curb.

He’s just bored. He’s always found the best cure for his boredom was to find a pretty little plaything that was willing to put up with him. But there’s only so much you can do to a human girl before she’s skittering off. Women value their life more than their job these days, a thought that has him scowling and breaking the shit in his room as soon as his latest slut cuts him off.

He needed something more permanent. A pretty thing that he can use to get his dick wet. One that isn’t crying for a relationship or money when he’s finished. He’s always found those hybrids pretty cute, and it seemed like the perfect thing to keep him entertained. A girl that knew she was lesser than him. A pet he could play with that would forgive him after a couple of head scratches and a new toy.

It’s that thought that has him dragging his ass to the nearest adoption center, his eyes scanning the kennels until he spots you.

You seem like a shy little thing, but he doesn’t see an issue with that. He’s always had more fun breaking girls in, and you’d be no exception. He hums thoughtfully for a moment, his head cocking to the side as he looks you over. He doesn’t address you or ask you any questions, but he doesn’t need to. You were cute, and that’s all he really cared about, anyway. He calls a worker over, asking to get some time alone with you.

“Well, we don't really have any private rooms for you to-”

“How much?” Naoya cuts him off without even gazing his way, his eyes locked onto your form. No point buying the goods if he doesn’t get a trial run, first.

“I'm sorry?” The worker stutters out. Naoya hates that shit. Pisses him off more than anything, acting like he doesn’t want the Zen’in’s money. Naoya knows better.

“You heard me. How much? Doesn't need to be a fancy room. Shit, I'll take a storage room. I gotta check she's worth the money, y'know?” He says with a sigh, his brows twitching slightly as he fights back a scowl.

Seems to work well enough, because the worker leads him to a staff room, telling him to wait right there. He crosses his arms over his chest, making him sigh in annoyance. He waits impatiently, but he lights up when you come padding into the room, looking all nervous.

”No need to be scared, girl.” He tells you, but his words come out in a grunt. He doesn’t really care if you’re scared of him or not, as long as you let him get a good look at you. He moves towards you when you don’t budge, gripping your chin between his fingers.

His gaze is sharp, his dark brown eyes narrowed as he looks over your features. He reaches a free hand up to your floppy ears, giving them a flick. A frown crosses over his features as he gives you an appraising gaze , clicking his tongue. “They’ll have to get done. Don’t like ‘em.”

His fingers and thumb dig into your cheeks, forcing a gap between your teeth so you open your mouth. He shoves his fingers down your throat, sighing when you gag and splutter. “Gonna have to train that outta ya. Those canines are gonna have to get fixed, too. Bet they’d fuckin’ hurt if they caught my dick.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes your spit off on your cheek, smirking when your nose wrinkles. He reaches down, tugging on your fluffy tail with a thoughtful expression. “That can stay, though. Cute.”

”Bend over the table, pup. Spread your legs, lemme see your cunt.” He orders, releasing your tail and taking a step back. Your hesitance irritates him, and his hand comes out to smack you across your face so hard that your head snaps to the side, your ears ringing. “Don’t make me say it again. I fuckin’ hate repeating myself.”

Your tail is tucked between your legs as you shift to lean over the table, those fluffy ears pressed down firmly against your head. Doesn’t bother Naoya. He kicks your feet apart, pulling your pants and underwear down in one tug. The tail is a little bit of an obstacle still, so he sighs and scratches behind your ears.

”C’mon now, baby. I didn’t mean it.” He coos, making sure he finds the spot behind your ear that has you pushing back against his hand. His tone is condescending, but that dumb puppy brain of yours can’t register that. He grins as your tail perks up and wags, showing you off to him. “That’s better. Lemme get a look at that pretty pussy.”

He kneels behind you, spreading your folds with two fingers, humming in satisfaction as strings of slick spread and break at his actions. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t pick out a puppy for that exact reason - a few words of praise, and you were soaked. He slips a finger deep into your cunt, adding another one and scissoring them open before groaning at the tightness. You felt like a virgin, too. Perfect.

He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, wiping his spit off on your clothes before he pulls them back on. He gives your ass a few pats as he stands up, turning around to bang a few times on the door.

”Hey! I’ll take her.”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

Naoya’s unpredictable.

It’s hard to settle into a routine with him. He can be easy to handle one moment, only to switch up at the next second. He’s never kind - that’s not the right word for him - but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his moments. If you’re good, he’ll let you curl up at the foot of his bed. Sometimes he’ll even let you sit at his feet when he’s relaxing, petting your head absentmindedly.

Those moments are few and far between. For the most part, he’s cold. He doesn’t pay much attention to you unless he’s feeding you or if it’s play time.

He shows you the most attention when he wants to play. He’ll praise you, scratch behind those freshly cropped ears standing tall on your head and run his fingertips through the fur of your tail until it’s wagging fast enough that he knows you’ll be pliant and eager for anything he wants to do to you. You’d tried whining, begging, pleading… Anything just to get him to look at you and show you some affection, but you quickly learned that the only way you could guarantee something from him was to paw at the front of his pants until he’s twitching against your hand.

His choice of affection has a bit of a side effect, and you’re unlucky enough that Naoya notices it. All it takes is one little ‘good girl’ or a scratch on your head for you to be soaked, whining and rutting against any part of him you could reach. He loves feeling you wrapped around him, but he loves teasing you even more. So, naturally, as soon as realizes how desperate his touch makes you, he decides it would be a fun little game for him to see just how needy you could get.

He’s leaning back against the couch when he spots you padding over, that fluffy tail slowly picking up speed the closer he gets to you. He can’t help but chuckle when he spots you settling on the floor by his feet, a smirk spreading across his face when you rest your chin on his thigh. Your gaze flicks up to his face, a longing expression on your features. His hand comes down to pet your head, fingers scratching your scalp gently.

”You need something, girl?” He coos, tugging on one of your bandaged ears until you whimper, biting back a laugh when you lean into the touch regardless of the pain that comes with it. You’re always so eager to please, it drives him crazy.

“Need you, please.” You whine, your ears tilting back slightly, unable to press flat against your head due to the wrapping keeping them up so they heal pointed. He grins wolfishly at your words, yanking you by the collar until you’re straddling his thigh, a mischievous going in his eyes.

”Go on then, pup. I’m too tired to deal with you myself. You can handle it, can’t you?” He hums, giving your head a pat before crossing his arms behind his head as he leans back on the couch. You give him a curious little head tilt, confusion twisting your cute little face. He loves it when you give him that look - you’re just a dumb puppy, nothing more than entertainment for him. He can’t help but feel amused, shifting his leg so he can press his thigh more firmly against your core.

”You’re a big girl, aren’t you? I’m sure you can figure it out, puppy.” You seem to get the picture, a soft, needy sound rising in your throat as the hard muscle of his thigh presses against your cunt through the fabric of your shorts. Your hips start shifting on their own, rutting against him desperately. Your mouth falls open, artificially rounded canines digging into the flesh of your bottom lip.

Your hands come down to rest on your own thighs - you know better than to touch Naoya without asking, and you don’t want this to end so soon. Your nails press into your flesh, leaving indents on the surface of the skin. Naoya’s face is a mask of indifference. There’s no sign of enjoyment from him, the only hint that he isn’t completely unaffected by your actions is the tent forming beneath the fabric of his pants. You whine when you realize he isn’t even looking at you, staring over your shoulder to look over one of the paintings on the wall.

You want him inside of you, want his strong hands to grasp your thighs as he fucks into you. The thought alone has you panting, your head hanging as your tail starts to wag again, steady behind you as you grind against his thigh more harshly. Your breaths come out heavier, your cunt soaking through the fabric of your shorts to coat his own pants.

You’re so overwhelmed with your rapidly approaching orgasm, how good it feels to finally be this close to your owner that you don’t see his hand reaching for his phone until it’s too late. You yelp as your collar zaps you, the fur on your tail standing on end as the shock makes you spasm, your hips quickly pulling away from his thigh.

”I didn’t say you could cum, did I? Bad girl.” He hisses, grabbing you by the hair and dragging you across the floor, forcing you into your crate with a swift kick. He slams the door behind you, locking it before stepping back. “You can stay there for the rest of the night. If I hear you so much as fuckin’ squeak, you’re not getting let out for the rest of the week. Got it?”

You nod quickly, but that’s clearly not good enough for him. He taps at the screen of his phone a few times before pressing his thumb down for a longer period. The voltage is higher, and he doesn’t let up on shocking you until you drop against the blanket in your crate, your fingers twitching. He scoffs at the sight, letting go of the button.

”Pathetic. If I’m talking to you, I expect an answer. Surely you’re not so stupid you’ve forgotten how to use your words?”

”N-no. I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll be quiet.” You whisper, your voice shaking slightly with the effort it takes you to hold back tears.

”Stupid mutt.” He grunts, fiddling with his trousers until he can free his cock. His jaw tenses in slight annoyance at how quickly that has you perking up, your eyes wide with interest like he’s holding a damn treat up for you. He steps closer to your crate, pressing his length down against the bars above your head. Naoya can’t help but laugh as you try to crane your head to get a taste of him, his eyes shining with amusement as your tongue laps between the gaps to catch his skin.

”Look at you. You were crying a second ago, and now you’re drooling like a bitch in heat? You are the single most pitiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on.” He muses, letting out another chuckle at the whine that spills from your lips when he pulls away from the crate.

”Go to sleep.” He grunts as he tucks himself back into his trousers, his eyes trained on your as he takes a step back. “If you’re good enough, I might let you out for breakfast.”

˗ˏˋ ☆ ˎˊ˗

The next morning, Naoya is wordless as he approaches your cage.You can tell from his narrowed, fox-like gaze that he hasn’t forgiven you from last night, his jaw set tight as if you hadn’t just made a small mistake. Naoya expected nothing but perfection from his pet, and it was something he made abundantly clear. He opens the door, his eyes narrowed in on your slumped over figure.

”Out.” The words are short and clipped, but firm, leaving no room to argue. It wasn’t a request, but a command. You weren’t stupid enough to ignore it.

He watches you crawl out of the cage, kneeling at his feet on the cold floor. You keep your gaze trained downwards, unable to meet his eyes. You look so pathetic it almost angers him, a crease forming between his brows as looks down at you. He slowly strips his clothes, his eyes locked onto you the entire time.

“Strip.” You listen, pulling your clothes off and adding them to his own pile on the floor. There’s no praise now, no attempts to get you wet enough to take him. He just pushes you down onto all fours before spitting directly onto your cunt as he forces his cock into your tight heat. It’s meant to be a punishment, but all it takes for you to get wet is the feeling of him stretching you out, your tail swaying side to side as his tip presses up against your cervix.

”Such a slut… Dripping as soon as you see cock. Bet it doesn’t even have to be mine, hmm? Could pass you around the whole clan and you’d gladly let each and every one of ‘em mount you until you were sore and dripping cum.” He spat, his hips rocking forward harshly. He builds up a steady pace, pounding into you brutally.

”Wouldn’t…” You manage to force out, brows furrowing as you try to rock back against his hips, your walls pulsing around his length. “Just you… want your pups.”

”Aww, that’s cute. You want me to breed you, girl? Is that it?” He lets out a cruel laugh, tugging on your tail to pull you back against him with each thrust, his cock brutally pounding into your tight cunt. “You think I’d let you carry my seed? That your bastard children could be sufficient heirs for the Zen’in clan? I’d never let you have puppies. Stupid fuckin’ bitch. Didn’t even realize I got you spayed? You just believe every little thing I tell you, huh?”

Fuck, he really likes the look of your tears. Nearly has him cumming from the way you look sobbing on his dick, the way you clench around him like you're trying to milk him dry despite how upset you are. It doesn't matter what he does to you, not when you're so forgiving. He knows he can say whatever he pleases and you'd still come running back to him, tail tucked between your legs like you were the one in the wrong.

He presses down between your shoulder blades, forcing your chest flat against the hard-wood floor as he keeps your ass in the air with his grip on your tail. With your back arched, the new angle allows him to fuck into you deeper, bullying himself into you without any regard for your pleasure. You were nothing more than something to use to him - a glorified fleshlight, at best. He only let you cum because of how tight you squeezed him when you did, how hot it was to see your dripping down his length.

This wasn’t about you right now - it was meant to be a punishment. You'd be lucky if he decided to let you cum in the following weeks, let alone today when he's still pissed off at you for almost breaking one of his rules.

His hips smack the fat of your ass with every thrust, low grunts spilling past his lips as he wraps your tail around his hand, smacking your thigh in frustration when you yelp at the discomfort that comes with it. He's increasingly glad with every pained whimper as his grip tightens that he decided not to dock your tail. It's so much better than a leash could ever be, forcing you back onto his imposing length everytime it gets too much for you and you try to crawl away.

“M'gonna cum.” He groans, harshly forcing your upper body further against the floor as he leans his weight on the hand pushing you down, slick sounds filling the room as he thrusts himself brutally in and out of your twitching pussy. He yanks on your tail, pulling you back against him as he cums with a grunt, his cock twitching inside of your abused cunt. He ruts his hips into you shallowly as he rides out his high before pulling out, smacking your ass once before standing up, ignoring your pleas to let you cum.

“Stupid mutt.” He spits out, rolling you onto your back with his foot, pressing it down against your stomach to hold you down. He spits on your face, a huff of laughter leaving him as your nose wrinkles. “I've been too good to you. Made you think you have a say.”

“You are a toy.” He continues, pulling his foot away with you before moving to gather his clothes. He pulls them on, leaving you panting and leaking his cum on the floor. “Something for me to use when I get bored.”

He makes his way to the door, shooting one last glance at you over his shoulder. “The quicker you learn that, the better.”

[charon-cries]

Hiya! Hope this message finds u well :3 I absolutely love your art; found you from insta! Quick question also; I’m not sure if you’ve answered this before, but which brushes do you use for ur digital art? I love the textures they’re so crunchy (endearing)!! Have a lovely day!! :D

hello!! here's a little brush tour ft. this half rendered martin.

also, a great app for ipad artists who really want to dig into texture is art set 4. i swear by it and i've been using it for about two years. none of my more recent art uses it, but that's just because i'm experimenting with my process rn

so here's a list of my most used brushes lately, and there will be links to all of them at the bottom of this post.

the two labeled "custom pencil" are both my own personal modified pencils (both sourced from the 6b pencil) but the narinder pencil and the vanilla 6b pencil are both very similar to them. i use these two for sketching and flat color specifically, and if you do specifically want these two brushes then i'd be happy to upload them somewhere for you to download, but they're not really necessary for texture

i also use G&B halftone brushes sometimes! but i greatly prefer the RSCO sample pack, and i cannot find the link to the G&B brushes no matter how hard i google, and pretty much any halftone brush set will do the same job

and here's what they look like in practice!

(i like to set these halftones to color burn. color burn is my most used blending mode, even for shading)

and then i hit "copy all," paste, and duplicate it. so you should have two layers of just your entire canvas. then import a paper texture

i'm partial to the set i'll link down below, my favorite is #5. you should absolutely check out the rest of the free texture packs on their website if you're wanting to diversify your texture process btw, all of their stuff is fantastic.

to use that texture, your layers should look like this!

on the layer set to the linear burn, i also like to go into the adjustments menu and bump up the brightness until all of the colors are at similar values to what they were before. and the normal layer on top is just to control the intensity/opacity of the paper texture!

after all of that, sometimes i'll go in with brushes like MM rake follow, or more from COFE's weird pencils, on top of all of those layers for finishing touches.

definitely play around with it, try new free brushes all of the time (i heavily recommended subscribing to Manero. they have a lot of free stuff and it's all fantastic) and see what works for you <3

here are the links to the brushes in this post, as well as some extras! some of them are paid and some of them are completely free. + it wasn't mentioned here, but i use the tatyworks linen fabric brush for blending! for any of the paid brushes, i'll try to link some free alternatives

paid brushes:

alternatives to paid brushes:

free brushes:

extra goodies:

[pedgito]

Hiiiii, can i ask for one of Ezra with smut plsssss? i really loved the pre-outbreak!joel miller <3 thankssss

pairing | ezra (prospect) x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, dubcon (it's a sex pollen fic, so just to be safe) but it's fairly consensual aside from that, but read at your own risk! this is set pre-movie time, so the plot is pretty loose, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex [6.5k]

author’s note | smut starts about 3k words in if you just want the naughty bits! i wanted to try something new for the recent milestone i hit as a treat but if this flops don't look at me, i've never written this trope before forgive me

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

The sky is a sickening yellow that burns in the daylight here, hand crowding over your face to block out the glaring sun as it beats down, sweating through the thick padding of the suit that acts as your lifeline. You hate these trips, the ones that are purely for scouting and not for the attempt at digging and coming away with at least something of value to keep for yourself. It seems pointless and reckless, always poised for an attack by rival prospectors threatening to lay claim to an area you haven’t learned much about. 

Luckily, this moon was untouched. Nothing like the ravenous Green you were used to. It’s both a relief and a danger. There was something off about this place, the air, the ground, the foliage that surrounded, and the lack of active life. Not an animal, parasite, nor any other species, human or something similar to be found. It’s barren and eerie but full of energy, the plants surrounding breathing in the air as if they are the living beings of this place.

You’ve only ever heard about these places in stories; the moons that no one dared to visit in fear that they might never leave, that the ground would swallow them whole and feast on their bodies. No one that landed ever left, always mysteriously disappearing off the face of the universe. 

Yet somehow, you still ended up here. Alone, completely alone. 

“What a sight this is,” A voice speaks from a distant, head whipping around all sides to find the source, the bulbous helmet obstructing your view, “do my eyes deceive me?”

You left your gun on this ship–first mistake. But, you had the small knife tucked away in your pocket handy and ready for use if needed, fingers lingering around the pouch until your eyes laid claim to the person the voice belonged to. Helmetless, too.

“You stay–you stay back,” You warn, voice shaken, “why are you–how are you breathing this air?”

Almost for show, he takes a deep breath.

“Amazing, is it not?” He asks, shifting some of the tall foliage out of the way as he walked closer, following the make-shift trail along the dirt that threaded through the tall plants, encasing you in a small fortress. “I only found out a couple days ago. It is–quite amazing, you agree?”

“Why are you here?” You avoid his weird approach at an introduction, examining his features to assure he was human–it seemed that way, a small scar settled under his left eye that brought you more questions alongside the small patch of white hair hovering above his forehead. His accent was even stranger, from some far off area you’ve never heard of, the dialect all it’s own.

“I could be asking you the same thing, little bird.” He tilts his head curiously, tapping on the thick glass of your helmet as he approaches closer, “This is…high end. Interesting. What is someone like you doing out here, all alone?”

“My job. I'm here to prospect and harvest.” 

It's what everyone’s job was now–digging for gems and valuables to make a profit, making a living, keep themselves alive. Wash, rinse, repeat. You did well, always came back with a plentiful bounty. But, something told you this time was different.

“So, you're a floater. Where do you reside?” He asks curiously. "If you even have a home."

“Doesn’t matter.” You ignore him, “Are you going to kill me?”

You can see the gun attached to his hip and loaded, just a small flinch and he could have you dead in a millisecond.

“Now, come on–give me some of the benefit.” He pleads, but takes a second too long to continue, his face quickly morphing into amusement, “Unfortunately, you’re right, birdie. I’m required to shoot on sight, protect the product, and wait for the arrival of my crew. Now, why am I telling you this?”

“You want me to leave.”

His smile grows wider, his body tilting into the movement as he dips into his next step, snapping his fingers in a ‘aha!’ fashion, proving that you were correct. 

“Smart, I appreciate that,” He compliments, his face quickly washed of emotion when he sees you unmoving, the small knife now poised between your fingertips, lowered close to your waist, “heaven waits girl, flee or die.”

“You don’t scare me,” You assure him, flipping the knife in a defensive stance as he invades your space further, watching you, examining. Like a meal, “what are you protecting here?”

“Hmm, brave…” He ripostes, “What do you think?”

It feels like he’s fishing–for information or clues and it dawns on you, the small amount of hesitation he has for not killing you outright, almost like he’s afraid.

“I think you have no idea what this place holds,” You challenge him, “how did you find out this air was breathable exactly? Did you trip? Were you attacked? Or were you just that stupid enough to take your gear off on a hunch?”

The silence is long and telling, his demeanor changing on a dime again, eyebrows furrowing slightly in annoyance and…anger?

“Oh shit,” You huff out a laugh, “were you–you were abandoned weren’t you? Betrayed by your own men? Your filters junked and took your fuckin’ chances like a dunce, but man, people like you are hard to kill, aren’t they?”

“You don’t know what you’re walkin’ into,” He warns, “you wanna take them chances alone?”

Truth is, he didn't either. He hadn't stepped a few yards away form his camp until now, too terrified by what lingered come nightfall, the planet feeling like it might split under your feet.

You’ve met men like him before, scared little boys hiding behind their big man persona to fill their own egos, but when it came down to it, he was just as terrified in this world as you.

But, at least you could admit it.

“I came here alone,” You point out, “What do you think?”

He knows the answer but doesn’t respond and eventually, he retreats.

“Look, girl–there’s somethin’ out there and it’s...big, loud–whatever it is, it’s alive and if you’re not terrified to go near it, you’re insane. I hear it at night, it’s worse than anything you can imagine, even the stories your parents told you as a child. Something is hidin' here, waiting.”

You always knew that the real monsters were the people, like you, because they had motive and intent, which made them far more dangerous.

You grab onto the connectors of your suit suddenly, decompressing your helmet on a whim. The air is crisp and clean despite what you’re expecting–it doesn’t burn or constrict, rather it expands, breathing a new feeling into your lungs.

“Fear is a good thing,” You tell him, nicking his hand with the knife unexpectedly when he moves to close, a quick prick that catches him off guard as he pulls away, nursing his thumb between his lips as he sucks, “keeps us human, right?” 

Because whatever fear you had felt earlier toward the man had quickly dissipated and shifted onto him, his eyes a little darker as he watched you pocket the knife, letting your guard down when you realize just how helplessly harmless he was despite how he flared himself off in the beginning. 

“I’m not leaving here empty handed,” You take in the full frame of him, tall and lean but less intimidating now, “are you?”

It was a mistake, something you will soon realize. Most of the moon is covered in a deep foliage to thick to search through, but after what feels like a few hours of walking, some tense small talk where you find out that the man who so easily threatened your life was named Ezra.

In a show of good faith, you tell him your own.

He’ll be dead by the end of this either way, either by your hands or the blade of your knife after you use him to get what you need—he wouldn’t see it coming, not a chance.

And he’s older too, lingering somewhere near his early early 40s from the way he talks. He’s weathered and callous around the edges and he’s seen things, you can assess that much. 

He asks your age but it’s quickly snuffed out by a, “Doesn’t matter,” still, it’s obvious you’re younger and a little more naive in your brevity and willingness to risk your life on a whim.

You stumble upon the cave after the sun has set, the sky a hazy purple that creates a soft glow over your skin and you lead into the cave with little trepidation, amazed by the sight before you. 

“God, these are beautiful,” You spoke candidly, examine the tight cracks in the rock that were lined with an interconnecting of vines, an ecosystem growing inside this dark, dwelling cave and acting as a beacon of light as it thrummed alive, glowing bright before dimming gradually in a continuous manner, “you were scared of this?”

“Something lives here, comes out at night when the sky is black and makes the ground shake,” Ezra warns, careful to linger back toward the entrance, “we don’t have much time.”

“My—these are bioluminescent, right?” The flower glowing in your hand as you touch it, dragging a delicate finger along the spine of the stem, “I’ve only read about them, some of these carry healing properties. I should take a few, could make good profit from them.”

Your greediness tells you to harvest, keep some for yourself, but Ezra is on you in a flash, grabbing your wrist as the flower puffs to life, startling you as it expands.

“Get back!” He shouts, “Those aren’t—“

But, it’s too late. A puff of glowing powder filtrates the air and into your face, sucking in an involuntary breath as it nearly suffocates you, pushing you back onto your ass.

Ezra scrambles, wiping your face with a delicate touch despite his worried expression before he’s gripping your wrist and yanking you back toward the entrance.

“What the hell—what was that?” You ask raggedly, wiping your face of whatever substance had spewed itself at you.

“Only ones I’ve heard of are poison,” Ezra admits, “Paralyzing agents, slow killers, nothin’ good.”

You follow him blindly, a hand tugging on your suit as he drags you along, hearing the faint shake of the mulch underneath your feet and you both tense, a shared look of worry.

“Little bird,” Ezra tugs you hard, hoping his urgency is conveyed in his eyes as he locks onto you, “we’re not makin’ it back to your pod I’m afraid.”

The shaking grows stronger, paired with a low rumble that has you both stumbling to the ground, body jolting at the touch of his fingertips against your neck where he catches you, hands planted into his chest as you plant yourself above him.

“I know I’m not one to trust,” Ezra admits, “But, I’ve got a tent a few meters east, it might keep us safe ‘til daylight.”

You quickly shove his hand away, the touch burning your skin in an unpleasant way, a weird feeling coiling in your stomach.

“Might?” You seethe, eyes growing comically wide at his unsureness. 

“I told you comin’ this way was a bad idea, you chose not to listen,” Ezra ignores the distaste for his touch as you wretch his hand away, “it’s up to you—run back to your pod and hope you make it or we can saddle in at my camp.”

You’re logical enough to know there’s only one choice.

Self-preservation.

You let him guide you upright before immediately separating yourself, following his quick footsteps as he led you back toward his sanctuary.

The difference in you, Ezra notices, is night and day.

Your eyes are scanning around frantically as he reaches for the cover of the entrance, mindful of his touch as he guides you inside, realizing the severity of the things you had encountered in the cave.

He’s never seen it for himself, assuming most of it was a myth. Some of it is collected and concentrated into a small drug that’s used in the places that are higher-up, living more luxurious, the people overflowing with wealth that have nothing better to do than get high and fuck—it’s that simple, a sex drug.

But from the source, natural—there’s no telling the strength. Even him, though not in the direct pathway and mostly by touches transferred between you two, has him feeling a little perturbed, his skin feeling itchy underneath the suit, like he wants to crawl out of his body. 

The silence that settles inside the tent when you’re both seated, far apart and in the two separate bunks stationed on either side, the one full of his belongings shoved to the side as you sit, pulling at the collar of your suit desperately. It feels like you’re suffocating, drowning inside the suit while your skin breaks out in a sheen of sweat, eyes squeezed shut as you force out a shaky breath.

Ezra watched it all happen, pulling lazily at the fingers of his gloves before unzipping his own suit, kicking it to the side and leaving him in his normal undergarments; a fitted black sweater paired with some black slacks. 

You glance over briefly, confused by his calmness, confused by your sudden affinity to be out of this suit and near him, needing the feeling of something other than this thing pressed against your skin. He looks eerily normal like this, dressed in his day to day clothes. 

“I think I might know what’s ailing you, birdie.” Ezra admits, forearms resting on his knees where he’s bent them, feet planted on the ground in front of him, “can I ask how you’re feeling?”

“Fine,” You grumble, the poor lie slipping past your lips, “Just—need out of this suit.”

He nods, extending a hand that you quickly defer away, eyes growing wide, “No, don’t fucking touch me.”

“I won’t touch your skin,” Ezra assures you, “That’s what’s got you worried, right? Feels like you’re on fire?”

His description is perfect, somehow managing to convey what you’re feeling, desperately alone inside your mind with thoughts that shouldn’t be.

He shifts to move, walking with his knees until he’s by your side, hands held up in surrender until he’s close enough to you, undoing the bindings in your suit to let you free, letting them fall to the floor with a heavy klunk as you kick them away.

“What—what was it?” You know he knows. Or that he at least had some kind of notion, his eyes scanning you carefully. Despite the sudden coolness to your skin from the thin tank that you’re wearing, it feels like a heat is bubbling underneath the surface.

“I’ve only ever heard of these things elsewhere,” Ezra explains slowly, bouncing around the truth, “it’s a, uh—enhancement of sorts, a drug to most.”

“Ezra.” You grimace, pushing him toward the point. It’s the first time you use his name, acknowledge him, and it feels weird. He’s not used to hearing it, either.

“Sex pollen.” He drives it home, no more beating around the bush. “It’s why you feel like jumpin’ out of your skin, why you couldn’t stand my touch.”

“Fuck off,” You scoff out tiredly, a bitter laugh lingering in the back of your throat, “that stuff isn’t real.”

Ezra’s eyes narrow, pointedly on you as he examines your response to him coming near, extending his fingers out carefully, “Give me your wrist.”

You back away unknowingly, hiding your hand away and ignoring the insistent beating of your heart in your chest, the sound of your pulse in your ears, the slow churning in your gut now impossible to ignore.

“Don’t touch me,” You warn, “Is this how you approach strangers? Tell ‘em they’re high on a sex drug and hope they’ll believe you?”

He says your name softly, hand dropping to his side, seeming a little irritated himself, though less so than you. 

“I’m tellin’ you because whether you want to be or not, you’re stuck in this tent with me until sunrise.”

You scurry toward the corner of the bed, chest heaving through deep breaths, brow furrowing as you stare him down. 

“Keep to your side,” You tell him, “I don’t want you coming near me.”

Ezra backs away without argument—he may be something of a scoundrel, a murderer, but he never had any intention of hurting you. Not before, not now. He was good at playing it up, but he knew you saw through it.

“You’ve got about an hour,” Ezra tells you, “maybe less now, but eventually that fever is gonna affect your brain, just like any other sickness and you’ll be worse off than when you came here.”

“Are you some kind of doctor or something?” 

“You learn a thing or two in this line of work,” He pulls haphazardly at the suspenders held snug around his shoulders, letting them fall loose to his hips, “I’ve never encountered it like this until now.”

“And you—you don’t feel…off?” You ask carefully, a sudden urge to squeeze your thighs together and soothe the growing ache between your legs. 

“I didn’t inhale it like you, didn’t get as deep of a dose,” The contact with you initially was just enough to keep him on edge, the itch under his skin growing slowly, he felt it too—the need, “you sure you’re alright?”

It’s the first moment of vulnerability you have with him as you glance up through downturned eyes, hands gripping the thick, coarse material of your pants.

“It hurts,” You admit quietly, “like a—like an ache, almost. Are you sure it’s safe here?”

Ezra nods, “Believe it or not, I’m not interested in the business of killing you.”

Not anymore.

“Forgive me for not thinkin’ that’s true, considering you threatened my life the moment I stepped foot on this moon.”

Ezra shrugs, fiddling with his sleeve silently.

“You’re full of empty threats, aren’t you?” You patronize him, turning your back to him now, settling down on the bed in hopes to calm whatever feeling was spreading throughout your body. “Come near me and I’ll shove that knife into your chest, got it?”

“Sure,” He responds distantly, “sweet dreams, birdie.”

And he himself tries to settle in, allow himself a moment of rest, but just as he’s lingering on the edges of sleep he hears you rouse, letting out a small whimper of pain as you pull at your slacks in earnest, “God, it fucking hurts.”

Ezra rolls to his side, head propped up lazily in his hand as he speaks, “M’gonna be blunt with you—only thing that’s gonna help is sexual release.”

“Stop talking,” You groan, the sound of his voice a few feet away and at a much lower register, thick with exhaustion, “it’s not like I can just take care of it with you here.”

For Ezra, it’s more of an annoyance, the tingling underneath his skin, the filthy thoughts running through his mind despite himself—he’s not that type of person, never would be, but that sight of you, the curve of your body even in this light, it’s enough to keep the flame alive.

He can see you’re struggling, fighting away whatever you were feeling and denying it despite the horrible pain you were in. 

“Let me step out,” It’s not a solution to the problem, “I can give you the room.”

And really, you weren’t sure it would even help. There was a need for contact, even as you wrestle with the button of your slacks and press your hands flat against your stomach in an effort to ease the ache, it’s not as satisfying. 

It makes you feel rabid, wiping the thin layer of sweat from your cheeks as you take a chance to look at Ezra when you turn on your back—he seems relaxed, aside from the insistent fidgeting of his fingers against one another, clenching and unclenching his fist every so often.

“Be honest with me,” You plead, “you’ve seen this before?”

“Only heard things,” He admits, eyes dragging toward the flickering light placed between you on the central beam supporting the tent—he’s talking to you, but he seems distant, far away, “it’s meant as an aid for—you know—“

You feel the impending but coming.

“But, like this—I don’t know much.” Ezra breathes out a deep breath, adjusting the slowly growing tightness against the front of his pants. “Even a small dose like that can be hell.”

You sigh shakily, fingers drifting until they’re only a few centimeters under your waistband, noticing his subtle attempt to adjust himself.

“Are you—do you feel it?” You ask softly, hanging by a thread. “I didn’t think you inhaled it like me.”

Ezra clears his throat, trying to respect your boundaries by not openly grinding up into his own hand—he was a bad man some days, but he wasn’t a savage. 

“Just being near you,” He assumes, “it absorbs into your skin or something like that and by touchin’ you I got a smaller dose. You’re hurting somethin’ bad, aren’t you?”

You nod jerkily, earlier disgruntled emotions toward the man forgotten. He’s proven to not be as big of a threat as he posed and he’s almost friendly now, keeping his distance and trying not to scare you. It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself, but you hated how easily your thoughts betrayed you. You wanted someone near, didn’t matter who—you both just had the misfortune of being stuck together in a situation like this, dancing around the obvious. 

“Maybe—“ You sigh softly, eyes roving his body for a moment, “if we just take care of it ourselves, just close our eyes and no one’s gotta leave?”

“I don’t think—“

You’re impatient, fed up, fingers dip until they meet your core, drenched in the sweet slick of yourself and painful to the touch, a moan blossoming in your chest involuntarily.

“Little bird, I am not so sure that—“

“Shut up,” You sigh heavily, rubbing insistently at your clit for relief, constricted by the stiff waistband of your pants as you flex your fingers to fit inside you, “just do it, get it over with so we can get some sleep and leave this place come—come morning.”

He knows you don’t mean what you’re implying; the off-chance you might take him with you after being abandoned, he’s not that lucky, he never was. 

You gasp when your fingers breach your center, pressing beyond your tight opening and Ezra can feel the noises rattling him to his core.

“If I wanted to be treated like a lady I wouldn’t be doing this—in front of you, right now.” Ezra actually laughs at that, a small chuckle the rumbles from his chest. “Don’t worry, I won’t look.”

It’s the coyness in your voice that does him in, his hips rutting up into his palm slowly before he’s breaking that seal, assuming a similar position and hastily shoving his hands down his trousers, grinding down on his teeth to muffle the sound that escapes him when he feels the first touch, feeling everything more intensely now that he had given in.

“Better?” You ask curiously, voice still tight and ragged, the ache that was once dull was throbbing at your core and up your spin, growing the more your fingers dragging along your slit and over the small bundle of nerves.

It wasn’t enough. Didn’t feel like enough. Part of you knew that one simple orgasm by your hand wouldn’t solve this, but you remained naive, breath quickening as you shoved your pants down further, hastily, kicking them off the rest of the way.

Ezra hums a lousy response from your right, the soft shift of fabric against fabric, his movements quickening as he finds a rhythm, hand tightening around his shaft at the awkward angle he was forcing himself into with his cock still stuffed inside his pants. 

Honesty would be good, right? Right now? 

You let out an exasperated growl as you scramble upright, head hanging back between your shoulders.

“This isn’t fucking working,” You admit, “It doesn’t even feel good it just hurts.”

And the emphasis on the word is prevalent as you chance a look over at Ezra, his hand stilled underneath his clothes but his eyes wide, a little comical as he takes in the sight of you now, bottom half bare and visible under this light, the smallest sliver of your stomach peeking through your top that had ridden up.

So much for keeping eyes closed.

“I—“ Ezra stops himself, face scrunching up with a dilemma, “what are you thinking?”

“I’m not,” It felt like your body was working on autopilot, shifting your body to face him, “I need—god, I need more. Do you think, maybe—“

“Yeah,” Ezra answers immediately, already matching your thought as you scramble the short distance toward him, his palm pressing gently against your chest, “holy—birdie, your heart is racing.”

You nod absently, shifting his hand down abruptly to cover you cunt, a needy whine escaping your throat at the touch. 

“I don’t have time to— talk this through,” It’s disjointed, voice airy as you speak to him, “help me, please?”

He’s never been more unprepared and unequipped for a situation in his life, falling privy to your motions as you grind against the heel of his palm, feeling his fingers explore cautiously. 

“Whatever you need,” He agrees, nodding insistently as he winds his free hand around your waist, guiding you over his lap in a movement that has one of his fingers pushing past your entrance, fist clenching into his shirt tight, “tell me—tell me.”

He sounds wrecked, beside himself, feeling guilty for the circumstance and regretting having taken the risk to talk to you, letting his ego get the best of him. He would’ve never been in this situation, never have met you.

And somehow, you still feel empty, eyes brimming with tears at the discomfort, the neediness you feel across your entire body, the desire to be taken over and consumed by him—there’s a brief moment where you lock eyes with him, almost like a transfer of energy as he feels your pain.

The contact somehow managed to make things worse for him, or more equal on your level as his opposite hand grips tight on your hip, fingers working dutifully to keep you full as his head hangs, working with the little friction he received from his cock being trapped underneath the tight fabric as he followed your movements, pushing in when you pulled away, a messy dance of limbs as you clawed at each other.

“More,” You cry softly, “give me more.”

“Little bird,” He says as a warn, though his voice is nothing but comfort, “you don’t have a clue what you’re asking of me.”

You nod frantically, “I do, I do.” 

His eyes pull to your lips, mouth hung slightly open as you gasp, feeling like you’ve been running for miles without doing any of the actual work, a type of primal desperation you’ve never felt before. 

“We don’t have to—“ You squeeze your eyes shut, voice strained, “maybe if we just—“

Ezra understands without you asking, shifting his pants down hastily with you over him, briefs follow with before he’s just as bare from the waist down, kicking his clothes away mindlessly as you settle down against him without warning, the suffocating heat of your core drawing his attention back to you.

“You’re burnin’ up,” He notices, hands settling gently against your waist as he feels the hesitant tilt of your hips on the first drag, a deep sigh combining between you both, “does that—does that help?”

“Shh, shh,” You hush him kindly, hoping that focusing on the sensation and rather his voice—which was driving you equally as mad by how wrecked he sounded—would help, but it soon dawns on you that there’s only one way to satiate the ache, pushing at his chest until he understands, a slow fumble back onto his elbows as you grind against him more insistently, the excessive wetness of your core soaking him at the base, his grip against your hips tightening with every passing second as a groan creeps from his throat, paired with your own shaky sigh, “I can’t—can’t focus.”

Ezra feels partly to blame, too lost in his own head to realize the severity of the stage you’re in—most coherent thinking nearly gone and replaced with nothing but this, him, an eagerness to dull the painful ache in your body and by association, his own. 

The lewd thoughts intensify with every pass of your center along his shaft, the head of his cock rubbing against your clit in an almost satisfying way, but there’s an emptiness that’s keeping you stuck, dangling over the edge.

You need him inside of you—want, as does he. He’s been picturing it since he saw your fingers dip past your core, since the strength of the pollen invaded his body and filled his mind with involuntary thoughts.

“Ezra,” You sound broken, tears having slipped down your cheek through the haze, “I need you.”

Ezra nods understandingly, his hand creeping up to cradle the side of your neck, your head lolling lazily into the touch, “I told you, little bird. Just tell me. Tell me what you need.”

“Want you inside,” You admit on a pathetic whimper, fingers slowly clawing up his clothed chest, fisting in the fabric as you move more insistently, “Ezra, please?”

In any other situation he would think this through, considering the consequences and ask you for reassurance, but he finds himself nodding before he can catch himself, guiding your hips up gently with his hand before you’re taking control and guiding the head of his cock to your center, seething him completely and to the hilt in one full motion, punching a strangled groan from his chest.

Ezra falls back fully with the force of your grip, huffing roughly with every eager bounce of your hips, watching as your eyes roll back slightly, feeling a slow sense of relief with how easily he fits inside of you. 

If it weren’t for the thick layer of his sweater you would’ve broken skin by how hard your grip was on him, his own grasp teetering on painful but dulled by how badly you needed to cum, or feel any type of release for that matter.

There’s a soft repeated mumble of “please, please, please,” falling from your lips that doesn’t stop, not entirely sure what you’re asking for but Ezra soothes a comforting hand up your waist and over your shoulder as he watches you, slowly losing yourself to the sensation of being filled so fully.

“I’m right here,” He assures you, a faint echo in the back of your mind, “fuck—I’m right here.”

He soon feels suffocated by the thickness of his sweater, your body heat overwhelming him inside and out as he silently guides you up and quickly rids himself of the last bit of material he had left on his body, hastily helping you with your own when he sees your hand struggling to pull at the damp fabric.

But once he gets his eyes on you, taking in the rawness of you, all desperation and mindless need as your breasts bounce softly with your movements, squeezed tight between your arms from where they’re planted against his chest and all Ezra can think is touch.

He wants to touch you—and like you’re thinking on the same wavelength, bodies interconnected and driven by one thing, lust—so, you ask. Or more accurately, beg,

“Stop thinking,” You tell him, “touch me, it’s okay.”

Ezra feels pained by your response, your own voice riddled with the tears that kept falling, though the obvious lack of sadness behind them. He nods, lifting a hand to knead the soft flesh between his fingertips, your muscles clenching around him involuntarily and pulling a moan out of you that he mimics with the same fervor. 

“Sweet jesus,” He speaks candidly, “you feel—“ Ezra doesn’t even have the words, landing on something that flashes through his mind quickly, “perfect, fuckin’ perfect.”

And Ezra can feel the intensity build as your hips falter, the brazen sound of skin slapping against skin slowing to a slow grind as you squeeze your brow line together, panting slightly.

“I got you,” He reminds you softly, slumping into him tiredly as he lifts his frame, flipping you over swiftly but carefully, settling your legs around his hips with a gentle touch, barricading you in with the taut muscle of his forearms, his hips moving slowly inside you still, “just focus, you gotta let go, birdie—only way you’ll get any relief.” 

You nod instinctively, vision increasingly hazy as you pull him in closer, his mouth connecting with your shoulder in a wet press of his lips—not quite a kiss, but not subtle enough to be a touch and without even asking, he’s fixing a hand over your cunt alongside his cock from where he’s working you to a near point of something similar to an out of body experience, like you might finally lose your mind.

His touches are tender but pointed, his own moans increasingly debauched as he rubs your clit in messy circles, the wet squelch of you and him as you move together driving you closer to the edge, the intense tingling along your spine growing to the point of near unbearable, body shaking under his touch as he slips his other hand behind your neck, lifting your chin up as you gasp, clenching down hard as you came, body taking on a mind of its own.

The feeling is so intense you feel like passing out, spotting in your vision as you drift away for a moment, whimpering softly against his touch as the intense feelings you’ve been having dull for a moment, the torture of your body betraying yourself gone for now but still lingering dangerously close in the shadows.

“Fuck, fuck—” You hear his voice muffled over the ringing in your ears, staring blankly at the ceiling of the tent while your heart rate calms, your name falling from his lips like a warning as he feels that pull, low in his groin, shifting away hastily to work a quick, feverish hand over his shaft and spilling over your stomach in warm pulses, face slack with pleasure, eyes closed and drifting into a familiar feeling of exhaustion. 

“I think–I think it’s over,” You mumble softly, fingertips dragging gently against his thighs, a contrast to the earlier hard grip you had on him as he drove you toward your orgasm, “Are you okay?”

Ezra shakes his head in disbelief, leaning back on his legs.

“For the moment,” He thinks briefly before nodding, noticing the worry in your face, corners of your mouth downturned in frustration, “—are you?”

And you would be, but even now as the exhaustion creeped in, that gnawing sensation was still lingering, leaving you wondering if this would last forever until you ended up dying some miserable death on this moon.

Ezra moves around slowly, reaching for one of the bags stowed away on the spare bed you were using prior and finding some sloppily cut cloth, he notices your weariness, “Just something to…” He gestures toward the mess of him on your stomach still, something you hadn’t really noticed until he pointed it out, his gentle assurance a comfort to you, “was usin’ them to keep clean when workin’ on my pod but…no pod, no reason to keep hoarding them.”

He leans back between your legs, cleaning you up without a word, silent as he drags the soft cotton over your stomach with a tenderness that shouldn’t make you feel that way. You barely know him and you’ll blame it on the ridiculous sex pollen filtering through your bloodstream, but he looks more docile now, like you might scare him if you move the wrong way.

He’s just as terrified as you.

“Ezra,” You call out softly, grabbing his attention, “can I be honest with you?”

“I would appreciate it, yeah,” He responds with a faint smile, “seein’ as the situation we’re in.”

“I don’t,” You blow out a tired huff through your lips, hands pushing away the wet, sticky hair from your face, “—it’s still there. Is that–normal?”

“Uh,” Ezra pauses, thinking, “I mean, I’ve heard a few hours, sometimes even a day. But, it should fade now, since you were able to—”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words with your eyes staring him down so intensely. 

You wouldn’t be able to sleep like this, the impending exhaustion come sunrise would make it nearly impossible to get home, thinking back to how easily you could’ve turned around and left and never put yourself in this situation. Choices, decisions, nothing good ever came from haste thinking.

“If–if it doesn’t?” You ask softly, suddenly feeling scared of the unknown.

“It will,” He responds calmly, nodding, “but how long…there’s no tellin’.”

An eerie silence settles between you two, aside the gentle hum coming from outside of the tent, a distant worry now–most places you were taught to be scared of the people you might come across, but here, inside this tent, you couldn’t feel more safe.

“Forgive me for being so forward but–it’s safe here, at least for a day or two. I’ve got the food, the water. We can wait things out until morning, little bird.”

You huff a soft laugh through your nose, moving your legs around him gently to one side as he adjust himself, draping the blanket shoved near the end of the bed over his lap and carefully covering your own.

“What would you have done if you never saw me?” You ask curiously, “Your people abandoned you, only a few days of supplies, do I want to know why you were stranded here?”

Ezra shakes his head simply, that answer being enough for you to gloss over the topic.

“So, is this the part where you ask to come with me?” Ezra’s shoulders shake in a silent laugh, hanging his head as he looks away, “What a fuckin’ day this has been.”

“You don’t have to drag me along,” He tells you, “doesn’t feel right askin’. But, since we’re stuck here for a bit, least until this shit wears off–”

He feels the sensation burrowing in the base of his spine too, the release of endorphins allowing you both a moment of calm before it ramped up again, undoubtedly. And there’s a sudden urge from you to touch him, stopping his palm over your stomach as his fingertips feel the material of the blanket.

“I can be convinced,” You tell him, eyes softening under his gaze, “It’s all I do for a living, bartering, trading–you’ve proven pretty useful, anyways.”

Ezra smiles at your indication, thumb rubbing along the back of your hand and reminding you that this wasn’t near over yet, his touch leaving a dull burn in its wake. 

“Keep the pain away and I’ll give you a free ride,” You promise him, “no tricks, I swear.”

“Another one?” Ezra says jokingly, finding the smile that breaks out on your face a clear indication that it wasn’t too much of an overstep, adding a little light to the situation, “I’m honored.”

And even if it did takes hours for the pollen to leave your system, a few tiring orgasms later shared between you both in a very heated, messy exchange of bodies rubbing against each other or his head buried between your legs, there’s a clear indication to never come back here, leave this behind you, and try not to be hung up on the man you met on this moon as he parts ways with you not soon after you arrive back home. But, there’s a reassurance in his words as he leaves you, leaning against the open door of your pod as you restock for your next journey.

“Can’t keep myself in one place too long,” He says regretfully, “but I know where to find you.”

“Don’t get yourself killed out there.”

Ezra laughs at that, full-body and amused.

“Not a chance, little bird.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[aeoki]

White Brim - Battle Royal: Chapter 8

Location: Forest (night) Characters: Touri & Hiyori

Hiyori: But, well, I’m exhausted. Let’s rest somewhere.

Not that there is a place for us “prey (fish)” to rest until this “Clam Digging” game is over.

Touri: I’ll massage your shoulders, Hiyori-sama! As thanks for saving me!

Hiyori: I’m not an old man, you know?

But I suppose it does feel quite nice to be appreciated.

Touri: Right~? Come on, Anzu, he saved you too so you should also thank him! You should give him a kiss – just like the princes in those fairytal–

…Wait, no kissing. Even if it’s you, Hiyori-sama.

Hiyori: Hehe. Repayment shouldn’t be forced.

Touri: Y–Yeah… Anyway, I know it’s kinda weird for me to ask you this at this point in time, but why do you have a gun? We’re not supposed to have weapons, right?

Hiyori: It wasn’t clearly stated in the rules that we’re not allowed to have them. I was running all over the place…

And I happened across one of my servants, so I called out to them. Then, we made a negotiation and I received their weapon.

We’re of equal standing during the “Clam Digging” game, but that’s only what it appears on the surface. Humans can’t abandon their titles and status that easily.

The servant came to the conclusion that they would be afraid of what’s to come if they were to defy me, so they happily gave me their weapon. I was lucky the one I came across was one of my servants.

Touri: I see… Yeah, life still continues after the game ends.

It’s possible bad stuff like getting their salary cut can happen if they get on their employer’s bad side, huh.

Hiyori: Yup. If we were younger, then we might have been able to fully immerse ourselves and enjoy the game by forgetting such shackles of our world.

It’s sad becoming an adult.

Touri: …Hmph. If Yuzuru was taking part in this game, then he would be on my side no matter what.

I wonder what he’s up to right now. I wanna find him and win him over~ He’s weirdly trained in all sorts of aspects, so having him on my side would be a huge plus.

Hiyori: Ohh, Yuzuru-kun isn’t participating in the game, huh.

I heard this from my older brother, but he went berserk during one of the games some years ago, so he was banned from participating.

Touri: Banned, huh… I wonder what on earth he did to get himself banned.

Hiyori: Apparently, he ignored all of the shackles he had from this world and reduced everything he encountered to pieces. It seems it was still done in accordance with the rules, though.

But it’s only in recent years that the Himemiya family has been held in high regard and not reduced to a parvenu that’s looked down upon.

There were also rumours sparked after Yuzuru-kun’s performance in the “Clam Digging” game.

Rumours such as “The Himemiya family is not a parvenu that’s all talk and no action. It’ll be scary to get on their bad side.”

Touri: Hmm… Is that why Yuzuru used to be in that facility for training his body?

Is this “Clam Digging” game an even more important event in the financial world than I had initially thought?

Hiyori: Hmm, I don’t think that’s the case. It’s simply a game, after all.

But as you know, factors like social etiquette and dancing ability are crucial standards for evaluation when it comes to us nobles.

If you show your worth at a social gathering like the one tonight, then I’m sure it’ll influence your interpersonal relationships as well your family’s social standing.

To forget this mundane world and immerse ourselves in the game is what merely appears on the surface. We wouldn’t forget our origins even in the midst of this ridiculous game.

That’s just a pain in the neck, though. I suppose it’s only my job as the “prodigal second son” to display our presence and value in place of my older brother who manages the financial world.

Touri: …………

Hiyori: Well, it seems that was quite a trivial topic. Tsukasa-kun might call for reinforcements and come back if we continue to be inattentive like this – let’s get a move-on, shall we?

I’ve managed to find someplace to hide, so we’ll head there for now.

We’ll win if we hold out until the game is over. It’ll be a draw to be precise, but it’ll be much better than losing, right?

Touri: O–Okay. I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble, Hiyori-sama.

Hiyori: Not at all! We’re on the same side so we must support each other ♪

Touri: (Hiyori-sama really is amazing.)

(To be honest, I did make fun of him when I was younger.)

(But it’s only because I believed the adults around me who said that the second son of the Tomoe family is a bad and incompetent child who only immerses himself in entertainment.)

(The Himemiya family has always been close with the Tenshouin Zaibatsu, so in our eyes, the Tomoe family was like a business rival. If it’s a rival to the parents, then it’s a rival to the child too.)

(But it would be prejudice to assume that just because they’re our rival, they’re also worse or inferior than us.)

Hiyori: ? What’s wrong, Touri-kun? Are you tired because you’re not used to this? Alright, “big brother Hiyori” will carry you on his back ♪

Touri: I–I’m okay! You don’t have to…!

Hiyori: Ahaha, you don’t like being treated like a little kid?

Touri: N–Not really. Oddly enough, I don’t hate it when you treat me that way, Hiyori-sama. If anything, it really feels like you’re my real big brother and it kinda makes me happy.

(...Then, why don’t I want Eichi-sama to treat me like a little kid?)

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[thelediz]

Sonic Underground episode 23: Dunes Day

I’m watching Sonic Underground in search of inspiration to finish a fic I’ve been writing forever. It’s a sad state of affairs. See the recap of the first three episodes here, if you're interested!

The plot (for want of a better word): The Sonic Underground are searching out a nomadic tribe of Freedom Fighters to secure their help for the Resistance, but their leader, Ifyoucan, holds a dark secret…

Oh! Oh, oh, this is Ifyoucan’s episode! Ifyoucan has stuck in my head since the first time I saw this episode forever ago. There is something heartbreaking about him that has just taken a hold of my soul and I cannot let it go.

But anyway. Anyway. So we open with the triplets going through the desert. Manic is annoyed because it’s the middle of nowhere, Sonic is on mission-focus this episode, and Sonia is complaining about being out of the city and is… putting on sunscreen and sunbathing inside the van… okay, girl, you do you.

The van has overheated, and the SWATbots are on patrol! Our triplets are in danger! But shadowy figures watch from above…

 Manic is apparently going to be a brat this episode. He’s complaining about being stuck in the desert and wants to know what people stuck in the middle of nowhere could possibly do to help the Resistance (while Sonia gets distracted by the pretty gems his frustration has uncovered because she’s on frivolous girl duty and I Am Going To Ignore Her). I want to shake Manic quite badly because there are SO MANY examples of wars being won by people who just know how to live and work and hide in their environs and will stop invaders from being able to cross divides. If you can control a divide, you’ve won, because an empire divided is an empire falling.

But I digress.

The shadowy figures prove my point, because Sonic can’t get traction on the sand for some reason (have none of these writers played Sandopolis Zone? Sonic's good in sand!), and the figures have chaos-empowered glowy swords. They introduce themselves as the Azcan tribe, led by Ifyoucan, who may or may not be voiced by the same guy as Sleet – it’s hard to pick.

I’m not sure which culture the Azcan tribe is supposed to be – there’s a veiled dancer at the camp, Ifyoucan’s glowy sword is a sabre, they wear robes and covered hair, and the accent is vaguely Arabic… let’s go for vaguely Arabic and move on. The episode is making a big point of showing these people as noble nomads, so that Ifyoucan’s secret is more easily accepted… not that it’s doing a very good job of hiding the fact he’s got cyborg parts on his face and hand, but don’t notice that yet!

The tribe says that the triplets need to prove themselves by having one of them join the tribe, and Sonic barely lets them finish the sentence before he’s jumping up.

Interesting side point that I make too much of here – generally, when they’re using full names, Sonia and Manic will refer to themselves and Sonic without ‘the’ (ie, Sonic Hedgehog). But Ifyoucan very clearly says ‘Sonic the Hedgehog wishes to join our tribe’. I make too much of this. He’s a hedgehog, not Sonic Hedgehog.

To join the tribe, he must defeat a monster in a hole. He of course does fine, because he’s Sonic. They celebrate with

THE SONG: True Blue Friend. The guitar in this is pure Sonic music and I’m all for it. The lyrics are just your usual corny friendship line, but the sound is good value and I dig it overall.

But Manic still doesn’t trust Ifyoucan, because he hides his face and—worst of all!—he didn’t DANCE when they played their song. SCANDAL.

I will admit, though, there was a shot in the song that made it look like he was scowling at the music, so Manic may be onto something here…! He goes to spy, and finds out that Ifyoucan has been robotocised! He goes to warn the others, but is caught by one of Ifyoucan’s bodyguards. They kidnap him and literally leave him in desert to die. Ifyoucan does not know about this until after Sonia and Sonic come to him in the morning asking where their brother went.

The bodyguards explain they were doing it to keep Ifyoucan's secret – the tribe would reject him if it got out that he was robotocised. But Ifyoucan cares more about the wellbeing of his tribe’s family, of which Manic is now a part.

Meanwhile, Sleet himself has found the trashed SWATbots from the start of the episode. Because this episode needs an actual villain. Far be it from this show to have the conflict just be the internal and emotional issues at play.

Manic is very much falling apart out in the desert, with mirages and all sorts, and a vulture waiting for him to die. So that’s cool.

And for some actual emotional conflict in the episode, Sleet is sounding suspiciously jealous of the fact Dingo has a crush on Sonia, despite having spent the last two interactions ignoring or threatening him, and despite his own personal obsession with Sonic this episode. No comment either way.

Thankfully, Sonic and Ifyoucan have found Manic collapsed in the desert, and Sonic nearly drowns Manic because this show is not about to teach anyone how to actually recover from dehydration (for the record, small sips to start, kids). He then immediately throws him on a hoverboard because that’s how quick people recover from nearly dying in these shows (for the record, you’re going to be out of commission for at least twenty-four hours)

But they arrive back to an empty camp – everyone’s been tied up in the tents! It’s a trap! Shock!

There is… something remarkably well done about the start of the fight in the camp, where the SWATbots and tribespeople are running through the close quarters of the camp in the dim light. Something about the music and the framing. It only lasts a few moments before the episode falls to the terrible and slow animation of Sonic Underground, but it’s surprisingly effective.

Everyone’s fighting back, the SWATbots are exploding from apparently getting sand in their joints (so says Sonia and who am I to argue), and Manic runs afoul of the beast Sonic had to fight earlier. He’s having such a bad day… but is saved by the bodyguards who kidnapped him earlier. So apparently everything is forgiven between them, which is... wow. Just wow.

Sleet and Dingo are driven off by the tribespeople and the day is apparently saved.

Ifyoucan thanks the Sonic Underground for their help, and takes responsibility for Manic almost being killed by admitting his robotocisation to the tribe, and sentencing himself to exile.

While shocked, it’s pretty obvious from everyone’s reaction that the fact their leader was a cyborg is NOT the problem with this statement. Because good leadership beats out physical differences, or something, the lesson is kind of fumbled here, but well meaning!

The newest member of the tribe must cast the first vote for a new leader (which is… an interesting legal choice, but sure), and Sonic of course votes for Ifyoucan, which is obviously echoed by literally everyone, and the status quo is restored hooray.

And as a weird coda, we have Sleet and Dingo making their way back home, with Sleet using Dingo as an umbrella, and… yeah, it’s supposed to be the final joke, I think, but whatever.

So I obviously like this episode, but like the one before it, it feels like there was a message or lesson that was supposed to be imparted here that just… wasn’t. This one’s a bit more obvious, in that Sonic verbally says Ifyoucan leads with his mind, not his body, and so there’s a big disability advocacy message, obviously, but it’s… yeah, it’s not actually brought across in any meaningful way.

Egh. I enjoyed it.

And yeah, Ifyoucan's story is... it's not handled well in the episode, but there is something about the subtext of hiding yourself and your pain so that you can be strong for your people, who would always accept you anyway... there is something important and powerful in there that has remained with me over the years. I wish it had been handled better, but... hm.

Come back tomorrow if you’re interested for more!

[firespirited]

About yesterday's cry for connection, several things happened at once, as they do. On top of the seasonal despresh hitting it's lows and teasing brief moments of clarity.

Small on the richter scale: The gmail app once again failed to block dad's email which was a seemingly anodyne "happy birthday did you get my ecard (i did and promptly put my emails on their 'do not send' list) , did you do anything special with your friends for the big 4.0?" 1- He's acting like we're buddies, I haven't spoken to him in a decade 2- He's either forgotten or in denial about his complete failure at being a decent human being in November which led to sis finally giving up on him. 3- One of his fave digs was my lack of solid friends (he moved us every three years so that's partly on him) and inability to do milestone stuff like an 18th or 21st birthday bash. It's very on brand to be able to break me in two nice sentences. But it's not so much him per se but the friends who turned out to be anti vaxx or anti mask so I expressed sadness and haven't tried to rebuild. I'm not sure there is any thing to rebuild when folks are explicit their beliefs exclude you.

Bigger on the richter scale: I've injured my pectorals several times in march doing abdominal building exercises and having to catch myself when my hip give out from pain. It's very painful and sets me right back. I need to work on all the muscles around the hips before I can start work on my atrophied lower back. It's at least 3 more months added to the rehabilitation process. Realistically I don't think I'll be rerooting or doing any handicrafts over 40 minutes long per week until 2024. And then it won't be commissions.

It's been 3 full months of rehab work, there is real visible progress but it's very slow and disappointingly small.

I also have to whittle down the project dolls I've kept and get it all out of the house even at a loss (oof) along with a serious re-evaluation of what I buy (double oof). Project dolls are only fun if you can actually *do* the project not just know the exact steps you *would* do. That means other types of treats and finding other things to do when I've got some free time and am itching to make something. The ones that will stay need hairstyles, maybe quick decoden hair and wigs so I won't be reminded until I'm ready, plastic is patient but I am not! (That'll actually be fun to do)

In good news, the anemia has improved and my eyebrows are growing back brown (4mm of brown, 6 of white lol) , I'm on a more solid treatment for GI candida and hope to heal my sore half taste-broken tongue.

I've resolved to purchase anti-mosquito summer clothes for walks if needed as a necessary health expense. Ties into the money insecurities mentioned before with a mental 'fix'.

Tiny on the richter scale but these things add up :

The whiplash of seeing dolltwt acting like they're the nice place for nice people or "it's only funny when it's us, it's malicious if you're someone who can't sit with us". Can't believe I got sucked into that nonsense. Stupid rabbithole to go down.

A youtuber getting too parasocially needy and setting off all my alarm bells.

Way more youtubers who *were* interesting and educational on certain subjects but lately have got lost in navel gazing about whether they're making the mind changing art/activism they dreamed of. It's part film grad, part evangelical need to have convert notches on your belt instead seeing the value in rebuilding broken things, paying someone's bills, prevention not miracles.

You could be educating for education's sake (teacher isn't a lesser job) and doing art for art's sake. I can handle a certain amount of self indulgence and there is always a place for self congratulation on a hard job but the performative is winning out over the active work and I just don't have much grace left to spare right now. I'd rather hear a well made liberal journalistic podcast on a subject than watch a radical leftist who'll derail the point with the implication that it's a sacrifice to be talking about this subject instead of being a 'proper' film maker.

Doesn’t sound like much but when you've carved out your hour of listening and that's not happening because it's become messy then there's a hole and it's really hard to find the right balance of interesting but no cliffhangers or nihilism, no toxic positivity no false promises. With my current desperation for routines and extreme pickyness: You see the problem right?

So, in a nutshell I need to find new treats, new entertainment, more courage to get rid of items I'm attached to, find rerooters in the EU so I can just refer all queries without having to explain that my back is rekt and the rest of me is rekt so healing will be stupid long, set a goal of acceptable hip pain while exercising and a goal of how much hip pain to aim for that won't mess with ab and dorsal work. Wait til enough emotional balance to donate recycle clothes that look rough. Dare to open up and make new friends knowing that heartbreak is inevitable. Cool cool cool. We'll start small.

❤️❤️❤️

[thenamesblurrito]

ask dump... what is this. twelve?

something like that. topics this time include: weather, propaganda songs, catchphrases, living inside a mechanimal, black markets, centipede watch, martial arts, backpacks, paintball, and Rhinox

Cybertron is not a very wet planet, so there’s not actually a lot of precipitation in most places. when there is, it’s definitely water, although often acidic and impure. there’s permanent ice caps at the poles, and it can get cold enough to rain dry ice. wind and dust are more commonly tracked weather patterns than humidity, although high humidity and occasional heavy precipitation still occur, they’re just guided by the planetary weather department. floods are very common in the Rust Sea, since it’s a seasonal floodplain in an endorheic basin. flooding is actually a major problem everywhere else, even though it’s a very rare problem. soil isn’t really a thing, and most of Cybertron is bad at absorbing water, so flash floods can be huge until they find a crack or canyon or porous material to soak through. underground cities especially need to be designed with this in mind

standing out in the rain isn’t actually a big deal for most mecha! water is iffy when submersed in it, but not inherently dangerous. your car will be okay in the rain, but not driving into the ocean, yknow? the average person spending hours in a torrential downpour may end up with some water damage, but it’s not a big worry unless they’re particularly delicate. honestly more people are concerned with acidity rather than water damage! flightframes flying through storms or who live near the poles or higher mountains do have to contend with ice buildup, which is a concern because of wing shape and weight rather than wetness

Velocitron is a desert that sees little to no precipitation, although it isn’t so hot as to be unbearable in SNAP so folks do go out into the sunlight. Caminus has a lot more water and thus wetter weather, Devisiun is two dry planets, and Eukaris actually has proper oceans. Carcer is like a blend of Cybertron’s metals and Velocitron’s rocky desert

yknow i’ve been sitting on this one for awhile and i still don’t know! i’m not well versed in this area tbh. i imagine there are city-state and planetary anthems, historical ballads about the might of the Stratocracy, religious hymns edited to include functionist values as praise, and old folk tunes taken and repurposed as patriotic songs. and of course as their equal opposite there are workers’ songs, old miners chants and spacer shanties, complaints about the government put in a rhyme and a metaphor and hummed on the job, junker ditties traded as a game on the street, and soulful songs calling for the Primes or the Guiding Hand to come sweep away the evils of this world. and all the other types in this marvelous post

of COURSE they do, this is in the ANIME genre! the sort of general faction catchphrases are in this lil chart here, eg the Autobots with the classic “Roll out!” that Optimus says and “Peace by example!” summing up their ideology. i also tried to come up with snappy descriptions for these tech specs that aren’t exactly catchphrases but fall in that same general area. otherwise, i am going to sneak in as many quotes, references, Easter eggs, and Furmanisms as possible

(the post this is referring to)

definitely not very survivable. or, maybe survivable, technically, but not super livable or thriveable. they are animals, not vehicles, and they don’t really turn into vehicles either. so while maybe you could fit inside, idk, ballast tanks, or air sacs, or something, it’s going to be uncomfortable, because you are Inside The Internal Organs Of A Living Creature. you will also definitely be setting off a critical immune response in said living creature bc debris isn’t supposed to be inside there, or worse, parasites. because honestly that’s what you’d be, a parasite. if you want to live comfortably inside a living creature, you’ll have to dig up some fairytales and find a Titan

aafdja;slgheuorjlhfhd the way you phrased this, anon-- jwrgohjjf

there’s certainly organized crime rings, mobs and mafias, and black markets that do focus on the smuggling of contraband or goods or even people. Thunderhoof is definitely not involved with any of these shhhh thanks. Lockdown totally isn’t involved either, and Rum-Maj absolutely has no connections to the underground markets of junkers. actually this is a niche i have Shadow Striker filling but she is so far in the background as to be invisible in SNAP’s story

in general i mean a lot of black market stuff is more illegal than automatically evil? like yes outlawed goods and services could certainly be immoral but they could also just be illegal as a method of control, it will depend on the situation in question. technically mechanimal parts sold for consumption are black market items, which is completely ignored on Carcer. when Maccadam preps a mechanimal dish from Carcer for school lunch, he is absolutely dealing in black market trading. which, cmon, it’s Maccadam. he knows how to skirt the consequences

i think perhaps the biggest arguably “non evil” black market is every junker trader, vendor, and fence. they don’t have functions so they technically aren’t allowed to do any sort of business, but they do anyway, and the illegality automatically makes them the widest spread and most ubiquitous black market. and it’s all like, innocuous stuff to just barely scrape by. recycled stuff out of the trash, scraps and hastily repaired items, maybe some handmade doohickeys. they largely trade amongst one another and very low caste mecha so they don’t risk catching anyone’s attention. they’re doing this for survival and barebones enrichment, not high risk items and giant trades. patronizing a junker market is a good way to support them, theoretically, but if you aren’t already 100% proven ride or die best buddies with a junker, good luck ever finding a market. they are not risking their safety so some strangers can buy their trinkets, that’s how they get empurata’d or worse. the locations vary and the vendors vary and the everything varies all the time, so there’s no real constants i can describe, but perhaps the most wanted items junkers would trade for would be medical supplies, hygiene supplies, fresh energon, and upgrade stockpiles for the gutter children. a communal benefit rather than individual profit

yknow i haven’t really thought about it? i feel like it would be a good insecticon species, and i like the idea of a parasitic/symbiotic relationship, but mecha are pretty averse to other things attaching to their bodies like that. i mean what do you want, a virus or something?? gross! it’d be like wearing a leech as a fashion accessory (and before you ask, no there’s not really any medical usage of these or any other mechanimal, largely due to how they can’t be domesticated and only spottily trained, and there’s just so many better tools to use)

however i think this would fit a niche as a parasite on other mechanimals for certain, especially ones with stiff plating and bulky kibble that can’t get around to pry them off

oh sure! and like there’s established martial arts on Cybertron too, not just on the colonies. it’s an ancient thing that’s not exactly something you can erase within a single totalitarian regime, if only for the outcries of “cultural desecration”. boxing is a thing here, Grandus and Star Upper are both notable boxing champs. fencing is a thing too, Star Saber and Wing both practice fencing as a hobby. there’s this whole post that includes fight dancing. it’s considered distasteful, but it’s also basically the place the excessively violent are shunted off to in order to express their urges and temper their anger. a very patronizing sort of allowance

actual martial arts include all the stuff you see in canon, like metallikato and jet judo. Yoketron is a benefactor of the JAAT and runs a dojo that teaches all the major forms. technically this is just for historical and cultural preservation, and it’s mostly actors, dancers, or athletes who come train under him with the excuse that the physical competence they learn can directly relate to their functions. there are very few, very regulated tournaments or competitions, and anyone looking to become a martial arts master themselves must petition to have their function switched to this specific thing. it’s generally much easier to get into martial arts on the colonies for certain, and on Carcer if you don’t know how to throw a punch by the time you’re a youngling you’re going to get hurt, so there’s definitely fluctuating levels of allowed and expected violence between cultures here. mecha are durable, sure, but two similar frametypes are likely to be fairly equally matched, so minor injuries are okay. the one universally official rule everywhere is no triggering of entrapment protocols

definitely, they don’t all have subspace and even digital things need some physical reader to be stored! typically most grounders have it easy, because trailers like Orion’s are pretty simple to work with, and may function as more than just storage. flight frames often have a little storage space in their own cockpits, like a natural pocket, but any cargo more than that and they’ll find it difficult to tote around, unless they’re a big flightframe with a lot of interior cargo space (which isn’t very common in this canon!). many frametypes have little pockets like this, even beast and toolformers, although it’s not going to manifest as a cockpit

most bags, backpacks, and other personal storage units must be designed to latch onto a mech as another piece of kibble, transforming along with them so as not to inhibit their alt mode or anything. so bags are more like streamlined boxes, manufactured person by person since there’s no standard frametype, and everyone has a size and weight limit simply by their own bodyplan. it’ll vary widely, and i think these personal storage units are a major staple of their “fashion” industry, which focuses on what we’d recognize as clothing maybe only 40% of the time. everyday simple objects like comms or IDs are designed to fit into even very small storage spaces for almost any frametype, and some things can clip on or magnetize to plating for safekeeping in absence of pockets

fsflgjlfjsdsj yeah yeah i think it is! not all paint is good, and not all paint is beneficial, but i think it’d be edible, if messy. maybe closer to food coloring than actual food itself? paintball would be a cool foodfight. it’d also work in bauble tea, or as sprinkles and fancy food toppers, or lil gummy balls

he does exist, he’s one of the JAAT teachers, he teaches a social studies class on community coordination. he’s not one of the ones i picked as a monster of the week, but i like that idea... maybe a swapsies au...

[loptrcoptr]

Today was our first day back at work after the holidays and I got word that there were 7 boxes of an old scholar’s files in the library that everyone had previously forgotten about and the facilities team told the librarian to ask me what to do with them

so! I was like “great, I’ll look through them” because a) that is my job, to keep as much old crap onhand as possible and b) this guy was one of the OGs at my work and I know for a fact he took fantastic notes/minutes/kept good records (unlike… a lot of other OGs did lol

So!! I go into the library to start digging through the boxes- dragged in some folders, new boxes, etc. to start organizing- and what do I find when I open these puppies up? Water damage! Recent water damage! Why? Because the library has consistent issues with leaks, which is why the librarian wants all our archival materials that are in there to be removed which is why I, the archivist, was asked to figure out if these boxes were of any use.

SO!!! “loptrcoptr”, you might ask, “if people know about the leaks, why he doesn’t anyone do anything about it?” The answer to which is I don’t fucking know and Im mad about it. They patch the roof up, I guess. Never works very well though, leaks keep happening in various different places. Luckily, only one of the boxes really got wet, and a second one got damp, and nothing appears to have been destroyed or damaged beyond legibility. Also luckily, I was able to go to facilities, get a fan, and set up an anti-mold-nope airstrip station in an office that’s going to be empty for the week. Not luckily, I told facilities why they needed the fan and the head of the group guilt tripped me?? “Why didn’t you mention this before? You guys have to tell us these things as soon as they happen” we’ll I don’t fucking know when it happened, do I, because we were all gone for a week and a half! And also! I didn’t even know those boxes were there until this morning and ALSO I AM NOT THE LIBRARIAN IT IS NOT NY JOB TO CHECK THE LIBRARY FOR ANYTHING EVER ACTUALLY

Anyway l spent the afternoon quarantining damp files and pulling out damp books because the librarian had already left and like. I understand how truly suited I am for where I work because the joint is an absolute yarnball of inscrutable chaos. It’s like an office sitcom mated with a science department and birthed this place, and I love it, but sometimes the chaos just gets to be too much even for me. Like, I’ve given up trying to get all my coworkers to understand the value of archiving everything, too much shit had been thrown away without my consultation prior to this so honestly I was surprised anyone even thought to mention these boxes to me. But also like… this is an academic institution why don’t you people give a fuck about the books in your library getting ruined?? Giles that only I care about are one thing but books? That y’all use?? Some of which are out of print?? Hello????

So guess who has two thumbs and is tired and is asking her boss for her own personal storage locker tomorrow morning 8)

[redwineconversation]

I'll fight their doubts and give you faith (Coupe de France Postgame Thoughts)

Same disclaimers as usual. As I said before, I really don't care if you post it elsewhere, just please hyperlink if you do.

Coralie Ducher was with Lyon before Lyon was, well, Lyon. Not that many people were, because no one really took this team seriously for a long time. Not that many people would stand around in the rain for a team the rest of the world wouldn't care about for another 15 years.

But Coralie Ducher was there, and she talked about an anecdote concerning Aulas. When Lyon was still playing at Gerland, the women's stadium was a bit of a hike from the men's stadium. It was raining, Ducher said, and Aulas made the trek from the men's stadium, where they had just played, to field No. 10, where the women was playing.

It was raining. I think they won. But the scoreline and the weather isn't what's important, is that the President showed up to watch a team the rest of the world wouldn't even talk about it for another 10 years because he wanted to be there for them. He cared about them, and wanted them to understand that he knew saying he cared wasn't enough, that loyalty happens when you are seen as dependable, when you still show up for someone when you have other options.

People talk a lot about the "Lyon DNA". It's not so much about their academy but more about the values Lyon believes are so fundamental to their players. Loyalty matters to a team like this one.

People like to make digs at Lyon's fan attendance - which, like, fair, but one team has won eight Champion Leagues and last time I checked fan attendance doesn't correlate to a UWCL title. Anyway. You can bring up the lack of fan attendance if you want. But there's a flip side to it as well. It means Lyon players notice who is there.

Aulas traveled with the team as much as possible. Part of it is a creator simply being in love with his creation, but part of it was, too, a sense of loyalty. As I said before, if you want to discuss loyalty, a lot of it just means being ... there, really.

Louisa Necib brought up the concept of loyalty, too, about how often Aulas would put himself in the media's crossfire in order to protect the club and the players. If the blame was on him, then the players could just focus on their jobs.

Michele Kang might have money but she does have a way to go. I think there were some good parts today - she did show up, which I mentioned in a previous post was fundamental in gaining the players' trust; she waited until after Aulas took part in the trophy ceremony before lifting it herself; she celebrated with the team but let them have their moment.

Bompastor said that Kang will spend next week with the team, which is also fundamental in getting to know how that team operates. I asked, once, whether Lyon is a team you'd want your friend to be around.

I'd want this team around, who is so fiercely loyal to the club whose values they hold so dear.

Moving on to the actual game - Lyon got the job done. Some teams know how to win games ugly, and this is one of them. It'll stand out in the history books because of the context surrounding this game, but in terms of quality, I've seen better. I've seen worse, too, but I've seen better.

I saw things I really liked. L'Equipe gave Hegerberg an 8/10 and van de Donk 7/10, which I think is fair. Gilles and Renard were solid as well. Carpenter didn't do a whole lot and I mean that in a positive way - she played well, kept her head down, and just did her job as a defender. Endler was bored in the first half and was put more to work in the second. I don't know what would have happened if it went to penalties but I'm also glad we didn't have to find out.

We don't know what, exactly, this team will look like next season. There are a lot of contract situations up in there. Hopefully things will be sorted out after Kang has hung around this team for a week.

They'll be back at practice tomorrow, albeit probably a little hungover. And they'll get back to work again, because they still have to play PSG again next Sunday, and they can't afford to lose that game because of the H2H goal differential.

[smugraccoon137]

Supergirl Season 1 Episode 5 Review and Thoughts

K: Sounds like a woman that knows what she wants

…Do you know what women want Kara? Sounds kinda fruity

K talking about Lucy: She's gorgeous, she's smart, she smells nice. Hell I want to date her

Kara what the fuck

Poor Alex and her lesbian ass being left alone with Maxwell lord handsome bachelor man

Wow I hate the concept that a girl listening to a dude's romantic problems puts her in the friendzone. That makes no sense. My demiromantic ass does not relate at all

Ew not Maxwell coming onto Alex

Also what part of the government does anything to help people?? Girl what planet are you on

Ahhh the irony of Kara getting friend zoned by James and then Winn getting friendzoned by Kara

Fucking Lucy Lane calling out James’ crush on Clark

I do like this moment where Kara realizes that Lucy is just as vulnerable as she is. I appreciate that cus there's nothing worse than girls deciding they’re enemies just because they like the same person. 

Okay not to laugh but I was not expecting Maxwell Lord's back story to be “When I was a kid my parents organs melted” lolol

 K: I don't know anything about romantic love

*Me taking notes for my autistic headcanon*

I had to look it up. That kid does not look 12. When did children get so tall??

Episode 5 the first time Kara faces the moral dilemma of not being able to save someone:

I personally love stuff like this and its something we don’t talk about a lot anymore. But used to be a big part of coming of age stories geared towards boys. Usually a kid or young man who doesn’t understand the value of a life until he takes one away from someone. And then subsequently is overwhelmed by the gravity of their actions. For some reason we just don’t talk about that anymore?

But anyways! We don’t really talk about how this affects Kara beyond the fact that the man who dies low key leaves her a mystery. One that seems to tie back to Maxwell Lord. I hope that we do in the next episode, because again this is something very worth talking about. Especially in the grand scheme of a super hero’s journey. I remember during The Batman animated series, and in the Justice League animated series that when something of that scale happened.

It was of importance, because it showed that our heroes can’t save everyone. That when someone dies, even a stranger, they feel a deep responsibility to that person. Because it is their job to protect the people in their city. They are connected to each and every one of us. And yes its a massive savior complex, but its unusual to find a Hero without one. Its a part of why they don the mantel most of the time. And especially with Kara’s history with being sent to protect her baby cousin, you’d think that that would directly be projected onto National City.

But yeah I hope we talk about it more. Instead of just “It wasn’t your fault Kara” and moving on lickety split. This is a good moment to talk about Kara so I hope the writers use it.

K: So you can have it all?

C: Of course. Just not all at once or right away

Just a line I liked and obviously a bit of foreshadowing

I can dig Maxwell as an antagonist. A man too smart for his own good. Supergirl as a person is this massive mystery right on his front door. And isn’t it just a part of the whole super hero thing to have someone obsessed with discovering your true identity?

[quatrocontracting]

Home Improvement Project – Hire Reliable Contractor

You should make every effort to verify that now the Plumbing contractors in London you pick for your home improvement is not just honest with you, but also reliable. There are many excellent contractors out there; the trouble is that you may have to do some digging to find the correct one. When you follow these easy steps, it does not have to be a lengthy and difficult procedure.

Make assured that the professional you hire is licenced to build in your state and city. Different places will have different licence requirements; you will need to enquire about what your Electrical contractors in London would be required to be legal. Irrespective of whether or not this is a legal requirement, everybody you hire must have proper insurance. The bare minimum would be adequate liability insurance to cover the value of your home. You would be vulnerable to liability difficulties if you did not have it when getting your work done. Your contractor should be capable of carrying and provide the necessary documentation to prove their licencing and insurance coverage, and you shouldn't never feel intimidated if you ask to see it. Asking for references is one of the finest ways to assess if Painting contractors in London is good for you. This is a reasonable requirement, and anybody who refuses to supply references should be removed from your list.

Don't hire a contractor until you know exactly what modifications you want to make. This prevents the contractor from convincing you to do anything you don't desire. On the other hand, once the job is completed, you may be unhappy that it did not live up to your expectations. Start a home renovation project only if you're certain about the materials you'll be utilising, the sum of money you're ready to spend, and how you want the completed product to look. If you're unsure about one of these items, go to a home-improvement store or frame shop and look around, perhaps asking a skilled salesperson for help. Don't forget about the innumerable books, publications, and websites dedicated to home renovation projects.

Home renovation projects may be exciting and can boost the value of your home while also making it more appealing to look at and live in. Choosing the proper Tile fixing contractors in London for the project will ensure you receive the results you want, therefore take your time and make an informed decision. Use these suggestions intelligently to discover the contractor who might make the adjustments you desire for the results you desire.

Before searching for Gas installation contractors in London to undertake your home renovation project, you must know exactly what you want. For example, if you want to complete your basement, you need have a plan or viewpoint on how it should look when finished. Because of the materials utilised, the contractor may have some additional advice on how to refinish a basement that will improve both the look and quality of the remodelling. Some contractors can even assist you estimate how much it costs to finish a basement, so you have a clear idea of everything you require. a

[emrdocumentationsolutions]

Could Private Investigators Benefit from Outsourcing Transcription?

The short answer is yes: private investigators can benefit from outsourcing transcription in several different ways:

Generates useable text files from audio and video sources

Provides fast turnaround for better client service

Saves time from transcribing in-house

Helps better organize notes

Saves time with your own note-taking

In fact, for most private investigators, outsourcing transcription is one of those “life hacks” that can decrease stress, improve the services you provide your clients, and overall make your job more enjoyable.

How Private Investigators Benefit from Outsourcing Transcription

You didn’t get into this business to take notes! But documenting your observations and findings in a clean and organized way for your clients is just as important as the investigation itself. That’s why for private investigators, outsourcing transcription gives you the best of both worlds: complete, accurate documentation services while you do what you do best.

Generates useable text files from audio and video sources

It’s common for private investigators to record audio and video during surveillance, not to mention recorded interviews and meetings, and other similar recordings. This is extremely useful as source material, but if the case ever goes to court, mediation, or other legal proceedings, written transcripts of those sources are even more helpful. Outsourcing transcription will provide accurate, professional transcripts suitable for court and all other legal proceedings. It makes you look more professional and gives added value to your clients.

Provides fast turnaround for better client service

Time is often of the essence. Your client may want to start legal proceedings at a moment’s notice. Outsourcing transcription to iMedat means you’ll get your transcripts back fast – usually within 24 hours.

Pro tip: rather than save all your audio and video files until the end of your investigation, submit them as you generate source material. For one thing, this will help you stay organized as you go. But there is another huge benefit: you can use the transcripts yourself during your investigations. Can’t remember what so-and-so said on October 23rd? Search the keywords you remember to jump to that spot in the transcript instantly. Much easier than scanning your notes or looping through audio files!

Saves time from transcribing in-house

Many private investigators believe they’ll be ahead of the game by transcribing audio themselves. However, unless you’re trained in transcription, you’ll likely be much slower than a professional transcriptionist. And, unless you have impeccable spelling and grammar, you may be prone to errors in the transcripts, too.

Besides, did you really get into this profession to type notes? For most private investigators, outsourcing transcription is a huge help, getting much of the clerical work off their plates so that they can focus on the specialized tasks they’re good at rather than the office tasks they’re not.

Helps better organize notes

As mentioned above, presenting your findings in an organized and cohesive way is just as important as digging up the information in the first place. Emailing a bunch of audio files or video surveillance recordings will not be very useful for your clients – at least not by themselves!

Presenting your clients with written documentation, including audio and video transcription, will help you better organize the information. And that means better-organized case files for your clients, improving their chances for a successful outcome. Outsourcing transcription provides private investigators with a better way to organize case files.

Saves time with your own note-taking

Don’t forget your own notes! Writing down your observations and findings is also essential for your clients as a summary or a description of what happened if video or audio is unavailable. But “writing” notes isn’t always possible. Some private investigators report that taking notes during surveillance is difficult or even impossible since you can lose sight of the target too easily. Besides, most people speak much faster than they write.

Recording your notes rather than writing them down solves these problems and can save you time, too. Simply dictate your notes, upload your audio files, and download completed transcripts that you can cut and paste into your reports later. It’s fast and easy to generate notes this way and quick and easy to use in your reports later. You save time at both ends!

Plus, as mentioned above, if you are not 100% confident in your spelling, a professional transcriptionist will help you improve your grammar with highly accurate – and accurately spelled – notes for your reports.

Private Investigators Outsourcing Transcription: Some Final Observations

Private investigators outsourcing transcription streamlines your services – and your day – in many ways:

Less time spent transcribing audio and video files into useable text

Less time spent organizing notes

Less time taking notes when using a recording device for note taking

More time concentrating on what you do best

Better-organized documentation and case files to hand over to your clients

Better work/life balance

Ultimately a more enjoyable experience with less stress and clerical work on your end

Of course, finding the right transcription outsourcing partner is an important step for private investigators – and not all transcription companies adhere to the same level of quality, accuracy, and professionalism.

That’s why you should trust iMedat with your audio transcription. With decades in the transcription business and transcriptionists specializing in related fields such as legal, law enforcement, and medical transcription, you are guaranteed professional results every time.

Contact iMedat – Transcription Services for Private Investigators

For private investigators, outsourcing transcription is the easy way to improve efficiencies. iMedat makes it even easier. Contact iMedat or call us directly right now at 888-779-5888 to find out how we can help make your life easier – and your case files better.

Blog is originally published at: https://imedat.com/could-private-investigators-benefit-from-outsourcing-transcription/

It is republished with the permission from the author.

[blorbosexterminator]

What do you think about the compulsory reading discourse: that students should be given easier to read books (ya books ) instead of classics? (the reasoning: because the students will find those classics boring and won't even read them)

I find it ridiculous, to be honest. It sounds exactly like should we only give kids Macdonalds because they won't like actual food? And it's obviously more ridiculous coming from literal adults ruminating on the horrible teachers that dared make them study classics. The idea that teenagers are too dumb to grasp any book slightly more complex than a ya love triangle with each character having one and a half trait with the groundbreaking theme of authority=bad is too demeaning and infantalizing.

Plus, what's a better time to read difficult texts other than when professional adults are literally being paid to help you grapple that text? When you're going to have to write about it (and thus understand it on much deeper level)? And discuss it with other people and get to hear more views into it, under the guidance of professional adults who nudge you in the right directions? I neither understand the insistence of literal adults that they were too stupid as teenagers to understand the Great Gatsby nor current teenagers who are currently crying publicly about it in the same breath as complaining that they should be "given" a voice and no one takes them seriously. I mean, if you can't understand a piece of somewhat complex fiction and insisting on your right to not even try, who would?

During the years of Middle and High school, I read a lot of YA fiction, most of what was popular at the time, John Green, the Dystopian YA genre, those fantasy novels, etc, you name it, I also read a lot of better, more established fiction, as well as, obviously, the compulsory readings I had in school, both established classics from my native country and British/American classics, Shakespeare, Shaw, Dickens, etc. I enjoyed both. I can barely remember anything of the YA fiction I read, honestly speaking, it was fun the moment of its consumption but that's it, there is no substance and at some point, the more better things you read, you'll be done with an author talking down to you, you'll aquire a taste for more refined things. YA fiction isn't the devil on Earth but humoring teenagers' institence that they are too bored by any complexity that requires their attention and curiosity and willngess to understand people that don't belong to their age group nor superficially share the same interests they do, and who are complex beings with complex thoughts and desires that don't easily fall in one group or the other and to dig for depth and profundity where they are sure to find it, then that's a sure way of raising a bunch of entitled empty-headed craps who take pride in their idiocity.

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. I

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

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

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

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 11k

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

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

chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”  

prev. ↞ || ↠ next  || masterlist

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

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

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

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

“And why is that?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Father-”

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

“Dad-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But Dad-”

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

“Dad, I don’t know-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You zeroed your vision in more. 

Is that a cut on his finger?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just seemed different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So...” 

“Marriage, huh?” 

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

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

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

“I wanted to ask you something.” 

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

Taehyung didn’t miss that at all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A bandage?” 

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

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

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

He has really big hands. 

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

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

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

He scoffed to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung.

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

“Looking for me?”

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

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

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

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

“It’s not real, though.”

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

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

Why was his voice so deep?

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

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

It was kinda cute. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel him tense underneath you. 

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

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

“Yes, so you do remember!” 

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

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

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

Wait. 

Oh God, not him. 

Anything but him. 

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

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

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

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

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

Were you in love with him or something? 

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

“Kiseok-ah! Come here!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’ve you been?” 

“Better than ever. You?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear God, you took your time with this one. 

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

Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight. 

“Who the fuck was that?” 

“What?”

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

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

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

Why were there so many intricate pieces to you? 

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

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

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

His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief. 

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

Your eyes widened in complete surprise. 

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

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

“Says the one who was thinking about me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?

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

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

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

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

It was the day of the wedding. 

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

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

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

And none of it was your real choice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You may kiss the bride.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He at least owed you that.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially since your last partner. 

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

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

To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful. 

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

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

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

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

The fool. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What if Taehyung really was no different?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shitty, as in...?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You took a deep breath. 

Maybe Taehyung is different after all. 

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[dreamescapeswriting]

Mistake ~ JJK [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 7K

PAIRING: jungkook x reader,

GENRE: Idol au, Angst, accidental pregnancy, smut (not the smutiest of smut but some smut), jungkook being an asshat

A/N: This came out so...I don’t know how to explain it. I like it! I do! I hope you do too!  🥺🥺🥺

How did it come to this? One minute you were a University student on a foreign exchange program and the next...

The next you were sitting in a hospital waiting room staring around at everyone. Never in a million years would you have thought this could have happened to you. Sitting in the middle of a packed out room trying not to overthink things. There was a chance all of this was a mistake, everyone was late to their periods sometimes but then there were the pregnancy tests. 

All 32 of them sitting in your room back in your apartment. You had to be sure after all. You weren't going to just take one and assume it was correct. All 32 of them coming back as positive only worried you more so you booked the appointment praying that the doctor would tell you that you were wrong.

"Miss Y/l/n?" All eyes turned to look at you as you slowly raised up from your chair. Feeling as though you had sprouted a second head the way everyone kept their eyes trained on you. No one could possibly know that you were there because you thought you were pregnant. It wasn't as though this was just a pregnancy section of the hospital. You were probably just imagining things.

The white lights in the small room you had been taken to were blinding. It felt as though you were under the spotlight or in an interrogation. As you sat in the chair you could feel yourself beginning to sweat under pressure.

"What seems to be the problem?" The female doctor in front of you asked. She was wearing a white coat and sitting in front of her computer, looking as though she was fed up with her day before it had even begun. 

You glanced around her room trying to figure out where to start with what you were there for. It was a simple answer. I think I'm pregnant. But how could you think? The tests were pretty accurate and so were the signs. You'd missed your period, your mood changed, cramps, you always had to pee and your breasts felt as though they had been in 10 rounds with Mike Tyson.

"I think I'm pregnant," You mumbled as you looked at the doctor. Saying nothing she walked to the other side of the room to grab a small cup for you. 

"Go take a urine sample for me and walk straight back in here, we'll take some blood too." She came across as cold as she looked at you. She probably thought less of you, someone who had come to Seoul and got knocked up. But it wasn't as if you had planned on this happening.

"You were right, definitely pregnant." She said as she laid out the test on the side for you. Two stripes on the small paper for the urine test and your blood came back positive within a few minutes. Normally when people found out that they were pregnant they were over the moon. But how could you be?  

"Would you like us to contact the father?" The father. That was where the issue lied. You'd been none stop calling him since you took the first test but you never got an answer from him. Calls would go unanswered, Messages would be left unread. All you wanted was for him to at least acknowledge that you were trying to get in contact with him. Not that you ever wanted to. He was an asshole to you but you knew you could never be able to do this alone.

Whenever you thought about the father your mind would go straight back to the night it happened.

Cramped into a crowded club with people screaming to talk with one another, music blasting out of the speakers and large lights were flashing everywhere. It was hard to see anything as you tried to make your way to the bar, the main lights were off and the only thing true lighting the way were some small white lights along the floor. All you wanted was some water before you could find your roommates. Your roommates had dragged you out clubbing for the night to celebrate the end of a test you all had taken a part in and now they were missing. Making off with the only apartment key there was leaving you alone.

"Can I get a glass of water please?" You yelled out but the bartender ignored you as she began flirting with someone standing right beside you. It was obvious she didn't want to do her job, not that you blamed her. The guy beside you was incredibly good looking. Dressed in a blue silk shirt and some black jeans, he looked expensive from his haircut to his tattoos. 

It looked as though he enjoyed the attention he was getting from her though as he continued to flirt back with her but you needed some water. You needed to at least try and keep your head straight.

"Excuse me?" You asked the bartender who gave you the side-eye, excusing herself from lover-boy as she walked to stand in front of you. Raising her eyebrow and waiting for you to speak.

"Can I have a glass of water please?" Rolling her eyes at you she began putting ice into a cup, pouring water and leaving you to go back to the boy. Who seemed to have suddenly lost interest in her altogether. His eyes lingering on you as he took in what you were wearing. A white long-sleeved shirt with a suspender plaid skirt, looked quite cute on you as you sipped your water. His mind instantly wandered to what someone like you was doing in a club like this. A club designed so that people would go home together for one night stands, the place he frequented because it was easy pickings for him.

"Hi," You turned to look beside you, a little shocked that someone was speaking to you. The boy the bartender had been flirting with was smiling at you, inching himself a little closer as he sat on the stool beside you.

"Hello," You smiled before going back to scanning the crowds of people. Your roommates were somewhere in there dancing and having the time of their lives while you were left behind, you just wanted to go home. It was getting late and you were tired from the test and dancing.

"I'm Jk," He told you as he held out his hand for you to shake. Glancing at his hand and to his face, you nodded deciding to play nice and introduce yourself back to him. 

"Y/n." Your eyes immediately went back to the crowd which only seemed to make Jungkook like you more, he took it as you playing hard to get.

"Do you want to go and dance?" He questioned in your ear making you shiver and move away from him a little. Personal space was something you valued a lot.

"No, I'm just looking for my roommates. They ditched me and they have the only key." You explained, your eyes never once leaving the crowds. It was going to be easy spotting them, the two of them were in bright pink matching outfits, insisting that it would look great in the club.

"Oh shit, want me to help you find them? I bet it'll be easier with two sets of eyes." Jungkook stood up from his chair as he began looking around the room even though he had no idea who he was looking for just yet.

"That's true, here-" Pulling out your phone you showed him the lock screen of you and your roommates to help you look for them.

"I'm sorry it was a total bust, I mean you can stay here until the morning." Jungkook had insisted on taking you back to his apartment to get you something to eat and some warmer clothes since it was starting to get cold out in the streets. 

"Thanks, I'll just nap on the sofa." You said right before the doors to his elevator to his apartment opened. Your mouth dropped to the floor as you stared around at everything. 

This place was huge. Walking into the apartment you stared around at everything. As soon as you stepped inside it was an open floor plan. The living room was directly in front of some large floor to ceiling windows that looked out at Seoul. Then the kitchen was right beside the entrance. White marble countertops, grey cupboards and a hidden fridge. The entire apartment was larger than your common room in the dorms.

"I would just feel awful about making you stay on the sofa," He shook his head at you. His mother raised him better than that. 

"I'll take the sofa,"

"But this is your apartment." He smirked to himself as his back was turned to you. Turning on the oven and boiling some water, 

"How about we eat some ramen and then we can talk about it?"

Your hands gripped onto the counter as Jungkook slammed in and out of your roughly, your eyes almost rolling back as you cried out his name. Turning to look over your shoulder at him you smirked looking at the state he was in. He was sweating as he pounded into you from behind, moans mumbling out of his lips as he continued to dig his hands into your hips. Dick hitting that one spot that made your legs shake and your eyes roll back. 

"S-Shit! Right there." You cried out as he continued to fuck into you. You had no idea how it had come to be here. Jungkook fucking into you relentlessly as you cried out his name. The two of you had been sitting on the sofa one minute and the next he had you bent over the back of the couch, against the kitchen counter. You'd lost count of how many times you'd come around his cock alone. The familiar feeling of tightening began to grow inside of you as your breathing began to get erratic.

"Don't stop." You begged him as you reached down between your legs to start rubbing your clit mercilessly. Jungkook grunted as he continued to fuck into you. His hand taking over yours to rub your clit to match his hip movements. Your hips bucked back against him as you moaned out his name.

"You're so fucking tight," He moaned out, hands digging into your hips as he continued to fuck himself into you. Biting down on your shoulder as he moans out your name just a little.

Jungkook smirked as you pressed yourself against the window. The glass beginning to fog up as he fucked you against it. The two of you completely forgot what you were even doing in his apartment in the first place. 

One more orgasm and you were going to be on the floor as a shaking mess. Jungkook had his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you propped up not wanting this to end so quickly. You'd been the best lay he had had in a while and he wasn't willing to let it be over so quickly.

"So good, taking me so well like this," He chuckled as he continued to roughly pound into you, kissing up and down your neck. 

The familiar sensation of his approaching orgasm hitting him, he'd been fighting it back since the moment he'd begun fucking you. You had no idea if you were ever going to be able to stop, it was addicting having him inside of you like this. He felt so good and it felt as though there was something there for you. 

"J-JK!" You screamed out as he began to hit a little quicker, chasing after his own finish as he kept you pressed against the window. The faster he moved the faster he knew he was going to cum but he needed it, he needed to cum into you and feel himself fill you up.

Both your moans filling the apartment as he continued to roughly fuck into you. Your hand slammed against the window as you shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overstimulation you were beginning to feel.

"C-Cumming!" You cried out, eyes scrunching together as your body spasmed, legs shaking as you clenched around him over and over again. It never felt like it was going to end as you continued to clench.

"U-Ugh fuck yes." Jungkook pushed your whole body against the window as he emptied himself inside of you. Holding himself deep inside of you as he kissed the back of your neck. Neither of you daring to move. If he let go of you, you knew your legs would give out and you'd be on the floor in seconds.

Waking up the next morning you felt as though you were never going to be able to walk again. Your whole core ached and you were dressed in a hoodie and some sweats that weren't yours. Images of your night with JK came back to you and you couldn't help but smile at them. It felt as though there was something really there for you and you couldn't wait to do that all over again. 

Rolling over ready to wake JK up with a surprise you frowned finding the bed completely empty. Your clothes were in a bag on a chair beside the bed. You wondered where JK could have been when you heard noises coming from the kitchen so you threw yourself out of the bed to go and see. 

Jungkook was standing in the kitchen making breakfast and dancing around, smiling to himself as he sang along to the music on the radio. 

"Morning," You breathed out happily as you watched him, fuck he was even prettier in the morning light. JK looked over at you and frowned wondering why you were still standing there and hadn't left yet. 

"What are you doing here?" He frowned looking over at you as he flipped his bacon over in the pan.

"I thought you wanted me to stay over..."

"Yeah, now I want you to leave," He laughed as he looked at you up and down judging you for standing there as if he would want to do all of that again.

"But last night-"

"Was a one night stand. Get over yourself...What did you think was going to happen?" He laughed looking at you as you pulled the hoodie around you tighter feeling embarrassed and ashamed for thinking that there could have been something there. 

"Oh you can keep that, I give it to all the girls that come over here, I have a bunch of the same one." You began to feel sick, staring at him as he passed you off as nothing more than something he had stepped in. 

"Seriously...Leave before I have to call security." Grabbing the bag of clothes from the bedroom you began heading for the exact, listening to Jungkook laugh as you walked out on him.

"I just have a number but I can't get through to it," You mumbled taking out a piece of napkin from that night. JK had given it to you when you went to look in separate parts of the club.

"We'll try and contact him and let him know what's happening. In the meantime you need to be careful, you're only in the first month of your pregnancy so make sure you're taking care of yourself." Nodding at the doctor you began to stand up from the seat, wanting nothing more than to head back to the dorms and cry about all of this.

You could say goodbye to your University course, they had no help with child care and they didn't allow children in the dorms. You needed to find an apartment and fast. At least if you had your own place you could find your own childcare and continue with the course. You hoped.

A month had passed since seeing the doctor and they finally told you that they had managed to get in contact with the father. Neglecting to inform you that the father was clear someone of high importance. A car had come to pick you up from your apartment and take you to a meeting with someone, instead of JK. 

"Are you Miss Y/l/n?" A female voice asked as you looked up from your phone. Standing there was a beautiful tall blonde wearing an all-black outfit as she held out a tray. 

"Sejin sends his apologies and promises you can go inside soon." Taking a glass of water she was holding out for you, you wondered how many times she had to do this. How many times she had to sit and be nice to someone one of her co-workers had knocked someone up.

"Thank you," Your voice cracked a little as you did your best not to cry in front of her. You'd been a crying mess for the last two weeks, going from one extreme to the other. Your roommates were beginning to catch on to what was happening. They'd heard you throwing up at stupid hours of the day and see the amount you had begun to eat.

"Can we get you something to eat? Drink?" Sejin asked as he pulled you a chair for you in a conference room. The guy you slept with must have been really important if they were pulling all the stops out like this. It made you wonder how they had gotten involved when the doctor had been calling JK's number. 

"No, No I'm okay thank you...Is JK going to be here?" Sejin stared at you as he frowned. That was the name Jungkook had given to you? It wasn't very creative. At least when he gave names to other girls he would call himself something else, not use his initials. 

"No, it's just me, you and the main boss." You nodded at him before looking down at the table in front of you. It felt awkward to be sitting there waiting for someone to come down and discuss your pregnancy. Someone who had nothing to do with the pregnancy in the first place that was.

"Ah you must be Miss Y/l/n, I wish I could say it was lovely to meet you." A voice boomed out as the doors to the conference room opened. Standing up you bowed to the man who had entered and he waved his hand to dismiss you. 

"Please, we're all friends here. I'm Bang PD." He sat down and smiled at you. Not the kind of smile that was reassuring in times like this but the smile that scared you. It felt as though there was some kind of hidden meaning behind all of this. 

"How about we cut right to the chase, no use beating around the bush." He laughed loudly making Sejin laugh forcibly as he sat down on a chair beside you.

"We know what you want so we have it, Sejin." He barked as an envelope was slid in front of you. Your name was written across the front in fancy writing but you frowned at the sight of it. 

"I just wanted to have some help from JK."

"JK? Is that what he went with? How incredibly creative," Bang PD uttered sarcastically as you frowned looking from him to Sejin. 

"I think you'll find the amount written inside of there is enough to help you." Pulling it open you almost fell out of your chair seeing the number that was written on a piece of paper. 

"We can have it sent to you right away and there will be no questions asked. Just never speak to JK again," The man explained as he watched the way your face contorted,

"Sir this-"

"Isn't enough? I can higher it if you like?" He questioned as he got up from his chair. Walking around with his hands tucked behind his back, your eyes trained onto him the entire time. 

"No...I don't want your money..." You slid the paper away from you as you watched him walk toward the window. Keeping his back to you as he looked out at the view. 

"I want some help from the father...I can't raise a baby on my own." You explained as you watched the way Sejin bit down on his lip. 

"You want the father to be in the babies life?" Bang PD questioned, he sounded completely shocked as if it was something so out of the world that you had asked that. 

"Yes. I can't raise a baby alone...I don't even live here, I just came for my studies." You began to feel angry as they tried to pass you a large sum of money to make you go away. 

"Do you have any idea who he is?" You frowned at the question. The way that they were acting had to have meant he was a big deal. 

"No. I just met him in a club, we went to his apartment-"

"Apartment!? He has his own apartment now?!" Bang PD screamed at Sejin who seemed to flinch a little at the idea of it while you seemed to grow more in confusion. Why wouldn't he have his own apartment? 

"Bring him in here. I have plans for him." Bang PD sat back down at the desk and looked at you. There was suddenly a switch in personality. Instead of being the strict and shouting man, he was with Sejin he was coming across as calm with you.

"There are some things you need to understand." You frowned before nodding at him. Inching your chair closer to the desk as you waited for him to explain everything that was going on.

JK. Or as you now knew him as Jungkook walked into the room with a smirk on his lips. 

"What did you want to speak to me about?" You stared over at him as he didn't even glance in your direction. The person you had gone home with was completely different from the person he was. Jeon Jungkook. A famous Idol that was in a band and lived a very important life. Bang PD had explained that Jungkook shouldn't have even been out that night and that the apartment he had taken you to wasn't even his own and if it was it would be soon taken away from him. You didn't know much about the idol life but you knew how strict it was, how strict some companies were with their workers.

"Jungkook, do you remember Y/n?" The smile that Jungkook had been displaying quickly faded when he turned to see you sitting there. 

"By the look on your face, I am going to assume that to be a yes," Bang PD laughed forcing Jungkook to sit down by putting pressure on his shoulder and looking between you and him. 

"Well, congratulations Jungkook you're a soon to be a father." Jungkook laughed while looking at Bang PD, shaking his head and hitting his hand against the older man's arm. 

"That's a good one, what did she want? Money to keep her mouth shut?" Bang PD said nothing as he slid the papers over to Jungkook proving that you were in fact pregnant and the colour seemed to be drained from Jungkook's face. Staring at the piece of paper, reading and re-reading it over and over again as he looked from the paper to you.

"I want a DNA test, there's no way...She was all over everyone at the club!" That was a barefaced lie but you looked to Band PD who simply stared at the younger man. 

"Maybe this will be a learning experience for you. No more parties, no more drinking, no more girls. You're going to be a father to this child." You felt as though you were in the middle of the school principles office watching another child be scolded for something.

"You will help raise this baby and you will do it properly. Do I make myself clear?" The voice felt as though it was going to shake the room and Jungkook nodded his head. 

"Yes Sir," Bang PD lowered himself back down into a chair and looked at you.

"We will be wanting a paternal test, you're almost 8 weeks is that correct?" He began writing things down on some paper. Writing down the tests he wanted to run, what the rules for Jungkook were going to be.

"Yes Sir," You answered as you remembered the doctor's appointment you had with the female doctor and how she was scheduling you in for a few more soon.

"That means your scan should be soon. We'll come along to make sure that we can get a DNA test done. Set a few minds at ease. In the meantime, this information goes nowhere...Neither of you is involved with one another in the public eye." Standing up he began to walk towards the door. 

"I'll go and draw up some NDA's and you will be free to speak it all out.," With that, he left the room and Jungkook stared at you from across the table. 

"How did you find out?" You looked over at him, 

"I took tests when I missed my period-"

"Don't play fucking dumb. How did you find out who I was and where I worked?" He cut you off not wanting to waste his time on something so stupid. There was no way the child was his, he was always careful whenever he slept with someone. Always made sure they were on the pill or that he used protection with them. 

"I didn't, the doctor called the number you left for me." Rolling his eyes he stared at you, looking you up and down as if he was judging you for coming to his workplace.

"You're only here for the money." You scoffed at him. It was unbelievable to you as to why you had slept with him in the first place when he acted like this. His whole attitude made you want to reach across and slap him up the side of the head.

"You mean the money I didn't take...I don't want money I want help raising a child." You argued back at him. 

"I thought you were too easy of a lay, I never should have fucked you. You've been nothing but a pain since." He grumbled as he looked over at you. Feeling nothing but resentment as he realised everything he was going to lose because he'd made one mistake.

"Trust me, if I'd have known how much of an entitled asshat you are I never would have slept with you either." You snapped at him pouring yourself a glass of water. The longer you sat there the sicker you began to feel because of the morning sickness and the sight of him alone.

"Signed and dated. Both of you will make terrific parents." Sejin said as he tried to make everything seem as though it was fine. That this wasn't being forced down upon Jungkook but you knew he didn't want to be there. Which only made you happier with it. If Jungkook was miserable it made you happy. If he was going to be an arse to you, you could return the favour back to him.

"We will see you at the next appointment," Sejin explained as he began to walk you out of the conference room. Holding your bag for you as you put on a jacket. 

"See you then," You smiled weakly as he escorted you towards a set of elevators. 

Months seemed to fly by through the pregnancy. Jungkook was worse than you had imagined. Refused to go to any of the scans, refused to even acknowledge that the baby growing inside of you was his. The boys all knew Bang PD had sat them down and explained what was going on and they seemed more excited than Jungkook. 

For you, things seemed to get worse. University was in the middle of kicking you out of your accommodation. Your roommates wanted nothing more to do with you now that they knew you were with child and refusing to tell them who the father was. Jungkook was nothing but mean to you whenever he was forced to be around you for longer than ten minutes at a time. It would be insult after insult about how he never wanted to have a child in the first place and now he was being forced into it.

"You're nothing to me, you know that right. As soon as that thing is born it will mean nothing to me." Jungkook hissed as you sat in the waiting room of the hospital. Bang PD had practically forced Jungkook there himself by sending him with a team of security and his manager. 

"This is all one big mistake and I'm never going to let you forget it," Humming at him you continued to read the magazine that was in front of you. Not listening to a word he said. You'd learnt to tune most of what he told you out as the months went by. 

"I can't believe they're forcing me into this. The baby is going to know I hate it when it grows up." You took in a deep breath. Ignoring the hormones that were beginning to make you feel angrier than usual toward Jungkook.

"I never wanted this. This is fucking stupid." That was it. You'd had enough.

"You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to get knocked up by someone who clearly loves himself too much to love anything else around him?!" You finally yelled out, ignoring the looks you were getting from the security men beside you. You were about ready to pop, 8 months pregnant and sleeping from house-sits to house sits because you couldn't find an apartment willing to take someone like you. Someone heavily pregnant without a stable enough income for them to rely on for rent. 

"You think you're the only one with problems?!" You got up when you heard your name being called out, Jungkook stared at you. 

"Try being homeless, 8 months pregnant with a guy who doesn't want anything to do with you and makes it clear that he hates you." You spat at him shaking your head as tears began to rush down your cheeks. 

"Do whatever the fuck you want. Be here or don't be here, I don't care anymore." You hissed at him as you began to walk down towards the ultrasound room. Sejin stared at Jungkook as he watched after you.

This whole time he had been doing his best to make you hate him. Make you hate him enough so that you would leave and never speak about this again but now he felt guilty.

Rushing into the room Jungkook sat down on the chair beside the bed you were sitting on. 

"You're homeless?" 

"What do you care?" You mumbled to him as you kept your eyes on the screen. All you wanted to do was check your little baby was okay before heading back to find an apartment. Sejin had been kind enough to rent you a hotel room for the last two nights but you couldn't continue to let him do that for you.

"Do you know what you're expecting?" A nurse questioned as she began to apply the cold gel to your stomach, you whimpered a little at the feeling. 

"No. I don't want to know," You admitted as you kept your eyes on the screen. Jungkook was about to open his mouth to say he did when a heartbeat began to play through the speaker beside the bed. 

"What's that?" He whispered as he listened to everything. 

"That would be the baby's heartbeat, nice and healthy." The nurse explained as she began typing, pointing at the baby on the screen and smiling. 

"Your little one is right here, sitting comfortably." She began taking photos. You had a million of them in a bag back at the hotel room. Keeping every memory of the little one whenever you could. 

"You'll begin to feel the little one move around more soon, they'll be getting ready to turn and come out." Jungkook drowned out the talk as he stared at the screen. The small blob that was his baby moving around and making his chest swell the longer that he stared at it. This was no longer something he could just ignore. There was his child growing inside of you. Developing its own mind. Growing cells and becoming a mini person.

Jungkook said nothing as the two of you came out of the ultrasound room. All he did was take a copy of the scan and head home. Saying nothing to Sejin who questioned why he was acting so weird. The boys watched as he walked straight to his room without uttering a word to any of them. They'd all stopped asking if there was any news on the baby. They were tired of being screamed at about it by Jungkook.

After another month of staying inside of hotels and you were scared you were going to deliver in the middle of a hotel room. The thought terrified you. Delivering a baby alone with no one around you. But that morning you had woken up to a text from Sejin with an address attached to it along with a message asking you to meet him there as soon as you were awake so you did. Sejin had been helping you hunt for an apartment willing to take you so you assumed that this was all it was. 

"Sejin I don't see how I'm supposed to afford a place like this." You mumbled as you walked out of an elevator and into a living room. This place was bigger than the apartment Jungkook had taken you back to the first time you met him. Your feet were killing you as you held your hand over your stomach. Doing this whilst nine months pregnant was not your idea of a fun time.

"You won't," Sejin told you as he looked around for the boys. Namjoon was the first one to come rushing over to you, making you squeal when he suddenly touched your bump. 

"Hi. Sorry, I'm Namjoon." You looked at him and smiled weakly, looking to Sejin for help who smiled down at you. 

"These are Jungkook's band members," Sejin explained as Namjoon and Jimin began to lead you toward a sofa. Sitting you down and smiling at you. They were smiling at you so much it was starting to freak you out a little, 

"We've been dying to meet you," Yoongi told you as he bought over a mug of hot chocolate and set it down in front of you. They were all being so nice which wasn't something you had been expecting as you watched them all. You figured they were all going to be as nasty and Jungkook had been about the pregnancy. 

"What...I don't mean to be rude but what am I doing here?" You questioned looking over each of them before looking at Sejin who seemed to smile bigger than you had ever seen him smile before. 

"Boys, would you like to help her." 

Walking you toward a room on the second floor you frowned when the door was pushed open. Inside of the room was a whole nursery decorated perfectly, green walls with yellow and green items around the room. 

"You guys didn't have to do this," You whispered as you walked into the room running your hand over the crib the baby would sleep in. 

"We didn't," Taehyung admitted as he watched you slowly turning to look at all of them again.

"Then-"

"I did," Jungkook's voice filled the room and you turned around to see him standing by a second door in the room. 

"I realised after the last scan how much of a cunt I was being," He carefully eased you down into the rocking chair in the room and you kept your eyes trained on him. This wasn't the Jungkook you had known for the last 10 months. This had to be some kind of twin.

"Realising that I was going to be a dad really helped me shake out of that phase in my life...It's no excuse but I was like that because I didn't have a chance to be like that before." You stared at him as the rest of the boys left you alone to speak everything out.

"You think a nursery will make up for it?"

"No. I think giving you somewhere to live, helping you raise our child will at least start to make up for it." You watched him as he took out the scan he had taken home the last time you saw him. 

"I realised that all of this isn't some kind of cruel punishment...I accepted it as a sign to grow up and take responsibility for everything." Your body lurched forward as you felt a pain begin to radiate in your stomach, whimpering out as you gripped onto the chair.

"It's not funny, I was being serious." Jungkook sounded hurt as he thought you were laughing at what he was saying. It wasn't until you looked up at him and he saw tears streaming down your cheeks he knew there was something wrong. 

"What's going on?" He panicked as you began sobbing and rubbing your bump. Droplets of water hitting the floor below the chair as your water broke. 

"I'm-" Taking in deep breathes as all of the birthing classes had told you, you looked at him. 

"I'm in labour, I need to go." You panted as you got up from the chair. Braxton hickes had been nothing compared to what you were feeling right now. 

"We...We need to go." He reminded you as Jungkook linked your arm with his own. You stared at him as he picked up a bag from beside the door, 

"What's that?" You cried out as another pain rushed through you, spreading up your back as you felt as though you had been hit by a car.

"The go bag...I was reading up on things. I have clothes in there, for you and the baby," He explained as he began to help you walk towards the elevator, calling Namjoon as he got inside. 

"Push!" Jungkook yelled as you sat with your legs propped up on the bed, pushing as hard as you could as you screamed out, 

"I don't see you doing this!" You screamed back at him as you shook your head. Sweat pooling down your head as you whimpered, 

"Here," Jungkook pushed pillows out from behind you and climbed onto the bed. Legs on either side of your body as he held onto you.

"We can do this together," He whispered as he held onto you, your mind in a spin as you cried. Tears streaming as the doctor below you told you to push again. Your hand gripped onto Jungkook's as you pushed, gripping him tightly as you pushed. 

"F-Fuck, that hurts." He whispered as you pushed once again. Holding him the entire time as you pushed. 

"Stop," The doctor whispered as she began to make sure everything was going well, 

"I can see the head." She announced as she looked up at you and Jungkook together. Your head resting on his chest as you got ready to push once again.

Smiling to yourself you watched as Jungkook bounced your small baby up and down in his arms. She was wrapped in blankets as she slept soundly. 

"She's got your face," You whispered as he walked back over to your side of the bed, sitting down on the chair and looking at you and then to the baby. 

"She's got your nose," He whispered back as he looked at the sleeping child. Wondering how he could have ever said what he said about not loving her. She was perfect. 

"I'm sorry I was awful to your mum." He whispered as he looked from the baby to you again. Too tired to sit up as you smiled weakly at him,

"We forgive you," You told him as you smiled at him holding your daughter. 

"I'll never stop making up for it," He told you as he got up to put your daughter down into her crib in the hospital. 

"Never?"

"Never," He chuckled sitting down again in the chair as you looked at him, smiling a little more as you began to realise just how sorry he truly was about all of this. 

"We'll find a place for you, me and the baby but for now I think the dorms are a good place. The boys will help whenever we need them." He explained as he began to take out his phone. The boys wanted to know when they could come and see your kid and he knew now would be great while she slept. 

"For all three of us?" You questioned, wincing as you sat up in the bed and turned to look at him. 

"Yes...I mean, I want to be a part of my daughter's life...If that's okay?" Nodding at him you smiled before laying your head back on the pillows. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~One Year Later ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone sang Happy Birthday to your little girl while Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist. The three of you had begun living in the apartment Jungkook took you home to and a relationship bloomed. Maybe it was being forced to be around one another for so long or the fact that you had a child together but there was something there. Jungkook asked you out not long after moving into your own place and the two of you were in a rocky relationship. There were still fights and arguments about the way he had treated you but you were working through them. Working through everything for the sake of your daughter. Who was covered in the cake as she smushed her face into the cake Jin had made for her. All of the boys were like uncles to her, whenever you needed time away for a test or Jungkook was working one of them would offer a helping hand. It was like she had a whole family. 

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​ 

[angry-geese]

Risotto Nero x Reader

Warnings: nsfw / mdni. shameless smut, shower sex, oral (fem and masc receiving), fingering, handjobs, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, biting. lots of fluff. afab reader. fem pronouns, risotto calls the reader a good girl like once

a/n: a soft, self indulgent smut fic with Risotto

Word Count: 2k

The job went well. It's not often you can say such a thing. It's a rare, but welcome day when nothing goes wrong. Risotto suggested going out to dinner to celebrate. Food sounded nice, but you were far too tired to get ready for a nice restaurant. You settled on takeout.

He insisted on heading straight home. Any paperwork you can get done tomorrow. The hideout isn't going to burn down if left alone for one night. Well, not as long as someone responsible is around. Prosciutto is probably there. If not him, then Sorbet and Gelato are.

Over the past few years, the small apartment is what you two have called home. Rent was cheap, not to mention there weren't many neighbors. While Risotto may have been fine with sleeping at the hideout, you weren't.

You can hardly pull Risotto away from work. This was a rare, but welcome occasion.

The hot water feels nice as it pours over your sore muscles, turning varying shades of red as it rolls off your body, staining the bottom of the tub. It's not yours. Most of it anyway. Baths don't get blood out. Not a lot does. Showers are a bit better, but you’ve gotten used to tossing out a lot of clothes because of the stains.

"Hey Ris," you call out, "you comin' in or not?"

Momentarily the curtain pulls aside. Cold air rushes in, goosebumps raise along your exposed skin. He tosses aside the last of his clothes, joining you.

You give him a once-over for any injuries. Some blood is dried to his hands, though he looks mostly uninjured. He's too tall for the both of you to fit in the tub at the same time, so taking a bath together is out of the question. When you buy a home together—someday—you'll get a tub big enough.

"C'mere." You say. "I feel bad making you stand in the cold."

You take his much larger hands in yours, inspecting them for any wounds. He watches as your eyes scan up and down his body. Aside from a few scrapes, he's unharmed.

He practically has to kneel so you can wash his hair. A few, pleased sounding grunts leave him as you work the shampoo into his scalp. It smells like you, he notes. Your nails are getting a bit long, and feel nice against his skin. His shoulders tense as your hands work lower, working the knots out of his shoulders.

"Lean back so I'm not waterboarding you," you say, carding your fingers through his hair.

He has to duck to fit under the shower head. The one at the hideout isn't nearly as short, but there’s no shower curtain, not to mention Illuso who has little regard for personal space, and a penchant for appearing out of mirrors. Maybe the next hit will give you two enough money to look for a house. He could really use a bigger bathroom. And a bigger bed. There’s nothing wrong with the one you have now, but he wants one where he can sprawl out a bit more.

Though his back is to you, he feels your eyes drift down his body. You look at him in a way nobody has before. It both terrifies, and comforts him. Most eyes fill with fear when they gaze upon him. Yours never did. Even as you first showed up to the hideout, wide-eyed and frightened, telling him you had just been assigned to the hitman team, you never saw him as anything but good.

Each passing job, each day that goes by, he finds himself falling more hopelessly in love.

Your touch drifts across his back, working the soap over his skin. You’re shameless in how you admire the planes of muscle, and his well-toned arms. In public you’re rather reserved, it's only behind closed doors that you let your affections show. Risotto values the peace of solace, and most of all privacy. The two of you become entirely different people when no longer confined to a certain appearance. Very few things fluster him the way you do. He stiffens as your hands work particularly low, your fingers ghosting across the sensitive skin of his thighs.

Your intentions seem innocent enough until your hand wraps around his half-hardened cock.

A noise resembling that of surprise leaves him, followed by a weak: "the food-"

"We've got twenty minutes." You say. "It'll be fine."

His pupils shrink down to pinpricks. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to give him a kiss. Just a quick peck. He pulls you back to deepen the kiss, nibbling on your bottom lip until you allow the slick muscle of his tongue to explore your mouth. A strand of saliva connects your lips when you pull away.

He watches you with wide eyes as you give his cock a few pumps, sinking to your knees. The tiles of the shower can't be comfortable, but they don't seem to bother you. You lick a stripe up the underside of his cock from base to tip. The kitten licks you place against the head only serves to make him stiffen, and let out a few pleased grunts. It becomes a game, trying to get him to unravel entirely.

He’s too big to bottom out in your mouth. The man is quite literally huge, it's only fitting his cock would match. The hairs towards the base are the same silver as his head, and neatly trimmed. You hollow out your cheeks, pumping what you can't fit in your mouth with your hands. A mix of saliva and precum drips down your chin.

“Fuck-” He’s cut off mid-sentence by his own moan. “You feel so good. You’re so beautiful.”

Risotto can't tear his eyes away from the way the suds cling to your form, how the water collects and drips off every curve of your body, how your breasts jiggle with each movement of your head. It's rare he’s so shameless with his affections. Even behind closed doors he was rather reserved. Love such as the way you love is foreign to him. You’re never shy in the way you love him. It's not that he doesn't like it—it's quite the opposite—but in a way he’s terrified.

“There- tesoro,” His hands bury in your hair, tugging gently. “Like that. You take me so well.”

You pick up the pace a bit, pumping his cock faster. One of your hands slips between your legs, toying with your already-wet cunt. He pulls you off, an audible pop echoes through the bathroom as your lips release his cock.

Shower sex is a bit hazardous. He's too worried about you slipping. Still, he falls to his knees, his large hands ghosting down your sides. He leaves a trail of wet, open mouth kisses down your stomach, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. His tongue briefly dips between your folds.

He presses kitten licks to your clit, his touch achingly gentle. You angle your hips to give him better access. He latches onto the bundle of nerves, lapping and sucking desperately, rolling his tongue over the small bud. Your fingers bury in his wet hair, guiding him to where you need him most. The wet, lewd noises of his tongue can barely be heard over the shower and your own moans. Risotto’s name spills past your lips like a prayer. His ring and middle finger press into you. They pump in and out of you slowly at first, hooking and stroking against your g-spot.

His gaze drifts up your body, admiring every dip and curve. He takes you in like a man starved and given his first meal in weeks. You grind down against his face as you near your release. Steam coils off his back in ribbons, floating off and dissipating in the humid bathroom air.

Risotto pulls away, a wet smack echoing through the bathroom. There's a dark, needy look in his eyes, which are already hazy with lust. His cheeks are flushed; either with need, or from the hot air.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he says, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “and you won't be able to walk right for a week, tesoro.”

You let out a squeak as he hauls you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your arms loop around his shoulders, your fingers lacing together behind his back. He mutters a weak "I've got you" into the crook of your neck.

The head of his cock is slick with precum. It presses into you slowly, filling you inch by inch. The stretch stings a bit, though with the prep it hardly hurts at all. He was always terrified of hurting you when you first got together. Sometimes he still is. You constantly have to remind him that you're tough, and you'll survive a little manhandling.

He groans as he bottoms out, muttering a weak "good girl" into your ear. You feel so impossibly full. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs so hard you think they'll bruise. Not that you mind. Risotto gives you a moment to adjust to his size, although it's not needed.

“Please,” you say, your voice weak.

A dark laugh leaves him, coming from low in his chest. “Please what?”

“Fuck me,”

The heat that pools low in your stomach is undeniable. Risotto’s touch leaves you with an aching need you’ve never been able to replicate. Many nights when he was away on a job you would try to recreate his skilled touch. Always to no avail. Your hands never compare to the real thing.

Being so at his mercy is intoxicating. There's an odd, weightless feeling as he fucks into you. His hips meet yours in unrelenting thrusts. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoes through the bathroom, just barely drowned out by your collective moans, and the rushing of the shower. The angle allows him to hit deep, his cock curving in a way that makes your toes curl. His teeth sink into the junction where your neck meets your shoulders, leaving a faint, crescent-shaped indent. Tension builds in your stomach like a coil being wound tight.

You fit around him like a glove, your warm, wet cunt clenching around him in a way that threatens to make him cum on the spot. Nothing feels quite as good as the way you do. Before he never had much of a sex drive. It was something he had gone most of his adult life without. But upon meeting you, finally feeling your touch, he can never seem to get enough.

His own release creeps up on him far sooner than he expected, though you don't look to be far behind him. You're flushed from your forehead to your chest, blush dusting the tips of your nose and ears. Your moans—mixed with various curses and praises—echo through the room. His thrusts grow sloppy as he nears his own orgasm, his hips rocking against you in short, needy thrusts.

What sends him over the edge is the way your nails dig into his back, raking up the hard planes of muscle. Hot ropes of his cum spill into your unprotected womb.

His hand moves down to toy with your clit, working circles around the bundle of nerves. Your skin feels feverishly warm against his. He thrusts until the coil in your stomach snaps and you cry out, your legs tightening around his waist. You ride out your orgasm on his cock, his thrusts slowing.

He pulls out slowly so as to not make too much of a mess. Your arms remain around his shoulders to steady yourself. Shamelessly he leans back to admire his work. The sight of his cum dripping down your thighs is enough to make him want a second round. He likes taking his time with you, but he’ll never pass up on a quickie.

Risotto looks at you with such adoration that it makes your chest swell with affection. The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, but driven by need. His hands move to cup your cheeks, brushing your wet hair out of your face. It's another moment before he’s hauling you into his arms, heading for your shared room.

The moment is only disrupted by a knock on the door.