#why are you like physically discomforted by OTHER people shipping a pair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

221bshrlocked · 3 years

Text

masked in desperation

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6044

Warnings: Verbal Degradation. Physical Humiliation involving Din making reader wet herself. Dirty Talk. Penetrative, Non-Protective Sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong por favor). Rough then Soft Din. Don't worry, this is consensual and there is aftercare involved.

No summary because I don't even know what to call this? All you guys need to know is that this fic is based on/inspired by the following asks [x] [x] [x] [x]

A/N: Uhhh this is new for me so I'm sorry if I didn't get the dynamic involved with a humiliation kink right. Please let me know how I could correct anything should there be something off. This was supposed to be rougher...but I turned soft midway because nervous Din makes me warm. I hope you like it nonetheless though. Comments are hella appreciated. And you can add yourself to the taglist here. Enjoy and please don't @ me once you finish this fic. And I apologize that it took long, this semester was hell.

It was an act of crazed desire concealed beneath irritation and anger, irritation with you for managing to claw yourself into his heart and anger at himself for allowing you to do so freely. He couldn't deny his feelings anymore, not if he wanted to retain whatever sanity he had left around you. What started out as nothing but stress relief and a way to help with the pain left behind by Grogu leaving turned into Din wishing he could stake his claim on you every moment of every day so you wouldn't seek anyone else out. Not that he genuinely believed you would. Still...

And it wasn't like this was any different from what the two of you usually do. At least that's what he says to excuse his twisted behavior, to not dwell too much on his sick, possessive fantasies.

It was driving him mad. He wanted to mark you up, always did during those passionate nights, loved watching as you tried, and failed, to cover up his love bites and handprints from the guild members. But he also craved to feel the same way. He wanted to bear traces of you on him so people knew how much he cared for you, perhaps even recognized the hold you have on him. The only problem was, no one would ever see the angry nail scratches and bite marks you left every night on his skin because of his beskar. So this, this would do the trick, even if it was barely noticeable, even if it would be gone when he washed his beskar, even if the two of you would be the only ones who knew what happened behind closed doors.

The weird thing was, he doesn't even know how he got to this point. Well, that's not true. He can actually trace his way to this moment, but he feels ashamed to do so? Reluctant maybe. It didn't matter what he was feeling at this point. All he knew was that he needed to watch you as you humiliated yourself in front of him, and had no power to do anything about it. Perhaps it was because, deep down, he wanted to show you that he'd accept you no matter what. He wanted to prove to you that he may just be worthy of having you in his arms. He wanted to assure you that he would be committed to you until his dying breath. And this, in some way, was the solution.

Before he can reevaluate and dwell too much on his decision, he fills a cup with water and heads towards you, ignoring the Marshal's glances as he approaches you and taps on your shoulders.

"Yeah?" You turn around, and Din forces himself to stand his ground when he sees your smile growing wider as you take the water from his hand. "Oh aren't you sweet. Careful, or else they'll think you're growing soft." You tease him as you down the cup of water and hand it back to him before returning to fixing the ship. He says nothing as he walks back towards the cantina, and resumes his quiet meditation.

And that's how it goes for the next couple of hours. He brings you a cup of water every so often, murmuring something or other about how he doesn't have time to take care of you if you suffered from a heat stroke before leaving immediately. Din quietly thanks the maker for your discomfort with public refreshers, because this plan wouldn't have worked if you decided to go to the cantina or elsewhere to relieve yourself. He's locked his ship's refresher and made sure to not be anywhere in sight when you sought him out to ask about the issue with the door.

He feels himself grow harder when he notices you squirming as you work on the ship, softly palming himself through his pants when you halt your movements every couple of minutes to either cross your legs or push your hand between your thighs to attempt and alleviate some of that pain. A part of him feels horrible for putting you through this, but something tells him it will be worth it in the end. Din Djarin isn't a man of prayer, but he pleads to whatever higher power that created you that this wouldn't backfire and make you leave him.

As the twin suns slowly set beneath the sky, Din moves away from where he's been hiding and heads towards the ship, making sure he is in your line of sight as he walks up the ramp and towards his armory. He quickly takes out the durasteel cuffs from where he's set them, hiding them behind his back as he pretends to head towards the cockpit.

However, he stops when he sees you rushing past him and setting all of your tools aside. You're mumbling angrily beneath your breath when things begin to fall over, growling when you try to fix them a couple of more times, and they continue to fall.

"Motherfucking shit," Din hears you swear as you carelessly try to set the box again and it falls over. Shaking your head, you turn around and sprint past him again towards the refresher. His eyes never leave your shaking form as you push on the refresher button numerous times and nothing happens.

"Pfassk! Din, how angry would you be if I broke this fucking door right now?" You try to grab the gun on his holster but he is quicker than you, slamming his hand on your own to prevent you from taking it.

"Extremely." His answer is short and straight to the point, mostly because he can't trust himself to respond to you without giving himself away.

"God please I- I need..." You hesitate and try to remove your hand from him, only to feel his hold tighten around your wrist. He thought you'd break and confess what you needed to do due to your desperation, but you don't, holding your tongue and looking up at him quizzically when he removes your wrist and clasps one side of the cuff on them.

"Din, what- what're you doing?" You look down and watch as he clasps the cuffs on your other wrist and ensures that they aren't too tight around your wrists before he locks them. Before you can ask him again, Din drags you across the ship and into the cockpit, ignoring your annoyed murmurs as he sits down and pulls you onto his lap.

You squirm around and try to get up but Din’s hold on your waist tightens and he slides you against his beskar until you fall into his chest. He says nothing as you push away and try to maneuver yourself so your legs aren’t wide open. He chuckles lowly when he sees how much you’re struggling, finally allowing you to put some space between the two of you. You rest your back against the controls board and take a few deep breaths before you stare at him.

“Can you please let me go?” You ask patiently, and hope he sees how genuine and serious you’re being. When he sits back but keeps his hold on you, you know he isn’t going to make this easy.

“Why?”

“Because I- I need to take care of something,” you look away when you respond and Din feels his cock twitch in his pants at the sudden shyness taking over.

“How about you let me take care of you?” He takes his gloves off and throws them aside, smiling to himself when he sees you shiver as he moves his hands up and down your body. You watch him like a hawk and you feel yourself growing wet for a moment, but you realize this reaction is the last thing you want to experience in his presence right now.

“Wait Din- just...it’s not like that.” You bite your lower lip and stifle a moan when he cups your tits and softly flicks at your hardened nipples.

“No? And yet here you are melting at my touch...your body knows me mesh’la, it’s blooming for me and I’ve barely touched you. Sweet girl, don’t you want me to make you feel good? I’ve been thinking about you all day long, about kissing you until you’re breathless...and biting you until you have my mark everywhere. Don’t you want me to show you just how much I’ve missed you?” Din knows he’s not being fair but the way your eyes are glowing with lust is enough to ground him so he could carry out his plan.

“I- I do...fuck, Din- I really do. I barely think of anything else...but I really need to-” You shut your eyes and groan as soon as you feel Din’s hand descend down your chest and rest on your lower stomach. He supports your back as he slowly begins to push against your navel, watching with fascination as your face contorts from pain and pleasure the harder he pushes on your muscles. You’re not sure what’s happening for a few seconds until you manage to open your eyes and look at him. His visor prevents you from seeing what he’s thinking but none of it matters when you feel him shift underneath you before he eases up. You sigh in relief but Din repeats his actions, only this time, he’s becoming a little more aggressive with his touches.

"N-no wait please I-"

"What's the matter mesh'la? You're usually fucking me like a loth-cat in heat by now, begging for me to have my way with you...take what I want until you feel properly fucked and filled with my cum." Din leans forward, never once easing up as he begins to move you over his beskar-clad thigh. There’s not much you can do due to the cuffs and how much advantage Din has over you in terms of muscle and size so you do the only thing that’s left.

You beg.

"Please, please Din I- I just...I need to-" It takes every ounce of control not to let go of your body’s function and you realize you’re not making much sense when Din cuts you off again and asks you what you want.

"Need to what? Go on sweet girl, tell me. What do you need?" His motions become more rough as he alternates between shoving his hand against your bladder and moving your clothed heat across his thigh. Din wants nothing more than to push you to the floor and fuck you until you can’t remember anything but him, but he tries his best to keep himself in check until he gets what he wants.

"I'll do anything Din just...need the- the refresher. I'm so- so...maker, please wait-" The controls dig into your back the more you lay on them but you can’t find it in yourself to care because a different kind of pain shoots down your spine when Din brings you closer to him and hikes your shirt up. His palms are warm against your skin and you hate how good they feel because this was not how you saw the day going with him.

"You know the safeword. Say it if you want me to let you go and I will." His tone shifts and you throw all caution aside as you confess to him why you need to leave.

"Din please...I really need to pee. I- I'll come back right away but I- oh it's too much, t-too much." You think he’s going to apologize and let you go when you tell him but all your admission does is cause him to momentarily stop before he wraps his arms around you and stands up. He’s pushing you up against the wall, not caring for what you just said to him or how rough he’s being as he nudges his leg in between your thighs and resumes his antics from before.

"I know."

The curt response washes over you like ice and your eyes begin to water as soon as Din takes off his helmet and you see him smiling down at you. You don’t know that you’re shaking in his arms but he leans down and nuzzles into the crook of your neck to commit the moment to memory. He loves the effect he’s having on you and although a small part of him feels bad, he doesn’t bother or care to hold back as he brings himself flush against you, the action causing his beskar to push deeper against your navel and have his desired effect.

"Din?" He thinks your whimpers might make him cum right then and there but he takes a deep breath before he pulls away and looks down at you. He’s sure that his eyes don’t convey an ounce of guilt at the moment, the opposite actually, and it only brightens his smile as he pulls down your tank top strap far enough to give him access to the top of your breasts. Din moves closer to you and lays lazy kisses across your heated skin, all the while attempting to grab your attention so he could tell you what he wanted.

"Why do you think I kept handing you water all day ner ka'rta?"

"W-wha-?" Your sniffles pull at his heart but he knows that you’re not in any physical danger and that all you need to do is whisper your safeword and he’d let you go. When a tear drop trails down your chin and hits his forehead, Din has to pull away to take a better look at you. He hates how much he loves the way you’re looking at him right now, like he’s simultaneously a villain and a savior to your predicament.

"And who do you think locked the refresher? Sweet girl… I thought you were smarter than that." Your surprised gasp adds more to the innocence he’s seeing in you and it’s the last straw before he holds onto your waist and begins to move you across his thigh again.

"You what?"

“Go on pretty, I know how much you’re trying to hold it in. ‘m not letting you go any time soon,” Din talks down at you and if you weren’t trying to prevent yourself from embarrassing yourself in front of him, you’d think it was the sexiest tone he’s had with you yet. But it’s getting more difficult to control your bladder and even though you get the sense that he will probably win in the end, you still try to hold off as much as possible.

“Look at you trying so hard...prettiest fucking sight in the galaxy. And do you know what makes it even better? I can smell how much you want me...this tight, wet cunt is begging for my cock. You can have me sweetheart, you can have me right now if you want. But you know what you have to do.” You’re shaking in his arms and plead pathetically when he applies more pressure on your navel. You try to ask him why again but you can’t find the words and resume moaning his name as he uses you.

And that’s what he’s doing. He’s using you. Like he owns you. Like he has the right to control every muscle in your body. You’re not sure what it is that made him act like this all of a sudden and you know it ultimately doesn’t matter because like he said, he won’t be stopping any time soon. It’s just strange that he wants this. He wants you to embarrass yourself. He’s practically helping your body let loose so you could wet yourself. You try to convince yourself that nothing about this should be turning you on, but the way his eyes are hazed with lust and desperation makes you reevaluate your thoughts and you manage to look up at him as he begins to speak again.

“It’s okay mesh’la, you can let go. Let go, now! Make a mess sweetheart. Make a mess of me, I won’t fuck you till you ruin my beskar and make this ship dirty. Go on. Or do you want me to help you again?” Din isn’t sure what’s come over him but he doesn’t hold back anymore, slipping his hand underneath your pants and pushing hard on your bladder until he feels your thighs squeeze around him.

“D-din fuck...oh- my...maker I- I can’t-” You throw your head back as you fist your hands into his cowl, holding on to that last bit of self control before you’re no longer able to. As he lifts his hand and pushes again, the thread breaks and tears slowly roll down your cheeks as you frown up at Din when your bladder gives out. Din looks into your eyes one last time before his attention moves south and his jaw clenches tightly when he notices the material of your pants grow darker the more you relieve yourself.

He doesn’t bother to stop, continuing to apply pressure on your lower stomach as a day’s worth of water floods down your legs and onto his beskar. He watches with fascination as his pants grow wet as well before he hears the faint sound of droplets falling onto his ship. You follow his line of sight and whimper in embarrassment when you notice just how big of a mess you made. There’s a small puddle forming where the two of you are standing and your nervousness only grows when you see how wet Din’s pants are.

When there’s nothing left and your shaking subsides a little, Din removes his hand from you and returns it to your waist, squeezing the skin he has access to so he wouldn’t strip you and fuck you in the middle of your mess. Every time he moves his foot, he can hear the soft splashing sound of the puddle underneath him and it only makes him harder. When he finally looks at you, he’s met with the most vulnerable expression he’s ever seen on you and although he wants nothing more than to kiss you and apologize, he allows himself to go just a little further until he sees you’re no longer able to put up with him.

“D-din...you- you made me, I-”

“Oh sweet girl, I made you do nothing.” The look of shock on your face is worth the hassle and he watches as you pout your lower lip before more tears leave your gorgeous eyes.

“You’re just a filthy girl, wetting yourself in the middle of my ship and not caring how dirty you’ve become...you really couldn’t hold it in cyar’ika? Look at this, look at the mess you made of my armor. You know how valuable beskar is and yet you pissed all over it. And my ship!? Didn’t we just clean this ship pretty?” Din could feel you melting into him with every word that passes through his lips and when you look away from him, his smile falls and he quickly grabs your neck, turning it straightforward so he could look into your eyes.

“No, you don’t get to look away from me when you’ve just pissed all over yourself and me. Maybe I should change your name, call you ad’ika from now on.” He has to hold back from smiling when he sees the moment you recognize the word. He’s only ever used that word whenever he talked with Grogu and you knew exactly why he was bringing it up now. “You’re my little girl aren’t you? My filthy, pretty little ad’ika who can’t fucking control herself and marked me up like she has the right...like she owns me.” Din watches as your expression softens a bit at his last admission and he trails his gaze down your nose until he is only focusing on your lips.

You can’t help but also stare at his lips and Din uses the brief moment of distraction to unbutton your pants and slip his hand into your panties, humming in approval when he feels the wet fabric scratch deliciously at his knuckles. You gasp when you feel his fingers softly rubbing your slit and as you look into his dark brown eyes, Din slips two fingers into your wet cunt and stops.

“Fuck, you’re so wet ad’ika, so warm and wet and ready for me.” He nudges his fingers deeper into he finds the spot that makes you see stars. You know immediately what he wants to do and reach for his arms as he grows closer to you. When they begin to get in the way, Din takes hold of the cuffs and raises them high above your head until the cuffs are glued to the wall. He can’t stop from smiling down at you, all stretched out and ready to be thoroughly fucked. But he doesn’t give in just yet.

“Din it’s...you’ll get dirty. I- I don’t want you to-”

“I don’t fucking care,” he growls as he leans down and bites shoulder again, moaning against your skin when he feels your cunt clench around him. “That’s it, open up for me...let me make you feel good. I- I want you to scream my name sweetheart, scream my name as you make a mess of me. Please...I need it, need- maker...need you to drench me again.” His words twist something inside of you and you lean back as he moves his thick fingers in and out of you until you feel that familiar pressure all over again.

“Oh Din...your fingers f-feel so- so good.”

“That’s right ad’ika, only I get to touch you. Only I get to watch you come undone...only I get to wear your scent, your beautiful fucking wet scent. I- I won’t wash this armor sweet girl, not when you’ve marked it...marked me, this much. Go on, be a good girl and make a mess of me. Let me walk around with the smell of you etched on my fucking beskar.” You whimper at the filthy whispers Din breathes against you and just as you’re about to come, Din grabs your pants along with your damp panties and pushes them as far down as he could. You bite into your lower lip as he tries to push his digits deeper into you, and when you finally manage to turn and look at him, you hold your breath as you see the way he’s looking at you, into you.

“Cum for me. Now.”

The quiet order, along with the pace of his touches, breaks you and you force yourself to not shut your eyes as your pussy throbs around his fingers, a wave of euphoria washing over you so swiftly you think you’ll faint. Din momentarily turns his attention to your heat once again and he hisses when he feels you coming on his hand just as you squirt on his beskar and the floor of the ship. You’re unable to form a coherent sentence as Din refuses to slow down and your eyes water again when the hold he has on your waist becomes more painful than before.

“Maker...you’re perfect.” Din kisses your neck as he finally decides to slow down but the way he continues to rub your clit with his palm does little to calm your nerves and you don’t realize how much you’re shaking until everything quiets down and all that you can hear is the sound of Din’s heavy breathing and your own heaving and sniffling. You wince when he fully removes his hand from you and helps you out of your pants and shoes. He takes a step back and groans when he sees how spent and ruined you look as you stand on your tiptoes and try to calm down.

As you try to catch your breath, Din unlocks both cuffs and throws them aside, reaching down and grabbing your ass so he could support your weight against him. You jump on instinct and moan when you feel the cold beskar against your skin as Din grinds into your soaked heat. He doesn’t waste another moment, diving in and claiming your lips until he could feel your teeth nipping at his tongue. He makes sure he has a good grip on you before he moves to the refresher and as soon as the two of you are standing in front of it, he pushes a code into the pad and unlocks the door. You pull away for a moment to look into his eyes, the silence of your gaze knocking the breath out of him as you hide into his neck. It takes but a second for Din to realize that he shouldn’t try to push your limits any further for the night.

His touches grow softer as he carefully sets you down on the floor of the refresher. Din can see you’re shivering from the cold room and makes quick work of his clothes and armor, choosing to leave his boxer briefs on so you wouldn’t think of anything else. He leans down and taps twice on your shoulders so you could raise them above your head. As you do, you look everywhere else but him and the gesture is a little too raw for Din because as he strips you down to nothing, he’s leaning down and kissing your forehead until he feels you relax in his arms.

When he’s satisfied with your slowing heart rate, he stands up and turns on the water, making sure to stand in front of you and block you from the cold water until it turns warm. Even though he doesn’t particularly enjoy it, he turns the hot water just a little further, knowing how much you preferred it when it struck your skin.

Grabbing the bar of soap you bought from the last hunt, Din sits down and rests his back against the cold metal of the wall before pulling you towards him.

“Come to me mesh’la.” His voice is much more controlled and mellow than minutes before and you melt back into him as soon as his skin comes into contact with yours. You rest your back against his shoulder and sigh heavily when his hands begin to massage your arms. The scent of flowers hits your nostrils in seconds, making you relax even more as the soap washes away any trace of what you and Din had just done.

Din kisses your shoulder and neck as he rubs the soap on your chest and stomach, keeping his touches as appropriate as possible to distract himself from the hardening issue he was struggling with. Although he prefers you all sweaty and dirty, he makes sure to wash every inch of you, knowing that you probably needed to feel clean after...after what he’s done.

He pushes your back until you’re leaning forward far enough for him to wash your back as well. His breath hitches when he sees evidence of his touches on your skin from previous nights. Some of them have turned a light blue color while others were still purple.

Fuck. He didn’t know his grip was this harsh. He was a little guilty for bruising your skin, your lovely, beautiful, gorgeous skin. But the more he saw as he rubbed the soap over your back, the more pride he felt in his chest at the knowledge that he was the only one allowed to mark you.

“D-din…” You moan his name when he pulls you back into his chest and you feel his hands descend lower to wash your thighs. You think that he’s going to touch you where you ache for him but when he focuses on your thighs, you realize that he wasn’t going to go anywhere near your throbbing cunt.

“I’m here sweet girl, let me take care of you.” His whispers are laced with promises and affection and you’re not sure what to make of it. He’s never been this intense, this touch-starved, even this controlling. There’s something about the events of the night that tug at your heart and you wish you could ask him what has changed all of a sudden. But you don’t, instead repeating his words from earlier over and over again as he continues to wash you.

He told you, although indirectly, that you had the right to...to mark him, to own him. He begged you to drench him so everyone would know that he’s yours. That you’re his.

“Din please,” overcome with emotions, you slap the bar of soap away from him and use his surprise to your advantage, quickly turning around and holding onto his broad shoulders as you straddled his thighs.

“Ner ka'rta, we don’t have t-” Din keeps his hands to himself as he feels you rub yourself on his clothed cock. You instantly cut him off, molding your lips with his in a bruising kiss until his arms wrapped around your back. When you knew you had him, you pulled away and laid kisses across his handsome features. He was a moaning mess in no time and when you took hold of his chin and pushed it back, Din felt like he was travelling through the stars, the rough nips you were leaving across the jugular of his neck making him notice just how needy you were.

The hot water cascaded down your back as you assaulted Din’s skin and when you felt him grab your waist and begin to move you across of him, you knew he wasn’t going to deny you from what you wanted. Needed. Craved.

“I need you...now, please Din. I need to feel you inside me.”

“But-”

“Please? Oh maker, I- you said...you said you’d give me your cock if I wanted. And I do. I want you, I want your cock. I- you promised. I- I’ll do anything.” The sound of your desperate pleas sends a shiver down his spine and Din nods frantically just before you pull him out of his briefs.

“You- you’ve done enough for me cyar’ika. So so much. And I- I...oh-” Din throws his head back and shuts his eyes as soon as you lower yourself on his hard cock. He thinks he’s going to cum right then and there, but then you’re moving on top of him and squeezing him so tightly and he realizes that he needed to feel more of you. You cry out his name over and over again as he twitches against your tight walls, and when his eyes snap wide open and look at you, you can’t help but lean forward and bite into his shoulder to keep some semblance of control.

“S-sweet girl...lovely girl, tell me you’re mine.”

The short request causes you to falter in your pace but Din decides to take over again, wrapping his arms around you as he begins to move you on top of him.

“I- I’m yours Din, I’m yours. No one else can fuck me like you, n-no one can kiss me and touch me and take care of me like you...gods, you’re amazing. And you’re mine,” Din groans when he hears the last of your words and he nuzzles into the crook of your neck as you continue to whisper sweet things to him.

“You hear that Din...you’re mine. You- you belong to me, you touch only me...you, oh maker, you fuck only me. This cunt is yours baby and your cock was made for it. Made for me. You l-love only me. Right Din? P-please I’m...already so close. Tell me Din because you know...know that I love you. I love you. No one else. J-just you-”

Din is sure he might be suffocating you with how hard he’s hugging you right now but he doesn’t seem to notice because all he can hear is your declarations of love and commitment. Neither of you have ever come close to being this intimate but his earlier actions apparently unlocked something in the two of you.

You loved him. Even though he could be kinder, and was definitely too broken. You still loved him.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum. P-pfassk...I love you mesh’la. Only you...always you.” Din comes with a cry when he feels your nails digging into his back and he growls as his cock throbs inside you until he’s filled you with his cum. But he doesn’t stop, instead maintaining his pace just to see you fall apart one last time. It’s all too much and not enough, and he’s already oversensitive from coming but he has only himself to blame considering how much he edged himself the entire day. When he hears your gasps turn quieter, he knows you’re close and slithers his hand between your bodies to flick your clit. You moan into his shoulder as you quickly peak one last time, the touch of his fingers reminding you of what he’s done earlier and in a matter of seconds, you’re clenching around him so hard to the point where you’re not sure if you’re experiencing pain or pleasure.

Neither of you say anything as you slowly return to yourselves. When Din moves to try and turn the water off, you accidentally dig your nails deeper into his shoulder and make him hiss.

“S-sorry.” The small apology does something to Din and he decides that he needs to do this now and not when the two of you are in his cot. Twisting his hand into your hair, Din pulls it back until you’re forced to look at him. You stare at each other for what feels like hours before you lean forward and kiss him. It’s much slower and kinder than the earlier kisses and you smile when Din unintentionally thrusts into you. He pulls away and returns your expression when he sees how genuine it is.

“I think I should be the one apologizing ad’ika.”

You know what he’s referring to and you think that perhaps he’s beginning to feel more guilt at what he’s done but you brush it aside with a joke so he knew there was nothing of concern.

“Not sure what you’re talking about Din,” you leave a quick peck on his nose as you rest your cheek on his chest and hug him tightly. He recognizes what you’re doing right away and decides to not fight you, instead maneuvering you off of him to shut the water off. You try to stand but your legs give out immediately. Forutrantly for you, Din is there to catch you and he ignores your complaints as he carries you out of the refresher and into his room. You watch as he brings two towels and proceeds to dry you off, handing you the other one to dry your hair. You giggle when he almost stubs his toe as he comes back with a set of new clothes.

Din ignores your comments when you ask him why he was handing you one of his long sleeve shirts instead of your own, quickly putting on a pair of boxers before throwing the towels back into the refresher. When he comes back, you’re already comfortable and warm in his bed, the sight of you sniffing his pillows causing him to think of a multitude of thoughts. He brushes them all aside when you make room for him and ask him to come to you.

As he slithers underneath the covers, you waste no time and move closer to him until you’re sure you’re touching every inch of his skin.

“Are you okay mesh’la?” Although you know what he’s referring to by that question, you don’t bring up the topic, instead nuzzling into his chest. The sigh of content you hear tells you that he’s not overthinking what happened too much, and it signals for you to do the same because even though you never expected the day’s events, you can’t help but admit to yourself that one thing which you know Din will bring up when the two of you have properly rested.

As strange and sudden as it was, Din’s treatment of you turned you on.

Translations:

Mesh'la - beautiful

Cyar'ika - beloved

Ad'ika - little one

Ner ka'rta - my heart or my soul

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you

Some tags aren't working!

Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @marsplsstop @ezrasbirdie @diogodxlot @janebby @juletheghoul @bii-aan-ckaa @nohartandsole @djjarins @lamelyssher @giselatropicana @pescopadral @blackmarketmummy @laviipopii @ew-erin @fan-of-encouragement @melody13522 @clydesducktape @planetariumx @sambucky21 @thirddeadlysin @leannawithacapitala @fangirl-316 @thou-creature-of-the-deep

Din Djarin: @a--1--1--3 @tanzthompson @mrs-ghuleh @caitlynmarty

#din djarin x reader #din djarin/reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #mando #mando x reader #mando/reader #humiliation kink #degradation kink #peeing kink #i don't even know what to call it #someone help #pedro Pascal

395 notes · View notes

foli-vora · 4 years

Text

worlds collide

A/N: Hi, I’m in my feels tonight so have some angst! (That gif is breaking my fucking heart.)

Pairing: Din Djarin/gn!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: violence, blood, death

+++

Din didn’t know how or when it happened. All he knew was that it did happen. He awoke, however long after the initial blast, in a startle, hand shooting to the beskar covering his face as he pushed himself into a sitting position. People were screaming, running erratic paths through the fire and debris. Stomach lodged firmly in his throat, he looks to his side where he expects to find the Child, his child, tucked up safe in the sack he had fashioned from old pieces of scrap material he found on the Crest.

He whips around in alarm when he finds nothing but ruins. Where was the kid? Why wasn’t he here? Dust coats the gloves covering his hands as he pushes through the remnants of fallen buildings around him, showing away piece after piece of rubble, desperation clawing away at his insides as he continuously comes up empty.

Where was the kid? The kid. Where was the kid?

And then a memory hits him.

Your smile. Not the polite half smiles you would offer others, mere strangers passing by on the streets, no. This smile was all his. The smile that he swears brings the stars he travels through to your eyes. The smile that is seared into his mind, that’s painted across his eyelids every time he finds a small amount of time to rest.

You grin up at him and make a sly little comment about his stiff armour digging into the soft sack carrying the sleeping baby, gently lifting it from across his body and hanging it upon your own, hand automatically rubbing soothing circles over the little lump through the coarse material.

“I told you he wouldn’t wake,” you shoot him a smirk, walking further ahead to admire the various materials and trinkets laid across tables throughout the market.

He pauses, coming to a stop between the bustling patrons, taking a moment to watch you. Watch the way you tread between the buyers, the way your hand automatically cradles the sack protectively if someone pushes too close, the way your eyes soak up each new object and entity you encounter with eager, curious eyes.

You notice the absence of his intimidating presence only a few steps ahead and turn to him questioningly. Tilting your head, you smile inquisitively, taking a small moment of your own to admire him and the incredible gleam of his armour against the bright backdrop of colourful banners and busying shoppers.

Peace.

That’s what he had felt in that moment. And though you had never seen him without the heavy helmet covering his face, he knew you saw him. In more than the physical sense. But where did it go wrong? When did the peace meet its end? When did it melt into the overwhelming sense of loss he feels now?

Your eyes flicker to something over his shoulder, brows pinching together. The immediate sense of dread that crashes over him the second your eyes widen in fear has him moving instantly, not caring about what’s there, what you’re seeing – just filled with the drowning need to reach you, to reach the child, to protect.

Had you called for him? In his current state, he doesn’t recall. The explosion had been so loud. He knew he had called for you – your name ripping from his modulator with a blinding urgency that left his throat feeling raw and then… nothing.

Frantic, he continues to push his way around, ignoring the people that pull on his armour-clad arms and beg for his aid. He doesn’t have time. He refuses to help them while you and the Child are missing. He won’t help a soul until he knows where you are, knows that you’re both unharmed, that you’re both safe.

He’s not sure what sound falls from his lips when he catches sight of your boots sticking out from beneath a piece of fallen wall. The breath gets sucked from his lungs, bile rises in his throat, and then he’s running, not caring about who he shoves down along the way – he just needs to get to you.

The adrenaline pulsing through his system has him hefting the piece of rubble off of you and then he’s on his knees, gloved hands gently, urgently, pushing at your shoulder until you’re on your back. He can’t see you, not the real you. Dust and blood cake your face and no matter how hard he scrubs along your skin; he can’t find you.

His hands follow along your frame, feeling along the side of your body and then… there he is. The Child chirps sadly, blinking dust from his wide eyes, and wiggles from the soiled sack, stumbling onto unsteady legs. He turns to look at you, large ears dropping in sorrow at the sight of your battered body.

“I know, kid. They’re gonna be fine.”

You were going to be fine, because there was no other option. You’d have a bump on the head, complain about it for a few days, get on his nerves, and then be fine. Healed. Alive.

He swears his heart jumps a beat when your face pinches, features contorting in discomfort. He hates knowing you’re in pain, but he’d take it. Quite happily. At least that meant you were still here, still with him. He waits, but your eyes don’t open and he gets impatient. He taps your cheek once, twice, again just a little bit harder.

Why aren’t you waking up?

He shakes you; hand locked firmly onto your shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. The desperation that’s leaking into his voice starts to intensify the longer your lashes stay against the skin of your cheeks. Come on. You’re alright. You’re alright. Wake up –

And then finally – Stars, finally – your eyes flutter. The two suns hovering in the sky blind you, and you lift a heavy hand with a groan to cover your face. Relief floods him in an overwhelming wave and he crumbles over your body like he’s just ran nonstop for miles. You’re okay. You’re fine, everything’s fine.

His hands are everywhere when you eventually sit up – cradling your ribs, supporting your shoulders, a gloved palm against your cheek as you blink blearily at the scene around you. What happened? You don’t have the strength to ask. His grip is tight as he holds your hands, gently pulling you to stand. He doesn’t move away once you’re on your feet and it’s a good thing, too – you tremble, head melting into a vicious spin, and your legs give out from under you.

He has you in his arms before you’re even halfway to the ground.

“I’ve got you.” Always.

He cradles you the entire hike back to the Crest, the Child cuddled up to your chest as he coos gently at you, keeping you awake and as alert as possible. Din doesn’t stop moving, powered purely by the desperation to get you back to the ship, back home, somewhere safe. He kicks blankets across the cold grated floor and delicately lies you down, careful not to jostle you too much.

Your face puckers in agony, but soon you relax with a soft exhale, watching him through tired eyes as he moves the kid to his hammock before rushing back to your side. The gloves come off in an urgent tug and soon you’re rewarded with the heat of his fingertips trailing across your skin. His touch disappears, and you wish you could voice your protest, wish you could beg him to put them back.

You watch as tanned hands reach and grasp at the helmet, pulling it up and off and then – oh. Din blinks down at you with wide brown eyes, assessing every bit of damage he could see without his visor hindering his view. A scratch here, a scrape there – nothing bacta won’t fix. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. His eyes fall back to yours, and he half smiles, somewhat shyly, as you study his previously secret features.

Beautiful.

Your hand moves, fingers desperate to feel the scruff covering his jawline, but it falls short and you try to frown in frustration but lack the strength to contort your features. His own hand shoots up and helps yours on its journey, and soon you can feel it – scratchy against the skin of your palm.

His other hand is warm across your forehead and you smile weakly at the look of pure adoration on his face, his dark eyes flicking over your features. He had no regrets removing his helmet. He would have removed it in front of you one day, anyway.

“I’ll get you some water, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, bending to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You weakly move your head ever so slightly, greedily chasing his lips with your own, desperate to feel them just once, and your heart bursts as he grins, eyes crinkling and dimple appearing. What a sight. He lets his nose trail softly against yours before moving to your lips. His kiss was everything you had dreamed – tender, loving… and it chased away the chill that seemed to have taken a hold of your body, even if just for a few seconds.

“D-Din –” Why is it so hard to speak? You feel so weak. You want to tell him so much. He needs to know what he means to you. You’ve never been able to say the words and now you’re filled with regret. But surely, he knows. He must. You need to thank him for… for everything. For showing you the stars, for making you believe in yourself, for showing you that it’s okay to stand your ground when someone tells you to move. Maker, you need to speak. He needs to know. “Din,”

He hushes you lightly, dancing his warm fingers across your jaw affectionately. “Save your strength, cyare.”

Your eyes well as you watch him stand and leave. No, stay. Stay, please. He tries to be quick as he retrieves you a drink, but the water pressure on the Crest is questionable to say the least. He also fills a small bowl to start cleaning your skin of the filth that cakes it, desperate to see the horror of the day washed free from your skin. He returns after a short while, expertly juggling the many bits and pieces in his arms, and stops short of the makeshift bed.

You’re still. Completely unmoving. Your chest no longer moves, fighting for gasps of air. Your eyes were open, pointed to where he had disappeared into the fresher, but they lacked life. They’re vacant, hollow. They stare right through him. He all but drops everything in his arms, falling right beside you.

Swallowing around the bitter taste in his mouth, he tries to speak. “C-Cyare?”

His hands move to your face, and he recoils at the chill of your skin. Heat, you need heat. His thumbs rub across your cheeks, desperate to work some sort of friction against your skin. He wills your eyes to focus, to gaze back into his. Breathe. Maker, please, breathe.

“Cyar’ika, I’m here.” He moves closer, hands darting over your body, indecisive of where to touch, where to hold you. No. You’re fine. You’re fine. He feels the cracks start to form, his world quickly falling apart in his hands. “I’m here. Please, cyare – I’m here.”

Yes, he is… but you’re not.

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x gn!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x gn!reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars fic #mando #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

253 notes · View notes

reallybriefartisan · 3 years

Note

lmao hiccstrid aint abusive. Yall just dont like Astrid and try to make up excuses to invalidate them.

Hiccup clearly loves her and she loves him. He's a smart person and if he was in an abusive relationship or in one that he's not happy, he could easily get out of it.

Your crackships are just that, CRACKships🥴

First of all I love Astrid as a character. I've grown up with these characters my whole teenage to adult life and I can spot the differences. She's literally the person we should look up to. But they fucking did her dirty by pairing her with Hiccup. I love Hiccup too. They just. Don't fit right if that makes sense.

The reason why this ship doesn't sit right comes entirely from the first movie. Several times she uses physical aggression towards him. Example, twisting his arms , shoving his head into rock and over all causing him extreme pain. But because she kisses him and becomes interested in him its okay? I don't think so. If it were the other way everyone would be all over it. Saying its not okay a boy did it.

Fast forward to the shows in between. Similar things happen where Hiccup is very vocal about Astrid hitting him and asks her 26 times throughout the series for her to stop. She doesn't. Not to mention she threw several hissy fits during times of great peril for Hiccup not paying attention to you guessed it her. Also going on so I will make a separate posts about his animation that shows he's not okay and that the animators behind the series didn't seem okay to it either. 😌

In the TV series we find out Astrid and her family are disgraced in the eyes of Berk even worse than Hiccup being the tribe outcast. She has the great potential but they threw it under the bus in my honest opinion.

The other reason why I don't like the ship is because ASTRID IS THE REASON STOICK DIED! Let that one sink in. If she hadn't flown her mouth off as she did in Drago's scene we find out later in the same scene Hiccup and family were going to go to Berk. Safety in numbers. But because of what Astrid said it caused Drago to strike premature and caused the death of Hiccup's father.

Lastly the animation of Hiccups discomfort around Astrid continues in the third movie. I really don't like the third movie cause they tossed out a lot of the character development for the book ending but that's another story for another time but I'm going to say a lot of people who are in abusive relationships find themselves unable to get out of it safely. But in Hiccup's case he wouldn't be able to do so he's the chief. In viking times if something were to happen as him leaving a relationship like that he and his children would be at risk by other tribe members who already don't see him fit to be chief.

In conclusion that whole ship is just a power grab to help redeem and already disgraced family. While the kids are cute he's got better chemistry with other characters. Not to mention there's animated proof behind it too. So.

#kris chats #anti hiccstrid #imma come back later tonight and release the entire animated proof seeing yall need to be educated #but whatevs #dunno why yall stuck up on me about this shit though

61 notes · View notes

jooniyah · 4 years

Text

Poison Apple : The Second

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem Reader ; Min Yoongi x Fem Reader

AU: Yandere!au, Moneylender!Taehyung

Genre: Angst, Mature, Smut rated R

Warnings: NON CON, Hard Yandere behavior, kidnapping, implied forced pregnancy, emotional abuse, violence, blackmail, character death, voluntary starvation, degradation and physical abuse, slapping, cum play, manipulation, profanity, smut, blood, knives, guns, assassins, and murder.

Word count: 22.91 K

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

This is a non-consensual setting, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. All warnings for Chapter 1 apply. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully.

Author’s note: This is the second chapter of the Poison Apple Trilogy. Please make sure to read Part 1 before proceeding.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

The man clad in black adjusted the scope of his M107 rifle, making sure his reticle was in perfect position. As he waited for his target, he did a quick sweep of the terraces of the adjacent buildings. No one was about. A faint slippery sheen of dew covered the cracked floors of the terrace he was positioned on. Any time now. He looked at the neon digits glowing on his watch.

Overhead, his skilled ears could pick out the droning of an approaching airplane. His skin felt clammy, possibly due to the side effect of his beta-blockers. Well, he’d finish the job and go have a well-earned vacation. Cold hands weren’t a big side effect, not when his pills gave him razor-sharp precision at shooting. The gangway of the cruise liner was slowly opened to allow passengers on board. The time had come.

He carefully combed his eyes through the influx of passengers, seeking the one face he was looking for. He didn’t even need to take the photo out of his pocket. He had committed the face to memory. And no disguise could fool him, he was ready for everything the target might try to pull off.

Time ticked on. People were walking on the gangway, boarding the ship, waving to their loved ones. But the target was not to be found anywhere. The described person hadn’t arrived, and the sniper had assumed that he could catch the target on the gangway. But as his professional eyes raked through the humans on board, he knew he was wasting his time. He remained in position, watching on as the ship sounded the final horn before gliding smoothly out onto the sea. He dialed the only number on his burner phone.

“Yes?” The tone sounded shrill and eager.

“A no-show. I repeat, it was a no-show.”

“What? Are you sure you didn’t miss-“?

“I never miss a target.”

There was a deep frustrated sigh.

“Fine. Abort and return.”

The sniper proceeded to pack up his gear and prepared to leave.

On the other end of the line, the figure exhaled sharply, muttering curses and bemoaning the failure. Just then, a dark outline materialized in the doorway, causing the figure to jump up, body numb with defeat.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I won’t repeat my question again, Mrs.Min.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Then, answer me.”

You remained motionless, staring at the hard-grey table, fingers interweaved.

“Well?” The officer raised his voice, rapping on the table.

“I told you the truth.”

The man scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

“Listen, lady. You know your story sounds shit stupid, right?”

Your voice broke into a whisper.

“But it is true.”

He rolled his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Mr. Kim killed your husband? For you? He’s obsessed with you?”

“Yes.”

“You are giving yourself way too much credit, lady.”

You gritted your teeth, refusing to look at him. He clicked his tongue.

“Well, if your absurd story is true, where is your husband’s body?”

“I don’t know.”

He tsked under his breath. “So what proof do you have to tie Mr.Kim to this alleged murder?”

“None.”

He got up abruptly, shaking his head in irritation. He pointed a finger at you.

“You’re wasting my time. And for the record, Mr.Kim has been nothing but helpful in this investigation.”

You slowly raised your head. “What? What did he say?”

“Do you good to hear it and weave another absurd story, wouldn’t it?”

You watched him hesitate at the door, his hand resting on the handle. “If you are so innocent, Mrs. Min, why didn’t you report your husband missing?”

An angry fuse went off in your brain.

“Why would I report him missing, if he was already dead?”

“Can you afford an attorney, Mrs.Min?”

“I-What?”

The officer stared at you, pursed his lips, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The court-appointed attorney was a tall, curvy woman in her early thirties. She looked calm and had an air of high maintenance about her. You wondered how she could have accepted to defend you. Maybe the woman did pro-bono work. She probably had rich clients. Rich. You were once rich. When Yoongi was alive. Yoongi. A bitter feeling coursed through your heart.

Another detective accompanied the officer who had previously interrogated you. They settled across you and the attorney, scraping chairs on the floor as they took their seats.

“Well, Mrs. Min,” the officer began, “we understand you have mortgaged all your property.”

“Yes.”

“So, what happened to the money?” The officer flicked through papers on a clipboard. “50 million dollars, wasn’t it?”

The second detective pushed himself forward. “More importantly, where is your husband?”

A dull throb started in your temples and seared across your skull. You could shout yourself hoarse that Yoongi was dead, but none of these people would believe you.

When he received no reply, the detective persisted.

“You got rid of him because you wanted the money to yourself, didn’t you?”

The attorney interjected in a harsh tone.

“My client will not answer that.”

“You hid the money someplace, so you could go and retrieve it later.”

“Officer, you will not harass my client like this.”

“I won’t, if she agrees to speak the truth.”

The woman turned to you; harsh impatience evident on the curl of her lips.

“Not a word, Y/N.”

You nodded weakly. You had told everything to the cops already. No one believed in you, not one soul believed that Kim Taehyung murdered Min Yoongi to obtain you. It was nightmarish to go on a walk, people threw such malicious looks your way. What had you ever done to deserve this?

The officers poked and prodded for some more time, and finally packed their papers and left. While you walked out of the interrogation room, your attorney asked you to join her for lunch. You attempted to decline; you weren’t in the mood for lunch. Or anything for that matter.

But you had nowhere to return to, except straight into Taehyung’s world. It was better to prolong the journey back. Besides, the attorney told you that she wanted to discuss a few case details with you over lunch. Automatically, your feet started following her.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The minute you sat down to lunch, you understood that it was a ruse. She neither ordered food for herself nor did she suggest you to. As soon as the waiter turned, she dipped her head low and spoke rapidly:

“I hear that they are bringing in a solid witness to testify against you.”

The surprise caught you off-guard.

“But I didn’t do anything. What is the person going to testify about?”

“That you knew Yoongi was mortgaging your property and you jumped on the opportunity to get the money.”

“But that’s insane! I never-“

There was a haughty roll of her eyes that sparked bitter anger in you. She looked at you as if you were kidding.

“Oh, come on, doll. You can tell me the truth. I’m the only person you can trust.”

Her judging gaze made you want to punch her in the face.

“You think I – I am guilty? You don’t trust me?” Your tone grew louder and a few people turned to glance at you. “Why the hell did you agree to defend me then?”

“Pipe down,” she hissed, looking around herself self-consciously. “They have a witness and a story that sounds better than yours.”

“And that means I’m guilty? Because my story sounds ridiculous?”

She shrugged as if she didn’t care. She took her phone out, swiping on it mindlessly. There was nothing except for the clink of glasses and cutlery around you before she spoke again.

“I want you to consider a plea deal.”

“And why would I, when I’m clearly not guilty?” You folded your hands defiantly, surveying her with a hard stare.

“This is not a simple Missing Person search. You are a person of interest in this case as a possible murderer.”

“They haven’t yet found the body.” Your tongue had a metallic taste when you uttered the word.

“Yet.” She let the words sink in. “But they have proof that you stole the money.”

“Stole? That’s my husband’s money! I was taking it to save him.”

“You know what, Y/N? This story is so silly. You are going overboard with the obsession angle.” She leaned back and lit a cigarette. “You know what really happened?”

She paused and exhaled smoke in your direction, tilting her head to look at you more closely.

“You knew your husband owed Kim Taehyung money. You urged him to mortgage your property. He was probably unwilling. So, you pledged all your property and got the money. The money was in your house. It was easy cash. Min Yoongi was anyway going to be penniless after that, so-“

“Stop it!” Your scream turned a lot of heads.

“Allow me to finish.”

“No, stop it! Stop it right now!”

She smirked lazily. “-So why lose the cash and end up with him? It’s easy, you killed him and took off with the money. You stashed the money and never intended to show up again. Not before someone reported Yoongi missing, that is.”

“It wasn’t like that! You are fucking wrong!”

She blew a smoke ring, not minding your distress in the least. “But that is what the prosecution is bringing to court. And they have a witness who saw you lugging all the money and fleeing the house in your nightclothes.” She paused to laugh. “Couldn’t wait to even get properly dressed?”

Her phone chimed, and she looked down. Just as quickly, she grabbed her coat and briefcase, making haste to get out. You stood up to follow, but she laid a hand on your shoulder and sat you down again.

“He’ll be coming now. Remember what I said, the prosecutor’s going to have a field day with your story.”

She was out of earshot even before you could frame the words: “He? Who?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You knew who was walking towards you before you even saw his face. Him. The man who had killed your husband. The man who you were trying to prolong going back to. Kim Taehyung.

He weaved his way through the tables at the restaurant, reaching your side like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet. He took his Aviators off, mussing his dark bangs out of his eyes as he sat down opposite you.

You got up to leave, and his hand shot through the air to grip your forearm.

“Sit down, honey.” His face was open and pleasant, but his eyes were unreadable. “You haven’t had lunch yet.”

The grip tightened, and you settled back down, a scowl on your face as you did so. You never dulled your scorching glare while he called the waiter and ordered food. After the waiter left, he turned to you.

“It’s been two weeks since it happened, Y/N. How much longer do you want me to wait?”

Tears pricked your eyes. Two weeks before, you had kissed Yoongi in Taehyung’s basement for what you hadn’t known would be the last time ever. You had been taken to another cottage of Taehyung’s after it happened. You had refused to eat or talk; you had been consumed in grief. Suddenly, a day ago, Wo Bin had tossed you in a car, and he had dropped you off at a hotel room. That same afternoon, the cops had found you and taken you in for questioning.

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s deep voice broke into your thoughts. “I’m talking to you.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you.”

“I’d rather go to prison; I’ll at least be free from your clutches.”

He snickered, flashing a boxy smile at you. If you didn’t know better, you’d call that an innocent grin. He leaned towards you, the smile still turning up the corners of his mouth.

“You? In prison? Oh , baby, that’s not a place for a princess like you.” His gaze dropped down before he looked into your eyes again. “Especially a pregnant princess.”

He watched the way your face twisted. The waiter brought the food, laying down the plates swiftly before you. Taehyung smiled at him in amiable politeness, waited for him to leave and resumed without missing a beat:

“You will have to give birth in prison, you’ll lose your baby after 18 months anyway. You don’t have relatives, so your baby will most definitely go into the system for foster care. Do you want that?”

You had no answer. You hadn’t thought of it ever happening, to be honest.

“It’s also possible you’ll be sentenced to many long years in prison. By the time you get out, your baby would be an adult.”

He saw the way your lips trembled as you digested the facts he was presenting. He bent down and sipped a spoonful of his soup. You looked at his bent head, weighing your options.

“It’s better than-“

Before you could say any further, he cut you short, raising his hand.

“I must say I look forward to adopting your baby.”

He grinned smoothly as he saw you sputter in dismay. God, you were so cute.

“What? Why would you? You don’t care about Yoongi’s baby.”

“Well, true, but the baby is part bastard and part angel. I like to focus on the fact that half of you will be with me as I await your return.”

He slurped the noodles in his soup with a flourish. “I can pull some strings to get the baby assigned to me.” He wiped his mouth with a tissue delicately, watching you the entire time.

“Don’t make me hate you even more, Kim Taehyung.”

He reached over the table, trying to take your hand, but you flicked it away. He sighed and shook his head.

“Eat up, Y/N. That attorney of yours kept you waiting without even offering food.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. She was probably working for him. He seemed to have a lot of people wound around his little finger. Except you. You fell silent, eating without looking up once.

The table was silent until he cleared his throat.

“I want you to think all this through and decide if you want me to help you.”

You scoffed at him. “Help me? How? Do you own the Justice Department too?”

He looked unfazed. A tiny smile played on his lips. “Eat and we’ll talk at the hotel.”

You fell silent again, but the question wormed its way out of your mouth despite your control.

“Why am I staying in that hotel? You didn’t take me to your house.”

“Because you mortgaged your house, you ran away with the money, and I don’t know you apart from the occasional meetings in the elite parties. In the past, when poor Mr. Min was alive, of course.”

“You don’t know me? Are you fucking kidding me, Taehyung?”

His boxy smile returned. Though these were not exactly favorable circumstances, the fact that you were so prettily angry made his heart warm. You were mad at him because he said he didn’t know you? A small jealous part of his heart sang in joy. Even if those words were uttered with hate, he was certain you would love him if you got to know him better. Until then, the subtle undercurrent would have to suffice.

“Like I said, we’ll talk about this at the hotel, Y/N.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

When you reached the hotel room, Taehyung opened the door, motioning for you to go in.

“After you, my darling.”

Once you were inside, he took off your coat, brushing his fingers against your bare arms, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. You could hear him sigh heavily behind you, and you spun around to face him.

“Get on with it.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You mean, get on with making love to you?”

You swatted the hand that was ghosting your shoulder, your tone drenched in spite.

“You know what I meant, Taehyung. What the hell were you talking about at the restaurant?”

He pouted his lips and his face fell. “Oh. That.” He sighed again, walking over to the bed.

He sat down, patting the bed to indicate that you were supposed to sit down too. When you didn’t comply, he yanked you by the arm, making you sit in his lap. A hand reached to your side to pinch you in case you squirmed. By then, you knew better than to resist. He rested the side of his head on your shoulder, whistling softly.

“Baby, you’re going to be sent away for a long time.”

“For what? Don’t play your games with me, Kim Taehyung.”

He turned you so you were facing him. There was animation in his eyes, so unlike the usual blank stare. It looked almost as if he were sad.

“You’re going to be tried for the murder of your husband.”

You tried to jump up, and a sharp pinch stilled you into position. “But I didn’t kill him.”

He used his free hand to brush away the tears, his touch feathery light and exceptionally gentle.

“Even if they don’t find the body, there’s a lot of evidence for reasonable doubt, and that’s enough for the jury.”

A sudden tic made your lips tremble. He held you patiently, waiting for it to subside.

“What evidence?”

His eyes softened.

“Some blood. DNA.” He watched your expression as he added: “The fact that you mortgaged the property, got the money, and fled.”

“But I didn’t-” Your brows furrowed for a second before it struck you. “Bong Ju.”

He nodded without answering. He watched you work things out in your mind. He always admired your smartness. But after Yoongi died, you had become kind of slow at thinking through stuff. He wished you would get better quickly so he could pounce on you.

“So, what happens next? You kill my husband, put me in prison, and then take my child?”

He didn’t say anything, quietly looking at the beaded tears on the corners of your eyes.

“I can help you. I can make it all go away.”

Something made you squirm on his lap. To your utter horror, you discovered what it was. You hit his jaw, making him gasp. Pushing yourself off of his lap, you screamed, boiling with rage.

“You’re hard? This is making you hard? What kind of sick bastard are you?”

The scream didn’t have any effect on him. He kept staring at you, eyes burning with primal hunger. Watching you stand before him, face red in anger and nose flaring, made him feel things.

His voice was soft, almost inaudible. “You do that to me.” He reached out to grasp your hand again, and pulled you down so you were almost straddling him.

“Listen Y/N. You have made me wait long enough. I will say this only once, so you better pay attention.”

You struggled in his arms, trying to get away from him. But a hand firmly cupped your jaw and pulled you close to his face.

“Fucking. Listen.”

You nodded wordlessly, and he relaxed his hold on your jaw.

“Two scenarios. One, plead guilty and go to prison. They’ll try you for the murder too. Two, plead innocent and still go to prison. I’ve planted enough evidence to support both scenarios. And you’ll lose the baby in both cases.”

He looked at you chastely, eyes wide and sincere.

“I have both the prosecutor and the defense attorney ready to handle it either way. Any proof of your innocence turns up, your attorney will quash it down. She is very thorough. Your friend Jung Hoseok is already being watched.”

“You bought both the prosecutor and the attorney?”

“Money, baby. It’s what drives them all.”

“And? You want me to dance to your tune, don’t you? What is it?”

He smiled again, and the smile reached his eyes.

“Three, you walk away from all this. Innocent. Your baby lives.”

“In exchange for what?”

His eyes sparkled, and his hands softly squeezed the side of your hips.

“Marry me.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“What do you want, Se Jong?”

The man perched on the hood of the car didn’t flinch.

Wo Bin exhaled in irritation. He had other pressing matters to deal with. He had errands to run for his boss. The white folded paper was still in his pocket, making his mind itch to get on with it. The boss had given him the paper and asked him to find the man matching what was written on it. Strange order, but his boss probably had his reasons. He shook the thoughts away and focused on the man who was eating his time.

“Unlike you, I have work to do, Se Jong. Spit it out.”

The man addressed as Se Jong shrugged his shoulders, leaning back lazily on the car’s windshield.

“I don’t know man.”

Wo Bin ground his teeth.

“Why did you ask to meet me then?”

“I want more.”

“You already get more than enough.”

“Not as much as you do.”

Wo Bin’s nose flared. Having served in the military, it always hurt his pride to be compared to a civilian goon.

“I am not a bank robber like you, Se Jong. You’re not even a good shot. It’s a mystery why the boss still has you around.”

It was already a known fact that Kim Taehyung only employed the best of the best. Wo Bin often wondered what a dimwit like Se Jong was doing in his Taehyung’s fleet.

“Banker. How do you think the boss stashes his money if he doesn’t have people in the bank pulling strings for him?”

“Get to the point, Jong.”

“I said it already I want more. I want you to talk to the boss for me.”

“Consider it never done.”

Wo Bin turned his back and stormed away, leaving the man on the car seething in anger. Little did he know that Se Jong wasn’t as harmless as he seemed.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The courtroom was jam-packed. Your attorney had told you that the first sitting was just to warm the jury up to the facts of the case. But the sheer number of people in the gallery made you feel intimidated. Well, it was a case concerning the Min family. More importantly, Min Yoongi’s wife was on trial.

The prosecutor, Kang Minsook, made his opening statements, addressing the jury and accusing you of grand larceny. You watched on, neurons firing in your brain, as the prosecutor spun a splendidly woven tale of how you married Yoongi for money, felt cheated when he fell into debt, decided it was time to take the money for yourself, and fled.

Kim Taehyung was seated in the spectator area, dressed in his best of blacks, watching on as the prosecutor piled wrong information, wrapping up the lies smoothly with a few bits of truth so that it looked dirty, but believably so.

Your attorney made her opening statements, but they fell flat in front of the prosecutor’s powerful story of lies. One glance at the jury told you that none of them were buying the version of the case that the defense was presenting.

The judge turned to you.

“Mrs. Min, in this accusation of grand larceny, how do you plead?”

Your eyes swept over the jury. No soft glances were aimed towards you. You then looked at Taehyung, sitting with an air of regality as if he were presiding over the courtroom. Stretching yourself to your full height, you replied quietly:

“Not guilty, your Honor.”

A smile slowly spread across Taehyung’s lips.

The prosecutor was on his feet as soon as he got permission to start.

“I’d like to call the prosecution’s first witness, your Honor.”

You strained to see who was the witness. A tall man you knew only too well rose from the bench and took the witness stand. It was surely not the bald man you were expecting to see.

“Mr. Kim, please state your name and occupation for the sake of the court.”

The man looked straight ahead, flexing the muscles in his jaw. It made him look arrogant, giving off vibes of a man not to be messed with.

“I am Kim Namjoon. I’m the Executive Director of Park and Kim Motors Inc.”

“And how were you related to Mr. Min?”

“We were family friends.”

“Please elaborate on the nature of your relationship, Mr. Kim.”

The witness gazed at Minsook, and suddenly his eyes wore a brooding look.

“Min Yoongi and I were friends through our parents’ societal ties. I used to play Chess every evening with Yoongi before he got engaged.”

“So, your friendship with Mr. Min goes long back.” The prosecutor stopped to wipe his spectacles, leaving you wondering what he was up to.

“May I ask, Mr. Kim, as to why you stopped playing Chess with Mr. Min after his engagement?”

Your counsel shot to her feet.

“Objection, your Honor. The prosecutor is wasting the court’s time with irrelevant questions.”

Minsook looked at the judge with surprised eyes.

“But it is a relevant question, your Honor.”

“Overruled.”

Smiling broadly in a way that made your insides turn, the man turned again to his witness.

“Well, Mr. Kim?”

Kim Namjoon stared at you, so much malice concentrated in his eyes.

“His fiancée didn’t want me spending too much time with Yoongi.”

There was a pause. And then with a condescending tone, the next question was thrown:

“Maybe there was an innocent reason, Mr. Kim? Maybe the defendant wanted all the attention to herself?”

Once again, your counsel stood up with a loud “Objection, speculation, your Honor.”

“Sustained.”

With a wicked grin, the prosecutor threw a careless apology to the judge, looking at the witness expectantly.

“I don’t know. But now I know she wasn’t as innocent as she seemed.”

“Why exactly do you say that, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon glared at you again.

“She didn’t even bother to search for Yoongi. She ran away.”

The prosecutor took a sealed evidence bag in his hand, turning so he was facing both the witness and the jury.

“And who filed the Missing Person report about Mr. Min?”

“I did. She didn’t. Because she was too busy counting the money.”

“Objection!”

“The prosecution will advise their witness not to make assumptive statements.”

But the damage had already been done.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You sat and listened as your husband’s best friend told the court how Yoongi had been increasingly agitated in the months prior to his disappearance.

“He was in so much trouble, it was clear as day,” he said.

“And did he tell you what was bothering him, Mr. Kim?”

Namjoon clenched his jaw again. “He was missing his mother very badly.”

The wicked gleam in Minsook’s eyes returned.

“What happened to his mother, Mr. Kim?”

“His mother had been institutionalized. His wife and mother were not on good terms. It broke Yoongi’s heart to part with his mother like that.”

“So, Mr. Min’s wife sent her mother-in-law away?”

The jury watched Namjoon affirm that with a curt “Yes.” Your attorney made no attempt to object. Things were beginning to look dark for you.

“Why do you think the elder Mrs. Min was sent away, Mr. Kim?”

The judge waited for your counsel to object citing speculation. But she made no move. With a withering glance, the judge advised the defense to not indulge in speculation.

The question was rephrased with a sly grin.

“What did Mr. Min tell you about his mother being sent away?”

Namjoon looked at the jury with sincere eyes.

“He said that his wife was in danger because of his mother. Mrs. Min accused her mother-in-law of trying to stab her with a knife.”

“Did Mr. Min say that the accusation was correct?”

“He only arrived in time to separate them. So, there’s no proof of who instigated the fight.”

Your palms started sweating. A delicate web of lies was being spun around you, and the spider at the center of it all sat watching with quiet enthusiasm.

“Did you know that Mr. Min was in huge financial debt?”

Taehyung watched the witness shake his head, followed by a curt “No.” He slid his hand to his pocket where his phone buzzed. There was a single message on the notification shade.

“Done.”

He looked back at the man who was talking, turning his phone’s display off and allowing himself a smile.

The prosecutor was going on.

“Why didn’t Mr. Min confide in you, if you were such close friends? He could have even borrowed from you.”

Namjoon shifted in his seat, his thick brows crumpling slightly as he processed the question.

“I don’t remember exactly, but I heard in passing that his wife shopped extravagantly. I assume it was his wife who wrung him dry. So, he was probably unable to confide in me about his wife.”

The prosecutor beamed.

“Naturally.”

Your attorney interrupted with an objection citing speculation, which was sustained.

At that, the prosecutor produced another plastic bag of evidence.

“These are the receipts that prove Mrs. Min purchased exquisite jewels, your Honor.” He flourished the bag at the jury, eyes bright with emotion. “Each purchase cost more than the previous one, amounting to millions of dollars.”

Wearing a proud smile, the prosecutor thanked the witness and gave your attorney the nod to cross-examine the witness. The woman slowly got up, adjusting her robes as she approached the witness box.

“Let me start with the easiest question, Mr. Kim.” Her face took on an innocent expression. “Wasn’t Mr. Min already very rich? Why would he ever get into debt? He already owned the Min Group.”

Namjoon looked at her in confusion. “He didn’t own the Min Group. His father did.”

“The late Mr. Min?”

“Yes. Yoongi was only the executive director of the Min Group until his father died.”

You watched your attorney look suddenly uncomfortable. You didn’t understand the need for this line of questioning. The jury looked confused too. Until the next question tore through the silence.

“How did the late Mr. Min die, Mr. Kim?”

“He was involved in a car accident. He died of multiple organ failure.”

“So, both of Mr. Min’s parents were out of the picture shortly after he married the defendant?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was your own attorney suggesting that-?

“Yes.” Namjoon’s voice interrupted the thoughts racing through your mind.

The judge looked sharply at your counsel. Was she out of her mind, to hand such an insinuating lead to the prosecution?

“Are you going anywhere with this, counsel?”

Your attorney nervously bit her lip.

“No, your honor.”

She turned to Namjoon.

“Couldn’t the defendant have purchased the jewels even when the elder Mr. Min was alive?”

Namjoon wondered if this woman had even researched her case properly. What kind of attorney gave away their client like this in court? He looked at you, weighing his words.

“Mr. Min handled all the finance of the Min family. Yoongi could have bought her the jewels, yes, but his father had to okay any big expenses he made.”

“I see. Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

Namjoon was excused from the witness stand. You were in utter disbelief. You were being framed. By your own attorney. Taehyung was right. You were going to prison.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You couldn’t bring yourself to munch the sandwich that was before you. It was court recess, and your attorney was by your side, eating busily. She was completely oblivious of your apparent resentment towards her.

“How could you give me away like that?”

She looked up; eyebrows raised.

“Like what?”

You had to control yourself from shouting at the top of your lungs. Clutching the table hard, you rocked yourself, trying to be calm.

“You almost accused me of killing my father-in-law.”

She rolled her eyes with a blank “Eh.” On seeing you intensify the burning stare; she grumblingly munched the last bit of her steak.

“You’re already on your way to prison, dearie. Nothing I say or don’t is gonna help you.”

“You are my fucking lawyer!”

A few lawyers seated on the adjacent table murmured in disapproval in your general direction.

“Mind your fucking business!” You shouted at them, eyes blazing in anger. The woman clucked her tongue in disapproval.

“That temper won’t help. Don’t incriminate yourself even more. I did tell you to accept a plea deal, Y/N.”

Three tables away from yours, Kang Minsook was seated with his associates, deep in discussion.

“Something about this case makes me feel weird,” an associate was saying. “Why would the defense point out the senior Mr. Min’s accident? It only makes sense if we do. What is that attorney up to?”

Far back in the cafeteria, Taehyung sipped a cold strawberry milkshake as he watched you. Ugh. He had to endure the disgusting milkshake just for you. For you. Yes, he would do anything for you. But the obvious artificial strawberry flavoring was almost too much. You would pay later for making him drink such cheap stuff.

As his juniors droned on about the case, Minsook glanced over at your gloomy figure staring down at the table. It made him wonder how you were going to handle what was coming next.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You were sure you were going to be called up for cross-examination as soon as the court was in session. Bunching the hem of your skirt tight, you bent your head in apprehension. They were going to call out your name. They were going to prove that you killed Yoongi. They were going to send you to prison. Your knuckles tightened around the fabric, the dampness of your palm transferring onto it.

“The prosecution summons Mr. Kim Taehyung, your Honor.”

All the fear in the world rolled into one tight ball that got caught in your throat. Taehyung was going to testify?

The black-haired man took confident strides as he made his way to the witness stand. Everything about him suggested a successful, genuine, and well-respected man. The ladies in the gallery murmured about how rare it was to see not one but two families in the elite circle pitted against each other. The thumping of your heart was so loud and deafening. Taehyung composed himself with a sincere look in his dark eyes.

“Please state your name and occupation for the sake of the court.”

He raked his eyes through the jury. “I am Kim Taehyung. I am the CEO of Kim Automotive LLC.”

Minsook considered the witness carefully.

“What kind of relationship do you have with the Min family?”

“We were both rich families.” Taehyung masked the bitterness in his voice. “We met at social gatherings.”

“Do you know the defendant?”

“Yes.” The answer was abrupt, leaving unsaid words hanging in the air. The prosecutor pressed on.

“How do you know her?”

Taehyung batted his thick eyelashes innocently, looking square into the eyes of Minsook.

“She came to me trying to pledge the Min estate.”

There was a sharp gasp from the spectators and the low murmuring started to grow louder before the judge pounded his gavel.

The prosecutor waited for all the hushed voices to completely dribble down into sharp silence before asking the burning question:

“The defendant sought you out by herself?”

You closed your eyes lest someone see the beaded drops that were threatening to fall. All the memories of what happened half an hour ago flashed in your mind in full throttle.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You had been walking back to the benches outside the courtroom, when a man bumped into you, causing you to gasp out loud. As you clutched your shoulder and glared crossly at the retreating figure, you noticed chewing gum on your suit. Wincing in disgust, you tried to peel it off when you noticed a small neatly folded bit of paper sticking to it. You opened it, only to find four words written on the slip.

‘Barristers’ chambers No. 3. -KTH’

Turning just in time, your eyes caught Taehyung as he slowly watched you and walked ahead, leading the way.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“Well, sugar? Ready to change your mind yet?” were the words that greeted you upon entering the chambers.

The blinds were drawn, lending a dark ambiance to the room. Taehyung was half-leaning on the table, supporting the weight of his body on both his arms. He watched you, fascinated by the pencil skirt and the tailored suit jacket that fit you so well. It was a shame that you had to go through all the court drama. The worry on your forehead made him want to reach over and kiss all the tension away. Only if you let him. He sighed.

He pushed himself off the table, reaching you in determined strides, his face alight with emotion. With an arrogant flick of his wrist, he crooned in his deep voice:

“20 more minutes before the court is in session, darling.”

His long fingers gripped your jacket, pulling you into his chest. The fingers roamed on your person, finding purchase at the nape of your neck. The heat of his body accompanied by the firm grip of his fingers left you frozen in place.

Taehyung rang his tongue over his upper lip, curling his mouth in a suggestive smirk.

“So, yes or no?”

“I- How can you make it all go away?” your voice came in a bare whisper.

“Baby, I always get my way. Do you still doubt what I’m capable of?”

He nuzzled his forehead against yours, sighing deeply in content. His eyes fluttered closed, the steady rise and fall of his chest falling in rhythm with yours.

“So? What is it? Endure me, or spend a lifetime in prison wondering what I did with your child?”

“Plea-“

His finger shushed your lips, stopping you from saying anything he didn’t want to hear. His eyes were still closed, but there was a soft smile kindling in the corners of his lips.

“18 minutes left, Y/N. Say it. Yes or No?”

Your mind was a maze of emotions. Say yes and live with Taehyung? The man who killed your husband? You’d have to be insane to do that. Say no and go to prison? What would you do without your baby? Why did all of this happen? Where exactly did you go wrong? Why were you trapped in a room with your husband’s killer draped all over your bosom?

“15 minutes.”

A giant sob rocked your body, tears streaming down your face as you spat it out:

“Yes.”

His eyes opened slowly, a euphoric smile making his face glow in radiance. You could have sworn there was a glossy film on his eyes that suspiciously resembled tears.

“Oh Y/N. I love you.”

He peppered soft kisses on your cheeks and nose, leaning back reflexively at the wetness of your cheeks.

“Why the tears, my sweet?” He brushed the trickling tears with the tip of his thumb. “Anyone would think you hate the idea of marrying me.”

When he didn’t get a reply, his eyes went from soft to dangerous in one quick flash. He leaned over you so that you were arching yourself backward, his hand supporting the small of your back securely. He made as if to kiss your jaw, but flicked his tongue out instead. His hot tongue swept over the trail left by the tears, licking your face from jaw to cheekbone in one long stroke.

His other hand gripped your squirming hips hard, the dangerous glint was fixated on your pupils as he continued his stroke above your eyes, stopping only momentarily when your eyes fluttered at the wet feeling of your lashes. He finished the trail at your eyebrow, landing a soft kiss on the arch of your eyebrow.

“No makeup,” he observed, looking deep into your eyes. “And just as beautiful as always. Delicious too. Pity you didn’t wear lipstick; I’d have loved to have your lip prints on my cock.”

His grip of your waist loosened, and you pushed yourself upright, shuddering all over. You tried to wipe off his saliva with the sleeve of your jacket, but his hand stopped you with a harsh jolt.

“Never, remember, never wipe off anything I give you.”

You glared at him, the sticky wetness still bothering you.

“You disgust me, Kim Taehyung.”

His eyes crinkled in delight. “Aw, I love you too, darling.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung considered the question, ruminating on his thoughts.

“Yes.”

Minsook chose his words carefully.

“Can you tell the court what Mrs. Min said, Mr. Kim?”

“She said ‘My husband is in debt and I want to mortgage our property. He doesn’t want anyone to know, so I came to you instead of going to his friends.’ She looked very upset. “

“And you didn’t talk to Mr. Min about this before agreeing to the request?”

Taehyung looked annoyed.

“I trusted Mrs. Min’s words.” It looked like referring to you by that title made him sick. “I didn’t want her husband to feel uncomfortable, especially because she said that he wanted it to be discreet.”

You felt bile rising to your chest as you watched the bastard stack lie upon lie as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

Minsook considered the witness closely before asking his next question.

“Do you have witnesses to corroborate your story, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung simply smiled, his eyes briefly flitting over to you. He ran his tongue over his lips as if your taste was still on them.

“At least twenty of my staff were present when she arrived at my mansion.”

Wrong. There were more than 50 guys that day when you went to him, dragging a suitcase in your pajamas. Of course, they would testify against you. The case was going to be a nightmare to get out of.

Taehyung was excused in haste. Turning to the judge, Minsook spoke so fast that you almost couldn’t keep up with his flow.

“Your Honor, the state pleads more time to prove that the accused mortgaged the Min property, took the money- “he glanced at the jury with emotion “-and killed her husband to get rid of liabilities. We have enough evidence for reasonable doubt.”

He appealed to the jury with strong words, trying to rock them in his favor.

“An innocent man loses all his money, his wife flees, she never reports him missing, his house is a bloody mess, with blood matching his DNA all over the place. The police found one airplane ticket in the defendant’s personal effects. Just one. Not two, if she is to be believed.”

He let the magnitude of his allusion sink in before throwing the next bombshell.

“As the defense uncovered, the elder Mr. and Mrs. Min were conveniently removed from the defendant’s life. The defense also confirmed that the defendant alleged that her mother-in-law was a threat to her life and sent her away. This raises doubt into the elder Mr. Min’s tragic accident.”

You were shocked into silence; the pain was overwhelming. You felt like you were floating above your body, detached and dead from all the pain and hurt.

Minsook was going on.

“While we can’t definitively prove that the defendant was involved in it, we do have the responsibility of looking keenly into the case at hand to make sure that justice is served.”

There was a brief interruption as the side doors opened, and a man walked in, making straight to your attorney. He handed her a package, whispering into her ear. She immediately stood up and asked for permission to speak. All eyes were on her, and no one noticed the brief looks exchanged between Taehyung and the mysterious messenger. Except you, of course.

“Your Honor, the defense wishes to continue this hearing in camera.”

The judge peered over his glasses at the counsel.

“What is the necessity for it, please?”

You saw the defense attorney wave the package at the jury, addressing the judge and jury at the same time.

“We have proof that Min Yoongi is alive.”

What? You gasped in shock, the news bringing you back to reality and grounding you. The brief respite was replaced with deep hurt when you looked at Taehyung. His single raised eyebrow uttered the unsaid. He had gotten his way. Just like he had said he would.

A loud babble of voices broke out in the spectators’ area, the droning of voices so loud that the judge pounded the gavel furiously.

“And what proof is there to confirm this news?”

Your attorney passed a few pieces of paper over to the clerk.

“These are Min Yoongi’s shell company records that prove that he is in possession of the 50 million dollars, your Honor.” She passed on more papers. “This flight manifest shows that a passenger named Soo Yeongguk was on board, carrying a passport with the same name.”

“And?”

“These surveillance camera pictures show that it was Mr. Min who used a fake passport in the name of Soo Yeongguk to flee the country.”

Minsook sputtered, “But Your Honor, the blood and DNA,” he was wringing his hands, “He couldn’t have flown with those injuries.”

It was explained away by the defense as non-conclusive.

“Mr. Min could have easily planted his blood just like he did everything else to frame his wife, your Honor. There is no hard evidence that he bled to death. Or even died, for that matter.”

“Why has the defense wasted the court’s valuable time when all these facts were already known?”

“We only got confirmation of the false identity a few minutes ago, your Honor.”

The judge rose up to stand, and immediately the whole courtroom followed suit.

“This will be further discussed in camera.”

The judge turned and left, and both the prosecution and defense scurried to fetch their documents and hastened to the judge’s chambers. The bailiff escorted the jury and left.

There was pandemonium and confusion after they left. People were restless, talking in hushed tones about all the drama that had just happened. As for you, it was pure shock that kept you standing on your feet. Shock at how easily justice has been swayed.

It felt like you were treading clouds when you were taken into the judge’s chambers. How could they have cooked up all the proof? You saw your husband’s death with your own eyes. Was there not an inkling of sunshine at the end of the tunnel? Not a drop of justice in the universe?

You felt numb and empty as you stood watching the judge reprimand your counsel for wasting the court’s time and resources. He also fined the defense. You weren’t listening. You didn’t care. Because you were declared innocent. And condemned to marry Taehyung.

You didn’t stay back to see Taehyung and the judge shake hands in solidarity. Nor did you hear Taehyung whisper:

“Good show. Expect the money in one hour.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The cold water pricking your skin did nothing to assuage the hurt eating away at your heart. The incessant flashes of the cameras as you exited the courtrooms, the reporters calling your name out, the overpowering smell of sweat and stale coffee, everything came back with such force that you squatted in the shower, hugging yourself.

You had come back to the hotel alone. No Taehyung. Because he apparently ‘didn’t know you that much.’ Snake. And you couldn’t find a way to escape him. He had kept his side of the bargain. You had to keep yours. The cold water was a far better company than the man outside your door.

“Y/N!” The knocks on the bathroom door were growing impatient. “Come on out already.”

You looked at the flimsy contraption that was dividing you and him. You had to go out. He couldn’t be avoided forever.

“Want me to break the damn door?” The deep voice hollered in irritation.

Taehyung couldn’t wait to see you. You were now his. No force on Earth could take you away from him. Not on his watch. He had already received a text from Wo Bin. So that matter had been taken care of. He was in a jubilant mood.

The lock clicked, and you emerged, wrapped in the hotel’s complimentary white bathrobe. Taehyung thought that he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Wet hair clumped in loose coils around your shoulders, slowly dripping water on the robe. His heart sang, believing that you had been cleansed of Min Yoongi and his touches. You looked angelic; damp body covered in nothing but a robe. A strange feeling raged up from his gut, catching in his throat and smothering him in emotion.

His hand reached you as if it had a mind of its own. The fabric was rough. Wouldn’t it chafe your delicate skin? He balled his fist to contain his annoyance. His slender fingers bunched around the sash, pulling you into his arms. He gasped at how cold you were.

“You’re so cold, Y/N.”

Your face was blank. He got no response. Tracing his steps backward, he landed on the bed, pulling you into his lap.

“So cold,” he repeated again, gently nudging the robe away from your shoulder blades to press soft kisses. You squirmed, and he didn’t like it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped, cupping your jaw.

The hurt was too much and you broke.

“It’s- I – Yoongi.”

He held you in his arms, waiting for the violent sobs to subside, gently shushing you. He didn’t like that you were still thinking of Yoongi. But he had foreseen this. And he had already made arrangements.

“What about Yoongi, baby?”

You sniffed, unsure if you were supposed to tell him. Hell, what else did you have to lose?

“He- I- “More sobs and hiccups before you continued: “-I want to see him.”

He blew out his cheeks softly.

“And what good will that do?”

He attempted to wipe your tears, but you slapped his hand away.

“I’m his wife.”

“Not anymore. He’s dead.”

The words twisted into your heart like a cold iron dagger. The fighter in you returned with a vengeance.

“But Yoongi is alive. At least legally. You just proved that in court.”

He chuckled, the vibrations of his chest transferring onto your own body, sweeping you into the reverberation too.

“Yes. And unfortunately, he died an hour ago.”

You tried to push yourself off him in vain. The hold grew tight, and his eyes became harder. Your voice broke again.

“What do you mean?”

He cradled your head into the crook of his neck, and you revolted angrily by hitting his jaw and pulling back.

“Tell me, you fucking prick!”

He grinned, his irises dark, the danger swimming in them climbing out and coloring his features with malice.

“You’ll find out yourself.”

He sat motionless, looking into your eyes, as you hurled cuss words at him, shaking his shoulders, demanding an answer. You grew tired eventually, and stopped your tirade, choosing to go silent instead.

It was all quiet in the room, with Taehyung holding you in his lap, sniffing your wet hair, when the ringing of a cell phone screeched and cut the silence. The sound was coming from his pocket.

“Take it,” he urged, his voice dark and mysterious. “It’s for you.”

Grimacing, you dug your fingers into his pockets, scowling when he moaned at your touch. Upon finding the phone, you accepted the call and breathed out a shaky “Hello?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I don’t have the faintest idea why Yoongi did this,” Mrs. Park said, dabbing her eyes as she patted your hand. “He was such a good boy.” She shook her head sadly. “Maybe I didn’t know him that well after all.”

To say that her words amplified your hurt would be an understatement. You were surrounded by people who were willing to believe that Yoongi had deserted you, ending up dead by a twist of fate. Your Yoongi would never do that. Never. Yet, the groups of people clustered in the hall seemed to think otherwise.

You looked around at the familiar yet strange faces. Did any of them even care? You thought not. And yet again, the man who destroyed your husband made his appearance, weaving his way through the flood of faces.

“My heartfelt condolences, Mrs. Min.”

You shook your hand free from his clasp. The venomous anger bubbling inside you made you choke on your words as you bit out a forced “Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Talk about Karma,” he went on, unmindful of your hostile countenance. “He left you desolate and Karma caught up with him.”

Before you could snap, Mrs. Park nodded her head, acknowledging his words.

“Mr. Kim is right, child. Yoongi got into trouble because he left you. No decent man fakes his death and pins the blame on his wife.”

She became agitated, the sorrow of losing her best friend’s son hitting her hard.

“I wish he hadn’t gotten involved with the mafia, though. He might have come back to you. Alas.”

More tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to Mrs. Park. How you wished you could scream that Yoongi was dead only because of Taehyung!

“I’ll call on Sung-Hee at the Klammer when I leave.” She patted your shoulder delicately.

You nodded with a soft whisper: “Please give her my love.”

Kim Namjoon had come to bid his friend farewell. He was silent as he surveyed the closed coffin, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he controlled his choked emotions. He paused to hiss in your ear when he was leaving:

“You killed him, bitch.”

The funeral was very difficult to get through. People kept walking up to you, expressing their disappointment at the way your husband had met his death. And all the while the killer stood at a corner of the hall, not caring in the least about the gross injustice Min Yoongi was being subjected to, even in his death.

When everyone left, you were standing alone in the hall, working up the heart to bid goodbye to the love of your life. Taehyung had left long ago, playing his part of an innocent visitor.

Your fingers traced the wood, feeling the ridges and following the embossed floral patterns. It was going to be very hard. Biting your lip to contain the trembling, you slid a finger under the coffin lid.

“I would advise against that.”

You looked up with a start. It was him again. You glared at him as your fingers pried under the lid again. He stepped forward with an urgent whisper.

“Y/N, don’t.”

You had already seen the worst happen right before your eyes. What more would frighten you?

Taehyung wasn’t fast enough, and you had already screamed and leaped back when he arrived at your side.

“I told you not to.” His arms embraced you, holding you tight while you continued screaming your heart out. You turned on him with vengeful fury, hitting his chest, throwing a volley of punches with your balled fists. He let you punch him, not even trying to shield himself.

When you were spent from all the screaming and punching, he hugged you as softly as he could.

“I hired the best mortician. But-” he sighed heavily “-yeah; Min still looks bad.”

He was met with no response. He continued hugging you, rubbing soft circles on your back.

“But-”

He bent down to look at your red eyes. “Hm?”

“Where’s his…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “… his wedding ring?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know.”

It didn’t matter. You knew that the man inside the coffin was Yoongi. You would recognize those fingers from anywhere. Those long beautiful fingers that had traced lines of love on your skin ever so often. He was indeed gone.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was silent as he watched the numbers on the elevator as it climbed up to his penthouse office. It had been three days since he had last seen you. You were at his mansion, alright, but you had locked yourself in a room and had refused to come out. He hadn’t seen you ever since the funeral. He idly wondered if you were still wearing the black dress from that evening. A small conscious cough interrupted his thought train.

So Na Yeon, his personal secretary, nervously fished in her pocket for a kerchief. “Please excuse me.”

He didn’t react. The top two buttons of her blouse were undone. Her lipstick was a shade too bright for his taste. She was interesting to look at. But no one could ever match to you. And thus, he found himself thinking of you yet again.

When the elevator dinged and opened, she followed Taehyung briskly, sailing into his office right behind him. She waited for him to be seated, and then got on with briefing him about his appointments for the day. But when Taehyung waved her away, she remained in place, biting her lip anxiously.

“Well?”

She creased her forehead, deciding if she should tell him.

“Mr. Wo Bin reported that one of the men is rebelling, sir.”

“In what way?”

“It appears that he asked for a raise and Mr. Bin turned him down.”

“What did Bin say about it?”

She shook her head.

“He said that the man isn’t good enough and that he’s already a waste of your money.”

Taehyung lost interest. He wanted to get his work done with so he could think of you more.

“If Bin said so, I don’t doubt his opinion. Tell him to handle the guy in whichever way he sees fit.”

“Yes, sir.”

She turned and left. And Taehyung noticed her short business skirt for the first time. She seemed really proud of her figure. And then she faded out and his mind wandered to you once again.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You could hear him fiddling with the doorknob. You knew he had a master key. You had expected to see him break into the room angrily as soon as you had slammed yourself in. But Taehyung did nothing of that sort.

Every morning, before he left, he would try the doorknob. Every evening, as soon as he arrived, he would do it again. There would be heavy sighs outside the door and he’d leave. It was like a ritual, and it went on for six days since the funeral.

On the seventh day, however, he lost his patience. He had waited and given you time to come back to him. He wanted you to walk into his arms willingly. But his patience was wearing thin.

“Open the door.”

He was pressing his forehead against the wood, gritting his teeth in suppressed anger. When there was no sound of movement, his voice rose to a high growl.

“I said open! Now!”

His large palms made contact with the wood as he pounded on the door. Suddenly, the door gave way and opened, the darkness inside the room making it hard for him to see you. It didn’t help that you were wearing black too. At last, he made out your outline.

He reached over to flick the light on, and gasped as soon as the light hit you. There were deep dark circles under your eyes. The straps of the dress were loose and ready to fall from your shoulders.

“God, Y/N, you look like Death.”

He cautiously approached forward, running his eyes over the clavicles that were jutting out sharply.

“It’s been six days. Seven, almost.” He took your hand, pressing it gently. “Come out.”

“No.”

Your voice was so low that he tilted his head to catch the words.

“You need to eat.”

“No.”

He tugged on your hand hard, anger rising in his chest.

“It’s not good for- ” he eyed your belly, “-that thing inside you.”

Hatred lit a spark in your blank eyes.

“It’s a baby,” you hissed, pushing against his chest with all your might. “It’s Min Yoongi’s baby.”

“Yeah, whatever. Do you want it to die? Come out and fucking eat.”

The glaring eyes were better than the blank ones, he noted. He liked you better when you were all animated and furious.

“I wasn’t starving myself. The mini-fridge…“

“I don’t think fruit would nourish your bastard enough. Stop arguing and come out.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung knew the answer before he even asked the question out loud.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You were dressed in a soft cashmere sweater and jeans. Yoongi used to love that sweater. He would always comment on how it made you look like a fairy cloud.

Taehyung knew the clothes only too well. He had seen you wear the sweater on multiple dates with Yoongi while he was following you around. It made him mad to see you still dressing up for him.

You didn’t even turn his way, throwing the answer at him sullenly:

“My husband’s grave.”

Taehyung leaned back on the sofa, propping his legs up on the coffee table.

“And who exactly is buried there?”

You turned and stared at him, confused.

“Min Yoongi?”

Taehyung chuckled heartily, crossing his arms and gazing fondly at you.

“Oh honey, how naïve you are!”

“What do you mean?” Anxiety pooled in your chest as he continued chuckling without answering.

He took his sweet time to answer, leaving you standing puzzled.

“Do you honestly think I’d let you visit that bastard in his grave, Y/N? Just so you can make him a martyr? Do you think I’m a fool?”

“What- what do you mean?” you repeated again, feeling your chest tighten.

“He isn’t buried there. There’s another dead guy matching his description buried in his stead.”

“But- the coffin-“

“Oh, yeah it was him in the coffin, all right.” He yawned lazily. “Switched bodies on the way to the cemetery.”

He watched all the emotions flashing on your face, the quiver of your lips, the unblinking eyes as you grasped all the information he had just stated. Finally, a cold blank stare replaced the myriad of emotions that had lit up your face. Slowly, you walked back into the bedroom, locking yourself shut. Taehyung sighed deeply. You were finally his.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

It was obvious to Taehyung that you were suffering him just for the sake of your baby. It was bittersweet to him that the only reason you would stay alive was Yoongi’s child growing inside you. He wished fervently to get rid of that tiny Min seed, but he knew the aftermath would be disastrous.

You talked to him in barbed tones only if it was absolutely necessary. The rest of the time, it was as if he was invisible to you. He had forced you to sleep in the master bedroom with him. But it hurt him to see the wide gap in the sheets between him and you every night.

Sometimes, he would turn in his sleep and a finger would brush against you. And he’d stay wide awake watching you huddle on the corner of the bed, sobbing quietly. It became increasingly apparent that you weren’t sleeping at all. If he so much as shifted in his side of the bed, you would immediately flinch.

Part of him wanted to understand, to hold you, and say that he loved you and wouldn’t hurt you. Another part of him was fueled by jealousy, that even in death, Min Yoongi was winning your attention. It was frustrating to him that his enemy wasn’t alive. Who could fight a dead man’s memory?

It was that part of him that broke loose, when he saw you crawl on your side of the bed, wearing an oversized hoodie that reeked of another man. Not letting him touch you was already a sore point. And the hoodie just made him go ballistic.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Huh?” You looked down at Yoongi’s hoodie. “I am cold.”

“Wear something else or strip naked for all I care.” His nose was flaring with the exertion it took to control himself.

You glared at him for a hot second.

“Fuck yourself.”

Without another word, you turned your back to him.

There was a sudden jolt as he pranced to your side, pulling you so you were lying on your back. His whole countenance was flashing with murderous rage. His knees were on either side of you, his arms pinning your shoulders to the bed. Hot breath fanned your face as he dipped his head down.

“Throw everything away. Everything that belonged to Min.”

You stared at him in defiance.

“What about me? I belong to him.”

His lips twitched ominously.

“He is dead.”

You didn’t back down in the slightest.

“Yes. You killed him.”

You could see the internal struggle he was going through to stop himself from hitting you.

He took a deep ragged breath and dipped his head even closer to your face.

“Listen, Y/N. Everything I did, I did because I love you.” He gripped your jaw hard when you rolled your eyes. “I went through a lot to get you. And I will not let you screw this up for me.” He paused with a haunted look in his eyes.

“Why is it so hard to love me?”

He looked at your lips as if they were curling around the words that would be his lifeline.

“Because you are not Yoongi. You killed him.”

His hot sigh fell on your lips, the heat sucking all the moisture from the soft flesh. You were scared that he was going to kiss you.

He leaned back a bit, catching hold of the hem of the hoodie.

“Are you going to remove this, or should I?”

He got off you, turning his back to you as he rummaged in his closet. Without looking back, he tossed his grey oversized sweater at you. He didn’t wait before adding:

“Wear that or sleep naked. Your choice.”

It gave him wicked joy to see you dressed in his clothes. His scent would be all over you, washing away that bastard’s. He made a note to throw away everything you owned and buy you new ones. Nothing should remind you of Min. Even the most inconsequential thing would have to go. He looked at your back wistfully. Everything but that thing inside your belly.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Two weeks passed uneventfully. Taehyung had given you a restricted phone. You could only call Taehyung with it. Calls to Hoseok and others never went through. You felt like your world had suddenly shrunk to one individual.

There was nothing to do in that big house. You weren’t allowed to work, because, apparently you were ‘not ready yet.’ Sometimes, it crossed your mind that you hadn’t received any letters or calls from your clients and friends. But it was probably because Taehyung screened everything. You were sure he’d filter the air you breathed if he had a way to.

You wondered how your mother-in-law was. Why was it that she went crazy but you didn’t? Had your love for Yoongi not been strong enough? Were you not anchored deeply with Yoongi as Sung-Hee had been with her husband?

Would you end up in a room next to your Yoongi’s mother? But you were sure they would take away your child if you went to the Klammer Institute. No, you shivered in disgust. You would never let Taehyung destroy the little piece of Yoongi left in the world.

The next morning, you emerged from the bathroom, body drained in exhaustion. Nothing you ate seemed to stay in your tummy. Wearily, you padded over to the full-length mirror in the dressing table.

You were pulling the shirt up and gazing at your belly when there was a click behind you. Taehyung stood immobile at the doorway, mouth agape.

His eyes were fixed on the mirror, looking at the tiny flab on your erstwhile flat belly. You had been only a couple months pregnant when Yoongi died, so the bump hadn’t shown. But nature was going her way, and soon you would be heavily pregnant, belly rich and round with child.

Taehyung gazed silently, not uttering a word. It was as if he were on mute. When he opened his mouth, at last, the words that shot out were:

“Time to marry.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Your plea to wait longer fell on deaf ears. Taehyung didn’t want to delay marrying you. He wanted to protect his ego. He would marry you before your pregnancy showed.

You pointed out that people would call you an unscrupulous woman who remarried even before flowers took root on her husband’s grave.

“Do you want everyone to hate me?”

He didn’t even flinch.

“Everyone already hates me. At least you’ll be on my side.”

No matter how you pleaded, he refused to listen. He reminded you of the jail time he had saved you and your baby from.

“It wouldn’t take me a minute to get you arrested again, you know.”

He looked at your midsection. “Want me to sign up for foster care?”

There was no way out. You slumped your shoulders in resignation. It was part of the deal, after all.

“Nothing lavish.” You licked your lips nervously. “Just take me to the fucking courthouse and get it over with.

Taehyung smiled, eyes dancing. The sunny smile lit his face aglow, a strange softness shading his sharp features.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Y/N, you really are a mystery. So soon?”

Mrs. Kim didn’t care to lower her voice.

“Leave her alone, Mrs. Kim.”

Hoseok’s tone was clipped, annoyance evident on his face.

Bo Na was holding your hand, patting it slowly, her eyes assuring you that she understood why you had to do what you did.

Taehyung smiled, finger grazing the rim of the champagne glass. He was wearing the tux he had bought months before you married Yoongi. He had spent countless nights running his fingers over the dreamy satin, his mind dreaming up heady concoctions of how sparkling you would look as you walked down the aisle, on his arm. He had woven all his dreams into the very fabric of that tuxedo, and the fact that he had, at last, attained what he wanted, made his heart warm.

“To tell you the truth, Mrs. Kim,” he sipped some champagne, waiting until all the attention was on him, “Y/N is pregnant with Min Yoongi’s child.”

Bo Na gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to contain the shock.

Mrs. Kim looked just as shocked. She couldn’t stop lowering her eyes to your belly.

Taehyung continued:

“She needs a person by her side, especially after losing Yoongi so tragically. I was Yoongi’s friend, and I can’t let Y/N suffer by herself.”

You wished the champagne were laced with poison. When had you become so weak? How was it that you let him puppeteer you into silence? Should you have tried and killed him before things got so complicated?

“Lost in thought, lamb?”

Taehyung grinned. No water on Earth would have doused the fiery glare you threw his way. Mrs. Kim called out to her son who was passing by.

“Namjoon!”

Yoongi’s best friend clenched his jaw and exhaled loudly before making his way to his mother.

“Yes, mom.”

“You were wrong about Y/N, boy. The poor girl is pregnant.”

His thick eyebrows arched at you in surprise.

His mother went on.

“And Taehyung only wanted to help, poor darling. Such a good man, he is.”

Namjoon’s eyes locked onto Taehyung’s. The air felt electric as they stared each other down. Namjoon deflated eventually.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is. Excuse me, please.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

There were no words to describe how embarrassed you were by the whole wedding affair. Everything was the opposite of nothing lavish. The decorations were all extravagant, sophisticated, and gaudy in the face of the fact that you had been widowed only months ago.

Taehyung had invited every person who had attended your first wedding with Yoongi. It was almost as if he wanted to flaunt you and brag about how he had fooled them all right under their noses. He was everywhere, flitting from one guest to the other, flashing his boxy smile, playing his part of the perfect host.

The guests were confused if they had to offer their condolences or wishes. It was very awkward for you, the little rip in your heart deepening with each guest’s flustered greeting.

Wow. Everyone pretended as if Yoongi never existed. As if he had never been killed. Killed by the man who danced through the halls as if he were the epitome of innocence.

Hoseok took your hand, leaning in to whisper.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wish I could kill Taehyung.”

You blinked away the tears.

“Yeah, so do I.”

The sound of a spoon tapping a wine glass cut through the chatter.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your attention, please!”

Everyone stopped chatting and looked expectantly at Taehyung’s uncle, who was all smiles.

“I’d like to say what a fine boy Taehyung is, deciding to take Y/N under his wing, after the terrible misfortune that befell her.” He raised his voice to a higher note. “Especially because he didn’t want her child to be fatherless.”

If you ever had the power to vanish, you would have loved to use it at that moment. There were several gasps and turned heads that looked your way.

“Congratulations, to the new couple!”

Taehyung’s uncle raised his glass, and scattered applause sounded, and grew louder as people digested the news.

Taehyung stood with his head bent, a shy smile painting his cheeks pink.

That devil.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Going through the whole ordeal of the wedding was emotionally taxing. Every little thing about the ceremony reminded you of the gummy-smiled beautiful man you had married with so much love. When Taehyung slid the ring on your finger, you felt a wave of nausea that certainly wasn’t related to your pregnancy. He lowered his head to kiss your knuckles, loving the way the beautiful cushion-cut diamond adorned your pretty hand.

As you were walking out, trying not to cringe at Taehyung’s grasp on the small of your hip, a woman stumbled and dropped her glass, splashing wine all over the front of your dress.

“Oh! I am so sorry!”

Your brain couldn’t get irritated enough to lose your temper. Not when a man had already forcibly married you and assassinated your darling Yoongi’s character just before your eyes.

“It’s alright, Na Yeon.”

Taehyung waved her away, not angry in the least. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear:

“I’m going to rip that dress off your body anyway.”

The ride to his mansion was the longest. You had been living there, yes, but as Mrs. Min. You had hidden behind that name as if it were a consecrated circle. But this time, you were going as Taehyung’s bride. Nothing was going to stop him from claiming you.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Kim,” Taehyung sang to you as the car pulled into the driveway.

“Taehyung-“

He laid his slim finger on your lip, shushing you.

“Call me Tae.”

You scoffed in disbelief.

“You really think I’d call you that? What, do you think I love you?”

He grinned happily.

“You do. You just don’t accept it yet.”

There was a battle of stares and you turned on your heel, stomping away to change out of the stupid wine-soaked wedding dress.

It was confusing when you stopped outside the bedroom door. Because the knob wouldn’t turn. You were fiddling with it for a good five minutes when Taehyung’s chuckle fell in your ears.

He was leaning against the banister, a set of shiny keys in his hand.

“It’s customary to give the lady of the house all the keys,” he drawled, twirling the silvery loop that jangled in his hand. “Our bedroom is upstairs, Mrs. Kim. Newly decorated just for us.”

Irritated, you plucked the keys out of his fingers, huffing your way up to the damned bedroom. When you threw the door open, you understood that he was telling the truth.

The whole room was painted in pastel cream colors, books and music stacked neatly on the glass shelves. There was a huge closet, with mirrors for doors. The closet directly overlooked the giant white bed. Rose petals were strewn across the bed to make a big flower heart.

You knew he was behind you when you heard the brisk step of his shoe.

“Like it?”

You could almost hear his smile in those words.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The petals stuck onto your thighs as you rolled out of bed. Taehyung was sleeping, his chest pressing against the bed, his arm strewn over a pillow. His rhythmic breathing confirmed that he was asleep.

You shuddered at the shrunken petals, crushed under the weight of your bodies. Taehyung’s dark hair fanned over his arm, and you could see his veins bulging underneath his skin. So strong. Yet, he hadn’t thrown himself at you as you had feared.

In fact, he had gone straight to shower upon entering the new bedroom. You had changed into shorts. Strangely, all your long night pants were missing from the new closet.

Taehyung hadn’t made any sudden moves. He had emerged from the bathroom, stood before the closet-mirrors, tightened the cords of his pajamas, and turned to you.

You had been absolutely sure that you were going to be claimed harshly. But he had simply knelt down, both hands on either side of you, and leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. Accompanied by the distinct sniff of his habitual smelling of your hair. And then he had risen up and gone to his side of the bed.

Sneaking a look at the man sleeping across the bed, you couldn’t understand why he hadn’t thrown himself at you forcibly. Had he not done it in the glass room?

The bedside clock ticked on, and you decided to pay your parents a visit. You hadn’t been to see them in a long time, ever since Yoongi had started having money troubles. The last time you had visited them, you were Mrs. Min. Something inside you just wanted to get away from the sudden overload of being married to your husband’s killer. Your mind craved something to keep you from going insane. Something that was a constant in the troubled times of uncertainty.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Months ago

Yoongi was at home, all alone. An empty whiskey bottle was lying on the table, rolling to the sides a teeny bit every now and then. He couldn’t believe he had gotten into so much trouble. All those years of hard work his parents and grandparents had put into the Min Group, all the effort, it was all falling apart. Because of him. The heir who wrecked the family. He could almost see the headlines in the newspaper.

His breath was probably smelling like whiskey. You would find out. He sighed.

You. Beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful you. Why had things gone so bad? Why did he ever trust Wo Bin, that bastard? A thousand questions raced in his mind, the drunken haze making them even louder. How could he ever tell you that he had let you down? That he had let his entire family down?

He glanced at the digital clock on the counter. 3 pm. You would be home soon. Good gosh, was it Wednesday already? Kim Taehyung had threatened to show up at the Min house if he didn’t pay up by Friday. What was he going to do in such little time?

A clang of the doorbell startled him. You carried your own key. Who else was at the door?

Yoongi stood up and the headrush made him stumble around a bit. When he finally opened the door, a delivery girl was standing outside. She was carrying a bouquet of lilies. Lilies. They were your favorite. He was confused. Who sent you lilies at your home?

“Delivery for Mrs. Kim?”

Yoongi stood stunned. What the hell?

“You’ve got the wrong address.”

He tried to shut the door, but the girl persisted in a shrill voice.

“A person called Y/N? Does she live here?”

“Yeah- why…?”

The girl thrust the bouquet in his hands, grinning cheerfully.

“Then these are for her.”

She hopped away, leaving him standing at the porch, wondering what in the world just happened.

When Yoongi went back in, his gaze fell on the little card attached to the bow on the stems. It read:

‘To the future Mrs. Kim.

All the love, KTH.’

The words made Yoongi so angry that his fingers started shaking alarmingly. There was a band of sweat under his collar, even though the AC was on full blast. Anger coursing through his veins, Yoongi clawed at the card and tore it to pieces. He had never been so insulted in his life.

Outside, the delivery girl dialed a number and waited for the man to pick up.

“I delivered the flowers to him, Mr. Bin.”

She paused to listen.

“Yeah, he was alone.”

Yoongi was on his way to dump the flowers in the trash can when his phone rang. Swearing under his breath, he threw the bouquet on the counter and picked up.

“Min Yooooongiii…”

The deep booming voice drawled in his ear. Yoongi felt his cheeks heat up. Sweat was beginning to trickle down his forehead.

“Quit playing your games with me, Taehyung.”

There was a throaty chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Do you think your wife will like the lilies?”

“I swear I’ll-“

“I am sure she received another delivery at her studio.”

Yoongi went mute. What did the card on that one say? He started panicking.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Kim Taehyung.”

The caller laughed in a way designed to specifically irritate Yoongi.

“We’ll see. Remember you only have till Friday to pay up.”

The line disconnected and Yoongi was left fuming, unable to collect his thoughts. He needed alcohol. Something. Anything. Just to douse the white-hot fire burning in his chest.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“Mrs. Min?”

You had moved into the new studio only a couple months back. You primarily operated from home, but the studio was needed when you met other clients. Yoongi had set you up with a beautiful studio complete with hand-picked designers who assisted you.

“Yes?”

“Miss Yung is requesting to meet you tomorrow, for lunch.”

You looked at the calendar. Thursday was when you always went to see your parents. But Yung Min-Ji was a wonderful client, and you did have a lot to discuss with her about the styling of her new condo.

“Tell her I’m available.”

“But your usual schedule-“

You smiled lightly.

“I’ll go today instead. No worries.”

It wasn’t a sentiment to go only on Thursdays. It just happened to be that your schedules were light on that day of the week. You glanced at the time. 2 pm. You could use some fresh air.

There was a cool breeze when you stopped by the florist to get your mom’s flowers- carnations. You were walking absent-mindedly, coming to a stop in front of the headstone. You looked at the grave, confusion creasing your eyebrows.

There was a beautiful bouquet of white carnations laid neatly on each of your parents’ graves. The flowers were fresh as if someone had just laid them out. But no one was around. You were the only living person in the cemetery. You knelt down, finding a pool of molten wax. It was hard to the touch. Someone had come by earlier. Further inspection showed that both graves had indeed had carnations and one small lit candle on them. But, they were left by whom?

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

The sound of gravel crunching under the tires of your car woke Yoongi up. His head was throbbing. He held his head, steadying himself before getting up.

“Baby, I’m home!” your melodic voice chirped at the door.

Before he even got to hug you, he was met with your screeches, as you were hollering in excitement. You were jumping up and down in his arms, eyes shining in delight.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongiii-yaahhhh,” you crooned, grinning eagerly, “The flowers- was that you?”

There was a catch in his throat while Yoongi racked his brain.

“Uh- yes. Liked them?”

You swung yourself on his arms, giggling.

“Like? I loved them!”

Oh shit. He remembered the forgotten lilies on the counter. He had meant to throw them away. Damn. How would he explain them?

“Y/N,” he whispered, catching hold of you. “Go on and shower, I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, suddenly transported back to reality.

“Yoongi- you smell of whiskey.”

He turned his back to you, advancing in swift steps to grab the cursed lilies.

“I’ll be back.”

You made your way to the bedroom, mind still buzzing in happiness. You hadn’t even looked at the lilies.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Present day

The soil was wet under your shoes, from all the dew. The guards had shut up and let you leave on foot, without insisting on approval from their boss. Fucking privilege of being Mrs. Kim, ugh.

The faint smell of cut grass kissed your nostrils as you walked absently. It was still early in the morning, and the cool air helped ease your feverish tension. A man was raking leaves near your parents’ graves.

You walked faster, reaching his side just in time to see a bouquet of shrunken white carnations, withered and sad. There was molten wax on the cold marble, just like there had been before. The man sank to his knees, scraping off the wax gently. He didn’t even look your way.

But the flowers and candles? Who was it?

“Excuse me, um, sir?”

He raised his head, one good eye looking expectantly at you, while the other was clouded with cataract.

“Yes, miss?”

You gestured towards the graves.

“Those flowers… do you know who-“

“Aye, them flowers,” he shook his head, “I don’t know nothin’ about who leaves them.”

You crinkled your forehead.

“But you were cleaning the wax, so I-“

“Aye, miss. I been paid to keep these two graves clean. Good money for an odd job.”

Your heart started fluttering wildly.

“Paid? By whom?”

He made a stern face as if he were concentrating.

“Dunno. I been paid to take care of the graves as long as I live.”

He resumed scraping the wax, talking slowly.

“Man paid five grand, one time. Said ‘em graves should be kept spick and span.” He paused to turn around self-consciously. “He said he be checking on me, makin’ sure I ain’t skipped town with them money.”

You didn’t know what to think. It was a weird piece of information to process.

“How long since he paid you, sir?”

He closed his eyes, maybe he was thinking.

“Four years? Maybe five-ish,” he said when he finally opened them.

“Miss, tell him I be doing the work all right!”

The man hollered at your retreating back, nervous that you were spying on him.

You nodded, walking rapidly away. It was incomprehensible. It was a dream. Yes. You had probably dreamt it up. You would wake soon and find your husband’s killer draped all over you.

When you returned gloomily to the mansion, Taehyung was lounging on the sofa, flicking through the pages of a business magazine. You ignored him and made straight for the bedroom. It was only when you hit the shower that you remembered what day it was. Thursday.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I’m going back to work.”

Taehyung lowered his glass, eyelashes almost dusting the rim of the glass.

“Doing what?”

You folded your hands, staring him down.

“Designing homes and offices.”

He grinned, sipping juice innocently as you tapped your foot in impatience.

“And who do you think wants Mrs. Kim to design for them?”

You hadn’t forgotten that the title alienated you from the rest of the elite. But hadn’t you a uniqueness of your own? You were sure they wouldn’t discriminate you. They were all your friends and Yoongi’s, weren’t they?

“I have friends.”

He took another long sip, smacking his lips just to annoy you.

“No, baby, you don’t. To them, you’re nothing but a traitor.”

“I’m not.” You were sure that he was just manipulating you into his twisted theories.

He tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“Don’t believe me?” He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it to you. “Go on, try calling someone.”

Your instinct was to dial Hoseok’s number. But you knew he would stay by your side forever. Calling him would be like mistrusting his friendship. You thought hard. Maybe you could call Mrs. Park.

You dialed her number feverishly, hoping she would pick up. You didn’t know you were holding your breath until the line clicked and a voice spoke out:

“Yes? Mrs. Park here.”

“Oh hello, Mrs. Park, I’m Y/N, how ar-“

She cut you off swiftly.

“Y/N? What is it, child?”

You nervously looked at Taehyung out of the corner of your eyes. He was leaning back, a bored look on his face as he blew raspberries. Twisting the hem of your tee, you chuckled consciously.

“I was wondering if you knew anyone who’s looking to-,” you licked your dry lips, “You know, to redo their apartments and stuff.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Ah Y/N, I wish I could help you. But you know, Jaewon found a new designer who specializes in Earth tones and my daughter says it’s the craze right now, so-“

“I see.”

Mrs. Park heaved a deep sigh.

“So, yeah, everyone is more interested in following that trend, naturally,” She was rambling to neutralize the awkwardness, “Besides, you’re pregnant and… I hope you don’t mind, dearie.”

“No, Mrs. Park, it’s fine.”

“Call me if you want anything, Y/N.” More like ‘Don’t disturb me again, Y/N.’

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You couldn’t bear to look at the gloating face that smirked at you. He was right. Everyone loved you only when you had been a Min. But as soon as Yoongi died, their allegiance had crumbled to dust.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to hate them, though. You had married Taehyung just months after Yoongi died. Married Kim Taehyung, of all people. It was a wonder that Mrs. Park had even picked the call.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Every morning, you stood before the mirror, gazing at your belly. There was no significant bump, but you could just feel the little piece of Yoongi stir inside you. It made your heart sing. How happy Yoongi would have been! How wonderful life would have been with him! Raising your child together, loving each other, looking into each other’s eyes, watching your skin sag and wrinkle; growing old, but your love never lessening.

It was ironic that every day felt like an eon with Taehyung. You were in constant tension around him, like an elastic band stretched to its maximum limit. Even his slightest moves made you nervous. If he reached over for salt, you were left trembling. If he walked out of the shower in his boxers, your heart raced. Everything about him kept you on edge, scared that he would pounce on you without a moment’s notice.

Things came to a head the next Tuesday. You were getting ready to go out for your doctor’s appointment. Taehyung emerged from the shower, rubbing the towel against his wet hair as he walked to the closet mirrors, standing next to you.

His studied your yellow floral dress, only the slightest hint of belly was proof that another human was growing inside you. A tight thread of jealousy snapped inside Taehyung. Yoongi had made love to you, cummed in you, leaving you pregnant. He fumed in jealousy, getting into his pants and picking out his shirt.

He was adjusting his tie when he saw you swirl the tube of lip balm. The same brand you had used for years, lending that delicious glossy sheen on your lips that kept haunting him in his dreams. His tie was left forgotten, and he reached his hand out to gently pull you closer. The sudden rigidity of your body reminded him of a startled kitten.

“What, babe?” He crooned, drawing you nearer. “Go on, wear it.”

When you didn’t comply, he plucked the tube out of your fingers, smearing a glossy coat of lip balm on your lips. He could see the visible heaving of your chest as you struggled to maintain your composure.

Pinning you with your back against the closet mirror, he dipped his head to ghost his breath over your lips. The fruity smell made him go crazy.

Without warning, his tongue licked a hot trail over your upper lip, following the natural curve of your cupid’s bow. He smacked his lips, groaning in lust, and went in to savor your lower lip too.

“Your lips look better with my saliva, baby,” he murmured, gently nibbling on your lips and sucking on the plump soft flesh.

He was heady with need, nibbling harder and pushing himself closer against you. When you tried pushing against his chest, he got mad.

“How long do you think I’ll wait? Huh?” His voice was thick in a mix of anger and want. “Think I’d just fuck my hand forever?”

Your throat felt hollow and itchy when you voiced out:

“I don’t want to-“

His face crumpled in anger.

“Well, too bad, because I want to.”

Still in his pants, he thrust his clothed crotch into your pelvis, the floral skirt allowing him to feel the mound between your legs. He used his knee to keep your legs spread, while he went on thrusting against you. The friction made him curse out loud. One of his hands sneaked to catch hold of your throat, and he nestled his forehead against your shoulder blade, never stopping his thrusts.

His moans grew louder, quicker, and more intense. He bit the soft skin on your shoulder as he reached his climax. He panted in your ear, deep breaths reverberating through his body. With a heavy moan, he licked the bite mark and straightened his back, watching you warily.

Your eyes were closed, face frozen and impassive.

He hadn’t been able to control himself. When he thought about it, he hadn’t even touched his dick once, and yet his seed was all over his underwear. That was how much you affected him.

When he pushed off of you, you still hadn’t opened your eyes.

“Thought I’d change,” he drawled lazily, biting his lip. “But on second thought, I’ll go to work in my creamed pants. It’ll remind me of you all day.”

A drop of salty water rolled down your closed lid.

There were only sounds of him moving around, grabbing his phone, keys and stuff, and then silence.

He hadn’t even touched a button on your dress. But you had never felt so open and vulnerable in your entire life.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was in a serious discussion with his board when the intercom rang. He threw an angry glance at Na Yeon, who bowed so deep he could see her cleavage clear as day.

She hurried to answer, looking at him beseechingly.

Taehyung did not like his meetings interrupted. Calls were always screened while he was in discussion. Only an important person or an important matter could bypass the screening.

“What?”

“I am to put it on speakerphone,” Na Yeon replied meekly.

“Do it then.” He was losing his patience.

“Kim Taehyung, you fucking son of a bitch!”

Everyone in the boardroom was startled, looking at each other in panic.

“How dare you take advantage of me like that? You insufferable, disgusting prick!”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, playing with his pen.

“You miserable bag of shit, I swear I’ll cut your balls off!”

Taehyung drummed his knuckles on the desk, waiting for the tirade to stop.

“You are the vilest asshole on earth!”

The line went dead, and a stunned silence prevailed in the room. Taehyung rose again, going back to the whiteboard. He huffed at the mute people staring at him. He didn’t lose an ounce of his cool.

“So, let’s pick up where we left off…”

After everyone left, Na Yeon stayed back to apologize. Taehyung noticed that there was a beauty mark on her chest, right near the button of her blouse. Well, it wouldn’t have been visible if she had buttoned up her blouse. Maybe she felt sexy. Whatever. He didn’t really care.

“I’m sorry about the phone call, Mr. Kim.”

“It was nothing.” He shrugged it off, he wasn’t very bothered.

She continued unmindful of his disinterest.

“I should have tried to cut the call, I shall screen her next-“

His features suddenly flashed with annoyance.

“She is my wife. She should never be screened. Besides, she has every right to yell at me.” He sneered at Na Yeon as he bit out his words. “You don’t have any right to cut my wife’s call.”

With that, he stormed out of the boardroom, leaving his secretary shocked into silence.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

That evening, when Taehyung returned home, you were in the sitting room, legs crossed. Your mouth was set in a straight line. You were giving off a stubborn aura, and Taehyung fought the smile that threatened to curl his lips up.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss your husband, Mrs. Kim?”

The hot glare didn’t alarm him in the least.

He loosened his tie, sighing in that deep voice of his. It made the hair on your arms stand up. He settled down on the couch, just next to you.

“I enjoyed the telephonic love note today,” he said, fiddling with his cufflinks. He proceeded to unbuckle his belt.

“Especially because my pants were crusted with cum.” He threw his belt on the floor. “Thanks to you.”

You jumped to your feet, wagging a finger at him, screeching in mutiny.

“Don’t ever do that again, you scumbag.”

“Why not?” Mock surprise danced on his face. “Didn’t you agree to marry me?”

“I didn’t agree to be violated, Kim Taehyung.”

He puffed out his cheeks, disinterested.

“You didn’t leave me any other choice.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Did he expect you to jump on his lap and love him? After he snatched everything you loved away from you? Was he insane?

You threw your arms up, scoffing incredulously.

“How on Earth do you think I’ll ever love you?” The very idea made you gag. “After you killed my husband? Do you have no regret?”

He scanned his fingernails, pouting his lips in mock hurt. His voice was soft.

“I didn’t kill him on my own.”

“What?” The tic on your mouth made your face twitch. “What the fuck are you saying?”

He lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“Everything I did was because I loved you. For you.”

You stared at him, no words coming to mind. You had been sure that you were only the spoils of the war between his family and Yoongi’s. You didn’t believe for one second that Taehyung loved you.

“When you think about it, the reason I killed him was you.”

Your jaw dropped. The sputtering of your mouth made it impossible to frame comprehensible words.

“Me?”

“Mmhmm. In a sense, you killed Yoongi.”

No, no. this wasn’t happening. You had never done anything to hurt Yoongi. He was your love, your precious baby. No, Taehyung was babbling nonsense.

“Shut up,” you whispered, voice shaking.

He smirked at you.

“Think, baby. He wouldn’t have died if you had said ‘Yes’ when I asked you nicely.”

Memories of that fateful day at his office, clad in pajamas and feeling his bulge pressing against you came tumbling back.

It was a struggle to find your voice. “No.”

“Accept that you killed him, Y/N.”

Your vision blurred with tears and you repeated again, “No.”

A shit-eating grin spread on his face. He unzipped himself, sliding into a more comfortable position.

“Would you rather say you killed him or suck my cock?”

The first drop rolled down your cheek, and he repeated his question, voice darker and laced with lust.

You grasped for words. “Don’t do this to me.”

Your plea made him impatient. He wanted the cold war to end already. How long were you going to mourn Yoongi? He didn’t really want to fuck you when you were heavy with that man’s child.

“Either suck my cock or admit that Min died because of you.”

He waited with bated breath, observing the whirlpool of emotions flashing on your face. And then, to his utter delight, you wordlessly sank to your knees.

He unzipped his pants, giddy with excitement. Your face was devoid of emotion. The tears had stopped, leaving stains on both your cheeks. He waited for you to reach and touch him. When it didn’t happen, he lifted his hips off the couch, annoyed.

“My cock isn’t gonna pop into your mouth on its own, babygirl.”

Nothing.

He reached out and grabbed your head, pulling you in so your nose was against his clothed dick. He felt like he would burst at the feeling. He moaned out as he rubbed your face against him, the groans coming out harsh and strained.

He couldn’t wait for you to take him out, so he fished himself out of his boxers, grazing the tip against your lips. The blunt disgust on your face only made him even hornier, and he coated all his pre-cum onto your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N, my cum looks better on you than my saliva does.”

He pressed the sides of your jaw to pucker your mouth open, placing himself inside your warm mouth.

“Go on, baby. Suck.”

He caught your eyes and added in a dangerous tone, “Don’t you dare bite, I’ll fucking kick that bastard to death.” He looked ominously at your belly. He knew your sore point.

Swallowing your pride, you let his muscle glide in and out of your mouth.

“That’s not sucking, babygirl.”

Your spat at him in fury. “Fucking suck yourself.”

He made as if to kick your midsection, and you screamed in alarm. The tips of his toes made slight contact with your ribs and you yelled for him to stop.

“Stop it, stop it, don’t,” you never wanted to sob in front of him, but it just happened out of your control.

“Well, suck it then. And don’t close your eyes.”

You worked on him robotically, trying to trample down the sick guilt that rose up in your chest with each bob.

He groaned and growled, cursing at the sensation of your velvety tongue. He wouldn’t mind if he died and went to heaven. Before he even knew it, he was close to his release. He panted out, cumming hard into your mouth.

You remained in position, not attempting to swallow. He knew you were going to spit it out as soon as you humanly could. His fingers closed around your neck.

“Swallow. Now.”

The pressure slowly increased, threatening to choke you. Your delirious brain conjured a coroner’s report. Cause of death: Choking on cum.

Reflexively, your body fought by opening and closing your pharynx, effectively making you swallow his slimy essence.

Taehyung felt the bob of your throat, his chest puffing up with pride. He lifted you up gently, holding onto the nape of your neck. He gazed at your glistening cupid’s bow, and slowly pressed his lips on yours.

He had never seen your naked breasts, but that could wait. He was already swimming in rabid delight.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Thank you for agreeing to do this interview, Mr. Kim,” the man said, setting up his notepad and pen.

Taehyung grunted in answer. His mind was somewhere else. He had been in a fight with you over names. He had wanted you to officially change your family name. But you had refused. He hated the Min that rang along with your name. It made him want to puke when someone ever addressed you that way.

“I will not change my name,” you had said, stubbornly set in defiance.

He adored your stubborn trait, but when it came to matters involving that damned Min Yoongi, he hated your obstinacy.

“You fucking will.”

“Make me.” You had folded your hands, indicating that you would not be swayed.

Taehyung was at his office, thinking of ways to coerce you into taking his name. That was when the reporter arrived for a quick interview.

The man started off with questions about Taehyung’s business, his financial turn over and assorted boring stuff, which he answered robotically.

Out of nowhere, the question popped up, making him raise his eyebrows mildly.

“Is it true that Mr. Min and you were friends?”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

“Of course, we were.”

“But, Mr. Kim, a lot of people expressed surprise at your claim of being friends with him.”

“People like who?”

“People who thought you married Mrs. Min a bit too soon.”

Taehyung snapped in annoyance: “She’s Mrs. Kim now.”

“Exactly my point, Mr. Kim.”

Maybe you would consider changing your name if he compromised. But how?

“Well, Mr. Kim?”

“Huh?” Taehyung had a hard time not thinking of you. “I wanted to help her out, especially after he deserted her, while she was pregnant.”

“How did you know she was pregnant? You testified in court that you didn’t know her too well.” The man leaned forward eagerly. “How did she consent to marry you so soon?”

Taehyung could smell a bait from a mile away. The man wasn’t interested in him after all. He was scoping out facts about you.

“What is it that you want?”

His tone made it clear that he knew what was going on. The man cut to the chase abruptly.

“Did you kill Mr. Min?”

Taehyung swiveled on his chair, taking his sweet time.

“Yes. I killed him.”

The abrupt admittance started his opponent, making him open and close his mouth like a goldfish. When he saw how flustered the man was, Taehyung continued:

“You got your answer, what more do you want to know?”

“But- but why did you –” the man was bewildered. “Mrs. Min, she was on trial, you testified against her.”

“Yes, I did.”

“She could have gone to prison.”

“Right again. Don’t beat around the bush.”

“Was it-” the man swallowed, “-an affair? Did you both plot to kill Mr. Min?”

Taehyung laughed. How he wished that had been the case. He would have been spared a lot of trouble if that were true.

The man wiped his forehead nervously.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing, I’m just imagining how your head would look like on a stake.” Taehyung smiled fondly. “You know, my children would happily play with it.”

Children. Name. Maybe he could compromise on that bastard child’s name? Would that make you think again?

Taehyung’s attention snapped back to watch the man gulp several times, obviously shaken.

“So, did you get the answers you wanted?” He exhaled lightly, adding, “My secretary has your name and contact details, my men would pay you a friendly visit if you blabbered anything anywhere.”

“I- yes, I understand.” The man got up in a hurry. “Please excuse me.”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

When the reporter left the building, his phone vibrated with a message.

‘Any news?’

He called the sender.

“There’s nothing to report. I’m pretty sure neither Mr. Kim nor Y/N had anything to do with Mr. Min’s disappearance.”

The call ended, and Namjoon sighed. He knew something had happened. Something had gone wrong.

But the reporter couldn’t glean anything from Taehyung. The seeds of doubt took root in his mind. Was it possible that he had imagined the conspiracy? What if there had been no conspiracy and Yoongi really had fled?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I have a proposal.”

You looked up from your curled kitten position on the deckchair, overlooking the pool. You were cross that Taehyung had interrupted your attempt at sketching Yoongi.

“Not interested.”

He pranced forward, plucking the sketchbook and tossing it away. The splash of it hitting the water sent droplets flying up and raining on your feet.

“What the hell d’you do that for?”

The reflection of the sun in the ripples of the pool made his face light up and sparkle. He placed both his hands on the armrests, trapping you.

“You will take my name.”

“Forget it.”

“In return,” he whispered softly, “You get to name your baby whatever the fuck you want.”

“I am the mother and I don’t need you to offer me what’s already my right.”

He butted your forehead with his own, clucking his tongue in impatience.

“You really don’t want your baby to see the light of day, do you?”

The scowl on your face was reflexive. It was a bother that he always used your baby as an excuse to get his way.

“Fuck off, Taehyung.”

He threw himself bodily on you, willing a strangled gasp to escape your lips. He spread your arms and upper body to align them with the chair, opening your torso up to him. He was already panting, cursing out as he spread your legs with his knee.

“C’mon now, babygirl, stop being so stubborn.”

He sunk his whole weight onto you, crushing your body underneath him.

The graphite pencil you had been using to sketch was still in your fingers. Mustering up all your strength, you dove it into the back of his neck.

He hissed in pain, jerking involuntarily and pulling the pencil off your grasp. When you struggled to let it go, he placed a well-aimed slap on your cheek, making you freeze in shock.

“You little brat,” he spat out, still pissed about his neck. His palms made contact with your cheeks twice more, sending your face jerking left and right.

“I’ll teach you to stab me, you little-“

He bunched both your hands by the wrist, holding them up above your head. His other hand sneaked between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. When you tried to wriggle and throw him off, his knee dug into your midsection.

“Want to destroy what we have?” He sunk his knee a little deeper. “Huh, sugar?”

His finger was rubbing circles on your core, making you bite your lips from moaning out.

“Fuck, I’m permanently hard around you.”

His hard length was obvious in the tent of his pants. But as before, he humped against you, not unzipping himself. The friction was making him go wild. He thrust his hips into yours, the knee remaining ominously on your navel.

“Ah ssibal,” he cursed, throwing his head back, consequently making his long dark hair flip and reveal his glistening forehead.

“Oh… Oh.. I’m cumming,” he breathed out, spasming violently all over you, digging himself out of you and spilling his cum all over your clothed belly.

“Ew, Taehyung, you bitch, you’re fucking disgusting,” you screamed, pushing against his chest even as he shuddered in the aftermath of his orgasm. He smiled dumbly, panting out in ragged breaths. He placed his mouth near your ear, tickling your earlobe with his hot breath.

“I want to cum inside you.”

He sighed deeply as if he was thinking quietly about it, before adding:

“Soon.”

He pushed off you, grinning as he ruffled his hair back into place. Whistling softly, he walked away, leaving you trembling in a mix of shock and anger, looking down at your ruined dress.

He had cummed exactly on your belly, like he had carefully meant to.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The annual costume ball invitations reached your house, one addressed to Mr. Kim and one addressed to Mrs. Min. Taehyung had torn the envelope into pieces before handing you the card. It was probably a snide attempt to snub Taehyung and you knew that it had worked, judging from the annoyance on his face. You wondered if the hosts had intended to send you late invitations, because the ball was slated to happen that night.

You threw it on the coffee table, not caring in the least about some stupid party. But Taehyung had other ideas.

“We’re going tonight. Get ready.”

If the stuck-up Min empaths thought they had made a statement by sending two fucking invitations, they would have to think again. He would show them what fools they were. You were his Mrs. Kim.

The burgundy dress had a cowl neckline, which he absolutely loved. He had picked it out carefully, mind giddy with excitement on how perfect it would look on you. Finally, a day had come for the glamorous dress to do you justice, flattering your body, much to the envy of those losers.

“Wear the burgundy dress I bought you. And the studded heels.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He opened his closet, apparently searching for something. When he turned, a classic Tiffany box was nestled in his palm. He opened it, and a sparkling silvery bracelet was reflected in your eyes, lending them a beautiful twinkle that made his heart sing.

Delicately, he placed it on the dresser.

“This will compliment you.”

He stood silent for a second, thinking if you would wear it on your own. Something told him you would just leave it sitting on the dresser forever.

“Here,” he took your hand in his, gently placing the bracelet on your wrist. He clasped it and admired the way it looked even more beautiful on you. To him, each fiber of your being was infinitely more precious than the rarest diamonds in the world.

He had never seen anyone more beautiful, and he wished not to. When you descended the porch steps, he felt like a footman taking out a princess on her ride. He was mesmerized by the simple yet graceful features that taunted him, inviting him in.

Taehyung had Wo Bin drive you both to the ball. Taehyung handed you a sparkling rhinestone mask, the wings around the eyes rising gracefully in showers of gemstones. The costume ball was essentially a masquerade, and he had gotten the best masks he could lay his hands on.

“Take my hand, remember, no silly behavior.” He briefly glanced at your belly, driving home his point.

“Stop fucking threatening me all the time, bitch,” you hissed, scowling when he responded with a lazy grin.

The entire ballroom was abuzz with people clad in their best clothes, complete with masks of every color, style, and material. Taehyung’s chest was stretched to the max with pride as he waltzed through the floors with the most beautiful woman that night on his arm.

A couple hours later, you were weary to the bone. “I’m tired, I wanna throw up.”

He rolled his masked eyes. “Right. Stay here, I’ll get you water.”

He turned around as an afterthought. “Want me to walk you to a bathroom?”

You shook your head, indicating you were fine enough to just sit.

“ ’Kay.”

He went off, leaving you seated in a comfortable chair.

He was, however, interrupted mid-way by a woman dressed in a jade green dress with a deep neckline that left almost nothing to the imagination. The Venetian mask lent an air of mystery to her ombre eyes.

“Mr. Kim,” her voice was hauntingly thick with desire.

She placed her index finger delicately against his tux, poking him. “I’ve been fantasizing about you for years.”

He couldn’t form a coherent comeback. He was a man who prided on never being tongue-tied while facing a woman. But the simple statement had such force that it knocked his thoughts out like bowling pins.

“Uh, excuse me, I have to-“

She traced her fingers on his arm, patting him slowly, whispering:

“Please stay.”

He couldn’t believe how tongue-tied he was. He flashed his left hand at her, declaring in a harsh tone:

“I’m sorry but I’m married. Very happily so.”

“Is that true, though?” Her voice dropped even lower. “You are married, yes, but have you been loved back? Why pine after a hopeless fruit while another aches for you?”

He shook his hand free, annoyed. Very much annoyed that she was stating the bitter truth that his heart refused to believe.

“Excuse me, I have to go back to my wife.”

“Maybe you could at least dance with me once?”

His jaw tightened.

“No, thank you.”

She pouted her crimson lips, sadness clouding her eyes.

“I thought so.” She touched his elbow with a smooth “At least a peck on the cheek for your admirer?”

He bent his neck, intrigued by the strange woman, but she took him by surprise, going instead for his lips.

Her tongue snuck out and outlined the curve of his upper lip before her mouth pressed against his. Startled, he took a step back and his gaze dropped to the cleavage she was generously offering. She giggled naughtily, winking at him. Damn the woman.

The hot feeling in his cheeks didn’t go away for a good five minutes, and he was still pink when he returned with the glass of water he had set out to get.

He frowned when he saw a tall man talking to you, bending in half to address you.

“You, you are just a gold-digging bitch, you whore,” the masked man was saying, just as Taehyung materialized behind him.

“Excuse the fuck, did you just fucking insult my wife?”

The man straightened up, turning to glare at Taehyung. His mask did nothing to hide who he was. The hooded eyes, the tall lithe frame, the rich timbre of voice, all screamed Kim Namjoon.

He dug his hands into his pockets, staring at Taehyung with menace.

“Yes, I called her out for jumping on another dick as soon as she could.” He focused his most hostile leer at Taehyung before adding “The dick being attached to you of all people.” He didn’t stop, spewing more hate as he addressed you:

“Are you sure the baby is Yoongi’s, Y/N? Did he ever know what a cunt you are?”

The anger was so hot that Taehyung felt like his brain would short circuit. He balled his fists, ready to shatter the mouth that had spoken so ill of you.

Before he could do any damage though, you grabbed hold of his hand, tugging at him harshly.

“Take me home, I feel sick.”

He sent Namjoon one withering glance and exhaled angrily. Namjoon would pay later. He would make sure of it. He guided you out, practically shaking in fury. He texted Wo Bin to meet both of you on the porch. He was zoned out, and you asked something that just flew out his ear. When you slapped his elbow, he caught your words just in time.

“Is that lipstick on your mouth?”

Taehyung creased his eyebrows, turning back to consider something. The masked woman, she had licked his mouth before kissing. It was a kink of his to lick your lips. How did she know that he loved doing that to you?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The way Namjoon had spoken to you felt like a cold slap to the face. If that was what he thought, was that what everyone else thought of you too? The whole social circle of which you and Taehyung were a small intersecting arc, did it think you were a gold-digger too?

The shame enveloped and consumed you, the flames of hatred licking at your heart. Your entire life was ruined by Taehyung. Only he was responsible for all the mess. Everyone seemed to focus only on you. He was in the background like an innocent bystander; but all the while, he was the puppeteer who pulled all the strings, bending everything to his will.

A bitter cold war was brewing between you and him, growing in intensity by the second. You had avoided him for days, slipping like an eel whenever his footsteps sounded. Every night, you slept on the couch, only to wake up on your side of the bed in the morning.

It was hard to sleep. Because you were constantly worried that he would violate you while you were sleeping.

You didn’t know that Taehyung spent three-quarters of the night perched on the steps of the staircase, waiting for you to drift to sleep. He silently swooped in and carried you to bed each night, making sure to tuck you in comfortably.

A few weeks later, you dressed up in a loose black hoodie and attempted to sneak out for a walk. But just as always, he caught you. He had casually blocked you with an outstretched hand, looking at you oddly.

“What the heck are you wearing?”

You tried to force your way out, but man was he strong.

“Get out of my way, Taehyung.”

He blew out his cheeks, shaking his head in disapproval.

“That hoodie is the opposite of flattering on you, honey.”

Curling your fists, you hit him on his arm, trying to make him move.

��I don’t care, so let me go,” you hissed at him.

“I care about my wife’s fashion choices,” he replied, reaching out to grab the hoodie. But just as quickly, he drew his hand back in shock.

“What the…” he whispered, horrified, reaching his hand out again.

His fingers gingerly pressed against your belly, feeling the small bump that was evident to the touch. He started back in horror. It really was growing. The reality hit him like a harsh slap. Min’s child was really growing inside you.

In one swift motion, he gathered you up in his arms, deciding that he couldn’t waste any more time. He couldn’t wait forever.

Dragging you upstairs to the bedroom, he led you to stand by the bed. His face was ablaze with hot emotion, his dark eyes gleaming with fiery hunger. He shrugged his suit off in haste. Long slender fingers gripped your hoodie, lifting it up to reveal the soft protrusion he had touched earlier. He looked panicked, like a guy who had missed the last airplane bound home.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he breathed, gently trying to undress you. “Forgive me, I am out of time.”

He pressed kisses on the side of your neck, lifting the hoodie up inch by inch until the cups of your bra were visible.

“Oh, Y/N, I-“ his voice was strangled, “- I can’t,” his hands found purchase at the small of your back. “I can’t take you when you are ripe with his child, I can’t wait that long.”

He eased you out of the hoodie, holding your hands to prevent you from covering your bra-clad breasts. He had only entered you once, he hadn’t forced himself into you since the day Yoongi died.

It had been his desire to wait for you to want him. But nature always liked complicating things. He couldn’t bear to think that you would be heavy with child in a few months, and would be busily occupied with the baby for months after that. No, he had no choice.

He was sliding your pants off when you half-choked out: “You could just… let me go.”

The wetness of your cheeks broke his heart. But your words had hurt him more.

“No. No, I can’t. You are all I have.”

“You know that’s not true,” you whispered.

The pained look returned to his face.

“No. It should have been me.” He gestured to your belly. “That should have been mine.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and he sniffed. “It should have always been me.”

“Taehyung- “

His lashes were moist and he shook his head, not wanting to listen.

“You were meant to be mine. Don’t you see?” His haunted eyes were tender, his raw feelings on display just for you.

“Do you- do you even like me?”

You remained silent, nothing but underwear bridging the gap between you and nakedness. His face contorted in pain.

He shuddered and shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling both your hands above your head and pinning them in position. His other hand gingerly traced the outline of your bra. He licked his lips, looking into your eyes as he dipped a finger between your breasts, running it along the elastic strap and leaving your skin riddled with goosebumps.

His finger continued running down your midriff, stopping at your belly button. He closed his eyes and pretended that the bump didn’t exist, hurrying to slip his hand into your undies. It fanned his ego to feel your wet folds.

“See, your body likes it, hm? Why do you rebel so much?”

He leaned down to sniff your hair, greedily inhaling the scent like a man dying of thirst. He removed the hand pinning yours with a warning squeeze. Just as quickly, his hands flew to your breasts. His touch was ever so tender. He gently kneaded the soft flesh, moaning out as a little bit of areola peeked out of your bra. The self-control snapped, and he pulled the cups down, exposing your squished breasts.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he sounded so raspy, “Fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Like a man in a trance, he dipped his head in the valley of your chest, nestling there, letting out the weakest of whimpers. His fingers worked feverishly to get the damn bra off you. He threw it across the room, burying his head in your bosom with a contented sigh.

There was a stark contrast between you and him. He was fully clothed, and you were in only your undies, entire chest open to his view. It led you to feel even more weak and vulnerable. When your hand tried to shield your breast though, he caught it, his voice came out from between your soft mounds in a muffled whisper:

“Don’t.”

He gathered both your breasts in his hands, moaning thickly as he rubbed his face against them. His tongue found your nipple, giving tentative licks before full-on sucking on the nub. He was a passionate man, and your breasts were glistening with saliva by the time he was done worshipping them. His mouth let go of the nipple with a soft plop, the dark eyes focused on your own the whole time.

His tongue drew a line from the middle of your ribs down to your navel. He paused at the elastic band of your undies, working on tugging it down. But impatience got the better of him, and he cursed, ripping the fabric easily as if it were the weakest of paper. He touched the wet patch on the crotch and looked at you, dangling the ruined fabric above your forehead.

“See. Y/N? See how wet you are for me?”

You didn’t reply. He gripped your chin, yanking it so his breath fell directly on your mouth.

“Kiss me, Y/N.”

When you didn’t attempt to kiss him, he straddled your hips, crashing his mouth down on yours. But the kiss wasn’t passionate, nor was it anywhere near romantic. You just wouldn’t open your mouth and let his tongue in. He could have kissed a pole and gotten a better reaction than yours.

It kindled the embers of rage in his heart, and he undid his tie, tying it around your neck like a noose. His shirt and pants were still on, and he rolled the long end of the tie until the fabric started tightening around your neck.

“Up,” he said, tugging the tie and making your head rise from the bed a bit. Holding onto it like a leash, he pulled your upper body was hovering precariously above the bed, both your hands holding onto his shoulders lest you fall and snap your neck.

“Now,” he hissed, “Lick my tongue”

The tie-noose tightened around your neck, threatening to cut off your airflow. You hoisted yourself up, shaking as your sight started to blur.

“Can’t” you heaved, “breathe.”

The fabric didn’t relax one bit.

“Hurry up and lick my tongue then.”

You blindly slashed at the air to find his mouth. Right on the verge of blacking out, you thrust yourself at him, begging entry into his mouth with desperate licks. Once you felt the hot muscle, you lapped at it, and just as quickly, the tightness eased, making you gulp mouthfuls of him, your body struggling to get your respiration back to normal.

“You bast-“

He thrust himself at you again, muttering:

“Shh. Lick me again,” and dipping his tongue into your mouth.

He moaned, chest vibrating against yours with the intensity of his strangled groans. When he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connected your mouth to his, a big bead hanging in the middle, the weight making it drop and splotch on your thigh.

He leaned back working on his shirt buttons. They didn’t open fast enough, and he started ripping the buttons off, eyes locked on your nipples. When he tore the fabric away from his body, his whole wide chest was naked, save for a thin chain around his neck. It had what looked like a silver key for a pendant, you weren’t sure as it kept dangling with his every move.

He remained in his pants, gathering your body and pressing you against his chest. A strained moan escaped his lips, and he trailed kisses down your neck, past your shoulder blade. His tongue flicked out to reach places his lips couldn’t.

One hand cupped the slight hint of your bump, prodding gently but also warning you against doing anything stupid. He pulled your hand towards his crotch, placing it on his clothed bulge.

“See,” he moaned, “See what you do to me?”

He stroked his bulge with your hand, fighting the urge to close his eyelids and lose himself in bliss. He had been hard for so long. Too fucking long.

“Take me out.”

His whisper sent a shiver up your spine. But you didn’t move. You didn’t have a choice to stop it. But you had the choice to not comply.

He cursed, too impatient to reprimand you. He unzipped his pants, leading your hand to his hard dick. He closed his hand over yours, effectively jerking himself off with your hand.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it,” he threw his head back, snapping his eyes open just as quickly when you gripped his dick too tight. Intentionally, of course.

“What the fuck?” He pushed you onto your back, dragging you by the legs into position. All the tenderness had evaporated from his countenance.

“You really want to screw this?” He hovered his body over yours, menace evident in the curl of his lips. The squirming pissed him, and a swift slap landed on your cheek, accompanied by an angry “Fucking behave, Y/N.”

“Get off me,” you bit out, aware of the drool sliding down your chin.

“No,” he said, humping his dick against your pelvis. “You are mine. Don’t fight this. He’s not coming back. He’s dead.”

He saw the tears kindling, and added cruelly:

“Because of you.”

“Stop saying that,” you screamed, trying to knee him in the groin. But he only laughed.

“You always complicate things, Y/N. I only want to make love to you.” He sighed innocently. “But you just make it so difficult.”

His forearm dug into your neck, preventing your head from moving. His other hand snaked down to your soaked clit, rubbing circles on your sensitive pearl.

“Who was always a bitch in heat for Min’s dick, huh?”

The question left you speechless. He smirked.

“Who loved to ride his thigh and get her ass spanked?”

“Shut up, shut up.” you couldn’t think of any other reply. How did he know all of that?

He simply shrugged.

“Okay, sure. I’d rather fuck you than talk about your dead man.”

He really wanted to eat you out. But he knew you would kick him in the face if he tried to. Maybe he should get restraints before trying that. Besides, his dick was already aching with being hard for so long. He slid his pants off completely, getting in position, aligning himself with your entrance.

He placed his forearm against your belly, deciding it gave him better leverage that way. Looking down, he inched himself forward, watching in fascination as he disappeared into you, your bodies becoming one. Just like they had always been meant to be.

The silky walls were tight around him, and he held on for dear life. You were going to be the death of him.

“Fuck, ah, fuck,” his breath constricted, the finality of actually being inside your velvety folds driving him crazy in exhilaration. He set a fast pace, snapping his hips into yours as if his life depended on it.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” he cooed, “to know you killed Yoongi for this cock.”

Your whole face burned in rage.

“No, you tell me, how it feels to know you killed a good man for a piece of pussy.”

He chortled, not slowing down in the least.

“Awesome, really,” he panted out, licking his lips as he kept thrusting. “I can kill a whole army for this pussy.” He was not ready yet to say ‘It’s not just your body, it’s you I want. The whole you.’

He pulled the tie around your neck, telling you to get on all fours.

“I can’t dumbfuck, I’m pregnant,” you spat out.

He simply flipped you over, crossing both your hands over your chest so you were kneeling on the bed, with his hands pressing your wrists against your breasts.

“Shit, baby, how are you so tight? Guess he never filled you like I do, huh?”

His tongue licked the back of your ears as he kept thrusting. You were doing your best to not make any sound. You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“Tell me,” he panted, driving himself deeper, “Tell me I’m bigger than him.”

His finger slipped into the tie-noose, twisting the knot.

“Say it.”

You were sure he wouldn’t stop. Panic flooded your body, jumping into escape mode.

“Fine, you’re bigger.”

A dark chuckle rang throughout his chest, making your breasts bounce as aftermath.

“Be more specific, baby. Describe it.”

There was another tight twist, and you gave up.

“Your dick, it’ bigger, it’s- Fuck, I can’t breathe- It’s thicker, it’s longer, okay?”

He smiled into your skin. Gently loosening the tie, he kissed the light welts around your neck.

“Let me hear it again.”

“You’re bigger than him,” you repeated in defeat.

“Fuck yeah, that’s my girl. Cum around me, baby.”

His groans were loud and animalistic, like those of a man possessed. His pounding got frantic, rattling the headboard and eliciting curses from your parched throat.

God, how he wanted to fuck Min’s spawn out of you and fuck his seed into you instead! The thought sent him spinning into his climax, releasing hot ropes of cum into your tight walls. The growls from his chest chilled your blood. He held you incredibly tight against him, riding his wave out, clutching onto your ribs in passion.

The shivering sigh blew against your ears, and he gently pulled out, kissing down your shoulders and back as he did so. Your knees gave out, sending you collapsing down, but his hands caught you just in time.

When he had finished prodding and poking his fingers in your clit to feel his cum, he uttered in a ghost of a whisper:

“You cummed for me, baby.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Were you ready to kill Taehyung? To be frank, you didn’t really know. It was an idea that had crossed your mind millions of times. But taking another life was too horrible to even comprehend. On the other hand, it was a fact that he would continue to make your life hell.

It was a difficult decision, but one you had to face. Were you doomed to live forever with him? Take all his obsessed declarations of love for you? Live in constant fear that he would hurt your child?

Was it worth killing a human for peace? You looked down at your baby bump. He was going to be a terrible father to your baby. The orange canister by the lawn was just alluring. Was all the solution you ever needed in a can of garden pesticide?

The throbbing of your heart was so loud you were sure the guard could hear it. But now you were not just any woman. You were his boss’s wife. Hell, every guard in the fucking house addressed you respectfully.

“Mrs. Kim?” The man stepped towards you with a question on his eyebrows.

“I want the lawn to myself for some time.”

Usually, there were no guards by the pool. Taehyung would pluck their eyes out if any of them snuck up on you while swimming. But the lawn was a different story. There were a lot of guys walking around with guns. It surprised you to see them file out of the lawn like a bunch of disciplined kids.

But you knew their focus would be on you anyway. They didn’t serve you, they served Taehyung.

Making an elaborate show of tending to flowers and picking weeds, you loudly muttered at the gardener’s apparent failure to keep the flower beds weeded out. Kneeling down near the orange can, you unscrewed the lid with an air of ignorance.

“Foul smelling shit, what the hell is it?”

The can toppled over your dress, soaking the cotton. Just like you had expected, a man shot out of nowhere, hurrying to your side.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Kim?”

You batted your eyelashes inoocently at him.

“I- yes, I need to change. I think gardening and I don’t mix.”

He accompanied you inside, turning back to leave. Once upstairs, you nervously wrung out the poison from your soaked skirt.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“What’s that?”

Taehyung had asked sooner than you had expected. You feigned surprise at the question, looking over to where his eyes pointed.

“Oh, nothing.”

Much to your chagrin, he nodded and went back to tapping on his phone. What if he didn’t ask again? Well, you could try again later. Patience. You couldn’t get caught.

Getting up slowly, you danced your way to the fridge. You peeked at the contents, closing it with a sigh. Turning to look at the counter, you absently reached for the cup. You were cradling it in your hands, and just as you let your lips touch the rim, he raised his head.

“Coffee?”

You shook your head. “Protein shake.”

He placed his phone on the coffee table, gazing intently at you.

“Well, aren’t you going to drink it?”

“Oh, yes.”

You sipped from the cup, not minding his stare boring into your face. He leaned back, spreading his arms on the sofa. His face was unreadable. When your throat bobbed after the last bit of drink, he raised his eyebrows mildly.

“Done?”

You shrugged your shoulders, without answering. He considered your face for quite some time, before his curiosity got the better of him.

“So, should I call the ambulance?”

You bit back a grin.

“What for? I’m not in labor yet.”

He watched you suspiciously before giving up.

“I know about the pesticide.”

You stifled a yawn. “Of course you do. And?”

He knew you were smart. You were a fighter. There was no way you would drink a cup of poison to get away from him. The poison surely had been intended for him. But he had just watched you down the cup without flinching.

“And,” he said, face serious, “Why don’t you get on with it?”

“What exactly do you mean?”

His passive demeanor broke, leaving his face twisted in vulnerability.

“You want to kill me.” You flinched at the word ‘kill’.

“So, go on and kill me, Y/N.”

Your eyes met, and you reached for a cup wordlessly.

“Not a fresh cup. I want to drink from yours.” He pressed his fingertips together, watching you as you poured out milk. He hated coffee. And you knew. He saw you drop one sugar cube in, just like he liked. The warm flutter in his heart died just as quickly when he saw you reach into the spice cupboard, extracting a pill bottle.

You tipped the bottle and liquid fell out of it, rippling and disappearing in the small white whirlpool of milk. Without a word, your fingers reached for a spoon and stirred the cup. His stare was burning into your skin. Your own heart felt like lead, so heavy and drenched with guilt.

His fingers had a subtle tremor when he reached to accept the cup. Placing it on the coffee table, he smiled at you.

“I love you, Y/N.”

It was a lie, you were sure. He only wanted to ruin Yoongi. He never loved you.

There was nothing to say. You didn’t believe him.

He drew a sharp breath, meditating if he wanted to speak his mind.

“If I die in your hands, your baby and you will be left alone, Y/N. Penniless. But you will get your independence, yes.” He paused, a suspicious watery film glinting under his lashes. “You can be happy and raise your child on your own. But you will return to me in the end.”

The arch of your eyebrows creased your forehead, asking the question your lips failed to.

The smile reached his eyes, a manic shadow casting a fearsome look on his face.

“Whenever, wherever you die, you will be interred in the Kim crypt, just next to me. We will be together even in death.”

The entire breathing mechanism of your body stopped working.

“What? But that’s –“

He flowed on, seemingly uninterrupted.

“And Y/N, the place where Min Yoongi is buried, the secret, it will die with me.”

Without hesitating, he grabbed the handle and drew the cup to his lips. The warm milk touched his lips, the fumes from the poison overwhelming his nose.

1K notes · View notes

tearsofsyrup · 4 years

Text

half-silvered

— With all the time that has passed since your endless fleeing began, some part of you seems to have forgotten that you are running away from actual people and that there is an actual possibility that they might catch up to you.

pairing. kwon soonyoung / reader

genre. space pirate au, exes au, sci-fi au, romance, angst

word count. 4k

warnings. brief violence

notes. part of @merakiiverse‘s collab! happy holidays, honeys.

Your heartbeat is steady. And unsettlingly silent.

The darkness stretching from wall to wall, blanketing the rooms and corridors in a thick black only interrupted by the round stream of your flashlight which creates distorted shadows before you, does not make your blood pump faster anymore. A thrill you faintly remember from past times in this career is but a stale taste in the back of your throat now, its tang long since eroded.

Skimming over the numbers on each crate with heavy-lidded eyes as you proceed, your free hand digs in the pocket of your coat to retrieve a small list. You cannot bother to count the rooms you pass until you find the box with a code matching the one on your piece of paper, dismissing any distant thud that might reach your ear. Even the thought of one of the thugs you passed on the street before entering the warehouse following you inside, does not alarm you. You trust it would be different if a thirty-seven thousand credit blaster - stolen, naturally - wasn’t fastened to your utility belt, but you cannot be sure anymore.

You shove the end of your flashlight in your mouth as you crouch before the targeted crate and pull out your cloaked mobile to hack the heavy lock sealing the lid shut - a fruitless attempt at keeping your kind out. And with nothing but a few taps and a few beeps more, the lock slides open.

The list feels amateur to you despite its ambition; two whole pairs of di-blasters, no less than three Caratian batteries and one weighty pouch of crystal powder. You're aware that this used to be exhilarating, the thousands of credits worth of cargo you are currently tucking in your backpack - multiplied with a one point two by your buyer. However. You suppress a yawn as you check the list again, before closing the crate with a loud boom.

And wandering back the way you came is just as uneventful as you remember it.

Until you hear a door shut somewhere behind you, not far away.

Instinct is what swings you around, arm steady with experience as you shine your light forth and around, other hand ready on the handle of your blaster. You see nothing but shelves and crates and more crates as your light scans the room, penetrating its dense shadow. Your heartbeat is picking up, but shyly so, your breathing yet even.

Silence. Similar to the one that often creeps inside your skull and lays its eggs of isolation and loneliness in your dreams when you try to sleep during some nights. You gulp, slowly releasing the grip on your blaster.

So you turn back around, quietly and carefully-

A face.

Halted breath.

Soonyoung?

Everything burns, lightning setting fire to the bones beneath your skin and squeezing your lungs of their air and-

...

A piercing headache is what coaxes your consciousness, eyes yet closed. Piercing, as though you are being slammed in the head with the handle of a blaster over and over, the resulting groan that crawls its way out of your chest almost causing you to jump in surprise. Attempting to pry your eyelids open only seems to worsen the incessant pounding, so you let them remain shut, slowly realizing that you are slouched on the ground, back leaned against a wall of some sort. You move to push yourself forward.

But your wrists are tied behind you.

It hurts when your breath hitches.

You force your eyes open then, despite it seemingly grasping your brain and ripping it apart, the instinct to survive activating and tingling within your muscles.

A disorienting blur is all you see through your squinting, a distant canvas of blacks and greys and biting lights. You think a monotone whirr surrounds you but cannot be sure if its a figment of mere imagination through the painful pounding in your ears.

As your vision slowly steadies and your heartbeat’s speed increases, you see that someone sits before you. A face. When your eyes close, Soonyoung’s face flashes across the insides of your lids and you feel fluster burning beneath your cheeks, remembering. Soonyoung?

With a sharp sting, you blink and blink away the dim coating your pupils. It isn’t Soonyoung.

“Ji- ugh... Ji-...” Jihoon, your sore throat won’t let you say.

Jihoon?

His glare is pointed, willing everything in its way to turn to stone. Just like how it used to be. But filled with more hatred, directed at you now. And you can barely comprehend that it is really him.

The inside of a ship surrounds you when you look around, a grey and matte metal, various large crates - one of which Jihoon is seated upon - rucksacks and blasters and canisters and multicolored lights crowding the space. It is bigger than the ship of theirs from your memories.

Jihoon’s all but predatory gaze is still waiting when you return to it.

You try to clear your throat, wincing at the painful pounding that follows and echoes between the walls of your skull. Fingertips tingling, you remember being knocked out, in the warehouse. The fiery burn. Electricity.

“Ji-” you begin, voice raspy but Jihoon stands with a sigh and walks away, out through a doorway and presumably into another room.

You are left stunned, feeling abandoned, body aching. The chill he meets you with after all these years, without even as much as a word, squeezes around your heart in a most discomforting way, despite being expected. Despite him clearly having a hand in your current physical state.

But you ignore that pain and will your eyes to scan your surroundings, your instinct to survive muted but present, searching for any way to escape and run.

With as much power as you can muster in your unwell state and vulnerable position, you jerk your wrists against the cuffs tying your hands together. An electronic lock, you guess, definitely attached to the wall somehow. Inconvenient...

You swallow around slimy saliva, throat so dry it almost feels like sand on its way down. And Soonyoung’s face flashes behind your eyelids when you blink again.

Your eyes are fixed on the doorway now, somehow sensing exactly who will soon enter, rhythmic thuds of footsteps approaching.

But expecting his appearance does naught to calm the heat his presence spreads throughout your body.

Soonyoung.

The same Soonyoung but with grimmer eyes, a stronger build and a missing smile.

Your throat squeezes, feeling as though your heart has jumped up and plugged it shut in an attempt to leave the painful constraints of your chest. Feelings you have tried to keep hidden for so long. Nails bite into your palms where your hands form tight fists behind you.

He walks with steady steps, sharp eyes narrow when they meet yours, Jihoon stopping to lean against the doorway while someone unfamiliar follows behind Soonyoung.

It hurts to breathe as heavily as you are now but you cannot stop.

Soonyoung stills before you to sit where Jihoon had, the stranger standing behind him scrutinizing you. But you don’t pay the latter much mind.

“Soonyoung...” you sigh, but an injured whisper, something salty burning distantly behind your eyes.

He watches you silently, eyebrows twitching slightly at the utterance of his name.

“Why-” you begin but stumble on a cough.

Soonyoung reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a small flask, unscrewing the lid and guiding it to your mouth, helping you drink. If he were anyone else, you would give the offer a second guess. But he’s Soonyoung.

Yet here you are, captive in his ship.

“You never were good at being taken by surprise...” His voice resonates within the deepest parts of your chest and you choke slightly on the water, fists tightening impossibly when his sentence his followed by your name. The familiar vibrations in your ears are too shocking and it somehow scares you, a feeling you do not experience much of.

Soonyoung retracts the flask and flashes you a strained smile, eyes remaining dull. “That’s why we made such a good team.”

A stab in the heart, is what that sentence feels like and you cannot help but shift your eyes to the floor, your dirty boots. Unearned, since you were the one holding the knife back then.

You test your voice with a careful hum, lifting your eyes to meet Soonyoung’s returned frown. “Wh- uhm... I- You electrocuted me... Didn’t you?”

He nods, something pained in his stare. Freezing compared to how Jihoon made you feel. “Yes.”

“Wh-” A cough. “Where’s my ship?”

“We’ve parked it in a private haven. It’s ours now.”

Your gaze shifts from Soonyoung to the stranger behind him, his expression inquisitive, then to Jihoon, glare heavy with unmistakable anger. A swallow tightens your throat.

“You- Why am I here?”

“We want credits,” Soonyoung says and you frown. “A desire you must be pretty familiar with...”

Your heartbeat freezes for a second and something stings somewhere behind your eyes again. There is venom in his voice that never used to be there before. But you are who poisoned him so the hurt you feel is unearned, you remind yourself.

“So, then just take-”

“We want credits,” Soonyoung repeats, interrupting you and resting his elbows on his thighs to lean closer. “... but not yours.”

When your eyes stray due to puzzlement they are only received by Jihoon’s still hateful glare, therefore returning to Soonyoung quickly. Even though his hostility hurts you more.

“Then... What will you do with me...?”

The man before you shrugs, head jerking when black strands of hair catch on his eyelashes. “Nothing much... We’re not gonna kill you or hurt you any more. But I can’t make such promises on the Chancellor’s behalf.”

Your jaw drops along with your heart, and probably your temperature too.

“You’ve pissed a lot of people off, y’know?” Soonyoung continues, leaning away. “The bounty on your head only keeps increasing, especially alive.”

“Y-... You’re fetching me for the Chancellor...” Your voice is significantly weaker now.

And it seems to reach Soonyoung differently, because the chill in his gaze turns glum, a poignance in the way he observes your deflating form on the floor of his ship. Which only seems to worsen the pain viciously clawing at your insides, like your body is only just realizing that it is really him. He found you, after so long. And he is sending you to your probable death.

“Soonyoung...”

He purses his lips, as if biting back an apology of some sorts that he knows you don’t deserve. A nod is all you get before he stands again.

“Jeonghan, upload the route and start the ship,” he commands, seemingly to the stranger behind him. Then he is gone through the doorway again, what remains of your heart merely left to soak in self-inflicted misery.

...

They decide to watch you for one shift each whilst you travel toward your pending doom, a wise decision considering your track record of escaping sticky situations. Coupled with the fact that you do not want to hurt either Soonyoung or Jihoon anyway, despite phantom heat still tingling throughout your limbs from the earlier electric shock and heavy handcuffs digging into your wrists.

Jeonghan, the stranger, is the first to watch you. He is surprisingly nice to you, offers you water and even bread, initiating small talk - something you cannot remember when you last did without an ulterior motive.

“So, you used to know Soonyoung and Jihoon, right?” he asks at one point with an encouraging smile, making you wonder how much he knows. The weight of the question rings quietly in your ears.

“Uhm, yes... Yes, I used to know them...”

When you say no more, despite Jeonghan’s patience, he clears his throat. “Did... you guys have a falling out?”

You scoff upon reflex. “Yeah, you could say that...”

Jeonghan squints. “What happened?”

A heaviness brews within Jeonghan’s eyes and suddenly you feel like he knows everything, like he is just asking to confirm what he has already been told. To decide if you really are the vile monster he thinks of you as.

The darkness of the cargo hold turns colder suddenly and you look away. “I’d rather not talk about it...” you squeak as your heart thuds painfully.

Jeonghan’s all but invasive stare fades and he changes the subject then.

...

The next shift is Jihoon’s and you have never felt as naked, vulnerable and guilty as you do under his burning glare.

He doesn’t utter one single word. Only sits in front of you and stares, seemingly trying to summon your death with nothing but one long look and a chilling quiet. And you are terribly surprised that it doesn’t work.

Not even sleep is worth attempting in Jihoon’s silence as when your lids fall shut Jihoon’s loathing expression is imprinted behind them, slowly morphing into Soonyoung’s instead. It only makes your heart jump and eyes itch, so you endure Jihoon’s invisible knives with an increasingly parched throat for the duration of his shift.

...

Despite how unsettling being watched by Jihoon proved to be, when it is Soonyoung’s turn you almost ask Jihoon to stay.

Your body has grown heavy with fatigue but your mind awakens painfully when Soonyoung approaches, bringing a tension so thick it makes you sweat with him. Therefore his first action of offering you water is appreciated. But the way there’s a permanent frown weighing at the corners of his mouth makes the water taste bitter.

You break the silence after moisturizing your vocal chords, speaking over the consistent beeping sounds in the background.

“I think Jihoon wants me dead,” seems like the only thing you can think of saying. Even though there are so many words boiling within your chest with Soonyoung’s name written all over them, you feel like you do not have the right to their utterances.

Soonyoung’s lips purse, slanted gaze serious. “You’re probably right.”

It hurts, though you have not earned that pain. Only caused it.

A quiet that lasts a forged eternity proceeds, until the tension turns deafening.

Soonyoung sighs, a slow hand combing through his hair. “Jihoon used to like you more than me, y’know? You were always his favorite...”

It really hurts.

“Until you fucked us over,” Soonyoung finishes.

Averting your eyes you swallow around slimy saliva, a cold knot twisting in the pit of your stomach. And there is a burn behind your eyelids you are afraid will boil over if you meet Soonyoung’s stare again. The cognizance of your weakness that washes over you and makes your hairs stand on end is unpleasant, mercilessly corroding the strong image you’ve built of yourself.

“You-you gave up everything we had for... money,” Soonyoung continues when you can’t, the weight of his tone increasing. “You left us, you left... me. You left me for fucking credits...” His voice wavers and it’s a dagger in your heart, a sting behind your eyes.

Your memory is as clear as if it had only just happened. Seeing the offer that had been sent to you. Considering and considering and considering, all those credits that could be yours if you just made the right choice. Lying sleepless next to Soonyoung that night, palm flat on his naked chest. Getting dressed quietly, leaving the ship with the emptiness of an unspoken goodbye in your stomach, one you convinced yourself wasn’t real. Giving away the ship’s location to the bidder, knowing the trouble it would bring your friend and your lover. How salty the countless credits tasted once yours. You still taste it now.

Though you cannot be sure of how long it takes for you to notice that you are crying, you find that your will to save face has run out. You break at last.

Ugly sobbing bounces between the metal walls of the ship, worsening with each breath as you keep remembering that you are not the one who should be crying. Your lungs burn painfully, Jihoon and Jeonghan surely waking upon your horrid weeping. It feels as though your heart is melting, running down your cheeks and dying as the droplets flatten across the floor. In only moments, you are reduced to nothing. Nothing but shame. And the man whose heart you battered witnesses it all.

Eventually, there are no more tears left to cry and silence thrives again, save for the rhythmic beeping.

“I’m sorry,” comes the apology that is long overdue, as raspy as it may be.

Soonyoung’s expression is blue, eyes glazed over with a sadness you only recognize now when yours are too. “It doesn’t matter,” he reminds you, though his tone is not as dismissive as the sentence it offers.

Your head shakes quickly, strands of hair sticking against your tacky cheeks. “I know it doesn’t. You’ve always been a man of your word Soonyoung, and you will turn me in no matter what I say now...” you concede and Soonyoung’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I-I-I was greedy and selfish and only cared about credits, about feeling strong and independent and invincible-... Or so I thought. Or wanted to, I-... I cared about you two...” Your throat tightens, but you force your words out anyway. “I loved you Soonyoung and I- It wasn’t fake, I was never lying, I just-... I wanted to feel like I didn’t need you... And there will never be a time when I won’t regret what I did...”

Tears descend the expanse of your face again, but silently this time. And Soonyoung’s stare is filled with something warmer now, despite his steadfast sorrow. And you can only think about the hugs you left behind, the kisses, the smiles, the laughs.

“You’re an idiot.”

Your chest jumps at the new voice, blurry stare shooting to where Jihoon is leaned against the doorway again. He sounds the same after three years. And some of the hatred in his glare has faded now.

You nod carefully, lip shaking. “I know.”

Soonyoung’s eyes remain steadily on you.

From where your limbs are slumped in a dead pile against the wall, they stiffen abruptly when there’s a sudden hand on your cheek and your attention jumps to Soonyoung again. He wipes your tears with gentle touches, warm thumb soft across your skin. Nails tickle your cheekbone lightly as he moves to tuck some stray strands of hair behind your ear. Your heart must be shuddering.

“I missed you for a long time,” he tells you, pupils tracing the shapes of your features along with his finger. “And then hated you for even longer.”

Your lips purse, sour accord pooling in your eyes, his touch leaving a trail of pleasant tingles. “I hate myself too, and it’s due time I get served my share of consequences.”

Soonyoung’s lids become heavier and his gaze darkens. “You should get some sleep now,” he mutters.

And the temperatures within and around you drop when his hand leaves your face.

...

Despite Soonyoung’s request and your extreme fatigue, sleep did not come easily that night. Likely due to the knowledge of your approaching punishment - though it is hard for you to imagine feeling any worse than you already do.

The guilt that you postponed for the past years weighs uncomfortably on your shoulders as you now stand by the still sealed ramp, and so do the electronic cuffs around your wrists along with the hanging shadows beneath your eyes. A sickness is brewing in your stomach, made up of shame and hunger, but you somehow like it in the same way that you deserve it.

You can sense Soonyoung’s presence behind you as much as you can hear it by his footsteps, and turn around slowly. Jihoon and Jeonghan stand idly in the background, also awaiting your departure. Though there is seemingly something sour in the curl of Jihoon’s brow, and something hesitant in the stiffness of Jeonghan’s lip.

But undoubtedly, the grim matte of Soonyoung’s eye is worst of all.

His face hasn’t been this close in years and the longing ache his proximity offers feels as undeserved as his frown. You threw him away and he is still the victim, despite the handcuffs trapping you. Soonyoung is still the good one.

“It’s time,” he says, voice steady and breath fanning your face. He really is close.

You nod, "it’s time.” And the silence that has plagued your chest for too long only deepens then, cold within the confines of your ribs.

A smile is what the grimace you present is meant to be, eyes piercing his own, desperately trying to remember his exact shade of brown and the charming tilt encasing it. What you fell for, what you betrayed and what put you in your place. This is right, as much as it hurts and as dead as it renders your barely beating heart. The goodbye you have earned.

But a fire is rising in Soonyoung’s gaze, even though it’s not supposed to.

And then he is grabbing your face, gloved palms flat against your cheeks, and kissing you. His lips are soft and plump, his pace is hard and reckless, his taste is warm and familiar and your whole body is frozen. Until your heart bursts with something so loud it feels like it hasn’t made a single sound in forever.

Coming to half your senses, you kiss Soonyoung back with as much fervor as you can manage, tied hands tingling with an insatiable desire to touch him and hold him closer. As if hearing your silent plea, he pulls you in, leaving no air to breathe between you. You distantly imagine Jihoon’s head turning away and Jeonghan’s unreadable expression but cannot find the will to care.

Soonyoung pulls away far too soon and his serious yet heavy-lidded gaze pierces you still.

“Listen to me,” he starts, chest heaving in time with yours, grip meaningful on your shoulders. “Get out of there as quickly as you can, and come find me.”

Your whole body is shaking under the impact of your heartbeat.

“Understand?” Soonyoung’s brows shoot upward.

The demand is unrealistic. You have not heard of anyone escaping the captivity of the Chancellor and know that the odds are positively against you, no matter how skilled you might be. Your death is surely ready to welcome you with open arms, as soon as the ramp is lowered.

Yet, you nod. Knees quivering.

Faintly, you register something beeping.

“Soonyoung,” Jeonghan calls.

You don’t know what to make of the man’s expression when you turn to look, nor Jihoon’s.

Soonyoung’s whisper of your name brings your bug-eyed stare back to him. Those deep brown, fiery eyes.

You nod again.

He sighs, carefully.

Then steps away to push the button that opens the ramp.

Cold winds rush inside the ship and tousle your hair, worsening the shaking in your limbs. But all you feel is rhythmic exhilaration pumping from your heart.

You turn around, met with the sight of the Chancellor’s guards standing in the midst of a snowstorm, waiting for you. Nearly stumbling while descending the ramp’s tilt, the guards grab you and begin searching you immediately, while one of them relays a message to Soonyoung that you can’t seem to hear.

Your neck twists, eyes looking up and meeting Soonyoung’s from where he stands at the top of the ramp. Something in your chest is screaming and it’s deafening.

With guards’ hands patting you down, Soonyoung smiles and his eyes do too. And you are immediately infected, mirroring his expression instinctively, aware of how little you deserve him. In the chilling temperatures of this weather, your blood is warm. Soonyoung presses the button.

When the ramp seals shut, you are left knowing that Soonyoung will be there and he is left wondering if you will ever come.

#caratwritersclub #svtsource #seventeen imagines #hoshi imagines #soonyoung imagines #seventeen scenarios #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #seventeen x reader #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #seventeen angst #hoshi angst #soonyoung angst

171 notes · View notes

maschotch · 2 years

Note

Lool I’m the anon who send you the first hotch x reader ask and I totally agree with the other one! The fics are so repetitive it is starting to get a little bit boring. And yeah I just don’t see Hotch being an asshole and a toxic partner to a 20 year old woman… He is in his 40s at the first season (i think?) and well the only women he dates are also around his age so…there’s no way he would date younger people… And you are so right !! People just like him physically and not for his personality… I mean I get why the “older man/boss” trope Its kinda fun but… Hotch is just more than an old attractive man 🥲 He has an interesting backstory…

Also, people pair him with Reid and JJ and I’m like… they’re too young for him. Alex or Rossi would make more sense, specially because Alex (well the actress) is just one year younger than Hotch (TGibson).

And tbh, when I first joined this site, I thought I would see more Reid fics rather than Hotch fics 🥲 Bc Wattpad is full of them

You don’t have emoji anons?? 😂😂 that would be helpful lmao

AJHDKSHFJ babe u missed it…. it was EXCLUSIVELY reid x reader fics like five years ago…. why i left the fandom in the first place… ran into one too many daddy spencer fics ajdhkahdj

one thing ive been kinda curious ab lately is if there are any fics that explore hotch’s discomfort w his scars?? problems taking his shirt off in front of people and stuff like that?? asked a couple trusted individuals and apparently not, which seems like kind of a waste to me. like… maybe thats just me akdhsk but whats the point of hotch in a fic if he’s not gonna be at least a little emo lmao

and like ok. that other anon explained ab the roleplaying aspect and thats fine and whatever. smudgin reality a bit to get some personal uhhh enjoyment out of things. fine whatever. but then people will ship hotch w jj and reid?? and act like thats in character?? (and again ive had some hotchreiders explain to me that there’s also an element of removal from canon, but i personally just dont see the fun in that. for me personally)

NOT that hotch/rossi is any less toxic akhdkshd (i mean it is bc hotch had a whole ass career before meeting rossi) but it just seems toxic in a way thats so much more in character?? like i really dont think hotch would be one to date someone significantly younger than him, but i can say with absolutely certainty that im 100% positive rossi does NOT have that reservation lmao. rossi does seem like the type to get a little excited by that kind of power dynamic (on both ends, really? idk who’s rossi’s boss was but somethin tells me he’d be down for that too lol). now thats fun. thats somethin i can get behind aksjajdkj bc its exploring the characters themselves within a dynamic, not creating new characters for the sake of a dynamic

#i dont have any emoji anons ajshkahd but if you wanna be one then you get first pick ig lmao #asks #the way i thought beth was ten years younger than hotch until i looked it up 💀💀💀💀#praised the lord that day

4 notes · View notes

folatefangirl · 2 years

Note

BELLA FOR THE MEME PLZ

Full Name: Isabella ~~Gurl, Slay~~ Marie Swan Gender and Sexuality: Girl/Futch to Butch Lesbean Pronouns: She/Her

Ethnicity/Species: Human Superpowered Vampire Slayer Birthplace and Birthdate: September 13, 1987 in Forks, Washington Guilty Pleasures: energy drinks, doomscrolling, Norwegian black metal Phobias: losing her powers, claustrophobia, rejection by the people she trusts wholly What They Would Be Famous For: Stopping a lot of humans from being murdered/solving cases the cops don't care about/being a Vampire Slayer who takes no shit. What They Would Get Arrested For: In this police state society, what can't cops arrest you for anymore? 🙃 But realistically, probably for meddling with cop affairs too much since they'd see her as a vigilante and also if she ever fucked up and harmed someone in the process of doing what she wants to do in her capacity as a Slayer. Think of how much damage superheroes accidentally cause while fighting villains and then consider how real people would respond. (Lulzy concept from this? Slayer Liability Insurance lmao.) OC You Ship Them With: Not an OC but it's pretty clear she's being paired off with Leah Clearwater lmao. Sorry, Belice shippers. OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Again, not an OC, but uhhh. Edward Cullen. 👀 Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Supernatural Thrillers or Crime Thrillers or True Crime (NOT Romance. 0/10 for Bella with romance novels, especially vampire romances. Ew.) Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: The female protagonist is helpless and can't save herself and must rely on A Man^TM to rescue her. Talents and/or Powers: Basically all the Slayer superpowers. Enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, other senses. Pretty sure I also kind of implied she has an abnormally good memory by accident. Marginally related to the above, but she'd probably be pretty darn good at (mechanical) bull riding. (I mean, probably real bull riding, too, but there's ethical issues with that sport). Why Someone Might Love Them: She's very confident in herself and what she can do and seems very strong because she internalizes any self-doubt and insecurities and any weaknesses as much as she can. She's conventionally attractive and physically fit and cares a lot about protecting those who are weaker than herself and sees it as her duty, as something that comes with the job of being a Slayer. She'll only let those who are closest to her see her soft side or any vulnerabilities. Why Someone Might Hate Them: Relates to the above, actually. She's very stubborn and can get fixated on doing certain things her way, which can come across as controlling and frustrating if people disagree. She's also not fond of expressing emotions (besides the angry ones), which probably discomforts people who prefer people who are emotionally truthful and not emotionally constipated. Also presumably people hate her for trying to kill them because they're vampires. Oops. How They Change: My intent in the story is to show how she becomes softer over time as she learns to process the hurt she's experienced (rejection from both sides of your family at a very young age sucks majorly) and express herself better. At the start of the story, she's in the mindset that if she lets herself feel hurt, then she is accepting that she can be hurt and that it will be a catastrophe since people will seize upon her weakness and destroy her, essentially. And then Giles and the council and other slayers will reject her, too. She's very wrapped up in her identity as a Slayer because it's basically all she's ever known. Why You Love Them: I love Bella because she's my Bella and no one else's, and admittedly I'm using her to process some of my own traumas as a queer ExMormon who had these books pushed on me as a kid. I also stole some personality traits from my older sisters, who I admire very much (they raised me in a lot of ways), so I think she's a pretty cool badass and that might explain part of the decision to make Jacob Black a younger sibling figure instead of someone who's interested in her romantically, in case anyone is wondering about that change. Admittedly, it's very vindicating and fun to rewrite a story with a lot of toxic ideas and be like "um no, fuck that" and reclaim it for yourself and also use it as a platform for good things such as the Move to Higher Ground campaign.

Thanks for the ask! This put to mind some things I hadn't quite expressed in my notes or outline for this fic (which someday I do hope to finish lmao).

#thanks for the ask #sunnyforks #bella swan #twilight #ask game #byjillianmaria

1 note · View note

viterbofangirllovestheuntamed · 2 years

Note

ship ask game: wangxian, lan xichen/jin guangyao, lan yi/baoshan sanren

Thanks, anon! Appreciate the ask!

WangXian - SHIP IT!

I mean, it's a classic!

What made you ship it? *motions to all 50 CQL episodes* Seriously, though, for all the censorship issues, I really like how the series was forced to dig a little deeper into their relationship since they couldn't rely on obvious horniness. The sense of devotion in both of them is so strong, practically from the get-go!

What are your favorite things about the ship? Oddly enough, my favorite thing is their neurodivergent symbiosis! I'm totally stealing from someone else's post/ observations, but Lan Wangji helps Wei Wuxian by reminding him or helping him both with his daily physical needs (eating, sleeping, etc.) and by giving him an opportunity to let the ADHD genius hyperfixate and stream-of-consciousness ramble to help process his thoughts. In turn, Wei Wuxian learns of Lan Wangji's autism-coded quirks so that the latter isn't constantly having to explain himself. He doesn't demand that Lan Zhan be different, instead rejoicing in his differences. He also happily takes the burden of speech (and occasionally providing a distraction) for his introverted and sensitive soulmate!

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? I think their actions are a bit selfish at the end of the book. Like, yes, y'all have worked your asses off for your happy ending, but like... Lan Wangji, your brother has been helping and supporting you all your damned life are you really just gonna peace out on him?!

XiYao - DON'T SHIP IT!

OKAY HEAR ME OUT.

Why don’t you ship it? YaoYao is constantly trying to prove himself better than others think him, is trying to constantly prove that he has a place among the upper echelons. I think that pairing up with the Chancellor of the Morning Sun™ only makes him ramp up those pressures on himself as he tries to prove himself worthy of breathing the same air as Lan Xichen... or at least lie/pretend that he is a better person than he really is because otherwise he thinks Xichen would dump him in disgrace. I really liked his romance with Qin Su (before the reveal, obvs), and while both she and Lan Xichen saw the worthiness in YaoYao before he had climbed his way to the top of the ladder, Qin Su's status- while still a genteel lady- would not incite the same level of self-consciousness. Not to mention that she seriously FOUGHT for the relationship, even to the point of damaging her own reputation. Lan Xichen, with his sect riding on his shoulder, just can’t do that, and YaoYao needs someone to fight and flip the bird at the cultivation world for his sake. And on Lan Xichen's part... sorry, but I truly think that sensitive-but-stalwart Nie Mingjue was his best chance for happiness. Lan Xichen is a people-pleaser and has an intense dislike for conflict, going to great lengths to avoid it. YaoYao's own people-pleasing encourages these bad habits or even bring out the worst of them. YaoYao, for better or for worse, is a manipulator (I am one too, so I say it as a fact and not a criticism) and it's all too easy for him to keep Lan Xichen from experiencing pain or discomfort... even when he needs to experience them to grow.

What would have made you like it? The thing is, because of the above reasons, I don't know if anything could make me like it without altering their personalities. I guess the closest thing would be to throw Nie Mingjue into there and make them a throuple... but only if all of them are emotionally healthy and capable of true trust.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it? I think that their ship is absolutely necessary for the sake of the story and tragic foils/parallels, but because it's a bad relationship that I think is not good for both of them. It's a truly, truly fascinating dynamic, and I do like watching it! I just don't think it's healthy.

Lan Yi/Baoshan Sanren - *shrugs*

I mean...

Why don’t you ship it? I'm not particularly hostile to it or anything, there's just not a lot there to work with. CQL gave us some little hints, but neither their personalities or their backstory are fleshed out enough to give me yea-or-nay vibes.

What would have made you like it? A sumptuously-costumed 50-episode series with gripping emotional storytelling and phenomenal acting? It worked for WangXian...

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it? They're two powerful and badass girlbosses; relationships have definitely been built on worse!

#thanks again anon! <3 #ASK THE MOD #asks #shipping meme #lan wangji #wei wuxian #When a High Functioning Autistic Loves an ADHD Goblin...#NO LAWS NO GODS ONLY HUSBAND #jin guangyao #meng yao #lan xichen #CAUGHT IN A BAD ROMANCE #lan yi #baoshan sanren #Have You Bugged Your Mod Today? Well WHY NOT?!

6 notes · View notes

courtlyharlequin · 4 years

Note

Hello! Can I request the Octavinelle boys crushing on a great white shark mermaid who is way bigger than them, with a mouth full of long and sharp teeth but is a sweetheart who lives secluded from other merfolk and loves to collection human things and has a treasure trove like the little mermaid and is fascinated by the world above. Pretty please?

Treasures and Truths Untold

A/N: I already have a request in which the reader is a shark so this request became headcanons of the boys with a Little Mermaid-like reader! I hope that’s okay with you. Also, what is a title anymore....

Azul Ashengrotto:

Color him intrigued.

Azul is not that into human culture, but seeing you get all giddy over it piques his interest by a small margin.

In other words, he appreciates it more than he did before meeting you as well as being more observant of the things you fawn over.

Truthfully, he doesn’t understand your little obsession that much. I mean they’re just land creatures aren’t they?

Azul is more into you than he is into humans.

He tries not to be obvious though, keeping it professional like a student-teacher relationship with no foresight as to how it’s going to progress.

And Azul feels like a fool for it.

But when you always rush to him with questions when he returns home for breaks, Azul tries his best to quench your thirst for knowledge.

Your enthusiasm is oddly refreshing for him as it reminds him of his own eagerness to study and do better than all of his childhood bullies… except yours sparkles radiantly while his flickered like a candle in the wind.

He sees it as a sort of deal— you get your answers and he gets to spend time with you and feel good about it.

It’s not ideal… as the relationship is platonic at best but a certain octopus is a bit shy.

Heck, he’s still not over the fact that you approached him so willy-nilly with no ill intentions whatsoever?

Ahhhhh is it love or simply fondness that he latched onto because nobody had ever given him this much attention?

For sure overthinks it but also finds it endearing that someone would go out of their way to ask him about his life in such detail.

Your curious nature would be good for deals keeps Azul on his toes? His tentacles? Ah, he’s having trouble keeping up with you but the catch is sure worth the chase.

Jade Leech:

Oya oya?

You’re of those merfolk who want to go on land that badly?

He doesn't understand the appeal aside (from hiking and mushrooms) but he indulges you if you beg him to take him to your grotto. Is he that special to you?

Ara ara~

Jade definitely doesn’t get it. He thinks people on land are quite troublesome and the transformation was more pain than gain. Azul does seem happier up there than down here, but that doesn’t mean he is.

Jade… finds no greater joy than to swim freely in the ocean. After all, swimming is much easier than flying or even running.

The thrill of a chase in water for prey is much more satisfying than a chase on land. He doesn’t get exhausted. He gets high off that addictive adrenaline.

But you… you’re so docile especially when you’re just as a threat to other fish in the ocean as he is— if not more of a threat.

Seeing you fondle over forks makes him pity you. It’s such a shame that you utilize your physical prowess to wander around shipwrecks to collect kitchen utensils. Kitchen utensils for crying out loud!

Oh, but Jade would never say that to you out loud and in such an impolite tone. He would coax you into a hunt.

If you stood your ground and refused nonetheless, then he would help you clean and organize your treasures albeit he’ll be a little reluctant.

His face shows discomfort and strain but you can’t ever truly tell because he waves it off as being tired and insists that it’s his duty to help you out as a dear old friend.

Ahhhhh. Friend. That word sort of bothers him. Did he really become that attached to you? A little naive fish in the sea who values human culture over mer-culture. How lamentable.

This must be what you call a crush…

Fufufu~ this actually might be some fun, keeping you down in the sea and coming back to you with treasures from land.

A pitiful love, but it could be fun. Go, entertain him!

Floyd Leech:

What’s this? A pile of junk from sunken ships?

Boringggg! But adorable! Very, very adorable~

Floyd can’t turn that cute face of yours down especially when you make those futile puppy eyes at him. They don’t work on him, but he relishes in the fact that you’re begging him to spend time with you, that you deem him close enough to take him to your hidden treasure trove.

The teasing knows no end. Well, you think it’s teasing but it could honestly be a threat…

He doesn’t see how it’s interesting but seeing you jump up and down about music boxes or clothes from land is fun.

After Floyd returns from NRC, he understands you now! Humans and their culture is super interesting! Why didn’t you tell him dancing and running after prey would be this thrilling?

From then on, he joins you on your little excursions to abandoned ships.

Floyd’s personal favorite items to look for are socks and shoes as he finds them fun to sport on land.

He says they’re great and he enjoys dancing on land more than he does in the ocean.

He even teaches you while trying to wear shoes on his tail... which didn’t work out.

There were these two pairs that he wanted bring to land because they looked perfect for a night out at the Mostro Lounge with you.

Granted, the chances of him being able to bring shipwrecked shoes back to school are slim but he entertains the thought nonetheless.

If you clear up an extra space for all of his own finds, he will be touched. Again, you think he would be…

And if you want something in particular, just ask when he’s in the right mood. Most likely, Floyd would bring it back if it means you never stop being entertaining, but you have to remind him because sometimes his moods make him forget about it.

Write and text him often if you can to remind him! There are times where he’ll ignore you but eight out of ten times he won’t.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #octavinelle

235 notes · View notes

gloves94 · 4 years

Text

Sunburn [Prince Zuko] 21

Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary: “You have everything you’ve ever wanted.” “No.” He said softly. “Not everything…” His golden eyes looked at her with a melting intensity she had never witnessed before. “I guess not.” She responded with glassy eyes as tears welled up threatening to break the dam of her eyes.

My fanfiction: M A S T E R L I S T

"Have you ever thought about why you're the only person in your family- in the world with that color of hair?" Iroh said.

Tsai wished more than anything that she could see his face or be sitting next to him. She didn't know what hurt her more. Having had to hurt Iroh like that or her melodramatic break up with the prince.

She touched the tips of red auburn-red hair as she looked at the color pondering on the ominous meaning of his words. All along she thought she had inherited it from a distant relative from a faraway land. She always thought they there might be somebody else with the same hair tone but Iroh was right. They had practically gone around the world and had yet to encounter someone with similar hair.

"Tsai, your hair. It's that color because-" He was interrupted by a door being slammed.

"Prisoners are to be kept in isolation!" A guard intruded as she heard them barge into Iroh's cell.

"I feel that your journey will be difficult Tsai. Much more difficult than mine!" He shouted as they seized him.

"No! No!" She pounded on the walls. "Wait!"

"Be strong! Have faith and be brave! But most of all remember who you are! Look for the light! You are the light!" He shouted over his shoulder as he was escorted out of the prison cell dungeon.

"Please! Don't take him!" She pleaded her voice cracking. "Don't leave me alone," she let out a miserable whimper as the tears spilled from her eyes.

"Please…" She managed to let out a squeak. She wrapped her arms around herself feeling more alone than ever. That night Tsai spent the night in the cell in isolation and her tears almost drowned the miserable prison...

xxx

Zuko frowned slightly as he leaned against the ship railing and stared out at the moonlit ocean in front of him. He was finally going home after three long years. It was something he should be happy about, but a part of him rebelled against the emotion.His stomach churned with anxiety at the thought of seeing his father again.

Why did he feel so… filthy?

Why did he feel as if there was a missing part of him? As if he had lost something?

He didn't understand the heartache that consumed most of his internal turmoil and blended emotions.

"Aren't you cold?" A voice suddenly interrupted hit thoughts

The scarred prince turned his head slightly to glance at his ex-girlfriend. Not Tsai. It was Mai his ex-ex-girlfriend. She looked the same as she had before his banished. Her chalk porcelain skin remained emotionless her midnight straight black hair flowing down in two strands like two-night cascades. She walked over to him, hands hidden inside her sleeves and stopped less than a foot away from him cool, calm and collected.

"I've got a lot on my mind," he responded his tone flat as he turned his attention back to the ocean.

"It's been so long, over three years since I was home. I wonder what's changed. I wonder how I've changed."

Mai suddenly yawned and she looked at Zuko with a bored expression, "I just asked if you were cold, I didn't ask for your whole life story."

Zuko pursed his lips and turned away from her, his brow furrowing slightly in annoyance. Thoughts of a certain auburn-haired girl from the Fire Nation colonies flooded his mind. Thoughts about his uncle also seized him. His-No- Their betrayal. Yes. That's how it had been. They betrayed him. He shook his head slightly in an attempt to rid himself of his thoughts and the pulsating headache that was about to become a migraine.

He was so distraught he didn't notice Mai stepping closer to him and wrapping her arms around him.

"Stop worrying." She said with a small smile as she cupped his cheek and turned his face towards her.

He looked away, turning away from her. She leaned in to kiss him. Yet he recoiled. The only thing he could see was Tsai's look of pure horror on her face in the crystal chamber back in the underground lake cave. Mai pulled back with a frown, her expression one of hurt and confusion. They hadn't spoken in over three years; he hadn't seen her in over three years. He didn't feel connected to her anymore.

Then again he was sure he didn't feel anything at all anymore.

"Zuko?" She questioned perplexed, her brow knotting as she didn't understand just what was going through his mind.

Zuko starred at her for a moment. Her eyes weren't warm. Her skin wasn't sun kissed. Her hair wasn't red, but she was standing right before him and maybe- just maybe she'd help. She'd help put the memory of Tsai in a box and become the last nail in the coffin that would be buried away forever.

After all she was a traitor to his country and to his uncle- the apathetic look that she flashed him her empty eyes haunted him.

He hesitated but leaned forward to kiss her. She gently touched his face when she did and smiled faintly at him when she broke the kiss and walked away.

Zuko bowed his head and shut his eyes as he leaned on the ship deck's metal rail. It didn't work. Just like it hadn't worked when he kissed Jin in front of that fountain that night. His insides churned with unease as guilt stirred inside of his consciousness. He had to get rid of her. He had to forget her. Nothing would ever be the same after Ba Sing Se. He had to forget ALL of her.

He suddenly felt a sensation burning in his pocket, he snatched the burning coal out and realized it was her family's necklace. The one he had taken from her as the Blue Spirit. He had forgotten to return it to her and had stayed lost amongst his possessions in Ba Sing Se. He looked at the amber sunstone that decorated the center of the choker and the way that it gleamed. Wild thoughts raged inside his head. He clenched it in a shaking fist and raised it over his head throwing it into the dark depths of the ocean. Yet- his palm did not open. He could not let go. He used every ounce of physical strength he could muster, but his hand would not unclench.

"Why can't I let you go?" He roared in anger as frustration consumed him.

xxx

Isolation was a different type of hell. It was depressing. It consumed your sanity.

Tsai had a schedule of activities she would practice every day in an attempt to keep her sanity at least in the borderline. They would feed her flavorless rice and a bucket of water a day. She would sleep in the cold, dark floor and the only sound she could hear besides the crashing waves was the one of the sea gulls outside flying on the deck. Feeding on whatever scraps had been left over from lunch.

“You have to stay active.” Iroh had instructed. “Keep both your mind and body strong.”

She would awake, scratch another white line on the ground which symbolized another gone day. She would spend a period of time stretching, running from one side of her cell to the other, keeping her muscles strong. Part of it was spent singing and the other thinking.

Thinking was the worst. She couldn't stop thinking about the what if's. What if she had never gotten on that ship? What if she had joined the Avatar when she could? What if she turned really turned on Iroh just like his ungrateful nephew had? What if she had conformed with what she had known about the Fire Nation her whole life and stayed quiet? What did Iroh mean about her strange hair color? She also thought about her dream… The one that had been lost so many times… Maybe Zuko was right. Maybe she would never acknowledge anything extraordinary in her life.

Several weeks had passed now and she suspected they were nearing the Fire Nation's dock.

Tsai was taken to the prison dungeons in the North Tower upon their arrival to the Fire Nation. People threw rotten food and other trash at her and the disgraced Dragon of the West as they were escorted to the tower. Whooping, cursing and trash talk followed them as people cruelly hollered them on.

A part of her thought it was slightly humorous that she had been imprisoned in the Southern Water Tribe, the Earth Kingdom and now in the Fire Nation. All this prison bird was missing from her BINGO was visiting the Air Nomad's jail.

“They will first take you as a prisoner,” Iroh had predicted. “It is very important that you remain true to yourself. That you know what you want and what you have to do.” He had instructed.

She had to play the long waiting game and by their rules. She let out a breath she had been holding and attempted to find comfort in her discomfort. The rats that kept her company, grime and filth in the small cell did not help.

xxx

"Your Princess Azula, clever and beautiful, disguised herself as the enemy and entered the Earth Kingdom's Capital."

Her royal aides, Li and Lo, stood before at the top of the battle tower in the Royal Plaza in the Fire Nation Capital's harbor. Li addressed the soldiers below "In Ba Sing Se, she found her brother Zuko, and together they faced the Avatar..."

"And the Avatar fell!" They chorused together, "And the Earth Kingdom fell!"

"Azula's agents quickly overtook the city." Lo continued loudly, "They went to Ba Sing Se's great walls..."

"And brought them down!" The two women shouted in unison.

"The armies of the Fire Nation surged through the walls and swarmed over Ba Sing Se, securing our victory." Li exclaimed.

'Several Dai Li agents stood at the top of the Outer Wall then they leapt down, sliding down the wall with their hands and feet pressed against it. When they landed on the ground they quickly lunged forward and slammed their fists against the wall, bringing down several sections and allowing hundreds of Fire Nation soldiers into the once impenetrable city of Ba Sing Se...'

"Now the heroes have returned home!" Li and Lo shouted together.

"Your princess, Azula..." Lo introduced and the crowd below cheered loudly as the young princess stepped forward, a smirk on her face.

"And after three long years," Li continued to speak, "Your prince has returned..."

"Zuko!" Li and Lo shouted together.

Zuko swallowed imperceptibly and walked forward with a vaguely worried expression on his face, his head slightly bowed. How would his people react to his return form exile? He was taken aback in surprise as crowd cheered loudly when he reached the edge of the balcony and he stared down at them for moment then lifted his chin, holding his head up proudly. A small smile on his face. They accepted him. They welcomed him back. This was all that he had ever wanted.

Their honorable prince had finally returned home.

xxx

Zuko sat cross-legged beside the small pond in the palace's square garden he and his mother used to sit by, and he tossed small pieces of bread into the water, watching quietly as the turtle-ducks quacked. His thoughts went to his mother. What would she think of him? What would she have done? Would she be proud?

He sighed and pulled out the sunstone necklace from his pocket. He traced the stone with his thumb and looked at it sadly.

He had so many questions that were unanswered…

“You seem so downcast. Has Mai gotten to you already?" Azula commented with false warmth as she approached her brother and she smiled slyly as she stood in front of him, "Though actually, Mai has been in strangely good mood lately."

Zuko ignored her provocations and stared at the pond lost in thought, "I haven't seen Dad yet. I haven't seen him in three years, since I was banished."

What would he say when they met again?

"So what?" Azula snorted. Thinking her brother's concerns were pathetic.

'"-Your father sent you on a fool's errand to capture the Avatar was because he didn't want you-"' Tsai's harsh words echoed in the back of his head.

What if she was right?

"So," Zuko growled in annoyance, "I didn't capture the Avatar."

"Who cares? The Avatar's dead..." Azula replied flippantly, though her eyes narrowed when she saw her brother look away, "Unless you think he somehow miraculously survived..."

'"This is water from the spirit oasis at the North Pole." Katara explained as she held up a small vial on a leather string for him to see, "It has special properties, so I've been saving it for something important."' He could still remember the waterbender saying to him.

"No." Zuko growled lowly after the memory faded from his mind and he turned his head to glare at his sister, "There's no way he could have survived."

Azula's eyes narrowed and she glared down at her brother for a moment then she shrugged nonchalantly, "Well, then I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

It was then that Azula’s eyes caught a glimmer in his hand.

“What’s that?” She asked with narrowed eyes.

Zuko instantly pulled his hand away in a defensive tone. “Nothing,” he said much too sharply.

“Let me see!” Azula wasted no time and dove for his hand prying it open.

“Go away Azula!” Her brother argued back as he tried to keep his hands clamped over the jewelry artifact and tugged his way. Azula tugged the opposite way. “Let me see!” She insisted childishly. It was then that Zuko fell back hitting the back of his head against the tree’s back. Azula gave a step back from the sudden momentum yet saw a glimmer go up in the air. With one swift motion she jumped and caught the gem midair with one hand.

Zuko starred at the strappy part of the torn part of choker necklace in his hand and rose to his feet a deep scowl on his face.

“Look what you’ve done!” He exclaimed angrily.

“What is this?” Azula narrowed her eyes and inspected the small orange colored stone between her index and thumb. It was small, round and well-polished.

“None of your business!” He barked.

“A gift for Mai?” She assumed. “Why would you give her such a tacky present?”

Zuko snatched the gem from her hands and shoved it into the depths of his pockets. He wouldn't allow her to have it. To touch it. Even look at it.

“You’ve got awful taste.” His sister said looking down at her brother’s taste in jewelry. That was totally not Mai’s style. “Besides, everybody knows that diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Much classier too,” She said something about this being fun and walked away laughing as she did.

Zuko sighed and secretly looked at the gemstone as he retreated and once again took his seat by the pond. By this point all the turtle ducks were gone and he sat alone.

Zuko pursed his lips and he looked back at his reflection in the water, his anxious thoughts drifting from the ruined heirloom to his reunion with his father when he suddenly saw a familiar reflection appear next to him in the water. He almost fell to the side as he turned in shock. It was her. Tsai was standing next to him clear as day. She stood proudly with her back straight as an arrow as she usually did hands crossed over her chest.

"What do you think the Fire Dad will do to you if the Avatar is alive?" She clicked the back of her tongue in disapproval and shook her head.

"What are you doing here?" He snapped angrily hiding the stone in his pocket again, this time for good.

She rounded around him not breaking eye contact.

"Am I.…really here?" She pondered out loud. "Or am I rotting in the dungeons where you sent me!"

He must be going mad. People in his family had a history of mental turmoil and hallucinations. He wouldn't be surprised if he was actually seeing things.

"You're not real!" He shouted tossing a piece of bread at her which clearly went through her shape.

"Guess I'm real enough to haunt you," she shrugged casually. "What's it like?" She cocked her head to the side hair falling to one side. "Having everything you ever wanted back? Your honor? Your throne? Your family's respect!" She snapped viciously her eyes fixed on his, her expression loaded with contempt.

"Shut up!" He shouted back. He shook his head. He was speaking to nothing. There was no one there. She wasn't real. He was talking to himself. "SHUT UP!" He shouted pulling at his hair shutting his eyes tightly.

When he opened his eyes she was gone.

xxx

"I am so proud of you, Prince Zuko. I am proud because you and your sister conquered Ba Sing Se." Fire Lord Ozai said with pride as he walked around still kneeling son. This was it. The words he had longed to hear. His father's approval and recognition. It was what he had always wanted. So why was he on edge expected to be lashed out at? "I am proud because when your loyalty was tested by your treacherous uncle, you did the right thing and captured the traitor. I am proudest of all of your most legendary accomplishment. You slay the Avatar."

Zuko's eyes widened in shock before he schooled his face into a neutral expression as he turned his head slightly to look at his father over his shoulder.

"What did you hear?" He poked.

"Azula told me everything." The Fire Lord explained lowly, "She said she was amazed and impressed at your power and ferocity at the moment of truth."

Zuko pursed his lips slightly and looked off to the side, his mind whirling with questions.

"Like I said- what will daddy think if the Avatar is alive?" A familiar voice echoed inside his head.

Xxx

"Seems odd doesn't it?"

Zuko stomped through the hallways of the Fire Nation's palace. A figment of his imagination haunted him. A most annoying figment.

"Azula doesn't do things to be kind. Specially not for you." Tsai shrugged as she walked next to him. She looked like she always had. Strong, unapologetic, glowing.

"She's my sister. She wouldn't do that. You don’t know her," he growled out at the nothing. Trying to keep his eyes focused forward. "You're right," the girl answered after a moment. "After all, I'm just a figment of your guilty conscience. I only know what you know." He turned to where the girl was standing and swatted his hand over her repeatedly making her mirage vanish.

Zuko threw open the door to Azula's chambers and narrowed his eyes, "Why'd you do it?" He demanded to know. He hated to admit it but his conscience was right. Azula really did not do things out of kindness for anyone and less for him.

"You're going to have to be a little more specific." Azula commented coolly without opening her eyes or moving from her bed.

"Why did you tell Father that I was the one who killed the Avatar?" Zuko demanded as he walked further into his sister's room, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Can't this wait until the morning?"

"It. Can't." He spat.

"Fine." Azula sighed and she opened her eyes as she sat up in her bed, "You seemed so worried about how Father would treat you because you hadn't captured the Avatar. I figured if I gave you the credit, you'd have nothing to worry about."

"But why?" Zuko asked in confusion.

"Call it a generous gesture." Azula asked smugly as she slipped out of her bed and walked towards her brother, "I wanted to thank you for your help, and I was happy to share the glory."

"Generous? Since when does Azula share her glory?" It was that voice again. Scoffing in the back of his head.

Zuko's eyes narrowed as he regarded his sister, "You're lying."

If you say so..." Azula replied as she walked past him.

"You have another motive for doing this, I just haven't figured out what it is." Zuko growled as he turned to glare at his sister.

"Please Zuko, what ulterior motive could I have? What could I possibly gain by letting you get all the glory for defeating the Avatar?" Azula asked mockingly as she turned around and approached him, putting her hand on his shoulder, "Unless, somehow, the Avatar was actually alive. All that glory would suddenly turn to shame and foolishness. But you said it yourself, that was impossible."

Zuko scowled at his sister as she laid back on her bed and he turned his back on her, preparing to leave the room, "And what did you tell father about Ts-" He faltered slightly and stopped himself. The boulder of guilt on his shoulder's becoming heavier and heavier with every passing moment.

"About the girl that was traveling with uncle. " He corrected.

She appeared in his vision once again. "I have a name you know?"

Azula smiled slyly, "You mean your girlfriend?"

"She's not my girlfriend." Zuko said. This time more quietly.

"You got that damn right!" His torturous vision screeched as she stood next to Azula.

"That's not what I heard," Azula said teasingly. "Did you see the look on her face?" She laughed. "When she was begging you to betray us alongside uncle. It was pathetic. I should've struck her down when I had the chance, but I guess rotting in the dungeons is a fit punishment. Even tho in an interesting turn of events she was the one that brought down Uncle."

Zuko saw Tsai's translucent imaginary hands wrap around Azula's neck as she attempted to strangle her. Zuko clenched his hands into fists at his sides as he stopped in the doorway, his back to his sister. He couldn't see or hear Tsai's voice anymore.

"Of course, father knows about her. He wants to meet her. Wants to find a fit punishment to atone for her family's crimes towards the Fire Nation's crown" Azula continued with a wicked smile as she closed her eyes, "Sleep well, Zuzu."

Zuko swallowed thickly and closed the door behind him, his eyes closing in anguish.

xxx

They came for her suddenly. She didn't even have a moment to react. She resisted kicking, fighting and scratching the soldiers that seized her.

"Where are you taking me?" She shouted.

She was completely stripped off her clothes and thrown into a moist concrete pit where buckets of ice-cold water were thrown at her. She shivered and was told to wash herself. After a pair of semi decent clothing consisting of a dull brown dress with long no sleeves were given to her. It was fastened at the waist with a simple string.

She was escorted into the palace. A palace which as a little girl had more than anything dreamed of visiting one day. It was as mighty as the nation with tall traditional Fire Nation roofs that curved up and reflect a bright red color. Crimson columns, gold and painted dragons danced the royal hallways.

“Knowing my brother, they will grant you an audience… Not to hear you out, but to humiliate you. I warn you. My brother is not the forgiving kind.” She could still remember Iroh’s instructions.

She was taken before Fire Lord Ozai.

The Fire Lord's face was striking with the embers that surrounded him. His cheeks were prominent and hollow, eyes were a pale yellow like a snake’s and his midnight dark hair was work in a half up updo as if was traditionally worn. He looked down at her as if she was an insect ready to be squished.

She could definitely see the family resemblance between him and his children.

“Play them like a game of Pai Sho.”

How many times had she been instructed to bow before the Fire Lord in her childhood if he was ever to visit the colonies. Of course, the man never did. How many days had she pledged her allegiance to the Fire Nation before school started as a child. Hell- she had drawn the face of their powerful leader countless of times, and now she stood before him. It was all a little unreal.

Azula stood to his right, Zuko to the left. The three of them standing before her. She suddenly fell to her knees being pushed to the floor by a guard. She glared at the man from underneath her bangs which had grown long and now covered most of her face.

"I should have your head," Ozai suddenly spoke. "For your dishonor and disrespect. Your family's too." He stroked his dark slim beard with one hand.

She remained silent.

It pained her but she had to play the long game...

Zuko looked at her. He did not look like she remembered. Her cheeks were thin, her eyes were wild, and her hair had grown dull and longer past her shoulders. She didn't glow like she seemed to in his mind, in his memories. She almost looked feral. Like a wounded animal.

"This is the harlot you decided to keep as company?" He tossed at his son who had been holding his breath this entire time. Ozai had asked a question, yet it sounded like a statement.

'Coward..' Tsai thought bitterly. 'To think that she had… That she had lov-' her eyes snapped back to Ozai. She couldn't afford to be distracted.

"I can see why you kept her. She's quite striking. And you know what they say about colonial women they are.." He paused for a moment. "Less sophisticated than us. In more ways than one," a ghost smirk made way to his face. "I should teach you a lesson." The Fire Lord stood, his fist gleaming with a burning fire.

This was Zuko's worst nightmare. He looked at his father with fearful eyes while attempting to wear a stoic mask of indifference. He wanted to say something. To speak up but he couldn't. He had already suffered the consequences of speaking up once without being spoken to and the results had been dire. Tsai didn't move. Her body stiffened at the sight of the flames. She remained silent as she wondered how Iroh could be related to this monster?

"Your existence is a mere insult to my nation. A half-bred mongrel with blood from the Earth Kingdom. Your existence is a stain in the history of a line of prestigious Fire Nation military men."

'Don't speak about my family,' she wanted to snarl. His cruel words were tearing at her as he insulted her pride, her home, her heritage and family all being shredded before her. It hurt. Standing in silence went against her nature. What she was about to do went against everything she had learned and grown in the past year. It broke her, but it was something she had to do. She had to at least make them think she was on their side.

"Fire Lord Ozai." She then rose to her feet and bowed her head to him with nothing but respect. Keeping it lowered hoping he wouldn't see past her façade.

She knew that this family was obsessed with honor and decided to have a play at it.

"It is truly an honor to be in your presence."

Zuko kept his hands behind his back as he starred with his jaw going slack. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing.

"I captured the traitor and bow before you and acknowledge my sins against the Crown and my Nation whom I hold so dear." She looked up at met his pale-yellow eyes. Here she stood before the most powerful man in the world lowering her head pathetically, groveling to him. Lying. It made her sick to her core. She couldn't believe what she was going to say next. "And I hope... I hope the Crown will pardon me and grant me the opportunity to regain my honor."

The prince kept a composed expression, yet he clenched his fisted hands behind his back tightly. Nails burying into his palms. His heart racing against his rib cage uncomfortably.

"You freed the Avatar." Ozai stated. "At the Pohuai Stronghold. Because of you the siege for the North Pole failed."

"My intentions were noble." She said bravely standing her ground as she pushed her hair back out of her face. "I couldn't allow a filthy man like Zhao to have that glory and honor of capturing the Avatar. Not when it didn't belong to him."

"Who did it belong to then?" The Fire Lord asked leaning forward slightly in what appeared to be intrigued.

"Your son. Our Prince. I saw it upon my duty to protect his honor." She lowered her head once again and the Lord let out what sounded like a blend between a humorous huff and a scoff.

"My son doesn't need anybody to protect his honor. Much less a colonial harlot."

The words didn't sting. Yet fueled her internal anger.

"And the Blue Spirit?" He asked after a moment of quiet.

Zuko stiffened next to his father.

"It was me." She once again lied through her teeth.

Zuko's face went white. What was this idiot doing? She was going to get herself killed. He could feel a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. His voice gone. He didn't want to look at his merciless father. Ozai spoke and he expected the worst. He was beginning to feel his knees growing weak. After all he was capable of anything. He had to do something. He had to speak up- but his voice. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth it would betray him and it wouldn't sound out.

"Killing you would be kind," The Fire Lord breathed almost in a sympathetic tone.

"What do you think we should do?" He questioned out loud. Azula slightly bounced ready to present her list of vile ideas and ploys in which she could torture and humiliate one of the Fire Nation's biggest traitors.

"Zuko..?" He turned to test his son.

It was then that their eyes suddenly met, and he felt a pang in his chest. His eyes went slightly wide. Heart almost stopping. Her eyes. They held no sympathy for him, no care. They weren't the same ones he had looked into countless of times before. His father was testing him. He had to answer something. Now more than ever he couldn't be wrong. He had once promised her he wasn't going to let anyone, or anything hurt her when they arrived to the Fire Nation. He had promised they were going to get it all back. If there was a time to act upon his promise it was now more than ever.

"She's to spend the rest of her days in the dungeons. In isolation," he answered coldly. 'At least she would be safe there…'

The Fire Lord remained silent. His displacement obvious.

"Boring," Azula laughed. "Is that the best you can come up with?"

"I have a better idea," she stepped forward. Malice clear in her voice. She waved the guards away with her hand and walked around Tsai mockingly. The girl only kept her eyes frozen forward on the Fire Lord's pale ones.

"She's harmless really," Azula laughed and pushed her forward making her tumble. She then kicked the back of the girl's head stepping on it pressing her face against the palace's cold marble floors.

Zuko fought the urge to run towards her. To help her. To knock his vile sister on her back. To fight the aching that longed for her inside him. The sunstone burning hot in his pocket.

"All I want is a shot at redemption," She tried to speak as eloquently as possible. "I would be spitting at the graves of my ancestors if I continued to pretend I'm something I'm not. Back in Ba Sing Se I realized that what I wanted more than anything was to serve my nation. The Fire Nation. The greatest Nation of them all. Just like my father and fore father's before him."

Ozai looked at her with intrigue as he once again stroked his beard.

"Without me. The Disgraced General would've never been captured." Azula stepped harder on the back of her cranium.

"I need a new servant daddy. Can I keep her?" Azula pouted as she stepped harder on her head. The red head let out a snarl from the back of her throat. "I have always wanted a pet."

"I don't have time for such trivial things," Ozai dismissed bored. "Do as you wish Azula."

Zuko could feel his father's eyes on him. He had just gotten in his good graces. He couldn't afford to disappoint him again.

"She'll be our servant." Zuko managed to find his voice. He looked at her hard, his chest swelling with a shaky breath he was holding. "You will be stripped of all of your noble and royal titles and you will work every day for the rest of your life as a peasant. Serving us. Until you are deemed of being considered honorable."

"Which will be never!" Azula cackled proud of her brother stepping up.

Ozai relaxed back into his seat appearing pleased with his son’s punishment.

"I…" She rasped and heaved anger dripping from her words. This was humiliating. "I pledge my loyalty to the Fire Nation and to the ruling Crown." She lowered her head. "It will be my honor."

Ozai's malicious grin stretched even further. An expression which sent cold chills down her spine.

Azula stepped harder on the back of her head. "You're going to wish you were dead by the time I'm done with you!" Azula cackled maliciously. She finally stepped off her and kicked her side laughing. She kept her head low not wanting to meet Zuko's eyes. She couldn't bear the sight of him.

The colonial girl was taken to a private servant quarter near the royal chambers. She had no belongings. No name to her. Nothing. Not even a mirror in her new prison. On the way to her new 'prison' she thought a thousand and one ways in which she could poison Azula. Not that she would get away with it, but if she was going down, she might as well take the bitch down as well.

Zuko remained petrified. His heart was pounding in his chest. Sweat had formed on his brow and he was finally able to unclench his tight jaw. All while his father's cold eyes scrutinized on him.

"Don't tell me you actually grew to care for that colonial half-breed mongrel," his father spat out venomously.

"No," Zuko answered back, eyes hard and cold. "She means nothing to me."

xxx

AN: I am NOT okay 😭😭😭

FIRST https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621142853126602752/sunburn-prince-zuko-1

NEXT https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621582363973009408/sunburn-prince-zuko-22

PREV https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/621505567083626496/sunburn-prince-zuko-20

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

#prince zuko #zukoxreader #Zuko x oc #Zuko x you #zuko #imagine #atla #atla fanfic #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar fanfic #avatar x oc #avatar fanfiction #iroh #ozai #azula #fan fiction #wattpad #aoc

59 notes · View notes