warnings: mdni, smut, fluff, masturbation, obsession. (honestly, satoru feels kinda yandere af. he's fucking down bad for you.)
supermodel! satoru whose life is a whirlwindâflashing cameras, designer clothes, and breathless whispers of adoration. on the surface, he has it all: the perfect career, the perfect face, the perfect life. but perfection⊠has its price.
supermodel! satoru who, after a ten-hour photoshoot that left him feeling more mannequin than man, slumps into the cold embrace of his sleek penthouse. the city glimmers outside his floor-to-ceiling windows, vibrant and alive, but it feels distant, like a movie playing on mute. heâs surrounded by luxury but drowning in solitude.
supermodel! satoru who, running on three hours of sleep and bad coffee, barely notices when his fingers fumble over his phone, sending a text message to youâmeant for his manager. tossing the phone aside with a sigh, he stretches out on the couch, exhaustion pulling at his limbsâunaware that this accidental message is about to flip his world upside down.
supermodel! satoru who, when your response comes through, doesnât realize at first that heâs texted a stranger. his initial confusion shifts to mild annoyance, but that changes the moment he reads your sharp, unfiltered reply. intrigue replaces irritation, and before he knows it, heâs texting back, unable to resist the pull of you on the other end.
supermodel! satoru who keeps his identity a secret, finding it strange at first, but soon, it becomes refreshing. for once, heâs not the face on billboards or the name in glossy magazines. noâfor the first time in forever, someone is talking to himânot his fame, not his face, just him.
supermodel! satoru who finds himself grinning like an idiot whenever his phone buzzes with your name. you tell him about your lifeâmundane, you call it, but to him, itâs captivating. days turn into weeksâtexts in the middle of the night when heâs jet-lagged and bored in some foreign country. voice notes where you laugh at his terrible jokes.
supermodel! satoru who one day, finally reveals who he is, and with a mix of arrogance and curiosity, boldly asks for your photoâeager to see the face behind the name heâs grown so fond talking to.
câmon now... I show my face to the world every day. least you could do is show me yours ;)
your reply pings through, accompanied by an attachment, and for a moment, his breath catches.
supermodel! satoru who has seen countless beautiful people, surrounded by them every day, but thereâs something about you that has him hooked. perhaps itâs not just the way you lookâitâs the way youâve made him feel. for the first time in forever, heâs not just admired; heâs seen.
supermodel! satoru who ends up sprawled out on his couch later that night, your picture propped up on the coffee table in front of him as he grips his shaft. his shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor, his sweatpants pushed down to his thighs as his cock strains in his handâred, leaking and desperate for attention. all he can focus on is you.
supermodel! satoru whose glossy lips part as he pants, pumping his dick, his head tipping back while the phoneâs glow casts shadows across his flushed skin. his penthouse is filled with the slick sound of his hand sliding over his length, mixing with his shuddering breaths.
âfuuuck⊠so fucking prettyâŠâ he rasps, his hips bucking into his fist. his strokes grow faster, more desperate, as his body thrums with heat.
supermodel! satoru who murmurs your name like a prayer, thick with need, chasing his inevitable release. ânnngh⊠gonnaâahhhâgonna cum fâyou,â he moans, breathy and broken. His voice cracks as his back arches off the couch.
supermodel! satoru whose strokes grow frantic, erratic, his abs flexing tight as thick, hot ropes of cum spill over his stomach, painting his skin in sticky streaks of white. the release leaves him trembling, every drop wrung from his body as a low groan escapes his parted lips.
supermodel! satoru who exhales a quiet laugh, his chest heaving as a lazy smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. he trails his fingers through the mess, smearing it across his toned abs as his smirk deepensâamused and awed by how much youâve made him cum.
supermodel! satoru who canât focus during his photoshoot the next day, every click of the camera drowned out by thoughts of you. his mind lingers to the filthy fantasy of your body beneath hisâyour lips whispering his name, your legs wrapped around his waist.
the ache in his pants becomes unbearable, and he excuses himself, slipping away to the bathroom under the pretense of âfixing his hair.â
supermodel! satoru who locks the bathroom door behind him with trembling fingers, his breath hitching as he pulls up your photo again. his hands fumble with the buttons of his designer pants, desperate to release his aching erection.
supermodel! satoru who stares at your picture with half-lidded eyes, his thumb swiping over the swollen tip of his dick, spreading a slick bead of precum across the sensitive head. "fuck⊠youâve got me so worked up," he whispers with a cocky smirk, and his free hand grips the edge of the sink, his cock twitching eagerly in his fist.
âpretty girl⊠god, Iâd ruin you,â he shudders as he fucks his hand. with a sharp inhale, he reaches out to twist the handles of the porcelain sink. but honestly, the cascading water is a feeble attempt to drown his debauched soundsâsounds he knows he canât hold back.
supermodel! satoru whose mind spirals into pure filth, his fantasies running wild as he pictures your body beneath hisâwrithing, trembling, utterly at his mercy. your hands would cling to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he holds your legs apart, spreading you wide as he fucks your tight little hole.
"bet you'd look so fucking good under me," he hisses through gritted teeth. âall spread out, legs shaking⊠pretty little mouth begging fâme.â his hand tightens around his cock as his hips jerk forward, âfuuuuck, youâd take me so well, wouldnât ya? haaaâevery fucking inch.â
supermodel! satoru who is teetering on the edge when a sharp knock cuts through the haze, echoing against the bathroom door.
âsatoru? youâre needed back on set!â his manager calls, muffled but clear.
but his strokes turn frenzied, the interruption fueling the thrillâthe sheer audacity of jerking off in the middle of a shoot. his moans mix with the rush of running water and the persistent pounding on the door.
âshitâfuckâfuckââ his voice cracks, his body seizes, and in that instant his cock erupts. he whimpers, milking his dick as his forehead falls forward against the mirror. as his thick hot seed spills on his hand, it streaks across the counter in messy, sticky arcs.
âsatoru!â the knocking continues, louder this time, his managerâs voice growing sharper.
âiâm coming!â he yells back, and the irony of his words pulls a breathless laugh from his lips.
supermodel! satoru who stands there for a moment, panting, his reflection staring back at him in the mirror. heâs a fucking hot messâcheeks flushed, his hair a disarray, and his lips are swollen from biting down so damn hard, trying to keep quiet.
supermodel! satoru who tucks himself into his pants, buckling his belt with practiced ease as his smirk slides back into place. he splashes cold water on his face, tidies his hair, and by the time he steps out of the bathroom, heâs the typical picture of confidenceâswaggering back to set with a cocky grin as though nothing happened.
but deep down, he knows heâs utterly, completely fucked.
why? because youâve become his favorite addiction, his sweetest downfall. and itâs only a matter of time before he finally makes you his.
a full fic for this will be coming out! lmk if you wanna be tagged.
fem reader, part 2 for the ring pop proposal miniseries since yall were asking for it ! fem reader, soft n worried katsu, white day chocolates, katsu n reader r in highschool (ignore the no dorms blehh :P) in this one, this also reeks of my ocxcanon ship msorry yall lolololol, i dont think there are any warnings, but lemme know if i missed sum else !
the first person who realizes katsuki is trying to confess to you is his mom because he hasn't left the kitchen since he'd banished everyone from coming in as soon as the sun peeked through the curtains.
the older woman had no idea what the sounds of pots and pans clanging, mixed with not-so-quiet cursing meant, at first. but she figured it out quickly, call it mother's intuition, or the fact that she checked her calendar and realized tomorrow was white day.
mitsuki knew her son was going to confess to you when he came back from school with a cutely wrapped box of chocolates. her katsuki was still rowdyâif not rowdier and even less approachable than he was as a chubby cheeked little boy, so she guessed by the blush and barely suppressed smile on his face thatâ
"ouuu, got yourself some chocolates ? aren't you a heartthrob.." she teased "who'd you get those from ?"
katsuki scoffed at his mothers teasing. he rolled his eyes, but they wouldn'tâor rather couldn't stray far away from the wrapped sweet treats. he runs his thumb over the ribbon tied in front.
"..yn gave 'em to me." he huffs proudly.
as she guessed, they came from you. of course.
katsuki is stillâif not even more protective over everything that involves you, practically growling at his mom's not so sneaky attempts at trying to sneak a chocolate when he had opened the box "yn made 'em for me, so no touchin'." he snarled, stomping over to his room and ignoring his mom's knowing smirk when he made his way up the stairs.
this memory brings her back to now when she suddenly hears..nothing. absolute silence in contrast to all the ruckus from only a few seconds ago. and then the door creaks open just a bit and mitsuki sees her son's head peek out from the corner. she looks up from her magazine to raise a brow in question and the blond boy glares, jolting his head to the side in a silent plea for her to come over.
she saunters to the door, knowing smirk growing wider the more her son's grumpy face comes into view. she gets a peek of her kitchen through the small crack her son allowed her to see. she had to admit, though rowdy, katsuki was anything but messy. even though the dishes piled up, she knew he'd clean them up soon enough. she looks down at him and he avoids eye contact.
"can i come into my kitchen now ?" she smirks. katsuki scoffs at his feet. he grumbles something unintelligible before side stepping and telling her to 'just come in already.'
the woman is greeted with a batch of freshly made chocolates, which she assumes are one's you like if she knew how enamoured her katsuki was with you.
"ouu, who are these for, hm ?" she teased, but if he knew her son well enough she knew that theseâ
"sh-shut up !" katsuki snapped, cheeks turning red and eyes drifting around the room "you know who.." he challenges. mitsuki smirks wider, crossing her arms.
as she guessed, they're for you.
"okay.." she humors him, shifting her weight to her other leg " and what do you need me to do here ?"
katsuki inhales shortly to himself. he picks up one of the chocolates, not from your tray because those were for you and no one else, but from another tray she hadn't noticed of sloppier batches.
"try this." is all he says. handing her a little piece of deformed chocolate and she plops it into her mouth. she takes the time to let the sweet treat melt on her tongue before letting out a pleased hum. katsuki straightens up and his eyes shine and brighten the slightest bit.
"mhm, these are good." she acknowledged "but why don't i get one of the pretty ones ?" she teases. her katsuki all but scoffs in her face, simply stating that "these are for yn, not you."
and mitsuki realizes. he must've been working for hours trying to make these chocolates perfect for you, she guessed. her heart warms and her eyes soften at her son's adoration for you.
"but the one you gave me is good too, why can't you just give her one of those ?" at that, katsuki shoots her an incredulous look, like she had just told him something utterly unimaginable.
"i can't go around givin' her shitty chocolates ! 'specially not if i.." he trails off suddenly, grumbling with balled fists. he wipes at his cheek to try and wipe off his embarrassment. mitsuki feels her smile practically reach her ears. she's too good at this.
"if you what ?" she sings, leaning towards her son. he grumbles.
"if iâstop looking at me like that ! s'creepy so knock it off !" the blond snapped, face and ears a bright shade of pink and mitsuki can't help but bark out a loud laugh at her son's flustered state, her laugh drowns out the low growl he makes. she decides to spare him after a good giggle.
"okay, okay. i get it." she reassures. because she does, of course she does. but she sees something is wrong with the way her son seems satisfied for only a second before he's chewing at his lower lip and the way he wipes his hands against his pants. she knows her katsuki is extremely hard to handle. he could be quite the brat, but also extremely stubborn (she thinks she might know where he got that from.) so asking him simply what was wrong was out of the question. so she decides to coax him into it.
"you gonna give them to her tomorrow ?" he nods, hiding his eyes with his bangs.
"they're good. so i'm gonna give 'em to her tomorrow." her son nods at his mumbled pep talk, but the tension between his brows doesn't let up and after a moment, he sighs grumpily.
"what if i, like, fuck it up..?" mitsuki's eyes soften at her son's insecurities showing despite himself.
"how would you do that ? all you gotta do is hand them over." she asks softly. katsuki huffs.
"it's not that simple," he retorts "what if i make it weird ? what if i make things between us weird an' she doesn't wanna be with me anymore..." the sad tone of voice and the angry little puppy dog eyes make mitsuki melt, despite growing up a lot. despite being quippy and rowdy and a major brat, her katsuki will always be her little boy tugging at the bag of sweet ring pops he'd begged her to buy at the grocery store. her little boy who smiled a bright determined smile as the bag crinkled in his hand following his proud stomps to the car back home, ready for tomorrow.
a surprised throaty noise escapes katsuki when his mom places a hand in his hair, running her fingers through it. he makes a displeased noise, again, but doesn't try to stop her. mitsuki does realize her son is trying to confess to you with these chocolates, but she's a woman too and she knows you, she's known you since you were small and she knows how much you care about her son. she knows from the way katsuki kept the chocolates to himself, the barely supressed giddiness in all of his actions and the way he took his time enjoying every bite she knows and realizes that these chocolates were most definitely just for him.
and she guessed maybe you were trying to tell him something too.
she knew her katsuki had absolutely nothing to worry about, because you carried you empty ring pop container around with you in your bag and proudly explained it was 'your husband katsu' that gave it to you with a giggle. because you'd kiss his cheek without worrying about the ooh's and the kissy noises, only her son's cherry red cheeks but proud smile. because you'd giggle and laugh when he still called you his wife well into elementary school, and because you still smile so wide at the mention of his little ring pop proposal. and so, she smiled. startling katsuki by rubbing his hair fast like an almost noogie. he growls at the sudden shift, gripping his mother's arm and pulling away with a scowl, rubbing and trying to fix his hair. "the hell are you doin', hag ?!" her son seethed, and all she can do is smile.
"you got nothin' to worry about, katsuki." she says sincerely, the boy's arms drop and altough his barely there pout remains he tries to act tough, raising a brow at her "how do you know that ?"
"call it mother's intuition." her smile widens at his scoff and rolled eyes, he's better at it now and she laughs. " why do you wanna give these to her ?" she urges. he thinks for a moment, before his cheeks burn red again but his eyes go soft and warm and so much more enamoured with you than he was all those years ago in the car.
"cus..i like her.." he confesses "an' i don't want anybody else to do it before me." he finishes bitterly.
he's always been protective of you. any other boy you were paired up with or sat next to when the class seating order changed was considered public enemy number one for a while. of course, you had him on a leash, always being able to soothe him by saying that he was your number one best friend. and that was more than enough for him to throw smart glares and snarky smirks, grabbing your hand and dragging you off somewhere to show you something cool. something he knew you'd find cool because he prided himself in knowing exactly what you liked more than the other boys. your favorite ice cream, flowers, and chocolate flavor.
and mitsuki smiles. "right, you like her. so you can't let that scare you off, can you ?" mitsuki feels her heart soaring with pride, albeit with a little amusement when her son scoffs in response "course not. i ain't scared of shit." he states, she decides to ignore the irony of his statement for now.
"of course," she nods "and just between us, i think she likes you, too. i dunno how she does but.." katsuki's eyes widen like she'd just told him something ridiculous, completely ignoring her jab at him. she has to hold back a harsh laugh at how oblivious her son could be.
"that's just my guess though !" she shrugs nonchalantly "but there's only one way to find out if i'm right.."
after a beat, katsuki nods to himself with a grunt, grabbing the tray of chocolates and putting it in the fridge, ready for tomorrow, and wordlessly rolling up his sleeves and starting the dishes, as mitsuki guessed, and she smiles. she pets her son's head again briefly, ignoring his dissaproving grumbles, before giving him a pat on the back and wishing him good luck.
the next day, katsuki walks over to her, sat on the couch, immediately after coming back from school, with a proud smirk and gleaming red cheeks. and mitsuki knew she had nothing to worry about as she grins back.
taglist *if your name is pink i unfortunately couldnât tag you :(( : @73isthebestnumber @gold24fish @m-inluv @katsuisbaby @teddiiursulas-ink @moonbabysstuff @brandydel @queenpiranhadon @chuugarettes @starieq @aishio14 @andysdrafts @hyunorue @touyasprettydoll @itsfiive @annoying-bitxh @h0nestly-though @atinytiredpanromantic @mikalame @itzjustj-1000 @deepressed @evam23 @erenstitanweave @m-0ona @chaoticgay13 @lotusstarr @koreluvsspring @giannitaa @waterstarz @nayeonsdoormat @the-crazy-star-12 @kovu-bunnbunn
tumblr is tweakin so if some of your tags don't work m'so sorry :(((
hey selfship community. iâm hoping to make this brief, but thereâs not much chance of that.
basically, iâm on my hands and knees begging you to stop using character AI. i understand if you feel enjoyment from it. ive used it too, i liked it, it helped me feel comforted when i needed the comfort. but with the news of googles updated privacy policy, and how peoples writings are being scraped from ao3, google docs, literally anywhere and everywhere to train AI, among dozens of other thingsâŠ
âŠyouâre kinda feeding the beast. like a lot. youâre giving it fuel. youâre adding to how it can mimic peopleâs real writing. youâre giving this technology a way to grow better and stronger off of other peopleâs work. i donât think youâre a monster for ignorance, but i think with how serious shit is getting with AI and how itâs being trained off of peoples work - with no compensation or notice - itâs just, at this point, a blatant disregard for how writers and creators are being treated right now.Â
weâre being treated as expendable. weâre being treated as though our work means nothing, while everything weâve ever made is stolen behind our backs by unfeeling machines fed by corporations who are more than willing to murder our creative pursuits if it means more cash in their pockets. not to get dramatic about it, but thatâs the fucking fact of the matter.
so, please. stop using character AI. chat AI. youâre helping train it. and doing so is going to have wide-reaching consequences.
Pairing: Wolf Keum/ Reader; Jake Ji/ Reader (Implied)
Tags: #Serial Killer AU; #Bad Decisions; #Takes Place Before Canon
Words: 5,097
Current TW: Dark Themes
Summary:
You made the decision knowing itâs a bad one.
âYou know youâre playing a dangerous game,â The stranger says, the statement underlined with faint amusement and mockery. His smile doesnât quite reach his eyes and he wears novelty around him as easily as breathing. Novelty, you think, in the fact that heâs one of the most handsome men youâve ever seen before. âDonât you?â
You shrugâ itâs way past your curfewâ and smile.
or you make a bad decision
You made the decision knowing itâs a bad one.Â
âYou know youâre playing a dangerous game,â The stranger says, the statement underlined with faint amusement and mockery. His smile doesnât quite reach his eyes and he wears novelty around him as easily as breathing. Novelty, you think, in the fact that heâs one of the most handsome men youâve ever seen before. âDonât you?â
You shrugâ itâs way past your curfew â and smile.Â
But itâs a lonely night, and the only company you could find in these empty streets is the stranger in front of you. Itâs a bad decision, really, but you're high on your self-imposed stupor. The man in front of you is dangerous, surely, itâs not hard to miss when his question is blunt and entirely honest.Â
Of course the stranger is dangerous, he canât be anything else when your instincts scream for you to run. Â
But, it doesnât do anything to hinder you.Â
So, you smile wide and teasing, all the while wondering if itâs a good enough facade to hide the fact that youâve been wandering for a while; that youâve been crying before you stumbled upon the handsome stranger; that youâre so tired that if you stopped anytime soon, youâll be sleeping for a long, long time.Â
You take a moment to process, before proceeding to continue one of the worst decisions in your life with a bad joke.Â
âI have killer standards, and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me soââ
The sudden laugh stops you.Â
âPftth ,â Something dances behind his gaze and youâre unable to place where the amusement comes from. âKiller standards?â
Yeah. He seems nice enough. Totally.Â
Usually, you never would have done something so immensely stupid , no matter how cute or handsome the stranger was presented. For you, the appropriate time to ever hit on someone would usually be at school, during the day, and definitely not in a creepily isolated street alley.Â
Itâs not a usual night.Â
Of course itâs not, not when youâre dressed in your favorite strapless dress that reaches just above your knees. Of course itâs not, when youâre walking through the streets in the dead of the night all alone after⊠after what?
Words couldnât even begin to describe what had transpired before that led you to ignore all the warnings you were taught about stranger danger.Â
Smile, you think as the stranger raises his brow, smile.Â
âYup.â Your confidence is truly astounding, that it sounds like you might run at any given moment. You feel like you should run. âAbsolutely killer standards. Never quite met anyone like you. Have you ever thought about becoming a model?â
He snorts, and you silently grimace at the shit flirting. Youâve done that line before, to someone else.Â
Again, your thoughts move to the bright orange hair and the soft, warm brown eyes. How he was yours and then notâ
âYou shouldnât hit on someone and then be distracted when they return the gesture.â The strangerâs voice cuts through your thoughts. A smile now downturned, a clear cut picture of displeased disappointment. Slowly, deliberately, he runs his hand through his purple hair with a sigh.Â
Oh.Â
Oh.Â
âSorry,â you begin your lie off with what you think is a flirty smile, âBut your face is really distracting.âÂ
He hums noncommittally, his face impassive as looked down the streets, and for what you can only assume is to check if theyâre truly alone. Then slowly, the smile is back, and if you didnât know any better, you would say it almost looked lazier.Â
More relaxed.Â
Why?
âOkay,â The words roll off his tongue easily and itâs somehow clear he knows you lied, âI believe you, but it's best not to get too distracted. Iâm a bit impatient, you seeââ
If his smile sharpens, then you donât see it.
ââAnd itâll be a shame if you missed anything.â
Everything logical screams for you to run away, maybe not flirt with strangers who might be some creep. Any other night you probably would have, you probably would have nervously laughed and tried to talk your way out of the shitty mess you made, as you quietly sent a text to one of your friends to get you.Â
Itâs a smart decision, the greatest decision one could make in this situation. Butâ
You made the decision knowing itâs a bad one.Â
Where being potentially stabbed and murdered seems like the better option, the better choice, than the⊠It doesnât matter. None of it matters when you canât sink any lower than you already are.Â
So you take a step forward, against whatever instinctive reaction you might still have, with a smile that almost seems desperate. Desperate, because some tiny part of you needs to turn back and demand answers from the one who led you here; to this bad decision.Â
But if you do that, a quiet voice hisses in your mind; scared and lonely and not thinking right; youâll see that you can sink so much lower than you are now.Â
The desperation is there because youâre running, and you need something, anything, to ground you from destroying yourself even more because of that personâ
Foolishly, you wrap your arms around the strangerâs neck. A grounding, an action that sticks your feet to the floor, a move that damns you to another hell of your own (itâs yours, all yours) choosing.Â
Possible hell, maybe not, likely is.
You run a hand through his hair before pulling him down, nose brushing against his. The shock in the other is evident in the tenseness in his muscles, like heâs physically restraining himself from pulling away. His eyes are blown wide and face frozen still trying to come up with an expression; you think he might be smiling.Â
The cold night fogging his glasses, blurring the gray of his eyes staring down at you. You move to whisper in his ear, and for a moment, no words come out no matter how much you try. So, you take a deep breath, steady yourself and whisper a single word you could muster. And it sounds like permission given for something youâll never be able to truly grasp.Â
âOkay.â
Itâs damnation.Â
Possibly, maybe not, likely is.Â
You feel his shoulders shake before you hear the laugh, it steals your breath away at how loud and so fucking amused it is, praticaly jovial. His arms wrap you in a tight hold before you could process whatâs happening, the stranger buries his face in the crook of your neck and his breath hot. The shaking wonât stop, and his hold just becomes tighter and tighter.Â
Like he finally knows what the fuck to do with the idiotic girl who approached him in the dead of night.Â
Slowly, somehow, somewhere along the end of the sudden laughter fit, you learn how to breathe again. Though the accomplishment is easily forgotten as silence reigns.
Thereâs only several things that hold no care for the silence. The loud beatings of your heart, the steady rhythm of your breathing, and the stranger in front of you.
He leans back, and this time you remember to keep breathing as he looked down at your person. Thereâs something absolutely gleeful behind his eyes, his smile so wide and so drunkâ Thereâs a word that could describe it, something important but you canât seem to remember.
A moment passes.
It feels like an eternity.
You were supposed to follow up with some crap pick-up line after agreeing to stop getting distracted by the past.Â
Agreeing , you use the word loosely, as if you had a choice not to. Supposedly, you were to be the one to lead the conversation, but youâre unable to come up with words.Â
The edges of his smile curls up more, itâs unnatural, something that shouldnât be possible but it is. The next move of his is deliberate, and from what you know during the short time since meeting him, it always is.
The handsome stranger pets your head, one arm still holding you tight, even when he leaned in to place a sloppy kiss on your forehead. It sends a jolt through your body, but the flinch doesnât deter him from wrapping his fingers playfully around your hair.
He looks at you andâ Oh. You remember the word you forgot, the one that could perfectly describe his smile, the look heâs giving you, and it doesnât make sense. But itâs the only thing that does, because you recognize it. Â
Drunkenly, gleefully, dreamingly â Of course you would recognize that look, how could you not? And your life is changed.Â
Altered.Â
Never will it be the same, and you donât know how to react to that. Â
âMy nameâŠâÂ
He starts off, voice low, soft and itâs nearly comforting, but still, itâs overwhelming. He watches you like a hawk, memorizing your reaction and even the smallest details through his glasses; one of his fingers trailing forcefully against your lips; you think he may just devour you.Â
âIs Wolf Keum.â
No words come out, again, speechless. Paralyzed in the unrealism of it all, and it feels wrong to put a name on the presence holding you.Â
Wolf hums, burying himself into your neck, â... and the name of the girl that declared quite vocally that I had met their killer standards?â
There it is again, the inside joke you donât quite get, and the not so subtle jab at your sudden quietness.Â
Where you had stumbled upon Wolf in the dead and night and approached him with loud, nonsensical, and stupid pickup lines to distract yourself, youâre now a stark contrast of before, like a bunny who finally realized that she hopped into the beastâs mouth.Â
You made the decision knowing itâs a bad one.Â
Reciprocating the hug thatâs almost suffocating, your name easily leaves you along with a bunch of mundane facts about yourself. The flirty tone you used before is gone, too tired to try it and whatâs left is just low and faint whispering into the others ears.Â
Seemingly mundane facts about your life are still so, so dangerous.Â
Even then, you still talk, casually mentioning the fact that youâre up to go to the convenience store, because youâve been eating out since your parents are out of town.
Itâs downright suicidal.Â
Wolf listens, resting his head on your shoulder and itâs warm.Â
Pausing only a few moments when playing with your hair whenever you mention something vital.Â
Vital in the way that itâs dangerous to tell someone you just met.Â
Vital as in your address, or the fact that your house only has one camera in the front of the house, whereas the rest of the cameras are down, because during the summer it had broken during a storm and no one wants to fix it anymore.
The fact of the matter is simple.Â
When you decided to approach the stranger in the dead of the night, you did so for the distraction.Â
Because the thing that haunts you into walking aimlessly, haunts you.Â
Itâs a suffocating feeling, one you knew would never go away, how it would stay the moment you decided to go home and weep. All you could do would be to run, distract yourself from your reality and act as if you could still breathe easily. But you couldnât do that forever, itâll come creeping back just like all those times you read in tragedies.Â
Then came a solution, you just need something bigger. In the way that everything from before seems small in comparison.Â
Something bigger than your everything.Â
Itâs its own self-serving masochism.Â
Your rambling is cut off with a hand pressed against your mouth. Wolf stares at you with the same look as before, he probably finished thinking of what heâll do to something like you, and you canât understand why it looks like he hit the jackpot.Â
Only serving to send a chill goes down your spine, but at the same time, something in you softens. Not because you suddenly care about Wolf Keum, but because youâre too tired to guard yourself.Â
With two people in each otherâs company for different reasons, and sinister or not, itâll be your savior. Behind the hand, you smile, kissing his palm as you raise your brow to question.Â
The actions both surprises him and delights him, as he places another kiss on your forehead, âLetâs get something to eat.â He hums, considering, before saying your name out loud and then frowning. â... Ugh. Itâs pretty, but not enough. Not yet at least.â
You move his hand, and you really canât find yourself to be offended, never did you find yourself overly attached to your name. Lazily, you place a kiss on his cheek, daring in the way that you shouldnât be, âHow bout a nickname?â
Wolf then returns back to his cheery mood, eyes lighting up and still never straying from you. If anything, he looks proud, as he slowly and almost reluctantly untangles himself from you. Completely out of his grasp, you have the feeling that it wasnât really the case, that he could snatch you up any moment he wanted.Â
âA nickname, huh?âÂ
Thereâs no turning back, and then the realization hits that there was no turning back the instant you stumbled upon him.
âLittle rabbit?â
Oh.
It feels as if the sun had died and no one knows it yet, just you. And you walk on eggshells, waiting as each shell breaks but not a thing happens. The nickname is demeaning, almost and maybe even teasing, but likely in the truth the name holds.Â
Wolf Keum is unperturbed by the nickname he made as you are, rather seeming quite proud of himself. Now a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders, the night is cold, and thereâs something unspoken in the air.Â
Thereâs nowhere to run, says the arm holding you close. You lean in, taking in the warmth that covers your bare shoulders while knowing that youâll probably wonât be able to stay awake for much longer; eyelids feeling heavy as you use Wolf Keum as a guide.Â
It speaks volumes.Â
The oddities of the night pile up, one after the other, and there always seem something a little bit too off. Everything has been off ever since your world flipped upside down. Now youâre walking with someone you just met in some shady alley to go get something to eat.Â
Wolf pauses, letting out a small chuckle, before the walk continues.
âYouâre not vegetarian,â His tone is casual, with a tiny lilt in his voice, âAre you?âÂ
âNo.â
He snickers, then the world is quiet, and itâs terrifying.Â
Itâs only by coincidence, surely, that the paths you take only allow noise from the one guiding you. Surely, the world doesnât bend for Wolf Keum, for anyone , but you imagine a smug and satisfied smile, and itâs dangerous. Â
âNo, of course not.â He scoffs, amused, might even be charmed.Â
The walk is steadied and slowed, the position uncomfortable with your vision obscured with how Wolf tucks you into his hoodie. Led blindly, and the uncertainty compels time to go slower. To the other, itâll certainly be regarded as leisurely.
You want to speak, words scratch and claw at your throat till it aches. Underneath your dress, youâre ridden with goosebumps, waiting while heâs dancing, dancing with glee and leading you in a song only he knows. Nonetheless, you sway along with a song that might as well be your last.
âSo, what do you want to eat?â You could feel the small rumble from his throat, how the world snaps back into focus, the striking fact that he speaks like a thunder shot, like a force of nature that canât be ignored, but the words donât match, not at all. âExpensive is fine too, but not many places are open at this timeââ
You feel him roll his head in your direction, surveilling your reaction.
ââor we could go to a bar.â
You snort.
There isnât a single smart reason behind it, the fact remains that Wolf had mentioned a bar and your first thought had been that it would be crude for a supposed first date, and it had made you snort.
You could already imagine the curl of a smirk, how Wolf is already raising his brow in a silent question to the joke heâs not in on, and already see the gears turning behind his head trying to understand.Â
Itâs pleasing, even if for a moment, that you could cause a small type of confusion to the man.Â
A misstep in their little dance.Â
âAÂ bar?â You make your voice sound incredulous, popping your head up out of his hold to look at him. A fake gasp, âFor our first date?â
Wolf makes no movement to change the position of his arm around your shoulder, expression exactly like you imagined, still holding you close to him as your eyes adjust to the bright lights you're suddenly exposed to.
This is good , you think, having been able to know what kind of expression he would make.Â
But then you see the tiniest flicker of cold calculation, maybe expectancy, in his facade, and you think maybe not. Maybe you're still dancing to his tune, still following his lead obediently.Â
The smile stays.Â
He looks at you, thinking, and youâre mesmerized. Wolf tilts his head, and heâs playing the puzzled, clueless man, acting with one brow raised in contemplation, but itâs teasing.
âI'm pretty sure that this is going to be more than just a simple first date.â He says, smile stretching, words drawled. âYou approached me first. While itâs the dead of the night, and when itâs so fucking clear that thereâs not a single person around to give a shit if I were to break you.â
The terrifying thing about this lies in the fact that his tone doesnât change at all from his playful teasing.Â
The arm around you tightens, pulling you closer to whisper. Where his breath is hot on your ear, and tone switching to being sadistically bubbly that it could cut, and you stand there willingly without protest.Â
âAnd I still could, you know? Break you, and no one would come running to your rescue. Because Iâm not a good man, but a fucking bastard, and Iâm sure you knew that.â
Then the arm around you is suddenly gone.Â
Again, youâre free from his hold, and heâs waiting and waiting and waiting to see what you would do.Â
Expecting something from you, making bets in his head and watching. He moves back, face impassive, and away from you, and thereâs an alley leading to the more populated areas of the streets.Â
A chance.Â
An escape.
If youâre quick, you could run to the crowd walking by in a few short seconds.
âIâm Wolf Keum.â
You donât run.
Instead you take a few steps forward, hand reaching out and a determined look in your eyes. Holding a hand up for the bastard that just claimed he could break you without remorse, to the one who proclaimed that he isnât a good man.Â
And, in truth, he canât be a good man, because no good man would ever play cat and mouse for amusement like he does now.
Itâs suicide.
You repeat your name, followed by your home address, number, and names of your parents. Like a damn preschooler reciting lines that mommy and daddy taught them to remember.Â
âTo be honest, meeting you tonight is making me feel like a million bucks.â Your hand is still in the air, empty, âAnd I really donât want to lose the opportunity I have tonight.â
When Wolf makes no move other than to watch.Â
Beckoning for you to take action yourself, to damn yourself and choose him who proclaimed he could break you.Â
You willingly go to him and take his hand into your own, and you nudge his side with your arm, brow raised and grin wide. âKiller standards, remember?â
Wolf quirks his brow, a grin of his own to match yours. Almost.Â
âI remember,â and his arm is back, resting comfortably around your shoulders. No longer suffocating in the way that it traps you, but relaxed in a manner that would be intimate, âQuite hard to forget the line that captured my attention.â
And this is it, and it will never be recorded in history, but itâs your fall from grace.Â
Fall from normalcy and the safety that comes with. Itâs the disruption, the first domino falling, and all of it will be from your choice.
âHey, how about we get some McDonaldâs or something?â
Light gleams off his glasses, and you both walk farther and farther, distances away from the crowd on the other street.Â
The question, it amuses, many things always seem to amuse him further than you thought possible.Â
Heâs back to before, the dreamy look that doesnât make sense.Â
âHowâd someone like you end up with me ?â
âyouâre crying, sobbing out words and beggingâ
âItâs salvation.âÂ
It stings, claws and squeezes till thereâs nothing left. It wrings it out, the leftovers of your personality, whatever was left since the drowning. Truth never cared for feelings even if it killed. How unfair it was, to be at the mercy you canât control.Â
So, you turn to elsewhere, away from it and to anything else but that.Â
âthe bright orange hair and the soft, warm brown eyes. How he was yours and then not âÂ
âFor me, at least, youâre everything I need right now.â
Because, you canât go home, not after that.Â
It would mean heading to bed with the knowledge that tomorrow would be different, that tomorrow will be a day shaped by loss, and the days after that will be the same.
Itâs like youâre not real anymore, you donât exist, and itâs hard to breathe when you feel like you donât have lungs.
Then you stumbled upon a handsome stranger in the night, shit pick-up lines already falling from your lips, and spent every moment wishing that the strangerâs hair was colored a familiar orange instead of purple, and thought:Â
âI guess it wasnât possible.âÂ
But then the stranger began to talk, and by god everything in you screamed to run as Wolf Keum presented himself.Â
Abruptly, youâre pulled away, away from your misery and the longing of whatâs not there, and thrown into something freezing, something burning, because Wolf Keum is not a man that could be used as an afterthought of another, not one to be overshadowed.
Itâs confusing, the emotions you feel inside that rages, conflicting against each other.Â
The things youâve been taught, the things youâve learned, and things that you want.Â
Wolf Keum makes you want to run. He makes you want to stay.
In simpler words, heâs perfect.
Wolf clicks his tongue, and this time he is truly baffled with former humor bleeding into skepticism, âSalvation?â
The laughter bubbles, begins small before growing, and itâs expected when the laughter becomes boisterous, wild and unruly. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he doesnât stop until he lets his embrace go and heâs wheezing on the ground.
âSalvation?âÂ
He says the word again, as if he misheard, and your name falls from his lips repeatedly in a fashion thatâs almost frantic to confirm your words.Â
When you make no move to correct him, no move to lie and say that heâs wrong, it dawns on him that you meant every word you said. Itâs deranged, his smile twists, and you canât back away.
âFor real?â
But he doesnât give you time to answer, your words dying when he sets himself upon you, hands grasping your arms and shaking you.Â
In an attempt to shake some common sense in you, maybe, you donât know, but Wolf continues. He sounds furious, he sounds pleased, and he sounds as if he just heard a bad joke but still laughs.
The wide array of emotions coming from him is disorienting.
âWow,â Heâs sarcastic, disbelieving. But then he pauses, thinking, mulling over your words and what it means for him.Â
Itâs enough time for you to move, to act.Â
And a part of you is offended, in some way, itâs insulting for your words to be doubted when youâre giving him everything to take.Â
âIâm not lying,â You do the unthinkable, because you need him to believe you and to know, and with your voice soft and genuine, everything that shouldnât be around this man, you hug him and lean in to whisper.Â
âYou are everything I need.â
Itâs either this or home, where everything will drag you under.Â
The silence will suffocate, the ghost of whatâs no longer there will devour, and itâll be so lonely.Â
Where youâll be staring at shadows and hoping itâll become someone else, denying and bargaining the reality thatâs there. Hours wondering where it all went wrong, recounting the past and the wanting will turn into days, and then into months, and the possibility of it becoming your eternity is there.Â
Itâs easily pictured, imagined, and itâs worse than hell.Â
The monotony that will destroy you slowly.Â
(You think you might be crying.)
Itâs either this, the unpredictability and uncertainty that comes with Wolf Keum, the danger that could literally kill you. It could pull you apart, you could suffer consequences from the worst of humanity, and you would break.Â
Easily, perhaps, maybe not so willingly as you are now.Â
Itâs either this, your bad decision, and only this.Â
Because you canât, wonât , go home. Not after that, itâs not a choice that you could take, and it leaves only this.Â
The wrongness, the unknown, and everything that goes against the safety youâve established in your life. Â
Wolf Keum.Â
Maybe he doesnât believe you, and maybe heâll leave because of it. Then youâll be alone, left to rot, and you canât.Â
Not that, never that, you canât go home as you are now.
âUnderstand?âÂ
And you are so, so tired. The acknowledgment of your reality stings. Your words are softly murmured, and youâre falling.Â
What did you do today that led to this, but run?Â
Youâve been running all night, till your breath gave out and you began to walk. Away from everything just because it felt that you canât not.Â
This is one of the results, falling in the arms of Wolf Keum, the self-proclaimed bastard.
Unfeeling as sleep begins to grasp you, eyes heavy, and body becoming weightless. Unfortunately, you canât stay up to convince, to confirm, but the occurrences of tonight weigh heavy, it all builds up and your body canât keep up.Â
If Wolf speaks, you wouldnât know, his hold is unmoving when you begin to go slack, warmth enveloping as your head begins to rest against his shoulder. Numbly, you whisper the last words you could muster, vulnerableâ
Huh.
In his arms is a fragile little thing, and Wolf muses to himself as he watches your steady breathing. Your words replaying in his head again and again, almost like a broken record.Â
Almost like a promise.Â
Itâs a wonder how you never noticed the stench hidden underneath his clothes, with him tucking you deep under his arm, he had hoped to watch your reaction when you had realized.Â
But you never realized, a real fucking shame, but he canât find it in himself to be disappointed.Â
Especially when you breathe so steadily in his arms, a cute little thing, falling asleep from what he could tell was some type of emotional exhaustion, maybe a little bit of something else.Â
What was it that pushed you to him?Â
Salvation, you called it, and he brushes your hair away from your face. A tiny bit annoyed that it wiped away the few remaining tears on your face.Â
Itâs new , exciting, thrilling that someone would offer themself up to him for slaughter.Â
(Metaphorically, of course, you canât just die right after meeting him. Itâd be a fucking waste.)
âRabbit.â
The nickname doesnât really fit, but itâll do well for now, and he finds himself giddy at the fact youâre the one who suggested nicknames in the first place.Â
Wolf hums, tracing a finger down your neck and to your pulse, before wrapping a hand around your throat. Noting down the difference in size, how small you were compared to him, and he could squeeze and you would stop breathing.Â
âStupid bitch.âÂ
It was an accurate description, and itâs one of the first things he thought when you approached him, a stranger in the middle of nowhere.Â
He had left to take a breather, and was met with shitty pickup lines in the darkest alleyway in the street. Irritation was his first reaction, that he was being hit on by some naive drunk ass bitch , but then he noticed how completely sober you were.
Thereâs also the fact that one would have to look closely to be able to see him in the dark of the night.
Plus the joke, the absolutely killer joke, and so what if you didnât actually know what he knew?Â
It sent his spirits on a high, spiked his curiosity, the irony of it and how literal it could be.
His mood only got better and better the more you talked, the more you stayed when he gave you so many opportunities to save yourself.Â
Itâs solely on you that has the misfortune of causing his good mood.
Wolf chuckles at the memory, as he picked you up gently into his arms, carful not to wake you, and visibly croons , âIdiotic fucker, you really have no idea what you got yourself into, do you? Canât say I didnât warn you though, and I gave you so many chances to run awayâ Hell, I would be considered a fucking saint just because of that.â
Then heâs thinking about how you looked at him as if he was a goddamn angel sent from above, as if he saved you from a freezing blizzard. How much that gaze of yours needed him.Â
He pauses in his steps, holding onto you, unwavering as he thought aloud to himself. Repeating your name to feel how it feels on his tongue. A pretty name, his to take when he deems it necessary to do so.Â
And there were those words you said, those fucking words and everything that hid underneath it.Â
It was a promise, really.
An allowance.Â
âOh, you clueless motherfucker, I think I might be falling in love.â
Author's notes:
I will be continuing this one day.
Just not now.
Also, I highly recommend you to go and read the ao3 version because it's much more nicer than the tumblr version. I worked hard on that work skin, I swear; also I am much more comfortable there about sharing about myself.
Also, special shout out to my tumblr friends who kept my passion for Weak Hero alive! This story is only possible because of them.
(P.S. I will NOT have a tag list as of right now. A tag list may be opened one day in the future, but you would have to go check my pinned message if it happens.)
Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum.
Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.
Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama
ââ
The billiards room was a simple room lined with tables and a few dartboards, nearly empty save for a gaggle of drunk high school boys messing around by the bottom of the stairs.
He releases your hand to skim the edge of the table, fingers dragging against polished wood and aged green suede.
âAre you any good?â He asks, surveying the wall of cues.
âNot particularly, Iâve only ever seen this on television. I hope you werenât looking forwards to a challenge.â
He clicks his tongue and grabs two cue sticks, a hint of a shrug gracing his broad shoulders. âExpected as much. We can start with the basics.â
You take the cue from him with both hands and watch as he sets up the table, taking in the way his blazer stretches over his back when he leans over, the way his shoes squeak a bit against the tile flooring.
âWhen you first strike, hold the cue with your dominant hand right at the base. This allows more control over the direction youâll shoot.â
He shows you with his own cue and you mimic him, earning a nod of approval.
âTake your other hand and place it on the table like this.â
Wolf bends a bit at the hip, placing his hand flat on the pool table and then raising his palm slightly, splaying his fingers and quirking up a thumb gracefully.
He looks at you expectantly, eyes twinkling like amber jewels despite the façade of boredom he presented on his face.
You feel your hands grow clammy watching him, rubbing your fingers against your palms to get blood flowing.
ââŠAlright, I can try.â
You place a hand flat on the table and pause, feeling Wolfâs stare on your hand, then your face. Ignoring the burning sensation rising in your cheeks, you pick your palm off the table and leave your fingertips grazing the soft material adorning it.
Your hand begins to tremble and you swallow thickly, hair falling into your gaze. You steady yourself, inhaling then exhaling, feeling tremors reduce with each breath.
âThumb up.â
His voice cuts through the air like an arrow and you nod to acknowledge him, slowly raising a thumb upwards and hoping heâll ease off on the staring. It gets halfway there before your form collapses, hand falling flat onto the table.
You glance at Wolf and see that heâs still waiting, hip propped against the pool table and creasing his greyish school slacks slightly.
âLet me try again.â
You go through the whole process twice more but your hand falls limp each time you raise your thumb. The hand holding the cue stick feels a bit sore so you place it against the table, earning a strange look from Wolf.
Your eyes travel upwards to meet his, dispelling the look of confusion with a nervous chuckle.
âHaha sorry, I kind of suck at this.â
You can feel your jaw tense when you give it another attempt and the same thing happens, shame burning into your face and spreading to the tips of your ears.
As you pick up your hand and brace it on the pool table again, all other noise fades into the background. Was Alex waiting for your response? Had he been waiting by his phone like you had all week?
All the days without him seemed cloudy even with the sun scorching through reddened leaves. With each passing sunset the dwindling autumn crept further away, his smile became more and more of a faded memory, soon to be buried with the snow.
Your phone sits in your bag on the floor, well within your reach yet so far from what you truly wanted. You think about Alex Go and how youâd bring him down with you into those abysmal depths. Wonder if he would still be able to accept you in your festering form, so riddled with guilt and idling fear.
You pick up your thumb and your poise falters yet again, collapsing like a house of cards.
Itâs frustrating.
Everything has been for the past few months, so youâre used to it. But with someone else watching you fail, the sensation is amplified. You feel like an ant under a magnifying glass, scrutinized and tiny, face burning, shame mounting.
You donât look up to see Wolfâs face.
You can barely decipher him to begin with. Your hand is like a dead fish on the table and you feel like a child pretending to be an adult, feel like you shouldnât be here in the first place, feel like maybe playing billiards with Wolf Keum on a Friday night was too much, too far from what you should be doing.
Suddenly, you hear his voice slice through the thick air, clear and resonating in your ears.
âHere, let me.â
Wolf is behind you now, body firm and large, eclipsing yours as he reaches over to place his hand atop your own.
He doesnât sound annoyed and he doesnât sound bothered.
You take a shaky breath and ignore the warmth he exudes from every inch of his body, ignore the scent of cigarette smoke and sharp cologne hitting your nose.
âIâm sorry.â You say. It sounds less like an apology and more like a proclamation of defeat, barely audible over the faint thrum of music upstairs.
Wolf remains silent, cuffing his blazer sleeves.
Then he speaks.
ââŠIf youâre trying your best, you donât need to apologize.â
Your heart thrums and heat rolls over your cheeks. You hadnât been expecting approval from anyone on this cold, miserable Friday night, let alone Wolf Keum, but shame burns you anyways.
Wolf knew your previous attempts were your best efforts. You wanted to explain to him that things werenât fair, that you could do it, probably, with enough time.
But it all sounds like excuses, so you keep your mouth shut.
âYour hands are smaller, you donât need to spread your fingers too much.â
He reaches out and places an arm against the table right beside your own, and true to his word, his hands are in fact larger, fingers longer and slimmer, arms reaching further than your own.
He picks up his palm and you mirror him, this time pinching your fingers together more closely.
âHold on,â Wolfâs hands release from their poised state and move towards your own, skin brushing skin with an electric zap, like fire, like lightning when he maneuvers your index finger in his grasp.
His breath crashes like a tide over the shell of your ear, warm and wet, voice low and airy with concentration and you wonder if youâre the only one who minds the distance.
âLooks good now.â
You wait for him to back away but he doesnât, his body tangent to yours and nearly cupping your forearm and torso with his own.
The heat radiating from his body is warm but faint through the blazer and dress shirt, reminiscent of summer air on the night of a full moon, cool dewy grass underfoot.
The sensation of his presence pressing in so close makes you dizzy, makes you feel fuzzy, makes you forget about the dimming desire to flash a glance at your phone again. And just when you think you may be only imagining things; you see the thin line of Wolf Keumâs lips tip into a sinful smirk.
One second there, the next gone. Like firebugs in the marsh.
The hum of chatter by the stairs has died down into a stark nothingness, though you can still see their shoes lingering. Thereâs a tension coming from them like a bated breath, like confusion, like a question; âwhat is that girl doing with Wolf Keum?â
You turn to look, but Wolf catches your jaw in his hand before you can move your head, leaning down to whisper again,
âDonât mind them. Focus.â
And again, thereâs an accursed coil in your stomach, your hands are still quivering but no longer for the same reason as before.
He releases you but the places he touched still feel scorched. When you try to concentrate on form, your mind wanders and leads straight back Wolf. You can feel him shift a bit to lean back, chin raising in the direction of the group.
You donât dare to look away from the billiards table but when you hear the shuffling of shoes and low murmuring fading up and back into the bar, you know something must have happened.
âYou scared them.â It comes out as a statement more than a question like you intended.
His voice comes out in a low timbre, âThatâs the point.â
You let your shoulders drop and stand, rolling your shoulders. He mirrors you, easing off the table and sticking his hands in his pockets, eyes gleaming, trained on you.
âAre you usually so belligerent?â
His face barely shows a twitch of emotion, cool as ever, the only things betraying his thoughts being his quirked eyebrows.
âOnly if someone is bothering me.â
You think back to the second encounter you had with him, all the bandages decorating his face and adorning his body like a testament to his will to fight.
Then you think deeper, think about the way his eyes were downturned, shoulders slumped, remember the way he spit Donaldâs name like poison on his tongue.
âAll the time?â
His eyes narrow a bit, catching wind of your implication.
âWhen it can be helped.â
You sigh and turn back to the billiards table, the teal suede flashing green eyes and a sheepish smile in your mind.
âWhat about when it matters?â
He turns away from you and watches as you try to position your hand again and fail.
Thereâs a long stretch of silence that falls into place, air thick with his apprehension and your anticipation. He doesnât respond, and the quiet descends into a stiffer one.
You idle and try not to show that it bothers you, but the way your shoes scuff the floor gives you away.
Wolf eyes you from his periphery and releases a sigh, dropping his eyebrows into a troubled furrow. He reaches over and props a hand on the table with a soft thud, making a simple âoâ with his pointer and thumb.
âTry this. I prefer the other better, but this might be easier for you.â
He picks up your cue and positions it between his fingers on the table. His unruly hair reflects the warm lighting and bounces off silver hues, blazer creaking over his shoulders like trees on a windy night, straining over the expanse of his back. He grunts in annoyance, releasing his hold for a moment to shrug it off and toss it on top of your bag.
âFuck. That shit pisses me off each time I play.â
He hands you the cue stick and you take it from him, mimicking his grip.
âLike this?â
He nods, âNow try the other hand too.â
You do it. Thereâs no trembling, no collapsing. Just a single, easy âoâ between your fingers and your palm.
âPerfect.â
You stare at it, then stare at it some more. Thereâs nothing perfect about it, nothing that feels like youâve accomplished anything, conquered something new. But his words still make you feel good, so you lean into them.
âThank you.â
He shifts to gesture to the cue balls lined up in front of you, speaking of stripes and solids and polka-dots. Youâre not really paying attention, thinking more of the way his forearm bandages pull and tug when he points, of the way his voice sounds gravelly like crumbling cement on a highway when he lowers his volume.
âThings arenât as easy as they seem.â
You whip your head towards Wolf, his gaze is steady on the floor and he looks deep in thought.
âI hate that fucker to the bone.â
A bitter look crosses his face, flashing in his eyes like a turbulent flame in a cold lamp, burning hot and bright in vast echoing darkness.
âThe only time I hear from him is when heâs giving out chores or calling us to collect money for him. Acts like tough shit and treats us like lapdogs that run around doing tricks to impress him.â
You wonder who heâs referring to when he says âus.â
Wonder if Wolf, though not the socialite, has at least known the comfort of sharing his woes with another unfortunate stranger. He doesnât dare say it, but the way his jaw is tensed and his eyes are darkened tells you otherwise, makes you want to ask how long heâs been shouldering this burden for, all alone and confined by his own misgivings.
He finishes talking and his statement hangs in the air like an incomplete thing. Thereâs tension that indicates he isnât quite sure if heâs done speaking.
He doesnât continue so you thrust the cue and break, the clicking of resin bouncing off resin echoing in the room, skimming the rim of silence but doing nothing to shatter it.
He stares at the billiards table blankly and watches as the balls scatter over the table, a five ball rolls across the suede, falling into a pocket with a clunk.
âI know what youâre thinking.â He says.
You walk over to the white ball and take aim. âI didnât say anything.â
Click.
Theres a flurry of balls bouncing into each other haphazardly, so fast your eyes canât keep track of them. Then you catch sight of the white ball, rolling, rolling, rolling.
âI wanted to, you know? I still do. Heâs just so goddamn hard to deal with.â
His gaze is deep and spiraling with all kinds of unspoken words, but all you need to understand him is the way his fists are clenched, knuckles whitening under the bandages.
You were familiar with the way spite shadowed his countenance; familiar with the doubt laced between each bated breath.
You can sense it, the itch he was prodding you to scratchâ almost desperate in his words now, begging you to release the tension singing between his temples, for you to tell him he was wrong- that you hadnâtthought he was pathetic for being unable to face Donald Na, for being unable to confront the beast that left him with the constitution of a coward.
But you couldnât.
Your lips purse and your heart drops to your stomach because Wolf reminded you too much of yourself, the you that trembled alone in your room behind closed doors, the you that grasped at reasons to remain complacent in the face of both adversity and in hope.
Your eyes skitter along his figure, slouched against the table with a fixed scowl that would seem intimidating to anyone who didnât understand he was only mad at himself.
Wolf Keum was incomparable to any other, a man dictated by his own will and want, defined almost entirely on his grit and ferocity.
He had the power to push and pull the tides of his own affairs, relentless and insurmountable, but even with the fullest moon comes time to wane. In the deepening void of the night, brightness can always be swallowed and snuffed. The abyss is easy to become lost in, easy to forget yourself in no matter how luminous you once were.
âHeâs everywhere I turn, that asshole seriously has his nose stuck in everyoneâs fuckinâ business. I canât even think about messing him because heâd find out somehow, too.â
He sighs and rakes a hand through his already messy hair.
âThatâs why shit stays like this. Itâs too risky for me to fuck around with him, itâs not worth all the trouble.â
You donât care what heâs saying because theyâre excuses, but it echoes your own cries, haunting you now that someone else had manifested them.
âYeah. I get that.â You say, and the tense man beside you begins to uncoil, the air clearer now. And then you say it.
âBut is it the risk, or something else?â
He makes no movement but his presence becomes a bit more unbearable.
You chance a look at him from the corner of your eye. Heâs trying hard to show he doesnât give a shit, but you can see his lashes flutter once, twice. Doubt. You take this as a cue to continue, circling the pool table to approach the ball.
âYou say you canât risk it, but Iâve seen what heâs already done to you. Itâs not just something people can brush off, let alone someone like you.â
He interjects, brows pinched and lips set in a line.
âYou canât understand.â
You put up the cue. âBut I think I do, Wolf. Because what else is there to lose when Donaldâs taken everything from you?â
His jaw tenses and his eyes are cutting right through you, but you pretend youâre too focused on pools to see. Your hands shake, you know he sees it. But he needs to hear this. You need to hear this.
âAll your pride and freedom are long gone. And now your will to fight back is gone too. Is it a risk if thereâs nothing to lose? Or is it something else, something only you can allow to happen? Something likeâŠâ
The music upstairs swells and drops, plunging both of you into numbing silence.
ââŠFear?â
You hit the ball and wild clicking falls upon the quiet room.
Wolf disturbs the silence too soon with a low and winding laugh. Itâs stark against the silence, jarring and obvious in itâs intent to throw the conversation.
âMe, scared? I think you forget who I am.â
He peers at you through his glasses, eyes crackling like dying embers, burning bright, burning to stave off the shadows inching closer from darkness.
âIâm Wolf Keum. I fear nothing.â
The white cue ball rolls across the table and brushes the edge of the pocket. It teeters and teeters and teeters but does not fall in.
âEveryone feels fear, Wolf Keum.â You say. âIt doesnât make us weaker or any lesser as people. But we can only find happiness when we learn to overcome it, no matter how hard it is.â
A breeze slips in from a cracked window, and it smells like green grass, feels like a familiar grin.
Wolf is staring, motionless. His face is relaxed but his eyes are focused on you, quietly searching for redemption in these inky depths- the loudest youâve ever seen him ask for help.
You donât know how, but you desperately want to.
The tendrils grabbing at your feet anchor him down too, you can see them writhing like worms in the stillness, waiting to wriggle into his skin between each pause in your conversations.
âWolf?â
He doesnât respond but you know heâs listening.
âAre you happy?â
He looks up at you, holds your gaze with strong amber eyes and says nothing. You canât understand if his silence is petulance or resignation, but the way he blurs the line gives you a hint in the right direction.
You want to shake him, want to beg him to put down his pride long enough to smile straight. But much to your surprise, his facade doesnât last long.
Wolf is the first to break away. His eyes slip away from yours and instead he stares at his shoes, a slump in his spine.
He puts his hand on the pools table and makes a snide comment about the quality of the suede. Itâs a weak diversion, but thereâs a plea in it so you just agree with him.
For the rest of the night heâs quieter than usual and keeps his hands in his pockets.
Thereâs a faraway look in his eyes that glimmer like the first day you saw him in the bar upstairs, a wisp of a bitter memory nearly lost to time, but still fresh enough to recall like an old tune.
And just like that night, his eyes are like two full moons, gleaming silver, overflowing with the simple intensity that makes him inscrutable. They brim with everything and anything that pure force cannot convey, all his loneliness, regret, and fears. Things that can fill his soul and at the same time never be enough.
All the things that cannot be seen if one only looks at him with reverence, or dread, as he is used to.
But just as the waning crescent moon can still shift entire oceans, in the dark, Wolf Keum remained with an iron grip on his prospects. Now given direction, he ponders the hollowness echoing around him and catches a glimpse of light in unending darkness, rushing to cup it in his hands like a beloved thing that may vanish at an instant.
In his eyes, dark, deep and spiraling as always, you could see now just a tiny sliver of hope. And even in the face of a night that stretches into an eternity, even with all his demons teeming in the shadows, just a bit of hope, you know, will always be enough.
Summary: A story in which you love Wolf Keum, and maybe he likes you back.
Genre: Romance, Angst, One-sided romance
Date: December 27, 2020
ââ
âThey took my glasses,â He said.
He looked pissed.
You watched him blankly, taking in his bruises, the scrapes and the blood.
âDid you lose?â It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, and boy does that get him worked up.
âNo.â He snaps, louder than before. Maybe be regrets it, maybe heâs tired, but he lowers his volume immediately after. âNo. I fucking didnât.â
ch. 10 â research respondents [ prev / masterlist / next ]
zhongli, the student body president has been out of everyone's league since the beginning. yet you still let yourself crush on the golden-darling-pretty-boy. so, like a fool in love, you end up chasing zhongli who is part of the track team as well and somehow, he manages to avoid every single one of your attempts! (gee, i wonder why) good thing there's no app that lets you talk to him anonymously and accidentally creates a love square-ish between you two. or in which zhongli thinks he fell for someone through the internet but it ends up just being the pest (affectionately, you) crushing on him the whole time.
FEATURING: student council!zhongli x she/her!reader, other genshin impact characters.
TAGLIST: send an ask to be added! (bold means cannot be tagged) @imtoodumbforaname @stationery-store @catsrkool @nejibot @eufrsr @nerdy-simp-7120 @ping-pongmach1ne @pathosprit @ainescribe @local-mr-frog @irisxiel @patata-52 @nebulaera @zhonglis-wifey @zephestia @potatoewolfie @estelwrld @deimmortales99 @kyomihann @msvalkitty @beef-stew @zannivrs @starryeyedkoko @floffytofu @layvesenrose @one-offmind @radnvindr @escapeis @dazaiscum @eissaaaa
zhongli, the student body president has been out of everyone's league since the beginning. yet you still let yourself crush on the golden-darling-pretty-boy. so, like a fool in love, you end up chasing zhongli who is part of the track team as well and somehow, he manages to avoid every single one of your attempts! (gee, i wonder why) good thing there's no app that lets you talk to him anonymously and accidentally creates a love square-ish between you two. or in which zhongli thinks he fell for someone through the internet but it ends up just being the pest (affectionately, you) crushing on him the whole time.
FEATURING: student council!zhongli x she/her!reader, other genshin impact characters.
TAGLIST: send an ask to be added! (bold means cannot be tagged) @imtoodumbforaname @stationery-store @catsrkool @nejibot @eufrsr @nerdy-simp-7120 @ping-pongmach1ne @pathosprit @ainescribe @local-mr-frog @irisxiel @patata-52 @nebulaera @zhonglis-wifey @zephestia @potatoewolfie @estelwrld @deimmortales99 @kyomihann @msvalkitty @beef-stew @zannivrs @starryeyedkoko @floffytofu @layvesenrose @one-offmind
fun facts â
this is the ppt y/n made that she sent zhongli by accident ... rip 2 you i guess
the powerpoint template is just a template i chose half asleep in canva
zhongli probably thinks you're rlly creepy now! and childe thinks he shouldn't have attempted to matchmake the two of you
you might have disappointed your research teacher but at least in this smau you know how to cite references!
Congrats on the 1000+ followers! For your prompt event, may I request Gemini + Zhongli and Childe + hc scenario + hurt/comfort + royal!au where you are engaged to the charming Prince Childe you think he's your lover, but then you hear the nasty rumors around him that he purposely keeps hidden from you and then you meet Zhongli and get to know him and now you're wondering if Childe is really your lover (he isn't). Hope that makes sense >_<
how a heart unbreaks (hc scenario)
penpal: this is honestly my favorite request for this event, hope you guys like this <3
prompt: gemini the twins, enemy-lover soulmate au
pairing/s: childe x fem!reader, zhongli x fem!reader, childe x original female character
sypnosis: after endless suffering from your supposedly lover, you finally found your true lover and the true meaning of home.
includes/warnings: spoilers to childeâs real name, toxic relationship with childe, angst/comfort, cheating, mentions of war, mentions of violence, slight manipulation, divorce, mean!childe. this fanfic is inspired by the remarried empress!
youâre simply a noble when you first met childe.
your family is famous for forging weapons that are worth selling to countless lands, giving the tsaritsa an opportunity for the war and offer them an arranged marriage for you in return of giving her armies their weapons. of course, your parents immediately agreed to the offer.
you tried to convince your parents that you do not want to marry someone who isnât your destined lover, only for your begging to fall on deaf ears.
fortunately for you, you arenât the only one with the same desire.
the moment you met âtartagliaâ, you felt intimidated. as a noble lady, you have heard winds of the powerful eleventh lord of snezhnaya and whether the said winds are good and bad, it both frightened you to no end. it took you back by surprise when tartaglia talk to you so sweet and gentle on your first encounter with one another.
you thought it was because heâs hiding his true nature from your family to not let you and him get together, but when the kind attitude still ensues behind closed doors, you got confused.
âwhy wouldnât i be nice to my destined lover?â he retorts with a smile. "wouldn't want you to run away if i acted mean haha"
you scoffed, looking at him as though he has two heads. "what do you mean, destined lover? surely you don't have to call me your soulmate just because we're marriedâ"
"my real name is ajax."
"...what?"
and so began your life as the spouse of the eleventh prince.
the wedding was held publicly, with everyone watching as the both of you excitedly made your marriage official. everyone around the cathedral immediately caught on that you and childe are destined lovers, causing your relationship with childe to be the most popular topic of the year.
this pleases childe, for everyone around the empire knows that you belong to him and he to you.
it felt like you accidentally found your happily ever after, with you being happy with childe, with everyone having no problems against you, with your family being successful and wealthier than ever, any noble would kill to have a happy life like yours.
not to mention the fact that childe's the best husband you could ever ask for. he always tries his best to eat with you, to spend more time with you, to make sure you're comfortable with your new homeâ he even invites your family to visit you in case you ever mention him that you miss them dearly.
you could understand why your peers have been desperate to meet their lovers, and you're glad that everything in your life is just right.
that is, until 2 years later after the war that ended with a tie.
you didn't know what happened to ajax. at first, he was still the man you knew and loved but now he's cold, insensitive, harshâ he became someone you don't know anymore.
it hurts that he starts to sleep in his personal bedroom instead of your shared room, it hurts that he prefers to eat in his office instead of with you by the dining room, it hurts that he prefers to be alone planning more missions instead of being with you by his sideâ
and last of all, the lady-in-waiting who you care deeply told you rumors about your husband that they've recently heard from people around the area.
the rumors were something that made you feel like you want to vomit. all of them were nothing but disgusting rumors that you knew he wouldn't do,
but then again, this could be something the ajax you know now would do right?
half of them were mostly how he treats his subordinates as if they're nothing but pathetic creatures, but the one that hits you the most is how he's been seeing another woman.
you want to desperately get away from the ache your heart is giving. it felt like you couldn't breathe, it felt like everything is suddenly crashing to you, it felt like the happiness you've shared with ajax throughout the years were nothing but a hallucination.
when you tried to confront your husband, it backfired.
"why would you accuse me of something like that?" he said in a venomous tone. "if you don't trust me that much after all the years you and i shared, then i have to question the celestia as to why they made you my lover."
as always, you simply apologized to him and bid him farewell before going out from his office, thinking that you're jumping to conclusion and that it's your fault.
you couldn't bare to tell your family about your situation, isolating yourself from them.
everyone who's heard of the rumors would stare at you in pity whenever you took a stroll around the kingdom, making you feel way worse than before.
which lead you to locking yourself inside your palace, doing your usual routine in airplane mode as though you're a ghost with no goal.
you would be lying if you said you didn't question your fate with childe. there was never a day when you did question why celestia made him your loverâ what happened to him that made him treat you this way? why would he go to a woman when he already has a soulmate?
unless.. the woman is his other destined and realized he's your enemy?
the thought gave you chills down your spine.
you're simply a prince's spouse when you met zhongli.
despite the rumors spreading, childe continues to keep up with his "nice" attitude to some people, and one of the "some people" is a diplomat from another land, zhongli.
you've heard from your lady-in-waiting that zhongli has visited the cold empire to attend to matters related to tartaglia, who he gladly offered to stay in his humble palace with no care.
it's probably one of the greatest decisions your husband has ever made.
despite hearing from your servants that zhongli has arrived the palace, you couldn't bring yourself to greet him, feeling too fatigued from the amount of tears you've shed.
you were too focused on your marriage that you have completely forgotten the one fact that could've changed everything.
the first time you've met him is when he stumbled upon your winter garden, a place that your husband gave you as a wedding anniversary gift.
"forgive me for the intrusion," zhongli says with an apologetic smile. "i didn't intend to intrude your garden, i was just looking for a place to relax."
if it were any person, you would've let them get away and leave you in peace.
but from how lonely you felt, you decided to let the quite charming man be an exception.
"it's fine, no need to apologize." you said reassuringly, offering a tired smile. "you may explore around my garden as much as you like. you're a guest that my husband welcomed with open arms after all."
since then, you frequently see the man lurking around your garden, either reading a book that he brought or taking his time appreciating the surroundings.
you didn't bother talking to the man, thinking that he's only here for space and quiet.
unnoticed by you, he was only here for you.
you never noticed how his eyes lands on you whenever you're strolling around your garden aimlessly, how he often tries to come up to youâ only to stop himself and go back to his reading, how he always makes sure to go to the garden in time to see you, everything he does in the garden, he does it for you.
the day he finally brought himself to talk to you was the best day you had ever since your marriage started falling.
it was just a normal conversation of how are you's, until the conversation turned to topics that you and zhongli have in common that lasted for hours until the sun starts to set.
by the end of the day, you slept peacefully for the first time.
and somehow, things started to get better for you.
your problem with your marriage had slipped away from your mind, only to be replaced with thoughts of what you and zhongli would do next time with a smile.
everyday, you and zhongli started strolling around the garden, laughing with one another and talking about whatever comes to your minds.
you had asked him what his nation is like and he explains it wholeheartedly, from the finest cuisines to the prosperous lands in the nation. he explains it with extreme details that it made you want to visit there yourself with him.
in return of his explanation about his homeland, you told him about snezhnaya. from the extreme nursery rhymes to the terrifying eleven rulers of the land, everything you told him is something any outlander would be scared ofâ but of course, zhongli pays no mind, for he took every word you told him and hold it in his heart.
unnoticed by the two of you, a certain person had been watching the two of you behind a window, his eyes narrowed as though he's seen something unforgivable.
the next day, you were suddenly requested to go to childe's office.
"why are you talking to our guest?" he asks.
"am i not allowed to?" you retort, raising an eyebrow. "i'm simply keeping him company around my garden."
"you should stop seeing him. it would cause unwanted rumors spreading around the landâ"
"like how there are rumors about you having an affair and have been mistreating your people badly?" you interrupted. you honestly just wanted to get away from the room, the atmosphere is too suffocating as you start to remember everything you've been through.
"who are you to interrupt your prince?" he asks darkly, causing you to slightly flinch from his sudden change of tone. "you should know better than toâ"
"what will you do?" you ask. "you've already hurt me enough. i see no other ways that can hurt me more than this."
he stays silent.
"...you're dismissed."
days after, a woman suddenly arrives at the palace.
"i'm tatiana," she told you with a smile. "i'm childe's lover! you must be the lady-in-waiting, right?"
the servants around the room stayed silent, watching the both of you as you continue to smile lightly at her.
"i'm not." you answered. "i'm his wife."
you isolated yourself in your room that day, not bothering to visit the garden once more to see zhongli. you simply lay down on your bed as you suffer from every negative thought that runs through your head. you hate the life that's given to you, you hate this stupid marriage that you thought would make you happy, you hate your husband, you hate everythingâ what did you do to deserve this?
was the husband you grew to love really your enemy?
"keep your friends close," he once said to you one night. "but keep your enemies closer."
was all of this a lie? was he just playing with your feelings so that you won't do anything bad to him?
before you suddenly fall to slumber after crying your heart out, you suddenly heard a knock from the door, causing you to look up in confusion.
who on earth is visiting you at a late hour?
you slowly grab a sword (a wedding gift from your family) near your dresser and tiptoed towards the door, hoping it wasn't some threat trying to assassinate you.
the moment you open the door, your eyes lands on those familiar amber hues.
your eyes widens at the sight of zhongli, not expecting him to visit your room after not seeing you. surely he didn't hear about the incident earlier right?
the next words that spills out from his mouth were something you didn't expect.
"divorce childe," he speaks up. "divorce him and come with me."
your breath hitches. "...i can't do that."
"why not? he has done nothing but hurt youâ i've seen the way you're hurting and i can't afford to watch this continue."
"and? i can't divorce him." you said with a sad smile. "even if i'm desperate to, the tsaritsa will disapprove and will kill me if i even think of running awayâ"
"she won't. not if she sees me."
"how are you so confident?"
"you'll see why."
you shook your head in disapproval. "zhongli, you're a great friend but iâ"
"friend?" he asks with a surprised look on his face, causing you to furrow your eyebrows in confusion.
"...is there something wrong?"
zhongli slowly lifts up one of his sleeves, causing your eyes to widen more from the words imprinted on his wrist.
y/n l/n.
your heart drops at the sight.
"can't you see y/n?" he asks, putting his hands on your shoulders with a sincere look on his face. "you and i are lovers, not childeâ but me. you and i are each other's true destined lovers."
you stare at his eyes with the same expression, trying to process what you just discovered.
everything felt so overwhelming that you find yourself crying unintentionally.
"i'm so tired, zhongli." you said, crashing yourself against your true lover as you wrap your arms around him. "i just want to finally be happy."
without another thought, he immediately hugs you back comfortingly, rubbing your back as you continue to cry in despair.
"it's alright, my love," he whispers, closing his eyes as his heart ached at the sounds of your sadness. "i'll make sure you'll be the happiest woman in the world."
"how? how can i run away with you if i have no reasons to give to the empress?"
he pulls away for a moment, looking at you with a reassuring smile. "no need to fret, i have a plan in hand,"
he then eyes the bed. "for now, you should sleep. you must've been exhausted."
"...can you stay?"
that night, you slept in someone's arms for the first time.
the following week, childe beat you to it and requested the divorce first, thinking that you'd refuse and make him think you're his true lover with tatiana watching in satisfaction.
much to his and his mistress's shock, you happily accepted the divorce.
your official divorce with childe caused hellfire around the land, with people blaming childe's foolishness for choosing another woman over his true lover. some even went through extreme measures to find the mistress's identity and slander her without hesitation.
the prince despised how everyone in the land chose your side instead of his.
of course, he decided to hire a noble to spread rumors that the mistress is his actual true lover and not you, wanting everyone to think he isn't as evil as he is.
this made the situation worse.
however, the public's opinion does not matter to you. what mattered most is that you can finally get out from this hellhole and be with your true lover.
as much as the people who works in the palace hated seeing you leave, they congratulated you for finally getting out from your husband's wrath and that they all wish you a happy life, to which you gladly thank them and wish them a happy life as well.
as for your family, you finally decided to go visit them and talk to them about your future, to which they immediately accept supportingly.
âyou donât deserve what that bastard of a prince did to you.â your mother said as she wraps her arms around you.
âmay the tsaritsa accept your divorce willingly and let you have a happy life that we didnât get to give you.â
by the time the divorce arrived, you were nervous.
you're honestly thankful that zhongli has been with you the week before the divorce, always making sure you aren't think about childe as he tries to make you happy with everything he can.
although your feelings for him are starting to grow, you couldn't help but wonder what he meant by the tsaritsa accepting your divorce if she sees him. does he have a special relationship with the empress?
you soon found out later, as you stand near the presence of the empress herself.
"lady y/n of the elevent district," the priest announces. "your husband, tartaglia of the elevent rulers, has requested a divorce. if you accept his request, you will no longer be the princess and will lose all the rights you have as the second ruler of the eleventh district as well as a member of the imperial family. you have no rights to be able to use the imperial family name and the ties that bound you and tartaglia together will be severed."
you close your eyes as the priest continues to speak, ignoring the watchful eyes of your soon-to-be ex husband and the tsaritsa, whose cold eyes are staring at your back thatâs facing her.
"if this is not what you want, you have the right to contest this divorce. do you agree to this divorce?"
you look behind at ajax for a moment before looking back at the priest.
"i accept this divorce." you answered.
the priest frowns. "do you truly accept this divorce without any objections?"
"yes. i accept,"
the sigh of relief childe lets out went not unnoticed by you, causing you to hide the smile that's starting to form in your mouth.
"and..." everyone around the courtroom suddenly looks confused.
you remembered the plan your lover gave you, the plan that could end your suffering, the plan that could take you to the next chapter of your life, the plan that will give you happinessâ
it's now or never.
"i request an approval of my remarriage."
everyone, exclude the tsaritsa and the eleven rulers, started murmuring with one another, surprised with the turn of events as they ponder who is your new lover.
the priest seems to be taken back by surprise as well. "you seek a remarriage with whom if i may ask?"
suddenly, the doors opened, causing everyone to look at the intruder in curiosity.
your body relaxes from the sight of zhongli walking towards to you with a smile on his face.
"my lover seeks a remarriage with me, the emperor of liyue." he declares, causing your eyes to widen from his identity.
"did he say the emperor of liyue?!"
"how on earth did he get to snezhnaya without everyone noticing?!"
"does the tsaritsa know?"
"my... perhaps we should ask tartaglia to marry more and see how dramatic this goes." la signora comments with a smirk, watching you with interest. "it seems this divorce is more interesting than i thought, don't you think my empress?"
the tsaritsa simply stays silent from la signora's comments, watching the court transpiring with an unreadable look on her face.
as everyone starts to cause a ruckus from the sudden change of events, childe was glaring daggers at you, to which you smile in return.
"he is the one i wish to remarry." you said.
the priest seems to look agitated, wiping the sweat off from his forehead. "my my, do you really mean to get married to emperor.. rex lapis?" he asks.
as zhongli now stands by your side, he intertwines his hands with yours and nodded in confirmation. "yes," he answers for you. "i want to make y/n my empress and lover."
childe slams the desk in front of him furiously. "what do you mean empress?! this whole time you're the emperor and have been flirting with my wifeâ?!" the prince couldn't believe it. not only did he just found out that the man who's been living in his palace is his sworn enemy, but is also the lover of his destined enemy?!
"i have to keep my identity a secret. the tsaritsa on the other hand, is aware of my presence from the very start and has agreed to make me known as a diplomat to you and the other rulers." zhongli explains calmly. "i know my presence seems to be quite sudden, but i beg the priest to consider approving my love's remarriage with me."
before the high priest could reply, childe interrupts. "high priest, this is illegal! zhongli shouldn't be allowed to attend this court without obtaining prior consent!"
ignoring childe's yelling, the high priest suddenly looks at you, asking you what you wanted in the situation.
you tighten your grip on zhongli's hand and nodded slowly.
the high priest then looks at the crowd. "i accept lady y/n's request in marrying the emperor, i shall leave the empress herself to officially decide the request."
everyone immediately looks at the tsaritsa, who has been eyeing you the whole time.
"my empress," childe whispers. "you mustn't accept her request. think of the future of our landâ"
"as one who has high beliefs on the soulmate system," the tsaritsa suddenly speaks up, causing childe to stay quiet.
"i accept the request of my in-law's remarriage with her true lover."
â.ïœĄ.:* as an idol, you have a myriad of responsibilities. among these are maintaining a good image and pleasing the fans, having a stan twt acc? maybe not so much. not that you and sunoo are admitting to anything. then again, you donât exactly expect to find each other as fan accs undercover and you equally donât expect to start catching feelings.
note: this officially ends guess who ^_^ thank u for sticking around to read this silly little smau !!
