#I struggle to get nice clean lines when i color so i wanted to practice that here

[karimelthefloof]

We had a power outage due to somebody cutting the powerline with a chainsaw (Fun!) BUUTT it allowed me to practice inking and coloring instead of scrolling through tumblr and youtube-

Although i did spend the whole outage drawing this one art and listening to spooky stories on youtube cause i had anough phone battery to last me a day >->

[buoyant-breeze]

hello!

this is my first time requesting but your hand hc's are so wholesome i'm literally crying 🙏

could you please do them with childe, itto and thoma too?

thank you!

hand hcs [ pt. 3 ]

authors note ⊱  i love this hc set so yeah here u go <3 i added scara cuz im a simp

part one (albedo, diluc, kaeya)

part two (kazuha, venti, xiao, zhongli)

characters ⊱ childe, itto, thoma, scaramouche

warnings ⊱ none

rating ⊱ sfw

childe

his hands are veiny; thick enough with muscle to show his hand strength, but slim enough to show his dexterity and precision

quick reflexes

fingers are thicker, especially at the end; he keeps his fingernails clipped as far down as they can, because they can get unruly, chipped, and broken from his busy and combative lifestyle

skin gets dry very easily, but he forgets to moisturize tbh

lots of freckles. l o t s

this image

soft amounts of ginger hair on his arms

has a few nearly-invisible scars all across his hands and wrists

however, has a nasty and very visible scar down his elbow and towards his wrist on his right arm

loves handholding

will grip your hand pretty tightly, likes to intertwine your fingers with his own (he also squeezes hard)

has a thing for sucking your fingers in his mouth (sorry)

a few stray ginger hairs can be found hiding near the freckled, pale skin of his knuckles

double-jointed (especially his thumbs)

cracks his hands a lot

inside of his palms are tough and thicker than the back of his hand; not quite calloused, but just enough where you can sense the skill and age and use to them

heavy-handed, he puts all of his weight into what he does; can lead to a few clumsy incidents

itto

thicker than a snickers (id apologize but i dont want to)

knuckles protrude to the extreme

his veins practically pop out, and you can visibly see his wrist and knuckles shift each time he moves or flexes any part of his hand

fingers are wide, thick, and struggle to hold tiny things like the back of your earrings, needles, or flower petals

always keeps his nails painted dark to hide the grit that gets underneath (and also he feels like it makes him edgy)

his tattoos, obviously

also very muscular, obviously

extremely, unfathomably warm to the touch; he feels like a furnace

gets a lot of dirt on his hands

handholding is not so much holding but more like him engulfing your entire hand in his own, to the point you fear you might not have one anymore

nips your fingertips playfully

likes leather or iron braces for his wrists; no practical usage, just looks and feels nice

there are indentations in his skin from said braces being on pretty much all the time

long fingernails

thoma

pretty average hands, with fingers just a little longer than usual

not particularly veiny, or portruding, or bony, or calloused, or even muscular; literally, just very plain, if a bit dainty

takes good care of his hands! he’s very good about hygiene, and he also puts on lotion, especially after using harsh cleaning products

generally wears gloves to help protect the skin, as well

he actually hates callouses, so on the off chance he actually developed any, he would end up removing them with deep exfoliation and scrubbing; he feels like they are a little unsightly, and it makes it uncomfortable when he rubs his hands together out of habit

dexterous with his fingers; can easily catch and maneuver things in his hands (i.e. coin from opening scene of meeting thoma)

wrists have a very visible vein line that goes down, other than that there is hardly anything

intertwines his fingers with yours and likes to swing your hands together

fingertips are a little colder, but his palms radiate heat

scaramouche

the palest hands you’ve ever seen i stg

extremely bony, his veins are very blue and very purple, and are visible mainly on the inside of his wrist (pulsepoint) and on the center of his backhand

long and dainty, rather small, but they look elegant and graceful

either paints his nails the darkest color he can find or bites all of his nails off, sometimes both

lots of scars on his fingers, very silvery and very pale, like lightning

these also exist on his wrists

prefers to hide the wrist scars, doesnt give a shit about the hand ones

his hands are not very strong at all

vein pops out a little on the inside of his arm/elbow

very expressive with his hands, he gestures a lot, especially when he talks; likes to rest them on his hips, or rub them along his temples when he has a headache

if you hold his hand, he’s holding them tight and he will not let go; you are letting go on his terms

his hands are nearly freezing everytime you touch them (his body temperature in general is pretty cold; he probably has poor circulation)

that said will leech ur body heat, and this often includes stuffing ur connected hands into his pockets when walking with you, or just holding them while cuddilng with you

[bokutoslittlebird]

Our Wedding

Osamu x sister!reader x Atsumu

Warnings: incest, dubcon, alcohol, face sitting, collar and silk ties, bondage, f. oral receiving, squirting, overstimulation, praise kink, hint of degradation, breeding, fingering, Atsumu bias

A year after coming to an agreement, you can say you’re at one of the happiest points in your life.

An agreement that led you to doing no more than feeling satisfied at every moment. It was bliss to live in comfort, no problem in your life that couldn’t be resolved. Atsumu made enough money and has a decent flexible schedule to keep you company, while Osamu did what he loved and always made sure to bring you scrumptious foods or making some fresh. Together, they never left you unsatisfied for too long.

With a bit of champagne in your system, you were still mobile and conscious, your lips just a bit looser than they would have been. But this was perfect for Osamu. While his mouth was occupied, your mouth was free to let everyone know just how good you big brother was at giving you pleasure. Even if he didn’t continue his volleyball career, he still had enough strength to hold you up, indulging in his favorite past time with you.

His tongue would flatten itself against your clit, only to then flick the little bud and wrap his lips around it, sucking harshly to have your hips jerking. He’d keep his arms securely around your legs, so you couldn’t leave him and you’d struggle less. Hands rubbed against your sides, fingers ghosting over your stomach as lidded eyes glanced at you. With your head thrown back, he could only see your breasts, hidden by your silk nightgown, and your arms. Hands were tangled in his hair, grasping onto it so tightly he’d probably find loosened strands when he was done.

Osamu couldn’t see you, but he could hear you. It’s all he really needed, honestly. The way you had sudden gasps when he’d swipe his tongue over the sensitive area, slipping into your cunt when you’re least expecting it. A long sigh of pleasure as he sucked on your clit, then a yelp when he’d give it a quick nip. Mewls as he moaned into you, hands tightening as he sucked harder on your clit. It was all so intense, he didn’t even realize you were so close to finishing until he felt the dampness on his face, his eyes widening at the syrupy liquid. He continued to suck and lick, however, cleaning up any excess.

It was Atsumu who ruined the moment. Osamu would happily die if it meant you’d never leave his face. “Hey, your time’s up, ‘Samu!” Osamu only groaned in response, his hold loosening as you slid off. Licking his lips in satisfaction, Osamu nodded at his brother.

“Did you get our princess her present?”

“Of course I did! What, you think I’d forget about such a thing? Just ‘cause I’m materialistic doesn’t mean I’d forget,” Atsumu huffs, holding up a pink bag with a ribbon. He ends up opening it for you, laying out the items on the bed beside you. It’s the garter from your wedding day, kept in pristine condition, and a white collar with a silver bell, the chime so sweet and gentle as he lays it next to the strip of fabric. The untainted white colors clash with the truth of how tainted you truly are, letting your brothers have their way with you for so long and now them giving you wedding gifts after an agreement from a year ago.

A long strip of silk fabric is pulled out next, long enough that you’re able to definitely tell what it’s for. Atsumu gives you a look, one that immediately you obey. Settling in your back and putting your hands above your head, he smirks as you present yourself to him. After all, this is his big day just as it is yours and Osamu’s. “‘Samu, why don’t you get our baby girl some wine? I’m sure she’s absolutely parched after you drained her,”

“Wouldn’t water be better?” He huffs. “I’d have to get the wine from the cellar,”

“Oh come on, it’s her big day. She deserves some wine. Don’t you think so, darling?” Atsumu directs the last bit towards you, where you nod, sending Osamu off.

With him gone, Atsumu is more than happy to tie you up as vulnerable as you are. The bindings don’t rub against your skin harshly or even dig into the skin, keeping your skin unblemished. He secures the collar properly, tapping the bell with his finger as he smirks down at you, eyes lidded while they trail from the bell down your body. Your nightgown stayed on, but he didn’t need to take it off. It was loose enough to pull down the neckline and your cunt was dripping and bare for him underneath the material, so he didn’t worry about it. Taking the garter in his hands, he slowly begins to slide it onto your leg. He’ll take you as he did a year ago, with the garter on and your body almost completely hidden from him, yet he knows it better than Osamu does. He’s had practice to learn every spot that drives you wild, every single expanse of skin he can mark and you can’t hide, every noise you can make and how to make it happen. He knows it all and he doesn’t want Osamu to know his tricks.

Garter securely on, he can tell you’re anticipating something. But, he won’t do too much. A press of his fingers to your clit already has you squirming, overly sensitive from Osamu’s tongue. That won’t bother him, though; he’ll just stick with his fingers. Pressing two fingers to your clit, he slides them down until he’s right outside your entrance. Licking his lips at how desperate you look, he pushes them inside of you to hear a sweet mewl, your body jerking as the bell jingles. He’ll go slow and steady, rubbing your walls and making sure your thoughts are full of nothing but him.

While one hand is inside you, his other hand runs under your nightgown, pushing it up as he rubs his hand over your stomach. The heat in the room has your brain going fuzzy, but you can’t tell if it’s because of the room, the alcohol, or the sensitivity you’re suffering under. Only when Atsumu’s warm hand runs over your stomach do you look down at him, blinking away the tears. “You’ll be full of us, won’t you? You’ll give me and ‘Samu some babies, won’t you?” He moves his hand a bit faster, picking up the pace as the squelches get louder and you curl into the bedsheets even more. “You’d be such a good mommy, y’know?” He tells you, but you’ve stopped listening. With eyes clenched shut and your teeth gritting against each other, you’re creaming in his fingers as heavy pants leave your mouth. “Now, now, you know I like hearing you cry like a little lamb, princess. Let’s try that again, shall we?”

This time, he lines himself up properly with you. There’s no reason to be so gentle, him sliding in easily from all the fluid around your opening. “Fuck, seems like you’ve been doing nothing but screwing Osamu while I’ve been away, huh?” He grunts, putting one leg over his shoulder as he leans down to look at you. “Guess I’ll have to remind you who’s the better big brother,”

Atsumu holds nothing back, hips meeting yours as you find your eyes rolling and another orgasm quickly coming on. He’s relentless, forcing you to ride it with no breaks, even as your legs twitch and your breath hitches with each brush of his cock against your sweet spot. Sweet calls of his name fall from your lips, mingled with gibberish he couldn’t understand but he didn’t need to. All he needed was to hear you tell him he was the best. Grabbing your cheeks, forcing you to face him, he asked precisely that.

“You- nii-chan has the best cock! Much better than ‘Samu-nii!” You cry out, feeling another world rocking orgasm as he lifts your other leg, keeping you spread open nicely for him with your head is thrown back and your neck muscles tense.

“I’m gonna give you a baby, princess. We’ll be so happy, together,” Atsumu moans, hips stuttering until he’s shooting thick ropes of cum inside you, making your legs twitch and fluids spray against his abdomen, a gurgled moan from you. He continues to rut against you, making sure you take every drop he gives you.

By the time Osamu comes back, you’ll be blissfully asleep and satisfyingly full.

[writerpeach]

Services

SNSD Tiffany x Male Reader

6066 words

---

Read on AFF

Read on AO3

masterlist

The knock at the door startled you more than expected.

It was shortly after 10 p.m. when you heard it, tossing your phone to the side as it landed on the nightstand. You made an effort to lift yourself off the mattress, heading towards the brown wooden door and took a deep breath before letting it out and unlocked it, turning the doorknob and swinging it open.

“Good evening, sir.”

Standing on the other side of the door was a raven-haired beauty of a woman with a gorgeous smile, dressed in a tight turtleneck sweater and equally tight skirt that showed off her voluptuous figure, black stockings and high heels that accentuated her luscious slender legs.

“You must be Tiffany.”

“That’s correct, it’s nice to meet you,” she replied, flashing a smile filled with confidence that put you at ease.

“Please come in,” you said, holding the door open for her as she stepped in, the loud clack of her heels filling the room with every step. You grabbed the ‘do not disturb’ sign, placing it on the opposite side of the doorknob before shutting it gently and locking it tight.

It had been a while since you had been with a woman, though not for lack of trying. You were in constant demand at work, and your job didn’t allow the luxury to meet anyone, let alone find the time to get to know them enough. There were plenty of attractive women who flirted with you in your office, but you wanted to remain professional and refused to spur any advances so as to not cause a company-wide scandal were things to go wrong.

“You can have a seat if you’d like,” you said, gesturing to the spacious bed nearby as the dark-haired woman took you up on your offer and sat down on the edge, crossing her gorgeous creamy legs and placed her purse to the side.

Before joining her you grabbed an unmarked white enveloped off the kitchen counter, stuffed to the brim and handed it to her. She took a brief glance inside before graciously accepting it and tucking it into her luxury purse.

“Thank you, sir. Now tell me, what can I do for you tonight?”

It was almost an entire week's worth of pay, but you knew as soon as you opened the door and met Tiffany face to face that you had made the right decision.

“I’d like you to make me feel good.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she said, placing a hand on your thigh and gently caressing it as she gazed into your eyes, giving a look of reassurance.

“Everything has been paid for, including the extra amount for anal. You have my services for the next hour, I’ll do whatever you’d like.”

If there was any nervous tension left in your body it had all just vanquished into the air.

“Perfect. Strip for me, Tiffany. Keep the heels on.”

You had been dying to see every inch of her body since the moment you laid eyes on her and you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Of course, sir,” she said as she rose from the mattress, spinning around to let you get a full view of her amazing body. With a sensual look in her eyes she unzipped the back of her skirt and removed her top from her body, hastily wiggling out of her skirt as she let both fall to the ground aimlessly.

Your mouth salivated uncontrollably as Tiffany was left in a matching set of lacey pink lingerie, showing off the plentiful curves of her body. Such a perfect woman was blessed with luscious thighs, a tight toned midriff and a beautiful set of tits, although not the biggest they were plenty big enough to fit into your hands. The bright colors of her undergarments contrasted with the dark garments on the floor as she beamed with confidence as your eyes feasted on her with hunger.

With her hands on her wide hips Tiffany let your eyes sample her body, preparing you for the main course that was about to be served for you. She quickly unhooked her bra, tossing it away and ran her small hands up her upper body before giving her exposed tits a quick squeeze, pinching her hardening nipples. Her milky tits were divine, the perfect size and shape for her body type and you felt your pants tightening at the sight of them,

“Like what you see so far?” Tiffany asked, giggling cutely as her fingers played with her rosy pink nipples.

“I do. When I asked for the best they weren’t kidding around.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll make sure you get your money's worth."

Tiffany ran her hands over the exposed flesh of her body, lifting her arms up over her head to give you the perfect view. There was just one thing left, and she wasn't going to make you wait for it as she spun on her heels and bent over, letting you see her tight ass almost fully exposed in the skimpiest thong nestled in between soft looking milky cheeks of her backside.

You weren't prepared as Tiffany slowly peeled her thong off her wide hips and down her long legs, kicking it away as her beautiful pussy was revealed.

“Shaved clean as requested.”

The pink flesh between Tiffany's thighs was mouthwatering, and you couldn't hold back as you brought two fingers and rubbed her pink slit, feeling the wetness present already.

“Nice and wet for you already,” Tiffany said as she turned around to face you, the constant smile plastered on her face as her newly naked body was all yours to gawk over as your eyes roamed over every inch of bare skin.

"God, you're absolutely perfect," you said, unable to stop staring at her tight body for a second. If Tiffany was the top of the line when it came to escorts, you were kicking yourself for not hiring one before if they were all even half as hot as she was.

“You’re not so bad yourself. Now, what else can I do for you, sir?”

There was a small part of you that just wanted to bend her over the bathroom counter and finish inside her within just minutes, but you knew you wouldn’t enjoy that as much and you certainly wouldn’t get your money’s worth. You wanted this to be a memorable experience.

“I want you to suck my cock.”

Tiffany’s eyes lit up at your request as if you had just named one of her favorite things to do.

“I’d love to, sir. Why don’t you get comfortable for me?”

It would take getting used to this, having Tiffany obeying practically anything you wanted without question. You scooted back onto the bed, fixing the pillows the way you liked it before laying on your back and awaited what was next. Tiffany was eagerly one step behind, carefully climbing the bed in nothing but heels and a smile.

You settled yourself in and felt the comforting weight of Tiffany on your body, her beautiful face inches away from yours as she leaned in to kiss you, her lips ridiculously soft. Her small hands unbuttoned your shirt, exposing your chest little by little.

“Has it been a while?” Tiffany asked, opening your shirt all the way up to fully reveal your bare torso to her as she licked your bare chest.

Maybe she could sense it or see it in your eyes, all you knew was you missed everything about this. Tiffany took your silence as an answer, planting another kiss on your lips while playing with your bare chest.

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll make sure to take good care of you, sir,” she said as she leaned back and grabbed a handful of your bulge that had been poking through your pants, feeling the outline with both of her petite hands.

“How do you like your dick sucked?” she asked, a question you certainly hadn’t been asked before. She felt up more of your bulge before growing impatient and unzipping your pants.

“I’m not picky. Do you have a gag reflex, Tiffany?”

She shook her head as she yanked your pants off, tossing them off the side of the bed as your bulge poked more prominent through the fabric of your boxers, desperately wanting to escape.

“Not even a little bit. I can go as deep as you’d like, sir,” she said, wanting to offer a demonstration as she practically ripped your boxers off your body, freeing your rock hard shaft to the air as her eyes widened.

“You have a very nice cock,” Tiffany said, hungrily eyeing your exposed cock as her warm delicate hands caressed your bare thighs, sending more blood to your aching shaft.

Tiffany licked her lips and wrapped one hand around your stiff shaft, letting the other rest on your thigh as she gently pumped it, spitting on it several times as she made it glistening wet with her warm saliva.

“I’m going to make you feel very good, sir.”

Time was of the essence here, and Tiffany didn’t waste any as she got straight to work, giving a few teasing licks before parting her lips and taking you into the warmth of her mouth, sucking on the first few inches of your cock.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned, overwhelmed with the heavenly sensations as Tiffany sucked you off, never breaking eye contact as her heavenly soft lips wrapped around your cock and her cheeks hollowed. The pleasure was intense, and with a few short movements she pushed her lips deeper and deeper until she had taken every inch down her tight throat, resting her wet mouth at the base of your cock.

“Oh my god, Tiffany,” you said, struggling to keep your senses in check as she kept your cock warm inside her mouth, squeezing the muscles in her throat to add stimulation without any struggle whatsoever. When her lips slid back down, she repeated the same act with ease, taking you all the way down as your tip hit the back of her throat and tightened around it as if it demonstrating her prowess.

You couldn’t help but let out a series of groans and moans, the feeling of your shaft stuffed inside Tiffany’s mouth as she worked a face pace, bobbing her head rapidly and slurping on every inch.

“You’re so good at that, f-fuck.”

“It’s all part of the job, sir. I love pleasing you. It helps when you have such a yummy cock,“ Tiffany said as she dove right back, lips going wild on your cock.

The pleasure was driving you insane as she kept her hungry eyes on you, using her lips and tongue to pleasure you. She used long strokes from base to tip effortlessly, not gagging once even as you hit the back of her throat several times.

Maybe she was an expert at blowjobs due to her job or her natural skills, either way you were lost in bliss. This went on for several breathtaking seconds as she continued slobbering on your cock, becoming progressively sloppier with each bob of her head as she covered your shaft in drool, some of it spilling out of the corners of her lips and dripping on the stunning features of her face.

“You like it when a messy little slut sucks your cock?”

Your only response came in loud moans as her oral assault never ceased, something you were thankful for but at the same time it became difficult to handle. It had been too long since you had gotten a blowjob that felt so good you felt it everywhere, and you’d give up an entire month’s paycheck for incredible head like this.

Tiffany was nothing but a consummate professional when it came to sucking your cock, she knew just what to do with her talented mouth, making sure to keep her pretty eyes on you to make sure you were enjoying it all.

“Can’t leave any part out,” she said, exploring your shaft with her wet tongue until she arrived at your sensitive balls, painting each one in succession before tenderly sucking them individually. With even more hunger Tiffany slurped on them just as loud and messily as she did your shaft, keeping your wet cock in her hands as she stroked it at the same time, wanting to give as much wanton pleasure as possible.

“That feels so fucking good.”

“I’m glad. Would you like a little extra, sir?”

You weakly forced out a nod, and she gave a few more loud messy slurps as her tongue ran lazy circles around your balls. You weren’t sure what she meant but you quickly found out as she lowered her head and you felt her tongue teasing the tip of your untouched hole, causing your entire body to jerk at the suddenness.

“H-holy s-shit,” you moaned, the intense sensation felt so new and foreign as Tiffany explored more of your hole, pushing her wet tongue inside your ass all while she kept a strong grip on your cock, pumping it slowly as she stimulated as many parts of your body as she could.

You had never felt anything like this, your cock leaked all over Tiffany’s slender fingers as she rimmed you, the sensations so sharp and intense you were losing all control. Tiffany practically was thrusting her tongue inside your hole with her tongue and looking up at you with a constant look of determination, trying to wring out every ounce of pleasure she could.

Desperate gasps and moans grew louder as Tiffany went wild. Slow pleasurable licks grew into long deep swirls of her tongue as she buried her tongue inside, making out with your tight hole and hitting all the sensitive nerves as she quickly coated it with her warm saliva.

It took everything you had not to erupt right then, something she seemed to sense as she slowly her pace down. Tiffany licked from your taint to the tip of your cock repeatedly before forming a fist around your needy cock and slowly jerking you off.

“T-that was incredible,” you said, your labored breathing making it hard to speak clearly. You felt grateful for the respite on your body as Tiffany gave slow circles around your swollen tip, rubbing that sweet spot on the underside of your shaft.

"I'm glad you enjoyed that, sir. Are you ready to fuck me yet?” she asked, smiling brightly as she lazily stroked your cock.

“Absolutely.”

“Good, how do you want me, sir?”

So many choices, but so little time. You wanted to take her on every surface in your hotel room, but you would have to narrow it down a bit. You grabbed her hips, gesturing for her to get off you as you laid her on her side, marveling at the beauty of her naked body. You ran your fingers through her wet folds, playing with her pretty pussy before joining her and laying down beside her.

“Good choice. This is one of my favorite positions.”

You grabbed a hip and made sure her legs were closed, rubbing your tip through her slick pussy lips to feel her warmth. Her flesh felt so silky soft already that you knew you were in for a treat as you aimed yourself at her opening, unprepared for the sensations awaiting your body.

“Shove it all inside me. Don’t hold anything back, sir.”

“Do you like it rough, baby?” you asked as you nudged your tip against her warm entrance, pushing yourself inside her warm wet hole as you entered her with a loud moan.

“F-fuck, yes. I love being fucked rough. If I can still walk out of here you haven’t gotten your money's worth."

Tiffany shifted her gaze towards you, her eyes beckoning you to take her as you pushed in deeper. Her walls gripped you tightly, a tightness that surprised you given that Tiffany was paid to sleep with people on a regular basis, but it was more than welcome and you needed more of it.

"You're so big, sir. Keep going, stretch my tight little pussy out.."

Tiffany felt so wet and warm, her pussy squeezing your throbbing shaft that you found it easy to slide all the way inside her, bottoming her out. Given her earlier words you didn’t allow any time for adjustment and began delivering rough thrusts, burying yourself inside her to the hilt.

“Just like that, use my tight pussy. It’s all for you, sir,” Tiffany said as your pace quickened and you began slamming into her tight cunt, earning more moans as you fucked her with purpose.

Your hands weren’t kept idle, keeping a hand on her waist as you snaked the other under her body, reaching underneath her arm and grabbed a handful of her breast, squeezing the soft flesh as you pounded away.

The position you took her in was perfect, granting you constant eye contact with the sultry vixen you were driving yourself as deep as you could, letting you see all her curves while giving additional intimacy that something missionary could never offer.

“Like those tits?” Tiffany asked, an unnecessary question as your fingers were kneading into her soft flesh, playing with the stiff nipple that you found.

“I love them. They’re beautiful,” you said, and you wish that you had time to feast on them, but given you only had an hour you had more important things you wanted to do to her.

“Play with yourself for me, baby,” you ordered, as you grabbed one of her soft thighs and lifted her leg into the air, granting access to her pretty little cunt. She obliged without hesitation and brought a hand between her legs, rubbing her clit in slow delicate circles.

“You feel so good inside me. Fuck me harder, sir,” she said, her eyes glued to you as you continued playing with her breasts, using more power in your hips as you began pounding away into her tight cunt that demanded more.

You hadn’t been inside her for that long, but Tiffany was already dripping wet, your shaft covered in her sweet nectar which aided every thrust and made every movement silky smooth that you wanted to stay inside her forever.

There were a lot of benefits to this position, the most prominent being able to roam Tiffany’s body as you fucked her, getting lost in her curves as you looked at every inch of bare skin from her pretty face all the way down to her feet.

“How’s that pussy feel? Tight enough for you?” Tiffany asked, every thrust of your shaft rocking her slender body that made the bed shake in rhythm.

“Feels so fucking good. Should have done this a long time ago,” you said as you upped your pace even more, harshly smacking your hips against her bare skin, the needy sounds of flesh on flesh filling the room.

“You fuck me so well. My pussy is getting so stretched by such a big cock, oh fuck! I’m c-close, can I cum, sir?”

She didn’t need permission, but you appreciated her asking for it. Her professionalism knew no end.

“Of course. Cum for me, Tiffany,” you said, giving even harder thrusts into her body as the bed smacked against the wall. You felt bad for whoever was on the other side of the wall, but that guilt dissipated shortly as you pounded into her, every thrust balls deep into her wet and enjoyable warmth.

Tiffany didn’t take long to achieve climax, her pussy pulsating around you shaft wildly as your hips pistoned, her body taking every hard thrust and accepting it with ease. She came loudly, the entire bed shaking as her body gave in as her toes curled, ecstasy hitting her from all sides as she was turned into a puddle of pleasure.

You didn’t let up as you fucked Tiffany straight through her orgasm, the intense pleasure doing a number on her as she let out multiple needy moans and gasps. Your cock drowned in her juices as you kept thrusting, only letting up once you felt her high had run its course.

“T-that was amazing, sir. You really know how to fuck a woman.”

Tiffany’s glazed over eyes looked weakly at you as you gave a half-dozen more thrusts before leaving the comfort of her warmth, watching your shaft covered with her juices glistening in the lights.

“I’m just getting started. I’d love to fuck you from behind. Bend over for me, please.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

Tiffany didn’t waste any time as she faced the foot of the bed, getting herself into position on her hands and knees. Her sinful body was all yours for the taking, that perfectly round ass of hers raised in the air as her head was flat on the mattress.

The view you saw in front of you was absolutely perfect as you ran your hands all over Tiffany’s body, feeling the material of her stockings and squeezing her buttcheeks as your fingers dug into her soft flesh. Her body was an absolute work of art, blessed with pristine milky skin from head to toe that you wish you had the entire night just to lick every inch of her.

“You like fucking a girl with heels on?”

“It’s one of my favorite things.”

“I like it too, it makes me feel sexy. Now shove that cock back inside me, sir.”

Not wanting to spend any time outside her than what was necessary, you took your shaft into one hand and rubbed it against her wet pussy, the abundant wetness making itself known as your aching shaft sank inside into her tight hole, causing a shared moan.

Tiffany felt even better as you entered her from behind, much tighter and wetter as her slick walls clung around your shaft as if they desperately wanted you trapped inside her. Placing a hand on each of her delicious hips, your hands squeezed her soft flesh as you began to move, thrusting just as deep as you did before as those beautiful moans of hers filled your eardrums.

It took some time for your body to process everything, the sensations almost too much to bear as you fucked Tiffany’s tight body from behind. The hot dripping flesh wrapped so tightly around your cock, squeezing so harshly as you slammed into her warm hole, it was all so heavenly and a moment you wanted to freeze in time.

After several breaths you found a rhythm that you liked, the warmth of Tiffany’s tight cunt driving you crazy as her erotic moans endlessly left her sultry lips, desperately pleading for more.

You needed a distraction from the pleasure flooding your senses as your hands explored her body, touching as much bare skin as you could. Exploring everywhere from her bare shoulders to her toned back, you were once again drawn to her breasts, giving the soft mounds a firm squeeze, kneading the soft flesh until your hands were back to her wonderful ass.

It was an explosion of pleasure being this deep inside Tiffany, feeling every last bit of her pussy with your throbbing hungry shaft as you pounded her to the hilt.

You wanted more of this sexual woman, you desperately needed more than what you were taking from her as you reached down just above her currently filled slit and teased her puckered hole with your thumb.

The moan you heard from Tiffany signaled she not only enjoyed this but wanted more. You were happy to indulge her as you let spit fall out of your lips and land inside her tight rim as you pushed your thumb inside her forbidden area.

You pushed past your knuckle and pumped slowly in rhythm as you gently opened her up, giving yourself a sample of how tight her other hole was.

“Do you like taking it in the ass?” you asked, pushing in as deep as your thumb could go as the rim of her ass invited you in.

“Fuck yes, sir. But I want more than just your thumb inside my ass.”

You would be more than happy to help her with that as you gave her your final round of thrusts inside her pussy, slowly withdrawing from her warmth in preparation of what the next step was.

“There’s lube in my purse.”

You grabbed her expensive purse that had been forgotten on its side, opening it up and trying not to snoop around as you found a clear bottle of liquid tucked away at the bottom.

“A woman always comes prepared. Even when I’m not working,” Tiffany said, flashing her bright smile again as she looked over her shoulder while you lined up your lubed cock with the rim of her ass.

The instant you felt flesh on flesh you felt your breath being taken away as you nudged against Tiffany’s ass and took a deep breath in preparation.

“It’s been a few days since I’ve gotten a request for anal. I’ve been craving it so badly, I can’t wait to feel how that cock feels inside my ass.”

You couldn’t wait any longer, pushing your hips forward as your cock slipped inside her warm and suffocatingly tight asshole, disappearing in between her cheeks. Startly slowly, you penetrated her with the tip of your cock before shoving the entirety of your length inside, every inch of your throbbing shaft being squeezed firmly.

“Holy shit, that’s fucking tight,” you moaned, not offering her time to adjust the thick flesh inside her as you wanted her opened up without hesitation. Tiffany didn’t seem to mind one bit as her hands scrambled to wrap her slender fingers around the bed sheets, letting out satisfied moans of pleasure as you pumped away.

Your hands found their rightful place on her wide hips once more and you watched intently as you buried your shaft to the hilt inside her shapely ass, every motion you made intensified by the grippingly tight hole that swallowed up your cock.

You established a furious pace, even harsher than when you had been inside her pussy as the overwhelming tightness surrounded the entirety of your shaft. Every loud smack of your hips caused her asscheeks to ripple, your balls slapping against her dripping cunt as she shouted out louder in deep bliss.

The rhythm was harsh and merciless, in and out your cock speared Tiffany’s tight asshole repeatedly as you were able to fuck her with ease, stuffing her perfect little ass with as much cock as would fit, unleashing a torrent of rough thrusts that shook the entire bed.

“Is this what you like, Tiffany? Being a good little slut for me?”

“Y-yes, sir, I love how deep you are, I feel so fucking full. I don’t want you to stop until you’re satisfied.”

Tiffany had satisfied you plenty already, but you wanted to hold her to her words, and you weren’t done with her. You went all in, using Tiffany’s body for your own pleasure and let your animalistic urges take over, thrusting into her tight ass with every amount of force and energy you had in you.

It was rough, loud, and certainly pleasurable to fuck her at such an extreme pace, wondering if you had started to hurt her but the never-ending stream of moans that escaped her throat signaled the opposite.

“Oh fuck, It feels so good!”

“You like your ass being fucked like this? God, you’re still so fucking tight!

“Y-yes! I love my tight little asshole being stretched, please keep using me!”

Tiffany’s pleading words were the very encouragement you needed to use the remaining strength you had. If this was the first use of her services, you might need to make weekly appointments with her.

You wanted to take more pleasure from Tiffany’s willing body as you grabbed her slender arms and locked them behind her, driving your cock deep inside her hot little asshole knowing the end would soon be near for you.

Tiffany’s noise of pleasure intensified as the use of her arms to find any sort of purchase was taken away from her, giving in and losing any self of control as you gave the harshest thrusts into her ass you could muster with only the goal of climax in mind.

With a bruising grip on her slim wrists you held her arms in place, furiously thrusting into her warm hole carelessly, sweat dripping down your forehead as you mercilessly used Tiffany’s body, feeling a knot tightening in your abdomen.

“F-fuck, I’m going to cum,” you growled, the words almost involuntarily slipping out of your lips as the pressure boiling inside your body was quickly becoming too much, pistoning wildly into her ass and desperately chasing your orgasm.

“Please cum for me, sir. Cum wherever you would like.”

It took you some time to figure out where just where you wanted to do that, as each subsequent thrust brought you closer and closer to orgasm. The thought of spilling your seed in her tight ass was very appealing, but painting that gorgeous face of hers with your thick load was irresistible and won out in the end.

With the final decision made you gave into your desires, savoring the last bit of hammering thrusts inside her ass until your limits had been reached and you withdrew from her now gaping hole, hopping off the bed.

“Come here, get on your knees. Hurry up.”

Tiffany scurried to join your position, excitedly getting on her knees on the side of the bed for you without wasting any time. Both of you knew you didn’t have long as you slowly stroked your cock, aiming it at her perfect features.

“Cum all over my face, sir. Please, I know you’re just dying to make a mess all over me.”

The copious amount of dirty talk that left Tiffany’s lips was the tipping point, her eyes staring up at you as her hands caressed your thighs, rubbing them up and down and trying to urge your orgasm.

“F-fuck, Tiffany, I’m cumming!”

“Cover me, sir! I need your cum so badly, please cum all over me!”

You held her head with your free hand, keeping her in place as the moment you both had been waiting for arrived. With just a few more strokes you unloaded all over her face. You sprayed her forehead with thick hot spurts of semen, then her cheeks and nose, finally ending with her lips until she was thoroughly glazed, smiling the entire time until not a single drop remained.

When she had earned every last drop from she took your still pulsating shaft from you, sucking your tip to make sure nothing was left, as the generous load you left staining her features slowly dripped down her face.

“Thank you, sir,” Tiffany said with the biggest smile on her face as she licked her lips, trying to taste the fresh warmth that had been deposited on her skin. Her features now coated with thick cream had never looked better, accentuating her stunning visuals as the happiness in her eyes now clearly visible.

Her slender fingers wrapped around your sensitive shaft, running her hands from base to tip and giving a firm squeeze.

“You’re still hard?” Tiffany asked, giving your balls a firm tug.

“You’ve got ten minutes left, sir. Think you can go for another round?”

Trying to catch your breath you let out a gentle nod as Tiffany looked on in delight, her face still stained with your generous load and she had never looked prettier.

“Perfect! I’ll go cleaned up and you can take a break. Meet me in the shower whenever you’re ready.”

Tiffany was as bubbly and bright as ever as she left your sight, her wide hips swaying as she disappeared into the bathroom.

✦✦

The hot steamy shower was the perfect backdrop, accompanied by the sound of running water and desperate gasps and moans. If the bedroom had been the main course this was the much needed dessert to satisfy your appetite.

Tiffany had the energy of a woman who seemingly could go all night, and you were lucky for just an hour of her time,

She had an insatiable look in her eyes, as her legs spread wide for easy access as you held on to each of her supple cheeks with your palms, pinning her body against the cold shower door as you repeatedly bounced her on your wet cock.

The echoing shower walls were filled with equal parts lustful noises and steam as you carried her weight, driving yourself again and again into her pussy as the hot water sprayed down your naked bodies.

Tiffany’s energetic expression had been turned into lust and desire as her hands wrapped tightly around the back of your neck, taking every inch into her body with ease and demanding more and more.

The sounds of hot flesh against flesh spurred your loins as you gave a final set of thrusts before setting her back down, letting her bare feet touch the shower tile for a moment before you spun her around, inserting yourself into her tightness once more.

Neither of you said a word as you once again pinned Tiffany’s body to the shower door, communicating only in pleasurable moans as her breasts were smashed against the glass as you pistoned into her hole, grabbing onto a handful of hair for good measure.

Water droplets bounced off her skin in time with her rippling cheeks to the rhythm of just two people, weren’t going to last the full ten minutes, not that you needed to. This time you weren’t going to leave her warmth until you were done with her, you weren’t going to let her leave the steam-filled shower without your cum dripping down her thighs.

Your time in the shower seemed to last forever as you pounded Tiffany, trying to find your desired outcome. With your fingers wrapped in a bundle of rough ponytail while the other squeezed a hip, you took your final moments of pleasure from her and maintained constant desperation for your release.

“I’m going to cum inside you, Tiffany,” you said directly into her ear, not asking for permission, simply letting her know that she was only there to execute your whims as your hands roamed her delicious backside before finding their destination, giving a hard slap against her ass that caused her pussy to tighten around you.

“Please do, sir. Please cum inside me!”

It took little time at all as you slammed into her cunt, burying yourself to the hilt for the last few strokes, making each one count. Moaning loudly enough to overpower the water current you erupted, spilling your seed deep into Tiffany’s tight pussy and filling her insides with a plentiful flood of semen.

You thrusted until you couldn’t, emptying your balls inside the inviting woman’s hole while you throbbing wildly until you were drained, sending everything you had into her body. You barely had enough energy to stand as you rested your chin on her shoulder, letting go of the tight grip of her raven locks as they draped across her wet naked back.

Exhausted gasps echoed together as you slowly withdrew an inch at a time until she was no longer filled with flesh, your cum leaking out of her splayed pink lips and staining her beautiful thighs as it spilled onto the water underneath, washing itself away.

“You’re...amazing,” you weakly said, gasping between tired syllables.

“Just part of the job, sir.”

Tiffany spun around for you and let you gander once more at her naked body, and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last time you saw her in this state as you both took your exit out of the shower.

You dried off and slipped into a fresh pair of boxers and took a seat on the bed. Tiffany joined shortly after, leaving the bathroom still filled with steam in a loosely tied bathrobe.

“Was everything satisfactory, sir?” she asked, disposing of the cotton white robe as she commenced the part of the night you were regretting, changing back into what she arrived in.

“Couldn’t ask for anything better, Tiffany. You were wonderful.”

“Thank you, sir. Call me if you need my services again.”

[harryspet]

positions | b.barnes & p.parker

[warnings] dark!bucky barnes x reader, grey!peter parker x reader, petplay, abduction, collars/bondage, brainwashing, noncon/dubcon oral sex, degredation/dehuminization, sex slave training, some weird shit 

A/N: So I tried something new and this is kind of a test to see if people like it. I’m into it so I figured I might as well write it :) if you don’t know what petplay is ... google it 

In which Bucky trains you for your new owner, Peter Parker. 

word count: 4.3k

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taglist: @cherienymphe​ @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011  @visintaes @cherienymphe

You dipped your head down, trying to get your fingers closer to your mouth you could pull out the gag tightly wrapped around your head. Your cheeks were wet with mascara and tears and your body was completely sore, having been wrestled, bound, and thrown into a cage. Leather cuffs decorated your wrist, ankles and were even wrapped around your thighs, all connected together by chains and leaving you positioned in all fours. 

You even felt a tightness around your neck which could only be a collar. 

Where are my clothes? 

Of course, he knew you were a tourist, having asked him directions to the club you were supposed to meet your friends at. He joined you and bought an entire round of drinks for you and your friends. You were broke so how could you turn down drinks from such a nice guy? Who cares if he was trying to get into your pants, your friends would help if he got too handsy. You remembered dancing with the older and extremely handsome man for most of the night, actually enjoying being pressed against him. 

You remembered the dark brown hair that he pushed back from his face, the stubble you felt against your cheek when he spoke in your ear. 

You were supposed to take the pill he offered you together but now you knew his must have been a placebo. Your friends saw his face and they’d help the cops find you. That’s what you told yourself but as the hours that felt like days went by in the dim, concrete room.

You weren’t alone, you knew that, you could hear the moaning and whimpering of other girls that you assumed were locked away just like you were. You were being sex trafficked, you assumed, and the thought was suffocating you more than the gag was. You began to hyperventilate and, no matter how much you tried to control your breathing, you couldn’t stop yourself. You welcomed the darkness of sleep and hoped you would wake up in your hotel room. 

You awoke to the sound of tapping on the cage, your heavy eyes blinking open to find the man who was responsible for your kidnapping. Unlike the smile he wore when you first met him, the look on his face was stoic as he bent down to examine you. 

He said his name was James but his friends called him Bucky.  

“Look how beautiful you are even when you’re crying,” He said, a pain in the back of your throat when you realized the tears were starting again, “Look at those eyes … I knew you had the face for this.” 

He reached towards you, pulling up the hinge that was keeping the cage shut. It was a simple contraption but with your limbs pinned by leather, it made the simple task impossible to do. He opened the cage, reaching into his back pocket, and pulling out what looked like a …  leash, “C’mon, doll, let's get the hard part over with,” He was going to lead you around like a dog? You backed yourself up further, suddenly thinking you might be safer inside the cage, “I’ll give you another chance ... “

You shook your head, an inaudible sound of protests coming from your mouth because you were gagged. He clicked his tongue, “That little collar around your neck, that's the one good girls wear. Would you rather wear an electric one?”

You paused, your eyes widening. This was even worse than you assumed and, although you were shaking, you let him attach the leash to the collar. He stood, pulling on the leash. It tightened the more you hesitated and you found yourself struggling for air. You crawled out onto the cold concrete, unable to stand up. 

The room reminded you of a basement or a mad scientist’s lab, concrete walls, one wall lined with cages, another covered in what looked like torture devices, and a metal table in the middle of the room, “There you go, good girl,”  He started pulling you further along and but you couldn’t coordinate your movements. The feeling was so unnatural. You finally got a look at the other girls but, unlike you, they weren’t bound like you were. Some were sleeping peacefully and the others had their wide, wanting eyes on Bucky as if they desired his attention. 

Growing frustrated, you started to pull back, but it only choked you further. You struggled to make actual words come out but you were loud against the gag, though your efforts were probably futile. He forced you to crawl over to the table, where he paused before he was suddenly wrapping his arms around your torso. 

He lifted you onto the table and, for a short moment, you imagined the muscles that were probably underneath his black shirt. The cold of the table sent a chill through your body, adding to the eerie nature of the room. As you tried to move into a more comfortable position, resting your bottom back on your feet, you felt a sharp sting to your bottom, “I didn’t tell you to change positions,” You heard him say, and when you tried to turn your head to look at him, he spanked you again, “Face forward, pet.”

You tried to blink away your tears as you turned your head away, “Are you naturally obedient … or are you just scared out of your mind, huh?”

You weren’t sure either. The only thing you knew was that you wanted to be miles and miles away from where you were now. Were you even in New York anymore? 

“The fear will go away,” He said and you felt him messing with the leather cuffs wrapped around your limbs. He tightened them in areas that were loose and made sure they were secure. When he got to your gag, you didn’t expect him to untie the cloth from around your mouth. Before it was loose enough, “Speak and the shock collar goes on … nod if you understand.”

Slowly, you nodded. Trying to protect yourself, you decided you would be obedient for now. When there was a clear chance of escape, you could take it. The gag being gone gave you back some comfort but your lips trembled. You wanted badly to say something, to reason with him but he seemed set on doing whatever he was going to do. Whatever he did to those other girls … 

You felt a hand on your waist, it wasn’t rough, but his touch sent warning signals through your brain, “From now on, the only words I should hear from your mouth are ‘Yes, Master’. Do you understand?”

Your lips did not part to utter those words which led to a spank on your bottom. You yelped at the initial one and his assault continued until you gave in. You squeezed your hands into a fist, embarrassment rushing through you, as you finally said, “Y-Yes, Master.”

Sounding triumphant, he moved on to the next part of his inspection. Still looking forward, you were pulled to the side when he grabbed a hold of your hair. He separated it, almost neatly, into two sections, tying each side into a ponytail and effectively removing it from your face. Next, you watched him walk over to his wall of torture tools. 

You looked at him then down at the restraints around your wrist. You pulled your hands in opposite directions, testing the strength of the chain connecting them. When he approached again, he was holding another black item. You tried backing away but he grabbed a hold of your arm, “Shhh,” He spoke, sounding more annoyed than calming. You weren’t sure what it was until it was right in front of your face. Black leather straps attached to a metal ring. When he grabbed your face, forcing the ring into your mouth, you thought you might choke once again. Like the cloth gag, he tightened this one behind your head, “There, that’s better. Your first, big reward will be getting to take off that gag … in the meantime, you’ll learn how to beg without using your words.”

He held your chin in his hand, the other touching over your hair. For a moment, he seemed to look at you with adoration. 

+

For the next three weeks, you’d stay in that cement room for almost twenty-three hours of the day, Bucky only letting you out for your “lessons” or to let you relieve yourself. He’d told you a while ago that you wouldn’t do anything without his permission, not even go to the restroom. It was dehumanizing which you knew was the point of all of this. You were already starting to feel relieved whenever Bucky appeared because it meant you could come out of the cage. 

He often walked you around the room, letting you practice coordinating your movements. Humiliating as it was, your favorite thing was when he’d take off the restraints, letting you stand up, as he bathed you. 

Today, things were different, “It’s your lucky day, pet. We start house training today.” In the morning, he came down the stairs, and, this time, he led you up them. Undoing the chains but leaving the cuffs allowed you to move more freely but you learned that he still wanted to crawl. It made you feel small, in comparison to the massive house that was built above the basement. The home was sleek, expensive, and clean as well as full of grays, whites, and black colors. 

Bringing you into the living room, The living room was illuminated by the tall windows and you could see the thick green trees outside. You definitely weren’t in the city anymore. You could run now, if you could find a way out. So far, you hadn’t spotted a front door but maybe that would be the obvious out. He was a professional after all and your escape would take some critical thinking. 

Right now, you were focused on not being punished. From the moment Bucky decided to move the ring gag, you’d do anything to keep it off. You’d gotten used to the feeling but it was still painful and it didn’t make you feel any better about yourself when you were constantly drooling on yourself. 

You soon learned what exactly Bucky meant by housetraining. Instead of spanking, Bucky decided on a new positive reinforcer. With everything you did right, he gave you little bites of chocolate which you became grateful for. The food he served down in the basement didn’t resemble anything tasteful. 

First, you went through positions. 

Stay, Sit, Heel, Wait, Come, Stand, Bed or Crate, and plenty more an adult woman could easily do but fight her cognitive dissonance at the same time. You tried your best to not focus on the embarrassment and remembered the food … you even took comfort in the soft pats on your head and bottom, a reminder of human contact. 

“When I tell you to Mount, I want your face down and ass in the air,” The command was simple enough but Bucky sensed your hesitance. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen every inch of your body already, “Face down,” Bucky urged you, his voice deep and commanding. 

Slowly you moved down to the carpet, your bottom in the air. You felt him standing behind you, probably taking in the view. He placed his feet between your legs, kicking them apart and allowing him a better view. He was quiet for a moment and you began to assume the worst, jumping a bit when you felt a hand on your bottom, “Face down,” He commanded again and you pressed your cheek to the carpet, “Good. Don’t you worry, sweet thing. I’ll leave this hole untouched for your future owner … though I am tempted.”

“Up,” He said, grabbing ahold of the leash attached to your collar. He led you towards the white, leather couch, taking a seat while pulling you in between his spread legs. Leaning forward, Bucky’s held your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. Bucky watched the panic in your eyes, the uncertainty and fear that was still lingering, “Things will be so much better when you realize you rather be a dumb, little puppy … the overthinking, the anxiety, you can let it all go, let someone else take control.”

You began to shake your head and Bucky grabbed your chin roughly, his eyes darkening, “You’ve been good all day, don’t start now,” He said, his grip still tight, “I think you need to show me a little bit more gratitude.” You watched him begin to wrap the leather leash around his hand, over and over, until he had all the control of it. It pulled you closer to his crotch as Bucky leaned back against the couch. 

“I’m sure you’ve done this before, right?” He smirked, undoing his belt, and unbuttoning his jeans. 

“Please-”  You yelped as he pulled you even further. 

“Pets don’t get to make demands. I don’t want any thoughts going on in that little head that don’t involve your mouth being around my cock. Understand?” Another rough pull. 

You nodded, “Y-Yes,” You rushed the words out, “Yes, Master.”

“Good puppy,” He spoke condescendingly, reaching into his briefs to pull out his cock, and he touched it against your cheek, letting you feel how hard he already was, “If you make me cum fast enough, I’ll let you sleep upstairs tonight.”

You’d never fully admit it to yourself but the prospect of sleeping in a real bed, at least not sleeping in a cold basement, sounded a lot more appealing than the food. Though you were hesitant, you knew how badly you wanted to stay upstairs, even if that meant you had to be with Bucky. 

You grabbed the base of his cock with your hand and put the tip of him in his mouth. As Bucky’s head tilted back, you began to work your magic which wasn’t much seeing as how you hadn’t been in many relationships. You worked him into your mouth slowly, trying not to trigger your gag reflex, while you stroked his bottom half. “Good girl … good girl,” You heard him whisper, trying not to find the way his face contorted in pleasure as attractive. He took you away from everything, you had to remind yourself. 

As time went on, you could tell he was getting close. You swirl your tongue around his tip, anticipating his orgasm. He grabbed you by your ponytail, pushing you further down, as he came down your throat, “Swallow it all,” He grunted, “Good girl.”

You did swallow it all though it was hard to hide your disgust at the taste. Bucky looked amused, once again taking your face in his hands. He had a thing for your lips, that much you understood, and you wondered if he wanted to kiss you. Maybe it was another thing that was oft limits and to be saved for your true “owner”. 

That night, Bucky kept his word though you slept at the end of his bed with a pillow and blanket, your collar chained to the bedpost. Somehow, it was the best night's rest you had in weeks.

+

“This is … impressive,” Peter breathed out, stuffing his hands into his pocket in order to keep them from fidgeting. The sight of women displayed before him, each one of them beautiful, was reddening his cheeks which he hoped Bucky didn’t notice, “And you’ve trained all of them yourself?”

Like he was showing off one of his greatest accomplishments, Bucky smiled. Three of his “pets” sat on their knees obediently in the area in front of the fireplace. All tourists and all of them had something special Bucky noticed about them. Holding two glasses of bourbon, he handed one to Peter to which Peter accepted politely, “Tricks and all. Piper there has been with me for over a year. Feel free to touch and try out the merchandise, they love it.” 

The girls did seem eager to get their hands on him, with warm smiles and flirtatious eyes. Though they loved Bucky, they’d been trained to work hard so that one day they can be adopted by someone else. All they had worked for would be worth it once they were chosen.

Peter’s eyes widened, “Actually, I don't think-”

“Not your cup of tea, Pete?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, bringing his glass to his lips. 

“No, uhm, that’s not it,” Peter said. The entire idea of this was becoming a little too real for the young Avenger. He knew what had led him here, the loneliness of being a superhero, and the inability to get close to someone out of fear that his enemies would target them. That's how he lost MJ and he’d promised himself that he’d never hurt like that again, “I’m not sure about … all of this.”

Bucky placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving him a look that father might give a son, “You have a lot of empathy, that's why,” Bucky explained, “But you already do your part to society, saving people and risking your life. It’s okay to be a bit selfish and take back from the universe. You deserve it, kid. Besides, I’m sure your left-hand could use a break every now and then.”

Peter shook his head, trying to hide his amusement, “Ha ha.”

“C’mere, let me show you something,” With his hand still on his shoulder, Bucky led Peter over to the basement door, “I’ve never shown anyone where the magic happens. My customers usually see one of the girls, gets over excited and immediately wants to buy one.”

The lights flicked on and illuminated the staircase. As they went down, Peter’s eyes were wide with curiosity, feeling as if Bucky was the villain and he was entering his evil lair. Well, his feelings weren’t totally wrong, “... do they usually test them out too?”

“Usually, yes …” Bucky trailed off, realizing something, “You’d like someone untouched, I can tell. There’s someone that I think would be perfect for you.”

The two walked along a long corridor until getting to a room full of metal cages. You were the only one left downstairs, the other girls were ready to be sold, and you were sleeping peacefully like you did most time during the day. After seeing Bucky leading the other girls away, you didn’t expect to see him for hours. Now that he had returned, you were perked up, and even more curious about the man with him. 

Seeing someone new made you want to cry out for help but that would be stupid. If he was with Bucky, he was probably into Bucky’s sick business too. They stopped in front of your cage and Bucky crouched down to open the lock, crawling out as Bucky beckoned you by waving his hand. 

Peter’s heartbeat quickened at the sight of you, watching how your eyes darted back in forth between the two men. You seemed just as frightened as Peter was, “Sit,” Bucky told you and, hesitantly, you sat back on your knees, your hands in your lap. Though you were still naked, you’d earned your way out of the restraints except for your collar of course. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? I haven’t named her yet but I’ve only had her for a few months.”

Bucky ran his hand over your hair and then down your back, his hand resting on your bottom, “Yeah, uhm … yeah,” You connected the dots quickly, realizing the man with the light brown hair and kind eyes was interested in buying her, “She already seems very behaved.”

You looked to Bucky to see his reaction and he had a proud look on his face, “We had an issue about two weeks ago but it was easily corrected,” You cringed, looking away, remembering the week you spent with the electric collar on all because you’d tried to run to the front door. You could still feel the current rushing through your body, paralyzing your muscles, “She is very sweet, good with her mouth and she’s a cuddler, that’s why I think you’d be a good match.”

Bucky stood and you wished for a second that he’d keep caressing your back. He’s spent most of the last week with the other girls and you hadn’t slept upstairs in ages, “Would she really be ready after two months?”

Bucky sighed, “I’d have to keep her for a few more months. It usually takes more than a year,” Peter nodded, “But, for my friend, I’ll make sure she’s ready as soon as possible. So?”

Peter looked you over again. There was something about you that was different … special, even, “She’s the one,” Peter said, surprising himself and Bucky smiled. 

You didn’t know if you’d be able to recognize yourself in the coming months but, just like that, your fate was sealed. 

+

six months later … 

You remembered your last night with Bucky. He reminded you every day it seemed like that you’d be going to Peter soon. You’d curled up in his lap, letting tears fall down your cheek as Bucky wiped them away, “I know it hurts, pet,” He spoke soothingly, “Peter is a good friend, you’ll see me soon. Besides, it’ll be nice not having to share, won’t it?”

Bucky took your silence as a sign of acceptance, “That’s my good girl,” He cooed and you tried to keep in your sobs as you accepted his comfort. He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then your cheek. It was the perfect distraction and you almost didn’t notice that he pricked your neck, filling you with a sedative, “When you wake up, you’ll be somewhere new, but I want you to be on your best behavior. You’ll listen to him … you’ll comfort him because he’s your new Master. You can do that, right?”

“Yes …” Your voice began to trail off as your eyes got heavy, “... Master.”

“Goodnight, pet.”

+

Peter awoke the next morning to a phone call. He rolled over in bed, picking it up, “Hello?” He asked groggily. 

“Mr. Parker, you have quite a large package here. Should I send it up?” It was the man at the front desk downstairs. Peter was confused at first since he hadn’t ordered anything but the realization hit him quickly, “Mr. Parker-”

“Yes, send it up, please!” Peter was already hurrying out of bed, looking around the room for clothes. Peter was expecting you tonight and he thought he’d have all day to get things ready for you. When he finally made it out of the room, there was a knock at the front door. Taking a deep breath, Peter answered. One of the bellhops rolled in the package which was wrapped in red wrapping paper and a bow. Just in time for Christmas in a few days. 

Peter waited for the bellhop to step out and tipped him handsomely. Even if the man did think Peter had made a shady purchase, Spiderman wasn’t exactly a figure you wanted to go against. A lot had changed since he was a teenager, a lot for the better. He wouldn’t be standing in the foyer of his penthouse apartment if things hadn’t changed. Peter couldn’t buy his happiness, he knew that, but he had a feeling you could change things. 

Peter carefully unwrapped the paper, trying not to startle you further, but it seemed that it was too late for that. As Peter crouched down at the opening of the cage, you had pushed yourself to the back of it, your knees pulled to your chest, and tears dry against your cheeks. 

You looked different, Bucky having dressed you in a new, light pink collar as well pink ribbons to decorate your pigtails. He’d even given you a dress though it was tight to your skin and barely went over your bottom. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise” Peter said, opening the door to the cage, “I’m Peter, remember? … do you want to come out?”

He was asking you? Bucky never asked what you wanted. 

Peter racked his brain for all the training information that Bucky had given him, “Come,” Peter said, remembering the word from the manual, “ … please,” He added. 

You moved slowly, getting onto your knees as you slowly crawled out onto the cool, marble floor. Up above you could see a shining chandelier and looking around you could tell there was much to discover. Peter, kneeling beside you, said, “This is your home now,” He informed you and couldn’t help but wish Bucky was here. You were already missing his bed, you even missed when he would come down to the basement and set you free, “I’m going to take care of you from now on.”

Peter was your Master now, you had to remember that. You belonged to him now and, unlike with Bucky, you belonged to him solely. 

You trusted Bucky. And when you were finally reunited, he’d be overjoyed that you’d done as he told you. Bucky wanted you to be happy here and he wanted you to make Peter happy so that’s exactly what you’d do. 

“Do you like it, Princess?” Though you still had dry tears, your lips pulled into a thin smile which surprised Peter.

Princess, you liked that name. 

The younger man, reach out, and you took the opportunity to brush your face against his hand. Peter stroked your face as you nuzzled into him. You loved his touch and you craved more of the feeling. You pushed closer and closer, causing Peter to fall back on his bottom as you climbed on top of him. Still grinning, you placed soft kisses along his neck and then on his chin. 

He laughed, sitting up on his elbows, “I’ll take that as a yes. How about a tour?”

Anything to make you happy, Master.

+

hope you enjoyed!!

[marimagines]

Night Care | Levi X Reader

Between - Levi x Reader

Genre - Fluff, modern!au

Words - 3,990 [kinda short but its cute :] 

Summary - You give Levi the care he oh so is desperate for and the sleep that his body and mind demand for. along with that care, you finally get a chance to introduce him to a routine that he promises to follow.

Warnings - none [just a little teasing] and just cute Levi :[

A/n - I came up with this while doing my night time routine and I just had to write. It’s just Levi being a soft baby and I’m here for it :( I hope you all like itttt

It was finally one of those nights when you and Levi would spend time together. His immense amount of work would always keep him occupied even when he’d be home sometimes. It had always distracted him from life or he’d have to ignore many things. Levi was one loyal and devoted person in your eyes. To his work but also his loved ones. No matter how busy he’d be, he had always managed to make time to send you a text or call you and if neither of those seemed like the options, he’d send a voice note of him just talking while his mind and body would be busy with work.

You always appreciated his effort that he put so passionately in everything he did. So whenever you went out or whenever you see him, you made sure that he didn’t have to worry about making you upset with his busy schedule. Thankfully, you always managed to make him smile. Well, you didn’t really have to try, Levi was already so soft and in awe with your entire existence. Everything you did left an impact on him and sometimes he’d just sit back and smile to himself by remembering something about you. Like how you smile when you see him, or how you hug him or how you’d act cute or funny. It was just you. He was soft for you and you could sit silently and he would still feel his heart flutter at that sight.

Tonight, Levi finally checked out of work earlier. He had finished everything that was due today and even managed to finish certain tasks before the future deadlines. You greeted him with a smile and he just went for an embrace. His hands resting in your waist and his face buried in your neck. He groans out when you asked about his day and that was enough to know how exhausted he must’ve been.

“I should have a talk with Erwin to let you off the hook and lessen this mountain of work on you,” you say as you place the food on the table for him, a pout settled on your lips. Levi had only chuckled at your words, clearly knowing the sarcastic tone you speak in. It was cute though. He lowkey would want to see you telling off Erwin.

“That’s just how it is, honey,” he replies softly before picking up his utensils. His eyebrows furrow when you stop him but as soon as he sees that you were going to serve him the food, his expressions soften along with his heart. A smile stretches his lips and he whispers a thank you before you both begin to eat.

Throughout dinner, the two of you share details of your day today or you’d share a comfortable silence. Levi wasn’t one to talk much when he ate so you always made sure to divide the silence and talking to a 60-40 ratio. He probably wouldn’t want to talk so much especially after a long day. But that silence was also filled with sweet eye contact or sweet actions like adding more food to each other’s plates or feeding one another every now and then. Once dinner was done, you sort out the dishes and put away the leftovers along with a mini quarrel of an attempt to stop him from washing the dishes. His defense was that you had a long day yet you still cooked so the least he could do was clean it up for you. You both were neat freaks. Your hearts find peace when things are organized and well put together so whenever one of you offers to do a job of cleaning or organizing, you knew to fully trust each other at that. That’s just how it is and you both were content with it.

Levi was busy drying the plates and utensils while you decided to run a warm bath for the two of you. These nights were the most important nights for you two. The nights you just unwind from all the world and just bask in each other’s existence. Even if you don’t talk or end up napping together, just knowing the other is here and near was more than enough to be grateful for these nights. Some nights you’d end up fucking or making love, some nights you’d take a stroll outside and enjoy the scenery and breeze and some nights... you’d both prefer to spend it in the expanse of your apartment. You anticipated these nights the most. Being able to take care of Levi was something you practically live for.

The sound of the faucet opening pops you back into reality and you smile at Levi who was staring at you with a certain glow in his eyes and his toothbrush in his mouth. As he proceeded to cleanse his face with his face wash, you turned off the faucet of the bathtub and move to take off your clothes. You could just feel Levi’s eyes on you as he was rubbing the product unto his smooth face.

Since you were done with your brushing and cleansing already, you slowly lower yourself into the warm bathtub which was now starting to feel and smell heavenly due to the bath salts and a new product you had purchased a few days back. One of your way of escaping the struggles of life was to go shopping not for clothes or shoes, but for things like candles or mists or body care such as shower gels or bath products. Anything that brought you a sense of tranquility in your soul. And whenever you found something you loved, you’d share it with Levi and sometimes even consider adding it to a treatment or package in your beauty salon. Working in the same place as Levi was always fun but your passion and goal had always been to open up your own makeup studio or a beauty salon and thankfully with Levi’s ultimate support and help, you managed to succeed in that goal of yours. Hence why Levi always trusted you whenever you brought him a product for him to wear though he could never keep a certain routine and only stuck to one moisturizer. Regardless, you were amazing at it. You excelled at it and that’s why you are where you are right now. He was proud of you.

Once Levi was done with stripping himself of his clothing too, he carefully joins you in the bathtub that you somehow made it feel so magical. He lets out a relaxed groan as he dips into the water and you giggle at him from behind.

“Don’t you want me behind?” He asks as he was usually the one who’d be behind but tonight you were the one who was leaning against the curve of the rose gold marble bathtub. Your entire apartment was a mixture of soothing colors of black, grey, white and rose gold. By researching and constantly trying to help your husband with his stress, you decided the house to be as minimalistic and sleek as possible. Too much clutter might make him feel suffocated. And due to your researches together, the two of you agreed to the beautifully neutral and minimalistic designed apartment you have right now.

“No,” you reply softly as your palms rest on his shoulders, carefully massaging them. “Tonight is about taking care of you, Mr. Ackerman.” You whisper and leave a kiss on his shoulder and neck. He lets out another groan at the feeling of comfort and leans towards your touch.

Your hands were caressing his body as far as your arms could reach while massaging him and helping him relax. He was quiet for the most part and you didn’t mind that either. Your baths together were sometimes silent like today’s. Levi was the one who would usually be washing you or caressing your body but today you figured it’s time he receives too. He leans back to rest his head between your breasts, and closes his eyes while your hand was teasing his member. He gasps silently when your fingers wrap around his tip and your hand moves up and down but neither of you had any sort of energy to fuck each other tonight and you both knew that. You pause the teasing when he holds your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. He simpers silently, a look of cockiness on his face and starts to speak.

“You’re so tiny,” he remarks softly.

“I’m almost the same height as you,” you retaliate at his words, the audacity this man had to say that to you while he was on the smaller scale too.

“Still taller than you, honey.” He boasts.

“By an inch or two.”

“Tch,” he finally lets out his defeat remark.

“Tch,” you decide to mimic him.

“Tch.”

“Tch.”

“Tch,” he says as a grin dares to paint his face and you feel it.

“Tch,” you giggle out too. Your expression softens when he kisses your hand, the foam transferring from your hands to his face. You giggle once again and move your hands to wipe away the foam quickly before they enter his mouth.

“This smells good, is it new?” He hums out and inhales loudly, trapping the scent inside his nose. It really did smell nice.

“Yep, I got it recently. It’s from BBW’s aromatherapy line. It’s supposed to help you sleep,” you explain softly while Levi was silently gathering the foam in front of him and watching it. You end up smiling at his cute behavior and then it hits you. Does he really notice all these tiny things you do? “I didn’t think you’d notice this.” You whisper.

“What? I do. You enjoy these things and it brings you joy. Of course I’d notice,” he points out. “You leaving our work to achieve your goal was one of the best decision of your life. I saw your energy change. Seeing how this new work of yours makes you happy and express yourself makes me happy.” He adds as his hands play with yours. He was usually short and blunt with words but he could go on forever if it was you he had to compliment or talk to. That’s just how he felt, he trusted you and felt comfortable with you. You sit silently with a pout and kiss the back of his head.

“I love you,” you express yourself, resting your head on his whole happiness fills your heart. Though these three words weren’t enough to describe the fuzzy and warm feeling he manages to leave your soul with.

Once the two of you were done with the bath, you slip into your comfy night clothes; yours a short baby pink satin nightdress that stopped mid thigh and Levi decided to wear his dark grey sweats with his loose white top. You loved him in that outfit; he always looked so welcoming in it.

The two of you did a lot of things in sync but one thing was almost never in sync... your nighttime routine. You always took your time to apply the products on your face and body before you decide to sink into bed and today was no different. You sit on your long two-seater ottoman which you placed in front of your vanity. Even your vanity was organized. One side was dedicated to Levi; which had his body cream, his perfumes, his moisturizer. That was pretty much it but tonight there were some new products there. When you were out buying and looking at skincare products, you figured your husband should need to start his routine properly and picked up some new products to keep him feeling fresh and protected from sunlight, aging, and just keeping him glowing and looking fresh. You look up to see Levi from the mirror’s reflection, plopping down on the bed, his legs hanging from the edge as he grabs his phone to scroll through it. You were silently hoping this new bath foam you got would work and he’d get some sleep. Levi always had trouble sleeping and you were constantly trying this and that to make sure he got more than 2 hours of sleep. With the look of his eyes and eyebags, you knew he was desperate for sleep but he just didn’t know how to lure himself into that state.

“Oh,” he suddenly says and you look back at him through the mirror reflection. He was sitting up now and looking at you. “Erwin gave us a day off tomorrow.” He announces.

“Well, isn’t that nice.” You smile at him as your hands were busy working their routine of applying products on your face and body; knowing exactly what to do. You never skipped your night routine and your hands simply knew by now what to do even when your mind didn’t.

Your eyes were planted on Levi; you just wanted him to come and do his routine but you didn’t want to bother your weary husband. Before you could even say or do anything, Levi gets up from the bed and walks towards you to join you on the bench; as if he heard the thought in your mind. His eyes centered on the new addition on his side and you suddenly realize what he was wondering. A smile creeps on your face when you notice the curiosity in his eyes, like a child who had entered a toy store or a bird who just left its nest and had the entire world to explore. The little glow in his eyes contrasted the furrow of his brows clearly indicated that this man right here was confused to what each of these did. Sure you had told him before but you knew he’d need more than just one push hence why you never stopped bringing him skincare along with yours. Tonight it seemed like the night you could educate him and use your expertise to convince him why he needs to listen to you.

“It’s for you. All of it,” you clarify and a nod comes from him. You chuckle at Levi when he pops open a moisturizer and moves to sniff at it.

“It smells nice,” he adds. “But I just need moisturizer, babe. You didn’t have to get all,” his hand proceeds to make a circle on top of the dresser as he continues, “this.”

“Yes I did,” you defend yourself. “We are turning old. We should take extra care of yourselves, don’t you think?” You get up and move to stand between Levi’s legs to which he automatically spreads them open to give you space. He looks up at you with eyes observing you. You lean against the vanity, your hands wrapping around Levi’s neck. “I will take care of you, Mr Ackerman, so you can get a tip or two.” You say nonchalantly with a smile. Levi ends up chuckling too since he knew your tone was the same tone you use at work. You grab a fluffy hair band that had bear ears on top and move to put it on Levi; pushing his hair back and revealing his flawless skin. Levi sat there glaring at you but you knew from the glow in his eyes that he could care less about it. You start with the routine as you grab a cotton pad and open up the toner bottle. “First of all, you need to apply a toner to bring back the moisture you lost from washing your face.” You explain as you bend over and come closer to his face while your hand moves to pat his face softly with the cotton. Levi’s eyes were on you the entire time you spoke; you didn’t even know if he was shy or if he was listening or why he was even staring but the entire time, his eyes never left your figure or movements. Never missed the product you used or the way his eyes would fall to your lips as you speak. It was almost as if his eyes were stuck on you. You still continue the routine, explaining each step as you go on, giving him tips he should know like to not rub in products aggressively but to pat them in more, or how he should apply them in an upward direction and avoid the downward direction, and you continuously remind him why each product is important. Levi listened intently and carefully, he knew that you knew what you were talking about but he was more in awe with how powerful you looked being in your element. “And lastly,” you twirl open the cap of a night cream. “The night cream.” You apply the cream onto your ring finger and gently apply it on his cheeks, his chin, forehead and then you grin as you put it on his nose, making a ‘boop’ sound, which causes you to earn a smile from him too. He was sitting there quietly the entire time you almost felt like he was a customer at your salon or like a little child, carefully trying their best to focus on your words or in awe with the knowledge you had. You rub and pat in the product and step back when he clears his throat, signaling that he wants to speak.

“How do I know what cream to put at night?” Your lips stretch into another smile as you hear how genuine curiosity wrapped around his tone. He was too cute tonight.

“It says it on the package, dear.” You point at the two creams behind you and move away slightly to let him see it. His eyes finally move away from you and land on the vanity as he silently nods in understanding like a student finally understanding a math problem. You give his face one final pat before you stand up straight and politely grin at him. “And we’re done,” you start to move away before he grabs your hands and kisses them.

“Thank you,” he says as his thumb gently draws circles on top of your hands. “Do you have coupons?” Your eyebrows furrow at his odd and random question and he elaborates more as he realizes that must’ve confused you. “I want to give it to the kids... Connie, Jean, Eren... you know. The kids.” He stumbles on his words when he notices the smile your face had. He was flustered because he knew that you know how soft he is for his team.

You nod silently and giggle. “Yes Levi, I do have coupons. Make sure you give it to the girls too.” You tease him, emphasizing on the word ‘girls’, as you sit down next to him and go through your drawer to look for the coupons. Levi looks from behind you too but then indulges at his new glowy skin as he pats his cheeks the way you had earlier. He suddenly feels proud of you again and a smirk paints his face as his eyes twinkle at the sight that is you. He notices you hadn’t brushed your hair yet so he gets up to stand behind you and pulls you back to make you sit up straight. Your eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror and before you could ask what he was doing, he beats you to it.

“You didn’t braid your hair. I’ll do it for you,” he leans forward to grab your hair brush and softly brushes your hair back and starts braiding it.

“The coupons are in this drawer. Take as many as you like,” you tell him after a while. He nods at your words.

“Will you do this every night?” He asks with a child like tone that wraps your heart with warmth. How could you even say no to him.

“Do what?” You tease him.

“This, my routine.” You knew he was flustered when he starts using small words.

“No,” you watch his lips quickly drop to a pout and a laughter breaks from your lips. “You have to do it too, Levi. We’ll do it side by side so you know the steps.”

“What if I use coupons?” Another laughter bursts out from your chest at how he tried to get this victory. You were pleased to know he liked it though.

“How about this, I’ll do your night routine for you three times a week,” you suggest as your hand raises three fingers and you wait for a response from him.

“Four.” He demands and attempts to negotiate.

“Three.”

“Four. I only use one coupon per week. You do it three times weekly and fourth would be if I use coupon.” He adds a new deal.

Feeling satisfied with the deal, you nod. “Deal.”

Once you were done with the time of sitting in front of the vanity, you both walk back to the bed but then you remember one last step. Body lotion. You bring the bottle to him and earn a “Tch” from him but he applies it regardless by watching you do it. Levi moves his hand to open up your braid too. It was something you always did, you didn’t sleep with your hair tied but you braid it before sleeping only to open it up after a few minutes. It helped your hair not to go crazy when you lay down. It melts your heart knowing how Levi knew even the smallest details of your routine and noticed things you didn’t think he would. You two share a loving smile as you continue to apply lotion together and joke around or tease each other a little. 

“Make sure to take care of your neck too, baby.” You remind him and you both work in sync in rubbing in the lotion onto your arms, chest, legs and neck. You apply your lip balm as usual and Levi shares it with you as you both move closer to perch in the middle of the bed. You two always shared your lip balm for some reason and you never complained nor minded it. To Levi, it made his heart fill up with love sharing your lip balm with you, patting his lips with the surface your lips had grazed over always made him go crazy inside. His excuse to why he did that was that he was too lazy to buy one or open a new one... even after he had confessed to it, he still rarely admitted every time you or someone else teased him about it.

After a while, your bodies were tangled with each other as you lay your head on his chest silently, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and basking in the scent of chamomile that you both bathed in and lotioned your bodies with. The scent bringing about a feeling of calm and sleep which was slowly creeping its way up on both of you. You knew the new aromatherapy you brought was working when you realize how sleepy Levi was getting too. He swiftly changes position as he lays on his side, his arms wrapped around your waist as you both move to the embracing position. He pulls you closer, burying his face on your chest right on top of your breast and under your neck and chin as he sharply inhales and relaxes afterwards. He always seemed to love doing that, especially when he was really exhausted or needed to sleep. You could feel the way his breathing was getting stable and the more you played with his hair and gently scratched his undercut, the more he got pulled into sleep. It was like a spell.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles against your skin after a while and pecks your open skin, pulling you even closer towards him.

“Goodnight baby... it’s time you sleep.” You kiss the top of his head as you both slowly fall into deep sleep together.

[zulivaris]

Art Block tips that helped me

 I’ve recently experienced art block after 3 or so months of overcoming my last one. Thankfully this block only lasted a few days thanks to some things I’ve observed and noted down from the previous time. So I’m sharing these few tips in hopes that it might help someone get unstuck :D!

First and foremost if you’re tired, sad or anxious don’t be surprised that you can’t make art, go and take care of yourself by treating yourself with kindness and patience, the sketchbooks and canvases will wait for you :)

The tips are under here:

Separate art studies from the creative time:  When you do art studies you’re there to focus on specific things, learn and understand how things work so you can apply them later in your art. Studies take a lot of energy and focus and are the opposite of the creative "flow” of making your own pieces. If you combine the two the results are either unfocused studies or stiff drawings. When you sit down at your desk ask yourself “Do I want to learn something new or do I want to create something of my own?”

When you have an idea don’t be afraid of being messy: Let’s say you want to make a picture of several cats kolo dancing in the moonlight. How do you go about doing this? Well since you came up with the idea you already have a vague image in your mind, sketch it out with simple shapes, stick figures, circle and spheres etc Don’t worry about cat anatomy, or the dancer’s moves, sketch out the essence of it. This method removes the need to be perfect or accurate. 

Ok after the messy sketch then what? Well now that you have sketched out the essence of your idea (and hopefully had fun doing so) now you go on to look for references! You put the creative process on pause and you can do a few brief studies if you need to: anatomy, color schemes, values, poses. Pick out a few of your favorites but don't obsess over them, they are a guide, a tool.

You know much more than you think. You’ve probably been drawing for a few years now. You’ve probably done some studies and drawn more than one type of subject. Then you have already internalized some of that information. I used to be obsessed with capturing the minute detail of the subject, and not be able to draw ANYTHING without reference. Instead of a useful tool, references became another obstacle to my creativity. That’s perfectionism my friend, and that’s no good. Here is an exercise a good friend of mine offered: Draw a few characters, animals and objects from imagination. Make sure that the subjects have no personal value to you (no ocs for example) so that if you make a mistake you won’t feel bad about it. Make the process relaxed and comfortable, pour a nice cup of joe, listen to your favorite music ... You will notice that you do indeed know how to draw some things without reference, and it’ll help with your confidence. 

The more you do studies the more you understand This seems evident but the more you understand your subject the freer you can be and the easier it’ll be to draw it from imagination in the future. If you really struggle with something to the point of frustration (as in you can’t get it right even with reference) It means you have to study it. Have a study list, for example: hands, perspective, color theory etc. And one of those days you want to study pick something from the list, and look for videos on youtube or useful sites like line of action etc. Only study one thing at the time. You can go from studying hands to studying arms since they’re more immediately connected, but you can’t study hands and then jump to learning perspective right after. Trust me you can learn perfectly fine with the resources online, and I’m sure you’re clever enough to do it :D

Mistakes don’t mean you “suck”  I’ve noticed that the two most common causes for art block are perfectionism and lack of self-confidence.  The two can often go in tandem which is worse :’D But let me remind you of something, you can fix your piece along the whole process. Use erasers, lasso tools, liquify , select, paint it all over etc If something looks off to you then you also know deep inside how to fix it. Useful ways to see what clunks: flip canvas horizontally (helps with placement, proportions), turn the image to grayscale (helps to check values and where your eye tends to look), look at your image in thumbnail size and ask yourself if it’s clear, see the pose’s silhouette and ask yourself if you can tell what the character is doing etc. Don’t fret, everything can always be fixed :)

Perfectionism, sometimes it stops you before you begin Perfectionism causes you to overwork a piece, it makes you draw less, it makes art stressful, it brings insecurity. Let’s remove it with a simple exercise. It can be combined with the “draw things from imagination” once you’ve drawn something you like: dont do line art, don’t shade it, keep it as simple and crude as possible and then...post it. Yes, post it. You’re not at your best? You’re only human, this will help you embrace that very human side of you. You make mistakes. So what? The more mistakes you make the more you know what you need to study and the better at art you become. Mistakes are there to show us what we need to learn. See them as another tool and not a sign of failure.

Make the process as enjoyable as possible: You like art. You love drawing. Never forget this. Otherwise why are you drawing if you don’t enjoy it? It’s easy to fall prey to the mentality of those relatable memes that “art= suffering” or “I can’t even draw the other eye”. No no no my friends, these messages are fueling your insecurities instead of overcoming them. Let me tell you what, art is fun. It is. Art is fun, because I decided to make it fun again. And you should decide on that too. Personally I adore lineart but my hand-eye coordination is lacking to do it digitally, so....I just skipped it. Yes. I skipped it. I do the sketch, I clean it up a bit and then jump onto color which I adore. It allowed me to draw more and more freely. When I draw I listen to music, make strokes with the rhythm, I take breaks often and I drink my favorite iced teas. If you don’t like coloring do it in grayscale, if you love lineart then do that etc It doesn’t mean you won’t learn your weak points in the future with studies and practice, but you won’t let your weaknesses prevent you from drawing at all. No no, you won’t let them. You draw because you want to, despite of them.

Don’t wait for inspiration, provoke it  Inspiration is not a divine and capricious muse. You make inspiration. It’s easy just collect all the things you like, music, artists, objects, characters, animals, patterns, plants etc Make boards on pinterest or similar sites, combine things you like. You like suits? You like birds? You can draw a bird in a suit, or a bird-inspired suit design, there is frankly a lot of ideas that can spring up from little things like these.

When a project stops being enjoyable either pause it for now or move on to the next thing. Pieces aren’t precious. They’re not “the one time I got x right” they are one of many. This advice goes mainly to hobbyists who can afford the luxury of passing to a new project. I have a WIP of a character who is overly complicated (I enjoy a challenge from time to time) sitting for half a month. I sometimes come back to it and add something... but as soon as it starts to create discomfort and insecurity instead of enjoyment I move onto something else. In the meantime I created 3 or 4 new pieces. If I had waited on finishing that piece I would have been severely creatively and physically exhausted. The art comes from you, not inspiration. The more art you make the better you become.

That’s about it :D I know it’s long but I prefer to be thorough and cover all the possibilities. If you have read of this: Thank you so much I hope this helps you at least a bit, if it helps only 1 other person I’d still be very happy. Have a nice one, and kick art block’s butt!

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Booster

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Han and Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Warnings: language, explicit smut, cheating, indecent affairs, very rich Bang Chan who can be exceedingly arrogant, mentions of alcohol and smoking; aged up characters (especially Chan)

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Marriage AU; Romance AU; Indecent Proposal AU

Summary: You love your husband more than anything else in the world, but the two of you have been arguing lately about your struggling financial situation. Things seem bleak until one night when your husband’s new boss makes you both an offer that you can’t afford to refuse.

A/N: If you’ve seen the movie “Indecent Proposal,” then you know how this goes, but I put my own little spin on the classic! Please enjoy!!

“Are you happy, Y/N?”

It was a deceiving question, basic in its premise and expectation, but you couldn’t help but falter at the unexpected doubt coloring your vision.

“I guess,” you said.

But why shouldn’t you be? You were in your prime, employed as a freelance writer, and married to your high school sweetheart,

Oh, wait...How could you forget?

You were also preparing to turn thirty-years-old in less than a week, your job wasn’t delivering stable work, and you and your husband had been arguing about the single-digit amount of savings in your join account since last year.

“That’s good to hear,” your therapist said, and you nodded even though it felt misplaced.

You both knew that it was bullshit, but since this was the last session you could afford together, your therapist was clearly trying to use up the rest of your time to her advantage. Maybe it was for the best since you hated seeing her face every Sunday afternoon. 

“Jisung and I are going to Vegas with his company,” you said, startling yourself with the unexpected confession.

“That’s interesting,” your therapist said, leaving the “considering how bad off the two of you are” to fill the empty silence. “I hope you have fun. Take some time to reconnect with him.”

Because surely she had heard enough of you complaining about how your husband could turn into the world’s biggest asshole sometimes when things weren’t going his way. Or when the easy parts of your personal life were feeling far too stressful to be considered healthy. “It’s nice to get away,” you decided to say in place of anything less amiable.

“Feel free to reach out if you ever need me,” your therapist continued, offering you her business card.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from her with a sigh. “I guess that’s it then.”

“For now,” your therapist agreed, and you left the sterile-white building feeling more burdened than when you had arrived.

It was late when you got home, and you were even more exhausted than usual, laying next to Jisung in bed as soon as you had changed into comfortable night clothes.

“Do you want to fuck?” Jisung asked later on, taking off his reading glasses to look over at you as you concentrated hard on balancing next month’s budget, including all the money you had put aside for Jisung’s company retreat.

“Not right now,” you said.

“Whatever,” Jisung grumbled, and you ignored the pain in your heart as he turned around to face away from you, turning off his lamp to bathe half of the room in darkness.

“This is too important,” you tried to argue, but Jisung wasn’t listening, and it didn’t take long for him to start snoring.

But he never understood.

“Asshole,” you whispered, gathering your things to settle down in the living room instead. Where you continued working through the night, eyes glossing over from focusing on the numbers for too long, and you were drained the next morning, barely even comprehending Jisung leaving the house for work until you heard the car’s ignition from outside.

It was somewhat of a routine at this point, and you could feel the strain in your marriage, the distance between you and Jisung increasing the longer things continued to grow worse.

Your therapist would tell you to talk things out with him, but you really didn’t feel like arguing with your husband anymore. Instead, you pushed him out of your head and slept for a few more hours before getting up to start your freelance projects. It wasn’t anything difficult, and you finished most of the work by noon, leaving you to clean the house and wait by the phone in case a potential client called you with an assignment.

But the problem was the phone never rang, and you were hardly getting any work to support your shared household income.

It was a frequent point of contention, and Jisung had been begging you to take on a full-time position for months.

Maybe you should. 

Maybe it would make him happier.

But why did it feel like his happiness was always prioritized over your own?

Damn, you were starting to sound just like your former therapist.

“I made dinner,” you told him when he got home that evening, and even though it was obvious that he was wore-out, Jisung met you in the kitchen with a forced smile.

“It smells good,” he said, and there was a longing in his eyes, one that you also shared but could never fulfill.

And no amount of sex ever made it any better, but that sure as hell didn’t stop the two of you from trying to use it as an excuse to pretend that the problem didn’t exist elsewhere. “Shit, Sungie,” you gasped, nails digging into the smooth skin of his back as he fucked you on top of the counter, legs spread wide around his waist as he pummeled his hips into yours.

“Yes!” Jisung moaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head as your tight walls constricted around his length - pure, velvet warmth. “God, you’re perfect.”

“Harder!” you cried, trying to meet each of his thrusts, but finding it impossible to touch his animalistic pace, brutally stretching your pussy around him. The good kind of stretch that left you gaping long after you both came, lingering throughout the night and well into the morning as you limped around the house.

It ached and hurt, persistent and demanding, but there was always a desire for more, even when it was impossible to fulfill those empty places. But that didn’t stop you from trying, winding your fingers through Jisung’s hair to pull him closer, smashing your mouths together for a brutal kiss that only served to stoke the flames of passion sparking between the two of you. Something hot and raunchy, delicious in the exchanges of precious oxygen and the thin cord of saliva that remained when Jisung pulled back to look at you. “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, parting your thighs around his hips as he studied the place where he was driving his cock between the delicate folds of your swollen labia. “Look at how well you take me.”

“Please,” you whimpered, unsure as to what you wanted from him, but it was always too much and never enough. 

“I want you to come first,” Jisung said, sucking the pad of his thumb into his mouth before bringing it down against your clit. 

“Oh!” you gasped because the secondary stimulation was proving to be the necessary catalyst to unwind you from the inside, and you could feel your orgasm growing stronger by the second. 

“That’s it, baby,” Jisung groaned, throwing back his head as he worked on moving his hips faster, thrusting his erection with as much power as he could manage while focusing on digging harsh circles against the tight little bud between your legs.

“Coming!” you cried, closing your eyes against the first wave of pleasure, moaning when Jisung lifted your legs higher around his waist, slamming his cock between your pulsating walls. 

It was a divine high, the kind that left a deep impression, riding the euphoria of your orgasm until you could feel your heart practically vibrating against your chest, leaving you breathless and throbbing in the place where Jisung continued to grind his cock. “I’m close,” he said, grunting as his hips stuttered in place, and you watched him fall over you as a familiar warmth escaped from where his cock was softening.

“S’ good,” you managed around a deep breath, trying to bring yourself back to Earth.

“You’re always so good for me,” Jisung said, eyes glossy with lust as he parted your lips around his fingers.

You puckered your lips, sucking hard and leaving him groaning. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“I know, Y/N, and I love you,” Jisung said, holding himself up while panting over you, eyes dark and devoted.

“I love you too,” you replied on instinct, keeping him close while the two of you basked in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking.

One Week Later

It was raining at the airport, but you were in a good mood while following Jisung through the crowded terminal. “Are you excited?” he asked you once you stood in line to board the plane.

“Of course,” you replied, accepting his gentle kiss before he held out your tickets for the flight attendant.

But why shouldn’t you be? You had never been to Vegas before, and you were beyond excited for the trip, even if it had been painful to budget with your lousy combined incomes. 

“I’m gonna treat you so good, baby,” Jisung whispered to you on the plane, finalizing his promise with another heart-stopping kiss.

“I love you,” you said, smiling when you heard the words in return.

It was always a promise that you could both keep, no matter how hard things got in your lives, and you could always rely on Jisung even when your own mind turned against you. Sure, it would be nice to have more financial stability, but the two of you would eventually achieve that goal, just as long as you kept working hard.

The idea of being happy all the time seemed impossible, and you were grateful for what you had, holding tightly to Jisung’s hand as he hailed down a taxi cab to take you to your hotel upon your arrival in Vegas.

“A couple’s retreat?” the driver asked when you were both settled inside.

“Something like that,” Jisung agreed, and it was half-way true, even if Jisung’s company was the main reason you were both enjoying the unfamiliar sights of the Vegas strip - blinding lights, crowded streets, and loud music. Everything was organized chaos, and you could see why so many people loved it.

“It’s beautiful,” you said to Jisung when your taxi cab arrived at your hotel.

“What do you want to do first?” Jisung asked, taking both of your suitcases as you led the way to check-in.

“Do you have to meet with your co-workers?” you asked, reminding yourself that this trip had a larger reason behind it.

“Not until the morning,” Jisung laughed, and he signed the copy of the room notice before dragging you to the elevators. “It’s you and me tonight, baby. Wanna check out the poker tables?”

You rolled your eyes because you both knew that Jisung had no idea how to play cards. “Looking around sounds nice.”

“Whatever you want,” Jisung promised, and after your things were settled in your lavish suite, he made good on escorting you around the impressive gambling floor - nothing but slot machines with bright color sequences and a vast expanse of tables with every kind of game you could want. 

It was almost too much to look at, and you were grateful to focus on one thing when Jisung paused next to the craps table. “Do you want to try?” you asked, smirking at the curious look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, giving you a quick kiss before exchanging a twenty for some chips. “I’ll put it all on Pass.”

“Pass!” the dealer said, dragging Jisung’s chips closer. “Your roll.”

Jisung grabbed the dice from the table, bringing them closer to you with a smirk. “Kiss for good luck?”

You rolled your eyes, but entertained his request, brushing your lips against his knuckles before pulling back and watching him flick his wrist as the dice bounced across the table. “Seven!” the dealer announced, and you and Jisung were both surprised to win, watching as two piles of chips were pushed in your direction. 

“Holy shit!” you gasped, and Jisung nodded his agreement, taking all the chips before bidding the dealer a good night. “Did you see that?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from giggling as Jisung pocketed the chips. 

“I guess I have enough to treat you to a drink,” he said, and you followed him to the bar where he ordered you both something strong.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” you asked him, feeling far more jubilant than before as you downed most of the contents, wincing at the sting.

“You need to loosen up,” Jisung said. “I know you’ve been planning for the trip, so I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Cheers to that!” you said, tapping your glass against Jisung’s and enjoying the rest of your drink.

And for a while, you actually found yourself letting go of all the worries leading up to the vacation, drinking and laughing with your husband as you played on some of the slot machines and observed some of the more serious poker games. 

The alcohol sat pleasantly on your stomach, and you were losing yourself to the buzz dulling most of your anxieties. “Jisung,” you said at one point, leaning closer to him as you sat together outside by the pool. “You look really good tonight.”

Jisung smiled, bringing you in for a kiss that turned heated despite the people surrounding you. “Slow down, baby,” Jisung said, breaking your exchange and ignoring your pout.

“Let’s go to the room,” you said, lowering your tone as you trailed one finger down his toned arm.

“Maybe later,” Jisung said, but he dangled the key in front of you. “If you want, then you can go upstairs.”

“You don’t want to come?” you asked with a pout.

“I’ve been watching,” Jisung admitted with a shrug. “I know we’ve been having a lot of problems with money, but I think I can take what we brought and turn it into enough to end most of our debt.”

“Jisung,” you said, sobering up in an instant. “What if you lose?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, and you could tell that he had already made up his mind. “I know when to stop.”

“Okay,” you agreed, but it was a reluctant acquiescence because you wanted nothing more than to have him in your arms. “I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun, baby,” Jisung said, and you frowned when he slid you his credit card. “Call room service and take care of yourself.”

“Sure,” you agreed, pocketing the card since you had no intention of using it. “Call me if you need anything.”

Jisung nodded, waving you off as he rose from his chair, and you watched with an overhanging sense of dread as he rejoined the crowded gambling room.

You waited for as long as you could, but midnight trickled by with no sign of your husband returning to the room.

Eventually, you must’ve fallen asleep from the excitement, and you only woke-up again the next morning when you attempted to reach out for Jisung in bed next to you, only to discover empty space.

“Sungie?” you said, filling the empty room with your voice.

But you could’ve sworn you had heard the door open at one point, so you dressed yourself and ventured out of the bedroom.

Your Vegas suite was fairly large, and the bedroom was connected to the main room by a narrow hallway with another room on the opposite end. Maybe Jisung had slept in the wrong room on accident?

It seemed plausible, until you heard the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen, and you quickly followed the noises to find your husband bent over the counter, head hanging low.

“Jisung, what’s wrong?” you asked, approaching your husband to soothe a hand down his back.

But you were completely unprepared for the way he began to lash out.

“I lost it, okay?” he snapped, jerking himself into an upright stance. “All the money we brought, I blew it on the slot machines.”

“Jisung-”

“Fuck, I can’t believe it!” Jisung shouted, interrupting your attempt to speak. “I was doing so well, and I didn’t even realize things were going bad until I almost used our bank card to pull out more money.”

You exhaled harshly, realizing that if Jisung had spent all of your money, then he also accessed some of your savings since you had brought extra cash in case of an emergency. “Oh my god.”

You stumbled back against the wall, holding your chest because you could feel the start of a panic attack taking root. But how else were you supposed to react to Jisung’s confession? He had spent all the money you would both need to pay rent and buy important necessities.

“This is so screwed up,” Jisung growled, rubbing a rough hand across his disheveled face. 

“That was everything,” you said, swallowing hard as your detail-oriented brain attempted to come up with an alternative, but you saw no light on the other end.

“Y/N,” Jisung said, and his voice was calmer as he looked at you. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could make things better.”

“But you made them worse,” you said, closing your eyes against an onslaught of tears, feeling as if your entire world was crashing down around you.

“Baby, no,” Jisung said, hurrying over to catch you before your body crumbled to the floor. “We’ll be okay, you know? I can always take out a loan.”

“To pay for the other loans?” you asked in a much harsher tone that you usually reserved for your husband.

“I promise I’ll make it better,” Jisung said, and he groaned when his phone started ringing. “It’s my boss again. He wanted to meet me in his room this morning.”

Jisung silenced the call, holding your face between his hands. “I promise nothing bad will happen to us, and maybe I can ask my boss for an advance on my next paycheck to help cover expenses.”

Your brain knew better than that, understanding that one paycheck wouldn’t cover those lost savings, but this was Jisung. Your sweet and kind husband, and you didn’t feel like arguing. “Okay,” you said, accepting the gentle kisses he pecked along your wet lashes.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jisung said. “But let’s not worry about it until we get back home. Can you put some clothes on for me, baby? I want you to come meet my boss with me.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding your head as you allowed Jisung to lead you both back into the bedroom.

“Everything will be fine,” Jisung said, and you allowed him to delude your mind even though nothing could be further from the truth.

Jisung’s boss was a powerful man named Mr. Bang, and his net-worth made Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk pale in comparison.

You were nervous to meet him, and it didn’t help that you were still upset from earlier.

“Deep breaths,” Jisung instructed you when he knocked on Mr. Bang’s door. “Don’t worry about anything.”

It was easy for him to say since everything was his fault, but you swallowed down your anger and pasted on your best smile when the door opened - revealing an older gentleman with dark brown hair and eyes, wrinkles edging some of the corners of his features, exposing the effects of age.

But he was still undeniably handsome, and his eyes took a long moment to gloss over you. “Mr. Han,” Mr. Bang said, finally looking away from you. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Of course, sir,” Jisung said, placing his hand on your lower back as you were both invited inside. “It’s been a rough morning.”

“Oh?” Mr. Bang questioned, following you both into the main room. “Why is that?”

You held your breath when Jisung hesitated. “Just some money stuff.”

“Ah,” Mr. Bang acknowledged. “It’s personal.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Jisung insisted, and Mr. Bang shrugged off his coat as he accepted the reassurance, reaching for a pack of cigars.

“Well, I’m excited to talk with you this morning. Would you both like to join me in the other room? I heard that Jisung enjoys playing pool.”

“Absolutely,” Jisung agreed with a smile - one that managed to disguise all the horrible realities that existed outside of this impeccable suite.

You took another deep breath, fixing a smile in place when Mr. Bang turned to look at you. “This must be your wife.”

“Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand for him, and trying not to feel disconcerted by the obvious interest in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he repeated, looking back ahead of himself as he brought you both into a far simpler room - sparsely furnished with the exception of the pool table in the middle of the area. “Do either of you mind if I smoke? It’s a bad habit.”

He chuckled at the end, waiting for your combined approval before lighting one of the cigars and bringing it to his lips.

“You’re welcome to go first,” Mr. Bang said, selecting one of the pool sticks against the wall. “I’d love to be informal with you.”

“That sounds great,” Jisung said, and you watched him bend over the table as he broke the balls at the center, sending them flying in all directions. “I was really honored to receive your invitation.”

“Were you?” Mr. Bang asked with a smile. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re a bit of an enigma around the office, Mr. Bang,” Jisung said, and his boss chuckled in response.

“Please, call me Chan,” he continued, taking his turn at the table after Jisung missed his shot, cigar dangling from his lips. “How are you both enjoying Vegas?”

“I think we’re having a lot of fun,” Jisung said, and the response irritated you a little as you cleared your throat, nose wrinkling as some of the cigar smoke reached you.

“It’s quite beautiful,” you said, and Chan found your eyes after landing his first shot.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “You know, Jisung, you talk about me being an enigma around the office. Why is that?”

You flinched at the sound of the balls smashing together, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you focused on your husband. “Well,” Jisung shrugged. “I think it’s because you have so much more than the rest of us. Not that it’s a bad thing.” 

“Really?” Chan asked, standing up straight as he shot you a knowing look. “You do have something that I don’t have.”

You found yourself blushing at the comment, and Jisung studied his boss with narrowed eyes. “I guess there’s a limit to what money can buy.”

“Not mine,” Chan said, putting out the cigar with a satisfied smirk. “I can afford anything.”

You didn’t like his attitude, finding yourself jumping into the conversation without being provoked. “Some things aren’t for sale,” you said, watching as Chan bent over the pool table once again.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Well, you can’t buy people,” you said, and he stood tall again with a sigh.

“That’s naïve of you, Y/N,” he said. “I buy people everyday.”

“I don’t mean in business,” you argued. “I meant something more like...when your emotions are involved.”

“So, you can’t buy someone’s love?” Chan questioned, and you didn’t like the way he was laughing. “Jisung, I hope you don’t feel the same way.”

“Of course,” Jisung said, shaking his head. “I agree with Y/N.”

“Really?” Chan smiled. “Then, maybe we should put that to the test.”

“What do you mean?” Jisung asked, and he exchanged a quick look with you - one filled with uncertainty.

“How much?” Mr. Bang asked.

“How much?” Jisung repeated, and he studied his boss with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Bang chuckled, and you frowned at the obvious condescension. “I mean, how much for one night with your wife?”

“Oh...” Jisung trailed off, and the room quickly filled with silence - awkward and heavy.

“Why so tense?” Chan eventually asked, and you shook your head because he knew exactly why the two of you were suddenly less than enthusiastic.

“You can’t be serious,” Jisung eventually said, reaction surprisingly neutral.

“I’m completely serious,” Chan continued, never breaking a sweat as he continued to take his turn at the pool table. “I’ll give you $1,000,000 dollars,” Chan said. “That would be enough to keep you in a life of luxury.”

“Sir,” Jisung said, and you could tell that he was caught off-guard, trying to find the right words to prevent offense to his boss, but you didn’t have to extend the same courtesy.

“No,” you said, keeping your tone firm. “He would tell you to go to hell.”

“I didn’t hear that from him,” Chan said, and you fixed Jisung with the sternest glare you could manage.

“Yeah,” Jisung said. “I’d tell you to go to hell.”

Chan sighed, pocketing the coveted eight ball with a quick motion. “I guess that proves me wrong, then,” Chan said. “But I’ll at least say this: $1,000,000 dollars is a lifetime of security. Think about it, talk it over first, and then you can forget all about this conversation.”

It should’ve been over after that without any further consideration, but you were disappointed to see that Jisung was still distracted as you sat together in your room later that night - long after leaving Chan’s suite.

“You’re still thinking about it,” you said, drawing his attention.

“Of course not, baby,” he said, but it wasn’t convincing.

“Would you seriously be okay with me spending the night with some pompous billionaire? you huffed. “He would obviously want to fuck me.”

“Well, I can’t say I blame him,” Jisung tried to joke, but the situation was far too serious.

“Sungie...”

“Look, I get it, Y/N. Marriage is sacred, and I respect you for that, but we both can’t ignore how much this would change our lives! It’s a million fucking dollars.”

“He’s an old perv,” you growled. “Would you seriously sell me out?”

“That’s not what this is,” Jisung argued. “I’m not selling you out.”

“Sleeping with a stranger for a million dollars is selling me out,” you said. “I don’t even like him...”

“It’s fine,” Jisung interrupted. “It was just a made-up scenario, and I would never force you to do anything.”

“Good,” you said, turning on your side to switch off the lamp. “He can’t just expect that from someone. It’s crazy!”

“I know, baby,” Jisung whispered quietly to you, and you knew that you were both exhausted from the chaos of your day together.

Sleep was what you needed, but it wasn’t coming. 

Instead, you were loathe to admit that your mind had returned to that indecent proposal from Jisung’s boss, thinking about the last thing he said.

One lifetime of security.

You would never have to worry about money again...but what about your relationship? Would it suffer because of such an illicit affair?

You tossed and turned all night, feeling Jisung do the same thing.

Think about it.

God, that’s all you were doing, and when the sun was starting to rise again from the coverage of your blinds, you rolled over to look at Jisung, unsurprised to see him wide-awake. “If we do this,” you said, “it wouldn’t mean anything.”

“Of course not,” Jisung said. “It would still be the two of us against the rest of the world.”

You nodded, studying the gentle brown of Jisung’s eyes. The weight of such a consequential decision hung over both of your heads, and you sucked up every last ounce of pride you had when you came to a conclusion: “Call him,” you said, and Jisung’s eyes widened. “Tell him we’ll take the money.”

“Y/N, are you sure?” Jisung asked, and he was cautiously reaching out for his cellphone.

“I’m sure,” you said, although you didn’t feel as confident as you would like, turning onto your back to study the ceiling overhead.

The date and time were arranged for the following evening, and you could barely meet Chan’s gaze when he met you outside his suite.

“Just relax,” he whispered to you, inviting you outside onto the extended balcony attached to his penthouse where he proceeded to pour two glasses of champagne.

The cold air of the night hit you in the face like a firm slap, forcing you from the haze you had surrendered to when you first walked into the room. A wake-up call that this was happening, and the man next to you was not your husband.

You nearly drained your first glass of champagne, feeling the alcohol give you some much-needed courage. “Y/N,” Chan said, standing next to you in a suit that likely cost more than your and Jisung’s last paychecks combined. “I want to ask you what your expectations are of this evening.”

You shrugged, staring out over the bannister. “I thought we were just gonna fuck,” you replied, even if the words were a little crude.

Chan laughed at your comment. “Is that so?”

“I don’t see what’s funny,” you said. “You’re the one who has to buy women.”

“You think I have to buy women?” Chan asked. “Because that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

You hesitated, sensing him growing closer. “Why me, then?”

“I bought you because you said you couldn’t be bought,” Chan replied, stepping closer to drop his hand on top of yours.

“I can’t be bought,” you argued, even though everything leading up to this moment was proving the contrary.

“Really?” he asked, and you begrudgingly shook your head.

“I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

“You might enjoy yourself,” Chan said with a seductive smirk. “This isn’t meant to be a punishment.”

“I know that,” you said, holding your breath when his lips touched the shell of your ear.

“Damn, you’re unbelievably gorgeous,” Chan said, and his free hand was trailing down your spine. “Come with me into the bedroom.”

You gave him a shaky nod, following him back inside while taking in several deep breaths as you greeted the darkness of the room, discarding your champagne on the side table. “What now?”

“Take off your dress,” Chan said, and you squinted your eyes to see him falling down into one of the chairs.

Despite the cold air of the night, everything inside was heating up again.

“Okay,” you whispered, reaching back for your zipper, and holding it between trembling fingers as you unhitched the material, allowing it to fall down your body like an avalanche of blue as it pooled around your ankles.

You heard Chan’s sharp intake of breath, feeling his eyes trail over every inch of your lingerie-clad form. “Get on the bed,” he said, and you obeyed at once, trying to make yourself comfortable on top of the mattress.

But it was hard when you noticed Chan approaching the bedside, removing his jacket and shirt to reveal a lean, muscular torso - one that had undoubtedly been built after long hours in the gym. “This is my favorite part,” Chan said, shoving down his jeans and boxers without shame, and his cock sprang up against his abdomen with an impressive girth. “I like to see the way a woman’s eyes look at me. How their breath hitches when I touch them for the first time.”

He followed through on his promise, sliding his fingers down the smooth skin of your stomach with a feather-like touch before they paused at the waistband of your panties. “Take these off,” he said, and you did your best to wrangle off the flimsy fabric, pushing it aside with your toes as Chan’s eyes zeroed in on your delicate mound. “When I fuck a woman, I make sure she comes...several times.”

You shivered at that, hearing his tone grow huskier as he instructed you to open your thighs, giving himself enough room to crawl on the bed and settle down between your open legs. It was already so revealing, and you couldn’t believe you were in this position, exposing everything to him. “Do you use protection?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’d like to fuck you raw, but only with your consent.”

You nodded again, gasping when his long, thin fingers started to carefully penetrate you, scissoring around your entrance - teasing curls that did nothing but trigger your body’s instinctual arousal. Especially as the room around you continued to grow warmer, almost as hot as Chan’s lips as they scalded your skin, lifting one of your legs higher against his arm.

“You deserve to be worshipped,” Chan whispered against your thigh. “If I had a woman like you, I’d do my best to make you happy.”

“Fuck,” you couldn’t help but curse, feeling him use his other hand to start moving his fingers even faster, gliding them against the greedy walls of your pussy as your body demanded you for more of the sweet addiction.

There was already a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, and your heart was beating faster and faster, matching the pace of his fingers. Eventually, he leaned down to take your clit between his lips, dropping your thigh back onto the mattress before sucking hard and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. 

You gasped, hips arching without your approval, grinding closer to the source of that immeasurable pleasure. It was wet and sensual, creating the gentlest of sensations that traveled all the way to your toes.

You could feel Chan smirking, lips barely touching your clit before he properly opened his mouth wide to lave his tongue across the throbbing area. It felt so good, and you were practically humping his face to gain more of his delicious mouth.

He was learning your signs, hands holding your waist as he listened to every hitch of your breath, knowing when to speed up and slow down. It was like a well-rehearsed dance, swipes of his tongue across your folds, pressing firmly against your clit when he returned to the delicate organ. 

It felt like pure heaven, bringing you higher and higher to a much-needed release, and it had been a long time since a man had made you experience such white hot lust from just his tongue.

“Cum for me,” Chan whispered, and he nipped at your clit, and the tinge of pain was enough to send you spiraling into your first orgasm of the night.

“Oh!” you groaned, grabbing his hair to pull him back when his sucking was starting to feel too painful right after coming so hard.

“What a good girl,” Chan said, looking down at you with a sheen of arousal coating his lips. 

It was obscene, forcing you to close your eyes against the image, but you cried out when he pinched one of your nipples, causing you to open them again. 

“Do me a favor and look at me while I’m fucking you, Y/N,” Chan murmured, hooded gaze meeting your struggling one - trying not to succumb to his advances, even though he was making it incredibly hard, wrist almost imperceptible with the way he was stretching you open again, pussy gaping as you felt yourself leaking uncontrollably.

“I’ll try,” you whispered, heart thundering against your chest as Chan removed his fingers only to align his cock with your entrance, dipping just the tip into your eager heat.

“Moan for me as much as you want,” Chan said, and he was bottoming out without hesitation, moving slow to prevent any pain while you got used to the stretch.

It was different from how Jisung fucked you, thrusting into you impossibly fast from the very first moment he impaled you on his cock. 

There was something caring about it, and you adjusted quickly to Chan’s girth, grinding your hips subtly just to feel very inch of his generous erection. “Good girl,” Chan cooed, and he brought his cock to a deeper roll, moving back to leave only the head before forcing himself inside once again, picking up speed as your moans continued to grow louder in volume, signaling your approach to a second release.

It was beyond amazing, and you swallowed down your embarrassment from the noises he was punching from your lungs, opening your eyes as he started to move even faster, thrusting his cock between your legs at a rhythmic pace.

He was hitting your g-spot on every deep penetration, granulating in and out at a steady pace that was so unbelievably fulfilling.

You never expected it feel this good, slick from your pussy gushing at an embarrassing rate, creating an even smoother slide. But the squelching sounds were incredibly loud, filling your ears just like his cock was filling your cunt...the best kind of fullness.

You were being stroked just right, moaning when Chan shifted his hips to thrust into you at a new angle, holding your legs over his shoulders as he practically bent you in half.

His lips were warm when they connected with yours, and there was a strange desire to sink into the kiss and lose yourself there forever. But your pussy was throbbing with need - an impossible want for the man reaching all the way to your cervix.

It felt amazing when his fingers brushed across your sensitive clit, rubbing generous circles against the tight nub. He started snapping his hips at a faster rate, slapping against your hips with every thrust, holding onto your hips with a bruising grip that would leave reminders of him for days. 

But maybe that was his intention.

Chan growled, plunging into your sore cunt time and time again. He was practically pounding you with how hard he was going, like he was trying to prove a point, and maybe he wanted to since nothing could have ever prepared you for how euphoric his cock was making you feel.

“Are you gonna cum again?” Chan whispered, gazing so fondly into your eyes.

You couldn’t speak, only managing a nod when he started to rub even faster at your clit, and you let out the loudest moan of the night when you were unraveling yet again, sinking into a third orgasm that left you drained.

It was a rollercoaster of overstimulation, and Chan realized this and gave a few stuttered kicks of his hips before he was filling you up with his cum, groaning and grunting as he leaned over you.

Your legs were numb from being spread wide for so long, and you weren’t sure that you would ever catch your breath, listening to the sound of Chan whispering sweet endearments from next to you as you realized that nothing would ever be same after this.

The next morning, you woke-up alone, but there was a note waiting for you on the nightstand.

Y/N,

Join us in the kitchen when you’re ready.

- Chan

“Us?” you repeated aloud, feeling a sense of dread as you stumbled on weak legs to gather your clothes.

You were incredibly sore between your legs, a reminder that last night actually happened, and you had slept with your husband’s boss for a big paycheck.

“It’s worth it,” you tried to reassure yourself, walking from the bedroom and into the kitchen with a subtle limp. “Nothing will change.”

But hindsight is 20/20, and you can’t predict the future. Still, your first sign should’ve been the strange image of Chan and Jisung sitting together in the kitchen, like they were having a casual breakfast together,

“There you are!” Chan greeted you upon your arrival, but you barely paid him any attention, eyes immediately finding Jisung’s.

Your husband was sitting next to Chan at the table, and there was a buffet of food displayed on elegant kitchenware. “What’s going on?”

“Breakfast,” Chan said, indicating towards the empty chair next to Jisung. “Please join us.”

You nodded, finally breaking your intense stare-down with Jisung to carefully sit down next to him.

Suddenly, it was difficult to acknowledge his presence, memories of last night resurfacing and causing you to blush at the obscene images. “I hope you slept well,” Chan said, and his plate was completely covered as he ate without a single care in the world. “Last night...it was amazing, Y/N.”

You could feel Jisung shift from next to you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to look at him. “Chan-”

“As promised,” Chan interrupted as he reached into the pocket of his expensive suite jacket, producing a thin slip of paper, and he slid the check in Jisung’s direction. “Thank you both for everything.”

“Sure,” Jisung said, and his tone was short as he grabbed the check and immediately stood from the table. “We should get going.”

“So soon?” Chan questioned, mouth stuffed impossibly full. “You’re more than welcome to anything you want.”

“We’re fine,” Jisung insisted, and he took your hand with a firm grip. “I know you’ll understand, Mr. Bang.”

“Ah!” Chan grinned. “Formalities again?”

But Jisung ignored him, turning to look at you with a gleam in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher. “Let’s go home,” Jisung said, and he tried for a smile which you couldn’t match as he led the two of you as far from Bang Chan as you could manage.

Tragically, your return home was nothing triumphant, and it should’ve felt so good to finally pay off so many bills and debts.

But it didn’t.

Everything felt hollow inside.

You also couldn’t help but notice that it was becoming increasingly difficult to talk to Jisung. Because every time you looked into his eyes, you were reminded of your impassioned affair in Vegas. It wasn’t fair to either of you, but you had no idea how to fix your relationship.

How could this be fair? You no longer had money problems forcing that divide between the two of you? In fact, you had no problems at all, and you were both entertaining the idea of moving into a bigger place and quitting your jobs.

So, what was missing? What was wrong with the way things were now that your joint account was filled to the maximum?

The answer was obvious, but you both refused to talk about it, and every second spent in each other’s company only served to carve an even deeper rift. Something so painful that you could barely share the same bed as your husband.

You couldn’t believe that things were so bad, even a month after your night with Chan, and nothing was going right. But what could you do? There was no easy solution, and it certainly didn’t help when you received a phone call from an unknown number one morning, accepting it with hesitation, only to be greeted with a strikingly familiar tone: “Hello, Y/N,” Chan said from the other end, and you immediately sat down on the edge of your bed.

“Chan?”

“How are you?” Chan asked with a pleasant tone. “I thought I might check in on my favorite couple.”

You frowned at his mocking tone. “Thanks, but we’re fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that! And I hope the money goes a long way for you and Jisung,” Chan said, and you clenched the phone tighter between your hands.

“It’s been helpful,” you said, even though the words didn’t seem to match the life you were currently living.

“Well, I’m in town for lunch this afternoon,” Chan continued. “I thought it might be nice just to catch up with you. Would you care to join me?”

You hesitated, looking around your empty bedroom with desperate eyes. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea...”

“Oh, please it’s just one lunch,” Chan said, and it was almost impossible to resist him. But that must be why he was such a good businessman. “One lunch.”

You sighed, already feeling yourself giving in to him. “One lunch,” you agreed, parroting back the response because it felt like your body was moving on auto-pilot, having lost the familiar spark ever since you came back from Vegas.

Chan’s chosen location was a gorgeous downtown restaurant that had more Michelin stars than the places you sometimes watched on TV.

It was beyond elegant, and you found Chan waiting for you at the door after having a car bring you to him. “Good morning,” he said with a cheeky tone, meeting you halfway as he offered his arm to you - the perfect gentleman.

“This was unexpected,” you said, allowing him to escort you inside, greeting the man at the front who seemed to instantly recognize Chan, leading you both to a private room away from the others.

“I wanted to do this,” Chan said. “I thought we could talk a little.”

“Is that it?” you asked, taking the menu and gaping at the immense prices.

Chan seemed to notice, smiling at your awed expression. “Have anything you want,” Chan said. “I’m buying.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly let you do that...” you said because then it would feel like a date, and that was as far from what you wanted as possible.

“Don’t concern yourself,” Chan said. “Everything is good here, and you deserve it.”

You weren’t sure that you liked the sound of that, but you didn’t complain as you requested that he order something for both of you instead of trying to interpret the gauche-sounding entrees. 

“Now,” Chan said once your waiter left the room. “Let’s talk about you.”

“Me?” you questioned, sipping gingerly at your water glass. “What about me?”

“I want to know everything,” Chan said. “All of it.”

“Everything?” you repeated, shrugging as you blushed. “There’s not much to tell.”

“I can hardly believe that,” Chan said. “What about your job?”

“I’m a freelance writer,” you said, nodding when you realized that he was genuine. “Kinda hard in the city though.”

“But you’re doing what you love?” Chan asked, and he grinned at your confirmation. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Could it be so simple? you wondered, remembering all the countless arguments you and Jisung had shared because, according to him, your job was hardly considered career-worthy. “I love writing.”

“Then you must be a big reader,” Chan remarked. “All the best writers are.”

You swooned at his smooth conversation. “I have shelves full of the classics.”

“What’s your favorite?” Chan asked.

“Jane Eyre,” you admitted, and Chan raised a brow.

“I like that about you,” he said. “It fits: the idea of a bright young woman falling in love with the enigmatic billionaire.”

You met his gaze, recalling how Jisung had aligned the term “enigmatic” with Chan on the night you made your unholy deal. Was there a deeper meaning, then? “I love the prose,” you replied instead, thinking the subject might return to Chan. 

But it never did. In fact, Chan kept all the questions about you, engaging you in a way that you had never experienced with another man. Like he cared so much about the person underneath, and his probing gaze was seeing past the outside in a way that spoke to your very soul.

And you couldn’t help but compare him to Jisung: a very dangerous thing to do.

“That was nice,” you said after you had both eaten. “It was good to see you again.”

“I agree,” Chan said, ever the businessman as his hand fell low around your waist, taking you back outside the restaurant. “Should we make plans for tomorrow?”

You almost laughed, until you read his expression and realized that he was serious. “What?”

“Y/N,” Chan said, and his tone was intense. “I can’t stop thinking about Vegas.”

“Chan,” you whined, trying to pull away, but his hold was firm. 

“If you were with me,” Chan purred, and it was a lethal sound that was as smooth as the hand traveling up and down your back. “I could give you everything you wanted and more.”

“I can’t,” you insisted, and there was an image of Jisung in your head when you managed to escape him. “That was only one time.”

“I think you and I both know that it meant more than that,” Chan said, and you could deny it all you wanted, but there was an insistent throbbing at the back of your skull.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you lied, ignoring the scoff that escaped him while calling for the valet to bring the car Chan had organized for you.

“At least take my business card,” Chan said, and he was holding the small piece of printed paper out for you, but you knew that going down that path would only make things worse.

“I can’t accept it,” you said, returning your attention to the valet as he opened the back door.

“That’s a shame,” Chan said, but he was as persistent as ever, leaning close to press a kiss across your cheek. “You can always call me. If you ever need anything.”

You nodded, feeling somewhat disoriented as you sat down against the leather seat, swallowing hard when you could still see Chan from the rearview mirror.

By the time you returned home, it was already late, and you were glad to see Jisung when you sat your purse down onto the counter. “Hey,” you said, and Jisung glanced up from where he was reading the newspaper.

“Hey,” he replied. “How was lunch?”

You swallowed hard because you hadn’t told Jisung who you ate lunch with. “It was good.”

He nodded - a short dismissal, and it you decided to freshen up in the bathroom, taking a quick shower just to wash off the lingering traces of Chan.

But maybe it was foolish to think that water could wash away everything that had happened - those traces would never simply vanish.

When you walked back out into the main room, you were stunned to see Jisung putting on his coat. “Jisung,” you said, watching your husband rush around the living room. “Are you busy?”

“Just gong to meet some friends,” Jisung replied. 

Distracted. Uninterested in you.

“Oh,” you said. “I thought we could spend some time together?”

“Yeah?” Jisung snorted, and you were shocked to hear him sound so abrasive...at least until he marched up to you waving around a business card. “And what the fuck is this, huh? I found it in your bag.”

He flung the card at you, and you sighed when you saw Chan’s name at the top - he must’ve snuck the card into your purse when you weren’t looking. “It’s nothing,” you said, but Jisung only laughed - a sound devoid of all humor. “Why the fuck are you going through my things?”

“Does it matter?” he huffed. “You can’t get enough of him, can you?” he asked, and you were like a tea kettle that had been sitting on the burner for way too long - practically erupting from the top.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think?” Jisung smarted back. “You’re obviously still seeing him, spreading your legs for his cock like a bitch in heat. I guess one night wasn’t enough for you.”

“How dare you!” you yelled, getting right in Jisung’s face. “You want to know what happened? He slipped the card into my purse when I met him for lunch today, but I had never even spoken to him until then.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Jisung spat, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a fucking whore, Y/N. Throwing yourself at a rich man like Bang Chan just because he can buy you nice stuff.”

“What’s money got to do with anything?”

“It obviously means everything!” Jisung shouted. “It’s what got us into this fucking mess into the first place.”

“You mean, the mess you made when you gambled all our money away?” 

“Are you really going to throw that back in my face?” Jisung seethed. “I was trying to make things better for us!”

“Good job,” you snickered. “Since we’re so fucking happy together.”

“What do you want from me?” Jisung asked, throwing up his arms. “I’m obviously the biggest asshole in the world.”

“I’m glad you can admit it,” you said. “Did you ever stop to think that all that I’ve done up to this point has been for you?”

Jisung paused, opening his mouth to retaliate, but then wisely deciding to let you continue. “Did I want to go to Vegas?” you asked. “No, but I went because you wanted to impress your company, and I know you wanted to do things right, but we should’ve both known better than to bet against the house. We lost everything, and in that moment of desperation, you pressured me into sleeping with another man, and I can’t think about anything else but him whenever I look at you.”

Jisung was stunned at the admission, all traces of anger gone from his expression. “Y/N,” he said. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah?” you said, voice quivering as you wiped away your tears. “Well, now you do.”

Jisung bowed his head, and you decided that you were done waiting for something to change, marching into your bedroom to grab your phone and dialing the first number you remembered.

“Chan,” you whispered when he greeted you on the other end. “Can I come over?”

There was only a split second of silence before Chan’s voice was soothing the raging storm inside of you. “I’ll send a car.”

It was almost midnight when your driver pulled up outside of a lavish home in the suburbs: huge, towering columns and Greco-Roman architecture making the place seem more like a mausoleum.

But it wasn’t the home itself that brought you comfort; rather, the people living within it who always made things seem safe and welcoming, and Chan was sure to greet you at the door, opening his arms wide to accept your embrace. “Was it a bad fight?” he asked, and you nodded while wondering how he could’ve possibly picked up on the fact that you and Jisung had been arguing again.

Maybe he just had good intuition when it came to you, and you appreciated the understanding, allowing him to bring you into an enormous den, settling you against the couch next to him while a fire blazed in the background. “I made tea,” Chan said, reaching for the two cups waiting on the ornamental table filling the empty space at the center of the room.

“Thanks,” you said, finding your eyes drawn to the neat stack of papers that had been sitting next to the cups.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chan asked, relaxing one arm around your shoulders, bringing you against his much-needed warmth.

“We just don’t get along anymore,” you said. “I thought having money would fix things, but everything is worse.”

“Really?” Chan asked, and he seemed to consider your words. “It might seem like a good thing, and from the standpoint of a businessman, money is a very powerful motivator.” He smiled, looking down at you with eyes glowing from the flames. “But money isn’t the solution when it comes to the people you love.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, but you had also started picking up on that yourself. “Were you busy with something?”

Chan followed your gaze, reaching out for the papers that had drawn your attention from the very first moment you sat down. “These?” Chan chuckled, and he slid them to the edge, allowing you to read the fine print across the cover. “Divorces are complicated, aren’t they?” Chan asked, and you hesitated when you realized what he was implying. “But if you have enough money, then anything is possible.”

“Chan...” you trailed off, vision blurring at the edges and making the letters bleed together - a cacophony of meaningless jargon. “What are you trying to say?”

“You’re unhappy,” Chan said, and it was an observation that wasn’t difficult to make after all that had happened. “I guess I just don’t want you to be associated with the person causing that unhappiness.”

“You want me to leave Jisung?” you said, breathing in and out because it wasn’t a simple decision that one could make on the spot - not after years of living with someone who had become a central part of your existence.

It was too much to bear, and Chan’s presence was almost suffocating, breaths heavy against the side of your neck as he whispered in your ear. “Why should you stay with him? With or without money, he can’t seem to make you smile.”

You trembled at his closeness, choking around a sob even though the atmosphere between the two of you was suddenly charged with something electric. “And then what?”

“Well, after Jisung signs them,” Chan said, and his tongue traced the lobe of your ear. “I’d love to have you for myself.”

“O-oh,” you stuttered, closing your eyes as he took you into his arms, doing nothing more than holding you, but the feelings bubbling below the surface of your skin told you more than actions or words ever could.

The next morning, Chan had his driver take you back to the apartment you shared with Jisung.

The apartment was strangely quiet, and you left the divorce papers on the table in the kitchen while you went to shower, wanting nothing more than the scalding water to provide a temporary numbness to the confusion you felt in every fiber of your being.

It was a much-needed reprieve, and when you walked back into the kitchen, you were surprised to see your husband at the table, eyes downcast. “Come sit with me, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard when you realized he was searching through the divorce papers, but you weren’t met with his anger; instead, Jisung just seemed really sad, and that was much worse. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” you said, but your husband just smiled and shook his head. 

“I knew you wouldn’t come back home for nothing,” he said, sliding out the chair next to him as an invitation. “Why should you? I treated you like shit the other night.”

“We both said some really cruel things,” you said, joining him with a sigh. “Things spiraled out of control.”

“I can see that,” Jisung said, tapping his fingers against the papers. “Let’s talk about what happened.”

You shivered at the thought. “I don’t think we should-”

“No,” Jisung interrupted, but it was a gentle chide. “It’s important, so hear me out.”

It would be so hard, but you still agreed. “Okay.”

“The whole mistake in Vegas wasn’t the money,” Jisung said. “No, money might’ve caused our problems, but the mistake wasn’t wanting something to make our lives better. The real mistake was me thinking that I could just forget about it after we left. That I could easily forgive us both...What’s that old saying? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas?” Jisung laughed, but it was bitter sounding. “Bullshit, right?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Bullshit.”

Jisung smiled. “People in love stay with each other, not because they try to forget the wrong parts, but because they’re capable of forgiving the bad. And I couldn’t do that because I thought you would want Chan after that night...that you would be right to want him. He’s so much better in every way, the better man for someone wonderful like you. But by the time I realized that it wasn’t true, that he was only better because he had more money, everything had spiraled.”

He was quiet after his confession, struggling to hold back his tears as he clicked open one of our pens and brought the papers closer. “If you really want the divorce, then I’ll give it to you,” Jisung said. “I just want you to be happy.”

Why should you stay with him? With or without money, he can’t seem to make you smile.

“Jisung...” you trailed off, unsure if there was anything you could do to change the look in his eyes.

“I’ll always love you,” Jisung said, and it was the same promise as always, but you watched with a heavy heart as he signed his name in cursive as the bottom of the form.

The divorce papers felt like an added weight in your bag as you marched into the office building of SKZ Enterprises.

It was ridiculous, really. They were just papers, made in a factory and mass-produced to be sold in stores.

But it was the symbolism they carried, the significance of Jisung’s name scribbled at the bottom of the final page that had you faltering.

Your heart was hurting, and you forced a smile when you greeted Chan’s secretary at the corner next to his big, corporate office. “I’m here to see, Mr. Bang,” you told the secretary. “Tell him my name is Y/N.”

“Of course,” she said, and you watched her disappear into the office, giving you a few critical moments to collect your thoughts.

Until you heard his voice again:

“Y/N?” 

You startled at the sound of Chan’s voice, seeing him standing in front of you with a million-dollar smile on his weathered face. “Come inside?”

“Yes,” you agreed, following him into the office with the door shutting firmly behind you.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Chan said, grabbing you hand and pressing a kiss to your lips. “Is something wrong?”

“We need to talk,” you said, and Chan’s smile disappeared.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said, chuckling as he invited you to sit down in one of the expensive chairs next to his desk. “Do you need anything? I can call for some tea.”

“No,” you said, deciding it was better to get straight to the point as you reached into your bag to bring out the divorce papers stapled together.

“This could either be good or bad,” Chan remarked, accepting them from you and quickly turning to the last page, expression falling. “I see.”

“I can’t sign them,” you said, and there was something powerful in your tone that had even Chan admitting defeat.

“Damn,” Chan sighed, eyes boring a hole into the pages. “This is the worst news I’ve gotten.”

“I talked to Jisung,” you explained. “Just looking at him and entertaining the idea of leaving forever...I couldn’t do it.”

Chan finally tore his gaze from the papers, meeting yours with disappointment. “I take it he said something to change your mind.”

“I don’t know if he changed my mind,” you admitted. “Rather, I think his love and forgiveness made me see reason with what I was doing.”

“Ah,” Chan said. “I think we’ve come full circle, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you told me that all the money in the world couldn’t buy your love,” Chan said, and there was something that resembled respect reflected in his eyes. “You were right all along.”

You ducked your head, unable to maintain such intensity. “I’d like to give you that money back, Mr. Bang. My husband and I can manage on our own.”

“Oh, please, I’d be insulted if you did that,” Chan said, and he held out his hand for you to shake. “You know I’m a good businessman, so consider this an opportune long-term investment in something I’m supporting.”

You were full of gratitude, swallowing back tears as you nodded. “Thank you.”

“”There’s no need for that,” he said. “I’ll always be here for you.” The sentiment was matched by the gentle brushing of his lips across your cheek, and you could feel the last reminder of Chan even after leaving his office for the first and final time.

You were carrying takeout up the stairs, feeling lighter on your feet than you had in months.

The weight of your burdensome worries was gone, and you knocked with a little too much enthusiasm on the front door to your apartment.

“Y/N?” Jisung questioned, and there was an obvious look of surprise on his face when he opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” you reminded him with a cheeky smile. “I brought food.”

Jisung’s eyes moved to the bag in your hand, nodding once before allowing you inside. “I thought you were going to see Chan.”

“I did,” you said, leading him into the kitchen. “There were some things to discuss.”

“I see,” Jisung said, watching you with a wary expression as you presented him with his favorite Italian special.

The suspense was killing you, and you desperately wanted to see the frown leave his lips. “I didn’t sign the papers,” you said, sitting down at the table with a wearied sigh. “I couldn’t.”

“Really?” Jisung asked, clearing his throat at the hitch in his voice, but you were just trying to hide your smile at his boyish charms.

“Have I told you that I love you recently?” you asked, looking at him with way too much fondness.

Jisung paused, chopsticks poised in hand. “You do?”

“Always,” you affirmed, and you were unprepared for the first of Jisung’s tears to fall, endearing him even more to you if that was possible. “I’m happiest with you,” you told him, reaching out to wipe away those rebellious tears.

“I’ve always felt that way,” Jisung said, getting himself back under control as he pushed away his food and patted his lap. “Come here.”

You were more than happy to oblige, climbing into his lap to wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair while searing your lips together in a kiss that promised so much more from the one true love of your life.

[seaofolives]

ship: gladnis

gdocs word count: 683

Ignis swears to all the gods high and low that this place has every intention to dull out his senses before the night ends. The music is too loud, the bass feels like itʼs pounding from within his chest and his belly and the flashing lights are only making it that much harder to see whatʼs in front of him. It isnʼt even like he wanted to be here. Which is to say, he did—but mostly because he had to, as a matter of maintaining professional relationships amongst the Crownsguard.

Is it any wonder, then, that heʼd practically jumped out of his skin when he felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder? Ignis whirls in alarm, but is locked into an awkward position of looking-but-not-quite-looking at the voice that asks him loudly, lips next to his ear, “Dʼyou wanna get outta here?” Ignis doesnʼt think he should in the name of camaraderie but he doesnʼt think heʼd like to be stuck in here for much longer than is needed either.

He hopes for the best and nods, follows the broad back that leads him through uniforms bunched together, lines of them snaking around tables leading to the mobile bar at the side. The thumping music from the live band becomes muffled as soon as Ignis steps out into the balcony just outside the entrance.

The quiet is almost unreal, but such a gift. Thereʼs absolutely nothing to see out there but Ignis braces his arms on the railing, anyway, as if there was an overflowing garden underneath him. “Thank you,” he exhales to his savior before long, turning to finally face the larger man.

“Donʼt worry about it,” he tells him in a deep bass that is thankfully not the kind that is almost suffocating for Ignis. He still has a bottle of beer in his hand which he uses to gesture at him. “I could tell you werenʼt having a good time. You didnʼt even hear me when I tried to call your attention the first time.”

“Why, Iʼd be impressed if anyone could actually hear anyone else in that place,” Ignis snorts, turning to put his back on the railing so that heʼs facing the colorful room that is filled with uniforms and elegant robes mingling and dancing to the party music. “You should go back and join your buddies, though, before you are missed.”

“In a minute,” his companion replies, turning to face the party with him. “I mean I love parties, I like making friends, but not like this.” He angles his bottle to the room. “You could hardly talk to anyone without shouting in their faces in there. And thereʼs enough of that during training.”

“You can say that again,” Ignis chuckles, peeling his glasses from his eyes so he can clean them on his uniform.

“Well anyway, Iʼm Gladiolus.” The princeʼs Sworn Protector. Ignis knows of him, of course, but they havenʼt had many opportunities to connect with each other since he was formally appointed. If they did, Ignis wouldnʼt have bothered to come here at all just to say hi to him.

“Ignis Scientia,” he responds in kind, smiling as he puts his glasses back on.

“Yeah.” Gladiolus grins. “The princeʼs royal advisor, right? Heard a lotta things about you.”

“All good things, I hope?”

Gladiolus laughs, giving into his helpful hint with a few nods. “Some were pretty cool,” he concedes.

Now itʼs Ignisʼ turn to laugh, fussing with his glasses while he struggles with his sheepishness. Heʼs not bad with making friends, but he normally doesn’t do it this way. Most especially when the friend heʼs making is an important colleague.

Luckily for him, Gladiolus seems to know what heʼs doing. “Hey, you thirsty?” He points back to the party over his shoulder while stepping slowly backwards towards it. “Let me bring something out for ya.”

“A beer would be nice,” Ignis asks of him.

Gladiolus pops up a thumb, winking, then hops his way back to the party. Ignis isnʼt sure why that makes him laugh and giddy, but it does, anyway.

[luminull]

[Image ID: Two images, identical other than the fact that one is done in greyscale, while the other is in rainbow colors on the same grey background. It depicts a script that meanders about the canvas, flow guided by simplistic messy line drawings that reflect the text. The images start with a person and their speechbubble within a thoughtbubble, transitioning through comicbook-like pages, a spotlight, a river of blank papers, and a large dividing vertical pillar through the center of the image. Atop that pillar is the same person's silhouette, tiny and calling out, before the flow continues to an hourglass, a brain, a battery, and a collection of various shapes surrounded by the word "AND" repeatedly. At the end are two more silhouettes: the first is standing and looking upward at a large nearby "AND", with a capital "I" to their right, almost like a measuring marker; the second silhouette is sitting hunched over their knees, another smaller "I" to their left, and positioned in a similar way as to imply further-diminished measurement. /. End ID]

Transcript:

I've always WANTED to make COMICS But I kept Looking [Hoping] [Stalling] [Waiting] FOR SOMETHING to justify TRYING ... and failing... A LOT to make things WORK Because it's all so... MASSIVELY DAUNTING It takes a lot of TIME AND FOCUS AND ENERGY to figure out... [begin 12 "AND"s filling the space] Panel SIZE Story Drafting Polish Negative SPACE ... FLOW... SHAPE AND I... I

(Very long and numerous) thoughts under the cut!

I made this almost a year ago now, and I kept telling myself I would clean it up and post it one day I might still clean it up eventually, but I'm done waiting to post it

I can't begin to describe how proud I am of this, I keep reading it over and over and finding little surprises I left for myself:

The way the orange arrow makes a nice circle with the bottom lump of the thought cloud The way the tail circles of the thought bubble curve to make an arc to that circle with "COMICS" bridging the gap, moving into an image of a comic being drawn

The way the blank papers not only represent the paper I used to burn through, but when colored in all those shades of green, they remind me of the money that's gone into all of the projects I've ever attempted The way it starts with a trickle and quickly becomes chaotic, costing more and more

The way "MASSIVELY DAUNTING" lists to the side, threatening to fall over The way it's pushed from the side of Everything Art Requires towards the flow of "money", and looks about ready to squash "TRYING" and "WORK" The way it somehow furthers yet intensely interrupts the flow of everything

The way that the river of papers has three potential origin points: The taper in the middle of the arrangement under "TRYING", the drafts and attempts that happened The comic panels from the left, the theoretical comics I would have made, flowing through "TRYING" The pages and the panels from the right side of the canvas- and arguably the battery of "ENERGY" driving the flow- pushing through the practical aspects and hitting the wall of "MASSIVELY DAUNTING" before returning in a small trickle that has to pick itself back up

The way the first comic pages seem like an extension of the speechbubble, or new speechbubbles ordering themselves like stacked pages The way the comic panels on the orange page match the illuminating yellow of the spotlight, match the phrase "But I kept Looking" and getting so close to "FOR SOMETHING to justify TRYING" The way "... and failing" is green as the pages/money

They way I personally identify with cool colors, yet in all of this, the character that represents me is painted in pinks and struggling The way the "I"s look like they're measurements, with the taller one almost seeming to prop up some of the "AND"s while the smaller one seems to be weighed down heavily by the "..." above it

The way "Polish" seems to absolutely dominate the space as just a single word, which is fitting since it's probably the step I get hung up on the most The way all the things that go into a comic seem all over the place, both flowing and a disjointed jumble

Augh there's just always more to find, and I'm the one who made it!

As for the process behind all this, it was actually totally freeform: I sat down with the urge to make a comic, or at least vent about making comics, and I just... Started drawing The flow of the picture really follows what got made in what order- and in fact, I originally was just going to leave it as a single chunk once I wrote "WORK"

But it felt unfinished, so I added a little more: I added "Because it's all so..." And I sat on it for a bit, before deciding on "MASSIVELY DAUNTING" It filled up the space well enough, and it was accurate, but... Again, I had to figure out What Else I needed to add

I decided I was going to do a vertical arrangement- which, you may notice, didn't pan out Everything after the Leaning Tower Of Doubt was supposed to be made off to the side where I could see it when my canvas was zoomed to fit my screen, but in a way where I could easily move it into place later where it was supposed to go

And then I got attached to the horizontal spread Whoops It worked well on so many levels, so I couldn't really bring myself to rearrange it afterwards But you might notice that the left side is very rounded and full of stuff flinging off to fill space, and the right side just has a relatively flat wall

That's right, I decided I was going to do a third section: this one was going to be the Optimistic Conclusion, the cool nifty message for myself and others that if you give things a go anyways, you can succeed eventually, or maybe learn something in the process- I dunno I had ambition not thoughts

Clearly, I Ran Out Of Time, Focus, And Energy

So it's "finished" on a rather dreary note, that side shut down above a retreating shutdown But it still brings me a lot of pride, even though it's messy and unfinished It's redefined my standards when it comes to making comics- or "comics", depending on your own definition

And not only that, but it looks an awful lot like how my thoughts feel, especially with color That's something I have always longed to be able to show

[whaleofatjme1920]

In the Backyard Catching Fireflies (Hoodie X F!Reader X Masky)

In the Backyard Catching Fireflies

[Hoodie X F!Reader X Masky]

[Warnings: slight blood]

You honestly could have dreamed you would be in this type of situation if you were looking at this from the lens of last year's Reader. It was a mistake to even make contact with them to begin with.

As a child, your mother would often bring you into the woods to look for fun things: flowers, mushrooms, rocks, sometimes bones or pieces of trees. Other times, she brought you out there to practice her own magick, other days it was just to spend time in nature, and every other time than those reasons was just to spend time with you, her one and only beloved daughter. The correct term would be ‘witch’ but your mother never actually called herself one. Magickal practitioner, maybe, but never a ‘witch.’ You, on the other hand, absolutely took that term with pride.

You being a witch was what accidentally caused you to meet them to begin with. One evening, while out and about in the forest on the edge of town where you looked for fresh violets to eventually make violet syrup for your daughter’s ‘magical creature tea party,’ you found your favorite stretch of woods filled with the scent of blood. How strange, and it didn’t strike you as an animal’s blood. No, this was much stronger, more metallic, and carried the weight of sins past in its wake. As you looked around the forest to see what on earth was causing the terrible scent, you saw two men get spit out in between the trees. They flailed for a moment before getting tossed onto the forest floor, looking so much worse for wear.

“Oh my gods!” You exclaimed in surprise as you began to run over to the two, wondering if they were okay. You drew cautiously near them, only momentarily pausing to grab a large stick from the ground should they pounce when you finally got close enough to see their faces. How peculiar - their faces were covered. The one in the yellow hoodie had a ski-mask with a frown etched onto its surface, and the one in the tan coat was donned with a white mask with feminine features.

Your eyes flicked down to their midsections - that’s where the blood came from. They’re out cold, and you confirm that by trying to get them up. No dice. Against your better judgement, you load them onto your little wagon and bring them back to the car. It wouldn’t be right for you to just… leave them to bleed all over the forest floor.

You entered back into your house around the early evening, tired from trying to drag two grown men much bigger than you into your garage and set them up so you can work on them.

“Mommy?” Your small daughter’s voice piped in as she popped her head through the door leading to the garage where you were. “Who are they?”

“Got hurt,” you replied. “Can you get me the first aid kit?”

Your little girl smiled widely and nodded before she quickly zoomed back into the house. “Make sure to get the lavender and rosemary oil too! Can you do that for me, Magnolia?” You called out.

You heard your little girl running around as if she went back to get something. She eventually came back to the door, her arms full of things she thought you needed and the things you actually needed. “Thank you so much, baby,” you said with a small smile, petting her head as she put the things down on the table for you. “Go upstairs and watch some TV for me, okay? I don’t think I want to overwhelm our guests.”

At the sound of being able to watch more spongebob, she zoomed off and allowed you to get to work.

You mentally asked the two men before you to forgive the intrusion as you lifted their shirts to get at their wounds. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen something like this before. Is that… Are those claw marks? You dab a piece of cloth with some isopropyl alcohol and move to the white masked man and get three of the four lines cleaned when he awoke. His eyes shot open and his hand was gripping painfully tight at your wrist.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked in a panic, struggling to get you off of him in his half awake state. “Where are we?”

“Woah!” You cried out as you attempted to wriggle your hand free from his grasp. “I’m just cleaning you up-”

“Where are we?” He’s rattling off questions so fast and so loud that it wakes the second one up.

Due to you not being able to hold him down as well, he was able to pounce up and pin you to the ground, ready to end your life.

“Agh- stop!” You cried out in shock. “I just wanted to patch you two up!”

The man in the ski mask looked into your eyes for any hint of lying, or deception only to find none. Still, you were a normal person getting involved with two proxies. That in itself warrants death according to their society’s rules - and the Slender Man’s will.

“Wait,” the man in the white mask sighed. “Let her finish this up. You’re bleeding out on the floor.”

On cue at his comrade’s words, Hoodie glanced down to his midsection. He was indeed bleeding out on the garage floor and by extension, you. Realizing he was in no state to even consider inflicting damage, he relented.

An awkward silence quickly built up once you were back working on them. “So… What’re your names?”

“Hoodie.”

“Masky.”

“Interesting names,” you noted as you continued to work. “I’m Reader.”

“Interesting name,” Masky mirrors.

You laugh slightly.

That wasn’t the last you saw of the two men. They left almost immediately after being patched up much to your chagrin, but came back about a week later to properly thank you.

“We noticed some spell books in your garage before we left,” Hoodie began before nodding for Masky to go to the back of the car (they stole). “One of them being florals and it looked like you had some space in the front of your house. So, we brought you some flowers.”

You move your vision from over Hoodie’s shoulder to see Masky holding planters full of flower’s you’ve never even seen before. “Oh my gods,” you said in slight surprise as Masky places the small bushes down in front of their designated spots.

“We can plant them for you - or if you don’t like them we can-”

“No, no! They’re beautiful and the front lawn needs some color,” you beamed, looking at the array of colors dotting your front lawn. “How did… Where did you even find those?”

“We know a guy,” Masky said as he went back to the car to get a shovel.

You ended up going out there to help them plant the flower bushes and spent some more time in their company while you worked.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Masky said as he began to carefully place one of the shrubs into the dirt.

“Too broad,” you teased slightly.

Masky rolled his brown eyes. “You and magick.”

“My mother practiced, now I do,” you replied as you gently scooped back some of the dirt. “Most of it is home related work, but these plants are such a big help.” You took in their sweet scent. Come to think of it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen these types of flowers before anywhere. “What about you two?”

“Travelers, of some sort,” Hoodie piped in. “Never stay in one place for too long.” He glanced over to Masky to continue.

“That’s pretty much it,” Masky whistled slightly. “Used to be film students. Now we just… Go wherever the winds take us.”

From there, you began to hear stories from the two. Mostly little adventures they’d gone to, creepy towns they never wished to visit ever again, people they wished they stayed in contact with and everything and anything in between. It was actually rather nice to talk to other adults - and while they were relatively quiet about their past past, they seemed at ease talking with you about these things.

In return, you told them about other memories and anecdotes in your life. Small memories of climbing up the mountain with your mother, meeting your friends, your academic adventures and what brought you out to this part of the country.

“Wanted to get away from it all, I guess,” you said as the three of you sat on the front porch. “Figured it would be better to start again out here than face everything that had happened back there.”

Hoodie shared a look with Masky for but a moment. You hadn’t gone into detail about what happened back then, but they could somewhat fill in the lines with their experience of the world so far.

They came by plenty of times after that - sometimes together, sometimes not. Most of the time they stayed on your porch with you, chatting away about the day’s events and what would come next. You told them about your job, a teacher’s assistant to middle schoolers, and how you often passed your time. They eventually showed you their faces - and lord were they handsome - and still refused to tell you about their actual work.

“It’s dangerous, that’s all you need to know,” Hoodie had said one night while sipping a beer bottle.

Yet, they seemed to come by even more than usual when they met your darling little girl, Magnolia. Somehow, they’d managed to avoid her and her them throughout all their visits, but one afternoon near the beginning of the school year, that all changed.

She’s only 7, and the school bus often lets her out about a block from your home. You trust her enough to walk there and back (though another part of you wants to hold onto her forever and never let go).

“What time is it?” You hummed, sipping at your iced tea.

“About… 3:30, why?” Masky asked as he looked at his watch.

You immediately perked up. “She should be home soon,” you said eyes wandering from the two men on the steps with you towards the direction you knew your little girl was going to be coming from. And just like clockwork, there she was.

“Mommy!” She cried out, a large smile on her face as she began to run the rest of the way to the front steps.

“Mags!” You giggled as you maneuvered your way through the two men before hurriedly meeting her half way. “There’s my special little girl,” you laughed, taking her into your arms, picking her up and spinning her. “How was your day?” You ask, carrying her in your arms as you make it back to the front porch.

Masky and Hoodie move aside slightly as you sit back down with Magnolia on your lap.

“It was so fun! Today, we talked about bugs!”

“You did?” You asked as she nodded rapidly. “Tell me all about it while I get you something to drink and a snack, okay?” You said as you put her onto the steps before standing and opening the front door - and propping it open so you could still hear her and see her from the kitchen.

“We learned all about butterflies and what happens when they’re babies and become pretty,” Magnolia began to explain. “And then Miss Honey said we were gonna get caterpillar babies in our classroom and release them later. And then, she told us about bees and how bumbly they are-”

You listened to Magnolia go on about her lesson with a small smile as you fixed her some iced tea and apple slices. You could listen to her all day. When you failed to answer one of her questions, you heard Masky picking it back up for you.

“Hey Mommy? Why is the sky blue?”

A beat of silence because you honestly didn’t hear it.

“The atmosphere,” Masky began as he looked up at the perfectly azure sky. “You know what the states of matter are, don’t you?”

Magnolia nodded. “I do! Solid, liquid and gas,” she answered.

Masky smiled back and nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. Atmosphere is air and it covers the whole earth like a blanket,” he explained.

“It does?”

“Absolutely,” Hoodie chimed in.

Magnolia looked in between the two men with stars in her eyes, urging them to continue.

“The atmosphere changes the way that light from the sun reaches us,” Masky continued. “Light comes to us in wavelengths,” he moves his hand up and down like ‘waves’ to show what he means. “And those wavelengths look different depending on what they hit,” he claps his hands together, “and how long they are.”

“Do shorter wave… wavelengths show different colors?” Magnolia asks, clearly enamored in Masky’s teaching.

“Smart girl,” Masky chuckled softly as he ruffled her hair.

You finally come back from the kitchen with Magnolia’s snack and drink, more than pleased to see how well Masky and Hoodie were doing with her. Magnolia was admittedly a shy girl - she never really warmed up to people easily, especially not men given the situation with her father (who you’d rather not think about most days).

“And what about rainbows? Are those wavelengths?”

Both Hoodie and Masky laughed slightly before entertaining your daughter’s question as she sipped on her drink and bit into the apple slices. You watched with a small smile as you listened to the three talk.

After meeting Magnolia, Hoodie and Masky were more often at your house than not. And it carried on like that throughout the school year.

Masky often helped Magnolia with her science and math when you didn’t (feel like it).

“Mhm, and how many do you need to add to 5 in order to make 9?” Masky asked, eyes

glancing between your daughter and her math worksheet.

Magnolia smiled widely, “It’s 4.” She said it so confidently that you felt your heart burst from the living room.

“Good job,” Masky smiled back just as widely. “I’m sure you don’t know what you have to add to 8 to get 15, do you?”

“7!”

“Gods, you are so smart,” Masky chuckled warmly, hand once again ruffling her hair.

Hoodie was much more inclined to help with her reading and language arts skills. Seemed he had a knack for those things over math and science anyways.

“Spell bridge.”

“B-R-I-D-G-E.” Magnolia said with a grin.

Hoodie nodded. “Alright, how about… Believe?”

Magnolia furrowed her eyebrows slightly but gave a stab at it anyways. “B-E-L… I-E-V-E.” I before E, right?

“Good one. And laughter?”

“L-A-U-... F-no… G-H… T-E-R?”

“Nice job!” Hoodie complimente in an excited tone, scooping Magnolia up onto his lap making her burst into a fit of giggles. “You are seriously gonna kick everyone’s butt at the spelling bee on Friday.”

While they grew closer with your little girl, you noticed they had also grown oddly close with you as well. It came in little bouts - sometimes Masky would be cuddling with you on the couch while you watched the late night news. Hoodie would sometimes spend time with you in the garden and help when he didn’t have to - he was there just because he wanted to be with you. There were some days when they’d get you little trinkets, plants and herbs to help with your magick. Masky would even remind you of the full moon so you could put a jug out for moon water - and Hoodie would inform you of when the planets were in retrograde to potentially explain any odd behavior (remember: mundane of magickal.) They were helpful. Other times the three of you would spend the day together and eat brunch and act like your own individual family unit. And in your own unique way, you were - what with Magnolia now referring to the two men as her ‘aunt Hoodie’ and ‘uncle Masky’ much to the former’s original hesitance to accept that title.

It wasn’t just you feeling this way either, it was both of them as well. Masky was surprised to see how fast Hoodie had grown to care about you as Hoodie doesn’t really care about anything anymore. Maybe himself, definitely Masky, and definitely the other two in their group - but that’s it. To care for a human and her child… That’s admittedly out of pocket for him. They’re not sure what exactly to call it, maybe it’s love, but it’s a different kind of love. One that doesn’t have a name.

Ever since they entered your life things have been better. Life has been sweeter. Your little girl is more outgoing than ever and she’s finally coming out of her shell with not one, but two positive male role models.

And that led to now. The sun had finally dipped below the horizon and the stars were coming out to play. Magnolia was about to go on summer break - and the four of you had been planning on visiting the beach sometime soon. There were a lot of things to look forward to (another magical creature plus aunt Hoodie and uncle Masky tea party) being one of those things.

“Careful with the jar, Mags,” Hoodie said as he handed Magnolia a good sized mason jar to her awiting hands.

“I will!” Magnolia said before she zipped outside the backyard.

“Masky, you want anything to drink?” Hoodie called out from the kitchen as you got together the materials for s’mores.

“Lemonade, if we have it,” Masky replied.

“Good choice,” Hoodie mumbled before turning to the fridge.

After the two of you had everything you needed, you and Hoodie went out to the backyard and started to set everything up on the glass table Masky sat at. You settled into your seat as Hoodie got a fire going in the pit and when that was ready, he let it burn and took a seat at the other side of you. With Masky to your right and Hoodie to your left, you felt an odd sense of peace.

“It’s a nice night, yeah?” You hummed out in content as you watched your baby dance around with the fireflies.

“It sure is,” Hoodie agreed, hand lightly resting on top of yours.

“Ditto,” Masky smiled, arm now around your shoulders.

In the grass, Magnolia giggled as she caught fireflies, admiring how beautiful the flashes of green looked as they danced through the swaying leaves of grass.

[cinnaminsvga]

A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you… umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could -  you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I’m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him.  “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––

[annabethy]

Annabeth making Percy a surprise dinner?

in which Annabeth tries to bake but Percy’s a much better (and entertaining) cook,, percabeth

Percy honestly doesn’t know what to expect at home when his wife stops answering her texts halfway through the day. At first, he chalks it up to her taking a nap, which is understandable considering she’s still recovering from a nasty cold that had her out for a week, but when it stretches hours with no response, he starts to get a bit suspicious.

He goes about his day at work normally, glancing at his phone every couple of minutes in anticipation for a response that never comes. He manages not to get too worried because knowing her, she probably forgot to charge her phone, but it doesn’t stop his leg from bouncing up and down in the driver’s seat of his car.

Percy practically jumps out of the car the second he’s parked and makes his way up to their apartment. There’s not really much going through is head besides him repeating where Annabeth over and over in his head like a broken record. He struggles to unlock the front door, and while he’d like to say it was due to his nerves, it’s much more likely that he is just bad with locks.

When the lock does click open, he is immediately met with the sound of something metal clanging in the kitchen and the distinct smell of smoke.

“Annabeth?”

He shuts the door behind him silently, kicking his shoes off. His footsteps are light against the wooden floor as not to startle her. When he rounds a corner and she comes into sight, there is an image in front of him that makes him want to both laugh and cry.

His kitchen looks like a bomb went off inside of it; there’s flour in every square inch of the room, and he’s pretty sure the counter is going to be permanently stained blue with the amount of food coloring she’s managed to spill. The oven is on, though there’s nothing in it, urging him to believe she may have forgotten she’d turned it on entirely.

Annabeth doesn’t acknowledge his presence, which isn’t a surprise considering the amount of noise she’s making. Percy leans against the wall to watch the scene unravel — Annabeth is wrestling a pile of dough that she clearly hasn’t let rise yet. It’s comical, watching her attempt to bake. She’s never been the best at it so he’s resigned to cooking for the two of them, so when she did take over cooking every once in a while, he couldn’t help but stop and laugh at her in adoration.

She’s with her back to Percy, so he makes to move behind her. If she’s startled when he wraps his arms around her waist, pressing his face between her shoulder blades, she doesn’t let it show.

“Hey,” Percy whispers, pressing his lips right below her ear. The skin is incredibly soft, and he loves the way she smells, so sweet and like herself. “What are you doing?”

She doesn’t answer, instead twisting out of his grasp and smiling innocently. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You mean you’re not destroying our kitchen?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Annabeth looks around the room before looking back at him, as though saying see?

“So we’re not going to talk about your hands stained blue?”

“Uh– no.”

Percy gives her an accusing look.

“I was trying to do something nice for you,” she admits, “but you’re home early and ruined the surprise.”

“Yeah?” He moves to stand in front of her, attempting to corner her against the counter. She protests for a moment before giving in to the kiss he presses to her forehead.

“It didn’t work anyways. I’m not a very good cook.”

“You’re not,” he agrees. Annabeth pouts, and Percy wants to kiss her, so he does.

“Why are you trying to do something nice?”

“Because,” she starts dramatically, slumping into his arms. “You took care of me all last week, which couldn’t have been fun.”

“It was lots of fun,” Percy tells her.

“Absolutely not.”

Percy hums in disagreement. “I get the best snuggles out of you when you’re sick. Otherwise, you’re just mean.”

Annabeth pushes his shoulder lightly. “I’m not mean.”

“Sometimes you’re mean,” he says playfully.

“I don’t think I like being married to you anymore.”

“You love being married to me,” he dismisses, pulling away from their hug. He regrets it a few seconds later, missing the heat of her body against his. “Can I help you finish?”

Annabeth whines. “No. It was supposed to be a surprise, so go do something else while I finish.”

On any other day, he would, but he’s missed her today more than usual. Besides, he’d much rather stay and watch this train wreck unfold in front of his eyes. It’s times like this he loves the most, he thinks, when the two of them get to make a mess with a childlike innocence, just being with one another. That’s what causes him to shake his head and kiss her once more.

“I want to help.”

“You want to help?”

“I love watching you fail at cooking,” he says sweetly, narrowly dodging the flick to the tip of his nose. “Come on. I’ll even clean everything up for you if you let me help.”

Annabeth pretends to think for a minute before stepping onto her tiptoes so she can press a kiss to his lips. “Fine,” she mutters against him, “but the joke’s on you. You were going to be cleaning everything up anyways.”

Percy rolls his eyes, but he can hardly be upset when she’s looking at him with such affection in her eyes.

It doesn’t take long at all before Percy decides to start messing with her. She leans over his shoulder while he begins to mix a bowl of buttercream frosting, and he practically has to shake her off of him. He pretends to be annoyed by the kisses she presses into his neck, the task at hand completely forgotten on her end, but it sends a jolt through him each time she makes contact with his skin. He honestly doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this.

“It needs food coloring,” Annabeth tells him.

“Why don’t you pick a color?” Percy isn’t entirely thinking when he says that. Annabeth takes it as an invitation to pop open the cap to a small glass jar and tip it into the bowl he’s mixing in.

Percy chokes, snatching the food coloring from her fingers. “Annabeth!”

“What?”

He sets the jar aside carefully and shakes his head at her, amused. “You’ve just managed to turn our insides blue for a week.”

“I thought you liked blue.” Percy dips his finger into the bowl, scooping a glob of the deep blue frosting up. He glances at Annabeth, contemplating his next move. She’s looking at him with an emotion he can’t read, and so he looks back to the frosting.

“It’s a pretty color, don’t you think?”

Percy laughs. “You think so?”

“I’m surprised you don’t.”

With that, Percy decides to drag the frosting in a line down her cheek before she gets the chance to move away. It leaves a thick trail of blue that’s no doubt going to be stained on her face for the next day, given the way his finger is colored.

“Percy,” Annabeth threatens. She reaches for the bowl in a sudden movement, but he shoves it away before she gets her hands on any.

“You like the color!” he defends. Annabeth starts moving towards him, and he moves in the opposite direction, attempting to use the island as a barrier between the two of them.

Annabeth just stops and stares at him. It’s not particularly threatening, but it’s calm enough to make him sure that she’s about to make him regret it.

Annabeth points at the ground in front of her. “Come here.”

“I’m good where I am.”

It’s then that she starts towards him again, and he stumbles backwards, stubbing his toe on the corner of the counter. The sharp pain distracts him from the fact that his wife is rapidly approaching, and the next thing he knows, Annabeth is jumping on his back. His knees buckle for a moment before he manages to gain his balance.

Her hand splays across his face as she tries to reach across the counter for the batch of frosting, so Percy does just about everything he can to prevent it. He tries to shake her off, but she just grabs him by the entire face and squishes his cheeks.

“Stop moving,” she scolds, tugging sharply on his hair.

Percy desperately doesn’t want to be turned into a smurf for the next week, but he doesn’t particularly want to drop his wife on the ground either, so he has no choice but to let her crawl across his back for the metal bowl.

“Baby,” Percy breathes out, watching her scoop up a glob of frosting. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I think we both know I do.”

“I promise to be a good boy from now on.”

“Your words mean nothing to me.”

“You won’t do this if you love me.”

Annabeth giggles into his ear, and it’s so cute that he can’t even be mad about what happens next.

She slaps him in the face with a fistful of blue frosting, and it goes in just about every hole on his face. Annabeth’s laughing gleefully in his ear when she slides off his back and admires the work she’s done.

“It’s beautiful,” she says.

Percy wipes his eyes so he can open them without the threat of getting sugar in his eyes. He’s met with her bright smile, her dimples becoming prominent, and he falls in love with her all over again.

“You look good in blue.”

Percy lifts the corners of his mouth, wiggling a finger in her direction. “I think you’d look even better in blue.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Before she can protest, he tugs her back into his arms and smooshes his face against hers. She tries to twist out of his grasp, but he just holds on tighter until she’s laughing to the point that she can’t breathe.

“Now you look good in blue too,” he says. She opens her mouth, about to complain, but then he lowers his lips to her cheek, and her words falter. Her eyes flutter shut as he kisses around her face, peppering featherlight touches everywhere he can reach, before ending against her lips.

“I love you,” he says, “even when you cover me in sticky frosting.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes and kisses his nose. He pulls her in tighter.

“I love you too,” she tells him, “even when you ruin my surprises.

“Oh please. I just made this a moment to remember.”

It’s true, he thinks. It’ll be a pain to clean up, but she looks so happy that he thinks it’s worth it. It’s a memory they’ll pass on and recreate. And maybe, one day… he likes to think that there will be kids that they can bake cookies with. Days spent together filled with laughter and endless love.

Percy’s sure he has a soft smile on his face when Annabeth taps him on the forehead.

“What are you thinking about?”

Percy nudges her nose with his. “Us,” he admits quietly, “baking a few years from now, with one or two kids.”

Annabeth’s smile matches his. “Yeah?”

“And…” Percy bites his lip. “Never mind. It’s silly.”

“Tell me,” she says, eyes sparkling.

“You’re laughing at me,” he complains.

“I’m not laughing at you. I want to know.”

Percy thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. I just love you and us and this.”

Somehow, she knows what he means. She doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t need to. Instead, she just smiles and kisses him like there’s no one else but them.

[mooshys]

take-out menus aren’t meant for ordering

genre: fluff

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: a slight character study for miya atsumu between a conversation with his brother and the writing of his vows. the word “slight” being underlined, highlighted, and circled multiple times.

There is a take-out menu laying on the empty counter of Onigiri Miya, spread out completely flat so that it is no longer in its trifold state. The paper has a nice gloss to it, giving an even sheen when underneath the low lights. Its pages are filled with professional pictures of the food offered, appetizing from a single glance and even more-so with the descriptions added underneath them.

But, sitting at the counter and staring at the empty spaces on the page, Atsumu isn’t looking to order. At this point in time, he’s too frustrated to even think about eating. He makes sure his struggle is known, groaning just loud enough so that his brother can hear him.

And, by the fifth prolonged sigh, his brother notices.

Osamu thinks it’s annoying. Really annoying. He wonders why his brother always decides to settle all his baggage into his restaurant instead of actually finding guidance from a trained professional.

(Free therapy, he thinks. He should give himself a raise for having to deal with his brother when he’s working behind the counter.)

“What’s the matter, ‘Tsumu?” Osamu finally asks in an attempt to get his brother to stop making his restaurant feel so gloomy. He’s glad it’s only the two of them during the odd hour because he’s sure Atsumu would have driven people out with his attitude.

Atsumu exhales, so deep and long that one might think he has some sort of pre-existing health condition. His pause before speaking makes Osamu think he’s preparing a soliloquy. 

“I can’t think of anything to write.”

Osamu raises a brow. Then he chuckles. “Can’t do much of that if you don’t have a brain to start with.”

He quickly dodges a pair of wooden chopsticks thrown in his direction and laughs as his brother seethes in his seat. Predictable as always. He didn’t even need to rely on his twin telepathy to know Atsumu’s next move.

“This is serious!” Atsumu yells out. His voice echoes and Osamu puts on his Totally Serious Face to show his brother that he does cares (at least a smidgeon). “The vows. I can’t think of anything to write for ‘em.”

Now, Osamu stares at him with more interest, a twinkle in his eyes that gleams only for a second before he throws his head back to give out a hearty laugh. It’s the kind of laugh Osamu does when he’s really, really happy. Like when the entire Inarizaki crew surprised him for his birthday by buying him out for the night, or when he won two thousand yen from the lottery. While Atsumu sits in disbelief (because was his suffering truly that hilarious?), Osamu shakes his head to compose himself again.

“C’mon, it shouldn’t be too hard to come up with something,” Osamu says. He points to a blank space on the first page. “Start it off right next to the tuna onigiri, that’s real romantic when you say your vows with our number one seller in mind.”

Atsumu groans again. How can he be joking at a time like this? When it feels like his life (his love life, that is) is at stake? He was about to yell out a slew of vulgar words, but his stomach interrupted him, choosing to speak up with a loud grumble. Red in the face, Atsumu shuts up, shrinking in his seat under the gaze of his brother.

“No wonder your brain capacity’s lower than usual,” Osamu teases. “You’re hungry.”

“Whatever.”

“The usual?”

“...Whatever.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Quit actin’ like a baby.”

“I’m not actin’ like a baby!” Atsumu cries out in a manner that reminds Osamu of a baby. “I can’t keep puttin’ this off! In a week, I’ll have to say this in front of everyone and they’re gonna think I’m an idiot because I can’t come up with anything good!”

“Trust me, nobody’s gonna think you’re an idiot at your wedding because of your vows,” he replies and bites his tongue to suppress the insult following. “If you write it too deep and poetic and pretty, then everyone’s gonna think you hired someone or that you copied it off the internet.”

“But—”

“Trust me,” Osamu repeats. He doesn’t look up as he molds the rice in his hands, creating a triangular shape. Years of practice have allowed him to do it so easily, so perfectly that Atsumu can’t help but stare. “Say the things that come easy for you. The things you’ve said before and the things you’ve been meaning to say. That’s what you should write.”

With the exception of the sound of tuna searing in the back and the occasional drip from the faucet nearby, there is a serene quietness shared between the two. Atsumu mulls over his brother’s words, thinking that it honestly sounds like advice that you would have given him, but he brushes it off and then looks back at the blank spaces in the take-out menu. The empty spots are almost inviting him to scribble all over.

“Alright,” Atsumu says as he clicks the pen in his hand and starts jotting any and all thoughts. “Think she’ll be mad I wrote my vows on a menu?”

Osamu chuckles as he places the plate of onigiri in front of his brother.

“Absolutely not.”

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

There are two take-out menus stored in a little box hidden in the bottom drawer of your dresser. The paper for both of them are wrinkled and yellowing, a clear testament of the time that has passed since first exchanging them. Scribbles of ink take up the empty spaces, the words uneven and crossed out and misspelled after multiple attempts to write from the heart.

At times, you find them in the midst of cleaning or a sudden remembrance whilst watching a film. The box is dug out from the neatly folded shirts and shorts meant to be worn in the upcoming summer season, and, upon lifting the lid in one gracious motion, the vows are always there, waiting to be read again and again. Each time, something new pops up, strikes you with a “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that!” moment as your fingers gently trace over his words.

Sometimes it’s the slight change in ink color when it comes to your name, an indication of the writing becoming lighter. (A pause in thought? Whenever you asked him, he would scratch the back of his head and shrug his shoulders.) Others, it’s the way entire lines are crossed out because he kept misspelling the same word multiple times.

Very Atsumu-ish, you muse with a silent chuckle. 

Atsumu-ish. Because the words erratic and unorthodox and lively and everything in-between just aren’t enough to describe his entire being, so Atsumu-ish became the one true representative of whatever he had up his sleeve.

(It started as a joke between you and Osamu wanting to tease Atsumu when he was being outlandish, but then it spread to the rest of the circle and was kept as Official Inarizaki Alumni Vocabulary when Kita mumbled “Atsumu-ish” without a hint of jest in his voice, completely serious about its usage.

“Atsumu-ish,” he pondered loud enough so that the rest of the guys could hear him. “I’ve never thought about it like that, but I guess you’re right.”

And it stuck with everyone else, causing Atsumu to sulk about it for five whole minutes as he whined and groaned about “Osamu-ish” and “Suna-ish” not being a thing to which Kita gave a straight answer: they’re not you. His truthfulness made Atsumu slump in his seat until you squeezed his hand from under the table and whispered that his name just rang in a special way.

He liked the sound of that and straightened his back when you teased him about it again.)

Atsumu-ish, Atsumu-ish, Atsumu-ish.

At this point, you had repeated it in your mind so many times that it started to sound a bit weird. His name echoes once more, making you pause as you stare at the old take-out menus. It did start to sound a bit strange now, but you most certainly aren’t sick of it.

(You don’t think his name would ever tire you out. Decades, centuries, millenniums, and through whatever multitude of lifetimes the universe has to offer, you think that you’ll always hold the way his name sounds close for comfort, like a seashell pressed against your ear.)

When you read through his words, you can tell he put a lot of time into writing what really matters to him. He’s always been one to say the first thing that pops in his mind (brash and honest to a fault), but seeing that struggle for the right string of words, for the right day, and for the right moment in time just reminds you that he’s always been the kind of person who says the things he does because he cares. 

His words are a little blunt, almost unrefined, but it’s so easy to see how he wanted his vows to be perfect. Perfect in the Miya Atsumu kind of way. 

And only Miya Atsumu would write his vows on the take-out menu of his brother’s restaurant.

Atsumu-ish, you think again with a chuckle as you admire the two take-out menus—from the same place, a coincidence that makes you laugh at the thought of his brother dealing with you two separately. Both are a little bit worn, but the words are easy to read. 

Easy to love.

Much like himself.

[justnerdthings]

Frigid Heart Ch. 4

F!Reader x Bi-Han

Okay. I'm not feeling so well, so this chapter might not seem as well written as the others. But, I'm also not so great with action. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

@poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @whitelotusfighter @icy-spicy @crazytxgradstudent @d-taslim @bihansthot @legends-of-apex @lillikue @missroro

Bi-Han was chopping wood when you returned late in the afternoon. The girls were still talking when you left, and you were sure they were still talking as you walked towards your master. Thema had braided your hair. She’d weaved in some blue flowers to match Sub-Zero’s robes. Cho had painted your lips a deep red. Suki had made-up your eyes. And Margita? She’d shown you how to properly carry yourself.

Snowflake had beamed at your finished look. “You’re so pretty!” She’d told you. Snowflake was sure once the scars faded, that you’d quickly catch the eye of the Grandmaster, himself. But when the girls had told you what the Grandmaster did with his girls… You weren’t so sure you wanted your scars to heal.

Bi-Han looked up as you came into view. You could see his brow furrow at you, as if he hadn’t recognized you, but it quickly faded as you stepped closer. You caught the slightest hint of him fighting a smirk before he turned away, back to the wood. “Did you enjoy yourself?” He asked before swinging his axe down, easily splitting the wood. You eye’d the odd colored axe for a moment before you realized it was made of ice, just like his blade from yesterday.

“Yes,” you answered plainly. “I’d never been to a hot spring before.”

“Well, now you can’t say that,” he said, setting up another log. “I see you’ve met Cyrax’s servant.”

You blinked and reached for your braid that was draped over your shoulder. You ran your fingers over it gently and admired the small flowers. A reddish hue painted your cheeks as you remembered something Thema had told you. “Do you… Like it, Master?”

Bi-Han swung his axe again. The wood split just as easily as the last and fell off the block. “It looks nice,” he told you without looking back at you.

You didn’t mind that he hadn’t looked at you again. It actually took some of the pressure away. But his answer still made a sheepish smile come to your face.

“I shot some grouses earlier—” He’d begun.

“I’ll get right to them!” You interrupted, a bit too zealous. Your blush darkened when you caught him glance over his shoulder with a raised brow. He chuckled and looked back to his growing wood pile.

“Do that,” he told you.

You gave him a quick bow before hurrying off behind the house.

Two large grouse hung outside. Heads severed. A puddle of blood was below them. They’d been bled out. But that was the most Bi-Han had done with them. The rest was for you to handle.

Your sleeves had been tied up to avoid staining them. You’d have to ask about getting more clothes. Ones that were more practical, preferably. You didn’t want to ruin such nice clothes, even if they did seem plain and simple to everyone else.

With the grouses plucked and cleaned, you’d placed them both in a wide pot with several herbs. What vegetables you’d found were chopped and thrown in with them. A lid covered the pot before you carried it over to the hearth and carefully placed it. Soon enough it would be ready to eat. You would clean your mess for now.

You’d made quick work of the kitchen. Outside, you collected the bucket of feathers. Those could be used. Padding in armor. A pillow. Trading. They had use. You secured a lid on the bucket and set it aside carefully.

A deep, echoing growl had caught your attention. You knew that sound…

The sounds of horns alarmed the village. Your heart pounded and raced as voices shouted in the distance. Heavy thudding was coming closer. Monstrous snarls filled the forest. Bi-Han came around the house, looking in the direction of the commotion.

“Get inside,” he told you as he walked past you.

“Master—”

“Get inside!” he ordered as he ran into the forest.

You stepped back and towards the house, but stopped at the door as you heard blood curdling screams. Assassins from the village went charging after the screams. Trees fell in the distance, the cracking of their trunks sent shivers up your spine. You knew of only one beast that could snap trees in half with little effort and make hardened warriors cry in fear.

Ice beasts.

Your heart skipped a beat as the shouting grew closer. The ground beneath your feet was starting to shake with each step that beast made. No… Beasts. There was more than one.You jumped the next second as the treeline began to collapse in front of you.

A beast broke through a line of assassins with a mighty roar. Ice shards were sent flying in every direction. You ducked out of the way.

A large chunk of ice lodged itself into the wall of Bi-Han’s house. Your eyes grew at the sight. It’d only just missed you. The chill of adrenaline rushed through you as you looked back to the beast. It was quickly joined by another and you could still hear fighting deeper in the forest. Had it been a whole herd?

The two beasts stormed the village. Palace guards were pouring out. Servants were running for their lives. Just those two ice beasts were enough to destroy the courtyard. Assassins were being torn apart. The snow white coats of the ice beasts were stained red with blood. You were frozen in fear. You’d never seen such brutality. In your old village, ice beasts never attacked like this. One would appear in a fit occasionally. But they were quickly tamed. The Snow Ninja clan was gifted with being able to tame such beasts.

Lily had come out of the palace, blade in hand, the Grandmaster at her side with two blades in his hands. They wore matching armor as they watched their guards get thrown around like toys. More ice beasts broke through the treeline, charging into the village with such ferocity you hadn’t seen. You quickly moved to take cover as you watched the chaos.

Was this a common occurrence? Did the Lin Kuei often fight with the ice beasts? Did the ice beasts often attack the Lin Kuei with no warning? Both the Grandmaster and Lily charged into battle. Lily took every chance she could get to guard the Grandmaster. She reminded you of a female wolf guarding her alpha, putting herself between the beast and the Grandmaster, protecting his weak spots as they fought off one of the beasts.

Off to the side, smoke had begun to fill the village. You recognized it. It was the same kind of smoke that had covered your old village and blinded your old clan. It creeped along the ground and quickly engulfed the beasts to disorient them, leaving the Lin Kuei to freely attack with the new advantage. Explosions rocked the village. The ninja in red who you’d known as Sektor was firing hand cannons. The yellow ninja, Cyrax, was appearing and disappearing out of thin air around the battlefield.

A blue blur whipped by you. You recoiled and ducked behind the stone wall as ice crystals rained over you. A strong hand gripped your arm and pulled you away just in time as a beast’s foot came down and destroyed the spot of ground you’d been hiding in.

“Get out of here.” You turned to see it was Tundra who had saved you. But your brows knotted and you looked back. If Tundra hadn’t been the blue blur thrown past you…

Sub-Zero pushed himself up with a strained growl as the beast came barreling toward him. Your heart was about to jump right out of your chest. You looked back to Tundra with panic in your eyes. “You have to help him!” You screamed.

“Get out of here!” Tundra shouted. His eyes then shifted and he pulled you behind him. A wall of ice grew in front of him as a bolder came flying for the two of you. As it crashed into the ice wall, the ice cracked, only just barely able to hold back the attack. You ran. But not away.

“What are you doing!?” Tundra called after you as you ran around his wall and into the chaos. You grabbed a dead assassin’s sword as you ran for Sub-Zero. Blood was staining his clothes as he struggled to keep what surely was the alpha beast at bay. Bi-Han’s attacks were thwarted one after the other. He was pushed onto the defensive. Ice walls grew all around him, only to be knocked down by swings of the beast’s fists.

You did what you’d saw Lily do. You’d done what you were raised to do in your old village. You slid to a stop in front of an injured Bi-Han, facing the beast yourself. You couldn’t see Sub-Zero’s reaction, but he hadn’t shouted for you to leave like Kuai had. Your eyes locked on the beast’s. It swung a giant fist down and you jumped back to avoid it. Ice beasts were huge and powerful. But they were slow and dumb. This one had a strange look in its eyes. Something wasn’t right. You could feel it.

More attacks came from the beast. You dodged each one until you felt yourself back into Bi-Han. He grunted. He was leaned back against a tree. His breath was heavy in your ear as you stood your ground. The beast reached and grabbed the tree. The tree was pulled up from the ground, roots and all, and was tossed aside like a simple stick. You fell back with Bi-Han to the ground. As a massive foot was lifted, you threw your sword.

The beast let out an ear rupturing roar as the blade speared deep into its foot. Someone was grabbing you. You looked back to see Tundra again. His arm was wrapped around his brother as he tried to lift him and you to your feet. He swung you both around the next second. Another ice wall shot up from the ground as the beast sent its fist down. But the wall didn’t hold. It shattered, ice shards being sent in everywhere. You covered your face with your arms. What in the world had gotten into these ice beasts. They had usually been so peaceful in your old village.

You caught the strange eyes of the beast again. Your stomach sunk as a feeling of desperation came over you. You pushed past Kuai and rose to your feet. The beast roared at you as you stepped closer in defiance. Your eyes were locked on the beast’s. It seemed to take it as a challenge to its dominance. It slammed a fist into the ground, shaking everything around you. You managed to keep your footing as you stared down this abomination. “No.” You told it, stepping closer.

The beasts huffed, steam filling the air. It roared, sending icy spittle at you. You didn’t budge even as the tiny shards of ice stung your face. “No!” You shouted.

Another roar shook the trees around you. This beast seemed to be having trouble dealing with your defiance. Despite its injured foot, it backed up only a single step as it snorted. “NO!” You screamed with every ounce of air from your lungs.

The beast recoiled, stepping back further. You stepped closer. The beast dropped to all fours to support itself and raised its injured foot up. Its head shook as if trying to shake something off. You stepped closer. It grunted and snorted, unsure of your intention and kept backing away. You could hear Kuai trying to coax Bi-Han--trying to awaken him. Bi-Han must have passed out. You hoped, at least, that he’d only passed out. What would happen to you if he died? Your jaw hardened as you kept moving towards the beast.

It howled. The sudden cry jolted you, but you didn’t back away. You fought every instinct your body was screaming at you to turn and run. You kept your eyes right on the beast’s eyes and watched as clarity began to spread through them, like some veil had begun to lift.

The howl had signaled the rest of the ice beast to cease their attacks. Some were killed at the first sign of forfeit. Some were trapped. The rest had been given caution as they fled the village.

You were so close to the alpha now. You reached out as it lowered itself to your level. Those massive eyes turned the most brilliant shade of blue as they watched you. Your breath hitched when your hand finally touched, and rested, on the beast’s face. Your blood was roaring in your ears and your heart was shaking your whole chest as you stood there. The beast was heaving chilled breaths. Whatever spell this beast had been under, it seemed to have waned.

You let out a slow, calm breath as you stepped closer and placed your other hand on the beast. Your fingers combed through its thick fur. Oh, how you missed the feel of ice beast fur. So thick and coarse… But so warm when made into blankets or clothing. It backed away and you noticed it winced.

Its foot.

Slowly you broke eye contact with the beast and moved around it, letting your hand trail along its fur as you moved towards the injured foot. It snarled and you looked back to its eyes. It huffed, then moved to sit on the ground. You reached for the blade stuck in its foot and in one quick yank, pulled the blade clean out.

The beast howled again and pulled its foot away, guarding it.

Assassins had come running, shouting and readying their weapons. They were going to kill this beast. You couldn’t let that happen. You backed away from it and looked into its fearful eyes. “Go,” You told it.

You didn’t have to tell it twice. The beast quickly rose and took off deep into the forest. You then moved back to Kuai and Bi-Han as the assassins came. Bi-Han’s eyes were still closed. Kuai was watching you in disbelief as you dropped to your knees next to him. Bi-Han’s wounds were filled with ice, keeping them from bleeding.

“What happened?” the Grandmaster asked as he made his way to the front of the crowd. Kuai reluctantly shifted focus from you to his master. “He’s been injured.”

The Grandmaster stepped closer to get a better look. His expression was hidden behind his mask, but his eyes showed a level of sadness. He caught your eyes the next second, lifting a brow before they shifted to the sword in your hand, coated in blood. You quickly released the blade and averted your eyes.

“It was not her doing,” Kuai answered to your defense. “She… helped.” He seemed to have some trouble admitting that you had stepped in. Or maybe he was just confused with how you managed to subdue an ice beast.

“Someone bring Sub-Zero to the palace,” he ordered no one in particular. “Have him treated before the others.” Kuai helped a fellow assassin carry his brother away. The other assassins had begun to thin out and assess the damage to the village. You were alone on the ground with the Grandmaster’s eyes weighing heavy on you.

“You. Girl.”

You looked up to the Grandmaster slowly, not wanting to make any sudden moves.

“Where did you get that blade?” He demanded of you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I took it from one of your dead. My apologies, Grandmaster. I only wanted to help my Master.”

His eyes searched you before he was joined by a limping Lily. Her eyes fell on you and filled you with dread instantly. But to your surprise, and Lily’s, the Grandmaster had sheathed one of his swords and stepped forward. He offered you his bloodied hand. You froze. Your eyes shifted from his hand, to his face, then to Lily’s deeply baffled expression. “Come,” the Grandmaster said. You looked back to him, then his hand. It wouldn’t be wise to refuse the Grandmaster...

You took his hand.

[sidespromptblog]

Between the Mask: Part 1

Two, Three, and End

Warnings: Angst (Just general nothing too spicy), mentions of masking to an unhealthy degree, Logan is sad, Janus is sad, Roman is sad, food mention, and miscommunication via the light sides.

Word Count: 3015

Summary: Roman confronts Janus about how exactly Roman should act around him, after being told by the others that both being nice and mean to him is wrong. Only to discover that, after everything he’s been through Janus isn’t the person he portrays in front of everyone else.

AO3 LINK

All of it was driving Roman crazy.

Ever since his most recent interaction with Dece… Janus, the looks that he’d received from the others had slowly been driving him mad. Out of everyone he would have at least expected Virgil to understand where he was coming from, especially considering his seemingly rough behavior around Janus.

But no!

The moment that Patton had told Virgil just how Roman had reacted to the news of Janus’ he might as well have been dead to the anxious side, given the way that he had looked at him upon hearing the exact words that Roman had so carelessly spouted off. The snarl had curled on the anxious sides lips wasn’t one that he was bound to forget for a long time to come, especially when paired with the almost betrayed look that the other side had shot him. Roman got it, he really did. Names weren’t to be made fun of around Virgil, but with all the stress that been piling and piling since the wedding it had kind of...

Slipped out.

He hadn’t meant it, or maybe.. maybe he had. for whatever reason Janus’ mere presence had a way of making the truth slip right out of him without even giving it a second thought.

It was infuriating.

That wasn’t even the worst part, to top it off with Virgil avoiding him like the plague now, Logan virtually wasn’t even around anymore. He barely even saw a glimpse of him in the past week alone, in compared to the landslide of facts that always seemed to flow out of the nerdy side once he had something to show all of them. From the looks of it aside from when he was called into the conversation none of the others had been seeing him all that often either, or when he was just made to come down for dinner Logan was just… gone. In his room not backing Roman up in the slightest bit anymore, leaving him to battle a dying fight with no support.

He honestly didn’t get it anymore.

First they get upset at him for siding with Janus and wanting to give him a chance to speak, and then… Now they want him to be treated as if he hadn’t been a bad guy to begin with. Virgil had hissed at him multiple times, and that’s not even counting the times that Patton and him had screamed at him when he popped up like a little snakey weasel.

He just didn’t get it, it felt like no matter how he tried to resolve the issue he was always heading in the right direction, just at the wrong time when it came to the others.

So he was going to put an end to this turmoil once and for all.

“Deceit!” He practically roared as he slammed the door open more than a little dramatically, “I-“

Whatever words had been on his lips abruptly died all at once.

Whatever he had been expecting from Janus’ room... this most certainly was not it. Whatever cold den of debortuary he had been thinking of, this was definitely not it. The crackling of a warm fireplace surrounded by bookcases full to the brim with old dusty books, who’s spines had been well loved and taken care of. The rug under his feet was shaggy and equally as warm as the air, making Roman’s bare toes sink right into it. For a second he had forgotten just what time it was, as with the atmosphere of Janus’ room it felt almost timeless in a sense. Where it could have been anything from the middle of the night to the early early morning where the sun hadn’t even risen yet.

The drapes were a gorgeous deep maroon color that only served to make the room feel even warmer and cozier.

There wasn’t a single hint of yellow in the entire room.

Was this even Janus’ room?

“I believe,” A familiar voice drawled out from the side, “My name is Janus, not Deceit. Roman.”

Sitting nestled comfortably in a little reading nook was the side in question, a book sprawled out onto his lap and a simple cup of tea on the nightstand next to him and a tiny jar of honey next to it. He looked so.. so cozy sitting there among the fuzzy blankets sprawled all around him, and a pair of reading glasses on the tip of his nose. Had Roman only gotten a glance at him, he would have mistaken him for Logan just based on looks alone. But the coy smile smile said it all, as the mismatched eyes glimmered playfully behind those glasses.

“Well?” Janus stuck a loose bookmark in his book effectively halting his reading, and also showing that all of his attention was directed at Roman and Roman alone. “To what do I owe the please Princey? It is somewhat of a surprise given how our last meeting ended, come for revenge or perhaps just to throw more insults?”

Out of everything Roman was just at a loss, he had felt so sure as to what he was walking into. He was sure that whenever he busted down Janus’ door he’d find some creepy room that would almost certainly match Virgil’s for edginess. To see all this was certainly a surprise for him, if anything it left him feeling absolutely foolish as he once again judged one of the dark sides wrongly and was left to clean up after his incredibly long list of mistakes.

Even with all those thoughts rumbling around in his head it didn’t stop the words that left his mouth, “Are you sure that you’re Janus?” He suspiciously asked, narrowing his eyes at the comfortable looking snake side before him. “You seem too…”

Happy?

Comfortable?

Nice?

Not evil?

There were so many words that Roman wanted to use, and so many words that he didn’t exactly have the name for. He wasn’t exactly Logan, so there was no placing definitions to feelings here.

Not that Logan could help in that capacity even if he wanted to.

“Contrary to popular belief, but... How I act in front of Thomas is not how I am in real life. I do have hobbies and interests outside of your little gaggle of friends you know. You guys don’t exactly take up my every waking thoughts." Janus drawled, as he languidly stirred in a spoonful of honey to his tea before taking a long drawn out sip. “I do have standards.”

The long was more than enough sip for Roman to collect his thoughts.

Mostly he was confused, he hated being confused more than anything. It made him feel like he was back in middle school struggling to grasp the complicated problems that Logan seemingly had no issues with. It made him feel dumb. "So what do you really act like?" He felt like he was being more than a little demanding towards the side who’s time he had interrupted, but after the time he'd had after Janus' had come out with his name... He almost felt like he deserved to be, given the silence that had enveloped him in the past week. "Why act like that in front of Thomas?! Or us for that matter?! Why would you need to-"

"Would you have listened?" Janus' cool but comforting voice stopped him gently, leaving his mouth to gape openly for a moment at the loss of words. "How else was I going to be listened to? And not immediately turned away from all of you? Or worse… just ridiculed?"

And just like that Roman was struck with the sight of Logan's face.

His face with a brilliantly bright smile that had did nothing but dim to a scowl the longer they had been introduced to Thomas. Logan who hadn’t been around since Patton had skipped him, since he had chosen ignorance over whatever Logan was going to say, and since… just everything involving all of them. Logan hadn’t ducked out yet, since Thomas still seemed to be fine. But even if he did there wasn’t anyway for them to know if it would even impact Thomas at all, especially given that he had done it before with the fiasco that was going to Patton’s room.

It had been such a long time since Logan had come to him for Spanish lessons, and even longer since he’s seen Logan smile genuinely.

Logan still hasn't had that astronomy class that he had been promised.

Logan who'd felt the need to change who he was for Thomas.

Logan who had changed for all of them.

Something uncomfortable tugged sharply, like a shard of broken glass, in Roman's chest.

Janus' face was lined with scales and the dark shadows of sleepless nights that should have been avoided. His posture was one of exhausted dignity, that he couldn't even bother to uphold in front of Roman now that the others weren't in sight. He didn't even have his hat or gloves on, letting Roman see the speckling of scales on his hands as well as the scales that receded into his hairline. The smile on his face wasn't one of calculated resourcefulness, but genuineness.

He seemed so... so...

Relaxed.

That uncomfortable feeling tugged again, this time more insistent than before. "It's Thomas' fault?" He asked, not even sure as to what he was even asking about. He didn't want it to be Thomas' fault, but as the saying went.

One was happenstance, but two...

Two was a pattern.

"No no no!" Janus' rushed to quell his worries, hurriedly standing, sending the mountain of blankets into a landslide around his feet. His hands coming quickly to rest over Roman's, without even having to think twice about it. "I don't think he realizes it himself, but like with Virgil... He only listens once the problem gets bad enough. He shouldn't, but... That is the case for now. I'm trying to stop him from doing that." For the first time Janus' lips quirked into a sad looking frown. "No matter how he sees me, it doesn't matter. I just.. I just want to help."

Within an instant, Roman's hands found Janus' once again giving them a great squeeze. His heart felt so heavy and full he was almost scared that it would burst on impact.

Not only had he severely misjudged Janus', but he hasn't noticed the very thing that Janus was trying to help with.

If anything he'd made the problem worse in the beginning.

“Thomas… isn’t ready for the real me yet.” Janus murmured, gazing almost longingly down at Roman’s hands as he gave them a testing squeeze. “I don’t know if he ever will be honestly.”

And just like that, Roman felt the temperature of the room shift a little, getting colder as the warm comforting fire died down a little. As if to coincide with the feelings bottled up in Janus’ heart that couldn’t yet be said, and with the change in temperature Janus reluctantly released Roman’s hands in an effort to snag one of blankets to protect himself from the cold he knew so well. By this point Janus was used to the cold, he’d grown up in it and he’d received plenty of it when he’d made himself known to Thomas and everyone else.

This cold was nothing.

But still watching Janus swaddle himself in blankets in an effort to gather the warmth he had before, was almost heartbreaking.

“Is there.. is there anything that I can do to help?” He began, sounding almost like he was begging. “I can talk to Thomas, or even Patton! We can work something out, I can explain everything to Virgil and he’ll understand!”

Even to his own ears that sounded weak.

They both knew that Virgil was as stubborn as a bull, and had the temper to match when it came to anything involving Janus. The moment that Janus’ name left Roman’s lips he would have nothing to do with it. And Patton… he was still getting used to Janus’ presence, so asking him to do something this big would immediately scare him off for a long time to come, thus further delaying Janus’ plans. Thomas though… Thomas was even more standoffish against Janus being a part of anything, just getting Thomas to relax after the wedding had taken a whole day for Janus to manipulate things into place.

They wouldn’t listen to Janus, let alone Roman after the fight they’d had against one another.

Especially not so soon.

So was it just useless then? Was he just supposed to leave Janus here lying about who he was to everyone in the hopes that one day he’d be accepted enough to come out?

A deep frown tugged at Roman’s lips, “So you’re just going to keep masking around the others? Until what? Where’s the end for you? When will it finally stop? When will you be able to show them this place? Or just show them that you’re not who they fear you to be?”

Who was to say that the moment Janus came out with this, things wouldn’t immediately revert to how they had been before?

What then?

A deep sigh withered whatever spark of hope that Roman had left. “It’s okay Roman,” Janus placatingly told him. “It’s just how it has to be for a little while, and then things will get better… for all of us.”

No.

That was not going to stand.

No matter how comfortable Janus was with this, he didn’t want to be. Had he not stopped to question the back and forth of what exactly the others wanted… he likely would have started twisting himself to fit whatever fashion they wanted in the moment. Changing just so Thomas could be happy for the time being, even if it wasn’t what would benefit Thomas in the long run.

The fire in the room blazed a little brighter.

“No.” Roman sternly said, snapping Janus’ attention from the cover of his book that he had gone back to looking at. “I’m not going to just leave you now that you’ve explained everything. You aren’t happy, even if you’ve told yourself you should be. Just because things are better than they were before, doesn’t mean that it’s okay. It just means that you won’t notice when someone else is treating you wrongly.”

With that having been said, Roman turned on his heel his stomach twisting at the utterly shocked and baffled expression on Janus’ face, before he started marching towards the door.

“Where are you going?!” Came Janus’ bewildered call, the quick pattering of feet telling him that Janus was attempting to catch up quickly.

A hand snagged at his shirt attempting to pull him back into the room before he could leave to who knows where. Turning again though to face Janus at the other side’s question, he felt the other’s face solidly collide with his chest before a pair of hands seized his shirt so to not fall backwards from the impact. But not before the creative side looped his arm around the other’s back giving him a brief but very heartfelt squeeze, holding the dishonest side close enough to share his warmth.

As if that alone would stop all of his worries.

Roman treasured that one little second of contact.

“I’m going to get Logan, and were all going to talk like civilized people. We’re going to apologize to each other, and then…” Here Roman paused, taking in the look on Janus’ face. “We’re going to see what we can do to ensure that nobody gets hurt like we have in the past.”

Whatever cool relaxed composure Janus had before, it was gone, as he stared up at the creative side with what felt like a mixture between awe and shock. Out of everything that he had expected to come from Roman’s mouth when he had busted into his room, this.. this was not it. Sure he had expected shouting and yelling, but nothing like this.

A little blossom of pride bloomed within Janus’ chest.

His arms had no trouble finding their way back around Roman, pulling him in for another and much lengthier hug, relishing the warmth that came with it. “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before,” Janus mumbled into Roman’s chest, a giddy smile tugging at his lips as he stood on the tips of his toes. “But… you’re really smart. You know that?”

Roman was absolutely sure that he was going to cry now.

Seizing the back of Janus’ shirt, the only thing he could do was hug him tighter. “I think you could mention it a little more often.” He teased, a wet laugh leaving him as the creative side tried to hastily blink away his tears.

He could get used to this Janus.

After what felt like an eternity he pried himself away from Janus, hastily swiping his hands under his eyes before Janus could see the liquid that had started to run down his cheeks. “I’m going to go and get Logan,” He finally settled on, “I’m pretty sure that he needs help, even if he hasn’t said it. He hasn’t exactly been leaving his room lately, and I’m sure its due to how we’ve all been treating him, and how we’ve reacted in the past when his emotions get to be too much for him.” The guilt that tugged at his chest was less painful than it had been before, but still just as present. “I think he needs a hero.”

Janus only nodded, taking a step back into his room. The hearth was blazing behind him, Roman could feel the warmth radiating outwards even from where he was standing a good couple of feet away from the door.

He had brightened up Janus’ spirits towards the present as well as the future, just as he was supposed to do as the epitome of passion. The bright warm smile from the other side told him as such.

“Then go be a hero, Princey.”