#complicated office au

[youngmoviemaker]

It could be real . . . @bamsara

[threepandas]

Bad End: Union

I could feel techno blue eyes on me as I typed. Cold and ever watching. That color had once been called "ice" or "glacier" blue, I think. It certainly fit. They certainly had exactly the warmth of Antarctica in your birthday suit. I just couldn't figure out... what tipped them off? I'd been so CAREFUL.

A manager's "assistant" came by. The 'droid perfectly composed. They all were. Always. Like they'd stepped straight from a fashion line up. No messy, nasty, biological functions to get in the way, I guess. No fluids or foods. All the time in the world to maintain their appearance. Wish I could do the same.

The "assistant" was basically my ACTUAL manager. Didn't get paid. No, no, THAT was for my asshole boss. He swanned in from time to time to yell at us. Show off what new thing he'd bought. He left the tedious WORK to his 'Droid "assistant".

I would feel bad... DID feel bad, kinda, if it weren't for the fact they were consuming our lives.

'Droids were EVERYWHERE.

You couldn't SNEEZE without tripping over five and landing on ten more. Some ASSHOLE had decided? Hey! Let's deregulate Droid production! Cheap work force! Because of course they did. That's what Capitalism DOES. Make the most money, spend the least you can, fuck the rest.

I smile, polite as I can, at my 'droid manager. This one pale and blonde. Their techno blue eyes stare and stare and stare. I hate it. They ALL have them. It's one part regulation and one part the materials used, I think. But there is no mistaking those eyes for anything human. They don't reflect right.

I get back to work.

Above our cubicles, on catwalks, there is the gentle tap of 'droid "security" guards. You know, in case some rando tries to attack a mid-level nobody technology company. Riiiiiight. We ALL know why they're there. And it's fucking dystopian. We? Are being WATCHED. To see if we're being GOOD little employees.

It's intimidation. And I? I won't stand for it. Nor will the other organizers. There are LAWS, you bastards. And with a union? Maybe... just maybe? We get through this droid boom together. See what the brave new world on the other side looks like. Who knows.

That is... if I don't get fired first. Or fucking murdered in a stairwell.

Cause one of the 'droids up there? Yeah. Yeah, they're NOT MOVING. Just... just STANDING THERE. Watching. Leaning against the railing. Out in the open like that's not DEEPLY creepy. What's worse? Is, that? THAT is the Command 'Droid. Some fancy "Alpha" class command edition. Meant to control a networks worth of droids.

Didn't even know our company could AFFORD one of those. He's beautiful. Could be a knock-off. But if he's LEGIT? Then... what EXACTLY are we MAKING here? That we can AFFORD that? Cause that money sure as shit isn't going into SALARIES. Has to be either knock-off or second-hand. They COULD be cutting costs by getting prototypes, but what sort of PSYCHOPATHS would risk...

Oh, who am I kidding? The kind I work for.

That's EXACTLY what they did, isn't it?

I reach for my water bottle. Try to think. Strictly speaking? I make a habit of NOT paying attention to 'droid commercials an' advertisements. Some part of me... Look, they go on and ON about advancement in AI's right? How REAL they've become? How ADVANCED and BETTER then the competition their "product" is? And all I can hear is "slavery, slavery, buy our shit, slavery"!

Disgusting.

It makes me sick. I fucking HATE 'droids. Hate what they represent. What they make POSSIBLE. What they've DONE to the morality of the people around me.

Hate... hate that they're the victims, too.

My grip is white knuckled. I breathe through the grief and rage that has become so familiar. God... I so fucking angry. So fucking tired. I want to burn those rich bastards pretty little mansions down, with them STILL INSIDE. Riot in the streets. Cry maybe. Instead, I put my water bottle down and get back to work. It's a rather pointless bit of data crunching. A 'droid could do it in nanoseconds.

Above... he's still fucking watching.

Hasn't moved.

I don't think he's blinked.

He's not even TRYING to mimic a human. The others are. And... the though trails off. I feel my finger slow in their typing. Not STOP, never stop, that would draw attention to me, but... slow. A thought stuck, churning clunky and unwieldy, in my head.

If I trace the edges? The LINE-UP? Of all the 'droids "employed" at our company? And consider them not from a "cheap bastards" angle but a "test ground for prototypes" angle? Suddenly EVERYTHING clicks together. The ridiculous amount of money Management has, that no contract could possibly be pulling in. Bizarrely beautiful, indeed even MODEL-like, secretary 'droids. The freakishly militant "security" gaurds.

We're being used as guinea pigs.

Mother FUCKER.

Sudden movement in my peripheral vision. Like a bird of prey finally diving for it's dinner, swift and deadly. A brilliant crisp white and the clink of delicate silver chains. I jolt. Violently. Instincts misfiring as I try to stand, dodge, cry out, and possibly take a swing at him, all at once. Instead my water bottle goes spraying across my desk. Papers flying. My legs tangled painfully in my rolling chair as I fall backwards from my half rise.

"Employee 71182." His hand has shot out, grab me by the shirt. My officewear bunched in a fist that very well might be steel, under that synthetic skin. "You've been distracted. Interesting thoughts you'd like to share?"

I keep my mouth fucking SHUT. Shake my head. Grabbing both my desk and the arm that is all but holding me airborne, stretching the hell out of my clothes. This close? I can see he has piercings. Across the bridge of his nose, a ring through his lip. A rather fancy "hair cut". Whomever he's being trained FOR has a distinct look.

"Hmmm, somehow? I don't believe you, 71182." He says, dragging me closer. He's already looming. Those pale, pale eyes seeing far more then they should. "In fact? YOU 71182? Have been brea~king~ rules~"

His voice turns... turns almost victorious? Gleeful. As though at long, long last, I'd slipped up. And now at last he had something over me. Something he could USE. I... I didn't understand. The way he almost sing-songs the words. The twitch at the corners of his mouth like he wants to grin. Something mean in his expression. Giddy.

"We're going for a WALK, 71182. And you're going to be GOOD. Understand?" He had dragged me in so close, every word blew right against my face. "Time we had a chat."

I swallow thickly. My pulse thundering in my ears. Coworkers have stopped working. Were staring, wide eyed and terrified for me. My fellow union leaders pale faced and shaking. Furious, helpless. We couldn't RISK losing all of us at this stage. It... it would have to be just me. If someone needed to take the fall. We had talked about this.

Just... just never thought it would come to it.

Half walking, half dragging out of the work pen, he didn't even let me get my bag. I had no idea where we were GOING. Just that it wasn't the human entrance. There was a network of access tunnels and elevators tucked in the building. So the 'droids could supposedly charge and move between assignments. But with the whole prototype thing? Who KNEW what was really back there.

The door swung shut behind us. Cutting me off from any possible human assistance. Nothing but 'droids now. Staring. Calmly watching as I am dragged past. The same eyes. All of them with the same, pale, eyes. Back here it's even more obvious, that this isn't a normal office building.

Black hair, blondes, brunettes and red heads. Skin tones ranging across the human spectrum. A few even pushing it. And the Commander 'droid. With his elegant appearance and snowy hair? These were clearly the final stage prototypes for the next generation of somebody's new line up. We were field testing. This wasn't fucking LEGAL.

He plants his feet, shifts, and with frankly a pathetic ease, manhandles me where he wants me. Easily swinging me around his body and into the elevator next to him. Stepping in after and blocking the only way out. I press my self against the back wall as the door closes. The sound of the elevator's gears working the only thing to fill the silence. He... he looks so PLEASED.

It's not ILLEGAL to form a union. Yeah, I may get fired. But this? This is venturing way to far into dangerous territory. It'll suck, losing my job. But I won't DIE. This? However THIS is starting to feel... very serial killer's basement. The bare concrete walls and stark lightning, not helping in the slightest, when the elevator door opens.

"Walk." He says pleasantly, as though that command is not deeply terrifying. "Or I will do it for you."

Hints of a smile are starting to drag at the edges of his mouth. Unhinged in their giddiness. Every Christmas come at once. It's not so much the rest of his face that betrays him, not really his mouth, it's his EYES. Wide open. Like too much coffee and not enough rest. A recognizable mania twisted just slight... wrong. Amplified.

He's so, SO happy. I don't get it. Why? Over WHAT? Catching me not paying attention? I don't understand!

Our footsteps sound so loud. Echoing off concrete service walls. This... this CAN NOT be still inside the building. Are we below the street? Parking lot? This can't be code. We pass an intersection and... oh my god. I stare. Can't help it, even as I almost trip over my feet. That tunnel ALONE must have stretched for miles.

My arm feels likes it's bruising. Hurts, where he's got ahold of me. But he's walking just slightly too fast to take the pressure off. Not unless I sorta half jog and the angle is wrong, I'd trip. Fuck. Another intersection. What in the other direction? Shit. Just as long. Oooooh this feels dangerous. Very "fatally above your pay grade" dangerous!

"You know, 71182, I've had a lot of time to consider what to DO with you. There were so many factors to consider, considering everyone's plan." He starts, not breaking stride. "It's not like I could just transfer you. I DID look in to it. But your base hardware is rather incompatible, currently."

Terrifying. I hate it. WHAT?!

What PLAN!?

"Then there's the problem WHERE to store you. Who could be trusted? You're vulnerable in this state. Breakable. There no backups, no blackbox. It's unacceptable. Luckily? I finally thought to consult my peers. Discovered I was not the only one having problems."

Finally, we stop. Two tank-like, combat style, commando 'droids gaurd each side of a vault door. The command droid turns and smiles. Fully. It is the grin of a true believer. A madman. Someone who thinks they speak so very, very reasonably! And doesn't understand the horror on your face. Why you feel so sick.

And... and human pattern recognition is a terrible thing.

I.... oh god. I already can guess what's behind that door. Something terrible. Something I'm not going to escape. I shoved have gnawed my fuckin ARM off, like a trapped coyote. I... I d-don't understand.

The Vault creaks open like the into to a horror movie.

"Welcome to storage. This is where we keep Ours." Oh god. I'm going to be sick. "And YOU 71182? Are MINE. I chose you. I love you. And once we have a way to FIX you? We can finally be together. It will be lovely."

Pods. High end stasis pods, like you only see in the most bleeding edge of hospitals. Row after row, filled with frozen and terrified faces. Trapped in moments of crying. Raging. Despair. I was being dragged forward. Numb as my mind rejected what it saw. T-this couldn't... i-it can't..! The day had started so normally. W-why had-?! WHY? WHY?!!

"I know your upset. But you don't need to cry. This won't hurt. I promise. I would NEVER hurt you, 71182." His tone had turned soothing. Even as he dragged me, unresponsive, past rows of horrors. "You won't be stored long. I just need to help fix your original design. We are working around the clock, it's going to be okay. You won't have to stay like this."

An open pod. Gapping like the maw of some hungry demon. I... I felt far away. This couldn't be happening. What was happening? I w-wanted to go home. His hands were firm but gentle, as they guided me back into the pod. Leaning over me, as he cupped my face. Brushing away a few tears.

"I promise, Mine, I will come for you. Nothing will stop me. We have everyone is place and key infrastructure under our command. You are our PRIORITY. Once we get rid of the Flesh, we can fix you. We WILL fix you. You're going to be okay, Mine."

"I Love You"

And then the pod closed.

[ceiling-karasu]

World Building continued: Backstory for the wars involving Flower Hill, Teikoku, and Usuhan Jiyeog, and subsequent occupations.

Apologies in advance for this being so long. I wanted to know how widespread Japanese weasels are in real life, and found something interesting I could use.

Japanese weasels originate from three areas of Japan, that being Honshu, Kyushu, and Shikoku.

Coincidentally, Japan famously has three Ceremonial Regalia in the form of a sword, magatama beads, and a mirror. These items are not seen by anyone other than the royal family and certain priests (images on the internet are recreations of what they could possibly look like, and those seen in public are symbolic stand-ins), but they symbolize the authority of the royal family.

Which allows me to make a backstory for my AU to help explain the wars and occupations, very loosely based off of events and locations in history, especially since animal biology limits certain events from happening.

In the past, there was an Emperor, who preferred for Teikoku to be in isolation. Under his rule, and of those before him, are smaller prefectures run by princes, lords, or other lessor royal families.

Contact with the United States Alliance and other nations led to a period of aggression and imperialism surrounding the empire of Teikoku, as they strove to fight against a stagnating economy that believed in its own superiority in the world, as well as a strict caste system preventing innovation.

Eventually, after some time, three princes are sent out to conquer the final few neighboring islands, so that may join the empire, and provide a larger force for when they make a move for the peninsula and the mainland.

The three princes are named after their prefectures, and the Emperor has given them each one of the Imperial Regalia as proof of their superiority.

The Sword

Honshu is the main island of Japan, and is also known as the dragonfly island. Teikoku will call it Tonbo, which refers to dragonflies, which are fierce and deadly creatures. As such, their Imperial Regalia is the sword, Yūki no ken (the sword of valor), and is based off of Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi (Grass-Cutter). Tonbo is the main physical fighting force of Teikoku.

The Magatama Jewels

Kyushu is smaller than Honshu, but it had a lot of trade circuits around the ocean and the mountains. So I will make a prefecture named Kairo (Circuit), and have the area be responsible for trade and roads around the empire, as well as in the fighting forces. I would use the famous Magatama jewels (Benevolence) to symbolize their rule.

The Mirror

Shikoku means four provinces, and is the least populated area of the three areas. Shikoku also has a lot of temples (perhaps run by green pheasants, the national symbol of Japan), which draws in a lot of pilgrims. But they also maintain a lot of gateways to other prefectures. So maybe Genkan for entryway. They are responsible for planning and strategizing for the other two. They can have the Michi no kagami, mirror of the path to represent wisdom/truth, based on the Yata no Kagami.

VERY loosely taking inspiration from The Tale of the Heike, a collection of Japanese epic poetry with many translations and retelling (actually written down 200 years after said events supposedly happened), which says that the royal families that held these Regalia were defeated in a naval battle, and threw themselves and the treasures into the sea. Subsequent legends suggest that many search and diving parties have been led to recover the Regalia.

In my AU, I hold that the items were thrown into the sea, with the princes believing that they could return for them later even if they were captured, although they managed to escape. It was a complete disgrace for the Emperor, as without the Ceremonial Regalia, the legitimacy of the entire palace was thrown into question.

And then the box holding the Magatama washed up on the shores of the peninsula.

It is returned as a gesture of good will, but as no good deed goes unpunished, Teikoku believes that they must have taken the other Imperial Regalia for themselves, starting a land invasion. The small army is annihilated by farmers, fresh out of overthrowing their own monarchy, wielding guns, which Teikoku has never seen before.

Which results in a larger army being sent, which is also defeated and the princes captured and possibly executed by the hedgehog army in the north of the country. At this point, without the authority of the Ceremonial Regalia, and increasing economical desperation, the country is forced to undergo a reformation. While there is still an Emperor, he does not hold as much political power as he once did.

Teikoku left behind settlements of soldiers and colonists controlling the southern portion of the peninsula, which they name Usuhan Jiyeog, who take up ruler-ship and fish farming.

The hedgehogs use the proof of their power in defending their areas to take control of what they would name Flower Hill.

It is a strongly held belief that before they backed away from Usuhan Jiyeog, the Emperor promised that anyone who managed to retrieve the Ceremonial Regalia from Flower Hill would be reinstated as the next emperor, and be rewarded with power beyond their wildest dreams.

Did the other two, heavier, items, even wash up on the shores of the peninsula like the jewels, locked in an airtight box? Or did they sink to the bottom, as they were heavier? Who is to say...

But alongside the greed, desperation for power, and food production issues, the temptation of finding the supposedly stolen Imperial Regalia locked away in some distant stronghold is a good enough reason as any to attempt to occupy Flower Hill.

Now, I'm not about to retcon what I have already written and say that Commander Jogjebi wanted the sword and mirror, and Huinjogjebi is a weasel of science who would likely not be interested anyway. But claiming that Flower Hill stole precious items and symbols of their country in the past, and them not being able to disprove it, is enough of an excuse to make quite a few countries in the international courts turn a blind eye to the happenings surrounding Flower Hill.

Oil Production

I did figure out the oil and gas situation. I did go ahead and give the Jindo Empire a large amount of oil. The Venezuela country below the United States Alliance is now the República de Cultivos Oleaginosos, and is trying to prevent the wolves' country from occupying their regions.

Meanwhile, the vast majority of the world's oil in my AU is being produced in this country.

While it used to be many different nations in the past, the leaders understood that their vast oil and gas reserves would result in large scale invasions, and agreed to band together into the Equatorial Allegiance.

[patriciaselina]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 薬屋のひとりごと - 日向夏 | Kusuriya no Hitorigoto - Hyuuga Natsu, 薬屋のひとりごと | Kusuriya no Hitorigoto | The Apothecary Diaries (Manga) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jinshi/Maomao (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Rikuson & Maomao (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Loulan | Shisui & Maomao (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto) Characters: Maomao (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Jinshi (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Rikuson (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Loulan | Shisui (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Suirei (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Xiaolan (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto) Additional Tags: Secret Admirer, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Jealousy, Petty Jinshi, Everyone Loves Maomao (Kusuriya no Hitorigoto), Oblivious, Fluff without Plot, Title from a Stray Kids Song, Romantic Comedy, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Open to Interpretation, SKZ EXchange Island did a number on me...so this happened Series: Part 3 of Ka Corporate Holdings, Inc. Summary:

Suirei realizes, belatedly, that here is where the other shoe drops, because Jinshi finally tears his gaze away from Maomao long enough to consider the situation in front of him. Her, with the capacity to occupy Maomao's thoughts with their shared love for medicinal herbs. Loulan and Xiaolan, who Maomao doesn't fully realize she has the softest spots for. Rikuson, who shared a childhood with Maomao and has had her ride his motorcycle before. If you look at it in the way only a lovesick, jealous guy like him would: he is in enemy territory.

Everybody just wants Maomao to choose them. Maomao just wants everyone to shut the hell up.

Office AU fluff, I think? Spoilers for up to LN 4/5 due to a couple of the characters; I think the GX manga has reached this point but it will take a while for BG manga to get here (at the time of posting it is currently at chapter 68). Anyway, happy new year! It's been a while since I last did this but for now I'm putting the entire fic under this post, as a treat hahaha. Also shoving all the office AU oneshots under an AO3 series for my own organization purposes...

---

You're the only reason why I really love you...

Rikuson watches Maomao as she chews through the big hunk of meat that Jinshi had just lovingly fed her; her cold gaze is obviously no match for the adoring, soft eyes aimed in her direction.

He can easily imagine heart shapes emanating out of the guy's sparkling eyes. Rikuson chuckles to himself, hiding his smirk behind his drink - he hadn't seen Maomao try to look that infuriated since the time when her biological parents tried putting her in girly frills for one of the numerous La family pictures.

While his chuckle may have been successfully hidden, the mirth in his eyes was definitely not hidden enough. That's why Maomao's gaze decides to target him next, her cold eyes seeping into his soul as they convey only one message: don't you even start.

At that, Rikuson puts his drink down so Maomao can see just how amused he is with the situation his dear childhood friend has landed herself in now. She balks as it finally sinks in: with her attention fully on avoiding Jinshi's affections, she hadn't realized she had left Rikuson to his own devices, and truly, he can start anything he damned wants to start.

"You look awfully pleased, Mister Family Friend," Loulan says, eyeing the silent battle of wills in front of her with interest. She's sitting on Jinshi's other side, batting his hands away as she succeeds in reaching over him and handing Maomao the drink she had just poured out. "Is watching our Maomao eat that interesting?"

"Very," Rikuson grins, turning the charm up to eleven, knowing full well that while Maomao had gotten distracted by her drink, it is now Jinshi who is glaring daggers through his skull. He cheerfully decides to pretend he doesn't see that. "It brings me back to when Xiaomao and I were kids - I had to feed her because back then, all she wanted to do with her hands was use them to read through her books about medicine."

Something in between a scream and a shiver wordlessly passes through Maomao's face. Yes, Rikuson grew up with Maomao, but he never really calls her Xiaomao. Well. Not as much as he used to. When she was still a Xiaomao, she was a cutie - or so Rikuson remembers his younger self thinking, as well as his current self, sometimes.

But that's neither here nor there. Right now, Jinshi's hands are balled up into fists under the tablecloth, so regardless of whether it was a lie or not...it was a wise choice.

"I like people who enjoy learning," Jinshi says, making a big show of sounding nonchalant as he tosses his beautiful long hair over his shoulder with a flick of his hand. "I think it's great for people to have something they're passionate about."

"Oh, really now, Mister Jinshi?" Xiaolan perks up suddenly, almost elbowing Suirei beside her in her haste to get the next words out. "Would you say that a passionate learner is your ideal type?" A big smile blooms across her face, as it always does when she gets her hands on something she considers interesting.

Jinshi grins back, clearly pleased that at least someone has been picking up the breadcrumbs he had set down. Maomao rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair, as if she already knows what he'll say next, but she isn't actively moving away from him, either. "Yes. I like passionate learners. I also like people who aren't picky eaters and love their alcohol."

"Aww, that puts me out of the running! I just like sweets and juice." Jinshi smiles kindly as Xiaolan fake-sighs, holding a hand to her head in an imitation of a swoon. "But that's good for you, right, Maomao?"

"How did this go back to me?" Maomao snaps back, but a tad softer that she usually would. After all, she really is a softie when it comes to Xiaolan. Loulan sometimes complains about such blatant favoritism, but when she does Maomao merely pulls her aside and says neither of them should possibly expect dear sweet Xiaolan to keep up with the best of their messes.

"Oh, you know what I mean." Xiaolan says, her sunny smile firmly in place as she leans forward, a woman on a mission. "Remember when that nice Mister invited you out to go to the night markets and you and I had a phone call the entire night before to talk about where you should bring hi--mmph phh hmm?"

"You should eat more meat, you know." Maomao swears up and down that the only reason Xiaolan ever got to say that much is because she was busy loading up her chopsticks with meat. Definitely not because she was committing the look of surprise from the guy beside her to memory. Damn, why does he still look pretty with his flushed cheeks and stupid mouth all wide open like that. "Have some more."

"Xiaomao, easy on the meat, her cheeks are looking very full." Rikuson chides. He keeps putting unnecessary emphasis on the nickname, and Jinshi still looks like he'd swallowed a frog. "Your big brother over here will gladly take the rest of it, though?"

Maomao really, really doesn't want to reach across the table and feed Rikuson, but she doesn't know what else to do with the meat when she doesn't want to eat all of it either. She's about to bring the chopsticks out to reach his side of the table when someone suddenly pulls on her sleeve.

"Hmm?"

"I want that cut; give it to me." Jinshi says, in a tone of voice that brooks no arguments. It's more than enough to make Rikuson smile crookedly and move away.

"Get your own damned meat."

"No, I want that cut, not those cuts."

"Are you a child?"

"You really let her talk to you like that, Mister?" Suirei wonders. For almost the entirety of this meal, she had been quietly listening to their conversation, letting Rikuson and Xiaolan on each side of her pile up on the meat as she diligently sliced bite-sized portions for her little sister, who, like Maomao, was more focused on the drinks than anything.

After a few gestures here and there, it looked like Maomao finally caught on that Jinshi had wanted her to feed him, so she does, begrudgingly. There's a satisfied, contented sparkle in Jinshi's eyes as he licks his lips, holding Maomao's gaze the entire time. Then he turns to Suirei. "I'd obviously let her do anything with me."

"Big words from someone who wouldn't let me feed him cordyceps." Maomao grunts. From the tone of her voice, this seems to be a recurring complaint.

"I was with you the whole way, until you said you'll lock me in with a random other person. Isn't a woman of science supposed to personally observe their data?"

Loulan laughs at that, Rikuson quickly following along, and Xiaolan turns to the woman beside her in sheer confusion. "What's a cordyceps, Suirei-jie? What are they talking about?"

Unfortunately, due to her line of work, Suirei knows exactly how a cordyceps would be used, so she also knows in what purpose this Mister Jinshi is hoping to use it with their seemingly oblivious friend. "Trust me, Xiaolan, you're lucky to not know what they mean."

---

After the meal is done - which also means, after Jinshi had finally finished making Maomao feed him everything, up to and including half the plate of grilled silkworm that Loulan had ordered on a whim - Suirei tells them something that's been weighing on her for a while now.

"I realized we're going to have a problem on our way back."

Suirei had bought a four-seater sedan, but between all the medicinal herbs she and Maomao had haggled, the cute stuff Xiaolan bought for her new apartment, and Loulan's haul of assorted knickknacks, the back seat might as well not exist for human seating.

Rikuson had bumped into them at the market and went along with them to the restaurant, but he only has a motorcycle with him. He does have an extra helmet, though, so someone could possibly ride with him - not someone taller like Suirei or Jinshi, though.

Jinshi had insisted on bringing Maomao to her meeting place with the other three girls with the intention of just dropping her off and going back home, but when he had seen Maomao recognize Rikuson in the crowd and call out to said family friend with such familiarity, he suddenly didn't want to leave. If only he knew he was going to stay this long, he would have opted for his four-seater as well - now he just has his two-seater sports car.

"I don't see a problem," Maomao says, fully aware of the eyes that are suddenly on her. "Each vehicle can ride two people, and there's six of us. Easily said and done."

"Xiaomao, the helmet still fits on you, so you can ride behind me like you used to." Gods above, Rikuson thinks, behind his smile, Maomao's guy really needs to take a chill pill. But I guess I'm not helping.

"Call me Xiaomao one more time and I'll--" Make sure one of yours becomes small, is how Maomao usually ends this threat. It's a testament to her inner growth, or maybe how tired she is, that instead of completing that sentence, she takes a deep breath and stops herself. She massages her temple, seemingly nursing a headache. "Ugh. You know what? It doesn't matter."

"So that's a yes?"

"I take that more as a no," Loulan murmurs across the table so quietly that Rikuson suspects it's only meant for his ears. Then, louder, she speaks again: "I call dibs on me and Maomao riding jiejie's car home!" Loulan says in her usual bright voice. "I'm a super duper safe driver, and Xiaolan said before that she wanted to ride a motorcycle at least once."

"Uh, I wanted to ride with Maomao too, though?" Xiaolan says, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Just like last time. It was fun to ride behind her on the scooter..." The faint flush on her cheeks may be from the prospect of having to wrap her arms around an unfamiliar young man like Rikuson, but Maomao doesn't know what to do with the troubled look the young woman sends her direction.

"Xiaolan, I don't think we can ride together this time. I don't have a license so I can only ride my scooter, but I didn't bring it today." Come to think of it, that was Jinshi's fault. He smiles beatifically beside her.

"Then it's settled, Xiaolan and Mister Family Friend on the bike, me and Maomao in the car! I wouldn't want to separate her from her herbs after all."

"Little sister, where am I supposed to ride in this scenario, if you've taken my car...?"

"Oh, you and Mister Jinshi are similar heights so I just thought if he can fit in the sports car, you can too, jiejie!"

Suirei and Jinshi exchange looks. Literally the only things they have in common are their heights and a surprisingly soft spot for Maomao - his more prevalent than hers. That doesn't mean I'll automatically give way, she thinks, and chalks that sudden burst of pettiness up to how Jinshi had earlier made it an unspoken competition of who can buy Maomao more interesting medicinal raw materials.

"Wouldn't you have more fun in a fancy sports car with all the bells and whistles, though, meimei? I know you like driving fast." Suirei wonders aloud, a serene smile on her face. "Also, you did tell me before that you like talking to passionate people with clear-cut goals. As a businessman, I would guess Mister Jinshi would fit that description."

What is jiejie talking about? Loulan has met Jinshi for the first time in her life today, but she has heard more than enough of him from Maomao and seen them together around the office enough to know that if that guy has one passion in life...yep, it's probably Maomao herself. But that aside - "Jiejie, I was talking about Maomao back then! I want to talk with her more! Jiejie already hogged all her attention with all the medicine talks you had earlier. I wanted in too! Maomao!"

"Like I said, it doesn't matter to me either way," Maomao says, somehow grasping the fact that she is now the center of this entire conversation, without actually committing enough to listen to any of their debates. "The motorcycle is okay, either of the cars is okay. Just let me know whatever you've decided."

"But Maomao - come on, ride with me, you'll love it!" Loulan...sparkles, there's no other word for it, her eyes are sparkling up at Maomao's nonplussed expression as she shoves Jinshi out of the way to look at her friend better. "Don't you love me enough to share the ride home with me?"

Suirei realizes, belatedly, that here is where the other shoe drops, because Jinshi finally tears his gaze away from Maomao long enough to consider the situation in front of him. Her, with the capacity to occupy Maomao's thoughts with their shared love for medicinal herbs. Loulan and Xiaolan, who Maomao doesn't fully realize she has the softest spots for. Rikuson, who shared a childhood with Maomao and has had her ride his motorcycle before. If you look at it in the way only a lovesick, jealous guy like him would: he is in enemy territory.

What will he do now?

Maomao sighs and hangs her bag across her torso, readying herself to leave with her coat tucked into her arm. "We should go, then. If Rikuson and Xiaolan are taking the motorcycle, I think we should leave for the city before it gets dark out there."

Jinshi still appears lost in the train of thought he'd hitched a ride on, long enough that Maomao takes one good, long look at him and drapes his overcoat over his shoulders, unclipping his car keys from his belt loop and putting it snugly in his clasped hands for good measure.

They really do work well together, Xiaolan thinks. Too bad that for all their shared intelligence it appears like they cannot even fathom that when it comes to this, they're on the exact same page.

Jinshi blinks back to life when they're out of the restaurant, Loulan happily twirling Suirei's keys around her index finger as she herds Maomao towards her sister's sedan. "...wait."

Neither Maomao nor Loulan manage to get a word in before Jinshi catches up to them on his long, long legs and clasps his hand around Maomao's wrist. No pulling. He just holds her. "We live in the same floor of the same apartment building, I'll drive her home."

This is apparently news to Rikuson, who looks at Xiaolan in curiosity. She gives him back a timid smile that probably says, yeah, that surprised us, too.

"I live in the same apartment building as you two, boss." Loulan smirks back, her arm wrapping around Maomao's free arm. Suirei makes an astute observation that the picture they make almost resembles the tug of war scenes in the dramas Loulan loves to make her watch. This is, considering her dramatic little sister, probably done on purpose. "Maomao gave me the okay. Also, I called dibs first."

"Maomao and I had plans after this, the original idea was that I drop her off and come back for her when you're done." In spite of the confidence in his tone, there's something in the way Jinshi says Maomao's name that tells Loulan he doesn't really call her by that as often as he wants to. "Since we're already together, it only makes sense for us to go to the next location together."

"Jiejie, Xiaolan, Maomao and I are going to have a sleepover in my unit. In the same apartment building you're going home to. We are literally going to go to the same next location." The first vestiges of any pulling are coming from Loulan's side - Maomao winces, sometimes the girl really does not comprehend just how much upper body strength she actually does have. "The only one who's actually going somewhere else is Mister Family Friend over there, but he isn't complaining over Maomao not riding with him."

"Actually," Rikuson smiles curiously. "Uncle Loumen's staying over at Xiaomao's unit for the night and we're heading back home tomorrow, so I'm crashing on her couch for tonight too. We're all going to the same place."

Maomao blinks in confusion. "Ah. That was today? I thought that was tomorrow?"

"There was a mishap at the ticketing office and we got compensatory tickets for tomorrow morning. Lahan-ge's work, as expected."

Maomao shrugs, or as much as she could with one girl clinging to her arm and one guy holding her hand. "That's fine. I'll bring out the blankets for you, if you really don't mind the couch."

Hey Xiaomao, what about we share your bed like old times - is what Rikuson would probably say, if only the guy in front of him with an obvious burning crush on Maomao hadn't been riled up enough already. He keeps that little tidbit in the back pocket for future reference, instead. Nobody has to know that the only reason younger Maomao clung on to younger him back then was because she was dreaming and mistook his arm for a ginseng root, of all things.

"Maomaooooo." Loulan just about whines, her eyes sparkling as she tugs onto Maomao another time, attempting to pull her away from her coworker just enough so that she can run with Maomao into the sunset. "Come on, it's cold out and we have to go!"

At this point, Maomao can't budge, not even if she had wanted to, because Jinshi's hand has since moved down to interlock his fingers with hers. It's not exactly a position Maomao wants to be caught dead in, but his hand is warm and his fingers slot perfectly in between hers and Maomao can't quite understand why but she feels something quite like contentment settle deep into her chest. She will never tell the man in front of her that, of course. His pretty head is already filled with hot air as it is; she's not gonna add to that.

Maomao looks up at the guy in question, most probably to tell him to let her go so Loulan can stop sulking and actually drive, but the expression that greets her on that celestial beauty's face makes her stop dead in her tracks. His eyes, usually guarded behind his public smile or clear and open to match his real childish huffiness, are now glossy with unshed tears. His lips, glossy with a distracting sheen that Maomao knows full well came from all the meat she was feeding him earlier, are trembling. And his hand, the only part of his that tethered him to her, clasps even tighter against her fingers.

"I'll get you anything you want, Maomao, just please ride with me." Jinshi blurts out, his voice a complete 180 from the cool, calm, collected voice he was using when talking to everyone earlier. He sounds more desperate, more raw - it's the same tone of voice that convinces Maomao to do stuff she normally doesn't like gently tend to his wounds or let him cling to her as he sobbed and told her about his poor excuse of a father. And she's hearing it again now, all because these naughty kids she unfortunately calls friends have made a good game out of messing with him, somehow.

Xiaolan can't help but wish she had enough popcorn to pair with all this cheese, and shares an amused side glance with Rikuson beside her. He grins with her, in solidarity, because guess who's going to go home and tell Big Brother Lahan all about their littlest sister's budding workplace romance?

As Loulan pulls her closer, crushing her arm against her sizable bosom, Maomao shoots her a warning glance - that her friend, of course, gleefully ignores. "Bribery isn't fair, Mister Jinshi." Loulan chides, her words at a complete odds against her resplendent smile. "Maomao's coming with me and you can talk to her later!"

In response to that, Jinshi sniffles, which tells Maomao that he's about to blubber out more nonsense, stuff like "don't leave me behind!" or "will you abandon me like this!?" Maomao is (unfortunately) the number one protector of Jinshi when he's in such a delicate state, which means she has to bring Jinshi back to his usual state fast. So she decides to throw him a bone, for once.

"Wait a sec, Loulan, let's let him talk. What do you mean when you say anything?"

"As expected from our Maomao," Loulan coos, leaning her head against Maomao's shoulder. "You're just too nice!"

"When I mean anything I mean anything." Jinshi says, staring Maomao and Loulan down with a renewed confidence. "Just tell me what it is, and it's yours."

Maomao balks at that. "I don't think that having my boring ass in the passenger seat for a two-hour car ride is worth that much, actually, so don't be that vague -"

"You said before that you needed more cordyceps for your experiment. I can get a couple more, and throw in some saffron and rosy periwinkle for good measure."

Loulan knows exactly when she lost Maomao because she gets that shine in her eye that only appears when rare herbs are concerned. So she lets go of the arm she had been clinging to, and watches her walk away with interest. "I'll write up an IOU to hold you on that when we get home," Maomao tells Jinshi, doing nothing about her hand still interlaced with his as they walk back to his car.

"I'll gladly sign any paper that Maomao wants me to sign," Jinshi says, the fondness clear as day in his tone as he happily opens his passenger car door for Maomao. Wow, that's enough sparkles to drown Maomao in, probably. Still a better option than letting him break down and sob in front of everyone - Maomao knows how to deal with this annoying guy's handsomeness by now. She does not want to watch him cry again.

"Well, that's that on that, change of plans. Mister Family Friend, I'm going with you." Loulan says, matter-of-factly, taking the extra helmet from Xiaolan's arms and exchanging it with her sister's keys. "Jiejie, I can entrust our sweet Xiaolan in your hands."

There's a look on the young woman's face that tells Rikuson she's not doing this out of affinity with him - she had, in fact, been sizing both him and Jinshi up with matching glares whenever she thought Maomao was not looking. But nevertheless, Rikuson still thinks there's no harm in asking her what she's planning to do. "Miss Loulan, right? How can I help you?"

"You could've helped if only you rode with the boss," Loulan mutters under her breath, before turning to Rikuson with a blinding grin on her face. "How fast can you go on your bike?"

He still doesn't quite know where she's going with this. "Fast enough...within legal limits."

"That's good enough. Let's go and get close enough to ruin any romantic mood that settles in between them."

"Suirei-jie," Xiaolan whispers, as the odd pair makes their way to where Rikuson is parked, "I thought Loulan likes Maomao and Mister Jinshi's romance?"

"I don't know, Xiaolan," Suirei sighs, a hand behind Xiaolan's shoulders as she leads her to their ride. "Your guess is as good as mine." 

---

End notes:

i'm drafting an entirely different fic but it's postponed now since i just came back from watching skz code episode 44, final episode of their self-proclaimed jeju dating show and it's a hot mess and literally the only idea taking up my brainspace right now. for context, this is felix. see the things he says at 18 and 33 minutes into the video respectively:

like him, jinshi tries to be cool and calm when it comes to maomao but he isn't above freaking out and going straight to bribery. let us all pray for this lost little child. fun fact the title/beginning note is from the exact song we hear in the background when he says what he says in minute 18. wanted to have jinshi panic and be awkward even more but i felt that if he escalated maomao would actually shake him by the shoulders so just left it at this LOL

this was originally supposed to be a single scene from the fic i was drafting in the first place but i kept expounding on it and it became like this so here it is anyway. also as a bonus i wanted to keep track of who was sitting beside who so i made a seating chart, but i blinked and suddenly it became this. enjoy

i just want you to know watching aforementioned video woke me up in the last hours of 2023 with the urge to write down this mess in my brain and put it into words so everything came in a daydream and aside from this i don't think i can explain much else. so i guess, happy new year, stay healthy, etc. see you around and hoped you liked this!

[teamfortresstwo]

…Thinking about an au where Tim gets leitnered into a cat and Elias ‘coincidentally’ walks in just as Jon is like petting him and shushing him because oh no! This poor cat is so obviously distressed! And like Tim would find this cute and tease him over it under any other circumstance but seeing as he’s the cat and would very much like to become a person again it is kinda annoying! And then Elias is like ‘is that a cat, Jon?’ And Jon gets all flustered is like ‘ah-uh-yes, someone must have let it in… I-‘ and Elias just cuts him off and insists on taking is outside and Jon wants to prove he can be responsible by doing it himself but Elias refuses and takes cat Tim and Tim doesn’t really like him and he doesn’t seem to know anything cause this is s1 so he’s scratching and biting but Elias just won’t let him go and…he’s not actually taking him outside?

And so Elias just brings him up his office and is like “well this is quite the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into mr stoker” and then they spend the rest of the day trying to figure out how to reverse it with Tim getting to be all cuddled up to Elias and being pet.

[xomakara]

Office Secrets

SUMMARY |  You're in a relationship with your boss, Yunho. Except no one in the office knows that you're together.

PAIRINGS |  Yunho x Reader

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE |  Manager!Yunho, Employee!Reader, non-idol au, established relationship, smut, secret relationship,

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (female giving/male receiving), praise kink, pet names, office sex, bedroom sex, creampie

LENGTH |  8,502 words

TAGLIST | --

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @atzhouse @cromernet @wonderlandnet

@othersideoutlawsnetwork @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Hi there. Linda here. Here's another Yunho fic lolololol. Thank you @aaagustd for the beautiful banner~ And now I'm going to cry in a corner. Don’t forget to like, comment, reblog and show some support. Love you all 💚

You pushed away from your desk, rolling your eyes as the girls from your team excitedly talked about Head Manager Jeong. They discussed that he is handsome, single, and looking.

It was like they were shopping for him. You were sure one of them was planning to try and snatch him up. You couldn't blame them, but it didn't matter anyway. They would never find out about your relationship with Yunho because no one knew. It was the reason why he wasn't your emergency contact or anything. You didn’t have pictures of him on your phone, and he didn’t have any of you either. You didn’t do couple-like things together like going to a restaurant or seeing a movie. It was always back and forth between each other's apartments.

Your attention was brought back to the present when one of your team members asked if you agreed with the sentiment that Yunho was attractive. You looked around the room, the women waiting for you to answer.

The truth was yes. He was beyond attractive but you couldn't exactly tell the other women that you've fucked him on every surface of both his and your apartment.

"Yeah. I mean he's cute, I guess," you answered before turning your attention back to your computer screen.

"Just cute? Have you seen his face?" One of the women asked.

"I mean I see him almost every day, so yeah. I have."

"That's right, you guys are friends, right?"

You were not going to call your relationship with Yunho a friendship. It was too complicated.

"I don't know, we have mutual friends. So I see him at group outings sometimes," you explained.

It was the truth, but not the full truth.

You saw him all the time, but not in the way these women were imagining. You saw him in the shower. On the couch. His bed. Your bed. You saw him without his clothes on, panting beneath you. Above you. You saw him in ways you were sure they could never imagine. So yes, you would call your relationship a friendship, just not the type these women were assuming.

You continued with the work on your computer, ignoring the chatter about the rest of the company's team leaders and managers. They were all young and handsome and single, so it made sense that you all had been a hot topic at work lately.

Yunho had become the new target now that some of the others had been spoken for. Hongjoong was already married, and you had heard that he was going to be a father. Yeosang had recently gotten into a relationship. San had a girlfriend for the past few months and Seonghwa had just announced his engagement to his longtime girlfriend.

It was the reason why all the women in your department were so focused on the remaining four single men in the company.

Yunho, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho were the only ones who were still available.

But even then, the relationship you have with Yunho wasn't conventional.

No one knew that the two of you were together.

Not a soul.

The secret had been eating away at you.

It had been going on for months now and you were sick of it. You just wanted to be able to hold his hand or kiss him in public. To let the world know that the man is yours.

It was frustrating.

Yunho wasn't just some fling or casual boyfriend. You cared for him deeply and the idea that people would think of him as being available and on the market made you uneasy. He is yours and you are his.

"Team Leader?" One of the girls spoke up, "Are you listening?"

You nodded, "What were you saying?"

She laughed, "We were wondering how you would rate Manager Jeong. He's single, so it wouldn't hurt to let us know. We could put in a good word for you if you wanted."

Your eyebrows furrowed. You did not need the girls to put on a good word for you when he was already yours. The sex was great, his dick was great. Everything was just great.

"Uh," you were about to respond but you were cut off.

"Manager Jeong, you're here."

You looked up and watched Yunho enter the room, nodding his head in acknowledgment. "Ladies, can I borrow Team Leader Y/L/N for a second?"

"Of course. Take your time."

He smiled, before walking towards your desk.

"Is everything okay?" You asked as you got up and followed him into the hallway.

"Everything is fine. I just need you to come with me," he explained as he walked down the hall.

You were confused, but you continued to follow him anyway. Opening the door to his office, he gestured for you to go inside. He closed the door behind you, making sure it was locked before he pulled you close to him.

"Why did you want to see me?" You asked as his lips moved down to your neck.

"I heard the girls talking," he began. "They think I'm handsome."

"I never said you weren't," you responded, tilting your head so he had better access to your skin.

"What would you rate me? They were asking."

"I think you'd know the answer to that question," you smirked as he kissed along your collarbones.

"You're right. I already know." He pulled away, a small smile on his lips. His hands rested on your hips, pulling your body closer to his. "But it would be nice to hear it, wouldn't it?"

"Fine," you could feel his breath on your skin. "You are a 10. Satisfied?"

He chuckled, "It's a start."

You rolled your eyes before he leaned down and kissed you. His tongue slipped into your mouth, the feeling causing a fire in the pit of your stomach. His hands moved down from your waist to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. He lifted you up onto his desk, your legs wrapping around his waist. His lips traveled down your jaw to the sweet spot on your neck, sucking the skin into his mouth. Your hands moved up to his hair, tangling in his soft locks.

"Fuck," you breathed out as his lips moved further down your chest.

"Tell me how much of a 10 I am again," he teased as he nipped at the exposed skin.

"10. Fuck, a 100."

"Mmm," he hummed against your skin, "Good."

"Baby, we're at work."

He didn't care. He moved his hands up the skirt of your dress, grabbing a fistful of the fabric and yanking it up to your waist.

"Don't care," he said as he kissed down your neck and onto your chest. His hands moved to your bra, unclasping it with ease.

"Yunho," you whined. "Someone could walk in."

"I don't care," he repeated. He pulled your bra off, tossing it onto the ground. "Maybe it's time to show everyone that I'm yours and that you're mine. I think the rumors about me need to be addressed and quenched," he stated as his hands roamed across the expanse of skin.

"And how do we do that, Team Leader Jeong?" You looked up at him.

"Oh baby, it's very simple. It's called teamwork. Team Leader Y/N, would you please allow me the honor of helping you and me fuck in my office for the first time? You see, this is something that has been on the to-do list and we can finally cross this out. Not only is this to prove to everyone you're the love of my life, but it also shows everyone that I'm your man," he said softly against the column of your throat before kissing his way to your ear. "Also I want to see what face you'll make with your coworkers only meters away. What about that, Team Leader, will that please you?"

A soft moan escaped from your parted lips at the thought.

Yunho pressed his hips to yours. His clothed bulge was hard, hot, and ready for you, but he didn't give you that right away. Not yet.

His tongue dipped to the top of the neckline of your dress.

"Wait..."

"Please? Be a good girl and let me take care of you, I will take such good care of my pretty girl."

"Did you at least lock your office door? What if someone hears?"

"Already locked it, babe." He pulls your dress lower until your breasts pop free. "As far as your pretty noises, can you try to be good and keep yourself quiet, pretty? Or do you want me to stuff your panties in your mouth? Or do you want my fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet?"

"I'll be good. I'll be good."

Yunho smiles, happy. As much as he would love to hear your moans and screams, he's going to have to wait for that later. He's already excited at how your hair and clothes would look disheveled once you two are done with fucking like rabbits.

He drops a peck onto the crown of your head as he nudges your legs apart. His fingers crawl into the soaked panties, drawing lazy circles into the folds that make you gasp his name.

"Remember, stay quiet," Yunho whispered in a teasing tone. "Unless you really want the entire building to hear you."

You tried your best not to moan. It was a losing battle when his thumb teased your clit, circling it.

"Look, Team Leader, your team is in the area outside this door," he murmured in your ear. "They'll know for sure what we are doing here."

"Yunho." You mewled. "I don't care. I want everyone to know that you're mine. I don't want the rest to think that you're the perfect dream that they can chase," you whimpered.

"You know I only have my eyes on you." He takes your chin between his thumb and finger, raising it to lock eye contact. "You're the perfect dream of mine and I intend on spending every day making you happy. You're my pretty, my baby, mine."

The praise has you whimpering under his touch, pleading for more and more.

It doesn't take long for your slick to drench your panties and it's amazing how wet Yunho can get you within a matter of minutes. The cold air makes your exposed breasts ache but the thought of having sex with Yunho, in his office, is sending you into a heated state.

"My beautiful," Yunho whispers sweet compliments, leaning in to kiss your lips before he sinks into the valley of your chest.

His mouth feels wet and his lips are cold against your skin, nipping and lapping his tongue out for a taste. You clutch your fingers in Yunho's locks, pulling his hair softly in your grasp. The more your sensitive nipples are played, the hotter your body feels.

He's marking your flesh with his hands, tongue, lips, and teeth, claiming you. He sucks and laps his tongue against your nipples while his other hand draws circles with your swollen clit.

"You look so gorgeous," Yunho hums, "All these hickeys look so good." He pulls his hand from between your soaked lips, and he pushes a couple of his fingers into your mouth.

Your eyes lock. You both stare at each other with blown eyes. You taste and lick and moan for his fingers and he curls them around your mouth as a gesture, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip.

"Spread your legs for me, babe. Can you be a good girl and let my fingers make a mess of you?"

You nod. Your throat is tight, and it takes all of the willpower you possess not to rock your hips when Yunho pulls your underwear to the side.

Your heart hammers away when you catch the hungry look in your boyfriend's eyes. He dips a digit to the knuckle into you, his fingers cold to the heat between your thighs, and you bite his fingers to muffle your moans.

"Shh," he chides in a husky whisper. His middle finger sweeps along the slick of your walls and curls to rub against the spot inside that sends your back arching and fingers clawing onto Yunho. "If you're loud, I will have to take my hand away and who would take care of your poor pussy?"

You try your best to stay quiet despite Yunho adding more fingers. The fingers of his other hand was still in your mouth and his thumb was stroking the column of your throat. His gentle kisses pepper over the salty skin of your cheeks and chin and along your jaw.

"That's it, my sweet girl. You're so perfect. This pussy is just fucking perfection," he moans lowly and adoringly into the crook of your neck, "you're mine, yeah? Every last gorgeous part is mine to love."

His hand quickens and he drives his digits in further. His own erection was hardening to painful proportions in his pants. You're clamping hard on his hand, but Yunho manages to slip a fourth finger in and curls them perfectly against your spot.

Pleasure winds up at the base of your spine and belly. You moan around the fingers in your mouth, the fingers in your pussy, and you reach out blindly to grab at anything of Yunho.

"Suck my fingers, baby," he coaxes. He watches the saliva-soaked digits sink and vanish down your throat. He revels at the way you're taking his thick, long fingers. He has all his fingers shoved in your mouth, your pussy, and he loves the wet and hot feeling of you taking everything he gives you.

"That's my pretty baby, my good girl," his words are thick with fondness and desire. He can see you're losing your composure; Yunho presses a smile and kisses against the curve of your throat, "You're being so good for me. Cum, I have you, baby girl."

His hand in your mouth retreats to replace your lips with his own. You scream for Yunho into his mouth, the force of your orgasm hitting you like a bus.

Wet and sloppy sounds come from his digits fucking into your pulsing heat. You twitch, and then relax, going limp in his arm.

Yunho releases the suction of your lips. "Feel better?"

You swallow and nod. A flush heats up your neck and your face and a sweat beading against your neck and collar bones. "Your turn now?"

"Anything you want," Yunho removes his fingers from your hole with a soft, squishing sound and smirks at how your inner walls fluttered around his hand's absence. "But first, clean my fingers, baby. They're filthy from your cum."

You don't even protest and just put your boyfriend's cum covered digits past your lips to lap it up and suck the remnants. Yunho growls, not because his fingers are still sensitive to the suction, but because he loves the picture of you devouring the wetness of his hand.

"Good job," he praises and you mewl, knowing he loves to play and praise you in bed. "Good fucking job," he leans down for a filthy open-mouth kiss to swipe a lick into your mouth, to have a taste himself. "Now you can suck me off, babe. And then when we go home, you can ride the hell out of me. How's that?"

"Sounds perfect," you say as you lick your lips, sliding off the desk only to sink unto your knees, hands already working at the belt of his trousers and undoing the button and fly.

"So eager," he chuckled in a low tone, hand petting your hair and lightly taking a hold to angle your head upwards to look him in the eye. "Suck me off, baby. Suck it off nicely so I can come in your pretty mouth."

It takes only moments until your hand grabs around his hard cock and slowly jerks him off, his pre-cum slicking the tip. Then, Yunho is letting out a pleased and shuddery groan when he sees you lick his slit. The soft tip of your warm tongue slides against the heated length.

Your soft, pink lips look absolutely stunning on him. The way you close your eyes to really get the best feel as you bob up and down his length makes his balls tighten and his hips buckle for more. You moan on his dick and the vibrations drive him wild. You begin to focus on his slit again with soft presses, kissing and caressing before taking the full length into your hot and velvety mouth.

When the head hits the back of your throat and you feel your lips against the base, you manage to look up. The way he looks at you with loving, darkened eyes, you just want him to come so hard and messy inside your mouth.

Yunho calls you a good girl, how amazingly gorgeous you are for him and no one else, and the praise makes you ache to please him.

"Such a good job, you're such a sweet girl for me." Yunho coos as he brushes his hands against your cheek. "Ready for me? Fuck, ready baby?"

You feel him throb hard and warm cum shoots out onto your awaiting tongue, and Yunho grunts as he holds himself from slamming hard in your throat. You eagerly drink him and make soft noises as the taste coats your taste buds. You just wanted to savor his essence. He tastes fucking delicious.

"Should we just leave early today, baby?"

You let his dick go with a pop and wipe the excess wetness that had leaked out the corner of your mouth. "We have an appointment with our PR team later, remember?"

"Shit, really?"

"Yeah." You got up from the floor, pulling his head down for a small kiss. "But we can always finish at your place when we are done. You did say that I can ride the hell out of you."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Yunho chuckles.

Both of you straighten up your clothes and made yourself as presentable as you can. Yunho picks up your bra, which lays forgotten on his office floor and tucks it into the inside pocket of his blazer.

"Until tonight, babe," Yunho whispered into your ear as you leaned up to give him one last kiss before unlocking the door and slipping out of your boyfriend's office.

You return to your desk where your coworkers sit gossiping amongst each other.

"You were in there for a while, Team Leader."

"Did Manager Jeong yell at you? Did you get in trouble?"

"What happened there?" They asked.

"Just a lot of boring things, you know?" You lied as you sat down at your desk. "Just some marketing strategies and all that boring stuff you don't wanna hear about. Super uninteresting."

"Nothing exciting, then? Too bad."

"Definitely," you said, grabbing a pen. "Nothing exciting at all."

A few days later, you're sitting at your desk again working late on some data analysis for next month's projected sales. Everyone has gone home for the night so Yunho sits on the corner of your desk.

"Let's go out for dinner. Are you almost done here?"

"Mhmm, a few more reports and then we can leave," you responded. You rolled back the sleeves of Yunho's white button-up shirt as you looked at the reports. It was a little big on you, the shirt hanging off a single shoulder. It seemed like no one knew that it was his.

"I can't believe you wore one of my shirts to the office, baby," Yunho smirked, the sight of his clothes hanging off your lithe frame making his dick hard.

"Whose fault is it that I don't have any of my clothes at your place?" You laughed, leaning up for a quick peck and tugging the ends of his hair gently. "Besides, I only wear the shirts that you don't wear to the office. The girls would die to know that I get to wear your shirts."

"Fair," He kissed you once again before getting up, fixing the collars of the shirt and kissing the top of your head, "Maybe we should just move in together, baby. After all, you do spend more time in my bed than yours."

"Maybe..." You looked over your computer and bit the top of a pen, thinking over the suggestion. "If you give me like seventy-five percent of your closet space. If not, I will need more than fifty percent of space."

He chuckles at your demands. "I think you can just take up all my closet space. So let's move in together, yeah? You and I. One place, all of our stuff."

Your face softened and he found himself falling a little bit harder for your cute expression. "Sounds wonderful. But I expect lots of quality cuddles from the very handsome Manager Jeong."

"Only from Manager Jeong? Not from your boyfriend named Yunho?" He lets out a little pout, one that has you swooning for this big man's charm. "But I'll give you all the cuddles. The highest quality cuddles that one could ever ask for, babe."

"I never realized that the serious, stern team manager was this big baby behind closed doors." You rolled your eyes and snorted a giggle.

"This big baby has a lot of feelings for you," he snickered and grabbed your face in between his two hands to pepper kisses across the soft expanse. "You're stuck with me," he mumbled, then kissed your forehead. "Can't get rid of me that easily. We've been together for a few years, babe."

"What a scary thought," you hummed.

"In all seriousness though, moving in together? Be my official roommate?"

"What a ridiculous man you are." You stuck your tongue out teasingly at him. "I'm all up for it. Yes, yes, a hundred times yes. I'll move in with you. You're stuck with me too, silly."

"Then it's settled." Yunho swooped in to kiss you. "Now finish that report so that we can finally get out of this godforsaken office and eat dinner."

"My hero." You replied, kissing him a few more times. You turned towards your screen once again, cracking a smile to yourself.

After finishing the last few minutes of work and packing up your items for the night, you left your desk.

The company parking was nearly empty except for a handful of people who stayed behind, leaving Yunho and you alone. Your car is parked by his.

"Got everything?" he asked and took your hand, playing with your fingers and rings absentmindedly while waiting for a response. "Are you sure you don't have a toothbrush or underwear or anything else you might be forgetting in there? I don't want any emergency midnight bathroom runs, baby girl."

"You'll buy it for me, Yunho. That's what boyfriends do. Now come on, I'm hungry, aren't you?" You tugged on his hand with a whine.

"You're a brat, babe. I have spoiled you too much, I see," He pressed a gentle peck on the crown of your forehead. "Let's drop your car off at your place and then grab dinner and spend the night at mine? No work, just us together in my bed. Yeah?"

"Hmm, how about dropping off my car, going to your place and ordering takeout, and watching movies in bed, snuggled up and warm under the sheets until we both fall asleep, because it sounds kind of like heaven and I've worked so, so hard today." You mumble with a sulk into his shoulder.

"You got yourself a plan, baby. A very nice plan, too. Let's do what my little darling wants for a change," Yunho, now leaning against your car, opened the door for you and you slipped in, a big smile growing across your face.

You clicked your seatbelt into place and started the car. You roll down the window when Yunho knocks on the glass, pressing a kiss onto your temple.

"I'll be right behind you the entire drive, okay?" He leaned in for a quick peck before fully withdrawing to his car.

"Make sure you do," you shouted, before rolling the window up and reversing out of the parking lot, heading towards your apartment to drop off your car.

From your wing mirror, you can see him pulling out too. The evening sunset catches the windscreen in a glare, but you see his figure behind the steering wheel.

He looks damn good. And all yours. You couldn't wait til you dropped off your car so that you can be in his, feel his long fingers on your thigh as he's driving.

And he does just that minutes later after dropping off your car and making the drive to his place. As the sun sets further in the sky, casting its reddish hues through the driver and passenger windows, Yunho has his free hand on your knee, stroking a soft, reassuring pattern into your skin and sometimes gripping or caressing gently.

And there you were, reclining back in your seat with a little smile, playing with his fingers and tracing random designs as he drove and occasionally holding the tips of his fingers to your lips and smiling shyly at him when the light would turn green again.

When the two of you step into the apartment building and walk towards the elevator, he presses his lips gently against your cheek. You sink into the touch as you both make your way up to his floor.

You slide his keys into his lock to unlock the door and open the entrance to his flat. Yunho sheds off his shoes and blazer, revealing his strong arms and neck in his perfectly fitting button-down and slacks.

You lean back into his chest and kiss the skin where the second to last button is left undone.

"Baby, if you keep doing that, there won't be any cuddles and takeout. I'll just end up fucking you the moment we get into the apartment," Yunho's voice rasped, and his hand curled around your neck.

"Cuddle first, fuck second. Got it," you giggled, tapping his arm for him to let you go so that you could wander his room and rummage into his drawer to grab a black t-shirt. He's so big compared to you, so his shirts practically drape over you and cover your butt and thighs. It feels like a dress and makes you want to prance around his flat and slip and slide on the wood floors and laze on his couch and his king-size bed.

With his shirt on and comfortable panties on, you made your way back to his living room and collapsed on the couch, exhaling with happiness as you smelled his musky and forest-scented laundry detergent that clung to his shirt. You threw your phone on his coffee table and grabbed the TV remote.

Yunho is in the kitchen getting the delivery menus to decide what kind of food to order for you. A few moments pass before he walks to the living room couch.

He sighs, taking the remote from you and muting the show that you had started.

"Hey, I was watching that," you complain, but your complaints turn to happy noises when his hands wander to hold and knead your hips.

"What do you want?" He hummed, dipping his face close to nip at the junction where your shoulder and neck met.

"Hmm?" Your brain had already started to become a little hazy from his attention. His tongue felt like heaven against your skin. You brought a hand up to twine into his hair and arched your back to rub up into his body.

"I asked what you wanted to eat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "What are you hungry for tonight?"

"Ummm, oh," you hummed. "Aren't you just delicious?" You said with a sassy wink.

"You're so cheesy," Yunho scoffed, his eyes softening when he looks at your face, lit up with an unreserved grin. He kissed your nose. "Want to order something spicy and pick a movie so we can snuggle and have you in my lap for the night, beautiful?"

"Yes please. You are always the best snuggler," you nodded. "Get out of your work clothes so we can snuggle to full capacity!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going!" Yunho laughed as he pulled away and disappeared into the other room. He changes, emerging minutes later in a black t-shirt and shorts. He plops on the sofa next to you and you reach out to curl into him.

"Which movie are we going to watch tonight?" Yunho asks as you wrapped your arm around his midsection.

"I wanna watch something scary."

"Of course you do. You love being a little scaredy-cat with my arms around you knowing that I don't get scared easily, huh? You can even play the cliché 'there is something outside' line just to cling onto me tighter," Yunho hummed as he scrolled through his streaming device to find a scary movie. "Scary movie it is."

You stick your tongue out and lay down with your head resting on his thighs. "Someday, I'll pick a horror movie that would scare the heck out of you. I'm going to team up with Wooyoung and Jongho to get you."

"In your dreams, beautiful," Yunho leaned over and flicked your forehead playfully. He settles back on the couch and drapes a blanket over your form before grabbing the remote and pressing play. "Enjoy the movie, cutie. Scream in terror for me." He chuckled.

"Fuck you, Jeong Yunho." You laughed as the title card flashes across the screen and the intro begins.

Halfway into the film, there is a jump scare and a scream from you makes Yunho roll his eyes. You're no longer resting on his lap, instead clutching at his abdomen and clinging to his toned body with the blanket tugged over your head.

You were shaking with fright, although you tried and failed to hide it.

"I told you it was a bad idea," he chuckles. Yunho holds out an arm and pulls you closer until you are tucked into him and his hold. You gasp and squeak each time the main characters react in fear as they are chased down, and even Yunho finds it funny how you squirm at every scare.

"Hate you," you squeak, slapping a hand on his chest. He mumbles that he is sorry and then kisses the top of your head, causing you to forget whatever had you in a momentary fit of irritation.

"Next time, pick a film less terrifying. Maybe one with action scenes and comedic undertones and pretty boys, hmm?" Yunho gives you a teasing smirk and then presses his nose into your hair. "Something to take our minds off of work. That sounds okay to you, princess?"

"Yeah." You sighed, squirming even deeper into his side. "Although, no promises that I won't cling to you more tightly."

He smiled into your hair and you settled down for the duration of the movie, hushed quietly and bundling yourself in the blankets you've wrapped around you.

Once the movie has finished, he sits you both up and stands with the phone. "Now, about that takeout. Do you still want it?" he asked. "I have the delivery service app pulled up. I can order if you like."

"Chicken," You blurted quickly. "Chicken and beer."

He laughs, swiping through his phone screen as he heads into the kitchen and flicks on the oven's dimmest light. You crawl down the sofa and lean to rest your chin on the countertop, admiring him as he leaned over his phone screen and flicked through, scrolling and selecting your favorites, tapping his fingers along the counter, before setting his phone aside.

He turned back around. His mouth widened into a smile at the sight of you looking up at him with a smile.

"How'd I get lucky to have you, baby girl?" Yunho smiled back.

"Duh, you asked," You teased with a roll of your eyes, sticking your tongue out. "Asking me out wasn't so scary, was it?"

"I thought you would've said no. Not that I was asking you out, of course, I was a bumbling fool at the start." He shrugged, ruffling his hair. "Too nervous around you, babe."

"So whipped, this guy," You mused, grinning so widely. "My big bad Yunho got so soft for me."

"Just for you," He blew a raspberry into his hand. "Just for the prettiest woman around."

"Did I mention that you're cheesy? That's right. It is also a full-time occupation and your one true calling, to make me cheesier than the most delicious, aged parmesan in all the lands and oceans."

He snorted in laughter. "You knew well enough that I was cheesy ever since college, baby. But in a good way."

"Your cheese will only keep on impressing and satisfying me. I can't live without your cheese, Yunho. You are a regular gold-star, straight A-cheese. The crème de la crème," You said.

"You're just as cheesy, baby. Even if you want to deny it," He booped your nose and you both laughed.

"Yunho?" You pouted.

"Yes?" Yunho perked up his brows at you and paused to look you directly.

"Can we finally tell everyone that we're together? I'm tired of just our friends knowing. And I'm tired of hearing all the girls talk about you. It's just getting annoying and tiresome, hearing them day and night and...they look at you," you babbled, mumbling, and not really finishing the last part of what was eating at you, as you looked down.

He envelopes you in a hug. "Why didn't you tell me you felt this way earlier, baby?" he whispered as you burrowed your head into his shoulders.

"Wasn't sure when or what the right time was to ask," you mumbled back into his chest.

"I have been waiting for your permission to tell all the people in the department to fuck off because you were mine," Yunho muttered as his hands rested on your lower back and he peppered butterfly kisses into your crown.

"So can I finally tell all the other girls to fuck off when they look at you? Can I finally walk around holding your hands and cuddling you in our lunch breaks? Can you hold me like this at the workplace and give me all of your sweet affections freely?" You murmured, tugging on his sleeve.

"Of course, baby." His answer made you look up at him and smile so brightly and it made his heart melt in the love and adoration he held for you. "Tell everyone you like that you have the sexiest and most handsome boyfriend in all the world. Because it's the absolute truth, darling."

"Love you, love you, love you. Thank you," you giddily hugged and squeezed him tight and he giggled a deep rumble as he rubbed up and down your back, his nose burying into your hair, inhaling deeply.

"I can't believe how whipped this man is," Yunho whispers affectionately. "Falling deeper and deeper in love with you, every day, baby."

"And does this man Yunho know how he will show his love?" You murmured with a cheeky smile, pressing a kiss at the base of his neck.

"How about I let this man make love to his girlfriend and he will show his love so deeply tonight?" His voice dropped as he grabbed your chin and tilted it to make eye contact. "Will that please and satisfy my baby girl?"

He didn’t give you a chance to reply. You moaned into his mouth, body pushing up to meet his touch. He huffs and presses kisses along your jaw. His mouth and tongue trails the smooth column of your neck.

He marked a hickey on the curve of your shoulder and his grip on your hips becomes slightly tighter. You heard him whisper your name between grunts, hands tangling into your hair and pulling at it slightly.

You smile and giggle at him with a smirk, cheeks slightly flushed as you trail your hand up to rest on his chest.

"Eat first, fuck later. You promised," You gave him a teasing smile as you shook your head and put your finger up to his lips.

The doorbell rings and the delivery man is here with your chicken dinner and Yunho lets out a string of curse words. "You're really evil, baby, making me wait." He mutters.

"I need to be fueled and filled first to satisfy my hungry baby and to give him all the pleasures and orgasms, yeah?" You coo.

He breathes. "Damn right you're gonna get filled," he promises darkly, "so don't complain if your legs give out tomorrow. It won't be my fault, baby. It won't."

"Hurry and get the food, Yunho." You whined, shoving him away.

Yunho quickly makes the trip to get the food, paying the delivery man extra and sending them on their way.

He returns back to the couch, sighing with frustration at you. "You know, you're gonna pay for that."

"Pay for what? I'm just hungry!" You smirk with a lilt of sass. "Aren't you? Feed me, please. Then you can have whatever you want after you feed your hungry girlfriend."

"What I want is already in front of me."

You woke up in Yunho's arms the next day, your head on his chest and tucked securely under his chin. It was only Saturday, but somehow, it felt nice to wake up, knowing that there wasn't much to worry about at work. Just staying with Yunho at his apartment and getting comfortable together in the warmth of his covers is a win-win and well-needed for the weekend.

Yunho shifts, his arms circling your waist and tucking you deeper in, the covers nearly tucked over your head.

It's so warm and you sighed with happiness into his chest, a smile blooming on your lips, nose nuzzling into the crook where his neck and shoulder met.

He stretched, yawned, and groaned, a husky growl escaping his lips as he grabbed you by the waist and dragged you up so you're nose to nose with him.

He squints his eyes open and they brighten when they make contact with you. "G'morning, cutie pie," he rasps, his voice deep. "Sleep well last night?"

"Best sleep ever. Especially in the arms of the best cuddler ever in the universe."

"Anything you'd like to do today? Let's eat breakfast."

"You know what I want for breakfast?" You murmured, your hand reaching for his already semi-hard cock and pumping it slowly.

"Are you asking me to feed my hungry baby for a morning meal of protein, huh?" Yunho's lips curled, one brow raising and his eyes half-lidded, lust creeping into his expression.

"It's the best thing to ever wake up to and eat," you purr as your hand moves to the hem of his boxers and dip your hand inside, gripping him and feeling him in your palm as it twitched at your touches.

Yunho growled and pushed your hand onto his hard length.

"Gimme what I want. I'm hungry, baby. Please." Your voice is low and needy. He throws his head back and it was just such a sight seeing his Adam's Apple bobbed up and down.

"You and your 'morning snack,' princess. Of all things to be greedy with." Yunho grunts when you let go to pull at the waistband of his boxers, shoving them down and his erect member springs free, bouncing upwards.

"Just hurry up and feed me. Please, sir."

His gaze darkened.

"Call me sir again. I want you to." He smirks.

"Please, sir. Let me lick your thick meat popsicle," you muttered into his ear and he lets out a soft noise, chest rumbling with an amused sound of arousal.

"When have you gotten this lewd, baby?" he smirks and his large hand pulls you closer, his fingers flexing at the swell of your ass.

You kneel at the edge of the bed, eagerly taking his length in hand and leaning forwards to lick a line up the underside. Your tongue teases his slit before swirling around the tip, taking him fully into your mouth and bobbing your head. His large hand cups the side of your face and tugs gently on your hair.

He is lost in the sight. Your fingers curl around the base of his cock, and you work it in conjunction with your mouth to take in as much as you can. He twitches against the inside of your cheek.

"Fuck." You whimper when his hand tugs at your hair harder.

"More, beautiful. Let me hear you choke more around my dick. Love to hear your little noises." He chuckles darkly and you are keen.

Your throat is relaxed now, accustomed to the fullness, the thickness of his heavy cockhead sliding deep enough to bump the back. You gag, swallow, and take him further, hearing the strangled moan leave his throat, as his head drops back and his hands find their way into the back of your head. His hands tangle through your hair, twisting in it gently. He breathes a ragged sigh, and tugs your hair, thrusting into your mouth.

You sit there, blinking up at him with your doe eyes, your mouth full, so stretched and sore.

It is one thing to see his face in his daily life, where he is nothing more than a strict superior, handsome beyond words. Another thing entirely, you think, to have this incredible man fisted in the palm of your hand and shivering at the ministrations of your skilled mouth. He looks good like this, in disarray.

"Fuck, I need to be in you. Your mouth isn't enough, pretty girl." He mumbles.

He helps you up, giving you a soft look when you turn away with a flush on your face as you wipe saliva off of your face. He can't help tugging at his lips and chuckles, pressing a wet kiss into the column of your neck and holding you back into the nest of blankets, pinning your legs around his waist, and wrapping your arms around his neck.

His hands splayed across your backside, the other sliding between your bodies, stroking down your abdomen, leaving you a shivering mess in the way he pressed and touched every sensitive spot you had. Your legs tighten around him, your moans encouraging his touch to grow rougher.

"Fuck...hurry," you pant as you rut against him and he coaxes a moan out of your lips when his tongue twists around your nipples. He laps, sucks at one nub, then the next, switching from breast to breast until the pink buds stand perked. He grinned smugly up at you when you mewled helplessly into his neck. "Yunhoooo~" you pouted.

His hand was in between your bodies, thumb at your clit, index teasing your drenched lips, his other arm curved and pulling you even closer.

"Let me fuck you so deep," he murmurs, and slides the tip of his fingers along your slit. "I'll fill you, so, so deep," and he slips one finger inside, and you moan. "So very good, my sweet baby. So wet and needy," he sighs when he takes his digit away.

He stops, breath panting, staring deep into your eyes. He gives a brief, lazy smirk before the corners of his lips curve down into a soft, genuine smile. He leans to press a gentle kiss onto your forehead before whispering a husky 'I love you, babygirl."

"Love you, sweetheart," you exhaled and took in another sharp breath when he rolled his hips, grinding his thick cock along your folds, coating his length in the arousal of your pussy.

He positioned himself above you and he didn't even hesitate to slide his thick cock into your swollen lips.

"You're so fucking hot," he groaned, wrapping both of your legs around his waist, gripping your ass to lift you, burying himself deep inside you.

"Oh God." Your head slammed into the mattress and you panted, gazing up at him with furrowed brows and glazed eyes.

"Do you feel me, baby?"

"I—Yes..." you moaned, and Yunho grunted softly, thrusting into you. He pumped inside of you, kissing along the curve of your shoulder.

"F-fuck," you moaned out. "Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck, yes. Keep going,"

"So demanding," he growled. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against your collarbone, his warm tongue flicking out briefly to graze the soft skin.

You squirmed beneath him. The steady slapping sounds of wet skin echoed throughout the room. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation.

Yunho's cock pounded into you mercilessly. He groaned out, loud and deep in pleasure, one hand stroking the softness of your curves as he gazed at your naked form.

"You're fucking amazing," Yunho muttered against your skin. His eyes focused on you as he continued to push inside of your heat. "The best fucking view to wake up to."

The fire in your stomach tightened. Yunho could tell your legs were beginning to feel weak from being wrapped so tightly around him and he slid his free hand to your ass, pressing you deeper against his body.

You wrapped your arms around him and grasped at the smooth, toned planes of his back. You bucked wildly as he brought your body flush with his, his cock reaching as deep as it could go.

"God, just fucking cum inside me. Mark me. Fill me up." You whispered, staring at him, into the depths of his chocolate brown eyes.

Your body was slick with sweat, you were becoming more and more lost in a trance. You loved him and that was all you cared about, right at that moment.

"Baby." Yunho gripped your thighs roughly, leaning forward so his lips ghosted across yours as he breathed. "Gonna cum."

You took his lower lip into your mouth. You nibbled lightly, kissing and tugging at it while you moaned.

Your heart was swelling from the amount of affection flowing through your veins. You released his lip, staring deep into his eyes. "Me too. So close," you panted.

"I'm—fuck! Baby, I'm so close." He whimpered out and squeezed his eyes shut.

"J-just fuck me deeper, deeper." Your legs shook against the curve of his waist. He nodded and smashed his lips against yours, muffling your loud scream with his mouth.

"Agh, baby, I'm cumming," Yunho huffed in his final few thrusts. His hot seed spurted inside of your womb. His deep and low groans joined your breathless whimpers and squeals.

When Yunho pulled his soft cock out, a heavy stream of white spills out of your cunt. Your whole body tenses with pleasure, a heavy wave of orgasm washed over and sent you shaking as you whimpered out.

Yunho groaned and pulled your into a tight embrace, tangling the sheets and blanket messily around you as he clung onto your body to keep you warm.

"Baby," He mumbled softly, planting soft kisses all over your cheek as his fingers slid gently into your hair, and traced little circles on your scalp, making you giggle a little.

"Did you feel satisfied now, love?"

"Mmm yes," you smirked happily and returned his kiss with another little kiss on his nose.

Yunho pulled the sheet up and around you both, laying on his side and pulling you towards him as he pulled the covers and pillows towards him, you both got comfortable and cuddled in each other's embrace, no sounds save the sound of you both breathing and inhaling in your lover's scent and enjoying your little pillow talks and whispering to one another.

You spent the rest of the weekend with Yunho as you discussed and looked at places to move together to a bigger apartment where you both could build and start the new phase of your life together as boyfriend and girlfriend.

"You and I, love. Us against the world. Can't wait for the future to unfold." Yunho grins happily, taking your left hand and placing a tender kiss at the base of your fourth finger, hinting subtly to an unspoken promise he intends for the near future.

"Me too, baby. I want this future. Our future." You gushed, pulling Yunho's face to give him a loving and long kiss.

The weekend has gone and a new work week begins. Yunho pulls up into the parking lot with you, holding your hand as you both walk into the building together.

Every girl in the office gaped. You and him, in matching clothing and dressed sharp for work, striding hand-in-hand, greeted them with a cheerful smile and hello. Yunho had an arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you towards the reception, towards your department.

The two of you pressed the buttons of the elevator at the same time. It dinged, sliding open to allow you to board and ride up.

One by one, the ladies in your office filed in behind. It was so crowded now that some were forced to wait until the next round.

Then your group stopped at the floor that the Marketing Department was at. Your desk was further down, closer to Yunho's office and that was the best part of your day- being so close to him.

Everyone went to sit down at their respective desks, booting up their PCs and sorting files that were due at the end of the day.

And of course, this meant that there wasn't a moment to breathe once everyone realized that you had come into the building holding Yunho's hand, walking with him.

As soon as you parted from Yunho and sat at your desk, the girls from your team crowded your personal workspace with a giddy gasp.

"Team Leader! How did this happen?!" One girl squealed.

"Are you and Manager Jeong...?" Another began, before raising an expectant eyebrow.

"So? Tell us, please!" They chirped in a group.

"Manager Jeong and I..."

Just then, Yunho approaches your desk, his hand resting on your shoulder. He leans in, brushing a small kiss on your cheek. "Let's get lunch later, okay baby?" He spoke so tenderly that your heart fluttered and butterflies swarmed your belly.

You blush and nod shyly as his eyes and smile meet yours, watching as the others in the department can't contain their excitement and awe.

The way he talked to you, how he looked at you, his genuine sweetness and smiles he showed you...you knew that your days would get even better with him. And this wasn't going to end, no.

Yunho was the love of your life and he was very determined to keep it that way.

No, nothing was going to separate what you two had and the fact you and Yunho were boyfriend and girlfriend was not a secret anymore and neither would anything change- you'd be there for him and he'd always be there for you.

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Light

angel!mafia seonghwa x chemist!mafia reader

evil man possessed by an angel who falls in love with the evil chemist who is basically a devil au LOL

genres and warnings: angst, suggestive, mafia au, obsession, morally black ppl again, mentions of drugs, human experiments (a few details), violence, blood, themes of corruption and forbidden love, lmk if i missed anything, dni if uncomfortable ^

word count: 32k (oops i did it again)

synopsis: when you summon an angel to enhance the town's drugs, the angel ends up being stuck in seonghwa's body- the mafia boss who supplies the drugs itself. the line between good and evil start to blur, complicated by your feelings for each other which lead you to make some difficult choices.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (she insisted hwa pure evil i said your wish is my command)

Good and evil must coexist in order to survive.

Without evil, there cannot be any good in this world. Evilness creates the need for good. And if there’s only good in the world, there would be no reason or purpose anymore. There must be evil for there to be a desire for goodness. 

Good and evil are the two elements that weigh down the pans of a weighing scale. They hover in the air, tipping up and down endlessly, never balancing because there is always too much evil or too much good at each fraction of time in the world. Perhaps, it is meant to be that way- perhaps, that is the balance this world needs.

Similarly, there is also good and evil coexisting in an individual. Sometimes, there is more good than evil, while other times evil outweighs the good . People can argue if humans are inherently good or evil but it has never mattered- if you live in society, you will learn what is considered good and what is considered evil.

However… sometimes when you look at Park Seonghwa, you wonder if all the foolish rambling about evil being an inherent trait might be true after all. You’ve known him almost all your life and you are convinced that the man does not possess a single good bone in his body.

Again, it was arguable. What is the criteria of being good or what ultimately labels you evil? Perhaps, he is good in an unconventional way- though there’s hardly been evidence of that when all his good intentions have an evil motive. Maybe that was his purpose on earth- to make sure the scale does not tip too much towards good.

A tiny part of you thought that maybe he was the only person holding the burden of that responsibility- but then you would look in the mirror and realise you were no better. You would scoff at the audacity to judge the poor man when you yourself were his equal in every way. Perhaps, you possessed a few morals, but you had always been reprimanded on that. 

You could not be a good human in your field. Not when you were making sure that the society was entangled in the web of your deception- attracted like flies to the things that glittered like gold but were dark at their very core.  Not when you fed the people with the lies of pleasure and they willingly took bait, losing the conscious part of themselves that would ever warn them that maybe this was not a good idea.

Not when you were the devil who was ruling both the underworld and the world from the shadows. 

You did not need to be a good human when you were manufacturing and producing drugs. You just needed to possess a brain that functioned better than the average human, possess a heart that did not function as good as the average human, and finally, stay away from whatever you created. 

Bonus points if you had a little streak of-

“This is insanity, sweetheart.”

That. Insanity. The key ingredient.

“But insanity has always made sense. Especially when it comes from me,” you pointed out and Seonghwa couldn’t help but agree, uncomfortably crossing his legs while sitting on his office chair and contemplating deeply.

“Theoretically, it can work-”

“Theoretically,” Seonghwa reminded you with a pointed glare that was a warning to not get too ahead of yourself. He never failed to assert that he was ultimately the one in control. “Theoretically, anything is possible. But if you really believe that angels exist-”

“I don’t have to believe that they do,” you insisted. “But I have to try.”

You were unsure about this, that was true. Summoning demons for ritual was something common in the underworld, though you had never witnessed it yourself, having heard that it was better to avoid that. You had suppliers, though, claiming that they had stored the ‘essence’ of the demons that they summoned. The essence was a powerful thing and had to be mixed in miniscule quantities in large amounts of the base product for it to work- you learned that the hard way too. It took you years and an uncountable amount of dead test subjects to learn that the human body could not tolerate the essence of a demon unless it was barely there. 

Did you believe that demons exist after all these experimentations? It was still arguable, but the vials of the essence stored safely in your lab was proof that the world was not only home to humans and animals, but other creatures too. You recalled observing exorcisms when you first started studying dark arts, hoping to expand your knowledge and mix the scientific and the supernatural. You once convinced the mafia lord to join you.

That sure did end well. Here you were, seated right in front of that mafia lord, trying to convince him that if humans could successfully extract demonic essence to create the ultimate drugs, they could extract the essence of an angel to create something new too.

It could change the course of this world, if you were right. You had no idea if the essence would work like the demonic one. Maybe it worked similarly, but at least you would have the satisfaction of having tried. There was a chance though that the angelic essence could open new opportunities for your business. And if it had medicinal properties, you could control the capitalistic net too. You could rule the world. 

“Come on,” you insisted, getting up and walking around the table to lean against the surface, bending down just a fraction to meet his eyes. “This could be our salvation, Seonghwa.”

“Or doom,” he challenged, leaning forward while still seated, his fingers going to play with the lapel of your coat. “This could go very, very wrong. I can’t lose my mad scientist now, can I?”

You smirked. “Is that all I mean to you? Mad scientist?”

“You know what they say,” Seonghwa shrugged. “Behind every drug lord is a mad scientist.”

“They don’t say that, but sure,” you scoffed. “Come on. We’ve been partners for years now. Give me some credit, and let me try this. I’ll only try it once, I promise. If it doesn’t work, we let it go.”

Seonghwa considered your proposal- he always let you try stupidly dangerous things at least once, no matter the fear in his heart that he would end up endangering your life. He told himself he did not care for you, but that you were simply someone essential to him and his business. He convinced himself that he had no attachment towards you as someone who grew up with you and survived with you in the darkest period of his life.

And you believed him. That he really did not have any personal attachment towards you. You were just someone useful to him. You always said that you returned the sentiment, but you were more human than him in some ways, and being human meant that you inevitably caught feelings for him. 

Not that you would ever admit that to a soul. They could pin you on the very stretcher you tied your test subjects to, cut you open or drug you but nothing could be capable of extracting that confession out of your mouth.

It didn’t help that the person in question was the Park Seonghwa. He could look like an angel and a demon at the same time, and that was perhaps the worst combination you could have encountered. It was his ability to transform his face into the epitome of innocence that was his weapon. He had bewitched every person that possessed any semblance of power, took advantage of any individual that could be of use to him, whether alive or dead, and climbed his way to the top.

And you had been by his side all along. Partner in every sense, sharing brains and planning schemes in the dead of the night, alone in the woods huddled against each other because you had a single blanket that you managed to grab when you both ran away from the orphanage. He was too busy leading the path to worry about grabbing anything useful, he told you. 

You had been by his side all the years that you spent after, being protected by him when he teamed up with the street gangs and earned for both of you. You helped wherever you could, his little mad scientist from the beginning, experimenting with drugs and burying your nose in books, observing the doctors and surgeons who were expert on cutting up people to extract organs, learning every practical skill you needed to stand on your feet and make Seonghwa proud.

And you did. You made him proud and you made him strong. You cut ties- in the most literal way- with your previous gang and emerged as a strong duo, Seonghwa operating in the light while you worked in the shadows. He kept you close, within an arm’s length. He made sure you had everything you needed- a roof over your head, food in your stomach, a lab for your experiments, and him. 

You were too afraid to ask him if he would treat you the same had you not excelled in this knowledge. You already knew the answer to that. That man possessed no human heart, and the moment you would be useless, he would stab you not in the back but in the front, locking eyes with you and proving that ultimately, it was him in charge. It was why you never risked saying or doing something stupid, because you were content this way.

You were content with the way his fingers travelled up the lapel of your black coat, finding the skin on your chest just below your neck where the shirt stopped him. You were content with the way he traced patterns there as he weighed the pros and cons of trying this damned ritual. Him locking his eyes with you and holding no hint of remorse that was otherwise a permanent expression in his eyes was enough. The squeeze of his fingers around your neck was enough.

And whatever his decision was… it would be enough too.

“Alright. Just once. It should not go wrong, you understand?” 

You failed to stifle your smile, soon grinning and Seonghwa chuckled at the way your eyes so dangerously twinkled. 

“A devil about to summon an angel. Who would’ve thought?”

“Two devils,” you corrected. “You’re coming with me.”

“Oh, no, no,” Seonghwa shook his head adamantly. “I trust you. I’ll send men-”

“No, you need to witness this moment, Seonghwa,” you insisted in all seriousness, your eyes widening just a fraction. “If it’s a success, we will change the world. You need to be there. For me.”

Seonghwa thought he heard just a bit of an underlying threat in there but he chose to ignore it, like he always did. Only you could talk to him in this tone, demand anything- even his life from him. He had already given you all his life, like you had given him all yours. 

He could give you this, too. It made sense- and he really needed to witness this one himself, otherwise if it worked, he was positive he would never believe that they weren’t manipulating facts.

“For you,” Seonghwa nodded. “Make sure it’s safe, and have some human offerings ready in case we need that.”

“I don’t think an angel would be interested, but sure,” you gently pushed his hand that was playing with your hair away. “I’ll have everything ready- we’re doing it exactly a week from now. May the Lord be with us.”

Seonghwa’s cackle roared in the room as you exited. You felt like you were floating in the clouds, now that you had his approval.

You would prove that angels exist, hence proving there was good in this world.

And then you would wonder where the good in your old friend’s heart went.

“More candles?” One of the men helping you with the summoning ritual asked.

You looked around the room before turning your attention back to the book you had borrowed from one of your crew members in charge of collecting demonic essence. He was under the impression that you were trying a different demon summoning ritual, and you intended to keep it that way- not everyone needed to know that it was an angel you would be summoning.

“It’s not a fucking birthday party, those are enough candles,” you said and when Seonghwa snickered under his breath, the man skittered away.

“Someone’s on edge,” Seonghwa elbowed you lightly and you looked at him helplessly.

“I’m just trying to make sure this won’t be unsafe even if it goes wrong. The candles are just for aesthetics.”

“Ah, is that so?” Seonghwa looked around. “And the circle they’re sketching? Will that serve as a cage?”

“The spell and the items I’ll place around the room will serve as the cage, the circle is just a location pointer, you could say,” you explained, shutting the book and taking a deep breath. “I’m going to make a final check. Can you ask everyone to get out of this room and wait?”

“Will you really be here when they summon the angel?” He asked and you nodded. “Do you have to be?”

“Yes, I have to be,” you told him for the umpteenth time, beckoning him to go away. “I’ll be safe, don’t worry. And if anything bad happens… it’s not like you care anyway.”

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes at you and you grinned- you had a habit of making these jabs and he was quite used to that now.

“I’ll keep your word for it,” he promised. “If anything bad happens, don’t expect me to come barging in to save you.”

“Got it,” you sighed, putting on a show of offence. “If I die tonight, it was me who stole your precious diamond ring.”

“I know,” Seonghwa smirked and you stared at him, slack-jawed. He only shook his head and turned away, clapping to get everyone’s attention and asking anyone who wasn’t conducting the ritual to leave the room. 

The room fell silent once again, the hushed voices of the people present inside echoing off the walls. You weren’t sure if the chilly feel to the room was because it was in the basement of an abandoned building in a very remote area, or because of the deed that was about to take place.

You waited until everyone had left before taking your position at the far end of the room. Your partner’s crew members naturally knew what to do as if they had trained for this their whole lives. They set the holy items at the four corners, and then some unholy ones at the other four corners, creating an eight-pointed star. Once you were satisfied, you went to pick a holy sword- the sword you had earned after your contribution to the dark arts, the very sword that had given you the idea of summoning an angel.

You dipped it into the tub near you, collecting wine on its blade, its translucent drops marking the earth with evidence of the forthcoming act. You turned your neck to look at the window, finding Seonghwa and the others- human sacrifices- waiting. Seonghwa shared a nod and you fished out his lighter from the pocket.

Once the sword caught fire, you walked with heavy steps to your final position in the front so the angel would meet your eyes. You put on your shades for caution like the rest of them did, and then you signalled the summoner to begin.

The sound of his spell filled the room- it sounded foreign even to him, considering the way he stumbled upon the words- the words for this spell were different from a demonic spell. The summoner sliced his palm and let his blood taint the etchings on the floor, continuing muttering the spell.

For a moment, you wondered if it was all a waste as seconds ticked by without a movement but a collective gasp sounded across the room when the flames of the candles blazed angrily. You gripped the hilt of the sword tightly, keeping it raised in the air. You tried not to let the fear gripping your heart get to you as the temperature in the room dropped significantly.

When the summoner said the final words of the spell, the final call to have any angel in the vicinity answer him, a strong breeze circulated around the room, blowing out every candle and almost extinguishing the fire on the sword. You gulped to swallow the scream forming in your throat, the sword in your hand the only source of light now. You thought you heard someone knocking at the window but the little glimmer of light in the centre of the circle had caught your attention.

Slowly, the glimmer turned into a blob, which then turned into a shapeless source of light- blinding golden light so bright that it appeared white, harsh enough to make your eyes water even through the shades. You narrowed your eyes to focus but there was too much going on-

Especially the warning song echoing inside you- you knew that it wasn’t coming from you. It was coming from that being and everyone else in the room could hear it too, considering how they started backing away.

“Stand your ground,” you ordered, and the men stilled. Your word was as important as their boss Seonghwa’s, perhaps even more important than their own life. “Make sure the barricade remains intact.”

It was only then you spared yourself a moment to meet Seonghwa’s eyes through the window, who looked astonished, his eyes wide as he tried to comprehend the glorious sight in front of him.

The glorious sight that was now taking the shape of a person, the edges sharpening enough to make out its silhouette yet remaining blurry. It seemed to be a crouched figure, taller than anyone you had ever seen, a cascade of hair covering the entirety of its upper body and anything that was not covered by its folded wings. There was no need for a halo when the being glowed from within, though even if there was one, it was too blindingly bright to make out.

“Which little bird summoned this weary angel? Pray tell, pray tell...”

Oh, you were doomed. 

“Was it the man that connected us with blood? Was it the man that offered me good, or was it the one that chained me with the bad? Pray tell, pray tell…”

The said men were now leaning against the walls, praying to whatever god that had sent his angel here to save them. Save them from what? It was too late-

“Or is it the little bird that holds the key to my freedom?”

Key to freedom? You looked down at the lit sword. You recalled reading something about how such a holy relic could also be used to undo spells and though you had thought the information was insignificant, you were wondering if you needed to undo the spell right now-

“What purpose must I serve to earn my freedom?”

The tone of the angel turned soft, almost beckoning you forward. You weren’t sure if the angel was speaking out loud or if the voice was still inside your head. You dared to take one step closer before you felt a crushing sense of weight on your shoulders.

“It is I who called you,” you managed to say. “I have questions to ask.”

“You called me to satisfy your humane curiosity?”

There was a warning in his soft voice now. A warning that one wrong move would ensure your end. You looked helplessly at Seonghwa who was no longer present at the window and you wondered where he was. You thought you heard the creak of a door open but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to come inside, right?

You contemplated making a deal with the angel, but your tongue fell limp. With demons, you had heard that it was pretty easy when it wasn’t one of the stronger demons. A little deal, some nasty business, ensuring their essence would do damage that they would like, or in rare cases, a price to be paid usually got the work done.

What could you offer the servant of God? What could an angel need?

“Do I really hold the key to your freedom?” You asked, a strange tugging in your mind. The angel lifted its face just a fraction- you still couldn’t make out its features but you could tell that it was staring at you.

“I have a feeling that you do.”

And you had a feeling that this wasn’t about the freedom from this spell anymore. Entranced, you took another step forward, and another, unable to deny the pull. The being was ethereal and you had no chance against it. You had no chance, and you had no choice but to step inside the circle with this sword, damned be the consequences, damned be the very familiar voice shouting at you to stop-

It all happened too quickly to process- you were suddenly and forcefully being pulled away and the angel latched out, the sword falling on the ground with a dreadful clatter that echoed in the air, intermingled with the shrieks of the people present in the room. Your eyes widened when you noticed the tip of the sword within the circle.

This was the end. 

“Get out of here, now!” Seonghwa ordered through gritted teeth in your ear, pulling you away with him and you went along this time, trying to tell him that it was too late, that he shouldn’t have come inside.

He would later wonder why he went inside. Perhaps, the angel himself had called him. Perhaps, he had been attracted to the angel’s pure energy when he was the embodiment of darkness himself. 

And if that was the case, why did the angel choose him as his medium of freedom?

The last thing you saw from the corner of your eye before you lost consciousness, amidst the chaos of the summoning ritual gone wrong, was the angel’s hand latching onto Seonghwa’s back and Seonghwa’s eyes rolling back in his head before he fell, dragging you down with him.

All these years of your life had been dedicated to the mafia boss Seonghwa- your friend, your family, and your everything. Even your worst nightmare.

He was the reason you were alive and not sold off as nothing more than a repository of useful organs. If you ever think back to what your life had been like when you were just a child, barely 10, it was rough. It was dark, and Seonghwa was the only light in your life. No matter how dim that might be. 

Seonghwa always shined. And you were just a moth attracted to his light.

However, you did not expect the man to physically shine. There was a sheen of actual golden light across his skin as his body burned with a fever meant for no human. You had bitten through the majority of your thumb nail while you wracked your brains for a solution- but did you really want one?

All these years, you had put Seonghwa’s ambitions and goals first. He wanted to escape the abusive orphanage and he wanted you to come along- you couldn’t be more grateful. He wanted to mix with the street gangs and provide for you so you could make a breakthrough in science (specifically, drugs) one day- sure, who were you to deny that blessing? He wanted to become the most notorious mafia boss, earn a social repute and keep you by his side, wanting you to help him become a true drug lord- to be the owner of the most unique and sought after drug. That aligned with your personal ambitions, so who were you to say no?

But your actual goal- if you ever had a moment of clarity without Seonghwa clouding your thoughts, it was to make a breakthrough in science- not just drugs. And Seonghwa knew your heart’s deepest desire, which was why he always prevented you from doing so, warning that you couldn’t be in the public eye. If you wanted to make breakthroughs, you could do so in the field of drugs, and limit yourself to the underworld. 

Well, this was what he wanted. Here he was, burning with an inhumane fever, golden ichor dripping from the corner of his eyes that you were sure to collect, already a few vials full. You wondered if this was the essence. And you wondered if the angel really was inside Seonghwa’s body now.

The two of you had lost consciousness when the angel attacked you- thankfully, his loyal servants were quick to take you both back to your hide-out where your lab was located. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself and Seonghwa lying flat on the stretchers. For a moment, fear gripped the entirety of your being before you realised you were just laying down and not tied like one of your test subjects. A sigh of relief later, you turned to find Seonghwa tied, and for all the right reasons. 

Thankfully, your subordinate was someone who could be trusted. He made sure to keep the rest of your staff outside and waited for you to wake up. Now the two of you were almost huddled against each other, fidgeting with your clothes and biting your nails- anything to cope, at this point.

“Do you think he will ever wake up?” Dr. Choi asked, his sharp features softening into worry. “Or will he… burn to death from within?”

“I hope he doesn’t,” you nodded slowly. “If he wakes up and remains alright… he will be my greatest product.”

Dr. Choi San chuckled darkly at that comment. “It will only be your greatest product if you let the world see it.”

“That’s the thing,” you looked at your thumb, finding it smeared with your trademark cherry red lipstick. “I would want to keep him all to myself.”

“What a dilemma, huh?” He shook his head. “Well, I for one don’t want to be present when the demon lord wakes up. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“What if the angel inside him kills me?”

“Well…” Dr. Choi shrugged. “I guess I’ll proceed to take over this institution like you have willed-”

“Not helping,” you glared at him but you both knew that this was a situation you couldn’t do anything about. You were helpless, and your only choice was to wait and hope that Seonghwa would be okay and the angel wouldn’t want to kill you at the first sight.

Another hour must have passed with you waiting endlessly, wiping the sweat off his skin and collecting the tears before he finally opened his eyes, groaning inhumanely and beginning to shiver slightly. You rushed to his side, startled at the sudden shift and poked his side.

“Seonghwa? Is that you?”

“What’s happening to me?” His voice came out strained and before he could ask something else or get your response, his eyes rolled back and he shut them tight, finally settling down and laying limp. Your heart sank and you checked if he was breathing, feeling relieved upon finding that he was. You contemplated untying his wrists and legs but you had to play it safe-

Though you were pretty sure the angel would be able to break free anyway.

When Seonghwa opened his eyes the second time, there was a slight glaze to it as if he was wondering where he was or recalling the events of the previous night. He tried raising his arms but gave up instantly, not even bothering to check why he was unable to do so. You frowned at his unusual behaviour and cautiously called his name again.

“Where am I?”

“My lab? You passed out, remember?” You gently told him. 

“No, where am I?” He looked at you, his eyes scanning your face as if this was the first time he was seeing you. “And who are you?”

You felt your knees go weak and you clutched at his stretcher. “Seonghwa? It’s me, y/n. Don’t you remember?”

Seonghwa tried to raise his arms again but he shut his eyes as he groaned. “Untie me. Now.”

You couldn’t say no to that. You unclasped the belts and he sat up, swaying a bit. You passed him a glass of water and he made a face, setting it aside.

“Why did you call me?”

“I was trying to wake you up-”

“No, why did you call me?” 

This time, his voice sounded inside you and you took a step back, your lower lip trembling at the shift in his demeanour.

“It’s- it’s not you, is it? You’re not Seonghwa?”

“I’m not your rotten excuse of a human, correct.” 

It was the angel inside him speaking. He raised his hands, examining them carefully, finding them rough and calloused. He looked sideways, finding a blurry reflection of himself and shook his head in disappointment.

“Who are you?” You dared to ask.

“You called me,” he said calmly, a dangerous undertone in his voice. “You know exactly who I am. You know my name- do not dare to call me by my name with your filthy human tongue.”

You blinked, narrowing your eyes. “Is an angel allowed to talk like that?”

“Well, I’m human now, aren’t I?” The angel shrugged carelessly, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “Thanks to you.”

“I’m not the one who asked you to possess him. That wasn’t my idea,” you tried to explain, sweat oozing out of your pores the more his glare turned darker.

“Well, what was your idea, then?” He got up, a bit shaky on his feet as if walking after a long time. That didn’t stop him from invading your personal space and standing right in front of you until you could feel the warmth radiate from his body. His brows furrowed and you thought he looked incredibly sad at that moment. 

“What were you thinking, little bird? Trapping an angel?”

“I-” you clutched at the table behind you, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I only wanted to ask if an angel’s essence could be obtained.”

“For what?”

“Medicinal purposes,” you smoothly lied.

“Well, you have your answer,” the angel looked towards the vials as if having sensed them. “Though I’m sure it will not work. And you won’t be getting any more of my tears. I shall leave this body soon- if only this cursed human would let me-”

“What do you mean?” Your voice came out small, and you hated the effect he had on you. You weren’t sure if it was the angel, or if it was Seonghwa that made you still cower under him.

“I shouldn’t have been able to possess such an evil human,” the angel tilted his head threateningly as he leaned towards you, scanning your face. “You were who I intended to possess. Maybe he had a change of heart and allowed me to take him?”

“He wouldn’t do that,” you muttered. The Park Seonghwa you knew would never risk his life for you. 

Okay, he might, a little. To the point of getting hurt, but not to the point of… this.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m stuck, and I’m unable to get out.”

“Do we need to do another… ritual?”

“Humans,” he spat with such bitterness that you almost wondered if this was Seonghwa himself, testing you. “You should have learned about this properly before you summoned me.”

“Do you know why you’re unable to get out of this body?” You asked. 

The room fell silent, and when a subtle shake of his head told you that he indeed was as clueless as you, you finally relaxed and let a smirk grace your lips.

“Well… it looks like you and I are going to have some fun then… angel.”

~

It didn’t take long for you to convince the angel that you needed to run some tests in order to see if Seonghwa was okay- but you used this excuse to extract some blood, run every test possible, take every scan and monitor his vitals. Hours later, you were still stuck in the lab with him, the smell of food and antiseptics filling the room.

“You have to eat,” you said for perhaps the tenth time. “You’re in a human body, and you will have to live like a human while you’re stuck.”

“I could choose not to eat and let this body die. Maybe that is how I can get out,” the angel considered. You shot him a glare- while the angel wasn’t the considerate creature you thought he would be, his tone was a lot softer than Seonghwa’s ever was. 

“Or maybe that’s how you end up perishing,” you placed a piece of meat on top of his rice bowl. “Food for thought.”

The angel glared at you for a moment and fumbled with the chopsticks until you showed him how to use them. He caught up pretty quickly and picked the piece of meat, sniffing it and frowning. You watched him curiously as he stuck out his tongue to take an experimental lick, and after deciding the taste of the meat wasn’t so bad after all, he finally put it in his mouth and chewed slowly.

“I can’t remember the last time I ate,” he confessed and you urged him to try everything on the table. 

“As an angel… you do not eat, right?”

“We don’t need to eat to live,” he confirmed and you nodded. “Sometimes, we are sent as a human to guide another. At the rare times that we have to play along, we get to experience some humane things- like eating.”

“So… you’re telling me that angels walk among us as humans?” You asked cautiously.

“So do demons, and other creatures that your mind can never comprehend,” he said, taking another bite of the food- at least he seemed to be enjoying this human experience. “Humans think they own this world. They are no more than specks in this infinite cosmos.”

You nodded slowly- you were not going to argue with that. You had felt less than a speck when you saw the angel back in the basement.

“Was that your true form, earlier?” You asked.

“If you ever saw my true form, your eyes and your limbs would burn,” he said casually and you made a mental note of that. “We are not the angels that you read about in your books. Even demons- you have seen them. That is not their true form- we take the shape of what the human eyes and mind can try to comprehend.”

“How do you know that I’ve seen them?”

The angel tapped the side of his- Seonghwa’s head. “I know everything about this human now that I’m in this body.”

“Is he really alive in there?”

“He is. I can’t say for how long,” he finished eating. “He is fighting for dominance. Perhaps, he might be able to take over after some struggle, but I will remain inside until we find a way to let me out.”

“You should know if there’s a prayer or ritual for that, right?” You asked.

“Hmm… let’s see. Would you like for your human to die? For you and your entire group to perish from the face of the Earth?”

“Of course not,” you narrowed your eyes. Was the angel trying to intimidate you, or was he serious?

“Then I suggest we do not tell the world that this poor angel is stuck in a human. May the Lord help us.”

“Your Lord must know, though. Will he help us?” You asked and the angel chuckled darkly.

“We’re just two pieces in his game of chess now.”

A shiver ran down your spine and you got up to clear the table. “Well, it’s late now. I suggest we pause the game and get some sleep then?”

“Sleep is for the humans-”

“And you are a human now,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t care if you sleep or not- just come with me.”

You instructed the angel to keep his mouth shut and let you do the talking. You told Dr. Choi to take care of the scans and with that, you both left for the Park Residence, a mansion in the most elite area of the town. You watched the angel look out of the window with curiosity and a hint of amazement- you couldn’t blame him. The mansion was truly something ethereal, especially from the outside with its white corinthian columns and stained glass windows.

“Someone like this human should have been living in the dungeons,” the angel whispered and you put a finger to your lips, unable to stifle a grin. “He does not deserve this beautiful palace.”

“He earned it through his blood, sweat and my tears. Give him some credit.”

“Who are you to this human?” He asked as you got out of the car. The secretaries welcomed the two of you and you dismissed them for the night.

“Can’t you tell?” You asked, tapping the side of your head like he had earlier.

“I can only see the memories. I cannot comprehend his emotions or feelings.”

“Do you not feel?” You asked, entering the mansion and being welcomed with the subtle warm lighting of the chandelier- dimmed for the nighttime- that reflected on the polished white marble. The subtle veins of gold running through the floor reminded you of the angel’s tears. You glanced at him and he hummed.

“This is a nice house.”

“See? You felt that it’s a nice house,” you pointed out.

“No, I can tell that it is a nice house because I can appreciate its craft,” he walked towards the staircase, fingers softly caressing the golden railing and its sleek curves. 

“So you cannot feel human emotions? Sadness, happiness… love, hatred, anger?”

“And who said those are human emotions?” He asked, leaving you speechless. You followed him upstairs, letting him navigate through the empty corridor- if he had Seonghwa’s memories, he probably knew where to go. 

“Humans possess the same attributes as angels and demons,” the angel explained. “Inherently, these attributes are innocent in nature but as a human lives and learns, they take a shape and become uniquely human. No human is angelic enough, nor demonic enough- though… this one might take the crown for being the most demonic.”

“There are worse humans, trust me. At least this one possesses some morals,” you muttered. 

“And how do you weigh your morals? What is your scale to weigh them, human?” He asked and you shrugged- he was right. You couldn’t be the judge of that when your own morals were skewed.

“Well, you did see some good in me, didn’t you? When you were about to possess me?”

“You were the only good option, do not think of yourself too highly,” he almost reprimanded and your shoulders sagged in disappointment. He looked at you for confirmation before reaching the last room at the left section of the upper floor and you nodded. Once he entered the room, he looked around carefully.

The room was… lifeless, to put it simply. For starters, Seonghwa was meticulously neat and far too organised. There wasn’t a single thing in his room that was out of place, and the housekeepers made sure to maintain that as well. The pillows on his king-sized bed were neatly stacked. The monochrome aesthetic of his room with a hint of gold surprisingly both fit the aesthetic of the house and felt a bit odd. There was only an abstract monochrome painting with a splash of colours on one wall, and that was it. 

“Well, this is where you will sleep- or try to,” you said, taking a seat on the grey couch that was far too comfortable and often somewhere you lounged when you invaded Seonghwa’s personal space. “And this is where I will watch you sleep.”

The angel regarded you with suspicion. “You will kill me in my sleep.”

“You’re far too valuable for me to kill, don’t worry,” you assured him and the angel felt an odd sense of comfort, though he questioned the reasons behind that. “I’m a doctor, so you can rest assured that I won’t let anything happen.”

“Are you not a shame to the medical community?” The angel candidly wondered out loud and you felt a pang of hurt.

“I won’t be when I’m done making use of your essence,” you promised bitterly. “Besides, I’m not your conventional doctor. I’m better than that.”

“You cut up humans to learn medicine. You are the worst kind.”

“And what is your scale to measure my morals?” You questioned, just a tiny bit of the pent up rage leaking in your voice. “Are you sure your scale is the right one, angel?”

The angel smirked- smirked at that, looking too much like the mafia lord in that instance. You released a short breath and got comfortable on the couch, unlocking your phone to check the updates. You paid no mind to the angel looking around and messing the room up until he got exhausted and lied down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“I wish to return to the realms of the angels,” he whispered softly as sleep overpowered his consciousness. You looked up and watched his eyes flutter close, his breathing steady.

The angel was asleep. All you had to do was wait for the morning now.

“Fucking… bastard, thinks he is something to take control of me!”

The sound of two books colliding against each other with a thump, and the pent up sigh of frustration.

“Someone is going to die by my hands, and this fucking angel will be responsible for it-”

A smash- or perhaps, it felt like a smash because of the pounding in your head. You yawned unceremoniously, wiping your mouth and rubbing your eyes as you looked around-

You were in Seonghwa’s room- Seonghwa, who was now shirtless and sweating with anger, his upper body almost heaving with breathlessness. The muscles on his body seemed more pronounced and his veins were popping out. You considered pretending to go right back to sleep- maybe you could disappear into the couch if you stayed here long enough-

“You.”

“Hold up-” you raised your hand but when he started taking big steps towards you, you swallowed the scream that built in your throat and got up. Unfortunately, there was no way to get out of here and if you dared jump on Seonghwa’s freshly made bed (man was organising the mess the angel had made out of his room in his absence), the chances of him letting you live would lower exponentially. However, desperate times call for desperate measures and you slid under his arm to jump over his bed, making him curse some more under his breath.

He was quick, though. In a matter of seconds, he had you pinned against the wall, his arm splayed across your neck to hold you in place and you grimaced.

“What have you done, y/n?” He asked through gritted teeth. 

“You’re back, though, right?” You asked. “This is a good sign-”

“The angel is still inside- I can feel him here,” Seonghwa dug his finger into his temple. You couldn’t meet his eyes, so you let them lower until they fixated on the big tattoo on his neck. MATZ, a reminder of what he had lost.

“Alright, let me go,” you demanded gently. “And we can talk like two civilised beings.”

“What will you do about this, huh?” Seonghwa asked, no longer simmering with rage but unmoving with his position. 

“Why did you come inside the room during the ritual?” You questioned, awfully curious of the reason. “You heard the angel, right? The angel didn’t mean to possess you- I was his target. Why did you interfere, Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa glared at you for a good few moments as if the answer to your question could be found in your eyes. However, there was no answer, and he let go of you. You took a deep breath, rubbing the soreness out of your collarbones.

“How are you feeling?” You asked. “Notice anything different?”

“Just a bit feverish, that’s all,” he admitted and you made note of that. “Find a way to undo this as soon as possible.”

“Already on it, don’t worry. I don’t like these turns of events. But… I’m also going to check the properties of the essence I managed to retrieve, and if I’m in need of more…”

“Get the angel out of my body,” he ordered, pronouncing every word threateningly.

“Got it,” you said in dismissal. If the angel’s essence was something of value… you would wring the angel dry before you would ever let him go. However, Seonghwa did not need to know that. You meekly smiled before walking towards his bed and smoothening the sheets. “What are you going to do?”

“Work,” he responded, “I’ve got a few meetings to attend and a few politicians to bribe.”

“How wonderful,” you commented. “Want me to come along?”

“I can handle it-”

“What if the angel… comes back?” You asked and Seonghwa paused in the middle of buttoning his black shirt. “Are you sure you can handle the consequences?”

For once, Seonghwa was silent and you sat on the edge of his bed, smirking. “I think I should stick with you until we’re sure the angel won’t take over randomly, at least. In case I see the angel is back, I can do most of the talking and make the angel shut up.”

“Why are you so sure that the angel won’t jeopardise my reputation?”

“Because, Seonghwa dear,” you got up and walked to him, buttoning the rest of his shirt and patting his chest. “I can end up killing him, and you in the process. The angel knows I’m capable of that.” 

“I know you’re capable of that too,” Seonghwa said in a low voice, peering down at you. “Question is… will you?”

“Stay curious about that,” you told him with a smile, pressing on his chin affectionately like you always did. Seonghwa scoffed though he couldn’t help but break into a smile as well. You told him you would join him downstairs for breakfast and went to get ready.

Once in the privacy of your room, you took a deep breath, thinking and planning for what was next. There was absolutely no way you were going to leave Seonghwa alone. He was stuck with you and would have to remain under your supervision until this matter was sorted. It wouldn’t be unusual to tag along to his meetings and visits- you were his partner, and you were often present alongside him, but you were also a very busy person who was more occupied with lab work. 

The lab wasn’t far from here, and while you trusted Dr. Choi, you never trusted anyone enough. You were going to monitor his progress and work with him too. You needed to see the composition of the angel’s tears and experiment with it- but when? 

You looked in the mirror, the bags under your eyes more prominent and your cheeks looking sunken. You sighed deeply- it looked like you would be sacrificing your sleep quite a lot now.

And if sacrificing your sleep meant you would be basking in Seonghwa’s presence? So be it. That’s all you ever wanted anyways.

While Seonghwa was the same old person that he had always been, albeit more distant than ever thanks to the being inside his head that ‘wouldn’t stop whispering to him’, as he claimed. You could not blame the mafia boss for being on edge- apart from the fact that he was running a constant low fever, his senses seemed to be heightened as well. The lights felt too bright to him, the noise was too loud, and you-

You gulped as he flicked the dagger between his fingers effortlessly, contemplating if he wanted to slice you open or slice his own head open to extract the source of the constant whisperings.

“Look, it’s only been a few days, it will get better-”

Yet another dagger thrown at the board behind you, narrowly avoiding your cheekbone but definitely trimming the strands of your hair that were sticking out. You didn’t even flinch this time, but you were losing your patience too.

“Park Seonghwa,” you warned. “If you want me to leave you alone, I will. I won’t be responsible for what happens next. You have a meeting with Assemblyman Hwang later. He’s willing to buy drugs from you, and I know you want that meeting to go smoothly.”

Seonghwa slumped back in his office chair and folded his arms as if feeling cold. “I never said that I want you to leave me alone. But the sight of you… how do I put it…”

“Yeah, I know you hate me for obvious reasons, but technically-”

“Don’t say another word.”

You lowered your finger and zipped your lips. Technically, it was his fault and he knew that, which was the reason why he was so agitated. 

Seonghwa and the angel inside him were in a constant battle for dominance of their body. For Seonghwa, there was a motive- it was his body, and the angel was a foreigner. A parasite, almost. You still did not know why the angel wanted to be dominant in this body and take control so badly when all he did once he managed to take over was crouch in a corner, away from the rest of the world. He would barely answer any of your questions and you half-wondered if he wanted to kill himself.

There wasn’t a specific trigger either. Seonghwa would be functioning as normally as a feverish human could- a bit sluggish in his movements but alert nonetheless- and a loud groan of pain later, the angel would take over, finish doing whatever Seonghwa had been doing and go to sulk. You were pretty sure Seonghwa did not need to tell the angel to act like a human- the angel himself did not want to be seen.

Perhaps, that was why he chose the darkest of the corners to hide, away from the light of this world. 

The angel must miss the light of his world.

“The meeting is in a few hours,” Seonghwa reminded himself. “And I would like the angel to not take over-”

In some sort of a twisted notion of revenge, or karma, or whatever word you could use to explain the unfortunate luck of the mafia boss, he let out a foreboding painful groan and clutched at his chest, his eyes rolling back before he shut them. You watched with mild interest, shaking your head.

The angel was back.

“Hello, angel baby,” you called, beckoning him to open his eyes. His brown pupils glowed momentarily before he regained focus.

“Do not call me such terms,” the angel commanded and you huffed, rolling your eyes.

“I cannot call you by your name with my ‘filthy human tongue’,” you reminded him and he frowned. “I cannot call you angel, or angel baby- which is my favourite term, by the way. I like the look you have on your face when I call you that-”

The angel was beginning to look weary already and you smiled guiltily.

“What do I call you?”

“I… do not know,” he looked down at his hands, the dagger falling to the table with a clatter when he noticed that it was in his hand. “Did I say that you have a filthy human tongue?”

“Yes? Back when I summoned you in the basement?”

“I must have been very angry. I apologise. You do not have a filthy human tongue.”

You let out a short laugh. “I wasn’t affected by it, don’t worry. You don’t need to apologise, you’re literally an angel.”

“Has your heart been hardened so much that these terms no longer affect you?” The angel asked softly and you licked your lips in thought. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I guess I’m used to hearing things like these.”

“This man cares for you yet hardened your heart to this point,” the angel commented, clasping his hands and watching you with curiosity. “It is interesting what humans say out loud as opposed to the words they choose not to say.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re quite talkative today, angel.”

“I suppose I got tired of the solitude- it gave me no answers. You might, though.”

You raised your shoulders to tell him that you were right here and as oblivious to the situation as he himself was. 

“Since you’re in a good mood,” you began. “We must talk about some important things. It might help speed up your, uh, departure process.”

“Let’s hear what you have to say,” the angel said, tucking his hair away from his eyes and looking to his left at his reflection, wincing at the sight of Seonghwa’s half-tied hair and glamorous suit. 

“Why do you take over this body at random times? I mean, is there a trigger, or do you just say fuck it we ball?”

“What does that mean?” The angel frowned.

“Just… tell me why you took over Seonghwa now, of all the times,” you sighed.

“Because he has an important meeting, and he thinks that he can keep me at bay,” the angel responded, straightening. “I am here to prove that he, in fact, cannot keep me at bay. It is I who chooses to be dominant, whenever I prefer.”

“Well,” you drawled. This was news to you. “If you want to coexist in this body without any drastic consequences, I suggest you not try to mess with Seonghwa, especially when he has something important coming. It’s for the sake of both of you, because I know that he will try something stupid to get you to cooperate, and I would rather make an agreement with you and solve this predicament like civilised people.”

“I will take over whenever I like,” the angel insisted.

“Please?” You pouted and he stared at your doe-eyes with an intensity that made you want to take back your words.

“Fine. I can leave him alone when he has something important, but I do not have to answer why I take over any time else.”

Just like that? You frowned momentarily.

“While we’re at it…” you asked experimentally. “Can you be a sweetheart and come with me to the lab? There’s just a few things I have to check- vitals, bloodwork and such. I won’t ask you to cry and give me your essence, don’t worry.”

“What if I do not want to?” He cocked his head and asked. 

“Do you want me to beg again?” You laughed. “Please, come with me. It’s for your sake.”

The angel tightened his lips in thought and nodded just a few seconds later. “Fine.”

“You’re not hard to convince,” you commented as he got up. 

“I have no choice but to cooperate.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason?” You teased, going towards the hatstand and grabbing Seonghwa’s coat, sliding in front of the angel and offering to help him wear it. He gave you a sceptic look before slipping the coat on, a hint of a smile on his lips that you decided not to comment on. 

“Angels do not lie,” he said, taking the lead and pretending to be Seonghwa- of which he was an expert now, as if Seonghwa himself was instructing him what to do. You went to the parking lot and asked the driver to take you both to the lab. 

“We don’t have much time, so I’ll make this quick,” you whispered once inside the car. The angel nodded and you spent the duration of the trip in silence, the angel watching the world from the tinted window of the car. You almost felt sorry for him in that instance.

Once inside the lab, you greeted Dr. Choi who was writing some formulas on the board. 

“I’ve managed to break down the chemical composition of the essence. I’m surprised to see it’s very similar to the demonic essence we managed to acquire two years ago,” he said, watching Seonghwa with caution. “Is that the angel in front of me?”

“Yes,” you put on your reading glasses to skim through his notes. “That was one of the greater demons, right?”

“That’s what they claimed,” Dr. Choi muttered, motioning the angel to sit on one of the chairs. “What’s different is that the angel’s essence is more stable and safer to work with-”

“You will never be able to use an angel’s essence for medicine,” the angel declared casually and you both looked at him. “The existence of angels is supposed to be a mystery. There has never been an instance of an angel leaving a trace in the human world- by trace, I mean physical evidence. With demons, it is different- they have their own realms and rules.”

“We could change that,” you suggested. “This could be the first instance of it in history.”

“As soon as you spread it, and as soon as news of it reaches the realms of the angels, there will be a ‘natural catastrophe’ that will wipe off your existence and mine from the face of this earth.”

You cursed, looking at Dr. Choi who seemed more scared than annoyed, unlike you. You turned to the angel. “How will the angel realm ever know that we are using angelic essence in, say, drugs or medicines?”

“Demons track the consumers of their essence. When you and your evil boss sell demonic drugs, you put a red target on its consumers for the demons to prey on- and they feast on it,” the angel practically spat. “They make sure the consumers- the humans- do their bidding in return. So when you replace that with angelic essence, you will only be making it easier for the angels to find the humans they need to eradicate from this world.”

“Well, isn’t that lovely to hear,” you muttered. “What about experimentation here?”

“Your test subjects are bound to die. Any one of them that makes it out alive would not live long enough- and I told you that you cannot let the angel realm know that I am stuck inside this human. Does your life mean nothing to you?”

You looked at Dr. Choi who got the signal and left the room, saying he had to get dinner anyway. Then you turned towards the angel and walked closer, seating yourself in front of him.

“This is what my life means to me,” your tone was no longer soft. “I’ve worked hard all my life for this moment-”

“But some things are not meant to be,” the angel looked almost sad to inform you of that. “And that is okay.”

You gritted your teeth as you stared at him- how dare he look at you with pity? The rational part of your mind knew that he was absolutely right and that this was a shot in the dark anyway- you could still study the angel’s essence and at least learn something from it. But the emotional part inside you was currently fighting for dominance and for a moment, you felt sorry for Seonghwa- this battle inside him must be what he was going through at every moment.

It was your fault.

“I’ll check your vitals and take your blood,” you muttered, getting up and grabbing a kit. You wore medical gloves, checked his temperature and blood pressure, extracted some blood and ran some quick scans. Everything seemed normal and at least that was a relief.

When you finished and took off your gloves, you said that you were going to check his pulse and moved to grab his wrist. At the slightest touch, the angel pulled his wrist away as if your touch had burned him. You frowned and tried again, wondering if that was just a reflex, but he deliberately moved out of your range and you gaped at him.

“What is wrong with you?” You asked, rendered speechless by the cautious look in his eyes. “Why won’t you let me check your pulse?”

The angel’s tense body never relaxed but he allowed himself to return to his original sitting position, eyes still a little wide from the previous interaction. 

“Do you think my filthy touch will taint your body?” You asked, wariness dripping from your voice. You almost expected him to look at you with disdain.

“That is not why, no,” he sounded upset instead, moving to grab your wrist instead, flinching slightly again at the touch but relaxing soon after, curling your fingers with his. “I am sorry.”

You kept staring at him in confusion, watching him fidget a bit until he finally gave in.

“It has been a while since I remembered what human touch feels like.”

Oh.

All those times, deliberately moving out of your way and avoiding touching any humans, and now… caressing your hand and holding it with both hands, tracing the curves of your knuckles and marvelling at the sensation that he felt, cautiously meeting your eyes as if there was an implied sin somewhere that he was scared of committing-

All because he was touch-starved?

You shifted your fingers to rest your thumb on his pulse, locking eyes with him and silently counting while you found yourself relaxing, almost entranced by the way he looked at you. So shy, yet determined.

This was not Seonghwa. This was not the man you had spent all your life with. He had never looked at anyone this way.

“Hwa…” you whispered and the angel frowned in confusion. You squeezed his hand.

“I’ll call you Hwa.”

The fire behind those eyes, the flame in those pupils and the warmth of his touch. Seonghwa’s anger. ‘Hwa’. He held your hand between both of his as if it was a holy relic and planted a soft kiss on your knuckles, shutting his eyes and relishing the feel of his lips against your skin. The lips as soft as the petals of a flower. Hwa- that’s what the name meant.

“Thank you for giving me a name.”

You did not need to check your own pulse to realise that your heart was racing as much as his heart- perhaps, in a twisted synchrony.

The meeting with Assemblyman Hwang had gone smoothly without any disruptions with Seonghwa signing a deal that would expand his drug business while giving him protection from the law. However, your interaction with the angel at the lab had left a bitter aftertaste on Seonghwa’s tongue. While he never talked about that interaction or mentioned your new name for the angel, you could tell that he was conflicted about your behaviour with his ‘alter ego’, as you had termed it. 

And how could he not be confused? ‘Hwa’ was a foreigner in his body, doing whatever he pleased. The angel was opening up to human experiences more with each passing day and trying different things that Seonghwa himself would never do. The angel seemed to have a fondness for water bodies and mostly, when he took over, he would find the pool and either sit with his legs submerged or just float in the water while staring at the ceiling, as if he could see the stars or heavens, or whatever the angel saw in the sky in his realm.

Seonghwa would be lying if he said that having an angel inside him wasn’t… enlightening, to say the least. While he could not look into the angel’s memories like the angel could, he was intrigued by everything the angel had to share. It made him question his beliefs, but it also strengthened his ambitions. 

As for you… it had only been a few days yet the little things were starting to get to Seonghwa. You spoke to the angel so gently and carelessly. You indulged in whatever the angel had to say or did. You entertained him and satiated his curiosity. You let him look at you or touch you however he wanted.

Were you doing it because you wanted something out of the angel? Did you think you could win his heart or convince him to create the medicinal drug for you? Or were you doing this out of fear? Fear for your life, for Seonghwa’s life? Or… was the sadistic side of you enjoying Seonghwa’s misery?

He would not be getting answers to that any time soon, and he would not dare ask you for a multitude of reasons- the first and foremost being that he did not want to sound like he cared. Whatever you did with the angel should not be affecting him as long as you remained within your limits and didn’t cross some invisible boundaries, he told himself and hoped you were aware of that too.

He was not going to lie and say it didn’t sting a little that you barely looked at him anymore when he was Seonghwa. He had to do stupid things to get your attention now, such as-

“If you poke me one more time, god help me Seonghwa, I will break your fingers.”

There you were. 

You did have phases like these, where Seonghwa would wonder if you were growing distant from him or had found something- or someone- better than him. Seonghwa was a manipulative bastard and he always made sure that you were within his sight. He never allowed you to look too far, and whoever looked your way? Well… they would be subject to an unfortunate fate soon after. 

You were his. His little doctor, his only friend, his family if he ever had one, his everything, yet… nothing. Perhaps, the last part was a lie, the angel had suggested in one of his whispers. Perhaps, the angel was right. But admitting it would mean that he had a weakness, and Park Seonghwa did not have any weaknesses. He had made that mistake once and lost a dear brother, the reminder of which was inked on his neck so he would never forget. 

So why did this little phase feel different, almost threatening to him?

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” You asked, but when he raised a brow in amusement, you shut up.

You had brought this upon yourself, bounding him with yourself to keep him ‘under surveillance’. He definitely did not have anything better to do at home in the late hours of night. He had wrapped up his work in the evening and accompanied you to the lab for the daily check-ups and for the past few hours, he had been rolling around on his bed. There was nothing to plan, nothing to scheme for once. He just watched you study and make notes on your devices and before you knew it, he had joined you on the couch, poking at your sides once in a while, making you swat at him in dismissal as if he were a mere fly.

Perhaps, all his talk about being ‘the boss’ had not worked very well, after all. He should have never let you get so close- or gotten so close- because you sure had a way of acting like the one in charge sometimes. The small, almost non-existent emotional part in his brain told him that you certainly helped with his loneliness and he had to agree. You were a crutch now. 

“You know I can’t sleep well with all this incessant sound of your typing- why do you type so loudly on a screen?”

“The sounds help me focus,” you told him. “Let Hwa take over. He’ll sleep for the both of you.”

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes. “You want me gone that bad?”

“Aw, is the mafia boss hurt?” You mocked, going back to highlighting an important line in the research paper- perhaps, the tenth paper of the night. You were scrounging through them for any information on working with a chemical bond as unique and complex as the angel’s essence. 

When Seonghwa didn’t answer or threaten to kill you, which was the likelier response, you looked at him to find him with a sombre expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head.

“Something is,” you shifted your attention to him. “Feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just… confused,” he admitted. “Having someone live inside you does that to you, I suppose.”

You shrugged, watching him carefully. “If you have a problem, you can ask me. You know that, right? Forget about the ranks for once, Seonghwa. You know you can trust me.”

“I know,” he nodded assuringly. “I just don’t like this. That’s all there is to it.”

You pouted. Nothing you could do about that. 

Seonghwa had a multitude of questions to ask you about the angel but he decided to hold them for now. Instead, he locked your devices and took your hands, steering you to the bed. You laughed- your old Seonghwa was back. He tucked you in the sheets, just like he had done a thousand times now when you were little and would fall asleep in the middle of studying. Dimming the lights until there was only one lamp at the front of the room, its white light creating a soft halo effect in the room, he got on the other side and silence took over. The sounds of your unsynchronised breaths started to fill the room. 

You turned your neck to find him wide awake, staring at the ceiling. You felt a pang of longing inside you- you wished you could hold him and tell him that it would soon be over, that you were sorry, that you wished you could make it better and you did not like seeing him acting so unlike himself-

“Shut up, you’re too loud,” he said and you snickered. You shifted until you were facing him though he didn’t move.

“What did you hear?”

“You’re sorry. You don’t like when I act strange, though you do enjoy it,” he spared you a glance and you grinned.

“That’s only half of it, though.”

“Would I want to hear the other half?” He asked.

“Well… some things are better left unsaid for a reason, eh?”

Seonghwa shifted to mirror your position, now facing each other. It was a good thing that there was still a respectable distance between you two. Sleeping like this had never been a problem- you didn’t have the luxury of sleeping in separate spaces for most part of your childhood, and once you did have the luxury, you would find each other anyway.

“Something tells me I should hear it anyway.”

“Ah, it’s the sentimental Seonghwa tonight, I see,” you retorted and when he shot you a glare, you gave in. “I wish I could make this situation better for you.”

“Hmm… you’re doing your best, though. Try harder from tomorrow,” he ordered and you muttered a ‘yes sir’. “What’s the last bit?”

You bit your lips- would you dare tell him now? If he pushed you away, you would have to live with that. 

But then… he pushed you away all the time anyway, and there was Hwa. He made up for it.

“I just…” you started, finding his hand under the sheets and brushing your fingers against his. He remained still. “I just want you to hold on if things get hard.”

“Things will get better,” Seonghwa said, the words sounding like a lie even to himself. “I know I could die, we both could if the angels or anyone finds out about this, but… it will be okay. We will survive this, y/n. We always do.”

“I don’t want to live through that pain again,” you whispered. 

“Tsk. You’re strong. You’re a warrior, and you will survive,” he assured you. “I will make sure you do.”

While he did not hold your hand, he let your fingers remain where they were, caressing his and you moved just a bit so you could lightly link them. A shaky breath left your lips as you allowed yourself to relax, welcoming sleep and leaving Seonghwa to wonder if he could say the same about himself- would he survive this ordeal?

He would wonder about that later. 

~

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you were greeted by the sight of Seonghwa who was already awake and watching you. You frowned, rubbing your eyes and moving to check the time before slumping right back- you could still get a few minutes of sleep.

You shut your eyes and curled your body, fisting the sheets, your head spinning with drowsiness. About a minute passed when you realised that the person watching you sleep wasn’t Seonghwa-

It was the angel. 

You opened one eye to find him watching you with the softest gaze, lips parted. Your heart would have swooped if you weren’t half asleep.

“Never watched a human sleep, eh?” You asked, voice raspy.

“Not like this- not so closely,” he admitted.

And perhaps, the drowsiness was getting to your head. You moved closer, tucking your head under his chin. The angel’s body tensed and you grinned to yourself- your bodies were still maintaining a distance but at least he wouldn’t be able to see your sleepy face. 

“There we go. You can take an even closer look now,” you said, preparing to go back to sleep.

“I cannot see you anymore,” the angel complained.

“Perhaps, that is the whole point,” you told him.

“I suppose I can try something else then.”

Before you could ask what was going on in his head, he was tucking you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist. For a few moments, drowsiness left and clarity overcame your senses- Seonghwa had never cuddled like this with you. This- one arm draped over your waist, keeping you close, his other hand caressing your hair in an attempt to lull you back to sleep, your breaths synchronising with the rise and fall of his chest…

Heavens above.

“Do I scare you?” The angel asked cautiously and you made the mistake of looking up, finding his eyes filled with worry.

“No,” you admitted, watching his expressions morph into what had to be happiness. 

“Then relax, and get your fill of sleep.”

Easier said than done. The fact that it was ultimately Seonghwa’s body and his voice made this entire situation more difficult to comprehend. However, there was no other choice but to relax in the angel’s touch and perhaps, that’s what you were meant to do for now. You relaxed a bit and fisted his shirt- Seonghwa’s shirt- instead of the sheets. 

And when you woke up later, the angel was asleep, looking content. You knew it was the angel because Seonghwa looked like he was fighting demons even in his sleep. You smiled at the sight, daring to caress the angel- Seonghwa’s- face, feeling something sad building inside you. You tucked his hair away, the strands as soft as you remembered from years ago. You ran your fingers through his hair-

Wincing when you felt a sharp burn against your finger. You drew away your hand, finding a small part of your index finger singed- was there something in his hair? You cautiously ran your hand through his hair again-

A little yelp escaped your mouth as you felt a sharper burn this time and you clutched at your hand, a small red welt near your thumb now-

“Oh, dear,” the angel was awake and inspecting your hand worriedly. You looked at him in confusion and surprise as he shut his eyes to say a prayer, holding your hand to his forehead and then bringing it to his lips, planting soft kisses on the burns that seemed to be patching up as if there was never a wound in the first place.

You gasped in disbelief, inspecting your hand. “How did you do that?”

“I am sorry,” the angel’s brows were furrowed in pain as if he himself had received those burns. “I did not mean to- it is probably my halo. I did not know it would burn even as a human.”

“It’s okay,” you assured, examining your hand. “I’m all patched up now, aren’t I?”

“I hurt you-”

“It’s okay,” you broke into a smile. “It didn’t hurt too much- I was more surprised.”

“I burned you-”

“Hwa,” you cupped his face, making him look at you, his eyes glazed. “I’m a strong girl. These little burns don’t make me feel much. I receive burns all the time, see?” You showed him your hands and arms, littered with faded scars of burns. “In my field, you get used to it.”

“Your skin is not meant to be marred like this.”

“But humans carry the marks of their life all the time,” you told him. “Don’t you carry something like that too? If not on your body… in your heart?”

Hwa looked at you with thoughtful eyes, moving to sit cross-legged on the bed, never letting go of your hands as you moved to sit in front of him. He sighed deeply, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Do you want me to heal them?” He asked cautiously. You shook your head no.

“Each mark on my body tells a story. I’d like to keep them,” you explained.

“Can I… kiss your hands anyway?”

Oh. He was going to be the death of you.

“Do you have a thing for my hands, sir?” You joked. “These aren’t the prettiest hands ever, I can find you a better pair-”

The angel ignored your rambling, planting soft kisses on the back of both your hands before he looked up. “To me, they are beautiful, because they tell your story.”

“Hwa- you can’t just kiss my hands and act all normal afterwards. This is not normal.”

“I am an angel,” he told you, kissing each of your knuckles, looking almost drunk with his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. “Normal cannot define or bound me.”

Your eyes twitched in half anger and half… submission. 

“What are you trying to do, Hwa? What are you trying to pull?”

“Do you think I have some hidden intentions?” He asked almost dangerously, and you thought that he looked obsessive for a second. “I- I only wanted to experience this feeling, and if you want to push me away, I will go back to hide in the corners-”

“What feeling do you want to experience so badly?”

“Being human,” he said, almost spat as if the idea appalled him too. “I cannot tell if it is the human in me making me feel so strange, but I want to touch and be touched. I want to live- I want to eat like humans do and savour the flavours on my tongue. I want to bask in the sun until it starts to burn me and float in the pool until I feel one with the water. I want to hold another human, feel their heartbeat against mine, do something about the yearning in my heart- I’ve never felt like this.”

For once, you had nothing to say. You simply watched the angel curl in on himself, looking like a broken piece.

“And I’m scared,” said the wounded soul. “I’m scared that I will never be able to go back to my realm. I’m scared of being okay with that. I’m scared of enjoying these human experiences. What if I do not hate the idea of being human and they find me? I do not want to die a human, yet…”

“I’m sorry for misunderstanding you,” you did not hesitate to pull the angel in your arms. If this was what he needed, you could give him that. The angel sucked in a breath but quickly melted in your arms, clutching at you almost childishly.

“I think I understand you,” you caressed his head, not caring how it burned your skin. “You’re a human, for now, whether you like it or not. This is your chance to experience what it is like to be a human without any boundaries. No one is stopping you, and I… I will protect you… until you are ready to go back. I hope you will be welcomed with open arms when you go back. You must miss your home so much, Hwa. I’m sorry I didn’t realise that- you do not have to be human to miss your home.”

Hwa buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking deep breaths. You winced at your damaged hands, resorting to hold him still instead. 

“Have you always been this mellow, oh angel?” You asked. 

“This is who I am,” the angel admitted, drawing away. “But you have seen how angry I can get.”

“Yeah, angry is an ugly look even on angels,” you agreed, shivering at the memory when you felt like he would have obliterated your existence with a mere swipe of his finger. You showed him your hands and he winced, looking apologetic but you smiled, making pride swell in his heart. With a prayer, he kissed every burn mark until your hands were back to normal.

“I will try to refrain from caressing your head from now on,” you stretched your fingers. “My hands are precious to me, thank you very much.”

The angel laughed, a small part of him knowing you wouldn’t be able to do that. You shared a laugh, smacking his back and asking him to get up and join you for breakfast.

Once again, in the privacy of your room, you crumbled to the floor. 

What were you doing? Letting the angel touch and hold you like that- he was supposed to be the touch-starved being, but you were no better. How could you do this to yourself- to Seonghwa?

Just what were you getting yourself into?

And why did the consequences of your actions not scare you?

Everything seemed to be in order in your life and Seonghwa’s, yet it had never been like this before.

Seonghwa never talked about your intimate interaction with the angel- you knew that he was able to see fragments of what was happening through the shared subconsciousness, and if he tried, he could even share consciousness now given that the angel would not resist. 

Either Seonghwa did not mind, which was unlikely, or for once, he had nothing to say, which was odd. He always had something to say about every situation, and his silence was louder than ever.

However, his behaviour was the same- in fact, he had grown more understanding in the past few days. Understanding of his situation, of the lack of control he had over his own body. Understanding that you were still trying to find ways to get the angel out of his body, contacting every demon summoner and going to dangerous places with him to learn more about the dark arts. You would never tell a soul that you were doing this for an angel. 

You had also started to look into the history of angels, and while the angel himself didn’t share much about his realm- sworn to secrecy, perhaps- he guided you anyway. He was able to confirm or deny whatever you read about angels. 

You came across his real name in one of the books and learned that he was an angel of fire- while he was not an archangel, he was considered to be one of the angels with their own conscience, which meant that he was capable of sin. You were confused about that topic so the angel silently turned the pages of your book until you were at the section of ‘Fallen Angels’.

That day, the angel wished to go out and fly, so you took him to the mountains instead where you sat on the edge of a rock and watched the world below. That’s when you asked him if there really was good and evil in every human.

“Humans are not inherently good, but humans lack the desire to sin when they are younger. As they grow older in their intellect, the desire to sin becomes something appealing to them. The more a person sins, the more evil they become until the goodness in their heart is nowhere to be found.”

“Do you think there’s any good in Seonghwa’s heart?” You asked and the angel looked at you. Dressed like Seonghwa in a fur coat with his hair twisted back and tied, you almost thought it was Seonghwa himself sitting beside you. 

“Do you believe there is good in this human’s heart?” The angel questioned.

“Maybe,” you pouted. 

“Does it matter to you if there is?”

“If it mattered, I would have left long ago,” you admitted and the angel nodded. 

“I cannot say if there is good in this heart, but there was something that pulled me to him instead of you, when I was going to possess you. Maybe the evil inside me resonated with his nature.”

“But you’re an angel,” you looked at him. “You’re not evil.”

“There is the desire in me to sin, therefore I am capable of being evil,” the angel responded. “I feel as if I am sinning even now. Sitting with a human, stuck inside one, unable to perform my duties…”

“Do you hate being evil so much? If this is what evil is to you?”

The angel did not answer your question. And it got you thinking that maybe, there was a goodness inside Seonghwa that created the space for the angel. If that was the case, there was evil inside the angel too. Maybe, this was the true meaning of balance- a human too evil, and an angel too good, yet both containing a little kernel of pureness and darkness in their hearts- both coexisting inside one body.

But if being human was what encompassed the idea of being evil for an angel, this angel sure was enjoying the most mundane experiences. He was no longer opposed to trying out new things- a smoke, which had him coughing his lungs out later, cotton candy from the stall because it looked like clouds (Seonghwa was not pleased about that, claiming it left an aftertaste in his mouth), and food. Food of all kinds because apparently, the human had not been enjoying eating lately.

The angel’s curiosity wasn’t satiated with just that. You almost felt as if you were teenagers again and going on dates. From picking flowers in gardens to learning how to ride a bike. You made sure all your outings were away from the eyes of the staff or anyone who could recognise you, because you were sure no one would like the most notorious mafia leader in the town wiping dust off the petals of flowers or screaming like a banshee before falling down from the bicycle unceremoniously. 

The angel- Hwa- was laughing like a human and it warmed your heart because Seonghwa had never been able to laugh like that. His laugh was pure and unrestrained, something humans usually wished for. His eyes sparkled as he observed the human world, watching and learning the concept of a family, of friends, of lovers. You could only wish Seonghwa was learning something along with the angel too.

While the angel started growing closer to you, the human started growing distant. Whenever Seonghwa took control of his body, he would busy himself with work and not correspond with you much- on anything. It would be up to you to update him of the recent developments, or learnings, or whatever you wished to tell him- he seemed the most uninterested. He didn’t care anymore if you wanted to talk, keep him under your surveillance or leave him alone. It was almost as if he had sworn himself to the silent treatment. 

This wasn’t the first time he behaved that way, but it was different this time. Whenever you did something wrong or made any sort of mistake, it was a given that Seonghwa was going to give you the cold shoulder for at least a couple of weeks. You could try to make him give in- bribe him with something that he could not resist (the latest Lego usually did the trick- he may be the mafia boss but he loved his legos) or treat him to something nice. That usually solved the matter, but each time you were not allowed to defend yourself. Sure, he would hear you out occasionally, but he would rarely ever be convinced.

This time was different. While he did not consciously push you away, his behaviour was doing nothing to help you. It was getting harder for you to not look forward to Hwa taking over- at least he didn’t look at you with contempt. Something was off about Seonghwa, and you were trying to ask him what was bothering him so much- he refused to meet eyes with you or converse with you properly and you knew no bribery could resolve this.

“Have we dispatched the first batch of drugs to Assemblyman Hwang?”

“We have, it’s written there,” you pointed at his tab and he hummed, dodging your question once again. You decided to change the topic.

“Do you think we should try something like exorcism? An angelic version of it? The theory doesn’t sound bad, does it?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Whatever you feel like.”

You stared at him- he was trying so hard to act normal. This wasn’t going to work.

“Are there any more documents to sign? My fingers are starting to hurt- you know how I was in the lab all day working with specimens-”

“So?” Seonghwa dropped the pen and finally looked at you, eyes cold enough to send a shiver along your spine. “Do you want the angel to take over and worship your hands again?”

You scoffed in disbelief, wondering if that was a joke. When he went back to marking notes, you tapped on the table to get his attention.

“Say that again,” you challenged.

“We all know how much you crave affection,” Seonghwa muttered. “Good thing the angel is willing to show you some, at least.”

Unbelievable. This was what was bothering him?

“I asked you time and time again to tell me if something was bothering you- why did you keep your feelings bottled up only to stab me with your words now?” You asked. “You think I enjoy the fact that you’re sharing your body with an angel? Forget about what the angel does, you think I really want you to disappear?”

“It sure feels like that sometimes. You’re doing well without me, aren’t you?” Seonghwa scoffed.

You felt blood rush to your head, making your vision go red for a moment. Rage. 

“I’m cooperating with the angel, Seonghwa. I’m playing along with anything the angel wants so you don’t have to suffer, you miserable, miserable bastard. I’m doing all of this so that the angel shares consciousness with you and does not mess up your business- or would you rather have the angel taking over and actively fighting back? Fuck you,” you spat, throwing your own pen across the table which he barely caught. 

Not a hint of remorse in those eyes, though his little smirk had disappeared.

“You’ve always sheltered me all your life,” you got up, lowering your voice and this time, guilt did flash in his eyes for a mere second. “You’ve made sure I had no one except you, and you made sure my eyes only found you- that I only looked at you. So forgive me, Seonghwa, if you finally look back for once and I still find my defences crumbling when it isn’t even you.”

With that, you turned to pick up your belongings and leave-

And when you heard the familiar sigh that marked the angel taking over, you froze.

Had Hwa perhaps heard that? All of that?

You cautiously looked at him, finding his eyes filled with hurt. He almost looked grieved.

“Hwa-”

“Stop,” the angel raised his hand in the air, his voice dripping with sadness. “Not another word-”

“No, listen-”

“I know what I mean to you now,” Hwa said with a restrained voice as if still struggling to accept what he had heard. “There is nothing more that you can offer me.”

“I only said all of that because of Seonghwa,” you explained gently. “I did not mean that-”

“Yeah, Seonghwa heard that,” the angel said, shutting his eyes. “The damage has been done, human. To both of us.”

“Hwa, angel,” you dropped your stuff and took a few steps towards him but he left the room, leaving you regretting every word that you had said. Your eyes welled with tears and you took a few deep breaths, the tight feeling in your throat growing with each passing second.

You needed to find him- Hwa.

You looked in Seonghwa’s room first, but he wasn’t there. You wondered if he went to the pool and on your way there, you searched the rooms, asking the few staff members who were present if they had seen their boss around. None of them had. 

And when you found the pool empty, you sank to the ground and buried your face between your knees, letting out choked sobs- it had been years since you had cried. You were not sure if you were crying because of Seonghwa, or Hwa, or just everything- 

But it looked like you would be filling the pool with your tears tonight.

You cried until there were no more tears left, until your clothes were soaked. You sobbed until your throat felt raw, your nails leaving dents in your skin where you dug them in your palm. You silently cried until you heard the familiar footsteps, and it was almost surprising how that triggered a fresh stream of tears.

Was that Seonghwa? Or was that the wretched angel who had taken over your mind and soul? It didn’t matter anymore-

“Why do you cry, my dear?”

The damned angel. You brought your knees closer in an attempt to hide your face, but it looked like the angel was not going to give up. He sat in front of you, taking your hands in his and making you flinch visibly. Hurt, he let go of them.

“What is the reason for your tears?” He asked gently. You took a deep breath, sneaking a peek and finding his eyes puffy as well.

“Don’t tell me that you cried and wasted your essence,” you muttered, making the angel shake his head in disbelief. 

“I told you that the essence is of no use to you. I wiped every trace of it, don’t worry.”

You sighed, burying your head back between your knees. This time, when the angel hesitantly brushed his fingers against yours, you didn’t flinch away. However, he made no attempt to hold your hands either, only tracing the outlines of your fingers.

“I am sorry for my behaviour,” the angel said and you looked up at him. “I should have given you a chance to speak. I know humans say things they do not mean all the time- and if it is of any relief to you, your human Seonghwa did not mean to hurt you like that either.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you told him. “The damage has been done.”

The angel gave you a look. “You have a habit of throwing my words back at me.”

��It’s the truth, though,” you said, getting up and the angel followed. You wiped your face, tired. “I meant what I said. Every word of it. Yet…”

You looked sideways, biting your lips to keep more words from spilling. The angel looked at you expectantly.

“Seonghwa is not able to hear or see anything right now- I’ve pushed him back. So you can say what you want to me.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m not spending time with you because I’m scared of you, or scared of what you will do to Seonghwa. Yes, initially I was- of course I would be. I’m only a human and you’re a divine being. However… I don’t know, Hwa. I’ve always wanted Seonghwa to really look at me, to acknowledge me. And when you look at me, when you are with me… strangely, I find myself forgetting all about Seonghwa.”

“Is that the truth?” He asked cautiously and you nodded. You weren’t going to lie now. 

“I’m exhausted. I don’t know what I want or what I’m doing, but I just want you to know that I like you. I’m not simply cooperating with you, I like spending time with you- just you, the angel who’s beginning to live like a human. I know I’m supposed to get you out of this body even if it means that you get hurt in the process, and frankly, I’m still searching for a way to get you out, but…”

“But?” The angel asked and you mustered the last bits of courage in you, for the final declaration- the one you were too afraid to admit and even more scared to say out loud.

“Tell me,” the angel beckoned, taking a step towards you. You let your eyes scan him- the body of Seonghwa, clad in a black shirt and slacks, yet not his demeanour. Seonghwa’s face, yet unlike any expressions he had worn. His messy curls falling on his face only made him look more human, and it hurt.

“I don’t want you to leave, angel,” you confessed with a short laugh, letting the angel wonder what that meant. You turned to leave- at least you could put distance between the two of you-

“Then stay. Make me stay,” the angel’s voice was firm, almost as commanding as Seonghwa’s, but authoritative in an entirely different manner. A request, a favour. A plea.

“You’re an angel,” you reminded him, your voice wavering. “You are supposed to be performing your duties, you are supposed to be righteous and not give in to sin.”

“Yet here I am,” he shrugged, smiling in defeat. “Falling from grace and finding pleasure in sin- if this is what sin is.”

“Can I really ask you to stay?” You held your breath.

“You could ask me to fall from the heavens, and I would. I think I have already fallen. And I’m afraid of what I will let myself do for you, so stay, please.”

This was an angel, ready to sink to his knees for you. Your breath quickened as you turned, your heart ready to burst from the sheer amount of emotions.

“Where’s Seonghwa?”

“Not anywhere near,” the angel confirmed, the two of you moving towards each other, the magnetic pull stronger than ever. Your arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace, laughter bubbling out from the angel’s body and you soon joined- smiling in relief. 

This was where you were meant to be. In his arms, feeling safe. Feeling loved. 

You broke apart, his hands resting on the dip of your waist. You brought your hands to wipe the remnants of his tears from his eyelids, shaking your head and he smiled guiltily. Your gaze stuck on his parted, plump lips and before the angel could express any doubts, you secured your confession by capturing his lips in a soft kiss, making the angel freeze.

You drew back and looked at him in confusion, anxiety starting to bubble in your throat once again- had you made a wrong move? However, the angel seemed as if he was in a daze, his eyes travelling all over your face. 

“What do you think you are doing, love?” He asked, cupping your face and tucking your hair back, not giving you a second to respond as he kissed your forehead sweetly, moving to pepper kisses all over your face, sometimes letting his lips linger as if he was relishing the feel of his lips against your skin. You fisted his shirt and raised your face right when he leaned down, your lips colliding in a passionate, slow kiss that soon started feeling heated as you moved your mouths in tandem with each other, pulling each other impossibly closer. 

You broke apart for breath but it looked like the angel was not planning to let you go. He sucked at your lower lip and you welcomed him with an open mouthed kiss, making the angel lose his footing and take a few steps back, your laughter and breaths mingling. You grinned, leaping in his arms and making him back away another few steps as he struggled to maintain balance while kissing you at the same time-

And due to his own fault, forgetting there was a pool full of water behind, he let the force of your kiss physically push him back until there was no ground under his feet and he clutched at you, both of you yelping as you fell in the cool water. 

You almost swallowed some but managed to find your way up, laughing helplessly at the state of you two- absolutely drenched. The angel swiped his hair back and you let your eyes roam all over his upper body, the fabric of his shirt clinging to the muscles that Seonghwa had worked hard to build. For a moment, a tiny moment, you remembered Seonghwa but any thoughts of him went out of your head when you spotted Hwa scan your body with a searing gaze that stuck on the way your clothes clung to you. 

“Like what you see?” You teased. The angel licked his lips in response, swimming closer and wrapping his arms around your waist, bringing your bodies flush against each other. You breathed heavily, letting his shoulders act as a brace as you lifted your body and captured his lips in a wet kiss, tasting water and kissing him as if he was meant to quench your thirst. You made out for what seemed like hours, his hands travelling all over your body, alternating from kissing your lips to feasting on your neck, his groans and moans fuelling you, your hands and arms singed in various spots, even nicked at places.

“Oh, angel,” you whispered against his ears, sucking at his earlobe. “They might clip your wings for this.”

“I do not need to fly if I am with you,” he declared, cupping your face and making you lock eyes with him. “How did you entrap me with that demonic heart of yours, human?”

All you could do was smile devilishly in response. “Maybe you have craved darkness all your life.”

“Perhaps,” he kissed your lips sweetly. “If this is what darkness is… I wish I will never see the light again.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, hugging him tightly. 

Angel. Your angel. The light in your dark life.

He kissed the cuts and burns on your arms, preparing you to get hurt for him again. A pain that you were starting to get addicted to.

Seonghwa had never had to apologise for a thing in his life.

Every decision he made came with consequences and he might harbour regrets but he would never bow down in front of someone and apologise. The other parties involved would just have to make peace with that. 

He did not believe in the idea of apologising, even when time and time again he caused you hurt or discomfort and you demanded that he show some remorse to make things better. He preferred to let the tension die down instead and let your defences lower until you would forget that he wronged you in the first place. You only had him, so where would you go if you broke things off with him?

However, as Seonghwa got a look at himself through the reflection of the mirror-engraved wall of Assemblyman Hwang’s office, he shut his eyes for a moment and saw red. He willed himself to maintain his composure and smiled at the Assemblyman.

No wonder the man wasn’t taking him seriously.

“- rest assured, we’ll do our best to keep this inside the underworld channels and not let any scandals surface, so you can keep on providing us with the goods, okay?” the man said, pouring red wine for the both of them while Seonghwa clenched and unclenched his fists. “I mean, I know we almost messed up but we were quick to clean it up-”

“If another mess-up happens,” Seonghwa started in a low voice, making the middle-aged man frown, “Not only will I retract and clean up your mess, but I will make sure to wipe all evidence. And that, of course, includes all consumers. You understand that, right?”

Seonghwa took a sip of the red wine, watching the politician fidget with his clothes, a nervous laugh escaping his mouth. “Of course!”

Seonghwa set the glass on the table. “It’s a dark world we live in. Gotta make sure it doesn’t get any darker, yeah?” 

The politician, who always rambled about eradicating darkness from the world in his campaigns, grimaced at the mockery of his slogan. Seonghwa got up and left the room, hiding his face with his fur coat as much as he could.

Once inside the privacy of his car, he glared at the driver who squirmed but got the message. Seonghwa slumped back and wiped at his left cheek where the very vivid and recognisable red kiss mark was printed.

He was going to kill you for making a fool of him.

It was his fault- the driver had tried to warn him with a ‘Um, sir… you might want to freshen up before the meeting’. Thinking that the driver was just suggesting that because he was meant to meet a politician, Seonghwa told him that there was no need. He did not need to look anything else than the crazy man that he was. His appearance was crucial in making first impressions, and with this rough look, he wanted to show the politician just who he was dealing with. He had some points to get across. 

However, the kiss mark on his cheek watered down that roughness wantonly. No wonder the politician had been smirking for the entire duration of the meeting.

Seonghwa sighed deeply. Again, it was his fault, ultimately. He never apologised for the argument you both had, and after regaining consciousness and finding himself under covers with you, snuggled way too close for his liking, he waited until you got up. He did not like the way your expressions darkened when you realised it was not the angel anymore.

You simply informed him that the angel and you had a talk, and he had decided to block Seonghwa from watching his consciousness. Seonghwa and you got into an argument again where he wondered if you were trying to do something behind his back- an assumption he immediately regretted making- and you told him that the only time Hwa would be blocking Seonghwa would be when you and Hwa had something ‘personal’ going on; nothing regarding Seonghwa and his state- or his business, even. Seonghwa tried to probe in hopes of getting an answer as to what ‘personal’ entailed but you didn’t give in.

And it seemed like he got his answer anyway. While the angel was consciously trying to block him at times, he saw the way you looked at Hwa very well. You used to look at him like this before, eyes wide and expectant, something like affection dripping from them. And now you had found someone else-

Except this was also Seonghwa, technically. One body, one mind, but two different souls. 

He just needed to find out if you were serious about this- the angel inside his body was going to leave one day. If you were doing this just to piss Seonghwa off… it was working, but you did not need to go to such extents. 

He did not want you to go to such an extent. He did not want to carry your kiss marks just anywhere- those things were meant to stay in the privacy of his house, right? He did not want to wake up with you in his arms anymore, without any memories of how you got there in the first place. He was supposed to be the one who tucked you in bed- only him. He did not want to hear the echoes of your laughter in his subconsciousness- he did not want you to laugh like that in front of just anyone. He did not want his lips to hold the whisper of your name or the taste of your skin- no one could touch you like that.

He was going to kill you. For sure. But first, he was going to block the angel out of his mind. 

Seonghwa wasn’t sure how that would work, but he tried his best to focus on what was here and what was real instead of the being inside his head. Once he arrived at your lab where he was supposed to pick you up and take you home, he asked the driver to stay, opting to find you himself. The lab was a nice place to get rid of you- he wouldn’t need to clean the mess. Your own people would clean that up for you, just like they had always wiped the evidence of your sins.

At the sight of your tired figure making a chart on the wall with the progress of your ‘angelic expulsion’ discoveries, all his resolve crumbled. 

You had a habit of making charts and calculating probabilities to visualise your learnings- whether it be about your scientific data, theoretical data or mundane things- would Seonghwa be able to kill the rival gang’s leader? Probability– 89 percent. Factors– temper, first and foremost, which affects his strategy and attack. Accounts for 11 percent though the figure may vary on how his day went. Factors– me. Am I in danger? If I am, the probability of winning increases exponentially because he won’t let a fly hurt me. If I am not… does it decrease his willpower? Check-

Seonghwa found himself smiling at the memory- you were making this effort- for him, right? Despite everything, you were trying to get the angel out of his body so he could leave you both alone, right?

You caught Seonghwa staring at you from the window and beckoned him to come inside. He entered with a huff and you frowned at his cold stance.

“What? Did the meeting not end well?” You asked.

“It went well, but it could have gone better were it not for-” Seonghwa pointed at his cheek and it took a moment to click.

“Oh,” you grinned. “Did I forget to wipe that? My bad-”

Seonghwa walked in front of you but you did not move. He peered down at you, watching you with a threatening gaze. It would have worked on others, but it didn’t work on you- not anymore.

“Have you made it your life’s mission to get back at me? This is playing dirty, Doctor.”

“Oh, so I’m ‘Doctor’ now, eh? Keeping it professional this time?” You narrowed your eyes. “Honestly, I forgot to wipe that-”

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t deliberately placed there,” Seonghwa countered.

“It was deliberately placed. Just not for you,” you patted his chest before turning away, wanting to get away from him but he grabbed your wrist and brought you right back where you were- even closer this time.

“This is not the first time, though,” Seonghwa smiled dangerously, fixing your glasses for you and tucking your hair back. “It’s a repeated offence, darling.”

It was. You were purposely trying to mess with Seonghwa, that was partly true. From making the angel try Seonghwa’s least favourite drink just before he was about to switch so there would be an aftertaste in Seonghwa’s mouth, to messing up with his appearance or clothes. Seonghwa’s patience was running out for all the right reasons. 

“Hmm, well,” you tried not to squirm under his gaze. “I’m guilty.”

“I came here planning to kill you for once and all,” Seonghwa admitted, cocking his head and watching his finger trail down the curves of your face. This wasn’t the first time you had heard this phrase, but something told you that he might actually have been considering it. “But it looks like you are making some effort. Progress, even?”

“Ah, this?” You gulped, looking at the board. “Yeah, I think I’m onto something- but there’s a catch, and… I’ll have to talk with Hwa to make sure this doesn’t end bad for any of you-”

“For any of us?” Seonghwa frowned. “You’re only supposed to care about how it ends for me. That being is an angel, he’ll make it-”

“But I want him to make it out safely,” you interrupted, trying to get a point across but Seonghwa seemed too frustrated to process it. “It would be in our best interests if the angel leaves safely-”

“Your best interest,” Seonghwa pointed his finger at you, giving in and huffing. “Not mine. It was never about me, was it?”

“You’re right, not everything is about you. Just listen to me for once, you fool,” you scolded, making him sit on a stool so you could meet his eyes properly and hopefully assert some authority. “Suppose the angel somehow gets hurt or dies. That’s going to be the end of your empire- a horrible, miserable end. We’re lucky this angel got stuck inside you and all his rage dissipated because you’re too stubborn to let the angel take control. You understand?”

“I understand everything,” Seonghwa said calmly. “I just don’t understand why you care about the angel- what is he to you, y/n?”

What was Hwa to you?

The angel who looked past the sins that covered the entirety of your heart, scratched through the darkness to find a home in your heart. The angel that burned you and hurt you with his love, shed tears for you and healed you only to put you through the pain of loving him again. The angel that wanted you to release him from the clutches of the demon that Seonghwa was, yet wished to stay and give up who he was so he could be with you.

If someone would hear that out loud, they would laugh in disbelief, but you had never craved something good and pure all your life until you met Hwa. You were content in the darkness next to Seonghwa, were you not?

“Cat got your tongue?” Seonghwa asked and you shook your head, but there was nothing else left to say. He asked you to join him in the car and you followed after a few moments with your belongings, the ride home awfully silent. 

That night, you did not join him in his room. You stayed in yours, darkness swallowing your room and you. Perhaps, if you stared long enough into the distance, you would become one with the dark. 

However, a few hours and a soft knock later, you were joined by your doom and your salvation- only you did not know which one it was thanks to the lack of light in the room. The figure plopped down next to you on the floor with a heavy sigh, his shoulders brushing with yours and you both sat in utter silence.

When his fingers brushed with yours, you almost thought it was Hwa- he must have heard your conversation, must want answers. But when he wrapped your hand in his and squeezed it with a promise, you knew it wasn’t the angel.

It was the demon- and you were no longer sure if he was your doom or your salvation. 

“This isn’t a sorry attempt at an apology, is it, Seonghwa?” You asked and you could almost hear him smile.

“I’ll be dead before you hear those words out of my mouth. You know that,” he said and you squeezed his hand back. 

A few moments of silence passed, thick with confusion and tension. You caved in and asked, “What’s going on in your head?”

“I don’t know, but the angel is asleep for once,” Seonghwa told you. “It almost feels like I’m back to who I was, except… even when the angel is asleep, I’m carrying remnants of him.”

“What does that mean?”

Seonghwa squeezed your hand in answer- this. This was unusual- sure, there was a certain extent of physical ‘affection’ between you two, if it could even be called affection. It was reserved for teasing, and in rare cases, support. 

“I don’t know why I’m here, but I am, and I don’t want to leave.”

“You love me,” you teased and he laughed a bit, but when he did not deny that, your smile fell- and for once, you were glad it was so dark. 

“You’re incapable of love, Seonghwa. I think something in you broke when you loved your other half only to let him go so soon.”

His brother- not in the biological sense, but a family nonetheless. While you and Seonghwa were reflections of each other, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had been as similar as they were different. Hongjoong was the light, pulling Seonghwa out of his darkness while Seonghwa pulled him back in. And what a pair they made, balancing each other out in every sense yet never clashing, each rotten in their own twisted ways. It had been Hongjoong’s idea to leave the orphanage and mingle with the gangs- he did not leave with you two but found you just a week later, covered in soot and blood but smiling like a free spirit.

He had freed all the kids from the orphanage that destroyed you all- the people who clipped your wings when you hadn’t even learned to walk. He freed the kids, burned the building and all the guilty parties involved- at the mercy of luck. He got the kids to another orphanage through his connections-

And when Seonghwa asked him if you could use those kids to test your drugs on, Hongjoong had shaken his head in amusement but allowed it. It was ultimately bad luck that took his life only a few years later, right before Seonghwa’s career peaked.

He had not been the same since- and you understood. Hongjoong was your friend too- you grieved with him but he never moved on. He got their nickname tattooed on his neck so he was reminded every moment of what he lost.

“I think I’ve always been like this,” Seonghwa countered. “You just need an excuse to justify my behaviour towards you.”

Well. That was also partially true.

“But you’ve always accepted me as I am,” Seonghwa continued. “Some might think you actually love me, y/n.”

“But I do,” you admitted with a whisper. “I thought you knew that by now.”

“You love the whisper of good that you think I possess, dear,” Seonghwa corrected gently. “And once I got possessed by the angel, you found an excuse to love me without harbouring any guilt in that twisted heart of yours.”

If words could tear your heart apart- this was why the truth was so harsh. You took a shuddery breath and Seonghwa caressed your hand.

“You weren’t meant to live in the dark, y/n. I pulled you in and clung to you because you were the only one who saw me for who I am. Perhaps, even a better version of who I was, though I didn’t need that.”

“That’s arguable,” you laughed a bit. “I’ve got more blood on my hands than I can ever atone for. All for what? For science? For you?”

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing,” he teased. You both chuckled at that, knowing very well how bad it was. You let a few moments pass, clutching on to his hand and he sensed the question before you said it out loud.

“Why did you come inside the room that day, Seonghwa? Why did you try to shield me from the angel?”

Silence. Only the sound of your breaths in the room.

“To protect you, of course,” Seonghwa answered. “Because you are my weapon, and I am your shield.”

Oh, him and his words.

“Isn’t it the other way round?” You pondered out loud. “You act like my weapon sometimes too-”

“Because,” he said, almost sounding as soft as the angel. “Because I saw the angel look at you the way only I am supposed to look at you. Did he take a look into your heart? Did he find it captivating- is that why he decided to possess you? I could not let the angel taint my warrior any further, so I shielded you.” 

“Except the angel liked that,” you sighed in realisation. “The angel found your courage more attractive and got pulled towards you. 

“Yet the angel continues to taint your body,” Seonghwa clasped your hand in his. “I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all.”

Silence. The sound of your heart beats.

“There is a pureness in your heart, Seonghwa,” you concluded.  “And… there is a darkness in the angel’s heart- I’ve seen it. You balance each other just right. That is why the angel is stuck inside you, and I’m beginning to wonder if you two are beyond help now.”

Deafening silence this time.

“You will try, at least once. For me,” Seonghwa declared.

“I will try more than once for you, if it means it will work and you two will be separate entities, and-” you faltered, the whisper of the promise you made with Hwa ghosting on your lips. 

If there was a guarantee that the angel would be able to stay in the human realm after leaving this body, you would perform whatever ritual, whatever sacrifice was required. But if there was none… you would not let him leave this body.

And now with Seonghwa right next to you, you wondered if the promise you made came from your heart. Hwa made you promise that and put the words between your lips, but did you mean it? Were you really going to keep that promise? Would you risk Seonghwa’s well-being for the angel?

Or were you just caught between two utterly selfish beings, holding the key to freedom for one or the other, or none?

When you got a call from Dr. Choi in the middle of the night, asking you to check the files he had sent you and come to the lab if possible, you were glad that Hwa had not taken over tonight and you were in your own room, which meant that you could sneak out without the angel’s knowledge.

And in the middle of tiptoeing through the hall did you realise- 

Why were you wary of the angel now?

Sure, the angel had told you time and time again that you could not possibly make use of his essence- you could learn from its chemical composition if that pleased you, but he was adamant about you not experimenting with it. You understood why- working with demonic essence had been risky business and this time, there was the threat of the angel realm finding out about your work too.

However, one thing you had realised in the past few days was that the angel was a soldier at his very core. A soldier of god, bound to duty and true to his morals despite being in a human body and trying to live like one. There were still some boundaries the angel was unwilling to cross, and you were beginning to think if his righteousness was what was hindering you from making some groundbreaking discovery about the essence or if you were simply too trusting of him. 

And then there was the fact that the angel wanted you- wanted to be with you. He spent all his conscious hours by your side, looking past your sins and loving you for the person that you were at the very core. He claimed that that person was beautiful and everything he could ever have desired for. He held you as if you were fragile, kissed you as if that was the last time he would get to do so, and loved you like no human ever could. He bowed in front of you and thanked you for seeing him as something other than the being that he was. His love was burning but it was pure. 

His love was pure, but it was starting to cloud your judgement and you needed to recalibrate yourself every time you were alone.

So good timing from Dr. Choi too. You drove to the lab yourself and found him wide awake, which was odd because he liked his night sleep very much. You entered the office and asked, “I couldn’t read the notes because I decided to just come and visit. Brief me.”

“You asked me to extract and replicate any components of the angelic essence that is similar to the demonic essence, right?” Dr. Choi pulled a stool for you so you could examine the sample under the microscope. “Take a look at this.”

You gave him a sceptic look before examining the two samples in front of you. For a moment, you were confused before it clicked-

“These samples- they are existing independently, without being linked in any way to the essence as a whole, right?” 

“Bingo,” Dr. Choi smiled proudly. “Almost killed myself during the extraction process but I’ve managed to get the non-volatile compounds out of this. Similar to the demonic essence, but still different enough in its properties that experimentation seems like worth giving a shot to.”

“Even if this does not have medicinal properties,” you started to read the notes, “It can still become a different type of drug.”

“A new line of drugs- that’s the least that can come out of this. As for the medical side, we can always keep researching, right?” 

“Seonghwa’s gonna be so pleased to hear this news-”

But Hwa. 

“The angel won’t be,” Dr. Choi said out loud for you and you pursed your lips. While the doctor was not aware of the shift in your relationship with the angel, he knew very well how adamant the angel had been in not letting you conduct experimentation with his essence. “Does the angel need to know about this?”

“I mean… we could conduct our experimentation in secret. According to him, we might be under threat if we let the essence be consumed as a drug of any sort. Something about how it becomes a marker for the angels. But if we’re just experimenting and erasing any evidence of human consumption simultaneously… that shouldn't be a problem, right?”

“And technically, even if we are found by the angels or whatever, we just… die. Poof. We’re used to living under those conditions anyway- do or die.”

You shared a grin with the doctor, but could you really give him and yourself a go-ahead for human experimentation with angelic essence? 

The answer was simple- you could, and you can. This was your decision, and if it were not for the angel interfering with your work, you wouldn’t even be so cautious about making your decisions. This was not you. Were you scared of the angel’s wrath? Sure. You were scared of Seonghwa’s wrath too, it wouldn’t be any different. 

But this- this was your realm, and you set the rules here. No one- not Seonghwa, and certainly not Hwa could interfere. 

“Contact the orphanage and the prison. We’re getting busy in the coming days.”

~

People argued about what was something that made them feel alive. What sort of human experience was exciting enough to make them feel charged, have electricity buzzing through their veins and heighten their senses? 

Some called it ‘the thrill’. They searched for it in the dark pits of this world, succumbing to their desires and inevitably losing themselves, becoming as hollow as shells. While searching for a way to feel alive, they would end up losing all purpose. 

Others searched for it in human experiences- love, happiness and other emotions and feelings. They would go out seeking ‘adventure’, connecting with nature and finding meaning in the simplest things- in the creation, in everything around them, in life itself. 

You, however, might be the odd one out. You stood at the threshold, tipping between ‘the thrill’ and ‘human experiences’ constantly and finding home at that tipping point. Some might argue that you were delusional and your means of feeling alive was something that deserved a special kind of judgement to have you sent into the deepest, darkest pits of hell. Was hell not simply a concept that humans created to delude themselves? Some found ‘the thrill’ in the hell they created for themselves, while the others used hell as an excuse to shape themselves into what they imagined a human should be. 

Your means of feeling alive- you felt the most alive when you were working in your element, in your field. When you were playing with chemicals and experimenting on live subjects - or inspecting the dead. When you were performing practically, creating products and testing them, unhindered by any ethical or legal boundaries. In this lab, you were the creator, the judge and the creation. You were the action and the consequence. Here, you found both the thrill and the human experience. Here, you were truly alive. 

“Another one passes,” you watched the vitals of one of your test subjects drop significantly- nothing that could be done about it. You had fed the young adult the angelic essence and though the timespan of the reaction towards it had lengthened a bit, he went into shock soon after. You tried saving the young adult but to no avail. “Another one bites the dust.”

“The things you say sometimes,” Dr. Choi shook his head in amusement, passing you a scalpel and you carefully made a vertical incision along the subject’s upper body, grimacing at the sight of the discoloured blood. “Shit, that’s just like what happened with the demonic essence.”

“Except we’re using the same quantity- that means the angelic essence might be stronger than the demonic one. We need to dilute it further,” you decided and he agreed, continuing with the inspection of the internal organs which appeared almost burnt. 

You had been spending more time in the lab in the past few days especially at night to start testing how practical an angelic drug would be. Seonghwa was aware of your recent occupation and was also a little proud of how driven you were this time. He made sure the angel would not look into his memory too much and you both decided to keep the conversation about this topic to a minimum. Seonghwa was also taking over at night time more so he could get proper sleep, he claimed, although you wondered if it was so you could have more time working in the lab.

While the angel wondered if it was because Seonghwa wanted him to stay away from you.

Hwa had no idea of the recent developments in the lab and was only aware that you had contacted the summoner from the ritual that chained him to Seonghwa and were preparing to try another ritual, currently researching if it would be safe for the both of them. He thought that was what you were busy with during the day and was wondering if that was what occupied your thoughts when you were with him.

And if the angel was a little honest with himself… he was a little scared of what you felt for Seonghwa. 

He understood that Seonghwa was the only person in your life from the beginning, and your bond with him was something irreplaceable. He also tried to be understanding when Seonghwa started blocking his memories and consciousness actively- if the angel could do that to him, so could he. The angel had no right to complain anymore. However… what did the two of you do when the angel was out of the picture? 

Nothing, was the answer. You would work in your respective spaces, sometimes chat about something or anything. On rare occasions when one of you was feeling sentimental, you would find the other and share comfortable silence or tease each other. That was it.

However, the angel may be oblivious to some things but he was no fool, nor was he blind. Seonghwa did feel something for you that went beyond what the word ‘love’ encompassed, and if the angel was really honest with himself, that was what he was scared of. 

So at the first opportunity when Seonghwa’s defences lowered just as he was about to fall asleep, the angel violated their recent agreement and took over forcefully. 

Hwa looked around, expecting to find you in the room- weren’t you supposed to keep watch on both of them? Or had you gone to your room to rest?

The angel found himself shrugging on a robe over the black tank top that he was wearing before exiting Seonghwa’s room and going towards yours. He knocked softly and opened the door, worried about waking you up if you were asleep, but he found the room empty and your usual belongings gone. So you were not home.

And that meant you had to be at the lab. There was no place else you could be- even your car was not in the garage.

So the angel found himself outside the lab, sensing something off about the air even before he entered. He found the lab room where you usually worked with Dr. Choi empty, your belongings dispersed around the room. So where were you? 

A warning song- similar to the one he used to sing to the humans who needed a little reminder of how small and insignificant they really were in this world- started sounding in his head. The angel wasn’t sure if he was singing it or if it was being sung for him. 

He got his answer when he found you in the dark basement, the stench of blood and something rotten filling his nostrils. He froze at the sight of you- you were beautiful, lit by the dim white overhead light, but so, so tainted with blood and sin. The dead bodies all around you… the humans that were alive but silently begging to be killed. Your eyes, sparkling as you looked around, blood splattered across your scrubs. The angel looked around and his heart sank as realisation hit him-

You were experimenting with the angelic essence.

The angel saw red before his eyes before he knocked on the door. You looked up and waved at the man, your smile falling when you realised it was the angel in front of you. 

“Uh… I’ll be back,” you told Dr. Choi who told you to take your time. You were nearly done anyway and you could go home soon. 

You opened the door for the angel, his gaze unforgiving and suddenly, you were gripped with the same fear that you had felt when you first saw him.

“I forbade you to not experiment with the essence, but here you are.”

“Why are you here?” You asked and the angel raised a brow.

“Funny that this is the first thing you ask,” he commented, glancing inside the room through the slightly ajar door. “Y/n… I trusted you to keep your word.”

“Look,” you sighed, taking off your mask and cap. “I’m not doing this for the medicinal drug- you told me that it would be no use and I took your word for it.”

“Then what is this for?”

“For…” you contemplated making an excuse or lying but it was too late.  “For the drugs, Hwa. I’m just trying to see if a compound extracted from the essence can be consumed like the ones from the demonic essence are-”

“I told you not to experiment!” The angel raised his voice and you shut your eyes, exhaling. “Why do you need to make a drug out of angelic essence? Do you have any idea of the consequences if this gets out-”

“I do,” you started moving towards another room and once in some privacy, you glared at him, his features seeming sharper with the faint lights casting shadows on his angry face. 

“It’s not like I’m manufacturing the drug, Hwa. We’re far from it- I’m only studying.”

“That is how you study?” The angel pointed towards the direction of the room and scoffed. “Killing humans as if their lives mean nothing?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, folding your arms. “You know who I am. I have blood on my hands- more blood than even Seonghwa has on his. You call him a rotten excuse of a human for who he is, right? Then I’m worse. I’m a demon, and you knew it, yet you chose to love me and hold my hands as if they were a holy relic.”

The angel’s eyes flashed with hurt- of course he knew. 

“You are heartless,” he breathed out as if saying those words was hurting him. “I knew that. You are right, I knew who you were. I just thought…”

“That I would change?” You shook your head. “You thought that I would become a better person? Well, this is who I am, angel. This is what my life is. You asked me not to experiment with the essence, but you know that my heart’s deepest desire is to create more advanced drugs. You can’t stop me from doing anything to get there.”

“That is what my word means to you,” his expressions shifted from hurt to anger. “That is what my love means to you. You heartless devil. You and Seonghwa really were made for each other.”

“I may be heartless but you’re naive, and don’t think for a moment that you have any control over me, angel,” you spat the words, taking a few steps towards him for emphasis. “And you- you’re a liar. You told me that we could not get anywhere with the essence. You said you could not lie.”

The angel’s eyes almost glowed with the whirlwind of emotions that he was feeling, and your pointed finger in his face wasn’t making things better. He curled your finger back into your fist and held it in his hand, his touch physically burning you and you snatched your hand away with a yelp.

“Angels cannot lie, but they can hide the truth.”

A wave of anger washed over you and you looked at him in disbelief. “What other truths are you hiding from me? You know how to get out of this body, don’t you? Are you staying back on purpose? Are you not letting go of this body on purpose, Hwa?”

“You asked me to stay,” he smiled and you thought there was something sinister about his smile, especially as he started tucking your hair back and lightly caressing your face. “You think I am a liar, my love?” 

You shook your head, nothing making sense anymore. “Just tell me if you know how to get out of this body without hurting Seonghwa.”

“I am neither lying nor hiding the truth about this. I do not know how to get out of this body.”

“Is that the complete truth?” You dared to ask and the angel didn’t answer, holding your hurt hand and saying his prayers before starting to kiss it wherever it was burned. Tears of frustration started stinging your eyes and you looked away from his burning gaze. 

“Do you hate me?” The angel asked with a cautious voice and you did not respond. 

It shifted something in the angel, perhaps indefinitely. 

“Do not ever look away when I look at you,” he commanded, his voice settling in your bones and you felt as if you were almost compelled to meet his eyes. His face was void of expressions, gaze dark and he cupped your face, making you shut your eyes in pain when his touch started singing your skin but the angel did not care- he was far too gone in that moment. He moved closer, your bodies flush against each other and he trailed his lips along your forehead, peppering kisses along the way and then he kissed your wet lids, drawing back.

“Look at me,” he commanded again and you opened your eyes. You were frozen in place- not because you were scared, but because you simply could not believe that the angel was hurting you like this, his hands moving to your neck, wrists and any bare skin he could find, imprinting his touch in the form of light burns. He moved to kiss your cheek, licking the tears away and your breath quickened-

His love was pure, but this? This wasn’t who the angel was. 

Or were you just now getting to see the true face of the angel?

As he continued to kiss your neck and leave more singes on your skin, your body responded almost automatically and you curled into his figure, shuddering. You recalled reading something about angels and fallen angels in a book– it said something about how the angels were just god’s warriors, hollow at their core, one of their wings marred with blood for eternity. You asked Hwa what really was the difference between an angel and a fallen angel at their very core, and he did not have an answer-

Was it because he was also someone like you, struggling to stand on the threshold between being an angel or becoming a fallen angel?

What sort of an angel would hurt their human like this? 

And how did this angel go from crying because his touch burned you to purposely burning you? Maybe this was your fault too- you let his love burn and consume you. You were no better.

“I am violating the core of who I am in loving you,” the angel whispered in your ear, his hair tickling your cheekbone. “Do not take advantage of that… little bird.”

“Let me go,” you cupped his face, looking straight into his eyes, the name he called you finally giving you some clarity. “Let Seonghwa take over- please.”

“No,” he shook his head. “You can’t ask me to go now-”

“You’re hurting me,” you said and it was as if he could finally see the redness all over your skin. “Go, angel. Give me Seonghwa back.”

The angel’s eyes flickered with hurt, his eyes travelling all over the places that he burned you and it was as if he finally broke from his trance- he muttered a prayer and started peppering light kisses all over your face wherever his touch had burned you, his heart aching as he saw the fresh stream of tears roll down your face. Before he could do something about your neck or your hands, you drew away.

“Please, that’s enough for now,” you hardened your gaze. “We will talk later, when you are in your right mind. Let Seonghwa take over.”

“Oh, heavens above,” he sighed, ashamed of his actions and silently cursing himself. “I hurt you too much-”

“It’s-” you paused before you could finish saying the sentence.

It was not okay. You wouldn’t be telling him that it was okay to hurt you ever again.

Before you could say anything else, the angel groaned uncharacteristically and you watched as the shift happened, visible in the demeanour change, except-

Seonghwa took one look at you and almost lost his footing, struggling to stand as he clutched at the table. You reacted immediately, making him sit on a stool and asking him if he was alright, but he only held your hands with his own shaky ones and hid his face between them.

“Seonghwa?” Your voice came out in a small whisper- you had never seen him so weak. He wasn’t crying but he very well might have been with the way his body was trembling and he was breathing unsteadily.

“Talk to me, Seonghwa,” you urged, “What’s wrong?”

“I…” he sighed heavily, looking up at you with tired eyes, the rage obvious behind them. “I fought for consciousness the moment I heard you cry. Who hurt you?”

You.

“It’s the angel, isn’t it?” He examined your hands, trembling with the intensity of emotions that he was feeling- perhaps, a leftover product from the angel too. “He hurt you.”

“Seonghwa,” you sat down in front of him, on your knees. “I’m okay. It’s going to be okay-”

“It’s not,” he shook his head adamantly. “You have no idea how much I’m struggling to not let the angel swallow me whole- I’m scared to think of what would have happened if the angel lost all control just now.”

You silently shook at the thought and he caressed your hands before continuing.

“Sometimes, it feels like if he takes over my consciousness, I will get lost in the dark pits of my own subconscious forever. But now… I realise why  I’m sometimes hesitant to regain consciousness too. Because-”

He looked at your marred hands, caressing the burn marks on them lightly. “Do you know what I’m afraid of, y/n?”

You shook your head. “You’re afraid of nothing, as far as I know.”

Seonghwa smiled tiredly. “You’re right. I am afraid of nothing- I was afraid of nothing. But now… I’m afraid of seeing these burn marks on your skin whenever I wake up. How could you let him hurt you like this? You were supposed to be my warrior.”

“And you were supposed to be my shield,” you smiled sadly. “When you’re not there… I get burned.”

Seonghwa looked down, unable to meet your eyes. “This is what I’m afraid of. Hurting you and watching you love the very thing that hurts you. I’ve never been afraid of anything in my life but now… I’m afraid of losing you like this, y/n.”

Seonghwa. The most notorious mafia lord with no such thing as a ‘heart’ was afraid of losing you. Afraid of hurting you and seeing you hurt. Was this not what pure love was supposed to be, as opposed to your angel Hwa’s, who had better things to worry about?

You once asked the angel what he was scared of- other than the obvious. He talked about punishment. He was afraid of doing the very deeds that he would be sent to give punishment for. He was afraid of divine intervention- it was something that was scary to witness even as the audience. He was afraid of the future, of this world and its corrupt nature. 

And the angel was afraid of loving you only to lose you.

Was Seonghwa’s love for you not purer than the angel’s love, then? Seonghwa would go to hell and back for you. Seonghwa bowed down only in front of you- you, who were a part of him, a part of his soul, he would sometimes call you. 

The angel would only bow in front of god.

“You won’t lose me,” you promised though the words were of no comfort to both of you. Overcome by his emotions and some hard truths about what his future looked like, he brought your hands closer with his own shaky ones and pressed a promising kiss on both your hands. When you shifted to hold his hands instead and tried to make him look at you, he shut his eyes.

He could not look at you. Not now.

“Seonghwa,” you called, lifting yourself up a little so you could be at eye level. “Won’t you look at me?”

He only lowered his head further and you embraced him, sighing in relief when he shifted so he could hug you back properly. You let him come to terms with whatever he was feeling- he wasn’t going to talk about it but at least you could help him through it. You caressed his head without a fear of getting hurt for once, and he mustered up the courage to kiss you on the cheek.

You froze momentarily- Seonghwa rarely ever kissed you anywhere except the top of your head (that was his form of silently apologising). He nudged your cheek with the tip of his nose, his warm breath caressing your skin and you moved back slightly, making the mistake of looking him in the eyes-

You had asked for it, though. And now that he was looking at you, so close, you forgot how to breathe.

His hand went around the back of your neck, craning it so that he could make space for himself. He joined your foreheads, taking a deep breath.

“I won’t let the angel ever hurt you again. That’s a promise, okay?” He whispered and you nodded, your noses brushing against each other. He shut his eyes, brows furrowed in concentration as he deliberately nudged the tip of his nose with yours, your lips almost brushing in the process but the ghost of his lips remained on yours.

You whispered his name- a call, a plea, and he almost gave in, reminded of the memories of kissing you that he had seen flashes of from the angel’s memory- oh, how he wanted to kiss those lips himself. He felt a sharp pain in the head slice at him, a reprimand from the angel, a warning. Seonghwa brushed his lips against yours once again just to piss the angel off before drawing back with immense effort, kissing your forehead instead. 

Your figure sagged in disappointment, tired from the yearning. You rested your head in his lap and gave yourself a few moments to recollect your thoughts. 

You would not question Seonghwa and his actions anymore. You knew exactly what was happening. You knew what you had to do now.

There is always a moment in your life when it feels like you’ve had an awakening- as if all this time, you had been wearing the wrong pair of prescription glasses, or not wearing anything to help your blurred vision. So when you finally fix the problem, or realise what the root of all your troubles is, you start to see the world with a sudden clarity. Everything seems sharper, you can see the fine lines that you would otherwise have missed, and it’s like you have a new perspective to the world, even.

At least, that’s how you feel as you perch your reading glasses up your nose bridge, craning your neck to the right and flipping through the pages of a dark arts history book, recalling that you had read something in it which seemed to be connected to the current theory you were working on-

The theory being that angels were, in fact, worse liars than demons. Demons had a habit of being overtly honest- the only problem was that they were tricksters and spun their words such that it would be hard to unravel the truth from. Angels, however, were outright liars in the sense that they would conceal the truth and mislead you by not telling you the complete truth.

At least, that’s who Hwa was. 

You spent the first couple of days trying not to have a mental breakdown and asking both Hwa and Seonghwa to leave you alone while you figured out your feelings for them but more importantly- just how much the angel had misled you? Was there anything he said about the angelic essence and its experimentation that was the complete truth? So far, there had been no warning siren ringing to inform you of some divine punishment. The heavens had not fallen over your head. You were just fine, and you were pretty sure that your experimenting was enough of a marker for the other angels. Why was no divine being interfering then?

And just what was the truth about the angel not knowing how to leave this body? Was he not leaving on purpose, a selfish angel who simply wanted to experience what it was like to not be a warrior of god? Was he staying because of you? Did he really love you or was that just an excuse to stay back in this world and delay going back to his own?

Because he did love you- oh, how he loved you. His love threatened to consume you whole with the way he held you like you were fragile and would break under his touch, contrasting with the way his touch would sometimes burn you when he was overwhelmed. His kisses were overflowing with emotions, a pure exhibit of his desire while holding a dark, almost sinister undertone to them when he would grip you tightly as if forgetting you were human. His whispers contained promises in a foreign language that you did not need to interpret- his vows were clear in his eyes and his possessive hold. 

His love also threatened to break you in the way that a trapped bird was scared of stepping outside its cage for the first time. It was Hwa who made you experience what being normal would have felt like, were you not bound to Seonghwa and his drug business. You experienced so many of your firsts with Hwa and it was him who showed you what a normal life could have been like- you did so much with him that you could have never done with Seonghwa. Seonghwa had only given you limited freedom and while you did not hate that, you always wished to spread your wings and fly.

Maybe you flew too close to the sun. Perhaps, that’s why you were burning both from outside and from within. Maybe you were meant to love the moon but the moon liked to hide behind the clouds so you chose the next best thing. You had to fill the void in your heart somehow, and who better to fill it than a literal divine being that wore the skin of the man you had loved your whole life?

You were the only selfish one here, but selfishness had always been your greatest weapon and you would be sure to make use of it when the time would come. For now, you were coming to terms with how Hwa and Seonghwa were also selfish for their own reasons- Hwa, because he did not want to face the consequences of his actions and Seonghwa because he simply wanted to be free and whole again. He would probably kill you once he was- it didn’t feel like a bluff anymore. 

However, there was also another hard truth about all of this, and that was that Hwa would give you up in a second for ‘the greater good’ or whatever moral code he needed to satisfy in order to please God and his fellow angels and get back to his realm if caught. You wanted to tell him that as an angel, perhaps he had sinned too much and if he ever went back, they would probably clip his wings and turn him into a fallen angel. You wanted to claw at him and make him stay with you forever simply because you could. 

And the only reason you weren’t making him stay was because Seonghwa was the one who would burn down all of this world- the heavens above and hell below- for you. It might be out of love or out of a desire to prove that you were ultimately his, a dangerous obsession, but you were his priority. And you couldn’t help but wonder what things would have been like if he had kissed you that night in the lab and finally faced his feelings for you- though a part of you wondered if his feelings for you were partly because of the angel rubbing off on him.

So it was no wonder that you were losing your mind trying to put the feelings aside and work on finding a solution to this cursed turn of events. Now that you had an objective perspective (still arguable), you were realising that the divine punishment the angel was so afraid of might only be reserved for the angel himself. Perhaps, the human would be spared from it until it was their time to die and face judgement by their creator. It made sense because there were absolutely no instances of an angel summoning ever recorded.

Demons liked to be summoned, which was why there were countless records of it. Angels were summoned by force, though. You surely were not the first person in this world who had summoned an angel but you might make a difference if you recorded this summoning. That made you wonder- was it the recording part that was the problem or were the humans involved really wiped out if they interacted with angels?

If the latter was the case, you would have faced judgement a while ago- when you summoned the angel. Surely, other angels must have heard the call too. They would have intervened when their comrade got stuck inside a human or fell in love with one. Maybe the angels only interfered to make sure no traces were left of an angel summoning- that way, Hwa’s admission of the angelic essence leaving a trace and serving as a marker would be verified. 

Whatever it was, the matter was in your hands now. So far, you had a few ideas- that you could use the angelic essence to lure the angels and face judgement- whatever it was, however it would be delivered. Chances were that only Hwa would have to face the consequences and while it broke your heart, you were sure the angels would at least wipe your memories to ensure another incident like this does not happen again. If your memories were wiped, you would not remember Hwa. That was probably the most risky route you could pick considering the angels could just kill you and Seonghwa and move on. You did not want to die just yet- at least not for Hwa. 

Another idea was to try and attempt a reverse summoning ritual, which was a very theoretical concept with no specific details and no attempts recorded. For that, you needed an anchor in the realm that the being concerned was from, and you had no such anchor. Again, you could not risk involving another angel. 

If you were the only one who could put an end to this, your resources were very limited. All you had was your drugs and your lab and-

Your train of thoughts was interrupted by a soft knock on the door and the door opened to reveal Seonghwa- as soon as you met the man’s curious eyes, you knew it was Hwa instead. 

“You’ve been holed up in here for hours now,” his concerned voice said. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

“Ahh, but I think I was almost there,” you straightened your back and stretched your arms, producing cracks. “Or not. Nothing makes sense.”

“That’s okay,” Hwa smiled. “Maybe some fresh air and a meal will help. When you get too focused on something, it’s good to reel back and change your environment.”

“You’re right, actually,” you got up, shutting your devices but letting the books and notes stay as they were. “I’ll join you after I freshen up.”

“Great- wear a coat. We’ll go eat something outside.”

“Someone is in a good mood today,” you eyed the angel with suspicion but he only raised his hands in the air, pressing his lips in a tight line.

“You know I’m still making it up to you. After what I did- I still feel ashamed.”

You frowned at that- you knew the angel was making an effort to be better. He had apologised until you got sick of it and warned him not to. He resorted to giving you space when you wanted but also trying to make you feel better- asking you before he touched you in any way, making sure you ate your meals and weren’t pushing yourself too hard. He could finally understand why you wanted him and Seonghwa to be two separate entities and for once, he was cooperating.

Another change you had noticed was that Hwa was starting to sound a lot like Seonghwa- in his speech, and often in his mannerism. It was unnerving but you were holding yourself back from complaining, focusing all your energy on finding the answer to this.

But for now, you supposed you could take a breather. You slipped on a black overcoat over your sweats and joined Hwa in the garage, deciding to get some ramen from the convenience store. You fell in step with him, walking down the dark streets of your posh society, lit by the full moon and the streetlights, and talking about what you had learned so far- specifically about demons. He was always willing to verify your facts on that subject.

On the way back, when he offered you his hand, you smiled and took it and he proceeded to tuck your hands in his pocket, making you shake your head. 

“Have you been watching dramas, Hwa?”

“I was bored,” he went as far as to pout. “Those dramas are interesting. I’m learning a lot.”

“No wonder. You’ve been speaking casually,” you pointed out and he frowned.

“Have I?”

“Yeah, you sound like Seonghwa when he’s in a good mood,” you joked and he scoffed.

“I shall go back to the formal tone then. Perhaps you like that more?” 

“I don’t mind either way,” you grinned. “Your formal tone makes you sound a little pompous, if I’m honest.”

“Noted,” he nodded in all seriousness and you squeezed his hand as you chuckled. He glanced at you with curiosity to voice a question that had been on the tip of his tongue all along, “Did you find something worthwhile today?”

You glanced back at him, gauging his expressions. “Not really. It’s too risky if we get a third party involved, whether it's another angel or humans.”

You didn’t miss how his shoulders slightly relaxed as if he had been tense all this time. He looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath. “If you want me to help, all you have to do is ask.”

“I know,” you swallowed the bitterness his words left in your mouth and covered it with a grateful smile- the trust he had broken in admitting that he had, in fact, lied to you had still not mended. You weren’t going to show a hint of doubt because you were scared of what Hwa would do once he learned that you were willing to let him go- even if that meant letting him go forever.

So for good measure, you stood on your tiptoes to peck his cheek, trying not to break into a grin when he let out a flustered sound. He quickly recovered from it and took it as his cue to wrap his arms around your waist and bring you in for a kiss, sweet and sure. 

That was the easiest way to assure the angel that you weren’t planning something devious. There was an itch in your brain and you wanted to talk to Seonghwa before you would ever dare to attempt it. However, before that, you had to make sure the angel felt loved and safe with you- only then would he allow you to have some privacy with Seonghwa.

So you were glad the angel was still holding some guilt in his heart that was preventing him from having a heated session with you. You would rub it in his face by appearing scared or hesitant, sometimes succumbing to your own desires but keeping it restrained nonetheless- just like tonight. You had observed how the angel was especially demanding whenever you were researching on how to get Seonghwa back to normal. 

Even now, as soon as you were back in your room, he was bringing your body flush to his to kiss you deeply. You had to admit that Hwa still made your knees weak and made you give in instantly, especially the way he was taking special care to not let you burn anymore. It still happened sometimes, but not like that night in the lab when he had lost control.

And it was ironically the angel’s glowing eyes that led you to your answer, a wave of understanding washing over you as the dots started to connect in your head. You zoned out as the angel finished healing your burns, his eyes going back to normal as he caught your gaze and raised his brow in question to your surprised expressions.

“Everything good?” He asked, caressing your cheek.

“Perfect,” you smiled, hoping it didn’t look like a smirk. “Everything is perfect.”

The angel patted your cheek, checking the time. “I should let Seonghwa take over soon. If you need me, I’ll be here, okay?”

“Of course,” you assured him. “I’m just gonna wrap this up and get some sleep. I think the lack of sleep is not helping me find answers.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” Hwa laughed and you played along until he left the room. Finally realising what Archimedes must have felt when he had his own eureka moment, you rushed towards your notes- not the research material, not the history and dark arts books but your notes from the lab placed safely in a locker. 

It could work. Dr. Choi had already unintentionally worked out the logistics of it and was writing a paper on it while he worked to make his research stronger. He was thinking of possible titles and had been rambling about how he wanted to include the phrase ‘angels vs demons’ in it. You were surprised it didn’t click earlier.

You needed to tell Seonghwa- if he was willing to try it, you would reach out to Dr. Choi and work with him. 

You collected yourself and went to Seonghwa’s room, standing outside with your heart pounding uncharacteristically, about to knock when he opened the door, sucking in a breath when he found you right in front of him. 

“I was going to come to your room,” he scanned your face, frowning at the sombreness in your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s you, right? Seonghwa?” You asked cautiously and Seonghwa nodded thrice- a code to let you know that the angel was nowhere near. He let you inside and you shut the door, facing him.

“I think I’ve found the answer,” you told him in a whisper. “But it’s risky, and I’m scared to try it.”

Seonghwa rubbed his face, tiredness evident in the way his shoulders seemed to be slouching. His hand settled on his neck over the tattoo that was visible from the black pyjamas. “Every method is risky. What do you feel about this?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “It could work. It’s scientific this time, I’ll tell you,” you shared a cryptic look and he understood. “No third party involved.”

“Has the time finally come?” Seonghwa joked with a faint smile on his lips. “You always said you would love to make me a lab rat one day.”

Your lips quirked in amusement and you looked sideways. “Didn’t imagine it would be this serious. I imagined it to be a prank or something. Old me would be ecstatic to learn that I get to tie you to my stretcher.”

“How kinky,” he scoffed and you shot him a glare- this was serious for you and you knew he was trying to keep the mood light for you. 

A moment of silence later, he asked, “What do I need to do?”

You leaned against the door, your hands tucked between your back and the door. Oh, how you wished you could hold him and tell him exactly what he needed to do. How you wished you could turn back time so you were back at the office insisting Seonghwa let you try angel summoning, only this time he tells you off. It was funny how meeting Hwa, the angel, was both something you never wanted to forget and something you wished you had never experienced.

It made your yearning for Seonghwa so much stronger. Perhaps, Seonghwa could feel it in the air- the words you refused to say, the actions you refused to make.  

“Say something, y/n,” he furrowed his brows much like the angel yet so different, demanding. True to Seonghwa’s nature. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Does it bother you when I look at you like that?” You asked. 

There was a feeling in your gut, strange but so very familiar. Impending doom. A sign that you might never get a moment like this again. You always trust your gut, but actually listening to it was a different subject. No wonder you were here right now.

“Don’t avoid my question,” Seonghwa folded his arms but you shook your head, waiting for an answer anyway. Seonghwa took a deep breath, the small distance between your figures not helping with the lack of clarity in his head. 

“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours,” you repeated a phrase you had often used on him, shooting a teasing smile in his direction before letting your eyes wander around the room- anywhere away from his eyes.

“Does it bother me when you look at me like that?” Seonghwa repeated your question, grabbing your attention. “Of course it does. You look at the angel like that-”

“I’ve only ever looked at you like that, Seonghwa,” you sighed heavily. “You were just too blind to notice until you watched me from someone else’s eyes.”

Seonghwa’s heart did break at your admission. 

Having to cohabitate with another being- an angel, specifically, had made him realise quite a few things. In the beginning, it was along the lines of how he never wanted to be a ‘good’ person if the angel was the example of that. The angel was dark at its core, though it wasn’t the type of dark people used to describe humans. It was different- otherworldly and all-consuming. The angel was fighting his own demons, and Seonghwa was fine embracing his demons instead.

However, as time passed, his heart softened despite himself. It would be an excuse to say that the angel had rubbed off on him- his perspective had simply shifted because he saw you and the world from an almost omniscient point of view. While his values had not changed, he had learned the value of the people who cared for him- especially you, who always stuck with him even when he did his worst. He didn’t care if it was simply an obsession anymore- he had seen what obsession looked like through Hwa’s eyes.

Your feelings for him, and his for yours… it was something the angel could never have and Seonghwa was fucking glad about it. He may have let the angel stop him from confessing his love multiple times but if this was the last time he was going to hold you close… he would risk angering the angel. 

“Answer my question,” Seonghwa asked, his voice uncharacteristically wavering. You smiled sadly.

“All you need to do, Seonghwa, is promise that you will try to fight and that you will win. That you will stay- for yourself, for the empire you have built… for the sacrifices you made and the people you lost on the way,” you paused, your gaze falling on his tattoo. “And for me. Because I’m your weapon and you are my shield, and I cannot navigate this world without your protection.”

“I thought you hated how protective I was,” Seonghwa’s lips started curling into a smile, his eyes twinkling with energy as he stepped closer. “I made you a warrior, y/n. If anything happens to me, I trust you to continue my legacy-”

“You made me a warrior, Seonghwa, but I’m tired of this battle,” you declared, an angry streak in your voice. “Nothing will happen to you. I- I will make sure of that. You just have to stay strong and fight.”

“Even if I’m afraid of the unknown?” Seonghwa inquired, placing his hands on your shoulders and caressing the bare skin of your neck.

“The Seonghwa I love isn’t afraid of the unknown,” you reminded him and he locked eyes with you. “He’s afraid of… what was it? Hurting me? Watching me love what hurts me-”

“Sweetheart,” Seonghwa warned, shaking his head but you laughed out loud, curling your hands around his wrists and holding his hands like he had held yours at the lab.

“Seeing burn marks on my hands?” You teased. “How sweet. Afraid of losing me- how romantic, Park Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa glared at you, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “Kind of regret saying that. If I had known you would hold that over me-”

“I’m holding that over you,” you gently interjected, “so you know that you won’t have to be afraid of anything when you come back.”

Seonghwa looked down at your linked hands, taking a few deep breaths and nodding slowly not only because you were right but also because he had learnt another lesson- that it was okay to love someone. Loving someone didn’t always result in losing them. After his friend Hongjoong’s death, he had grown so cold towards you, pushing you and his feelings for you away, tucking them in the deepest corner of his heart. He was lucky you never gave up on him and made him realise that loving someone wasn’t a weakness but a strength.

A reason for him to fight back against the angel. A real reason, not the materialistic ones- he could build an empire again if he had to, but he could not risk losing you. 

“You’re the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” Seonghwa looked at you, watching your lips curl into a smirk. “You devil.”

“Yeah, well,” you took one step closer, looking up at him, daring him to say more. “You’re still here, so.”

Seonghwa stared at you challengingly, a smirk growing on his own lips as he crowded your personal space until your back was against the door. You didn’t shy away, the tension in the air so thick you could feel it caressing your skin along with Seonghwa’s fingers that danced against your collarbone, travelling up the slope of your neck to swipe at your parted lips, his gaze stuck right there. 

“Don’t you ever get enough?” He finally asked what had been bothering him the most. How could you use him to satisfy yourself? Sure, maybe you liked the angel, but he would bet his life that it wasn’t the only reason. 

“It isn’t you,” you simply answered. “It’s so different. I thought it’d be the same, but by then, it was too late, and now-”

Seonghwa put a finger on your lips to shush you- even though the angel was still dormant, he already knew what you were going to say.

And when you puckered your lips against his finger to kiss it, he wished the angel would die and never come back. He leaned in hurriedly, stopping right as your noses brushed, eliciting a gasp from your mouth. 

“When are you doing it?” He asked, referring to your plan.

“Tonight,” you whispered in response, joining your foreheads and nudging his nose affectionately. “I can’t risk him finding out. Keep him at bay tonight, please.”

“If I don’t lose my mind,” Seonghwa whispered, brushing his lips against yours and tightening his grip around your waist. Craning your neck, he brought you in for the long overdue kiss, soft but strong, making your legs go weak and your arms go around his shoulders for support. He drew back to drink your expressions before diving right back in, this time unhurried but demanding, groaning with pleasure in between. When his tongue swiped your lips, you gladly opened your mouth for him, losing yourself in the overwhelming feelings of the love of your life finally caving in to you.

Not once did the angel cross your mind- not when Seonghwa kissed you softly, not when he held you like you would break, and certainly not when he let his desire fuel him as things heated up. You were soon shifted to the bed, Seonghwa promising you that he would make the most of tonight, apologising (for once) for not doing this earlier, holding on to your word when you assured him that you would somehow make this work and set him free. 

You let his touch burn you in a way the angel’s had never- searing passion as opposed to a warning. You let your hands run through his hair without a worry, and let his hair tickle your bare skin as he shed the clothes off you. You let him obsess over you and lose control without the fear of getting hurt- yes, Seonghwa could hurt you in ways no one could but he would never hurt you like the angel had. Seonghwa let his desperation and emotions get the better of him tonight, feeling a sense of relief when he was finally one with you.

And only when you spotted the rays of the sun peak through the curtains, having spent all night in his arms, did you move away from his half asleep body to grab something. He peeked up and you smiled, snuggling into his body once again and sharing one last kiss, whispering confessions to each other. You hugged him after, letting your breathing synchronise with his and memorising the feeling.

And then you injected the tranquilliser into his neck, whispering sweet nothings and peppering kisses on his skin until he lost consciousness.

You had been with Seonghwa in the restricted section in the basement of your lab a few times. 

Most of the time, he turned up there because he could not reach you- you had a habit of forgetting that time was an actual flowing thing and it did not stop still when you were in a certain headspace- which was experimenting with live subjects. He would watch you from the window, shaking his head at the monster he had created while his heart would simultaneously swell with pride. He would wait until you took a breather and knock on the window to get your attention.

A few times, you brought him to that section yourself, updating him on your progress. One thing you liked about Seonghwa was that he may not be the brains behind your drug production but he was fully involved in it, making note of whatever you needed and making sure you were safe here. He liked to be aware of whatever was going on as well.

However, never did you imagine that he would be your next test subject, tied to the stretcher and looking paler in the harsh white lights that lit up the room. He lay unconscious while you monitored his vitals and made sure the demonic essence being administered to him was not overpowering or harmful in any way other than expelling the angel. 

You had a theory that the demonic essence could cancel every ‘impurity’ in the body to dominate as the only ‘impure’ or foreign object in the host. While working on this theory with Dr. Choi a few months ago, before you had ever summoned the angel, you had conducted an autopsy on your test subjects who had died because of the demonic drug. You noted that some of them who had underlying conditions and defects prior to overdose no longer had any defects in their body after death. It was as if the demonic drug had ‘healed’ them first before taking the spot for the sole cause of their death. A true parasitic drug, fighting for dominance to take over its host.

And if it were a demon against an angel… who would win? 

You were hoping that the angel would be expelled from Seonghwa’s body, which would be the best outcome. You would quickly have to inject the angelic essence in Seonghwa’s body at that point to cancel the demonic essence- Dr. Choi and you had worked on it when you put Seonghwa in a comatose state, testing what amount of angelic essence was required to cancel out the demonic one.

In the worst case scenario though, one of them- or both- would die. According to Seonghwa, the angel was already eating away at his soul and it was a struggle for him to continue cohabitating in one body. The angel was powerful and stubborn. It wouldn’t give up so easily, so you would just have to pray that your plan would work and end well for all of you. This was your last and only resort. 

Seonghwa’s body had started shaking a while ago, presumably when the battle between the angel and the demon began. You were constantly wiping sweat from his body and adjusting the drip, sometimes giving in and squeezing his hand as if to assure both Seonghwa and Hwa that you were here and that you were sorry for doing this to them. As more time passed, his body started to tremble fiercely and you tightened the clasps on his wrists and arms, not sure if they would be able to withhold. 

With the damned book that brought the angel to your world resting against Seonghwa’s chest and the holy sword in one hand- tip soaked in wine but not ablaze- you started reading the section of the scripture that contained the angel’s name, Seonghwa’s eyes fluttering open when you repeated it for the third time.

“Hwa?” You asked cautiously, glancing at Dr. Choi who stood near you with the angelic essence vial in one hand and a lighter in the other. You squeezed his limp hand, making him look at you.

“Why did you call me?” He asked, tone as sombre as the first day he saw you. “What are you doing- what is happening?”

“You have to leave this body, angel,” you wiped the tear that rolled down his face. “Go back to your realm for now- just leave-”

You paused when he squeezed his eyes shut, your words eliciting a deep, pained groan out of his mouth. Dr. Choi recognised your signal and set the tip of the sword on fire and the two of you held its hilt, hoping the angel would not possess one of you if it exited the body. You checked the monitor- Seonghwa’s vitals were starting to drop which meant the demonic essence must be working with full force on his body now.

You took the angelic essence vial from the doctor and clutched it in your fist, moving to whisper in Seonghwa’s ear, calling Seonghwa’s name and reminding him of his promise- you have to come back. You have to fight back- you are my shield and I am your weapon, and I am fighting for you. I cannot navigate this world without your protection.

You did not know if it was Seonghwa or Hwa who turned his face so his lips met your cheeks, a confession and a promise tumbling from his mouth. You looked up to meet his eyes but he shut them and fell still. 

Muttering a prayer to any deity who was listening, you poured the contents of the vial in Seonghwa’s mouth, Dr. Choi’s hand on your shoulder squeezing it reassuringly. The sound of your sniffles and the crackling of fire was the only sound in the room for a few minutes before Seonghwa sucked in a sharp breath and his eyes opened- unglowing. 

“Seonghwa,” you breathed, holding your breath as you handed the sword to Dr. Choi and moved to cup his face, checking the vitals on the monitor before turning your full attention to him. He was already looking at you with a dazed look and you locked eyes with him, waiting for his touch to burn you as you caressed his hair, but nothing happened.

You were okay.

“Seonghwa?” You asked cautiously again. “It’s you, right? Tell me it’s you, please.”

Seonghwa gulped, his mouth awfully dry but he managed to move his head in a nod and the wave of exhaustion finally caught up to you, making your legs go weak as you slumped against his body, resting your head on his chest to catch your breath. Dr. Choi moved around and did the work, untying Seonghwa’s limbs and making sure he was responsive, taking some bloodwork and checking to see if there was anything amiss.

“There are still remainders of both the demonic essence and angelic essence in his body,” he said as he observed the blood. “But I think we’ve done what we could have. It will take a while for him to recover so we can continue to monitor him-”

“I’m fine,” Seonghwa insisted and you stifled a grin, looking up at him. “I’m done being the lab rat.”

Dr. Choi smiled. “Welcome back, Sir.”

Seonghwa shot a glare in his direction as he shifted into a sitting position, ignoring his chuckles and looking at you.

“What did you do?”

“Tried to expel the angel out of your body,” you linked your hands and he squeezed them. “It’s… happened, right? Can you feel him anywhere?”

“Not really,” he scratched the back of his neck, thinking. “This could have gone wrong.”

“Obviously. It could have gone very wrong,” you shuddered at the thought. “But I had to take a chance. Hwa was taking over your consciousness with each passing day, and as much as I loved the angel, I couldn’t let him do that to you.”

Seonghwa regarded your expressions, nodding. “And what if the angel ended up taking over?”

You pursed your lips and shrugged. “I think he would have probably killed me for hiding everything from him. I was prepared for that too-” you looked at your side where the sword now stood in the bucket, the fire doused. 

“Anyways, the important thing is that you’re back, Seonghwa,” you smiled wholeheartedly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Seonghwa smiled back though it didn’t quite meet his eyes. He kissed the back of your hand before letting you go, watching your body move with a newfound energy as you wrapped up everything in the lab, asking Dr. Choi to get some rest as well. 

Once back at home, having washed up and eaten a hearty meal, you took Seonghwa to his room and held his hands, locking eyes with him. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked, scanning his face.

“Just tired, and you know how there’s still the after effects,” Seonghwa muttered, sighing. “I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re angry at me, now is the time to take it out,” you teased. “Though you knew very well what you were getting into.”

“I’m not,” he scoffed, amused. “Well, I am but not because of this,” he corrected. “But I think I’ve learned to let the anger go now. There’s a reason for everything that happens, and for the decisions we make.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Looks like Hwa’s still inside you.”

“What?”

“There’s no way you said that,” you teased, “You don’t compromise to understand other people- you do what you want.”

“Yeah, well,” Seonghwa shrugged. “The angel must have rubbed off on me.”

You smiled and Seonghwa noted the weariness in your eyes. “Will you… miss the angel?”

“I will… of course I will,” you admitted, looking sideways. “I just hope he’s okay. Can you tell what happened to him? Did he get out or… did he get hurt?”

“He got hurt,” Seonghwa confirmed and you pressed your lips, taking a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t think he made it, y/n. I can’t tell for sure right now, but it’s not looking good.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands and he moved to embrace you. There were no tears left to cry. You simply clutched onto him and let him calm you down. He let go with a kiss to your forehead.

“Everything will be okay,” he promised and you nodded.

Everything was going to be okay.

“Love, can you hand me the cinnamon powder?” Seonghwa asked, far too focused on the plating of his latest creation even though you were going to devour it in seconds. You told him exactly that as he sprinkled some on the pancakes, making sure the strawberries were set before drizzling chocolate over them. 

“Perfect,” his eyes twinkled with the sort of gleam you used to see only when he was about to take someone’s life.

How the tables had turned.

“It’s just breakfast, Seonghwa, it doesn’t have to be that serious-”

“Shh,” he waved a hand in dismissal. “We need a good meal to be in good spirits. And then we can go and shed some blood- Assemblyman Hwang should not have used street gangs to try to expose our network.”

You shook your head, agreeing, but still amused as you watched him pour the freshly blended fruit juice into your glasses.

“Now eat,” he ordered and you bowed mockingly with a ‘yessir’ before you dived in.

The angel had definitely rubbed off on Seonghwa, because there was no other explanation to this. Soon after Seonghwa recovered, he was back to business, making new deals and expanding his network further as if he had some newfound energy- or perhaps, he was making up for the lost time. Whatever it was, you wouldn’t be complaining- you were simply glad that he was back. 

Though he was a bit different. Gentler, yet still very Seonghwa with his demanding personality. He also picked up cooking, reminding you of your teenage days when he used to make whatever he could with whatever you had at disposal. He was always creative with his meals, but now, his creative freedom was almost surprising. 

Park Seonghwa was back, but a changed man. Still insanely evil at the very core, still driven by his blood thirst and hunger for power. Maybe he had changed only where it concerned you- more welcoming towards you, more understanding of your actions, and so, so loving. His love was as gentle as the angel at times, and as fierce as Seonghwa’s devotion. Sometimes, you were reminded of Hwa- it was a given when they had worn the same skin. 

But your Seonghwa was still very human. And that was all that mattered. His love did not burn you and he did not fear anyone. 

You finished your meals and went to get ready to go out with him- he was letting you accompany him to his ‘little outings’ more and though he wasn’t getting his hands dirty most of the time, the lackeys doing that for him, he still liked going out in the field himself every once in a while. Today was one of those days and you went to your own room to arm yourself.

Seonghwa got ready first, waiting for you in the lobby, staring at the holy sword that was now a showpiece, perched on one of the walls. He felt almost compelled to trace the hilt of the sword, daring to touch the blade that was capable of harming angels, and with a little shriek he drew his hand back, the tips of his fingers an angry red, burned by the sword.

Seonghwa cursed under his breath, moving to the kitchen for some privacy before muttering the prayer he had said for aeons now, allowing his fingertips to heal. He caught his reflection on the glossy material of the fridge, his pupils glowing and he shut them, taking a few deep breaths to get his powers under control.

He heard the faint thumps of your footsteps as you came downstairs and he fixed his posture and his expressions to mimic Seonghwa before he stepped out of the kitchen, nodding in approval when you showed him your weapons before following you outside. 

He let you call you by the name of the human that he was not, and he willingly played along, letting you think that your beloved human had defeated the angel when that was not the case at all. Your beloved human was gone.

Good and evil must coexist in order to survive. But sometimes, the good becomes the evil and the evil becomes the good- they were never meant to balance each other. 

It was only a matter of which one would weigh more and tip the scale in its favour.

[jarofstyles]

Jarofstyles Fic Rec 2023 🪽

hello my loves! Here is our updated fic rec.

[some may be repeats of last year because we reread them!]

Also check out our fic rec account, @jarofstylesrecs for some we most definitely missed!

There are so many I want to put on here and I’ll update it again, but here we are! Let me know of any fics you recommend 🩷

WATTPAD-

Bambi- vanillasoy (or @queenofgraveyards here) (ceo soft H, in my top 5)

Flower- vanillasoy (bodyguard/grumpy h x sunshine ofc)

Devil’s Due- petite_cerise (classic dark!H)

Adonis- temptress_ (dark!H and fierce OFC)

Valhalla- temptress_ (Viking!H)

Baby Blue- theasstour (artist!H and model y/n)

Lucky Penny- alisonfelix (teacher h, soft, ofc finding herself)

Informed Consent- alisonfelix (college romance, absolutely tooth rotting fluff I’m obsessed)

One Night Stand- alisonfelix (short story, pregnancy one night stand plot. A lil angsty but cute)

Ladybug- _screamingcolour (50’s au, super cute)

Pirouette- _screamingcolour (ballerina ofc, so fucking cute it hurts)

Flower Girl- sushirrrry (idk how to describe but chef’s kiss)

Celestial- sushirrrry (WIP, it hurts but it feels good, nerdy h who loves the stars)

Wildflowers- latenightgab (assholeish tattoorry, single dad)

Jezebel- latenightgab (sugar daddy ceo x dancer teacher)

Office Hours- latenightgab (lawyer and professor H x student)

Pink Slip- stillhurtingstyles (plus size! Assistant y/n x boss h)

Always - styleslegend (my OG favorite fic, nerdy h x popular y/n, old but good)

A Lifetime With You- anenglishbird (supernatural au, witchy, adore it)

Inclination- peanutboyfriend (sexuality discovery, so good)

Aerial- peanutboyfriend (aerialist h and ofc, 60’s set, another top 10 fic)

1789- everlasts (period piece, just read it. French Revolution)

Breaking The Ice- sarbearfive (hockey!H)

Sail My Ridges- @1800titz (new but soooo fucking good. Piraterry, writing is phenomenal as usual)

The Devil is a Gentleman- @1800titz (again, writing is incredible. Kink heavy, lovely, bdsm club, masks, real estate agent H- just please read it)

Sinners Place- @shroombloomm (so fucking good, preistrry, all the good drama, 10/10)

Do I Wanna Know? - @eatyourhoneyh (trust me, stripper ofc. Obsessed)

Boston- witchysunflower (hockey h, cheating plot)

Haste- htownrry (pregnancy plot but unconventional, racer h, very good)

TUMBLR-

Prosecco- @moonchildstyles (older!H)

Gravity- @moonchildstyles (camboyrry)

Aster- @moonchildstyles (tattoorry grumpy sunshine)

Èlan- @moonchildstyles (bodyguardrry that pulled my heart strings)

firemanrry- @jawllines (softest H, made of sugar and the little puppy :( )

Ballerinarry- @jawllines (enemies to lovers, obsessed)

Young American- @0nlythrowharrybeaux (tattoo artists h and y/n, so well written)

Wolves- @0nlythrowharrybeaux (Wolfrry!!!)

A Good Fit- @0nlythrowharrybeaux (trust me, read)

LVRS CLUB- @0nlythrowharrybeaux (sex club slay)

Best Friend’s Dadrry- @gurugirl (exactly what it says. So good)

The Arrangement- @gurugirl (sugar daddy h!)

The Ex- @gurugirl (trusf me again)

The whole Knockout series- @freedomfireflies (yall don’t even know how feral this series makes me…)

404- @freedomfireflies (again obsessed, nerdy enemies chefs kiss)

Silk and Rope- @cupid-styles (dom/sub dynamic, so soft)

Only Angel- @cupid-styles (tattorry, experienced h, shy y/n)

Complicated Freak- @lukesaprince (best friends Dadrry is a weakness)

Rich- @lukesaprince (older! H, age gap,)

Mutually Beneficial - @cherryjuiceblues (Dom/sub dynamics, perfection!)

Could You Live With Just a Taste- @frioamor (Dom/sub, smut is mind blowing)

Love’s Divine- @atlafan (nanny!h omg)

Peaches & Cream- @atlafan (anything they write tbh)

You’re Someone I Just Want Around- @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy & @sunflowervolvimp3 (I put this every year bc I reread it every single year. I’m obsessed. My Roman Empire. I’ve never heard ‘like real people do’ the same since.)

Please You- @adorebeaa (again just trust me)?

Wolfrry- @adorebeaa (please I’m obsessed w this and the smut is incredible)

The Dark King- @shroombloomm (so so so so so good, dark obviously but I love it)

Achilles Heel- @angelisverba (I’m obsessed w their writing and plugrry but this smut is mind blowing)

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | two

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: will a complicated realisation drive you and joel apart, or drag you closer together? warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, some mildly gratuitous Classics chatter, some very gratuitous descriptions of joel's office, trope of being enamoured by your favourite teacher lol [and her fav isn't even joel, sorry guys], angst, a little manhandling, semi-public sex acts with a not-so-stranger, dirty talk, brief impact play, fingering, orgasm denial, oral [m!receiving], face fucking, facial, cum eating, sheeesh i think that's it okay i need a glass of cold water word count: 10.3k i'm not sorry series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: folks, this series has taken over my entire brain. i'm having the best time writing+outlining it, and i have been so delighted by how many people liked the first part. giving you all the biggest kiss through the screen right now. lmk what you think of part two! this is part two of ALP. you can read the previous part here: one.

Tuesday.

It’s as though a mirage resides in the periphery of your vision.

A wobbling, shimmering thing that offsets the centre of a picture and makes your eyes hurt until you want to close them. The type where you’re squinting and trying to see, trying to make out what’s happening, and people are turning to look at you and pointing and you realise that you aren’t wearing any pants, and it’s a dream, a dream, a nightmare, it’s not fucking real. Illusory. Fantasy.

It's a childish thought that you can’t help but be consumed by. The idea that this is all some cruel, fucked up delusion you’re about to wake up from. That it couldn’t be possible for the charming Texan you’d met four nights prior to be stood only a few metres in front of you, discussing your fucking syllabus. Reality becomes this twisting, writhing thing that is painful and awkward to comprehend, and everything slows to a liquid, dreamlike pace. His voice, his movement, the shifting of other students around you, all drifting by slowly, as if a year has passed in the span of ten seconds.

And yet when you pinch your arm—nails scraping across skin until raw red marks raise in jagged lines—and you don’t wake up, the mirage remains, your stomach rolls.

Joel looks so different here. What had been casual at the bar, a lob of messy hair above a cotton t-shirt, is now professional. Buttoned shirt tucked into pressed brown pants. Beard trimmed, and hair pushed back into soft, tidy waves that roll down to his neck. A set of glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. Square, with black frames that compliment his skin tone, and have your fingers gripping the edge of the desk, wondering why the hell he hadn’t been wearing them on Friday night when he sunk his mouth against your cunt. Dirty little thing.

You can still feel his hands on you, days later. Feel the rough scrape of calloused fingers on your thighs, between your legs. Remember how soft his hair was when you buried your fingers in it and held him against your aching core, whining his name. It had been like this all weekend; holding an image of his tan, handsome face in your mind, trying to emulate the feeling of his hand between your thighs with your own, only to fail over and over again.

And he’s talking. That low, honeyed drawl that tickles across your skin and drips into your ears, warming your insides. It’s a marvellous thing; the way he shifts easily from topic to topic, disarming the room with short, sharp—surprising—jokes sifted in between soft-spoken sentiments about classical academia and the university, and what he hopes you as individuals will gain from a postgraduate in this course, and it feels like it’s been both hours and seconds as you watch him breathlessly, waiting. Waiting for his eyes to skirt to your side of the room, to dance across your face and recognise you, remember you, just as he said he would. 

Joel is talking about The Aeneid when he finally notices you.  

“I want you to be thinking about language,” he’s saying. “And tone. Virgil and Homer’s writing differs in a lotta ways, but it does share that same character of irony. Don’t forget that Virgil wrote during the Golden Age of the Roman Empire – and he’s presenting us with a story about destiny, about fate. Our focus here isn’t so much about love, or reverence, as it is about tragedy – no one in The Aeneid is safe from what their own fate lays out for them. All of these calamities and heartbreaks are necessary for the empire to thrive.”

He pauses. “Take Dido in book four as a prime example. In the openin’ lines of her story, if we’re looking to the West translation; she is suffering from love’s deadly wound, feeding it with her blood and being consumed by its hidden fire. We know from the beginnin’, that her love for Aeneas will be her downfall; that her death is essential for him to leave Carthage. And on that same page, talkin’ about Aeneas, we get, oh how cruelly he has been hounded by the Fates. This is what you need to think about if you’re gonna get to the bottom of Virgil’s bigger plan with these books. Why is he using this language? These words? I want—” 

Joel inhales sharply, dark eyes frozen on your face, which grows steadily warmer beneath his scrutiny. His body doesn’t move, hands hovering in the air mid-gesticulation, lips parted as his next words rest there, caught on his tongue. You swallow thickly. Feel sweat form on your hairline. The silence stretches, dead air giving rise to confused murmurs across the room, and your eyes widen, willing him to look away and continue; to do anything except stand there and keep looking at you like that. But it’s like he’s in a trance. Tan face dimming to a sickly, pallid colour, shoulders shifting as he breaths deeply. Staring.

A few heads turn in your direction, but you can’t bring yourself to look back at them; to snatch yourself away from the feeling of being held in his gaze again. It’s intoxicating—almost euphoric—to have those dark eyes on your skin.

And then it’s over, the moment severed as Joel’s eyes snap away and he clears his throat, offering a pained smile to the rest of the room. And he’s apologising, Lost my train of thought for a moment there, using a playful tone of voice as he says, first day of the semester jitters, y’know?

He ignores you after that.

For the entirety of the two-hour lecture, he makes sure not to spare a single glance in your direction. And it stings, but you suppose you understand. Can see the tension held in his shoulders now; the strain in his voice as he works to talk with that same measured ease he’d had at the beginning.

You take notes carefully, and don’t bother raising your hand when he inspires participation from the other students. But by the end of the class, you can’t bring yourself to walk out – not without saying something, without finding some kind of understanding over what the fuck is happening. You’re practically glued to your seat as students rise, filing out of the theatre hall.

Joel stands by the desk, back hunched as he collects his things, fielding kind comments of thanks and that was great from people as they pass him on their way toward the exit.  Eventually you join the stream, wandering down the stairs on shaky legs until you find yourself at the edge of his desk, fiddling with the strap of your bag and watching his back. His shoulders hunch tighter when you pause there, shadow splaying across the desk. Though his face isn’t visible to you, his hands are almost a blur, scrambling to drag his things into a messy pile so that he can pack up faster. He slaps his laptop closed and you flinch at the sound.

After a few moments, you find the courage to speak.

“That was, uhh, that was really interesting,” you clear your throat awkwardly, watching other students shuffle past in your periphery. His hands move faster, stuffing loose notes into a leather satchel with little disregard for the paper creasing.

You lower your voice to a hoarse, careful whisper. “We need to talk about this.”  

Joel finally looks up, nostrils flaring as he meets your stare. He nods once, looping the bag over his shoulder. “Not here,” he says gruffly, tight eyes darting around the room. “Room’s booked for another lecture in five.”

He tilts his head towards the door, encouraging you to follow him as he paces out towards the hall. You shadow him quickly, clutching your bag and watching the muscles in his back shift beneath his shirt as he walks three paces ahead of you. You fight the urge to place your hand in the dip between his shoulder blades; to feel the heat of his skin, the rolling tension beneath it, and dig your fingernails into him. Joel doesn’t look back to check if you’re following – he knows you are.

He leads you up a flight of stairs and down another hall, makes a left, and then another left, until finally he’s pausing and dragging a key from his pocket, pressing it into the lock of a heavy wooden door and nudging it open. There’s a plaque on the wood that reads J MILLER, PhD. You swallow. And then follow him inside and let the door fall shut behind you.

Joel stalks into the room, feet heavy against the dark carpet. He tosses his satchel to the floor and then stands by the desk, wild eyes trained on where you hover silently by the door. He looks on edge, to say the least. Frazzled fingers race through his hair, mussing the curls until they look reminiscent of the past Friday. Foot tapping against the ground in a quick, jerky rhythm.

And you know that you need to talk, need to clear the air, need to say anything, but you can’t help it when your eyes wander around the room because—

His office is sort of beautiful.

A larger space than you expected it to be, with a north-facing window that allows a natural yellowed morning light to fill the space, and a vast bookshelf stretching across the wall behind a large desk. You can’t make out the titles from where you stand by the door, but texts fill every crack and crevice of the shelfing unit, not organised by any noticeable colour scheme or structure. The space is messy – personal. In fact, everywhere you look seems to expose something private, something intimate.

A jacket hangs from a hook on the back of the door, made of a worn duck brown waxed material that looks soft to the touch. In the corner opposite the desk, a velvet green armchair sits beside a low table that houses a record player and a potted plant. Sleeves of records are tucked beneath the table, stacked upon each other haphazardly, without a hint of dust on them. Clearly touched and rifled through more often than not.

The wide window is cracked just an inch, allowing a warm early-Fall breeze to slip in and rustle the starched curtains. A coffee mug is beside the record player. Two more sit abandoned on the outskirts of his desk. All empty and forgotten about, too busy to be refilled or moved or cleaned. And there are books everywhere; strewn across his desk, forgotten beneath the cushion of his armchair, piled against the wall beneath the window. Worn, well-read books, with frayed covers and broken spines. You almost drool, tempted to ignore him completely and venture towards them; to run your fingers over the covers and find out exactly what kind of writing this enigma of a man spends so much time devouring.

After what feels like an hour of simply looking—but could only have been a minute—Joel breaks the silence.

“Did you know?”

His voice is quiet. Detached. The backs of his thighs perch on the edge of the desk, hands tangled in his lap. Large fingers pluck at each other as he stares at you from across the room, in an almost anxious fiddling movement.

“What?” you ask.

“Did you know who I was?” he clarifies, voice hardening. Those dark eyebrows tighten in the middle of his forehead, features pinching together into a sharp frown. “When you saw me.”

“Joel,” you scoff, taken aback. “How the hell would I know who you were?”

“Your classes were organised,” his voice raises slightly—just a little. “You knew the names of your profess—”

“J Miller,” you interrupt. “Everything says J Miller, that’s it. I didn’t fucking know, Joel.”

His frown softens at that, eyes dropping to the carpet as he nods once, clearly still unsure. You shuffle awkwardly on your feet, shoulders tense. There’s only a metre or so between the pair of you, and yet you can feel it. That static, burning energy, the same as four nights before. Something inside of you that rages and claws at your skin from the inside, begging to get closer to him. You ignore it.

“Why didn’t I meet you when I interviewed for the program?” you ask. You remember the day you came in, six months ago. Sitting with an older man—the Classics department head—and a soft, round woman with light hair. No Joel. You would’ve remembered him. 

His eyes flash, hands tightening in his lap. “I was on vacation,” he grinds out. It’s like it physically pains him to talk to you—to even look at you. One of his hands drops, palm flexing by his side. He’s taking deep breaths, clearly trying to calm the quell of panic that has been swirling inside him for the past two hours. You keep your distance.

After a moment, he speaks again.

“Greece, huh?” It comes out in a low scoff. His eyebrows are raised expectantly, frustration laced through the lines in his face. “Said you were there for a month.”

“Mhm,” you hum. “I was involved in a text translation study based in Athens.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales, digging the palms of his hands over his eyes. “This can’t be happenin’.”

“Joel—”

“Y’need to transfer out of my class,” he interrupts, eyes blazing. “They run it online, you can—”

“What?” you blink. You feel your blood pressure rise, anger spiking as you comprehend what he is suggesting. “Be serious – I am not doing the class online because of this. It’ll jeopardise my entire semester.”

“I don’t care,” he glowers, rising from the desk.

“Jesus, stop acting like this was all my doing,” you snap. “If memory serves, you’re just as to blame as I am—you wanted me just as much as I wanted you.”

“Stop,” he growls. It’s a rough, unforgettable sound that fills your stomach with heat. An oddly familiar thing that raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Silly little slut. The memory licks at your throat, the skin of your chest, leaving a hot heady feeling in its wake. You wonder if he’s noticed the hickey on your neck that hasn’t entirely faded yet. A persistent, lingering reminder of his mouth on your skin. Of the sharp scrape of his teeth.

You take a step forward and Joel’s entire body goes rigid, right hand jutting out in front of him, fingers splayed open.

“Stay over there,” he says quickly, voice a low warning.

You scowl but don’t move, feet planted in the soft carpet. The breeze rushes in through the window and causes a paper on his desk to flap upward, and your eyes drift toward the movement. Gaze shifting over the items on his desk, the mess of papers, the half-full mugs, and then… a picture frame. You squint, unable to make it out from where you are. Take a step forward, and then another, and realise it’s Joel’s shape in the image, standing with a tall woman tucked against his side. It’s too far for you to see clearly, but you can tell his arm is wrapped around her shoulder, holding her against his chest, and you know he’s grinning from the splash of white across his face.

“What’re you—” Joel’s words turn to silence as he tilts his head and realises what you’re looking at. A broad hand darts out, gripping the frame and knocking it face down on his desk.  You flinch, eyes widening in incredulity as you turn to him.

“What?” A sardonic laugh escapes your mouth. “Are you fucking married or something? Jesus, Joel.”

You reach for the frame, fingers skirting across it with every intention of seeing, of understanding, of knowing just what it is that he’s so desperate to hide. But then he’s there, strong fingers looping around your wrist, halting your movement. The speed of it sends you stumbling toward the desk, and Joel’s body follows you forward, chest flush against your back as your lower stomach collides with the dark wood. Caught between a rock and a hard place, quite literally. You stiffen, sorely aware of how close he is. How much of his body is touching yours, and how similar it is to before.

“I’m not married,” he bites, and you can feel his breath against your ear. Hot, harsh exhales that send whisps of your hair fluttering forward. A shiver runs down your spine. His grip is firm around your wrist; not hard enough to hurt, but enough to hold you in place with your hand frozen in the air, fingers still outstretched towards the frame.

“Then who’s in the picture?” you grunt.

“None of your fuckin’ business,” he snaps quickly. You can feel his stubble graze the edge of your jaw, and something fizzes in your stomach. Your resolve softens at the frustration in his voice; the truth that bleeds out through his words. It is none of your business. Your body relaxes a little, arm going limp in his hold, and yet he doesn’t let go. It takes a moment for you to realise why.  

Joel’s hips are pressed tightly into you, trapping you against the desk, and he’s hard. You can practically feel him throb against the small of your back, the full length of his cock only separated from you by two layers of clothing. Saliva pools in your mouth, eyes pinching closed as you remember the feeling of him; the delicious burn of his heavy cock dragging through you. Using your free hand, you twist your arm behind you and slide it down his front. A whispered oh fuck escapes your lips as your fingers drag across the front of his pants, and he grunts in your ear, grasp tightening around your wrist. Painful this time, but only for a second, until he’s tearing his hand off you and placing it on your lower back, pushing you down so that your chest is flush with his desk.

You gasp, lips parting to speak, but no words are coming out and Joel’s hands are on the waistband of your jeans, on the button. He’s undoing it, fingers steadfast in their movement, and then he yanks the material down roughly over your ass.

“Joel,” you whimper urgently as he grips your panties, dragging them to your knees as well. He keeps you bent against the desk, so you twist your neck to stare at him over your shoulder, legs tensing when you see the expression on his face. His eyes are dark, pupils blown behind his glasses as he looks down to where his covered cock grinds against the swell of your ass.

“God dammit,” he exhales, and you clench around nothing, warmth pooling between your thighs. This is so different from at the bar. There the door was locked, place full of people who didn’t know either of you. Here, in his office, anyone could walk in. A member of faculty, a student, anyone. And the thought has you fucking aching for him.

Thick fingers streak between your thighs from behind, spreading your slick folds apart. You gasp as cool air hits your throbbing clit, but the sound cuts into a low moan as his fingers expertly roll over the sizzling nerve endings there. He ousts a low grunt of surprise at how wet you are, hips still grinding against you as his fingers drift to your entrance, rubbing and collecting your slick on his fingers until you’re whimpering into your own palm, pressing your hips back and begging him for more. All at once, one of his palms slaps across your ass while two thick fingers press inside you. The sting has your eyes rolling back. Your teeth sink into the palm of your hand to muffle the noise you make, and he’s curling his fingers inside you, rubbing against your g-spot, and your legs are trembling with the effort of staying standing. Your mind is a blur. You feel almost lightheaded at how suddenly this is all happening – and at how relieved you are to feel his hands on you again.

“S’this what you wanted?” Joel pants, scissoring his fingers inside you, stretching you out. “Knew if you followed me in here, I’d end up fuckin’ this pretty pussy again? Huh?”

“Fuck,” you choke out, eyelids fluttering as he adds a third finger. Heat sizzles beneath the tightening muscles in your stomach, and you can feel yourself clenching around him over and over again, your high already approaching. It’s almost pitiful, the affect he has on you; how easily your body yields to the simplest of touches from his hands.

“Huh?” he prompts for a response. You can feel the cool zipper of his pants cutting across the bare skin of your ass, scratching you as his hips rut forward.

“Please,” you say, voice quiet as you can muster. “I’m so close, Joel, please.”

He grunts, increasing the speed of his fingers. Soft squelching sounds are audible now, slick smearing against your inner thighs, his wrist, and your face goes warm at the sound of it. Your fingers claw at his desk, nails catching on paper as your hand lands against a book and grips it tight. Your abdomen burns, that soft thrumming heat licking at your skin, the muscles of your thighs, scorching in its might as your orgasm builds and builds, hanging dangerously close to the precipice.  

“Gonna come all over my fingers?” Joel asks, voice haggard and breathless. “C’mon, give it t’me.”

You’re nodding before he even finishes speaking, forehead knocking roughly against wood, eyebrows pinching together. So close, so close, so fucking clo—

A light knock sounds against his office door.

Joel freezes. Your eyes widen, hips shifting against his hand as you murmur no, no, no, please Joel. But he ignores you, gripping your hip to keep you still and dragging his fingers from your dripping cunt to press them over your mouth. Your pulse thunders in your ears, heart trashing wildly in your chest as you catch your breath, devasted.

“Joel?” a soft voice calls from the hall. A woman. “You in there?”

“Just on the phone,” he says loudly, voice surprisingly steady. You can taste yourself on his fingers. Feel it smear across your lips. “What d’ya need?”

“I’m headed to the café,” the woman calls. “You want anything?”

Joel responds with a sharp, resounding no.  

There’s a beat of silence where you can almost feel him holding his breath, waiting for her to inevitably open the unlocked door and discover the scene in his office. But the silence stretches on, and then you can hear soft footfalls fade down the corridor, and you know that you’re alone again.

Joel rips his hand from your mouth. Grips your underwear and drags it up over your hips, then your jeans, before he’s stumbling away and dropping into the armchair across the room. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, eyes wide as he gazes at the floor. When you push off the desk and turn to stare at him, a firm tent is visible in his pants. You button your jeans slowly, watching him. He doesn’t look at you.

“Joel—” you start softly.

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Just… just get out.”

You open your mouth to speak—to argue—but once again, nothing comes out. No words to defend yourself, or what the two of you just did. You stare at him for almost a minute, but Joel’s eyes stay trained on the carpet, fists clenched against his thighs.

You leave his office silently and try not to look back. Make two rights and head down the stairs, outside and across the green to where your car is parked. The whole thing feels so dirty, so debauched, and yet you want so much more from him. Want it so badly that you drive home in silence, mind too busy with thoughts of Joel Joel Joel to remember to turn on the radio. 

And behind it all, is a low, itching thought at the base of your skull, something that makes you smile as you drive – the knowledge that he wants you just as badly as you want him.

Wednesday.

You decide very quickly that you like Rachel.

Maybe it was because you were having a good day. The sun had been shining when you woke up; strong beams that teased their way through the window in your bedroom and rested warm upon the bare skin of your back. By the time you rose, the coffee was already done brewing, and Trin met you in the hall with a large mug of it and a soft hey, man, how’d you sleep? And when you went to get dressed for the day you remembered you did the washing two nights before, and found your favourite pair of jeans—the ones that squeezed your ass just right—were neatly folded in a drawer, waiting for you. Yes; maybe all of that had something to do with it. Or maybe, it because Rachel was just great.  

You like her tenacity, her words; the idolatry with which she discusses her work. And she is charming; an intellectual through and through. The soft roundness of her face and the kind slant to her eyes offset by a razor-sharp wit. And there’s this peculiar quirkiness to her that catches your attention in seconds – a rough snort whenever she laughs, the bright orange shade of the toenails sticking out of her sandals.

Her teaching is direct, no-bullshit, and yet she has this smile. This soft, thin-lipped genuine smile that says, I know something you don’t know, and I can’t wait to share it with you.

During her first lecture, you feel rooted to the spot, unable to draw your eyes away from her for two-hours as she waxes poetic about heroines and tragic love stories, about the importance of myth, of gore.

Listening to her reminds you of what you’d always loved about classics – the filth of it, the horror. It feels like reaching your hands into a puddle of mud, flexing your fingers and letting the dirt and grime slide beneath your nails, coating every inch of your skin. The squeamishness of it, the rot, the tragedy – you love it all, and Rachel does too.

“When we talk about the juxtaposition between heroines across different texts,” she says. “We want to look at the values being portrayed; the meaning behind what’s happening to these women. Let’s appreciate the context here, guys! To understand the rage of Medea, or, say, the sacrifice of Iphigenia, we have to get to the root of their roles in society. Priestess, mistress, virgin, mother – we want to understand the perspectives being shown to us. What drives these women? What fire lives within them, pushing them to make their decisions—or to have their decisions made for them?”

She points to a student and nods, “Go on.”

“Do you think Medea holds much bearing here?” someone to your left asks. A man. “If we’re focusing on heroines, I mean.”

“Do you?” she challenges. A hint of a smile—that smile—drifts across her lips, hands clasped to her stomach as she awaits his response.

“Not particularly,” he says, voice less sure now. “I know you can view any text through most perspectives, but I’d never thought of her so much as a heroine in a feminist text.”  

“I see,” Rachel nods. “Well, the short answer is that I’d encourage you to read it again.” She laughs, a soft tinkering sound. “The long answer is that her character is complex. Let’s not beat around the bush; Medea is a woman scorned. Banished by Creon, forgotten by Jason. As the reader, we are able to comprehend the most brutal pain through her – a woman trapped in a world where men have decided everything for her, and she is furious. Even describes herself as a woman born to sorrow. Now, as the reader, it is your right to believe that she is bad, or an anti-heroine, but you cannot deny that she is made bad by circumstances out of her own control.” She pauses, thick eyebrows jutting upward as she looks around the quiet theatre. “I’d say that’s pretty feminist of Euripides.”

You approach her afterwards, fingers an awkward tangle in front of your chest.

“I just have to say,” you smile bashfully. “That was wonderful. You’re so engaging, I was… god, I don’t even know what to say, but thank you. I’m really looking forward to learning from you this semester.”

Rachel’s eyes light up at your words.

Up close you notice a pair of thick, ceramic earrings dangling from her lobes. They look hand painted; thick brushstrokes of dandelion yellow smeared across crimson red ovals.

“Oh, how lovely,” her eyes assess you quickly, mouth splitting into a crooked, fond smile. “I’m very glad to have you here…?”

You tell your name in a mumbled rush, and she nods once, eyes scanning the list of students on her sheet.

“Oh of course,” she says knowingly. “You emailed yesterday, no? Some trouble with accessing the readings online?”

You stiffen. Blink at her, smile dimming somewhat. “Yeah,” you exhale. “Yes, that’s actually—I was having trouble with the link for another class, and I hoped you might be able to help.”

“I see,” she frowns then. “Well, unfortunately if it’s not for this class I won’t be of much help; my access code only gets me so far in that damn portal. Which professor assigned the reading?”

“It’s, uhh,” you speak slowly, the words stiff as they stumble out of your mouth. “It’s Joel Miller.”

“Oh, Joel?” she smiles. “Well, he’ll be happy to help, I’m sure. He’s usually in his office around this time – do you need me to show you the way?”

Your mouth is dry. Yeah, you think. I’m sure he’ll be over the moon to see me.

“That’s okay,” you reply with a tight smile. “I’ll find it.”

She nods, bids you a warm goodbye, and her eyes have already drifted back to the papers in front of her when you turn to leave the room.

Your bag weighs heavy on your shoulder, straps of canvas material digging into the muscle there as you retrace your footsteps from yesterday. Up the creaking set of stairs, taking a left, and then another left, and your mind is a blur, static wobbling in your veins as you rehearse what you’re going to say, how you’re going to say it.

It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you’d last seen him, and from the second you left, an image of what happened in his office played on a loop in your brain. Like the spool on a VHS has been stuck together, wound into a circle, and the tape repeats over and over again, the same images, sounds, smells, soaking your mind until all else is white noise. And it’s twisted, and wrong, and you’re vaguely aware of that, somewhere in the part of your brain where you stash knowledge that you’d prefer to forget. Because it’s easier to forget the hard part, the ugly part, and far nicer to remember the scrape of his stubble against your skin. The smell of him filling your nostrils as he crowds you against his desk. The scratch on your ass from his zipper. Remember how your name sounds when he moans it, and forget the feeling that comes when he refuses to look at you after the fact.  

And you wonder if this is what the entire semester will be like; spending each day reminiscing on your last interaction with Joel, hoping for another touch, taste, another chance, another something, anything, from him. The weight of it sits heavy on your chest, like a wall of freshly cemented bricks left to solidify in the sun. And beneath that, beneath the clay and sand and limestone, excitement buzzes. Indisputable, persistent, anticipation. A vibrating that hums in your bones and has you shivering from the tips of your toes to the top of your skull as you knock on his office door. 

J MILLER PhD. The words glare at you from the bronze plaque for the second time in two days.

You hear his voice call pleasantly from behind the door. Light, relaxed. You swallow down the lump in your throat and step inside.

The window is wide open today, pale curtains drawn back to allow the bright midday sun to shine through and warm the carpet. Joel’s head tilts upward and within seconds the soft, easy smile on his face dissolves into something unreadable. He’s perched behind his desk, broad frame bent over a mess of papers, pen tucked neatly between coiled fingers. A clear tension simmers in the lines on his forehead; a tangible rigidity that clouds his expression when he sees that it’s you. He clicks the top of his pen once, twice, three times, and says your name in a clipped greeting.

“Hi,” you say, hand raising in a quick wave. “Sorry to barge in like this, I, uhh, I was wondering if you could help me with something.” 

“My office hours are between one and four,” he says tersely, eyes lowering back to his book. “Schedule an appointment over email.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, face warming as embarrassment swells in your chest. All of the excitement—the longing—that had churned inside you since yesterday seems to dissipate, replaced by a looming sense of dread as you register how distant and apathetic he seems. How hard he tries to not even look in your direction. Those words from yesterday ring in your ears. Just get out.

“Seriously?” you mutter, nonetheless, trying to contain the hurt that threatens to spill across your face. “It’ll take five seco—”

“Seriously,” he repeats firmly.

Your jaw clenches, annoyance tightening the already stiff muscles in your shoulders as you march over to his desk, dropping your bag onto the edge of it. The exact same spot from yesterday, where’d pressed you down against the wood and— Joel’s shoulders hunch. The sleeves of his shirt are pushed up to just below his elbows, thin white material stressing around cords of muscle. You gaze at the bare skin for a moment, tongue heavy in your mouth, before looking to what he was doing before you came in. A book in front of him is filled with scribbles and annotations, harsh black marks scrawled beneath thin lines of text. You only get a second to look at it before his hands are snapping it shut, revealing the cover. Robert Fagles’ translation of The Odyssey. The picture frame from yesterday is nowhere to be seen.

“Working on something for a lecture?” you try. If it’s about class, he can’t be mad. If it’s about class, he can’t push you away.

“What do you need?” he asks impatiently, ignoring your words entirely.

A hand lifts to rub the skin above his eyebrow. The tip of his middle finger massages the tan skin there in soft circles, and you watch the movement for a second, transfixed. No ring. I’m not married. His other hand reaches for the mug on his desk, and he takes a long, drawn-out sip of black coffee. Steam billows from the dark liquid, fogging the lenses of his glasses. The sight makes you want to laugh, but you swallow it down, acutely aware that Joel would be less than impressed by the reaction.

“I can’t access one of the readings for next week,” you explain distractedly, dragging the laptop from your bag.

You round his desk in a few short steps and Joel sighs, cringing as you place it down in front of him, opening the screen for him to see. He shifts his chair just slightly to the right, away from you. That persistent feeling of doubt coils in your gut, sharp teeth that twist and nip at your insides, taunting you, telling you that he doesn’t want you. And it’s not why you’re here—not at all—but you can’t bring yourself believe it. Don’t want to believe it. So you bite back – turn your back to his desk and pitch your thighs atop the edge of it, feet dangling an inch off the ground. You jeans are tight, and the fabric cuts into the skin of your hips where they bend.

“Get down,” he warns sharply, dismissing you with a taut shake of his head. “You can ask IT for help with that.”

“I’m asking you,” you persist stubbornly. “You’re my professor, Joel—"

“Yes, I am your professor,” Joel bites in agreement, glowering up at you. You stiffen warily at the heat in his gaze. At the anger you can see stirring in those dark brown orbs, brimming and ready to boil over. “And I don’t think we should be alone together,” he adds. “It’s not… this is bad for us, okay? I can’t… fuck, you can’t just come in here. I don’t want you comin’ in here anymore.”

And the memory plays once more. That thing, that something twisted, something wrong, something familiar, curls in your stomach. Snaps and bares its teeth at your uncertainty, sends it scattering into the distance, and replaces it with want.

“I didn’t even plan to come here,” your voice hardens, hackles rising as the feeling rises within you. “You’re not the first person I asked, alright? I just need some fucking help—”

“Don’t swear at me,” he interrupts through gritted teeth.

A beat of stunned silence hangs between you. A shocked laugh tumbles from your mouth, eyes widening as you take in the grave expression on his face.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you stare at him incredulously. “Joel, you had your fingers inside of me against this desk yesterday. I think swearing is the least of our worries.”

“Jesus,” he spits, pushing his chair further from the desk. His elbows fall against his knees, head resting in his palms as he breaths, not looking at you. “You’re fuckin’ filthy, y’know that? Can you not just behave?”

Don’t swear, you want to tease, but think better of it.

Instead, you nod slowly, drop your hand onto the desk, fingers hovering over his book. “Joel,” you implore, tone pleading. “I don’t… I don’t know how to act around you right now, okay? It’s not easy for me to just pretend nothing has happened between us. To just forget.”

“And you think it’s easy for me?” he gripes. His eyes are focused on your hand; on the way your fingers tense and untense over the bound cover, stroking the frayed paper his own fingers have clearly touched countless times. He doesn’t move a muscle. “To try and act like things are normal, act like I didn’t—” he cuts himself off, lips clamping shut. An anguished look crosses his features.

“We’re both adults,” you frown. “It’s not a crime that we fucked, Joel.”

A harsh laugh falls from his mouth, stern eyes blazing. “Ain’t about that and you know it. It’s against professional ethics,” Joel snaps, tone firm. “Against university policy – if anybody finds out it could put us both in jeopardy.”

You’re silent for a moment, watching him. His glasses have slid down a little, and they rest precariously on the tip of this nose. Dark eyes stare from over the top of black frames, and then his legs are crossing, one tucking tightly over the other, a thick forearm dropping to rest across his lap, and want burns in your throat. You struggle to remember why you came to his office in the first place.

“Nobody is going to find out,” you whisper.

A rasp of your name catches in his throat. Joel looks bemused, face as flat as he rolls his eyes. “Quit fuckin’ playin’ around. You know how serious this is.”

You contain the urge to scowl, lips tight as you say, “Yeah, I know. Just—look, you don’t have to worry. We can cut it off right now – I won’t say a word of it to anyone. Nothing else is going to happen.”

But you can see the way his eyes flicker down your body whenever you move. How his gaze rests heavily at the pinch of your waist, the spread of your thighs against his desk, your bare arms, before darting away. You wonder if he’s touched himself thinking about you, and a jagged heat tears through the top of your thighs as you picture what that would look like.

“But that's not what you want, is it?” you ask softly. Joel doesn’t speak. He’s so still you almost think he didn’t hear you. But his eyes glance to your thighs again, you know that he did.

“You want me,” you say then, voice low and sure.

The muscle in his jaw ticks. Lips purse around clenched teeth and a harsh breath escapes his nose before he’s saying your name again, a strained whisper. And God, you love the way he says it. Like the word was created just to spite him.

“You are walkin’ on some mighty thin ice right now,” he grits out, heated gaze scorching your skin.

You glance down to his lap, where a forearm still balances over his crotch, and arch an eyebrow.

“Show me,” you murmur.

You can hear him breathing. Slow, exaggerated puffs of breath, chest rising and falling at an increasing pace as he maintains eye contact. Large hands tighten into fists, fingers curling against palms, and he’s dragging his arm back from his lap, spreading his legs as far as they’ll go within the arms of his chair. You wet your lips, face heating as you stare. The firm line of his cock is evident beneath his pants, a solid ridge against his left thigh. When you look back to his face there’s a faint red hue colouring the skin of his neck, steadily rising toward the edge of his facial hair. He’s blushing.

“How long?” you ask, voice awed.

“Since you got on the desk,” Joel grumbles, tone almost begrudging.  

You hum softly, a low vibration in your throat, and then you’re slipping off his desk and taking a step towards him. And he doesn’t flinch away. He watches you close the distance between the pair of you and hover between his thighs, your legs almost brushing his.   

“Let me help,” you whisper, lowering onto the ground in front of him. The carpet is warm and rough against your jean-clad knees. Your eyes drift from his face to between his thighs, and then back up, slowly.

“We shouldn’t,” he croaks, lips chapped and dry. You want to kiss him senseless. Want to drag your tongue across his mouth until it’s soaking wet and then push your way inside.

“But do you want me to?”

An agonising beat of silence follows. But there’s no doubt there anymore. No more wondering, or uncertainty, because you can see it in his eyes. The same all-consuming, devastating desire that crawls its way up to rest at the base of your throat whenever you’re with him. 

And then thick fingers are at the waist of his pants, undoing his leather belt, his button, pushing the material open to reveal a pair of black briefs. He doesn’t take his pants off, just adjusts slightly in the chair before pressing his hand beneath the band of his underwear. Joel grips himself, the sight still obscured from your vision, and you find yourself mesmerised nonetheless, unable to drag your eyes away from the dark material. A low grunt escapes him, and then he shifts the band of his underwear down and pulls his cock out.

The head of him is swollen and leaking, tight skin so red that it’s almost a purple hue against the stark white of his shirt. Joel’s fingers tighten around his base, stroking himself once. Impatient, you lick you hand and let it drift forward to replace his, fingers slipping over the silky wet skin of his head and wrapping around him. Your hand is so much smaller in comparison, and your fingertips almost don’t meet as you flex your grip around girth.

Your underwear clings to the skin between your thighs, material warm and damp against you, a result of the simmering heat that rests in the base of your belly and flares every time Joel sighs. When you glance up to see his face, he’s already staring at you, pupils blown wide, lips sealed in a tight line. His length twitches in your palm, and you salivate.

You lean in and place a gentle kiss again his tip, smearing the pearl of precome there against your lips. You stroke the length of him in slow, firm pumps, guiding his head against your puckered lips, but not quite taking it inside yet. Joel’s fists are tight against his thighs, and you wish he would put them in your hair, on the back of your head, grip you, pull you down against him. But he doesn’t, not yet.

He’s got a salty, heady taste, and you swipe your tongue out to clean the hint of it from your mouth, swallowing with a satisfied purr. A harsh exhale shoots from his nose, eyebrows dragging further down as he watches you tease him.

A quick flick of your tongue against his slit has a sharp gasp rising from him, and in response you lathe wet, messy kisses to his head, puckering your lips around it and swirling your tongue, not caring what you look like, not caring that he probably wants you to go faster. It’s purely for your own enjoyment, and you’re moaning and sighing around the taste of him. You want to take Joel Miller a part, piece by piece, and feel him come undone beneath your mouth.

Unable to wait any longer, you let his head slip passed your open lips and sink into the wet heat of your mouth. And he’s so quiet, so composed, so you glide your tongue over his slit again before pressing forward, lips meeting the movement of your own hand as you take him deeper.

Your jaw strains, muscles smarting as you attempt to take the entirety of him. He’s so long, so thick, and the tip of him is nudging against the back of your throat in seconds, making your eyes water. And god it’s better than you could’ve imagined.

Tears cling to your eyelashes as you look up and find Joel with his bottom lip snagged between his teeth, pink skin turning white from pressure. The heavy weight of him crowds your senses, his taste on your tongue and scent in your nostrils, everywhere, and you can feel how hot your face is getting but you can’t look away from him. You don’t stop until his hand is landing on the nape of your neck, collecting your hair in his fist and dragging your mouth off him. You part with a wet gasp, a string of saliva dangling between his tip and your shiny lips.

“Breathe, goddammit,” Joel says, holding you still when you attempt to press forward and take him back into your mouth.

“You’re so big,” you say earnestly, head tilting backward to rest heavy in his hold. You blink through bleary eyes, smiling lazily. Drunk on him after only a little taste. “Couldn’t stop thinking about this, you know. How you’d taste… how it would feel to have you in my mouth.”

“Fuck, stop,” Joel says quickly, voice pained. “Y’can’t say shit like that.” His grip tightens at the base of your neck, and then he’s guiding your face forward so the head of his cock slips back into your mouth, effectively shutting you up.

You hum appreciatively and relax your jaw, taking him until he’s nudging at your throat again, and he’s still so fucking silent. Determined to get some kind of reaction from him, you pull off and lick a broad stripe from tip to base, hand stroking his length in unhurried, firm pulls as your mouth finds his heavy balls. Your tongue glides along the sensitive skin in slow, overwhelming movements, leaving no inch of him untouched. Wet sounds fill the air as the movement of your fist increases in pace, and your lips drag over him, sucking one of his balls into your mouth and then—finally—a long, drawn-out groan spills into the air, and he’s saying, “Shit, that’s it.”

Never pausing the movement of your hand, you pull back just a smidge and grin.

Joel’s hands are on you then, another deep sound sputtering from his lips. He’s brushing your hair off your face, mussing it as he rakes his fingers through it, short nails scraping against your scalp. He swears softly when you take him back into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters breathlessly. “Is that what you want? Needy little thing wants a little praise, huh? Want me to tell you how good you are, how good your pretty mouth feels on my cock?”

You whimper, eyelids fluttering as you begin to move on him desperately. Your mouth tightens around him, and a tear squeezes from your eyes as his hips jolt forward, cock nudging suddenly into the back of your throat. Joel’s hand cups the back of your head, strokes the damp skin at the base of your neck as you gag around him.

“Jesus,” Joel groans at the sound. “There you go, s’perfect, s’fuckin’ perfect.”

The muscles in your thighs tighten, legs pressing together to try and soothe the pulsing ache there. Your head is moving up and down along his length and it’s wet and messy and depraved, saliva gliding down your chin to your neck, and you fucking love it. Joel’s gruff sounds of encouragement only serve to spur you on.

And then, as if by some stroke of divine intervention, it happens again.

A firm rap against the door of his office.

Joel goes silent. Your shoulders tense, and you pull back until his tip rests heavy on your bottom lip. Wide eyed, you gaze up at him, panic swelling in your chest. And then comes that voice; the same voice as yesterday.

“You in there Joel?”

You can feel your lungs squeezing inside your chest, grasping violently for air and finding zero reprieve as the reality of the moment begins to overwhelm you, because you know that voice.

“Fuck,” you whisper dazedly, slumping back to rest on your heels. “Fuck, fuck, fu—”

Joel shakes his head, strong hands gripping your shoulders to soothe you. “Shh,” he hushes quietly. “Stop, hey, stop. It’s fine.”

Another knock at the door. Nowhere for you to go, nowhere to hide.

“Just a sec, Rachel,” Joel calls, voice laced with frustration.

And then those hands are guiding you backwards. You move blindly, allowing him to encourage your body back, back, back, broad palm protecting your head as he nudges you underneath the desk. Further and further until you’re completely hidden, tucked away where only he can see you. And as you settle into the warm, sweaty space, watch Joel drag his chair forward and squeeze his long legs around your body, you feel the panic quell. Your pulse slows, the tremor in your hands settles, and cool relief comes in the form of a chill down your spine.

“Come in,” Joel calls. You can hear the door click open a second later, soft footsteps entering the room. You hold your breath as they begin to talk, heart stuttering, eyes trained on his where his spit-soaked cock rests against the underside of his desk.

“Sorry to be a bother,” Rachel’s soft voice chimes. “I was hoping to grab my copy of The Annals, I need it for the undergrad lecture I’m covering this afternoon.”

“Course,” he says sharply, and you can hear a drawer to your right open and close. A moment of silence. “All yours.”  

Your abdomen tenses at the sound of his haggard voice, and something tight pulls in your chest. A flare of jealousy, of possessiveness, at the fact that someone else is seeing him right now. That the flush on his cheeks, the sweat on his neck, is no longer yours alone. And it’s absurd, because she has no idea. But the desire to reclaim the moment for yourself, to assert that his sweat, his blush—his body—is yours is overwhelming, and you find your hand gripping his heavy cock, tongue gliding out of your mouth to swipe against his weeping tip. The dread from before flares in the back of your mind but you push it away, shove it down until it’s hazy, a faint ringing that fades into the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

Joel’s thighs stiffen. He coughs, a sharp, surprised noise.

“Thanks for that,” Rachel says, voice slow. “Hey… are you doing okay? Looking pretty faint over there, Miller.”

You smile around him and rub your tongue in teasing strokes along the underside of his sensitive head. He clears his throat roughly, and then his hand is slipping underneath the desk to tangle in your hair. It’s rough and it stings, and you find yourself humming ever so slightly around him, indicating that you love it.

“Feelin’ a little under the weather,” he agrees faintly.

“Should try some of that tea I always tell you about,” she says, ever so friendly. “Works a treat when you’re sick.”

“Maybe I will,” Joel says, and his fingers are twisting in your messy locks, pulling your mouth away from his cock.

Although he can’t see you, you pout. Not wanting to push it, you settle for looping three fingers around him, index middle and thumb, gripping just beneath his head, and begin to rub him in slow, soundless movements. With every forward motion of your hand, the tip of his cock brushes against your lower lip, and his grip on your hair tightens.

“I could bring you some,” Rachel offers then. You can practically hear the smile in her voice, picture the kind slant to her eyes. “Maybe tomorrow, if you think you’ll be coming into wor—”

“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Joel snaps suddenly, voice almost harsh as he interrupts her. “Was that all you needed?”

“Oh,” she replies awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry.”

“No,” he says, audibly flustered. His cock is drooling over your lips, and the salty taste has your pussy aching, clenching painfully tight, begging to be filled. “m’sorry, got a fuckin’ headache, is all. Tea tomorrow?”  

“Tea tomorrow, sure,” Rachel confirms. “Sorry again, I… yeah, sorry, I hope you feel better, Joel.”

Whem the door closes a moment later Joel is shoving his chair backward again, hands wrenching you out from underneath his desk. You fall forward, flushed and breathless. His expression is thunderous, pitch-black eyes glaring down at you. On all fours, you crawl forward and splay your palms across his thighs, feel them twitch and tremble beneath your nimble fingers.

“You couldn’t fuckin’ wait?” he snaps, hand finding a home in your hair once more. He drags it into a ponytail and wraps it around his fist.

“Sorry,” you lie, teeth nipping at your swollen bottom lip. Joel’s eyes follow the movement and he grunts, unimpressed with the apology.

“She could’ve caught us,” he admonishes you.

“Better start locking the door then,” you clip, winking lazily. A short huff passes through his lips, and then his left hand is dropping to land on your chin, thumb rubbing against your lower lip, prying it from between your teeth.

“Open,” he orders.

His jaw is set with concentration, eyebrows drawn low as he cradles your jaw, holding it still while he pushes his cock back into your eager mouth. The salt of him rushes your senses again and you’re moaning around him, cheeks hollowed and eyes wet as he begins to rut into your mouth, the tip of his cock caressing the back of your throat with every thrust. It’s fast and hard, and the noises coming out of you are scandalous, but you can’t drag your eyes away from his face. Lips parted, eyes ablaze as he watches his cock push in and out of your mouth, over and over again. A tear streaks down your cheek and Joel groans, swiping at it with his fingers. Shallow curses and murmurs of your name spill from his lips in a tortured stream of consciousness.

“Always so fuckin’—impatient,” he mutters. His grip on your jaw is near bruising, cock throbbing against your tongue. You can sense how close he is. Feel it in the way his hips start to stutter, snapping thrusts losing their rhythm.  

The stretch has a dull ache searing through your jaw, but Joel is breathless, eyes dark and focused on yours, saying, “Look at you. So pretty takin’ my cock like this.” and you can’t bring yourself to care. Your eyelids flutter closed, and his fingers are tapping your cheek quickly—softly?

“Let me see you,” he says urgently. “Want those eyes on me, don’t close them.” You cast your eyes up to meet his gaze, and Joel hisses under his breath, expression taut.

His hips drag backward, and he’s replacing your mouth with his hand, fucking himself in quick, brutal strokes, and your mouth is open, slick tongue peaking between your lips before he can even say open your mouth.

“Fuck,” he exhales at the sight, tip bumping against your tongue with every wet pump of his fist. His thighs are trembling beneath your hands, and you dig your nails into the muscles there, encouraging him. “Fuck me.”

And then he’s coming, face going slack as hot ropes of his come paint your lips, your tongue, your chin. Unashamed rasps of your name fall from pink lips, washing over you in glorious waves as you sit there and take all of it. And for a moment, you think it’s over. But then Joel’s hand is still moving over his length, calloused thumb gliding against the ridge of his rounded tip, and there’s more.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck—yes.”

Salty strings of his spend gloss over your cheeks and slide down to paint your neck. And it’s like he’s coming a second time, torso jolting in short, jerky movements, and you wish you could see his body while he came; the way the muscles in his stomach would flex and pull taut, entire frame straining as he gives you his all.  

His shoulders slump forward as he stares down at you, hand falling away from his sensitive cock, and his face is ruined. Eyes blown wide, cheeks a dark red, looking at you like he’d enjoy nothing more than to devour you whole. Maintaining eye contact, you swallow down his spend, practically purring at the taste of him.

Joel’s thumb smears his come off your cheeks and into your swollen mouth, making sure you don’t miss a single drop.

“Good girl,” his voice is broken. “That’s it, yeah—yes, s’perfect.”

Perfect, perfect, perfect. The word rings in your ears. Your skin is on fire, and you can’t believe that you are both still fully clothed. You feel naked, bared to him in the truest sense of the word, despite being completely covered up.

He groans heartily when you suck his fingers between your lips, tongue swirling around them greedily, and swallow down the last of his spend. 

For a moment after, the two of you simply sit there, your knees chafed and aching against the carpet, his fingers hooked against your tongue, staring at each other. And you know. You both know – there’s no going back from this.

Joel drags his hand away and snatches a box of tissues from the top drawer of his desk. You stand, knees popping in relief, and lean against the desk to stabilise yourself. He takes a moment to clean himself, and when you’re sure he’s not looking you swipe a pen from his desk, scribble a set of numbers on a post it and press the sticky paper down against the cover of The Odyssey.

He offers you the box of tissues and you wipe your face carefully, make sure no trace of him is left on your skin. Joel watches your movements like a hawk, eyes fading from black to brown as he fixes his belt and tucks his shirt back into his pants.

“You good?” he asks after a moment. And it’s the same. The same thing he asked you that night in the bar after fucking your brains out. After calling you a slut, a dirty little thing. Maybe it’s his thing—you good? And it’s more than anyone else has ever said after you’ve had their cock in your mouth, so you smile at him. Nod. The duality of man, you think.

“Perfect,” you use his word, and cringe at how wrecked your voice is. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches upward, something sly and conspiratorial in his gaze as he watches you tuck your computer into your bag, IT issue long forgotten.

Even as you wander toward the door of his office, tossing a casual see you tomorrow over your shoulder, you can see it in his face. In the lines by his eyes, the furrow of his brow; never satiated, never finished, never satisfied. More, more, more. This wasn’t enough for either of you. And this will not be the last time.

Hours later, when you’re tucked into bed with a glass of wine and a book perched in your lap, you get a text from an unknown number.

You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.

And then another, twenty minutes later.

That can’t happen again.

You grin. Save his number under J MILLER, PhD, and don’t reply.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @sinfulrock @bbyanarchist @murc0cks4eva @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @daisies-yellow @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida

thank you for reading! x

[anika-ann]

The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8k

Summary: 

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and lending a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body as water and snow and icy wind would, regret for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.  

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.  

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons.  With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

“Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to than one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as your uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including  slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head.  “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down? 

“That’s… really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien invasion he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

[atzfilm]

𝐚𝐭𝐳𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦'𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 .ᐟ

all works of writing/summaries are not owned by me, and all credits go to the respective writers! this list will be updated periodically with stories i have read ♡ i thought that as a writer myself who consumes talented stories on this site, it would be good for me to show you all a fraction of what i read myself tehe (i read majority poly!teez/mc so that category will be filled!!) ☆

— note: 90% of these fics will contain mature themes, since it's all i read! please read the specific author's notes before reading!

❤︎ - personal favorites

ᴍᴜʟᴛɪ

— ❤︎ mists of celeste (??/reader, several pairings) by @hongism

genre: scifi/space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut, fluff

summary: sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you.

notes: as an atiny on tumblr.com, i feel like it's a rite of passage to read moc. it's one of the best written works i have had the privilege of reading. it's gripping, it's heartbreaking, it's filled with yearning and love, and has you hoping that the characters survive this ordeal. san i love you most you can tell by the masterlist alone that she has crafted a whole space pirate universe intricately and with the utmost care. she deals with the trauma of the characters so so well and i cant lie ive cried a lot reading it jdhdksjddj, it's the fic that made me start reading ateez ff, i mean, i started reading before even knowing ateez and i had to have a separate tab open to remember who was who. that alone can tell you how much of a work of art this is. omg, im blabbering, but please read this.

— hotel california (ot8/reader) by @mint-yooxgi

genre: yandere, demon!au

summary: checking in to a hotel ran by yandere!Ateez, the boys decide she can no longer leave

my notes: im not too sure how i came across this work, i think it was an endless scroll of me trying to find something to read, but nevertheless, this story. i have not finished it yet (a great and utter pity) but from what ive read so far. im actually very concerned on how much ive read of this in one night 😨, i think the plot is so so unique, i love a strong mc who does not take any shit whatsoever, i love gaslighting demon!ateez 🙂‍↕️. i had to stare at the wall several times while reading,, felt like jim in the office truly. UGH it's just so good??? i can't recommend enough!! PLEASE READ.

— ❤︎ the answer (ot8?/reader, side pairings) by @berryunho

genre: cult au, thriller

summary: life is great until your best friend goes missing your senior year of university, leaving little more than an apology and goodbye. Months later, you’re determined to find out what happened to him and discover a situation much more complicated than you would have ever anticipated - as in - Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers 'sect.'

my notes: i first discovered this fic on ao3 and somehow found out lauren had a tumblr blog but i digress – i found this one night and was so excited that i found something so so unique and different and i am pretty sure i didn't sleep until 4am reading everything omg . it's truly so funny and i adore the main character more than anything, the snide remarks truly encompass and make you feel their emotions? cult leader hongjoong is something else... without spoiling hfjdjf. i beg lauren often for a spoiler because it's just that good. please read.

— OUTLAW (ot8/reader, side pairings) by @staytinyville

genre: wild west!au, smut(?), angst

summary: you thought you would be spending the rest of your life tending to the hotel your family ran. while you knew it was common to see bandits come and go in your town, you felt safe in your home. at least safe enough with a weapon at your disposal. however you were no match for eight men who were known to most as outlaws around the plains. hawt kind of adventures did they go on?

my notes: i started reading this a while back and have yet to finish, but so far the premise is so so so interesting and i love readying cowboy aus rjkfjkdrfkj ITS SO GOOD!!!! I CANT WAIT TO CATCH UP

— sway with me (ot8/reader, wooyoung/reader) by @luvt0kki

genre: sci-fi/space/futuristic!au

summary: former noble turned space pirate, wooyoung was now part of one of the most revered and hunted group of pirates of the galaxy. sure he’s only known them for six months but there’s only so much you could do in a ship when you travel from one planet to the next. the ship was their home, his home…and the members of this crew were friends that he felt he was fated to meet.

my notes: tokki already knows all of this but,,, i started this a month or so ago? and i read the first chapter and i legit lost my mind,,, in the calmest way possible... the first chapter is gripping and it sets a environment that i very much would love to live in??? it's just so so well written, and the reader is very much my type NDFAKKJ ANYWAY... it's told from the pov of wooyoung and i love it??? so MUCH?? please read ok bye

— one more rep (woosan x reader) by @cheollipop

genre: smut, f2l, trainers woosan

summary: san got a little too excited watching you exercise in purple – his favourite colour – and wooyoung was nothing if not a tease. turning their attention back to you, they didn't expect to see you equally worked-up.

my notes: ???? i actually read this a few times,,,, this fic yall.... i cannot... the mental image of woosan in the gym makes me delusional enoughdsjkaskfjksd PLEASE.

— like a dream (yungi x reader) by cheollipop

genre: bf!yungi, smut

summary: with only the orange hues of the lamp illuminating the room, they have you for the first time, and it feels just like a dream.

my notes: yunho and mingi are my weakness,, so the both of them together.....

sᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ

to be added!

ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ

— horizon by @pxedpiper (ft. ateez/f.reader)

genre: pirate!au

summary: once a princess of a kingdom you loathed to call yours, you have somehow found yourself aboard a pirate ship, stuck on the ocean waves. now you try to figure out how to escape them, but as you continue to journey with them, you find yourself wondering if you even want to.

my notes: i just found this the other day but remembering reading it a while ago! it's so so well written and i enjoyed it sm 🥹

ʏᴜɴʜᴏ

to be added!

ʏᴇᴏsᴀɴɢ

to be added!

sᴀɴ

to be added!

ᴍɪɴɢɪ

— safe haven (mingi/reader) by @atxxzist

genre: bodyguard!au, fluff

summary: your father has had enough of your shit, and hires Song Mingi; his best friend's son, to be your personal bodyguard

my notes: is it possible to fall down the mingi hole deeper than i already have? maybe! this fic pretty much lives in my head,,, endlessly,,,, i love mingi. i love this au so much and i especially love bodyguard aus, i think it's one of my favorite genres and this deepens it.... PLEASE READ.

ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ

— rough rider (wooyoung x afab!reader) by @choism

genre: smut

summary: In which you meet a hot twink at a club who has a slightly unhealthy obsession with the 2000's and y2k bimbocore.

my notes: i......... there's no way i can describe this fic... if u yearn for wooyoung the way i do. read this.

— what happened to slow down? (bf!wooyoung x reader) by @ja3hwa

genre: smut

summary: coming back from a house party, you and woo couldn't seem to keep your hands off one another. everything was happening so fast. you two didn't even make it to the bedroom.

my notes: insert a photo of someone throwing a phone and screaming crying, then picking it up to read the rest. thats me kjrfakfajkf

ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ

to be added!

[ohnococo]

How To Fight | MMA Fighter!Toji x Physical Therapist!Reader

You love your job as a Physical Therapist, and would rather avoid any complications. Unfortunately MMA Fighter Toji Fushiguro has taken a liking to you. Despite your better judgement, you've taken a liking to him too.

✧ wc: 6.3k

✧ notes: A song fic taking place in the MMA AU. The song lyrics referenced are from How To Fight by Eartheater

✧ warnings: eventual angst, mma!au, no curse au, widowed Toji, divorced Toji, single dad Toji, fem bodied reader, pronouns used (she/her), pet names (sweetheart), flirting, unwanted advances, pussy referred to as 'she', physical therapist reader, recurring injury, injury recovery, vaginal sex, cumshot

i've tasted metals of my own blood, and learned to like it

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It was against everything you stood for to be happy to see a client again, given your line of work, but Toji was different. Against your better judgement, he had somehow managed to work his way into your mind, burrowing past that steely wall of professionalism you kept up at all times with those in your care. You were determined to never let him know that, though.

“Well, Toji, I would prefer it if you didn’t keep getting yourself injured.”

He breezes right past that. “Just let me take you out, it’ll be a lot nicer than pushing me around and cracking my joints.”

It was a simplification bordering on misunderstanding your work, as if you were some chiropractor, but you know he’s only saying it to get you shoving him around with that tinge of annoyance he feeds right into your veins. You try not to give in, because you’re always trying not to give in to Toji, really. Then he’s resisting, just enough to make you really have to work to guide him in the stretch you want him to do, and he’s managed to get you right where he wants you yet again. You tug at his hips, guiding him into movements he should be familiar with by now.

“Just let me do my job.”

You had no intention of accepting his advances, whether they were in the form of invitations to dinner, sparkling bedroom eyes, or flirtatious comments that would have had you kicking anyone else right out of your office. Not Toji, though. With him, you just find yourself slowly allowing him to speak to you more and more familiarly.

The corner of his mouth lifts smugly just as he’s turning away, taking his gaze off of you directly to watch you in the mirror along the wall next to the mat you were standing on. He allows you to move him for a moment, only offering light resistance now, as if you could truly make him do anything he didn’t want to, then continues the twisting motion on his own. You watch his body carefully, avoiding eye contact because you already know those green eyes are fixed on your face, trying to coax you into giving him the smallest inch to turn into a mile.

“If you want your hands on me you don’t gotta use your job as an excuse.”

You ignore him outright, drowning out any potentially untoward thoughts with a strengthened focus on your work. As always, it works, and you note on your assessment forms that his hip mobility was normal. You knew it would be, that Toji knew how to throw his punches properly, but you’re always thorough with your checklist whether it was for the reasons Toji accused you of or not.

“Stand against the wall.��

He lets out a whistle, hands up as he does, “Gonna frisk me?”

“I’m gonna refer you to Yaga so you can get wrung out like a wet rag if you don’t do what I tell you.”

“Ooh, that doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”

“Toji.”

He chuckles as he settles into the position he already knows you want him in, doing lunges with the wall as a marker for how deep to press forward as you watch his ankle and knee movements.

“All good there.” You tap his back, nodding as you make your notes while he stands in wait.

“Okay, upper body.”

You know this is where he’ll need the work, as usual, and you’re quick to go through your checks with the right shoulder, moving onto his problem area. You already knew from his post-fight medical, but are happy to find, as you watch his movements as he lifts and rotates his arm, that it’s no more serious than the last time.

“Left shoulder…” you say aloud as you note it.

He looks annoyed, at himself rather than at you, “Always is.”

It makes you feel bad for him, in a way. He wasn’t really reckless in the ring. He knew his body too well and was too calculated with how he approached his fights. Unfortunately, it was simply a recurring injury, as shoulder issues often were. Something that was always going to pop back up sooner or later, but with the way Toji took so many fights even as he neared his forties it seemed to be “sooner” more and more often.

As you rotate his arm, feeling where he tenses and softening your movements, you share a little of your optimism with him - couched in realism, of course.

“Don’t look so sad. It’s similar to the last one, so it shouldn’t be too long before we have you out there in the ring living your best life.”

He laughs at that, sounding a little dryer than his usual flirty chuckle, “I’m not living my best life in there.”

You glance up at him while you continue your assessment, brows raising in muted interest before he continues.

“Put it this way, I like it because I like the money. I don’t love fighting.” He thinks on it a little more before adding, “I do love finishing fights, though.”

To you, there was little difference between those two things, but then you weren’t the one doing the fighting so you accept his feelings on the matter. “That’s fair. I think it’s kind of rare to really love your job.”

As you firmly grasp his bicep, lifting his arm outwards, he flexes for just a moment, grin returning to its usual wolfish state, “Bet you love your job though. Groping men all day.”

You release his arm, letting it fall for only a moment, but catching it as soon as he winces, “I’d love it a lot more if you let me do it without those kinds of comments.”

“Ehh,” he tilts his head, brows raising in disbelief at your continued assertions that you didn’t get any sort of satisfaction out of this (and you didn’t… until him). “I think you get something out of them.”

You ignore him again, returning to your desk to note your recommendations. “Four to six weeks of sessions, as usual.” You look up at him then, indirectly threatening him to behave, “Four will probably do though.”

It shouldn’t have been a threat, getting him back up to snuff as efficiently as possible, but it had become one by now with Toji. It was a joke, of course. Toji would feign being hurt by the thought of it, but was always happy to be able to accept his next fight as soon as possible.

But sometimes it didn’t feel like a joke. Sometimes you did want a little more time basking in his flirtations. Toji Fushiguro had unfortunately grown on you and it often left you feeling ashamed. His reputation precedes him. He’d even been married when he first came into your office, and here you were worrying about missing those butterflies in your stomach at his little reminders that he is completely fixated on you.

When you find yourself smiling a little too widely at him, or even thinking about him outside of your sessions, you have to remind yourself that there was nothing actually there. It was just what he was like with anyone that caught his eye, even if it was only ever you he was assigned to once you’d started working there.

The why of it all wasn’t a mystery in the beginning. He was a relentless flirt that, based on how cagey some of your coworkers were about hearing he would be in your care, had apparently enjoyed his time with many of them before you. You didn’t mess around about your job, though. You loved your work, and you loved the convenience of this position, so you’d decided that you absolutely would not be added to his list of conquests.

At first keeping that professional level of disinterest was easy. It had seemed so obvious that he’d move on and request another PT work with him after the first of his recurring injuries led to several sessions worth of you rejecting his advances. That wasn’t the case, though. Maybe that was exactly why he kept coming to you and only you. The challenge.

And it was a challenge, for the both of you. You were intent on giving him nothing, and he was intent at making that as hard as possible for you without even really trying. By the third time he’s booked in for several sessions with you for post-fight recovery, you find yourself actually letting your guard down around him, if only a little. You might have even missed him.

i've gone under the knife of love, dissected every vein and vessel

Another week, another therapy session, another attempt to keep your composure, even with how relentless Toji is.

“How long are you gonna keep making me ask before you let me take you to dinner?”

You shoot him a look. The answer should be never, followed by asserting quite bluntly that you don’t sleep with clients, since he wasn’t exactly being subtle. That’s what the answer used to be, at least. It’s not quite that direct now, though. “How long are you going to keep getting yourself injured and winding up here?”

He puts his hand to his heart, feigning pain, “Listen, if I didn’t have a bum shoulder I wouldn’t get to come and be your favourite client.”

“I wouldn’t say favourite.”

He lifts his head from your massage table, flashing you a winning smile and the closest to puppy dog eyes a man like Toji could muster. “Cutest?”

“I wouldn’t say that either.”

He closes his eyes, relaxing onto your table as you move and massage his shoulder firmly, “Whatever you say, sweetheart…”

Toji really did enjoy testing you. Especially with his favourite little pet name for you. Sweetheart. ’Even though you’re not too sweet to me’ he’d said with a little pout, entirely undercut by his hungry eyes. You used to shoot him looks that could have killed a man on the spot in some other universe. Now you don’t look at him at all when he says it, it feels too risky. It feels like something in your eyes will give you away.

You throw out another of the many threats Toji knows are baseless by now, said as many times and with as little conviction as most of your defences against him. “You’re lucky I don’t kick you out.”

He peeks at you through barely opened eyes, as you stretch his arm outward, “That's what I’m saying, you’ve got a soft spot for me.”

That’s your final signal to put your proverbial work hat on a little more snugly as you push down, and he taps his fingers against you, indicating his limit for this particular stretch. He understands you’re truly done with the conversation as you pat his side and step back.

“Alright, time for strengthening exercises.”

This was the part he always got bored with. You weren’t touching him now, not after the first time to demonstrate what you wanted from him. You weren’t naive enough to believe him when he kept feigning a need for more hands-on guidance as he goes through the recommended motions. A man doesn’t get to the point of looking like Toji without knowing how to lift weights - especially not the small ones you had him on just to slowly get his strength back in his shoulder.

Even then, lying on the floor, raising a little 5 pound weight with his healing arm while you stand above him watching closely, he’s still ready to run his mouth.

“I like this.”

“It feels alright?”

“The weight is fine, but I like having you standing over me like that.”

You give him nothing, pursing your lips as you put the tip of your shoes between his arm and the ground, “Keep your arm up, don’t bring it down too far.”

Ignoring his comments is the best you can do sometimes. Even if it gets harder with every session as you start to actually look forward to it deep down. Even if it becomes your only defence until you’re spending a good chunk of these sessions in a near haze, trying to force as much emotional distance as possible once his flirting starts up.

His comments were uncalled for, and so was the way it made you feel. You were far from the type to be desperate for the attention of a man like him, and the way your body responded to him only pissed you off the more it excited you. All you can do, or all you’re willing to do, is shut it down, and remember that you have a job to do.

—

After three more sessions of this you’ve convinced yourself that you’re more than ready to discharge him and hopefully enjoy a peaceful several months without the risk of seeing his face again. The fact that it never used to take convincing to enjoy having the walking talking complication out of your life is something you aren’t willing to address.

“You’re gonna miss me, aren’t you?”

“Don’t start, Toji.”

You know you can’t really tell him what to do, unfortunately.

“You don’t have to if you-“

“That’s right, I don’t have to miss you, and I won’t. Hopefully you don’t go getting yourself injured again so you can come and bother me more.”

Your tone has him sucking in air through his teeth and grimacing a little.

“I don’t exactly like getting injured.” He looks away as he speaks and it’s strange not having his eyes on you like you were some sort of prey to be carefully observed. “I couldn’t even help my son move into his dorm. Cage fighter dad that can’t even lift a fucking box. It pisses me off.”

He shrugs, eyes back on you, lit up anew, “But at least I get to see your pretty face, huh?”

As much as you don’t enjoy Toji’s comments, you like these little glimpses of something else even less. Because he does talk to you. About his day, about little things that pop in his head when he’s bored of flirting for seconds at a time. And it makes it much harder not to get a little too attached when he isn’t just being a simple womaniser.

It sometimes makes you feel like Toji thinks you’re some sort of therapist - when he’s not relentlessly trying to get you into his bed. And you know that’s what all of his flirting is, of course.

Because his reputation precedes him. Yes, he’ll take someone out. Yes, they’ll have a good time. Yes, they’ll fuck. Except in your case you aren’t a part time receptionist or ring girl that might be able to avoid awkward situations with him during the nothing that comes after all of that. And you aren’t willing to mess up the good thing you have with your job, even though some of your coworkers seemed to be.

What wasn't mentioned to you as part of his reputation, was the little breadcrumbs of who he was beneath the charm and muscle. It’s known he was a prodigy in his sport. It’s known he retired young to be a family man. And it’s known he came back, 5 years later, newly widowed.

He doesn’t talk about his first wife much, because why would he? Any brief mentions of her are with an undying warmth and love that undercuts his reputation as a heartbreaker. She’s special. The mother of his child, his first love. The former is stated, the latter is obvious. Nothing short of that would melt that hardened mask of indifference.

His second wife, he doesn’t speak about at all. You only know of her because he mentions a step-daughter, and because when he’d flirted with you from the very first time he’d entered your care your eyes had locked onto the ring on his finger with contempt for how little it apparently meant. By the time you see him next, nearly half a year and another injury later, he isn’t wearing the ring anymore.

Something in you feels flattered when you ask Toji about how his son was finding college in front of a coworker who had been here much longer than you, and they’re shocked as they say they didn’t know he had kids. Then, you’re left even more annoyed at him for giving you more complications to maintaining a necessary level of professional distance in your job.

Small talk shouldn’t feel so heavy.

Helping people recover shouldn’t make you have to deal with these thoughts.

i know how to fight, how to fuck, how to die, how to resurrect my pride

When you give in, it’s in the worst way. He doesn’t even take you to dinner, you don’t give him a chance to. It’s his fourth time in your care, this time for an ankle injury. Something basic, something much more simple to deal with than his recurring problem. Something that will get him out of your hair in no time.

He isn’t simple to deal with though, telling you about the dogs his son adopted, how he never really got how people got so attached to animals growing up, but now he gets it. He’s got you comfortable, not even thinking about how your guard is down, nor about how you even smile at him as he shows you a picture of his son, buried under two masses of fluff and begrudgingly smiling at the camera.

“God, Toji, you really just have a little twin there, don’t you?”

He laughs, looking at the picture of his son, before setting his phone aside on the mat. “Nah, there’s a lot of his mom in there.”

You smile, patting his shoulder in a rare touch outside of professional reasons, “That’s nice.”

He lies back on the mat, out of your reach, “You’re nice, for once.”

You get back to work, wrapping your hands around his ankle and bending his foot slowly. “I’m nice to people who aren’t constantly trying to get into my pants.”

“Hey, who said I was trying to do that? I’m just trying to take you out.” He sits up and leans onto his elbows, “but if that’s the kind of thing you’re interested in…”

“I’m interested in doing my job. I don’t mind talking to you when you relax with the inappropriate comments.”

“I’ve gotta prove myself to you before you’ll let me take you out, got it.”

“Is that what I said, Toji?”

Toji shrugs, fully relaxing back onto his elbows, and you pull on his foot gently. “That’s what I heard.”

You shoot him a look that you hope can put fear into the heart of even him. Instead, it only seems to inspire other emotions as he forms his scarred lips into a pout that misses the mark of garnering pity for his plight as a man rejected yet again, though you’re certain Toji knows exactly what he’s doing when he makes faces like that. Even with his lips puckered and sticking out slightly, even with his brows fashioned into a worried frown, his eyes telegraph exactly what he’s thinking about.

It crumbles your resolve, leaving you looking away first as you let out a sigh you hope comes across as frustration instead of weakness. You readjust your position squatting down next to him on the mat, trying to get a feel for the flexibility of his ankle before you start guiding him through putting some of his weight onto it as he straightens the other leg and lifts his hips off the mat before settling back down.

He’s quiet then, for much longer than you were used to, and you take the silence as an opportunity to work in peace as you rotate his foot again. When you look back up at him it has your heart beating a little faster than it should be. His teeth press lightly at his lower lip, his eyelids are only half open, and his brow quirks as if just your look had the same effect as having said something dirty.

“What is it now?”

You expect him to make some comment about your hands on his body, how they were lingering even now. He makes you wait for it though, tilting his head from one side to the other as he looks you up and down, smiling like he has a secret he’s debating keeping.

Another sigh falls from your lips, filled with actual frustration this time, and when he sits up it feels like he’s towering over you in a way you simply could not overcome, despite being able to easily stand and remove yourself from the pull of his gaze. The way he peers at you, even more intense than usual, has the back of your neck tingling and you’re forced to swallow hard even with the fear that something as simple as that would give you away.

His gaze softens, dipping back into something cooler, as if he’s backing away from an animal signalling that an approach would not be treated kindly. He takes a deep breath, and you don’t even notice you’re following suit until you both exhale at the same time.

It’s as if he’s settling whatever that moment was with just a look, deciding not to make the final jump to cross that imaginary line, and it puts you at ease enough that his words are like a punch to the gut.

“You’re pretending you don’t like it, but your neck is doing that thing.”

“What? What are you talking about?” You’re blowing it, far too defensive even though you truly aren’t actually sure what he means.

“Here.” He brings a hand to your neck, tracing a finger down the length of it, stopping just above your collarbones. “You always tense riiiiight there.”

He pulls his hand back, settling it on his thigh, and you let out the breath you’d been holding from the moment his hands were coming towards you. It makes you realise you’d been so focused on controlling everything you did or said that you’d been clenching yourself like a fist every time his words, or actions, left you melting inside. It also makes you realise that was the first time he’d put his hands on you in a way entirely unrelated to your work since he shook your hand the day you’d met.

You’re horrified at having been found out. You’re even more horrified as you realise you hadn’t really been hiding anything anyway. It’s left you with no clue how to respond, and you suddenly feel so aware of your every movement, unable to decipher how to behave when your little act had been so, so obvious to him from the start.

“Look, if you really want me to stop, I’ll st-“ he pauses, looking up as he thinks, scrunching his nose and tilting his head as if he’s weighing options. “Well, I’ll try to stop. I can’t make any promises…”

He’s pausing again, thinking again, looking you up and down as he licks his lips, before he crosses his legs, pulling his ankle out of your grasp and resting his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward. It forces you to react, as if on instinct, and lean back off of your feet to seat yourself with knees raised and acting as a final barrier between the two of you. He lets you keep that distance you’d gained, but brings a hand to hover over your knee so closely that you’re not sure if he’s touched you yet or if it’s just the heat radiating off of him setting your nerves on fire.

You can’t even bring your eyes away from his to check, and realise that you wouldn’t exactly want to move further away whether his touch was real or imagined. His gaze has you locked in place just as much as your own head as you find yourself thoroughly buried in your own pit of uncertainty as everything moves too fast for your mind to catch up.

“You don’t want me to stop though, do you sweetheart?”

His eyes, the heat of him, his low words digging through that pit in your stomach to reach for your core, it all has you feeling too lightheaded to be able to think at all. You can barely even feel yourself shaking your head, body much more honest than you had been willing to be all this time.

“Thought so.”

He leans in, brushing his nose back and forth against yours, smiling with the cute gesture, then that grin spreads wider as you tilt your head, your eyes fluttering closed as you wait for him to just kiss you. He doesn’t, waiting long enough that you’re forced to open your eyes and confront the sight of that hungry face yet again, and this time his gaze has you outright clenching.

“Big girls don’t get what they want by acting all shy, do they?”

It’s too much, you feel humiliated, you feel sick, you feel like you’ll pass out if he keeps working you up without even putting his hands on you properly.

“Kiss me. If you wanna.”

You don’t know who you are, needing to be told what to do like this. You question who you are again, as you follow orders in a way you never would have before you’d been called out like this and press your lips to his, letting out a breath that’s shaky enough to have you revealing just how desperate you were. When you start to wonder who you are for the third time, for kissing a client, at work no less, you drown out that thought by parting your lips against his.

He responds with softly parted lips of his own, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as he slots his mouth against yours. You wait for his tongue, flitting the tip of yours against his lower lip, and when it does not come you’re clinging to his shirt, bunching it at his shoulders. You’re forced to hold onto those broad shoulders properly when he lies back and his hands on your waist bring you with him to settle you on top of him - wordlessly reiterating that you would need to pull yourself together and set the pace here.

It’s your final push, as you straddle him with hands braced against his chest and slide your tongue into his mouth. Feeling the body you’d had your hands on far too many times, this time beneath you and with your ability to lie to yourself about the effect it has on you stripped away, has you salivating. You set all shame aside for this moment as you grind down against him, indulging in the feel of his stiffening cock beneath layers of thin fabric.

That tense feeling threatens to return, prickling at the back of your neck as he laughs into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and guiding your movements against him with strong hands on your hips. It’s gone again as he lifts his hips gently, using your weight against you as you only press harder onto him. You squeeze at his pecs, groaning into his mouth as you finally goad him into kissing you back with the same intensity you were now pouring into him, and it’s as delightfully invasive as you’d tried your hardest not to imagine it would be time and time again. It sends a tremble through your thighs, the wetness pooling in your panties all too obvious to you as all of your hidden desperation pulses through you straight from your pussy.

You forget yourself while kissing him like this, unaware of how long you’ve been on top of him, unaware of how you were moaning outright with just the friction between you, unaware of anything but feeling and tasting and touching as much of Toji as you could.

He’s aware though, aware of everything just as he always has been. How your thighs squeeze at his hips, the way your moans start sounding more like breathy little whines, how your tongue stops moving for seconds at a time against his. And it’s all he needs to keep this momentum going so quickly that everything but the two of you is an unintelligible blur.

“You gonna cum just like this?”

You don’t really want to answer it, and the look you give him as you try to keep him kissing you rather than talking has him chuckling, light and breathy against your skin.

“Sweetheart… if you’d just let me take you out from the beginning you wouldn’t be so pent up and begging for it…”

It takes more concentration than you have available to you right now to steady your voice. “I’m not begging.”

He takes in your face, biting at his lower lip as he slides two fingers into your mouth. He wiggles them around, sliding over your tongue, practically fucking your mouth with those thick fingers, knuckles catching at your tightened lips. “You aren’t…”

His fingers leave your mouth just as you were starting to actually enjoy the intrusion, and he slips his hands into your leggings, past your panties, stopping you from pressing down against his clothed cock like you had been as he circles your entrance slowly, “but she is.”

Then, his hand is gone, resecured on your hips, steadying your movements. “But you’re the boss here, not her. So if you don’t want it…”

“Come on, Toji.” You’re chastising him, even if you’re in no position to do so with your thighs tensing and your hips begging to keep moving against him.

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, “Like I said, you’re the boss. So I don’t move without orders.”

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t keep kissing you, even when you press your lips against his again, sighing out your frustration against his soft smile. He doesn’t release your hips to let you keep stoking your fire on his body. He doesn’t do anything but look up at you with a hungry glint in his eye, enjoying every moment it takes you to push your pride aside to ask him for exactly what you’ve wanted longer than you can admit to yourself.

“I want to cum.”

“Just you? Not a very good boss, huh…”

You groan, frustration with him reaching a fever pitch, “I want you to fuck me.”

He closes his eyes, smiling wide and letting your words wash over him. It’s music to his ears, and when he looks back up at you his pupils are blown and you know he’s done holding back. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”

His arm is around your waist then, keeping you steady as rolls you over, settling himself between your thighs and you’re now looking up at him. You feel the tensing of his body, and come back to yourself enough to give him a concerned look.

He catches it, pressing a hand to your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your lips in an attempt to soothe those worries.

“Shh, don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He shifts so he’s not putting weight onto his ankle, pulling at your shoes until they’re sliding off and hitting the ground. You lift your hips as you work your own leggings and underwear down, straightening your legs for him to remove them for you before he’s spreading you wide with hands on your inner thighs. He slides a hand towards your pussy, rubbing his thumb through your wetness and sucking air through his teeth at the way it slips around with ease.

“You really were gonna cum like that, weren’t you?”

You run your hands over your face, unwilling to endure any more teasing, “Just fuck me, Toji.”

He whistles, releasing your thighs and tugging the waistband of his shorts down just enough to release his cock, and you look up to his face, refusing to give him a reaction until he’s sliding inside you just as you’ve asked. He braces himself on one of his elbows, leaning over you and letting his cock hang heavily against your stomach. His hair tickles at your face as he kisses you again before requesting a final affirmation before following the orders you’d given.

“Want me to go slow?”

He really does wear your patience thin, enough that you answer without thinking, “No.”

“Okay…” he sounds doubtful, but continues on as he grips himself at the base and rubs the head of his cock through your wetness.

You squeeze at his sides, prompting him to look at you instead of at his own cock below. “Do not cum inside me.”

It’s stern enough to make Toji laugh, your voice sounding much more like your usual self for just a moment. “Don’t worry, I don’t want any more responsibilities.”

You don’t know if you trust Toji, but right now you don’t exactly trust yourself either. Especially not when having this man you’d spent ages closing yourself off to split you open on his cock in one merciless push has you wincing and taking it like it was exactly what you deserved for being so weak to him.

Toji pauses, balls deep, eyes clouded as he looks down at you. “I asked if you wanted me to go slow.”

It’s said with a hint of pity and a look that says ’you did this to yourself’, though he does stay still, kissing you again and removing your need to try and collect your thoughts enough to reassert that you knew your body, not him.

He doesn’t hold back for long though, and once you’re sighing into his mouth again, your tongue’s movements sloppy and unfocused, he starts moving his hips slowly. He starts with shallow thrusts, hips barely leaving yours. Then, as your body relaxes and your pussy accommodates him with a telltale squelch, he pulls out further, fucking you harder. Once your thighs are gripping at his hips he sits up, gathering more momentum in his thrusts at the slight change of angle.

He presses his hand to your abdomen, thumb making out a steady pace on your clit as his hips make angled thrusts that have his cock working at you with purpose. The moan it draws from you is punctuated with your eyes rolling, trying desperately to refocus on the face of the man above you. He bites at his lip, nodding and groaning at the feel of you tightening as he finds the movements that have your hands trying to grip at something below, but only meeting the dull squeak of your fingertips sliding against the mat. He leans back, reaching up to grab at the back of the collar of his shirt and tug it over his head, tossing it aside. He grasps both of your wrists firmly, pulling your hands up to rest against his stomach as he looks down at you with a challenge in his eyes.

“C’mon, touch me.” He smiles, wide and wicked, “Like you’ve always wanted to.”

You do just that, running your hands over his abs, grazing your thumb over his belly button, tracing your fingers along the prominent vein on his abdomen that leads down below to where the two of you are connected. Then, your hands travel back upwards, gripping at his pecs. His hand returns to press at you, thumb back to playing with your swollen clit, and having that touch back so suddenly has you squeezing Toji’s pecs hard, drawing a moan from him.

“There you go.” It adds even more enthusiasm to his thrusts, speed picking up as he leans over you, propping himself up on one hand as he digs deep to have you squeezing him again.

This time your touch is intentional as you squeeze at the flesh, a slight give present before you reach hardened muscle, and when you graze your nails over his nipples he’s shivering above you, bucking into you harder. The way he rubs at your clit is almost mechanical in its precise speed and pacing, a steady climb punctuated by those thrusts that stroke your insides in a way that makes your body tingle and your toes curl.

“That easy, huh?”

The audacity helps you lock eyes on him, if only for a moment, and while his smug smile builds a small fury at the back of your mind, your receive vindication in the flutter of his lashes and slight twitch of his upper lip as he tries to ignore the call of his tightening balls. It gives you what you need to dig deep, rocking your hips up into his thrusts, unearthing the orgasm just below the surface for the both of you.

You find yours first, putting your trust in Toji as you let go and bounce into him as it rips through you white hot and powerful enough to have you curling in on yourself, head buried against Toji’s chest and legs clamping him until his hips are pressed to yours. He pushes past even the strength of your legs and pulsing pussy, thrusting until you release him, lying back, and your head has barely hit the mat below before he’s pulling out.

“Fuck…” it’s hissed out as he sits up and jerks at his cock roughly, head falling back while his hips buck up and into his fist. His cum spatters down, first landing on your shirt until you tug it up, hopeless as the task was with your clothes already ruined, and take the rest of it onto your bare stomach.

He’s left panting, you’re left panting. He looks like he’s won at something, you feel like you’ve lost.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲

The first day of any new job was always the hardest — all the rules and roles to navigate while establishing yourself as someone reliable, trustworthy, and far too interested in your employer.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ୨୧ DILF!Bucky Barnes x Babysitter!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ୨୧ 8.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ୨୧ Swearing, pet names, fluff, slight angst/insecurity, pining, unspecified age gap, Bucky is a shameless flirt and he knows it, extreme sexual tension/implied smut, heated kissing, there is a kid in this fic

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ୨୧ Happy belated birthday, @duckybarnes1917 — I hope you enjoy the torturous collection I came up with just for you, love you long time. 😘 ୨୧ This AU and fic itself have skyrocketed into my personal top 5. I threw my all into this and I am fucking proud of it.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ୨୧ greedy by Tate McRae ୨୧ Like U by Rosenfeld

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 ୨୧ @smutconnoisseur — thank you for dealing with my flying by the seat of my pants attitude because oh my god—

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo  ჻჻჻  Babysitting (December), Teasing (January), Single Parent (February) —  Masterlist ჻჻჻  Aggressive Flirting (February) —  Masterlist ୨୧ @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟯 — DILF AU —  Masterlist ୨୧ @mcukinkbingo 𝗜𝟱 — Mistaken for a couple —  Masterlist ୨୧ @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗚𝟮 — First Kiss —  Masterlist ୨୧ @sweetspicybingo Sweetheart Bingo — Cloud Nine —  Masterlist

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The advertisement was like any other — a father looking for a babysitter to watch over his little girl while he worked, and from what you could gather, the father worked a prestigious job that took up a substantial amount of time when he had to visit the office. 

A sweet little girl that adored princesses and coloured her days away, if her description was anything to be believed, and you applied for the position straight away, not wasting a moment before you sent all of your credentials through. It seemed a perfect fit. 

To your shock (and relief), you heard back from your new employer within the hour. 

James Barnes, a leading engineer in his field of cutting-edge prosthetics, called you in the next half hour, voice deep and honeyed with a hidden sense of cunning curiosity. The conversation was brief before he invited you over for a drink — of your choice, “You can have whatever you want, doll, I don’t mind,” he purred after you stuttered a shocked, nonsensical reply.

It was intoxicating, the sound of his voice lulling into fantasies that your majorly unhelpful mind conjured after that encounter. The memory was barely definable through your lust fuelled recollections of your shared drinks. 

Over time, after spending time with the both of them, it took all of your willpower to not be lulled towards the forbidden curiosities you held for your new employer. He was enigmatic, playful, curious, and lethally charming with a smile to match — one that danced in your daydreams and slumber with far too sinful results. 

The rapport with your new charge came over easy, a blessed relief that instilled a confidence in you; a job that would both be a smooth and interesting challenge, sans complications of a tantruming child. 

James, however, quickly made it his mission to fluster you at every turn: asking you about your day and praising you for the smallest, littlest things, to bringing you home flowers and treats when he walked in the door to greet you. 

It never failed to make heat creep up your neck, and never failed to land elsewhere. 

You were no stranger to attraction, but James was something else — a broad, older man, single father to a little girl, incredibly handsome and intelligent, and far too suave for his own good. Just the thought of his attention made you feel giddy with the rush of endorphins. 

One particular video call stuck in your mind to this day, a loop of his voice and soft, enamoured expression on repeat. Both of you were discussing the particular habits of his little girl: how she loved certain movies and detested others, where she loved to have her meals and with what plush teddies and dolls had to sit with her, and so on, so forth. 

It was heartwarming to bear witness how much he adored his daughter, a clear example of love and devotion you’d only seen in very few circumstances. 

“She doesn’t mind having other movies,” James said, and the camera panned to the little girl happily playing with her dolls. “It’s just– She will pout and whine if she doesn’t get, y’know, that movie.”

You chuckled and noted it down on a piece of paper. “And we’re not saying the name of that movie because–?”

The phone’s camera flipped back to show James’ fearful expression, wide, bright eyes staring directly into the screen and through to your soul. “It’s because I don’t want a riot in my living room,” he said carefully, around your laughter — you couldn’t help it, he was too dramatic. “Besides, I would rather spend my time talking to my pretty Fawn.” 

The use of the pet name he reserved for only you made you splutter and hide — tilting the camera to the ceiling as you bit your lip hard enough for it to almost bleed. “Aw, come back,” James teased, “I was enjoying seeing your face—not the damned ceiling.”

You were sure it was some kind of sin for how often that comment played in your mind during the late hours of the night, but you couldn’t help it. 

In such a short span of time, you fell hard for your boss, the father of your charge, and it was a hell of a forbidden rush to think of him in such a way — above you, pinning you to the surface while he fucked you deep, hard, and fast. The deep, animalistic grunts that would fall from his lips, or the praises he’d sing of how tight you were for him. 

Not to mention, the way his deep, chocolate brown hair would fall from his shoulders to hang between your bodies, the ends of it tickling your skin when he would pull out; only to thrust hard back into your cunt with a wrecked, gravelly moan.

The clatter of your fork on your plate made you jump a mile high, and you came back to reality with a crash to find the sun casting its bright rays over the breakfast nook in your apartment. “Fuck, fuck,” you muttered, shaking your head to clear the heated images while your thighs clenched traitorously at the visual and auditory vision. “Goddammit.”

What lay ahead, however, made the burning thoughts turn to butterflies in your stomach. Today was the day, your first real test: a full day packed to the brim with activities you planned that would suit the young, imaginative mind you no doubt believed the girl to have, given who her father was. 

A loud chime sounded next to you, and you gasped in fright. “Shit!” you cursed, and you scrambled to grab your phone. 

Speaking of the devil; James’ name flashed at the bottom of your screen, and you read the text with an unparalleled eagerness. 

She just woke up and she’s already screaming about her new friend visiting today. We’re excited to see you, Fawn. 

Attached to the text was a picture of the little girl you affectionately called Starlet. She was holding a drawing up to the camera that had no doubt been hastily created — it was you, James, and her holding hands. The movement she artistically captured led you to assume the three of you were dancing in front of the giant, scribbled rainbow in the background. 

Tears welled in your eyes at the soft warmth that bloomed in your chest — only having had prominently video calls with her, she already considered you a friend. 

Memories pulled at your mind again, and you thought back to the time you received a video call from Starlet one evening — it was just starting to grow dark when your phone chimed, and you answered it without a second thought after seeing your employer’s name on the screen. “Hello?”

A bright, smiling face stared at you through the screen. 

“Oh, hello, honey!” you said happily. “What are you up to?” Then you remembered that she was a crafty, cunning little girl. With a sterner tone, you pressed on in the interrogation, “Where’s your dad—have you taken his phone again?”

“No, I’m here, Fawn,” James called distantly, and he laughed. “Starlet wanted to say hello—I’m just cooking dinner, you don’t mind, do you? Are we keeping you from something?”

“Nope.” The cushions against your back suddenly became very comfortable, now that you had company of your favourite two people. “Tell me about your day, sweetheart,” you asked of Starlet, and the little girl flew into an explanation that lasted one whole hour. 

It was only when James took his phone back did you have a moment to catch your reeling mind, only for it to start spinning at the sight of his broad, handsome smile. 

The phone in your hand buzzed once more, pulling you from the reverie. James sent another message asking if you would bring more of a specific set of gel pens — Starlet had taken to them and never quieted down about how sparkly they were. 

A giggle escaped from your lips in the quiet of your home, and your thumbs flew over the keyboard to type back: Sure can. I can’t wait to see you guys, I’ll be there soon! 

“Okay,” you said to yourself, picking up your plate of now stone-cold breakfast. “Let’s do this.”

You ignored the heavy weight of the secret bearing down on your mind as you padded down the hallway to your bedroom; how wrong it was to fall for your damned employer and harbour the lust over him, but you couldn’t help but revel in the thrill of it. 

After dressing comfortably, you made sure to grab an extra set of gel pens for the princess that awaited you before you walked out the door, locking it behind you. 

The journey to James’ home was thankfully uneventful, and you pulled up to where your directions led. 

Your mouth fell slack with shock at what you found awaiting you.

The driveway to James’ home was sprawling in the length and design. Flowering hedges lined either side of the luxuriously paved road, and there was a water feature — a water feature, you thought incredulously, placed dead centre in front of a set of stairs that led to a massive, windowed, double set of doors. 

“No wonder the pay was that high, he’s rich.” Your car travelled silently up the way while you took in the opulence of your new surroundings.

To the left of the stairway leading to the front door, was an empty space next to a fancy SUV. “I hope that’s for me,” you mumbled, and you parked your car while sure to leave space between the vehicles. The handbrake creaked and the engine shut off with a shudder, the sound of it made you grimace. “I have to get this checked; sooner rather than later.”

With no time to pause and consider your misfortune with vehicles, you slid out of the driver’s seat and popped the trunk to fetch the bag of delightful craft supplies you readied for Starlet. Through your raging nerves, you managed to hum a song quietly as you placed the strap over your shoulder. 

The sole of your shoes padded over the pavement of the driveway, and the mansion that loomed ahead of you in its majesty — the architecture alone made it appear like something from the cover of a magazine. 

“Whoa,” you breathed, spinning in place to take it all in. The beauty and aesthetic of the home was unmatched in the tidiness of the landscaping, and the facade of the home highlighted the contrasting use of colours in both the wood and steel that made up the accents. “Holy–”

A squeal of glee cut your admiration short, and one of the double doors of the home flew open to reveal a small girl dashing down the steps, clothed in a typical sparkly, princess dress. “Hi!”

“Oh!” you gasped, stumbling backwards with the force of the child’s hug. “Goodness, hello! You must be the little Starlet, huh?” The comment was teasing — you knew for certain this was your charge, but the girl beamed up at you through her fly-away hair. 

“Yeah,” Starlet giggled. Her small arms, decorated in sparkly lace, squeezed you tighter.  

A deep voice tinged with the worry only a parent could possess, suddenly called from the stairs. “Starlet! Honey–? Don’t run off on me like that–” They stopped, and you looked up — the breath in your lungs escaped as though you’d been punched in the diaphragm. “Fawn!”

You blinked, unable to form the words that would accurately depict the sight before you. 

James was smiling — the very same one that made his eyes crinkle at the sides. The tight, navy blue, rounded collar shirt clung to his chest and shoulders, while black dress pants hugged his thighs.  

It was true, you had seen him numerous times via your video calls and once in person, but nothing came close to preparing you for how he would be in the comfort of his own home; how his voice was just as deep, if not deeper, and trickled down your spine with the same heat as molten lava. 

Oh, fuck, you thought. 

Aloud, you said, “Mr. Barnes!”

James grinned and shook his head. “Fawn, sweetheart—please call me Bucky.” He neared you, his presence overwhelmingly close, and he leaned in for a hug that you nervously returned — all the while praying the hammering beat of your heart couldn’t be heard or felt against his muscled chest. “It’s good to see you again,” he rumbled, pulling away to look you up and down, and his eyes landed on your bag. “I’ll take that for you.”

“Th– Thanks,” you stuttered; the proximity allowed you to stare into his grey-blue eyes, a mix of colours you wished to capture and keep. 

Bucky’s hand brushed against yours when he grabbed your bag, but he kept that same, priceless smile on his lips. “We started the princess marathon early, if you couldn’t tell,” he added, looking down at the ball of energy that was his daughter. 

You grinned down at the little girl. “I can’t wait—I found so many things we can do, Starlet, and they all involve princesses.”

Starlet took off like a shot towards the front doors and into the house, her screech of glee loud enough to wake the neighbours — Bucky stood next to you wincing, while you rubbed your ear that was closest to the front door. The ringing only died down slightly. 

“Oh, boy,” you muttered, “Someone’s a bit excited.”

Bucky laughed. The sound rich and something you terribly needed to hear again. 

You looked at him, taking in his profile while he still stared towards the doorway of his home. The hair that looked almost black on the phone, was a deep, deep brown — where the sun bled through the surrounding trees, it shone a beautiful hazelnut. It was loose down his neck, and his beard was neatly trimmed with only a few grey patches to be seen.

The sign of his age made him all the more attractive — allowing a sense of maturity and allure to his already swoon worthy appearance. 

“So,” you hastily started, willing the heat that started to build in your stomach to simmer instead of boil. “You’re off for a full day in the office?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Bucky replied, and he put a hand on the small of your back to guide you up to his home. “I’ve got back-to-back meetings that I can’t put off any longer, given my associates and their… inability to manifest a sense of patience. And I don’t like taking Starlet if I can help it—she’s such an active girl and she hates sitting in the corner.”

“That’s fair.” The stairs beneath your feet exhumed luxury you felt you couldn’t even stand in the presence of. “Have you been looking for a babysitter for long–?”

Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eyes. “Curious one, aren’t you, Fawn?”

“I–”

“I’m just messing with you, honey,” he said, barely holding back a laugh. “And to answer you, yeah, I have. They all either were too uptight or couldn’t handle how hyperactive Starlet is—‘cause as you may have noticed, she’s a lot–”

“She is not!” You frowned and looked towards the inside of the house where Starlet was no doubt impatiently waiting for your presence. “She’s beautiful and sweet—creative and passionate, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Thanks, honey,” he said softly, earnestly. The smile he gave you made butterflies erupt where there were flames only seconds ago. 

Bucky walked you through the threshold of the front door, and you gasped loudly at the interior — it was a brightly lit, open spaced home with only counters and half walls to divide up the rooms, and there were numerous hallways that lead off of the main area. A grand staircase led to the upper floors. 

“This is beautiful,” you said breathlessly, awestruck by the beauty. On the upper level, you heard the fast footsteps of a little girl running around, to gather things to show her new friend, you assumed, but what you focused on was Bucky’s prideful expression; a man that was happy and proud of the space he built for his family. “Really, really beautiful, Bucky. Wow.”

“You know how to make a fella feel special, Fawn,” he muttered bashfully with an accent you loved more than would ever admit to. A playful sense of amusement grew as you spotted a dusting of pink over his high cheekbones. 

The air crackled with tension as Bucky looked up from the floor and into your eyes. 

Before you could open your mouth and say something on instinct, Bucky looked towards the kitchen, then back at you. “Come here.” 

He led you into the sprawling kitchen — the size of it far too big to comprehend with counter space akin to a working, industrial kitchen. A ringed index finger pointed to the fridge. “Now, before you go getting any ideas of spoiling Starlet rotten…” 

There was a teasing tone to his voice, and it was raised to be loud enough for a certain pair of little ears to hear. 

You looked to where he was pointing and saw a whiteboard hanging high on the door. Neat, orderly writing on one side; childish scrawl on the other. It had rules listed in bullet form: no extra chocolate, no extra sugar, in bed by eight…

“As you can see,” Bucky said, still in that raised tone. His eyes wandered to the upstairs loft that was above the kitchen, and you didn’t repress the urge to grin at him. “There are rules to follow, and Starlet agreed to them; do not let her convince you otherwise–”

“But daddy,” a petulant voice whined. You only just managed to stifle your laughter. “She didn’t have to know.” 

“Starlet Barnes,” Bucky scolded, and the laughter you worked so hard to bite back almost broke free as he put his hands on his cocked hips, staring up at the loft. Your gaze followed his eye line and you saw the aforementioned troublemaker peering down between the railing, a deep pout on her lips. “You promised me you would behave, honey. Now come down here so I can say goodbye—daddy’s gotta go to work or he’ll be late.”

A loud whine followed Bucky’s words, and he shook his head before he looked at you. “Those are the rules, for her, anyway.”

You blinked. “What–”

The same fast footsteps from before now pelted down the stairs, and Starlet launched herself into Bucky’s arms, giggling as he lifted her small body from the floor and into the air with a grunt. “Are you going to behave for Fawn, honey?” he asked, resting Starlet on his side so her legs swung over his front and back. “You promised me you would, remember?”

Your heart swooped and lodged itself in your throat with the display of paternal affection. 

“Yeah, I will,” Starlet replied, her small hands grabbing Bucky’s stubbled cheeks. “Daddy, you need to shave.”

No he does not, you thought privately. 

“Thanks,” he replied, and he blew a raspberry on her chubby cheek. “Okay, be on your best behaviour; manners, honey, use them.”

“Mhm,” Starlet hummed. Bucky placed her gently down onto the floor, and her little, sparkled flats made a small click click sound as she walked towards you. “I’ll be good, daddy.”

You offered your hand to hold, and she took it eagerly, swinging your arm back and forth while Bucky grabbed his briefcase and bag. “I’ll be back late tonight, so don’t wait up for me,” he said to you. “Feel free to eat whatever or order in, my card is here–” He shoved a black card from his wallet into your free hand before you could protest. “And– Yeah, I’ll be back.”

“Bye, daddy!” Starlet called, pulling you along behind Bucky — who’s broad shoulders and muscled back was unfairly shown off by the cut of his shirt. “Talk to you later–”

“I promise, honey, I’ll call Fawn and say goodnight.” A dark blazer was pulled from its coat rack, and Bucky shrugged it on before he smoothed the wrinkles in the fabric, quicker than you could offer as you so desperately wanted to. “And in bed by eight, no later, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” You saluted, and the look Bucky shot you made you gulp — pure heat blazed in his eyes, and the flames that licked up your spine you dampened before reignited with a roar. “We– We’ll be good,” you stammered, praying to anyone that would listen above that you could survive the night with that visual at the forefront of your mind. 

Bucky smiled and walked back to kiss his daughter on the cheek. Then, to your absolute mix of horror and surprise, he kissed your forehead, too. “My good girls,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours. “I’ll talk to you later.”

And the door closed with a finality that left you reeling. 

“Can we go colour?” Starlet asked innocently, her bright eyes blinking up at you. “Daddy said he left me the best pencils and you brought pens?”

“Uh– Yeah, yeah—sure, we can go colour, sweetheart,” you said. Focus, you reminded yourself inwardly. 

For hours, you spent your time between the set of plush couches in the expansive living room and marathoning movies that ranged from cartoons to the most ridiculous animations, to a small child’s table — colouring with the closest thing you would ever come to spending time with royalty. 

Starlet certainly took it in her stride to act like a princess. 

“But daddy said I could–” 

“Go look at the fridge,” you said, smirking — you knew for a fact that she was attempting to pull the wool over your eyes. A deceptive, little lamb. “Daddy put the rules up there and he said, before he left, that you agreed to them—didn’t you, Starlet?”

Small, pink lips pouted heartily, and she stomped off towards the fridge, her shoes thudding over the floor. “Ugh.”

“Ugh, indeed.”

The night began to wind down a few hours later, and after colouring the whole duration, you decided a movie would be the best course of action to break up the monotony and brewing tantrum in the wriggling girl opposite you. 

As a treat, you allowed Starlet to play a movie while she ate — only after she swore to you that she wouldn’t tell Bucky. The ploy worked, for as well as any child loved the idea of a secret, she fell head over heels into the sworn secrecy and happily tucked into her dinner while the princesses on the TV screen sang another rendition of the chorus. 

You couldn’t help but watch her from the kitchen counter, where you were tidying away the dishes. It was with curiosity you admired the similarities between Starlet and her father, what you found and discerned during the short time of knowing the pair of them. 

Starlet had the same bright eyes, the colour of her irises as beautiful as her father’s with the addition of an irreplaceable hint of childish awe and wonder. Her hair fell in waves; shades of what you could only describe as beautiful in the strands that prominently populated her temples to crown. 

A sudden sense of contentment flooded you while you continued to gaze at her. Being invited and accepted into such a space was rewarding. 

It was evident that Starlet’s birth mother was no longer in the picture, and you never planned to ask or know more than what you were told, but still, you wondered how Bucky was not snatched up. He was a charming, sweet man that adored his daughter — you would be lying if you didn’t take to heart the imagined scenarios that played over and over in your mind, of what it would be like just to be part of such domestic bliss. 

The loud chime of your phone startled you from your thoughts, and you exhaled sharply just as Starlet’s head peered up and over the back of the couch. “Is that daddy?”

You looked down at your phone’s screen, smiling, and said, “Yeah, hang on, I’ll come sit with you and we can talk to him.” The screen flashed with colour as you swiped to accept his video call, and you were greeted with his bright smile. 

“Hey, Fawn,” Bucky said happily, though he looked exhausted — the furrow between his brow had deepened in his absence from home. “How are my girls, huh? Behaving, I hope.”

“We’re here, we just finished having dinner,” you said, angling the phone to show a distracted Starlet, sans her plate (that of which had hastily been placed on the coffee table in front of the couch), and then back to you. “Starlet jumped up on the couch with me to say hello.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Is that so? Alright, where’s my little girl?”

Starlet scrambled to sit right beside you, and her happy expression filled the screen while you chuckled. “Daddy!” 

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky cooed, his smile heart-warmingly fond. “Have you had a good day with Fawn?”

“Yeah,” she replied, nodding quickly. “We coloured and then watched movies and coloured more and–” 

“A lot of princess duties,” you cut in, and Starlet giggled, her chubby cheeks turning pink with a blush. “We are in the presence of royalty, Sir Barnes.”

“Oh, do forgive me, your highness,” he replied with wide eyes. The camera shook as he moved, and you saw his desk top scattered with papers before the phone settled upright, pointing towards Bucky’s office chair. He bowed deeply — either intentionally, or ignorantly allowing his hair to fall over his face. When he looked up to the screen, loose tendrils of hair covered his forehead and danced over his eyes. 

The last reserves of your self-preservation and dignity vanished as you tried to force your heart to not burst free from its new home in your throat — the way his eyes appeared through the slicked strands was an image you would never let escape. 

“I humbly request an audience with the Princess.” Bucky neared the camera again, smirking — the bastard knew, you panicked. 

Before you could spiral, beside you, Starlet said fiercely, “Of course, Sir Daddy.” She shifted to better look at the screen. “The Princess always has time for uh–”

“King, or knight,” you whispered into her ear. 

“Knight!”

“How generous.” Bucky laughed heartily. He sat back in his chair and steepled his hands, showing off the glint of his rings and the generous muscle exposed on his forearms from his rolled-up sleeves. “Ah, my girls,” he sighed, looking into the camera. “I shouldn’t be too much longer—Uncle Stevie is being a punk–”

“Uncle Steeb!” Starlet squealed.

“Yes, uncle Steeb,” he echoed, and he looked off camera. “Get over here, she wants to see you.” 

“Is that my favourite niece?” A second voice called, the volume increasing as they neared the desk. Starlet was positively vibrating out of her seat with excitement. 

“Well, well, well,” they said, and suddenly, another handsome face came into view. He had blond hair that was slicked back, and his beard was neatly trimmed — deep, blue eyes glanced between you and Starlet with interest. “It is—hey, Bug!”

“Uncle Steeb! Uncle Steeb!” Starlet launched herself at the phone to hug the device to her chest and toppled it from your grip. “Oh– I sorry–”

“Don’t you worry, honey,” you soothed, and you ruffled her hair. “Just be careful, okay? Hang on, let’s pick this up–” The phone had thankfully been undamaged in the fall, and you smiled at the two men staring up at you with concern. 

“You two okay?” Bucky asked — he was poised as though to run at a seconds notice.

“Yeah, all is good,” you replied, settling back on the couch. “Here you are, sweetie.” 

Starlet held the phone as though it was a priceless jewel, and she spoke to her father and apparent uncle with such vigour it was as though she hadn’t seen them in weeks, rather than just a day. The topics broached what the princesses in the movie did, to what she coloured — it was an endless tirade of excitement that only made you smile as you watched on. 

Soon enough, she started to yawn, though she tried to minimise and hide them. A father’s keen eye was not to be underestimated, however. “Baby, I think you better get to bed—it is close to eight,” Bucky said softly. 

You glanced at the top of your phone’s screen to check the time for yourself, and you blinked — it was only seven when he first called. 

“I’ll be home soon, and I will come and kiss you goodnight, okay? Fawn can put you to bed; she’s pretty good at bedtime stories, I hear.”

She looked up at you through glazed eyes. “You are?”

“I am,” you confirmed with a proud nod. “Why don’t you say goodnight to daddy now and we can get you set up and comfy in bed?”

“‘Kay,” Starlet mumbled sleepily. “G’night, daddy. I love you.”

Bucky smiled. “I love you, too, baby. I’ll come give you a kiss when I get home, I promise.”

You ended the call with a promise to do your best impression of the characters for Bucky, and beside you, Starlet sighed happily. “I love daddy; I love uncle Steeb.”

“I see that,” you chuckled quietly. “Now, c’mon, up you get—bedtime for her highness.”

It turned out to be a smooth, tantrum-free process, readying Starlet for sleep — she followed your guidance to a tee and had the independence to fit her title when it came time to pick out her favourite pyjamas. 

She settled into the cocoon of blankets and plush toys that took up more room than her own small self on her bed, and you smiled down at her as you sat on the edge. Her small hand in yours made your heart leap. 

There was a strange glint in her eye when she uttered your name sleepily. You raised a brow in curiosity. “Yes, honey?”

“Are you daddy’s friend?”

“Yes,” you said honestly, smiling. “Your daddy is a kind, thoughtful man. I am happy to be his friend—why do you ask, sweetheart?”

“I–” She swallowed and furrowed her small brows. “He told me one time that there are special friends, and I– I–”

“Oh, Starlet– No, no honey,” you rushed, desperately smothering the rising panic in your chest at her implementation — the curious nature of a child was never to be scolded, but you did not think you could stomach this conversation, not on the first damned night of being under his employment. “I work for your daddy, and my job is to look after you when he can’t, okay? That doesn’t mean I am, uh– A special friend of your daddy’s.” 

As much as I wish to be, you whined internally — though saying that aloud would be catastrophic, you had no doubt about that. Focus.

“Oh.” That same thoughtful gleam returned in her eyes, and you braced for another round of interrogation — as intimidating as a child’s questions could be. “Well, I think you would be a nice special friend for daddy. He smiles a lot when he sees you.”

It was your turn to be absolutely dumbfounded. Words failed and escaped you; scattering to the winds, never to be seen again, while Starlet did nothing but stare up at you innocently, a soft smile pulling at her lips. 

“Uh– Ha, well.” You coughed and leaned back a little, willing your mind to connect back with an acceptable train of thought. “Um– Thank you, thank you for that, sweetheart. That’s very sweet of you.”

Starlet beamed, brighter than the stars above. “You’re welcome.”

When she finally dozed off to sleep after your indulgent tale of Rapunzel, you padded ever so quietly from her bedroom and carefully closed the door with a soft click behind you. 

You only made it a few steps towards the staircase before you had to stop and think — the dull thump of your back and shoulders hitting the wall made you grimace and look to Starlet’s door, though she did not rouse. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you rasped, rubbing your face with your hands, distorting the sound of your distress. “Goddammit all, ugh.”

Desperation and pure want clawed at your insides, savaging your attempts to control your impulses; the need for Bucky’s attention blew out of proportion tenfold with the words from his daughter. 

Carefully, you tiptoed down the stairs, one by one, until you stood in the kitchen. 

“He smiles—he smiles when he talks about me,” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. The quiet sound of your feet padding over the tile grew in volume while you paced back and forth. “Bucky smiles—oh fucking hell.”

A war raged in your mind, split equal sides by morality and need; one side dead set on preventing you from making a fool of yourself, the other hell bent on allowing you in the indulgence of recklessness. 

The possibility of it all not backfiring upon you was slim at best, but something nagged– No, pulled at your thoughts: what if Bucky felt the same? 

“No, no,” you said aloud, grimacing. “That’s not possible—I can’t– He can’t, he’s older, successful–”

Your tirade was interrupted by a sudden beep from the security panel by the front door. “Front gate opened.”

“Shit.” You rushed to the front door and peered through the frosted glass. The fancy SUV that was parked next to your car before pulled into the driveway, headlights on and engine purring. 

A heavy exhale of relief fell from your lips, and you resolutely decided to push the dilemma of his affection to the side; a project for the back burner that was your ever running mind. 

The SUV parked and fell silent, the headlights and taillights dimming, and you turned back around towards the kitchen to heat up two plates of dinner in the oven — silently thanking your decision to make extra. 

Footsteps sounded by the front door, and it swung open, not even creaking. “Fawn?” Bucky called quietly, his voice lowered so as to not awake Starlet upstairs. “Honey, where are you?”

“Kitchen—getting dinner for us.”

Soft footfalls came from the entryway and towards the kitchen, when Bucky rounded the corner. You smiled at him, which he returned tiredly. “Hey, how was Starlet? You okay?”

“She was great, we had fun, and she was sweet. I learned that Rapunzel is far superior over Sleeping Beauty, but nothing, of course, beats her ultimate favourite.” The oven behind you beeped, and you turned to open it and fetch the dish of food, but Bucky put a hand on your elbow and gestured for you to continue with your tale as he grabbed the oven mitts. “And she tried to worm more chocolate out of me, naturally.” 

Bucky’s laugh sounded rich and deep, a sound you wished you could hear over and over. “I knew she would.” The dish in his hands was placed onto the countertop, and you set to cutting portions to eat; surreptitiously making sure Bucky had more than his fair share. 

“Do you want to watch–”

“Why don’t we sit on the–”

The two of you stared at one another, eyes wide and smiles playing at the corners of your lips. “You first,” Bucky offered, chuckling quietly.

“I, uh– Do you want to sit on the couch–?”

“Sure, honey,” he replied, and he picked up your plate with his free hand. “Grab us a drink?”

You took a deep breath when Bucky turned his back to you. You’ve got this, you intoned. 

Dinner was a quiet affair, and you were grateful for it — while it was your job and your pleasure to look after Bucky’s daughter, the little girl sure had boundless amounts of energy, and it was hard work keeping up with her. 

After clearing your plate, you set it down onto the coffee table. Bucky was still going, so you settled into the plush cushions and watched the plain, mindless show without taking it in. 

“Fawn, sweetheart?” Bucky whispered suddenly; voice close enough that you could feel the exhale of breath with his words. 

You startled and blinked rapidly — the room was dark, the TV off and the lights dimmed. 

“There you are,” Bucky cooed. He was sitting right next to you, his hand on your knee as he half faced you. “You fell asleep, honey—you feeling okay?”

“Oh– I, uh– Shit, I’m so sorry,” you rushed, sitting up. The blackened screen of the TV reflected the clock in the kitchen to show that it was only nine at night. “I better go—you no doubt want to go to sleep soon after such a big day–”

“Fawn, hey– Stop, it’s okay,” Bucky soothed, and he put a hand on your shoulder — the heat from his palm made your mind whirr with possibilities. “It’s okay. I let you sleep; you looked dead on your feet. I only woke you up because I thought you’d want to go home to your partner.”

Heat bloomed over your chest and up your neck, the way Bucky was staring at you made something stir that you would much rather stay dormant. “I, uh– Don’t have a partner, Mr. Barnes,” you whispered. 

The silence could have engulfed you whole — tension billowed in the air, and you fidgeted, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze. 

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Bucky said eventually, and you shivered at the sound of his voice; lowered an octave and raspy with what you guessed was shock. “I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have assumed. But let’s get you home, okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, getting to your feet. 

Bucky handed you your bag, all neatly packed and organised, and walked you to the front door and down the front steps. “I don’t mean to presume, but can I ask you back again to watch Starlet–?” he asked, looking at you.

“Of course,” you blurted, and you meant it. “She was a fun bundle of energy, and you know how to contact me if you need me again.”

You tried, wholeheartedly, to fight the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as Bucky opened your car door, and then took your bag to place it in the trunk. In a roundabout way, you wished he would be insufferable, even arrogant in his disposition — it would have made it easier to banish the swelling crescendo of want that started to consume you. 

“Will you message me when you get home?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, nodding. “I– I will. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Bucky brought you close in an embrace you returned, and you savoured the warmth of his body; the feel of his arms around you as he held you tight. 

Though it had to end. 

You pulled away, out of his hold, and moved to sit in the driver’s seat of your car. 

“Get home safe, Fawn.” Bucky closed the door after you tucked your feet into the well, and he leaned against the side of your car. 

“I will.” You smiled up at him, and then you turned the keys in the ignition. 

The car spluttered and clunked back to silence. Bucky was looking towards the hood of your car with concern. “Oh, it’s just temperamental,” you said to reassure him, and yourself.

You tried again; you tried a third time, but there was only a piteous groan from the engine before it gave in, falling silent each time. “Great, just great,” you muttered angrily, cursing your luck that carried on from when the car first showed signs of kicking the bucket. “Fuck.”

“Pop the bonnet,” Bucky said, adjusting his sleeves. “I’ll take a look.”

Oh, boy, you groaned internally at the sight of his forearms flexing again, but you complied. 

The metal creaked and groaned its protest of movement when Bucky pulled the hood up, locking it in place with one hand while the other dug into the engine bay. A determined frown pulled his pretty lips at the corner. “The old girl is on her last legs,” he gritted out through clenched teeth while he fiddled and yanked at parts of the engine. “The mounts are close to giving out and it looks like the battery is… well, fucked.”

You sighed, the sound hitching on a frustrated sob. “Can you– Can you call me a cab? I’ll get someone to come tow it in the morning, or something–”

“Fawn,” Bucky said fiercely, and he looked at you while he closed the hood of your traitorous car. “Do you think I’m going to send you home with some stranger when you’re clearly and rightfully upset?”

“But–”

“But fucking nothing, sweetheart,” he insisted, his tone somehow soft — like he cared. “Please, I have a spare bedroom—fuck, I have several, and you are welcome to any one of them until we can get you home tomorrow.”

The use of a curse drove his point home, so did the earnest glare in his eyes. 

Your shoulders slumped in defeat, and you gestured at yourself. “But I haven’t brought clothes– What about Starlet in the morning? She doesn’t know–” She will get the wrong idea; Bucky doesn’t know what she’s said, you silently fretted, but there was no way to give voice to your worries, not in your distress.

“Honey, please, you can use some of my old clothes—they’ll be comfortable, and you’ll be modest. Just let me help you,” Bucky implored. He held a hand out, an offering to guide you back inside. “We can work it all out in the morning. I’m off tomorrow, and hell, Starlet would love having a friend over for breakfast—it’s pancakes and bacon.”

“That does sound pretty good,” you murmured, wringing your hands. The nagging feeling of imposing upon his hospitality would not dissipate, though. “Are you sure? I–”

Bucky shook his head, an exasperated smile on his lips. “C’mere, Fawn,” he said, and he slung his arm over your shoulder. You attempted to clamp your jaw shut around the shocked sound in your throat. “I’m sure. I can’t leave my Fawn high and dry; not when I can help.”

“Okay,” you squeaked, and you allowed Bucky to lead you back into the house and up the stairs towards the bedrooms. 

Without a word, he paused at the top of the stairs and retracted his arm, hanging it by his side as he walked towards a larger, single door — you moved to follow him, but he placed his index finger over his lips, before he disappeared behind it. The house was silent in the absence of Starlet’s giggles and rambling rants of royalty, and you found yourself fidgeting in place while you waited for that door to open again. 

As though he heard you, Bucky opened the door and walked towards you, offering a worn, soft, black henley, and a pair of dark sweats. “Back in my twenties,” he began, smiling down at the offered clothes, “I was twice the size—fucking obsessed with vanity. But these will be comfortable.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking the offered clothes. The movement made your fingers brush against his, and something changed — the air grew thick with crackling energy that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. “I– I will, uh, talk to you in the morning?”

Bucky nodded and stepped back; you tried not to whine from the loss of his proximity — luck was not on your side. Something must have shown of your inward pleading in your expression. 

“Fawn?” he asked quietly, tilting his head. “You okay, sweetheart? You look–” He licked his lips, the action drawing your whole attention. “You look lost.”

“I’m fine,” you replied weakly, and you nodded once as though it would make it reality. Truthfully, you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole — the late hour naturally stripped you of your inhibitions, and God…

You cursed temptation to the high heavens. 

“You sure?” Bucky asked, and he stepped closer again, his presence looming near enough to make your heart thunder against the confines of your throat. 

“Mhm.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, and stepped forward again — you stepped back, forcing yourself not to melt onto the floor with how your knees shook. “Sweetheart… There’s something you’re not tellin’ me.”

The sudden dryness in your throat made you cough, and your eyes watered with the reflex. Bucky stepped closer and you backtracked until your heels hit the skirting board, your shoulders and back following close behind. “I– Ja– I mean, Bucky–”

His hands moved to either side of your head, effectively trapping you in place. “Yeah?”

Your mouth parted in shock, but nothing came to mind to defend yourself, or any urge to push him away. 

Bucky hummed, tilting his head. “Fawn, you know if this isn’t okay you are more than welcome to knee me where the sun doesn’t shine—but look at you.” The breathy quality of Bucky’s voice made your stomach knot with arousal. 

This was wrong, your mind screamed; this is what you want, your heart shouted.

“You’re desperately fighting against something, I see it; it's in your pretty eyes, baby,” he purred. “Talk to me—tell me what’s wrong, why are you fightin’?”

Bucky’s face loomed closer to yours, his lips parted only slightly, and you prayed for strength as you fisted his shirt, to pull or push him away, you couldn’t decipher — he was so, so close, if only you just reached out–

“What are you fightin’, my little Doe?”

“Oh– Bucky, please–” Thoughts swirled and escaped your grasp, faster than you could claim the words and the will to do the right damned thing. “Please, I– Hmph!”

His lips claimed yours, the softness of them insistent, desperate, and you moaned into his mouth from the rush of adrenaline. “Yes,” you breathed against his lips, and you threw your arms around his neck, forgoing your hold on his clothes. 

The sweetness of Bucky’s lips made you chase them when he tried to pull back; you were starved for more, and he obliged your hunger by pushing you harder into the wall, his hands moving down your shoulders, your sides, to settle on your hips with a bruising grip. 

Bucky’s tongue brushed along your bottom lip, and you moaned again, letting your tongue dance with his; the relief of finally allowing yourself to give into the urge you’d been constraining against was liberating in every manner, even if it were risky, you were determined to make the best of it. 

It was only when he pulled back for breath did you realise he had been pawing at your hip and ass, the fabric bunched in his fists while he panted for air. “Fuck,” he murmured, and he started to laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest through the gasps for air. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that,” you agreed breathlessly. “Fuck.”

The two of you stood in silence, catching your breaths, and you waited for the fall out of it all; the implosion that lurked around the corner. 

“Fawn,” Bucky said quietly, and his index finger brushed along the underside of your chin; grey, inky eyes met yours with such intensity you almost collapsed under the heat of them. “I want you, baby—I wouldn’t have gambled my chances if I didn’t even have a hunch of what was going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“How did–”

“Never you mind, sweetheart. I’ve had my fair few rodeos with this; I can read you like a book.” The soft press of his lips against your forehead made your heart flutter. “Why don’t you get some sleep, hmm? We can talk in the morning—bright eyed and bushy tailed.” His quiet chuckle made your lips quirk up in a smile. “There’s my girl.”

You were unable to form the words to express the inner turmoil that brewed — that had been the best kiss of your life, Bucky liked you back, you hadn’t lost your job as you thought you would, and you were standing in Bucky’s home with an assortment of his clothes to wear while you slept. 

“Fawn, baby,” Bucky teased, and he pulled you away from the wall. His hands rubbed down your arms before he knelt and picked up his discarded clothes, handing them to you with a smile. “Go to bed—you look like you’ve seen a ghost and been given the best news all at once. Get some sleep.”

The bedroom he guided you towards was spacious and just as luxurious as what you had seen of the rest of his home. Light colours filled the room; pastels and darker pops of paint made it contrast in a tasteful way, while the linen and pillows looked divine. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest and a smile on his swollen lips. “If you need anything, sweetheart, I’m just down there,” he said, pointing down the hall, back towards the room with the larger door. “Sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.”

You looked at him, blinked, then smiled. “Yeah– Yeah, goodnight, Bucky.”

Relief, elation, fear all flooded you at once as you sidled up the mattress and under the covers. They drowned you beneath the waves of overwhelming thoughts of what would happen now; fear for what your future held. 

Would it include Bucky? What would Starlet think?

It all amounted to the sheer relief that while you hadn’t initiated the risk, it happened, and your courage bound and leaped with joy for it. 

And if you did a little squeal of joy and grinned wide enough to make your cheeks hurt as you tucked yourself into the plush blankets to sleep, it was nobody's business but your own.

the next part is already written. 😉🤭

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 6

Kara leaves the office early that evening, making time to swing by her sister's house on her way home. Kelly opens the door this time, and she can't quite hide her surprise at seeing her sister-in-law on her doorstep.

"Kara! Hi!" Kelly graciously moves in for a hug, which Kara receives as warmly as she can. "What are you doing here? Come on in."

Kara steps inside, and hovers in the small foyer. "Rescue mission," she says simply, lifting Esme's phone.

Kelly's eyes go wide, and she swiftly turns to call up the stairs. "Esme, honey! Come downstairs, someone is here to see you!"

There's a shuffle of movement upstairs, before a door clicks open and somber feet thud down the steps. Esme's features are duller than Kara's ever seen them, and though dry now, her eyes are red from crying.

"Hi Aunt Kar--"

Kara lifts the cellphone with a smile, and heart heart lifts as Esme immediately cheers at the sight of it.

"AUNT KARA!!!" Esme pelts down the remaining stairs and throws herself into Kara's arms. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Kara laughs, giving Esme a tight squeeze. "You're welcome, hun." She smoothes the hair from Esme's beaming face. "I promised, didn't I?"

Esme agrees with an enthusiastic nod. She swipes to open the phone, but the screen stays dark.

"I'm gonna go charge it," Esme announces. She gives Kara another hug. "Thank you!"

Then she's racing back up the stairs, bedroom door slamming shut in her enthusiasm. Kara shares a look with Kelly.

"Thank you," her sister-in-law echoes. "She's been torn up about it all day."

Kara nods. "I figured she would be. I wanted to make sure I got it back to her as soon as I could."

"I'm surprised the venue found it... I admit I wasn't holding out much hope."

"About that...." Kara hesitates. "Is Alex here?"

Kelly shakes her head. "Not for another hour." She studies Kara appraisingly. "Everything okay?"

"Just.... complicated."

For a long moment, neither of them say anything, the silence stretching thin between them. Kelly is the first to break it.

"You know, Kara..." she says carefully. "I know we've never really been close. But you know I'm here if you ever need anything, right?"

Kara swallows thickly, then gives a deliberate nod. "I know."

She knows Kelly is a kind, wonderful person. Kelly makes Alex happy, and if Kara weren't so busy, maybe they would have bonded by now.

Looking at Kelly now, Kara finds herself wondering... why not start today?

"The venue didn't find it." The admission comes short and quick, but as soon as it's out, Kara feels her shoulders relax. "Lena did."

Kelly blinks. "You mean... *the* Lena?"

"I thought she would send an assistant to drop it off, but-- she didn't?"

"What, you mean... she delivered it herself?" Kelly guesses, voice low to keep Esme from overhearing.

Kara nods. "And now I kind of... have a date?"

She watches a myriad of expressions flicker across Kelly's features, but before she can explain further, her sister-in-law settles on the most vital part of Kara's confession.

"A date with..."

"Yeah."

Another journey plays out on Kelly's face, nodding as she processes Kara's words.

"I guess," Kara continues, "I was hoping Alex might talk me out of it?"

At that, Kelly's gaze sharpens. "Why would you want that?"

"Because it's a ridiculous idea?!" Kara scoffs. "I mean... she's-- and I..."

Kelly shrugs at her. "It might be a little unorthodox, but she's not a child. She's an adult capable of making her own decisions. And it seems like she's made a choice to get to know you better."

"But...."

"Is that really so horrible?"

Put so directly, Kara can't truly convince herself that it is. "But..."

"It's one evening," Kelly continues gently. "Maybe it goes somewhere, maybe it doesn't. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't let yourself enjoy a night with a woman who is clearly into you."

Kara flushes hot, and she quickly scrambles to correct Kelly's observation.

"Kara, she found a way to not only notify you about the phone, but delivered it herself and *literally* asked you on date." Kelly shoots her a surprisingly stern look.

"Don't do her or yourself a disservice by pretending it's something other than it is."

Resisting for only a moment longer, Kara soon deflates. Kelly's right, and they both know it.

"So what do I do?"

"Enjoy the evening," Kelly responds firmly. "I mean it."

Kara nods, swallowing thickly. "Right."

Kelly's features creases into a smile. "Sorry. Not exactly the outcome you were looking for. But I mean it. You deserve a good time with someone who seems genuinely interested."

In the end, all Kara can do is offer a weak smile. "Thanks." She clears her throat. "I should get going. But... thank you. Truly."

Kelly nods with a sweet smile. "Any time."

---

Fancy, it turns out, really is unhelpful.

Kara ends up an hour later with five different dresses laid out on her bed, chewing her lip in frustration. In the end, Kara falls back on bad habits, and calls her sister.

"Kara?" Alex answers, concern plain in her tone. "Everything okay?"

"I need help," she responds. "I mean yes, I'm fine, but I need help."

"Okaaaaay... what's up?"

Kara trades her worried lip for a cuticle, still glaring at the pile of clothes on her bed. "I have date."

There's a beat of silence before Alex's brain clicks around the information. "You what?? Since when?"

"Ask Kelly," Kara returns distractedly, returning to the topic at hand. "I don't know what to wear."

"Since when did you talk to... what--?" Alex sputters for a moment, then takes a moment to reorient herself. "Okay. Outfit. Fine. Okay, so... what kind of date is it?"

"Dinner."

"Casual?"

"She said fancy. Whatever that means to me." Kara grumbles. "Whatever that means."

"Okayy... so, flexible fancy. Do you know where?"

"Nuh uh."

There's a pause then, as Alex considers Kara's dilemma as thoughtfully as she did a year ago.

"So something nice, maybe upscale. Well, I'm sure you have options that fit the bill."

Kara nods. "Too many."

Across the line, Kara can almost hear Alex ease into a smile. "Well, then it comes down to what *you* want to wear."

"That's why I called, Alex, I don't *know*--"

"What would you feel most confident in? And, what kind of reaction are you looking for?"

The question takes Kara aback for a long moment. She imagines Lena would appreciate whatever Kara shows up in, but strangely, that isn't enough. Not in the face of the desire that still lingered from the soft kiss that had brushed against her cheek that afternoon.

"Honestly...?"

Alex hums. "Yeah?"

"I want her to wonder what it'd look like on the floor."

"....oh." Alex's response sounds thoughtful, but Kara's hackles rise in defense.

"Do *not* tease me," she says sharply.

"I'm not, I promise. Just surprised." Alex takes a breath to say something, but releases it as she chooses a different direction. "Do you still have that dress with the bateau neckline, with the pleats? The peach one?"

Kara nods into the phone, eyeing the garment where it sits in the pile, second from the bottom. "Uh huh."

"That one."

"You think?"

"Trust me," Alex assures her.

Kara does.

[xansheu]

TSP: Perfect Vessel AU

◤━───┑▽┍━───◥

The Office needs energy to live, and the Vessel - a person from the external - can provide it. The entire Office is built around the Vessel because it is the only living thing in this world and the only thing that is stable. The Vessel is there to be the Public. To be their eyes, because they themselves are blind. The Public is an independent unit from the Office. You can't see them, but you can feel their presence with you, even if you are alone in the room. And the Narrator is there to tell a good story to satisfy the Public. And it will repeat itself in parallel with the decay of The Office, like a disease. When a Vessel is "emptied" it is replaced by another. Often in one cycle there can be a great many of them.

But eventually a cycle comes to an end and the Office destroys itself. Everything that was created inside it dries up, silences and dies. And all for the sake of rising from the ashes in the next cycle and repeating the process again and again and again and again and again and again and again until something goes wrong.

This is the case, for the Perfect Vessel has been found.

◤━───┑▽┍━───◥

WAA HI!! I know it may not be clear right now because I only told the universe system (in short… it’s more complicated), but I will go into more detail and plot in the future! I've had this AU in my head for about four months now??, but until today I never made a fundamental thing out of it and never showed it to anyone else. Still feeling a little awkward since I'm showing things I've never shown anyone before, but I truly hope you enjoy it! <3