#might be doing this piece for a competition later this year! It suits my voice really well

[sexygaywizard]

Number 12?

Hahaha, this is an aria that I learned and performed for my senior recital so I was just listening to it a lot to make sure I had the Russian down. There are quite a few classical songs in my top 100 because I was listening to them to practice and memorize

[pretzel-box]

HII, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME REQUESTING SOMETHING IF IM DOING SOMETHING WRONG FEEL FREE TO DELETE THIS ASK, BUT I WAS WONDERING…. In one of his lines sebastian makes a joke about having cards and such, the later says “ive never played cards actually.. meaning to learn.”. SO WHAT IF, i were to kindly and politely ask for anything that includes gender neutral reader teaching sebastian how to play cards, thank you for reading this in advance :3

UNO!

words: 1,7k

tags: uno, the card game.

authors note: I had too much fun with this and added Uno into the scenario! Sebastian learns everything about the wonderful world of cards.

Years ago, during a weekend at your grandparents' house, your grandpa placed a worn stack of playing cards in your hands and asked if you'd ever played. At the time, you hadn’t—being young and inexperienced—but that was the day you learned. Every time you visited afterward, your grandpa would teach you a new card game, keeping you entertained for hours.

So, when Sebastian mentioned that he had a deck of cards buried somewhere among his tools, junk, and files, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. Excited, you immediately hopped off his tail, which you had been using as a comfy seat, and began rummaging through his things in search of the cards.

“Don’t expect me to play with you,” he huffed, trying to avoid getting pulled into your sudden enthusiasm. He tried to mask his lack of skill by pretending he simply didn’t want to play, but your excitement made it clear that he wouldn’t be able to escape.

Before he knew it, you were sitting in front of him, shuffling the deck with ease, your fingers expertly spreading and reassembling the cards in one fluid motion. The sound of the cards snapping back together caught Sebastian’s attention, and despite his initial reluctance, he found himself watching you with curiosity.

You smiled at him, seeing the interest flicker in his eyes. “Come on, it’s not that hard. I’ll teach you.”

Sebastian grumbled under his breath but sat down across from you, folding his arms as if to keep up the pretense of disinterest. “Fine. But I’m not going to enjoy this.”

“We’ll see about that,” you teased, dealing out a hand of cards to him. You started with something simple, a basic game that didn’t require too much strategy. As you explained the rules, Sebastian’s brow furrowed in concentration. He kept glancing from the cards to you, trying to piece together what you were saying.

“Wait, so I can only play a card if it matches the suit or the number?” he asked, holding up a card as if it might give him the answer.

You nodded encouragingly. “Exactly. And if you can’t, you draw from the deck until you get something you can play.”

Sebastian stared at his hand, clearly overthinking his next move. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered, his frustration starting to show.

“It will, just keep going,” you assured him, demonstrating a few moves to help him along. Slowly but surely, Sebastian began to understand, though he still looked uncertain with each card he placed down.

But as the game progressed, something surprising happened—Sebastian’s competitive side started to show. His earlier confusion faded as he began to grasp the game’s rhythm, and soon he was playing his cards with more confidence. You noticed the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth whenever he played a particularly good move, and it made you smile in return.

By the second game, Sebastian was leaning forward, more engaged than he would have admitted. “I got it this time,” he said, his voice tinged with unexpected enthusiasm. He played a card that blocked your move, his eyes lighting up as he realized he was starting to get the hang of it.

“Nice move,” you praised, genuinely impressed. Sebastian’s smirk grew, and he gave you a sidelong glance that was almost playful.

“Don’t think I’m going easy on you,” he warned, but there was no real bite in his words. He was enjoying himself, and it showed.

As the games continued, Sebastian’s initial reluctance was replaced with growing excitement. He began to anticipate your moves, even teasing you when he managed to outplay you. The grumpy, stoic man you were used to was momentarily replaced by someone who was genuinely having fun, and it warmed your heart to see him like this.

By the time you reached the fourth game, Sebastian was fully invested. He was still far from a card shark, but he was learning quickly and starting to enjoy the process. After winning a round a rare smile of his made a brief appearance.

“I knew you’d get into it,” you replied, happy to see him loosening up. “Maybe next time I’ll teach you something more challenging.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, the hint of a grin still on his face. “You think I can handle it?”

“I know you can,” you said confidently, shuffling the deck once more. “But first, let’s see if you can win another round.”

And so, the two of you continued playing, the shop filled with the sound of shuffling cards, quiet laughter, and the growing bond between a grumpy fish and his human friend.

Three days had passed since you first taught Sebastian how to play cards, and in that short time, it had become a regular part of your routine. Whenever there was a lull in your mission and you saw his open vent around, you’d pull out the deck, and Sebastian—despite his initial reluctance—would join you, slowly improving with each game. The more you played, the more his gruff exterior seemed to soften, revealing a side of him that was competitive yet surprisingly good-natured.

On the fourth day, you decided it was time to take things up a notch. When you walked into the shop that morning, a mischievous grin spread across your face. Sebastian looked up from his work, his brow furrowing in curiosity when he noticed the new deck of cards in your hand.

“What’s that?” he asked, eyeing the colorful box with suspicion.

You sauntered over to the table where you usually played, setting the box down with a flourish. You found this in a dumpster around one of the many office rooms. “This,” you said, holding up the deck, “is a game called UNO. I figured since you’ve gotten pretty good at regular cards, it’s time for a new challenge.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, still wary but clearly intrigued. “UNO, huh? Doesn’t sound too tough.”

You smirked, shaking your head as you started to shuffle the cards. “Oh, you have no idea. This game’s a bit different. It’s not just about matching suits and numbers—you’ve got action cards, wild cards, and, of course, the dreaded Draw 4.”

Sebastian watched as you dealt out the cards, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

You began to explain the rules, showing him how to match colors or numbers, how to use the action cards to skip turns, reverse the order, or make the other player draw more cards. Sebastian listened intently, nodding along as he picked up the basics. But when you explained the Draw 4 and Wild cards, he gave you a skeptical look.

“So, I can change the color and make you draw four cards?” he asked, holding up the card and studying it closely. “That sounds a little unfair.”

You chuckled, enjoying his reaction. “It’s all part of the strategy. You have to know when to play those cards—and when to save them for later. Trust me, once you get the hang of it, you’ll see why it’s so fun.”

Sebastian wasn’t entirely convinced, but he went along with it, sorting his hand and planning his first move. As the game began, it became clear that this was a whole new level of challenge. The fast-paced nature of UNO, combined with the unexpected twists from action cards, kept him on his non existent toes.

At first, Sebastian struggled with the new mechanics, hesitating as he tried to remember which cards did what. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him concentrate, his usual grumpy expression deepening into a thoughtful frown. But soon, just as with the regular cards, he started to catch on. The competitive spark you’d seen before returned, and before long, Sebastian was playing his cards with growing confidence.

“You’re getting the hang of it once again,” you noted, as he successfully played a Skip card, blocking your turn and earning a satisfied grunt from him.

“Yeah, it’s not so bad,” Sebastian admitted, though his tone was more grudging than he probably intended. “Still not sure how I feel about that Draw 4, though.”

“You’ll learn to love it,” you teased, winking as you placed down your own Draw 2 card, watching as he groaned and drew two more cards from the deck.

As the game continued, Sebastian started to enjoy himself, even laughing quietly when he managed to reverse the play order right before you could make your move. It was clear that he was getting into the spirit of the game, and the playful banter between the two of you made it even more fun.

By the time you were nearing the end of the game, Sebastian had only a few cards left, his earlier hesitation replaced by determination. But just as he was about to play his second-to-last card, you laid down a Wild Draw 4, changing the color and forcing him to draw four more cards. He stared at the card you’d played, then at the stack he had to draw from, his mouth opening in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, though there was no real anger in his voice—just the frustration of someone who was so close to victory but had it snatched away at the last second.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter as you watched him reluctantly pick up the four cards. “Welcome to UNO, Sebastian. Anything can happen.”

He gave you a mock glare, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “This game’s ridiculous,” he grumbled, though you could tell he was already plotting his next move.

Despite the setback, Sebastian managed to hold his own, and when the game finally ended—with you barely winning by a single card—he was already asking for a rematch.

“Again,” he said, shuffling the cards himself this time. “I’m not losing like that twice.”

You grinned, happy to see him so engaged. “You’re on. Just don’t blame me when you end up drawing another four cards.”

As the two of you began the next round, the shop filled once more with the sounds of shuffling cards, playful competition, and the growing camaraderie between you and the man who was quickly becoming more than just a grumpy store owner.

[pippytmi]

Howdy! For the little au trope prompt ask. 2, 2, 39. Supercorp please. Thank you! (Hope it helps your writer's block!)

Everyone knows that when the Quidditch season starts, rivalries begin.

As a general rule, Lena doesn’t mind the Gryffindors. If she had to pick a house she hated, the Slytherins would be the unfortunate lot; Veronica Sinclair and Andrea Rojas alone give the group a bad name. (That could be Lena’s own personal bias, given the fact that both girls have broken her heart, but she maintains it goes far deeper than that). But the point stands—Lena isn’t a hateful person. Generally.

There is just something about Kara Danvers that brings it out of her. The one and only Gryffindor that Lena despises is that moronic, reckless Chaser who scores nearly every single goal she takes. The Ravenclaw team is nothing to sneeze at either, but Lena hates that of all people to throw her off her game, it is a girl who blew up her broom when attempting to fly on it during her first year. Seven years that she has known Kara, and still Lena is annoyed at the mere sight of those perpetually-askew glasses, those untucked robes, that undone tie; Kara Danvers is never expected to be poised and perfect, even with all the expectations on her shoulders. She’s just so...blasé. People talk about Kara like she is destined to join a Quidditch team straight out of Hogwarts and all Kara does is stroll into the Great Hall on game day with her head in the clouds.

So far up the clouds that she apparently can’t watch where she is going, either. Lena throws Kara the nastiest glare she can muster when they just about knock each other’s heads together, but all Kara does at the sight of it is grin. She always grins, not in a way that is arrogant or snide, but stupidly amused. Stupidly amused, as if everything Lena says or does is a bloody laugh, like Lena’s simmering hatred is nothing more than an inside joke.

“Hey, Luthor,” Kara says cheerfully, and there she goes, pushing those crooked glasses up her nose. There is a scratch on one lens, and Kara has either not noticed or not bothered to repair it. “Trying to take out the competition a little early, even for you.”

“You were the one in my way, Danvers,” Lena replies tightly.

“Was I?” And here is the kicker, that golden girl charm that fools everyone: bright blue eyes peeking out beneath those eyelashes, hand rubbing at the back of her neck, undone tie slipping an inch further. Kara tilts her head unassumingly as if that is even an actual question.

It makes Lena furious. “Here’s a tip,” she says, “for here and the Quidditch field. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you could actually see where you’re headed.”

Kara has the audacity to look affronted. “Is this because of the Brainy incident during training? Because he and I agreed that it was a joint effort. Joint…blame. Whatever you call it.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Just keep your aggression to yourself, Danvers,” she mutters, and then she resolutely brushes past. She has no time for blank, witty banter, especially when this is the year’s first game and she has a team to rally.

“My—? Hey,” Kara’s voice rings out, louder than necessary, and that idiot is actually following her. “Hey, wait. Lena. Do you seriously think I’m aggressive? It was an accident! Both times!” A beat. “I mean both the Brainy thing and right now. I didn’t knock into Brainy twice. I did knock James off his broom once, but you probably don’t care about that since he’s not from your house, so…well anyway, just so you know, that was also an accident.”

“I have zero interest in your training squabbles,” Lena says exasperatedly, “and you’d do well to keep that in mind.”

“Oh so this is about the Brainy incident,” Kara says. “How many times do I have to say that the training pitch was ours?”

“According to you,” Lena counters. With that she whirls around, nearly colliding into Kara’s chest, but she still manages to lift her head up high and stare down that egotistical jackass. “I know you might think you’re entitled to any space you waltz into, but some of us mere mortals actually schedule training sessions. You know, like we’re supposed to.”

“I did schedule the—!” Kara has a tendency to become flustered mid-argument, it seems, because her mouth opens but no words come blustering out. Finally she settles on scowling when she declares, “You are a piece of work, you know that? Would it kill you to apologize to me once in a while?”

“That would imply that you have apologized to me at some point,” Lena scoffs. “Which you haven’t, for the record.”

“Yes I have,” Kara is quick to disagree.

Lena crosses her arms; it’s a challenge, and Kara immediately stands a little straighter when she notices. “Oh?” Lena prompts. “Like when?”

“Like…when I knocked into Brainy.”

“I fail to see how I fit in that scenario,” Lena says, “since you didn’t break my nose.”

Kara gives a little huff, as if this back and forth is all so inconvenient right now; as if she hasn’t instigated it. “Okay, but I apologized for disrupting your practice, remember? I took complete responsibility even though it was your fault you couldn’t keep track of when your team was scheduled—”

“That was not an apology. You literally said ‘Sorry Luthor, we need this more than you do’ and then refused to leave for the next half hour!”

“But I said sorry in there, ergo, it is an apology.”

“Well then, when my team beats yours to dust I’ll be sure to apologize properly for that in that exact same sympathetic manner,” Lena sneers.

Somehow, trash talk only makes that dumb, signature Kara Danvers grin come back, completely wiping away any sign of vexation. “Oh yeah? Tell me more, wise old Ravenclaw—”

Before Lena can even begin to dissect that childish comeback (and stupid sing-songy imitation of the Sorting Hat), other students come filtering down the hall and they are practically swept up in the masses. One kid completely shoulders Lena before she even realizes what’s happening; she stumbles to the left, nearly collides with the wall, and opens her mouth to shout, but then:

“Hey!” Kara is already brandishing her wand with one hand and catching the boy’s collar with the other. “Ten points from Hufflepuff! You could’ve hurt someone, walking around without looking where you’re going.”

Lena bites her tongue to stop from making a quip on how ironic that statement is, because Kara is engrossed in a stare-off with the pimply sixth year who is demanding to see her prefect badge to prove Kara can even take points. She would normally side with the kid—anything to knock Kara Danvers down a peg—but, well. For once, Lena can’t be bothered to actively hate someone getting into a heated argument on her behalf.

Two minutes later and the boy stomps off with ten points gone from his house and a detention to boot. Kara, meanwhile, is still frowning as he leaves. “Are you okay?” she asks absentmindedly, still tracking the kid’s every movement with her eyes. “I swear, if there weren’t so many witnesses I would’ve hexed him.”

“Winning move for a prefect, I’m sure,” Lena says dryly, and Kara turns towards her with that slow-growing buffoonish smile and another sheepish nudge of her glasses. Her next words kind of just fall out, almost as if she’d never formed them in her mouth but in the deep recesses of her subconscious alone: “You know, you confuse me.”

“Huh?” Another nudge. The smile slips a fraction, but just enough to show Kara is slightly confused by the change in subject.

You confuse me, Lena wants to repeat. You are the opposite of self-aware. You are messy, and reckless, and selfless whenever it counts and it’s confusing because all I can really hate you for is being able to get away with being imperfect and still be adored by everyone.

But none of those words, thankfully, leave her head. All she says is, “Your approach to discipline confuses me. It’s not like he purposely tried to run into me—ten points might have been too harsh.”

“This coming from the girl who once threatened to curse me into oblivion for tripping her when we were twelve?” Kara’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who are you and what have you done to Lena Luthor? No, hold on, I know. You’re really Jess in disguise, right?”

“Hilarious, Danvers. I wouldn’t quit Quidditch, it might be the only place you’re suited for,” Lena mocks, but all Kara does is laugh.

“Nope, definitely Lena,” Kara says, and the way she says it is almost…fond. Come to think of it, Lena can’t remember a time where Kara actually called her Lena. It’s always Luthor and Danvers and stop breaking the faces of my best players and never—never anything else.

Lena clears her throat and looks away; she can’t take another second of those warm, bright eyes. “Whatever,” she says. “I…guess I’ll see you on the pitch.”

“Sure thing,” Kara says, and she takes a step back, tucking her wand into her pocket. “I’ll be the one rocking the winning team uniform.”

Slowly, Lena begins to feel the corner of her mouth twitch. Completely unbidden, completely unpredictable. “Dream on, Danvers.” She allows the space between them to grow, but their eyes remain locked, and the air feels heavy—thick—and the weight of their shared gaze holds a meaning Lena can’t possibly unpack right now.

But Kara’s tongue pokes out between her teeth cheerfully, and she doesn’t appear half as bothered by this development. “Always, if you’re in them,” she says, twists a little on her heel to walk away, but she pauses while she is still in earshot. “You know—next time you can just thank me for defending you.”

“You mean abusing your power as a prefect,” Lena replies automatically even as her head is running a mile a minute; even as Kara is getting farther and farther away and the scratch on her glasses lens catches the light.

“That too!” Kara shouts as she gets lost in the crowd, and damn her, Lena has to put her hand over her mouth to hide the absolute idiotic smile that has formed on her own face.

(Joint blame indeed, Lena muses, and she figures that she might as well form a rivalry with the Slytherins instead of the Gryffindors after all).

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 7 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke up with a pounding headache and no memory of having gone to bed.

This would not have been a surprise had he been at home, as his routine was blissfully static and required no thought whatsoever – each item he needed in its proper place, each movement mapped out through years of practice, his entire body trained such that he would automatically begin to go through the necessary acts at the appropriate time and would immediately begin to feel sleepy once he started the sequence – but it was highly notable that such a thing would occur while he was out of the Cloud Recesses, where each day’s sleep would only be the same in terms of the time at which he fell asleep.

In this case in particular, he also felt sore all over – his head, as mentioned, but also his upper arms and, oddly, his right knee. Had he been exercising unwisely? The bed in the room he had been given at the Sun Palace was not that nice, too hard and unyielding, but it wasn’t enough to cause this sort of aching…

“I will see to it that the next bed lives up to your stringent standards.”

Lan Qiren’s eyes shot open and he sat upright at once: that was Wen Ruohan’s voice.

“What are you doing in my –” he started to say, then stopped.

Wen Ruohan was not in his bedroom.

He wasn’t in his bedroom.

He didn’t even recognize this bedroom.

It was massive, for one thing: a full suite, the way the hanshi was back at home, with place for a bed and a table and plenty more besides. The bed was similar in style to the one in the room he had been assigned but larger in scale – made of dark wood and covered in the red sun motif like all the other décor, but over twice as broad and an extra chi in length, and the brocade fabric used to upholster it was considerably more lush and luxurious and, admittedly, more comfortable than what he’d been sleeping on in the Sun Palace’s guest quarters. The room itself was the same, decorated in luxury extending to the point of opulence: there was a painting scroll on one wall that if genuine would be worth more than everything Lan Qiren owned put together, young master of a Great Sect or not, and on the other wall hung six swords, each more glorious than the next, and he suspected if he knew more about weaponry he would be able to recite their names.  Even the red sun that was painted on every ceiling here glittered with embedded rubies and spiritual stones, emanating pure qi – a tremendous waste, each one of them sufficient to be a cultivation sect’s precious treasure.

Amidst all this luxury, Wen Ruohan was sitting not far away from the bed, a book held loosely in his hands – it was as if he’d been waiting for Lan Qiren to awaken.

“I think you’ll find, in fact,” Wen Ruohan said, and his eyes were glittering the way they had been the day before when it had been Lao Nie he’d been looking at, full of malice and self-indulgent amusement, “that this is my bedroom.”

This was not a surprise, but rather the only logical conclusion.

Not that it explained why Lan Qiren was here.

“Did I – fall asleep?” he asked uncertainly, though surely that must be the reason. “And you – brought me here?”

“You did, and I did,” Wen Ruohan confirmed, and seemed amused for some reason. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Lan Qiren wracked his brain, which was hurting and unhelpful and slower even than its usual plodding pace. “…I was thinking that liquor tastes vile.”

Wen Ruohan’s smile broadened. “Mm. It seems that you inherited your grandfather’s head for wine.”

Lan Qiren’s grandfather was one of the elders who refused to obey the rule against alcohol. He had also, in his later years, developed a most un-Lan-like fondness for wine.

He had not at any point developed a tolerance for it.

Lan Qiren closed his eyes in a wince. He must have made a complete fool of himself!

“This foolish junior apologizes to the Sect Leader for his misbehavior,” he said. He wanted to lift his hands to salute, but the movement, when he started it, set off his stomach, and he was forced to wrap his arms around his midsection instead.

There was a rustling sound, robes moving as Wen Ruohan rose to his feet, but Lan Qiren kept his eyes stubbornly closed, fearing that any further input would cause him to bring up everything he’d consumed the night before – only to open them in shock a moment later when he felt a finger press against the acupoint between his eyes, a warm stream of spiritual energy pouring in to cleanse away the nausea and pain of his headache.

Of his hangover.

He had a hangover.

Wen Ruohan, the mighty Sect Leader Wen, was providing him with medical attention to deal with his hangover.

There weren’t going to be words for how much he was going to get punished when he got home.

“Thank you, Sect Leader Wen,” Lan Qiren croaked, feeling hot all over with unending mortification. He had truly been foolish to think that just because there was only one night left in the Nightless City there was little danger of him repeating the mistakes of the past – he had no face left to speak of.

“Oh, no need to be so formal,” Wen Ruohan said, drawing out the words in a drawl. “Not after such a memorable night.”

Lan Qiren did not want to know what he did to make the night get described as memorable. He did not.

Especially not since Wen Ruohan was so obviously enjoying himself over it.

Of course, he wasn’t an idiot: he might be slow and bad at social cues, might find it difficult to understand the unspoken or keep up with sarcasm, but even he knew what was being implied here.

An older man with a younger one, liquor shared, a bedroom…

Yes, he understood the implication.

He just wasn’t stupid enough to believe it.

Lan Qiren folded his hands together and held his head up high.

“It is good that the Sect Leader did not take insult at my foolishness,” he said stiffly. “I thank you for your care and attention, and regret the burden I placed upon you.”

If anything, Wen Ruohan looked even more amused. “Such dignity, little Lan. You’re not even going to ask what happened?”

“This junior is only sixteen,” Lan Qiren said, still stiff and icy. “There is nothing that could have taken place without Sect Leader Wen’s approval, and naturally Sect Leader Wen would not permit this junior to offend his dignity.”

There, he thought with some satisfaction. That neatly turned the situation around: even if something untoward had occurred, which honestly Lan Qiren did not believe past that first initial moment of panic – even putting aside the fact that he wasn't anywhere near sore enough for something like that to have occurred, Wen Ruohan was not known to succumb easily to lust, nor was he so eager for war that he would recklessly try to deflower the son of another Great Sect while the latter was intoxicated for the first time – the blame would fall squarely on Wen Ruohan’s head, not Lan Qiren’s.

Wen Ruohan laughed, understanding perfectly well what Lan Qiren meant.

“You would think so,” he said, sounding almost approving of Lan Qiren’s rule lawyering. “I would have thought so, too, but I find that you Lan have truly remarkable arm strength…especially when trying to keep your conversational partner from escaping while you explain the difference between what the Lan sect consider to be fundamental rules and those considered ancillary.”

Lan Qiren blanched.

That was worse than what he’d thought – because unlike the notion of him making unwanted advances (or receiving them, for that matter), it was plausible. Terribly, painfully plausible.

“Oh, yes. All five iterations of the debate.”

Oh no.

“Four sect discussions. Seventeen separate texts on the subject, not counting later commentaries. Sixty-four subsidiary rulings, all of which you were very enthusiastic in recounting - and here I was thinking that your Wall of Discipline had a surfeit of rules, when in fact it was only the beginning. Apparently, I underestimated you.”

Lan Qiren buried his face in his hands as if that would make it stop. 

“Still, I suppose I’ll have to accustom myself to hearing more about the rules in the future,” Wen Ruohan mused. “We’ll be spending far more time together, after all, on account of our sworn brotherhood.”

Lan Qiren looked up and opened his mouth, then stopped.

He had nothing to say.

His mind was absolutely blank, a state which had never before occurred.

“Forgive me,” he finally spat out. “Our – what?”

Wen Ruohan smiled at him with eyes full of poison and a mouth full of teeth.

“Sworn brotherhood,” he said casually, as if it was nothing. “You were saying that you regretted not being able to see more of the Nightless City before you left, and that you could only leave the Cloud Recesses to visit family, so we became sworn brothers.”

“We did not.”

“Oh, but we did,” Wen Ruohan said. “We drank mixed wine and swore all the appropriate oaths – I have the written version here, if you’d like to see.”

The piece of paper he put in front of Lan Qiren was recognizably in Lan Qiren’s own hand, although his normally impeccable calligraphy was rather wobbly. It was still readable, though, and the first few clauses very clearly laid out a sworn brotherhood oath.

Lan Qiren stared at it.

“We – but we can’t be sworn brothers,” he said blankly. “We’re – you’re two generations older than me. Am I supposed to call you da-ge?”

“No one has called me da-ge since my youngest brother died,” Wen Ruohan mused, and Lan Qiren was abruptly reminded of the rumors, never confirmed, that that particular death had come at Wen Ruohan’s own hands following a challenge for the seat of sect leader. “It’ll be very charming, I’m sure.”

“But…”

Wen Ruohan said nothing, but only smiled at him.

Lan Qiren looked down at the paper.

He didn’t understand what was happening.

He tried to go over it again in his mind: he had left the competition when the celebration had started, he had wandered the halls, he had tried to obey his brother’s instructions in avoiding Wen Ruohan, and when that failed, he had obeyed him in trying to be obedient. He had drunk liquor for the first time, and he had no memory thereafter until he had woken up here and now, in Wen Ruohan’s bedroom, with Wen Ruohan saying that they had –

He didn’t think Wen Ruohan was teasing him over this, though. Not the way he had so obviously been with his implications that they had used the bedroom for purposes other than sleeping.

Not with evidence, written in his own hand.

He didn’t understand.

How could this have happened?

“…did we really?” he whispered, half-hoping against hope that it was still a tease, still a joke, still – something, anything, other than what it was. That Wen Ruohan was just waiting for him to declare that he believed him, to demonstrate dismay, and then he would tell him the truth.

“Yes,” Wen Ruohan said instead, inexorable. “We did.”

Lan Qiren’s mind fell into chaos.

He didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand.

“You’re shaking,” Wen Ruohan observed. “Ah, little Lan – don’t tell me it’s now that you’re scared?”

Lan Qiren’s hands were in fact shaking, he observed, and he put them over his face.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, his whole body starting to rock back and forth in his distress. “Why would you – with me – an oath of brotherhood can’t be taken lightly –”

“It can’t be,” Wen Ruohan said, and for some reason he sounded satisfied. “Certainly not for someone like you, little Lan, who always keeps their word and does not lie.”

“But why?” Lan Qiren asked, his voice rising almost into a plaintive wail. “Our sects aren’t even allies.”

“They are now,” Wen Ruohan said, and put his hand on the back of Lan Qiren’s neck. It felt hot against his skin, like a hot stone used for massage – a little too hot to tolerate for very long. “You know the obligations of a sworn brother oath as well as I. My duty as the elder brother is to guide you and care for you, support you and yours, and in return you are to obey me and be guided by me.”

Did Wen Ruohan want a spy in the Lan sect? Lan Qiren wondered wildly. But surely there were easier ways than this – not only would he make a terrible spy, with his clumsiness and his terrible social skills and his inability not to take everything seriously, but it would be simple enough for his sect to counter such a move. All they would need to do would be to cast him out…

His rocking intensified.

Wen Ruohan brought his other arm around him and pulled him close until Lan Qiren’s forehead, with its forehead ribbon still firmly in place, was pressed against his chest.

“Don’t cry, little brother,” he crooned. “Am I to allow a priceless painting to be kept by those that see it only for its use as spare kindling? A peerless treasure sword left to prop up a door?”

“You have a half-dozen swords hanging on your wall, each more priceless than the next, and all of them rusting away for lack of use!” Lan Qiren cried out. “Even if it’s only a door, at least it’s – it’s my – my brother…”

“Do not worry about your brother, undeserving as he is of your sincerity. Qingheng-jun has been trying to get concessions out of me this entire conference,” Wen Ruohan said. His breath was warm against Lan Qiren’s hair. “I’ve been refusing, but now I’ll grant them. He won’t punish you.”

“That’s not how that works. Punishment isn’t inherently bad; it’s meant to correct and guide the individual – the failure of good conduct will always be my own, no matter the result –”

“What I have taken into my hand, no one yet lives who would dare seek to take away,” Wen Ruohan said. “Anyway, it’s too late to regret now, isn’t it? What’s done is done. Don’t you have a rule like that?”

Lan Qiren sniffed. “No. There are at least four that could potentially qualify as having similar underlying meanings, but none directly on point.”

Wen Ruohan huffed. “Little Lan, if I tore out your heart, would you have time to cite one of your sect rules before you died?”

“…maybe if it was a short one?” Lan Qiren said, blinking at the strange question; his lashes brushed against Wen Ruohan’s lapel. “I mean, there’s a difference between ‘Be loyal and filial’ and ‘Set the wise as your teacher and the moral as your example’, isn’t there? And of course you’d have to consider whether in tearing out the heart you impeded the lungs, and how much time it would take the exsanguination to take effect…”

He was calming down, he realized, and pulled back out of Wen Ruohan’s arms, blushing as he realized that the question must have been meant as a distraction, though how Wen Ruohan had realized that a distraction would be the best way to reduce his distress when even he hadn’t known, he had no idea.

“Thank you for your consideration,” he mumbled, ducking his head in embarrassment.

Wen Ruohan started laughing.  

“Truly I have found an unappreciated treasure, unlike any other,” he said amid his chuckles. “Come along, little Lan. Let’s go break the news to your brother.”

[onomonopetabread]

Declawing the Cat- Chapter 2

“ Can you believe that nerve of that jerk?”

Marinette was absolutely furious. Tikki watched her from the bed as she paced from wall to wall. It was really getting concerning; she’s been ranting for the past three hours. School ended about five hours ago, but Marinette’s little encounter with Felix never left her mind.

“What, did he think that a few thoughtless compliments would get me to trust him? Who does he think he is, the MaYOR?”

That last part was a particularly loud shriek, and if Tikki had eardrums, they would be completely shattered by now. It was time to stop this madness.

“Mari, I know that you’re upset, and trust me, I am too. But… don’t you think that you should calm down? You’ve been at this for a really long time.”

Marinette hardly heard her. “I really tried. I tried to just leave it alone. But nooo, he just had to go and rock the boat! Can’t the guy take a hint? I mean, if someone didn’t talk to ME after giving the third fakest apology given ever, I would know that they hated MY guts.”

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

The group gathered around Felix. He’d just been introduced to the class by Adrien, and it didn’t seem as though they were very happy to see him. They were making so much noise that no one had noticed the lack of a certain blue-eyed class president. Unbeknownst to them, Marinette was crouched behind a pillar near the courtyard, watching and listening to the entire thing.

She had been uncharacteristically early to school and was chatting with Tikki in the locker room when she heard Adrien’s voice outside. Naturally, she'd begun to walk outside to greet him. The fact that she had decided to try to get over him out of respect for Kagami doesn’t make it illegal for her to talk to him; he is her friend.

When Marinette first stepped out of the room, her first thought was that there were somehow two Adriens. Then she realized that one Adrien looked like...Adrien, and the other looked like a sad old man somehow ended up in a teen’s body. In about 0.2 seconds, she was absolutely seething. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at his comfortable home in the ninth circle of hell?

“Guys, this is my cousin Felix. He’s going to be attending school with us for now on. I know you guys will take him in with open arms.”

Open arms? This clown? Marinette scoffed. She’d sooner swallow a cup of tacks than let that prick into her life. Her classmates however, aren’t as strong-minded as she was. It’d probably be better if she stayed silent and invisible for this and let them make up their own minds about this, just to see what they would do.

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

Okay, so far so good. Maybe this time around, she wouldn’t be (almost) the only person that didn’t trust a liar. Oh, how great it will be to openly loathe for once! One by one, more and more voices were protesting letting the rat into their friend group. The entirety of the class was hanging Formally-Dressed Draco to dry, and Marinette was in ecstasy.

‘Yes,’ she thought. ‘Tear him to pieces!’

Just when things were really starting to escalate, the sound of someone clearing their throats cut through the noise.

“Hello, everyone. As Adrien just told you, my name is Felix Graham de Vanily. To answer your question, Mr. Le Chein, yes, I’m the cousin of Adrien’s that impersonated him and sent you a cruel response to your heartfelt videos. For that, I am deeply sorry. I have no excuse for wha-”

What. In. The. World. If Marinette was furious before, she was positively incandescent now. He really was another Lila! Not to mention the fact that he didn’t even have the decency to make the apology seem even slightly convincing. Anyone with an EQ of 3 could see that those puppy-eyes were rehearsed and don’t even get Mari STARTED on that pout. There was no way that her class would buy this, but by the looks on their faces…

“If you’re really sorry...”

…Of course. Of-freaking-course they would believe him. Marinette sighed and walked into the classroom. Once again, she was left to hold the class’ single brain cell, by herself this time since there was no chance in Adrien distrusting his own cousin. Now how was she going to go about this was the question. If he really is Lila 2.0, then her initial plan to outright hate him will boomerang her right in the eye. No, it’s better to just avoid him at all costs; you can’t hate what you never come into contact with.

“Are you really sure that’s going to work, Marinette?” Tikki asked once they were safe inside the room. “You can’t stay away from him forever, you know. He may be a nuthead, but he’s smart enough to notice when you aren’t fawning over him like the others.”

“I know Tikki, but I think I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I’m going to go above and beyond to make sure our paths never cross.”

“That’s a relief. I thought for a moment there that you were going to do the rational thing for once.”

“Really, Tikki? Sarcasm? That’s beneath you.”

“If you’re looking for a finger to point, blame Plagg. You pick it up after being with him for a few thousand years.”

Marinette stayed true to her word and made it her mission to never be in the same room as the Great Disturbance unless it was class time. Even then, she kept a compact with her so that she could see if he was coming up behind her. Whenever someone began to bring him up into a conversation, she would quickly but subtly change the subject.

After a few days of this, she seemed to really be getting the hang of it. Avoiding him was becoming second nature to Mari. It actually would have been way easier for her if the demon hadn’t kept trying to collect her soul. Like always, Tikki had been right. The little son-of-a caught on to her really quickly and didn’t hesitate to try to reach out to her. In fact, the other classmates would often tell her that he had been looking for her, and she’d had to act as though she didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. That part hadn’t been so easy.

“So, what are you going to make for the big competition, Mari? A dress maybe?” asked Alya.

“Actually, I was thinking about sewing up a pair of suits. I’m not sure what they’ll look like yet, but I really want to try something new this time.”

“Well, I know whatever you’ll make will blow their socks off, girl. Speaking of designers, Felix told me to ask you to meet him after school . He said he wants to talk to you.”

“Is that so?” Marinette asked, feigning surprise (see bane-of-existence, you’re not the only person who can act here).

“Yeah, he really seemed to have taken an interest in you. All he ever asks us is what you're up to. It’s almost an obsession. Do I sense a little romance here? Another blond-haired green-eyed love interest?”

“Not very likely, Alya. Anyways, I guess I’ll have to talk to him later. So, are you going to tell me about your new reporting piece or what?”

What? Don’t give me that face, it’s technically not a lie; Mari did end up talking to him later, didn’t she? Though, to be fair, she wasn’t planning on actually interacting with him until they both passed. No, not passing class. The other pass.

One thing that she had learned about the knock-off Five Hargreeves was that she had greatly overestimated him. For the love, the kid wasn’t fit to kiss Lila’s feet. At least her schemes were clever and thought-through; this amaetur just existed and everything was handed to him on a silver platter. The rest of the class has spoiled him into thinking that it would be easy to capture her attention with a tense grimace of a smile and two ounces of ‘charm’. Unfortunately for him, Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so easily bought.

So, that’s the way it went for a few weeks; a classic game of cat and mouse. He would try to catch her, and she would slip out of reach at the last minute. If she had to admit it, it was very fun, especially sneaking peeks at the frustrated faces the devil makes when he thinks no one is looking; the coward can’t be emotionally vulnerable for a second.

That’s why she felt so sure that he wouldn’t follow her to the park; the place was way too open for a stand-offish guy like him. She was very safe in the great outdoors with nothing but her sketchpad, a sharpened pencil, and a sleeping Tikki in her purse. She had been working on that design that she was talking about with Alya. Marinette really needed this design to be perfect. Perhaps a double-breasted suit would work? How many buttons would she have to buy? If she was any deeper into her work, she might not have noticed the distinct smell of leather and the tears of the innocents approaching her. She just barely retained her composure.

‘What is he doing here? Whatever, perhaps if I just stay completely still, he’ll go away.”

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng! How lovely it is to see you. We never seem to talk, do we? It is quite a shame really.”

‘It would also be a shame if you were to get punched where the sun doesn’t shine, Mr. Pied Piper’, Marinette thought. Alas, no matter how much she wanted to move her hand like so, she couldn’t let him win this fight. No, just silent-treatment it out and pray he either leaves or gets struck with a lightning bolt.

“I must say, that is a lovely suit you’re designing there. I love the use of gold thread on the pants. If I may make a few suggestions-”

Him? Give fashion advice? Marinette would rather NOT learn how to dress like an off-brand Crowly, thank you very much. Good grief, he really wasn’t going to stop trying, was he? Alright, no more Nice Marinette.

That’s when she finally snapped and, well, you know how that went. Had it been ANYbody else, she probably would feel guilty for talking to someone so blatantly, but it turns out that she left that situation with zero regrets. If she didn’t put a stop to this whole ordeal, she’ll probably have to carry around a tiny halberd with her for the rest of her life, and as much as she would like to use it, he really wasn’t worth the trouble. Ugh, he makes her absolutely Sick. He’s so slimy, terrible, arrogant, deceitful-

“MARINETTE JOSEPHINE DUPAIN-CHENG BE QUIET!!!!”

Marinette was so startled she tripped over her chaise and fell onto her bed.

“Geez, Tikki! Couldn’t give a girl a warning before you scream like that?”

“You’re one to talk, Ms. The Mayor. And for the record, I did give you a warning; I’ve been calling your name since for the past hour. Are you really going to get all worked up over this, Mari? You said it yourself, he’s just another Lila.”

“I know Tikki, and I’m sorry I’ve been rambling on for so long. It’s just- yeah, he’s a liar, a fake, and way too stoic to be real, but he’s different from Lila. I don't know what it is about him, but I can’t help but wholeheartedly loathe him. Just the thought of him makes a shiver run down my spine.”

“Loathing. Right. That’s it, totally. Is that why you haven’t said his name this entire time.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’m very happy you noticed, Tikki. I spent a lot of time thinking up all of those insult names.”

“I’m sure you did, Marinette,” Tikki sighed. “You really don’t like this kid, do you?”

“No, I definitely do not, and not a fiber of my being will ever so much as be happy in his presence for as long as I live.”

@ceres-zephyr here u go!

Chapter 3’s up!

https://qualityladybread.tumblr.com/post/632447827994411008/declawing-the-cat-chapter-3

[deobitchxx]

Hi! Can I request for prompts 65 & 90 smut with hyunjae? 😳 thank you for writing! I just read some and I love your fics!

[ 10:25 // 19.09.2020 // R.SMUT ] “Thank you for paying your attention to my presentation, I hope the information I’ve told will lead us to a better and modern life.” The applause from the workers dominated the meeting room, causing your lips to form a proud smile. You took a peek over the young man that was sending you death glares, teasingly raised your eyebrow off and stuck your tongue to spice up the teasing. If glaring could be classified as another method of killing, you probably won’t see the next sun rising. Mr. Lee Jaehyun or preferably Hyunjae, your one and only rival in the rising company both of you were working in. He was the managing director, while you were the executive director. It pissed you off when you could entitle the latter title, but the only thing that blocked you from being promoted higher than him was because you were not the daughter of the CEO. Ugh, fuck those privilages. You worked your ass off to get into the top but your sweet dreams crushed into pieces once Mr. Lee, the CEO, informed the company about the new managing director, which later he introduced him as his son. 

“Can’t you see the face Mr. Lee just made back then? You totally knocked him down,” your assistant nudged you on your shoulder. You smirked it off, “It was his fault to get on my nerves. This was supposed to be my project but his dick tried to brush in and thought that he could win over me. He should’ve known his places, I’ve worked here for years.” Your assistant giggled over your sentence and nodded along, agreeing with you. “Don’t you think you’re being over the top?” Both of your and your assistant’s steps paused once the devil appeared in-front of you with his assistant next to him. “Your ideas just happened to be an iota contrary with mine, don’t hold your head up too high my darling.” He raised his cup of coffee up, asking for a cheer. You simpered, looking pleased with yourself, “At least I’m not that stupid enough to ask the other managers the meaning of asset and liability.” You leaned closer to him and poured your tea to his cup, mixing the solution together with your pinky finger and licking it off. “Enjoy your drink, Hyunjae.” 

“We’ll be heading off first, please don’t overwork yourself.” The workers under you bid a goodbye wave to you before walking out from the office. You waved back to them, leaning against the white coloured spinning chair of yours. You could feel your lids heavied, as you slowly close your eyes and drift to a short nap. “Here comes your favourite jjajangmyeon~” Your eyes lit up once the pleasing voice rang through your ear, seeing one of your favourite men walk past the door with your favourite food. “Cho Seungyoun!” Even your voice raised a few octaves higher, showing off your excitement to meet the latter. He smiled as he opened his arms, “Come here, let me give you a warm hug.” You chuckled and ran towards him. Before he could pull you into his embrace, you snatched the food away from him and totally forgot the man as you headed back to the small cafeteria inside your office. Cho Seungyoun, just like another typical k-drama, he’d been by your side ever since both of you entered the same middle school. He did make his feelings obvious to you, but you told him that you wanted to have a stable job first before proceeding to romance.

Both of you were chatting happily while eating the dinner together. You told him how proud you were that day and he listened to you without any complaints. He even stayed there for hours since you said that you wanted to stay a bit to finish up the last touch of the project. “I discovered that we still have chances to get your project accepted.” Hyunjae just came back from having dinner at the nearby restaurant with his assistant. He decided to stay a little bit longer and worked more, the desires to win over you still dominating him. He was heading to his office with the assistant and while walking past your office, he saw you chatting with the same man that had been wandering around the company. He stopped for a while, taking a peek over through the window glasses. Seungyoun went behind you and gave you a shoulder massage, letting out an approval short of satisfying moaning. “I heard that the man has been visiting our company a lot, never knew Mrs. Y/N was the reason behind all of these.” His assistant noticed the sudden pause of Hyunjae’s steps, realising he was watching you behind those windows. “Who is he?” “He? Oh, he is Cho Seungyoun. I heard that he invested a lot in our company. Some workers claimed that they’ve seen him around in lobby, and turned out he was waiting for Mrs. Y/N for lunch together.” 

It has been days, but Hyunjae can’t stop thinking about that man that hovered around you. He even asked his assistant to do a background check on him. “Why would he keep sticking around her when they’re not official at all to begin with?” He groaned and threw his back against the leather chair, spinning the pen with his fingers. He thought he only had a slight crush on you, but not when he realised he totally fell for you. The way you always try to make sure you’re way better than him and how you get competitive everytime you hear his name-- Everything about you almost becomes imperfectly perfect in his eyes. He knew that everything will went downhill once he confess to you, so he decided to play dumb and act along as if he equally hate you too. He looked over the clock, it was showing 21:09. That’s it, he decided to make it clear tonight or else he might lose his chance. He stood up and wore his suit while heading to the door, right when he was about to wrap his hand around the doorknob, it was twisted from the other side as he automatically took backward steps to let the door open. There, he saw you standing with papers in your arms, “W-What are you doing here?” 

“Did you forget that I need your signature for this project? Well, what can I even expect from someone like you.” You rolled your eyes, knowing that he won’t help you with those papers. You headed to the sofas and placed the papers on the coffee table. You took a seat on the sofa without waiting for his consent, immediately focusing on the project back. “Hey, at least do me a favour and close the door alright? You were doing nothing just by standing near the doorframe.” You retorted, seeing the reflection of his through the glass window that also displayed the night view of the city. “O-Oh,” he snapped back to reality and closed the door behind him, heading to the head couch and looked over you. “W-Where should I sign?” “Why were you shuttering? Do you just realise how good looking I am?” You joked. “Yes.” Your eyes lose focus on those words, your mind totally forgot which parts you read and which you haven’t. You looked up to see the man, hoping to get a “haha, sike, you thought you were beautiful?” but instead a pointed look by the latter. “We don’t have time to joke around, Hyunjae.” “In which part do you think I’m in the mood for joking?” He leaned closer to you, giving you time to push him away if he made you feel uncomfortable.

Instead, you just stayed there and waited for him to get closer until he pressed his lips against yours. He moved his lips on yours, as you closed your eyes and lost your grips on the papers. He held your shoulders and pulled you softly on the sofa, before his hands crawled back up to caress your cheeks. The dominance of each tongue drove him crazy, leading him to grab your buttcheek across the pencil skirt of yours, earning a moan from you and took this chance to shove and explore his tongue inside your mouth. He pulled away for you to catch some breath, but his kisses continued travelling down from your lips to your neck and collarbone. He was licking your skin and before he could proceed with his teeth sinking against your skin, you tried to speak in between the oxygen that you were trying to inhale, “Don’t be so rough, there can’t be any marks.” He narrowed down his eyebrow and locked his eyes with yours, “And what’s the reason behind it?” You bit your lower lips and looked away, not wanting to continue the topic that you’ve just started. “Are you worried that guy might discover what we’ve done tonight?” He stole back your attention as you stared at him, “W… Which guy?” 

“That dude, Cho Seungyoun.” Hyunjae rolled his eyes, even his name sickening him. His expression obviously told you that he was pissed off, as you chuckled and shook your head. Your hand now went up to caress his cheek, rubbing those soft skin with your thumb, “Perhaps do you… Think that I have a feeling towards Seungyoun?” “No!” His eyebrows furrowed more as the quick response made it clear that he indeed was having such thoughts in his mind. You raised your eyebrow, asking for an explanation from the lie that the latter just told you. “Ugh, fine. Yes, I was. His presence around you made me go mad, I can’t help but to think that you might fall for him even in the slightest way.” The way he tried to stay on top of you with the arms supporting his whole weight on each side of you made you feel safe around him. “Then why would you kiss me?” “Because I like you.” You sense nothing but sincerity filled up his eyes. Both of you stayed quiet for a while as each other tried to read those messages through the eyes, as Hyunjae sat back on the sofa and his head hung low to the floor, fingers messily running through his hair. “You can leave if you want, we can just pretend that nothing actually happened.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” HIs ears perked up but not daring enough to face you in this state of his. You sat next to him and held both of his cheeks, making him face you. “What if I feel the same way? What if we happened to have this love-hate relationship since the day we met?” You added, “Kiss me again like how you wanted to. Do what you’ve wanted to do on me ever since we’ve exchanged those glares but deep inside those hearts wanted something else.” With that, he pulled you into another heated kiss. This time, the kiss got more aggressive as touches on each other's bodies became bolder than before. He pulled you on his thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck and you straddled on his waist. His hand went down to caress down the exposed thighs of yours as you threw your head to the back once his lips went to your neck again. He placed soft kisses and licks all over your neck and collarbone while hand busy stroking your thighs. You pulled him to lean back on the sofa, taking off your blouse while the latter watched you doing so. You exposed your half naked upper body to the one that you used to hate a lot, as he licked his lips from the view before kissing your body again. His hands went back to pull down your bra skillfully, throwing it somewhere around the office and his lips went to your right boob. His tongue circling around your nipple as his other hand grasped the other, applying the same pleasure on it. 

“P-Please…” “Please what, my love?” “Fuck me.” “I would gladly do.” With that, he gently placed you over the sofa as he almost cursed under his breath, “Shit, you look so stunning underneath me. Should’ve taken the first move early so I could witness such views longer for the rest of my life.” He pulled down your skirt, letting you only in your underwear. His finger made a contact with your covered pussy, spreading the wetness all over, “You are this wet just for me? Thank you,” he playfully smirked and left a peck on your lips as he hovered down to your lower body. His tongue left a long stroke across the covered slit, making you whimpered. He chuckled, taking off your underwear and sniffed it, “You even smell good,” he shoved it inside his back pocket before resting his lips on your cunt. “A-Ah!” You closed your eyes tight as your back jerked upward from the sudden contact, gripping nothing but air tightly. His tongue flickered against your slit, hands went to hold yours as the way you tightly held his hands made him realise that you were so close to reach your cloud nine. He didn’t stop though, as his nose brushed over your pussy and he started to suck your clit. “Fuck, I-I’m close… Ah!” Once again, your body jerked upwards after letting out the loudest moan while cumming on his face. 

He gave you time to adjust with the pleasure you just earned, as he licked off the cum painted all over his lips. You took a short glance over him, beaming softly resulting in him to beam along. He pecked your lips and whispered against your lips, “Can you go for another round?” You gave him an immediate nod, not wanting to waste another time. He smirked under his breath, “Never know I could make you a hot mess underneath me. Seungyoun who? Stupid of me to assume that he could get a chance to fuck you. Seeing him touching and giving you a massage annoyed the shit out of me. He can’t make you feel this good.” His hands were busy unbuckling the belts and pulling his pants along with his boxer, exposing his huge manhood right in-front of your eyes. Stroking his hard length to spread the pre-cum all over, Hyunjae was staring you down with lusts filled his eyes. “No, I’m the one that’s supposed to be making you feel good.” Without wasting any seconds, he inserted his dick into your vagina, making you produce the most beautiful sound ever. 

“Ahh H-Hyunjae!” Your hands gripped his biceps as he let out a whimper, biting his lower lips, “Fuck baby, you’re so tight. I don’t think I could last long.” The amount of his breath rising dramatically was equally the same as yours, as the pat on his bicep signalling to him that he could move. He pushed further more, fingers crawled up to grab the sofa armrest. Your hips moving along to match his speed, both of you working hard to chase the heaven both of you have dreamed of. “Ugh fuck, Hyun… Hyunjae. It’s there… Ahh,” he repeated the same sin, pushing his tip to hit the jackpot inside of yours. Your fingers went to his back, nails scratching as you accidentally left some marks on it. His thumb went to your swollen clit, circling to apply more pleasures for you to cum. “Ahhh, Lee Jaehyun!” Your wall clenched tightly around his dick and cummed on it after chanting his name like a mantra, as the latter moved his hips at an inhuman speed. “Ugh,” he groaned as he quickly slipped his shaft out from you, replacing your walls with the grip of his hand around his manhood, stroking it faster to chase his own cloud nine. He painted his cum on your stomach, lazily pumping his shaft before sitting on the sofa, leaning his back against it.

He took a peek over you, whose chest was rising up and down rapidly to even the breath, leaning to leave a soft kiss on your lips. “Rest for a while, I’ll go grab for a wet cloth for you.” You nodded, your lids were heavy as you almost couldn’t see the young man in your sight due to the exhaustion he just made to you. Hyunjae put on his clothes, went to the nearby toilet and came back with a damp but warm towel. He cleaned the cum all over your body and let your back laid on a warm cloth. “You left marks on my back, and it’s unfair how I can’t leave any on yours.” You giggled in a tired manner as you tried to look at him, “I was scratching and I didn’t know it left marks. Plus, why would you leave a mark on something that’s not yours to begin with.” He laid on top of you again, putting down the arm away from your forehead, “If I ask you out now, am I allowed to leave marks on your body?” You lazily smiled to the latter, “Whatever floats your boat, Mr. Lee.” 

[sole-cuore-amore-e-droga]

Belgium brings their ex-vocalist back to Rotterdam 2021

Here we chop chop boys like we chop chop wood

This review space would’ve been reserved for Belarus. Unfortunately, their broadcaster was not ready to make nice, and ultimately refused to serve EBU with anything but not-even-so-thinly-veiled propaganda, so much so that EBU, after all they’ve given the time for them for to snap out of it, finally had to be like “bye bitch” (- Lizzo) with enough push from the fandom, and informed everyone that Belarus will miss this year’s contest <3

Which means that I don’t have to deal with 41, but with 39 writeups to do overall, if my timing permits! The Roop could’ve always used a little less competition, anyway /j

Speaking of The Roop’s competition, time to aim at another one of their semifinal folk with a review. Come forth, Belgium!

ARTIST & ENTRY INFO

Hooverphonic, eventhough they’re not as big of a name as Flo Rida, is the biggest act to compete in this year’s Eurovision, and even had lasted longer as a thing than Flo Rida. He barely even got his proper famous kickstart around in the 2000s. Hoover have been around at least for 5 years more than him, if “Years active” section on Wikipedia is anything to go by. And back then they were just known as Hoover, correct. Their lineup of singers has changed for quite some time, but otherwise the band since its inception is rooted in basically two men: Alex Callier and Raymond Geerts. They used to have a keyboardist too but was he a part of their glory years in 2000? No? Thought so, he’s irrelevant then. In fact, their first vocalist wasn’t even present on their first album, so they went to have another one, who did just one album with them before 2000 and left. Now I’m only constantly and consistently bringing up 2000 because that’s when they had their break out moment in relevancy - after they changed their singer once more before they found someone called Geike Arnaert - the woman you’re seeing on the MV’s thumbnail right now, and not someone certain for whom there was a public outcry for she is the only Hooverphonic component that’s not coming back from 2020 to 2021. But more on that later. I’m here to present you the break-out hit, for those who just don’t know:

I used to like to think of Hoovers as trip-hop sensations, well not in the style of Massive Attack because they have their trip-hop sound with actual hip hop thrown in, Hooverphonic’s style is that but with a tinge of symphonic.

Well, “Mad About You” wasn’t really the only hit they had, before that they got a bunch of minor and domestic hits, and their music was used for soundtracks. So it’s a little bit cheating still to think of “Mad About You” as their breakout hit, but that’s still the biggest song of the band. If I were to recommend you stuff from them that aren’t necessarily the biggest hits but still, “The Night Before” with yet another one of their vocalists is pretty good.

So when I tell you that Hooverphonic is a band of a very long career. Well some bands do survive a lot without having their lineup change for 10+ years, but Hooverphonic vocalistes come and go sometimes, and for 2020 forray, when they were first announced, they came in to that talk show studio where they were guests in with a promising little starlet Alex Callier found at The Voice Belgium (for the Flanders region) and was her mentor there, Luka Cruysberghs, as their current vocalist.

Is it just me or her and Stefania Liberakakis look like they could be cousins?

All went smooth and dandy, until Alex started spouting stuff about Eurovision the fans found not amusing, such as calling Eurovision a circus or something, later begging and pleading to medias that his statement was “lost in translation” - now I would say it happens to the best of us, like for Tornike, but deep inside I think I know Alex meant what he meant, inside or outside context. Because everything just went even more sour when everyone found out Hooverphonic were missing from the common song “Love Shine a Light” for the 2020 consolation programme in place of Eurovision, and when they were forced to explain, Alex just straight up said he didn’t like the song, so he decided to not do it. Fuck, I myself don’t adore the 1997 winning song, but I like it, and would’ve still done a piece of that song out of respect. Take it or leave it, god damn. Also they were noted to be the only people plugging in their other material in the time when Eurovision 2020 artists on the consolation programme were either saying inspirational stuff or “hope to see you soon!” or a combo of both, once again, courtesy of mostly Alex. Now I’m not saying his ego is bigger than Kirkorov’s... of fucking course not, no one has an ego bigger than Kirkorov’s. The only thing that can beat him in that regard is if someone booked Kanye West for Eurovision last minute.

Following 2021, they were very excited to jump on the “leave 2020 songs behind” train, while a few artists like VICTORIA and The Roop rallied for to keep their entries in tact if they were allowed to. And with that, in late 2020, they went ahead and celebrated the 20 years of “Mad About You” by getting rid of Luka as a vocalist and bringing back the aforementioned Geike to reprise her part. Seems pretty reasonable, but for the Eurofandom it was simply seen as a dick move, and mostly for the reason that all 2020 artists deserve a 2021 chance, even if they’re band members. What felt more dickish is that Luka was straight up told “byeeee u’re no longer our bandmate xo” on a Zoom call between band members. Like, it’s fine to be told you’re fired in person, even if still humiliating, because what’s the other better way? What’s equally worse is to be told this via email, but the email you were sent was sent like a few months ago and you only read it NOW. At least I guess that proves we know what the “sad and losing game” was that Luka asked to be released from now, heh.

Not to worry Luka-stans, as Alex will still have her, just as not the part of the band anymore. But instead give her a solo career. Yeah well we’ll see how long that lasts.

With the 2000 glory heydays lineup of Hooverphonic we have their entry be “The Wrong Place”, as the completely quite different song they promised (or didn’t) when saying that they will certainly and absolutely get rid of their old one for the 2021 if they had a choice. What they didn’t get rid of is the theme of the worse part of relationships - “Release Me” is about probably wanting to be let go of and released rather than kept by the side when it’s probably not working out. “The Wrong Place” is one of those episodes that probably happened during then - they had a house conflict, she chose to have a smoke to forget about it, the man’s after her Johnny Cash T-Shirt. Not much else to say about the song’s technicality fortunately than I’ve already said so much about the band, so how does it fare in the Hoover-lore, for me?

REVIEW

See, I would like to root for Luka ever having her chance to get to experience Eurovision if she wishes, but maybe it’s lowkey for her own benefit she wasn’t the chosen vocalist for the song, as Geike could do “Release Me”, but Luka wouldn’t be able to do “The Wrong Place”.

“The Wrong Place” is well-suited to the first vocaliste’s melancholic blend-in timbre, and a singer like Luka would sound a little too light on this with her soft-spoken sound of her voice. Besides, I don’t think she could be old enough to relate to the lyrical subject’s domestic struggle issue. Not to say 20 year olds don’t smoke and drink, it’s just that “The Wrong Place” feels a little bit too much mature enough.

Although I think that both of them could absolutely rock the music video visuals.

The song itself is very Hooverphonic. They used to do this kind of standout triphoppy sound back in the days, but as of lately they kind of grew out of the label to do more of the music that kinda sounds like movie soundtrack music. Idek the exact label I could give it to their music so move soundtrack music it is I guess. It has a decently paced structure (could’ve done without the overly repetitive ending where they repeat “you’re in the wrong place” over and over, like ffs I know where I am!!), and interesting lyrical choices. Such as “organic cup of... tea”, as in, WOW! HOOVERPHONIC HAS ENOUGH WITH THE TEABAGS FULL OF GROUND AND GRINDED TEA! THEY WILL ONLY MAKE TEA FROM PURE HERBS AND FLOWERS, AS IT WAS USED TO BE DONE! and acting like her Johnny Cash T-Shirt is the kind of prized possession her man is not allowed to wear to rub it in her face. Imagine if it was something more mundane. “Don’t you ever dare to wear my... pink polka-dot T-shirt”? Damn right it doesn’t seem to suit the mood lol.

It’s not what I exactly wanted from Hooverphonic, but probably what I subconsciously needed from them anyway, ever since they were announced for 2020. I only got into “Release Me” sometime AFTER the contest, “The Wrong Place” is a bit more instant to stand behind. So well done to them to commit to their craft.

Approval factor: I guess I do have to stamp this with my stamp of approval. It’s nice and all. Follow-up factor: “The Wrong Place” follows up as a more of a Hooverphonic discography track after the fairly average and overlookable “Release Me” (eventhough the latter has the tinge of theirs as well because it’s a more symphonic ballad, and they do have symphonic stuff on their discog afterall). As a Eurovision entry, it comes across as even better somewhat, and even slightly more standout, but that might not necessarily work in their favour. Qualification factor: And that’s because they’re absolutely stranded in the semi with too many qualification choices to name. Belgium gets to be a bit quasi-obvious, but they’ve failed with a Hooverphonic-penned song before, plus, the pop girlies of this semi are more likely to eat out a band like this alive, but I wouldn’t exactly say Belgium is doomed to fail either, because I am positive Hooverphonic will think of something. I’m just saying that shocking things can happen every now and then.

INTERNAL CORNER

Well, considering Alex Callier is not running his mouth this time as much as he did so last year’s season, I think it’s safe to say that Hooverphonic have had nothing to write home about.

No, wait...

Well I did mention that Luka got replaced as one of the events that happened to Hooverphonic’s lifetime, but thank God that Alex promised her a solo career, right? Right?

Well, apparently, we’re getting towards it.

And the first lyrics of her first solo forray post-Hooverphonic-vocalist-duties features the lyrics about possibly her making someone “regret it”. Lol now watch this song to be a karma kick into Hooverphonic’s ass if Belgium happens to not qualify this year. Luka forewarned y’all with sharp precision.

Annnnnd that’s pretty much it, besides the band jumping on the trend of turning their entries into a Festivali i Këngës 59 acoustic night European version by presenting their own acoustic version of this track. I did not have the kind of courage to link to the Azerbaijan’s “slow version” on their review in fear of overruning my post even longer than they would usually be for these reviews, but at least it moves people to a certain degree

Well, my question of the days is, does “The Wrong Place” in acoustic make you sad twerk?

ANY LAST WORDS?

Belgium’s big weakness is when it comes to stage their entries, notably for the last two years where the Eurovision actually happened. Sennek was awkwardly put in the middle and succumbed to the curse of Lucie Jones of grimmacing too much and therefore ruining her score in the process, possibly. Eliot was just simply upstaged by the decision to include big drums on stage. Alex Callier acknowledges all that sort of thing, so if anything goes absolutely right and Hooverphonic manage to make it to Rotterdam (which I think they can do because Belgium and Netherlands are neighbours lol? unless their lockdown rules get super strict in May), he should get on to mending all the flaws that Belgium had in the past for staging, and have a spectacular vision. Because it’d be sadly hilariously ironic if Hoovers miss out on the final due to the staging again. Can’t just constantly blame the vocalist - Geike would be flawless live, if Hooverphonic trusted in her for so many years. Can’t blame the song - it’s not too bad. So staging, I guess.

Good luck Hooverphonic, you’ll certainly need it. Also can RTBF consider that they could send anything else from the Wallonian music scene other than The Voice Belgique acts~

[dearlazerbunny]

If/When/Then

Pairings: Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Genre/Ratings: Five Times trope; G, mentions of severe anxiety

Words: 4200

Summary: Or, five times Kyoya didn’t kiss you (and the one time he did)

WARNING: the last bit gets a little angsty

One

“Kyoya. I swear to god. Can we please just-” you rub your eyes exhaustedly, trying to get the harsh blue glow of your laptop out from under your eyelids- “take a break? Or better yet, call it a night?”

The boy sitting across from you on the sofa glances up, his work reflected in his glasses. “How many words do you have?”

“Kyoyaaaaaaaa-”

“Y/N. How many words?” His tone is partially amused but mostly paternal, like he’s asking a small child how many candies they snuck before dinner. If you weren’t so brain dead it’d piss you off, but as it is you’re mostly just petulant.

“Um… three thousand and… something?”

A slender finger pushes his glasses further up his nose. “And the minimum word count is…?”

“You damn well know,” you mumble, before letting your head drop into your hands. One of your elbows is resting on your keyboard, leaving a long trail of jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjs across your half-finished essay.

“What was that?” A socked foot aims a kick at his shin, but your aim goes wide and he dodges it easily. “I believe the answer is six thousand.”

You give a long, heartfelt groan.

Kyoya sighs. He can easily knock out an essay in under an hour, while you require a little more effort- and a lot more bribery. Even if English is one of your best subjects, he knows sitting here for the past few hours laboring over a boring political comparison has to be dragging on you. And he’s been too caught up in his own work to even try to keep your spirits up- something he’s now regretting, seeing the usual sparkle in your eye dull to something uncharacteristically quiet.

“Here.” He reaches over the edge of his perch and feels for the basket of blankets he knows will be sitting there- his sister has a fondness for being wrapped in a minimum of three layers at all times. Carefully, as so not to disturb his own precious computer, he reaches over and drapes a loose-knit woolen beauty over your lap. He even takes a second to tuck the ends over your toes. You watch, fascinated, so used to his fingers tapping out mile-a-minute documents in a harsh staccato that this moment of softness seems unreal. Maybe you’ve already fallen asleep and are dreaming, or it’s a particularly nice sort of 2AM hallucination. Kyoya notices you staring- of course he does, he notices far too much about you nowadays to try and convince himself he only values you as a friend- and very pointedly looks anywhere but your gaze. He’s not sure he could look away if he caught your eye now, hazy with sleep and reflecting starlight from the nearby open window. “Better?”

“Um- yeah.” You settle a little further into the cushions. “Thanks.”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Of course, when he glances over at you not ten minutes later, you’re fast asleep, laptop precariously close to toppling to the floor. He rescues it and saves your work before shutting it down. There’s a slight smile on your face as you dream, and the overwhelming urge to lean over and press a kiss to your forehead makes Kyoya stop still.

His fixation on you has grown over the past few months, that much is clear, but he hadn’t predicted them to progress this quickly this fast. He has his grades to maintain, a club to run, and a company to prepare for. He shouldn’t have time for silly distractions, like categorizing exactly how peaceful you look curled up next to him, or reaching out and brushing a piece of hair out of your eyes.

He shouldn’t. And yet, he does- he always will, for you.

Two

“Remind me again who said this was a good idea?” You squint your eyes as you turn your face towards the sky, which is lit by a brilliant sun. The Host Club is hosting on location this time- a beautiful stretch of beach peppered by towels, umbrellas, waiters offering fruity drinks, and a couple hundred squealing girls. You know. Relaxing. “I think I might like to punch them.”

“You might talk to Mori about a healthy and productive way to manage your rampant anger issues.” You snort and roll your eyes, which in turn makes the corner of Kyoya’s mouth tick up. He’s under an umbrella nearby, neatly marking down figures on his notepad. “Besides, I thought you liked the water.”

“I do, when it’s not so…” you gesture to the gaggle of twenty or so girls nearby, all primping and twisting in their bikinis to hopefully catch the eye of their favorite host- “crowded.”

“Ah.” He can sympathize with that. The smell of salt and brine takes him back to childhood, with the two of you making castles in the sand and pestering the other with seashell-finding competitions. Beach days were lazy days when your parents couldn’t be bothered to have either of you in the house, but to the two of you they were worth their weight in gold. Today, as he watches you stretch into the heat, his childhood friend is overshone by the you of here and now. You’re gorgeous in a simple one piece more stunning than any of the frills the other guests are wearing and hair in a sea-woven braid dangling down your back. Likewise, the Kyoya of here and now is having some thoughts that his five-year-old self have would never even dreamt of.

“I’m going swimming. If I don’t come back in an hour, tell Tamaki it’s his fault for dragging us all out here.”

“Hm? Oh,” Kyoya clears his throat. “Yes, of course.”

You throw him a glance- is he acting strangely? You can’t quite tell; it might just be the heat- before jogging off towards the waves, well away from the party as a whole.

He watches you go, and thinks about going with you, before a guest trills his name and his attention is dragged back to where he doesn’t want it to be.

At the end of the day, the crowd has left, and the club gets a precious hour or so of pink sky and calm surf to themselves. Hikaru, Kaoru, and Haruhi are searching the shoreline for shells and sand dollars; Mori is hauling damp sand for Honey’s massive sand castle; and Tamaki surveys all of them like a proud father. You and Kyoya are sitting a little away, just close enough to the water to let it kiss your toes. “This is more what I remember,” you murmur, a smile on your face, and Kyoya digs his fingers into the sand so they don’t accidentally wind their way around yours like they want to.

“Oh, here.” You pluck your friend’s glasses from his face and use the towel draped loosely over your shoulders to wipe the lenses. When you hand them back, Kyoya has a bit of a stunned expression on his face, making you giggle. “Sorry. They had salt on them. Seemed like it would annoy you.”

“Indeed,” is what he says, willing his tone to be nonchalant or at least neutral. What he wants to say is, do you remember when we were eleven, and you tried the same thing? You ended up getting knocked over by a wave and lost them in the ocean. I was so mad at you, but I still had to hold your hand on the way home so I wouldn’t fall. You didn’t let me trip. Not once.

If he were a braver, bolder, better person, he’d kiss you right now, and see how you taste like salt and sunshine and memories. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t- he lets the Hitachiin twins, who are sneaking up behind you, douse you in water instead. He lets you shriek at them and take chase, threatening to drown them both, breaking the moment and leaving him sitting by the sea alone to remember what was and what might be.

Three

It’s safe to assume that Valentine’s Day is never a dull affair in Music Room 3.  

Everything is decorated with lace and delicate crystal trimmings; the roses are even more bountiful and in every color the human eye can see. The attire is more formal than usual, the cheeks rosier and the lips pinker, and it tends to be the one day when the hosts receive more than give.

Each of their tables is piled high with gifts, cards, baked goods swirled with elaborate frostings. Even though Tamaki keeps insisting that the girls should be the ones receiving sweet nothings, not the hosts, you can tell he’s more than pleased by the growing mound of sentiments slowly dwarfing the other boys’. As it should be, Kyoya supposes.

Honey’s haul is mostly sweets, naturally, and this year Mori also has a surprising armload- apparently one of the only times his admirers hear him speak is when he says ‘thank you’, leading to multiple gifts just so they can hear his voice more than once. Hikaru and Kaoru’s combined mountain looks more like a dragon’s treasure horde than a pile of presents. Haruhi adamantly refused everything until one guest brought her a particularly excellent platter of fish, based on the way she’s been sitting in the corner with her cheeks stuffed for the last twenty minutes.

Kyoya notes all of this with a vague smile, adjusting his calculations and trajectories for the next few months to match the turnout. Valentine’s Day is one holiday he can generally sit out. Sure, there’s a small stack of cards and remember-me’s on the sofa next to him, but his persona as the analytical and aloof host tends to leave him further down in the ranks than the other boys. Which is just fine with him, if he’s being honest- he has manners, but being constantly charming is tiring at best and egregiously aggravating at worst.

“Mother Dearest, it appears you have another card to add to your beautiful collection!” Tamaki flounces over in his wine-colored suit, at least thirty guests in pursuit. “It doesn’t come with a giver, unfortunately- oh! Perhaps you have a secret admireeeeeer!” He wiggles his fingers excitedly and hands over the card with a flourish. “How exciting! A mystery for Valentine’s Day!” His groupies sigh and fan their faces, overcome with the romance and intrigue of it all.

“Thank you, Tamaki,” Kyoya says drily, nimbly plucking the proffered gift from the boy’s fingers. “Please, don’t ignore your guests on my account.”

“I would never! Each and every one of my princesses mean the world to me!” As he and his followers fade back to the other side of the room, Kyoya props his glasses back up on his nose and curiously slides his thumb under the flap of the envelope. It’s a plain white paper, not embellished with hearts or gemstones or ribbon or any of the other garish decorations usually attached to such a thing. The card is similarly simplistic, with only a pencil-sketched heart on the outside and a greeting that reads, “To My Favorite Host.”

Interesting. Perhaps there’s a mystery here after all. He flips it open, not sure what to expect- and immediately has to keep himself from laughing outright. Inside is a crude sketch of two stick figures- one has comically large glasses drawn on its blank face to helpfully distinguish itself as the Kyoya of the pair- and note in chicken scratch: You’re such an asshole, but I guess I love you anyways.

Only one person could be responsible for such a thing. After all, you were never renowned for your artistic talents.  

…

“I got your… note.”

You don’t look up from the book you’re paging through out in the courtyard underneath a spectacular old tree. The leaves frame you beautifully against the afternoon sky. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm. I found the art particularly museum worthy.”

Now you smile a bit. “Well, you’re a museum worthy sorta guy.”

“Favorite host is quite the compliment.” He’s getting dangerously close to… something; toeing a line he hasn’t touched before, and it’s making his heart race.

“Don’t get too cocky. Mori’s still got like, an eight-pack.”

Kyoya sits beside you, careful to leave several tree roots between you and him. “Why a valentine? I see you every day; you could have just told me yourself.”

“I dunno.” He fixes you with a look, one that says sure, I believe you. You give a halfhearted shrug, shoulder almost brushing Kyoya’s. “I went by the music room. Everyone else had, like, mountains of stuff and I just… felt like you were under-appreciated, that’s all.”

“I see.” A beat passes with nothing but the wind ruffling your hair. “That’s… kind of you.”

Now you do close the gap between the two of you, nudging your knee against his. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Four

Your laugh, Kyoya thinks, is the best thing he’s ever heard.

You’re draped over the edge of his bed, head towards the floor, giggling wildly to yourself as you mutter an inside joke that only make sense to you. Your cheeks are flushed, and the bottle of alcohol you snuck into Kyoya’s room is sitting a few feet away, half full. He’s had a few sips, but he isn’t much for relinquishing his mental faculties so easily. It’s tempting, though, what with you so lazily tapping his shoulder or nudging his side to get his attention- it’d be so easy to demolish all his carefully crafted walls and drown in you.

But someone has to be the responsible one- and if he’s honest with himself, the thought of you or he regretting what happened in the dead of night come light of day makes him sick to his stomach. So he sits primly against his headboard, the computer on his lap a boulder pinning him to his spot, only glancing at you every so often to make sure you haven’t tumbled off the bed completely, despite your absolutely intoxicating mood coaxing him closer and closer to throwing caution to the wind.

“-and you’re just… you’re just a good person,” you continue, meandering through your thoughts. “Like, seriously. Why do you have to be so amazing. It’s so goddamn annoying.”

He desperately hopes you’re too out of it to notice the reddening of his own cheeks. “I am hardly what anyone would call ‘good.’”

“Lies! Lies. And. Slander.” You emphasize every word with a poke to various parts of his body- his big toe, his elbow, his knee. “Like- okay. What are you working on right now?”

In actuality he’s browsing through the Ootori Group’s latest research and development journals, evaluating their recent findings and sifting the unimportant from the extraordinary. But you’re most likely far too gone to actually understand any of that, so instead he just generalizes: “refining new data from the company.”

“Yeah! You wanna be a fucking doctor, that’s like- that’s amazing!”

Kyoya quirks an eyebrow. “You do realize my entire family is in the medical profession.”

“No, your entire family throws their money at the medical profession.” You wave a finger in the air like a drunk scientist hypothesizing their theories. “There’s a difference.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“No, listen you jerk!” You haul yourself up and place yourself face-to-face with your best friend, close enough that Kyoya can see the intensity in your eyes. “It’s one thing to pay for shit, it’s another to actually be in the room when someone is having a heart attack and wanting to save their life. You care. More than anyone I know. And that makes you amazing.” You let out a rush of air, the sudden verve in your words having worn you out. “I dunno. Maybe that doesn’t make any sense. Whatever. I’m gonna lay down.” You curl up next to his knee and half heartedly arrange a blanket around your legs before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, Kyoya’s gaze has never left your face. The words may have been spoken by a loose tongue, but anyone could hear the honesty in your voice and see the passion in your eyes. You really think that much of him? Or rather, could you possibly think as much of him as he does of you?

He wishes he could shake you awake and ask you to elaborate. He wishes he could tell you that if he’s amazing, you’re a supernova. He wishes he could get drunk and fall asleep next to you while pressing lazy kisses anywhere he can reach.

His reaches for the bottle, but his fingers barely brush the glass before changing course and clicking off the lamp instead.

Five

God, I hate these things, you think to yourself as you tug on the straps of your dress. You’re not quite sure if you’re referring to the pins sticking your scalp, the uncomfortable formal gown you’re squeezed into, or the entire event in general- actually, it’s most likely all of the above. As much as you love Kyoya and the rest of the boys, you adamantly refuse to attend any of their grand balls. You’re not a fussy person, so the general pompous air of the things always gives you a headache, and you hate wearing dresses anyways. But today you zipped yourself into a slinky black sheath number that’s long enough to hide tennis shoes under the hem, forced your hair into something presentable, and even threw on a little mascara.

Because of Kyoya.

Kyoya, who mentioned in passing that this was the best celebration he’d ever planned, and seemed extremely proud of it to boot. Kyoya, who always grumbles as he slips on his suit, wishing he could spend the night with his charts and figures instead. Kyoya, who always returns to school the next day more stressed than usual, a tight smile plastered on his face as he fends off hordes of fangirls.

The things you do for this boy.

It’s immediately clear when you arrive that you stand out in your ebony gown, a wisp of smoke and night sky amongst a sea of flouncy pastels. Luckily, each of the boys steps up to greet you- a sweet hug from Honey, carefully avoiding wrinkling your dress; good natured teasing from the twins; a particularly extravagant complimentary poem from Tamaki. Eventually you meet Haruhi at the table laden with food, grateful for someone down to earth to laugh with.

After an hour, you’re almost convinced Kyoya finally worked up the nerve to skip the event altogether when there’s a delicate gap on your shoulder. “Would you care for a dance?”

“No,” you say, because that’s what you always say when Kyoya asks you to do something (even if he knows you’ll do it anyways). He smiles and takes your elbow, ignoring the whispers and glares from the other guests- who is she? What makes her so special? Everything, he wishes he could tell them. So many things he it would take him years to count them all.

“I thought you hated these things,” he says when you’re safely tucked in his arms on the dance floor. The fabric of your dress shimmers softly, as though marking you as something uniquely precious amongst all the other attendees.

“I do,” you reply. You’re slowly taking his lead, following the waltz music played by a six-piece orchestra. “But I think you hate them more, so I figured if anything I could help put you out of your misery.”

“Hm. Poisoned boutonnière, perhaps?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of hiding up in the rafters with a blowdart gun.”

Kyoya chuckles, sweeping you along. You’re not a bad dancer, all things considered. “I appreciate the thoughtfulness, though that might be difficult given your choice of attire.”

You grin at him playfully, raising your hem up just enough so he can see your battered old sneakers on your feet. “Nah, I always come prepared.”

It’s such an odd juxtaposition- this beautiful girl in the sinful dress accessorizing with sharpie-covered shoes that are peeling rubber- he can’t help but laugh, a real laugh, perhaps the first one he’s given since the night began. Even out of your element, you still maintain something that is so quintessentially you. He wishes he could tell you how beautiful you look. He wishes he could nudge your sneaker with his dress shoe in a secret invitation to follow him somewhere quiet, to steal small fleeting moments that would make the whole night worth its while.

He thinks about this every time you scuff your feet, hearing the slight squeak of rubber against the polished tile floor.

And the beginning…

“Stop it, Kyoya,” you grit out through a clenched jaw, using all your strength to unfold your friend’s fingers from his bloody palms. His fingernails have dug so far into the skin they’ve left bright red crescent moons dotting his hands. You focus on those, trying to soothe the sting with the fabric of your shirt, because if you look at his face and the tears crawling down his cheeks you’ll start crying too, and that’s not what either of you need right now. “Just talk to me. Please.”

No response. He’s trembling as though there’s a blizzard only he can feel, so you sit him on your bed and wrap him in every blanket you have, leaving his hands free so he can clutch at yours like a lifeline. “Just focus on me, okay? Everything is fine.” You try to keep your voice steady as you murmur anything reassuring you can think of, trying to coax life back into his eyes. You knew his anxiety had gotten worse, but this… this is the most catastrophic yet. You sit cross legged in front of him, so close your knees brush his, and hold onto his fingers for dear life. “Keep breathing. I’m here. It’s all okay.” Please please please come back to me. Come on, Kyoya. Don’t let the demons win.

Slowly, piece by piece, something in him seems to uncoil. His grip lessens just a little, and his breathing becomes audible enough to reassure you he’s still with you. Gently, you put a hand to his forehead, then cheek, testing his temperature. “Hey. You with me?”

Something like a sob escapes his lips, thin and heartbroken. Your own shatters along with it. In an instant you have him in a hug, arms as tight around him as you can possibly manage. Kyoya tucks his head into the crook of your neck, practically collapsing on top of you until you aren’t sure where he stops and you start. He says your name over and over and over again, a hymn only he can hear. You press your lips to his temple just to reassure yourself he hasn’t left you and let him cry; only able to offer comfort in presence and spirit. “Thank you,” he murmurs against your skin, and you hold him tighter.

“I’m always here. You know that.”

He sniffs and wipes away a tear with the heel of his hand, wincing when the salt burns his cuts. “Idiotic. I apologize for… all of this.”

“Stop,” you say firmly. You bring his eyes up to meet yours, so he can see the fire in your gaze. “You have nothing to apologize for. Ever. Okay?”

Kyoya stares back at you, feeling small and worthless against the monsters in his own brain. Every second spent with you banishes them a little farther back into his mind, loosening the vises wrapping his chest and letting him breathe a little easier. It has almost consumed him today, so he ran to the only safe place he knows-  you. And you had held him and wiped his tears and not for a single second judged him for falling apart.

It occurs to him you are one of the few people on earth who see him for who he truly is, and will still hold his hands anyways.

Ever so gently, he presses his lips to yours- soft, tentative, and barely there. It’s a thank you, and offering, and a question all at once. It’s not the grand romantic gestures he’s planned late at night, wanting to sweep you off your feet in a shower of confidence and joy, or even really a conscious decision- it’s instinct, want, and something like bittersweet love.

You blink at him, eyes wide. “Kyoya… I-”

He stills. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, bringing a hand up to press your fingers against his cheekbone. “Don’t ever be sorry,” you say again, and then you kiss him back. You kiss him like it’s all you’ve ever wanted to do; like you’re saying to him what took you so long, you idiot?

He doesn’t know. But he won’t ever make that mistake again. He’ll kiss you every day for as long as he lives to make up for all that lost time, all those late nights and seaside musings and dances with a hand on the small of your back.

When the sun rises, it illuminates a world of a thousand new possibilities.

[damn-stark]

Crossed Stars Epilogue

Star Wars x Marvel

A/N- didn’t mean to make this as long as it turned out to be, I just carried away with the moment. Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed! 

Warning- FLUFF.

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader

————

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she spoke in a broken voice, as he held onto her with a firm grip, “You were my best friend, Poe. You were my family when I had none. You mean everything to me, that’s why I want you to live. Let go.”

Her hand began to slip from his grip, making Poe hold on with every damn effort he could muster, his pleads soft and broken, “please, please. I can’t let go. I can’t lose you too.”

A smile appeared on her face, one that broke his heart into a million pieces and made him live the fear he never wanted to experience. One he failed to avoid. “It’s okay Poe, let go.” Her hand completely slipped from his grip, a pained cry leaving his lips as he watched her fall, a hand still out trying to reach her.

“NO!” The image of her then flashed away, another more terrifying scene replacing what was before. She was laying on a medical bed this time, her hands and legs tied down. When he walked up to her he found no pulse making the heartbreak from before return. “No, no, no—”

~

“Poe?” You whispered groggily, carefully pushing yourself up and seeing as Poe flinched in bed, noticing the tears that rolled down his cheeks and hearing as he quietly whispered to himself. “Poe?”

Said man jolted awake, immediately sitting up and placing his head on his hands as he tried to calm his breathing. The tears staining his cheeks.

“Poe?”

At the sound of your voice, Poe lifted his head and shifted around to face you, his lips parted in slight disbelief and his eyes red from both crying and exhaustion. He didn’t say anything, he just sat there as he let his eyes wonder your face, following your movements as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, letting one hand travel to the back of his head to comb your fingers through his curls in a form of comfort.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m right here.” You quietly assured him.

It took him a minute, but he slowly wrapped his arms around you with a firm hold, resting his head in the crook of your neck. He didn’t say anything, but you knew why he had gotten this way, it was the same thing that happened often. Not an every night occurrence, but something that happened every so often that you knew how to calm him down. Knew what it was that got him so emotional, it was always the same thing. The same nightmares.

He pressed a light kiss on your shoulder before pulling away and offering you a tired smile. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’ve told you hundreds of times already. I don’t mind.” You cupped his cheek and showed him a sweet smile, “I’m here for you. Always.” Poe placed his hand on top of yours to let his thumb stroke your knuckles, whilst also resting his forehead on yours.

“It’s just,” he sighed, “You already have to wake up early because of the baby, and I’m here waking you up with my problems.”

“Poe, I told you already. I don’t care.” You reassure him, “like I told you the day we got married. I’ll always be here for you. No matter how small or big the problem is. I’m here.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, pulling his head up to press a kiss on your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You smiled, “now let’s go to sleep before baby Nat wakes up.”

Poe lay down and pulled you against him with no means to let go. “You got it.”

——

“Now tell me again, why are we going to Earth?” Finn questioned with an obvious annoyance.

“Because Poe says, and I quote ‘miss earth’” you respond as you take a seat next to Finn.

“Please,” Rey chuckled, “Poe is trying to show off to Y/N’s ex the life he’s got with her.” Rey looks down at the baby on her lap and beams before beginning to talk to her in a baby voice, “isn’t that right? Your dad is just a big show off?”

“I could never.” Poe interjected as he and chewbacca walked out of the cockpit. “It’s just a...friendly visit. To check up on our friends.” He smirks as he takes a seat next to you.

“Sure, whatever.” You chuckle.

“It’s true sweetheart.” He remarks, his arm looping around your shoulders before whispering in your ear in an amused tone, “their is no reason to doubt my intentions.”

“I know you,” you smirk, “we all do.”

He shrugs off your comment and tries to change the subject, but before he could try, Finn stood up from his seat and quietly walked away. Chewbacca and Rey shortly following suit...for reasons that differed Finn’s.

“Rey!” You call out after watching her take the baby with her, “come on!” Seeing her not come back, made you sigh and pout, “she’s always taking our baby with her.”

“One day I think Rey might just take baby Nat and raise her as her own.” Poe joked.

“Well if she wasn’t hooked on her ghost boyfriend, then maybe she would have some of her own and stop taking mine.” You tried to make a joke, but it came out sounding bitter more than anything else.

Poe chuckled and shook his head, his smile quickly falling at a incoming thought. “Is everything okay with Finn? He just left out of nowhere...he always seems to do that when....we’re together.”

You feel your eyebrows knot together and your gaze narrow on Poe, noticing the hurt and...jealous? look on his face. “What do you mean?” You probe.

“I just mean...I think he’s—never mind. It’s stupid.” He shakes his head and let’s his eyes fall to the table beside you. The thought obviously bugging him.

You lean forward and cup his cheek to turn his head so he was looking at you again, urging him to continue with what he meant. “He’s what?”

Poe pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, his eyes flickering to the seat for a second before shifting them to meet yours again, sharing a simple response. “Nothing.”

“Come on Poe! Tell me.”

He swallowed thickly, a feigned smile on his lips, “You tell me first...why was it that you hated me for all those years? And then I’ll tell you what I was thinking.”

You scoff, chuckling nervously thinking he was joking, but then when you saw he was being serious you sighed. Deciding it was finally time to tell him of the stupid reason you hated him for all those years.

“Well, when we were in the republic defense fleet, after you..kissed me, and I as you may remember walked away—”

Poe chuckled, sounding more amused than before. “Yeah, I remember. That hurt me a little just so you know.”

You rolled your eyes and retorted, “really? Didn’t seem like it since the next day when I was going to return said kiss, I found you making out with that one blonde chick from your squadron...so it really didn’t seem like you were quote on quote hurt.”

Poe’s gaze narrowed on you, a wave of confusion quickly brushing past him as if trying to recall said memory. And once it did, a smile appeared on his lips, trying so hard not to laugh, but not being able to contain himself and letting his head fall on your shoulder as he chuckled loudly.

“It’s not funny.” You mumble in slight annoyance. “I was really hurt.”

Poe lifts his head and begins to caress your cheek, a goofy grin on his lips as he tried so hard not to continue laughing. “Aw sweetheart, is that why? All those years?”

You pull away from his touch and let out an exaggerated ‘hmph’, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You didn’t see what happened, huh?” He continued, turning your head to face him again. “She kissed me first. She caught me by surprise, I pulled away and told her that I wasn’t feeling what she did.” He paused and grinned, “Is that the reason you were always so cold towards me?”

“Yes.” You admit softly. “I hated you for that for a long while. I never hated you because of our competitive relationship...I wanted to hate you because of that, but I never could. It was always the same thing.”

He sighed before pressing a kiss on your forehead, “I loved you then like I love you now. I wouldn’t have ever played you like that.”

A smile finally broke through your demeanor as you eased into his touch. “I always loved you,” you cooed before you were pulled in for a sweet kiss, one that was deepened seconds later. A kiss that felt like sparks burst, felt like you had butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. Feelings that were always felt no matter how many times you kissed him.

“Now can you tell me about, Finn?” You asked when you pulled away.

A soft scoff slipped past Poe’s lips. “I think...” he paused and shook his head, thinking that his thought was stupid, but continuing nonetheless. “He might be jealous...since he loves...you.”

Now it was your turn to fall in a fit of laughter, gazing at him in an amused way before explaining and clearing his worry. “Poe, sweetheart, he’s not jealous or in love with me...sure he loves me. But in a sibling sort of way.” You quirk your eyebrow and spot Finn entering the room, letting you whisper to Poe, “he just walks away when we’re together because he says he gets uncomfortable because...you’re well...too affection towards me.”

Poe chuckles softly, a relief lifting from his shoulders. “So he thinks we’re that couple...” his eyes flicker to Finn before he shows a cocky grin, “well fine, I’ll be less ‘affectionate’ towards you in front of him.” He pressed one last kiss on your lips before completely breaking apart and showing the same grin to Finn.

Finn ignored what he just saw and announced what he intended to say, “we’re here.”

——

Being back in earth was weird, it felt weird. It’s definitely a place you never thought you would return to, or ever thought Poe would return to since he never really had the best memories here.

But alas here you were, in earth—perhaps the reason why, was just to avoid the responsibility of Rey opening her Jedi school soon...but perhaps the true reason why was because....no that was the real reason behind your travel here. Why you were back in the Avenger Compound. Now anxiously waiting for someone you never thought you would see again. Steve.

While also overhearing, Poe assure, Finn that you seeing your ex boyfriend wasn’t bothering him at all. Even if you knew it did. When it really shouldn’t. You were married with him and have been for a year now. You also had a eight month old baby with him. The need to be jealous was ridiculous.

“Why is he taking so long?” Poe complained.

Finn shrugged and answered with a not so very funny remark, “maybe because he doesn’t want to see his ex girlfriend and the man she told him not to worry about together.”

“Oh, haha.” You rolled your eyes and turned away from Finn, in that action noticing a guy with a metal arm, and an old man by his side walking your way.

“Incoming.” Poe whispered as he walked to your side with baby Nat sleeping on his shoulder.

The two men stopped a few feet away from your crew and you, the brunette with the metal arm showing a shy smile while the old man next to him looked at you with a more happy one.

“Hi,” You greeted, breaking the silence that built over the group, “You must be Bucky, Steve’s friend. I’m y/n.” Your eyes then focused on the old man next to him and smiled, “and you..”

“It’s me, y/n. Steve.”

You stood frozen in place at...Steve’s revelation. Staring at him in utter and pure disbelief. The only thing heard from you was the sound of your lips parting as you slightly tilted your head to the side. Unable to express any words for a long moment as your mind tried to grasp what he said. It hadn’t been that long..had it?

“What?” You finally ask, expressing a nervous chuckle. “Steve?”

Bucky chuckled at your confusion, making it seem that you weren’t the first person to react that way.

“It’s only been a year and a half, right?” Poe asked, trying so hard to hide the smugness that laced in his voice.

Steve nodded, his smile never faltering. “I’m surprised you both are here. I never thought I’d see either of you again.”

“Poe and I wanted to come check up on some friends.” You grinned, your mind still unable to comprehend who was in front of you.

“You’ll be alright, Steve?” Bucky asked his friend, something Steve simply nodded to, “I’ll be back later.” Before Bucky could fully turn to leave, you saw how his eyes glanced over to a certain pretty brunette next to you. When you checked to see if Rey noticed, a smirk replaced your smile when you saw a shy smile playing on her lips.

“How did this happen, Steve?” You wondered. “I mean the last time I saw you. You were well...young.“

Steve chuckled, “walk with me?”

——

“That baby.” Steve pointed out, “she yours?”

Your eyes flickered to the ground as you smiled, “yeah. Baby Natasha...do you think she would’ve liked that I named my kid after her?” Their was no need to explain who you were referring to, he knew exactly. You both did.

“She wouldn’t let you live it down if you didn’t.” Steve grinned.

“So are you going to finally explain what happened?” You probed, looking over at him and noticing the gold ring on his finger. That simple object answering your question before he could.

“After I returned the stones, I stayed to live the life Tony always told me to get.”

A silent hum escaped your lips, a soft smile decorating your features. “With...the women on your compass?”

“Yeah.” Steve smiled.

Their was no need to be mad at his decision. You were happy for him. He lived a complicated life, its what he deserved. A happy ending. And it’s not like you wouldn’t have done the same, because if the roles were reversed and you had lost, Poe like Steve lost the person he loved, then you would’ve gone back in time in a heartbeat.

“That’s good,” you expressed happily, “I’m happy for you Steve. I’m glad we can still be friends after what happened with us.”

“Why wouldn’t we be? We shared good memories, it’s just like you said, our hearts were just with different people.” He shoved his hands in his pant pockets when you both came to a stop in front of the lake.

“You’re right.” You interjected, an amused grin appearing on your face at a thought. “But you know I do wonder sometimes, what if we would have stayed together?” You meet each other’s gaze and he shares your grin, “I mean it’s not that I regret my choices, because I don’t. I got what I always wanted...it’s just the thought sometimes comes to mind.”

“You’re not alone. I wonder sometimes too, but it’s something we’ll never know.” He shrugged.

“You’re right.” You mused. And it was true, you didn’t regret what you chose, because one you got be with the man you loved. Two, you got the life you always wanted. Nothing in the galaxy would make you regret that. Nothing. “Regardless, we both got our happy ending.”

“We did.” He mused, a soft smile on his lips as you both admired the calming scene in front of you. “We did.”

——

“So, Steve and you....”

A scoff escaped your lips as you turned your head to glare at Poe. “Please don’t tell me you’re jealous of an old man?”

Poe stayed silent, his eyes focused on the stars above him, while he rubbed small circles on the babies back, choosing to focus on her quiet breathing as she slept on his chest.

“You were with him for five years...it’s just hard not to.” He revealed in a quiet voice, his eyes remaining on the sky above.

“Then why did we go to earth, if you were just going to be jealous?”

“I don’t know....maybe it’s true what Rey said..I wanted to prove something to him.” Poe admitted softly.

“Oh, Poe,” You grasp his cheek and tilt his head so he was fully looking at you now. “We may have taken time to be together. Been with other people in that time, but just know we got together at the right time.” You scooted closer to him and began to stroke his cheek with your thumb, “I’m in love with you and you only. Nothing ever changed that or ever will.”

Poe leans in to share a passionate kiss, a sweet moment that didn’t last long (only because he had the baby on top of him) but it was still sweet and meaningful.

After the gesture you show him a smile and rest your head on his shoulder, finding assurance at the feeling of his hand on your back and at the knowledge of just the three of you here. Smiling at the life you got live after the wars, the heartbreak and pain. Loving the thought of him and you finally together.

Poe followed by pressing a kiss on the top of your head to then whisper softly, “I love you so much.”

Tears roll down your cheeks, but you continue smiling. “Poe Dameron, I would travel through time and space if it meant that I would be with you.”

.

.

.

.

A/N-it’s over...I’m sad :( but also happy I wrote this series because it was one of my favorites to write!! Anyhow I want to say thanks to everyone for reading, liking, commenting and reblogging. I love every single and everyone of you. Thank you so much!!

Tagged- @itsbuckyb1tch​​​​​​​​, @kaitlynw011​​​​​​​​ , @blushingwueen​​​​​​​​ , @80sthottie, @thescarletknight2014​​​​​​​​ , @bbuckysbeardd​​​​​​​​ , @ellvswriting​​​​​​​​ , @sakurashortstack​​​​​​​​ , @whatthefrickfrackwereyouthinking​​ , @danicalifxrnia​​​​​​​​ , @lanatheawesome​​​​​​​​​ , @perryoncw​​​​​​​​ , @panic-onthegroundsofbrooklyn​​​​​​​​ , @abysshaven​​​​​​​​ , @valeecruz16​​​​​​​​ , @gummy-bears16 , @winchescumberholland​​​​​​​​ , @a-somehow-functioning-dumbass​​​​​​​​ , @randomhanabananas​​​​​​​​ , @just-a-sad-chicken-nugget-xxx​​​​​​​ , @awkward117​​​​ , @itsfangirlmendes​​​ , @princessleah129​​ , @golden-guide​

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care​ , @commondazy​

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Empires on the Horizon XII

Jason is a CEO: Part XII

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

Just wanted to say thank you for being so patient with me. It means more than you could ever know. I love you guys! Please enjoy.

TW: violence

I hope you understand

you need your own love

more than they do.

-Dhiman

Good day this is Jason Grace. I’m currently unavailable. Please contact my office if you need to get a hold of me.

The music blasted in his ears, rattling every cell in his brain, shutting down each transmitter, pounding against every cage. It was not loud enough, he could still feel his heart, could still hear things. The treadmill under his feet beeped as he increased the speed again. Why wasn’t this working? Why was he still here? He’d been running so long he should be on Mars by now.

Good day this is Jason Grace. I’m currently unavailable. Please contact my office if you need to get a hold of me.

FUCK.

He jumped off the machine and flung his phone across the room. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough to do this.

His phone went off again, and he’s annoyed he didn’t break it in his rage. Apparently even destroying something was an impossibility for him. The thought was so pathetic he couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh.

Good day this is Jason Grace. I’m curr–

“Okay!” He yelled, “I’m answering the fucking call. Just shut up.” He stabbed at the screen until the dial tone started up again.

“Jase?” Annabeth Chase sucked in a breath.

“Yes, what is wrong?” He knew he was being rude but he didn’t feel like it. Didn’t want what was about to happen.

“Can we come in?”

“You guys are outside my apartment?” He scowled.

“Uh yes,” She winced, “We tried knocking but you didn’t answer.”

He cut the call and walked to the front door, yanking it open with enough force to rattle the hinges.

“What do you want?”

Leo Valdez just levelled his gaze at him and stepped into the room.

“Guys, I know you mean well but I really don’t have the energy for this.”

They both ignored him, putting down the shopping bags on his kitchen counter and shoving stuff in the fridge. Leo hit the button on the coffee machine and grabbed three mugs from the cupboard.

Jason didn’t even have the strength to ask what was going on, he just collapsed onto a bar stool and put his head to the cool marble. His friends moved around him in silence, putting things away, washing the minimal dishes in the sink, and straightening the pillows on the couch. Eventually he felt them come nearer, leaning against the counter and looking at him.

“Jase,” Annabeth said softly, “Please look at us.”

He debated pretending he was asleep, but he knew they wouldn’t fall for it. With a deep breath he raised his head and stared into their matching eyes of love.

“Stand up,” Leo requested, voice gentle.

He felt his lip wobble, felt his throat close up. But he stood.

“Come here my darling.” They held out their arms.

He looked at them and collapsed to the floor, sobs catching like swords in his chest. They enveloped him as his tears soaked their clothes. He heaved with heart ache and loneliness, betrayal.

“I can’t do this,” He cried, anguish a serrated edge on his tongue. “I can’t do this.”

The just kept holding him. His friends for these years. His family through it all. They sat on the floor trying to catch all the pieces of him that broke off with each sob, not a word to interrupt his grief. And when the day blackened as dark as his lungs, they held each other by the light of the moon, and let the stars witness the destruction they caused.

***

Jason walked into his office for the first time in a week and pretended to be on a call as he avoided the chatter his employees would undoubtedly try to engage him in. A tight-lipped smile and an apologetic motion at his phone left them in their seats and far away from him. He wouldn’t be here for long. No he just had to sort out a few things and then he was packing up his crushed elation and taking himself to a place no-one save for the birds would be able to talk to him.

His office was just the way he left it, some documents neatly piled on his desk waiting for his approval, the blinds half closed so the sun still filtered in but didn’t blind, and his computer opened to the email he had been typing to Zoe about a holiday they should go on. It took everything in him not to smash the screen with the little cactus paperweight Hazel had bought him.

“Boss,”

Think of the assistant and they shall appear.

“Yes,” He didn’t bother to look up as he shuffled through the awaiting files.

“How-“ She gulped, ‘How are–“

“Levesque,” His voice was cold but it was the only way to get through this, “I mean this in the nicest way possible. Please don’t ask me that. Thank you for being concerned.”

She nodded, jaw-snapping shut, but he could see all the questions burning in her eyes. Instead she released a shaky breath and asked, “Will you be back at work full time? I just need to know if I should be transferring calls to you or putting in an out of office notification.”

He frowned, mulling it over. He could work, he should work. But everything reminds him of his failures. Of the things he didn’t see coming. And his job was nothing if not full of surprises. As he’s about to tell her his decision his phone rang.

His sister’s name flashed across the screen and he knew he couldn’t keep avoiding her.

“Fina-fucking-ly.” She grumbled, “Gees Jase. It’s like you’re purposefully ignoring me. Are you ready for today?”

He was so caught off by her question he forgot all about telling her the news. “Today?”

“Do not tell me you forgot,” She sighed, “We’re supposed to meet Octavian today. Give the idiot a piece of our mind.”

“Oh,” He muttered eloquently, “Are we still doing that?”

“Well I don’t know about you but I’m pretty pissed he dared to hurt one of our own so yes I do think we’re still doing that. Also this is the only day Bianca has so get your ass out of your office and meet me outside Titan Industries in twenty.”

With that the phone gave an obnoxious beep and the screen went dark. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to gather the scattered thoughts in his mind.

“We’ll talk later,” Hazel, still waiting at the door, nodded before waving a goodbye and disappearing into her office.

Sighing he gathered his things and trudged down to his car. Might as well get this over with and then tell his sister about Zoe. No matter what had happened between them Octavian still deserved whatever was coming for him. What he did was abominable.

The Titan Industries building loomed over him as he parked the car in a loading zone and hopped out. He was being that dick today, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Thalia swerved in next to him and behind her an array of cars stopped. A team of suited people poured out, black glasses, and head pieces to match. It looked fake enough to be comical. But then a woman in four-inch heels, a gunmetal coloured suit and a smile made from terror stepped out and he knew it was anything but fake. Or funny. She was the single scariest thing he had ever laid eyes on, and he knew what his sister looked like angry.

“Bianca!” Thalia jumped excitedly, racing towards the woman. They embraced with a laugh and a quick catch up. She fist-bumped a few of the bodyguards and then walked towards him.

“Di Angelo,” She smiled, “Please meet my brother Jason and the reason we’re here today.”

“Oh I know all about Jason,” Her voice was low but clear, like everything she said had purpose.

“You do?” He tried not to let the shock take over his features.

“I know everyone who hangs out with my brother. If they don’t get clearance from me they disappear.” She said it with such casualness he would have thought she was joking if the gleam in her black eyes didn’t hold a challenge.

‘Well,” He laughed awkwardly, “Glad I meet your approval.”

She just tilted her head and looked at him. A panther waiting to pounce. A competition waiting to be won.

Thalia who looked entirely too amused clapped her hands, “Shall we then? I wore my blood-stained pants for this.”

“Period stains or other stains?” Bianca asked, mirth dancing on her lips.

His sister just snorted and pushed open the Brobdingnagian door. None of Bianca’s bodyguards followed them in but he knew it didn’t matter. Between her and Thalia he doubted they would be needed.

“We’re here to see Octavian.”

The receptionist gave them a sickly-sweet smile, “Do you have a meeting?

“Tell him it’s Jason Grace from Anemoi Empires.”

Moments later they were being escorted into an elevator and taken up to the big boss himself.

“And what do we have here?” An oily voice grinned, “An intervention? Interrogation? Investment?”

“Octavian Haruspex,” Bianca drawled, examining her long black nails briefly.

“And who might you be?” He snooted, giving her a filthy look.

She smiled slowly and Jason swore the temperature in the room plummeted.

“Does it really matter who I am?”

“Greatly,” The blonde sniffed, leaning against his desk with arrogance, “I prefer to know who I’m speaking to.”

Her laugh was razor sharp as she focused her glittering eyes on him. “Bianca Di Angelo.”

Those pale blue eyes widened, shuttered, blinked. That was all the surprise he would show.

“And what is the Queen of the Underworld doing in my building? With these,” He pulled his face into a look of distaste, “With company such as them.”

Thalia growled, “I’d watch how you speak boy.”

He deigned to laugh, “What are you going to do? This is my empire. You’re just visiting.”

“She’s right,” Bianca said softly, moving to stand by the window.

“What do you want?” He scoffed, “I have work to do.”

“Piece of shit.” Jason muttered, fingers curling into fists at his side.

“I’m not the one who strung your company along for weeks only to deny them the greatest investment opportunity money could buy.” That greasy smile was back.

It took everything in him not to reach over and smack it off his face. “We’re not three-year olds Octavian. Sometimes business doesn’t work out. What you did–“ He breathed, anger making the room red, “What you did was disgusting.” He can feel the exhaustion tugging in his spine. Like a weighted chain wrapping around him.

“What I did?” He raised a bleached brow, “And what exactly did I do Jason Grace?”

“Okay,” Bianca sighed, like she was already bored with the conversation, ‘I’ve had just about enough of this.”

Before anyone could blink a dagger was embedded in Octavian’s table, millimeters from his fingers.

“Bitch!” He cursed, ripping his hand away from the shining blade. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“We don’t believe in lawsuits Octavian. It’s no necessary when people like you deserve to rot at the bottom of a sewer.” Thalia spat.

For the first time since they came in, Jason could see a flicker of fear in the man’s pale face.

“Fuck you,” He grunted, “You can’t prove jackshit.”

“We don’t have to prove anything.” Bianca grinned, “That’s not how street justice works.”

And before he can say another word, she was standing in front of him a second dagger titling his chin up and laughter playing in her eyes, “Now listen, if you ever, and I mean ever touch Jason, his associates, his family, his friends, the person he blinks at on the sidewalk, ever again I will have you erased so violently history will not be able to string the letters of your name together.”

A tiny drop of bright red blood fell to Octavian’s crisp white shirt as his glared at the woman in his space. “Fuck you.”

“Not even if it meant I could rule heaven,” She giggled coldly.

Her face pulled taut, “They are under my protection, from now until the Ouija boards can longer summon me in my grave. If you or your own ever go near them.” She snapped her teeth at him, “Well let’s just say my bodyguards are very creative with their outdoor activities.”

A dark stain spread over Octavian’s grey pants and Jason had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. Fucking coward. Can order a person to stab someone but cannot even handle a little threat.

“Don’t bother doing business on our side of town again.” He hissed. The man didn’t say anything as they turned away. The dull crack of a bone echoed behind him and Jason turned to see his sister leaning over a bloody Octavian, shaking out her hand.

“That was for stabbing my friend, you fucker.”

Through his red teeth he grinned at her, “Your friend huh?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” His sister spat.

The vile man turned towards him, “And has she broken up with you yet?”

Jason wanted to strangle the smirk of his face, wanted to throw up. “It’s none of your business.”

“Isn’t it?” Octavian smiled.

“Come on Jase,” Thalia tugged at his arm, “He’s not worth it.”

He let her drag him away, but the businessman’s unsettling grin played a loop in his head. There was something distinctly wrong about the situation. He had the eery feeling he wasn’t done with Octavian Haruspex just yet.

When they finally made it outside, the sun was still shining brightly as if what occurred could never stain the glory of the world. They said their thank you’s and goodbyes to Bianca and her team of people, Thalia promising to come around soon.

“So,” She grinned at him, “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” He rolled his shoulders, “That wanker got what he deserved but it didn’t make me feel better.”

In a rare moment she opened her arms, a silent offering. He stepped into them without hesitation and drooped onto her shoulder.

“Thals–“ He mumbled, trying to keep the tears at bay, “Zoe and i–“

“I know Jase,” She hugged him tighter. “She called me. Said to tell you she’ll never be sorry enough.”

The dam inside him burst, “Everyone is always sorry. But does anybody actually care?”

She stroked her hands over his back and carried his burden on her shoulders too.

“I think,” She said after a moment, “I think you should go away for a little while. You haven’t had a proper break in nearly three years.”

“Where will I go?” His blue eyes were blurry with tears.

“We have that house in Panarea.” Her voice was soft, soothing in his ear. “Maybe go there for a little while.”

“And what about Project Hestia? And the company? You know I’m starting the Conservation Conversations initiative after Hestia and there’s still so much to close up for the mini projects, and I have that water–“

“Jase!” She frowned, her blue eyes matching his glinted with sternness, “Your company will survive without you for a week or two. Hell it’ll survive for one or two months. But you aren’t going to survive another day if you don’t get some rest.”

“I just–“ He sighed, “I feel bad for abandoning everyone.”

“If you don’t stop, you’ll abandon us permanently and I will literally bring you back to just to kill you myself if you do that.” She squeezed him, “So just go to Italy for a little while. If you want, I’ll stay here and keep things in line. I’m sure Leo and Beth know what to do where I don’t. And Hazel is more than competent enough. Not to mention Frank.”

He took a deep breath, letting the options buzz around in his mind.

“I swear if you come up with one more excuse I’m going to duct-tape your mouth and ship you off myself.”

He gave a burst of laughter and wiped at his eyes, “Okay, okay. I’m going to Panarea. But you have to let me get my life sorted first. I’m not just packing up and taking the first flight out.”

“Deal,” Thalia smiled, and when she gave him one last hug, he realised there were some things in the world he would never want to control.

***

“Okay,” He popped his head around the door, “Flight is booked for two weeks from now.”

She gave him a thumbs up, “And you’re sure you’re okay to go?”

“I’m fine, you worry pot. I promise I’m not going to crumble to dust.”

“Okay,” She looked dubious, “It just seems like you got over all of this really quickly.”

“It was coming for a while,” He shrugged, “She is magnificent, but she isn’t mine.”

“I’m just worried you’re suppressing your feelings and as soon as you have five minutes to breathe, you’re just gonna break down instead.”

“I promise if I breakdown I’ll call you to come get me,” He laughed, “Now, how about we go over the checklist for the trip. And don’t forget to book a hotel for me please.”

“Where are you going again?”

Gorgeous eyes glittered as he caught the sunset lighting up the room in dainty colours. Gods he loved the sun. Loved that no matter what it rose and fell every day and the way it changed colours each evening and again each morning. The way it astounded him no matter how it looked.

“Daydreamer?” Rachel prompted.

“Oh,” He blinked back into the world, “I’m going to Panarea.”

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What in the world is going on?????

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[joonclouds]

The Price Of A Wish | 3

 The third time you meet Jung Hoseok, you realise the last ten years has done nothing to the way you were drawn to him, with a force as sure and inescapable as gravity.

CHAPTER INDEX

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Idol!Hoseok, Chaebol!Reader, OT7 bangtan show up too, Slow Burn, Unrequited feelings, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fluff, (we might include some other things later let’s see)

_________________

You meet Hoseok for the first time when you’re seventeen. It's in the early days of March - you remember because it's the time where Spring isn't quite here yet, so the evenings are still chilly. Getting to wear your favourite sweaters a few weeks longer is something that you still get a small thrill out of. You're a lot younger, a lot less jaded than you are now.

Leaning against the wall a ways off from the main crowd, you watch the guests in disinterest. It was laughable for a party of forty, at most, to rent such a colossal space. Surely even if it was a selection showcase, it was excessive.

Your family’s attendance to an event meant no expense was spared. The dress code is smart casual but a grand hall has been rented, with towering ceilings and a sprawling expanse of space. There was a live string quartet and champagne and little degustation canapes. Everyone talked in hushed voices, as if afraid to disturb the air around them. And what were they feeding with these canapes? Mice? You can’t even have real alcohol, just this stupid fizzy grape juice in a fancy glass. You think about the amazing grilled cheese that Madam Han, your housekeeper, makes and you groan internally, wishing to be anywhere but here. You’re sure your face says just as much.

“Yup, me too.” Turning in surprise, you find someone next to you.

His height is the first thing you notice. A good head taller than you are, and all black looks good on him, a silk shirt hanging loose and ripped jeans tucked into boots. He looks familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it yet, so you shelve that thought for later because well. There were more important issues at hand.

As a general rule, you thought all that "love at first sight' type thing was bullshit. You didn't buy into that sort of malarkey, and even if you did, it’s not something you got to have. But what was a girl to do in the face of .. well, a handsome face? Despite the remnants of stubborn pre-teen chub around his cheeks and a smattering of acne on his chin - things you're sure he'd grow out of in time - he's just your type of trouble.

Maybe you didn't know that yet, but all you do know is that when he turns slightly to give you a half smile, you freeze and your heart jumps like it's about to launch itself out of your body.

“Well. Someone's having fun.” He clarifies, fiddling with the stem of his champagne flute. You quickly look away, but not before noting his similarly bored demeanor.

"As much fun as you are, clearly."

“Yes, this is a riveting time.” He deadpans back, and the snicker he garners out of you breaks the ice like sugar glass. The both of you return to surveying the small crowd, but make no move to leave, enjoying the feeling of sharing in a certain kind of disjointed camaraderie. What is it they always say about shared trauma?

“You’re old enough to drink?” You tilt your glass in the direction of his.

“I’ve been old enough since three years ago. But legally, no. This isn’t alcohol.”

You sigh, but then a thought pops into your head. “Wanna sneak into the kitchen with me? The servers often leave the open bottles unattended.”

“Not your first rodeo, huh.”

“And certainly not my last. I can’t wait to be legal so these things become more tolerable.” You take another sip of your non-alcohol.

After a moment you ask again - “So? Kitchen?”

“You have no idea how much I wish I could, but this night is a sober one. Nerves and alcohol don't go well together for me.”

“Aaaaaaand he turns out to be even less fun than this party.”

This earns you a chuckle from him. It’s warm and inviting, a little buzz of electricity in your veins. Feels like if you’d been drinking actual champagne that evening. He nudges your shoulder playfully with his own when you cross your arms and angle your body slightly away in a small show of sulking.

“I have no choice, cowboy. I’m the showhorse. Gotta do the parade if I want my scholarship."

“Ah, Jung Hoseok.”

The puzzle pieces fall into place and you give him another once over out of the corner of your eye, this time with more recognition than before. Now you knew why he looked familiar - the identities of the artistes were all kept secret until after the selection showcase, but since you were your father's daughter, you'd seen the lineup beforehand.

"Yup, that's me." Hoseok downs the rest of his drink, grimacing. "And this entire thing is a show by a pretentious businessman who's already decided who's going to be selected."

"Looks like it's not your first rodeo either, you know how this works."

"Boy, do I."

"So why stay sober for it anyway?"

"I like dancing."

Hoseok's answer makes you go quiet. Whatever sarcastic banter you had lined up was halted in the face of such a simple, honest admission.

After a moment, he adds - " and I have a feeling it might reflect badly if I turned up tipsy to my first performance in front of the panel of directors.”

You shrug. "You know what they say about brooding artists and alcohol."

Suddenly, a thought comes to him. “Wait. You know me?”

He turns to you, and you can see him trying to figure out who you are, why you know him but he doesn’t know you.

“Of course I know you.” You state a matter-of-factly. “Jung Hoseok, the parading showhorse.”

“And you’re…. Mirae? The….cellist?” He takes a wild guess at one of the other performers in the showcase lineup that night.

“Nope.” You reply, popping your lips in amusement when you realise he has absolutely no clue who you are.

"You're not competition, are you?"

"Wrong again."

Hoseok squints in confusion and turns fully to face you, taking you more seriously now. “So who are you?”

Leaning in closer to him you tilt your glass in the direction of where the biggest group of people congregated in the middle of the room, deciding to at least have a little bit of fun tonight if you couldn't get your hands on the drinks. Albeit at the expense of someone else’s embarrassment, but it’s not like you two were close anyway. Consider it a trade off of sorts.

“See that man in the gray suit?”

“The CEO of Aurarts?” He frowns slightly. “Why?”

“He's the one who gets to decide if you get your scholarship or not, right?”

“Yes.” He drags the syllable out hesitantly. “Where is this going?”

“Well. In the direction of him being my very pretentious father. I'm sure you'll know my name soon enough.”

The colour drains from Hoseok’s face.

“Fuck-“ He begins, but quickly catches himself and bites his lips together when he decides that swearing in front of the daughter of the business magnate he just badmouthed, and who is coincidentally also funding his scholarship, isn’t the best first impression.

“Sorry. I. Uh.” He rubs the back of his neck with one hand. Gone is his easy charm - he’s now visibly perplexed, turning red and refusing to make eye contact. It makes you giggle, a bright pealing sound that seems to cut like a warm knife into butter. As it happens, the emcee’s voice crackles to life over the speakers, cutting your laughter short and inviting guests to take their seats as the performance is about to begin.

"There's your cue, and mine."

You sigh, quite content with your fun for the evening; Hoseok is pretty cute when he’s flustered. He's opened and shut his mouth three times and still trying to find a way to dig himself out of the hole he's in, so you decide to put the poor boy out of his misery and leave first. Pushing off from the wall, you offer him a small wave and mouth a ‘good luck’ over your shoulder. He manages a tiny wave back.

Between accompanying your father amongst the guests and making small talk with them after the performances are over, don’t get a chance to talk to Hoseok anymore for the rest of the evening. Sometimes you catch a glimpse of a silky black shirt and a charming smile, but not long enough of a look to know if he was looking back.

But you do get to watch his performance - it’s the last one of the night, and you don't know if it's intentional, but they’ve saved the best for last.

Hoseok walks onto the makeshift dancefloor, barefoot, and one more button on his shirt undone. Perhaps you didn’t notice it before, but there is a power with which he holds himself in his beginning pose, facing away from the audience, stance wide and hands crossed in fists behind his back. His head is turned, just enough for you to see his side profile, and you know he sees you sitting in the front row. You feel a shiver of excitement at the base of your spine. It pulses in rhythm to the opening beats of the dance track.

When he starts, you understand why he’s in tonight's lineup. Each movement of Hoseok’s body is fluid but perfectly controlled, matching the heavy bass tempo on the dot. Never early, never late. The music slowly starts to pick up, and his eyes turn dark, expression changing with every turn of the music. Joy, fear, passion and desperation tell the story of escape from old demons and rebirth into a new self. As everything reaches a crescendo, it’s like his presence expands into the cavernous hall that seemed to swallow every one of it’s tiny guests earlier, filling the space until you felt like the walls might burst.

One fist clenched and shaking in the air, Hoseok ends his performance kneeling atop a raised dais in the middle of the stage. The air is so silent and heavy with awe you can hear his laboured breaths. His smile is so bright and victorious, you think you might be dreaming when it is literally blinding you in the shine of spotlights. It's then you realise he's actually got braces on. Your heart gives you a quiet, endearing sigh, and you agree with her.

Applause erupts, a standing ovation is given. It takes you a little longer to collect yourself, but you stand with the crowd too, and clap until your palms heat and sting.

He’s not dancing to the music, you think. He is the music.

_________________

PREV | NEXT

A/N: And with that we’re all caught up with the chapters I’ve also posted on A03! You can check me out there if you prefer A03 hehe. Will be releasing future chapters at the same time from now on. Hope everyone is having a  ✨great day✨ xoxo

[mingyuistall]

on the boardwalk- c.sg

pairing(s)- choi seungcheol x reader (ft. jeonghan, joshua, and johnny and taeyong of nct)

genre- fluff, college! au, PG

word count- 2.6k 

warnings- mentions of blood 

masterlist

when (y/n) woke up, she instantly felt anxious. she just finished her first year of college, and all she wanted to do was relax, at least just for a day. as soon as she arrived home, jeonghan called her and told her to pack her bags again. 

jeonghan, seungcheol, and joshua had made plans to go to the beach with (y/n), without her. she couldn’t be mad at them, however. they hadn’t talked to her for a short while, and all they really wanted to do was hang out with her again. 

she walked out onto the balcony of their hotel, which thankfully, had an amazing view of the sea. she tightened the complimentary silk robe they gave her, and wrapped her arms around herself. 

the glass door slid open. she turned around to see a half-awake seungcheol ambling towards her. 

“good morning” seungcheol mumbled. 

“mornin’.” she smiled. seungcheol’s face fell. 

“are you alright?” he said. (y/n) looked at him and laughed. she hesitated for a second before responding. 

“i dunno. you guys kinda sprang this on me. i haven’t seen my parents since… march? maybe april? i was hoping to spend at least a day with them before going out.” (y/n) shrugged. 

“i told them they should’ve waited! i said it wasn’t fair for you. they could’ve at least given you a day to settle back home.” seungcheol exclaimed. (y/n) laughed and put her hand on his shoulder.

“i’m not mad or anything. plus, this hotel is amazing. i don’t see how you guys could afford this.” seungcheol shrugged smugly. they both turned to the knock on the glass door. 

“do you guys wanna come with us to get breakfast? there’s a place only a block away.” joshua slid the door open to interrogate the two. 

(y/n) and seungcheol looked at eachother, then to joshua. they nodded in unison. joshua gave them a weird look and turned back around. 

seungcheol and (y/n) had been close ever since the day they met. they instantly clicked, like two puzzle pieces. the pair had been teased relentlessly by their friends, and jeonghan swore up and down to his grave that the two would grow old together, but (y/n) and seungcheol never discussed the topic of even having any types of feelings towards the other. of course, (y/n) had thought about it. however, she didn’t want to ruin her friendship with him. it didn’t seem that seungcheol was necessarily in the right spot for a relationship. he had only gotten out of one a couple months ago, which he got cheated on multiple times. (y/n) said a countless number of times that he didn’t like her before they had broken up, and when one of the boys would ask her why, she’d say she can just tell when someone is a bad person. she just didn’t want to admit that his girlfriend got to kiss him before she did. 

(y/n) found herself spacing out on their short walk to the restaurant. the boys were talking about topics that (y/n) didn’t necessarily know about, so she didn’t butt in to the conversation. 

when they sat down, (y/n) immediately asked, “who’s paying?” 

all three of them turned their attention towards her. their sudden attention caused a mini panic. “i can just pay for myself, though, if that’s needed. 

seungcheol waved his hand. “no, it’s fine! i can pay for the two of us. joshua and jeonghan can pay for themselves.” 

“what?!” jeonghan exclaimed. he slumped in his seat and started to groan. joshua started to laugh, and flicked his arm. 

“you’ll be fine, you big baby.” jeonghan looked even more hurt at joshua’s comment. 

the three boys continued to bicker, while (y/n) would stay quiet, with an occasional giggle or comment. 

they finished breakfast fast, since there weren't that many people there. the streets had started to get more crowded.

“should we spend the day at the beach? there’s an aquarium near here, but me and josh wanted to go on the boardwalk later tonight. oh! there’s also a zoo only a couple minutes from here.” jeonghan rambled. seungcheol looked down at (y/n). she caught his eye, and when she did, they started to laugh. 

“i hate zoos. there are always so many mosquitos, and it’s so freakin’ hot.” seungcheol shot down jeonghan’s suggestion. jeonghan mumbled something to himself. 

seungcheol and (y/n)’s hands brushed past each other multiple times. she wanted to grab onto his, but she wasn’t sure how. 

when they arrived back at the hotel, jeonghan repeated his suggestions. seungcheol walked out onto the balcony for a quick second, then came back in. 

“we might as well go to the beach. there aren’t a lot of people right now, so we could get a good spot.” he said. joshua agreed with him, and they all went to get their bathing suits. (y/n) changed in the bathroom.

as she got her top on, she realized that she couldn’t reach that far to tie it. she sighed, and kept trying, until someone knocked on the door. 

“are you ready?” seungcheol asked. (y/n) contemplated coming up with a lie, just so she wouldn’t have to have someone help her. she’d never really been in front of the boys in a bathing suit before. she could just stay here at the hotel, and say that she started her period and didn’t bring any tampons. 

“i can’t tie it.” (y/n) groaned. seungcheol chuckled, and asked if he could come in. when he did, she was already turned around, holding the strings up. seungcheol grabbed each string and tied it into a knot. 

(y/n) turned around. it was only for a split second; seungcheol couldn’t help but stare at her.

“you look really pretty.” he mumbled. (y/n) let out a breathy laugh and smiled at him.

“are you guys coming?!” joshua yelled. seungcheol grabbed her wrist and lead her out of the bathroom.

they decided to walk again, since the beach was literally right behind their hotel. as soon as they had set their stuff down, a group of four boys their age came up to them. 

“do you wanna play volleyball with us?” the tallest one asked. “we kinda figured it’d be boring with only two people on each team. i’m johnny, by the way.” 

before any of the four could say anything, jeonghan happily agreed. joshua and him walked off with johnny and his three friends, while seungcheol hesitated. 

“do you want to? i can stay with you here.” seungcheol asked. (y/n) frantically shook her head. 

“i wanna play.” she stated. 

they walked together to the net that had already been put up. it looked pretty old, and some of the strings that formed the net were broken. 

it wasn't long until they started to get extremely competitive. (y/n) relatively stood in the back, and only  went for the ball when it started to come in her direction. 

it was seungcheol’s turn to set the ball. as soon as he did, he walked over to (y/n). “if we win, i’ll buy you whatever you want when we go to the boardwalk tonight.”

(y/n)’s eyes brightened up, and she nodded. she walked closer to the net. 

as she did so, joshua’s arm flew down from spiking the ball, only to slam (y/n) right in her nose. the force from being hit knocked her down onto her butt. 

at the same time she hit the ground, she felt something drop onto her legs. a crimson-colored liquid continued to drop onto her legs and bathing suit, and then down to the sand. the boys hadn’t noticed until jeonghan tripped over (y/n).

“pinch your nose and lean forward, (y/n).” seungcheol demanded as he picked (y/n) up by her shoulders. “did someone hit you?” 

“joshua.” she replied. he turned around at the mention of his name.

“what? oh, shit.” joshua tried to take a step towards her, but seungcheol shot him a glare that made joshua happy that looks can’t kill. 

“i’m gonna take her back to the hotel.” johnny and his friends looked at eachother with confused looks on their faces. the one with pink hair, who they learned that his name was taeyong, told her that he hoped she’d be okay. 

seungcheol grabbed his towel and shook it out. he immediately pressed it to her nose. he slung his arm around her shoulder. 

“you don’t have to do that. i can hold it myself.” (y/n)’s voice was muffled by the towel. seungcheol didn’t respond. 

as soon as the hotel was in sight, seungcheol practically ran to the entrance. (y/n) could barely keep up, despite his arm being around her. 

“alright, (y/n).” he picked her up and set her on the bathroom counter. seungcheol grabbed one of the rags from the drawers. he replaced the towel he gave to her with the rag. 

“do you want a different pair of shorts? since your bathing suits all bloody.” he asked. (y/n) looked at him and started to laugh.

“you seem more upset than i am. you’re not even the one bleeding.” she said. seungcheol stared at her for a second with a confused look on his face, which soon turned into a flustered one. 

“y-you’re just my best friend, and i care about you a lot, you know? i don’t want you getting hurt.” seungcheol stammered. she pushed herself off the bathroom counter, and removed the rag to see how much she’d bled. it was less than what was on his towel, but it was still a concerning amount of blood. seungcheol tried to get her back onto the counter, but she waved him off. 

“i’m fine. i’ll just put ice on it and wait ‘till it stops bleeding. i played soccer when i was little, i think i’m used to this.” seungcheol debated on arguing with her. he sighed, and walked out of the bathroom. 

“cheol,” (y/n) called. he turned back around and cocked his head slightly to the side. “you can go back. i can take care of myself. you should go have fun.” (y/n) smiled. seungcheol stared at her for a second, and (y/n) could tell he was genuinely thinking about it. 

seungcheol’s gaze went frantic as he nodded, not exactly sure where to look. 

(y/n) leaned against the door frame of the bathroom, watching seungcheol as he walked out of the hotel room. 

the boys didn’t come back until about two hours later. (y/n) had taken a shower after seungcheol left. she figured her bathing suit was ruined, so she went ahead and threw it away.  

when they walked in, joshua immediately showered her with apologies. he took it as far as offering to buy her food for however long as she wanted, but (y/n) waved him off. 

“it’s fine. you didn’t break my nose or anything, i’m not mad.” (y/n) laughed. joshua opened his mouth to continue apologizing, but jeonghan interrupted. 

“do you think you’re alright to go on the boardwalk?” he asked. 

(y/n) glanced at seungcheol, silently reminding him of the deal he had made with her. “yeah, of course. it’s not like joshua broke my legs.” joshua started to apologize all over again. seungcheol, jeonghan, and (y/n) all rolled their eyes and groaned. 

the boys changed out of their bathing suits, and (y/n) changed into something more casual, instead of an oversized t-shirt. 

even though it was a little bit farther than the restaurant and the beach, they decided to walk to the boardwalk. 

when seungcheol noticed that (y/n) wasn’t really engaging in the boys’ conversation, seungcheol immediately started his own with (y/n). jeonghan and joshua noticed, and started to tease them. 

(y/n) figured there would be a ferris wheel, but she didn’t expect it to be that big. she tugged on seungcheol’s sleeve and pointed at it. 

“we have to go on it.” she demanded. joshua’s eyes widened, and he started to shake his head. 

“i’m terrified of heights. no.” joshua whimpered. jeonghan started to laugh. 

“and you called me a baby?” jeonghan scoffed. seungcheol and (y/n) giggled, while joshua sulked. 

“i’ll only go if i get to go with seungcheol.” joshua sighed. (y/n) let go of seungcheol’s sleeve and wrapped her arms around herself. jeonghan pinched joshua. he looked at jeonghan with a confused face, until he realized why jeonghan pinched him. 

“oh! actually, nevermind. i can go with jeonghan.” he said. (y/n) instantly felt her heartbeat speed up. she grabbed back onto seungcheol’s sleeve. 

they walked over to the line of the ferris wheel. 

“the line is so long.” (y/n) complained. 

“you’re the one who wanted to go on it.” joshua mocked. 

(y/n) glared at him. 

“they’re putting two people in a cart. if anything, there’s only twenty-ish people in front of us, so if you divide that by two, it’s really only ten. plus, they’re already putting people in carts, anyways.” seungcheol explained. (y/n) giggled. 

“what?” “you sound so smart.” she noticed how close they were to the front of the line. her heart beat started to speed up. seungcheol shrugged smugly. 

while jeonghan and joshua started to bicker, seungcheol effortlessly wrapped his arm around (y/n). she tensed at first, but quickly got used to it. (y/n) leaned into him. jeonghan and joshua noticed just as seungcheol and (y/n)’s cart was already being closed by the worker.

the ferris wheel started, then abruptly stopped as more people got on, and others took over their spots. seungcheol looked below him from the opening of the cart, and waved to jeonghan and joshua, who were in the cart underneath them. 

“joshua looks scared out of his mind.” seungcheol laughed. 

eventually, the ferris wheel started to continuously spin. when the ferris wheel finally stopped spinning to let people off, seungcheol and (y/n)’s spot was on the very top of the ferris wheel. 

(y/n) didn’t think she would get scared, she never had. but here she was, with the feeling that the cart might just fall off, and plumett the two to their deaths. 

“seungcheol, we’re going to die.” (y/n) whimpered. he let out a breathy laugh. 

“we’re fine. we’re only going to be up here for ike, ten more seconds.” seungcheol shrugged. 

(y/n) counted to ten in her head. when they hadn’t moved at all, she felt tears start to sting her eyes and panic really set in. 

“seungcheol, we aren’t moving.” she shuttered. 

“did you really count to ten?” he laughed.

“seungcheol! we’re stuck. we’re going to die up here.”

“(y/n)-”

“no, seungcheol. we’re literally going to-” seungcheol grabbed both of (y/n)’s wrists and gently pinned them to her side. before she was able to continue freaking out, seungcheol quickly pressed his lips to hers. as soon as their lips met, the cart moved. 

“we’re not gonna die, (y/n).” he breathed when he pulled away.

(y/n) looked dazed for a second. she swallowed, and then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. 

“joshua, look!” seungcheol and (y/n) pulled away from each other to see jeonghan peering down at them from their cart that was above them. joshua rushed over to see what jeonghan was pointing at, and he started to laugh. 

the carts jerked forward again, and joshua cowered back down into his seat. 

“would you be my girlfriend?” seungcheol blurted. (y/n) stared at him for a second, waiting for him to say that he was joking. when she realized he wasn’t, she smiled. 

“yeah!, yeah, cheol, of course.” she giggled. 

seungcheol smiled at her. (y/n) leaned into his side as he wrapped his arm around her, watching in silence as fireworks started to go off.

[bytheangell]

A More-Than-Friendly Competition

Flufftober Day 23: Poetry (Read on AO3) 

Magnus, who just ended things with a man who had, unfortunately, become a bit too enamored with him and started prying a bit too deeply into Magnus’ past, sits in the parlor of his home with a drink in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other. He’s doing a rather dramatic reading of the poetry written on the parchment, by hand with the finest quill around, and so he feels the need to deliver the words with the flourish they deserve.

It doesn’t hurt that the poetry is about him and that the long-suffering audience of his reading is Ragnor. Ragnor, who Magnus may or may not have an unfortunate set of unrequited feelings for. Ragnor, who Magnus might, possibly, not that he’d ever admit it, be trying to make jealous.

“That was dreadful,” Ragnor says immediately upon Magnus’ completion of the reading. “Nevermind the man’s concerning obsession with you, you should’ve left the moment you read a word of this drivel he writes.”

Magnus huffs. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have any poetry written about you.”

“Who says I don’t?” Ragnor demands. “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t make it public knowledge.”

“Of course,” Magnus says, in a tone of voice that implies he doesn’t believe Ragnor at all and gets a small burst of satisfaction when Ragnor bristles at his tone.

“And I wager that I could get better poetry written about me any day,” Ragnor continues. “In fact, what do you say we do just that. A friendly wager?”

“I’m listening,” Magnus says.

“It’s simple - we each go out and find admirers to compose poetry about us. Catarina objectively judges which of us gets the best poem written about them at the end of… one year,” Ragnor suggests.

“A year? That seems excessive. Afraid you can’t get a single poem by then?” Magnus laughs.

“Fine. Three months?”

Magnus considers, then nods. “Alright. You’re on.”

---

Magnus doesn’t know why he agreed to this. He doesn’t want more poetry and adoration from casual romantic acquaintances, that was never the point. And now all it’s done is make Magnus jealous every time Ragnor comes to him with a new poem to show off. All Magnus can think about is the person it came from, whoever Ragnor’s latest tryst is with for the sake of their competition, and how that person isn’t him.

It’s all rather unfortunate. Magnus keeps up appearances, flirting his way through artistic circles he knows are full of budding writers, but it doesn’t take long for him to lose his motivation. After one month he tries to call the bet off, even willing to cede victory willingly, but Ragnor will hear none of it.

“You just know you’re going to lose, and I refuse to win on a technicality. Come now, you’ve never been one to back out of a gentleman’s bet before, Bane,” Ragnor goads, and Magnus sighs.

“What if we call it early and choose from whatever we have now?” Magnus bargains.

“Why are you so eager to stop?” Ragnor questions. Magnus knows he’s looking for the real reason, the one that has Magnus pacing slightly during this conversation and biting his lower lip in thought.

Magnus knows he can’t say anything, he can’t ruin the best friendship he has, so he shakes his head in reply. “No reason. You’re right - I’m just getting nervous I’ll lose.”

Magnus has a feeling that Ragnor knows he isn’t telling the whole truth, but Ragnor doesn’t press and Magnus drops the subject entirely.

Two more months. Surely he can get through two more months of this?

---

Magnus cannot get through two more months of this.

In fact, he’s been lying about his own dates for two weeks straight now, having lost all motivation for this little game of theirs. At a loss for what to do and after much agonizing, an idea strikes him that’s equal parts brilliant and terrifying: Magnus decides to write a poem about Ragnor.

Poetry is not a particularly strong suit of his, but knowing Ragnor Fell inside and out is, and that’s the advantage he puts into play the moment he sits down at his desk and begins to write. It takes Magnus days to craft the perfect lines, to convey the little details he’s noticed over the years, the subtle emotions that always seep into their conversations and time together. By the end, many scratched-out drafts and crumpled sheets of parchment later, Magnus has a poem that practically oozes fondness from every carefully chosen word.

The next time they meet for drinks Magnus hands Ragnor the poem almost immediately.

“What’s this?” Ragnor asks, giving the parchment a precursory glance.

“It’s a poem,” Magnus says simply. He doesn’t need an explanation, the poem itself should be obvious enough. “For you.”

Ragnor looks back down at the poem and begins to read silently to himself. Magnus watches his eyes scan the paper, the few times it looks like Ragnor wants to look up from it and over to Magnus but forces himself to read it all once through first.

“Well then,” Ragnor says, finally looking back over to Magnus who, to his credit, keeps his head raised high to meet his gaze instead of looking away like he so desperately wants to do in these rare moments of true transparency. “I suppose I can agree to that premature end of our wager you wanted now...”

Magnus assumes the worst - that Ragnor no longer wants anything to do with him, that he ruined everything.

“...Since I can’t imagine receiving a more perfect poem than this one,” Ragnor continues.

Magnus allows the words, and the slight smile on Ragnor’s face, to properly sink in for several long seconds before he trusts himself to speak.

“What are you thinking right now?” Magnus hazards.

“I’m thinking it’s about time you admitted it. I suspected, but I could never be entirely certain,” Ragnor admits. “And I’m thinking that I’m not mad about my suspicions being right.”

Magnus relaxes visibly and gives a proper smile for the first time that day. “Shall we give the poem to Cat and tell her it’s over?”

Ragnor pulls the parchment closer to himself instinctively at the suggestion, and when he speaks again his voice is softer than Magnus expects. “I’d like to keep this one for myself, actually. If that’s alright with you.”

It’s such a sweet sentiment that Magnus is temporarily stunned. He expected a wide range of reactions, but somehow simple sweetness was not one of them.

“Of course,” Magnus agrees quickly, once he’s regained his composure. “I could always write another, too, if you-”

“I wouldn’t push your luck. This one was charming, no need to force it now,” Ragnor teases good-naturedly, and Magnus laughs, rolling his eyes. Now this is the sort of reaction he expected from Ragnor. This he can work with.

Magnus writes Ragnor a poem every day for a week out of equally good-natured spite, and though Ragnor tells him to stop being ridiculous and rolls his eyes at each one Magnus also notes that he keeps them, each and every one.

[ramsayboltonsmuse]

The Missing Piece

Chapter 1: Bolton Enterprises

Summary: You have been selected for a big promotion at Bolton Enterprises to work on none other than Ramsay Bolton’s team. The new job is certainly not what you expected, and neither is Ramsay. This is a modern Ramsay fanfic about his increasing territoriality and need to control the reader and her attempts to escape the dark and sadistic man she also can’t live without.

Pairings/Characters: Ramsay Bolton/You, Jon Snow/You, Myranda, Damon

Warnings: Smut, Dom/Sub, Violence, Noncon, Ramsay is his own warning

Links to other chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Ao3 Link

Fuck. You knew you were going to be late now as the subway sign that had previously been flashing “6 minutes” turns to “9 minutes” and then finally to “DELAY”. 

“Fuck!” You exclaim a little too loudly, and the elderly man standing next to you on the platform turns and looks at you. “Excuse me.” You duck your eyes and walk away, back toward the stairs to the street. Uber it is. 

You pump your long legs up the stairs, your black stilettos making quite the riot of noise in the otherwise quiet station. Normally you loved this stop, there were hardly any crowds, but today you were really not benefitting from the express train bypassing it. 

And of your many etiquette-focused rules, the one you really hated breaking was not arriving on time. You preferred living by the rule of ‘better an hour early than one minute late’, and today of all days was not in your favor to be late. You were starting a new job, and would be meeting the whole of your new team at 9am. 

Coming outside of the station, the cold air hit you at once, the wind biting at your exposed legs. Why did I have to wear a dress today? You groan, looking down at your watch only to realize you don’t even have time to order an Uber. Taxi it is. You hail a cab, having no trouble catching the attention of the first one to drive by, your outfit choice finally providing some benefit.

“Wall Street. Bolton Enterprises.” You quickly provide the cross streets to the driver as he speeds away, but he doesn’t need them. Everyone knows the Bolton building. 

Seated in the cab, you work to calm your breathing, confident now that you will arrive on time. It’s cool [Y/N], it’s cool. You’re fine. A smile crosses your face. Jesus, why do I talk to myself? I’m such a nut. 

Buildings fly by as the taxi races downtown, the gleaming center of Wall Street coming into view. It really is an exciting day. You’d worked your ass off for the last year, proving yourself to be one of the brightest young recruits at the firm. No doubt your Yale degree in International Business was a qualifying factor as well, but you’d shown that you were more than a resume. Your dedication was unquestionable. 

Nonetheless it was a very competitive place, and much as you thought you deserved the promotion, you were surprised when you got the news just given how many other qualified people there were.

“Oh, just here.” You signal to the driver to stop outside the looming skyscraper, pay him and get out. You check your watch. 8:45am. Taking a deep breath, you walk into the bright marble lobby and head for the elevators. 

Oh, great. Today really isn’t your day, you think as you see that all but one of the elevators are already making their way up to top floors, with the last one’s doors already starting to close. You sprint towards it, knowing it’s useless. But just as you internally give up, you see a hand shoot out from the inside to hold the door and hear a familiar voice. 

“Good morning.” Jon’s face pokes out of the elevator and a big smile crosses your face. 

“You just saved me.” You nearly slide into the elevator, breathless. “The universe is against me today, I swear.” Jon’s eyes light up as he laughs. “No, really! Don’t laugh. The subway was late, these damned new heels are slowing me down, my hair is now a mess, and I almost missed the last elevator for at least the next seven minutes.”

Jon gives you a warm smile and you feel at ease at once. “I think you look great.” You smile back.

“What are you doing here anyway? Not that I’m not super glad to see you, but didn’t the Stark and Bolton negotiations close last week?”

Jon frowns. “Alas, it looks like we’ll have at least another month now. Roose apparently got a competitive business offer from Tywin Lannister, if you can believe it. So we are back to the drawing board. But I shouldn’t be telling you any of that.” Jon winks at you and you laugh.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” Your eyes catch a glimpse of the elevator buttons. “Oh shoot!” You had totally forgotten to press your floor button. Jon reads your reaction and goes to press 17 for you, but you stop him. “Oh, no, actually, can you press 28?” 

“28?” Jon whistles. “What important business do you have up there?” You smile really big.

“I got a promotion. It’s going to be floor 28 from now on! I’m going to be working on Ramsay Bolton’s team on strategic initiatives for the whole business. Can you believe it? Literally with Ramsay Bolton! You can’t get closer to the top than that.” 

You’re surprised when Jon doesn’t return your smile. 

“[Y/N], have you met Ramsay? He’s bad news.”

You’re taken aback at the comment. “Gosh Jon, I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Jon looks at you apologetically. “Shoot, that’s not what I meant. I’m really happy for you, on the promotion.” He tries to smile at you. “Just be careful around Ramsay, okay? He’s got a dangerous streak and a penchant for games. And sadly, I think you’re kind of his type.”

You huff at that. “I’m not going to be sleeping with my new boss, Jon. And what a weird thing to say to me!” You are suddenly very glad there’s no one else in the elevator to hear this conversation.

The elevator comes to a stop at Jon’s floor. “Look, I’m sorry [Y/N]. I just care about you, you know? You’re a really great person and he’s a really bad person. This is my stop. I’ll see you later, okay?” John steps out and you just nod at him, not sure what to say. This really has not been an ideal morning. 

Two seconds later and the elevator dings, opening out onto Floor 28. You take a deep breath, push your long [H/C] hair behind your shoulders and walk out onto the floor.

***

“I can take your coat, miss.” A very pretty receptionist walks over to you and holds out her hand for your jacket.

“Oh, thank you.” You take off your black trench to reveal a tight elegant little black dress. 

“That’s a great dress. I’m Myranda by the way. You must be [Y/N]. Mr. Bolton told me he’s expecting you. Conference room 3, just to your left.” Myranda eyes you up and down as you walk away. 

You can see them all through the glass doors of the conference room. There are seven of them, all in suits, all fairly young, and all men. You check your watch, 8:57am, and open the door, your heart speeding up. 

It’s beautiful inside the room, a gorgeous handcrafted birch table in the center with a mixture of industrial and wooden accents adorning the chairs. The view out of the windows is incredible and you’re able to see the water, the morning sun making it sparkle. All of the talking stops as you enter the room, and everyone’s eyes snap to you. 

“Hello.” Your voice sounds a lot more confident than you feel. “It’s lovely to meet you all. I’m [Y/N].” You’re beginning to fear you’ve walked into the wrong room, when a tall broad-shouldered brunette stands up from one of the chairs and walks over to you. 

“Hi there.” He offers his hand and you shake it. “I’m Damon. Great to meet you [Y/N]. We’re all very excited to have you join the team.” The other men follow Damon’s lead and walk over to shake your hand, introducing themselves. You smile and nod with each new introduction until you’ve met everyone. Everyone except one person…

“Will Mr. Bolton be joining us?” You ask. “My apologies, it’s my first day in the new job and all I’ve been told is that Mr. Bolton will be walking me through my new responsibilities.” 

You think you catch two of the guys seated further back snicker. Damon smiles at you.

“Of course, it’s no problem at all. We didn’t expect you to come in here and present a master plan. Not yet, anyway.” He laughs and it’s a big booming laugh, turning the air around him a few shades brighter. “Yes, Ramsay will be joining us shortly. He’s just finishing something up -- Oh, speak of the devil.”

You hold your breath as you watch Ramsay through the glass of the conference room walls as he walks across the floor toward the room. Not walks, no. Strides. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone walk with such complete and utter power, and so effortlessly. He’s wearing a beautifully tailored dark blue suit, so dark it might as well have been black, accenting his toned and muscled body exceptionally well. The air of wealth and bourgeoisie royalty seems to emanate off of him. From afar, you think he’s probably very attractive, but when he opens the door and walks into the conference room, you lose your breath completely.

His eyes instantly fix themselves onto you, and you feel as if he is looking directly into the deepest parts of your soul. They are the most beautiful icy blue color that you have ever seen. Something straight out of a National Geographic documentary on Alaskan wildlife. Just pure carnal white ice blue. Fuck. You think that you might have said or thought ‘fuck’ more this morning than in an average week. Fuck. 

Ramsay’s eyes sweep over your body, coming back to linger on your lips and then boring into your eyes again. You feel as if he’s violating you somehow, the intensity of that gaze. Like he can see absolutely everything about who you are and what you want and and what you need.

In an instant, he lets your captive eyes go and looks at Damon.

“A girl? Interesting.” Ramsay leans against the door frame and takes something out of his pocket, turning it around in his hand. 

Damon chuckles. “Scores don’t lie. She’s outperformed them all. Men, women and rocks.” Ramsay smirks, and you realize Damon is referencing the recent acquisition of Frey Holdings, the old company’s logo two stone towers. 

You decide to take a risk.

“More like rubble than rocks.” 

Damon laughs out loud, some of the other men joining in. Ramsay’s eyes slowly move to focus on you again, contemplating something. You stay still under his gaze, waiting. You realize perfectly well that if he doesn’t like you for some reason, he can send you right back downstairs and pick out someone else.

“Come now Ramsay! She seems lovely. I for one, would appreciate more feminine energy in this place. It’s just cocks, cocks and more cocks as far as the eye can see.” Damon winks slyly at you and you smile at him, glad to have at least one friend. You turn back toward Ramsay.

It’s as if he decided something. In an instant, the brooding cool look on his face evaporates, replaced by a brightness and a large smile. It’s almost unsettling how quickly his demeanor changes.  

“You’re right Damon, I’m afraid I’ve been terribly rude. Forgive me, please. It’s been a long morning. It’s a pleasure to meet you [Y/N].” He offers out his hand and you shake it, tremors vibrating through your body as you feel his incredibly firm grip. 

“The pleasure is all mine Mr. Bolton. It’s a dream to be a part of this team. I’m really looking forward to working with you” 

Ramsay drops your hand. “Call me Ramsay. My father is ‘Mr. Bolton’.”

“Of course. Ramsay. My apologies sir.”

Ramsay’s eyes light up when you say that, and you can’t help but blush a little under his gaze.“That’s quite alright.” Ramsay pushes the door back open and holds it for you. “You’ve met the boys, why don’t I show you around the office.” It was less a question than a command. 

You had a feeling he wasn’t one to ask things often. 

As you walk out of the door, Ramsay shoots a look back at Damon and the rest of the men. 

“I expect all the documents for the Lannister call on my desk before noon. And, Damon, take care of our little situation in Conference Room A. Promptly.” You can see Damon nod, before you lose sight of the conference room as Ramsay leads the way down the hall to the left. 

He doesn’t really give you a tour as you walk, but you figure you don’t really need one anyway. You’re smart, you’ll figure out where things are. As you continue down this hall, there are less and less offices and doors until it’s simply one straight stretch of hallway with floor to ceiling windows on either side of you leading up to a large iron door at the end. As you walk, you feel as if you’re flying high above the ground, looking out of either window making you dizzy.

Ramsay’s quick pace comes to a stop. He turns back to look at you, and opens the heavy door, gesturing for you to walk in.

“Welcome to my office.”

As you walk into the large room, you find yourself in awe. You’re standing in what looks like a traditional study, complete with a roaring fireplace, bearskin rug, old bookshelves, and an intimidating-looking desk with two leather armchairs facing it. 

On both sides of the room, there are winding iron staircases that lead up to a second floor with a tiny balcony overlooking the room below. There are also two doors behind the desk, one closed and the other open, leading into what looks like a very modern kitchen with the same floor to ceiling windows overlooking the water.

You turn to look at Ramsay who seems to have been clocking your reaction.

“This is incredible! I’ve never seen an office like this before.” You walk over to the fireplace, putting your hand out to feel the heat. “How did you manage to put a real fireplace in here?” 

Ramsay shrugs. “Our city, our building, our rules.” 

“I would want to be at work all the time if this was my office.”

Ramsay smiles. “Well, it’s your lucky day. You’ll be working here with me darling.” You blush at that. Should he have called you darling? Maybe it’s just a British thing. You shrug it off. Ramsay points to a smaller but beautiful wooden desk on the opposite side of the room, one you hadn’t even noticed with the other extravagant elements competing for your attention. 

“That’s your desk. That’s the kitchen through there. Bathroom upstairs, complete with a shower. And there’s two bedrooms upstairs. I often work late and stay the night here.” 

Ramsay stepped closer to you. 

“You’re very welcome to adopt the same level of work ethic.” 

You feel a slight shiver down your spine. But Ramsay steps past you and sits at his desk, pouring himself a glass of bourbon. 

“The second bedroom is at your disposal.” His eyes snap back to you suddenly and forcefully. “You will not, however, ever go into the room behind me without my express permission.” The closed door room. His voice was frightening and very dark. “Do I make myself clear? I don’t want to ask a second time. I hate asking a second time.” You swallow, beginning to understand why Jon had warned you.

“Yes, of course. It won’t be a problem sir.”

“Good!” Ramsay clapped his hands together. “I think we are going to have a lot of fun together, you and I. There are some papers on your desk. You’ll need to read them quite carefully.” His voice took on a mock serious tone. “We take confidentiality very seriously here at Bolton Enterprises.” 

He smirks at you. 

“This job won’t be what you were expecting I’m afraid. You see, I do business very differently. You could say I take a more hands-on approach. And you, apparently, have tested the highest in every skill that I need.” 

He locks eyes with you and you feel the electricity coursing through the airwaves from his eyes into yours. 

“You are the missing piece darling.”

NEXT CHAPTER: Chapter 2

[stonyiscanon]

Love At Fifth Sight (Tony Stark x Avenger! Reader)

Requested: haha no I’m so sorry for ignoring all the asks in my inbox I’ll reply to them right after this!

Notes: ALL THAT GOOD FLUFF AND ENEMIES TO KINDA LOVERS STUFF. IF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR AN OVERDOSE OF CLICHES YOU’RE IN THE RIGHT PLACE

Words: 2.3k

Warnings:  Swearing

Summary: Tony Stark is an asshole. Well, he’s an asshole until he isn’t.

           When Steve had introduced you to the whole team, they all seemed nice enough. Wanda waved with a small smile, most people gave you a nod, and a ‘Welcome to the team!’ You were also invited to dinner with them that night, which was nice, considering you had just met them.

Even Clint had poked his head down from the ceiling to say Hi, which scared the shit out of you, but you appreciated it nonetheless, and smiled back up to him. Sam had stopped chasing and screaming at Bucky enough to give a greeting and a smile, then continued running after Bucky, shouting something about how ‘You need to watch where you put down your fucking dumbbells!’

The first time you had met Tony Stark was, pretty memorable, to say the least.

You saw the suit-clad man with his signature glasses and smirk on his face, and immediately identified the man as the infamous Tony Stark.

“Hey, Cap.” He quipped, slapping a hand onto Steve’s shoulder. He also shot you a nod and a charming smile with one of the mundane greetings you already heard thousands of today.

“Tony. You didn’t show up at the briefing yesterday. What’s that about?” Said Steve, clearly annoyed, brushing off Tony’s hand with a roll of his shoulder.

“Oh yeah!” Tony, said calling out, already walking away, not even looking back to address him.

“It was an emergency!” You barely even heard what he said as he skipped up ahead, already escaping from your view as he turned into a corner, waving a goodbye. Steve shook his head, and slightly rolled his eyes, turning back to you, shooting a smile.

“Don’t mind him. That’s just Tony, you’ll learn to live with him. Should we continue?” He carried on with the tour, showing you the gyms, where Thor was training, advising you that when Thor and Wanda were both in the training rooms, it was probably best to stay away. There had been a few ‘incidents’ that he didn’t talk any more about.

Your first impression of Tony Stark was ‘What a lazy, narcissistic dick!’

Okay, so maybe the second time you met Tony Stark, your judgement was just a little clouded. But, in your own defense, the circumstances that you saw him under weren’t the best.  

Needless to say, you were not a morning person. But apparently, pretty much all the other avengers were, and this pissed you off more than words could describe. After a few weeks, everyone pretty much learned not to talk, do, or- dare god- smile at you from 5AM-7AM.

The only thing that saved you from insanity was the insanely expensive coffee machine stationed in the kitchen that you rushed to every morning. Tony was never in the kitchen when you were there, and when you asked Bucky about it, he replied with a laugh.

“Tony might hate mornings even more than you. He keeps himself locked up in his room until he’s needed, or when Pepper drags him out of his bed.” He paused, thinking, and continued.

“I don’t think he really ever, um, sleeps.” He left after that, leaving you more confused you were in the first place.  One particular morning when you were stabbing the espresso button on the coffee machine with a fork, Tony entered, yawning and rubbing his eyes, grumpily fixing his hair and glaring at everyone.

“Oh, would you stop gaping and looking surprised?” He snapped at everyone. “I can kind of function before 8AM.” Tony looked up, still seeing everyone’s skeptical faces, he muttered, “Okay, fine, my coffee machine broke down.”

He rubbed his hands together, murmuring, “Daddy needs his caffeine.”

Hearing this, the entire team simultaneously rolled their eyes. Wanda stepped inside, smiling at everyone, and almost immediately left when she saw Tony and you.

“Nope. I can’t deal with both of them at 6:30, I’m having breakfast in my room.” Almost five people followed her, grabbing some sort of food and heading back to their rooms.

“Good.” Tony, said, running his hands on his face. “The less the fucking merrier.”  He noticed you, still stabbing your fork at the machine, angrily muttering, “Espresso, goddamnit.”

“Sweetheart,” Tony gave you a lazy smirk and nudged your hand. “That’s the latte button.” He took your finger and moved it to the right. “That’s the espresso. Someone’s a little sleep deprived, huh?” He then snatched your mug, and took a sip out of it.

“Well, this works out anyway. I drink lattes in the morning.” You were too stunned to say anything back, so instead opted to glare at him, silent screams coming from your mouth.

“Jerk!” You called after him, as he walked away with your own mug in his hand, calling back,

“I’ve heard that one before, princess!”

You stomped back to your room, espresso be damned, all while muttering, “Coffee thief.” You went back to sleep, forgetting all about your responsibilities, only getting up an hour later when Nat spilled water on your pyjama shirt, screaming at you to get ready for training.  

The third time, you have to admit, Tony Stark is kind of tolerable. It was a Friday, and the entire team camped out on the couches in the rec room, all refusing to get up, considering how much the mission before had tired them.

What a sight it was, too. Pepper had already came in three times to try and get them all off their asses, and for the first time, none of the avengers listened, and instead stayed, despite how much everyone was deathly afraid of Pepper, some on the couches, some just sprawled out on the floor, all except Steve, who was trying to give a mission debrief and congratulate everyone, while the others all just threw pillows at him, telling him to ‘Shut the fuck up, Steve’.

Well, everyone except Sam, who was holding an ice pack to his chin, and only managed to shout, ‘Shut the fuck up, Stoob!’

Everyone just spoke quietly to each other, most of them holding ice packs to some part of their body, bandaging up, and for the first time in God knows how long, resting. Eventually Steve gave up too, bandaging up his hands, speaking softly to Bucky.

Tony and you sat in the corner of the rec room, ignoring each other for a while, before Tony spoke up.

“Hey. I bet you can’t throw a piece of carpet lint in Clint’s glass of water.” You narrowed your eyes, before replying. You weren’t going to let Tony Stark, Coffee Thief win a bet against you.

“Watch me.” You glared at him, mirroring his smirk. You scratched off a piece of lint from the carpet next to you, and after only two tries, a little splash, and it popped right into Clint’s mug.

“Fuck you.” Clint said, very well aware of what you had done, but way too tired and lazy to actually do something about it, and just deciding to stay dehydrated. Nat let out a snort and closed her eyes, trying to nap.

“I bet,” You mused, “You can’t throw a piece of cracker in Natasha’s mouth while she’s sleeping.”

“Are you kidding me?” Tony hissed. “She’d end me!” But meeting your competitive smirk, he grumbled and snatched the saltine out of your hand. He spent almost a minute trying to aim for Nat’s mouth, finding the best moment to shoot. You were almost going to tell him to admit defeat, but after just three tries, he hit a piece of cracker straight into her mouth.

Tony scrambled behind you right after, hiding from Nat. But she apparently, was also too tired to do anything just yet, but she chewed and swallowed the saltine that landed in her mouth, giving Tony the best death glare she had produced in years, as he sheepishly smiled back.

“I thought you might be hungry.” Tony said in a small voice.

Then she took a pillow and threw it at Tony’s head.

“Ow!” He said, grumbling and rubbing his head. “How the fuck did you throw a pillow so hard?” She shrugged and went back to sleep as you laughed your ass off, watching Tony eventually smile too.

You also watched him hiding from Nat when she woke up from her nap and regained her strength. He managed to evade her for just about 3 minutes before she pelted him with hard candies to the best of her ability, playfully slapping you every time you brought up the fact that he just had his ass kicked by milk duds.

Okay, so maybe Tony Stark is a little more than kind of tolerable.

The fourth time you interacted with Tony, he was drunk. So, maybe this didn’t count as an actual interaction, but you had talked, so this counted in your book.

He was hosting one of those charity galas again, sometime in the weekend, where everyone got all dolled up and made small talk with other rich people. How stupid, you had thought. So, naturally, because you refused to go to this one, Wanda had dragged you to your wardrobe, thrusted you a dress, and told you to meet her outside.

Sometimes, you hate your teammates.

You moped your way downstairs, where Wanda and Nat both looped an arm on either side of your body, pulling you inside the massive ballroom. After you greeted some people, danced with Thor, and absolutely slaughtered Steve in three games of poker, you were absolutely done for that night.

You grumbled, snatching those incredibly tight, scratchy heels off and dumping them God knows where, and threw yourself face down on the covers, until you heard rustling and giggling from outside.

You only knew one person who giggled like that.

“Go away, Tony!”

“Ooh,” You heard from outside. “First name basis.” He said in a sing-song voice, his words slightly slurred. You furrowed your brows as you peeked up from your pillow and dragged yourself to the door.

Sure enough, a very giggly Tony stood, the smell of vodka fresh on his breath, and he was holding some sort of alcohol in his cup.

“You’re drunk.”

“And you aren’t? Pshhhht.”

“Tony,” You said, rather annoyed. “I just want to go to bed, Tony. Want me to call Rhodey?”

“Nuuuuu.” He said, hiccupping.

And as you started to close your bedroom door, he stopped it with his arm, smiling sheepishly at you.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait. I’m sorry.”

“For what? Other than knocking at your door at midnight for no apparent reason?”

“Oh, yes, that too, I suppose.” He said, thinking hard. “And I just wanted to see you, princess. But, I’m sorry. You know, for stealing your coffee mug that morning. I’m not really that much of a dick, I promise.”

You softened a little bit. How sweet. You knew almost no men who would actually apologize for something that was their fault. Although, maybe it was just the vodka speaking, but you swooned nevertheless.

“A gentleman never leaves a door without properly saying goodbye to his lady.” He announced with a dazed look on his face, finger in the air. You were just about to ask what he meant by that, but you were too scared to say anything without stuttering when he pressed a small, chaste kiss on your cheek.

Clearly he couldn’t see how your cheeks flushed in the darkness, thank Christ. Oh god, no. It’s just a friendly kiss. Brotherly. Besides, he’s drunk. Then you began wondering when the hell you started caring about how Tony Stark saw you.

Almost tripping over himself, he waved his hand and left without saying a word. Checking to see if anybody saw that, you looked back and forth in the hallway to find nothing, shut the door, and squealed.

How cute.

Wait, no.

Rolling your eyes, you went to bed.

The fifth time was quite special indeed. Tony approached you after lunch, holding up some Star Wars movie as a peace offering. Something about his protégé begging him to watch it.

“Sorry about last night, by the way.” He said, in between mouthfuls of popcorn. You froze. Did he regret anything? He probably saw me blush. He probably thinks I’m a fool, oh my gosh. He’s probably going to tell me how he didn’t mean what he did. Oh my gosh, do I like Tony Stark?

Everything was moving way too fast. You had pretty much only met the man, and he hated him, and now suddenly you were ready to start a family? That made no sense at all. You’re just not thinking straight. You told yourself. You’re confused. You reassured yourself.

“Showing up at your door, drunk, unannounced, in the middle of the night, that was really rude.”

“Oh,” You said, a bit relieved, and just a bit disappointed. “It’s alright, Tony. You were drunk anyway.”

“Yeah,” He said, also sounding relieved. “Hey, um, I didn’t do anything weird in front of you that night? Like, anything I’d be embarrassed about?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No,” You said, chuckling, “Since when have you cared about what people think of you, Tony?”

“Since I met you.” He replied popping popcorn into his mouth.

You frowned. “Why?”

“Because- you’re smart, beautiful, clever, and funny, and you get my humor.” He said that like it was nothing, shrugging it off nonchalantly, eyes glued to the TV screen, occasionally throwing kernels at this one green dude on the screen, acting as if nothing had happened just now.

And you stared at him for just a little bit before looking back at the screen, pretending to pay attention.

Did he just say that? That I’m beautiful? Oh my Jesus Christ. How is he acting like nothing’s happened? Am I dreaming?

Oh, God, you realized. You like Tony Stark.

A few inches away, Tony panicked the same way you had.

[fy-enhypen]

“I’m extremely passionate about what I like” - Jay

Everything he did was JAYish. He had been moving to the rhythm of the music, then he came into the photoshoot with an abrupt change in his attitude. He laughed heartily when making pleasant conversation but his voice, expression, even his way of speaking reflected his passion and sincerity when he spoke seriously about his deepest feelings. You must feel very different after your debut, seeing as you were a trainee for so long.

JAY: I guess I’m more relaxed than happy or excited. I saw a lot of my friends debut while I was a trainee for three years, so I knew what to expect from the debut process from watching them.

It seems like you’ve changed since your I-LAND days. You look a little more relaxed.

JAY: You’re right. The show was three months of lots of difficulty and stress, having to keep proving myself at every moment. I was much more nervous then. Now I hardly ever feel nervous on stage. I concentrate like I’m comfortably singing and dancing in my own room. (laughs)

When I saw your parents on the show, they looked like cheery people.

JAY: I have an easy-going, friendly relationship with my parents. And the way my mom talked on the show was extremely blunt. (laughs) My parents and I are very honest and straightforward—like, no matter what everyone might think of me, I’ll say what they need to hear and whatever I want to them. We’re all like that. Even on I-LAND, it wasn’t that different from when I was a trainee. I only thought about wanting to put on a good show every week, and that way, I think, I showed my honest side.

And that’s when you had your “RAS” moment. (laughs) What did you think when you saw that scene?

JAY: “Whoa … Someone’s having a hard time!” (laughs) I can’t really remember that well anymore, but I must’ve had a really hard time. I think I was way too honest. (laughs)

You’re taking BTS’s advice: “Enjoy your embarrassing moments.” (laughs)

JAY: Exactly. I don’t care about it at all anymore. I ignore it; I think, it is what it is, and there’s no way to take it back. Even after I die, it’ll still be floating around the Internet, like my ghost. So I just kind of gave up on that. (laughs)

JAY: (laughs) Yes. I really like them (laughs) and, for the hook in the chorus, SUNGHOON’s part and mine are pretty much identical which are repeated. It was actually my dance move for SUNGHOON’s part and his move for my part at first, but it was decided later it would fit the mood better if the choreography was changed, so they ended up switched. The first way wasn’t bad either, but I think the changed version suited both of us much better.

I understand you’re something of a scaredy-cat. (laughs) Wasn’t it hard for you to get into the horror movie concept?

JAY: People say I’m a scaredy-cat, but I’m really not. (laughs) I’m more of a logical person (laughs) so I’m sort of afraid of things that can’t be proven or analyzed mathematically or scientifically. So maybe that’s why horror themes aren’t my strong suit.

I saw your reaction video for “Given-Taken” and it looked as though you were really surprised by how cool the music video turned out.

JAY: Yes. There were a number of scenes I felt underwhelmed about when we were shooting them, but the director actually made them look really cool. There’s this one part especially, where JAKE and I are looking at each other and the camera moves between us and then passes to SUNGHOON. When we were filming that, I kept wondering, “How is this going to end up?” And then that scene turned out way cooler than I expected. (laughs)

The look in your eyes the first time the chorus plays is amazing.

JAY: I’m first up on both the first and second verses, so I paid extra attention to my facial expressions and the way the dancing feels so that that whole part would turn out well. It’s a lot harder to emphasize a slow dance than a fast and pounding one, so I tried to put more focus on that part by giving off a sort of aggressively charismatic sort of feeling.

The part in the chorus where you were in the center was really intense, too.

JAY: The first thing the performance director told me to do for that part was to do this sort of tough guy swagger. And when I thought about the whole song, the characters we play give off a kind of aristocracy vibe, so I made it a point to seem like we were looking down on people. So I was dancing with everything I’ve got while I kept my face relaxed. I even smirked a little.

What do you hope to express when you’re dancing?

JAY: Whenever I practice, I always keep in mind what my dance instructor said: “Anyone who has the basics of dancing down can dance well, but looking really good comes from knowing how to relax.” So I want to dance as if it’s a piece of cake even when I’m using every last drop of my energy that I could collapse. Because of that, I made Jimin from BTS my role model for when I’m doing K-pop choreography.

It seems like you’re always thinking about dancing.

JAY: I’m extremely passionate about what I like and what I’m interested in. I get sucked into things until I use up all my energy on them. I have this tendency to focus on just one thing, and for weeks I’ll spend all my time on that one interest except for when I eat, sleep and shower. I also really like everything to be organized perfectly: I make all my game IDs the same, and arrange all my things by color. I must’ve been influenced by a bunch of designers when I started to get into fashion—like Karl Lagerfeld, for example. He only ever wore black suits in public, so now we always have this exact image of him. If you think about it, it’s like a concept. I thought it’s pretty cool to create this identity where people think or feel something specific when you see them.

You’re also interested in fashion, right?

JAY: I’m interested in anything related to art. And I think to be worthy of the title “artist” you need to be at least somewhat good in every art-related field. I take fashion very seriously because I think artists should show outwardly how seriously they take their art and their work. I think I’m also influenced by looking at artists like V from BTS who’re famous for their fashion sense.

I heard you’re also a stylist for the other members.

JAY: They’ve been asking me a lot of questions lately because they’re particularly into fashion now. My sense of fashion isn’t perfect, but I can make a decent judgment call by looking at length or color. For example, I can tell just from looking at a picture whether some combination will make someone’s legs look shorter or if some other combination will make their face look washed out, so the members will come to me to ask me questions and use me like a calculator. (laughs)

That reminds me of the episode of I-LAND where you allotted parts for “Dive into You” based on how well they suited each of the unit members.

JAY: I have a pretty good eye for things like music, dance, and clothes, so I think I can zero in on the key characteristics. I also stress efficiency in everything I do. I was actually a little bit edgy when I was giving out the parts for “Dive into You.” (laughs) Emotion is the root of my efficient and computative side. If I’m feeling competitive, or angry, or it’s a matter of pride, I get extremely focused and then I can think fast and efficiently to get results.

Not unlike that scene on I-LAND that people were talking about where producer Rain gave you feedback.

JAY: I was a bit surprised to see that clip of me being scolded by him popping up here and there. (laughs) Part of the reason I acted that way was because I was born in the US, but it’s also from my way of thinking efficiently. If I try to improve myself instead of just feeling intimidated, I might get better results next time. And I think it’s both efficient and not rude to listen to someone’s opinion properly, and show my determination not to repeat my mistakes in the future. That way I show how I’ll keep improving and moving forward.

Your life in the US must have been a big influence on you.

JAY: I think I was influenced by the way they always expect open and honest answers to everything. I usually think about what’s most important to others, to me, and to the situation before anything else, and then act based on that thinking. I never hesitate. I seriously won’t hesitate to do what’s best for them and for me, even if it makes me look bad. I think that’s more efficient than not being able to express my real opinion.

You keep emphasizing efficiency. I’m guessing you would really hate to ease up on your practice or work schedule.

JAY: Practice is a special case, I think. I think of art as an abstract kind of work: It’s something you have to slow down for and feel and think about, rather than something you can just figure out efficiently. So even when it’s time to dance, I’ll sometimes sit down with my earphones on and listen to some music to focus on my thoughts.

Is that why you’re interested in so many different things? You also cook, and you know a lot about many different topics.

JAY: I have interested in cooking since I was little. I learned bit by bit from my parents and from watching YouTube and slowly tried my hand at it. As for knowing a lot of trivia, that’s because of my dad. My dad and I are really similar. He knows literally everything. Even things you don’t usually need to know, he has a high-level understanding of. I heard him talk about a lot of things because I’m a naturally curious person and asked him a lot of questions. Ever since I was a kid, I have been curious about a lot of random things. Even when I’m in bed, if I suddenly wonder about things like, “Why isn’t time travel possible?” or, “How does the touch screen on phones work?” I immediately get up and search it.

And what led such a curious boy to become an idol?

JAY: I didn’t originally have any interest in it, but I got an offer to audition through street casting by another company. It sounded like it could be cool (laughs) so I decided to give it a try. I took some lessons for two or three days and had the audition and got in, but then something came up and I left that company. When I got serious again about wanting to demonstrate my skills and get into another company, I was just browsing the music charts and saw BTS’s “Blood Sweat & Tears” was number one. I didn’t really know about BTS at the time, though. As soon as I heard the song, my mind was blown. I looked up the music video and thought, wow, these guys are on a whole different level. (laughs) So I made Big Hit my goal, practiced for a month or two and here I am.

That must be why you were so determined to debut when you were on I-LAND. We also saw you in the role of leader. How did it feel to lead a team like that?

JAY: As someone who’s been leader twice, I don’t think it’s a job for humans. (laughs) That’s how hard it is. It’s too much pressure. When I was talking to HEESEUNG, I even said, “Honestly, you and I don’t have the right personality to be the leader.” There weren’t many people on I-LAND who had experience being the leader, so HEESEUNG and I had no choice but to do it. That was pretty hard. I knew what I had to do and how I should manage the team, but I felt like I just didn’t have the personality for it. But anyway, seeing how strong-willed JUNGWON is, I think he’ll do a perfectly good job as he gains more experience.

It seems like you were close with HEESEUNG even before the debut.

JAY: HEESEUNG and I are more like family. In the past three years, I spent more time with HEESEUNG than with my mom. We’re so close that we can say anything to each other. But with JUNGWON, it was more like a younger brother–older brother situation, so it was more about taking care of one another than being friends, and it was hard for me or HEESEUNG to get close to him. But as it started to feel like we might become members of the same team, I felt like JUNGWON was opening himself up to me, and I think that’s when we started to get close.

I imagine that, as you grew closer practicing and debuting with your team, you also grew fonder of them.

JAY: I really want to take good care of them. I really don’t need to interfere when someone else can handle it better, but still, I just want to do whatever I can to help out.

Even though you haven’t been able to meet your fans yet, what would you like to do for them?

JAY: It’s true that we can’t see our fans, and it’s a bad time for us and them both, but I’m trying to stay positive. For example, most of our shows right now are pre-recorded, so at least we can make fewer mistakes at the beginning of our debut. We have plenty of time to make ourselves even better so that when we see our fans in person we can hopefully put on a live show that we’ll have no regrets about. That’s what I want to do, so I’m practicing hard.