#oh man that probably doesn’t make sense i’m sorry. just know delicate in a positive way!

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓀𝓊𝒿𝒶𝓍 : risu x ajax

their love transcends words — it permeates their lives, their very beings. it’s in their touch, their thoughts, the deepest parts of their souls, leaving no doubt that they’re left their marks on one another.

for @tetsuskei ♡

[constant-creative-chaos]

Dancing with mha characters

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

kiri would ask you out of the blue, you two would probably be hanging out in his dorm one night and he’d just ask

like “baby, dance with me? 🥺”

he’d have his arms around you’re waist ofc, and he’d lay your head against his chest so you can hear his heart beat

he isn’t a good dancer but it’s all good, as long as you’re happy then he’s happy to dance with you

he wouldn’t do much other than sway, considering his poor skills

but he’d definetly him along to the songs

speaking of the songs, he’d probably play really cheesy love songs because he’s like that

laughs everytime either he or you messes up, he finds it amusing

ends up goofing off more towards the end

rating: 100/10, in conclusion, i love kirishima

you sat on kirishima’s bed, stretched out comfortably. your back against his headboard and his head in your lap, your fingers scratching gently against his scalp. he hummed along to the music playing, some song made a few years ago.

the song changed and he looked up at you, excitement flickering in his eyes, “baby, wanna dance with me?”

you stopped scratching his scalp for a moment, thinking about it. you smiled and nodded.

“yeah, i do, kiri,”

you’d have to ask him, like a lot

be persistent!!

it’s not that he doesn’t want to dance with you

it’s just that he has no fucking clue how to dance and doesn’t want to embarrass himself

he’s just s u c h a great dancer and doesn’t want to make you feel bad about your skills

no but he’s struggling,, he has no idea what he’s doing

“katsuki, just put your hands on-” “tch, i know what i’m doing dumbass”

he figures it out eventually, he had one had on your hip and the other holding yours

he buried his head in your neck so you don’t see his blush

he’s practically silent, only speaking to make a remark when you trip

he actually finds it really endearing

rating: katsuki, marry me

“katsuki, you gotta take a break. it isn’t good for you to keep at it like this,” you said rubbing his shoulder.

“yeah and what else would i do?” he grumbled, pushing his hand further down the pencil.

bakugou had been working non-stop on homework since he’d returned to the dorms that day. he had yet to take a break and he needed it, and you were about to force him into relaxing for a bit if he spent another second writing.

a small sigh left him before reaching up and grabbing your hand on his shoulder. He rubbed small shapes with his thumb and apologized.

“if you dance with me then we’ll be even,”

“alright shitty-(feature),” he paused before looking up at you through his eyelashes, “you and dancing.”

boy oh boy, sero and you dance so often

he loves dancing with you and DAMN is he good at it

he’ll dance with you at any point in time, for any reason

he spins you a lot, he’ll even lift you a little if he’s feeling it

it’s super playful

he dips you all the time

baby has the moves and loves teaching you

he’ll dance to any song, especially if you’re with him

he’s always laughing either you or talking to you while you dance together

rating: 10000/10, dancing king, only seventeen 🎶

“Mi sol, when did you get so good at this?”

sero spun you wildly in the spot, twirling you under his hand. you laughed and tumbled into his chest, still seeing the room spin around you. sero pulled back slightly to see you and your unfocused eyes.

“beginners bad luck finally wore off, i guess!”

he smiled down at you, waiting for you to lose the dizzy feeling of turning like that. he enjoyed your smile while you watched the room. but the second you’re eyes focused again he was moving around the room with you again.

“you’d best not drop me, hanta-”

he’d take you out dancing

endeavour payed for dance lessons when he was a kid - he couldn’t have his prodigy dancing like an idiot

this is an endeavour hate page

he took formal dancing lessons and would 100% take a while to loosen up with you

but he holds you very delicately, with one hand on the small of you’re back and the other holding yours

as he loosens up and relaxes he holds you closer to him

and i mean this is shouto todoroki we’re talking about, he’s quiet the whole time

he just watches you with a small smile on his face, cute as fuck-

would teach you to ballroom dance at some point, if you didn’t know

rating: 15/10, he’s a rich boy, he knows his moves

“sho, this is wonderful,” you grinned at him, “really, i appreciate this.”

he returned the smile, taking your hand in his and pulling you forward on to the dance floor. you straightened your clothes out and took his lead. the two of you began moving around the room together, following the rhythme of the song playing.

“you know how to dance formally?” he asked, watching you move with grace.

“i have no clue what i’m doing, i’m just following you,”

you’d ask and he’d: “y-you want to- i mean i’m not a good dancer- are you sure?? why??”

he’s so nervous, just give him some reassurance and he’ll be fine

he is always making sure he isn’t making you uncomfortable

he’d let you pick the music or chose from your playlist

he’d hold you by the hips after asking a few times if that was okay

he isn’t the best but he picks it up pretty quickly

he probably asked iida for dance lessons after this

n e ways, he’d probably be red the whole time

rating: 12/10, his nervousness is actually really endearing

he put his hands on your hips and pulled you toward him, glancing up to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, moving closer to him. you started swaying to the song playing and he followed your lead. the two of you starting to step around.

“are you sure you’re okay with this,” he tapped his fingers against your hip.

you hummed and rested your head on his shoulder, finding dancing with him comforting, “ ‘s okay, izuku. i promise.”

he kissed you on the crown of your head and continued moving to the music. he started relaxing and fully taking in the moment.

tenya iida, my main man,, he also got dance lessons when he was younger

fuckin rich boy

he short circuited when you asked, just give him a moment

he was probably super excited but kept it under control

he almost certainly played some sort of ballroom music (does that make sense??)

mans full on waltzed with you-

but he’d also do a more casual dance if you wanted

he held you small of your back and waist, he’s very careful not to make you uncomfortable

he’d only be goofy if you guys are just fooling around and making jokes while dancing

other than that he’s pretty quiet

rating: 20/10, tenya please wear some goddamn contacts during training

“y/n, i’m so sorry,” iida flushed deeply, stopping his movements.

despite his time practicing dance and his thought out movements, he’s stepped on your foot. he was apologizing profusely while you just stood and laughed lightly, watching his arm chop down.

“i’m sorry, i should have watched my step and- wait are you laughing?”

“iida, it’s okay. you have nothing to worry about.”

he’d probably just randomly start dancing with you

like you could be dancing around while cleaning and he’d just join you

baby can’t dance, he just can’t

but he acts like he can

would twirl you constantly and he’d try to dip you but fail miserably 😭

electric slide lookin ass

probably just starts his playlist and dances to random songs

he’s so goofy omg-

doesnt stop laughing or teasing you

rating: 30/30, sounds like a vibe

“you’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by, a smooth criminal!”

denki stood on his toes, head tipped downward, and his hand positioned like he was dipping a fedora. at this point he had crashed into the table and knocked a chair over. this man was to never be trusted near anything fragile.

he took your hand and spun you around him, trying to keep you from the chair on the floor. after he spun you he spun himself, this time tripping over the chair and tumbling into the fridge.

“denki are you okay? are you okay, denki?” you sang along with the song playing.

sunshine man, he would 100% dance with you

but you’d have to ask, the thought just wouldn’t come to his mind

and he is worse than denki

but he has so much fun with it that it doesn’t matter

he spins you and lifts you, it’s so fun

he’s so goofy and playful, not a serious moment

he accidentally activated his quirk while dipping you, that hurt

but he loves dancing with you

and he pokes fun at his own dancing, he finds it really amusing

and he hyped you up so much

rating: 1000000/10, overall a perfect experience

a squeal left your mouth as your feet left the ground, mirio’s hands clutching your waist tightly. you grabbed on to his shoulders to keep yourself steady. he put you back on the ground and continued dancing along to the music. he shimmed his shoulders and bopped his head to the beat. or at least tried.

“i know that you can’t help but watch my horrible dancing but you gotta dance with me, can’t be the only bad dancer here!”

you shook your head and took his hands, shimmying along with him. man was mirio was a bad dancer but he made it so much fun

you’d ask him and he would just not get why you’d wanna dance with him

he wouldn’t object to it, it’s just that he’s sure that he’s a bad dancer and that others are so much better and

would hide his face in your neck and hold you really tightly to him

and he’s so nervous

if he stepped on you he’d let go of you and just stand in a corner for hours

but honestly, he’s actually a really good dancer

if you guys dance more he’ll start goofing off and doing stuff like spinning you

probably doesn’t put on music and if he did it would be off of his chill playlist

rating: 80/10, might be my ideal situation

you and amajiki had barely moved from where you guys started, not that it mattered. you two had been swaying more than dancing, but it was peaceful and relaxing. that’s what mattered. he had he’s arms wrapped tightly around your torso and his head was hidden in your neck. you felt his smile and uneven breathes brushing against your skin.

some old slow song played from your phone, one he chose. both of you were happy with the closeness and intimacy of the moment, but tamaki was happy he just hadn’t stepped on you. god that would have killed him. but he had yet to, and he was thankful.

“thank you, tama,” you smiled gently, “this is nice.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Golden Thread

Prompt: since Janus is Deceit, what if it takes a physical toll on him when he only tells the truth and doesn't manipulate anyone for a period of time? could you please write a oneshot where Janus is in a position where he really needs to to tell the truth, but he can tell he's getting close to his truth limit? - anon

 Hey! I don't know if you're still taking requests for prompts (and I apologize if you aren't), but could you do Janus-centric fluffy hurt/comfort? And maybe a polyship? (If you want to, of course). - anon

Thanks for the prompts, babes! This was supposed to go up yesterday and I’m so sorry I forgot

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & janus, other than that, it’s not that bad

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 5874

There is a thread that winds through Janus’s tongue.

 Thin, golden, finely spun with lies. It tastes sweet against the back of his teeth, the back of his throat. As he talks, it colors his words with a soft gleam, spinning and spinning into the air in front of him. It coils neatly around his throat as its spool and winks.

Most of the time its taste is enough to curl the corners of his mouth upwards into a smirk, watching it wind and weave its way around the others. Sometimes he thinks he can see other threads, clasping delicately around wrists, arms, knees, necks. Sometimes he can’t resist letting his threat tug them this way and that. Come on, what good is temptation if you never give in to it? He’s grown fond of the sweetness it leaves on his tongue, in his words. Saccharine as they may be, the haze they leave behind is more than enough to make up for it.

 Sometimes the sweetness is too much. He swears he can feel cavities forming in the back of his mouth. His teeth start to ache. And sometimes…sometimes he doesn’t care. It’s too much fun to keep tugging this way and that at the others, too entertaining to let the thread unspool and unspool from his throat, filling the air with its golden light. His smile sharpens and the tangle grows, because what’s the fun of it without a little risk of hurt?

 Other times he knows to back off. He adores the others, but no matter how fun they are to play with, he knows not to push too hard. At those times, he lets the sweetness spill off of his tongue, gently winds the thread back around his own throat. It always protests, the lack of sweetness making his tongue ache, the grip on his throat just a little too tight. But the looks on their faces…the begrudging gratitude, the sincere remark, or--god forbid—the poorly disguised hope…well.

 Sometimes he wonders whether or not it’d be worth it to keep the thread fully wound.

 Not that he ever would, it’s just a thought experiment.

 It’s not like he wonders what it would feel like to have Patton be able to listen to him easily, not make it a fight to get his point across. He doesn’t want to have an engaging conversation with Logan about philosophy, ethics, science, anything just to hear the brilliant man talk. He refuses to entertain the idea of being a proper source of comfort for Virgil. He wouldn’t enjoy snarking with Remus just for fun and not because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

 And he…

 Well.

 The idea of being able to have an honest conversation with Roman makes him fill to the brim, top to toes, with hatred.

 He doesn’t have much of a choice.

 He can speak a few times with the thread coiled up, just enough when it really counts. He knows the others, he can’t just play with them all the time, he’ll get bored. And they’re not really cut out for it. And as much as he loves to see them squirm out of their comfort zones, it’s not good for Thomas. That’s his real priority.

 Janus pushes open the door to his room and sighs, taking his hat off and hanging it carefully up on its stand. He summons his cane and makes it the rest of the way to the desk, plopping himself into the chair and scrubbing his hand through his hair.

 “They’re so slow,” he mutters as his fingers go to the clasp around his throat, “how do they ever get anything done?”

 Well…they don’t. Not really.

 Don’t get him wrong, he loves being the one to tug and twist them into the right answer, but he doesn’t want to be there all the time. They do know what they’re doing, they’re all good at their jobs, so…trying to manage all of that is exhausting.

 The clasp at his throat falls away and he lifts his hand, craning his neck above his collar. There.

 He knows the thread isn’t real; nothing here is real. Nothing of him can ever be real. But he can still feel it sometimes. Like today.

 They’d been…talking. It wasn’t an overdue conversation, not in the slightest, and he’s had to be honest with them. Doesn’t mean he has to be honest with himself.

 And isn’t that just his saving grace?

 Janus winces as he feels the thread wind tighter and tighter around his tongue, pulling his gloves off to touch his throat, just to confirm that it’s not real. His fingers meet his scales and he sighs, missing the sweetness. It won’t be for long. This will blow over and tomorrow they’ll be back to everyone’s favorite regularly scheduled programming. He’ll make Patton blink in that adorably-confused way, Logan will be pinching the bridge of his nose trying to make everyone shut up and pay attention to Janus’s lies, Virgil will be hissing at him like a demented cat, Remus will be having the time of his life, and Roman won’t want anything to do with him.

 Janus breathes a sigh of relief as sweetness starts to coat his tongue again.

See? It’s already working.

 It doesn’t keep working, but you know.

 The effort was there.

 They’re talking again.

 The living room feels dry. Has it always been this dry? Disguising it as a roll of his eyes, Janus tilts his head toward the ceiling. Huh. He’s never noticed that light there before. Has it always been there? Probably.

 “Janus,” Patton calls, “can you—um—“

 Rolling his eyes again, he looks back down, crossing one leg over the other. He hides the lack of sweetness by pursing his lips.

 “Yes?”

 “Did you hear what I asked?”

 “Of course I did,” he drawls, idly flicking the tips of his gloves together.

 “…so what do you think?”

  Honestly.

 “He didn’t hear you,” Logan says quietly, and thank god the other brain cell has joined the chat.

 Patton frowns. “Then why—never mind.”

  Oh, Patton.

 “I asked if you knew how to help,” Patton says, his hands clutched in his lap, “with the barrier breaking down. It’s been kind of rough from our side so…”

 Right.

 There hadn’t been a barrier up until a few years ago. Something had formed in the Mindscape, an invisible wall. It wasn’t real, of course, but it made walking through the hallways unnecessarily difficult. One of them would try to walk from one side to the other and be suddenly seized with a compulsion to do anything but. Or they’d be accompanying another Side back to the room only to freeze in the middle of the corridor and have to mutter out apologies. It’s exhausting. Luckily they’d still been able to sink in and out to get from place to place, but it’s not like the barrier actually does anything.

 Janus sighs and uncrosses his legs. The thread leaps to the tip of his tongue, eager, poised.

 “I don’t know,” he says instead, feeling the sweetness recede in disappointment, “I don’t know enough about how it formed in the first place.”

 “It happened around the time of the series premiering,” Logan says thoughtfully, “perhaps it could be linked with the presentation of the Mindscape in the fanbase?”

 Virgil snorts. “Like any of that is accurate.”

 “You don’t know that, Virgil.”

 “Um, excuse me, which of us spends the most time on Tumblr?”

 “What does that have to do with anything?”

 “Where do you think most of the fanbase hangs out? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t Facebook.”

 “That’s a shame,” Patton sighs, “I miss it.”

 “You miss Facebook?”

 “You know it does still exist, right?”

 “Did Thomas ever even have Facebook?”

 “The color palettes were nice!”

 “You mean they were blue.”

 “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

 “…the point being I know a lot about what the fans do with the content we give them and most of that stuff is entirely made-up.”

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “As opposed to the made-up that the series is.”

 “Shut up, L.”

 “I’d rather not, actually.”

 Virgil swats Logan’s shoulder half-heartedly.

 Janus is smiling. Why is he smiling? He hasn’t lied enough for the sweetness to make him smile and it’s not like Remus has appeared with feet coming out of his head again. In fact, Remus is just…sitting next to Roman. Granted, he’s got his morning star in his lap dripping with god knows what, but there are no crazy shenanigans happening.

 He watches Logan reach out and tangle his fingers with Virgil’s as Patton starts talking again. He watches Virgil nudge Remus’s tape back over to him when he drops it halfway through rewrapping the grip on his morning star. He watches Roman cover a flinch that he’d never have noticed if he wasn’t paying attention and sees Remus take hold of Roman’s costume and grip it tight in his fist.

 The thread twitches angrily on his tongue as he tries to make sense of what’s happening.

 “Has anything happened,” Roman asks as Patton pauses, “on your side?”

 Virgil shrugs. “I haven’t noticed anything. But I normally sink straight to my room, so…”

 “Remus?”

 “You do realize that most of the thoughts that come into my head are the type that you guys would ignore anyway, right?”

 Roman rolls his eyes too, but it’s fond. Affectionate. Janus is not.

 “…Janus? What about you?”

 The thread begins to sew neat little words into his tongue, all prepared for him to say. Yes, he’s noticed something, he’s noticed that the others are so much less fun than they used to be. No, he hasn’t noticed anything, it’s not like he’s the observant one.

 Yes, he’s noticed that the barrier is fading and he hates it.

 No, he hasn’t noticed anything because he spends as little time with the others as possible.

 “I don’t know.”

 Patton nods. “That’s okay, just…maybe try keeping an eye out? See if anything changes?”

 “I will.”

 The thread takes longer to undo that night.

 Janus slumps onto his elbows and groans.

 When did he become addicted to the sweetness? When did it get so hard for him to realize when he’s the one telling the lies and when the thread is telling the lies? When did he stop caring about the words coming out of his mouth?

 The truth is, of course, that he didn’t.

 He started caring more about the others.

 The thread tightens in warning but Janus pushes it aside. He frowns, staring hard at the grooves in the desk. He started to care about them, not just as parts of Thomas’s personality that would help him do things, but as their own Sides. As them.

 He cares about how Logan’s eyes light up just a little when he starts talking about something. He cares about how warm Patton speaks when they’re all there. He cares about how bouncy Remus gets when they talk to him. He cares about when Virgil’s eyeshadow turns all purple and sparkly. He cares about how hard it’s become to genuinely make Roman smile.

 The thread groans.

 Janus curses.

 He can’t.

 “The others aren’t important,” he hisses at the mirror, “Thomas is the only important one.”

 The thread pauses.

 “I don’t care what they want,” he continues, feeling it slowly start to unwind, “it only matters that Thomas is safe. That Thomas knows what’s going on.”

 It starts to run back out along his tongue.

 “Their thoughts and feelings aren’t important.” His hands ball into fists. “I don’t care about them.”

 His tongue starts to taste sweet again.

 “I don’t care about them,” he repeats in a whisper, “they aren’t important to me.”

 The salt of the tears goes perfectly with the sweetness on his tongue.

————————————————

Something is wrong.

 Something is horribly, desperately wrong and the others are panicking.

 The barrier is gone. That’s not the bad thing. The bad thing is that along with it, everything in the Mindscape is rushing out of control.

 The walls won’t hold. The doors lock and unlock more often than they stay in place. Floors disappear out of nowhere and open up into yawning black pits. The doors to the Imagination buckle and groan under the onslaught of rushing beasts from the other side. Something is fading.

 They can’t sink out anymore. They need to know where everything is in order to do that. The place is a labyrinth. Only one entrance, one exit. There’s no way that they’ll know the right path unless they run it themselves.

 Janus knows something is broken the instant his eyes open. He can feel it. Cracks wind their way through the walls, through the floor, the ceiling shakes. He’s out of his room in an instant, running through the halls, somewhere, anywhere, are they alright? Where are they? Have they faded?

 “Virgil!”

 “Janus?” Virgil flies into him at breakneck speed, clutching his cape in both hands. “Are you—what’s happening? Where is everyone? Did something go wrong? What’s happening to Thomas?”

 The thread perks its end up eagerly but Janus swallows it down.

 “I don’t know what’s happening,” he says quickly, pulling Virgil closer, “and you’re the first one I’ve seen.”

 “I can’t find anyone,” Virgil pants, “I can’t—there’s no one—we’re going to fade.”

 “We won’t, I promise. We just have to find the others.”

 “Hello?” Another voice calls out from around the corner. “Hello, where the fuck is everyone? Who decided to break shit without me?”

 “Remus!”

 “That’s me, where the fuck—“ Remus barrels around the corner, almost knocking them over— “Virgil! Snake Face!”

 “Remus—“ Virgil wraps Remus in his arms, clutching him tightly. “Where were you? What’s going on?”

 “I was draining the viscera from a partially dissected sperm whale—“ of course he was— “but then everything started shaking.”

 “We can’t find the others.”

 “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

 They don’t even look back; Remus grabs Janus’s sleeve and Virgil still hasn’t let go of his cape, dragging him behind as they race through the halls. They can see where the barrier used to be, though with how much the place has shifted, it’s impossible to tell. Janus grits his teeth as they prepare themselves to smash through.

 Nothing happens.

 They just keep barreling down the corridor.

 “Patton! Logan! Roman!”

 “Where the fuck are you guys?”

 “Can you hear us?”

 “Re? Re, is that you?”

 “Ro!”

Remus reroutes them effortlessly, barreling through chunks of disappearing floor and leaping over cracks forming in the tiles. Virgil hangs onto Janus as they go. Janus can’t let go of either of them.

 “In here!”

 A blade flashes through a crumbling chunk of wall and a hand reaches out. Remus grabs it and vaults through the opening.

“Oh my goodness, Virgil!”

 “Pat—“

 Another hand helps to haul him through the crack. The hand he has in his cape pulls uncomfortably at Janus’s neck.

 “Where’s Janus? Did you guys see him?”

 “Yeah, he’s right here, Ja—“

 “Snake Face, get your butt in here.”

 “Don’t just stand there, help you idiots!”

 A sickening crack right above him makes him jerk his head up. His eyes widen as a massive chunk of ceiling starts to fall. Hands wrap around his arms, his clothes, even his waist and pull.

 “Janus?” He blinks through the dust to see Logan staring at him, concern written plainly all over his face. “Are you alright?”

 No, the thread sews, I am now trapped with the five people I abhor most in this world. I am the furthest from alright I could possibly be.

 “Are you all alright,” he asks instead, lifting his hand to fix Logan’s collar, “I’m not hurt.”

 “We’re fine,” Roman says, helping him to his feet, “we managed to get in here before the place really started coming down.”

 “What’s going on?”

 Patton’s shoulders slump at Virgil’s question. “We were hoping you would know.��

 Janus bites back a curse, turning to look at the opening. It’s blocked now, completely choked in dust. He glances around.

 “Where are we?”

 “Safe room,” Roman says, tapping the wall, “something Remy helped us come up with.”

 “Remy?”

 “He’s a bitch but he knows what he’s doing.”

 “Fair enough.” Janus grits his teeth. “So what do we know?”

 “Who was awake when it happened,” Logan asks, “Roman and I were not.”

 “I was also not awake,” Virgil mutters, “and I would really appreciate this not being how I wake up ever again.”

 “I agree.” Janus glances at Patton and Remus. “I was asleep too. Remus, you said you were awake?”

 “I was in the middle of an experiment!”

 Logan perks up. “An experiment?”

 “As much as I love watching you two be nerds together,” Roman breaks in, “can we do that later?”

 “Of course.”

 “Spoilsport,” Remus says fondly, “but it wasn’t me. I’ve done this experiment before, nothing I do could do…this.”

 All eyes turn to Patton.

 “…Padre?”

 Patton shakes his head. “I…I don’t know. I had just gotten up to get a glass of water when it shattered in my hand.”

 “It did what?”

 “Are you hurt?”

 “Let me see.”

 “No, no, guys I’m fine,” Patton says quickly, holding up his hands, “but then the whole house started to shake. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on.”

 Janus’s heart sinks. He’s telling the truth.

 They’re stuck.

 “Oh, god,” Virgil mutters, his hands flying to his head, “oh god, oh my god, no one knows what’s going on.”

 “V,” Logan murmurs, crouching down and reaching to take his hands, “Virgil, look at me.”

 “We’re going to mess everything up—it’s going to be so bad—what’s happing to Thomas?”

 “Virgil, look at me, come now, it’s going to be alright—“

 “How can you promise that?” Virgil’s voice starts to rise. “Have you seen what’s happening?”

 “Easy, shadow-ling,” Roman murmurs too, his hand carding through Virgil’s hair, “just listen to Logan.”

 “You’re doing well,” Logan encourages, rubbing Virgil’s arms, “just stay here, with me, alright?”

 Janus watches Patton and Remus stand a little closer to the three of them, shielding them from the debris still raining down from outside. Something in his gut clenches.

 Then he notices the tremors are slowing as the other calm Virgil down.

 And it clenches more.

 “It’s us,” he mutters quietly, almost too quietly for the others to hear, “it’s us. We have to stick together.”

 The thread on his tongue twitches angrily. There’s almost no sweetness left in his mouth now.

 Patton looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

 “Look—“ Janus points at a crack in the wall— “they’re moving slower now. The closer we are together the less this place falls apart.”

 Virgil’s next inhale is almost a sob.

 “I really do just ruin everything, don’t I?”

 “No,” Roman says firmly, wrapping his arms tightly around the shaking Side, “we’ve had this conversation, shadow-ling. You’re important to us. You’re not a burden. And this certainly isn’t your fault.”

 “We need you,” Patton echoes, reaching down to rest his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “don’t go anywhere.”

 “Don’t make us chase you.” Remus bonks his head into Virgil’s. “Not fun.”

 Virgil still looks doubtful. Which, alright, isn’t his fault. Voices in the head, not to mention the general anxiety, it’s no surprise, not really. Janus clears his throat.

 “Virgil,” he says softly, crouching down as well, “Virgil, listen to me.”

 Purple eyes stare at him.

 “You haven’t lost us,” he promises, “you won’t lose us. You’re important, not just for Thomas, but for us too. We care about you. All of you.”

 “Fuck, J,” Virgil huffs, swiping at his face, “why’d you have to make me cry?”

 The tremors keep settling.

 Patton throws his arms around Virgil. “See? We care about you, kiddo. We love you.”

 Something else twitches in Janus’s throat as he hears Patton say that. Virgil must notice it too; he looks up and squints at Patton.

 “Have we ever told you that we care about you?”

  Bingo.

 Patton falters, his grip wavering. His smile wobbles. “W-well, no, not really, but that’s okay! I know you do.”

 Logan tilts his head. “But you enjoy hearing it said.”

 The smile slips even further. “…you don’t like saying it.”

 “That’s no excuse!” Roman reaches over Virgil to get to Patton. “If you want us to say it, we can say it!”

 Janus shifts his attention. “Patton?”

 “…yeah?”

 “No one takes care of us like you do,” he says softly, “and none of us care as openly as you do.”

 Patton’s eyes widen. “Janus—“

 “You try,” he continues, not to be interrupted, not now, “and that is perhaps the most admirable thing we could ask for.”

 “He made Pat cry too,” Virgil mutters, pulling the now-sobbing side in for a hug.

 “Happy tears,” Patton manages, “I—wow.”

 A crack in the wall disappears.

 “Is that what this is?” Logan looks around. “An…emotional problem?”

 “We’re fading, the whole Mindscape is,” Janus says around the thread, “if we—if we stay, then we can fix this.”

 “O-oh.”

 That tone of voice always leads somewhere good. Sure enough, as he looks around, he sees Logan adjust his glasses and take a step back.

 “And where are you going?”

 “I’m not sure I can help,” Logan says flatly. “You have the answer already.”

 “But we’re not done.”

 “And what do you expect I can lend to this problem?” He spreads his arms wide. “I’m no expert on emotions, nor am I useful in proving things that are already true.”

 “Wait, what the fuck are you talking about, L?” Virgil scrambles up. “What are we proving here?”

 “That you are important.” Logan frowns as Patton and Roman scramble up too. “What?”

 “You’re implying that you’re not important,” Remus growls, “and I’m pissed about it.”

 “But—“

 “No buts!” Roman points a stern finger at him. “Believing yourself to be unimportant is a falsehood!”

 “I never said I was unimportant,” Logan corrects, “I said I would not be helpful in this situation.”

 “Bullshit. You helped me calm down.”

 “So did Patton and Roman.”

 “You figured out that I like being told that you guys care about me!”

 “That was obvious.”

 “Logan,” Janus calls softly to get his attention, “Logan, if you believe that anyone knows us better than you, you are gravely mistaken.”

 Logan’s mouth drops open.

 “You claim not to know emotions,” he continues, stepping closer, “but you know us, perhaps better than we know ourselves at times. You are kind, you are wonderful, and if you ever stop teaching us things, I am sure we would never recover.”

 He slips Logan’s glasses back into position.

 “You are not just Logic,” he murmurs, “you’re Logan. Stay. Be Logan.”

 Logan swallows heavily.

 “I must ask,” he says hoarsely as a tear rolls down his cheek, “if you intend to make everyone cry today.”

 Janus chuckles. “No, I don’t, but it seems that it may be a side effect. I promise I’m not trying.”

 “You won’t make me cry,” Remus remarks casually, “not without trying. I don’t care.”

 Oh, Remus. Janus doesn’t bother to hide his smile at the indignant squawk from Virgil as Remus implies that he doesn’t care about the others.

 “I don’t need to try to make you cry,” he says, “I’ve never wanted that. I just want you to be listened to.”

 “…fuck you, Snakey.”

 Patton lunges forward as Remus sniffles.

 “Do we just like…not talk to each other, then?” Virgil wipes his nose. “Because I sure as hell don’t remember us getting this emotional about anything.”

 Then Janus realizes that his mouth tastes bitter.

 The thread has not been idle, he realizes in horror, not while he’s been spilling his guts to the others in an effort to hold them all together. It’s dragged itself over his tongue, scraping every last bit down his throat, winding tighter and tighter. His mouth tastes bitter. It’s not supposed to be bitter. It burns, scraping along the sides of his mouth until they smart. He swallows frantically. It’s not working. Nothing is working. It hurts. His tongue hurts. His throat hurts.

 The floor wobbles.

 He can’t catch his breath.

 His eyes land on Roman.

 No.

  No.

 No, no, no, he can’t stop now.

 Not here.

 Not with Roman.

 Roman just watches the others wrap their arms tightly around his brother still wiping snot from his nose. A soft smile curls at his mouth that never reaches his eyes. Behind him, massive cracks open up in the walls.

 No.

 He can’t let Roman fall.

 Not after everything.

 Roman notices he’s staring at him. He just raises an eyebrow.

 “Going to make me cry again,” he asks softly, “or are you all finished for the day?”

 The thread stabs words into his tongue until he can taste blood.

  Well, it’s not like it’s difficult to make you cry.

  If I had something that would work, I’d say it.

  Only if you were a Side worth worrying about.

 No.

 No, no, he won’t say that. He won’t.

 The thread tightens around his throat as a harsher warning. The bitterness on his tongue worsens.

 “It’s alright, Janus—“ no, it isn’t— “I know you don’t like me much anyway. Don’t force yourself.”

  At least you’re being considerate for once in your life.

  Took you this long to figure it out, hmm? No wonder you’re called the stupidest Side.

 Janus grits his teeth against the thread. It just keeps tightening. His mouth has never tasted sweet in his entire life.

 He needs to tell Roman how important he is. He needs to tell Roman that they all have to start paying attention to him. He needs Roman to know that he’s sorry, sorry he ever implied otherwise.

 All that comes out of his mouth instead is: “you need attention.”

 Roman blinks. “Well, yes, I’d say that’s true.”

 He has to tell Roman that Thomas needs him, needs him to be strong and healthy, to dream.

 What comes out instead is: “you spend so much time stuck in your head.”

 Roman frowns. “If that’s the best you can do, there’s no need to overexert yourself. I can make myself cry much easier than that.”

 Why won’t his tongue cooperate?

 The thread just tightens around him again. A warning. A threat. A promise.

 He can’t tell the truth.

 He can’t.

 He can’t.

 It doesn’t matter. Roman won’t know how important he is. He’ll think that Janus hates him and that’s fine.

 Janus struggles to breathe.

 “There are two Creativities,” he grits out, even if the ‘but only one Roman’ won’t follow.

 “Patton is the heart,” comes out next, separate from ‘but he needs you to love.’

 “We don’t need you,” hurts on the way out because it leaves behind ‘but we want you, we want you so badly.’

 The Mindscape is crumbling. Janus can’t speak. The others are going to fade. He can’t help Roman. He’s ruined everything.

 He’s forgotten what sweetness tastes like.

 Roman is frowning at him. He stands, striding across the broken floor, eyes flint chips. Janus closes his eyes and braces for the hit.

 Roman’s fingers hook into his collar and yank.

 “What the fuck is that?”

 “Why is it cutting into him?”

 “How long has that been there, this whole time?”

 “Janus—Janus can you breathe?”

 What?

 Janus opens his eyes in confusion. Roman’s still holding onto him but his eyes are fixed not on his face, but lower. Something shiny casts light onto Roman’s face.

 “Janus,” Roman asks softly, “what is this?”

 “What is what?”

 “This,” Roman says darkly, fingertips tracing across something, “around your neck.”

 No.

 No, it’s not real.

 It can’t be real.

 …can it?

 “It’s not a thread,” Janus spits out, his tongue smarting in the air, “and it doesn’t keep me from telling the truth.”

 Roman’s eyes widen in horror. He reaches forward and Janus keens as the pressure tightens.

 “Don’t stop,” he grits out, “it doesn’t hurt.”

 “The sky is green.”

 “What?”

 “The sky is green,” Roman repeats, still glaring hard at Janus’s neck, “the Fourth of July is in October.”

 The thread loosens.

 “Remus, get over here,” Roman barks. A second later, two more fingers slip under the thread. “Now lie.”

 “Um, ventricles are found in the liver.”

 “Blue is made of red and orange.”

 “The alphabet starts with the letter ‘m.’”

 Logan catches on next. “The sun goes around the earth,” he says, nudging Virgil.

 “Uh—“ he glances around— “Patton isn’t wearing glasses.”

 “Paris is in Canada.”

 “Books are printed on alligator skin.”

 “Water isn’t clear.”

 “Mark Zuckerberg isn’t the inventor of Facebook.”

 “Earmuffs go on your hands.”

 “Hamburgers are vegan.”

 Lies spin out of their mouths. Remus grits his teeth as he pulls at the thread. Patton looks around frantically. Janus still can’t breathe.

 The room is settling, slowly but surely, but there are still cracks snaking their way through the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Right under Janus.

 Roman looks directly at him.

 “I hate you.”

 The thread gives.

 The brothers yank, unspooling the thread from around Janus’s throat, throwing it at the walls. It freezes in mid-air, still glowing gold.

 The cracks weren’t cracks, they were threads.

 The golden thread melts seamlessly into the wall, knitting the place back together, stitch by stitch. The walls settle, glowing softly as the floor reconstitutes under them. The Mindscape breathes.

 Janus hasn’t noticed any of this. He’s too busy collapsing into Roman’s arms, sobbing his heart out.

 “Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Roman coos, “I’ve got you, you’re alright, you did it, come here…”

 “He’s gonna be cold,” he hears someone—probably Virgil?—say over his shoulder, “grab a blanket. Can we sink?”

 “Let me try.” A second later there’s another sigh of relief. “Yeah. We can. Let’s get him to the living room, I’ll get a fire going.”

 “In the fireplace, this time, Remus!”

 “Yeah, yeah!”

 “Come on, little snake,” Roman coaxes, lifting him up to a broad chest, “let’s get you warm.”

 He’s still sobbing breathlessly, draped uselessly over Roman. He feels another set of arms as they sink into the couch.

 “I’ve got him,” Patton says quietly, “hey, kiddo, can you hear me?”

 The next sob is slightly higher.

 “Shh, shh, it’s okay, kiddo, you don’t have to speak right now.” Patton rubs soothing circles into his back. “Just stay right here with me, right here, the others are just getting the nest set up.”

 N-nest?

 “Give him to me, I’ll help him down while you slide in.”

 “Make sure to get his head, he’s having trouble right now.”

 “I understand.”

 A warm hand cups the back of his neck, leaning his nose into the crook of a warm shoulder. Books, coffee, whiteboard pen…Logan.

 “You’re freezing,” Logan murmurs, concerned, “let’s get you warmed up…no hyperthermia today, hmm?”

 Janus almost groans in relief as his scales hit something thick and soft and warm. He’s still crying, isn’t he? Why?

 “Hey, Snakey,” Remus mumbles, his hand under Janus’s head, “you gotta roll over, you’re gonna crush yourself that way. Come on—for crying out loud, you bastards, how long does it take to undo a clasp?”

 “Got it.”

 He suppresses a whine as his cape flies away, only for it quickly be replaced by a warm, warm blanket. He blinks his eyes open, straining to see through the tears. He can only see blobs. What is happening?

 “Rest,” comes another voice, is that Roman? Isn’t Roman angry at him? He can’t stop the confused whine.

 “Shh, shh, easy, little snake,” Roman soothes, running his hand through his hair, “breathe, that horrible thing was choking you.”

 The horrible thread…is it…gone?

 “Relax, come on, shh…easy,” he says earnestly when Janus whines again, “don’t work yourself up.”

 “He’s gonna hurt himself if he keeps clawing at his throat like that.”

 He’s doing what now?

 Warm hands take each of his and…oh. Well, maybe he was.

 “That’s it,” Patton whispers, “easy…”

 “What…what’s going on?”

 “You did it,” Logan says softly, stroking his thumb along the back of Janus’s hand, “you figured it out.”

 “But—“ he swallows, still not used to the freedom in his throat— “I couldn’t do it.”

 “You weren’t supposed to do it on your own, Jan-Jan. We all had to do it, remember?”

 “That’s what you said, J.”

 “So we did,” Patton finishes, smiling at him, “and it worked.”

 “But—but I—“ Janus’s eyes flash up to catch Roman’s.

 Roman, who sat there and didn’t protest when Janus couldn’t say one nice thing about him.

 Roman, whom Janus has hurt so many times.

 Roman, who pried the thread away from Janus’s throat without blinking.

 Roman, who caught him, and is still here.

 “Maybe the next time we talk,” Roman says softly, “we can do it without that thread around your throat, hmm?”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Shh, little snake,” he murmurs, gently stroking a tear away from Janus’s cheek, “I know. But not right now, okay? You’re still crying.”

 He is?

 Oh.

 “Close your eyes,” he encourages, his hand still cupping Janus’s face, “rest, we all need it.”

 “Did we—“ his tongue is heavy— “did we ever figure out what happened?”

 “I believe Thomas had something of an identity crisis,” Logan remarks, “but we can figure that out later. For now…we should all try and go back to sleep.”

 “Great. Pop Star, budge.”

 “Hey! Kiddo!”

 “Ah. Much better.”

 “Pocket Protector, stop pretending you don’t wanna cuddle and get down here.”

 “In a moment, Remus, I need to take my glasses off.”

 “Ro-Bro! Get over here.”

 “Re, pulling me over Janus is not going to work.”

 “L, are you coming?”

 “Must you all be so impatient?”

 “Yes, my dear darling nerd, now come here.”

 Logan rolls his eyes and lies down, still holding Janus’s hand. On his other side, Roman leans Janus’s head into his chest and hums softly.

 “There. Now we’re all together again.”

 “Shut the fuck up, Princey, I’m trying to sleep.”

 “Shut up yourself, then.”

 “Kiddos.”

 “Sorry, Pat.”

 Logan chuckles. Remus shifts on the edge of the blanket nest. Roman tilts Janus’s chin up.

 “Are you alright,” he whispers as the others drift off to sleep, “not hurt?”

 Janus shakes his head. “I…was it really a lie?”

 “Was what really a lie, little snake?”

 “…you said ‘I hate you.’”

 “Oh, that.” Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “What does your mouth taste like?”

 …sweet.

 It’s sweet.

 Oh.

  Oh.

 Roman smiles. “Go to sleep, little snake.”

 The Sides fall asleep in the Mindscape, threads wearing them tightly together.

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[slightlymore]

fragment

part of the ‘almost’ collaboration hosted by @hyucksie

final part of the 'soulmates collection' 

doyoung x fem reader | 10k

genre: greek mythology retelling (selene and endymion), abstract historical setting, astrology, astronomy, magic/fantasy, romance, !angst!, smut, fluffy notes 

warnings: swearing, alcohol, explicit sexual content +18 (no hardcore raunchy stuff because it didn’t fit the vibe but highly erotic scenes), bad ending, major character sad situation (not death but similar, idk how to explain without spoiling lol), overall mature themes 

other characters: ten as doyoung’s brother, kun only mentioned 

playlist:  - Moon | Jonghyun - Sun&Moon | NCT 127  - Mystery lover | Taemin  - End to start | NCT 127 

__________ A sigh. 

It was a little and delicate sound, almost inaudible. But Doyoung could hear it so well. 

It was the only thing his mind could focus on besides the soft feeling under his fingers. 

He exhaled too but he couldn’t make sense of his own voice and he didn’t want to when there was this other one he so dearly wanted to hear instead. 

He wanted it to become louder and louder. He wanted to bathe in the smoothness of that voice forever. 

“I just think you need to get laid, that’s all,” Ten smirked before his tongue could make an appearance through his plush lips. It licked one of the grapes he was holding to his mouth and chuckled at Doyoung’s disgusted expression. 

“You’re always on that bullshit. I don’t even know why I keep telling you stuff.” The man commented. 

Ten, previously lying down on the single wooden bench inside the observatory, sat up with a roll of the eyes. His fluffy hair bounced around his forehead at his movements and his smile was wicked.

“If you keep having wet dreams, it means that you’re in need for some, so you should go and get it, brother.” 

Doyoung sighed and placed his papers down, unable to understand what he was trying to do with moving them around in the first place. 

“The thing is-,”

“Yeah I know,” Ten interrupted him, “you only have sexy dreams in the observatory like a freak. Kun said it’s because you’re exhausted and your mind is more prone to let your deepest desires-”

“Wait. You told Kun about my dreams?” 

If Ten got jumpy because of Doyoung's sudden loud voice, he concealed it well. 

“We talk about unconsciousness all the time,” the boy explained relaxedly. “I think you should come too sometimes. You can let out some of your, uhm, frustration,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he took a few steps separating himself from Doyoung’s desk. 

Doyoung shrugged to make Ten take off the hand from his shoulder. “I am a scientist, not a philosopher or whatever you guys like to call yourselves.” 

“Well I am sorry that scientists don’t fuck and we do.” 

Ten ran out of the observatory with a giggle before he could be hit in the head by Doyoung’s telescope. 

______

Doyoung has always imagined meeting his soulmate in a very romantic environment. 

He was not an extremely romantic person, but since it was still a soulmate talk, he imagined at least a few shy smiles and a kiss on the hand, not a scream and his cock in his fist instead.

He was the first to scream as he turned around at the sound of rustling leaves.

You screamed too but only because he screamed so loudly in the silence of the night that the dormant birds flew away from the trees. 

Then you yelped again when your eyes fell to the man’s crotch.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” you hid your face with your palms and it felt boiling under your fingertips. 

The young man felt paralyzed and his first thought was that he wouldn’t have been able to touch himself anymore because of the shame. 

He breathed out once after finally putting away everything that had no business to be seen and cleared his throat. 

You had turned around in the process and Doyoung looked at your back for a moment before finally speaking. 

“Hey. Why are you wandering at night like this?” 

“Uh-” you put away your hands but didn’t dare to face him. “I couldn’t sleep and decided to come out for a bath,” you explained. “My lord,” you quickly added. 

“How did you get here? This property is owned by my astrology professor.” 

“That would be my father, sir. I live-” you lifted one arm and indicated the tower behind the garden, “-there.” 

Doyoung followed your finger with his eyes then took in your figure yet again. 

“You can turn around. I have no intention of hurting you.” 

You did as he told you and you were pleasantly surprised to see him as flustered as you were. “I’m sorry I startled you, sir.” 

The young man shook his head. “I have to apologize. It was highly inappropriate of me to do that in public.” 

“Well, no one was here to see, sir.” 

“You were here. And don’t call me sir, just call me Doyoung.” 

You smiled timidly and took a few steps towards the lake, nodding. “Then it’s nice to finally meet you Doyoung.” 

The man opened his lips for a second but you spoke on top of him. 

“Oh, my father speaks so highly of you every day,” you dipped one foot inside the calm water and Doyoung noticed for the first time what you had no shoes on. “He laughs at you for wanting to call yourself an astronomer instead of an astrologer but he also praises you a lot. My dad is an open-minded man. Sometimes I feel like he loves you more than he loves me.” 

Doyoung stared at your ankles then calves as you gently moved your toes inside the water. 

Your tone was light and nonchalant but he could sense the light layer of bitterness on it. 

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” 

You tilted your head to the side at his words and smiled again, the white and thin nightgown you were wearing almost touching the water too. Then you gathered the material around your waist and taking it off, you threw it on the shore near Doyoung’s feet. 

He gasped. 

“What are you doing?” he asked with a trembling voice, shocked to see your suddenly naked back getting swallowed by the shining darkness of the lake. 

“I told you, I came here for a bath,” you chirped back as if it was an appropriate answer. 

Turning around towards him you noticed that he caught a glimpse of your chest before he looked away in the distance. 

His adam apple travelled up and down distressed and even in the darkness you could see his neck and face redden up. 

You smiled again and crouched down, letting the water get to your chin and hide your curves from his eyes. 

“What would my father say if he knew I’m here naked in front of you now?” 

“Hm, he would probably kill me,” he replied sincerely. 

You let out a bright laugh. “Don’t worry. He won’t do it. If he doesn’t know.” 

He closed his mouth and you noticed the little smile trying to bloom on his lips as you exchanged a longer look than intended. 

Then he looked away and cleared his throat. 

“Then I’ll leave for now and I’ll come back when you’re done bathing,” he suddenly got up and patted his ass trying to clean his slacks of any dirt. 

“Aren’t you here to stare at the moon?” your voice stopped him from walking away. 

You were looking at him, gently swimming backwards. “Stay. I won’t bother you.” 

Doyoung sighed and after a moment of uncertainty, he moved back slowly and sat down again. 

You closed your eyes, letting the water lull you slowly. 

For the first time in weeks, the young man didn’t look at the moon once. 

__________

“What are the results for tonight?” you leaned in to read Doyoung’s notes, your gown collecting the drops of water falling on your body and making it difficult for the man to look away. 

You started to come out every night, the sound of your footsteps arriving to Doyoung’s senses first then your scent.

The results for that night were that Doyoung absolutely loved breasts and that he absolutely needed to touch himself or he might go insane. 

“The moon got smaller as predicted and it had the same course on the sky as usual.” 

You chuckled. 

“Well, of course. What would Selene do otherwise? Wander around?” 

Doyoung bit his lower lip as he would do when listening to your father teach him about astrology and deities. It was obvious that you would have his beliefs about the moon too.

“Well, she could, couldn’t she? Since she’s a goddess,” he played along. 

You sat near him and patted your neck with one end of your gown fabric. “She can technically walk away. But only to places where her presence is needed. And she goes away once every cycle to sleep.” 

Doyoung put away his papers and leaned back on his elbows, suddenly very amused. 

“Selene needs to sleep?” 

You noticed the almost mocking tone in his voice and smiled. “Of course she does. She obviously sleeps during the day just like Helios sleeps during the night but she also needs a full recharge once every cycle.” 

“You know a lot about her. Do you also know why she shrinks every night? Is that to show that she’s getting tired?” 

You chuckled at his theory but nodded. “Exactly. And after sleeping she grows bigger and bigger.” 

Doyoung hummed pensively and his eyes fell on your spine. “Wouldn’t it make sense if she came back full after recharging? Instead, she comes back small. The process makes no sense.” 

He raised his eyes to meet your gaze and you noticed the way his fingers twitched as if he forced himself to still his hand and not touch your skin. 

“There are so many things that make no sense,” you whispered.  

The man tilted his head to the side at your words and you let yourself down on your back, your eyes drinking in the stars above you. 

“Like what?” 

“Love?” 

Doyoung imitated your position and you had to prevent yourself from jolting when his shoulder touched yours. 

“Do you believe in love, astronomer?” you turned your head to see his face. 

“I don’t know. I have to see and touch things to believe in them.” 

“So you need to see and touch Selene to believe in her?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And would you believe it if she suddenly appeared and told you that it was her?” 

Doyoung turned his head to look at you as well and his gaze made your guts twist on themselves. He was so close that you both kept on whispering. 

“She should prove it somehow.” 

“What would you want her to do?” 

“Something goddess-like?” 

“What would that be?” you turned on your stomach interested and lifted your bust on your elbows. Doyoung’s eyes wandered on your chest for a little moment and it made you burn. 

“I don’t know. She’s the goddess. She should know. What can Selene do?” 

“Make people fall in love with her until they descend into madness."

Doyoung hummed with a smile. 

“Human girls can do that too. How is that special?” 

“So you do believe in love," you smiled teasingly, one finger to poke his bicep. 

“Well, it never happened to me, but if so many people talk about it, I guess it could be true.”

“A lot of people talk about Selene and yet, you don’t believe in her.”  

His eyes were barely visible in the night but the little lights in them were dancing just like the stars around the Moon. 

You opened your lips and breathed out.

Then he got up and collected his stuff before you could slip and ask him to just touch you right there under the black sky until he believed in you. 

__________

The first time you saw him you didn't think much of it. 

Another night, another person longing for something while looking up at the moon. 

You let yourself down to watch him better and you smiled surprised upon seeing his features. Apollo would wither away with shame in comparison so you chuckled excitedly. 

Finally. What a nice match. 

What a nice subject to driving into insanity for you. 

So you kept staring at his dark eyes, illuminated by your light, then at the curve of his forehead, his jaw, his neck. You imagined it strained as he begged for your love and you chuckled again. 

"Sleep," you whispered to him, eager to enter his dreams just like you did with so many people before him. 

But he didn't move and his eyes remained wide and awake. 

You tilted your head to the side, studying him well. 

"I said, Sleep," your voice travelled inside his head again but it got blocked by such a thick wall to make you almost fall backwards. 

You scoffed, one foot stomping on the ground and your arms crossed on the chest. 

He was not thinking about you?

He was staring at the moon, yes, but he wasn't staring at you?

_________

It was not until he fell asleep in his observatory that you managed to get closer. 

Night after night you were staring at each other without him realizing and night after night his head was completely closed off. Drifting away in the morning, angry and tired, your only thoughts were made of plans around how to enter that man's dreams.

You were feeling weak, so little time until Helios would push you to the side with his light. But your pride was hurt and you were desperate to get into his head. 

It was so easy this one time. Completely at your mercy. So easy that you basically tripped forward not expecting it. 

His mind was like soft butter and you giggled triumphant, stepping around his dreams. 

Finally. 

It was completely silent inside of him and you inhaled deeply. 

What a nice head, you thought. So calm and peaceful. No chaos and no darkness. 

You opened your eyes and focused around his imagination. 

It was a deep refreshing forest with a faraway waterfall. The sound of it accompanying the sound of your nude feet on the grass. 

Then you saw him. 

The man was lying down on a patch of soft moss, eyes closed and relaxed features. Like some sort of spirit. Like a god. 

You walked to him silently and touched his knee. His eyes slowly opened at the sensation and his lips got brushed by a sigh. You leaned down on top of him, catching it with your lips, sighing into him as well. 

Finally, you smiled, as his hands pressed into your soft flesh. 

But before he could touch your bare skin, you were already drifting away to sleep yourself and the dusk vaporized you from his arms. 

So you tried again. 

And again. 

Always near the time, you'd touch gowns with Helios as you passed the baton. Always touching the mortal man just for a second in his mind and his dreams.

Until you became obsessed.

His hands on your stomach and sliding lightly on your bust. You holding onto his wrist with both your hands and delicately kissing his thumb before gently starting to suck on it. His muscles contracting at the sight and you feeling him harden underneath you. His lips slightly parted as if breathing for him was suddenly harder and his gaze was dark and lustful. Jerking up with no warming and, pressing you hard against himself, kissing you hungrily. Wet, messy, and rough. His fingers digging into your thighs and yours into his shoulders. His skin rubbing against your and you desperately wanting more.

Until you got too impatient. 

__________

“It’s called a telescope. It’s a machine that makes things appear closer. I want to see every detail of the moon and I’ll soon be able to.” 

Doyoung was scribbling away into his papers and you shifted your head from resting on your knees to resting it on your hand instead. 

“Can I see it?” 

He didn’t reply for a few moments, eyebrows furrowed and clenched jaw, so you thought he didn’t hear you. 

“It’s not done yet,” he then mumbled right when you opened the mouth to speak again. 

“Well-” you started but he suddenly got up and extended his hand to you. 

You looked at his delicate palm and fought the urge to kiss his fingertips. 

You lifted your hand to touch it. It was soft and warm as you held it. And you hoped he wouldn’t let yours go after helping you up. 

Unfortunately, he did and started to walk up the little hill towards the tower by himself. 

You smiled a little and followed him after gathering your gown in your fists, eyes on his back instead of paying attention where you should put your feet instead.

“So tell me. Why do you like the moon so much?” 

Humans were so used to walking around that it was nothing for him to arrive at the top of the hill in a few steps. You haven’t been walking as much as you did while with Doyoung in aeons so you had to rest, palms on your knees and panting hard as he spoke. 

“It’s fascinating, don’t you think?” 

“Well,” you shrugged, “she’s a goddess.” You replied, the sweat on your forehead and messy hair very ungoddess-like. 

Doyoung looked at his side, staring at your lips as they moved then looked away at the tower in front of him. His visible cheek trembled a little under the moonlight and you smiled. 

“So you still don’t believe the moon is a goddess. My job here is useless.” 

He sighed at your affirmation. “I just- I’m sure there’s more to that. The moon is made of soil just like the earth. I think it’s a piece of earth that didn’t manage to merge with us.” 

He started to walk away as you caught up with his pace. 

“Merge with us? Like when the earth was made someone just left a piece of it out for no reason?” 

The boy looked at you after arriving at the wooden door and resting one hand on it. “You think I’m insane, right? No one believes me.” 

You imitated his expression and lightly hit his shoulder with yours. “I don’t think you’re insane. Your mind is just fascinating like the moon herself.” 

“You think there’s a possibility that the goddess is mad at me for not believing in her existence? Maybe this is why I’m not making any progress with my studies,” Doyoung mumbled to himself amused as unlocked the tower. 

You stared at his profile for a while. The silence made it possible for the soft breeze on the lake water to be heard as well as the young man’s yearning sigh. 

“I think she’s flattered. You’re like a challenge.” 

Doyoung turned his head around to face you again and his dark eyes under the strands of black hair were hypnotizing as he made a few steps backwards into the round room. 

“Flattered by me? There are so many people staring at her.” 

You tightened the hold on your gown as you followed him into the darkness of the observatory. 

“Not like you. I watched you from my own tower and you’ve been here every night for so many cycles.” 

“I am flattered that you’ve been watching me,” Doyoung lowered his voice.  

You smiled again and felt a lump grow in your throat under his gaze, forcing you to swallow before talking again. 

“Also, you don’t just mindlessly admire her. You want to understand. And that’s fresh.” 

You looked up at the high ceiling and admired the weird wooden construction. It was a little dusty but cosy.

Doyoung let one corner of his lips rise. “So the moon is bored with all the suitors and finds me amusing. Will she kill me after playing with me like this or you think she will grant me forgiveness?” 

You looked down again and stared at each other until Doyoung’s eyes widened a little upon seeing your troubled expression. 

“Hey, it was a joke,” he touched your arm delicately. “The moon is not going to kill me.” 

You gulped and lowered your gaze upon feeling his touch. 

“No, she can’t. But what if she has to put you to sleep?” you asked with a feeble voice. 

His pupils shook quickly as if he was waiting for you to finally laugh out loud at the joke. 

But you didn’t. 

“Why would Selene do that?” 

You walked away from him, hands behind your back, neck strained as you looked up at the structure. 

“Have you ever heard of Selene being in love?” 

“I haven’t heard much of her at all, to be honest.” 

He leaned his hips on the desk and crossed his arms on the chest. 

“What have you been doing during my father’s lessons?” you suddenly turned your head towards him and he finally could see a hit of amusement on your features. 

“Hm,” he considered. “Thinking about the moon but not like that.” 

You rolled your eyes and touched the telescope in front of you with one finger. It was sturdy and cold. Then you started to walk around the room, the fingertip gently caressing everything you could touch. 

“Selene is cruel. She makes people fall in love with her. With no promises. Just for fun. And when they all learn that she can’t possibly love them back, they all leave.”  

“Why?” 

You stopped near a wall adorned with a simple mirror. The reflection was something you didn’t want to look at so you placed your gaze on Doyoung. He exchanged the look. 

“It’s her fate.” 

“Her fate to be cruel?” 

“Her fate to be alone.” You started to walk again. 

His clothes neatly hanging near his bed smelled like incense and they were soft under your finger. 

“That sounds like someone that wants to protect themselves,” he considered. 

You didn’t reply for a moment so Doyoung kept talking. 

“Selene sounds like a sad individual. She keeps making people fall in love with her but no one is trying to make her fall in love with them. And then they run away like cowards.”

You chuckled a little. “You think? But that’s Fate. If you fall in love with Selene, you either run away or lose your life.” 

“And how many people lost their life?” 

You hummed. “No one really.”

“If you love someone truly, no Fate is going to make you tremble in your slacks like a little boy.” 

You chuckled again. 

Your room tour was almost over as you walked over him, your finger gently touching the table until reaching his thigh. 

He looked down at your hand and followed it’s movements as you drew a line up on it until getting to his hip, then on his wrist and forearm. 

His skin shivered in goosebumps under your touch and you heard him swallow. 

“If you’re going to keep being so obsessed with the moon, you might lose your life too,” you whispered. “Run away now, before it’s too late.” 

His hand twitched as he loosened up his arms on his sides and grabbed your fingers before you could get to his chest. 

“Selene might choose to put me to sleep?” 

“She might have to. For pity. To not let you die on the hands of the Fates instead since it’s gruesome.” 

Doyoung wrapped your shoulders with his arm and pulled you towards his body.

 You heard the buzzing of his voice near his heart when he talked. “I will not let the moon do that. Don’t worry.”

His scent was inebriating and you closed your eyes, palms shyly placed on the linen of his tunic, his breath tickling your forehead before he placed a kiss on it. 

The touch felt so dizzying that you had to inhale twice. 

“Promise?” you lifted your head and asked quietly, the words travelling on the little sigh you emitted and placing themselves on his plump ones. 

“I promise-,” he tried to say but he was so close that you didn’t let him finish, the kiss he gave you after you leaned in was better than any words. 

Then he kissed your cheek and jaw, then you felt his tongue gently outlining your ear until you whimpered and tightened your fingers into his clothes. He chuckled lightly and kissed the spot under the ear, down down on the neck, biting gently into your flesh as you started to pant. His hands palmed the bare skin on your back before meeting the fabric of your nightgown again. 

It was your turn to get goosebumps all over your skin as you melted in his hold. 

Then you noticed the lights of the dusk gently illuminating the small windows of the observatory and you had to lightly push his chest back. 

“I have to go,” you whispered quickly. 

“Just a minute,” he replied on your lips, his arms not wanting to let you go yet. You kissed him back in short pecks until he chuckled. 

“Okay okay. Go,” he pressed his lips into yours for the last time and you turned around fast, yelping once as he lightly slapped your ass. 

__________

“There’s something I need to confess,” you announced. 

Doyoung’s eyes weren't on the moon that night either and you smiled at the small victory. Then you felt a sting inside your chest that prompted you to finally be honest with him. 

Getting out of the water slowly you hoped he'd let his obsidian eyes shamelessly caress your skin but sensing your approach he lifted his eyes on the sky instead with a secret gulp. 

“What is it?” His voice was low and a little pasty. 

"Are you drinking?" you chuckled once surprised as your feet walked the short sand shore before you could feel the cool grass under your toes instead. 

Doyoung smiled. "It's starting to get a little bit cold these nights. I have to keep myself warm."

You kneeled in front of him, sitting on your legs and extending your hand towards the bottle. "I'm also a little chilly," you explained. 

The young man handed you the wine and watched your lips as you tasted it. 

"Perhaps if you didn’t wander around naked you won't be feeling this cold." 

"Perhaps if you finally let me under your cloak, you won't be feeling this cold either." 

Doyoung's pupils trembled and his lips tightened. His lashes fanned his cheeks a few times and he looked away as you collected a single drop of wine from your lower lip with the tip of the tongue. 

He was so stubborn to fully give in that it made you euphoric. 

After the little exchange in the observatory, you expected him to jump on you as soon as he saw you. Instead, he slyly sat down on his usual spot in front of the lake, eyes high on the sky and hands busy taking his notes. 

So you undressed as usual and entered the water until you could physically feel his gaze burning your skin.

You were actually relieved he felt like that. 

Nights after nights you wondered if you should just stop bothering him. 

You felt selfish and cruel. Cruel with yourself, because you already knew how it would end. He’d run away from you and if perhaps he would not, if he prefered to actually die, then- 

You drank again and enjoyed his awkward silence for a bit. 

“I’ve been watching you that first night," you confessed. Doyoung's breath halted for a second and you smiled.

I’m Selene. I’m actually Selene. 

“I told you that I’ve been watching you for many nights, actually. From my tower.”

You locked eyes and you felt his hand wrap yours making you shiver. He retrieved the bottle and sipped talking.

"Why?" 

I’m Selene. 

"For the same reason, you've been staring at the moon. To understand. And because you're beautiful." 

Doyoung gulped the liquid and his eyes finally locked with yours. 

"What do you want to understand about me?" 

"Everything."

The crickets kept you company in the moment of silence and for the first time Doyoung didn't shy away from openly looking at your curves and you felt your skin get goosebumps. 

His fingers then unbuttoned his cloak and lifting himself on his knees, he wrapped your naked body with it. The warmth and his scent almost made you whine in pleasure. You desperately wanted him to pull you down on top of him.

"So you choose that exact moment to come and talk to me." 

The little smile that crept on Doyoung's lips made you smile as well. He sat down again and relaxed back on one elbow.

“I had no idea that looking at the moon would get you horny if that's what you're saying."

He looked at you with the corner of his eyes. The amusement in them made you bite your lower lip. 

"You got horny by looking at me though." 

In your whole long life, you've never experienced that type of teasing. 

He was there, hands not on you, doing everything with his eyes instead of his touch and it was driving you insane. 

It was not the first time you'd come down and talk to admirers that loved to stare at you, yet not a single one has made it so difficult for you to sleep with them. 

Were you losing your charm? Was it their belief in Selene that made you look fascinating to their eyes? Was this the reason Doyoung kept it all together all of these nights? You were just a normal girl in his eyes, weren't you? 

It made you so frustrated. 

And relieved at the same time.

“So why were you horny that night?” 

“I’ve been dreaming about this girl I have never met before,” he admitted." I don't know who she is or what she looks like-"

"But she managed to get you horny like that?" 

He had another sip from the bottle as if regretting telling you that. 

"Maybe it was Selene? She's known for meeting people in their dreams," you suggested. 

I am Selene. It was me. Keep me close but please run away too. 

"Selene doesn’t-” he tried to reply but stopped, aware of your deep beliefs. 

"And a girl from your dreams does?" 

"I've never-” 

"Is this why you're here? You hope to dream about her again?" 

"I am here because I am studying the moon." 

“What was the girl doing in your dreams? Can you show me?” you lowered your voice and you could have sworn that Doyoung was ready to finally push you under his weight. 

“Don’t do this to me,” he whispered instead. 

I am sorry. I am so sorry. 

“Why not?” you touched his knee. 

“I haven’t been myself since you’re around.” 

“Is that a bad thing?”

It is. It’s such a bad thing.  

“I just… I want to concentrate on the moon-” 

“She’s not going anywhere.” 

If there were men that refused a naked girl as she explicitly asked them to touch her skin, Doyoung realized with great difficulty that he was not one of them. 

Fuck, when you straddled his lap and leaned down, not even Zeus and all of his squad would have been able to stop Doyoung from sliding his hands up your thighs and grab your waist.

"Will you leave me alone after this?" he whispered on your lips. 

"Only if you leave me alone first." 

"You came to me first."

"I don't think that's correct."

Doyoung's eyebrows furrowed at your words but he had no time to think about it at your command. 

“Kiss me,” you managed to tell him before he pulled you down on his chest and promptly bit your lower lip. You whined once and cupped his face as his hands pressed you on himself.

It was weird. It was so weird. 

His tongue playing with yours and his fingers caressing your naked body, you felt powerless. You were so small. 

A weird sensation was engulfing your chest just like his scent and warmth tickled your senses. 

It tasted like danger and it made your nerves shake. 

The desire was so high that it made you dizzy but the terror was just as big as you felt his grip tighten on you. 

You felt like any other man you bewitched before. Insane. At his mercy. 

And you desperately didn’t want him to die. 

"Wait!" 

Doyoung stopped kissing your neck and looked up at your face. 

"Is everything alright? Sorry if I-," 

"No, no, it's fine," you gulped, gently moving back until standing. 

You tugged at his cloak, even more, covering yourself up to the chin. 

"I'll borrow this if it's not an issue for you," you tried to smile a little. "I just remembered I need to go home. I’ll let you concentrate on your studies for now.” 

"Wait- it’s not morning yet-," he blinked at you and stood up as well, but you were already running away on the little dirt path towards the tower. 

__________

"Your game is so weak that you make girls run away now?" 

"I didn't tell you this to get teased by you," Doyoung replied sternly but when Ten looked over he smiled seeing the other's amused expression. 

"Perhaps she just wanted to seduce you and when you finally got seduced she got bored."

"Valid. But we could have at least finished." Doyoung sighed. "I'm afraid I scared her somehow." 

The lake sounded calm in the colours of the dawn and Doyoung raised his gaze to look at the sky. 

"I mean, I'd be scared to sleep with you too." Ten joked but Doyoung wasn't listening. 

"There's something else,” the latter mumbled, almost to himself. 

Ten went quiet and looked at the other's glowing profile. 

"She felt so familiar as I held into her. Her scent and voice and her breathing. She was exactly like the girl I've been dreaming about."

Ten whistled. "You're projecting now?"

"Maybe she didn't want to be used as I thought about that dreamy girl," Doyoung murmured on his own. “I swear they felt the same though.” 

Ten waved his palm in front of his brother's face but the other didn't flinch, eyes lifeless as he was lost in thoughts. 

Then Ten shrugged. 

"Go and find her. Ask to talk to her."

Doyoung finally came to his senses. "You want her father to kill me?" 

“Go to sleep then.” 

“What?” 

Ten shrugged again. “Go to sleep and see if they’re the same person.” 

“Don’t make fun of me.” 

“I told you that you should come over our weird mystical meetings sometime.” He signed the words with air quotes. “You’d understand that dreams can be something more than mere night hallucinations.” 

__________

Doyoung didn't look at the moon that night. 

Instead, he went to sleep when it came out adorning the sky and he fell into the slumber with its image burned on his eyelids. 

He felt an idiot but he hoped to see you.

Doyoung didn't believe in fate or higher forces but if his mind could somehow predict your arrival he wanted to find out how it worked. Theory, observation and conclusion. 

It was a soft dream. 

He was walking a flowery hill. The spectrally white blossoms were high to his hips and he gently let his hands caress their petals at his passage. The moon made them bright as if they were faes and all of them were directing him somewhere.

He knew you were there waiting for him before he could see you. 

Timidly sat on the top of the hill, your white gown was looking even brighter than the moon itself. Your thighs were full-on display and for a moment Doyoung felt like he'd lived a moment like this in the past already.

He stopped and looked down around his feet where a small rabbit tilted its head to the side, staring at him with its big and glossy eyes. It was light brown and fluffy. 

Doyoung chuckled once and crouched down. The little rabbit hopped into his arms and he carried it up until reaching your smiling face. 

“I missed you,” he said as a greeting. 

A small breeze made the flowers lean gently on the side and your gown inflated as you stood.

You took a little step towards him and placed one finger on his lower lip. 

He let his gaze fall on it and kissed your fingertip. His skin was warm and soft.

Then he kissed the round sweet you made appear in your hand.

He chuckled feeling the honey already melting on his lips. He bit into it and you ate the half of it that was leftover.

“Why are you running away from me?” he whispered as the rabbit hopped off.

You were unsure if he spoke to it or you.

“I’m afraid.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“The unknown.”

Doyoung lifted one hand and cupped your face. You exhaled and closed your eyes.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked.

“Falling in love with you.” 

_________

“I’m glad you took some time off to see me, son.” 

“Thank you for accepting the invitation, sir.” 

The two men were slowly walking through the Tower’s gardens, full of roses bushes and soft grass. 

“How are the studies going? Got some new information about the Moon?” 

Doyoung inhaled, hands clasped together behind his back and tilted head. 

“I do. And that’s why I’m here. I have some questions for you, sir.” 

The Professor halted his movements and smiled under the thick eyebrows. 

“What’s all that about?” 

Doyoung started to walk again and the man followed him. 

“I think I might be slightly insane but what if our theories both coexist? What if the moon is just a celestial object for some and a goddess for others, based on their beliefs?” 

The man laughed. “Have you been to the meetings of that philosopher brother of yours lately?” 

Doyoung smiled a bit at the teasing. 

“I think you can be right,” the Professor then added with a different tone. 

They both stopped again and Doyoung tried to read the expression in his eyes. 

“We’re incredible beings. We’re creators. The divine in us wants to create things so badly. Art, science, food, babies.” 

They both smiled again. 

“Reality shifts according to what you believe in and you can create things out of nowhere.” 

“But is that true if I created it? Isn’t it just fantasy?” 

“And what exactly is reality in the first place?” 

“Something you can see and touch. Something you can feel with all of your senses.” 

“Air is reality. Can you see and touch it? Can you feel it with your tongue? No. But it’s here. We all agree on it.”

The astronomer smiled again. “It’s because we need different eyes to see it.” 

“Just like you need different eyes to see Selene instead of a round disk in the sky,” the man replied. 

Doyoung turned around and walked again in silence. 

“Would Selene start to exist like flesh and bone in front of me if I started to believe in her?” he asked after a moment. 

“Yes. And the moon would look like a piece of dirt to me if I had your beliefs instead.” 

Doyoung sighed, shaking his head to the side as if trying to apologize. 

“I don’t know why I started to think about all of these things.” 

“You’re not the first man to get heartache for her, Doyoung.” 

“I am not-” Doyoung blinked a few times, unable to go on. 

“It’s actually,” he finally faced the old man, “it’s actually all about your daughter, sir,” his voice was feeble and his cheeks lightly dusted with the colour of roses. 

The Professor opened his mouth for a moment but he was quick to close it as a little smile adorned his mouth instead. 

His arm moved and Doyoung fought the urge to not run away. But the man had no ill intentions. Instead he fatherly cupped the other’s nape and laughed once. 

“I do not have a daughter, my boy.” 

__________

She’s cruel.

Doyoung could understand that. He was not stupid nor blind. 

Swaying your hips around him, visiting him all nights, eyes full of him and basically begging him to touch you: only a fool would not take a hint. 

Yet, you didn’t come to him anymore. You ran away instead of fully seducing him, breaking him, leaving him desperate. 

Or was it the whole plan? Making him long for more until no other thought could have space in his mind? 

Well, it was working. 

But Doyoung was also the sole creator of his reality and his heart was still not acquainted with the truth of the moon being a goddess. And if he didn’t believe in you, you were not real. Just a fragment of his imagination, of his dreams.

Although your touch and your breath on his skin was something he could actually feel. And the thing blooming inside his heart was also something he could feel. 

Slow feet to drag to his observatory he barely noticed the white gown abandoned on the lake’s shore. He had no intentions to look for you yet there you were again when he least tried hard to reach you. 

The night was dark and the moon was but a mere semicircle in the middle of infinite stars. 

And you were barely visible in the slow movement of the lake too, eyes closed and face up to bathe into the myriad of lights. 

“I’ve never asked your name.” 

His voice was low but it startled you. He was standing on the strand of sand, nude feet gently touched by the water at a slow rhythm. 

Hands in his slacks pockets and head ever so slightly tilted to the side, he looked so confident to make your blood boil. 

Your eyes ran over his thighs then up to his small waist. You imagined yourself wrapping it with your arms, pressing your face into the clean scent of his white flowy shirt, fingers drawing the most prominent veins on his forearms made bare by his hands that slowly unbuttoned the sleeves.

“You didn’t.” 

You swam backwards, water hitting the swell of your breasts at each fluid movement as you put on a brave face.  

He smiled and your breath vibrated but then you couldn’t see his face anymore, hidden by the fabric he took off. 

His shirt fell near your gown and you looked at its trajectory before realizing what you had in front of you. 

“What are you doing?” your voice was not brave anymore as you spoke and you gulped once. 

“Taking a bath. I had a very long day,” he explained, amused eyes under his messy hair, hands already unbuttoning his pants. 

You watched those too as they fell to his ankles before he could step out of them and when you raised your eyes again you inhaled sharply. 

Doyoung didn’t comment on your inability to look at him but you could almost feel his smile burn the side of your face as you turned around, laying down on your back again and trying to calm your buzzing nerves. 

The water did nothing to lull you as your guts physically felt each meter Doyoung swam towards you. 

“I dreamt you a few nights ago,” he talked and his voice was nearer than you expected. 

“Oh really. Was that nice?” 

“You were there too, Selene."

You floundered with a gasp at that name on his lips but he was quick to wrap your body with his arms and keep you afloat. Your chest was expanding quickly and it stopped when you realized that it was pressed on Doyoung’s naked body. 

"What are you talking about?" you tried to chuckle, palms on his chest as if trying to push him away but not actually wanting to do it. 

“Look at me,” his voice was a whisper. 

You breathed out and kept staring at his collarbones instead. 

“A goddess would certainly have enough guts to look at a mere man’s eyes, wouldn’t she?” 

His fingers delicately drew your jaw until lifting your chin up. 

The look you exchanged was electrifying and your hands got buried in his shoulders’ muscles on their own. 

“You certainly have a lot of guts for a mere man.” 

“Is this why you’re running away from me? You’re not used to it? For your little pets to have guts?"

You scoffed once. 

“I could- I could set you on fire if I wanted to.” 

“You already do without trying,” he smiled. 

“I could physically turn you on fire, you know?”

Doyoung hummed at your threats and tightened his hold on your hips even more until there was no more possible space between your bodies anymore. 

“You’re physically turning me on fire,” he whispered near your ear. “Do you not feel it?” 

"Doyoung," you whined, his skin rubbing on yours as you shifted. 

"Selene," he replied. 

"We should not do this."

"Do what?" 

You exhaled frustrated and finally looked at his eyes. 

"You should not try to sleep with the goddess of the moon if you want to be alive."

"And who's going to kill me?" 

"The Fates." His lips curved up. 

"I'm serious! It's going to kill you."

"But I can’t step back. I'm just a weak mortal bewitched by you."

"We both know that's not true. You don't care about me at all. Not--,” you gulped. “Not like I do."

He smiled a little. 

"And that drives you insane, doesn’t it?" his breath caressed your earlobe as he whispered near it. "You hate being weak."

You closed your eyes with fluttering eyes as you felt his fingers caress your spine, from the base of your neck, down to your waist until reaching the softness of your ass.

"Why are you resisting me, let me in."

"You're just everything I was afraid of."

"Maybe it's time to stop and face your fears."

"There's no going back after this. You should run away now.”

"I don’t want to go back." 

"You said it yourself. You’re but a mere man. A human!” you argued. 

"And yet here you are, Selene herself melting in my arms."

You sighed in frustration. "Don’t get so cocky."

"You said that the worst thing that could happen is you falling in love with me. Is that really that bad?" 

“The Fates will get to you, Doyoung? Do you not understand? You’ll be gone.” 

“You said that you can put me to sleep more gently. Do that.”

“You’ll be gone!”

"I’ll find a way back to you."

"You’re so reckless for a scientist."

"Your influence on me is really bad.”

“You’re not taking this seriously at all.” 

“Can’t be rational when all I can think about is how much I want to fuck you dizzy.” 

You opened your mouth to reply something witty but you couldn't because with quick hands he took your arms and wrapped them around his neck. It was so quick that you were still in the middle of processing what just happened when with gentle fingers he directed your head closer to his face and pressed a sweet kiss on your lips. 

You let yourself be cuddled by his homely scents as you slid your fingers through his soft hair. His hands were drawing light lines on your back and between his arms, you felt warm and safe. All your worries were suddenly gone and you couldn't feel any tiredness or anxiety in your muscles as Doyoung smoothed it all for you.

He eventually broke up the kiss and you were both slightly breathless as you looked at each other in the eyes. His gaze was intense and rough and you couldn't stop thinking about the way your body was pressing against his.

Your thoughts might have been written on your face because he smiled slightly and got his hands busy to slowly slide his fingers across your ass and thighs. 

"I can stop if you want me to," he said, almost whispering. 

"No, don’t stop,” you whispered back. 

__________

“So, what are you? Like, immortal?” 

His voice was a low buzz. Head resting on your stomach and arms wrapped around your body, you let your hand gently play with his hair. 

The night was cold on the lake’s shore. His cloak felt soft under your naked bodies though and his mere presence made it impossible for you to feel any breeze. 

You exhaled and shifted in his hold to be able to look at him. “Yes, but I can die too.” 

“Well, you do have hot blood inside of your veins,” he smirked, lifting his head too, palming your body up until reaching your warm cheeks. You closed your eyes for a moment, gently rubbing your side of the face on his hand before opening them up and taking in the view of him between your legs. 

“I told you how this is a curse, right?” 

He hummed, going back to his previous position, hands wrapped around your thighs and slowly drawing diagrams on your skin. 

“And it’s bullshit.” 

“How is that-”  

“Who the hell are the Fates and why do they have a say in your destiny?” He sounded angry. 

“Also why are you even cursed?” he lifted his head to look at you and his furrowed eyebrows made you giggle. 

“The Goddess of the Moon is not the same forever. We change every other aeon. I have been chosen this time and with it came the curse.” 

Doyoung rolled his eyes so incredulously that you giggled again. 

“My heart is flowing with jealousy. Of all I’ve ever wanted, my hands got only smoke,” you whispered and Doyoung blinked at your sudden change in tone. 

“Hey,” he slithered upwards until placing his arms around your head. 

You wrapped his body with yours and hid your face into the crook of his neck.

“It’s going to be so soon,” you whined. 

“What?” he rolled over and pulled you towards his chest. 

“The Judgement.” 

Like a spell that summons darkness, the night sky suddenly got hidden. 

You inhaled sharply and got up, away from his hold.

Doyoung’s eyes were wide, looking at your face then at the sky where no stars and moon were shining anymore. 

“You have to run away,” your voice trembled. 

“I will not do that,” he stood as well, hands trying to pull you closer again. 

You took a few steps back, shaking your head as if afraid of him to touch you. 

“Doyoung, are you perhaps a fool?” you almost screamed. 

“Yeah, maybe I am.” 

"You said that you wouldn't let me do this!" you cried out, face wet with tears, unable to get closer to him any further. “I thought you didn’t love me and you’d run away like the others!”

Doyoung was pale and with shaky hands trying hard to reach you. But you were the Moon, high up in the sky and so far away for him to touch. 

“How can I not love you?” he whispered. 

You brought a hand to your mouth, feet slowly leaving the shore, rising in your goddess glory. But there was nothing glorious at that moment as your body jolted with hiccups. 

"It's alright, " he whispered. "Everything is fine. We can deal with this.”

"It's my fault. I've been a fool." 

"No. No. Listen to me."

"I don't want to lose you…" your voice was tiny as he slowly descended on his knees, arms resting in his lap, eyes taking in the beauty of your light. 

"Do it quickly. It's okay," Doyoung added.  

You looked away. 

"It's okay," he repeated. "I'll find a way to get to you. I promise."

"Stop, please, just stop. Why don’t you just go away?” 

"If not in this life, in another one. This is but a mere fragment of our existence. My soul's eternal and it will always long for you. I'll come and find you. I can't let you go.” 

"Doyoung-," 

"My love. Put me to sleep. It's not death.” 

"It's worse than death!” 

"I'll find a way. Trust me. We’re ending this to start again. I do not intend to run away like some coward in front of these Fates.” 

"Doyoung," you whined again, the sight of the Fates darkening the hills beyond him making your eyes fill to the brim until you were unable to see. 

He didn't look back. His eyes were on you all of the time. 

His eyes have always been on you all of the time. 

Your feet touched ground again and he smiled, his own eyes being two little night skies filled with little shiny stars. 

His hair floated in the killing wind of the Fates approaching each step closer, yelling, screaming, shaking the ground. 

Your trembling hands didn't look like your own as you cupped his face and kissed his lips desperately, the whispers of your love filling up his mouth. Until he inhaled deeply.

Until the darkness of the Fates passed above you with a deafening yell of a thousand birds. You wrapped his head with your arms, protecting him and he wrapped your torso with his. 

"Go away!" you screamed towards the halo dancing around in the sky. It let out a frustrated cry and before you could realize it, it went away in a minute, leaving behind but buzzing silence. 

You gulped feeling your throat raw, a little sparkle of hope still lingering in your chest. 

But then you looked down at his face and a loud hiccup knocked all of your body. 

Your kiss worked. 

You held him in your arms and watched his peaceful expression dotted by your warm tears. 

He was beautiful and eternally asleep. 

__________

From “I will not vanish” with Haechan coming up in March

“How bizarre. Not dead yet not alive either.” 

The voice startled Doyoung in the silence of the prison. It was warm and pleasant. Almost childish. 

“Who talked?” 

Doyoung walked the dark corridor slowly, eyebrows furrowed and eyes scanning every cell. 

“I did.” 

The voice sounded clearer with each step he took until he was sure it came from the farthest away room. It was darker and bigger than the others.

“Don’t be afraid. Come closer.” The voice was amused. 

Doyoung stopped in front of it and blinked hard to see inside. 

The creature inside of it giggled once and leaned forwards into the feeble light of Doyoung’s torch. 

The latter flinched and took a step backwards. 

Two round eyes looked at Doyoung from underneath fluffy hair. His lips were plush just like his cheeks. Yet Doyoung could tell he was not a child. The eyebrow scratch and sharp jawline that flinched as he smirked communicated infinite amounts of years. 

“Donghyuck the demon?” 

The young man rolled his eyes and scoffed. 

“I’ve been terrorizing whole villages in their dreams, asking them to call me Haechan and no one is passing the message around? Donghyuck is such an old fashioned name now.” 

Doyoung blinked at him, unable to crack a single word. 

The demon snickered. “What did you expect to see, human? A wobbly indistinguishable mass with four voices talking all at once?” 

“Yes,” Doyoung replied honestly. 

“Those are the angels. Have you seen an angel? They have like seven arms and twelve eyes. Like, you’re an angel, right? With all those great powers. And what do you do? You appear to people with disgusting eyes around the belly button?” 

Haechan leaned to the side on one elbow and imitated puking sounds.

“I had an unpleasant encounter with an Archangel.” 

Haechan smiled at the other’s words and got up from the floor. Doyoung expected chains around his limbs but nothing was holding the demon back. 

He walked slowly towards the edge of the cell and Doyoung noticed his bare feet and ankles. They looked like the ones of a prince not having worked one single day in his life.

“Archangels are smarter. They don’t look as good as me but they at least don’t scare away young girls. Who did you discuss with to leave you so desperate to come here? Also what the hell happened to you? An eternal sleepwalker?"

Haechan was mere centimetres away from Doyoung but the latter didn’t step back. 

“Mark.” 

The other hummed. “Archangel Mark. He’s still on that bullshit? Fate and all?” 

“You’re a demon. You know everything.” 

Haechan laughed. “Yeah.” He walked along the edge with hands behind his back before turning his face towards Doyoung again. “So he’s the reason why you chose me?” 

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"You think we're going to be friends?" 

"Business partners."

Haechan licked his lower lip amused. 

"What do you want?" 

"Love."

Haechan snorted. "Okay, loser. And what are you offering me?" He lifted one eyebrow. 

"Freedom." 

__________

Haechan stared at the contract Doyoung handed him. It was a big heavy book and Haechan touched its cover. 

And if she’s not my soulmate, I’d rather wander alone than touching someone else’s skin, I’d rather walk this earth with no hand to hold and lift me from the ground. And if I have to heal from it and accept the universe’s imposed call, I’d rather suffer from my eternally open wounds. I’ll fight the stars and let them burn me, I’ll let them laugh at my weakest state and I’d gladly make them erase my memory of ever existing in all of the infinite lives if I have to follow Fate.

Turning it over he read the words that appeared on the back after meeting you.

I’m walking through dark times But please come to me just once If I see you again, will I be able to hug you? With this body that’s frozen and about to break? Your eyes and your warm voice I long for it like crazy One day, give me your hand too, turn around and look at me Find me, just once I’ll wait so please come back*

Haechan let out a dry scoff and sighed, looking over the empty hills. 

“Losers.”

*”Who waits for love” by SHINee   

[datleggy]

Albert Plots aka coda to 4x02

One of Bucks house rules is: don't barge into my room unannounced.

It only becomes a house rule, of course, after Albert inadvertently interrupts his therapy session as he's mid sentence. 

"Oh crap, sorry sorry, I didn't realize--I mean, I thought--sorry." Albert finishes lamely, cringing at his own intrusion.

Buck practically chucks his tablet across his bed, face down, in his surprise. “Dude, knock.” 

Albert shrugs, grimacing apologetically. “You don’t have a door though?” 

Buck sighs, running a hand through his hair nervously. “Just...announce yourself next time, ok? Like, yell ‘I’m coming up’ or whatever.” 

Albert nods. “Sorry.” he mutters again. 

Buck decides the kid looks contrite enough that he can brush the whole thing off--it’s not like he overheard anything. “It’s ok, don’t worry, we’re good. What’s up? You needed something?” 

“I wanted to see if you wanted to order pizza but um,” Chimneys little brother pauses and scratches the back of his head. “Are you ok?” 

Buck gulps. “Uh, yeah, I--why wouldn’t I be?” Well shit, Buck thinks, maybe he did overhear a tidbit or two, after all... 

“Well,” Albert purses his lips to one side. “What you said just now, about hiding your feelings? Sorry, I really didn’t mean to eavesdrop--I was hungry and didn’t think before running up here. But um, listen, if you ever need an ear or a shoulder,” he shrugs delicately. “You’ve been there for me before a few times now. I like to think we’re good friends, so I want you to know you can always count on me to be there if you need someone. That’s all.” 

Buck would be touched if he weren’t also kind of mortified over having been caught spilling his guts to Dr. Copeland. Albert must see that, because he immediately moves to change the subject. “So, pizza?” 

“Yup,” Buck clears his throat. “Sal’s is the best joint in the area, their menu’s on the fridge, call and order whatever you want. I’ll umm, I’ll join you in a little bit.” 

"Ok." Albert scurries off quickly enough and Buck feels a little bad for not being more reassuring that he's not upset with him. But it's hard; being vulnerable, that is.

********

An hour later dinner is silent and just a tiny bit awkward between the two men.

It's only after a couple of beers that Buck loosens up enough to blurt out, "I'm in love with Eddie."

Albert blinks up at him in surprise. "Oh shit." His face breaks out into a happy grin. "Dude, that's awesome! I always thought you two would be good together. Actually, I gotta admit, I thought you two were dating when we first met at that bar. So it makes sense." Albert's voice trails off upon realizing how red Buck's face has gone. "Wait, did you not--you know? Know?" Albert's eyes grow wide.

Buck shrugs. "I kinda always knew? But I mean, the Eddie thing is..." He groans, "How am I supposed to tell my best friend I'm in love with him? It would ruin everything."

Albert shakes his head adamantly. "No way man, you said it yourself, Eddie's your best friend, your feelings for him wouldn't 'ruin' anything. Even if by some crazy chance he doesn't feel the same way it's not like he'd stop being friends with you."

Buck rubs a hand up his shoulder and bites on his bottom lip. "But what if that's exactly what happens? I don't wanna hide my feelings anymore, from anyone, but I don't think I can take that risk--it's too big, I could lose too much."

Albert has seen the way Eddie looks at Buck when he thinks no one is else is paying attention. “Look man, I’m not exactly the observant type--Howie can tell you that--but even I can see Eddie’s heart eyes when he’s looking in your direction.” 

Buck groans, hiding his face in his hands. “I just don’t wanna mess up what we have.” he looks up, his expression sullen. “We’ve got a good thing going.” he shrugs. “If I confess my feelings there’s a chance--” he sighs, hanging his head. “I can’t do it.” 

Albert reaches over and squeezes his shoulder in support. Suddenly an idea strikes him. “Hey,” he jumps up. “What if I could prove to you that Eddie’s just as into you as you are, into him? Would you say something then?” 

Buck lifts his head to look Albert in the eye, “How would you go about doing that?” 

Albert waves him off. “You don’t gotta worry about that part. Just trust me.” 

Buck raises a brow, dubious. “Ok, but you need to promise you won’t say anything about my feelings to Eddie--or to anyone, for that matter. Not even Chimney can know.” 

“I swear, not a word!” 

*********

Albert strikes over the weekend, during a friendly game of basketball with the 118. Albert had originally only been intending to play one on one with Chim, like usual, but had convinced him to invite everyone at the station, too, last minute. 

“Buck’s on my team!” Albert declares, before anyone can even truly get settled. 

Chim glares at Albert. “Oh yeah, call dibs on our tallest guy.” 

Albert shrugs, throwing an arm around Buck and pulling him close. “And let’s not forget the most handsome.” he winks at Buck with the subtlety of a fire engine racing across town. 

Chim raises a questioning brow at his brother but otherwise doesn’t comment. “Uh huh. Anyway, then I want Eddie on my team.” 

Eddie steps up beside Chim, giving Buck a look. “Ready to get your ass handed to you?” 

Buck scoffs. “I have the power of youth on my side, thanks.” he says, pointing to Albert. 

Bobby clears his throat. “This is starting to feel a lot like a middle school gym class, where I’m picked last for teams.” 

Hen bumps his fist in camaraderie. “Preach, Cap.” 

“Hen, I call Hen!” Chimney immediately announces, practically dragging his best friend over to his side. 

“Good, cause I was gonna pick Captain Nash anyway.” Albert sticks his tongue out. 

Buck grins when Bobby walks over to stand beside him. His parents never let him play sports when he was a kid--he had to forge their signatures for whatever ‘dangerous’ activity he wanted to participate in, and so he and his dad had never gotten to toss the ball around in the backyard the way most of his friends had, growing up. 

Being on the same team with Bobby now kind of feels like that. Not that he’d say it out loud. He’s way too old for that stuff now. Not to mention the fact that now he has to focus on both the game and on whatever Albert is plotting with him and Eddie. 

Buck sighs. He should’ve kept his big mouth shut. 

The game starts out friendly enough, some playful jabs thrown here and there, but Buck can tell Albert and Chimney are out for blood, knocking elbows and teasing the other when they miss a shot. Though, he concedes, they are siblings, and well, he and Maddie, even at this age, can still get a little overly zealous when competing with one another. So he’s not too worried. 

They take a break about half way through the game, sweaty and tired from running around so much, when Albert starts to speak. “Man, I can’t wait for that double date next Friday.” 

Chim glances up at him from the bench, where he’s rehydrating. “You’re going on a date? First I’ve heard.” 

Albert nods. “Yup. With Buck and these two really cool chicks I met at the coffee shop a couple of weeks ago.” 

Eddie furrows his brows. “Did you say Friday?” 

Albert nods, knowing exactly where this is going. 

Eddie turns to Buck, who’s trying his best to telepathically communicate with Albert to cut it out before he strangles the kid. “Uh, Friday’s game night.” he says, his tone slightly accusatory. 

Bobby’s eyes dart between the two men curiously. Hen presses her lips together. “Game night?” 

Eddie nods. “Every Friday we get together at my place and do a game night. Christopher looks forward to ‘em every week.” 

Albert cuts in before Buck can say anything. “Wow, you two sound like a married couple with a kid.” he teases. “But I mean, what’s the big deal, missing one game night? Buck could meet the love of his life Friday night. Isn’t that a little more important?” 

Eddie makes a face none of the crew can really read. “Guess you’re right.” he agrees reluctantly, picking up the ball and passing it to Chimney just a tad on the rough side. “Break’s over, let’s get back to it, yeah?” He steps out into the court without looking back, his shoulders set rigidly. 

Albert grins at Buck, whispering as the others head to the court as well, “It’s working!” 

“He looks like he wants to kill someone.” Buck half whispers back, eyes wide. “Your plan sucks.” 

“Shh, you’ll be thanking me later, now c’mon, let’s go!” Albert runs into the court and takes his position at the front, between Buck and Bobby. 

Buck can’t help but focus entirely on Eddie’s sour mood during the game, which is probably why he doesn’t notice the uneven asphalt as he goes to catch Bobby’s toss until it’s too late. He loses his footing and goes down hard. 

Buck’s back and side hit the pole connected to the basketball net and the damn thing actually shakes with the force of the collision. Bobby is on him instantly, helping him up and asking if he’s alright. Buck tries to say he’s fine, but the moment he’s standing he bends over, wrapping an arm around himself, wincing in pain. “Hurts.” he admits. 

Eddie sprints across the ball court to help Bobby get Buck to the benches where he can sit and they can see what’s going on. Hen lifts his shirt and grimaces tightly at the humongous ugly bruise already forming against his back and part of his chest. “Jesus, Buck.” she feels around that area. 

Buck gasps at the onslaught of pain and tries his best not to flinch away from her. 

“Definitely some bruised ribs, Buck,” Hen tells him sympathetically, pulling down his shirt as gently as she can. “Possibly fractured. I would definitely get this checked out in the ER, in case they’re broken. They’ll need to do an x-ray and a CT just to rule it out.” 

Buck groans. “Can’t I just ice it?” 

“C’mon,” Bobby shakes his head, helping Buck get up. “I’m taking you--” 

Eddie interrupts, his hand on Buck’s shoulder. “I can go. Christopher’s at a sleepover today, so I’m free anyway.” he volunteers. 

Buck is in too much pain to argue with either of them, and ends up in the front passenger seat of Eddie’s truck. Bobby makes Eddie promise to text the team updates. 

**********

Eddie fills out Bucks form so he can hold an ice pack to his side while they wait in the ER. Once he’s done he hands it to the nurse at the front desk and sits down next to Buck. “How ya’ feeling?” 

Buck knows there isn’t a point to lying, not when he needed to lean the majority of his weight on the other man from the car to the waiting room, after all. “Like the whole left side of me got hit by a car.” 

“Here, gimme that, I’ll hold it for you.” Eddie takes the ice pack and places it gently against his side, grimacing when Buck cringes. “Hurt a lot?” 

“Only when I breath.” Buck jokes, though it’s not too far from the truth. “You know you don’t have to stay here with me, I can call an Uber to drive me home. The place is packed, we’re probably gonna be waiting for hours.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’m not leaving you, so this had better be your first and last attempt at getting me to go.” 

Buck sighs. “Fine.” 

“Good.” Eddie clears his throat. “So...” 

Buck turns his eyes towards him. “So?” 

“You’re really not coming to game night Friday?” 

Buck looks away. He doesn’t want to lie to Eddie, but how crazy would he look if he told him Albert made all that up--in order to admit the truth he’d also have to confess his feelings for his best friend, and there’s just no way in hell that’s happening. “Yeah,” he says instead, “Sorry, I was planning on telling you later today, it just kinda slipped my mind.” 

Eddie hums, pursing his lips. “No it’s cool, Albert’s right. She might be the one.” he says, though it’s said dryly. 

Buck looks up at him from underneath his long lashes, curiously. “And uh, if she is?” 

“Then,” Eddie shrugs, “Good for you.” 

Buck nods. 

An uncomfortable silence falls upon the two men and it’s another half hour of awkwardness before Eddie picks up the conversation again. 

“You know what,” he starts, turning to Buck, “I lied. Not good for you.” 

Buck blinks at the bluntness. “What?” 

“I don’t want you to go on that date. And I don’t want to cancel game night. I know it’s selfish and I’m being kind of psycho right now, but I think I’m jealous?” Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, as though he hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud. Like the words simply spilled forth without his brains permission. 

“You’re jealous? Of...what?” Buck doesn’t dare to hope this is what he thinks it is. 

Eddie groans, putting down the ice pack for a moment and turning his chair completely to the side so he can face Buck fully. “I know I said Christopher looks forward to game nights, and he does, but so do I. I look forward to spending time with the two of you together and I get excited when our shifts line up on certain weeks and I’m getting tired of saying goodnight and watching you walk to your Jeep, all because I’m too much of a coward to just say--” Eddie stops himself, his chest aching, the words caught in his throat. 

“I’m in love with you.” Buck blurts out. 

“You--” Eddie stammers. “You are?” he asks in disbelief. 

Buck gulps, his cheeks heating up. “For a while now, I think. I just...hadn’t realized until recently.” Dr. Copeland had been a huge part of figuring that out. 

“Christ,” Eddie doesn’t waste a second more. He takes Bucks face in his hands and brings their foreheads together right then and there. “Can I...?” 

Buck nods, their lips brushing slightly with the motion. “Please.” 

Eddie kisses him, softly, tentatively, before pulling away just a bit. “I love you.” he confesses breathlessly. 

Buck thinks his heart might actually burst out of his chest. 

Man, Albert is never gonna let him hear the end of this. 

.

[tonystarktogo]

Could I pretty pretty please get some more on the time travel crack au? Maybe when it gets out that Steve, Bruce, andThor are technically from the future?

As much as I’d love to jump to that part, I think it’s funnier necessary to cover a few other tidbits first. For example:

Tony misses whatever discussion follows Thor’s -- hah, got it right in one, he hasn’t lost his touch completely yet -- arrival before the god carries his brother off towards a containment cell with the sort of cheer that causes Tony to carefully keep at least two people between himself and Thor, lest the asshole tries to hug him again.

Not that it can be that big a loss considering they all -- sans Loki -- end up back in the command center of the helicarrier, where Fury glares balefully at the most recent invader of his precious aircraft that clearly isn’t meant to stand in the way of gods.

A glare Thor aggressively doesn’t notice. Likely because he’s too busy partaking in the on-going discussion on what to do next.

And by ‘what to do next’ Tony doesn’t mean the expected we-were-invaded-by-a-mindcontrolled-alien-nutbag-and-there’s-probably-more-out-there-seems-like-the-kind-of-oh-shit-situation-we-should-plan-for. No. That would be reasonable and expected and Tony’s spent all of three hours in the company of the esteemed Captain America and already he can tell you that Rogers is none of that.

[Which, not cool, Capsicle. Dazzling and befuddling people with crazily brilliant ideas is his job.]

[continues under the cut]

So far, Tony’s been paying attention for ten minutes. In that time, Rogers and Thor have gotten into an argument over how to handle Loki -- which holy shit, that went from a calm, rational discussion to a battle to the death between two superhumans on a sugar high in zero point four seconds -- that Tony is so not gonna touch. [Nope. Let some other fool [i.e. Rogers] throw himself head-first into norse god family drama, Tony’s own feelings concerning his family are complicated enough.] That conversation devolved into a not-openly-fighting-while-totally-fighting stand-off between Rogers and Banner over a way too bitter comment from the latter [something about ‘you’d know all about choosing one brother over the other, wouldn’t you’ which what?], which in turn gets derailed by Banner needling Thor about the merits of beheading over stabbing.

Romanoff had the good sense to disappear -- probably to interrogate Loki while his apparently protective big brother is distracted, now that Tony thinks about it. 

Unfortunately that still leaves Tony stuck here, having to play the role of the mature adult because no one else fucking will. Tony hates being responsible. It’s like being back in high school and being left to do all the work on your own in group project.

[Tony failed that project. Got a straight up zero on purpose because spite is a wonderful motivator. Which, now that Tony thinks about it, doesn’t say anything promising about the current situation.]

Tony leans even further back in his seat, only balancing on the backlegs of the chair, to give Fury a very sharp, very judgemental look.

These are the people you’re betting Earth’s survival on, that look says.

Fury’s already pissed off expression darkens further, which brightens Tony mood substantially. That one of the suit’s sensors flashes green twice in quick succession less than a minute later really just makes for a delicious cherry on the top. Or more precisely a good excuse to ditch this trainwreck of a match-making attempt.

“Whoops,” Tony says, clearly audible but not too loud to draw real attention from the three [still arguing-while-pretending-not-to] stooges on the other end of the room. “Looks like I gotta take this call.”

He jiggles his fingers at Fury. The guy rolls his eyes -- probably jealous that he doesn’t have an excuse himself, that bitch face doesn’t fool Tony -- but no one tries to stop him.

“Alright, J, what do you have for me?”

*

Tony pretends not to notice the shuffling footsteps. Glances at the disturbingly normal clock on the wall that is so not up-to-date with the rest of the technology in the room, it must be an inside joke. Tony would love to meet the SHIELD agent behind it -- it can’t be easy, being the only person with a sense of humor in an entire agency.

30 minutes.

Well. That’s longer than Tony thought he’d get. JARVIS still hasn’t cracked the last layer on SHIELD’s really fucked up dirt -- and given what he’s already found, that says a lot -- but it’s only a matter of time now. Besides, Tony’s got a job to do.

“To- Stark.”

“Rogers.”

Tony doesn’t turn. Neither does he stop typing.

“What are you doing?”

Tony scoffs. He’s not in the mood to pander to inferior minds -- not when they’re so fucking frustrating, don’t make any sense and worst of all make him do all the work. 

“He’s tracking the Tesseract, using the scepter as a point of reference,” Banner says after taking one look at the screen over Tony’s shoulder.

Tony raises his eyebrows, impressed despite himself. Banner’s credentials clearly don’t do him justice -- and they were pretty damn good to begin with.

“Huh,” says Rogers.

Thanks for playing. Now buckle down and make yourself useful or fuck off, Tony wants to snipe but doesn’t get the chance to because the gods -- this god at least -- just aren’t on his side.

“Even without my brother’s help, a weapon of the tesseract’s might should not be underestimated,” Thor speaks up. “Should we not make haste and collect it?”

"Great idea.” Tony’s voice is dryer than the sand dune he crash-landed in back during his fun little trip to Afghanistan. “If only I’d thought of that instead of inventing fifteen new algorithms to try and get a read on SHIELD’s precious magic eight ball while you were busy defending your brother’s honor. Speaking of, I’m pretty sure Romanoff is a greater danger to his virtue than Captain Shockfreeze over there, so why are you still here?”

Okay, maybe poking the hornet nest that is godly family isn’t his smartest move [didn’t he just say he wasn’t gonna touch that?!] but damn if Tony isn’t curious. And also too annoyed to care about unimportant, subjective things like good manners and tact.

He sort of regrets his cavalier attitute a little when Thor sobers. At least there are no tears in sight. Tony is the last person on Earth who should be left unsupervised around crying people. It just never ends well.

“Ah.” Thor sighs heavily, stems his body against an unfortunate table that creaks dangerously. "I’m afraid I can’t afford to see my brother right now.”

It’s the way he says those words, the weight they carry more than anything that tells Tony he needs to drop this issue right now. Talk about one huge trigger button.

Must be inconvenient to have siblings. Tony totally can’t relate.

“Well, in that case, unless you have a magic trick with which you can pull the Tesseract’s position out of your sleeve, how about you sit as far away from these delicate instruments as possible and don’t touch anything while I work my magic, hm?”

Tony doesn’t let his gaze linger on the crushed edge of the table. Thor hasn’t even seemed to notice. He’s too busy lighting up at Tony’s snappish response. Which is surprising. Tony’s aware he’s a bit of an asshole right now. In his defence, he’s an asshole most of the time.

Rogers leaps across the room -- almost crashing into the previously mentioned delicate sensors as he does so -- to slap his palm over Thor’s mouth.

Tony stares. [How quickly can you develop a new habit again? Because this starts to feel like a new habit.]

“That sounds like a great plan!” Rogers beams at him, so wide and fake it must be physically painful for the epitome of all that is good and holy. At least Tony hopes it is. The supersoldier his father worshipped is still clinging to their resident god of thunder’s face.

It’s.

Tony resolutely turns his back on both of them because their madness doesn’t seem to come with a refund-ticket and if Tony doesn’t finish this program, no one will.

Not even Banner -- whom Tony had been kind of hoping for. Speaking of, the man’s been awfully quiet for a while now.

“You alright there, Brucie-Bear?” Tony turns around -- a little because it’s polite to face people when you talk with them and mostly to have an excuse not to watch the ongoing doomed wrestle-match between Blonde 1 and Blonde 2. His awesome nicknaming skill doesn’t get so much as a twitch.

To be fair, Banner is so busy staring straight ahead with the most epic rendition of the World’s Most Thoughtful Expression™ Tony has seen in a while that it doesn’t seem like the man heard him. At all.

Until he suddenly speaks up.

“I think we’ve forgotten something.” Behind Tony the impromptu wrestling comes to a sudden halt.

Probably something negligible like how to focus on a mission, the sarcastic voice in the back of Tony’s mind drawls. Though it should be noted that Tony’s consciousness only comes in sarcastic or not at all. Sorry, everyone, all the other flavors are out.

Banner’s frown deepens. “Something- Something important.”

Right on cue an explosion rocks the aircraft.

*

There’s a bit more tension in this part than the previous ones. On Tony’s side it’s because he’s smart enough to pick up on Something Is Seriously Wrong, both consciously and subconsciously and also because he feels the pressure what with everyone else apparently not taking this whole thing very seriously.

[Excluding Natasha who, believe me, takes Clint’s fate very serious indeed.]

On our time travellers’ side, they experience the frustration of being unable to talk openly, surrounded by people they don’t trust, trying to play along to the script of a movie they watched like 12 years ago and never revisited. Needless to say they’re failing horrenduously.

[lovelylogans]

the warmest hello (to the coldest goodbye)

once a spy, always a spy forever, forever the warmest hello to the coldest goodbye remember, remember -spies are forever, the tin can bros

warnings: undercover spy work, mention of weapons, drugging someone into unconsciousness/giving someone a roofie, essentially the start of an enemies to lovers fanfiction

pairings: virgil/logan, offscreen roman/patton

words: 4,465

notes: this is for day 7 of @analogicalweek! the prompt of the day is “free day” and i have decided to write a combination soulmates and rival spies au! please enjoy!

⁂

Not that Virgil would admit it, but, like literally every other marked person, he's tried to imagine how he might meet his soulmate. He just didn't ever spare any thought on what he'd do if it happened on the job.

His official cover to his friends (which was mostly his cousin Roman and Roman’s husband Patton) was that he was an analyst—he was always vague about what exactly it was he analyzed, but since neither of them were particularly mathematically inclined, and both were maybe a bit too trusting for their own good, they took him at his word.

Even when he was sent off on various unusual "business trips.”

It’s not like Virgil’s mark is very specific about when and where it’ll happen. Virgil knows that variations of "sorry about that” make for a large percentage of common soulmarks. 

There’s protocols in place, of course, but Virgil had never really paid attention to those classes while training to be a spy. The Lewis clause is the kind of thing Virgil didn’t pay as much attention to, because it didn’t seem as useful as understanding the technology or how to make a cover. The Lewis clause is what to do when someone meets a soulmate on the job—there are specifications for if the soulmate is a target, a team member, or an enemy.

Virgil hadn’t really cared at the time. He’d kick himself for that later.

Any number of meetings occurred accidentally—knocking something over, bumping into someone, or, like his cousin Roman's soulmate did, take Roman's coffee thinking it was his own hot chocolate. They got married two winters ago, just so they could serve hot beverages in cold weather.

He thinks the iteration stamped in black along his left inner arm, "I'm very sorry about this," with the addition of "oh no, it's you” tacked on at the end of his makes it likely that whatever he says will, A, likely be first, B, be somewhat unique, or unique enough to be immediately recognizable, and C, be in the aftermath of some kind of accident.

He ends up being partially right. What he says is first and it is somewhat unique. What his soulmate apologizes for is no accident, though.

Virgil does undercover work, sure, but it's very rare for him to enter the James Bond style locale he's at today, and that he’s been working for the past couple months; the marble ballroom he's circling is dripping with gold chandeliers and matching heavy, velvet curtains that accent the floor-to-ceiling windows. There’s a string quartet in the corner, barely audible over the chatter of rich socialites. Virgil, deeply uncomfortable in his white-tie attire, is circling the room in an attempt at looking like he attends charity balls all the time.

He sucks at it.

As if on cue, his earpiece crackles to life.

"How the fuck did you ever qualify to be a spy?" Janus, his tech man and eye in the sky, snickers into his ear. "Your acting skills are horrendous. If you auditioned for The Room right now, they wouldn't let you into the cast.”

"Fuck off,” Virgil fake-coughs into his shoulder.

"Christ, at least try to look like you're mingling, not like you've stalked the target here."

Unable to stop himself, he glances toward the target he's meant to be watching.

The target, who is so staggeringly wealthy it could make Virgil, who is trying to pay off his student debt on a spy's salary (not as high as one might think) burst into tears. Or, much more likely, start ranting about the myriad flaws of capitalism. If so inclined, he could honestly probably steal the amount of money necessary from one of her offshore accounts, and it would be as unnoticeable as someone taking a penny from him.

Mary Lee Truman is standing amidst a flock of suited men, like a dove amidst a flock of dour crows; her dress is slinky silk, a shade of champagne that glimmers rose-gold in the right shade of light. She’s standing leaned to one side, her hip popped out and an arm crossed over her stomach, a crystal-cut champagne flute dangling in her fingers as if she was born to hold one.

Her husband, Lee Truman (fuck if that wasn’t confusing, it was really easier to think of them by their codenames) is off by the bar, seemingly getting himself another drink. 

His eyes stray to Mary Lee again; he can tell a couple of the suits are hired muscle, bodyguards, which makes sense, as the Trumans are allegedly a massive crime family, doing their dirty dealings in plain sight. A couple of the suits he recognizes from dossiers; one is a business partner of Lee’s father, who might not even know what the Truman family really gets up to; one absolutely knows what the Truman family gets up to, as Virgil’s read his rap sheet and knows he’s been in and out of jail due to his assignments from the mob.

There’s one suit there that really doesn’t seem to fit the mold of either category.

For one thing, he’s around Virgil’s age; for another, he isn’t rippling with muscle. Not that he doesn’t look fit; his well-tailored suit shows off his broad shoulders, his biceps, his lean waist. He’s dark-haired, and pale, and blue-eyed, and he’s standing next to Mary Lee with a look that Virgil would think of as dour, but now that he’s looking closely, the blue-eyed man looks almost... calculating.

This man wasn’t in the dossier.

Almost everyone at this ball was in the dossier.

Virgil looks away from Mary Lee and the handsome man, and instead decides to start taking up Janus’ advice; he slowly moves through the room.

Well. He's doing it to get closer to Mary Lee, but sure, he can attempt to mingle.

He traverses through the room, his fancy shoes clicking on the marble floor, mindful to not step on any dress hems—he has it easy, as his directive was simply to wear his white tie with his hidden weapons, his ear piece, and his lapel pin that records everything he's seeing. The women in the room provide the only splashes of color outside of the black suits and white shirts of the men, the gleaming marble, the gold- accented glasses and dishware. Even what little art he's seen follows that color theme -- white marble busts, abstract black and white paintings in their gilded frames, a gold statue outside the front steps, as if to greet the partygoers.

But the women of the party aren't beholden to this strict color scheme. Gowns of pink chiffon, red lace, blue taffeta, deep violet velvet, Virgil passes them all, keeping one eye out for rose gold silk.

He ends up instituting himself in a ring of people listening intently to an art history professor talking about the architectural significance of his building—he introduces himself with his cover name, James Walker, to the man next to him, who Virgil already knows is a Truman cousin. He gives a fake first name too—he says his name is Alex, when Virgil knows it’s really Bruce. Okay. Something to take note of.

He listens to the art history professor talk about art deco with just one ear, the other straining to eavesdrop on Mary Lee and her suits.

“Do you think our beneficiary approaches?” Mary Lee murmurs to the blue-eyed one, the one that wasn’t in the dossier.

“Oh, I know he does,” the blue-eyed man says to her. He has a pleasant British accent, the kind of voice that would be right at home on a nature documentary calmly narrating the eating habits of wolverines, or something like that. “According to all my research, our previous beneficiary is no longer within our purview. A new one will have been instilled in hasty time. As a matter of fact, I believe I would be able to point him out to you right now.”

Mary Lee sighs, a little, and the man continues talking about their charity. Virgil’s mind races. He knows the Truman’s “charity work” almost always acts as a sieve to run dirty money through, so what would it mean, that they got a new beneficiary? A new target, maybe? A new directive?

Either way, this is almost definitely some kind of code they’re talking in. He tunes a bit more into the art history professor’s impromptu lecture—he’s taking a brief tangent into talking about Tamara de Lempicka—as he ruminates on that particular conversation between the blue-eyed Brit and Mary Lee.

Then he ends up in conversation with an elderly woman beside him, who wants to know who he is—James Walker, I run a business a state or two over, I’m interested in diversifying my assets—and if he’s been to any art museums in town. Both he and the man he is meant to be have not, but it turns out she’s a curator and has numerous suggestions for him.

He also knows this woman, Ida Kelly, has been paying into the Truman business for quite some time, and has potentially ordered hits using the Truman’s muscle.

“Madam,” a suited waiter shows up at her side, as if on cue, and hands her a small glass full of what looks like a gin-and-tonic.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” she says, taking her drink immediately.

The waiter turns to him. There is a singular champagne flute on the tray. “Sir.”

“I didn’t order anything,” Virgil says stupidly, before he realizes that almost everyone here is taking champagne flutes off of trays, and he supposes this waiter just wants to clear his before he has to double back and get more. “Oh, all right.”

He takes it. It’s a delicate, crystal-cut glass. He’s almost a little afraid that if he holds it wrong, it’ll break.

“Really, we’re doing an Impressionism exhibit, and it is positively divine,” she says.

Very suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder, emanating warmth through his suit and Virgil jumps, a little—he hopes whoever it is didn’t feel one his knives. Or, God forbid, his gun.

He turns to see no one, when a hand touches his opposite arm, and he turns again. It turns out to be the blue-eyed Brit, who is staring only at Ida, brushing past him, allowing his hand to trail down Virgil’s arm, touching his hand as if to say, please stay there, I do not want to bump into you.

At such a close range, Virgil can smell his absolutely incredible cologne, see his defined jawline, the way his blue eyes gleam.

Ida brightens. “Darling!”

“Ida,” the Brit says warmly. “I visited that display myself, it was simply wonderful.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” she says, clearly drinking up the praise. Virgil looks between them, feeling even more awkward than he has all night.

“Wait a goddamned minute,” Janus murmurs in his ear, after such a long stretch of silence that it makes Virgil jump again. There’s the sound of rapid typing.

“A victory!” The man says, lifting his glass—it looks to be full of whiskey. “A toast, to your latest triumph.”

“Oh, now,” she says, but when the other surrounding suits start lifting their glasses, Virgil lifts his, as well.

“To Ida Kelly,” the Brit says. “One of the finest artistic minds to walk the earth at our time!”

Virgil takes a sip of his champagne at the same time as everyone else; another woman in a deep green gown with a shawl edged in feathers takes Ida’s arm, rhapsodizing about the Impressionism movement and the latest event that her art gallery had put on.

It takes about a minute for Virgil to notice his vision going blurry in the corners.

It takes him about ten seconds of blinking hard and rubbing his eyes, hoping to clear it, to stumble over his own two feet.

It takes five seconds for Janus’ voice to buzz to life in his earpiece, urgent, “Virgil, get out of there, get away from that man, that’s Lo—”

It takes him about two seconds after that to notice that the blue-eyed Brit is looking at him with an expression clearly lacking remorse.

It takes him about half a second to realize the finger tapping one shoulder, his hand at his hand—the same hand that had been holding his champagne flute. He hadn’t been looking at his drink. The Brit had made him turn away from his drink.

The Brit put something in his drink.

Virgil’s been made.

“Good God, man,” another suited man says, when Virgil stumbles over his own two feet, “had enough of the bubbly, have you?”

Virgil ignores him; even as his vision is growing blurrier and blurrier, his eyes are intent on the Brit, staggering towards him, and he doesn’t even really know why. He’s been made, he should be running, but—

"Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?" Virgil slurs, and his sudden lack of physical control resoundingly answers the question before the Brit can; the arms that catch him before he can full flat on his face are muscular and warm. He’s distantly aware of the crystal-cut grass slipping from his hand and shattering on the marble.

The warm, muscular arms are more pressing than that. And, for a dirty rotten criminal who has probably killed people, the man is quite handsome. His bespectacled face swims in Virgil's vision.

"'I'm very sorry about this," he says smoothly, before his eyes widen in alarm. "Oh no.”

As Virgil is on the verge of unconsciousness, he hears, "It's you."

His last three thoughts before he slips under: did he just fucking say what he thought he said, then, good God his eyes are so blue, then, fuck, I should have paid way more attention to the Lewis clause.

⁂

Virgil is aware of three things as he wakes up: one, he feels like he has a dreadful hangover. Two, he’s pretty sure he’s in a plane or train or car or something moving, which makes him feel motion sick.

Three, he’s been stripped of his earpiece and his weapons.

He blinks his eyes open slowly, squinting; it’s night time, but even the low light is making Virgil’s eyes hurt.

This is a limousine, he can tell that much off the bat; the partition is closed, the glass tinted as dark as it legally can be, the interior leather light-colored, the bar fully stocked with different sodas and crystal-cut decanters full of various liquors, which makes him wince in memory of the champagne.

He feels like shit, but when he looks over and sees the blue-eyed Brit—his soulmate—his soulmate who had fucking drugged him and was working with the mob—it makes him feel even shittier.

“Ah,” his soulmate says. He’s sitting with one ankle resting on his knee, a squat glass of whiskey in hand. He has glasses on now that he hadn’t had on before. Also, his accent is no longer British; he’s got a nice Italian lilt to his voice, now. “Good. You’re awake.”

Virgil stares at him. He doesn’t say a word.

“I’ll admit this,” he gestures between them, “rather put a cinch in my plan on how to deal with you.”

“Would you have killed me?” Virgil asks. His voice comes out a croak. “If we weren’t...”

He trails off.

The man’s eyebrow arches, before he shrugs, and rolls up his sleeve. His soulmark is in the same place as Virgil’s—stamped across his left inner arm, in the spiky handwriting Virgil only uses in his personal notes, not the more uniform one he writes reports with.

Did you just fucking poison me, you fucking asshole?!

Undeniably a matching soulmark to his.

“My parents were quite bemused by it, when it showed up,” the Brit—or American?—the blue-eyed—his soulmate says. “I suppose we have our answers now.”

“Do we?” he says. 

The man takes a sip of whiskey. Then, he says, “Your predecessor was FBI. Are you the same?”

Virgil tenses. The man rolls his eyes again.

“Please,” he murmurs. “For an organization meant to be secretive, your lot are quite obvious when you trade moles in and out. One comes in, goes out, and coincidentally someone new is knocking on the door within the week. It’s absurdly simple to pinpoint who’s reporting back to your government. So. FBI, CIA, military...?”

“Who gives a fuck,” Virgil says.

“One should know what one’s soulmate does for a living, shouldn’t they?” he says. “This is a very unique situation. I’m simply trying to find out—”

“What do you do for a living, then?” Virgil snarls. His head is pounding, his mouth is dry and it tastes dreadful, his soulmate is an asshole working for the other side, and he’s being carted off to God knows where. This day is one of the worst of his life. Why couldn’t he have had a nice little café meet-cute, like Roman had had?

The man smiles at him, not particularly kindly. “I diversify.”

Virgil pulls a face, because he knows that’s poking fun at his cover.

“What,” Virgil says, “poison people on Monday, go to Ida Kelly’s resort on Tuesday, with a fun little Friday jaunt of killing people who cross the Trumans?”

“I’ve never actually been to the museum Ida Kelly curates,” the man admits. “It was an easy way to insert myself near you, to put it in your drink. And for goodness’ sake, it wasn’t poison.”

“Roofie. Drug. Whatever.”

The man’s eyebrows pull together, in a rather petulant expression. “I designed that myself, you know.”

“Well, it’s shit,” Virgil snaps. “I feel like I have the worst hangover of my goddamn life.”

“Yes, that was part of the design,” the man says, and offers him a glass of water.

Virgil stares at him. “Seriously.”

“No trust between soulmates?” He says.

“Yeah, well. Fool me once.”

The man shrugs, putting down the glass of water into a cupholder, before digging out a sealed water bottle. Virgil takes it and places it into a cupholder near him. No fucking way he’s accepting any food or drink from this man.

His lips quirk up into a smile.

“Where are you taking me?” Virgil says, ignoring the way that smile makes his heart pound.

“That rather depends,” he admits. 

“On?”

“Well.” He says. He uncrosses his legs, planting both feet on the floor. “I’m assuming that now the man in your little earpiece—he was rather rude—is aware that you have been, what is it you say? Made?”

Virgil nods.

“Well. Now that he, and therefore your employer, knows that you are made, you won’t be poking your nose into Truman business anymore, will you?”

Virgil grits his teeth. “Not undercover.”

The man ignores that. “And I know that no matter which you work for, the Lewis clause has been adopted across every arm of that government, and as such you’ll be prohibited from any mission that might bring you into contact with me.”

God damn it. How does he know the spy lessons better than Virgil does?

And then it occurs to him: Janus knew that man. He warned Virgil to get away from him, to get away from Lo—

He rolls this information around in his head. The Lewis clause isn’t exactly a widely advertised part of being a spy; there was a whole trilogy of novels that got adapted into secret agent movies, years ago, that concerned opposing agent spies coming to face each other again and again, and the secondary soulmate agents teamed up together. Which the Lewis clause would prevent, but the public who went and read those novels or saw those movies wouldn’t know that. 

So either this man—Lo? Lo what?—either knows a lot about spies, because he’s one of those know your enemy types, or...

Or he sat down and learned about the Lewis clause the same way that Virgil did, except he actually sat down and listened. Maybe he defected, maybe he’s dirty? Or maybe Virgil’s just overthinking it.

Look. Virgil’s got a lot of questions here. Chief among which:

“Where are you taking me?”

“Away,” the man says vaguely, looking at him. “Are you gay?”

Virgil gapes at him.

“I’d be perfectly fine with a platonic soulmate, but for the sake of disclosure, I am gay.”

“For the sake of disclosure,” Virgil repeats disbelievingly, and pinches the bridge of her nose, rubbing it. God, his head hurts terribly. 

“Bisexual, or pansexual, perhaps?” He prompts. “Asexual? Or... you could be straight, I suppose.”

“Ugh,” Virgil says reflexively, then shakes himself. “I’m not—okay. Fine. Yeah, I’m gay too.”

“All right,” the man says, as if noting it. “What’s your name?”

Virgil snorts.

“What?”

“Okay, I don’t—” he gestures to the limousine around them. “Again, you just drugged me. I don’t know where you’re taking me. You probably would have killed me if I hadn’t said those words.”

The man makes a moue of distaste.

“Or had someone kill me, I don’t know,” Virgil amends. “Either way, you’re working with that family, who I’m assuming aren’t pleased at having a spy getting caught trying to work himself into your ranks, so I’d rather you not know all that much about my life, thanks.”

“It’s not like I’m asking for your,” an infinitesimal pause, as if he’s wracking his brain, trying to remember something, “social security number or anything. A name.”

Virgil stares at this man. Lo—. Lo something. Lochlan? Loyd? Or was it a codename?

“Yours first.”

The man pauses.

“You drugged me,” Virgil says.

He smiles at Virgil. “Will you hold this over my head for the rest of our lives?”

The rest of our lives. Yes, that’s meant to be the fairytale ending for soulmates, isn’t it? A nice little meeting, the swell of overdramatic violins in the background, falling into each other’s arms and forming a life together. That’s the popular answer.

More and more recently, though, people have been advocating for choice; that soulmates are not always the best person for you.

Virgil doesn’t know which camp he and this man will fall into, just now.

“Yes,” Virgil says quietly. “Yes, I think I will.” 

The man sets aside his whiskey.

“Logan.” He says at last, and his accent has changed again; it’s vague, almost indecipherable, but if Virgil had to guess he’d say Midwestern American. Virgil wonders if it’s his real one. “My name is Logan.”

Logan.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Since discovering you’re my soulmate? I haven’t lied to you at all. Not a word.”

“Except for the accent.”

Logan laughs.

“Habit, sorry. It’s a long story that perhaps the man screaming in your earpiece will be able to tell you one day.”

Virgil jolts with surprise. “You know—?”

He cuts himself off before he can say Janus’ name.

“Reputationally,” Logan says, and, as strange as it is, Virgil believes him. In this, at least.

His soulmate’s name is Logan.

“Virgil.”

Logan smiles, his blue eyes glittering. “It’s nice to meet you, Virgil.”

There’s the sound of a soft knock on the partition, and it lowers; Virgil can’t see the driver.

“Sir? We’re here.”

“Right,” Logan murmurs, shaking himself. He reaches into his jacket and withdraws an envelope, offering it for Virgil.

Virgil hesitates.

Logan rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve laced it with anything. I’m holding it with my bare hands.”

Virgil huffs, but he takes it, opening it and pulling out a thin piece of paper.

It’s a commercial flight ticket to Washington, D.C.

“Why D.C.?” Virgil says quietly.

“Most of those organizations are based there,” Logan says. “Is it too far a jump to assume that you are, as well?”

It is actually too far a jump; it’s not even remotely close, he lives in an entirely different part of the states. But. To be fully honest, he doesn’t want Logan to know the state he lives in, and therefore the state that Patton and Roman live in, until Virgil knows if he can be trusted or not.

Logan opens the limousine door from inside, revealing they’ve pulled up to the local airport.

“What, no private plane?”

“I assumed you wouldn’t trust that,” Logan says with a shrug. “The Trumans may be powerful, but you know as well as I that manipulating a flight of this nature is well outside their purview.”

Logan’s right, he absolutely wouldn’t have trusted that, but. This limo’s pretty swanky. For the time he wouldn’t have been obsessively running over every crack and seam in a private jet and interrogating the pilot, he probably would have had a pretty swell time.

Virgil swallows, looking up at Logan. “There are programs, you know? If you wanted to be a witness. Be in service to—”

Logan smiles at him in a way that’s almost pitying. “I left that life behind a long time ago.”

Virgil looks to the airport, then back at Logan.

“Will I see you again?”

Logan shrugs again, almost delicately. “Who’s to say?”

Virgil nods, once, and he says firmly, “I’ll see you later.”

Logan grins at him. “Not if I see you first.”

Virgil slips out of the limo, slams the door shut, and, with what feels like Herculean effort, manages to get into the airport without looking back to see if he can see Logan through the tinted glass.

He does exchange the ticket for another that’s an hour and a half later, though. He’s not a total idiot.

He gets through security pretty quick, and sits in one of the incredibly uncomfortable chairs, his brain pounding with his headache, the questions swirling around in his head making it even worse. Virgil puts his head in his hands.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is working for a mob family.

He just met his soulmate.

His soulmate is apparently smart enough to specifically engineer a roofie.

His soulmate, though!

Janus knows his soulmate. Janus recognized his soulmate.

His soulmate knew about the fucking Lewis clause.

Was his soulmate a spy too? Was his soulmate in deep cover? Had he betrayed his organization? Was he a good person, or had the universe seen fit to hitch Virgil to someone awful?

How had Logan gotten entangled with the Trumans in the first place? Why wasn’t he in the dossier? 

Where was Logan even from? Did he like coffee? Hot chocolate? What had he studied in school? What was his favorite food? If they were normal people, would he have asked him on a date and not drugged him and dragged him off in a limo? 

Who was Logan?

Whatever the answers to his questions are, though. Virgil knows himself enough to know that he isn’t about to let this case go. Not the Trumans. Not him.

Lewis clause be damned.

[urslasherbaby]

Michael Myers NSFW Alphabet

(Obvious NSFW warnings: smut, blood kink, choking, cock warming, etc.)

Do we really need yet another Mikey NSFW alphabet? Yes, yes we do.

(Also I am sorry for not posting, I kept second-guessing myself)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

After the assuredly rigorous workout he just put you through, he usually leaves you to recover. After he assumes you’re okay, he’ll wrap his big arms around you and hold you there until the morning. After that? Well, he’s got people to kill… so he’ll be back for you later tonight…

B = Body Part (Their favorite part of their own body and their S/O’s)

His favorite body part on him is definitely the hands. They help him do his best work, but most of all he loves watching them curl around your neck. He savors every moment of you struggling against him until he can’t take it anymore and slams you on the bed. Don’t think he’ll let go either… choking you while he’s pushing inside of you is the fastest way to get him off.

His favorite body part on you, however, are the legs. You have a bad habit of not wearing pants around the house when you’re alone, so when he comes back from a spree and sees you curled on the couch in just your underwear… it’s on. Not to mention when you two roleplay as stalker and victim: seeing those legs run away from him, grabbing them and pushing you to the ground, lifting them above his shoulders so he can go down on you. It’s the fastest way to get you off.

C = Cum (Anything to do with it really… I’m a disgusting person)

Absolutely LOVES cumming inside of you. Especially while he’s on top and can see your face as he fills you. Once during a particularly long session, he came inside of you, pulled out, and started licking the cum out of your hole. That only marked your third orgasm of the evening.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Cuddling. Bastard can’t get enough of it. Given most of his life has been spent in a cold psych ward, he can get pretty touch-starved. He has a habit of coming home and just wrapping himself around you until you eventually have to pee or eat… and even then he’ll still hold you for at least ten more minutes. Cock warming goes pretty much hand-in-hand with this. He once stayed inside of you for a whole HOUR.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Like I said… most of his formative years have been in captivity. You had to make the first move, definitely… but Michael is a very fast learner. The first time you asked him to go down on you, he pulled your legs apart right then and there and started practicing. So long as it makes you moan and scream his name, he’s ready to try and master it.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying, will probably include a visual)

Any position where he can see your face will turn him on the most. On the good days, he’ll stroke his tongue over your pussy while making you look into his eyes and caress your face while he enters you. On the bad days, well... prepare for bruises the next morning. Michael will take you by the throat and shove his cock so deep into you you could see the lining of it through your stomach bulge. He’ll take your hips and piston into you at a grueling pace, all while keeping the mask on and staring into your eyes.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

While Michael does, in fact, have a sense of humor (Fuck you, Loomis), he’s just as stoic in the bedroom as outside it. One time after making you cum an impossible number of times, you could have sworn you sensed him smirk through the mask.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Michael doesn’t really pay much attention to the amount of hair he has down there, however, he knows you do. You had the courage to bring it up one night, but he just gave the same dismissive grunt he always made. The next morning, however, he was freshly trimmed and groomed. You didn’t dare mention it of course, since you knew as soon as you did he’d stop. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

Surprisingly, Michael does have a tendency to get lost in the moment before he finds himself and snaps out of it. It’s the little things: the cuddling, the soft touches before he enters you... he even brought you a gold necklace once. It was covered in blood, but it's the thought that counts.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation head canon)

He doesn’t really enjoy it as much as he does with you. In fact, it’s rare that you find him touching himself at all. You assumed he had to at one point, but given the number of times he’s just pulled you down to his crotch for a blowjob... you suspect not so much.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Besides the cock warming, the choking, and dominance... Michael has a huge blood kink. You found out when you cut yourself cooking in the kitchen and started sucking on your finger. You looked up and saw Michael already bounding towards you. Now on very special occasions, you know that a well-placed nick or a subtly moving his knife to the dresser will initiate some very long nights. He also has a pretty big size kink. The man dwarfs most people, but he loves how tiny you look compared to him, especially while he’s on top in the bedroom.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Michael won’t really leave the bedroom unless it’s an emergency. Wearing one of his shirts with no panties while lounging on the couch? He’ll pull your legs right back and get to work. Leaning over the counter with your ass out cooking? He’ll grab onto your hips and grind against you right there. Heading to the shower? Hope you like the company. Okay, okay, okay... so maybe “emergency” is pretty loosely defined to him. You don’t really mind.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It really can be the smallest thing, but Michael’s biggest turn on? Teasing. This man can not handle even the tiniest poke of the bear without going feral. For instance, calling him “Mikey”? Fifty-fifty chance of you getting murdered or fucked into a mattress. 

N = No (Something they wouldn’t talk about, turn-offs)

Teasing him too far without any pay off will definitely piss him off more than turn him on. It’s a very delicate balance that could either have you riding him all night long or pinned against the wall with a knife to your throat. Another big no-no would be the family. Michael’s not a big talker in the first place but mentioning Laurie will start a full-on killing spree with you as the final girl. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

You’ve only seen Micahel without his mask a handful of times, most of which were either him asleep or coming back from “work”. However, one night, after a particularly long dry spell during your period, he came home heaving and covered in blood. You could see the predatory look behind the mask and quickly prepared yourself for a long night. He pushed you onto the bed, ripped your pants and underwear off, and went down on you for the first time. It was clear that he was new to this kind of thing, but like everything else he did, he took an enthusiastic first try. His tongue had gone over your clit, around your cunt, and inside you so many times you were cumming in less than a minute. His mouth and face covered in blood as he got up made him look even more feral before he grabbed your hips, flipped you over, and started pounding into you from behind. It would hurt like all hell the next morning, but it was so worth it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Michael’s pace matches whatever will ruin you in the moment. Feeling frisky and can’t wait for a rough, hard fucking? He will pick you apart methodically, almost clinically, so slowly so you’ll be begging him the entire night. Michael will pin you down onto the bed and deliberately ease himself into you while staring directly into your eyes. Whimper and beg all you want; his only goal is to slam into you while pulling all the way out to make you cum, over, and over, and over again. Then on the next night, when you least expect it, he’ll bend you over the nearest flat surface and finger your cunt until you explode... the best of both worlds.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

As much as Michael loves hovering over you, watching every second of you falling apart, he’s very much aware that you two don’t need to have proper sex to make that happen. Not to mention how often he goes out or “work”. More often than not, however, it’ll be you kick starting things since you know how much your teasing affects him. One day when you heard his heavy boots walking up to the door, you took off your clothes as quickly as you could leaving yourself in your bra and panties and waited. As soon as he stepped through the door and saw you, he locked the door behind him and grabbed your hair by the scalp. The moan you let out only encouraged him as he unzipped his jumpsuit and pulls out his cock...

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risk, etc.)

As previously stated, Michael will do anything to make you squirm. Your whole existence to him at this point is a walking, talking fuck toy. However, he’s still dead set on keeping you from the rest of the world, so no exhibitionist-esque escapades for you, sorry. He does get more and more bold with his blood kink. Sometimes a simple prick will do, but before you know it, he’ll have plunged the kitchen knife into your side. He knows not to hit anything vital, obviously, and you’ll heal up in a couple days anyway. Be pissed at him all you want: that’s the deal.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Oh... Michael can last. He has an absurd amount of control and go as long as you need and then some. You figure its a mix of pent up energy from the psych ward/lack of entertainment in general as well as that whole making you suffer thing he has. Overstimulating you is practically his end-all-be-all goal, so make certain you can handle cumming multiple times any time he’s feeling up to it.

T = Toy (Do they own/use toys? On themselves or their partner?)

Michael hates toys and in fact threw away your vibrator when he found it in your underwear drawer. He’s the only thing that’s going to make you writhe and scream, dammit. He won’t use toys, but he’ll still tie you up with your own scarves or anything handy. Just because he hates the mechanical stuff doesn’t mean he won’t play around a little...

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

Michael? Tease? He’s not really the subtle type. More like the, walk through the door, lift you up by the ass, and take you to the bedroom type. However, one day after doing some handiwork around the house, he came into the kitchen with a sweat drenched t-shirt and took it off right in front of you. You couldn’t help the blush crawling over your face and you definitely couldn’t hide it from him. All he did was give you half a smirk and slowly walk into the bedroom where he knew you’d follow.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make )

It’s no secret Michael’s the quiet type. Same way in the bedroom: heavy breathing, grunts, and the occasional deep growl that drips down your spine. Honestly getting him worked up to the point where he can’t help but spill out those low, guttural noises just makes you even hotter. 

W = Wild Card (A random head canon for the character of your choice)

Michael’s favorite pass time is watching you masturbate. He’ll pretend to leave in the morning but sneak back through the bedroom window and hide in your closet. Sometimes it’ll take hours, but he knows eventually you’ll spread yourself onto the bed and start roaming your hands all over your body. You always do it just like he would: starting with the nipples, rolling over and pinching them so they get nice and hard. Then move down to your clit, rubbing it in circles gently at first, then furiously while sliding in a finger, then two. It only takes a few minutes before you cum completely undone. His favorite part is when you taste your fingers afterwards. It’s almost enough to make him burst through the door and give you another.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what going on in those pants, pictures or words)

Michael sports a fair five and half inches flaccid, seven inches hard. Not too girthy, but still thick enough for you to have to use two hands when you want to jerk him off.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Seriously? Years in a psych ward combined with meeting you and learning some all new tricks? You’re surprised he hasn’t put you in a wheelchair yet. The dangerous thing is that he can control it. The same amount of libido would bring a man to his knees, but not Myers. He will fuck you for hours and still be ready for another round at the drop of a hat. 

Z = ZZZ (How quickly will they fall asleep afterwards?)

He’ll always wait for you to sleep first, which isn’t a long wait by any means. As formidable as he is, he won’t take off his mask around you if he doesn’t need to. Sure, he’ll let you catch him without it a few times, but that’s only because he knows you won’t say anything either way. After you’re down however, it still takes him a good amount of time before he can get himself to sleep. It’s a predator thing.

[sombreboy]

Corrupted | yandere!myg

▎ 18+ ▎ xtremity; 6 ▎ pairing: yandere!myg x y/n ▎ genre: smut, mafia au ▎ word count: 5.8k ▎ warnings: toxic/possessive behavior, myg cuts kth, oral(f!rec), cursing/dirtytalk, unprotected sex. 

You're the sweetest of fruits, the aura of purity surrounding you sparks a fire within Min Yoongi that has him utterly smitten with an obsessive need for you in every way possible. He brings you into his world as his personal secretary, but in reality he doesn't need it. What he craves with his entire being is to corrupt the pure angel that is you with his carnal desires.

Min Yoongi.

The most powerful and renown of men within the mafia realm.

Feared by companies, feared by men, desired by women.

He's extremely intelligent and a delicate planner, loyal to the bone if you've earned it & utterly merciless, thus have grown to become what people would call an invincible man. No one dared to try to play him at this point. Many have tried, and they'd be politely greeted with their boss' heart on a silver platter. And word travels fast

With a flick of his wrist he could end anybody's opportunities and connections.

Everyone wanted to become his ally, because if you can't beat them, join them, as they say.

And with power, comes responsibility.. And a disgusting amount of wealth.

Dirty cash, yes. But money is money to him.

Throughout the years he'd been building his empire, starting from the bottom until he's so high up nobody could dream to get even remotely close to his level.

But something was missing in Min Yoongi's Life.

Even with this incredible amount of power, which he loved... He loved it, the power kink he's developed ingrained within him along with other questionable ways of getting his adrenaline pumping.

But he's grown quite bored of the one night stands. Those girls were already dirty, corrupted and let him do whatever he wanted. They were gladly a whore for his cash, and it was a fun time killer for a while... But it's grown oh so dull.

As if fate was on his side (hah), his world was turned around when he was going through the sent in applications for the position to become his personal secretary. He technically didn't need it, but 'some work load off his shoulders' didn't sound all too bad, as his right hand Taehyung had urged him to finally do something about.

He sighed in disappointment as he flipped through the resumes. To be honest, he didn't bother to read most of them, and simply took a quick glance at the photos provided of the applicant.

''Hey boss, did you look through the apps yet?''

Taehyung carefully closed the door behind him before strolling up to stand next to Yoongi's large office chair, bending slightly to get a view of the papers as well.

''I am currently, as you can probably tell.'' Yoongi answered, a mild annoyance in his voice as he crumples up one of the papers into a ball before throwing it at Taehyung, whom only scoffs in amusement.

''What about this one? She's very qualified.'' Taehyung continues as he leans over the desk to point at the woman's previous experiences.

Yoongi sighs, ''She's perfectly qualified, but if you look closely you can also see that she's worked for one of our competitors. Can't trust that.''

Taehyung raises his eyebrows followed with a quiet 'ah', skimming through the stack of papers himself in silence.

That's when Min Yoongi suddenly leaned forward in his chair, causing it to shriek out by the sudden movement, startling Taehyung.

''Let me see that one again. Go back.''

Taehyung's eyebrows were drawn together in confusion, but he did as told and went back to the one resume his boss seemed oddly interested in. He picked it out of the stack, and quickly Yoongi snatched it from his hands to put it flat down on the desk in front of him.

''Boss, she's not qualified at all...''

''Silence.''

Yoongi fished out his reading glasses from his pocket and put them on, bringing the paper closer to his face to get a proper look at your face. His tongue snaked out to wet his lips, a common habit of his when in deep focus. A new feeling came to life within his usually so monotone soul. Well, it wasn't new... He knew exactly what this emotion was.

''I want her here by tomorrow, Taehyung.'' He said as he handed the paper over to his right hand man.

Taehyung was shocked, and it was obvious in his expression, ''T-tomorrow? That's such a short notice, Yoon-''

''I'm sorry, but did it sound like I was asking you, Mr. Kim? Tomorrow, 9 a.m Sharp. I shall have her desk in order for her outside of my office by then.''

Taehyung looked at your photo as he licked his lips in thought. He's seen this look on his friend-... boss this way only once before. And it didn't end well, because he ...'let her go', as he'd been told to phrase it.

''Yes... I'm on it, right away.''

Yoongi observed his right hand man exiting his office, a fire burning up in his core as he clasped his hands on the table whilst staring blankly into nothingness.

This time he wouldn't make the same mistake.

This time he'd have more self control. He's certain of it.

You were over the moon when the news reached you over the phone, a certain Mr. Kim personally congratulating you for being hired as the secretary for the Mr. Min Yoongi himself.

You'd been throwing out resumes everywhere, and never in a million years did you expect to hear back from this one. It was a long shot, but turns out that miracles do happen.

''Thank you, thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Kim!''

A vibrating chuckle echoed through the call, ''Don't thank me, Mr. Min personally asked me to hire you.''

You remained silent, not able to properly register what was just said.

So Taehyung continued,

''He also requires you to be available to start right away, tomorrow. 9 a.m.''

You choked on your own breath, ''Tomorrow? That's..''

''A very short notice, I'm aware. But there is no room for negotiation, so if you would please accomodate to his wishes...''

You nodded, blushing when you realize he can't see you, so you croax out,

''Y-yes, It's no problem. I'll come tomorrow.''

Taehyung giggles, this time sounding a lot more lighthearted,

''9 a.m, don't be late. Good luck- I mean... Congratulations. It will be a pleasure to work with you.''

And with that, this Mr. Kim hung up on you, leaving you in the silence on the other end.

A wide smile spread across your face as you went to bed that night, excited for new opportunities and a higher paycheck.

8.45 a.m

You anxiously stepped into the grand building entrance, dressed in your favorite work appropriate outfit.

It was simple, really; A cream white dress-shirt fitted to your curves with a flattering v-neck, matched with a black waist high pencil skirt that ended just above your knees, topped off with a pair of cute, black low heels.

You were greeted by a handsome young man standing by the front desk, confidently striding over to you with a box-shaped smile on his lips as he reached his hand out to grab yours,

''Good morning, Miss L/N. Im Kim Taehyung, you spoke with me on the phone last night. On time, even a little early. You're putting in a good impression already.'

You bow before accepting his hand, which he shakes lightly before letting go. He gestures with his hand for you to follow him into the elevator.

Standing there, he presses the button to the floor on the very top, watching the doors close before redirecting his attention to you,

''If you have any questions regarding any matter, don't hesitate to ask me. It is my job after all.''

He looked almost apologetic, and you shoot him a soft smile,

''Thank you. I'm curious, actually...''

''Anything at all, I will do my best to answer you.''

''Well,'' You shift the weight on your feet, ''I don't really know much about secretary work... And I'm quite nervous that I won't live up to Mr.Min's expectations.''

Taehyung's smile softens, a vague hint of concern in his eyes. He puts his hand on your shoulder in reassurance,

''Don't worry too much. That's why I'm here, to teach you and guide you. We know your experience isn't as high as it could've been, but Mr. Min insisted for it to be you.''

You look up at him with confusion, ''Why did he insist?''

Taehyung bit his lip, knowing he probably said too much. He shook his head with a dismissive smile,

''I believe he saw potential, and the fact that you have no past experience means we don't have to worry about other companies being behind you to try to get at our company.''

You froze for a second, his choice of words kind of didn't make sense to you. But before you were able to say anything else, the elevator doors opened.

Taehyung let his hand move from your shoulder to the small of your back to guide you out of the elevator, ushering you to walk next to him.

He halted at a big desk in the lobby outside of an office with a big sign hanging on the door,

Mr. Min Yoongi.

You put your purse down on the big desk. Your desk. It was a lot fancier than you imagined, and the large office chair looked extremely comfortable and high end, almost like a throne.

Meanwhile, Taehyung knocked on the office door to your new boss and carefully opened it, leaning in to announce your arrival. He came back out, nudging his chin in the office's direction,

''He's waiting for you.''

''Oh, I better head in then. I'm nervous...'' You straightened out the pencil skirt while Taehyung walked up closer to you with a reassuring smile, placing his hand on your shoulder once more before speaking,

''Good luck.''

And with that, he returned to the elevator, a small wave thrown your way before the doors closed on him.

You took a deep breath, straightening your posture before carefully opening the door, peeking inside.

''Don't be shy. Come in.''

Closing the door behind you, you finally let out the breath you've been holding. He beckoned for you to come closer,

''Have a seat.''

You sit down in front of him, hands clasped in your lap as you finally get a good look at the man you're now working for.

He was incredibly good looking, pale clear skin, blonde hair that was neatly styled to frame his face. He was dressed in a very expensive suit, definitely personally tailored to fit his frame like a glove.

His eyes, however, were completely unreadable. Beautiful, yes, the feline-like shape and intense stare piercing through you like a sharpened knife, but there was no indication of any emotion whatsoever.

Until his lips curled up in a gummy-like smile, instantly softening his entire expression. He was almost too beautiful.

To be honest, you had expected somebody older. Much older, considering the grand Company and it's reputation (which you didn't know that much of, but you did a tiny bit of research before getting here.).

''What are you thinking about?'' He interrupted your thoughts.

You smiled shyly, looking down at your lap, twiddling your fingers anxiously,

''It's silly...''

He leaned forward, his chin resting in his palm as he keeps his gaze fixed on you with genuine interest,

''Tell me.''

You nod, one hand running through your hair to put strands of it behind your ear. The action alone had Yoongi's chest erupt into fireworks, mouth already watering at the flustered state you're in. He loved feeling so powerful, the status difference between the two of you so apparent.

''Well, I was just thinking that you weren't at all how I imagined the Min Yoongi to be.''

He tilted his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips,

''Oh? Then what did you imagine 'The Min Yoongi' to be?''

''I kind of imagined you as an old man, considering..'' You gesture around you to emphasize, ''All of this. How did you manage to create all of this at such an age.''

He scoffed, amused, ''Understandable.''

''It's just impressive, is all.''

The praise hit him differently. He's never heard his success to be described as 'impressive', and he's sure you wouldn't say that if you knew the things he'd done to get here. But still... When it came from your lips, he almost felt proud.

''And now you're part of it.''

A long moment of silence followed, Yoongi simply keeping his eyes on you as if he's dissecting you with his eyes. You slowly started to feel fidgety, not sure what to do or say in this situation, and he was thriving off of it. The uncertainty in your eyes, the way you kept playing with your hair. He finally broke the silence by pulling out a stack of documents from his desk drawer and dropping it in front of you with a loud thud, causing you to jump in your chair.

''I want you to digitalize these documents for me and then send them to my e-mail. Everything is set up for you on the computer by your desk, and if you have any questions just call for Mr. Kim or give me a knock.''

You were surprised by the sudden change from conversation to business, but you stood up and took the Heavy stack of documents into your arms, bowing politely at your boss,

''Yes.''

He placed his hands on his hips, clacking his tongue once in disapproval,

''In here, you're to address me as Sir... So, try again.''

You exhaled quietly, his entire change in demeanor making you feel both weak and excited at once,

''Yes, sir.''

He nodded, a flick of his wrist to usher for you to leave.

''Good girl. Dismissed.''

You bowed once more, a blush on your cheeks before hurrying out of his office to get to work.

Yoongi threw himself back against the backrest of his chair with a groan as soon as the door closed behind you. Hissing curses to himself as he looked down on his lap, the strained fabric caging his prominent erection had given him hell Throughout the entire conversation. How did you affect him so greatly?

Fuck, he wanted you so badly already.

He wanted to take this slower. He really did. Give you time... Enough time to maybe love him too.

But he's so incredibly impatient.

''Min Yoongi... Control yourself.'' He whispered to himself as he palmed himself through the fabric of his dress pants, a soft, vibrating groan rumbling in his chest at the thought of you on your knees underneath his desk.

Just a little more patience.

You were finally getting the hang of this, but you sure hoped he didn't expect you to finish this entire stack today. It was way too much.

You leaned back into your chair with a sigh, glancing over at the Clock.

Crap, you hadn't eaten lunch yet! And the day just literally flew by.

Just as if on call, Taehyung waltzed out of the elevator with a big boxy grin on his face as he came up to you.

''Hello, secretary. I was gonna ask if you've had your lunch yet? Me and some coworkers are having some takeout on the floor below if you'd like to join.''

You were almost about to say no, but then your stomach protested,

''Actually, that would be Lovely. I'm starving!''

You got up and walked towards the elevator with Taehyung before halting, glancing over at your boss' office.

''What about Mr. Min?''

Taehyung shrugged, ''He never eats with us.''

You pout, ''Do you ever ask?''

Tae looks guilty, ''Not lately.''

''What?! I bet he's super hungry too, I'm gonna ask.''

You strode over to the office door without a thought, not listening to Taehyung's protests in the back before knocking and opening the door without waiting, peeking in to simply see the back of Yoongi's chair facing you.

''Sir?''

The chair turned around slowly, the very same handsome man as you saw this morning looking slightly less put together in a way staring back at you. Something was different, yet not.

''What can I do for you, y/n?''

''I-I was just... gonna ask if you wanted to come with me and Tae- Mr. Kim downstairs for lunch...If you're not too busy.''

You didn't know why, but the air felt thicker in his office, and you felt as if you shrunk underneath his gaze.

He licked his lips in thought before nodding,

''I'll be right there. Go ahead without me.''

You couldn't help but smile, giving him a nod before closing the door, heading back to Taehyung, who's looking at you dumbfounded.

''He rejected you, didn't he? I told you he-''

You held up your hand to silence Taehyung, a victorious smile on your lips,

''He said he's coming, but we could go ahead.''

Taehyung's jaw dropped before breaking into an amused smile, ''No way...''

Yoongi stood up from his chair, taking a moment to take a good look at himself in the large body mirror on his wall. He ran his fingers through his hair as to fix the slight mess he'd caused. How inconvenient that you'd walked in on him just after he'd relieved himself off some well needed stress.

How couldn't he, you drove him mad, his body is aching for you already.

He was surprised that you'd asked him to join you for lunch, and part of him was thrilled. This was a good step, a good development. You must already feel something for him. You're closer to being wrapped around his finger.

As he made his way down to the staff room, he saw you sitting with his other employees, chatting and smiling. You looked gorgeous.

But Yoongi was boiling at the way you smiled, because it wasn't directed towards him, but towards his own right hand man, Taehyung. And he had the audacity to smile back, sitting way too close to you.

The entire room fell silent when they noticed Yoongi's presence, he casually sat down across from you at the table, as the space next to you was already occupied by Taehyung.

''W-welcome, boss.'' Jung Hoseok exclaimed with an uncertain smile.

Yoongi nodded in acknowledgement,

''What are we having?''

You smiled widely, completely oblivious to the tension between the others at his presence, pushing forward a takeout box in front of him,

''Chinese! It's delicious, try it!''

Yoongi scrunched his nose. He hadn't had takeout in years, accustomed to a more expensive taste at this point. But it was you... You offered this to him. The others anxiously shared looks, knowing that if they were the ones who would've so casually offered this to him, he wouldn't have reacted all that kindly.

''Thank you.'' He simply responded as he opened it, grabbing a pair of chopsticks before calmy diggin into it.

Everyone's eyes widened, but as soon as Yoongi looked up they hurried to continue eating and chatting as if their stern boss didn't just THANK the new employee.

You smiled, ''Good, huh?''

Yoongi nods, saying nothing as he chews his food. He almost looked harmless, cute even with the way his cheeks puffed up when they were full of food.

You turned to Taehyung to continue a conversation that you had going on before Yoongi's arrival. He listened in, and it was purely business talk, but the way you were leaned in and so casually addressing his by his birth name had Yoongi's blood boiling once again. This was no good. His right hand man knows that you were his, his only. HIS. He better step back on the casualty.

Taehyung didn't. He smiled back, conversing way too nicely the entire lunch, and it did nothing but spur Yoongi's possessiveness on.

He's too far gone. He knew that. There's no way he'd be able to wait longer, he needed to claim you before anyone else did. At least that's how it felt in his world.

Yoongi put his food back on the table when he finished, taking a sip of his water before standing back up, making the chair scrape and screech against the floors which silences everyone once more.

''I'm heading back. Thank you for the lunch.''

Everyone bows and nods at their boss, including you. He gives Taehyung a piercing glare before saying one last thing,

''Mr. Kim, stop by my office when you're finished.''

''You asked for me, boss?''

As he's done countless of times before, he steps inside of Yoongi's office, striding over to stand in front of the familiar desk. He kept his hands in the pockets of his dresspants, swallowing tightly as to where his adam's apple bobs heavily. He knows it couldn't be good.

''Sit down, get comfortable.. Why would you act as if I'm a stranger to you, hm?''

Taehyung hesitantly sits down in front of Yoongi, whom is sitting frozen in Place with his hands clasped together on the table before speaking once more,

''Mr. Kim Taehyung. You're my right hand, aren't you?''

Taehyung nods.

''But first and foremost, you're also my friend, correct?''

''Correct..''

''So you're loyal to me, no? You'd do anything to prove your loyalty?''

Taehyung didn't like where this was going, but he nodded with a confused expression.

Yoongi suddenly lunges forward, a tight fist grabbing onto Taehyung's collar to pull him forward over the desk until their faces are merely inches apart.

''Then you will understand why I am doing what I am about to do.'' Yoongi growls out.

Taehyung reaches up to claw at Yoongis tight hold, gasping for air,

''W-what the fuck Yoongi... Let go!''

Yoongi holds him in an iron claw grip as his other hand reaches to grab onto Taehyung's wrist, then lets his collar go. Taehyung gasps for air, not registering when Yoongi pushes Tae's palm flat down on the desk Surface and holds in in Place as he reaches for something in his desk drawer.

''Boss, what is this about, w-what are you– FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK!''

Taehyung whines out in pain when Yoongi had pulled out a small, golden plated knife and didn't hesitate for even a second before letting it chomp down at the tip of Taehyung's ring finger. It was just enough to cause immense pain, a bleeding, but not so much that it'd be noticeable in the long run. He had considered taking a whole finger, but since Taehyung was his closest friend, he felt generous.

Yoongi let go and sat back down in his chair, calmly watching Taehyung hiss and curse as he hid his finger to keep pressure in the fabric of his shirt. He looked up at his boss with anger, and fear, and Disappointment.

''What the fuck was that for, YOONGI?!''

Yoongi clacked his tongue as he cleaned off the blood from his knife with a napkin,

''For overstepping boundaries.''

''I OVERSTEPPED BOUNDARIES?!'' Tae yelled while staring at the knife.

Yoongi stared up at Taehyung, ''You're being too friendly with what's mine. You know I don't like that.''

Taehyung scoffs, ''YOURS?''

''Taehyung...''

''Seriously, I'm worried about you Yoongi, and I stay by you through it all. But what if you end up repeating the same shit you did four years ago? I already see the way you look at y/n.''

Yoongi's eye twitched at the reminder, stopping his movements of cleaning the knife, ''Watch your mouth. That's none of your business.''

''Isn't it though? I'm your right hand, I'm supposed to give you my advice if needed.''

''You're supposed to keep your mouth shut if you want to keep your job... And your fingers.''

Taehyung admits defeat, and sighs, ''Anything else?''

Yoongi shakes his head, ''As long as you understand.''

Taehyung gets up and walks towards the door, looking back at his friend...boss, one last time with a concerned expression,

''Just... She's too pure... Don't repeat the same mistakes.''

Yoongi's jaw clenches,

''I'm different now. Dismissed.''

Yoongi had kept his fair distance the following week, letting you simply do your job. Everytime he saw you interact with any of the other employees, he was seething. He kept his eyes on you as often as he was able to, just watching you work. The way you'd tuck your hair behind your ears, to the way your nose scrunched when you were focused.

His chest fluttered, his soul burned.

His flesh craved yours.

You were the sweetest, purest person he's ever encountered, and he knew this was the fact from the very moment he saw your face on that photo. He could tell, he knows people, their faces. You were so innocent, filled with hopes and positivity.

Everything he wasn't.

The desire to corrupt your purity was more intense than ever, and he'd decided; tonight he was gonna indulge in what he's been craving. And he always gets what he wants.

Suddenly life didn't feel so dull anymore. Honestly, ever since you joined, every day has been anything but dull to Yoongi. He almost loved the torture he put himself through by not just ravaging you on day one. Watching you, pining for you. It was new, this Alien feeling of wanting something so badly.

But patience was at an all time low, it was time. He needed you.

You answered your office phone,

''Mr. Min's office.''

A dark, familiar chuckle echoed on the line,

''Hello there, angel.''

A nickname your boss had given you the past few days... Angel. You were still not used to it, a blush on your cheeks at the petname.

''H-hello sir. What can I do for you?''

You were kind of confused why he decided to call your phone, he was literally in the room behind yours.

''There's so much you could do for me, angel. But let's start with you coming into my office, I need you.''

You furrowed your brows, ''You need me? I'm already working on the documents you just gave me–''

''No, no. This is much more important.''

''Oh?''

''I'm waiting.''

Click.

Yoongi stood up as soon as he heard your footsteps approaching, striding over to you as soon as the door opened, pulling you in to push your back against the door to force it closed behind you. He towered over you like a predator, instantly making you shrink down into a prey.

''S-sir, what are you doing...''

Yoongi's pupils were blown wide, breaths shallow but Heavy as he stares at you,

''I need you....Fuck, angel, only you can help me.''

You shrink down further, almost slowly sliding down the wall. Yoongi lets you, and as you sit down in a squat he's dropped down to his knees with you, his palms pressed against the door as he leans closer to your face,

''Do you think you could help me?''

You look down at the floor, heavily blushing,

''I-I'm not sure what you mean...''

He grabs your chin to direct your attention to his face, the expression on your face of fear mixed with confusion makes his cock twitch.

''Do you need me to spell it out for you? I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on your pretty face. I can't contain myself any longer, I can't... stay away from you.''

Your mouth falls open in realization, your cheeks reddening even further. He stares at your plump lips before leaning in to Place a soft, experimental kiss. He groans at the taste,

''You're so sweet. Too sweet. Too pure, aren't you?''

You exhale sharply, and he withdraws to look at your obvious expression.

''Are you... untouched, my angel?''

You hide your face in your hands, heart racing so fast it feels like it's gonna burst out of your chest. But you nod.

Yoongi feels a wave of this incredible urge once more, his cock hardening even further at the thought of ruining you completely.

''I'd be your first...''

He stands up, pulling you up with him as he leads you to his desk and lifts you up on it, spreading your legs for him as he steps inbetween to pull you in for Another kiss. He whispers into your lips between chaste kisses,

''I'd be your first... And your last... Your only one... You wanna be mine, angel? Hm?''

You feel the heat rushing through your body, the familiar burning sensation rushing down to your core growing more intense with every kiss.

''Tell me, angel.''

You nod, whispering a breahy 'yes'.

He groans into the kiss as his hands pull your skirt up over your ass pushing himself closer to grind his clothed erection against your clothed core. He nips at your lips when he hears your small whines, and pulls back with a frustrated noise rumbling from his throat,

''As much as I love teasing, I have basically been teasing myself for days waiting for this very moment.''

He drops down to his knees in front of you, spreading your legs further as you lay back on the desk. He swiftly pulls your panties down to expose your tight little slit for him, and he licks his lips in anticipation, no longer able to wait.

''Mine.'' He whispers, moreso to himself before giving your clit a kiss. You Breathe out quietly, and he dives in once more to let his tongue taste you.

''Mine.'' He repeats with a soft moan as he alternates between licks and kisses, finally drawing out more noises from you. It still wasn't enough, though. He wanted you to be a screaming mess for him, begging for more.

''Delicious and soppy, all for me.''

''yes, yes..'' You whimper out, not able to focus as you put your arm over your eyes to hide in shyness. Yoongi easily slides one finger into your cunt while still licking at your clit, moaning once more when he feels your pussy already tightening around his finger.

''You're gonna cum already, angel? Have you ever been fingered before?''

You shake your head, ''Not by...somebody else..''

''Oh, my dear...'' Yoongi chuckles before sliding a second finger in, curling them slightly to provide a pressure towards your sensitive spot as he finds it. You buck your hips against his fingers as your moans grow louder, and your cunt gets soppier and dripping down to his knuckles until there's a wet puddle growing on the table.

''My good girl loves this... Look how fucking dripping wet you are.'' He growls  out, speeding up his fingers whilst licking your clit faster. You whine out when you finally cum, back arching and pussy pulsating as it contracts in a vice grip around his fingers. He keeps fucking you with his fingers, digging deeper to draw out the most beautiful sound of your painful whines of overstimulation.

''T-too much....'' You cry out, but he continues.

''But you feel so fucking good, it sounds so sexy when you whine for me..''

''A-ah s-sensitive, Sir, sir.....!''

Yoongis lips curl up in a wicked smile, finally pulling his fingers out of you, smearing the wetness on his fingers over your clit as he slowly rubs your sensitive nub in circles, drawing more twitches from your body. He fucking loved it.

''Oh, you're so precious.''

He stands up again, admiring the view of your totally messy wetness.

''Now...'' He pauses while he unbuckles his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down to his hips to pull his painfully hard erection out, ''I'm going to claim what's mine.''

You spread your legs further when he positions himself between your legs, lips agape and breathing heavily while looking up at him, ''Please...''

His lip twitches as if he wants to smile at your current state, so fucking beautiful. And all for him.

''You want my cock that badly?''

You nod, ''Yes, please...''

''Your first, last, and only...'' He hisses out when he lines himself up with your entrance, finally pushing himself in without letting you adjust properly. You cry out, a mix between pain and pleasure in your voice, the perfect sound in Yoongi's ears as he moans softly with you.

''Your cunt feels so fucking good already... And it's all mine to use.''

He places his hands on your waist to pull you down a Little until your ass hangs off of the desk, giving him the perfect angle to thrust himself into you roughly, drawing more moans from your throat.

''I'm gonna use your little pussy every single day from now on, this is the only thing I want you to do for me from now on. Nothing else. I'll get a new secretary. All you gotta do is be mine.''

You nod, chanting out 'yes' with every snap of his hips becoming faster and rougher. His eyes are blown wide with desire and admiration at the way your body sinfully bounces beneath his ministrations.

''I love you. I love you, I fucking love fucking you.....'' Yoongi growls out, making a point out of every word with a thrust, the wet soppy noises of his skin slapping against yours like music to his ears.

His cock hardened further inside of you, reaching spots neither your or his fingers ever could. You cry out , arching your back for him when you feel your second orgasm building inside of you like an incoming wave.

Yoongi slows down when he feels your pussy tightening, lifting you up to carry you. He sits down in his large, throne-like chair with you on top of him, you leaning over to Place your palms on his shoulders to keep yourself in Place. He roughly grabs your ass to Bounce you up and down on his cock, the raw strength in his hips and arms making it more than easy for you to ride him.

He nips and kisses at your breasts, leaving small love marks here and there and admiring the way your skin bruises from his lips. He grows greedier, fucking up into you with less rhythm as he feels his own high reaching him,

''I'm gonna fill your little pure pussy up with my cum, angel. Your first. Your only. You're mine, baby, you're mine. Tell me.''

He growls as he bites your neck, this time definitely rougher than before as he listens to the beautiful noises of your pain, pleasure and incoherent attempts of telling him that you're his. Your cunt squeezes him tightly when you cry out as you cum for the second time.

Good enough, this is exactly the state he wanted you in.

''Mine.'' He snarls out before holding your ass in a bruising grasp,  pushing you down on his cock whilst bucking his hips up into you, stilling when he cums in hot, pulsating ropes to fill your pussy up at last.

He hisses out curses and praises, staying like this for a moment as he litters kisses all over your neck and chest.

You're like a ragdoll on top of him, breathing heavily and whimpering when he rubs circles on your bruised ass.

Yoongi nudges your head to make you look up at him, your cheek pressed against his chest as your doe eyes stare back up at him.

You smile, your usual small, precious, innocent smile, and he can't help but give you a gummy smile back.

His hands move up your back to play with your hair, leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead and inhale your scent before whispering,

''You belong to me now.''

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[kakakakashi]

Oh my fucking NSFW alphabet and me not asking for Kakashi 👀

I knew he was gonna be first. I knew it. This one is LOOOOOOOOOONG, and idk if they’ll all be this long, but I couldn’t help myself. 

*NSFW under the cut*

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It depends on what you did. Kakashi is a wild card when it comes to the bedroom. He likes a lot of different things, and he likes it rough most of the time. The aftercare varies accordingly, but he always makes sure that you’re good before he falls asleep. Please, do the same for him if you’re rough with him. The man will claim you don’t need to coddle him, but he’ll melt if you take care of him.

B - Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

…….. Do you even have to ask me this question? The man has called your ass proof of some god’s existence at some point or another. He’s a fan of your legs too, especially in combination with your ass, but like… It’s the booty that gets this man going every time.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves a good facial. I just… I don’t know what to tell you. Like… it is what it is. You can’t convince me that it’s his favorite place to cum. Second favorite is inside you, but that’s another story.

D - Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I don’t think Kakashi necessarily has a dirty secret that he’d never tell you. He definitely takes a while to open up about things, but like, once he’s open with you and you’re open with him, anything goes. I’ll expand on this later.

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Kakashi isn’t necessarily experienced regarding the number of partners he’s had. I know a lot of people think he’s a sex fiend, but I just can’t see it. I think with his mental state, his fear of vulnerability, and the self-loathing and overwhelming guilt he obviously deals with on a day to day basis, somewhere deep down in his subconscious, he doesn’t believe that he deserves to be loved in any way, shape, or formed. I feel like that’s part of why he reads Icha Icha too. Like, he wants that connection, but he believes he can never have it. That said, Icha Icha opened a lot of doors for him. I think that because of that, he does know what he’s doing. It’s how he discovered a lot of his kinks in my opinion. He’s had a few partners at certain points in his life, but not an obscene amount. However, he does know what he’s doing. The man’s done his research.

F - Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

I’m sorry. You expect him to pick one? It depends on a lot of things to him. I think he sees all the pros & cons of different positions in different situations and adjusts accordingly. I think he likes it best when you fuck him & have his legs over your shoulders, though. If he’s fucking you, though, he likes to take you from behind in front of a mirror.

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Again, I think it depends on what you’re doing. Mostly, he’s serious, but he knows how to crack a joke at the perfect moment to make everything all that much better. He’s 500% going to tease you, though. That’s another story. He’s a little shit, so he’ll joke around in that sense.

H - Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Okay, unpopular opinion here. I think Kakashi rocks a bush. I honestly do. If you wanted him to trim, he will, but I don’t think he’d go bare. This is mostly because he doesn’t have anyone to impress like ever, and nobody ever sees him naked like ever. Not to mention, he doesn’t necessarily have the time to keep up with grooming when he’s on missions and such, especially if he tried to go bare. Like, he doesn’t have the time or energy to deal with preventing ingrowns and taking care of the skin irritation. Therefore, I think he’s just to the point of “You know what? Fuck it.” The man doesn’t have time for that shit. He likes as minimal effort as possible. It’s actually really hot though, and it works for him somehow. The carpet does match the drapes as well. Down there is just slightly darker.

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Again, I think it just depends on the surrounding circumstances. Sex as a whole is already a really intimate experience for Kakashi. Even if it’s rough and dominant, it’s still intimate for him. When it comes to romance, it depends on the vibe between you at the moment. If he’s just come back from a mission where he’s so tired, but he missed you so much, and the both of you just want to hold each other, he’s the most romantic. However, if he’s calling you names while your cherry red ass is up in the air, it’s not necessarily romantic. However, if you’re pegging him and calling him a good boy or something in the “not necessarily romantic” category, there’s still an element of romance to it because you know that you care about each other, and that’s why you’re in the situation you’re in. You know Kakashi trusts you to make him feel good, and he knows you trust him in the same way. It’s a more of an unspoken connection where you care about each other’s pleasure as opposed to an empty rose petals and candles kind of thing.

J - Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He loves it when you make him touch himself for you. He loves to make you touch yourself for him too. Also, I have a kind of specific hc about this, and it goes with what I wrote here. So, after you and Kakashi open up about what you do and don’t like, you set up boundaries & agree to certain things & all that fun stuff. Now, if you discuss it & consent to it, even as just an rp situation or something, I can 500% see Kakashi doing something along the lines of this. When he catches you touching yourself or even just changing or naked or something. He might start jerking off while you have no idea he’s there. I feel like watching you would make him so hard, and he’d just fuckin blow if he could get away with it without you noticing. Omg, and if you punish him for being a pervert after, god, the man’s in love.

Omg, and if you heard him come in or something, but just let him fuck his hand while you put on a show for him until he’s about to come before you tell him you knew he was there the whole time, he’s gonna spill as soon as the words leave your mouth. Like, it’s just so hot to him.

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

I think it’s easier to list kinks he doesn’t have? Anyway, I’m just gonna do some of them. He likes pegging, dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, praise, voyeurism, exhibitionism, spanking (both heavy and light), edging, overstimulation, forced orgasms, bondage, sensory deprivation, hair pulling, and many more. Lol.

He also has some more questionable kinks including his thing for feet that’s not quite the usual fetish, but like, if you suggested giving him a foot job, he wouldn’t say no. Not to mention, if you’re being dominant, he’s kind of into you calling him a bad dog while he’s tied up on the floor and humping your leg. Whoops. Did I say that out loud?

L - Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Tbh, Kakashi loves the risk involved with potentially getting caught. Idk why, but I just have this gut feeling. Like, it really just gets his rocks off somehow. So, he’d probably like anywhere semipublic. Like, in a bathroom or against a tree while you’re away from the campsite on a mission. He’s not going to shove his hand down your pants when people are around, but he likes there to be a slight element of risk. I think he’d prefer people to hear what you’re doing as opposed to potentially seeing anything if that makes sense. Although, other than that, I do think he’s partial to the bedroom because you guys can entertain more of your kinks in the privacy of home. I mean, you can’t really peg him while you’re on a mission. Ya know.

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Tbh, I think it depends. If you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time, he’s stubborn, and he won’t give in. For example, if you’re on an important mission that has a lot of risks. Kakashi isn’t going to neglect his responsibilities for a quickie. If anything, I think he’d be kind of upset that you wouldn’t value the delicate nature of the situation. I also think that if anybody else tried to get him going other than his partner, it would be like talking to a brick wall. He has no patience or energy to even act like he entertains it. If it’s you, and you’re, say, at home and just existing together, the slightest thing can set him off. Just a glimpse of skin or even just a memory of you. If you wear his clothes, smile at him, or even just say his name in a specific way, he’ll be in the mood.

N - NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I don’t think Kakashi would ever use any form of ninjutsu on you. Like, I think he would be too terrified to hurt you, and it would trigger a lot in him.

In my opinion, it also takes Kakashi a loooooong time to get comfortable with you. You have to know him for years as friends before you get together. It takes a while for things to move forward. It takes a while for you guys to have sex. He definitely won’t break out all of his kinks at once. He really needs you to be patient until he’s ready to bring them up. If you try to push him too far too fast, I don’t think he’d be okay with that. However, if you’ve been with Kakashi long enough for him to really trust you 100%, I don’t think anything is really off limits.

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I think we all know Kakashi’s good with his mouth. The man’s read enough smut to have countless tricks up his sleeve, and he undoubtedly pulls out all the stops to make you squirm. He’s going to find all your sensitive spots, and he’s going to abuse them until you’re so wound up you could scream. Then, he’s going to pull back just enough that you can’t get where you want and start the process over again.

However, while he loves giving, he fucking loves a good blow job. The man will be putty in your hands if you put your mouth on him. And if you let him fuck your face? Well, he’s definitely not lasting long. He loves making a mess of your face when he shoves his cock down your throat. It’s one of his favorite sights in the world.

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He can go either way depending on the mood, and I also think that he uses a combination of the two in order to drag out the pleasure as long as possible with you. He’ll start out so slow, but as things heat up, he’ll pick up the pace… only to slow down again and make you want to cry. He enjoys the same treatment very much as well.  

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

You’re kidding, right? I don’t think Kakashi could ever say “no” to a quickie. The man loves them, especially if you might get caught.

R - Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

The man will try anything once. He’s so game.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Okay, so I think Kakashi usually only goes for one or two rounds, but he lasts for a time that’s above average. Not to mention, it also depends on what you consider a “round” because he does tend to prefer to give you more orgasms than him. He just feels that it’s what he should do. He’s really a considerate partner in my opinion, and he will keep going somehow until you’re both satisfied, even if he has to take a quick break in between.

T - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

The man has oodles of delicious toys. He loves using them on himself and on you. He also loves when you use them on yourself and on him. Toys are something he regularly enjoys using in the bedroom with you. He thinks they just bring everything to a whole new level, and they provide lots of fun and entertainment.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You pull out a dictionary and look up the word tease? You’re gonna find a picture of Kakashi Hatake. The man’s merciless, and it makes him so fucking smug.

V - Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

It depends on where you are and what you’re doing. He can be loud when it’s really good, but he only lets those noises out in the comfort of home. He knows how to control himself and muffle the sounds he can’t contain. However, sometimes, he can be quiet as a mouse, all labored breaths and grunts into your ear. Either way, it’s a sound that shakes you to your core.

W - Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Kakashi in lacy little panties… just… *chef’s kiss*

Also, I hc that Kakashi gets really pink & flushed while having sex. Like, it would be super cute if he wasn’t making you see stars tbh. 

X - X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

I’m going to leave this art by @dianaii here. It’s exactly how I’ve always pictured that dumb dork. Also this art by @rrrotten because it’s a close second. 

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I think Kakashi’s got a weird combo here because he’s very athletic, so I think it would be above average. However, the man is depressed af, and his mental state is just a cocktail of mental issues, so I’d think it was below average. However, he reads Icha Icha all the time, so I think that would have an impact. The only thing is that Kakashi has literally said that his favorite part of the book is the plot, so what is the truth? Overall, I think he’s a really flexible partner who can really match whatever you bring to the table.

Z - ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

See aftercare. As soon as he’s sure you’re good, he’s gonna be napping. He’ll at least close his eyes and relax if his brain doesn’t quiet down enough for him to sleep, though. 

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, mentions of torture, psychological distress. Angst.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: We’ve had a few cute and funny chapters now, so we were bound for some trouble. Old ghosts mixes with more recent, and the resulting damage will have lasting consequences.

Chapter 13

  “Hey, kid, scram. Your dad and I need to have a grown-up talk.”

  “Got it. I’ll finish watching this in my room with my headphones on.”

  Missy and Marcus were in the living room watching a movie, when you walked in after having taken a long hot shower after work and dinner. She got up and bounced off towards her room, and Marcus did his best to play it off, but he was suddenly very nervous.

  “Kid? What happened to sweetie?”

  “There’s a time for sweetie, and a time for kid.”

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “Nope. Just something we can’t really put off any longer.”

  “Okay.”

  You sat down on the table in front of the sofa, facing him.

  “So, you know how I was a little off at lunch the other day?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well… I was late.”

  “Oh. That kind of late.”

  “Yep. It was a false alarm, I got my period today, but considering the fact that we haven’t been careful – at all, we can’t really ignore it. I mean, I know it’s a big conversation to have after just two weeks, but if we put it off, it might end up being too late.”

  “Right. Well… If you’re asking what my attitude is to having more children, the answer is that I’d love that. And if you’re asking me if I’d freak out if we got pregnant already after just two weeks, my answer would be – no. I don’t think I would. I’m sure about you, about us, and this family has plenty of room to grow.”

  “Oh.”

  It was all you could push out of your mouth after hearing him declare his thoughts on the matter so clearly. You were so ambivalent, yourself, that it was almost jarring to hear his simplicity.

  “What about you?”

  This was the part you’d been dreading. You had so much baggage where family was concerned, and you honestly weren’t sure if you were ready to talk to him about it. But you owed it to him to at least try to explain where you stood on children.

  “Hey, preciosa, what is it?”

  You hadn’t even noticed that your eyes were watering.

  “Um… It’s just… my own family… it wasn’t a good place. I don’t have a lot of fond memories of growing up and I’m just… completely fucking terrified that I’m somehow gonna taint this beautiful little family with that… darkness.”

  He listened silently, but he looked worried, and reached out to take your hands when the tears started to fall.

  “I have never realistically thought about having a family. Not because I didn’t want one, but because I just never thought that it was in the cards for me. I had more or less convinced myself that I’d never deserve something like that. And then I met you, and… damned it! Now I want all of it, and I don’t know how to deal with that.”

  He kept searching your eyes, but you had no idea what he was looking for. His voice was as soft as he could make it when he finally spoke.

  “Why wasn’t it a good place? What happened with your family, hermosa?”

  “I… I can’t.”

  “Please, just tell me. Whatever it is, you won’t lose me. I’m right here. Please.”

  The memories surged up behind your eyes, and you closed them as hard as you could, trying to keep it all out, trying to make the truth disappear. But it never would. So, you just cried. Painfully, forcefully.   Marcus held you as you doubled over, feeling as though your insides were turning to acid, trying to destroy everything that you were.   You didn’t see or feel him cry with you. You didn’t see how much your pain made him suffer, or how helpless he felt as you curled into a foetal position when he moved you over to his lap, and wrapped his arms around you and just rocked you. You didn’t hear him continuously repeat how sorry he was, as though he had been the reason for all this pain.

  At some point, you fell asleep, and when you woke again, it was to the sound of voices close by.

  “…can’t ask her to do that! No. Absolutely not, it’s not happening.”

  “That’s not your decision to make, hijo.”

  “And it shouldn’t be hers either. She shouldn’t have to even think about it.”

  “It might be good for her. Confronting it. Has she ever even talked to you about it?”

  “No. Not directly.”

  “And you know that that’s never healthy.”

  “And meeting the man that tortured you, is?!”

  “What?”

  You’d made your way from the sofa to the kitchen, where Marcus was arguing with his mother. But you stopped cold when you heard that last part.

  “Sweetheart, you should get to bed, you’re exhausted.”

  “No. Tell me.”

  Marcus couldn’t bring himself to say it, so you turned to Anita.

  “Dr. Prince wants to meet you. He’s saying that if he can talk to you for one hour, he will give the authorities the names of the three unidentified bodies they found at his facility, and disclose a secondary location, where he’s claiming to have hidden an additional ten.”

  You suddenly felt completely numb. You had never once asked to see a picture of the man, and while you were authorised to watch the videos of his interrogations, you never had. You’d made a choice at some stage of your recovery to leave all of that behind, and focus on moving forward. Without Marcus, you couldn’t have done that, because he had been the light that you had constantly been running towards. That you were still running towards.

  Fuck… you were still running. Which meant that you still felt like there was something you needed to run from.

  “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Marcus lost every shade of colour in his face, and he stared at you with complete disbelief. Anita nodded and turned to leave.

  “I’ll let them know. It’ll probably be set up for the day after tomorrow.”

  As she left the house, you turned and walked to the bedroom, still not feeling anything, even your own feet as they moved over the floor. You sat down on your side of the bed, your back to the door, and tried not to think at all. You didn’t have to speak to him, you could just sit there and let him talk, it wouldn’t matter what he said.   But, of course it would. Every fucking word would matter. How could it not?

  “You don’t have to. They’ll get that information out of him some other way. It doesn’t have to be you.”

  He came in, rounded the bed and crouched down in front of you while he spoke.

  “Yeah, it does. Because it was always me. It was me in that hospital, it was me on that bed for weeks, it was me…”

  “Por favor, no hagas esto.”

  You just looked at him, trying to mould your face into the expression that you always gave him when you didn’t know what he was saying. You couldn’t really feel what your face was doing, but it seemed to work anyway.

  “Please… mi amor, don’t do this.”

***

  You had forbidden Marcus from accompanying you to the prison. You were nervous enough yourself; you didn’t need the added tension of his nerves on top of yours.   You’d never seen him that angry before, and suddenly Amaire’s comments about him turning into Cujo had made sense. There really was something wild about him when he was that furious, especially since he didn’t act it out, but got unnaturally still instead.

  There were forms to fill out and long corridors to cross before you got to the room. It was a specialised visitation room, parted in two with a thick reinforced piece of plexiglass. There were no holes in it, so the sound was carried over electronically, from small microphones to speakers in both sections of the room. It was all managed from an adjoining control room, where you waited the last few minutes before your hour would begin.   There was no possibility what so ever, that he could physically harm you during your visit. But that wasn’t what you were concerned about.   He was already there when you stepped through the door from the control room, walked in and sat down on the offered chair in the middle of your section.   He looked… ordinary.   He was quiet for a few minutes, while he seemed to study you, but then he spoke, and your blood turned to ice.

  “I knew it was possible. I always knew, despite the data, despite the numerous failures, that it would be possible, if I could just find the perfect specimen. And I did. Wow, you turned out so perfect.”

  You’d heard that voice before. You had never been able to remember anything of what actually happened in Egypt, and you still didn’t. But your body knew that voice. Your body remembered the pain that had accompanied that voice.   You didn’t want to answer him, but you needed to.

  “You’re delusional. Even now, you can’t admit that you failed. I don’t have any powers.”

  “Yes, you do. I can see it. You might not have discovered them yet, but you have them.”

  “You’re wrong. You’re grasping…”

  “You were different from the start, you know. The way you responded to the enhanced cells. The first round was so intriguing, seeing how you dealt with the pain, oh, you were so strong. You never stopped fighting me, even when you could no longer move. And then, as you regained your strength, you tried so hard to escape. The second round was more delicate, trying to figure out how much I dared to give you, to keep pushing your system, without breaking it, but you were amazing. No matter how much I gave you, you kept bouncing back as soon as you got the chance. So, I knew you’d survive the final round, the one that would actually send your body over the threshold.”

  “I’d be flattered by your confidence in my abilities, if not for the fact that you fucking tortured me for two days.”

  “Oh, no, my dear, I had you at my mercy for three weeks.”

  The ice in your veins seemed to double. Rationally, you wanted to believe what your mind was telling you, which was that it wasn’t true, how could it be? But your body’s reaction to him told you that there was more to this than you had realised.

  “…no, that’s… not possible.”

  “I changed your digital footprint, and rearranged your mind a little, with the help of a certain skilled friend. You went through ten rounds of my treatment, each one slightly more potent than the last. The final one, was mesmerising. It overwhelmed your system, letting the enhanced cells take control for a while, and in mere seconds you were healed. You were perfect. You are perfect. You’re a testament, living proof, you’re my salvation and redemption!”

  You were on your feet and by the door in two seconds, and they opened it for you the moment you reached it.   You collapsed on the floor and vomited into a trashcan as soon as you passed through the door. Your hands were shaking as you tried to steady yourself enough to sit up. But, when you lifted your arm up to grab the edge of the desk, you suddenly stopped shaking. From one second to the next. And a familiar strength eased its way through your nerves.   Marcus’ current. You looked around, confused, since you were convinced that he wasn’t there, but he was. He was right there in front of you, kneeling down with the most pained expression you’d ever seen on his face, and his eyes were so dark you didn’t even recognise them.   He was afraid to touch you, to get too close. But you couldn’t tell if it was because of his own anger or if he was actually afraid of you.

  “Marcus…”

  He didn’t move.

  “Please.”

  He stood up and backed away, and you felt as though you might break in half.

  “Don’t. Please, no hagas esto…”

  His current left you as he moved too far away for it to reach you. And you’d never felt emptiness like that before.

  Twenty minutes later you walked out of the prison, feeling like you were on autopilot. Nothing inside you was working right, and you had no idea how to even begin fixing it. You just knew that everything hurt.

  But as you stepped out into the bright sunlight, you were met with complete destruction.   The cars in the parking lot, the lamp-posts, even the pavement was broken where pipes and wires had been wrung out of it. Every piece of metal in sight was crumpled or distorted.   Marcus had been afraid of hurting you. And even if you knew that he never would, as long as he didn’t trust himself, you knew he would never touch you.

  Some hours later, after doing what damage control you could for Marcus at the prison, a cab dropped you off at your house. It looked so cold and empty after the weeks spent at Casa Moreno, that you didn’t even wanna go inside. But, you had nowhere else to go.

  Or, maybe, you did…

  It took you an hour to get there, and it was a difficult place to find, even though you had the correct address.   You knocked on the door and waited. You honestly had no idea if you’d be welcome here, but if you weren’t… you didn’t have a plan B. You’d just sleep out there on the grass.   The door opened after a while, and Anita looked you over, head to toe, before settling on your eyes.

  “Ah, niña. I’m gonna wring his neck the next time I see him, you mark my words.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary​ @allmyspideys​ @hrk-fic-recs​ @strawberryperegrine

[meltwonu]

s n a k e     |     e y e s     [chapter 2]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; seokmin is a quokka hybrid in this and i know and if you dont know, quokkas actually spit out their food and eat it again but for the sake of seokmin not being gross in this, he doesn’t do that ok kjdhfks and also for those who dont know snakes smell by using their tongue so…. Very mild touching in this one( masturbation at the end hehe oops)!! I’ve also kinda changed some stuff around, not a big deal, but made it so it’d make more sense in this au!! hehe thank u for taking interest in snakehybrid!woozi 🥺💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - x - x - x

It’s a warm Sunday morning when Jihoon lugs his keyboard out into the sunroom. Mingyu’s already waiting there with the new hybrid at the adoption home, Seokmin. The smiley quokka-hybrid sleeps in the bedroom next to the snake hybrid and has a saccharine voice much like Jihoon himself. And despite Jihoon’s timid nature, he quite likes the company of the two younger hybrids.

“Hey Jihoon-hyung over here!”

There’s a clang when the keyboard accidentally taps the door frame to the sunroom and Jihoon has to pause to check for any scratches on the gift Seungcheol gave him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, hold on. I need to plug it in.”

Jihoon shrugs off his jacket, tossing it into a corner while he goes to set up the keyboard by the other two lounging in the sun.

“I was wondering if we could try working on that song from last time, hyung?” Seokmin’s head tilts cutely to the side as he makes space for Jihoon on the floor. “Um, sure. I can try to remember how to play it.”  Seokmin and Jihoon work together to craft a song while Mingyu watches in awe, scrambling to find the camera Seungcheol gave him so that he can snap some pictures of the two.

The three hybrids lounge in the sunroom for a few hours, basking in the warmth as they sing together, urging Mingyu to take part in it as well.

“You have a great singing voice, Mingyu! You should show it off sometimes too!!” The husky hybrid blushes, tail wagging furiously behind him. “Oh my god, shut up you’re embarrassing me!” Jihoon snickers as Seokmin and Mingyu really get into it, his fingers dancing delicately over the keys.

“Alright, time for lunch!”

The sudden voice breaks them out of their little tussle; eyes traveling to the figure standing in the doorway with a cart filled with food. “Seungcheol-hyung brought food!!” By nature, it’s Mingyu who gets up first, barreling into Seungcheol. He sheepishly apologizes, helping Seungcheol distribute the food between the three hybrids.

“Okay, I want you guys to enjoy your lunch because we have a special visitor afterwards! She’s actually a friend of mine and she’s kind of been wanting to adopt a hybrid so I asked her to come by. I know it’s really last minute but I figured she’d just come meet you guys. How’s that sound?”

“Yay, new people!” Seokmin replies cheerily with a mouth full of salad. Mingyu nods, he liked meeting new people, especially if they were friends of Seungcheol. Jihoon on the other hand feels his appetite leave him almost immediately. He hated it when people came to tour the adoption home. He knew the three of them weren’t the only occupants of Seungcheol’s adoption home but he still disliked the inevitable stares and questions he got.

“Um, yeah, that’d be...great.”

Jihoon tries to finish his food for the sake of not being hungry later but he can barely get it all down before  Jeonghan pops his head into the room. “Hey ‘Cheol, your friend is here.” The two leave together, leaving the three hybrids alone once again.

“Hey, do you think hyung’s friend is gonna adopt anyone?” Seokmin stretches out onto the floor by the piano, Mingyu in tow. “Dunno, but hyung said that she was looking to adopt so maybe?” The two delve into mindless chatter as Jihoon sits alone with his thoughts. He was thankful most of the time that they didn’t have many visitors because all it brought him was unneeded stress.

There’s a knock on the door, Mingyu yelling “come in!” from his place on the floor before a female laugh can be heard, Seungcheol’s voice accompanying it.

“And these are the three muskateers. Come say hi, everyone!” They all get up from their positions, each of them introducing themselves to you as Jihoon lags behind. “This shy one is Jihoon, he’s a snake hybrid.” Jihoon’s lips press into a firm line as he stares off to the side; mildly uninterested and a little bit anxious.

“Oh, interesting, a snake hybrid!”

Jihoon mentally grimaces. Usually when people came hoping to adopt, there were two typical reactions they had towards him. The first one was confusion; mainly because Jihoon didn’t have any physical features that a snake hybrid normally had. The second one was usually fascination with him being a snake hybrid. Jihoon almost preferred the former because it usually meant he’d stay at the adoption home and wouldn’t have to  do or change anything. The latter typically meant he’d potentially get adopted and whoever his owner was would find out he was too much maintenance for a hybrid that didn’t even look like one.

“If you don’t mind, do you think we can have a little chat together?” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts as he finally looks you in the eye for the first time since you’d walked in. He’s hesitant, shooting Seungcheol a quick glance. “Um, Jihoon’s a little shy…”

“Oh, that’s okay then! I completely unders---”

“It’s fine. We can… talk.”

Jihoon’s palms feel clammy and his throat feels dry when Seungcheol escorts the other two hybrids out of the sunroom so that you can talk to him properly. The air feels awkward and somewhat tense when he turns his back towards you; settling down in front of the keyboard still placed on the floor.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to come off as harsh but what do you want? I’m sure Seungcheol told you about me or my history so...” You twiddle your thumbs, walking over to the windowsill to lean up against it as you watch him run his fingers along the keys.

“What do you mean?”

“You probably have a ton of questions right? Why don’t I have any hybrid features? Why do I look like a normal human? Do I have any weird appendages? How many times people have returned me here?” The room is quiet; only the sounds of the birds outside chirping filling in the awkward air.

“Not really. I didn’t come here looking to adopt a hybrid for the sake of their appearance or their rarity, I guess. I just… I don’t know, I guess I wanted a companion. I work at home a lot since I’m a writer and it gets lonely. Thought someone could keep me company. Or maybe someone wanted company.” Jihoon lets your words sink in, his fingers trembling as he presses down on a random key.

“Oh.”

A few days passed since meeting Jihoon and he had carefully agreed to you adopting him. The two of you had talked a little bit longer; Jihoon feeling more at ease with you than most of the people he’d met in the past. Seokmin had been sad that his new friend was leaving and Mingyu had been wary about the entire thing. But Jihoon had soothed them both; telling them that they’d probably see him soon anyway.

Seungcheol drives him to your apartment, Jihoon’s things in boxes in the trunk as he sits nervously in the front seat.

“Jihoon, I know you’re… this is a lot. It’s okay to feel anxious and nervous and.. I mean with everything in the past, I--”

“I know. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. It feels bad. Just… don’t be surprised when you see me back at the adoption place in like a week, okay?” He chuckles sadly, eyes focused on the scenery outside the window. Seungcheol sighs, hands gripping the wheel.

There’s three knocks on the door before you’re rushing to open it, vacuum still buzzing in the background as you all but rip the door open.

“Hey!” You shoot both the males a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sorry I was in the middle of cleaning but come in!” You give them space to enter, Jihoon toeing off his shoes and setting them by yours at the entrance as he balances his prized keyboard in his arms. Seungcheol sets one of the boxes of Jihoon’s things down on the dinner table, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“Sadly the elevator was broken so we had to take the stairs. Who would’ve thought carrying one box of things up the stairs would be the death of me. Can I have some water?” Jihoon snorts, taking in the features of his new home as he sets the keyboard down by the sofa.

“‘Cheol, you’ve got the stamina of a 90 year old man.”

“Hey, it’s not easy being old okay!” You pass him a glass of water, trapezing around the vacuum cord to turn it off. “I wanted to be done cleaning up before you got here, Jihoon. Sorry, I’m a little slow, I’m used to it just being me here and just living in my filth I guess.” He shrugs, “S’okay, Mingyu usually leaves a mess around the place anyway. Guess you can say I’m used to living in filth.” Seungcheol sputters, wiping the water off of his chin. You can’t help but laugh, patting Seungcheol on the shoulder as you gesture Jihoon further into your place.

“Let me show you around!”

Seungcheol decides to get more of Jihoon’s stuff out of his car as Jihoon walks behind you cautiously down the hallway, only stopping when you get to the door at the end of the hall. “Um, This place has three bedrooms and mine is on the opposite side but I wasn’t sure if you’d want the room that was next to mine or if you wanted space? I’m using the other room as a workspace right now, so you can put your stuff in here for now while you get used to the place… And then if you change your mind, we can switch some stuff around!” Giving him a small smile, you tug the door open, letting him enter first and for once, Jihoon is shocked. The room is much larger than any room he’s ever had and he takes notice of all the fancy heaters and humidifiers already placed around the room.

“Wow…”

“Sorry, is it, like, too much? ‘Cheol said you had some heaters and stuff in your old room but I thought I’d get you some new ones… Kind of like a housewarming gift?”

“This is… nice. It’s, um, very kind of you.” He can feel a soft blush wash over his skin as he tugs his sleeves down over his hands. “I… like it a lot. Thank you.”

When Seungcheol finally leaves after bringing up all of Jihoon’s things, it’s finally time for the two of you to settle in. 

Jihoon’s safety net is gone and the reality of being in a new space has his anxiety spiking back up tenfold. “Hey, Jihoon?”

“Huh?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you or anything but I thought we’d order out for dinner if that’s okay? I’d usually cook but I think we’ve both had a long day. What do you think?”

“O-okay…” You can basically feel the nervousness radiating off of him as he awkwardly stands in the middle of the living room. “Jihoon, do you want to, um, I mean, you don’t have to stay out here if you don’t want to? You’re free to roam around if you’d like.” He shuffles closer to the sofa, biting his lip as he stares out the window.

“It’s… okay, I should m-maybe, um, spend some time with you? If that’s okay?” By now, his past owners would send him off to his shoebox of a room, only calling him out when it was necessary. Usually, he’d immediately plug in his keyboard by now, tuning out everything until he was just focused on composing something until he was needed.

Instead, he inches closer to the sofa, sitting down on the plush material as you put the last bit of cleaning supplies away and plop down onto the other side. “Hey, Jihoon? Can I be honest with you for a second?” He turns to you, nodding curiously. “I’m gonna be real, I did some research on snake hybrids but I couldn’t find much… I’m kind of inexperienced with the whole hybrid thing and even more uneducated when it comes to snake hybrids so… is there anything I should know? Like, snakes smell with their tongue, right? So, is it the same for you? Sorry if that’s offensive or something!” You watch the blonde haired male lick his lips, his leg bouncing slightly.

“Um, technically that’s correct. But snake hybrids still can use their human noses, it’s just… more intense when we use our tongues. Uh…” A blush settles on his cheeks, his mind no doubt going in a different direction than he intended. “Just, yeah, m-more intense, that’s all. Some foods might be more off-putting for us because of that. And, to be fair, I don’t… have many features that most snake hybrids have anyway. It’s just my surroundings and I guess some of my mannerisms? I basically exist normally other than that.”

You nod appreciatively; glad that Jihoon was willing to open up to you, even if it was only a little at a time. It would take a lot of getting used to on your part and his, but he seemed okay for now, albeit still timid. “I just want you to know that even though I adopted you as a hybrid, I don’t want you to think that I think less of you. I think of us as equals!” You turn to him smiling; ecstatic when he turns to face you as well.

“You have the freedom to do whatever you want here as long as it’s not destroying stuff, I guess. And if you need anything, you’re more than welcome to ask me! I’m home a lot since I’m a writer but I do have to pop into my editor’s office every now and then. But if you want to go out and eat or… um, I dunno, maybe go for a walk in the park? I’m always down to go!” Now it’s your turn to blush as he watches you, his fingers interlocked in his lap as he sits there quietly processing what you’ve said.

“I… thank you, you’re a lot kinder than any of my previous owners.”

Jihoon is on cloud nine when you tell him that he can pick what dinner he wants to have, eyes scanning over all the options on the food delivery app on your phone.

“I mean, as long as you don’t run up a $100 bill on food, you can pick whatever you want!” He chuckles quietly, clicking on various items and adding it to the cart. “Thank you for letting me pick dinner.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem! It’s your first night here, I want you to feel comfortable. This also reminds me that I need to get you a phone, just in case and also so you don’t get bored.”

The pretty flush doesn’t leave Jihoon’s face the rest of the night, even as the two of you sit at the dinner table eating the fried chicken and soda combination Jihoon picked out. The cute snake hybrid apparently had an obsession with the sweet drink, downing cups of it as you took mental notes to buy some for him later. And for the first time, you see him genuinely smile as he eats, cute lips curving up as he polishes off the rest of the food.

A crumb sits at the corner of his lips, and by instinct you lean over, thumb already next to his mouth before you can even stop yourself. There’s a pause, Jihoon’s eyes wide as you swipe at the crumb, ready to settle back into your seat when Jihoon’s hand comes up, wrapping around your wrist and holding you there.

“I, oops, I should’ve just told you there was a crumb! Sorry!”

You laugh awkwardly, hoping he doesn’t accidentally snap your wrist because you just invaded his personal space. Instead, you watch as he brings your hand closer to his mouth, pink tongue peeking out as he swipes at your thumb. You try to not question it, convincing yourself it might just be a snake thing, so you let him do whatever it is he’s doing as he begins to nose at your palm. It feels ticklish; your hand wanting to close at the feeling, but you can’t deny the way your body heats up on instinct, the innocent gesture riling up your thoughts about the snake hybrid for some reason. There was no denying how handsome he was; blonde hair falling into his sharp eyes and a lean but slightly muscular form.

Trying to shake off your thoughts, your eyes flit to the hand currently wrapped around your wrist and you can’t help but admire how delicate and pretty his hands were. Again, your mind conjures up situations that you probably shouldn’t be thinking about right now and you really hope Jihoon can’t tell.

When he decides he’s done, he lets go of your wrist, quietly taking a sip of his drink before setting it down on the tabletop again. “Um, sorry. I don’t… I just wanted to, um, s-smell you? I guess, um, snake thing, probably. Just wanted to get to know my, uh, owner.” You nod at his explanation, settling back into your seat as you try to push out all the inappropriate thoughts you just had.

“You’re very warm.”

That night when you split off for bed, you wish him a good night's rest; making sure the snake hybrid has everything he needs before you make a beeline for your bedroom, hastily locking the door behind you as you get ready for bed.  There really was no denying how attractive Jihoon was, but damn, he had literally just moved in today and your mind and heart were already racing. You try to think of everything but Jihoon when you slip under your covers for bed and hope that you can get a good night’s rest yourself.

But you feel bad. Really really bad. You’re almost certain satan has a special seat in hell for people like you. 

But you can’t help the way your hands roam all over your body as you lay under the bed sheets, fingers deep inside your pussy as you imagine them to be Jihoon’s instead. It was questionably an innocent gesture earlier, but your mind can’t help but conjure images of his tongue all over your skin and his delicate fingers fucking you nice and hard. The contrast of his colder skin on your warm skin has your toes curling imagining him playing with your nipples and wrapped around your throat. Damn, you think, I really need to get laid soon or this’ll get bad.

You’re almost certain your lip is bleeding from how hard you’re trying to keep your moans in when you cum around your fingers; the image of a particular snake hybrid dancing behind your eyelids even when the bliss starts to ebb away.

Muttering curses underneath your breath, you get up, wiping your wet fingers onto your shirt as you tug it off and throw it into the hamper, sliding off your wet panties and chucking them in as well. Sighing, you really hope Jihoon’s sense of smell isn’t as strong as other hybrids as you step into your closet to get a change of clothes.

Realization hits you like a brick when the back of your head slams against the pillow once you lay back down.

This was going to be harder than you expected.

[blackberry-gingham]

okay so this is probably an extremely weird idea... but high school ah, right? readers a hockey player, paul's a figure skater- i'm a big fan of the beatles and hockey and thought of this so 😅 anyways, love your writings ❤️

SKSKSKALSL LMAOOO this is not a weird ask!! I'm a hockey fan too actually 😂✌🏻 In fact, this use to be a hockey/art blog before I it converted lol. And also, Paul would totally be a figure skater like... I can just see it so clearly lmao.

Oh but before I begin, ik you didn't specify reader's gender here and you guys know I do gender neutral reader when I can, but I feel like smashing some hockey related gender norms, so I hope it's cool with you all if I do a badass, hockey playing, female reader for this one 😌

---

With a heave, you push open the big, double door to your school's practice ice, and a blast of crisp, winter scented air rushes over you. You are the only girl on your school's hockey team, and it feels like the odds are against you.

You're tough, a good shot, and fast, but you still feel like you have a lot to prove. The accuracy of that sentiment is highly debatable, but nonetheless, extra practice never hurts.

Today you've just brought your skates, stick, and a weighted vest for speed drills. It's long after school hours by now, but as a member of the team, you can swipe into the rink anytime you want. That being said, the last thing you were expecting was to find the ice occupied...

The sound of shredding ice snaps your attention to the rink, and there you see a lone boy on skates, tearing it up.

He looks about your age, and if he's in here then he must go to your school... So why don't you recognize him?

You set down your equipment and lace up your skates, pretending to be occupied while you stare.

His strides are long and measured, with a grace you haven't quite seen before. He's wearing a leotard in your school's colors, and the spandex only accents his long, delicate legs as he goes around and around, somewhere between gliding and flying as he goes through a routine of tricks and moves.

He jumps once through the air with impressive form and lands squarely in the center of the ice. You're already feeling quite impressed by the show he's given so far, and you rise to give some polite applause at this last move. But then, you're cut off as he draws up to his full height and launches himself into a spin, perfectly contained to one spot.

As his arms draw in, he goes faster and faster until he's nothing more then a rotating column. Slowly, he drops down to a one legged crouch, his lifted skate held out in front of him with both hands as he arches forward to reach. By now, you feel dizzy just looking at him, but when he springs up over a foot in the air, completing two more aerial spins before landing perfectly on a single skate...

Well, you’re blown away.

To celebrate, you congratulate him like any true hockey fan would. You pound on the glass as hard and as loud as you can, being sure to accompany it with whoops and cheers of admiration. However, the sound of all your ruckus must’ve taken him by surprise, as the figure skater whips around all too fast and slips into a nasty looking fall.

“Shit”, you mutter. Without a moment to lose, you rush down the ramp and onto the ice with your skates thankfully all ready to go. Showing your best hustle, you skate over just as the young man begins to stir. You come to a full stop, trying not to spray him in ice, and drop down to see if he’s alright.

He groans, and sits up slowly, rubbing at his hip, “I’m fine, thanks...”

The British accent takes you by surprise, but you put it aside for now, “Here, let me help you to the bench”. Without giving him much of a wait, you lift him up to his feet easily with fairly impressive strength and help him off the ice while he tires to hide a blush.

Once you’re both settled down, Paul finally takes a moment to get a good look at you. The first thing he notices is your skates. “So... You’re on the, uh hockey team?”

A jolt of excitement goes through you as you assume he is knowledgeable on the topic. Finally, a guy who gets you. You launch into a hyper jabber, telling him all sorts of secular, hockey related things like your name, your jersey number, your position, and the drills you’re here to practice.

Paul has no idea what you’re talking about. In fact, he hardly knows the name of the sport to be quite honest, considering it’s not at all popular back in England... But, you seem so excited, what with your sweet smile and the gleam in your eyes, he can’t bring himself to interrupt you.

“Anyway, sorry, I’m talking too much”, you laugh.

“No no, it’s alright! It’s nice to meet such a passionate person”, he smiles. “Oh, um I’m Paul by the way! I uh, just moved here with my family a few weeks ago”

Well you figured as much, but you’re excited to get to know him more. After all, he seems quite nice, and you admit, you are rather curious about him...

Paul tells you a bit about his background in Liverpool to start off, but he quickly cuts to his passion for figure skating and how he got started in that. He tells you all about the his competitions and medals and how he’s hoping to take his dreams to the pros here in the States.

You listen intently, clinging to every word. Of course you were curious at first, but who would’ve thought he’d be so amazing to boot? You had no idea you were practically talking to a superstar.

Paul humbly denies the title, but he can’t help but feel quite proud of himself under all your attention. To be honest, he was rather worried he’d have a hard time finding his place in an American school, making friends and all that... But imagine his surprise to be here, not even one week into his school career, being fawned over by the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

When the conversation hits a bit of a slump, Paul starts up a new topic, “So, what kind of moves have you got out there? I’d imagine there’s quite a bit of fancy footwork that goes into your game... Maybe you could teach me a few things, eh?”, he smiles encouragingly and give a little chuckle as he bumps your shoulder.

You laugh nervously, “I think it’d be quite the opposite if anything... I’m pretty fast, but that’s about all I have going for me in terms of skating”, you look away and kick as a small pile of snow in front of you.

“Aw, well that’s an easy fix! Tell you what, how about I’ll show you some moves, and you can show me a bit about hockey afterwards!”, his hazel eyes beam at you, and you must admit, that would be a rather sweet deal...

You agree, and next thing you know, you’re both off onto the rink. Paul teaches you a little bit about spins, just some basic moves for maneuvering around others, and as well as helping you fine tune your backwards skating. 

“Here, like this...”, he lets go of your hands and instead tries to approach this by holding you from behind. Paul takes a firm grip on your waist, his fingers long and delicate as they curl around you, “Now, just move your feet like I do...”

The rest of his instructions are drowned out by the pounding in your ears and you hope against hope that you can pass off the redness in your cheeks as the touch of the cold. But, without even realizing, Paul is leading you through a smooth back skate... And just as you do realize, he lets you go and the surprise throws you off balance.

You tread some ice and slip backwards. Paul catches you, but it doesn’t do much good as he ends up going down as well. You land right on top of him, the two of you left with the wind knocked out of you. Thankfully you come to your senses in a jiffy and you roll over to check on Paul, to find yourself mere inches away from his pretty face.

He blinks a few times and shakes his head out a little before focusing on you with a little pout, “Now that’s the second time you’ve knocked me off my feet today”. You’re about to apologize, when his sad little face cracks into a sly smirk, “I hope this doesn’t come to be a pattern...”, he winks at you.

You gasp and bat at his chest as you push yourself up, a severe blush and an incredulous laugh escaping you. Paul shoots up to sit, “Where are you going!”, he laughs.

“I think we’ve had enough practice for one day”, you turn around, trying but failing to suppress your laughter. 

“Well hold on, how about some ice cream or something at least!”

Paul chases after you like a lost puppy, begging you for a little more time together today. You shake your head, but make some plans with him anyway. After all, who knows? You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take...

[anna-pixie]

would you ever write for General Hux from Star Wars? if you decide to, could you write a fic based loosely on Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift? like them having a secret friends with benefits relationship that they don’t want anyone to know bc of Hux’s rank. and then they both secretly catch feelings, and they’re getting worse at pretending they don’t love each other in public and eventually they have to face their problems. but with a happy ending bc i cant deal with cliffhangers or angst 😂😂

i love this song so tysm for the request!!

request: general hux x reader based loosely on illicit affairs by taylor swift

pairings: general hux x reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

***

“I’m just saying, Y/N, it’s always the quiet ones who are the best in the bedroom.” Reyna wiggles her green eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes, sneering at her jokingly as you finish your lunch.

“General Hux is not quiet… he screams at everyone. Also, why are we talking about his sex life? If anyone hears us we’ll be put on cleaning duty for a month.”

“You know what I mean, compared to Ren he’s quiet. Less temper tantrums. I don’t know, something about him makes me wonder what he’s hiding under those slacks…”

“Reyna!” You squeal, throwing a chunk of bread at her as you decide to get up and leave. This conversation is going nowhere good and you don’t want to risk Ren hearing you whilst he skulks around base.

You walk down the halls, determined to have a quick nap in your quarters before clocking in for your afternoon shift on starkiller. You’re shocked when your datapad beeps suddenly, a knowing smile spreading across your face when you see the name flash on your screen. You click on the message and read it quickly, deleting it immediately after, leaving no trace behind.

General A. Hux:

My quarters. Now. Troopers have been sent away for lunch. Don’t let a soul see you enter.

You wonder what Reyla would say if she knew about this. Actually, she’d probably just ask you if he really is a freak in bed like she thinks he is. And, oh boy, the answer is yes.

You keep your head down, eyes on the floor as you walk towards Hux’s quarters, taking the quiet corridors that you know are less traveled. Your eyes widen and you halt as you hear the distance sound of boots thumping against the floor. You hurry the rest of the way, only relaxing once you’re right outside of his quarters. You send him a message, letting him know you’re outside and the door opens instantly.

Now, you and Hux have an agreement. A sort of friends with benefits situation, if you will. You’re not really sure how it came about, you were both working late one night in the command centre and the air was thick with sexual tension. It was only when you leaned over Hux to grab something that you noticed how close your faces were. He initiated the kiss, unwilling at first to let it go any further due to his rank within the First Order. It was an awkward few days after that, to say the least, but it soon got to the point where he could no longer help himself and the two of you hooked up in a small room near the command centre.

You’re not one who believes in love at first sight, because when you first met Hux you thought he was a snarky ginger brat. It’s funny how things work out, because somehow you’ve ended up head over heels in love with him. It’s hard, because you know feelings can’t be involved, but how many times can you have sex with someone before you start catching feelings, honestly?

You know he doesn’t feel the same. You can tell by the way his lips are on yours the second the door opens, no greeting or anything. He grabs the sides of your face harshly, not giving you a chance to breath as he kisses you. His hands move to the back of your thighs and he lifts you off of your feet, you squeal as you wrap your legs around his waist. He discards your datapad somewhere in the room and walks you over to the bed. He may not look it in those fitted black uniforms, but he is strong.

Two hours later, when you’re getting dressed again, you realise that you’re seriously late for your shift.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You wince as you try to stand up, Hux smirking at you from where he lies in the bed, sheets barely covering his lower stomach, “Shut it, you. I’m so late.” You whine, hopping slightly to get into your tight pants.

Hux gazes at you quizzically for a moment before he hums, running a hand through his hair, “Don’t go. I’ll tell them I saw you throw up in the canteen.”

“Isn’t that a bit…”

“A bit what?”

“I dunno, suspicious?”

“I’m the General, baby, they won’t question me.” You bite your lip as the pet name slips out of his mouth, probably by accident. Your cheeks are flush and you take a chance by leaning in and giving him one more long kiss, resting your hand delicately on his bare chest.

You walk out of his quarters with a spring in your step, not noticing his longing gaze following you.

***

“You smell nice, new perfume?” Reyla asks.

“It’s my special one, I don’t wear it often.” You comment casually as you take a sip of your caf, not wanting to admit that you only wear it on the days that you know you’ll see the general.

“What’s the special occasion today, then?”

“Oh, um, I just felt like wearing it…” You trail off as your eyes catch Ren and Hux walking into the hall, unable to tear your gaze away from him. He seems to be able to sense your gaze on him, because his head turns in your direction and his dark eyes meet yours. You bite your lip as your gaze connects and you notice that his lip quirks up ever so slightly at the side. He masks it by coughing into his black glove, turning his gaze back in front of him as he strides across base.

You always did like a powerful man in uniform.

You pull your eyes away once he exits the room, your cheeks flushing when you notice Reyla’s suspicious glance towards you. Her eyes dart back and forth between you and Hux’s retreating form before widening astronomically.

“No … way …”

“What?” You try to act innocent as she leans across the table, grabbing your arm and shaking it a little.

“You and Hux?!” She whisper-shouts, and you shake your head rapidly.

“No… what? No!” You deny quickly.

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Y/N Y/L/N, I know you too damn well.” You sigh, Reyla’s accusatory tone making you feel guilty.

“Okay, fine. Yes, but you can’t say a word. Okay?”

“Oh, Maker! How did it even start?”

You and Reyla retreat to your room with refilled cups of caf and you start explaining the story to her. Her face lights up as you explain and she umm’s and ahh’s throughout the story.

“So yeah, that’s where we are now.”

“You really think he’s not in love with you?”

“Well, yeah. Of course he’s not.”

“Listen, I am not a smart person by any means, but I do know a lovestruck face when I see one. His face in the canteen was all I needed to see to know there was something going on with you two.”

“Really?” You smile, trying not to get your hopes up. She’s probably wrong, right?

***

“You need to stop looking at me in public.”

You frown, shifting from where you’re lying on Hux’s chest to look at him properly.

“What?”

“You almost cracked me today, when you looked at me in the canteen. Ren was suspicious.”

“You want me to stop looking at you?” Your voice is incredulous and you sit up, clutching the black sheets against your bare chest, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Watch the way to speak to me, I’m still your superior.”

“Not like this you aren’t,” You spit at him, throwing off the covers and beginning to pull your clothes on. He groans, rubbing his eyes in annoyance as he watches you fume, asking where you’re going, “I can’t do this anymore.”

He freezes, eyes narrowing as he takes in your serious expression, “What? Why?”

“It’s not fair. I can’t talk to you in public, I can’t be near you in public, I can’t even look at you in public - but you can just have your way with me whenever you want? No. I’m done, General.” Your voice is shaky as you take one last look at him, still under the covers with wide eyes as he watches you storm out.

***

You ruined yourself for him, he turned you into an idiotic fool.

You sigh as you tap your foot lightly, waiting to be excused from the command room. One of the officers called you in to help with some problems he was having with his data pad. You’ve been waiting for him to be happy with the results for a good twenty minutes, your mind only able to focus on the fact that Hux is standing a few feet away from you.

You glance towards him discreetly, blushing when you notice he is doing the same. You look away again as quick as he does, awkwardly twiddling your thumbs before you’re finally excused.

Walking down the empty corridors, you can finally breathe again. You curse yourself because the only thing you can think about is the way Hux kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. A small scream leaves your mouth as someone grabs you from behind, a black glove covering your eyes as you’re dragged into the small room that saw the start of yours and Hux’s relationship.

You calm down slightly when you turn to see that it is indeed only Hux. He locks the door and leans against it, looking at you as the atmosphere quickly turns awkward.

“Look… um…” You’re surprised as Hux starts stuttering over his words, he’s usually so put together, “I’m sorry.”

That is a first. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him apologise to anyone.

“Fo-”

“No. I need to get this out.” He interrupts, taking a deep breath, “In a position like my own, opening oneself up to emotions such as love is a foolish act. This job… it requires emotionless, robotic dedication. I was good at that, until I met you. I’ve been in love with you since the first moment I saw you, I don’t know how else to express that with anything else other than sex. I love you, Y/N.”

You can’t help the tears that trail down your face, you sniffle, smiling in his direction as he does the same to you. A real, genuine smile that looks slightly foreign on his face.

“Hux-”

“Armitage.” Your breath stills, you never thought he would tell you his first name. It’s a strange name but it fits him perfectly.

“Armitage, I love you too.” You approach him hesitantly, shocked when you realise his eyes are teary. You grin, kissing him lightly as his arms wind around your body in a tight embrace, “How is this going to work? We can’t exactly tell everyone.”

“That’s a problem for another day, my love.” He kisses you long and hard, making you forget about every single worry you have.

**

star wars tag list:

@chewymoustachio

[scarletbluebird13]

Hi! I just read some of your Masquerade Kiss fics and headcannons and I like them! Can I request a fic where the Boss proposes to MC? I don't mind a little of smut in it. Thank you.

Marry Me?

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Title: Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Boss x MC 

Tags: Fluff, a bit of smut (mainly teasing)

Word count: 2353

A/N: Hiya!! I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to answer your request. I hope you can forgive me - and I really do hope the wait was worth it; if it wasn’t, I’m so incredibly sorry. To you and the other people who requested: I’m so sorry this took so long and if I made you feel ignored. Thank you so much for patiently waiting. I appreciate it. Thank you for your kind words tho, they really helped <3 Overall, I really enjoyed your request- it was a really cute and fun one to write <33 anyway, I really hope this is to your liking, and again; sorry for the long wait 

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A fresh winter breeze makes you tense up slightly - understandably so, you were wearing a backless navy blue dress standing on a patio, looking out at the snow covered garden before you - in the middle of winter.

The moon shone in all her excellence, creating an ethereal midst to your already unfamiliar (yet somehow familiar) world. Stars blink listlessly next to the moon, against the empty backdrop of a void of seemingly nothingness millions of miles overhead. 

Scents of roses, lilies and lavender cloud your senses, the sweet bitterness of the colliding smells nearly enough to burn your nose and bring tears to your eyes. Making it bearable, however, was knowing he’s with you.

Standing in a backless dress on a patio in the middle of winter is not enough to make you turn around and go inside the small building, where he makes some last-minute arrangements. He didn’t ask you to go stand on the patio - and he’d never dream about asking you. He’d be far too worried about you catching a cold or something. Knowing that, you sighed, looking at the breath you’d heaved take on its gaseous form, where the temperature is below zero. 

Just then, you feel the weight of a heavy coat being laid over your shoulders. Knowing perfectly well whose coat it is, you close your eyes and smile, waiting to be reprimanded for your harmless actions. 

“Did your boyfriend tell you to wait out here?”

“No. I came out here on my own.”

“Oh really? He must be a careless one, then.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He should know better than to let such a stunning, delicate woman like you walk around without something so simple as a coat. ...Afterall, who knows what would happen if another man put his arms around you?” He says as he wraps his arms around my waist, bringing me close to him - his chin resting on my shoulder and his breath so warm, so close - almost too close.

“I appreciate and acknowledge your concern, but contrary to what you may see, I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.” I say with a smirk and twisting out of the Boss’s grasp, giving him a teasing wink while walking inside the small, elegant restaurant. The air about it a thousand times warmer than outside. 

He puts his hands in his pockets, a smirk laid placidly on his face as he makes his way over.

“How exciting. You are a truly remarkable woman. But even one of your stature mustn’t wait out in the cold like that. You must understand this, no?

“No.” 

“Even the deadliest of gods can come down with a cold.” He sighs, walking beside me as we follow the waiter to our table.

“What a shame.” Or I should say, private room. 

The young man closes the door behind us after briefly explaining our waiter will be with us in a moment, the somber chatter of the other room being wiped from our world behind closed shoji. The only other thing present in the otherwise vacant room being a neatly set table with a white table cloth and two chairs across from one another.  

The minute the young man closes the doors, however, Seiichi wraps his arms around me again, tighter than before.

“You shouldn’t have gone out there. What if you’d caught a cold?”

“I’d be fine - I’ve been sick before. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know. You don’t have to worry like that.”

He lets out a sigh and mumbles into my neck; “I worry about you because I care. How are you feeling? Still a little cold?”

I shake my head and comment “No, not anymore. Thank you.”

Not satisfied, he sharply turns me around and holds my head in his hands, looking me dead center in the eye.

“You don’t have to pretend around me, remember?”

“What do you-”

“Your cheeks are red and frigid.”

“U-Um, excuse me -” a young voice interrupts us.

I didn’t hear the doors sliding open, when did she get here?

“I-I’m so sorry - if you’d like, I’ll come back a little-”

“It’s alright. Come in.” Seiichi says, taking a step away from me, his eyes falling from mine. Nonetheless, he guides me to my chair.

“Okay, I’ll start off by taking your beverage requests.”

When the doors slide shut after the young waitress - who seems to be no older than a high school student - I sigh and say almost inaudibly;

“I’m sorry I made you worry, Seiichi.” After hearing him chuckle, I look up to meet his gaze, and sure enough, he’s looking at me - eyes full of boyish pride, holding the warmth of the sun and all the gentleness in the world.

“I’m glad you’re okay, is all. Anyway, that girl. She’s just about the age you were when we first met, right?” He says as he rests his chin in the palm of his hand. 

“Yes. I suppose so.” I smile, looking down a bit, lost in nostalgia. Had I not met the Boss when I did, my life would be vastly different. Dare I say, I wouldn’t be alive today. 

“You’re still the same, in some ways.” 

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, you’re still cute. And you don’t think before you act.”

“Hey.” 

He chuckles playfully, “Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“Whatever. Anyway, you’re still a tease. I swear.” 

“You love it.” He smirks.

I’m getting tired of that attitude of his.

Wanting to get him back, I uncross my legs from under the table and slide my foot up along his leg, going as far up as I can, resting between his thighs.

In an instant, he jumps a little - hitting the table with his knee - taking a sharp breath in, his eyes going wide. 

I gently rub my foot back and forth along the length of his thighs, occasionally rubbing against the bulge in the middle.

His cheeks flush a tender, bright pink as he shifts in his seat.

Heh. Now who’s being the tease?

I can’t help the mischievous smile tugging at my lips as I look at the once cool man becoming a hot, blushing mess in a matter of seconds.

“Even in this situation, I can feel you getting hard.” I whisper, only then retracting my foot from its place between his thighs. At this, he growls, but doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” He says out of nowhere.

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He growls back, looking impatiently at his watch.

“Damn. Where is she?” he irritatedly questions, looking at the door, placing a napkin on his lap.

“Heh. You think that’s gonna help?” I say, noting his eagerness to cover up. 

Then the door opens, and our waitress walks in, holding a cake.

“About damn time.” He spews, bouncing one leg and looking away from the girl.

“I’m so sorry about the wait, Sir.” The girl comments, a bit intimidated at the Boss’s state. 

Honey, don’t worry about him. He’s fine.

“Sorry, Mina - was it?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. Mina.”

“Yes. Well, Mina, I don’t think we’ve ordered the cake - we’ve only ordered drinks.”

“Oh, umm, w-well…” Mina trails off, glancing at the Boss. 

“Yes. I think you’ve forgotten the drinks, Mina.” Seiichi hisses.

All of a sudden, Mina collects herself and begins bowing what I guess must have been a thousand times, again and again saying “I’m so sorry, Sir! Please forgive me!” before dashing out of the room, almost dropping the cake on her way out.

“She’s cute.” I say, still looking at where she’d been standing only seconds before. 

Suddenly, I hear a chair moving, and before I know it, Seiichi has moved his char directly next to mine. 

“Wh-” my question is cut off before it gets the chance to leave my mouth. The Boss’s tongue cutting me off and opting to explore my mouth. It’s intense, and all the warmth he’d been showing me tonight vanished - replaced by an intense inferno, one I’m far too familiar with. This inferno is a stunning, blinding blaze of passion. 

I yelp into the kiss and arch my back when I feel his hand thrust its way between my thighs and feel his digits rub against the lacy lingerie covering my heated entrance. 

“S-Seiichi-”

“Hmm, wearing lingerie tonight? Were you planning ahead on tonight’s events…? Anticipating my touch…? Dirty girl.” He chuckles darkly. “I hope it’s the black one - you look especially sexy in that one…”

“Mmmn, we shouldn’t… what if Mina comes back…?”

“You should’ve thought about that before toying with me.” God, I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks, suddenly retracting his hand from my thighs. Without thinking, I grasp his hand and bring it back.

“Oooh. Rather risqué, no?” 

“Shut up.” I grunt, annoyed with myself for admitting I want this, but not enough to let him stop.

“Whatever you want” he chuckles out, breathing into my ear. He moves his hand from its former position to the inside of my thigh, tracing patterns before squeezing.

“You love it when I tease you.” He says with what I can only imagine is a sinister smile before taking his hand away. 

Before I can reach for it again, the door opens and I stop myself, my cheeks blazing. 

“Ahaha, sorry about before, here’s the champagne, as requested. I’ll be back in a bit.” Mina comments, placing the glasses and bottle on the table, not paying any particular mind to us. 

Probably still embarrassed about before. ...and I’m thinking about other things anyway.

It’s not like I myself am focused on the champagne or her either, tho. All I want is to feel Seiichi. 

But when I turn to face him again, I’m met with a soft gaze. It’s that face that could make me pregnant from the smile alone give me a heart attack - the warmth in that gaze, the happiness in that smile - I want it. I want to protect it all. 

“I wish I could take a picture of you now. Your cheeks are flushed, and you look like you want me. But you should take a moment to cool down for a bit - don’t want to get you overheated, afterall.” And he glances at the glass of champagne neatly placed in front of me. 

Not knowing what he’s getting at, I pick up the glass. But before I bring it to my lips to drink from, I see something sparkling at the bottom of the glass - a ring?

Surprised, I look back at Seiichi, and without missing a beat, I find that he’s already down on one knee. 

“Will you marry me?” He asks me, eyes full of sincerity and certainty - not a single cloud of doubt to be seen anywhere on his face. 

“Well. Say something. You were so full of chatter before - what happened? Don’t tell me you’re speechless now?” 

Overwhelmed with happiness I cry out, “Bastard!” as I leap out of my chair and throw my arms around him, joining him on the floor 

“Well, I did say ‘say something.’ Guess that’s good enough. But it’s not really a direct answer. Tell me, I want to hear you say it.” He whispers with a smile on his lips. 

He stands, my chin in his hands, his arm around my waist, holding me close. Promising to never let me wait out in the cold again -- even if it is of my own discretion. 

“Yes!! I want to marry you!” I yell out, tears falling from my cheeks as I jump up at Seiichi from excitement. 

To that he says nothing, but lets me know how he feels with a kiss, sweeter than any other. 

After some of the initial excitement, we settle down again, and Mina brings the cake back. When she shuts the door behind her, Seiichi gets close to my ear and whispers;

“Now I’m sure she won’t be back for a while yet, you’ve still got some paying to do for that little stunt you pulled earlier…” ...whilst lightly nibbling at my earlobe.

“Mmn, not my fault you’re so sensitive.” I whimper

He bites down on my neck and questions me; “What was that?” 

“You heard what I said.” 

“Oh really…?” He smirks at me, glancing over at the red velvet cake on the table, just in front of us.

“Well then, you won’t mind if I eat this cake all by myself then, would you?” Moving away from me, he leans back in his chair with the piece of cake brought in, reading “Congratulations!” 

“Hey!” I call out as I glare at him.

“Well, then? I guess you do mind. In that case, you’ve got to make it up to me, Mrs. Setoyanagi.” He says with an evil glimmer in his eye, setting the cake down.

“Remember, we may be in a private room, but the people outside can still hear us - and if you sing too loudly, Mina might think you're calling her. So, shhhhh…” 

We spend another hour or so in the private room, trying to be as silent as possible, aware of the guests beyond the shoji doors. But it’s not enough. We leave the restaurant and continue at Seiichi’s place, and I couldn’t be more content. I couldn’t be happier to call this man my fiancé. A mentor, teacher, boss, lover and now fiancé, soon-to-be husband. 

Now I share a bed with him. I listen to his heartbeat, see his chest rise and fall with every breath, and I know. I know now. I know his name. It’s something so small, so trivial, so simple. But it’s everything in our world. He’s trusted me with it, and now he trusts his future with me. I know he needs water to function in the morning. I know he has a thing for soy sauce. I know. Who would’ve thought I’d share a bed, so much love, and a future with the man who saved me all those years ago. 

The man I’d admired for so long is mine, and the future ours. 

[whereflowersbloom]

I liked you first

Part 4

Fuck. She was getting closer, he could hear the echo of her footsteps walking across the hall. He was positive she was on her way to his table. This had to be a fucking joke. Damian looked around and tried to convince himself it was his mind playing tricks on him. Perhaps it was the wine. Definitely he’d blame the wine. However he knew it wasn’t possible. He had only had one glass. Furthermore he developed a high tolerance for alcohol. There was no way he was drunk. At all. Damian has met beautiful women the past years. Attending Galas, charity events, and suchlike, as a Wayne. He did what was expected of him. Some were dates, others one night stands to satisfy his carnal needs as any other man. Every single one meaningless. Yet, they were nothing compared to this dazzling beauty before his sharp eyes. Pure and innocent as beautiful. Delicate as porcelain. This couldn’t be Rachel Kent. Jonathan’s sister. His date tonight. The simple idea seemed inconceivable.

He felt a warmth rising from within, a low gentle burn starting at his core, and stretching out into his limbs. He doesn’t recognize it, or possibly his logical mind refused to acknowledge it. He tenses, the sound around him mutes.

Rachel was too nervous to interpret the expression on his handsome face. She took a few deep breaths to slow down her racing heart. The unsettling feeling that's been building up in her since she entered the restaurant takes on new edges. An uncomfortable awareness of something she can’t quite put words to gnawing at the back of her mind. His penetrating gaze probably. There she was, standing in front of him. The man that stole her heart when she was a timid, troubled child, covering her affection with indifference. She longed to run her fingers through his dark hair. It looked so silky. His lips seemed to beckon to her to be kissed. Oh the dream of her teenage years.

“Damian.” She breathed torn between joy and agitation at seeing him for the first time in over ten years.

Fucking Richard Grayson. Damian swears in his head. She’s there. She’s right in front of him and he’s paralyzed, stunned. She was moving her rosy lips. God, he’d beg for a taste, those full lips were made for his. To be kissed properly. He found himself unable to hear a sound. His surroundings, her voice, nothing. His attention and thoughts too focused on those electric blue eyes. How intense and beautiful they are. All of her. She embodied the essence of everything that was supremely, exquisitely, unbelievably stunning. Becoming a beauty incarnate. Say something he commanded his body. It didn’t respond. Her expression showed concern, confusion, she must think he was ignoring her. Fuck.

“Oh.” Was all he managed to mutter. Seven hells. Is that all he can come up with? What in the world was happening to him? Facing a gorgeous woman and suddenly he was speechless, behaving like an inexperienced teenager. It was unacceptable.

He tried to focus again. Damn it. She folded her arms, her forehead shifting. It became immediately obvious to Damian that his staring wasn’t as subtle as he’d been hoping and he gave her the impression he was giving her the cold shoulder. How wrong she was. “Damian?” His hearing was finally back. He snapped out of it.

He cleared his throat, he was a complete mess. “Rachel?” He asked in disbelief. He wasn’t himself. All kind of thoughts swirling around his head. She nodded, smiling at him. He took a deep breath. It had to be a joke. He had to be sure it wasn’t an hallucination. “Rachel Kent?” He asked again, blinking incredulous. What was that in his voice? Was he stumbling over his words?

“Well, unless you were expecting another Rachel Kent.” She raised her eyebrows, blue eyes twinkling with humor, mildly puzzled by his actions.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear innocently and stretched her hand, offering it to him. It took him a whole minute to process what was happening and react. He shook his head and hesitantly took her tiny, pale hand. Damian was acutely aware of the exact moment their hands touched. He tried not to get caught up in the way her palm, her skin was so soft. He was touching her, even if it went in the places he wished to. Then he felt annoyed at himself for noticing it. The little jolt warming his skin beneath their joined hands. It was just a handshake. Nothing, Something he did on daily basis with dozens a of people.

“So, mind if I sit down now?” She gestured the chair, asking shyly. A smile tugs at her lips.

He wanted to punch himself. Where were his manners. Alfred would be utterly disappointed and tell him he should be ashamed of his behavior. He attempted to stand up but his feet failed him and lost balance at the last minute. He avoided the fall, grabbing the edge of the table. Thanks to his quick reflexes. He was terribly embarrassed and furious. He cursed in his mind again. A waiter approached him and asked him if he was alright or needed anything. He dismissed him cordially, saying he was fine and it wasn’t necessary. He regained composure and helped his date sit in her chair. Tsk. He was infinitely grateful his siblings weren’t there to witness it.

He sat down again, shifting in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position. He was angry at himself, his ridiculous actions, lack of self-control. It infuriates him.

Rachel covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a giggle. It was the first time in a long time she’s seen Damian Wayne being clumsy. Even when they were kids, he was a natural leader, a prodigy, genius. Always doing everything flawlessly, mastering every activity or task. Growing up she couldn’t help but feel inadequate. She was eager to see new sides of him. He appeared to be so perfect, it pained her at times. This was so human. Was he okay though?

Rachel was looking at him worried. “Are you alright?” She reaches out to touch his hand, it was her first instinct, but he instantly moved his arm away, avoiding her touch. It was a reflex. He didn’t mean to. Their eyes lock, hers full of emotion, was that disappointment, sadness in those shinning eyes? He loses himself in those clear, deep blue wells.a part of him wants to look away, hide his embarrassed at his reaction to her touch. But there it was this foreign feeling. It was killing him, annihilating his sanity, slowly. Without mercy.

“I’m sorry.” He exhaled. Guilt. He felt guilt. He was trying to regain control of his actions and emotions.

“No apology necessary.” She sighed, did her best to smile sincerely. But anyone could see the truth through her eyes. Those weren’t the words she'd been hoping he'd say, but she it was her mistake for assuming she could touch him. This was better than fighting. And she had promised herself she wouldn't hold him to her selfish expectations? It was nobody’s fault Damian didn’t want her. Wasn't even his, if she was being honest with herself. Just because she harbors romantic feelings for him...it didn't mean he was obligated to reciprocate those feelings.

Damian’s senses were reeling. He tried to speak but found words has scattered from his mind. Never in his life had the sight of a woman affected him to this point. Not even remotely. He was so taken taken aback by her unadorned beauty, that he was undeniably drunk in her loveliness. This strange, sick feeling was making him lose his cool, his control.

Words bubbles up in his throat, he swallowed them down, gulping air like fish out of the water. For the very first time in his life he felt like a fish out of water. He didn’t know what words to pronounce, dominate his emotions or actions. He was Damian Wayne, he wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He was raised to achieve success and excellence. One look at her and he loses it. Shit. His head was throbbing.

“I know it’s been a long time.” She says quietly, looking down, avoiding eye contact with him.

This encounter had fractured his composure, and with the floodgates broken, Damian was struggling not to drown in his emotions. There she was again, avoiding him, like when they were children. It was irritating, not knowing the reason she despise him, or what in the seven hells did he do? He let out a pained snarl, struggling to overpower a foreign sensation clawing up his chest that was making it difficult to breathe.

“Why? Why did you agree to this date with me?” He asked coldly, frustrated, agitated. He needed answers now.

This caught her attention, getting back to reality. Rachel’s eyes open wide. “I thought it was an opportunity to get to know each other.” She said in a quiet tone, almost in a whisper. She was biting her lower lip.

“Oh really? Because 10 years ago if I recall correctly you didn’t seem interested. You hated me.” He bit out, eyes narrowed falling on her figure. Hurt battling with anger, but anger was easier to cling to. He was releasing all his frustration but he didn’t care at the moment. He started clenching and unclenching his left fist. He needed to hit something. Or better yet, someone.

“I never hated you, Damian. It’s complicated, if you let me explain.” She panicked, tried to come up with an explanation, make him understand. She was a immature and naive child back then. If only he knew how she truly felt about him. He interrupted her

“What game are you playing, Rachel? I’m not a fucking toy or chess piece?” He snarled loudly. They weren’t kids anymore. She couldn’t treat him this way. He wouldn’t allow it. He was breathing heavily. He lost his temper in a public place. Oh no.

“You don’t have to be an asshole. If you didn’t want to come, you should’ve said it.” She countered. She felt broken, shaken, hurt, she held her gaze with his own hard, furious eyes. The pain nearly ripped her heart out. This was obviously a mistake. She gaved a whine of anger and frustration, eyes growing glassy.she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. She stamped her foot, more tears falling.

“Damn you, Damian Wayne!” With those last words she rose from her sit, and walked away from him. She couldn’t look at him. Wiping her eyes as she retreated, leaving behind Damian and that disaster.

Fuck. He did it this time. He wants to slam his fist down on to the table. Realization of what he had caused. She was right. He didn’t comprehend why he had been an asshole. There had to be other ways to keep her at arms length. It wasn’t fair to her to behave like this. He could be nice to her, considerate and it didn’t have to mean anything. Except it did.

It hurts so bad to want a woman so much. To have her right in front of you, her alluring eyes, full cheeks, delicate features, this glorious creature, and they were so far away. In mind, personality, perspective. In every possible way he could think of. And he was disrespectful, rude, nasty. Because he didn’t understand his own feelings.

It was desire. He wanted Rachel, had wanted her the moment he laid his eyes on her as he’d listened to his newly-revived heart pounding hot blood into his ears, he didn’t know how to deal with the need to have her, mind, body, and soul. It was all new to him. But he wanted her. Dick could kick his ass after all. He deserved it. Except he had to fix this. He had to apologize, plead for another opportunity.

“Rachel! Rachel wait!” Abruptly, his feet started obeying, rushing off to chase after his date. His heart pounding, as he ran across the hall. He could catch up to her still. He had to. He regretted his words before. This date meant everything. Fucking Richard Grayson. If he managed to get Rachel to forgive him. He’d have to genuinely thank him.

Notes: don’t worry it’s the first part of the date 😂😂😂🥺🥺🙈🙈🙈😭😭❤️❤️