#suits & ties collab

[iimplicitt]

🐴 ooh okay I’m here to infest your blog with max requests then. I come from Anna’s blog.

I have been wanting spy!max. What if reader gets caught in the crossfire as an innocent and Max had to intervene to save the reader. As a result he had to protect her and somewhere along the way he ended up falling for her

ENJOY THE SILENCE | MV1

pairings: spy! max verstappen x fem! reader

a/n-warnings: violence, blood, mentions of su!cide, criminal underworld, spy/government organizations, charles runs a crime syndicate, language, sherlock! inspo, slightly suggestive themes, hea!, if typos i apologize i’m out of it, collab with pookie @theonottsbxtch

wc: 9.9k

Leclerc.

A name whispered by few and not known by many unless they were involved in work God would frown upon.

Max leaned back in his chair, orchestral music swirling in the air along with light conversation and rich laughter. The banquet was still buzzing even though the hour began to run late. His fingers thrummed on the tablecloth, eyes flickering over the crowd.

Guards were posted at each entrance.

His eyes danced up to the terraces above. The police had men patrolling as well.

The night was still young and vulnerable.

Leclerc was a known terrorist. Or businessman. Same thing these days.

He was just a name. An idea. A phantom that lurked in shadows. Pulled strings. Swayed the market. Played a dirty hand in elections.

No face or even a voice could be attached to him.

He was like a Boogeyman, but far too real with drastic consequences.

Leclerc.

Men he had taken down over the years had screamed the name after Max had all but beat them into submission. Nearly half of them committing suicide right after. Fear for the infamous criminal greater than any other alternative.

A man who liked to play games. Toy with people.

Max had landed on his radar.

It seemed as if every big assignment he was put on, there were traces of him everywhere. Ties. Strings. Deaths all leading back to one man.

He swallowed the last dregs of his champagne as he watched the Prince of Monaco being escorted out of the ballroom. His instructions simple. Keep an eye out. Clear the trail.

Keep it clean.

Max stood, rolling his shoulders slightly as his suit adjusted around him. The smells of rich colognes and whiskeys wafting in the air, glittering diamonds winking at him from the chandelier lights.

He lingered off to the side as he existed, the cool night air hitting his skin and the heat from the earlier summer sun was still warm on the pavement. Max leaned against the wall, watching as a sleek car pulled up and the door was opened for the Prince.

Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a lighter and a cigarette, the sharp sound of the flame igniting greeted his ears and warm light bathed his face as he placed the tobacco between his lips. Breathing in, the rich nicotine provided a blanket over his nerves as he watched the car slowly roll away.

Max was about to walk off to get his bike to follow when something on top of a nearby building caught his eye. It was quick. A glint of something metallic. His eyes narrowed, adjusting to the darkness. He never ignored his intuition.

Slowly, he walked towards the building, sticking to the shadows and smoke slowly plumed into the air, pouring out of his nose as he kept a steady pace. Stalking. Each step careful.

When he saw the shadow quickly dart against the roof, he didn’t hesitate.

Tossing the cigarette, he made quick work down the street, his dress shoes sharp against the stone lined road, eyes following the figure.

Another glint of metal.

He darted to the side, the silent sound of a bullet biting through the air next to him not a second later. A silencer. Gunman. Hopefully only one. He could work with that.

Only issue is why hadn’t they taken the shot when the Prince was–

“Shit,” he whispered as he took off in a run again.

Another bullet grazed the air.

Max quickly rounded the corner of the building, he knew the angle would be difficult, If he could just get inside.

He ducked beneath windows he passed, about to turn under the awning when he ran directly into someone. Their startled scream knocked him slightly askew.

Worse, alerting the gunman where he was.

His eyes flicked down, taking note of the woman he had knocked over. Civilian by the looks of it, in a work uniform. His mind was running a mile a minute, reaching a hand down to quickly help you up and keep moving.

“You should leave,” he muttered, about to breeze past you and through the door.

“That’s what I was doing until you practically ran me over-”

A bullet ricocheted off the ground, shattering a window.

You screamed again and he tried his best not to roll his eyes as he took hold of your arm and yanked you inside of the building.

“What the fuck–”

“Be quiet,” he snapped, darkness swallowing them up in the hallway and he struggled to listen for any approaching footsteps over the sound of your rapid breathing.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Are you incapable of shutting up?” He bit.

You balked at him. “We were just shot at-”

“And we’re going to be again if you don’t be quiet.”

Even though it was dark he could read your expression easily. You wanted to slap him. He hoped your annoyance would overshadow the fear of the current situation, making you more compliant.

“Come on,” he whispered. Looking for somewhere you could hide. The last thing he needed was casualties.

Max was about to reach for a door handle to what he assumed was a closet when another bullet flew past him. He yanked you down, realising he wasn’t being that gentle but surely you wouldn’t care given someone was out to murder you both.

“Get inside,” he managed to say before he quickly got up, a person appearing from the shadows like a phantom deciding to finally make an appearance,

He dodged a punch, his own arm swinging out and managing to land a blow in the assailant's side.

Max barely resisted the grunt as his fist connected, already pivoting on the balls of his feet to avoid the counterstrike. The assailant recovered fast, swinging a knife in a tight, brutal arc. Max twisted, feeling the blade whisper past his ribs, slicing fabric but missing flesh.

Close. Too Close.

He liked this jacket, pity.

He grabbed the bastard’s wrist, yanking them forward, using their own momentum against them. A sharp twist. A pained snarl. The knife clattered to the floor.

The other man struck out in desperation, a wild jab aimed for Max’s ribs with another smaller knife he hadn’t seen. The glint of the blade flickering as it caught the light. Max deflected with a swift parry, stepping in close- too close. He could smell the sweat and gunpowder, see the flicker of uncertainty in the assailant’s eyes just before he drove his knee hard into his stomach. The man reeled back, breath stolen, shoulders heaving. He barely had time to blink as the man threw the knife with such force he could hear it rip through the air, lodging itself into Max’s thigh.

He grunted, clenching his teeth and ripped the knife out. It wasn’t deep but he’d need stitches.

Max didn’t give him time to recover. A sharp kick to the chest sent him crashing into a stack of wooden crates, the impact splitting the air with a satisfying crush. He began to get up, but Max rammed his head forward, headbutting him with years of practise. The bastard slumped. Unconscious. Thank fuck.

He stalked forward, quick on his feet and he kicked the man again for good measure. Mostly to make sure he was actually unconscious. Once satisfied, taking in the steady rise and fall of his chest through tactical gear, Max reached down and yanked the balaclava up.

He couldn’t help but smile as he took in the man's features.

“So that’s who…” he whispered.

Max exhaled slowly as he stood, rolling his shoulders, the tension in his muscles easing. He wiped the blood from his knuckles against the front of his jacket, then-

Shit.

His haze snapped to you. You were still standing there, standing frozen in the doorway, eyes blown wide, breath uneven.

Of course you were. He should’ve known nothing was ever that simple.

“Right, move,” he said, already striding towards you. Ignoring the way warm blood was beginning to soak into his trousers.

You blinked up at him. “What?”

“We’re leaqving.”

“No, we’re not. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Max let out a slow breath, patience hanging by a thread. He could hear sirens in the distance. Time was short.

“You’ve got two choices,” he said, voice flat. “Walk, or I carry you.”

Your expression flickered with outrage. “You wouldn’t dare-”

He grabbed your wrist.

You fought him, really you tried, heels digging in, but Max was stronger, faster and had far less interest in arguing. With barely any effort, he hoisted you over his shoulder, ignoring the flurry of fists against his back.

“Put me down, you absolute-”

“Later.”

Max strode down the alley, barely registering the way you kicked and struggled against his grip. His focus was on getting the hell out before someone else decided to have another go at killing him.

He reached his sports bike - sleek, black, and built for speed - and dumped you onto the seat.

You immediately tried to slide off.

His hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist. “Stay.”

You glared at him. “I’m not a bloody dog.”

“No, but you’re a pain in my ass.” He leaned in slightly, voice low and edged with irritation. “That man back there wanted me dead. He’d want anyone who witnessed that dead.” He watched the fight in your eyes, the defiance, the disbelief. Then his gaze dropped to your uniform-blue scrubs, a name badge slightly askew. “Do you want to live another day to work at your…” He tilted his head “Your veterinary?”

You swallowed. Hard.

“Yes,” you muttered.

“Good.” He yanked a helmet over your head before you could argue, pulling the strap tight under your chin.

You smacked his hand away, “Get your hands off-”

“Hold on.”

“What?”

The engine roared to life as he revved the throttle.

“Hold. On.”

You barely had time to react before he twisted the grip, the bike surging forward, tyres screeching against the ground. You yelped, arms snapping around his waist as you two tore through the streets, wind whipping past you.

Max’s lips tugged back.

Sassy or not, you were holding on for dear life now.

The city blurred into a mess of neon and streetlights as Max weaved through traffic with the kind of precision that came from years of needing to be faster than the people trying to kill him. You clung onto him tight, despite all your earlier defiance, self-preservation had finally kicked in.

He kept the smirk to himself.

Good.

You tore through backstreets, out onto a motorway, and then further still, into the countryside where the roads were empty, dark, and winding. The roar of the engine echoed through the trees as he pushed the bike harder, faster, leaving everything behind in a blur of tarmac and moonlight.

You didn’t say a word, not that you could over the wind. He could feel you tense against him, probably still weighing up whether you had made the right decision getting on the bike in the first place.

Didn’t matter.

You were too far out from the city now to turn back.

The road narrowed, the air thickening with the scent of pine and earth. The stars were brighter out here, uninterrupted by streetlights. The bike tore though the last stretch of road, tyres crunching over gravel as you approached a villa nestled in the woods.

It was an old house, sprawling yet quiet, the kind of place that looked like it belonged in the Italian countryside rather than where you were. Ivy climbed the stone walls, warm lights glowed behind shuttered windows, and the scent of night blooming jasmine hung in the air.

Was this a safe house?

Is this what they looked like? If they were, the movies portrayed them incorrectly.

Max cut the engine. Silence crashed in.

For a long moment, you didn’t move. Then, slowly, you peeled yourself away from him, yanking the helmet off. Your hair was a mess, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

“What the fuck,” you breathed.

He swung a leg off the bike, shaking out his hands, rolling his shoulders like they hadn’t just spent the last however many kilometers nearly breaking the sound barrier.

You stared at him, then at the house, then back at him. The blood.

“What- Where- How-”

“Not a fan of full sentences, are you?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Where the fuck are we? Who are you?”

Max ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the house before looking back at you. “Safe.”

You let out a sharp laugh, disbelieving. “You just kidnapped me at God knows what speed, drove me to some random place. What even is this? Some murder house in the middle of nowhere?” You threw your arms out. “Where even are we? This isn’t even the same country anymore, is it?”

Max didn’t answer. He just walked past you, up towards the door.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, arsehole!”

He stopped at the entrance, casting you a glance over his shoulder.

“Are you coming in, or do you want to sleep in the woods?”

Your jaw clenched, “How do I know you aren’t going to kill me–”

He let out an exasperated breath. “I just saved your life, or did that escape your notice?”

Your jaw ticked, arms crossing over your chest. He tried to understand how confusing this probably was, but after so many years the effects of how dangerous his job actually was lost on him.

He continued to stare at you, sighing. “We’re in northern Italy. This is a safe house. You’re fine.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Considering him. “Who are you?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

You huffed, the puff of air making some of your hair fall in your face.

Slowly, like a wounded animal approaching, you made your way towards him, eyes flicking down to his leg. “Do you need help?”

Max raised a brow. You couldn’t seem to make up your mind. Half of you was terrified, the other sympathy towards his wounds.

“I’ll be fine.”

You raised your own brow, ever defiant as you came to a stop on the step right below him. The moonlight caught in your eyes as he stared down at you, seeing you properly for the first time.

You raised your chin, eyes dancing from his legs to his face. “I have medical training.”

“On animals, maybe.”

You sighed through your nose. “Fine, bleed out. Super glue your flesh together.” You shoved past him, entering in through the door with caution thrown in the wind.

He followed you inside, watching you carefully as you looked around. The interior was simple. Lightly decorated. Giving the impression it was lived in, but clean. A holiday home, maybe. In case anyone came looking.

Your fingers traced along the edge of an ornately carved table, catching his eyes in the mirror hung above the mantle of the fireplace. He was leaning in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed over his chest. Critiquing.

“Are you taking me back tomorrow? I have a life you know, people are going to wonder–”

“Sorry, but that’s not happening anytime soon.”

You paused, muscles coiling in tension. You then looked at him over your shoulder. “What am I then? A hostage?”

He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “No,” how to word this? “Listen. that man we just encountered is more dangerous than you can even imagine.”

You turned. “Who is he?”

“You know the bombings that happened last month?”

You nodded, eyes going slightly wide. “That person was responsible? I thought it had been a suicide bombing?”

“It was made to look like one. But that poor man was a victim like everyone else. He was a pawn. A puzzle for the government to solve. Bombs strapped to his chest, and they’d be set off if we failed.”

“So, you work for the government? And you what? Failed? Failed what?”

“That’s the thing, we didn’t fail.”

“I don’t understand.”

Max walked over to the kitchen attached to the room, sitting himself down. He knew he needed to close the wound soon. Adrenaline was wearing off. “There was an earpiece the man was wearing, and he had been on the phone with us. We figured it out, what he wanted. The man was just supposed to tell us where he was so a bomb squad could get him but then…” he rubbed at his eyes. Exhaustion creeping in. “He started to describe him.”

Slowly, you approached. Eyes flicking down to his leg again. “Do you have a medical kit?”

Max debated for a moment, he wasn’t fond of people touching him. The most contact he got these days was dealt in punches. The pain pulsed, though, making him relent and he gestured to the cupboard under the sink.

When you came back, he felt a strange jump in his stomach. Like a rope was being yanked as you kneeled in front of him, your eyes focused on the contents of the box as you rummaged through it.

“What’d he say?” You asked, making him snap out of it.

“Not much. Didn’t even say what he looked like. Didn’t give a name. Just said his voice sounded so soft– and the line went dead.”

You paused as you slid sanitary gloves on, eyes going up to his and a crease formed between his brows. “Why’d the government put out a terrorist statement? Surely his family knows–”

Max shook his head, reaching his hands down to tear a large rip into his pants so you could get better access to his wound. “No, no one is supposed to know what’s actually happening. The real threat. Leclerc has been causing chaos across multiple countries' governments for years now, he’s just getting louder. He’s bored.”

“Leclerc? Is that his name?” You leaned, in, your warm breath softly brushed against his thigh, the dried blood feeling cold against his skin and he fought back as shiver as you pierced his flesh with the needle.

“Not many know of him. Barely anyone even knows what he looks like.”

You paused, looking at him. “But now we do.”

He nodded. “Thus, the safehouse.”

“What have you dragged me into?”

He smiled at her, though it wasn’t friendly. “Trust me, if I could be rid of you, I would leap at the opportunity.”

You yanked the wound closed a little harder than necessary and he winced. “The sentiment is shared, you prick. I didn’t ask for this.”

“No,” he stood up, watching you lean back while you were still down on your knees. “You were in the way.”

Your eyes narrowed as you stared up at him. A challenge. Seeing who would cave first. His eyes traced the contours of your bent throat, up across your lips, to your angry gaze.

He sighed. “We’re stuck with each other, lieve. For the time being. He knows we’ve seen his face. He won’t be letting that go.”

“So, we just wait here?”

“No, we’re leaving tomorrow.” He stepped around you. Finally breaking the eye contact and he made his way down the hall, hearing you follow after him and cursing under your breath.

“What? But what about my–”

“I’ll have it handled, but we can’t stay here. Or anywhere for a long time, for that matter. Leclerc is powerful. He doesn’t just have money, he has blackmail. That’s enough to make any government topple.” Max turned, watching as you froze, eyes wide. Disassociating. Not being able to come to terms with your new reality.

He felt bad. A little, as much as he could manage. But this is what happened when people stumbled into his life. Everything gets ruined. Upturned.

‘What am I supposed to do?” You whispered, mostly talking to yourself.

Max walked up to you, his steps light. “Right now, you need to rest. There should be toiletries in the bathroom.”

You laughed, though it sounded more like a scoff. “Such a nice host.”

He bowed his head in mock virtue. “You’re welcome. I’ll wake you up.”

With that he turned, disappearing down the hall and shutting his door behind him. He needed to call Christian and let him know.

He was compromised.

–

You didn’t sleep. How were you supposed to? Your mind was spinning. Thinking about everything and nothing. Pacing the room in the dark, the moon glinting at you through the window. You had no idea what time it was. There was no clock, and you had lost your phone in the chaotic events that unfurled earlier.

You kept staring at your scrubs that lay in a neat, folded pile on the bed. Now adorning a too big shirt and baggy boxers you’d found in a drawer. You felt nauseous, a sense of foreboding as you stared at your work uniform with your name stitched onto the front packet. It felt like you were severing something. And maybe you were. Your life. Any sense of normalcy.

It didn’t feel real.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and you jumped, half expecting the strange man to barge in. It occurred to you that you never asked for his name. But after a few seconds passed, you realised he was waiting.

Swallowing thickly, you reached for the door handle and took a breath before opening it.

There he stood, mouth opening to say something but his eyes quickly took in your appearance, and if your mind wasn’t playing trick on you, you could’ve sworn his neck went a little red.

He then looked past you onto the bed, at the fabric of your past life. “Good, we need to burn it.”

“What?”

“Your name’s on it. Grab it and let's go.”

He began to walk away and you blinked at him. “I’m supposed to go out like this?”

He looked back at her, biting his cheek as he took in her bare legs. “It’s not like we’re going out in public. Now move.”

You wanted to throw something at his head, but you quickly slipped on your shoes and grabbed your scrubs. When you walked into the living room a fire was already going in the hearth with him kneeling in front of it.

He held out his hand, looking at you expectantly.

You held your breath, fingers tightening on the cloth for a moment before you finally handed it to him.

Feeling something break a bit inside of you as he tossed them in, the fabric beginning to char.

–

A week had passed, and he barely talked to you.

Max.

That was his name.

Not that he told you, he never told you anything. In fact, he avoided you like the plague.

Bits of information fell into your lap. Like his name as he talked to some man named Horner over the radio on the small private jet you had been on. Your eyes watching as he flew it with precision. His hands maneuvering over hundreds of controls as if it were muscle memory.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

This was your third relocation, somewhere in the Swiss Alps maybe, you didn’t know. You just sat curled cup with your chin resting on your knees by the window. Looking at the snow-covered mountains. Drawing patterns into the fogged-up mirror.

He felt like a ghost.

Or maybe you did. A presence he was wanting to pretend wasn’t there. Haunting him.

It’s not like you weren’t being taken care of. New clothes had been laid out, all in your size but you tended to op for the shirt you’d found that first night. Feeling like it was your last tether. When you woke up in the morning, breakfast was made. The fridge full. No note as to where he had gone. But you supposed the less you knew the better.

A few more days passed before there was a knock on your door again.

Time to go.

His eyes only met yours for a moment before he walked away.

–

It was late, the moon hanging high in the night and winking at him as he unlocked the door. But he paused as he realised there was loud noise coming from inside the house. 

Leaning forward, he realised it was music and his brows furrowed. You were usually asleep by then. He tried to plan his outings to avoid you. He was sure you didn’t want to be around him so it was a common courtesy. 

Walking inside, a song from the seventies was pouring through the speakers. If there were nearby houses there would surely be complaints, but they were tucked away in a large house resting on a mountain's edge in southern Mexico. Away from prying eyes or ears. 

His steps were quiet and light, though the beat was covering him well enough. 

Max passed by the kitchen, brow raising at the sight of an empty bottle of wine and the liquor cabinet doors were left open, bottles rummaged through. 

Christian was going to kill him. 

His feet carried him to the living room and he abruptly stopped when he caught sight of you. 

You were wearing his damned shirt again. A glass of wine in your hand, eyes closed as you swayed around. Singing along to whatever song you had put on. A drunken blush on your cheeks.

He couldn’t stop staring at you. A little dumbfounded at how carefree you looked. How relaxed. Hips swaying and a thoughtless smile on your lips. A daydream in the form of a woman. 

You turned, taking another sip of wine and your eyes caught his. He expected you to jump. Scream. 

Instead your eyes lit up, knocking him off balance. 

“Max!” You exclaimed, making your way over to him, your bare feet padding against the expensive rug. 

He blinked down at you as you came to a stop right in front of him. Closer than you had been in weeks. He had been keeping you at an arm's length for both your sakes. But with the mischievous glint in your eye he had a feeling that was going to crumble tonight.

“What are you doing?” He eventually managed to get out. 

You took another drink, your eyes locked on him as you did so. As you pulled the glass away, your lips were stained with wine. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Stealing.”

You raised a brow.

He gestured to your glass. “I don’t recall telling you the liquor was up for grabs.”

“Is it not?”

“No.”

You smiled. “That’s too bad.” And you finished off your glass, twirling around and walking to the coffee table where you had another bottle. Pouring yourself another one. 

He bit his cheek. Watching you. Cautious. Ignoring that weird tug he got in his stomach when he was around you. “You do realise how much that bottle costs?”

You shrugged, taking a drink “Not my problem.”

“Yeah, well it will be my problem if you run through every bottle in this house.”

“Careful Max, you sound aggravated.” You tsk-d, a playful smile tugging at your lips and he looked away as he leaned against the entryway. 

“I don’t get aggravated.”

“Really?” 

“Yep.”

He felt you approach. The smell of the shampoo you had used wafting around him paired with the wine. Enticing. Dangerous. 

You leaned into your hip, the grin on your lips anything but innocent. 

“I could push all your buttons right now if I wanted to.”

He flicked his eyes down to you, feeling a little breathless but he pushed onward. “No, you couldn’t actually–”

“I think actually I could.”

“No–”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“No,” he bit out your name, eyes narrowing at your growing grin. “If you would just–”

“I can’t seem to hear you.” He huffed as he watched you grab the remote and turn the music up louder.

“”Just listen to me–”

“I’m trying to listen to you–”

“I can tell–”

“So tell me,” the song ended, and they stared at one another. He’d gotten closer without realising it and you craned your neck back. Voice soft. “Is that making you mad?”

He clenched his jaw, eyes dancing from your mouth to your eyes. Slowly, the word left him. “No.” 

“No,” you whispered. With a hum you stepped back as the next song played, and before he realised it you had grabbed his wrist and pulled him further into the room. “Dance with me.”

“Absolutely not.” 

Your skin was warm against his and he felt his nerves go into a frenzy. Part of him wanted to tear himself away from you, the other half wanted to be more reckless. Hold on. 

Ridiculous. 

You frowned at him, though it was more of a drunken pout. 

He nearly frowned himself when you let go, your drunken mind getting caught up in the song, singing the lyrics and you closed your eyes. Stepping along with the beat to the Nancy Sinatra song that was pouring out into the room. 

Max lowered himself on the sofa, leaning back with an arm draped over the back as he watched you. He didn’t really know what to think. It was an odd predicament he found himself in. New territory that came with being hunted by Leclerc. He knew they were being trailed, though a bit slower than he expected. 

He was glad you weren’t curled up in fear, knowing he had upended your life by running into you on that night that seemed so long ago now. You were finding little ways to cheer yourself up. Every other night when he’d come home– to the safehouse– he’d find dishes or desserts you made. A note scrawled on top, Help yourself, followed by your first initial. 

Max’s eyes danced up your legs as you moved, watching how his shirt hung on your body, not liking how much he enjoyed seeing you in it. 

He knew this was reckless. Sitting there, watching you. Harmless from the outside, but he felt that tug again and he wasn’t pulling away from it. 

He knew he should get up. Walk away. Avoid you like he had been the past month. 

Max didn’t move. 

His eyes traced you like an obsessed artist. 

“Max,” you sighed, setting your glass down, but you stumbled. The alcohol rushed through your veins and he easily caught you, breath hitching as you fell into his lap. 

Eyes locked onto each other. Ensnared. Caught in a trap. 

Max swallowed thickly, overwhelmed by you. “I think it’s time you went to bed.”

‘Why?” Your voice was a whisper, breath fanning over his lips.

“Because I’m about to do something incredibly stupid.” 

Your eyes searched his, fingers twined in his shirt. Your grip tightened, leaning in, making his heart lurch, then you leaned back.

His hands slowly fell from your waist as you stood up, his fingers grazing your thighs. Dazed as you muttered a goodnight and walked away.

Max watched you go, alone and the music echoed.

One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.

–

You were haunting his dreams. Every night he seemed to wake up in a sweat, sheets pooling around his hips and he’d rub his eyes, forcing the images away. 

Reckless.

Stupid. 

He started joining you for dinner. Sitting at the counter, glass of whiskey in hand as he watched you move around the kitchen.

Wearing another shirt of his.

He gave it to you a week ago. Left it folded on your bed after you two had landed in Argentina.

Leclerc felt like an approaching shadow. He could feel the tick of the clock matching the beat of his heart. 

Closer and closer. 

Your fingers trailed along the nape of his neck as you walked behind him, setting down his plate. 

He shut his eyes.

He was slipping.

–

You lowered your book a bit, squinting against the sun despite the fact you were wearing sunglasses. The Miami sun unforgiving.

Max walked out onto the back patio and you watched him silently, scared that if you made a noise he’d retreat back into the house. He was always treading so carefully around you. 

You watched as he lifted his shirt over his head, his hair looking blond in the sun and his skin tan and corded with muscle. Swim shorts low on his hips. 

It seemed so… casual. 

You liked it. 

He dove into the pool, the water aquamarine and shimmering. 

Max broke the surface, shaking his head to rid himself of water and wiped at his eyes, looking at you over the ledge of the pool. He had a habit of staring when he thought you weren’t looking. It felt like a game of cat and mouse with him. Never knowing when he’d let go of his reins a little bit. He’d let you in a little bit but then would take five steps back.

What was he so scared of? 

He rested his arms on the edge of the pool. water beading up on his biceps and shoulders, eyes narrowing at you and you lowered your book, raising a brow. 

“Get in.”

You blinked and lowered your glasses down your nose. “What?”

“Get in, lieve.” 

Your brow furrowed. He called you that sometimes and you had no idea what it meant.

“Why?”

“Because I told you to.” 

Despite your scoff, you found yourself getting up anyway. His eyes watched you as you walked closer, each leg lowering into the water, goosebumps covering your flesh even though it was warm. 

The water wasn’t too deep, but you were still on your toes as you neared him, water dewed up on his lashes. His eyes glowing as he briefly looked at your mouth. 

Part of you was tempted to grab his neck and just say to hell with it. 

It was hard to breathe when he was around. 

–

They had only been in Rio for a few days. He didn’t know how you managed to convince him, but he found himself being dragged to a night club as the sun set behind the waves. 

It was idiotic. 

But seeing your smile as he caved made him reckless. 

The music was loud. The club dark, figures flickering in and out of focus as lights flashed. 

This really was a horrible idea. 

Your hand found his wrist, tugging him towards the dance floor but he didn’t budge. 

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Oh come on, live a little.”

He shook his head. “I’ll keep watch.” Max’s heart sank a little when he saw your expression falter a bit, clearly upset. But before he could even scramble for a response you dropped his arm and kept walking. Other bodies swept you up. 

Biting his cheek, he leaned back against the bar. Careful to keep an eye on you. On the entrance and exit. 

Ignoring that tug in his stomach. 

- 

You had a headache. One that was free of alcohol. You weren’t risking that tonight. 

Every now and again you’d catch Max’s eye, the stoney expression he always wore. Unreadable. 

It was infuriating. Exhausting. You felt like a fool. 

You were probably just lonely. Forcing something that wasn’t there. He was practically your keeper. Nothing more, nothing less. 

It almost felt like he always went out of his way to make that point. 

You could look all you wanted but that was it. Only fleeting touches and tense conversation. 

It was maddening. You felt like you were going insane. Imagining things with the way he was looking at you. 

Like he wanted you. 

Clearly he didn’t. 

You had no idea what he wanted. 

The music thrummed. Loud in your ears and making your heart lurch in your throat. You wanted to forget for a little while. Forget what your life had turned into, or lack thereof. 

Your hands were in the air, hips swaying, letting the crowd guide you. 

You spun, heels catching and you stumbled a bit but someone behind you caught you easily. 

The smell of rich cologne met you first and you turned, taken slightly aback from the man who was now standing in front of you. 

He was devastatingly handsome. 

And grinning lightly. 

At you. 

Dimples in his cheeks, blue eyes looking dark, and his brown hair was a mess. 

“Sorry,” you finally managed to spit out, blushing like an idiot. 

He shook his head, leaning down so you could hear him better. His voice soft. 

“You’re alright, darling.” He had a slight french accent and you returned his smile. 

Not denying that you liked the sudden attention you were getting. 

The moment was tense, his eyes not leaving yours as he took a step closer, a question in his gaze as his arm reached out and wrapped around your waist. 

You sucked in a breath. Debating. 

Your eyes trailed to where Max had been but he was gone, walking off somewhere. 

Running your tongue along the inside of your cheek, you looked back up at the handsome mystery man and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

Permission. 

You knew exactly what he wanted. The reassurance felt nicer than it should’ve. 

You two began to move to the music, lights flashing and bodies pressed tight together. His voice low in your ear as his lips brushed against it. Making light conversation. Making you laugh. 

He was wickedly charming. 

He asked your name and you felt like you had to practically shout it over the music. 

“Yours?” You asked, feeling a bit dazed with the way he was looking at you. Shivering as one of his hands snaked up your back and into your hair, his other arm tightening around your waist. 

“Charles,” he spoke it into your mouth.

Lips colliding. Messy. Electric. 

God, you were touch starved. 

You practically melted into him as his tongue slid into your mouth. 

The taste of him strangely sweet.

-

After he had caught the sight of a shadow moving upstairs, he debated leaving you alone for a moment before deciding it was better to be safe than sorry. 

What he hadn’t been expecting as he looked over the upstairs railing, was to see you making out with someone. 

But it wasn’t just someone. 

His stomach dropped as the flickering lights shone over the man’s face. 

Leclerc. 

Just as he turned around a knee was suddenly being lodged into his diaphragm.

Max stumbled back, coughing violently. Barely having time to blink before he dodged another kick, this time a foot coming straight for his head. 

He quickly dodged, hooking his own arm out in an arc and landed a fist across the person face. 

Lights shone into the balcony and he caught sight of a woman, grunting as she wiped blood off her cheek. 

Fuck. 

He knew exactly who this was. 

Leclerc’s personal murder weapon. 

Ex-MI5. Now enemy of the state. 

She didn’t hesitate, darting forward, throwing another kick and as he went to block her, her hands gripped his shoulder and she swung up and around, cinching her legs around his neck. 

His head spun a bit from the force, adrenaline making him barely take notice of how she dug a knife somewhere in his back. 

Max’s hands flew up, grip tightening around her waist before slamming her down onto a near by table, knocking the wind out of her but her legs remained a vice around his neck. 

His hand shot out, putting his own death grip around her throat. Seeing red. 

She wheezed. Clawing at his hand, eyes going red and bleary. 

He grit his teeth as she grinned at him. 

“Been a while, babe.”

Max was about to just say fuck it and snap her neck when someone suddenly whistled. 

“Kinky, I like it.”

His eyes flicked to the side before widening. 

Leclerc was setting your unconscious body down on a nearby couch, your arm slipping from his shoulder and slumping to the side. 

He didn’t have much time to take in the smug expression Leclerc was wearing before there was a sharp blow to his skull. 

-

The second he was awake a sharp pain ricocheted around his skull, making him wince. 

He blinked a few times, eyes burning, trying to see in the low light provided only by a few lamps. 

The room was simple. Neat. A hotel maybe, given the carpet.

When he saw you, tied to a chair across from him, duck tape over your mouth with blood dripping down the side of your head, your eyes dilated in fear. 

He bit out your name, attempting to crawl to you out of sheer desperation before he realized his own hands were tied. 

The longer Max took in your fear stricken expression, he realised you weren’t even looking at him. But past his shoulder. 

Long legs were adorned by an expensive black suit and one ankle was perched up on the other knee. Italian leather graced his feet that looked as frightfully expensive as the black leather gloves that covered his long fingers, resting on the armrests of the chair. 

Leclerc looked painfully casual. 

Save for the cold look in his eyes and cruel smile on his lips. 

His blue eyes flicked down Max’s frame. An invisible string pulled at the corner of his lips as he rested his chin in the palm of his hand. “Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Max clenched his jaw, looking at you, how your hair stuck to your sweat drenched skin. His eyes flicked back to Leclerc. 

“Why don’t you come here and find out?”

Leclerc laughed. Though it was more so an exhale of air and his own gaze drifted to you, making Max’s blood boil. 

The man hummed, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Max. 

“Charles Leclerc.” He let his name sit heavy in the air for a moment. “Hello,” the way he said it, almost in a sing-song voice… like their current situation was amusing. 

His eyes danced to you, and your confused expression. “Charles? From the club?” You continued to simply stare at him, blood crusting on your wounds and hummed. “Do I really make such a fleeting impression? That’s a shame. I rather enjoyed our kiss.”

Max thrashed against his restraints. 

“Easy now.” Leclerc tsk-d. He then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve given you a glimpse, Max. Just a small one. Of what I’m capable of.” Before Max could even think about what he was saying a red dot appeared on your forehead. 

He tried to turn around to see where it was coming from but he couldn’t move. Yanking against the rope but it was useless. 

Leclerc sighed, as if taking pity on him. 

“I’ve got a lot going on out there in the world. I’m a specialist, I suppose.” He raised his brows, gesturing to Max. “Like you.” 

“A consulting criminal,” Max bit. 

Leclerc shrugged. “Brilliant, isn’t it? No one ever gets to me.”

“I did.”

He hummed, “you’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.” 

“Thank you,” Max muttered, his anger making him reckless.

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

“Yes, you did.”

Leclerc shrugged, smiling. Looking bashful. “Yeah, okay I did.” He then stood up, rolling his shoulders and fixing his cuff links. “But the flirtings over, Max. Daddy’s had enough now and there’s business to be done. I’ve shown you what I’m capable of. Remember the royal family fiasco? Oh, the princess. What a naughty girl.” He laughed. “Or when I drained the Vatican's vaults. All that money just to get you to come out and play.” 

He walked over to Max, looking down at him. “So take this as a friendly warning, mon cher.” Leclerc placed his hands in his pockets, unblinking as the next words slid out of his mouth like oil. “Back off.”

He stepped back, walking in a circle around your chair. “Although I’ll admit, it has been fun hasn’t it? This little game of ours.”

“People have died.”

“I hate to tell you this, but that’s what people do.” He then wound a hand in your hair and yanked your head back, smiling into your neck as a knife suddenly appeared in Leclerc’s hand, pressing it against your throat. His eyes flicked up, meeting Max’s rage filled expression. “Would you like a reminder of that?”

“I will kill you,” Max ground out. 

Leclerc leaned back, dropping the knife as if he was suddenly bored. His voice calm. “No you won’t.”

Max’s eyes drifted to you. “Are you alright?”

You were quiet. Deathly still. 

Leclerc leaned down, his lips dusting your ear. “You can talk, honey. Go ahead.” And he ripped off the tape. 

You winced. Voice cry and cracking. “I’m fine.” 

“See?” Leclerc leaned against the back of your chair. Hovering. A demon waiting to collect his bargain. “She’s a tough one, you know how to pick them. I’m a little envious, actually.” 

“What do you want?” Max snapped. Getting desperate. “Money? Missile plans?” 

Leclerc tapped his hands on the chair. Whistling. “Missile plans? Wow.” He acted like he was considering it but sighed. “Boring. I can get those anywhere.” He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head and Max’s stomach sank as he watched you flinch. 

But then you suddenly threw your head back, ramming your head back into Leclerc’s nose and he stumbled, blood beginning to pour out and into his mouth. Staining his lips and teeth. 

He laughed, looking crazed as he made a weak attempt to wipe the crimson away. “Good, very good. She’s sweet, I can see why you like having her around. But then again, people do get so sentimental about their pets.” 

Max threw himself back, the wooden chair shattering below him and he darted forward, ignoring the pain and slamming Leclerc into the wall. Not caring as an array of red glowing dots covered his back. 

“Max!” you cried out, struggling against your restraints. 

Leclerc wouldn’t stop laughing. A mad man. “So touchy and loyal. Maybe you’re her pet.”

A bullet shot through the window and he heard you cry out as it grazed your leg.

Max threw himself back, raising his hands in the air. 

Leclerc smiled. “Gotcha.” He then smoothed down his suit, giving Max an offended look. “Armani, please be gentle with it.” He then sighed, tilting his head to the side. “Do you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Max? Hm?” He stepped forward, getting in his personal space. “Do you?”

“I get killed?”

“Kill you?” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “No, no no. Don’t be so obvious. I mean yes I will kill you, eventually. But I don’t want to rush it. I want to save that for something special. Just you and I. But if you don’t stop prying,” his eyes drifted to you, smiling wistfully. “I will burn the heart out of you. And I’ll enjoy it.” He closed his eyes, as if savoring it. “Very much.” 

Leclerc began to step back, hands back in his pockets. Smirking. “Ciao, Max.”

And he left out the door.

-

Max was being so delicate with you, you wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both. 

Tremors still ran through your body. Mostly in shock. You couldn’t believe how stupid you had been. You almost got Max and yourself killed and for what? A night out—

“It’s not your fault.” Max said as he wiped away the blood on your leg, his stitches clean and your heart tugged. All those times you fixed his wounds and he let you. He didn’t need to. He knew how to do it. 

“I should’ve listened to you the first time.” You whispered, watching how bruises already began to bloom across your leg from where the bullet had grazed you. 

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Simply staring at you before his hands gently reached out, cupping your face to tilt your head down and he pressed a light kiss to your freshly washed hair. 

He’d cleaned you up. Nothing about it felt remotely sexual. Just… comforting. Letting you know that he had you. You didn’t have the energy to feel even an ounce of embarrassment that he had finally seen you naked. 

“It’s not your fault,” Max repeated. 

You shut your eyes, leaning into him and his arms slowly wrapped around you in a hug as he stood between your legs as they dangled off the sink. 

You hugged him back in your own time, finding comfort in his warmth and you sighed. Wondering who you had pisssed off in your past life to end up here. 

“Do you think it’s over?”

Max traced light circles into your back. You were wearing another shirt of his. 

Eventually you felt him shake his head. “No,” he said quietly. “Not until he’s dead. But even then, it might take months or even years to dismantle his network.”

You clenched your jaw. Your new reality sinking in. Leaning your head back, you looked up at him. “What do we do now?”

One of his hands reached up, the rough skin of his palm a comfort as he cupped your jaw, his thumb lightly running over your cheekbone. He looked lost. These were new waters, even for him. 

“What we’ve been doing.”

“Biding our time?”

He shook his head, eyes flicking to your mouth. 

“Being patient.”

-

The Shanghai safe house was quiet. Too quiet.

Max shoved the door open, blood dripping from the gash on his cheekbone. His T-shirt clung to him, damp from sweat, and his hands were sore from throwing too many punches and landing too few. His head ached, and he wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep. 

This was what he got for wanting to train against his teammate - his teammate that hadn’t missed a singular training session while Max was jetting off from country to country evading Leclerc.

But training was more important now than it had ever been now that Leclerc was a constant weight on his mind. Eventually, he’d start training you as well. He wanted you to be able to protect yourself if he wasn’t there. 

He’d kill himself if a repeat of Rio happened. 

You were perched on the kitchen counter, legs swinging lazily, his oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder. You had a glass of water in your hand, but you weren't drinking it—just watching him.

Your gaze flicked to his face. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing.” He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his skin.

You exhaled sharply, hopping down to pull the first aid kit from the cabinet. “Sit.”

“I’m fine.”

“Max.”

He didn’t stop walking. Didn’t look at you. Just strode towards the bathroom, already pulling his shirt over his head. All he wanted was a shower.

“Fine.”

The word was clipped, laced with something unreadable, and it made him stop. He turned back, brow furrowing as he watched you push herself back onto the counter, setting the first aid kit beside you. Then you just… waited.

No arguing. No chasing him down. Just waiting.

His jaw tightened. His fists curled.

And then, before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped between your knees.

You were already reaching for him, fingers cool as they cupped his jaw, tilting his face to the light. He let out a slow, steady breath as you pressed a damp cloth to the cut, the sting sharp but distant compared to the warmth of you between his arms.

You were focused, careful. Too careful.

He swallowed. “You don’t have to—”

“Shut up.”

His lips twitched despite himself.

Your thumb brushed his cheek as you adjusted your grip, and then—just for a second—your breath caught.

He felt it. Saw it.

You hesitated, your fingers stilling against his skin.

He looked down.

You weren't breathing. Not properly. Not anymore.

Your eyes darted to his mouth. Just for a second. But he caught that, too.

His hands flexed against the counter’s edge.

Silence.

Something thick. Something unspoken.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you broke.

But something had just snapped.

And there was no coming back from it.

His grip on the counter tightened.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stared at you, feeling the weight of something shift between you—something heavy, something inevitable.

When had this started?

The first safe house? The second? Or had it been there from the moment he dragged you into this mess, when you clung to him on the back of the bike, shaking but unbroken?

You were still looking at him, your fingers trembling just slightly against his skin. Your lips parted like you were about to say something, but nothing came out.

He wondered when you’d last been with someone. When someone had last touched you like this. When you’d last let them.

Max rolled his jaw as he thought about Leclerc that night in Rio. How he has managed to get his hands on you. His mouth. Charles, he had called himself. 

He saw black for a moment and shoved the memory away. 

His mind flicked back to himself, to the months of running, of waiting, of trying to force this thing between you into something manageable. It had been over a year since he’d had a moment to himself, since he’d even considered wanting something outside of the mission, of survival.

But now—right now—he couldn’t think about anything else.

Then you moved.

Slowly, carefully—giving him time to stop you.

He didn’t.

Your lips brushed his, just barely. A whisper of a kiss. A question.

And he almost answered. Almost let himself sink into it.

But then he pulled away.

Your hand dropped from his face instantly, the space between you rushing back in like a cold slap.

“Shit,” you whispered, pulling back. “I—”

He saw it in your eyes before you even said it. The regret. The walls slamming back up.

“I shouldn’t have—”

He surged forward.

No hesitation this time. No space left to second-guess.

His hand caught your jaw, fingers curling at the nape of your neck as he crushed his mouth to yours. Nothing soft. Nothing tentative. Seven months of waiting, of fighting it, of pretending he didn’t feel you in every room, in every breath—poured into one kiss.

You gasped against him, your hands flying to his shoulders, but he didn’t let you pull away. Didn’t let you think.

His other hand gripped your thigh, pulling you closer, and you melted against him—just for a second—before you kissed him back just as hard.

Your nails dug into his arms, his teeth scraped your ower lip, and then it was all hands and heat and need. No more distance. No more games.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth, and he answered by dragging you forward on the counter until there was nothing left between you.

He could feel your breath hitch again, just like before. Only this time, you didn’t pull away.

This time, neither of you did.

And there was no pretending this hadn’t just changed everything.

His hand slid up, fingers curling lightly around your throat. Not squeezing—just enough for you to feel it, to know he could.

You let out a sound, soft and breathy, barely even real—except it was, because he felt it against his lips.

A fucking moan.

His grip tightened just slightly, his own breath catching in his chest.

And then—he smirked.

You wanted this. Badly. He could feel it in the way you were clinging to him, in the way your legs tightened around his hips, in the way you practically melted into his hands.

So he pulled back.

Just enough to make you whimper at the loss of him, just enough to see your lips part in something dangerously close to frustration.

Your eyes flicked open, dazed, hazy with it. “Max,” you breathed.

He raised a brow, deliberately slow, deliberately smug.

“Not fair,” you muttered, voice edged with irritation, your chest still rising and falling too fast.

No, it wasn’t. But it was fun.

Then something shifted in your expression—something sharp, something knowing.

Your lips twitched. “Fine,”you she said lightly, fingers sliding up his chest, nails scraping just enough to make him feel it. “My turn.”

Before he could react, you moved.

You tilted your head, brushing your lips along his jaw, feather-light, barely there. Your hands trailed lower, over the tense muscles of his stomach, your nails pressing just enough to make his pulse hammer.

His breath hissed through his teeth.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, teasing, taunting, and then pulled back just slightly, waiting. Daring him.

His patience snapped.

His hand shot back to your throat, fingers tightening as he pushed forward, crashing his mouth to yours.

This wasn’t careful anymore. Wasn’t measured.

This was hunger. Months of it.

You gasped against him, but he didn’t let you speak. Didn’t let you do anything but feel him, take him, match him.

He bit your lip. You tugged his hair. He swallowed every sound you made, kissed you like he was trying to take the air from your lungs, like he was trying to burn through every second you’d wasted not doing this.

You gripped his shoulders, dragging him closer, but it wasn’t close enough. It would never be close enough.

He lifted you, dragged you against him, let himself lose control in a way he never did, never allowed, because nothing had ever felt like this before.

The way he kissed you, it was like he wanted to wipe that smug little smirk off your face, like he wanted to remind you exactly who was in control here. But the truth was, he wasn’t. Not anymore.

Your hands were in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your mouth, and he answered by pressing you back against the wall of the kitchen, swallowing every sound you made.

Your legs tightened around him. He could feel your heartbeat, rapid against his chest, matching his own.

Another kiss, deeper this time. Another sharp intake of breath.

Then finally—finally—he forced himself to pull back, just enough to see your face, to watch the way your lips were swollen, your breath uneven, your pupils blown wide.

You blinked up at him, dazed.

And then—

“Wow.”

A breathless laugh escaped you, and his lips twitched.

“If I’d known you could kiss that well,” you murmured, your fingers still tangled in his hair, “I would’ve done it in Italy.”

His brow lifted, his hands still braced against the counter on either side of you. “Italy?”

You smiled. “When you said you needed to burn my uniform. Something about that all black ensemble made me feel something.”

His jaw tensed. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

That night, the dim glow of the chandeliers, the fire in front of them, the warmth of the room.

He had wanted to shoot himself in the foot for thinking of her in ways he shouldn’t have.

And now you were telling him you’d thought about this then?

His fingers curled against the wood. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he muttered.

You tilted your head, all mock innocence. “Am I?”

His hands shot back to your thighs, dragging you forward, forcing another gasp from your lips as he leaned in close, his mouth hovering over you.

“You have no idea,” he murmured.

tag list: @dragonfly047 @lovehollandy12 @moofilms @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @ashbone @c8lap1nto @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy (let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!)

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a pile : Clothing style you should give a try

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸 I'd love to hear your thoughts on this reading <33

Masterlist \pick a cards

I also offer paid readings you can book one as it'll help me a lot and don't forget to check the free readings offer ✨

Pile एक

Pile 1 : boots , gold accessories, leather jacket,high waist jeans + shirts , long\ short blazers , black shades , trench coats

colours: dark red , brown , white , black , beige

Pile दो

Pile 2 : gothic core , barbie core , chinese flowy dresses , turtle necks + chain necklaces , vest suits , dark academia fashion , check sweaters \ shirts , short skirts , marry janes , lace socks , gender bending clothing , oversize washed off pants

Colours : pruple , green , black , navy blue

Pile तीन

Pile 3 : okay I feel this pile itself is divided into 2 pile 1st those who wanna dress all modest and cutesy and another one is just pulling the clothes which 1st comes in their sight 😹 also if you're thinking of giving try to clothes that aren't usually wore by people around you give them a try this time ^⁠_⁠^

Baggy denim jumpsuit, jeans , short skirts + knee length boots + turtle neck blazer , pants + loose tshirt + loose cut sleeves sweater , old money core clothes

Colours : grey , brown , green , white

Pile चार

Pile 4 : okay okay so you must try my demon kdarma's fl do do hee's fashion you could pull up her fashion so amazingly. Suits and vests gonna look so great on you and for some cottage core dressing will look good too . Also I think plain clothes with no pattern gonna look good on you more than patterned clothes . Converse shoes , nike air force or any white shoes , pencil heels , ties

Colours : Orange, green , blue , white , grey

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day

Loads of love , jam🫶🏻

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[atzfilm]

winter blossom (m)

pairing/wc: k.yeosang x reader (10.1k)

genre: alien au, secret relationship

warnings: smut, mentions of murder/injuries, petnames

summary: earth abandoned centuries ago, you travel the cosmos alone. you land on a smaller planet, meeting an exiled dweller that calls himself yeosang.

— part of the ...and it's snowing collab!

Space has always been noisy. Ships riding past you in the low lights, stars sparkling in far away galaxies, the rumbling of your own engines enough to fill what small amount of peace you have alone.

You sit in front of the navigation screen, eyes flicking over the map. You have little fuel left and perhaps you overestimated how much you'll be needing before the next port. It's several hundreds of thousands kilometers away and you barely have enough to make it halfway there. Sure, there's planets in between that you can land at but it's a risk. Most hate humans, hate their existence entirely. Once they see you, you may be taken – either killed or used for parts. You rub your face, looking over your options. You won't make it to the next large port, that's for sure. Waiting out in open space is unreliable – pirates can get to you quicker than a space marshal would.

You groan, a planet close enough for you to land on. One you haven't heard of before.

Elysium.

You glance to the side, typing up the name into your database.

Elysium. Planet primarily consists of thickened forestry and large oceans, similar climate to the planet Earth. Population of three million, ruling under a monarchy. Temperament toward humans is neutral. Climate: Snow.

It ticks off enough boxes for you to decide to land, setting the destination point for Elysium as well as instructions and identification to the port for approval. You grab your telecommunicator and walk off away from the screen, readying yourself to land in the next few days.

“Hey pretty girl,” you walk past the framed photo of your passed cat, pressing your lips on the glass before moving on. Everything is tied down, thankfully, nothing out of place. You jog down the corridor, glancing in each room. All of it is secure since no one has lived in for ages, commotion from prior years of having a crew absolute. It wasn't anything bad for why they left – you all had different ideas on how to make money. Yours was simple, collecting mostly artifacts and lost space junk, getting a heap of coins every now and then. It's a simple life. Alone, yes, but it's fine. Nothing you've haven't grown used to.

After checking all of the rooms you move back into the navigation room, throwing yourself on

the fold up bed you've stored there. You can't remember the last time you slept in your own bed – it's probably been months. Being alone has made you more wary of leaving the room without an attendant. Anything could happen between the distance of your room and here. You'd rather deal with it straight on than wasting precious seconds running toward it. You tuck yourself beneath the sheets, eyes glued to the wide windows showcasing space.

The port is quiet as you land. Ships stationed in several spots, but you only see a few patrollers out and about. You grab your mask and place it over your face, suit already on as you exit the craft. An Elysium, taller than you by almost a foot, comes toward you. You read in the brief biography that they're quite tall in comparison to the average human. That you can clearly see as he stands in front of you. Most of the other traits are the same except for pointer ears, irises a lighter blue. Skin pale and almost translucent, lips a light pink. As if they haven't seen the light of day for ages. His head tilts as he looks down at you, surprised.

“A human on Elysium? I never thought I'd see the day,”

You bow slightly at the guard, holding out your identification and paperwork. “Yes sir. I have all the proper paperwork. I'm here to fuel up before the next stop.”

“Ah, quite far from Candor,” he glances over the paperwork. “It looks in order. Unfortunately for you, we no longer have enough fuel for an aircraft the size of yours.”

“Are you sure? I checked the database to confirm you had the capabilities for fuel and –”

“Oh we do have the capabilities, human,” he nods. “But we've slowed down on our supply since not many land on our port. We can give you fuel, yes, but it will take a few weeks in human time to fuel up that tank enough to get you to the next destination.”

There's nothing else you can do. You take your identification back from him, knowing what you have to ask next.

“Where can I stay while I wait?”

—

You hold the glass in your hand, staring at the seeds swirling in the water. The bartender insisted that it was made for a human's palate, but you almost gagged at the taste. Water this acidic couldn't possibly be water at all. Your helmet and suit rests on the seat next to you. After a quick chat with the guard stationed at the port, and a small device placed beneath your skin, your body is accustomed to the climate of Elysium. You’re all but ungrateful, the heavy material of the suit would only make your stay feel so much longer. Your eyes move to the table, wanted photos seemingly solidified in the glass. Your gaze strays to one in particular.

His presence stood out amongst the fugitives. Hair darker than what you've seen around, eyes staring into yours. His beauty is beyond any of what you've seen so far around here – and that's saying something. Skin covered in … glitter? A birthmark on the left side of his face. Some would say it would lessen his beauty, but it only exemplifies it for you. Your finger traces the outline of his figure, reading the description. It's conveniently in a language you can understand.

Kang Yeosang, Prince of Elysium. Wanted for the murder of the King of Elysium. Bounty set at 4,979,990 Elp.

He is a prince? It makes sense, you can see his commanding aura through the thin paper. But why would he kill the king? You presume it's his relative, father or uncle maybe. You can only snort to yourself, shaking your head. He should have had a maid or butler perform the task if he wanted the throne so desperately. The bounty is high, though. Higher than you've ever seen it. Enough to set you for life and then some.

“He has been forgotten for over a century, human,” A voice pulls you away from the table. You look up, meeting the eyes of another Elysium. His hair is a deep blue, skin covered in bandages. He sits at your table without even a hint of an invitation from yourself, humming. “Neither Elysium high guard or the most elite bounty hunters have been able to find where he resides. This planet has been torn apart for decades. Most have accepted that he is no longer alive. I doubt a human like yourself would be able to find him.”

“Well stranger,” you take another slow sip of your drink, wincing at the taste. “I never said I would be hunting for the forgotten prince and neither do I want to, seeming as he hasn't been found in so long. Trying to read the emotions of a person you don't know doesn't seem to be your strong suit.” You roll your eyes, looking away from him. All you're trying to do is stay under the radar, keep to yourself. Weeks of avoiding unneeded conversation is going to be rough, but you'd rather not start messing up your plan right now with an Elysium that's trying to read your mind.

“You were thinking it, I could tell.” He shrugs.

You narrow your eyes now. Taking the bait surely, you continue, “And how can you read my mind? Is that an ability many of you have? Because it doesn't seem to be working all too well.”

“Ignoring that snide remark of yours, it’s because of your ship,” he glances out the door for a moment. “Before it was just you, there was a whole crew. You were bounty hunters back then, finding lost men and growing. You were quite notorious too, until that crew of yours broke apart. Quite unfortunate now, you could have found the biggest bounty yet if you came here back then.”

“I only deal in antiques now,” you retort. The past is the past. And notorious? You doubt the crew was that popular. Maybe relatively known, but not famous. Just reliable. “And I don't remember seeing you around the port when I was parking.” You would have remembered a face like his. His lips curve at your words, shrugging.

“I'm forgettable. My name is San, by the way,” he holds out his gloved hand. You take it, shaking it. “I'm the owner of this bar, and the man who will be showing you to your room next door.”

“You own both?” Your brow raises.

He nods. “Family business. Whenever you're ready just find me. I’ll be out and about.”

-

You stare at the lack of clothing in your carry-on bag, knowing you’ll have to go back to your ship soon to grab some more supplies. You rub your face, sinking into the bed. This is exactly what you didn’t want. Familiarity, staying longer than necessary. If the government let you rest on your ship you would have. But instead, you’re stuck in a hotel, waiting impatiently for your fuel. You glance at the door. Secured with makeshift objects you kept on your person, a bell twisted around the doorknob. San insisted that this place is safe, but you’d rather not take the chance. Especially as one of the only humans on this entire planet.

“Hell,” you murmur, looking out the window. The planet is known to be dark at night, which only adds more sense to why their skin glows. You look at the streets, shimmering Elysium walking every which way, bright against the streets. It is beautiful, enough for your eyes to continue to wander, lids growing heavy enough to fall unconscious.

The rattling is what woke you up. You leaned forward almost immediately, fingers reaching for the knife beneath your pillow you took off your plate at dinner. Coming up empty handed, you slide off the bed, hands up slightly. Your eyes barely get a chance to adjust to your dark room, but you see them. Their skin brightens up the room, glowing against the walls. They hold up the knife, crushing it between their fingers. You swallow, shooting a fleeting glance at the door. They stand in between you and your escape. You could jump from the window, but it’s several stories above the ground. You doubt you’d survive the landing. They take a step toward you and your body stiffens.

“What do you want? Elp? Artifacts? I have none, they’re all on my ship.”

They hesitate for a brief moment at your words. “Your ship?” Their voice echoes around the room, smooth and deep. Pretty, despite the circumstances. “You have a ship?”

You curse yourself, nodding slowly. “I do. It has no fuel, so you won’t be able to get anywhere with it.”

“But you have a ship,” they confirm. “You can leave this planet.”

“Is that what you want? What are you, a fugitive?” Their skin's luminescence softens at your words. It's almost enough for you to make out their features. In that brief hesitance, they look eerily familiar. You don't get the chance to look any closer though, skin back to where it was. “I can help you.”

“I need to leave. When will you be free to go?”

Good question. “Maybe a few weeks? They said it'll take a while.” Why the hell are you negotiating with a bright spot? Just as you open your mouth again, they interrupt.

“I will be back.”

They dissipate in front of you in a blink, gone from your sight. You drop your arms, chest throbbing, breaths quick. You stand still for a few more minutes. After realizing that they're truly gone, you drop your hands. The smart thing to do is tell San what happened. But your gut is telling you otherwise. It was strange to say the least. But you can't think of leaving to complain to San about someone who might just be a figment of your imagination in your tired state. You convince yourself as such, moving closer to the door. The bell and other contraptions are still in the same place you left them. You walk back to your bed, a cold metal touching your foot. Glancing down, you see the pile of dust.

The knife they crushed.

—

You soon convinced yourself it was a dream despite the circumstances. The knife could have been fragile. You could have somehow imagined the pile of dust. All of these explanations ignore the feeling in your gut. It dwells. No one has bothered you much for the past few days. A little talk here and there, but most left you alone. San, you've grown to notice, speaks to everyone and anyone around his tavern and hotel. And it seems that everyone knows him well, his loud laugh echoing around every room he's in. It brings you comfort. Enough to hide that sinking feeling.

You sit outside, staring out into the thickened leaves and trees. They're nothing like what you've seen, vines tight, barely any signs of movement. As if it knows you're watching. So still that your gaze moves to the rustling of leaves. You tense, glancing around. No one is out and about. Only you in this area. Just as you begin to stand, you see him.

His hair is long, pulled back from his face with braided strings. His eyes are iridescent, still on yours as he makes his way to you. His movements are elegant, hands tucked into his jacket, hidden from view. There's only one person he could be – the Elysium from your bedroom. As he moves closer, you see it. The birthmark near his eye, extending to his temple. Pretty, but deadly, in these circumstances. He pauses in his movement, noticing your shift of focus.

“You know me,” his voice is softer, hesitance wrapped around each word. “You told me you were a human.”

You can't begin to speak, slowly standing up from your spot. Having the exiled crown prince standing in front of you, especially after all San said about his disappearance. What kind of luck do you have?

“I am.”

His eyes narrow, “Then how do you know me?”

“You are the forgotten one. How could anyone not know you? I –” You glance back. “I don't want to be involved in whatever you're planning.”

“I want to leave the planet.”

“Leave? You've been gone for a century, you could have left anytime you wanted. They forgot about you. Why are you trying to hitch a ride with me? What's your plan?”

He stares at you, silent. Your irritation makes your fear lessen, waiting for his response. He merely sighs, staring at the grass beneath his feet. “Humans have rarely landed on our planet. Each time, they refused to help me. Which is why I am asking you.”

“And why would I help you? If someone caught me, I could be killed. You murdered the king. That's not a petty crime.”

His jaw tightens at the mention of the past. Knowing you very much made a mistake, you backtrack. “I don't know you well enough to listen to what you have to say.”

“So why do you listen to what the others say? Do you know Elysium well at all? Why listen to the words of beings you have never come across? Why not listen to my words?”

You pause, unsure of how to answer. Sure, you can listen to the masses, take their word for it and report that you certainly have seen the lost prince. Or you can keep this quiet, decide on whether you want to save him. The longer he stares and waits for a response, the more you're sure of your decision.

“Did you kill him?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have no other choice?”

“...Yes,” he takes a breath. “If I didn't, more Elysium would have been killed. I had no other choice.”

There is no wavering in his tone. He says it strongly, a furrow of his brow. Lost, maybe hurt. But he is sure.

“Okay,” you glance around. “I will get you out of here. But once we land at the next port, you're gone. And we will pretend none of this happened.”

“I'll follow your words, human.”

“y/n,” you correct. “My name is y/n.”

—

“You’ve been out and about a lot these past few days.”

San glances up from cleaning the glass, leg resting on the edge of the chair. You have avoided him since your encounter with the lost prince. You doubt he can read your mind, mostly, but being around Elysium when you’re hiding the most sought out of them all is not exactly something you’d like to do. Especially since you’re growing a soft spot for San. Another thing you didn’t want to do. Unfortunately for you - he’s too kind not to.

“Am I not allowed to explore the planet I'm inhabiting temporarily?”

He purses his lips, leaning against the arm of the broom between his clothed fingers. “You are, of course. Just strange, the way you’ve been acting. Anytime someone asks where you’ve been, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Just what are you hiding, y/n?” His brown lifts, glancing between your eyes. “Or is it best that I not know about it?”

Do you trust him enough to spill what you’ve been hiding? Yeosang has warned you, especially tonight, not to say a word. Out of fear or otherwise. So though San is trustworthy enough, you can’t quite tell him. Not yet, or ever, really. You merely shake your head, and he nods in understanding.

“Fair enough. I hope you keep your radio line open, y/n. I’d hate to lose contact with you.”

You leave the hotel tonight after weeks of staying, petrol finally filled to the brim in your ship. You’ve spent all day filling up your storage with preservatives enough for your long journey and then some. The guard was curious that you had so much, enough for several people. He even inquired as to if you’ve found a life partner on Elysium. You denied it and he only waved you off.

San passes you a small bag of snacks you ordered earlier and you thank him, your hands brushing against each other. The leather encompassing his holds yours for a moment, a small smile on his lips. “There’s a small map in there to an entrance to the docks that no one takes anymore, out of commission. It so happens to be behind your ship, exactly where you parked it. No one would see it since it’s out of view from prying eyes. Someone would advise someone else to take it, using that little pill in that bag. It’ll show whoever it is as someone else temporarily. Not long enough to hang around for hours, but enough. In case, of course.”

He lets go of your hand, smile wavering. “Be safe, y/n. I trust you, even though I haven’t earned your trust yet.”

“San–”

He holds up his hand, shaking his head. “Don’t want to know my friend. Safe travels, keep that radio on. Don’t forget me and call if your journey is too boring, or if you’re tired of him.”

He doesn’t say anything more, grabbing his towel and broom, disappearing into the back of the bar. You grip the bag tightly, grateful that you’ve met him.

–

“It is safe?” Yeosang holds the pill in his hand. You’ve thrown a large coat around his body, the scraps of clothing that he has now not merely enough to make him look like a normal Elysium. The snow does not seem to bother him the way it bothers you, he himself ignoring how the flakes stick to his cheeks. “You’re sure of this?”

“I am,” There’s no need to expand on how or who gave you those pills, exactly. But you think you can trust him. You hope you can. Since he knows what you’re doing, he could have spilled it long ago. But he didn’t, and that’s enough for you.

His soft eyes watch yours. There’s fear of the unknown hidden between the irises, the slow blinks. He has trusted you up to this point. You’re not sure why he decided to grab a random human to help him, but he did, and it’s you. You’ve gotten this far, you wouldn’t betray him. Giving up your life for him is definitely a stretch, but you’d help him in any way you can. And those worried eyes do nothing but make your chest swell. You will help the forgotten prince off this cursed planet. Taking your silence as an answer, he swallows the pill, grabbing the bottle from your hand and drinks the water. You watch him as he stands very still. As if he’s waiting for his death to come. Instead what you see – you can only describe it as magical.

The dark, black hair of his disappears into a lighter blond, softer features hardening, delicate nose changing. Kang Yeosang is nothing like himself. He seems to have shortened in height as well, leveled with you. His eyes stay on yours though, now brown eyes hesitate. Without thinking, you reach out, brushing his wavy hair away from his face. It is not Yeosang in appearance, no, but you can still see him through the disguise. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your small pocket knife, showing him his expression through the reflective metal.

He laughs, shaking his head, “How horrid,” his voice is obscenely deep. Almost obnoxiously so. “What a relief you didn’t want to kill me.”

“I wouldn’t have, you know that,” you roll your eyes.

“I do,” he agrees simply. “Let us go?”

You nod, slipping your fingers into his. He stills for a moment, letting you pull him out from the forest. There’s plenty of people around but none pay attention to either of you. Yeosang’s grip tightens in yours, stiffer as he stands close to you. He hasn’t been around his people in so long, it must be jarring to see them not give him a second glance. Not shame him for what he’s done. You’d like to pick his brain on what he’s feeling right now but you have a task to complete.

You look around, entering the port through the back. It is as San said, no one around, no one to bother the two of you. You quickly open the back door of your ship, ushering him inside. He is a bit hesitant as he stands there, almost forcing you to push him into the ship. He turns to you, eyes widening. “You are not entering?”

“Not back here, I have to go around the front and grab my papers before leaving. I’ll be back.”

You take a step back and he moves a bit forward again, as if to follow you. “Hey, stay in there–”

“You wouldn’t leave me, right?” His words are soft now, the tone of Yeosang’s voice you’ve grown accustomed to. “You would come back?”

You look around, before stepping forward. You hold his face between your hands, “I will not leave you, alright? I am coming back, just give me a few minutes. I’m not lying to you. I promise you this.”

The tension in his shoulders dropped slightly, “Okay. I will hold you to that.” His lips press against the inside of your wrist, stepping back. You quickly move down the ramp, shutting the doors. Ignoring the beating of your heart in your ears, the warming of your face. There’s no time to worry about that now. You have more important things to do, like lie to the guard and smuggle off a fugitive worth more money than you can comprehend.

-

It’s been a few hours since you’ve left Elysium. You know Yeosang is still on, from the rummaging in the room you told him to stay in. You haven’t entered only to give him privacy. In fact, you haven’t seen him since you closed that ramp. The magic has definitely worn off by now. You did want to check but decided against it. Whatever he’s going through right now you’re letting him process it slowly. Hopefully carefully, knowing you have valuables in the room he’s staying in.

You sit at the control table, slowly eating a snack San handed to you. You radioed him just after you left to let him know that you were safe and everything was handled, and he sighed very loudly in relief, explaining that he definitely was not sitting around waiting for your call (he was) or that he thought you might have been taken (he definitely did think so). You reassured him with simple words, not enough to say what you mean, but enough for him to understand. The call was quick, ending with a simple goodbye. You will miss him endlessly, but landing on that planet again wouldn’t be in your favor. That’s your first and last time ever in that sector. Or near it at all. The next port is a couple weeks away, but you have enough fuel to go much farther. You want to discuss with Yeosang and see what he thinks, but he still hasn’t left his room.

Very smart of you to take a banished prince into your ship without knowing anything but what he’s told you.

The hum of the spaceship's engines echoed through the metal walls as you stared at the cameras. You glance at the closed door of the guest quarters, mind swirling with apprehension. The decision to let a stranger on board has always come with its own set of risks, and you just cannot shake the memories of a past experience that had gone terribly wrong.

A few solar cycles ago, you did something similar, made the mistake of extending hospitality to a different traveler stranded on a desolate moon. The person seemed fairly harmless at first, grateful for shelter and food. As the days passed, you noticed a few things off - stolen data from your harddrive corrupt, and before you could even confront them they took the rescue sub and left, leaving you to deal with the aftermath of compromised security, and lack of an escape. It took you months to get something to replace it. The weight of that previous betrayal still hangs heavy on your shoulders; sleepless nights spent trying to repair the damage, the sense of disgust that lingered long after the unwelcome guest had departed, regret that you even trusted a person enough to leave them alone around your things.

Your fingers trace the edge of the data pad, a holographic display of Yeosang’s past. The background check had little, just a brief history of what happened. Nothing to tell you about him, really, just what his people now think of him. Still, you cannot shake the feeling that history might be repeating itself.

"Am I being too paranoid?" you murmur yourself, glancing at the viewscreen that displays the vastness of space outside. "Hell."

Perhaps establishing additional security measures?

You hesitate for a moment. You think you trust him, you do. You trust him enough to leave him around your valuables without thinking twice. So you drop your hand from the screen, shaking your head. If everything messes up, it’ll only be your fault, no one else’s. You move from your spot, approaching the small bed in the corner. Deep sleep will evade you since you’re on board with a fugitive, but your lids are too heavy to ignore. You tuck yourself beneath the blanket, blinking slowly as you stare out the windows. You made a choice. A big choice.

You just hope it’s the right one.

-

“You’re quiet.”

You look up from your food, Yeosang slowly approaching you. He wears the clothing you’ve left in that room for him. Though a bit tight, and silly looking, it’ll fit for now. Nothing like what royalty would wear. You reach back, passing him a bowl that you’ve already made for him. In case he decided to appear in front of you.

He widens his eyes as you sit it across from you, gesturing for him to dig in. You take another bite as he slowly sits down. “You made this for me?”

“You haven’t eaten in days. I know Elysium aren’t the same as me, but you have to eat, Yeosang. You can’t survive on just water.”

“I can for a few months,” he says. Just as you’re about to apologize for your assumption, you see the slight smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, continuing to eat. “I’m grateful for your presence, and your thoughtfulness, y/n. I wouldn’t have been able to choose anyone better to help me leave.”

You shake your head, “It’s nothing-”

“It is something,” he interrupts, “I essentially forced you to take me off that planet. And you obliged without much hesitation. You risked yourself for me. There’s no way I can repay what you have done for me, nothing. I can only remain forever in your debt.”

You think for a moment before speaking. “I trust you Yeosang, I hope you know that. I wouldn't have let you on this ship with me if I didn't. I know that you’ve done it for a reason, and if you’re not able to tell me now, it’s okay. And it’s okay if you cannot say it ever. And do not place yourself into debt with me. Call us even.”

“You place far too much trust in me,” he whispers, looking away from you. “A stranger you barely know.” He takes a deep breath, eyes glued to his bowl. You can see the weight of his unspoken pain. “I wish to tell you what happened.” His eyes flick up to yours, holding your gaze with a mixture of gratitude and. He speaks of his father, the king, who had become corrupted by power and had posed a threat to the people of Elysium. And how, in an act of pure desperation to protect his people, he had taken the life of his own father.

"The council, the people—they didn't understand," Yeosang confesses, words laced with pain. "They saw me as a traitor, an assassin. I was banished, branded a murderer when all I wanted was to save them. I didn’t know how to deal with that, when I tried to save them all."

You can feel the depth of Yeosang's isolation and loneliness, the weight of the truth hanging heavy in the air. There is no doubt from you. You believe him.

"I was almost killed in the process," Yeosang continues, his eyes reflecting the memory. " And I almost let them do it, thinking that my sacrifice would be enough to prove my innocence, but then I pulled myself out of that. They would just let the royal line die, they wouldn’t dig into the past and see. I am the sole heir to the throne, it died with my banishment. If I died then, no one would care to see why. They would just celebrate my end."

Your expression softens, nodding slowly, "You've been through so much, Yeosang. I can't imagine how difficult it must have been."

"I miss being able to protect my people," Yeosang says, a hint of sorrow in his voice. "But now, all I can do is hope that they'll forgive me someday, that they'll learn the truth about the danger my father posed and the sacrifices I made to try and save them."

"You’ll find a way to clear your name, to unveil the truth. It might take time, but…” This is much to say, much too soon. “If you need me, we can face it together. I can help you in any way you need me to."

Yeosang meets your gaze, a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability in his alien eyes. "I've learned to trust only myself, to keep my guard up against those who might see me as a threat. But being around you... it's different. Easier. You've shown me kindness, understanding. And for the first time, I feel like I can breathe."

Pushing the dwelling feelings inside your own chest, you nudge him slightly. "You’re not alone anymore. I'm here for you, and we'll navigate these fucked up stars together."

“Until the next port?”

You pause. “Right. Until the next port.”

His head tilts. “I just would like to know why you’ve let yourself become entangled with me. Why you have yet to throw me off this ship.”

There’s no explanation you can give that would satisfy his curiosity. In all honesty, you haven’t the slightest clue. If it were pure idiocy that you let him on your ship, let his words convince you. There’s just something that you trust in him. Something that makes you believe everything and anything that he says.

Oh, you are just an idiot.

-

The first thing you hear is yelling.

It's low because of the incessant engine humming in the background. Cutting through the sound, echoing around the hull of your ship. Your eyes flick open immediately, feet slipping into your boots without much thought. Just as you stand, the cold metal of a knife presses against your throat. You still, thoughts flashing back to your past.

“A woman alone on a ship this large? Have you no concern for your safety?”

Alone? They haven't found Yeosang?

You keep your gaze to the floor, trying to think of a way out of this. You haven't the slightest inkling on how many there are, but there's bound to be more than three. You're severely outnumbered, and you doubt the prince has ever fought anyone like you have. Isolation for over a hundred years – the two of you will either be forced into slavery or killed within the hour. Well, at least you would be. Once they see the bounty on Yeosang's head, they'll take him back. And all of this would have been for nothing.

“Do you speak, woman?”

“My crew left,” you say. “We went our separate ways. They left me the ship as a gift.”

“And what a pretty one it is,” he sneers, forcing you to stand as he digs the knife into your neck. You follow his movements slowly, heart racing as the cold steel of the pirate's knife pressed against her skin. Your mind races, trying to come up with a fast solution to free yourself. Your security system is too far for you to run to, and he would very likely stab your neck before you can yell a command.

“The others are searching this ship,” he begins to explain, forcing you into a seat. Panic fills your body. His knife lifts from your chin, steel digging into your wrists as he ties you into the seat. The knife drags along your arm as you cry out. All of your plans of overpowering him dissipate into nothing. You're only a human, after all. There isn't enough strength in your body to rip apart metal confinement.

The door to the room swings open, and before you could turn to see, an ax hits the middle of the pirate's face, blood splattering against your cheek. You scream, leaning away from the bloodshed. Hands wrap around your constraints and pull harshly, dropping them to the floor. You have no chance to look back before arms surround your body, pulling you close against him. His sweet, calming smell is familiar enough to calm your heart.

“You're safe,” he whispers softly, lips pressed against your hair. “You're safe.” Taking in his own words, his arms drop from your body. You look at him, shocked at what you see. His lips are bloodied, body covered in cuts and slowly forming bruises. Shirt shredded, barely hanging on his firm build. He blinks slowly, eyes steady on yours.

He could have died. He could have died so horribly, and you were stuck in a room with one man. Your trembling arms wrap around Yeosang, holding him as if you could shield him from the wounds that adorn his skin. The smell of blood lingers in the air. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring the sight of the injuries that coat his body. He could have died. And you're not sure how you could have lived with that.

Sobs escape your lips as you press your face into the crook of Yeosang's neck, "I'm so glad you're alive," you whispered, carefully choosing your words.

Yeosang winces at your hold. You almost pull away, until his grip tightens, wrapping your arms around him again. His concern is etched in the lines of his furrowed brow, betraying his actions. "y/n, you're hurt. Your body," he rasps, fingers delicately resting against your arm. "I should have protected you better."

Your grip tightened, as if by sheer force of will, somehow you could mend both the wounds. “Protect me? You're the banished prince, idiot. I'm the one who should be protecting you,” you reprimand ever so gently. "You're the one who faced the brunt of it. I'm just glad you're alive. I only have small cuts here and there compared to you."

Yeosang's eyes, a mix of gratitude and worry, meet yours. "But you've risked everything for me already. I cannot bear to see you hurt."

A soft smile plays on your lips, "Yeosang, I know the risks as much as you do. I can protect myself."

You can see that he wants to argue more, but his expression relaxes, a silent acknowledgment of your words. You let your fingers trace the outskirt of his wounds. He watches you for a brief moment, before speaking. "I'm sorry for worrying you," he murmurs, voice wary.

You shake your head. "Worry about yourself for once.”

Your tears mingle with the stains of blood on Yeosang's torn attire, clinging to him fiercely.

-

The vibration of the spaceship's engines reverberated through the metal hull, creating a steady rhythm that accompanied your growing sense of unease. Something you’re not able to grasp fully. As a banished prince, Yeosang exchanged his endless roaming in Elysium’s forest for you. And as each day passes, you find yourself stuck, grappling with a strange and undeniable attachment to him. It’s not like you wanted this to happen. In fact, you actively avoided him every chance you got after what happened on the ship. But the silent nights sitting next to one another in the navigation room, the soft smiles shown between the both of you, somewhere in between, things just changed. It was subtle. Soon small smiles were nervous ones on your end.

You cannot avoid the inevitable, that you know.

In the vastness of space, surrounded by the glow of distant stars and the gentle hum of technology, you find yourself sitting in the main room, eyes glued to the television screen. It’s a bit older than newer ships, you never bothered to change it since you rarely watched it. The artificial gravity comfortably keeps you glued to the couch, legs tucked into your chest, blanket over your resting body. Yeosang sits on the opposite end of the couch, not daring to touch you. That’s another story in itself.

Yeosang never really touched you since the brief hijack, nor comfortably since that first time, his lips on your wrist. He actually avoided touching you, slowly taking things from your hand, shrinking himself against a hallway wall. You know it’s for your comfort, but it only makes you yearn for him even more. You never considered yourself a touchy person, not really. Not until now. You wouldn’t be able to tell how many nights you’ve stayed up, thinking about his eyes on yours as his lips covered the skin above your quickened pulse. How he stayed there, longer than needed, before disappearing in the ship. How you wish you can tell him to do it again.

How infuriating.

So as you stare at the screen, you cannot shake the unsettling realization that you are becoming tethered to the person that you sternly told needs to leave when you arrive at the next port. Vulnerability, unfamiliar and raw, creeps over your body, your stomach twisting. How silly that the unknown, uncertainty of the space outside these walls seems vastly incomparable to the fear of losing him.

“You haven’t said a word about the main character.”

You glance at him from your spot, confusion crossing your features. “Hm?”

“Whenever we watch this show, you comment on how annoying the leading man is. How he doesn’t deserve the leading woman. Then, you grumble and groan everytime he says another cheesy line, and sigh when she falls for it. But you haven’t done that at all this whole time. Are you alright?” His pretty eyes rest on yours, brows furrowing.

No, you aren’t okay. You aren’t sure if you’ll ever be okay.

“I’m alright, Yeosang. Thanks for asking.”

“You’ve become easily readable, y/n. I can tell when you’re lying to me. You can say it, you know. Who am I to judge?”

“Just… old times. Things. Stuff, you know.”

He frowns, “That is bigger than the last lie you’ve told me.”

“Yeosang, it’s fine.”

He sighs simply, head turned back to the screen. “Fine, I am not one to push. I just, I don’t know, perhaps I believed that we’ve moved past this hidden information phase. That you somehow trusted me enough to let me know when you’re upset.”

He’s picking at you, it’s clear. You know if you told him straight that you didn’t want to speak of it he’d drop the topic immediately, but you haven’t. It’s very clear to both of you that you want to tell him. But on your side, you’re just afraid to. Yeosang, though not looking at you, waits patiently for your response, unaware of the angst within your heart.

Your fingers nervously play with loose strings of the blanket across your body, trying to find the right words, fear pressing down on your shoulders. He will reject you. Yeosang, despite his status now, is still royalty. He may very much only see you as nothing more than a commoner. Though deep down you know for it to be a lie, your mind wants to convince you that it is true. That he will never stoop down to someone your level.

“I’m fucking terrifed, Yeosang,” you whisper softly.

His mild irritation disappears at your words, body turning fully to look at you. You avoid his gaze as best as you can.

"You’ve… you’ve lived so much of your life as royalty. And here I am, a reject from my former crew, confined in a ship with a prince," your voice is softer now, hesitant. “I’m scared of my feelings for you. And I’m scared that you’ll find me disgusting, gross, and try to leave as quickly as you can."

Yeosang's eyes soften, “y/n–”

“Wait, let me just… let me say this, please.”

He closes his lips, a silent invitation for her to continue.

"And I wondered, what if this feeling is just because you’re nice to me, you know? What if I’m so deprived of kindness that the slightest glimpse of someone remotely caring makes me want you? I never wanted you to pity me, and I don’t want you to say yes when it’s not true for you as it is for me. I like you, I like you so much that I can’t even look at you without feeling it. It aches me,” your eyes burn, tears threatening to fall. “But if you find me as insignificant as I think, please just let me know. Let me know so I can move on.”

Yeosang's expression is unreadable. It scares you even more. He uncrosses his arms, hand resting on the edge of your blanket. "You are not insignificant to me, y/n. You never will be," he smiles. "I just hate that you’ve said all of this before I could confess my feelings myself."

That stuns you for a moment. The way he looks at you is enough to make you look away. He has never made you this nervous before.

“Look at me, please.”

You turn to him.

"y/n," Yeosang begins, his gaze unwavering. "When I first saw you in that hotel, there was something different about you. I couldn't put it into words, but I felt a connection, a sense of trust that I hadn't felt with anyone in a long time."

Your eyes met his in a mixture of surprise and curiosity. You allow him to speak as he allows you.

"Back then, despite it being only weeks ago, I didn't know how to express my gratitude," Yeosang confesses, his fingers absently tracing patterns on the old couch. "You saved me, helped me escape. And in these past few weeks, spending time with you, I've come to see humans for who they truly are. Not just as a means of survival, but as individuals capable of kindness, understanding, and compassion."

A faint smile plays on your lips as you take in his words.

"I didn't realize it at first," Yeosang continues, "These feelings I've been grappling with—whether they were genuine or just a manifestation of attachment because you saved me. But right now, as you sit in front of me, gripping your blanket with such an enormous amount of strength, I just knew."

"Knew what?"

"That this would be it for me," Yeosang admits, "That I'm completely and utterly terrified of saying my next words, but I care for you deeply, and I want you to be mine. I have no reason to worry since you think the same, but I don't want you to have regrets. I don't care if you're not royalty as I was before. I cannot quite understand why you would think I ever cared about such a thing. I never even mention my former status to you unless you bring it up.”

He is right, of course.

“So what do we do now?” You ask after a moment of silence.

He shrugs, leaning further into the couch. “The same as we’ve done before, except now we know we both like each other,” his head tilts, eyes glued back to the television. “Ah, you’re right. He is quite a nuisance.”

-

And that is how it was.

Days melted into nights aboard the spaceship, neither of you mentioning what happened. The air shifted, no longer burdened by the weight of unspoken words. But still, there is a bit of awkwardness between you. Yeosang, no longer avoiding you or pressing himself against walls to avoid you, entered rooms you occupied and initiated conversations, his presence comforting enough. But other than that, he still avoided your skin. There was only one time he didn’t notice you around, your arm brushing against his to grab something from a cabinet. His skin flushed, body rigged as you lightly nudged him out of the way. After that, he rarely gives you his back, always sending you a smile, or keeping himself aware of where you are in the room.

The physical distance persisted, enough so that you could no longer handle being around him without bringing it up.

One night, as you tend to the plants in your nursery you finally sigh, looking back at him. He wears an old crewmate’s attire, tight against his fit limbs, leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s almost enough for you to forget what you were going to say, until his brow lifts, waiting for you to speak.

"Yeosang," you say, voice breaking the silence. "Is everything okay?"

“Hm?” he tilts his head endearingly, only making this much harder to bring up. You push past the unsettling feelings within you, glancing away from him.

“Do you not like touch?”

“What?” his voice is dripping with shock, almost appallingly so, brows furrowed so harshly they may as well rip his skin. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s hard not to when you avoid touching me every chance you get, Yeosang. I mean, I barely brush your arm and it’s like I’m some sort of disease? I don’t understand.”

“No, y/n, that’s not at all what I am thinking. I…” He rubs his face, moving off the wall, “I am filled with a never ending desire to touch you. It’s my fault that you don’t think so. I presumed that you knew of the mating practices of Elysium without even asking,” he rubs his arms, gaze sliding to the floor. “I don’t know if you noticed while on your brief time there, but on Elysium, all of us wear gloves to avoid touching each other. We only have skin to skin contact with prospective mates.”

You remember how his lips brushes against your wrist, his hand clearly wrapped around yours. How you pushed his hair away from his face, how you held it between yours. You’ve rarely touched him, but you’ve still done it, not knowing what it meant. No wonder he looks perturbed each time you’ve done so.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“And I should have presumed that you did not,” he murmurs. “Each time, every time you touch me, it’s an indescribable feeling. No one has touched my skin since my mother when she held me as an infant, y/n. You are the first since then,” his eyes land on your hands. “When I kissed your wrist, it was an act of confession. So when you told me a few days ago that you were scared I did not feel the same, I didn’t quite understand since I’ve already touched you. Again, another assumption that I didn’t explain,” he shakes his head. “Apologizes.”

“All we’ve done is assume,” you agree. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I do, and I’m sorry again. I ... I didn't want to make you uncomfortable since touch as an adult Elysium with another is so much more than innocent. After what I said, though, if you’re uncomfortable, I can give you space."

“No.” You say quickly, an amused smile cast on his lips. “I mean, I don’t mind you touching me, Yeosang. You don’t have to ask. I’m comfortable with you.”

Relief washing over Yeosang's features, "Okay. You can touch me too, y/n.”

You snort, turning back to your plants, “Never thought I’d have a conversation like this.”

“Neither did I.”

The conversation fades into silence, your back to him as you dig out the leaves. You’re focused enough that you don’t hear Yeosang inching closer and closer to you, until a slow hand wraps around your waist. He pulls you into him with ease, breathing in heavily. You can hear your own heart beating against your eardrums, hands gripping the tools tightly. Sure, you expected him to touch you sooner or later.

But you just didn’t expect it to be this soon.

Yeosang’s lips brush against your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Can I touch you now?"

You lean into his body, humming, “Are you not already touching me?”

His free hand slips down, resting on the curve of your thigh. “Not in the way you want me to. Not in the way I desire, So,” his hand stills, “May I touch you?”

“Yes…”

His hand slowly drags against your pants. You watch as he does so, lips brushing against your neck. His lips caress your skin, breathing steadily. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he says after a moment, causing a laugh to escape your lips. Though he does not move away from your body, you can feel his protruding lips pouting against your neck. You try turning around to look at him but he tightens his hold. “You’re not leaving, are you?” he whispers. “I can learn how to pleasure you.”

“Yeosang,” you try turning again, feeling how he reluctantly lets you go. You lean slightly against the framing of the nursery, stretching out your legs and wrapping them behind him. It pushes his body closer to yours, he himself grabbing the planters on either side of you, steadying his body against the framing. Entrapping you in his embrace. His eyes look nervous as they stare into yours. Without missing a beat, you reach up, cupping his cheek. His lids flutter, eyelashes brushing against his cheek.

“Why would I leave you alone?”

He swallows, gaze heavy as it rests on yours. “It is not an unfamiliar feeling.”

You lean forward, pressing a light kiss against the corner of his lips. He trembles. “I am not leaving you, Yeosang. I won’t leave you. As long as you want me around, I’ll be here. I won’t abandon you.”

His tongue drags against his lips, “You are sure of that? As long as you can be? I… You won’t leave me?”

“No,” your voice is firm. “I’m not leaving you. And I’ll teach you how to please me, pretty boy–”

An echo of metal cracking behind you stops you from continuing. You glance to the side, seeing his fingers digging deeply into the planters. Eyes widened, you turn back to him. His eyes are glazed over, glued on your every movement. Flicking down to your lips, he leans forward. You meet him halfway, hand resting on the back of his neck. Your tongue drags across his plush bottom lips, pulling him closer. A light gasp escapes his lips, and you take that chance to enter his mouth. He tastes sweet, as sweet as that smile of his. It’s something you very much can get used to.

You hear the planters crack again, his hands resting on either side of your hips, desperately clawing at the fabric. How delicate he holds you compared to the damage behind. He learns without you telling him how to kiss, clumsy a bit at first before calming himself down. Your hand slips down, following the curve of his broad shoulders, hesitating slightly as you touch the solid muscle of his arms. If there were any way you could be more enthralled with his very being you would have surpassed it long ago. You pull away to catch a breath, his head leaning against your shoulder, chest rising and falling quickly.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, a strange set of words to come out of his usually proper speech. “We have done not a thing, but I am already too excited,” he lifts his head, thumb rubbing circles into your side. “How do humans fornicate? Is it like us?”

“Depends, what do you do?” Though he asked first, you cannot help but wonder about his answer. He pauses for a moment.

“From what I’ve learned, it is usually snowing outside. That is our peak fertility time. We strip bare, and fuck in the snow.”

“Yeosang!” You gasp, unable to hold in your laughter at his confused gaze. “You’re a riot.”

He continues on, as if you didn’t say a word, “We enter the mating partner through their anus and ejaculate after so much time. Depending on the Elysium, of course.”

“We are not having anal sex. Not now at least,” you say simply. “Humans, well, it depends on the genitalia of their partner. I’m assuming you have a dick?”

He tilts his head, thinking. “Yes.”

“Well, then…” After a brief history on what actually happens (brief as in, a forty minute lecture), Yeosang’s fingers are inside of you, moving quickly curving slightly. You moan against his ministrations, gripping the sheets beneath you, eyes flicking down to how easily he learned. His gaze never leaves yours, lips slightly parted as he watches you come undone.

“You’re so pretty, my pretty queen,” he whispers, a small smile gracing his lips as he feels you clench around his fingers. “So so pretty for me, my queen.”

“Yeosang, wait–” you grip his wrists, and he increases his pace. You’ve set boundaries earlier, your safe word being snow. “I’m going to cum if you continue.”

“Then cum for me, pretty. I want to feel you tight around my fingers,” he curls them slightly again, thumb rubbing against your clit. With warning, you moan, falling over the edge. He continues to move inside you, though much slower than before. Once you’re down from your high, he pulls out.

His free hand grips his pants, ripping them with eagerness. His hand wraps around himself, stroking his –

Two cocks rest between his soiled hands, his strokes slow and calculated. Your brain tries to wrap around where exactly in the conversation you had prior, when he told you exactly how many he has. He looks at your shocked expression, worry decorating his. “Darling?”

“You have two, Yeosang. I asked you if you had a dick and you said yes!”

“I do have one, y/n,” his expression still puzzled. “Humans do not also have two?” He swallows slowly, strokes slowing down. “Is this too much for you?”

“Ah, no,” you disagree immediately. “Just surprising.”

“I can only enter you with one, as to not hurt you,” he says quickly. “It’s what you prefer, of course. We can stop now.”

You think it through. Having one inside you is a job in itself, but two? They’re both pretty average and similar to a human’s, though a bit more prominent – skin softer-looking, and covered with shimmer, just as his skin is. You don’t want to end this, and clearly, neither does he. So with confidence, your eyes meet his nervous ones.

“We can try it.”

“…Both?” There’s a bit of hope in his voice.

Who are you to crush it?

“Both.”

-

note: no part two ;-;

[tojipie]

for the lovely @honeybleed ‘s milestone collab event ! wrote this little drabble based on this song:

content: drugs, alcohol, strip club setting, no actual smut but def not pg

thinking about being his fav dancer at the club <3

toji always comes to the club alone. tall, broad, always clad in a suit. thick hands hands that remain perpetually stuck under the bikini tops of the girls keeping him company.

the older man likes to nurse a bottle on his days off, long fingers dwarfing the neck of a sweet liquor you can't pronounce. he smells like it the first time he walks by you on his way to the private dances he can't help but pay for every night. you wonder what his lips taste like.

his composure is iron solid. unbreakable. the man didn't bend for any drug, drink, or woman. not that you were stalking him (you were). you watch him down bottles that would put any normal man in the ER, taking casual swigs in between feeling up the gaggle of dancers fighting for his money. he doesn't seem dunk, not even once. brushing it off like he does every night.

you strategize, subtle yet deliberate. memorizing his schedule to a T, dolling yourself up a little extra on the nights he comes in. word from the other girls was that it was easy to get his attention-- the real challenge was keeping it.

you catch him looking at you across the dimly lit club one night, eyeing you up on stage while another girl feels him up over his dress slacks. his hands falter over her waist as you turn your back to him. a sign that maybe, just maybe, you've piqued his interest.

toji doesn't look away for a second, taking you in with practiced skill. you know he's locked in when he shoos the other dancer off, raising his glass to you in a way that herds you over like a lamb.

you feel warm all over when you straddle him, giggling at how strong his legs are. heat radiates off his body in waves. the man's lower half is spread wide and corded with muscle, holding your lower half up as you rub and grind all over him.

toji hisses at the bold display, tucking a wad of 100s into the seam of your bikini. a generous client, rare but appreciated. he leans in, husky voice cutting through the booming music.

“you new here?” he mumbles, slipping a single between your cleavage. you feel the pad of his thumb slip under the thin ties of your bottoms, rubbing back and forth in the junction between your heat and your thigh.

“no, you know that,” you tease, pivoting to straddle him cowgirl style.

"smart girl," he praises. "knows when she's got my attention."

the air hangs heavy with an unspoken promise as the near stranger continues to spoil you. slowly, you turn, dropping to your knees in front of him to sit at eye level with the part of him you've been curious about this whole time.

"might have a new favorite girl after tonight, huh?" he leers.

[prisvvner]

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ ɪᴛ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇᴅ

word count: 746

content: complicated romance, unspoken feelings, tension, bittersweet moment, slight angst, forbidden connections, mild language

author's note: hey there. this one’s a little different—think of it like a glimpse into something that almost happened, but didn’t. it’s messy, it’s tense, and it’s full of moments hanging on the edge. sukuna and you, caught in that weird space between teasing and truth, where timing’s always playing tricks.

this is my interpretation for tv girl's song "it almost worked". thank you so much for letting me be part of your collab @prosypepper <33 congrats to 2k and i hope you enjoy !!

The city was a ghost tonight, draped in shadows that seemed to swallow sound and light alike. The air hung heavy with the faint scent of rain and rust—an acrid perfume that mingled with the cold creeping beneath your skin. You pressed your back against the cracked stone wall of the abandoned warehouse, its rough texture grounding you even as your thoughts spiraled.

You crossed your arms tightly, folding yourself in an attempt to hold steady the storm inside—nerves, anticipation, the foolish flutter of hope that never quite settled. Waiting wasn’t your thing. Waiting for Sukuna was the worst kind of torture. And here you were again, chasing a feeling that danced just beyond your reach.

The dull hum of the city felt miles away, swallowed by the hollow silence of this forgotten place. Your eyes traced the fractured pattern of light from the broken windows above, weaving a kaleidoscope of dust motes drifting lazily through the stale air. You fought to quieten the quick beat of your heart, but the memory of his last touch, the almost-brush of his fingers against your skin, throbbed like a pulse beneath your ribs.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually enjoying this waiting game,” you muttered bitterly, the words sharper than you intended. Sarcasm was your shield, a way to guard yourself from the crack in your voice betraying your nerves. You hated how much you wanted this. Wanted him to cross the line you both danced around.

Slow, deliberate footsteps broke the silence. You didn’t need to look. You knew. You always knew.

Sukuna emerged from the shadows like a dark flame, impossible to ignore. His pink hair spilled over his forehead, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mixture of mischief and something deeper. Something that dared you to look closer. That smirk, that dangerous tilt of his mouth—it was a challenge, an invitation, and a warning all at once.

“Oh, I’m enjoying it. The chase suits me.” His voice was low, smooth, the kind that made your skin prick with awareness even as your pulse quickened.

He stepped closer, close enough that the warmth of him brushed against your arm, and then his hand lifted. The faintest touch of his fingers swept a loose strand of hair away from your face, grazing your cheek. The contact was light, barely there, but it struck through you like a bolt of lightning.

Your breath hitched, a sharp intake that you barely stifled.

You jerked back, fighting the rush of heat blooming across your cheeks. “Keep your damn fingers to yourself, Sukuna.”

His laughter was soft, amused, like he’d won some private game. His eyes sparkled with a teasing light. “But then how would I know if you’re paying attention?”

You scowled, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, tugging up in spite of yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” he murmured, voice dropping to something that felt almost tender, “still letting me get away with it.”

For a moment, the banter faltered, and something real flickered in his gaze—raw and fragile. You wanted to reach out, to close the small distance between you and say the words you’d been choking on for weeks. But fear pinned you still. Pride wrapped itself around you like armor.

“Why do you do this?” Your voice softened, barely audible. “Always the tease. Always just… almost.”

He shrugged, but the smirk wavered. “Because timing is a cruel joke.”

And suddenly, you understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. It was that the world never let you have it—never let you both be enough at the same time.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and opened your mouth to reply, to tell him how you felt, how every teasing smile and half-touched hand left you aching. But before the words could escape, a sharp crack shattered the stillness. The unmistakable flare of cursed energy, like a storm tearing through the night.

Sukuna’s eyes snapped to the shadows, alert and lethal.

“Duty calls.” His voice was steady, but there was a flicker of regret you caught before he turned away.

His hand brushed yours once more—lighter this time, almost a promise—before he melted into the darkness.

You remained where you were, heart pounding in the sudden silence. The cold seeped back in, but this time it was colder... emptier.

And you realized, with a bittersweet ache, that once again, it almost worked.

✧･ﾟwritten by @prisvvner ⊹ dividers by @hyuneskkami ⛓️ do NOT repost, steal, translate, or claim as your own. 🖤 reblogs are love — theft is not.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Mint Condition

Teen Wolf » Sterek

✨ a collab featuring art by tails89 and mood board by princecharmingwinks ✨

Title: Mint Condition

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Derek just wants to relax after spending the day playing Mall Santa, but his boyfriend has other ideas. 'Tis the season for a naughty holiday-themed strip tease featuring some of the worst Christmas puns and innuendos you've ever heard.

Derek checks the clock, frowning in concern. Stiles had said he was going to change and that he'd be right back, but that was over twenty minutes ago. He's about to get up and go check on him, when the all-too-familiar tune of his least favorite Christmas song in the entire world starts playing on the stereo, and out comes Stiles wearing nothing but a jauntily perched Santa hat and a pair of the tiniest shorts Derek has ever seen. When Stiles twirls around to give Derek the full effect, he can make out the words naughty elf emblazoned across his asscheeks. Derek can do little more than stare open-mouthed as Stiles saunters toward him, sucking on the end of a candy cane in what he probably imagines is a seductive way, shaking his ass in time to the music. Overall, the effect is actually quite charming, and Derek would be lying if he said it wasn't doing something for him. And then Stiles starts talking.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

Derek is going to kill Laura. 

He thought he knew what holiday hell felt like when she'd forced him and Stiles to dress in matching ugly Christmas sweaters and pose for the family greeting card last year. But oh no, this year, she's gone full-tilt Satan's little helper and signed him up to play mall Santa. Three weeks of ten hour shifts, filled with screaming children, overbearing parents, and an endless loop of holiday pop songs that somehow manage to turn every warbling lyric into an 80-syllable word.

He'd say at least he's got Stiles by his side, but Stiles has been so annoyingly upbeat and cheerful about it, literally dragging him out of bed so they can show up an hour early to their shifts and sit by the fountain drinking hot cocoa, that Derek is loathe to consider working alongside his boyfriend a win.

• • •

Stiles is going to bake Laura so many cookies. 

The moment he found out she'd volunteered Derek to play Santa at the Beacon Hills mall, he'd enthusiastically skipped (literally skipped) to the sign-up booth and offered to be Head Elf. He honestly couldn't think of anything more fun than dressing up in cute little outfits and making children smile. And though Derek may look grumpy on the outside, Stiles knows that he secretly loves it, heart melting at the way Derek's features soften as he smiles at the kids and listens intently while they tell him all about the good deeds they've done this year. 

It's honestly so fucking attractive that Stiles is struggling not to jump his bones every time they're on break. Guess that means he'll have to plan something extra special for when they get back home.

• • •

Derek sinks down onto the living room couch, Santa suit still half on because he's so exhausted he doesn't even have the energy to fully disrobe. He leans his head against the backrest and closes his eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief that he is finally, mercifully, home. He's beyond hungry, but too tired to cook anything, so he flicks through the ever-growing stack of takeout menus he and Stiles have collected over the years, calling out across the apartment to ask whether Stiles is in the mood for pizza or pho.

No response.

Derek checks the clock, frowning in concern. Stiles had said he was going to change and that he'd be right back, but that was over twenty minutes ago. He's about to get up and go check on him, when the all-too-familiar tune of his least favorite Christmas song in the entire world starts playing on the stereo, and out comes Stiles wearing nothing but a jauntily perched Santa hat and a pair of the tiniest shorts Derek has ever seen — bright red satin to match his hat — and when Stiles twirls around to give Derek the full effect, he can make out the words naughty elf emblazoned across his asscheeks. 

Derek can do little more than stare open-mouthed as Stiles saunters toward him, sucking on the end of a candy cane in what he probably imagines is a seductive way, shaking his ass in time to the music — which, ugh. (As far as Derek is concerned, if hell had a soundtrack, it'd be an endless loop of Santa Baby…but it's Stiles, so he'll make an exception.) Overall, the effect is actually quite charming, and Derek would be lying if he said it wasn't doing something for him.

And then Stiles starts talking.

"Hey baby," he says with a flirtatious smile and a hearty wink. "Hurry down my chimney tonight."

Derek raises his eyebrows, but distinctly does not laugh, because it's clear that Stiles has worked very hard on this little strip tease, and the last thing Derek wants to do is embarrass him. Out of absolutely nowhere, Stiles produces a string of star-spangled tinsel and throws it around Derek's shoulders, reeling him in.

"I'd sure like to jingle your bells," he says with another theatrical wink.

Derek presses his lips into a tight line to stifle another bout of laughter. 

Must not break. Must act like horrible Christmas puns are sexy.

"I must be on the naughty list," Stiles purrs, pretending to drop his Santa hat for the sole excuse of delivering the perfect bend and snap. "Because I saw you checking me twice."

The tiniest snort escapes Derek's lips, but he passes it off as a cough, determined not to ruin this because Stiles is now climbing into his lap, straddling his thighs, and grinding his hips against the steadily-growing bulge in Derek's trousers.

"You wanna lick my stick, Derek?" Stiles teases coquettishly, twirling the tip of the candy cane between his lips. "It's in mint condition."

And just like that, Derek reaches his breaking point. He bursts out laughing, but thankfully, Stiles is right there with him, burying his face into the crook of Derek's neck and shaking with unabashed giggles.

"Dammit," Stiles whines, pulling back so that he's eye-level with Derek. "I came up with a whole list of smutty Christmas puns, and I didn't even get to use half of them."

Derek shakes his head, laughter subsiding into a contented sigh as he strokes his thumb along the curve of Stiles's spine, marveling at the way the lights twinkling on their cozy little evergreen dance in Stiles's eyes, igniting them in a golden glow.

"Merry Christmas, Stiles," he says softly, leaning forward to press a kiss against Stiles's lips, delighting in the happy little hum Stiles makes as he kisses him back.

"Merry Christmas, Sourwolf."

[saturnville]

Ok so now I have a Met Gala questions as it pertains to my faves…

With the theme done this year, if you were dressing one or both of them what would you have them wear?

Or if you could pick the theme, what would it be and what would you have them wear?

Also would they stay the whole time or would they leave early?

And…

Are they going to any after parties?

Ooooh good questions. I had to wait til I was off and near my laptop so I can answer in depth lol.

Kelvin:

In terms of brands, to honor his collabs with Prada and Cartier, I would've liked to see him turn it up just a notch. I loved the fabric of his shirt, loved the suit, but some sort of cape with an elaborate fedora (something like he wore for O'Dessa), with a nice cane with a lion on the head? Would've been giving dandy (a little pimpish), but dandy. And I think he looks really well in pink, so I would put him in a pink and white ensemble for sure. Oh! With the bell bottoms.

He's definitely staying, but he's gon' leave just a tad early, especially if there's a good after-party involved. But, he may stay the whole time since this is his first Met without his attendance being tied to a movie.

Aaron:

I would've LOVED to see Aaron, omg. And when I think of what he could've worn...I really do envision him in an Italian-mafia style attire like Smoke in Sinners. I think that would be such a good look, especially for his build. As for color, I think he looks amazing in gray, but I even think a dark forest green or emerald would've been cool if he was feeling extra. Throw on a monocle for extra pazzazz.

Aaron would definitely skirt out early if he began to feel overwhelmed. You know that man likes to be in his apartment in his own world.

What are YOUUUU putting them in if you designed their fits???

[thekaijudude]

Ultraman Omega Rekiness and Trigaron Armor Design leaked

The armor designs corroborate with the earlier leaks

What stands out to me immediately are that:

1. The Meteor Kaiju are summoned by the other MC, Kosei. Not Omega himself

This definitely ties in to the character dynamics between the 2 MCs where Kosei needs to decide for Omega which form is suited to address the current battle

And this opens up the door for the kaijus to fight alongside Omega independently as well which was what I was hoping

Also there's an added mystery element here like why can supposedly a normal human summon Meteor Kaiju?

2. Each armor form has a niche

So Rekiness Armor is the Psychic form

Trigaron Armor is the Speed form

So we are left with the Beam and Power form

Likely the Pheonix kaiju will be the Beam form and the Tortoise-Snake will be the Power form

(Tho I find Trigaron looks more like a tortoise tbh)

Still no idea who is Valgenes supposed to be tho

Imo it should be the tortoise as we already know the weapon is gonna be a Halberd, dosent really make sense for a beam/Pheonix form to NOT have a ranged weapon like a bow instead

3. The kaiju fuses with Omega itself

So this is essentially a Blazar-type kinda fusion

But it's likely that it's gonna be similar to Blazar and X, it's not exactly a Type 1 fusion but a Type 2

-

Again as I've said before, I find it very interesting as well that each armor has its own unique vibe, with Rekiness Armor being more primeval in design while Trigaron being more mechanical

Also it's kind of obvious based on the different parts each armor covers that Omega is gonna combine them eventually.

Tho this means that we won't neccessarily get a Super form per se, but just Omega equipping all 4 armors at once. But the sight of which would still be something to behold I would say

Overall, the armors definitely look absolutely RAD, really wished the armors actually covered the whole body once again

And hell, I'll take this over Arc's armors any day

(Also wild idea, is there a possibly of a Blazar x Omega collab where they exchange kaiju armors?)

[jieqionq]

chungha's vulture interview [250212]

chungha is still in vogue on alivio

chungha would love to experience ballroom culture in its birthplace, to attend a ball in the city where the Black and Latino lgbtq+ community pioneered the modern ballroom scene: new york. “that’s literally on my bucket list,” she told vulture. "i don’t know if i would go and be all like” — she paused to flip her hair over her shoulder — “look at me, look at me, look at me. but i’d definitely love to see what they’re giving out to the audience and just join the moment.” the 29-year-old k-pop singer is no stranger to south korea’s burgeoning ballroom scene, which she has helped highlight through her music videos and performances. chungha also “goes way far back” with love ran, who organized the country’s first-ever ball in 2017 and is the mother of korea’s largest kiki house, the house of love. love ran has collaborated with chungha multiple times, most recently as one of the contributors to the vogue-heavy choreography for the soloist’s latest house track, “stress,” which features vocals soaring over a thumping four-on-the-floor beat.

“stress” joins “thanks for the memories,” a pop-rock song that demands to be scream-sung, as one of two title tracks off her new eight-track ep, alivio. it’s been a journey to get to this release. chungha has previously shared that she felt burnt out and considered quitting the industry during her hiatus after leaving mnh entertainment in april 2023. but fellow korean american artist and more vision ceo jay park kept reaching out for meetings, and chungha ultimately signed with his label that october. more than a year of singles (and several collabs) later, she’s finally ready to return with a lengthier project. and this time around, she’ll understand her celebratory comments section a little better, thanks in part to the realization that being called “mother” has ballroom roots. tied to the queer history of leaders of chosen families known as houses, the term is now used more loosely online to convey respect and admiration for female celebrities. “this is so funny, ’cause when i joined more vision, there were a lot of comments like, ‘mother is back,’” chungha recalled. “i’m like, why am i their mother? i don’t know what i did! now i see.”

house music feels like a staple of your discography. even when you tried new sounds in title tracks like “eenie meenie” and “bicycle,” you dropped b-sides with house beats. what attracted you to the genre?  i never knew that i loved house music, to be honest. i didn’t know it would suit me that well. funnily, i started my solo career with a very tropical sound with “why don’t you know?” and i was like, i don’t know if this fits me. and then the moment it became a good hit, i was like, okay, i don’t know anything about me, so chungha, please do try and be more adventurous. be more open to people who’ve been in this industry longer than you. just be a performer for maybe four or five years and then maybe you’ll get to learn and tap into some music parts that you didn’t know about yourself and discover some parts that you want to explore more. i think i naturally just had that growth in myself.

what factors do you consider when deciding which song will be the title track?  i have to be sure that i can make it one of my iconic tracks, or it has to be something where i explore and find sounds where the audience would be like, “oh, this is her? that’s something new.” 100 percent confident or 100 percent adventurous.

“stay tonight,” “dream of you,” “i’m ready” — they were all side tracks. but my fans were complaining, of course. [laughs] they wanted me to go on music shows and do promotions with that house vibe: “i wish you could do more of these kinds of songs, chungha!” there were so many comments about that. i was like, “okay, i will tap into some kind of house music that you guys would finally be happy about.” so my fans gave me that main motive — but the condition was only if i was really satisfied with the track, too. and i can say this album is fully my taste.

as a singer who participates in making your own choreography, what do you think a dance should add to your music?  i want the dance to make the audience hear more of the smaller elements of the song. listening and looking makes you hear more, see more, and think about the track more. there’s a boom in the main chorus for “stress,” before “take it easy.” you can’t really hear it in the guide version of the track, but after me and my dancers listened to it over and over, we thought it was interesting and decided to highlight it in the dance. and when we did the music editing and mixing — ’cause we do that after the choreo most of the time — i tried to highlight it even more by killing the other sounds and making that part even bigger. it made it more fun to listen to.

the main style of the “stress” choreography is voguing. when did you learn to vogue?  my first voguing experience was actually when we were doing “stay tonight,” which came out in 2020. i’ve really loved trying it out. i guess people thought i’d been voguing for many years because it suited me so well? since then, so many people have said, “add voguing elements to your title track whenever you do your choreography!” i was like, okay, i’m going to. period. so i went to love ran and asked her to collaborate with me again. she was actually my teacher when i was a trainee at a different company, and i always knew that she was the mother of voguing in korea.

voguing is tied to ballroom culture. love ran and multiple other people you’ve danced with belong to kiki houses in korea, and people were thrilled when you judged at the love ball in 2022. how did you become so connected to the korean ballroom scene? i was just naturally exposed because my friends are dancers. they love to waack and vogue, and they’re all from the lgbtq community. it was really natural for me to explore that world. i was a waacking dancer since i was in middle school, and before that i lived in america, so i was always open to anything. if there was a ball coming up, my friends would ask me, “hey, do you wanna go and have fun with me?” and i would be like, “if i don’t have any schedules, i would love to.”

when did you realize you wanted stress relief to be the concept for alivio? were you stressed and manifesting how you wanted to feel, or relaxed and looking back?  hmm … both. because stress is a very common feeling. i wanted to tell myself, “hey, chungha, it’s okay to be finally telling people that you’re fragile and vulnerable. you don’t have to look strong and always sparkle just because you’re a singer and a celebrity.��� you know, the k-pop system … at that time, my previous company wanted me to be glittery and sparkly. and of course i love that part, but when bare & rare pt. 1 dropped, i wanted to take all the glitter out. but the company ceo still wanted me to sparkle and then the title track was “sparkling,” so i couldn’t really “go bare.” this time, i wanted to just let go. i realized while getting ready for this album that you have to let go to try new things. and it’s finally giving closure to the journey that i’ve felt for the last four or five years.

you asked more vision for a break at the end of last year — and said in a livestream that you’d never made that request in your nine-year career before. how’d you get to a point where you finally felt able to say when you need rest? before this album release, i was going through a lot of stress. ’cause in 2024, i was trying to navigate new waters and at the same time do projects that my fans were eagerly waiting for, like another collaboration with rado. and hosting a daily radio show wasn’t easy. it didn’t give me any free time, and i was also so busy gathering my recordings and getting my album together. i was like, my title track’s “stress,” and i’m trying to tell people to let go of it. but i’m the one who hasn’t! is this even right? so i told my team, “i think i really need a beat.” i didn’t feel comfortable telling people to relax when i’m not relaxed. i needed to find some kind of inner peace in that moment.

what difference did that make? did it change the way this career or industry feels to you? to be honest, i did get a little break from the camera and my fans, but i didn’t get a break from my album. i was in meetings, editing my songs and my music video, doing designs, and making the cards for the album. but then i thought, would it really be comfortable for me to have a break and just … not work on my album? would that really give me some kind of release? and the answer was “no.”

your friend and fellow soloist sunmi is featured on alivio. can you walk me through how that collaboration happened?  as soon as i heard “salty,” i had this retro, nostalgic vibe pop out in my head. that automatically led me to her. the lyrics reminded me of her, too. i called the writer who gave it to me and was like, “oppa, this should be sunmi unnie’s track, not mine.” i don’t think i would have this on my album if she didn’t hop on it. i was really careful, ’cause i knew she had her own things to get ready for. but she automatically said “yes,” and as soon as she finished, i was mind-blown. people will be surprised at how different but balanced our vocals are. her voice is deep and airy, and mine is … i don’t wanna say loud, but a little more dynamic.

speaking of singing with other people, you debuted in the temporary group i.o.i. what’s it been like seeing the proliferation and evolution of survival shows since produce 101?  i envy the groups who stay together longer than ten months! i really do. i would love to gather with my girls again. we always talk about it. i don’t know if it would really happen, but it would be one of my dreams come true.

at the same time, i feel a little sorry for everyone on those shows. there are so many trainees and dreamers out there. i know how hungry people are to be in the process. but you have to be able to face all the comments, including rude comments. of course, there’s encouraging comments. but you might even not be mentioned. there’s always main characters, and you might not be one. i’m just … i get hurt also. i can’t watch those shows anymore. me and my girls cry, ’cause we’ve been through all that. we get the retrospective memories back, so we just can’t look. but i really do hope that each and every soul that loves to sing finds their own way.

[partyanimal167]

How Fitting Pt 2- Crocodile x F!Reader

I've been waiting for requests for my International Spy Event, and I got a few requests for a part two, so I figured why not. I surprised myself with how much I knew about sewing (even though it was the family trade), so I think I can continue to lean into that world more. The first part was going to be more about modeling, and that didn't happen so I think it might here.

Thanks for reading! Part One

You were so well-suited into being a behind-the-scenes person, so all of this was out of your comfort zone. However, you would do anything for your beloved boss, so there was no reason to say no. Just save the day, and no one would know. Right?

The opportunity came that your boss and mentor would be featured in a magazine praising his work and legacy of the shop. You were ecstatic for him and knew that it was well-deserved. He kindly downplayed it all but asked you to come for the photoshoots and assist with the models. He would be bringing out some archived looks as well as those that blended the vintage styles with modern trends. (That is why he's a pro at all of this)

The day of the shoot started with you loading boxes and bags of clothes into a car and going over a detailed checklist. Your boss sat behind the counter drinking coffee and enjoying the Sun. You could only hope to be so relaxed in your future.

Soon, the two of you were in the studio setting up the clothes while photographers ran around checking for equipment and models. There seemed to be multiple designers in the building at once. You assumed that the organizer wanted to get everything done as soon as possible, so there wouldn't be a hold-up when editing.

You pressed ascots, ties, lined up vests and jackets, and paired cotton socks with shoes. Models came and dressed and you boss helped direct them to the sets.

For now your work was done, so you decided to peak to another set that was showing off women's formal gowns. It wasn't your sector, but the familiarity of dresses and heels brought back memories of your family elders. You checked the schedule and noted that there would be a collab shoot between this designer and your boss. You thought that the styles complimented each other.

You continued to stand in the corner watching when a few people frantically ran passed you before talking to a woman sitting in a director's chair. She was gorgeous with tanned skin, black hair, and bright blue eyes. She listened intently but didn't seem too affected by the urgency. For a moment, the two of you locked eyes and she smiled brightly.

You turned away to zone out but that didn't last when your heard heels and saw the woman in front. "Excuse me, are you one of the models for the other designers?"

You gawked for a moment and mentally ran through your outfit: slacks, loafers, messy hair, measuring tape around the shoulders. You shook your head. "Eh not at all. I'm one of the men's fashion assistants." you explained.

"Ah well, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm Robin. I'm doing one of the shoots for the women's line as you can see, and I'm in need of a model that would fit your dimensions." you starred blankly at her. "Do you think you could step in?"

"Me? Model?"

She laughed at your reaction before glancing at her notes. "Ah yes, the photos would be for our collab with Mr. Lewis." Shit, that was your boss. "I would really appreciate it." she beamed kindly at you.

You fidgeted with your fingers a little and nibbled a cheek. "Eh, I wouldn't say I'm model material-,"

"Nonsense. You'd be beautiful on the camera."

The deep timbre made you aware of the others in the room--however too late to notice one specifically. Your face warmed up at the compliment, and you turned slowly at the newcomer.

"You're already stunning in the flesh."

Oh earth come get me now! Your eyes found his, and Sir Crocodile looked down at you with those intimidating gold orbs that were highlighted with mischief.

You hadn't seen the man in awhile, but it was if your body knew the protocol, and your hand reached out gently for him to take--greeting you with a kiss as always.

"You haven't called me."

The air in your lungs rushed out. "I've uh- my apologies." you replied quickly trying to replenish your breath.

Even though the man brought it up, he didn't seem troubled by the fact.

"Well if you're willing to help Robin, I'm sure the matter can be forgiven." you pouted before you could stop yourself. He chuckled.

"Ah you two know each other?" Robin perked.

"I'm a tailor." you simply provided at that.

"A talented one at that. I'm sure she helped produced the clothing that's being featured." Crocodile didn't allow you to downplay yourself at all. "However, it would do her well to step into the light. No need to keep hiding a treasure." he went on but focused on your eyes.

You couldn't find an excuse if you wanted to. The two in front of you seemed like a business power duo and quick to resolve things too. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you sighed. "Okay fine. Some pictures won't hurt."

...

Crocodile waited anxiously for you to step back into the shooting space from the dressing rooms.

He attended to many businesses and trades, but certain things in life he wanted to keep simple. He enjoyed a good outfiIt that fit well and stuck to the same shop that always got it right. He appreciated your attention to detail and care for your craft.

Admittedly, he was also excited to see you in something other than a dress shirt and slacks. He was appreciative all the same, but seeing you in a formal dress would fuel the dreams of taking you out to nice places and enjoying special evenings.

He heard the heels before he saw you, and your entrance into the room seemed to make everyone pause.

It was a dark green dress with a halter neckline, a tasteful slit on the side, and was backless to help fit where your body curved and dipped. It sparkled and was pleasing to the eye.

Crocodile could feel your nervousness, but your stride never faltered. You had done this before, he figured. Everyone turned away from you, and he could see you physically exhale. He watched as you were quickly shuffled into place for some solo shots while assistants gleamed over the hair and makeup of the models already present. Your boss stood by him, and the two men enjoyed the vision of two different brands coming together.

A gentleman stood by you in a black-n-beige suit that definitely made the scene feel like a gala of a Bond movie. Crocodile kept his eyes intently on you. It was like you got into character and followed the instructions on how to express and emote for what was needed. It was captivating.

More photos were taken, and just when you thought things would be wrapping up, Robin clapped her hands and said, "Now, let's have Crocodile join us." You both quickly turned to the woman.

"This isn't an inclusivity issue." Crocodile argued referring to his prosthetic.

Robin only hummed. "It wouldn't be inclusive if we only showed differences on special occasions." she was ready for his retort.

Crocodile grumbled. "I need a suit."

"Actually, that suit is one of mine; I'm sure of it. The color scheme goes well with what's already here." your boss quipped in.

The man reached into his coat and sighed. "Fine, but I'm enjoying myself while I do this." he brought out a cigar.

"I wouldn't want it any other way." Robin went on.

You fidgeted slightly as the man puffed his smoke before joining you. You met his eyes and smiled. Assistants moved props and posed your hands and positioned bodies. Unknowingly, you drifted away from your companion.

Crocodile chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. He turned away from the camera and whispered into your ear. "Don't run away. You're the star of the show." the gruffness made you gasp. Neither of you even noticed the cameras flashing.

You got a hold of yourself and leaned into the man's touch. "I'm staying." was all you could get out before placing your hand back on his chest.

Robin only wanted a few shots, and with that, the day was finally over. The set-up lamps began to shut off, and you sighed to yourself. It was a fun experience, and you weren't uncomfortable. You were just ready to not have so many eyes on you.

"It was a pleasure seeing you." Crocodile offered while others shuffled around you two.

You nodded and smiled. "Likewise. I'm sure we'll see each other sooner next time."

"How about dinner now?"

You blinked for a moment. "Oh sure, let me just change, and then we-,"

"Why wait? Let's go like this."

You gaped a little. "Huh?"

Crocodile grinned. "Well my dear, the last time I let you go; you hid. You said you wouldn't be running away this time."

You swayed a little. "Ah well, I'm sure I have to return the dress."

"Consider it paid for. It'll be a great addition to your wardrobe." There was never a problem he couldn't solve. "Don't be so nervous around me, love." He brought your hand back to his lips. You expected a kiss but felt a rush through you when the skin was lightly nibbled on, and he winked. "I only bite if you want me to."

~~~

I like this~ I hope Crocodile doesn't seem pushy. I figured he'd be more direct with his intentions since he didn't see you after some subtlety.

Requests are open! And I also have an event going on, so feel free to check that out.

Thanks for reading!

@ririsugotlost

[hopeonmyphone]

See j-hope Cozy in Bunny Slippers for First Solo ‘Tonight Show’ Performance: Photos [Billboard]

The BTS superstar is joined by Miguel for their new collab "Sweet Dreams" on Monday night's episode.

When we say j-hope is comfortable on the stage, we mean from his head all the way down to his fuzzy feet.

On Monday night’s (March 10) episode of The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, the BTS star will make his solo debut performance on the late-night show, joined by R&B singer Miguel for their new collaboration “Sweet Dreams.”

In exclusive photos shared with Billboard, j-hope can be seen under the neon Tonight Show sign, wearing jeans with large leather patches on the legs, a black vest-and-blazer combo, and adorable brown bunny slippers on his feet. We can also see Miguel in the pics, wearing a black suit and a bandana tied around his head.

“Sweet Dreams” is j-hope’s first proper release since his special album Hope on the Street Vol.1, which arrived a year ago this month. The project reached No. 5 on the Billboard 200, his highest solo peak on the chart to date.

Back in 2018, J-Hope’s superstar group BTS — also comprised of SUGA, Jin, RM, Jimin, V and Jung Kook — joined The Tonight Show for the first time and performed the Billboard Hot 100 No. 11 hit “Idol” and “I’m Fine.” In 2020, the boys made multiple Tonight Show appearances — including a couple of virtual performances on the show during the COVID-19 pandemic — before returning again in 2021 for performances of their No. 1 hits “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.”

To catch j-hope’s performance, tune in to The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon at 11:35 p.m. ET/PT Monday night on NBC.

Source: Billboard

[wakeupfreanz]

loved your ateez reading for the next few months. Is the water sign member San? could be hongjoong as well who might want to travel or see more or do more. yet I somehow think its San. someone mentioned before he could handle going abroad or dealing with foreigners very well like it would suit his birth chart just fine if thats what you mean by him doing more or if he want more opportunity could he seek it abroad? type thing. I think he mentioned before he wanted to go learn acting and whatnot again he could go abroad for that. otherwise I think hongjoong is very verrrrrry busy and overworked so for him to have more to do on top of what he already does doesnt bode well for me.

I don't remember well, but I'll do you a solid and let's see what is coming for them in terms of of international affairs.

Any more international collaborations?: 8oW, likely yes. It seems like they've definitely starting booking some more.

What's the next big international affair besides touring?: 6oC, 10oW, AoS, QoS, 10oC, 4oW.

It's giving ATEEZ is planning to be married to the outside. They are likely to be revisiting a lot of old things/places/collabs/people they interacted with before. So the shows and people who gave them a platform before anyone else did? The group is likely to go back and collab with them again. We may even see a relationship confirmed with a member and someone else. Besides this, ATEEZ is literally going to be collaborating with a BUNCH of air signs, but they're also engaging in the creative side of air energy. So a lot of clever seeds are being planted and loose ends will be being tied up. With this also being said though, their workload will only increase.. The members will carry it very well though, they really will try not to let anything disrupt their mapped out journey.

Anything new or particularly special for any members?: 6oC rev. Water signs, 6th month, so definitely San sounds VERY plausible. Like a lot of things we wouldn't expect to see from him.

3oW, 5oW, QoW, 8oW.

It seems like they were preparing to launch his career as he finally felt ready to open himself up to the world. He is simultaneously about to enter a very good and very bad year. Good for his development as a solo brand, artist and more, but bad for his mental health and possibly some of his joints. He is quite literally going to something like we haven't thought about seeing from him. Like a new vlogging/episodic situation. Something specific to him and he will be forming new relations because of it. KQ seems to be allowing him to give it a good try and he is not going to refuse a single opportunity. The problem is he is a little too willing to run himself down.

Come back to ask abt the other members lol, I'm willing to see what they might have going on also.

[deedee-sims]

Late replies!

Under the cut!

@gummilutt replied to your post “4t2 EP08 Shirt Bowtie Some formal shirts! These...”:

These are so cute! Great alternative for male Sims where a whole formal shirt and suit jacket is too formal, but you still want them to look somewhat put together.

Oh yeah! I was surprised I couldn't find something like this already. There are some shirts with ties, but not with bowtie. Love me some male formal stuff ❤

@kalux-sims replied to your post “4t2 Sweater Backless (a collab with @episims❤) I'm...”:

I'm so glad I didn't start this yet. 😂 I have it in my WIP folder.

Phew! Great minds! (with @episims 😅)

@morepopcorn replied to your post “4t2 Sweater Backless (a collab with @episims❤) I'm...”:

I have a sweater like this IRL and I can confirm that there is basically no practical temperature to wear it in. It’s cute though.

Lol I can imagine!

@gummilutt replied to your post “4t2 Sweater Backless (a collab with @episims❤) I'm...”:

Love the gradients, super cute! I might use them as pyjamas, your arms outside the blankets are arm but the back that is under the blankets is open, makes sense :P

Oh! Well, that's an idea, for sure! 😄

@eulaliasims replied to your post “@lucilla-sims 4t2 EP14 Skirt Embroidered Short I...”:

How cute! Thanks, Deedee! ^^

I'm glad you like it! I'm shortening long things and lenghtening short things, that's just how it is 😅

[estercity]

now that we have all 18 i'm posting my personal project voltage ranking :]

PSYCHIC TYPE MIKU - 4/10 it's fine. its the closest to base miku of all the designs? like this is what i'd imagine if we got a miku collab in the newest games. nothing about ti really says psychic type to me though, which is why its low

GRASS TYPE MIKU - 2/10 i hate this design. not only is it boring but i don't like the colours, i think it looks messy and it might be the style disconnect or the design itself but if you didn't tell me who this was i wouldn't think it was miku. a grass type cheerleader doesn't sound like a bad shout which is why im so sad it sucks

FIRE TYPE MIKU - 5/10 . its just basic. it gets one point more than psychic because i have fire type bias but other than that its underwhelming. idk whats going on with her legs either? is it like exposed robotics? idk its just a miss for me

WATER TYPE MIKU - 8/10 this is so cute. the water textured hair, the tan lines, the like lifeguard gear(?) and the pokeball beach ball? it all comes together so well. i don';t think you can really go wrong with a water type design? even if i don't love water types myself you can't deny their designs just come together

ELECTRIC TYPE MIKU - 10/10 oh baby girl my BIAS i fucking love electric miku. shifting her blue accents into green, giving her a suit and making her a split-dye blonde were all such good decisions. i love the silhouette of the big puff pants tucked into the rubber boots and the suspenders with the lightening cane. everything about this makes me so happy

NORMAL TYPE MIKU - 9/10 i might be going back on what i said with psychic miku but to me even though it's very reminicant of base miku, it works better AND does enough to set her in her own typing. the multicoloured accessories, the rings, the glasses and the body suit. if we ever did get a real collab of her in game i hope this is the direction they'd go

ICE TYPE MIKU - 8/10 full disclaimer so much of this is just because im obsessed with her hair and suit combo. shes not outright evil looking like dark type but i still feel like shes a rival with a lot of power, anbd tbf a lot of ice type characters are made to be Icy in personality. my only gripes are the red bag chain and the open heels

ROCK TYPE MIKU - 6/10 its fine! it might be because i dont like the colour scheme or that i'm not a huge fan of all the flowy fabric, (especially because it directly follows ice type miku which made a point to utalise the sharpness you'd associate with ice) but i just doesn't wow me.

GROUND TYPE MIKU - 7/10 i really love this design, i adore the colour scheme and the cactus braids, i think she looks like a trainer you'd be ambushed by in the desert and the soundtrack would kick up and it'd RULE... my drawback is i don't think she looks like miku? i thought she was gumi at first and now i can't really unsee it. but eh im nitpicking

FLYING TYPE MIKU - 5/10 again, i like it but its very standard for a flying type character. the cloud braids and the sheer sleeves are fun! they're definately my favouritre part of the design. idk why her legs are painted white, i think they look kind of silly and im confused about the platform sandles but other than that its fine

FAIRY TYPE MIKU - 6/10 a cute miku design for a cute pokemon type, can't really go wrong with that. i enjoy that they didn't go lolita style with her, which i fully assumed was going to the case, but instead a gal type with the fake nails and pleat skirt. i enjoy that its a different way of doing a look for miku we've seen plenty of times before

BUG TYPE MIKU - 6/10 i don't hate it! very simple but very effective. i like the segmented limbs, the insectoid braids, the wing bow that looks like butterfly wings. i'm just not super enthusiastic about the colours. maybe i'm just used to bug types being Creepier in my head so to just have her be cutesy is boring to me

POISON TYPE MIKU - 9/10 this is such a baity designnnn the only reason i didnt give it a 10 is because i hate that shade of green but thats a personal issue. the plastic baggy shoes, the toxtricity, the mad scientist goggles and latex gloves... it all comes together so beautifully. idk if its like too busy or again, maybe i just personally don't love the individual colours used. i really hope elements of this design are used for a future character

GHOST TYPE MIKU - 4/10 i honestly don't like this design. yeah lets make the ghost type miku... a ghost, and nothing else. i think it's really boring compared to all the other ones. the glitch element is really cool but that's... all thats going for it? the colour scheme is the same, the neon is boring and i think everything is very stylish for pokemon but idk i wish it was more unique

DARK TYPE MIKU - 10/10 babe holy shit. this is a gorgeous design, i'm so happy they went an evil miku route with it. i was going to say i wish there was more red, and then i noticed the underside of the hat in the other concept so i'm happy. shifting the cyan to the bottom of the design is a really good call. she looks expensive as she should

STEEL TYPE MIKU - 10/10 absolutely beautiful colour scheme, shifting everything to metalic shades of blue is perfect. i think it's my favourite overall. very strong typing without them just doing Robot which i assumed. LOVE the metal braids with the welded patches the most, and i jsut noticed theyre kind of shaped like leeks. the charm on the sandogasa and the arm/calf guards really bring it all together

FIGHTING TYPE MIKU - 8/10 the black, white and orange is gorgeous and i love the splash of green connecting to sir farfetched. i'm just not inlove with the leg split tbh, i think if it was a cape i'd like it more. i think my main drawback is idk it doesn't scream fighting type to me other than it being based on the pokemon

DRAGON TYPE MIKU - 9/10 AND IMMEDIATELY MY PRAYERS WERE ANSWERED. the cape really completes the knight motif of this design perfectly where i think the previous one lacked. the scale decor jumpsuit, the gauntlets and boots, the SWORD MIC and the tail braids. they really did keep getting better and whilst this isnt my favourite its such a strong finisher

[shiraishi-kanade]

Okay, first and foremost, thank you for letting me on such a decision. As a fellow plushie lover I find it my duty to give a rightful answer! You can always include the Sanrio Collab as a plush, but me personally I like animal symbolism a lot so I decided to use that.

The first answer is obviously a doggo. Not only is An a very loyal person, both to her dream and the people she loves, but she's also active, friendly, trustworthy and overall the golden retriever of vbs. Also, this card! And you might say "hoc those are fucking foxes what are you on" and I'll say "yes! But in my defence I didn't know that because in Tsukasa's dragon event (where the card comes from) the character the card is inspired on is a dog."

Speaking of cards, magpie is another candidate! In Japan, they mean good luck and good news (that's why it's carrying a letter, it's a messager of hope) which really suits An because up until now she's had pretty good luck! Also, they share colour scheme.

And I thought that's where it ended, but then I came upon this!

This ties really well for the whole grieving theme, and can also symbolise her connection/fate-bind to Kohane! Pink robins also exist, if you like the idea, and if not their colours still kind of remind me of Nagi/radder in general

And if you don't like any of these ideas, you might like fox An! No real explanation, but @/ w1f1n1ght4r3 made a beautiful AU that features An and if you haven't checked it out please do!

I leave the choice to you, but I'll give some samples as to what each of them might look like!

..

Oh my gosh you did a whole research paper /pos

I've also considered puppy, fox and magpie, but robin isn't one I expected! I'm actually impressed they exist as plushies! I think this is the one on choosing, both because of the symbolism and because it's the cuddliest one imo.

Nobody said An couldn't get multiple plushies though (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

Tysm for this! :D

[alexmercer786]

Adapting to Change: Remote Work and Coworking in Bangalore

Embracing Remote Work

The concept of remote work has gained significant traction in recent years. With advancements in technology and changing attitudes towards work, many professionals now have the flexibility to work from anywhere. This shift has allowed individuals to break free from the confines of a traditional office and explore alternative work arrangements.

The Benefits of Remote Work

Remote work offers a host of benefits to both employees and employers. Professionals in Bangalore are discovering that they can:

1. Achieve Work-Life Balance

Remote work allows individuals to better balance their personal and professional lives. No longer tied to a physical office, employees in Bangalore can tailor their work hours to suit their needs, resulting in improved well-being and reduced stress.

2. Access a Global Talent Pool

Employers in Bangalore can tap into a diverse pool of talent from around the world. This global perspective can lead to increased innovation and creativity within organizations.

3. Reduce Commute Stress

Bangalore’s infamous traffic jams are a thing of the past for remote workers. Commute times are drastically reduced, freeing up valuable hours for more productive activities.

Challenges of Remote Work

While remote work offers numerous advantages, it also presents unique challenges. Professionals in Bangalore need to navigate issues such as:

1. Isolation

Working from home can be isolating. Coworking spaces in Bangalore provide a solution by offering a collaborative environment where individuals can interact with like-minded professionals.

2. Lack of Infrastructure

Not everyone has access to a suitable home office setup. Coworking spaces provide a well-equipped workspace with high-speed internet, meeting rooms, and ergonomic furniture.

The Rise of Coworking in Bangalore

As the traditional office model undergoes a transformation, coworking spaces have emerged as a prominent solution. These shared workspaces cater to the needs of modern professionals by offering flexible and innovative environments.

Benefits of Coworking Spaces

Coworking spaces in Bangalore have gained popularity due to their many advantages:

1. Flexibility

Professionals can choose from a variety of coworking plans, from daily passes to long-term memberships. This flexibility aligns with the ever-changing nature of work.

2. Networking Opportunities

Coworking spaces foster a sense of community. In Bangalore, professionals have the chance to connect with individuals from diverse industries, opening up possibilities for collaboration and growth.

3. Professional Environment

Coworking spaces are designed to enhance productivity. With well-designed work areas, ergonomic seating, and access to essential amenities, professionals in Bangalore can work comfortably and efficiently.

Coworking Spaces in Bangalore

Bangalore is home to a plethora of coworking spaces, each offering a unique experience. From the bustling streets of Indiranagar to the tech hub of Whitefield, professionals have a wide range of options.

Coworking spaces like Collab Cubicles provide state-of-the-art facilities in prime locations, making them an attractive choice for professionals seeking a dynamic workspace.

The Hybrid Future

As the lines between remote work and traditional office spaces blur, a hybrid model is emerging. Professionals in Bangalore are adapting to this change by choosing coworking spaces that offer the flexibility needed to thrive in the new work landscape.

Conclusion

In Bangalore, the synergy between remote work and coworking spaces is reshaping the way professionals approach their careers. By embracing this change, individuals can enjoy the best of both worlds — the freedom of remote work and the community of coworking spaces. This adaptability is not just a response to current challenges but a glimpse into the future of work in Bangalore and beyond.

To explore the vibrant coworking scene in Bangalore and find your ideal workspace, consider Collab Cubicles. We offer a range of flexible plans and a collaborative environment that can elevate your work experience.

In this ever-evolving work environment, adapting is not just a choice; it’s the path to success. Embrace the change, and thrive in the new world of remote work and coworking.