#Negotiating with Eclipse

[bluemoon1331]

I think Sun is becoming increasingly more dangerous, while Moon is wilting. A strange role reversal for the multiverse, and how it was at the beginning.

If it came down to it, I believe Moon would be more on the defensive, and Sun would literally obliterate any threat to his family. He's been through too much to actually lose any of them now. Watched them all fall apart and get sewn back together, again and again. Fallen apart himself on a multitude of occasions.

And unlike a lot of Suns (in comparison to what Dark Sun did), it naturally strengthened him inside. Sun hates killing. He knows what it's done to him, and other members of his family. But if it came down to it, I don't think he would hesitate anymore, not if there truly wasn't any other way.

The guy is tired. Probably more so than anyone else around him. But he's definitely become quite steadfast, and a rock for his family. He's also got a daughter to take care of now, and he won't ever let anything bad happen to her again, not if he can help it.

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Huh, interesting history lesson, thank you random guard we definitely do not know.

May our voices serve as a form of character witness for this human to this court? We have watched them stumble into these woods and try to get out without much luck. We can assure you it was just a misunderstanding, this little human was simply scared out of their mind. They mean you nor anyone else in this forest harm, o’ king of fae.

Even if punishment should/will take place, we humbly ask you to spare them of harsh judgement. They are clumsy and frail, they serve no genuine threat nor can they battle large beasts.

Please

Guys? Who tf are you calling frail? I am a tough cookie.

》I shall consider it, this small one certainly is clumsy and frail, you are right. But my judgement as king is absolute so i will not tolerate any protests or objections after i decided or i will banish you voices from my kingdom, i am sure we will find a way to do that《

[kovacs-of-courage]

Legend during the Roman-era Horrors

--------------October 3rd, 79 AD-----------

----------Eruption of Mount Vesuvius------- 

Legend palmed his hands through the descended barrages of smoke and ash, sprinting through streets of splintering pavement and burning civilization. The panicked crowds of civilians ran from the ruins of their homes, thinking their fate punishment from the gods.

A fair assessment; one that Legend didn’t fault them for. When the shadows of hades blotted out the sun, and it’s armies rampaged your torched streets; It was hard not to take it personally.

The truth of the matter was far less grandiose; the truth of the matter was that those behind this atrocity were hijacking Mount Vesuvius for their vile rituals, and Pompeii had the unfortunate position of being the first city caught in the crossfire. 

And by the names of all that’d perished today; Legend would ensure it’d be the last. 

He tried not to blame himself for the death and destruction before him, for the countless people he’d be unable to save. It tore his heart asunder to ignore the plight of so many, to not help in their hour of need. It was his uncle all over again; cradling his dying body in his arms, his sorrowed guilt snowballing into a crippling avalanche of regrets and newfound responsibility.

But he couldn’t spare a moment, as much as it pained him. If he didn’t slay the source of this darkness soon, then there’d be nothing short of divine intervention able to stop it from rolling over all of europe--and then the world. The whole of humanity rendered extinct in less then a week.

To say the stakes were high would be the understatement of the millennium; an impressive feat considering that the current year hadn’t even reached the triple digits.

At least he didn’t have to go it alone.

Legend, having reached the city’s central plaza, stopped at the cremated remains of it’s marketplace--seeing a familiar face--just the person he wanted to see, in fact.

“Legend! I just got the southern districts evacuated, how is it on your end?”

It was Traveler, and by the look of the tar-like blood soaking his boots; he’d gotten busy.

“Not good, sorry to say,” Legend explained, frustration evident, ”I barely escaped the northwest before it got cratered, and the northeast has more moblins than citizens.”

Traveler recoiled at the news, his face souring to a scowl not unlike Legend’s, “Why does our rain always pour?” Traveler said.

“I’d tell you if I could, but that’s for later. What’s the word on the Captain? Have you been able to contact him?” Legend asked.

Traveler shook his head, “He’s either out of range, or can’t pick up a stone.”

Legend narrowed his eyes, confusion overtaking him, “Wild made their ringing sound like a flock of keese going through a Wizzrobe’s windpipe,” Legend exasperated, ”How in Din’s name can he not hear i--You know what, you know what, he can explain himself later-” A chorus of ear splitting explosions ruptured the air, deafening the rest of Legend’s words. Miles upon miles of smoke spewed from Vesuvius’s peak, blistering waves of primeval fire and lava-coated meteors hailing down to the already destroyed city.

“-...We’ve got bigger fish to fry,” Legend said,

Legend put a hand in his adventuring bag, scrounging around, eventually pulling out a slender staff, prismatic light twinkling from it’s crystallized tip; gusts of frigid wind emanating forth from it’s cerulean body.

“Fire and brimstone aren’t the only things that are going to be crashing. You need to find Warriors, and stem this tide before it hits other settlements,” Legend said, his scowl pointed at the mountain.

“I understand but what about *you?* I’m not going to just leave you to fight all of that alone,” Traveler responded, placing a concerned hand on Legend’s shoulder.

For a split second, Legend’s expression softened, the care of his brother not lost on him.

“I’ve beaten Onox before, and I can do it again. Just because he has the strength to capture an oracle, and wrangle a mountain--doesn’t mean he’s anything close to intelligent,” Legend said, “And we aren’t going to leave the captain to the wolves, nor the people of rome.”

Traveler nodded, a pang of distress flashing over his focused gaze, “Your right..I’ll get going.

The younger hero went to leave, stopping to turn back at his brother, resolute, “When the smoke clears, I’m coming back to get you--one way or another.”

Legend cracked a smile, the direness of their troubles briefly washing away.

“There wasn’t a doubt in my mind; now go! This armageddon isn't gonna wait around for any one of us."

[kits-shrine]

"Which is your favourite?" he asked her curiously.

She quirked a coy smile his way "I told you dearie variety is the spice of life~"

Tomiko started scribbling on a piece of paper cataloging each stone and the tributes that she was able to to discern and their worth, before turning the paper towards him to review. "Let me know if these terms are amendable."

[cosmic-kinglet]

...

*slides this across the desk separating us*

What do you think about this?

The urge to have Titan get a new body so he can have a design that's completely his own...But, the rational knowledge that he wouldn't actually care enough to want a new body...

Plus, I suck at character design...

[etesians]

“I’ve just had a thought.”

Kei looks up from his phone, eyes drooping, the hour you’ve spent lounging on the couch rendering him immune to the fact that his neck is bent at a disastrous angle against the armrest. It has you pulling him forward, taking the pillow from under your neck to stuff under his, but it’s a fine trade. Now you can lay against the warmth of his chest and settle into what Kei calls the pre-nap—or, what he used to call it, back when he was still too embarrassed to simply say that he wanted cuddles.

“Woah, careful there," he can't pass up the opportunity to start with. Then, "Good kind or bad kind?”

You hum. “Sickeningly domestic kind.”

“So… good,” he decides after a beat, setting his phone down on the coffee table.

Those long, gentle fingers you love slide into your hair, and it’s a wonder how they’re always able to sate an itch that only manifests itself mere seconds before the touch, just so they can be rubbed away by him and him alone; suspiciously wizard-like. “It’s not like I’m opposed to any of that… Since it’s you.”

Aww.

“Honeycakes—” you coo obnoxiously, disguising his name in the endearment, which gets you exactly what you'd expect—the full moon's circumference of his palm eclipsing your vision, his grip light as he smushes your face around for a while, unable to rid himself of the urge. When he lets go a minute later, you share a mirrored look of contentment, all stupid smiles and rolling eyes, before you settle your ear over his heart and he resumes massaging your scalp.

Whatever video he was watching drones on in the meantime. Something about a supermoon coming up and dropping temperatures… Partly rainy with a high of seventy-three degrees and a low of sixty-eight and—wow, he really got sucked into watching the weather channel... Such old man behavior. But it’s quiet enough to tune out against the steady drum in his ribs, so you both leave it be.

“Your idea, baby.”

“Oh, right. So I was thinking—y’know, when we start buying stuff for the house…”

“Mmhm?”

“For utensils, what if we found the same forks you grew up using, and the same spoons I had, so that our future kid'll have pieces of both of our childhoods already built into theirs? It’d be like our own little mismatched set.” "You're right..." It's quiet for a moment. Then Kei blows out a breath, his mind positively sunnier with the image. “That is sickeningly domestic.”

You open your mouth to defend the idea—because it is a good idea, notes-app worthy, even—when he tacks on, “I’m not saying no. God, you’re just so cute sometimes...” the words followed up by him pulling on your cheek. “Is that why you kept hovering by the drawers when we visited my mom? ‘What if’ my ass—you already found them on google, didn't you?”

Your bubbling laughter gives you away. Because he’s right—they’re in your amazon shopping cart as you speak, just waiting on his two cents.

“What about chopsticks, then? And knives. And spatulas.”

Spatulas? You raise a brow.

Kei only shrugs in response.

“The rest can be new. I don’t want all of it to be us holding onto old things,” you pause. “But my star curtains are non-negotiable.”

“They have holes in them.”

“Those are the cutouts! And you even said they were pretty when the light’s seeping through them.”

“Okay, yes, they are pretty," he relents, setting his glasses down by his phone. Silencing the weather report with a slide of his thumb. “But furnishings aside, we’d still be missing one thing…”

“Tsukishima Kei, I know exactly what you’re thinking…” You find yourself being rolled onto your back, his pupils pushing the golden-brown of his irises to the outer rims as they dilate. “And the answer is no.”

“What?” Kei smirks, almost sing-songy as he trails kisses down your collar. He’s not actually gunning for that part of your life together yet. Key word—yet. You’d both agreed to preserve the first year of your marriage for just the two of you. Figuring out the ins and outs of buying a house together and all the legalities that came with it had been hard enough on its own.

Everything after your one-year anniversary, though, is completely fair game.

“You’re the one who brought up a little Tsukishima…”

[thorns-and-rosewings]

(Behold what happens when I have ideas that far surpass my skill level... ^^; Here we have tall-ish Lunar, roughly Bloodmoon height, only taller if his hat gets counted. And this universes versions of the Gemini twins)

Okay so this needs some explaining; this here is Asylum AU's version of Lunar and the Gemini twins. I didn't put their information on my last post about this AU because:

A. I genuinely enjoy these guys little side tale so much I wanted to attempt to give a good visual to go along with their bit.

B. I thought it was long enough already.

So I'm gonna write their whole little bit below, as with everything I write it's gonna be LONG, but hopefully a fun read.

Enjoy ^_^

.

Lunar: As with all this universe's characters, he started off life built by Eclipse to assist him... But the main difference was that this Lunar was treated infinitely better than our Canon Lunar was right from the get go. Not to mention that he had his Star Power right from the beginning as well...

How did he have that you may ask?

Simple... Doc Eclipse acquired some meteorites that contained an unknown alloy. And he genuinely went 'What the hell, why not?' and used it to build Lunar's body. Which apparently contained some residual Star Power and thus, this Lunar has his powers.

Right from the beginning, Lunar didn't want to fight with Sun and Moon and he began trying desperately to get everyone to stop fighting. So to make a very long story short, eventually, he was successful in getting the fighting to actually stop because Sun and Moon grew to care about Lunar like a brother. Although the fighting didn't stop until there was significant damage done to the motor control of Eclipse's left leg... There's an uneasy peace between the two halves of Lunar's family as the result of this.

Free to choose what he wanted to do with his life, Lunar took his love for games to the next level and started a gaming company. (But also made Beanbag chairs as well) Lunar's commitment and genuine love of the games that the company made reflected in their products and it didn't take long before Lunar's company not only became successful, but a MAJOR name in gaming.

By the time Asylum AU starts, Lunar's gaming company, Starfall Games, (The logo being the blue star emblem Lunar is creating and has on his clothes) is considered the number one gaming company in the world. Their claim to fame is their games quality. As they have never once released a game with any major bugs. Lunar is a very good boss and although he demands a great deal from his employees, but he is never unreasonable. And he regularly rewards his staff who go above and beyond.

He's a tough, but fair boss.

Lunar owns a huge tower in the middle of the city, which he lives in. It's so advanced it would make Tony Stark jealous. He lives in the penthouse on the upper stories while the lower stories contain the main headquarters for his gaming company. His tower is seemingly crafted from obsidian, with neon blue lights running throughout it. The dress code for the staff actually follows a similar theme, with everyone wearing bright seemingly neon colors. Or have some sort of celestial, space or star theming.

Lunar's powers in this area also 98% mastered, with the problem 2% to be addressed in a bit. Like Canon Lunar, he has electricity. But this version, rather than weather powers, his focuses on electricity, lightning and electro plasma. He actually powers his entire tower with his abilities and is in negotiations with the city to possibly power the entirety of that as well in the near future. His lightning powers are incredibly deadly if used in combat, but fortunately he next to never needs to use them offensively. In the rare instances he does need to fight, he is skilled enough to actually manipulate the electrical currents in a human body and essentially short-circuit a human temporarily. It's even more potent against animatronics.

But it's his plasma powers that he is actually the most fond of, as he's so skilled with wielding them that he can literally craft various things out of the plasma and then dissolve them on a whim. He can literally create tiles or stairs that allow him to walk in the sky. It's not uncommon to see him stroll across the sky near his tower at any given time...

But his favorite thing by far to create is his Plasma Cycle. Essentially a futuristic Tron-esque motorcycle that can reach nearly unfathomable speeds and drive over every type of terrain and even drive in the sky with him creating a plasma road below and in front of the bike to drive on.

(Essentially like this but in a brilliant blue)

Ultimately this Lunar has a very good grasp on things, but there are still some... Drawbacks...

Lunar didn't get to where he is in life without having to deal with A LOT of shit. With the one thing he has grown to value THE MOST in people is loyalty and honesty. He has endured many betrayals and been in the midst of liars and he finds people who partake in these negative things to be the lowest of the low.

He's not crazy and understands small lies and fibs can be understandable, even necessary. As he regularly lies about how good his Suns homemade 'Mint Sugar Cookies' are... They're damn near inedible, have the texture of a mix of toothpaste and sand, but nobody has the heart to tell Sun.

Aaaand then there's his family and that often deeply uncomfortable situation...

The thing Lunar loves the most, more than his company or anything else, is his family. His deepest wish and desire is for them all to stop hating each other and get along. Which is the one thing he wishes for every year on his birthday, when he invites everyone to either his home, or another location to spend the day together...

And every year without fail...

It's a total disaster...

It would seem Moon and Eclipse, in spite of their love of Lunar... They can't not fight for even a single frickin hour. They will fight, Sun will cry, Solar Flare will try to make peace, Bloodmoon stays the hell out of it, aaaand things proceed to fall apart before they can even have dinner. Let alone cake...

Every year Lunar just endures this. His heart breaking a little more each time... A tiny part of him wondering if he means so little to his siblings that they can't just get along for him for just a few hours. But, he just buries it and smiles and says that next year will be different. The stress of his family fighting is the only thing that can cause him to lose a grip on his powers. Sometimes leading him to short out an area and have to pay a hefty bill to repair the place he accidentally wrecks.

...fortunately he has his best friends, Castor and Pollux, by his side whenever these nightmares happen...

...the two people he trusts most of all...

...yeaaaah...

.

Castor and Pollux: In this dimension, the Gemini twins were drawn to the bizarre Star Power usage on this planet, eventually tracking it to Lunar when he was at his company. And they came with literal perfect timing, as Lunar had just started wandering through some of the floors of his company and they just appeared there.

One thing about this Lunar is that he is more than a little... Oblivious...

So oblivious in fact that he didn't notice the two clearly inhuman beings in his presence. But, to be fair, his companies dress code could have allowed a normal person to make such a mistake for maybe the first time... Not consistently every day for several years.

Now Lunar was in work mode, so he was wandering through the halls and checking in while being flanked by these two who were trying to talk to him. All while he initially thought they were just trying to pitch an idea to him, something that happens a lot. But as they continued to dog him, (And growing more frustrated at Lunar brushing them off) It finally occurred to Lunar that their behavior wasn't like someone trying to pitch a game idea... And then it dawned on him...

They had to be the new assistant the agency sent over...

Although why would the agency send two people and not just one?

Castor, decently annoyed by everything going on and seeing the opportunity to at least get the information that they need, doesn't exactly lie pre say... he merely says that they are there to 'Observe and offer help as need be.' And how they were a two-for-one deal.

Lunar just shrugged and went with it...

So over the course of the next few years, Castor and Pollux are by Lunar's side nearly constantly. They had to learn a fair bit about games and paperwork, but fortunately they are incredibly fast at learning and adapting. So they went from just being the assistants that Lunar admittedly went through fairly quickly... As a lot of them got too comfortable and got a bit powermad having access to the bosses attention. The two Astrals not only became invaluable in helping Lunar with his day to day responsibilities, but also became his closest companions and friends. To the point that they literally moved into his penthouse with him, updated their respective wardrobes with more human-esque clothes (Lunar actually crocheted them their scarves and added the star logos) and they are even so joined at the hip to him that he now instinctively manifests a pair of sidecars onto his Plasma Cycle which allows his companions to join him on his fun high speed insanity.

...at first they were just doing their jobs, observing Lunar and assessing if he was a threat or not...

But after a while things drastically began to change...

Lunar had a very good handle on his abilities. Had the good sense of when to use them. But more than that... He was giving, kind and just overall a nice guy who did everything he could to bring joy and happiness to the people around him.

And he succeeded in ways he couldn't imagine...

Lunar had somehow, made Castor and Pollux feel overwhelming joy and happiness. Given that Astrals don't feel emotions like mere mortals can... It was a jarring experience when Lunar somehow brought these emotions out in them and it made them realize that they actually, genuinely, cared about Lunar. A LOT...

But given everything...

They were now stuck in a bad spot...

While they never 'technically' lied to Lunar, they sure as hell know that they haven't been honest. Telling him the truth about themselves, about the Astrals in general, star power, his powers, everything... Given how Lunar values honesty and loyalty...

Oh yeah, they know they are in deep shit...

Not just with Lunar either. As they have been deliberately misleading what involvement is required of them to the other Astrals. While stating the situation is under control, but being extremely vague about what it even is. Aaaand even doing a few things to keep their fellow Astrals distracted from asking too many questions...

...like sending Scorpio an entire industrial roll of bubble wrap for them to stab with their tail...

...Giving Aries multiple wool pillows for them to rest comfortably on while meditating and using their dream powers...

...and last but certainly not least, sending Leo a beanbag chair completely packed full of catnip...

Courtesy of these little distractions, they have managed to avert deeper questions regarding what they have been up too. Except for Taurus who is getting suspicious about what exactly is going on down on earth. The only thing that has prevented him from heading down there to see for himself is with how busy he's been trying to track Rez.

But back to things on earth; given the closeness that the siblings have with Lunar it is now understood that in the company, they now wield as much power as Lunar himself. Referred to as Lunar's right and left hands respectively. They do, subtly, lead Lunar to occasionally have days where he takes some time off to just trains his powers. Pointing out one can never have too much control over such powerful abilities... They usually convince him to do this with the promise of having a picnic and just having a day to chill and unplug from everything. They have made an effort to do this every few months ever since they witnessed one of the hellish fiascos that Lunar's birthday turned into...

That was a horror show...

Made worse by how having his whole family together for a day was the only thing Lunar could talk about for a whole week...

Pollux: (Her hands clamped over her mouth as everything just spiraled out of control. So completely stunned still)

Castor: (In disbelief and his eye twitching) What is happening here?

Bloodmoon: (Surprisingly staying out of it) Not sure. But we're about a minute away from stuffing our pockets full of shrimp and getting the hell outta here...

Everything was over in under an hour, leaving Lunar heartbroken and usually a venue wrecked. The Bloodtwins at least making sure that Lunar got home alright, to which the Gemini twins then took it upon themselves to cheer Lunar up, always being sure to have a little 'Backup Party' ready to cheer him up.

And this has just become a solemn tradition...

Lunar gets his hopes up for a happy time with all the people he loves the most, it gets ruined, the twins take him back home. They handle the incoming apologetic phone calls that follow, Castor swears at them... a lot... Then they watch movies, play games and have some ice cream cake.

And Lunar asks how he got so lucky to have them in his life...

And they feel that knife of deception twist in their proverbial hearts...

[thedemonsurfer]

Hey it's been like 3 or 4 days but I can't stop thinking about EAPS, and how when Ruin asks what they're going to do if Puppet won't leave and Fauxy (native Foxy) is like "I think you know the answer to that"

Amd

Ruin just

In his serious voice

Is like "You aren't going to take that step."

No negotiation, no arguing.

And hvvjjg and then Fauxy being like "It's our decision" and Ruin STILL IN HIS SERIOUS VOICE immediately comes back with

"I am making the decision for you. You will not take that step"

JUST! HELLO?!

Fucking aaaaaaaaaa Puppet isn't his friend! Eclipse isn't his friend! Both of these people hate him!

But what Ruin hates is conflict. He cannot stand fighting over stupid shit. And just the fucking threat in his voice, that he wants to live here and get along reasonably peacefully but he will take matters into his own hands should there be a risk of someone actually getting hurt?

[xmpsrrr]

Office hours, After hours.

An aged-up Nanami Kento x Reader (CEO x Secretary)

ᯓ★ Your connection with Kento Nanami deepens as you both navigate corporate intrigue, betrayal, and desire. When a rival threatens your position and Nanami’s company, you stand your ground—and in a moment of vulnerability and passion, the unspoken feelings between you and Nanami ignite into a heated, forbidden romance.

A/N- decided to write someone else other then bakugo. 😣 hope u guys enjoy this!! ✮⋆˙

Working for Nanami Kento wasn’t easy, but it was impossible to walk away from.

Every morning, the elevator would ascend past the gleaming steel and glass of the corporate tower, carrying you to the top floor where Nanami Enterprises ruled the skyline. Kento’s name was emblazoned in gold on the frosted glass doors, and every time you pushed them open, you felt a pulse of anticipation.

Nanami was more than a boss. He was a presence. Tall, broad-shouldered, with blond hair neatly combed back, and a pair of designer glasses that framed those piercing hazel eyes. His suits were always immaculate, his voice low and calm, but you’d learned that under the cool exterior was a man who noticed everything. Especially you.

You’d been his secretary for almost two years now. Two years of early mornings, late nights, and stolen glances when you thought he wasn’t looking. Two years of lingering silences when you delivered his reports, of your hand brushing against his when you handed him his morning coffee. You convinced yourself it was nothing more than a passing crush—but lately, you weren’t so sure.

The last quarter had been brutal. Extra meetings, high-stakes negotiations, and deadlines that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Tonight was no exception.

The office had long since emptied, the corridors silent except for the distant hum of the city below. You sat at your desk, illuminated only by the soft glow of your monitor. The quarterly reports were finally finished, neatly printed and clipped together. You hesitated, glancing toward Nanami’s office, where the light was still on, casting a golden glow against the glass.

You stood, smoothing your skirt and gathering the papers you’d just printed. Your heels clicked softly against the polished marble floor as you hesitated outside Kento Nanami’s office. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling into the dimly lit hallway.

Your heart was a stuttering mess in your chest, and you chastised yourself for it. This was work—just work. You were merely delivering the quarterly reports your CEO had requested. Nothing more.

And yet, you couldn’t help but think of the way Nanami’s gaze sometimes lingered on you. How his voice would soften when he called your name. How, just last week, he’d brushed a stray hair from your face during a late-night strategy meeting and you’d felt the ghost of his touch long after he’d pulled away.

You exhaled a shaky breath, steeling yourself. You were his secretary. Nothing more.

Just as you were about to push open the door, you heard a low voice inside—one that made your skin crawl.

“That secretary of yours, Kento. You really ought to replace her with someone more… assertive.”

You froze, every muscle in your body tightening. The voice belonged to Ryoji Sakuraba—the Chief Operating Officer, your not-so-secret rival. Sakuraba had been gunning for Nanami’s position for years, his ambition eclipsed only by his arrogance. He made no effort to hide his disdain for you, often undermining you in meetings, criticizing your reports, and offering thinly veiled barbs that left you seething.

“She’s more than capable,” Nanami’s voice replied, calm and clipped, though you thought you detected a hint of irritation beneath his composed tone.

Sakuraba chuckled. “Capable? Maybe. But she’s too soft. You need someone who’ll stand their ground. Someone who’s willing to play the game.”

You pressed your back against the wall, pulse racing.

“I don’t play games,” Nanami said coolly. “And I don’t tolerate insubordination. If you have concerns about my staff, bring them to me professionally—not in the form of baseless slander.”

There was a pause, then Sakuraba’s voice, lower, almost mocking. “You’re too noble for this world, Kento. Sooner or later, your enemies will eat you alive. And that secretary of yours—she’s a weakness. Everyone sees it.”

Your breath caught.

“I suggest you leave,” Nanami said, his voice now unmistakably cold.

You heard the shuffle of footsteps, and a moment later, Sakuraba emerged from the office, his sharp eyes flicking over you with a smirk. “Listening in, darling?” he drawled, his voice laced with condescension. “Careful—that’s how rumors start.”

You straightened your spine, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “I was just about to deliver these reports,” you said evenly, holding up the papers.

His smirk widened. “Of course you were. Always the good little secretary.”

He sauntered past, his expensive cologne lingering in the air, and you resisted the urge to gag.

Once he was gone, you exhaled shakily and turned back to the door. The silence inside was now thick, but you couldn’t leave—not now. You knocked lightly, then stepped inside.

Nanami was standing by the window, the city skyline behind him bathed in gold and indigo. His jacket was off, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. He turned slowly at the sound of your entrance, his expression unreadable.

“I have the reports you requested, Nanami-san,” you said, your voice carefully composed.

He regarded you for a long moment, his gaze softening just a fraction. “You heard him.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just—”

“You were doing your job,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “You’ve always done your job.”

Your breath hitched as he came to stand just a few feet from you, the subtle scent of his cologne enveloping you in warmth. His tie was loosened, his hair slightly tousled from where he’d run a hand through it.

“Kento,” you said softly, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue.

His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t correct you. Instead, he said, “Sakuraba is dangerous. He wants my position—and he’ll use anyone he can to get it, including you.”

“I can handle him,” you said, though your voice trembled.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t mind the long hours, the pressure—that you stayed because of him. But the words caught in your throat, tangled with fear and longing.

After a beat, he took the reports from your hands, his fingers brushing yours in a spark of contact. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ll look these over.”

You nodded, lingering a moment longer than necessary before forcing yourself to step back. “I’ll… see you tomorrow, Kento.”

As you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.

“(Y/N),” he said softly.

You froze, glancing over your shoulder. His gaze held yours, intense and unreadable.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, almost too low to hear.

Your breath caught, but before you could reply, you offered him a faint smile and slipped out the door.

Your pulse was a frantic rhythm beneath your skin as you walked back to your desk. The air between you and Kento Nanami was thick with things unsaid—desire, fear, loyalty, ambition.

And you knew, deep down, this was only the beginning.

The slow burn of your connection was just beginning to ignite.

You tried to focus on your work the next morning, but the memory of Kento’s voice—“I’m glad you’re here”—echoed in your mind like a secret confession. It was the first time he’d allowed the mask of professionalism to slip, even just a little.

But there was no room for distraction, not today. You had back-to-back meetings, emails to respond to, and a whispered warning from your friend in accounting: Fushiguro Industries had been seen wining and dining key executives from the Sato Group, likely trying to close the deal under Nanami’s nose.

And, of course, Sakuraba was circling.

Late that afternoon, you were filing reports outside the boardroom when his voice cut through the air.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Sakuraba murmured, leaning casually against the doorframe. He looked as though he’d stepped out of a luxury ad—expensive suit, gold cufflinks, smirk sharp enough to cut glass. “Word is, Nanami’s position might not be so secure. And when the company shifts, so do its… attachments.”

You glanced up sharply, spine straightening. “I’m not an attachment, Sakuraba-san. I’m an employee.”

“Ah, but loyalty is such a fragile thing, isn’t it?” he drawled, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “You’re smart, (Y/N). You should be thinking about your own position. It’d be a shame if you tied yourself too closely to a sinking ship.”

You refused to let him see you flinch. “If you’re done posturing, I have work to do.”

His smile thinned, but before he could reply, a quiet but authoritative voice spoke from behind you.

“Is there a problem here?”

You turned to find Nanami standing just a few feet away, his presence calm but unmistakably commanding. His gaze was fixed on Sakuraba, and though his tone was cool, the warning in his voice was clear.

“Not at all,” Sakuraba said smoothly, though his expression twisted into something colder as he inclined his head. “Just a friendly chat with your secretary.”

“Then it’s over,” Nanami said, his voice like the quiet weight of a gavel falling. He stepped closer, subtly positioning himself between you and Sakuraba. “(Y/N), I need those financial summaries. In my office, please.”

Without a word, you gathered the papers and followed Nanami down the hall. The moment you stepped into his office and the door clicked shut, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease—just slightly.

He leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed. “Are you all right?”

You swallowed. “I’m fine. He’s just… trying to unsettle me.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened. “That’s his specialty.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. “Fushiguro Industries is pressing harder than ever. They’ve promised Sato’s board a bigger cut if they switch allegiances. Sakuraba’s been feeding them information. I’ve been trying to contain it, but—”

“You can’t do this alone,” you interrupted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

His brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his features.

“I know I’m just your secretary,” you said quietly, “but I’ve seen the patterns. The backdoor meetings, the timing of their leaks. They’re playing dirty. But we can fight back—if you let me help.”

He stared at you for a long moment, and for the first time, the full weight of his exhaustion showed in the curve of his shoulders. Then, finally, he spoke—soft, rough, honest.

“You’re not just my secretary,” he said quietly. “You’re the only person I trust in this company.”

Your breath caught, a sudden rush of warmth flooding your chest.

Before you could reply, he stepped closer, his voice dropping. “But if you’re going to stand with me, you need to understand the risk. Fushiguro will come after anyone I rely on. Especially you.”

“I know,” you whispered.

His gaze was steady, but there was a quiet intensity in it now, an undercurrent of something deeper. “If you want out… if you’d rather transfer departments or leave the company, I’ll understand. I won’t hold it against you.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. Slowly, you stepped closer, until you were standing right in front of him.

“I’m not leaving,” you said firmly, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “I’m not giving up on you. Or this company. Or… whatever this is.”

For a heartbeat, the air between you was charged with the weight of everything unspoken. His hand hovered just above yours, as though he wanted to reach out but didn’t dare.

“I’ll handle Sakuraba and Fushiguro,” he said quietly. “But after hours… we talk. Just the two of us.”

You nodded, your pulse skittering wildly.

“After hours,” you echoed softly.

That night, you stayed late again. The office was silent except for the soft clatter of your keyboard and the low murmur of Nanami’s voice from his office as he called in favors, negotiating with quiet ferocity. When you finally finished compiling the counterproposal for the Sato Group, you carried it to his office, your steps echoing in the quiet.

He looked up from his papers as you entered, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the sight of you. You set the folder down between you, your fingers brushing his—this time lingering a moment longer.

“Kento,” you murmured, your voice barely a breath.

His hand closed over yours, warm and solid. His gaze met yours, steady and intense.

“Stay,” he said softly.

And this time, you didn’t hesitate.

The room felt impossibly quiet, the hum of the city outside nothing compared to the thundering pulse in your ears. Nanami’s hand was warm where it covered yours, his grip steady, grounding you.

“Stay,” he repeated, voice low and rough, a plea threaded beneath the command.

You swallowed hard, heart fluttering in your chest. “I’ll stay,” you whispered, the words tasting like surrender.

Slowly, as if testing a fragile boundary, Nanami stepped closer. His hand slid up your arm, his fingertips grazing your skin through the thin fabric of your blouse. The touch was featherlight but searing, sending shivers down your spine.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your temple as he leaned in.

You didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead, you turned your face slightly, just enough to brush your lips against the corner of his jaw—a tentative, feather-soft kiss that tasted like hesitation and want.

That single brush seemed to unravel something in him. His breath hitched, and in the next moment, his lips found yours—firm, warm, and insistent. The kiss was slow but deep, a lingering exploration that spoke of restraint finally breaking. His hands framed your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his mouth coaxed yours open, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, deliberate sweep that left you breathless.

You pressed closer, your hands finding the front of his shirt, fingers slipping beneath the undone collar to trace the hard line of his collarbone. His skin was hot beneath your touch, his pulse racing under your fingertips. He groaned softly into your mouth, the sound low and rough, and it sent a thrill through you.

His hands slipped down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You felt the solid press of his body, the heat of his arousal undeniable against your hip. Your breath caught, a soft whimper escaping as he deepened the kiss, his teeth gently grazing your lower lip.

“Kento,” you gasped when he finally pulled back just enough to let you breathe. His name on your lips was a benediction and a challenge all at once.

“Tell me if this is too fast,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. His breath was ragged, his voice low and rough with restraint.

You shook your head, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “It’s not.”

That was all it took. His mouth crashed back onto yours, and this time there was no hesitation. His hands found the buttons of your blouse, undoing them with a practiced ease, revealing the delicate lace of your bra beneath. His mouth trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin at your collarbone.

You gasped, fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. He shrugged out of his dress shirt, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he pressed you back against the edge of his desk. The cool surface met the backs of your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you atop it.

“Kento,” you whispered, breathless as his hands roamed over your exposed skin, his mouth finding the hollow of your throat, the curve of your shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His hands skimmed down your sides, tracing the curve of your hips, the softness of your thighs. When his fingers found the hem of your skirt, he tugged it higher, exposing the thin scrap of lace that barely covered you.

The sound he made was half-groan, half-growl, and it sent a thrill through you.

“God, I’ve wanted you,” he admitted, his voice raw. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin there, drawing soft gasps from your lips.

You arched against him, hips rocking forward in silent plea. “Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the word.

That was all he needed. His mouth captured yours again as his fingers found you, stroking slow and deliberate, teasing until you were trembling against him. You moaned softly, breaking the kiss to gasp his name as his thumb circled that sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low against your ear. “Let me hear you.”

You shattered against him, pleasure crashing through you in waves as you clung to his shoulders, his name falling from your lips in a broken cry.

As you came down from the high, he kissed you softly, gently, as if grounding you back to reality. But the heat between you hadn’t cooled—in fact, it was only growing hotter.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, lifting you into his arms effortlessly, carrying you toward the plush leather couch near the window. He laid you down gently, his hands trailing down your body as he followed you down, his lips finding yours again, deepening the kiss as he pressed his hips against yours, letting you feel just how much he wanted you.

“I’ve been wanting this… wanting you for so long,” he confessed, the quiet words rough with desire.

And this time, there were no more walls between you.

[xuchiya]

til' our next eclipse || kim hongjoong || one-shot

| genre: angst. kind of supernatural. vampire prince!hongjoong x ceo! reader | mentions: death.

Seoul, 2025

The city thrummed with a synthetic heartbeat—neon signs flickering like mechanical constellations across steel and glass towers that clawed at the fading light. Beneath the hum of endless traffic and the digital noise of modernity, a much older silence lingered.

Perched atop the pinnacle of Gangnam’s tallest skyscraper, Kim Hongjoong stood like a shadow carved from twilight. His silhouette was etched against a sky bleeding amber and violet, a phantom untouched by time. The wind toyed with the hem of his coat, carrying the scent of rain and exhaust as it whispered secrets through the antennas and rails. The world had changed—grown louder, faster, more hollow—but he hadn’t. Not since 1796, when he last lowered a body into the earth and walked away without saying goodbye.

He hadn’t aged a day since.

Immortality was not the fairytale mortals dreamed of. It was not a blessing. It was a slow erosion of meaning, a cold and relentless unraveling of humanity. Eternity was a prison dressed in velvet, and time—his only constant companion—had long since turned into an adversary.

The Kim bloodline demanded more than sacrifice. It demanded obedience, purity, submission to traditions carved in blood. Marriages were arranged not for love, but for lineage. Status was won through silence, pain, and power. But Hongjoong, born from both shadow and crown, had seen the rot beneath their golden seal. The truth? Their nobility was a lie. A mask. And the blood that flowed through their veins was poisoned—with curses, betrayal, and the stench of old sins.

He had spent decades running. Hiding from legacies written in contracts and graves. But the past had long fingers and sharper teeth—it always found him.

He closed his eyes, trying to forget.

And then— he heard it.

A heartbeat.

Faint. Ragged. Struggling.

It came like a whisper in a storm, fluttering through the noise of the city—a dying bird’s final wingbeat.

Erratic.

Human.

Without hesitation, he moved—stepping into the wind and letting gravity take him. A shadow falling from heaven.

She stumbled into the alley behind her building, the cold gnawing at her bones despite the thick coat wrapped tightly around her trembling body. Her heels tapped unevenly against the glistening concrete, slick with rain and neon reflections. Every breath she took was shallow, shaky—like each inhale was a gamble she kept losing.

Behind her, the luminous blue glow of the WINTECH CORPORATION logo flickered, buzzing faintly above the back entrance. It cast a halo around her as if the city itself mourned her with fluorescent sorrow. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She had built this empire—brick by digital brick—negotiating with billionaires, taming wolves in suits, and commanding boardrooms with nothing more than a glance and a calm voice.

But none of that could stop her own body from devouring her from the inside.

An autoimmune disease so rare the doctors had called it a medical ghost. “Incurable.” “Degenerative.” “Terminal.”

All words that sounded like nails in a coffin.

Every day was a performance. Every smile is a lie. And now, tonight, with her body finally betraying her in full, the curtain had closed. Her legs buckled, knees crashing to the wet ground. She gasped—more out of resignation than pain—as the heavens opened and rain began to fall in sheets.

Cold. Heavy. Indifferent.

And then—

Warmth.

Not from within, but from outside. The unexpected weight of a coat settled gently over her shoulders—luxuriously soft, impossibly warm despite the chill. The scent of old paper and distant forests lingered on the fabric.

And then—a voice. Clear. Deep. Ancient.

“It’s not yet over.” Her eyes fluttered open, blurred with rain and unshed tears. She looked up. The man kneeling beside her was breathtaking in the way a thunderstorm was silent, ominous, beautiful. His face was carved from something too delicate for this era—sharp cheekbones, pale skin that caught the city light like porcelain under glass. Strands of rain-slick hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes—they were oceans. Deep and endless. Like he had seen the rise and fall of empires.

He reached toward her, not to lift her, but to steady her, like she was a porcelain figure that might shatter if handled wrong. His touch was reverent, almost afraid, “Who...?” she rasped, her voice cracking under the weight of her fatigue. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to confirm he was real, her gaze flickering over him as she fought to focus.

He studied her face, his expression unreadable. Then, his lips parted, his voice low, yet carrying the weight of centuries.

“You were ready to die.” Her chest constricted as the words settled into her mind. She closed her eyes briefly, fighting a weak laugh, fighting the fatigue that threatened to drag her into oblivion.

“Maybe I was.” His gaze softened, though his expression remained unreadable. He didn’t look away, didn't flinch from the heavy truth in her words.

“And yet you’re still here.” His voice was a melody, soft yet commanding, like a whisper woven through time. "The night is not ready to claim you yet."

Her body trembled, shivering not just from the cold, but from something deeper—an ancient, primal fear. She could barely form the words as her lips trembled, lips parted as if to say something more. Instead, her mouth closed, a fragile breath escaping her.

“What kind of man would I be if I let that happen?” he added, his words gently lifting the heavy weight of despair that clouded her mind. It was not an accusation, nor an expectation, just a quiet reflection, an acknowledgment of the strange grace he'd offered.

She tried to lift her head, a bitter smile curling at the corner of her lips. She wanted to laugh, but the sound caught in her throat, strained.

“A stranger,” she whispered, her voice breaking as her eyes met his. Her throat burned as she forced the words out. His lips quirked in a sad, knowing smile, but there was no mockery. Only something deeper—a knowingness that cut through the veil of time between them. He exhaled slowly, almost wistfully, as if resigned to something eternal, something beyond their understanding.

“I’ve been called worse.” His voice softened, but there was a weight to the words, something heavier than just the casual dismissal they seemed to imply. "Much worse."

Her gaze lingered on him, that strange pull she couldn't escape, even as the rain continued to fall around them drenched and cold, even when the moon had been blocked— an eclipse happening.

Yet somehow protected from the reality happening.

From that night on, she and Hongjoong met again. And again.

She never knew how he found her—but he always did. And Hongjoong doesn't know what kind of spell to keep bringing himself to her.

But for once, through the centuries he lived, his life had become more—curious. 

It was as if fate itself bent toward him, like an unseen hand guiding him to her when the world felt too heavy, when her body betrayed her more and more each day. In the sterile white halls of the hospital, when the pain became too much and the cold scent of antiseptic filled the air, she would turn, half-dazed from the morphine, and find him there. His presence is a quiet anchor in the chaotic sea of her illness.

At home, in the stillness of her penthouse that seemed to grow larger and emptier with every passing day, he would appear in the corners of her vision like a figment of her imagination—except he wasn’t. Not at all. His warmth, his scent, the comforting weight of his coat over her shoulders—these things were real, solid, and utterly undeniable.

And on nights when the weight of her fate bore down heavier than the disease eating her from the inside, when the very air around her seemed to pulse with the suffocating reality of what awaited her, he would be there, sitting beside her without a word, offering nothing but the quiet, steady companionship of someone who understood her more than she ever wished to admit.

He never asked for anything. Never demanded more than what she was willing to give. There were no expectations, no promises, no grand declarations—just his presence. And that presence was something she couldn’t seem to shake off, no matter how much she tried. It was like a vine winding through the coldest, darkest soil, finding its way to her heart, taking root, and slowly growing in silence.

But truth, as it always does, has a way of unraveling itself.

One evening, while reviewing media submissions for her company’s anniversary website—an ambitious project that showcased her company’s role in economic rise—She sat before her computer. The screen glowed in front of her, displaying dozens of photos, each a snapshot in time, a moment captured in history. The anniversary website was to be a stunningly polished AI-enhanced digital wall—a tribute to the achievements and triumphs of the country, and of WINTECH CORPORATION.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she skimmed through photos of the past—neatly organized and meticulously tagged. But then, her eyes froze on one.

It was a black-and-white photo, crisp in its detail. The faded elegance of the scene was unmistakable: a grand charity ball from 1385, shimmering with opulence and excess. The glint of gold, the sparkle of diamonds, the glamorous attire of guests who seemed to be floating through the picture like ghosts in a bygone world.

And there he was.

In the background, amidst the swirling dance and glittering chandelier light, his face stood out—not because it was different, but because it was exactly the same. The same strong jawline, the same sharp eyes, the same timeless beauty that made her pulse skip.

Kim Hongjoong—there. In the flesh. Alive then, unchanged now.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she immediately triple-checked the metadata. She cross-referenced it against every algorithm she’d ever created, against every database she’d ever compiled. But it didn’t lie. The AI recognition software pulled up a perfect match.

It was him. 

Her heart thundered in her chest as she leaned back in her chair, eyes wide and unblinking. Her world, which had once felt controlled and predictable, was now slipping through her fingers like water. This was not possible. It couldn’t be.

She knew she had to confront him. She knew this moment had come when she took notice how he always had wine at night, a wine that smells far from being “normal” favorite wine of his and the small meals he takes despite not eating the whole day—whether she was ready for it or not.

That night, when the city lights glowed outside her penthouse windows and her thoughts were spinning faster than she could keep up with, she stood in the middle of her living room. The floor beneath her feet felt like it was made of glass—fragile and about to crack. She was trembling, but it wasn’t from fear of the unknown anymore. No, she was trembling because something inside her had shifted—something that had been whispering to her, some silent truth she had tried to deny.

Hongjoong stood there in front of her, as he always did—an immovable presence, quiet but all-consuming. His dark eyes caught the glow of the city lights, their depth seeming to stretch across centuries. He didn’t speak, just watched her, as if preparing for her questions, her rage, her disbelief.

And finally, with a voice that was a mere breath in the quiet room, “You were there,” she said, her voice steady but thick with emotion. She held up the photograph between them. “1385. You haven’t aged. Haven’t changed. Who—what are you?”

There was a long, unbearable silence as Hongjoong studied her—his gaze softening, his mouth tight with the weight of the years. He didn’t look surprised by her revelation. It was as though he’d known this moment would come, but he still hesitated. His words hung between them, heavy with something ancient, something that spoke of regret and burdens too old to understand.

“I’m not what you think I am,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, the words rasping out like the quietest confession.

Her heart stopped for a second, the edges of her world cracking as she struggled to breathe. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, she looked at him, searching his face for something she could hold onto. A lie, perhaps. A reason to dismiss this as madness. But no. There was nothing.

“And what are you?” she whispered. He hesitated again, his fingers twitching at his sides as if fighting something within himself. Then, he finally answered her, his voice so soft it felt like the air itself had frozen around them.

“A prince,” he said, almost too quietly. “But not the kind worth telling stories about. I was born into the Kim bloodline—the royal one, before the throne fell. But when the world lost its monarchs, I became something else.”

She blinked, unable to process the weight of his words. Her heart pounded in her chest, a frantic, erratic rhythm that made her dizzy.

“A vampire,” he added, his voice like a sigh, but it hit her with the force of an avalanche. The word hung in the air—vampire. Unreal. Impossible. Yet… her chest stilled, as though it had recognized something before her mind had fully grasped it. She had known. Somewhere deep inside her, she'd always known. She just hadn’t wanted to face it.

She took a step back—not from fear, but from the sheer enormity of it all. Her world had shifted under her feet. Everything she thought she understood had been upended. But her heart.

 Her heart had not changed, “You should’ve told me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Hongjoong’s gaze dropped to the floor, his lips curling in a pained smile. His voice was barely audible, heavy with sorrow.

“I was afraid.” She stared at him, her eyes burning with the weight of a thousand unsaid words.

“That I’d leave?” she asked, her voice barely above a breath.

He nodded slowly, “That I wouldn’t let myself love you.”

The silence stretched out between them, thick and suffocating. Her breath caught as she took a step forward, closer to him than she had ever dared. Without thinking, her hand found its way to his chest, pressing gently over his still heart.

“Nothing’s changed,” she said softly, her words simple but true. “But promise me…” She stared at his eyes, the ones that were now filled with love and light. Something Hongjoong would never dare to drain, his cold pale hands settling on the small of her back, “Promise not to turn me. Even if I’m dying.”

His eyes closed, a shudder running through his frame. She felt the weight of his centuries, the loneliness that spanned beyond the horizon. But his response was what she needed, what they both needed to hear, “I will love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with something ancient and raw. “For as long as you breathe. But I won’t save you at the cost of your soul.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded, her lips trembling.

“Then we understand each other.”

But fate, as always, is cruel.

As she lay in his arms, her body felt so light, so fragile—a delicate shell of the woman she used to be. Her skin was paper-thin, every breath a labored effort. The once vibrant energy in her had dulled, consumed by the disease that relentlessly claimed her. And yet, in this moment, as their bodies intertwined, she felt an unspoken connection—a fleeting, quiet peace that had always eluded them both in their long, strange journey. Time itself seemed to slow, the world outside their bubble fading into a distant hum. The lines of age and eternity blurred between them, her mortal fragility mingling with the eternal weight of his existence.

Her hand, pale and trembling, reached up slowly, her fingers brushing lightly against his cheek. The touch was tender, like the softest breath, as if she were afraid to disturb the fragile bond that existed between them in that moment. Her smile, though weak and laced with sorrow, held a certain beauty—an understanding that transcended the pain and the inevitability of her fate. It was a smile that said, I am not afraid. Not now, not with you here.

“Promise me again, Hongjoong,” she whispered, her voice a breathless plea, full of quiet desperation. “You won’t turn me. Not even now. Not when I’m begging.”

Her words lingered in the still air, heavy with the weight of the finality they both felt pressing in on them. Her eyes, dimming with the slow fade of life, searched his face for the answer she needed, the promise that had always been the thread keeping them tethered to one another. She had asked him for this before, but in this final moment, the request felt different—more urgent, more real, because the end was no longer something distant. It was here.

Hongjoong’s breath caught as a single tear slipped from his eye, glistening in the dim light before falling to her skin. His heart, which had long since stopped beating in the human sense, shattered in ways he had never thought possible. He pressed his forehead gently to hers, as if trying to offer her the last bit of warmth and comfort he could give. The soft exhale from his lips was the only sound in the room, and the agony of her words—the unbearable weight of the promise he could never break—crushed him. Every inch of his being screamed to hold onto her, to save her, but he knew he could not. He had promised himself long ago that he would never let her walk the same dark path he had.

His eyes closed tightly, as though he could will the pain to disappear, but it only deepened. The centuries of loneliness, of never being able to love someone fully, of watching them wither away while he stayed the same—they all came crashing down on him. Her final request felt like an unspoken betrayal of everything he was, and yet, it was the most selfless thing she could have ever asked for.

“I promise,” he whispered, his voice breaking—raspy, low, and full of raw emotion. The words felt like a sacrificial offering, as though they were not just a vow to her, but to the universe itself. His centuries of silent suffering, his endless existence without the kind of love he had found in her, all crashed through him in that one moment.

And that promise—that simple, yet soul-crushing promise—would be the one thing that might destroy him.

The night was draped in a velvet sky, the stars twinkling softly above as the grand gates of the palace opened before them. Hongjoong had led her through the gates of his past life—his family’s legacy—and into something new, something purely his. The palace, now empty of its regal pressures, felt different tonight, its stone walls holding the memories of decades gone by, but it was now a quiet sanctuary—a home for the love he will build, that will survive centuries of separation, of time, and of fate itself.

The moonlight shone through the towering windows of the grand hall as he led her inside, his heart heavy but full, as if he was both walking through a dream and waking from it at once. He had never imagined a night like this, never imagined that after all this time—after all he had suffered—he would be walking down these cold hallways, with her in his arms, here, in this place that had always felt too large, too cold for the warmth of love to settle. But tonight, the palace felt like their own, as though it had always been meant to hold just the two of them.

She walked slowly beside him, her frail figure wrapped in a gown that shimmered like stardust, the soft fabric brushing the floor with each delicate step. The light from the chandelier overhead danced across her face, illuminating the quiet strength that still remained in her even as her body seemed to betray her. Her breath, slow and shallow, never faltered as she reached for his hand, her fingers brushing against his. She squeezed it gently, a silent reminder that despite the time they had lost, despite the fragility of her body, she was still here—still with him.

The weight of her touch grounded him in a way nothing else could. He stopped in the center of the grand hall, the high ceilings and long corridors around them barely noticed in the presence of her quiet beauty.

“I never thought we’d have this,” she whispered, her voice like a soft melody, fragile but full of meaning. “A moment like this in your palace.”

His gaze softened, and he cupped her face in his hands, leaning down to kiss her forehead tenderly, as if her skin were the most precious thing in the world. “It’s not just my palace, darling. It’s ours.”

A soft smile tugged at her lips, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to fall away. There was no crown here, no kingdom, no future that he could rule over. There was only this—this fleeting, beautiful moment with the woman he loved, in the place that had always been meant for them.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted you to suffer. I never wanted this for us.”

Her fingers traced his jawline as she looked up at him, her eyes full of tenderness. “You gave me everything I ever needed, Hongjoong. A lifetime of love… and that’s more than most will ever get.”

Her words, so simple, so pure, pierced him more deeply than any blade could. He bent down again, this time pressing his lips to hers, slow and lingering, savoring the sensation as if he could somehow capture this moment, hold it in his heart forever.

When they finally broke apart, he knew what had to be done.

“Let’s do it,” he whispered.

Her eyes widened slightly, confusion mixing with the faintest glimmer of fear. “Do what?”

“Marry me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with an undeniable urgency. “Tonight. We’ll be bound by our love, beyond time, beyond fate. I won’t let you go without us having this moment, without us being together in the way we’ve always meant to be.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but they weren’t of sorrow—not this time. They were tears of gratitude, of understanding. She nodded softly, the faintest smile on her lips. “Yes. Yes, Hongjoong. Forever.”

They stood there, in the heart of the palace, surrounded by the echoes of a past that no longer mattered. Hongjoong, no longer the prince, but just a man in love, led her to the quiet chambers. It was here, in this private sanctum, that they would say their vows, with no witnesses except the stars above and the spirits of the palace that had long since fallen silent.

As Hongjoong carefully placed the ring on her finger, his heart heavy, he knew her time was limited. Every second counted now. But in that brief, sacred moment, it didn’t matter.

She was his. And he was hers.

“I promise you,” he whispered as he kissed her hand, “that no matter what happens… no matter what time takes from us… you’ll never be forgotten. You’ll always be with me.”

And as the night stretched on, the two of them, hand in hand, exchanged vows—not in front of kings or gods, but in front of love itself, undying and eternal. They wedded themselves in the silence of their palace, a promise made not in the words of a priest or ceremony, but in the quiet, heart-stirring vows of two souls who had defied everything to be together.

As the full moon continued its climb across the sky, they lay together in the bed they had shared in countless dreams, Hongjoong holding her close, feeling her breath slow against his chest, each heartbeat marking the time that was slipping away.

Her hand, still warm in his, rested over his heart as they drifted into sleep.

And as the clock of fate ticked down, they held onto one another, to the love that transcended time itself, knowing that in this moment, they had everything they ever needed.

Time, the eternal enemy, moved differently when you knew it was about to run out.

For Hongjoong, every second dragged on, each moment like a silver bullet shooting through his body or a stake twisting deeper into his chest. The sterile white walls of the hospital room closed in on him, their coldness only magnifying the warmth that was slipping away. He sat by her side, watching her lie in that hospital bed again but this time—paler, frail, so fragile now—her once vibrant energy reduced to a faint shadow of the woman he had met so long ago in the rain. Her skin was like porcelain, smooth yet delicate, and her breath, shallow and labored, came in soft, fleeting whispers. The constant beeping and humming of the machines felt distant, almost irrelevant now, as though they, too, were aware of the inevitable. They had slowed in rhythm, betraying the passage of time that hung so heavily in the room.

“I’m sorry Mr. Kim, we’ve done everything we could.”

He had tried everything—anything—he could think of. He had spared no expense, no resource. He'd flown her across the world to hidden clinics, where the richest and most powerful dared not tread, hoping for a miracle. He had sought out doctors of every kind, each one more skilled than the last, each more convinced that they could solve the impossible. But nothing worked. Nothing could stop the slow, painful decline of the woman he loved. And he had offered her everything he could, everything he knew she wanted.

Except the one thing she refused.

Immortality.

Her eyes fluttered open, sluggish and weak, but there was a spark in them still. And despite the pain, despite the suffering she endured, she smiled. That same soft, knowing smile that had captivated him from the very first moment they had met. Grace, even in the face of death itself.

“You look like hell,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath, thin and fragile, yet it carried the weight of their years together.

“And you,” he said, forcing a smile, trying to hide the cracks in his voice, “still find a way to make dying look beautiful.”

Her soft chuckle broke something deep inside him—an agonizing sound, so pure and full of life that it made the room feel colder still. It was the sound of everything slipping through his fingers, and yet, it was the last sound he would ever hear from her. It shattered him.

Her trembling fingers reached out, brushing weakly against his hand. He took it instantly, as if it might slip away at any moment. His fingers cradled hers with the gentleness of someone handling the most delicate of treasures—delicate, fragile, like glass.

“I know what you’re thinking, Joong,” she whispered, her eyes soft with the kind of quiet knowing that only came from years of being in each other's hearts. She called him that only in these moments—the softest moments, when the walls of the world crumbled around them, and all that was left was the rawness of their bond. “Don’t.”

He squeezed her hand tighter, and the words came out before he could stop them. Choked, desperate, and filled with a kind of helplessness he hadn’t known since the first time he had lost her.

“I could save you,” he said, his voice strained, breaking with each syllable. “One bite. That’s all it would take. You wouldn’t have to leave me. We could be together. Forever.”

Her expression softened, but there was something else there, too—an undeniable sadness. “You’d lose me all the same.”

Hongjoong shook his head violently, biting back the raw emotion that threatened to break him. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice faltering, eyes misting over with unshed tears. He looked away, unable to meet her gaze, ashamed of the emotion flooding through him. “I can’t… I can’t go through this again. Not after everything. Not after you.”

She squeezed his hand, just barely, the movement so faint it almost didn’t register. But it was enough. “But I do understand,” she said softly. “That’s why I made you promise.”

“I thought I could do it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible now. “I thought I could let you go… with dignity. With peace. But I can’t. I won’t.”

He leaned closer to her, his breath shaky, and brushed her damp hair from her forehead, trying to memorize the lines of her face—each curve, each shadow, each delicate imperfection. He wanted to keep them all with him. Forever.

“You still have time to change your mind,” he said, his voice filled with a desperate hope, even though he knew it was hopeless.

Her gaze softened, a mixture of love and sorrow, as she took in the man she had loved for what seemed like forever. “And take that choice away from you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“You’d be with me,” he said, his words coming out in a breath, desperate, pleading. “Forever.”

“No,” she replied gently, shaking her head. “I’d be something else. Not the woman you fell in love with. And you’d carry the guilt of what you turned me into.” Her eyes locked onto his, filled with understanding, the kind that only came when you had lived a life full of deep, soul-wrenching love. “I saw what your past did to you, Hongjoong. You don’t want to bury love under a curse.”

Her words pierced him—shattered him in ways that no amount of centuries could have prepared him for.

He trembled, his body shaking with the weight of it all. “You think I’m strong,” she whispered, her voice the softest of caresses, as if she were comforting him, even now, even in the face of her inevitable end. “But I’m only strong because of you. And this… this is how I stay human. Even now.”

“Hongjoong,” Another tear slipped down his cheeks as he watched her take a long breath in, her chap lips opening, “I love you, my prince.”

The sound of a long, slow beep filled the room—a monotone, lifeless sound that seemed to echo through his very bones. And then it stopped.

Hongjoong let out a sound—somewhere between a cry and a scream, but not quite either. It was raw, it was ancient, and it was full of a kind of pain that he had not known he was capable of. The centuries of his existence had meant nothing at that moment. All that mattered was the woman he had loved—was gone.

He held her close, rocking her in his arms as if the motion might somehow bring her back. As if the act of holding her tight might reverse the inevitable. But in the back of his mind, something stirred. The hunger. The thirst. The temptation to defy her one final wish—to sink his teeth into her, to make her immortal, to keep her with him forever.

But he couldn’t. He won’t. Not with the promise he gave her.

And he kissed her forehead—one last, gentle kiss, his lips trembling against her cold skin, holding her hand where their ring glisten under the moonlight, “Til’ our next eclipse, darling.”

The night outside wept for them, thunder rolling in the distance, rain pelting against the glass like a million tiny, broken hearts. And at that moment, for the first time in over a hundred years…

Prince Kim Hongjoong was truly alone.

[lunarmoves]

shay's writing commissions!

CURRENT STATUS: OPEN

SLOTS FILLED: 0 out of 4

hey guys! i've decided to open commissions to help me fund my venture to graduate school! i will be opening 4 slots at a time, depending on the word count requests i receive. they will be done on a first come, first serve basis through tumblr dm and paid for through ko-fi or paypal. the options i'm offering are for one-shots and a wip sponsorship. more details are below the cut!

one-shots:

these will be fics following either a prompt or a detailed request supplied by you! the maximum word count i am willing to write is 12k. all fics will be [character] x reader/self-insert and will be written in second (or third, if that is your preference) person. they will also be completely non-gender (no pronouns used in fic) unless specified otherwise.

pricing:

↬ 500 words -> $10 ↬ 1,000 words -> $20 ↬ 1,500 words -> $30 ↬ 2,000 -> $40 ↬ 2,500 -> $50 ↬ 3,000 -> $60 ↬ 3,500 -> $70

....and so on.

note: if i go above the word count for whichever commission is purchased, i will not charge for it! :)

fandoms + characters i will write for:

↬ fnaf -> sun, moon, eclipse (NOT tsams nor sun x moon) ↬ pressure -> sebastian solace ↬ bnha -> bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku ↬ lego monkie kid -> sun wukong, six-eared macaque

i am open to writing canon-compliant fics, my own aus, or your own aus, not anyone else's. details regarding any au will be properly hashed out through dm :)

will write:

↬ fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, horror, comedy ↬ suggestive/implied themes ↬ romantic or platonic relationships ↬ major character death, mild violence, mild body horror/gore ↬ light yandere, obsessive/possessive behavior ↬ predator/prey dynamics (if i have written it on my blog, it is safe to request!)

won't write:

↬ infidelity ↬ heavy nsfw/smut ↬ minor/adult relationships, underage ↬ incest ↬ offensive themes, bigotry

if you are uncertain as to what i will/won't write, don't hesitate to ask! i am always down to negotiate.

how it works:

↬ if you are interested in commissioning me for a one-shot, please send me a tumblr dm so we can hash out details (i.e. length, plot, themes, etc). if the slots have been filled already or i am busy working on other commissions, i will inform you and place you on a waitlist! once a slot opens, i will contact you to see if you still want a commission.

↬ through dm, supply me with the prompt/detailed request and we will work through ideas together as i make an outline. afterwards, i will send you the outline, and upon getting your stamp of approval (following any edits), i will start on your fic! if you're unsure about specific details for the fic, no worries; i am totally okay with writing to my own whims if you'll let me c:

↬ once i have started on your commission, please send me half of the payment through ko-fi or paypal. the rest will be requested once the fic is finished, and then i will send you it either by posting it on tumblr (with your permission) or as a pdf via email (or both!)

↬ please be patient with me once i have started writing your commission! if i have not gotten back to you at all after 5 days, feel free to reach out for an update! i will provide you with daily updates regardless, but in the event that i forget, don't be scared to give me a little nudge!

wip sponsorship:

additionally, via tumblr dm, you may choose any of my wips to 'sponsor' along with a word count of your choosing, and i will add it to the most recent chapter currently being worked on. prices for word counts are the same as the ones listed under 'one-shots'.

once i have confirmed the wip and have started writing (given that i am not busy with other commissions), please send me half of the payment through ko-fi or paypal. the latter half will be requested once i have added the full amount of requested words (which i will confirm with a screenshot of the document's word count).

once the full payment is received, i will share what i have written with you! this will be done in an ask that you must send me (anonymous or not). if you wish for it to remain private, let me know in said ask and i will answer it privately (note: you will have to be off anon for me to answer in private).

the wips in question are:

who i see, looking back at me (sebastian solace x reader) ↬ current wc (ch5): 1,345 out of ~10,000

love from the other side (of the apocalypse) (dca x reader) ↬ current wc (ch2): 9,024 out of ~25,000

through pixel eyes (dca x reader) ↬ current wc (ch3): 1,904 out of ~5,000

these summer nights (dca x reader) ↬ current wc (ch3): 1,900 out of ~10,000

[on my alt blog, sipsteainanxiety]:

holding out (just for you) (bakugou x reader) ↬ current wc (ch4): 6,434 out of ~15,000

and i give my all (to you) (bakugou x reader) ↬ current wc (ch2): 2,905 out of ~8,000

(total word counts are estimated and may likely increase or decrease since i have a tendency to incorrectly judge how long my fics will actually be lol)

if you want to be credited as a sponsor/supporter when the fic eventually gets posted (either with your blog tagged, a name, or simply as 'anonymous'), please let me know through dm!

in a similar vein, if there have been any ideas or drabbles i've thrown out on my blog that you are interested in seeing me elaborate on, you may request that as well via dm! (i.e. bleeding wires au, cursed dolls au, dca alien au, any dca mer aus, falling in a forest au, etc). it will be considered as a 'one-shot', with the same pricing listed above.

note: some of those ideas/drabbles i do intend to eventually write as long-fics. you may request specific scenes of those wips or for me to simply start writing them. while i will share what i have written with you, i cannot guarantee that i will still continue to work on those wips afterwards. this also applies to the multi-chaptered wips listed above.

extra information:

↬ you can request to be listed as 'anonymous' should your commission be posted to tumblr.

↬ please try not to cancel your commission after i've started writing it; i will not be giving a refund at this point, especially since the outline will have been written and the first half of payment sent to me.

↬ commissions for requested one-shots will not be posted on ao3. wip sponsorships, however, will be on ao3 (and tumblr) for the associated fic (if it's one of my current multi-chapter fics) should i finish the chapter(s).

↬ if anything is too confusing or unclear, feel free to send me an ask or dm to clarify!

you can always support me without putting in a commission on ko-fi as well! c: thanks for reading! <3

[preciousjoongie]

⊹ HOTEL ⊹

⊹ but I keep messin' with ya, and now you're messin' with me

⊹ synopsis ⇝ you and karina are from rival gangs, looking to hunt each other down. what happens when your bosses accidentally assign the both of you to the same hotel to take each other out?

⊹ genre ⇝ smut, enemies to.. lovers (?), sniper/guns, slightly blood, kissing, marking, fingering (karina!receiving), oral (y/n!receiving)

(karina's pov)

"karina." a deep and smooth voice rang out; echoing throughout the dark and empty warehouse. I stepped forward, my chest involuntarily puffing out, my chin raising with confidence. my body bent forward, my head down and facing the ground. slowly rising my back up, my eyes met with my boss—kim jongin. "sir." I spoke. he grabbed a black envelope and slid it to me on his table. I grabbed it, opening it up. it was her. y/n y/l/n.

my face twisted in anger and shame. "2 years back, I sent you after y/n y/l/n. you were unsuccessful with returning her alive—unsuccessful at returning her at all," he reminded me. I nodded my head, my confidence slowly fading from my body. was I finally going to get my punishment for my failure? "but.. i've decided to give you another opportunity."

my ears perked up as if I was a puppy. my eyebrows slightly lifted as I lifted my head. "really?" my breath was airy and faint. he nodded, leaning forward. "this time will be different. bring her back dead; you have my orders to kill on sight." he instructed in a firm and serious tone. "yes, sir. I won't let you down this time." I replied. him choosing me and giving me another chance to go after my worst enemy gave me a confidence boost. he gave me a simple nod. I bowed before him once more before turning on my heels.

my boots echoed off each step up to the top floor, my hands gripping the envelope. sitting down in a lounging areas, crossing my legs and reopening the envelope.

[CONFIDENTIAL DIRECTIVE — RAVEN UNIT: BLACKLOTUS]

TO: KARINA

OPERATION CODE: ECLIPSE

TARGET:

Codename: LUNA

Real Name: Y/n Y/l/n (Alias: Black Mamba)

Affiliation: SIREN Syndicate

Status: High Threat

MISSION OBJECTIVE:

Terminate on sight. No negotiation. No extraction. You are the final step.

DETAILS:

Target is lethal. Reports suggest martial arts, skilled weaponry, and psychological warfare tactics. Known for high body count and zero traces. Last seen trailing intel out of Hongdae and ghosting a clean-up crew in Osaka.

Location pinged at Hotel Vanta, Room 1109, checking in under forged name C. Min. Expected to be alone. Window of opportunity: 18:00 - 23:00.

WHY YOU:

You’ve crossed paths before. You understand how she works. She left one of ours breathing just long enough to send a message.

WARNING:

Underestimating her will get you killed. This isn't just a hit. It's a statement.

No body, no payout.

No hesitation. No mercy.

Walk in quiet. Walk out alone.

End transmission.

I leaned my head back, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. sliding the intel back into the envelope, I headed for my room and started packing. the boss had already arranged a separate hotel for me—just a few miles from Hotel Vanta. strategic distance, less heat. I was scheduled to check in at Vanta the following day.

(your pov)

I flipped through karina's background file, fresh from my boss’s hands. looks like she’s still stirring trouble—still got my name on her kill list. but I’m not letting her get the first shot. not this time. I’ll end her before she even sees me coming.

[CLASSIFIED COMMUNIQUE — SIREN SYNDICATE]

TO: Y/N (Alias: Black Mamba)

MISSION CODE: BLACKCRESCENT

TARGET:

Name: KARINA (Alias: Karina)

Affiliation: RAVEN Syndicate – BLACKLOTUS Division

Status: High Priority Threat

OBJECTIVE:

Terminate the target on sight. This is not reconnaissance. This is an execution.

INTEL:

Target is lethal, surgically precise, and emotionally detached. Known for charm-based infiltration and silent kills. Internal chatter places her in Hotel Vanta, Room 1114, under the alias K.Jin. Intel suggests she’s alone — but don’t get comfortable. She doesn’t need backup.

This is the one who ghosted your extraction crew in Busan. Left your handler gutted and smiling like a message carved in skin. You were warned then: she won't miss but maybe we were wrong. More intel has let us know that she has trained harder so this time, just might not.

WHY YOU:

Because you’re the only one who won’t hesitate. You’ve danced with her before — long enough to know she’s not a shadow, she’s a blade. And a blade only stops when it’s broken.

DIRECTIONS:

Get in clean. Room 1114. No hesitation. No warning. Don’t let her speak. Don’t let her breathe.

DIRECTIVE FROM COMMANDER NYX:

“She’s not a girl, she’s a weapon. And weapons don’t get second chances.”

No trace. No noise. No mercy.

Finish it.

I scoffed at the final line in her file. she's not a girl, she’s a weapon. yeah, well—if she was really a weapon with any sense last time, I wouldn’t be breathing right now. tossing the envelope onto the pile of clothes in my suitcase, I zipped it shut. I was ready.

exiting the hideaway house, I slipped into the black van idling at the curb—engine humming low like it already knew where we were headed. Muse Valley Hotel was the first stop, a quiet shell of a place tucked into the hills just far enough from Vanta to stay off radar. the plan was simple: blend in, observe, wait. on the second day, I’d make my move. that's when I’d check into Hotel Vanta and finish the job. to finish yu jimin.

It wasn’t just a mission. It was a reckoning.

(karina's pov)

I stepped into the hotel—Muse Valley. “name?” the receptionist asked, her voice flat with exhaustion. “K.Jin,” i replied. her fingers clacked against the keyboard as she scrolled through the system, eyes barely meeting mine. “room 117, fourth floor,” she said bluntly, turning to grab a key off the wall. she handed it to me without another word. i took it, nodding once, then pulled my suitcase behind me toward the elevators.

the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. i stepped inside, alone, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead sounding louder than it should’ve.

fourth floor. button pressed. doors closed.

as the elevator climbed, i caught my reflection in the mirrored panel—black hair falling sharp around my face, eyes unreadable. a weapon, not a woman. i had to remember that. my nerves were tighter than they should’ve been. she was only a few miles away. and i’d trained for this—two years of silence, sweat, and steel. y/n wouldn’t get past me. not this time.

the dull ding of the elevator and the light shake of the stop snapped me out of my thoughts. I stepped out, scanning the hallway with the same glance I gave every new place. subtle. fast. a rhythm built into my bones. just be aware of all my surroundings. room 117 was at the far end, right-hand side. as I walked, my boots barely made a sound against the carpet.

I unlocked the door and pushed it open. a single bed, curtains drawn over the windows, the room cold and uninviting. I shut the door behind me, tossing the keys onto the bed as I walked around, letting my gaze drift lazily over the ceiling and corners. a soft beep echoed from somewhere above, just behind the door. a camera. I didn’t flinch. I knew it was one my boss had placed before I even stepped foot in here.

(your pov)

as I watched tv in my room—room 112—a soft and faint sound hit my ears. boots. could be anybody. right? they didn't stay for long, they were gone after a couple of seconds. I relaxed back in my bed, continuing to look at the screen. something didn't feel right, and as great of a soldier I am, i've learned that my instincts aren't always right.

I pushed the uneasy feeling aside, focusing back on the TV, trying to drown out the quiet buzz of the room. but even as the hours ticked by, the weight in the air wouldn’t lift. something was lingering, just out of reach. I checked the time. almost midnight.

I shifted on the bed, pulling the blanket up, trying to get comfortable. my thoughts circled, like a loop I couldn’t shake. the sound of those boots. something oddly familiar. the strange tension in the air. but I couldn't find any reason to stay alert—nothing had happened.

still, I went through my usual checks. the door was locked, the window sealed. I slid the knife under my pillow, just in case. the TV flickered with some distant show, but I wasn’t really watching anymore. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the building settling around me. finally, exhaustion won. I closed my eyes, my body giving in to the weight of the day, even though my mind kept replaying the same thoughts.

tomorrow. it all happens tomorrow.

and with that, I fell into a restless sleep, the shadow of my mission hanging just above me.

(the next morning)

I pulled on my black leather shorts, the cool material sliding against my skin, fitted just right. the weight of the knife in its holster at my side felt like a steady reminder of what was to come. I need no more than a knife, for it that were to be useless, I was more of the weapon. the rest of the outfit was tactical: fitted shirt, boots laced tight, everything streamlined, nothing to hinder me. I fixed my fitted top in the mirror before tying my hair into a ponytail.

I stepped into the hallway, closing the door. shit. I forgot my earpiece. going back in, I grabbed it, fitting it into my ear. I walked back out, I turned to face the door closing it and locking it. my boots made no sound on the carpeted floor as I walked, each step purposeful.

I stopped. a small smile tugging at my lips as I felt the barrel of a handgun press against my skull. a chill ran down my spine—not because of fear, but from the exhilaration. the soft, almost imperceptible click of the gun—its chamber loading a round, the sound too familiar, too precise. a warning, a signal, and yet... I wasn’t moving.

"karina.." I spoke softly—the smug smile in my voice was noticeable. she hadn’t pulled the trigger yet. that was enough of a clue.

"it's been 2 years. you're still sloppy," I added, my tone a mix of amusement and challenge. her hand slightly shook holding the gun. the click of the chamber echoed in my ears, but I didn’t flinch.

I could practically hear her steady breathing behind me. the tension was thick, as if the world had paused, holding its breath just like we both were. "well, what are you waiting for? you have me? shoot. shoot, karina." I instructed. right as her finger moved to the trigger, I swiftly turned around, kicking her in her stomach. the gun flew down the hallway.

she bent forward, holding her stomach. she recovered quickly, eyes flashing with fury. without hesitation, she lunged at me, her movements fluid, precise. I sidestepped just in time, feeling the rush of air as her fist grazed my shoulder. karina spun on her heel, aiming a quick strike to my ribs. I blocked it, but the force pushed me back a step. She was fast—faster than before. a proud and amused chuckle escaped my lips, "you've gotten faster."

in my moments of glory and joy, before I could react, she lunged—her fist colliding with my jaw, knocking my head to the side. the sting was sharp, disorienting. she didn’t give me a chance to recover. karina's knee slammed into my ribs, and I staggered, the breath knocked out of me, my body falling to the floor. she's gotten stronger, too?

I tried to stand up, but she was already on me. with one swift movement, she grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my stomach. her legs straddled my back, one hand pushing my head to the floor. I let out a groan. "wow, karina.. I didn't expect this from you." I huffed, with a chuckle.

"there's a lot more where that came from," she said, grabbing my hair and lifting me up to her face. "really?" I smiled, locking eyes with her. karina nodded with a hum. "wanna show me?" I asked. karina huffed, slamming my head back into the floor. I left out a groan, my tooth cutting into my lip. "shit!" I cursed, the pain radiating through my face.

"you won't get away from me that easy." karina whispered. I forced myself to exhale, then with all the strength I had left, I heaved my body, twisting and bucking beneath her, overriding her words. she lost her balance for just a split second, and that was all I needed. I spun, knocking her off me with a violent push, her head hitting the wall. I grunted, standing up quickly. blood dripped from my lip—I wiped it off.

she struggled to stand up, her ears ringing from the impact of her head hitting the wall. as I walked over to her, I grabbed her by her hair, making her look up at me. "you may have gotten better, karina. but you'll never be as good as me." both of our breathing was heavy. karina went to sneak me— to punch me but I was quick to catch it and grab her wrist, twisting it behind her back. I yanked her up, dragging her toward the open door of her room.

karina tried to resist, but I slammed her into the doorframe, pushing her inside. the moment we crossed the threshold, my eyes locked onto the camera in the corner of the room. karina's eyes followed my gaze. “didn't expect that, did you?” karina asked, a smug chuckle coming out of her mouth. "you won't last. they'll be here soon." she sniffled, sort of struggling to breathe through her bloody nose.

"oh, yeah? and how long is soon?" I asked. she furrowed her eyebrows. "you won't make it.." she responded. I didn't say a word. instead, I walked her to her bed, pushing her on it and letting go of her arms. she sighed at the soft surface welcoming her in. she turned over, looking at me hovering over her. her breathing picked up—I couldn't tell if it was from fear or something else.

"something wrong, karina?" I bent down to her face. karina gulped. her eyes flicked from my eyes to my lips. she went to say something, her mouth opening, but nothing came out. karina's eyes drifted down to my fingers that were trailing her thigh. "I'm messin' with you. but does that make you nervous?" I asked, head dropping to her neck, my lips ghosting her neck.

"y/n..?" karina's voice was full of question, but laced with something deeper—desperation. her brows furrowed as my lips brushed her neck, slow, deliberate. she didn’t move, not right away. her hand gripped onto my side. I moved my hip back, pulling my lips out of her neck. "don't touch me," I commanded, not wanting to take any chances of her suddenly getting the upper hand on me. I grabbed the knife on my side, throwing it on the nightstand.

my lips traveled back to her neck, "we're not supposed to…” she whispered, voice barely holding together, not finishing her sentence—a gasp leaving her throat. “and yet,” I murmured against her skin, “here we are.” she shivered. not from fear, not from cold—but from everything unspoken between us. her body was still coiled tight beneath mine, but she didn’t push me away. not yet.

this time when she shivered, it was from my hand; my cold hand gripping onto her hip. my hand slowly traveled up her shirt as I slowly, deliberately, i parted my lips and pressed them against that spot just below her jaw. she stiffened, but didn’t pull away. my cold hand kneaded her breast until I felt her nipple grow hard. karina hissed, huffing a harsh breath.

I sucked gently at first, then harder, my mouth working over her skin in slow circles, my tongue flicking against the growing mark. a quiet sound escaped her throat, somewhere between a gasp and a curse. her fingers curled slightly against my side, unsure whether to push me away or pull me closer. "please.. let me touch you." karina's voice softly broke as I pinched her nipple.

my head arose from her neck, my lips brushing against her cheek as i hovered there. "and why would I let you do that?" I questioned her just above a whisper. her sharp, painted eyes flicked up to mine, dark and desperate, but still defiant. "the same reason you're touching me. to feel. not as an enemy or target." her breath was heavy, still feeling my cold hand gently stroking her thigh. "do what I say and I'll let you touch me." karina nodded slowly.

"lay back." I instructed. karina's back softly hit the bed, legs dangling off the edge. I pressed a small kiss to her exposed stomach before pulling her shorts off in one swift motion, along with her panties. she gasped at the sudden move and the cold air hitting her wet pussy. "I haven't touch you yet, karina. you're already this wet? tsk tsk." I chuckled at her pathetic attempt to close her legs and hide from me.

my fingers ran through her wet folds once—my finger bumped her clit and brushed against her entrance. karina hissed, moving her lips lightly; another chuckle escaped my lips. "so pathetic.." I spat. a whimper left her throat, eyebrows furrowing. "you want me to touch you right, baby?" I asked, running my fingers through once more and collecting some of her juices. she watched as I took my two fingers in my mouth, tasting her. she bit back a moan. I raised an eyebrow at her with a small smile. "answer me, karina." she quickly nodded.

I looked in her eyes as I took my middle finger and ring finger, slowly entering her pussy. a soft squelching noise echoing throughout the room. karina whined, moving her hips. I grabbed onto her hips roughly; not on purpose, it was sort of like a habit. something I couldn't really explain. "please, give me more." she whined.

"shh, baby. i'll give you more." I shushed. she nodded and sighed as she felt my fingers move at a slow pace, curling at just the right angle to push against that one spot. she moaned, her mouth left agape. "you like that?" I asked her and she nodded vigorously. my hand left her hip and pushed below her abdomen, onto her bladder. I moved my fingers faster, adding a third.

"ha- ah, fuck!" karina moaned, curling her fingers into a fist. she slammed her hands onto the bed, gripping the white sheets. she cried out, moving her hips uncontrollably. my thumb reached up to her clit, rubbing slowly. "look, karina." I turned my head to the camera. "I bet they're watching us. watching how you fall apart on your target's fingers. they must think you're so, so.. pathetic."

she turned her head to towards the camera, whimpering. she knew how pathetic she looked right now. the amount of pleasure—just from her target's fingers, I might add—was insane and made her feel like she was cloud9. "I'm gonna c-cum, y/n!" tears pricked karina's eyes the closer she got to the edge. "cum on my fingers, karina." I leaned up and whispered in her ear.

I pushed onto her clit and curled my fingers up once more into that one spot. she grabbed my wrist, crying out. "s-shit!" her back arched off the bed as she came on my fingers. I slowly pulled my fingers out of her pussy, looking down at her sticky mess.

she quickly came down from her high, sitting up on her elbows. she watched as I stuck half of my fingers in her mouth. I sucked off her cum, closing my eyes at the sweet taste. I opened my eyes to see her biting her lip, "taste." I said, grabbing her jaw. her mouth immediately opened. I smiled, sticking my fingers in her mouth. I watched her face as she sucked on my fingers.

her own hand traveled between my legs, her fingers finding my clothes pussy—she rubbed gently, but harsh enough to feel. "wanna taste you now," she said, her mouth leaving my fingers with a small pop. karina smiled at my shaky breath. I nodded, my mind going hazy. she got up, pulling up her shorts, leaving them up unbuttoned. I lied back on my elbows, her hands gripping my shorts and pulling them down to my ankles.

she kissed onto my abdomen, getting lower and lower each few kisses. as much as she wanted to wait a bit and tease me, she couldn't; karina wanted to taste me then and there. "now i'm messing with you." her lips left got down to my clit, pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to it. I threw my head back softly at the sensation. her lips wrapped around my clit, sucking on it softly. I let out quiet moan, leaning my head back up to watch her.

she looked up at me, flattening her tongue at my entrance and licked all the way up to my clit, once again, wrapping her lips around my clit. she suck harder this time, gripping onto my thighs. "karina. so good." I moaned. she giggled into my pussy, my thighs closing from the sensation.

she opened her mouth wider, pushing her head further into my pussy. her tongue did wonders at my entrance while her teeth occasionally bumped my clit. I moaned louder and more frequently. I placed my hand on the back of her head trying to push her face deeper—if that was even possible. "you're doing so good," I whined. karina lightly shook her head, slurping up all of my wetness. broke moans slipped out left and right. "karina, i'm cumming." I panted.

she pushed her tongue into my entrance to catch whatever she could. her slurps only got louder as I came. lifting her head from between my thighs, her mouth was covered in my slick. I leaned forward, kissing her lips—getting a taste of myself.

I pulled away, looking her in her eyes with a small smile. my hand tangled into her hair, gripping hard. I slammed her head into the nightstand, letting her hair go—her body going limp on the floor. I stood up, pulling up my shorts with a small hiss. I bent down to her, "aww, I'm so sorry, baby." I coo, pushing her hair out of her face. a bruise already forming at the side of her head.

picking up her limp body, I threw her over my shoulder. I grabbed my knife from the nightstand and put it back in the holster on my side. walking out of her room, I tapped the side of my ear, channeling my boss, "I got her." I spoke.

"copy that." he responded, the line disconnecting. "you should've known, yu jimin. never let your guard down."

[kalithulium]

PLAYING.... PINK + WHITE BY FRANK OCEAN

since the beginning of his existence as a sorcerer, SUKUNA RYOMEN has always had his nails sharp, long and black. now, it's routine for you to paint them for him, but when he gives you a little free reign, your love for hello kitty gets the better of you.

THAT'S THE WAY EVERYDAY GOES...

he's sat here now, with his 2 arms stretched out across the table in your living room. one is rested flat , with his nails, freshly painted a stygian black tapping one after the other against it in impatience. the other is suspended mid-air by the soft surface of your hand cupping it in place, and his own elbow proped up to support.

it's something that's become routine and non-negotiable over the years - you painting sukuna's nails that captivating obsidian colour they always are. right now, you're ardently focused on making a good job of it; sukuna can tell by the way your eyelids have slightly eclipsed into a squint, and that once again, you've managed to fall back on that god forsaken habit of bitting the inner part of your cheek when you're concentrated.

"stop it, woman. biting your cheek."

he's told you that time and time again, but in all your time of asking "why?" , he's yet to of have graced you with a sufficent answer. really, it's because no matter how insignificant it is, he hates to see you be hurt, but you couldn't waterboard that information out of the man - he knows that you'd giggle, tease, and poke fun at him about it forever.

"no answer? exactly, mhm, kuna. now hold your hands still, or else you're gonna make me mess up."

"what are you talking about? they are still. my hands don't shake."

"mhm. of course, baby." you say, condescending words honeyed with jest dripping out of your mouth. you tilt your head at an angle to check your work, before brushing a final, last coat on his nails.

"okay...done!! i'm done!!"

"fucking finally. took you long enough." he says, pushing his chair out and standing up.

"nuh-uh, ryo. you know the drill. as much as you might want to escape from the tyrannical grasps of your kind, loving and beautiful girlfriend, we need to cure the nail polish under uv light first."

surprisingly, he sits back down without a sly remark, and complies with your orders. and just as he does so, a glorious idea pops up in your head.

"wait, kuna, let me add something."

you exit the room in a brisk walk and enter yours. he hears it : about a minute or two of clatters, clinks and clunks in succession that make him question just what on earth your so called idea entailed, before you emerge out again, holding something behind your back.

"ryo, close your eyes a second."

"what is it?"

"just close your eyes!"

"i said, what is it, [name]."

"sukuna ryomen."

"close. your. fucking. eyes. now ."

finally, he complies; the last time you called him by his full name, shit went down, and he was most certainly not ready for that again.

you walk closer to him now, and the free space where you were sat before has been replaced by the bag of nail polish you left behind.

"ryo, push your chair out a bit. i'm sitting down."

he's manspreading, legs wide apart, when you sit down across his lap with your body perpendicular to his. he wraps a slithering arm around your waist (thankfully, that hand is dry already, or you would've genuinely hit him), tightening his grip as he leans forward to rest his face on your shoulder. his eyes are closed, but he revels in your prescence. moments like this, where he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the new shampoo he bought you a week ago, and then feel the softness of his skin against yours are exactly why he lets you do this so often. amidst all the years of calamity that forever plauge his soul, your prescence is a moment of respite that he could never replace.

you move his hands out from under the uv light, then pick up a bottle of small, but deadly strong nail glue and place a dot of it on the centre of his right hands' ring finger.

you pick up the hello kitty charm that you had scowered the entirety of your room for, and place it on his nail, letting it dry for a minute or so.

"okay, now i'm actually done. open your eyes. like it?" you say, grinning ear to ear like a fool.

as of now, you're sat atop of sukuna ryomen - the strongest sorcerer in history, the king of curses, a lord of the golden era of jujutsu in all his glory, with a hello kitty charm pressed onto his nails.

he doesn't speak. he just leans back, closes his eyes, and presses a hello-kitty-nail-ed hand against his forehead in dissappointment, or something of the like.

"what?" you coo, turning to face sukuna while you stradle him, then hold his nails out infront of you to fully inspect.

"don't you like it?"

"don't i like it? do i look like i like it?"

"no, no, no, no, no, hear me out. we're matching! look!"

the man looks down at your nails, then at his. at your nails again. then at his again.

he doesn't smile, but his expression softens. into, was that... a smirk almost?

"oh my god. you like it."

"you like it because we're matching?" you smile, teasing him.

you grasp him into an over dramatic hug, and then jab at him with your own matching set of nails, decked out in silver bling, pinks, french tips, sparkles and of course, hello kitty charms; the exact same as his. and for about the next 5 minutes, give or take, you don't stop taunting him with sickeningly sweet words of "kuna, you're so cute for that, you know?" , "you love me so much" and the like.

assumingly, by the look on his face, sukuna's not absolutely fucking over the moon about this like you are, for whatever reason. and so, in suit, he grasps onto the the side of you thigh, then holds onto your back as he stands up, and carries you away from the table you sat on.

"fuck, enough of that." he lets out, grunting a slurry of curses and that, maybe if you two watch something, "you'll finally stop bullshitting in my face and be quiet."

he stops infront of the couch, and throws you softly, but still hard enough to earn a yelp and repremanding from you.

then he sits down next to you, and as always, you find yourself curled up in his lap, with the supple pads of your finger tips tracing along the black markings on his skin.

"you just wanted to cuddle, didn't you?"

" and you always have to get the last word, don't you?"

YOU SHOWED ME LOVE...

"sukuna's nails are black because of his cursed energy" WRONG!! ❎️❎️ he gets them painted + a manicure every week, end of discussion.

[vegeta-bananabluish]

Bananabluish - Masterlist

Started: May 2025 Last updated: 02-05-2025 Total Works: 16 DRAGON BALL Vegeta X Reader Lunar eclipse of the heart (E) Awakenings (E) Trials of the Gentle Prince-Dom (E) Other Reader-Inserts Reader X Broly: Sleeping Beauty and the Super Saiyan Beast (E) Goku X Reader: Recipe for Disaster (G) Reader X Multi: Choose Your Adventure: Wedding Night edition! (E) Reader X Multi: Beacon of affection (E)

VegeBul As if you weren't dead (M) Retroactive love (E) The Prince of Darkness (E) Other Pairings HanVi: The Negotiation Table (G) PiccoXJanet: Green behind the ears (E) GoChi: Ten days to full bloom (T)

Multi Pairings (mainly canon) The 9-to-5th Ring of Hell (T) Ficlets of flustered men (T) ORIGINAL WORK

Reader meets Reader: A Journey to Self-Love Beyond the Stars

[tsamsheadcanons]

Eaps headcanons - or maybe au idk anymore it can be both

• Sunshine and Moonlight were originally designed to be performers, much like the majority of Suns+Moons across the multiverse. They both have some leftover codes, programs, and protocols from that initial setup. Sunny uses his more visibly, and the moment Ballora sees him go on-pointe to reach a spot on the playstructures, her brain does a dialup noise.

• speaking of Ballora - Eclipse? Her beastie. Sunshine and Moonlight? Her little siblings. No, this is not negotiable, she is now a big sister, don't be silly, moonpie, there's no escaping her love- (/hj)

• Sunny and Moon sometimes make small games together as a bonding experience - Moon handles the coding and Sun does the visuals and workshops the plot. ((Bonus - Moon is lowkey terrified by how good his other half is at making horror. The games come out GOOD but holy shit man...))

• While his anxiety means he trios and stumbles over his words, Sun's actually incredibly witty, sharp, and has sass for days - he just can't always get it out. So whenever Moon's fronting, there's a 50/50 chance he'll get a running roasting commentary if Sunny's in a mood. It's very difficult to keep his laughter at bay with the more... creative ones.

• Eclipse survives on caffeine, carbs and spite. Unfortunately for him, Ballora and Sunny have spoiled him with coffees and he cannot for the life of him figure out how to replicate it. He refuses to ask, and they never tell. He just sort of... pouts scowls until they come to gift him his blessed beverage

• FC likes Sunshine and Moonlight a lot - they're like.... weird young uncles who might also lowkey be cousins maybe he doesn't really know. Or care. But they're fun!

• Sunny gets Extra Weird around magical/paranormal stuff. Not in an anxious way - or rather, he does, but there's more to it. His systems go a little haywire and his fans kick on, his sensory array gets oddly tingly, and he can feel Something begin to bloom in and around his face and chest. Not knowing makes him panic, and Moon usually takes over once it hits a certain threshold. They've yet to mention it to anyone.

• Puppet scares Sunny, just a bit. Not because of her past or anything, but because she sets his arrays on FIRE in close proximity ((see above)), and they have a tendency to feel... fake? Sometimes?? Almost coddling, but also forcefully so??? It's hard to explain. He likes her well enough, and wants to be friends!! But there's odd undercurrents.

• Moon doesn't like Lefty. Like... at all. He's cordial and civil, but he's not a fan of that bear. The way he bulldozes over others, how he cornered Sunny, the way he treats everyone - it sets Moonlight's teeth on edge.

• Sunny loves sorting things by shape, size, and hexadecimal code. He has absolutely debated the logistics of color coding the ballpit.

• Moon likewise enjoys alphanumerical organization.

• Ballora and Eclipse do spa nights where they watch trashy reality TV, wear comfy pajamas, gossip and occasionally do makeovers. Clip will die before admitting he enjoys it.

I love your headcanons!

[kaayyyys]

negan X reader

Captured

My wrists burned, the rough rope biting into my skin. Rick Grimes, his face etched with desperation and exhaustion, stood before me, his eyes a storm of conflicting emotions. He looked at me, Negan’s wife, with a mixture of guilt and grim determination."We don't want to hurt you," he rasped, his voice raw. "We just… we need Negan to listen. Alexandria… it's not living. It's surviving, under his thumb."His words echoed the unspoken anxieties that haunted my own heart. Life with Negan was a paradox of security and suffocating control. He loved me, fiercely and possessively, showering me with affection and ensuring my comfort. But that love came with a steep price – unwavering obedience, a constant awareness of the power he wielded, and the ever-present shadow of Lucille.The Saviors surrounding me were a motley crew, their faces hardened by hardship and loyalty to Negan. They kept their distance, their gazes wary, mindful of the wrath they would incur if they harmed me. Rick, however, seemed different. He held himself with a burden, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his decisions.Days bled into each other. I was confined to a small, dusty room, the silence punctuated only by the rustling of leaves and the distant cries of walkers. My captors brought me food, bland and unappetizing, but sustenance nonetheless. They were careful, almost apologetic, in their interactions with me. It was an odd charade, threatening and intimidating one moment, then solicitous and cautious the next. He was my husband, my protector, the man who had swept me off my feet with his charm and unwavering devotion. But I also saw the suffering he caused, the fear in the eyes of the people he oppressed. And now, seeing Rick’s desperation, the hollow-eyed hunger in his men, I couldn't ignore it ."He won't listen," I said softly, my voice barely a whisper. "Negan won't negotiate. He'll see this as an act of war."Rick sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "Then we fight," he said, his voice laced with weariness. "But I had to try. I had to try to find a way to save my people without bloodshed."His words resonated with me. I saw in him a reflection of the man Negan could have been, a leader driven by compassion instead of fear. The air crackled with gunfire, the ground trembled with the force of the battle. Then, the unmistakable crack of Lucille echoed through the chaos. Negan.He stormed into the room, his face a mask of rage, Lucille dripping with blood. His eyes locked on Rick, and a primal fury erupted from him."You touch what's mine, Grimes," he roared, his voice a terrifying bellow, "and you pay the price!"He lunged at Rick, Lucille raised high, ready to deliver a fatal blow.In that moment, something snapped within me. I couldn't let him do it. I couldn't stand by and watch another life be taken, another family torn apart.I surged forward, placing myself between Negan and Rick, my arms outstretched."Stop!" I cried .He lowered Lucille, his anger momentarily eclipsed by confusion."What are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief."Don't do this, Negan," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face. "Talk to him. Please, just for me ." He saw the sincerity in my eyes, the desperate plea for peace .He hesitated for a long moment, his eyes flicking between me and Rick. "Fine," he growled, his voice still rough, but devoid of the murderous intent. "We talk. But Grimes knows, one wrong move…"Rick, his face bruised and bloodied, nodded slowly. "I understand."The air still crackled with tension, but the immediate threat of violence had subsided. As Negan and Rick began their hesitant negotiations, I knew this was just the beginning. And maybe, just maybe, I could help build that future, one conversation, one compromise, one act of kindness at a time.